#I love how I’m saying this and I’m not even a theatre kid

[hers-underwraps]

Everyone’s out here calling kwazii a theatre kid

BUT LOOK AT HIM

Like his dorky ass is breaking out into song and performing like a lil goofball every chance he gets

[lionblaze03-2]

sometimes I think about writing and singing music not because I’m an incredible singer but because no one has my fucking voice, especially in popular music, and its disheartening to be born a girl, told you’ll only get girl roles or try to voice match other girls, or ‘sing with the girls’ and then only be able to match male voices because you’re a fuckin tenor and not anything higher. I can’t think of any girl Broadway roles I can hit all the notes on. Most songs I love I have to pitch down for myself or use falsetto for singing along to. It bothers me a lot less now because I’m an adult who’s more secure in myself but as a teen in kids musical theatre it FUCKED with me, BAD style. And I know for a fact that even now when I hear people with a voice like mine singing I get excited and immediately invested in their work because they’re like ME, finally, for once. A brother in this world of being afab and having the voice of a recently pubescent boy forever. Maybe I should be that brother too.

[shewhowillwrite]

Dead on Main AU Prompt Fic

Edit: i use @shewhowillrise

The Justice League was choosing their head engineer. They had a few contenders. One being the top student in engineering at Gotham University, even has a scholarship through Jason Wayne’s Scholarship for Underperforming Students. Bruce Wayne has started it after adopting Jason and seeing how smart he was but also how much he struggled in school.

Daniel Fenton lived on the same street as the Monarch Theatre, the same street he found Jason.

Batman couldn’t help but think Daniel was what Jason could have been if he was able to finish school and head off too college.

Batman knocked on the apartment door, not at all surprised at how fast it opened. When setting up the meeting, he could hear the excitement over the phone.

“Hello Batman Sir!” Daniel greeted, holding out a hand. He had a strong firm grip, reminded him of Clark’s. Possibly a meta, which is a plus. With what the kid might encounter while building or making repairs, a meta gene would be good to have, especially strength.

And over the meeting Batman fell more and more in love with the kid’s enthusiasm. Without the guarantee of the job, the kid was ready to give some ideas (that would amazing) incase the League would need them.

The meeting was supposed to be an hour but soon he noticed that the sun was low.

Batman sat up straighter upon hearing a key turn in the lock.

“Oh that’s my partner, sorry, I would I have warned you but I didn’t realize the meeting was going to be this long,” Danny (only creepy billionaires call me Daniel) said, which Batman also noted that he tried his best not to blame Batman for going over the allotted time. Kid’s respectful too.

“Hey Stardust how’d the meeting I’m not supposed to know about go? I’m sure whatever words you stumbled over the Bat didn’t hold it against you for being nerv-” the disembodied voice walks into the dining room, and freezes in surprise before collecting himself, an easy smile going on his face while wiping grease stained hands on his grease stained jeans and stuck one out to shake.

“Hi, I’m Jaylad Peters,” he says but Batman doesn’t take the hand offered. He doesn’t react at all.

In front of him is his baby boy, the one that died in his arms, the one he buried in Gotham Cemetery, near Thomas and Martha. His Jason.

[glamourscat]

ㅤ♡ Dick Grayson (n)sfw headcanons ㅤ♡

SFW

age 27-33. 178cm tall, lean acrobatic body, feet and hands are rough and calloused. The brightest blue eyes. Mainly hair on his chest and sometimes he rocks a moustache until he is “bullied” by the rest of the batfamily lmao. Romani (stop whitewashing him dc). Bisexual

He is extremely kind and can sometimes be naive. He loves to love, family, in his romantic relationships, in his friendships– he has so much love to give

He is pretty much the older sibling/fun aunt that you got to if you have a problem on the emotional side. Because if there’s someone who can sit down with you and help you properly it’s him.

Despite his kindness he can also be extremely stubborn, holding grudges. His jealousy is probably the one more “visible” out of the batboys, because he either turns into passive aggressive or pda is heavily involved

Millennial humour, I know, sorry not sorry. He laughs obnoxiously loud. He barely understands memes

Fashion icon. Leaning towards a more androgynous look, he will wear it and rock it. Bell trousers, cowboy boots, sparkling shirts and long coats. He can pull it off even if they aren’t supposed to match, he manages to make them.

Was a theatre kid hello?! He was in a circus 

Mostly listens to pop music/upbeat music

Elder sister trauma, yeah, look it up. It’s basically him.

I can’t see him having kids. I’m more inclined to say he will get married and probably adopt an older child later in life eventually. 

NSFW

A talker. Will literally guide you through it

Out of the rest of the batboys he is the most likely to be a soft dom. Praises, marks, trying new things… you name it, he will probably try it at least once. 

Worship! Mutual, at that. But leaning more him on you 

Aftercare? More like heaven. He knows exactly what to do and how to do it. 

Constantly checks if you're doing ok 

He is a generous person so safe to assume he will be a generous lover. From extra kisses, the extra gentle touches… 

And if you’re feeling down? Totally mirror sex while he whispers the most filthy praises in your ear 

Mostly in control, he can switch easily between a slower to a match faster pace 

A TEASE. I dont know, he just strikes me as someone who would enjoy teasing during sex. Sure, sex is serious and is intimate, but there can be a few laughs here and there. 

I wouldn't say he would be down to do it in a public place, tho, he will be a bit risky and do it in the comfort of your room when he knows other people are at home. Exhibitionist? 

He is LOUD and shameless about it. 

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[lvnleah]

west end star | leah williamson.

You were lounging on the couch, Leah sitting beside you with your legs draped over her thighs. Today was the day you could find out if you had landed your first major West End role, the one you’d been dreaming of since you were a kid.

Your whole life had been dedicated to musical theatre. From performing in summer recitals at age six to moving all the way to London from Manchester for Musical Theatre college, your whole life had revolved around it. Sure, you had done a few ensemble parts here and there after college but nothing like a major role. 

A few months ago you had auditioned for Sophie Sheridan in Mamma Mia the Musical on the West End. You had poured everything into that audition. Every note, every step, every ounce of emotion you could muster had gone into your performance. 

Sophie Sheridan in Mamma Mia. Even saying it to yourself felt surreal, but it was what you’d been dreaming of for as long as you could remember.

The callback process had been gruelling. Weeks of singing, acting, and dance workshops, surrounded by people who were just as talented and hungry for the role as you were. You’d tried to stay grounded, but deep down, you knew you wanted this more than anything.

Leah had been your rock throughout the process. She’d spent countless nights helping you run lines, watching you practice choreography in the living room, and reassuring you when the self-doubt crept in. 

“You’re going to get it,” she’d said every time you worried. “I can feel it.”

Now, here you were, sitting on the couch, staring at your phone like it might explode. Leah was gently tracing patterns on your shin, pretending to scroll through her phone but clearly keeping an eye on you.

“You know you’re allowed to breathe, right?” she teased, glancing up at you with a small smirk.

“I am breathing,” you shot back, though it felt like your lungs were only half working.

Leah rolled her eyes. “Barely. It’s going to be fine, love. Whatever happens, you’ve done everything you could. You were incredible in that audition.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, your phone buzzed on the coffee table. Both of you froze.

Your agent’s name lit up the screen, and your heart started pounding.

“Don’t just stare at it, woman!” Leah said, her voice suddenly serious. “Answer it!”

With trembling fingers, you picked up the phone and pressed it to your ear. “H-hello?”

“Hi, sweetheart, it’s Miranda,” your agent said warmly. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good,” you managed to say, though your voice cracked slightly. Leah gave your leg a reassuring squeeze. “Do you have… um… any news?”

Miranda let out a little laugh. “I do. I just got off the phone with the casting director, and they were absolutely blown away by you. They said your energy was perfect, your vocals were spot on, and well, they want you for Sophie.”

The words hit you like a wave. You sat there, frozen, as Miranda’s words echoed in your ears. “I what—wait. I got it?”

“You got it!” Miranda confirmed, laughing again. “You’re going to be Sophie Sheridan on the West End. Congratulations, sweetheart. You deserve this.”

Tears filled your eyes as you tried to process the moment. “Oh my god, I—Thank you, Miranda. Thank you so much.”

“Go celebrate,” she said warmly. “You’ve earned it. I’ll be in touch soon with all the details.”

The call ended, and you slowly lowered the phone, staring at it like it might suddenly disappear.

“Well?” Leah asked, “Babe, talk! You know, use words?”

You turned to her, the biggest smile breaking across your face. “I, um, I got it,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Leah, I got it.”

Leah let out a cheer, pulling you into her arms so quickly that you nearly toppled off the couch. “I knew it!” she exclaimed, kissing you all over your face as you laughed and cried at the same time. “You’re going to be Sophie! On the West End!”

“I can’t believe it,” you said, burying your face in her shoulder. “This is actually happening.”

Leah pulled back just enough to look at you, her hands framing your face. “You worked so hard for this, and you deserve every bit of it,” she said before attacking you with more kisses. “I’m so proud of you, babe.”

You smiled, giggling as her kiss attacks stopped. “I couldn’t have done it without you. You’ve been my rock through all of this.”

“And I’ll be your rock through everything else, too. Now,” she said, standing up and pulling you with her, “we are celebrating. Whatever you want, dinner, drinks, dessert, name it, and it’s yours.”

You laughed, wiping your tears. “Can we start with some champagne?”

“Absolutely,” Leah said, already heading to grab a bottle. “Only the best for my West End star.”

Your debut arrived quicker than you ever expected. Weeks of rehearsals and costume fittings flew by in a blur. The nerves hit as soon as you woke up that morning, a constant flutter in your stomach that didn’t ease, no matter how many times Leah reassured you.

“You’ve got this,” she said that morning, handing you a cup of tea as you sat at the kitchen table, staring into space. “You’ve worked so hard for this, and everyone’s going to see how incredible you are.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Leah asked, sitting across from you after a few moments of silence. 

“Just… everything,” you admitted. “What if I mess up? What if everyone hates me?”

Leah smirked and reached for your hand. “If anyone doesn’t like you after tonight, they’re either blind or tone-deaf. You’re going to be the best Sophie Sheridan that stage has ever seen.”

You smiled despite yourself. “You’re biased.”

“Absolutely,” she said. “But I’m also right.”

She was the steadying presence you needed that day, texting you little messages throughout your pre-show prep: You’re a star, babe. Don’t forget to breathe. Save some talent for the rest of the cast, yeah?

When the curtain finally rose that evening, the nerves melted away, replaced by the joy of being on stage that you always had. The music, the lights, the energy of the audience, it was everything you’d ever dreamed of. By the time the final bows came, the roar of applause felt like it might shake the building.

When you finally emerged from the stage door, your breath caught. There Leah was, standing with Amanda and Berny, a bouquet of flowers in her arms. Leah’s face lit up the second she saw you, her grin wide and proud. She stepped forward, holding out the bouquet, but before she could say anything, you launched yourself into her arms.

“You were amazing,” she whispered into your ear, holding you tight.

“Thank you,” you murmured, pulling back just enough to look at her. Her eyes were sparkling with pride, and the sight made your stomach flip.

Amanda stepped in next, wrapping you in a warm hug. “That was incredible, sweetheart. I was in tears during ‘Slipping Through My Fingers.’ You’ve got such a gift.”

“You were made for this role, darling,” Berny added, smiling warmly. 

“Thank you, both of you,” you said, overwhelmed by their kindness.

As the four of you walked toward a nearby restaurant to celebrate, Leah squeezed your hand. “You know,” she said softly, so only you could hear, “watching you up there… I’ve never been so proud in my life.”

Your cheeks warmed. “Stop it. You’re going to make me cry.”

“Good,” she said with a grin, “because I cried. Twice. And if I have to admit that, you can at least tear up.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, though your smile betrayed you.

“And you’re brilliant,” she said, leaning over to kiss your temple. “Don’t forget it.”

[sillymommy6969]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝖄OURS TRULY

Manon Bannerman x actor!fem!reader

summary: being an actress can be pretty demanding, and manon's pretty understanding of the things that came along with your career, but lately it’s feeling a little too real

warnings: slight!angst, some sm posts, jealous!manon, one mean comment, kinda used rachel zegler as a face claim only because i used those pics for the smau, harsh language

Being an actress came with lots of benefits; you travelled all around the world to film in beautiful, exotic locations, you get to meet a lot of amazing new people within and beyond the industry, and you get to do what you were most passionate about. But, it also meant every aspect of your life would be examined under a microscope, on and off set, and you would be made to post or say things that weren’t true just for the sake of promotions or publicity.

You absolutely loathed that part of your job. It has driven a wedge between your relationship with so many ex-boyfriends or girlfriends and even some friendships.

When you met Manon at your good friend and fellow Euphoria costar, Dominic’s New Year’s Eve party, you were absolutely entranced by this walking shred of heaven. Back then, she had not joined Dream Academy yet and she was just in between modelling gigs. You couldn’t help yourself, grabbing her hand and kissing the back of it. You had to get to know her better, and by the end of the night you were leaving Dominic’s condo and stumbling into yours with her pressed against you.

When you begun dating, you made sure Manon knew the extents of your career. You were blunt, dating an actress wasn’t always going to be easy, especially with the way tabloids write their own narrative about your life.

a) Your job entailed partial nudity at times; you’ve been in enough movies or series to know women are always asked to strip in front of cameras. You weren’t exactly the biggest fan, but it wasn’t your artistic choice to make.

b) Your job entailed lots of cameras and eyes constantly trained on you, meaning they would spin stories and insane theories out of the most ridiculously insignificant detail. Nothing the tabloids report can ever be trusted.

c) Your job entailed doing things with your costars, i.e. kissing, making out, filming intimate scenes, etc. As somebody in the industry, you have become so desensitized by the concept of faking things for art. But you understood not many people understood the gravity of everything your career demanded from you, and it can cause lots of issues emotionally.

Manon was very reluctant about these three rules at first, skeptical of how bad things had to be for you to drop this on her the first month in. But then she got on dream academy, she then successfully debuted in Katseye, and she, herself, experienced a lot of the things you fell victim to. She understood and accepted much more than she had to because she loved you, she really did, and to anybody with eyes, the two of you were absolutely smitten.

Recently, you were onset of a new project you were cast in—a remake of Romeo & Juliet but with a modern edge to it. Everything was going good, internal reviews for what, and as you wrapped up filming, you were asked to post an ‘wrap dump’ to promote the movie. Your manager presented you with a selection of photos, and you compiled them into a post.

Liked by kitconnor, lararajj & 821,440 others

ynln Can’t wait for ya’ll to see us in six months <3

19 hours ago

user01 THE FIRST SLIDE HELLO???????

user02 yall stronger than me i would’ve fallen in love

dominicfike aye get it sis

ynln you really do be everywhere but the studio

dominicfike kys

user03 has anybody seen the leaked kiss

user04 YES OMG

user05 they’re such a theatre kid power couple

user03 DID YALL SEE KIT GRABBING HER FACE

user06 you can’t convince me they’re not tgt

user07 Is this a hard launch I’m sobbing

user08 girl you ever heard of marketing 😭😭

user09 no they’re dating

user10 THEYRE LITERALLY NOT??

user11 guys y/n’s dating manon rmb not kit

user12 they never confirmed tho so maybe it’s kit

user13 @user12 Denial is a river in Egypt…

You didn’t think much about the post, getting out of your makeup from the day before hitching a ride home with your manager. You had a couple hours to freshen up and get ready before the wrap party that night, and you were very excited to have invited Manon as your plus one.

It was one of those rare days your girlfriend had a day off that matched your schedule. She had her reservations about being seen or photographed with you at such a public event, but you assured her everything was going to be cast and crew only.

Back at her dorm, Manon was doing her makeup on the floor of her room. She had the room to herself, Lara invited some of the girls home for the weekend with her—which meant Daniela was gone as well. Only Sophia and Yoonchae opted to stay home, wanting to spend the free time they had shopping for decorations to liven up their room. She was nervous, to say the least, about meeting all the professional filmmakers and famed actors and directors you worked with every day.

A knock on her door sounded through the music blasting.

“Yo, Manon, you getting ready to go soon?” When she turned her head to catch a glimpse of Sophia poking her head through the doorway, the leader was focused on the phone in her hand, strolling in to stand behind the older member.

“Yeah, heading over to Y/N’s in fifteen-ish… why?”

“You seen Y/N’s latest instagram post?” Sophia asked.

Manon shook her head. She hadn’t been on social media since the night before, she slept in, waking up late and immediately had to throw herself into the shower to get ready.

“Well, you gotta see this shit.”

Sophia knealt, holding her phone out for Manon to peep at the tweet she had pulled up onscreen. The way she snatched the filipina’s phone was nothing short of urgent and stunned.

It wasn’t like Manon hadn’t seen you kiss your costars onscreen, she’s been to many movies watching you lead in a film. But this, watching this bag of bulging muscles in a tank touch you where she usually did, your hands grabbing his face as the two of you made out on a bed?

Manon had never, and I mean ever, felt such rage. She was experiencing so many emotions at once; some rationality, some discomfort, but mostly an overwhelming sense of rage.

She didn’t care. She was a jealous girlfriend. And she can say she understands as many times as she could, but she hated every single time you’d kiss, touch or feel anybody but her. She knew it was what you did for a living, but she couldn’t shed the way she felt like smashing Kit Connor’s face through a wall.

“That’s a wild ass movie your girl’s making,” Sophia scoffed, in attempts to lighten the tension.

Manon’s jaw clenched, shoving the phone back into Sophia’s chest before standing. She was now sad she had gotten her hair and outfit done all nice, because she didn’t feel like showing up to an event thrown somewhat in your honour.

“Manon…? Manon!” Sophia called after the Ghanaian woman, but she had already grabbed her purse and left the house.

When you came out of the shower, your hair wet and your body glistening, you were taken aback by the sudden pounding you heard from your condo’s door. You quickly put on your panties and one of Manon’s oversized shirts. Slipping into your slippers, you stumbled out your bathroom and to the door. Just a couple feet away from it, another round of thrusts throw you off. “I’m coming, Jesus Christ!”

Swinging your door open, you were ready to rip into whomever so disrespectfully made their presence known, but upon seeing your girlfriend, dressed all nice and looking pretty, your expression softened. “Baby, I thought you were coming—!”

She held a hand over your mouth, pushing you into your home before kicking the door shut behind her.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Manz, what the fu—?”

“Are you fucking Kit Connor?” She immediately barked, a hand on your bare chest, backing you up towards the couch. “I get myself all nice and pretty for your party and I find out you’re macking this hunk like there’s no tomorrow?”

Your hand rested on your chest, before you were knocked onto your ass. You glanced up at your dining girlfriend, her lips pursed and her sharp brows knit together.

“Woah, woah, woah, what’re we talking about here?”

She yanked her phone out her pocket, her fingers jabbing at her screen as she pulled up your instagram page. The photos you and Kit took on set was harshly shoved into your face, you gently cradled her hand with both of yours, carefully pulling it back so you could see. She then harshly pulled her hand back, pulling up Pop Base’s tweet of a leaked onset photo.

“When the fuck did you even get these photos taken? I mean, having to do minimal stuff for work is one thing, but letting him carry you and grab your ass and your thighs and getting all close and intimate behind the scenes when you’re not even on fucking camera is so far over the line, Y/N.” she rambled, “Then I have to see you basically dry hump this man?”

You sighed, knowing it was another one of the older woman’s jealous episodes. You tried being more understanding, to listen and calm her down, knowing it was a consequence of your job.

“Baby, please, take a deep breath, okay?” You gently grab the phone from her hand, setting it down on the couch beside you. You entertained your fingers, kissing her knuckles. “What did I tell you about the rules, hm?”

With a pout, Manon’s voice dropped low, “You’re a public figure and need to get intimate with coworkers a lot.”

You hummed, nodding. “That’s right. And y’know what the best way to promote a new movie is?”

She rolled her eyes, staring away. “Dating scandals.”

“Yes, baby, dating scandals.” You tugged at her hands, pulling her down to take a seat. Her body slumped to sit on your lap, her eyes still refusing to meet yours as you fixed a loose curl from her temple. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Manz. I never do things I don’t need to. I took those pictures on a press day a while back when Kit and I were asked to do ‘behind the scenes’ photos, none of it is real.”

“Yeah, well, it looked pretty real when you were eating his face on that bed,” she huffed, “What was I supposed to think?”

You chuckled, nodding. You wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling both of you to lie back into the couch. “I know, I know, but I’m not going to the party as Kit’s date, right? He’s not the one I’ve been waiting to see all day.” You gestured at your dripping appearance, “That’s why I wanted you to come in twenty, so I could be ready and beautiful just for you, baby.”

Manon scoffed, “Yeah, you’re lookin’ real rough right now.”

You playfully slapped her at the joke, “I promise you, I am yours, truly. I don’t even care about Kit, because all I think about when I’m at work is coming home and getting to see my ridiculously beautiful and sexy girlfriend.”

That statement seemed to win Manon over, her hands coming up to cradle your cheeks. “You better swear on your life.”

“I swear on this life and the next. I love you, Manz.”

“Mmh, I love you more,” she hummed, leaning in to kiss you softly. When the two of you pulled apart, she sneered, “Is that how you kiss him too?”

You clicked your tongue, a hand reaching under her thigh to move her body so she was straddling you. “Do you really wanna know? I’ll show you exactly what Kit and I do when nobody’s looking.” you spat, earning a gasp from Manon when your hand cupped the back of her neck, yanking her down into you for a heated kiss.

It was a long night of entertaining producing executives and crew members, but you were very happy to have your girlfriend meet the people you’ve been working with for months. When it came time for you to give Kit a hug in greeting though, Manon made sure her disapproval was made known.

You had an upcoming role in the third season of the White Lotus, you were not excited about how the Ghanaian woman would react to the scenes on that show.

[t1red-twilight]

physio alternatives

summary: art gets injured during a game. you provide aid in helping him feel better.

warnings/content: gn! reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, pretty much no plot, just fluff, athletic injury, no use of y/n (it’s too much effort to type lol), inaccurate sports injury (don’t come for me, i was a theatre kid), art is whiny, pet names cause i’m corny, art history mention, food content discussed briefly, lmk if i missed anything

word count: 1.1k

masterlist a. d. masterlist

you were laying on the couch in the hotel when you heard him come in. even though you were nearly asleep, you immediately sat up when you heard him huff. using the palms of your hands to rub your eyes, you call out, “hey, art. how was practice?”

when you don’t hear a response, you swing your legs over the edge of the couch and walk to the entryway. you see art, his coach, and his physical therapist. seeing as no response was given, you ask another question: “everything alright?”

“no,” he nearly whines out. “we had to end early today.” he’s mumbling, just about whispering. after some semi-awkward silence, his coach speaks.

his physical therapist spoke. “art lightly sprained a muscle in his left leg. he’ll have to tread lightly for about two weeks.” art sighs again. his hands are in fists on his cheeks, pushing them up as his sits on the stool in the entryway. you walk over to him and rub his back.

“are you going to stretch him out at all?” art proceeds to lean against your touch.

“we were just about to-“ his couch says before getting cut off.

“can’t we just do it tomorrow?” art interrupts. his expression is a mix of pleading and petty anger.

you crouch down to meet his gaze. “darling, i’m sorry. but you should really listen to your coach.” he sighs out in disapproval. you hold his hand and trace over the lines on his face with your eyes.

and that’s how you ended up sitting in the background watching art’s physical therapist extend and retract his leg muscles. he followed every command, albeit reluctantly and with an air of annoyance. before leaving, his physical therapist gave art a knee brace. you’re not going to pretend like you had any idea of what was going on.

you walk his coach and physical therapist out. you’re glad that tashi, his assistant coach, didn’t tag along. but you’d never admit that. when you come back, art has made his way to the couch. he looks like a rendering of the death of marat, the way he’s dramatically sprawled about.

“i’m sorry, honey.” he grunts. “can i sit on the couch with you?” upon hearing your request, he sits up long enough for you to sit down. when you sit, he turns onto his side and lays his cheek on your thigh. you bring your hand to his head and trace over his ear and the curls on the side of his face.

his eyes crack open. “i feel like shit.” he looks like shit, just a little. but you’re not going to tell him that. you give him a crooked smile instead.

“any way i can help?”

“just stay here, i think. i’ve enough of people trying to fix me for the evening.” he places his hand that isn’t pinned under his body on your leg and traces his thumb in circles over it. it’s an awkward position, but art just likes being as close to you as possible.

you silently reach for the tv remote, and play some random game show. at first, you don’t notice him falling asleep; but soon you hear very soft snores coming from him. you exhale out of your nose in loving amusement.

you switch between watching him sleep and watching the crappy game show. the hum of the ac provides a cozy ambiance.

art sleeps for about two episodes of the game show. the show is weird, and has some old actor you can’t recall the name of hosting it. you have to use the restroom, but you’re not going to risk waking up art to go pee.

after some time, he stirs and wakes up.

“hey sleeping beauty,” you mumble out. he turns and looks up at you, and smiles. you smile back.

“how long did i sleep for?” he shuts his eyes again for just a moment.

you check the clock, “a little over an hour. you look uncomfortable in that position, though.” he hums. “did you eat after practice, or did you come straight here?” you can see his brain lagging, gummed up from sleep.

after a bit, he replies. “uhm, no i didn’t. do we have anything in the fridge?” you sit in thought for a moment.

“uh, i don’t know. i’ll go check.” you move to get up, but art wraps his one free arm around your thighs to try and keep you in place. “i have to get up to check. why are you being so clingy?” it sounds harsh, but the tone in which you say it is playful and not at all condescending.

“you’re evil,” he toys back.

you stand up and go to the kitchen. while looking into the fridge, you roll your ankles to pop them. the cool air from the fridge is minutely uncomfortable. “there’s ketchup and like two eggs,” you call back over to the couch. he peaks his head over the top of the couch, so that you only see his messy hair and his eyes.

“damn.”

“do you want takeout?” he stops, he’s thinking, you realize. he’s thinking about how this is going to affect his performance in tennis; unhealthy carbs and all that. “you’re supposed to be resting. some chinese food isn’t going to ruin your mad tennis skills.”

he shrugs and lays back down. “only if we can get orange chicken.” you look in the info booklet the hotel gave you when you checked in, and found a nice looking restaurant to order from. after you ordered, you sit back down on the couch. art returns to reclining on top of you.

soon, the smell of chinese takeaway fills the hotel room, and you sit and eat together. it’s a domestic scene, despite being in a hotel room a few states over from where you both live.

after dinner, you help him wash up and get ready for bed. you insist that he at least take a quick shower. going to bed covered in dried sweat is not the most pleasing thing to think of. you sit outside the shower and speak to him while he cleans himself.

he talks about everything and nothing all at once. he talks about practice, his parents, something shitty that he heard another player say while he was at the court earlier. the vibrations of his voice carry throughout the bathroom, and it’s silly, but it makes you feel nice. you’d let him talk about anything, really.

when you get in bed, art holds you tight. he keeps you in his arms, and lies his head upon your chest.

as you’re both nodding off, you feel art mumble something into your neck as you hold each other. “hm?”

“love you,” he recites.

you kiss him on the top of his head. “love you too.”

[silverjirachi]

I cannot emphasize to you enough that the sonic movies are unreasonably good. they do not follow the formula of being a cash grab that so many other big name franchise movies do.

Yeah there is cheap humor in it sometimes but it’s a kids’ movie, also sonic as a character has always been saying cheap corny stuff and not only that, but every single time there is a gag or a joke it is played completely straight. It’s never out of character, particularly sonic’s lines. I keep thinking about how they’ve made it clear that part of his joking and banter is out of insecurity, a “hahahah i need to talk to diffuse this situation” type of thing. i’m particularly thinking of the “haha who does your highlights” thing in the current movie. Shadow rightfully responds to this like “???? what the fuck dude??” because it’s treated not just as A JOKE but an actual, motivated part of the dialogue that the other characters respond to.

Honestly the person who has the most jarring gags is Robotnik but even then it works for his character because he’s just.. that unhinged. There is a full, sudden 4th-wall break in sonic 3 and i almost didn’t care because if anyone was gonna do it, it would be him. It was kind of a funny “i’m at a movie premiere” moment so it worked in the theatre, but i wonder how it will be received and age for people watching at home. But EVEN THEN, these out-of-sequence moments are so rare, and what they do is add to the tone of the movie, which takes itself seriously, but also reminds us to not take it too seriously. They walk this beautiful delicate balance of being a serious movie fully invested in its own stakes and circumstances while also being movie actualizations of cartoon characters. It centrally hinges on the principle that in order for any humor to work in a performance, the actors (and the story) must still be motivated and fully invested as if everything around them is a real circumstance. All three of the sonic movies have mastered this as an art.

Every single actor puts so much thought and love into their character, and the writing does not assume people will like it “just because.” It is so clear that story is the priority rather than ticket sales, and so they end up creating beautiful moments that serve the characters arcs as a piece of art and storytelling rather than just what’s gonna sell. There are literary devices in these things man. Sometimes they’re a little overemphasized, but again. Kids movie. And the thing is, these moments are woven into the parts that do sell. It’s genuinely phenomenal. It’s like a masterclass on good storytelling.

The sonic movies are one of the few rare “other media” movies that do not cop out just because they’re kids movies. That do not cop out just because they already have an invested fanbase who would come anyway. They are a testament to what happens when everyone on the team from the top down cares about the story and the characters. When they let people who are genuine fans of the content work on it. The movies abound with niche and subtle fan references (even memes!) but you blink and miss them. They’re never distracting and again, never played for JUST being a gag or a reference.

What I’m saying is I came into all three Sonic movies as an already established fan who would see junk anyway, preparing to be disappointed, and got ART instead??????? And they’re still putting out bangers three (hopefully four! AND a spinoff!) movies in??????

[mads-hemmo]

It’s Nice to Have A Friend - Jschlatt

Part 1

Reader has been lonely their whole life. They have never been in a relationship. They don’t understand why no one will love them but their best friend, Schlatt has always been in love with them.

Masterlist

From a young age, you have always been a hopeless romantic. Your favorite content always revolves around romance of some sort. You even have had your wedding planned since you went to your first wedding at merely six years old. Your plans are forever cemented on a Pinterest board that you continue to add to about monthly. I mean your taste has changed since 2015, but some things still remain true.

The only problem is that you haven’t got to experience romance yourself. At the ripe old age of 25, you have never been in a relationship. You have had your first kiss, but it wasn’t magical. You only did it because you hated being the college kid who had never kissed anyone. You slightly regret it, but at least it was out of the way.

The only good thing is that at least you have a best friend who you made a marriage pact with. You and your best friend Schlatt, met in middle school. When you were both sad and single in high school, you made a pact that if neither of you were married by 40, you would get married. It was just a silly thing that you both constantly laugh about.

When you met Schlatt in middle school, the two of you immediately hit it off. You saw Schlatt sitting by himself one day and decided to sit by him. You had a few classes with him and thought he seemed like a cool dude. At first he acted like he wanted to be alone, but you learned soon after that he really didn't have many friends. The two of you learned you had a lot in common. You both loved Nintendo, especially Mario Kart as well as computer games.

The one difference is you loved all things romance whereas Schlatt only cared about gaming and baseball. The really fucked up thing about the universe is that Schlatt has had multiple relationships while you remain single. His relationships usually never lasted, but it was still strange. The universe also made you bisexual and you still somehow manage to be lonely. But at least you had your best friend, Schlatt and that stupid marriage pact.

The hardest moment for you was when Schlatt decided to move to Austin, Texas. It was the longest and farthest apart you have ever been from each other. You knew it was good for career and would help him grow his channel, but it sucked being apart for so long. Thankfully, Schlatt made the decision to come back home to New York. When he came back, it was like nothing changed. You had your best friend back and nothing could make you happier.

Most of your nights lately have been spent hanging out at Schlatt’s apartment playing Mario Kart like you did as kids. Tonight was no different. Schlatt was playing as a Villager and you were playing as Cat Peach. “I tried downloading Tinder again,” you say, randomly.

“Why?” Schlatt asked, his eyes located on the screen.

“Maybe there’s someone new. We live in New York. Who knows who might have moved here? Maybe my soulmates!”

“Toots, how many times do I have to tell you? One, your soulmate is not going to be on tinder and two, you’re better off with a true New Yorker than some new kid that wants to make it on broadway or some shit.”

You sigh. “Oh my god, but imagine they are on broadway! You know my love for musical theatre! Maybe we need to go watch a show. The lead being so into their part locks eyes with me and we realize we are truly in love like the characters on the stage.”

Schlatt lets out a small laugh while rolling his eyes. “You are ridiculous, (Y/N),” he says, looking at you.

“You’re just mad that I’m kicking your ass right now.”

“You wish, Fucker,” he says, his competitive spirit coming back.

The two of you continue playing until you both decide you're hungry, so Schlatt orders pizza from your favorite place. “You staying the night?” Schlatt asks, grabbing the Bénédictine bottle and a few solo cups.

“Might as well. It’s the weekend after all,” you say, pouring the liquor into your cup.

“The guest room is always open for you. However, the cats have made it their own, so they might sleep with you.”

“It would be nice to have someone or something laying beside me even if it is just cats. I did always say I was going to be the crazy cat person, but the tables have seemed to turn,” you joke.

“I’m a very proud cat dad. They make great content and the ladies love them,” Schlatt says, moving his eyebrows.

You laugh at him. You miss the way his smiles grow with each laugh that leaves your mouth. “Did I tell you I started a new hobby?” You ask him.

“No? How do you have the time to have another hobby? What happened to crocheting or reading or shipping random men together?”

“I’m still doing all those things and I ship people of all genders. Anyways, I started coloring.”

“Coloring? Like with crayons?” He asks, not in a malicious way, but with genuine curiosity.

“No, with alcohol markers and white gel pens to add highlights. I saw it on TikTok of course and it’s been really fun. It’s also very stress relieving.”

“Can I see some of your finished work?” He asks, his eyes not breaking contact with yours.

“Oh yeah, sure,” you say, pulling your phone out. Sometimes you find it strange how Schlatt actually cares about your hobbies and various interests. He never makes you feel bad about it. He just lightly teases you, but you know that’s just how he is.

Schlatt looks at the pictures you took of the pages you have colored. “Awe I love the little kitty. They are cute! This is really impressive, Toots. It looks like you printed these out. Maybe next time you come over, you should bring your markers and we can color together. Mine won’t be near as good as yours, but I bet it would be fun,” Schlatt says.

You hold your pinky out and Schlatt wraps his around yours. “I’m holding you to that, Big Guy.”

“You know I’d never break a pinky promise. You bring the markers and I’ll bring the Bénédictine.” The marriage pact was formed on a pinky promise and that makes your heart feel warm.

You hear the doorbell ring and realize that your pinkies are still connected. You quickly get up to go answer the door. You see a very handsome man holding the pizza boxes. “Here’s your pizza,” he says. “It’s not everyday that I deliver to someone so pretty.” He winks at you.

“You’re too nice. Hold on, let me grab your tip,” you smile, turning around. You see Schlatt and he hands you a ten dollar bill. “Thank you.”

“Sorry I didn’t realize you had a boyfriend. I couldn’t have flirted with you if I knew,” the guy apologizes.

“He’s not-“ you start.

“Don’t worry about it, dude,” Schlatt says, grabbing the pizza and handing him the money. “Have a good night.” Schlatt closes the door. He goes to the kitchen to grab plates before coming back to the living room.

“What was that?” You ask him.

“What? I just finished what you were going to say. That guy also was probably a high schooler.”

You just decide to not push it any further, knowing that Schlatt is probably right. “What movie do you want to watch?” You ask.

“As long as it’s not a musical, I don’t care what we watch. I recommend Tokyo Drift, but you’re the guest,” Schlatt says, with a piece of pizza in his mouth.

“We can watch Tokyo Drift. It’s been awhile since you picked the movie.”

Schlatt smiles at you. “Thanks Bub.” He puts the movie on.

It doesn’t take long for you to pass out. Schlatt knew it was inevitable. You usually fall asleep during a film and with liquor and pizza on your belly, it’s no surprise when he hears your soft snores. Your head makes its way on Schlatt’s shoulders. He smiles at you and he feels his heart start to race. He wishes you weren’t so hard on yourself and saw how amazing you were.

After about twenty minutes, he realized that you were pretty much out. Instead of having you sleep on the couch, he gently picks you up, bridal style and carries you to the guest bedroom. He carefully lays you down and places the blanket over you. He watches in awe as jambo cuddles beside you. When he knows you’re definitely asleep, he kisses your forehead. “I love you. Sleep tight, Toots,” he says, cleaning up the living room before going to his bed. Schlatt wishes you were laying beside him. He would hold you tight and never let you ever think you were incapable of being loved. He falls asleep, happy with the fact that you are asleep in his house and not with someone who doesn’t deserve you.

A/N: yay!! New fic!! Thank you to 🍓 anon, and everyone else who suggested this req!! Hope you enjoy the first part. Sorry I’m posting this in the middle of the night! Let me know what you know!!

[withwritersblock]

Think Later

~think later by Tate McRae~

Author's Note: Requested! I love this song so mf much Summary: Jack and Luke's sister is in town to visit when she finds a different Devil's player more interesting Warnings: implied smut, a very brief mention of toxic relationships Word Count: 1,585 Nico Hischer vs. Hughes fm!reader

Jack pulled his gear from his shoulders, letting out a huff of air. The team had beaten the Bruins in a 4-2 win. Where he scored two goals. He was excited to get out of the locker room because his older sister was in town. Her flight landed an hour before the game started, she barely had to time to go to Jack’s apartment and drop her bag off. 

“You guys going to Jerry’s?” Nico asked. It was bar and restaurant that the team liked to go to after they won games. Or even after horrible losses. Jack shot a look towards Luke across the room. Luke took a deep breath.

“Our sister is in town, she might want to just go home,” Jack offered. Nico perked upward, a smirk toyed to his lips. 

It was safe to say, he has crushed on Y/N since the first time he met her. It was during Jack’s rookie season, she stayed with Jack for a few weeks. Jack was struggling emotionally for a lot of his rookie year, and having his older sister in town was simply enough to help him get through it. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Jack pointed towards Nico. The locker room was pretty empty at this point, most of the guys had showered and left already. Luke furrowed his eyebrows harshly as he whipped his head around. 

“I wasn’t-” Nico started but Luke interrupted.

“She just got out of a relationship,” Luke let out as he walked towards Nico. 

“I said I wasn’t thinking about it,” Nico defended as he ran his fingers through his hair, “I’m gonna hit the showers,” Nico continued as he had a small smirk on his lips. 

It took another twenty minutes before both Jack and Luke left the locker room to see their older sister Y/N waiting for them. Luke smiled widely as he quickly made his way towards her. She gladly opened her arms for her youngest brother. 

She was technically the oldest. She was older than Quinn by twelve minutes. A fact she constantly reminded Quinn of. She was the only Hughes kid that lacked any interest in hockey, other than her brothers playing. She was a theatre kid, which was a complete one-eighty to what her parents childhoods were like. Her brothers were always more than supported. 

She felt teary-eyed as she engulfed her younger brother in a tight hug. This was the first time she saw Luke play in person in the Devils jersey. Her ex-boyfriend was a really difficult guy and wouldn’t let her travel on her own. He never wanted to spend the money to travel, so she never went to see the games. She was tightly wrapped her arms around his neck tightly. 

“Good job, Lukey Boy,” she let out as she pulled away meeting his eye. He smiled softly as he blinked away his own tears in his eye. She moved away from Luke towards Jack. “What a game, J,” she mumbled as she hugged him tightly. 

“Thanks, how are you feeling? Up for Jerry’s?” he said as he pulled away, his eyes slightly teary. She nodded dramatically. 

“Oh god, my rich brothers buying me drinks all night? How could I say no?” she asked as she stared walking towards the parking garage, blindly hoping they’d show her where Luke’s car was.

~~ 

They stepped into Jerry’s to see the entire bar was the team and their partners. The three of them walked towards the bar. Nico was sitting alone, nursing a beer as he kept his gaze on the TV screen replaying their game. It was in the middle of the first period. Jack patted on his shoulder, pulling his attention towards him. 

“Nico, you remember our sister, Y/N!” he let out loudly, over the noise of the bar. Nico met Jack’s eye for a second before he turned his gaze towards Y/N. Her eyes widened slightly as she met his gaze. The smirk on her lips quickly went away as fast as it appeared. Jack gave him a visual warning, a small head shake. “I’m gonna get us drinks, Lukey what do you want?” Jack shifted his attention towards Luke. 

“Nico, it’s nice to meet you again,” she offered as she stood beside him, close enough their arms could touch at any moment. He turned his gaze towards her, his heart beating hard against his chest.

“You too, Y/N,” he licked his lip as he shifted his gaze towards Jack and Luke behind her. 

“What do you want?” Jack asked smacking his hand against her back. She jolted suddenly, looking towards the bartender.

“Tequila soda extra lime, please,” she expressed. The bartender nodded as he began to work.

“Are you sure? Tequila may not-”

“Jack,” she scolded. He nodded reluctantly as he leaned against the bartop. Over his entire life, he knew to never argue with his older sister. She was feisty and could easily ruin him. She turned her gaze back towards Nico.

He never once looked away from her features. He couldn’t focus, he couldn’t breath as she was so stunning. She knew it too. The second she met Nico’s gaze, she pursed her lips forward. She tried to not smile. 

“Bold choice,” Nico muttered as he lowered his gaze towards her lips. They were glossed with a red color. She shrugged slightly. 

“Boring choice,” she pointed towards the beer in his hand. Nico dropped his head, a chuckle leaving his lips. “Trying to act all tough in front of your teammates?”

“I don’t need to try, I am,” he never wavered eye contact as he brought his beer towards his lips. He took a small sip. 

The bartender slid the tequila soda towards her. She smiled politely towards the bartender as she brought the glass towards her lips. Taking a sip, it tasted perfect.

“At least my drink has flavor,” she mumbled as she took another sip. Jack and Luke got their beers and were long gone, didn’t want to stay to witness Nico hit on their sister. Or even worse, their sister play along.

“It has flavor,” he defended, taking a sip of the beer. Cringing at the taste, her eyes widened as she chuckled. He smiled, “Didn’t say good flavor,”  

She leaned towards him, sliding her glass over, “Go ahead, try it,” she expressed. He clenched his jaw as he reluctantly placed his beer down. He hesitantly took a hold of the short glass. “Come on it’s so good,” she offered as she delicately rested her hand onto his forearm. He smirked towards her as he took a small sip. He quickly pulled his face away, his face scrunch together.

“Oh that’s awful,” he barely got out. 

“Oh come on!” she groaned out as she pulled the glass towards her, “You’re joking,” she let out. He shook his head, quickly pulling beer towards his lips.

“No, that was horrible,”

It had been an hour since she showed up to the bar, and it was pretty obvious that her and Nico were into one another. Jack would show up between them every so often, trying to shut down whatever was happening but it wasn’t working. 

“You know, I’m not supposed to be talking to you,” Nico let out as he tilted his head to the side. He scraped at the label of his beer bottle. She squinted her eyes slightly.

“Why’s that?” she pulled her lip gloss from her front pocket and slowly started applying it to her lips. 

“Jack doesn’t want me involved with you,” he let out. She rolled her eyes dramatically. 

“He can’t control who I talk to, or who I get involved with,” she explained confidently. She shoved her lip gloss back into her pocket as she hopped off the stool. She seductively ran her hand across his arm, slowly gripping his bicep. 

“I live across the street,” he mumbled as he lowered his gaze towards her lips. She nodded as she slowly ran her hand down his arm again, interlocking her fingers with his. 

“I just got out of a bad relationship,” she explained, meeting his gaze, “Bad in more ways than one,” she let out. Hoping he caught on. He nodded as he cleared his throat. 

“Come on,” he mumbled as he stood up from his stool, guiding her towards the bar exit. Y/N’s met Luke’s gaze from across the bar.

He tried to hold in his laughter as he watched Nico drag Y/N out of the bar. Luke smacked his hand against Jack’s arm. Jack and Dawson both shifted their gaze towards Luke. “Caps hooking up with our sister,” he let out, subtly pointing towards Y/N stepping out of the bar. He started laughing. Dawson tried to keep his laughter inside as he saw Jack’s angry expression.

“That motherfuc-”

Nico continued guiding Y/N across the street towards his apartment complex. They stepped into the lobby, he nodded towards the receptionist as he walked towards the elevator. He pressed the up button multiple times. 

“Think once is enough,” she whispered. He rolled his eyes playfully as the doors opened. He took a hold of her waist, pulling her inside. 

“Once is never enough,” he muttered as he pressed the button to his floor. He quickly guided her towards the back of the elevator, devouring her lips in the process.

“Oh my god,” she mumbled against his lips as she ran her fingers through the ends of his hair.

[bloomstream]

just saw your cheerleader x bhna boys and 🤯🤯 I LOVE ITT

could you do this but with musical theatre reader and maybe add shinso?? 💗🤗

⋆˚࿔ behind the spotlight

— includes : kirishima, kaminari, sero, & shinsou (in that order)

𓂃　♪　𓈒 cw: mostly gn!reader but eiji and denki say girlfriend once, fluff, established relationship, babe and baby used

𓂃　★ 𓈒 a/n: thank u for the request anon! i’ll take this as a sign to never exclude shinsou again lolol so i added a little extra for u shinsou fans

⋆˚࿔ e.kirishima

eijiro is your biggest fan, making you feel like a mainstream actor. when you tell him you landed the lead role in newest musical, he seemed to be more excited than you! “i know you could do it, you’re the best!”

eijiro acts like your manager—a super nice one of course—he helps you rehearse your lines and guides you through warming up your voice.

he comes to every rehearsal he can make it too. eijiro cheers for you and your peers. your peers actually love him, how could they not? stage crew like to use him to carry and lift things, he enjoys doing these things knowing they help you in the long run.

secretly memorizes all the songs (and learns the meaning behind each of them) you’re singing so he won’t only be watching but also understanding.

his favorite musical is legally blonde! he thinks it’s super fun and elle woods quickly becomes his new inspiration.

on opening night, he gives you a bouquet of flowers before you go and stage. even in a rush he can’t help but encourage you, “can’t wait to see you on stage baby, i’m so excited.”

he is cheesing in the front row seats, his eyes not leaving you for a single second. he’s the first one standing when the show is over, clapping as the curtains come to a close.

“you were so good!” he engulfs you in a bear hug and you laugh. he is also brought to tears when he sees your glowing face, you’re like a real-life star and he gets to live in your glory.

after another bouquet of flowers and a million praises, he finally takes you home.

for the next three week he’s singing non-stop, the songs from the musical stuck in his head.

⋆˚࿔ d.kaminari

denki doesn’t know much about musical theater but after watching your first performance he finds that it’s his new eye candy.

when you tell him you landed the lead role denki grins, “what do i always say? my girlfriend is crazy talented!” his arm is draped around your shoulder. he pulls you closer, leaning down to kiss your cheek, “you’re gonna do amazing, i know it.”

tries his best to help you rehearse but gets distracted. “wait so, she has a crush on her sister's husband? that’s fucked up man.” even with his confusion he still manages to be super into the drama of it all.

denki lets you practice your stage makeup on him and is actually excited when you ask him to. thought by the end of it, he’s unsure, “are my cheeks supposed to be that… pink?”

would lose his mind if you had to do an onstage kiss. “can’t you just high-five instead! i mean you don’t have to kiss!” he says while he crosses his arm, practically pouting.

his favorite musical is heathers, no explanation needed. spongebob is a close second.

has tried to help backstage once but accidentally bumped into a switch and caused a power outage. the stage crew has been a little more cautious around him after that.

arrived to your show right as it starts so he can’t see you face to face until after the show, he’s devastated about this.

runs backstage as soon as the curtains fall, screaming. “BABE! YOU DID GREAT OUT THERE!” crushing you in a hug. he pulls back to hand you some flowers, the bouquet looking a bit shabby because he got fidgety during the show. “you're a star, should sign with broadway.” he teases as he walks you out.

denki somehow convinced the other theater kids to have an after party. so you spend the night celebrating with your boyfriend who makes this accomplishment feel special.

he may have auditioned for the next show to surprise you but didn’t get the role so he never told you about it.

⋆˚࿔ h.sero

hanta acts chill, but in the inside, he is amazed on how you keep on becoming more and more perfect, “lead role? holy shit babe that’s huge!” he brings you close and ruffles your hair “looks like i got an actor on my hands now.” he teases.

hanta is an absolute sweetheart, but he’s no actor. “oh no, how could you do this to me. i’m in completely despair.” he reads off the script with not a single hit of emotion behind his words. he then looks up with you with a grin, “did i do it good?” he’s trying his best to help you.

if you have a dance-heavy role he’ll joke about being jealous of your dance partner (he is not joking, he is jealous). he offers to help you practice dancing; this is mostly for his own pleasure.

tried to harmonize with you once but his voice cracked. hasn’t attempted to sing again since that day.

adds little encouraging doodles in the margins of your script. some with encouraging messages like, “you got this superstar!” others are… not so encouraging “i should’ve been cast as your super hot and cool love interest.”

got banned from watching your rehearsals because he would cheer every time you said your lines and boo everytime your love interest spoke. (denki was there supporting—booing—too)

his favorite musical was matilda, but after finding out that it’s originally british he changed it to mamma mia. now he can’t help but cry whenever he hears slipping through my fingers.

brings you chocolates and flowers on opening night. gives you a forehead kiss before you go on stage. “i’m might be more nervous than you,” he lets out an airy laugh and you end up having to comfort him. “break a leg!” he says as you walk off, his voice still weary.

he pretends to be causal when he sees you preform for the first time but how could he? you were perfect in every way and so impossible to ignore.

“you are so awesome.” is all he can say when you come off the stage. he is absolutely starstruck. he pulls you a long hug because he is just so freaking proud of you.

⋆˚࿔ h.shinsou

hitoshi is a part of the tech/backstage crew for the theater. he’s seen all the shows and actors before. so it comes to no surprise to him when you tell him you got the lead role, knowing how good you are. “of course you got the lead baby, you’re the best actor here.” he almost laughs at your modesty.

you both being theater heads leads to a lot of helping each other out! arriving at the theater early to help him prepare the stage speakers while you warm up your voice.

hitoshi is ecstatic when you ask him to adjust your mic or move the lights. he’ll take any chance he can to help you out.

if you’re alone in the theater rehearsing, hitoshi sometimes likes to mess with you through the intercom “that’s not how you said the line last time!” he calls out. you didn’t even know he was watching you.

lets you ruffle his hair and mess with his headset.

maybe the other actors don’t know it, but the stage crew does. hitoshi makes sure the stage crew never hears the end of your achievements. he doesn’t even mean to, he just finds himself commenting on your performance.

“she’s really good at that.” he watches from backstage with a smile, speaking to no one in particular.

“be careful with that set piece, my girlfriend is on stage.” he says it deadpan, but eveyone knows he’s serious.

his favorite musical is the addams family, obviously.

consoles in izuku about color theory so he can learn what color stage lights will match best with your skin tone.

you get ready for opening night together. he zips up your costume and you tighten his tie. he gives you flowers and a high quality pair of sheer tights, you almost propose to him right there.

hitoshi is happy he has the pleasure of watching you backstage, seeing you from an angle no one else is.

you stand next to each other when the show is over, and the time comes to bow for the crowd. he doesn’t let go of your hand when the curtain drops. before you can even open your mouth to ask, he speaks “perfect, fucking perfect.” he praises as guides you into a gentle kiss.

[hivemuthur]

The Game of Teaching Body - Ch. 6.

viktorxfemale!reader mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes)

AU university, AU modern era, slow burn, frenemies to lovers, teasing, pinning, banter, eventual romance and therefore smut, Viktor is simultaneously a menace and needs a hug, TA Viktor

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12.

word count: 5K

tag: #the game of teaching body

summary: ok, so my notes on AO3 reminded me how actually this fic crawled into my brain and it was with Drugs in Our Body. So, what should happen after this chapter is whatever happens in DiOB - it serves as somewhat floating chapter. The story can be read without it, but there might be some gaps in the next and future chapters, as I reference it briefly. So, it's ch.6. -> DiOB -> ch.7. I hope that makes sense, I don't know who I think I am, doing this kind of stuff.

Cross-posted on AO3 + POV3rd Person Version

—

“A C?” you gasped as you opened your paper, the glaring red C screaming at your incompetence. How could this happen? You’d worked on it for an entire week. You turned the paper around, desperate for any explanation, but all you found was Heimerdinger’s poetic scrawl: ‘Not entirely botched but needs more work. Seek and you shall find, Y/N. You can give me a fix-up if you want a higher grade.’

“Don’t worry, I got a D,” Sue sighed, her arms falling to her sides, the paper crumpled in one hand. She hadn’t put in nearly as much effort, spending most of the week hanging out with Alice and doing what she smugly referred to as “girl stuff.”

“Yes, but I put in about a month’s worth of research for this,” you muttered, the frustration spilling out before you could stop it. You caught Sue’s glare and quickly backtracked. “I’m not saying you didn’t! I just… I don’t understand.”

“Well, he says you can fix it. He didn’t say that on mine, look,” Sue said, holding up the crumpled paper. The note read: ‘Not bad. Could be better. Pay more attention to details next time. H.’

“You could ask Viktor for help?” Sue offered faintly; her eyebrows raised. You inhaled sharply, preparing to unleash a tirade of insults about why that was the absolute last thing you would ever do. But before you could, Sue hastily amended, “Or Jayce! He has office hours in the afternoon, or so I’ve heard.”

“I… guess you’re right,” you said, letting out the breath you’d been holding. Seeing Viktor in class was already more than enough to deal with. He acted as if nothing had happened, which only made you more furious. That anger had sharpened even further when Angus had texted to ask you out for coffee, leaving your stomach tied in knots as you agreed.

You met him at a cosy pub near campus, the same one you used to frequent with Hale, Sue, Jayce, Mel, and, well… Viktor—though only because he was coerced, not because you wanted him there. Angus asked you question after question, and you found it surprisingly easy to talk to him. You told him funny stories about your parents being new age freaks, about how much you loved your mum’s Polish cooking, and how your dad had kept you in a strict yoga routine since you were six, grooming you to take over his practice.

You admitted how you’d chosen genetics instead, a quiet rebellion against your mum’s recall healing teachings—only to discover there was some truth to them, realising that everything in the universe was connected.

Angus was fascinated. He told you about his three brothers, who’d gone into law and programming, and how he was the family’s scapegoat. He spoke warmly about his close bond with his mum and his dream of running a facility to help kids overcome trauma through theatre and dance.

You praised him for it, but when he misread your words as an invitation and leaned in to kiss you, you froze. He stopped, eyebrows raised, waiting for you to explain. All you could manage was a clumsy explanation that you’d had a wonderful time, but it made you realise you needed to sort out your own issues first.

He laughed, a soft, knowing sound. “I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be straightforward,” he said lightly.

He seemed like the kind of guy who could easily find someone else, but the thought still left your heart aching. And somehow, it was all Viktor’s fault.

The way he never asked about any of those things. The way he only asked where you were from to wind you up.

You braced yourself through the day, slogging through classes and lectures with the weight of that damned paper gnawing at you. By the time the sky turned dark, you found yourself reluctantly heading back to the science lab, resolved to ask Jayce for help. It felt strange to ask him instead of Viktor—like you were dodging some inescapable fate.

Jayce had always been approachable, quick to befriend the “fresh meat.” If there were any rules about student-TA relationships, he seemed to ignore them with a confidence that made you smile. Viktor, on the other hand… well, he was a different beast entirely.

Stuffing a banana into your mouth as you walked, you caught a glimpse of your reflection in one of the school’s tall windows. Not great, but not tragic either. The real issue was the way your face—mid-chewing—gave away just how much crying you’d been doing. It was painfully obvious, even to you.

You barged into the TA’s office without a second thought. “Hey, Jayce, do you have some time to take a look at this?” you asked, your focus entirely on digging through your bag, where the cursed paper had been unceremoniously shoved earlier.

But when you looked up, you froze.

The person at the desk wasn’t Jayce. It was Viktor.

He glanced up at you, eyebrows raised in surprise at your abrupt entrance. And there it was—already forming—the smirk you hated so much. Before he could unleash one of his insufferable remarks, you scrambled to backtrack.

“Shit, sorry. I thought it was Jayce’s hours. I’ll come back some other time,” you blurted, already halfway out the door.

“Please, don’t be ridiculous,” he said, standing up too quickly, his hand wobbling on his cane. You saw it but decided not to step in to help. “I can take a look.”

His voice carried a careful edge, and you hesitated. You didn’t trust him—not after the last time. He had crossed a line, and you’d felt the sting of it for days. He knew it too. He saw it in the way your body tensed every time he leaned over your workbench in class to offer advice, advice you now refused to take. He saw it now, in the faint swelling of your face, the traces of tears you hadn’t managed to hide.

He knew it had been wrong the moment you stormed out of his office that day, leaving him slumped in his chair with a quiet “Shit,” slipping from his mouth.

Now, as you lingered in the doorway, Viktor saw a chance to make amends. He wasn’t going to let it slip through his fingers.

You eyed him suspiciously before finally handing over the paper, reluctant and still keeping your distance. Viktor perched himself on the edge of the desk, flipping through your work, his sharp eyes scanning for Heimerdinger’s signature wisdom.

“Ah, right. He can’t be bothered to write more than this,” Viktor huffed, reading the vague ‘Seek and you shall find.’

“Thankfully, I made notes for you on this one,” he said, glancing up to meet your eyes. There was a genuine effort in his grin that made you uneasy.

“Wasn’t it supposed to be Jayce’s hours?” you asked, crossing your arms as you watched him pull a set of notes from his bag. Why would he make notes for you in advance? It didn’t add up. Was this some elaborate act to stage a redemption arc for himself?

“Why? Has your focus shifted already?” Viktor’s retort slipped out before he could stop it. The playful edge in his voice made your spine straighten, ready to snap back with a sharp response. But before you could, he quickly softened his tone.

“He’s sick,” Viktor said, his gaze steady, almost remorseful. “I’m covering for him.”

You didn’t know whether to believe him, but the vulnerability in his tone threw you off balance. For once, it seemed like Viktor wasn’t trying to wind you up—or at least, not entirely.

You didn’t say anything at first, but you leaned in closer, your gaze falling to the notes Viktor had spread out on the desk. That familiar scent of his—body wash, something clean and sharp, mingled with freshly washed wool—drifted to you. It was oddly comforting, though you couldn’t quite figure out why it felt so… intimate.

He tapped a finger on the first section of your paper, pointing to where you had rushed to conclusions, skipping the part where you should have explained how you’d arrived at your findings. “You’ve got solid results,” he said, his voice low and patient, “but Heimerdinger’s mark was his way of telling you that your argument is missing a crucial part. You skipped over how you proved your hypothesis—how you got to the results you did.”

You nodded, following his finger as he guided you through the mistakes you hadn’t even noticed before. His advice was precise, practical, and, oddly enough, warm. It wasn’t just about correcting your errors—it was the care he was taking with you. He wasn’t simply telling you what was wrong; he was showing you how to fix it, step by step, as though it actually mattered to him.

“This part here,” Viktor continued, tapping another section, “it’s the hardest part for most students. The construction of the paper—the logic of it. That’s what gets people. You didn’t make any mistakes in your research or results. It’s just the way you laid everything out. This is the part most academics struggle with. It just takes practice.”

You swallowed, warmth rushing through your chest. You couldn’t tell if it was the unexpected kindness or the fact that he was taking the time to explain everything so thoroughly, but something inside you shifted. Your shoulders relaxed, and the tension you’d been carrying eased, just a little.

For a moment, you let your guard down. You allowed yourself to actually listen, to trust in what he was saying. But as his steady, warm tone settled over you, a flicker of confusion took hold. Was this real? Was he being this careful with you because he cared? Or were you just imagining it, reading too much into the moment?

Your mind raced, a swirl of emotions and doubts tumbling over one another. It had only been a few days since that… moment. You weren’t sure if you were holding on to the idea of it or if Viktor’s actions now were a sign that something had shifted between you.

You glanced at him. His focus was entirely on your paper, his expression neutral. But something in his eyes made your heart beat just a little faster. Was he really this warm, or was it just the warmth of the moment? You couldn’t tell.

“How is your hand?” he asked suddenly, pulling you out of your thoughts. His gaze drifted to the small bandage covering the alkaline burn from the other day. The question seemed to slip out unbidden, and you weren’t sure if you appreciated the reminder.

You blinked, thrown back to that moment by the sink: his voice sharp and cutting, his dark eyes boring into you, his fingers pressing gently against your wrist as his mouth asked, “Why are you not wearing gloves?”

Your pulse quickened as you quickly tugged your sleeve over the bandage, concealing the mark. “It’s fine,” you said, taking a step back.

He spoke your name softly, his hand darting out to stop you. This time, his movement wasn’t hesitant, wasn’t unsure, as it had been before. His fingers closed around your wrist—not roughly, but firmly enough that you couldn’t slip away.

He turned your hand palm-up and carefully began peeling the bandage away. The gentleness of the motion disarmed you, and you stood frozen, watching as his sharp eyes inspected the wound beneath.

You winced at the gesture, and Viktor presumed it was painful, though your face twisted more because here he was, exposing you once again. “Don’t be such a baby,” he chuckled.

“I could say the same to you,” you muttered under your breath. Viktor only shot you a glance, laced with a knowing smile.

“It’s looking good. Let it air out once in a while,” he said. This would be the moment to release your hand, but he couldn’t help himself; he held it for a little while longer. He was about to mention how you could always count on him for help with essays and long-term homework, just to cement the quiet truce between you. But you beat him to it.

“You don’t know the first thing about me.” It blurted out before you could stop it. It just shot out of your mouth like an overworked spring.

Viktor was taken aback. His mouth hung open for a moment as he processed your words. What exactly did you mean by that? It was a challenge you threw without thinking. But he could take it. The silence between you stretched, and when you started to retreat your hand, about to mutter an apology, he spoke, hesitantly.

“I… I know you’re half-Polish,” he said, offering a sheepish smile, as if apologizing for how he’d gathered this information. You shot him a glare, but Viktor wasn’t deterred.

“I also know you’re into genetics.” Your sigh was almost audible. These were the things most people knew about you by now. But he wasn’t finished.

“I know that you know Hamilton by heart.” You raised an eyebrow, but he pressed on.

“I know you don’t abandon your friends when they need you. I know you’re ambitious, smart, and funny. I know you laugh at silly, dry chemistry jokes. I know you chew on your pencil when you’re focused.” Your breath hitched slightly, but you stayed silent.

“I know…” he hesitated, his voice softening, “how warm your hands are when you get… excited.” He knew so much more about you but was too afraid to say it. He knew the feeling of your fingers on his scalp as you pulled him closer into a kiss. He knew the taste of your tongue and the sound of little gasps you made when he touched you. He memorized it all and replayed it over and over again in his mind.

You swallowed hard, feeling a strange mix of warmth and nerves twirling inside you. You didn’t speak, just looked at him, and Viktor, not certain about the effect of his confession, refused to meet your gaze. His touch on your hand was tender now, softer than before.

He cleared his throat, finally asking, “So… what do you know about me?” You blinked, thrown off by the question. You answered quickly, not thinking too much about it.

“I know you’re Czech… and that you’re a sad fart.”

Viktor couldn’t help but laugh at that, the sound light and unexpected in the air between you. You felt the tension lift, just a little, as you shared this strange, awkward moment. He released your hand and leaned back against the desk, looking at you with a raised eyebrow, his voice carrying a mix of humour and something more sincere.

“Well, it seems that we need to work on that. I’m so much more than a sad fart. I’m also a stiff, meticulous bastard, I’ll remind you.” He pointed a joking finger in your direction as you rolled your eyes.

“What do you have in mind, then?” you asked, your tone still guarded but tinged with curiosity.

“A… ceasefire?” Viktor suggested, his smile lingering, though his gaze softened slightly. “At least for now.”

Your lips twitched into a half-smile. “As long as you promise not to shoot me in the back.”

Viktor chuckled softly under his breath. “I might have a history of unsportsmanlike conduct, but perhaps we could… start over? Unless, of course, Angus…”

You raised an eyebrow at that, feeling a grin tug at the corners of your mouth. “Oh, you wish I told you,” you teased, your tone a playful challenge rather than an outright denial. “But yes, a ceasefire and a do-over I can accept. No dirty moves, Viktor.”

He leaned in ever so slightly, his voice still playful but with an edge of something deeper. “I solemnly swear.” He held up a hand in mock sincerity before smirking. “No dirty moves… this time.”

His gaze lingered on you, the teasing glint still present, but there was an undercurrent of something else in his tone. He wasn’t making it clear—what exactly were the two of you trying again? Was it just the tentative friendship, the awkward truce formed after your bickering? Or was it something more?

You couldn’t shake the feeling that he might be pushing for something beyond the ceasefire, though he wasn’t saying it outright. Perhaps it was just your imagination, overthinking again, but the uncertainty made you uneasy. You wanted to keep your distance, to hold the upper hand, but something in Viktor’s manner made you hesitate.

Your fingers brushed the edge of your notebook, a telltale sign of your nerves as you glanced up at him. “You’re really not going to elaborate, are you?” you asked, giving him a look that was equal parts challenge and curiosity.

Viktor shrugged, his expression a mix of amusement and caution. “What’s to elaborate? We’re starting over. That’s enough for now, isn’t it?”

You bit your lip, refusing to let him see how much his words made your pulse quicken. Instead, you smirked, masking the flutter of emotions beneath a calm exterior. “As long as you don’t get any funny ideas.”

His gaze softened slightly, though the teasing glint in his eyes remained. “No funny ideas. For now, anyway.” He straightened, placing his hands back on the desk, but the space between you still felt charged and unfinished.

***

To seal the deal, both you and Viktor made an equal effort to keep things neutral—meeting among friends, in public spaces, testing the waters of this truce. One such occasion found you at the pub with the usual group of six, an outing entirely orchestrated by Viktor.

He and Jayce weren’t exactly studying; instead, they were buried in notes, trying to distil their findings into a polished research summary for Heimerdinger. Across the table, Mel and Hale were prepping for their theatre history exam, their discussions frequently devolving into competitive banter as they lobbed historical facts at each other in an effort to outdo one another.

Sue, ever diligent, was rewriting her entire textbook into her notebook as if the act itself would cement the knowledge in her brain. Meanwhile, you were seated cross-legged on the floor, quietly working on your genetics paper, tuning out the chatter as best you could.

The group was a collage of concentration and lively exchanges when you simultaneously let out a yawn and your stomach grumbled loudly, the sound cutting through the general din of the pub.

Viktor’s eyebrows shot up, and he glanced at you over the rim of his notes, his tone wry as he spoke. “Feels like there is more than one need to address here.”

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. You quickly moved a hand over your belly as if to stifle the sound. “Uh, I don’t suppose they have sandwiches here?”

“They do!” Jayce chimed in enthusiastically, leaning forward with sudden interest. Food always seemed to pull his attention from whatever he was working on. “And not the worst ones, either.”

Viktor exhaled with a knowing sigh; his expression lightly amused. “Eh, they are… not bad,” he conceded. His tone softened, and he leaned slightly forward, tilting his head in your direction. “What say you?”

You hesitated for only a second before Viktor began rising from his seat. He moved with a kind of deliberate precision, setting his notes neatly onto the side table. You noticed how his gaze briefly flicked to Jayce’s writing, his lips twitching in approval before returning his focus to you.

“Uh, sure,” you said, already scrambling up from the floor. Your papers lay abandoned dangerously close to the pub’s cozy fireplace, but you didn’t notice. Instead, as you rose, you wobbled awkwardly, your leg prickling with the unmistakable sensation of pins and needles. You grabbed onto Hale’s shoulder for balance. “Sorry, my leg fell asleep.”

Viktor smirked, his hand resting lightly on the head of his cane as he stood. “Are you trying to copy me?”

You grinned despite yourself. “Totally. Can I borrow that?” You reached out toward his cane, your eyes glinting with playful defiance.

Viktor raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening as he straightened his posture slightly. “You can try,” he said, holding the cane a fraction tighter as if to make a point. “But I warn you, it comes with certain… responsibilities.”

“Oh, I bet it does,” you quipped, brushing past him toward the bar. “I can see myself torturing students with such a vigilant symbol of authority,” you added, throwing him a smirk over your shoulder.

Viktor followed, limping slightly but keeping pace with you, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation as he shook his head.

Behind you, Jayce called out, “Grab me something too!” but neither you nor Viktor paid him any mind.

Hale sighed deeply, finally turning his head away from Mel, who had been poised to deliver another historical fact to outdo him. Instead, his gaze followed you and Viktor as you approached the bar.

“That,” Hale said, his voice low and contemplative, his eyes fixed on you and Viktor as you waited for your coffees at the counter, “will either be beautiful or tragic. Or both.”

“I’m sorry, what are we looking at?” Sue asked, peering over her notebook.

“Our dear friends poking at each other’s hearts,” Hale replied with theatrical solemnity, folding his arms dramatically.

Jayce let out a loud laugh, shaking his head. “Get out, Hale. Viktor would never.”

“Oh, he already did. Just… look at them,” Hale insisted, gesturing subtly in your direction.

Mel perked up, abandoning her train of thought on Renaissance theatre entirely. “Alright, that’s way more interesting than theatre history. Show me what you’re seeing.”

“Alright, kids,” Hale said, sitting up straighter and adopting the tone of a sage sharing forbidden wisdom. “I will share my magic with you, just this once. Look at Viktor. He’s already deep in. See how he’s leaning toward her? I bet he’s saying everything as quiet as possible, so she has to get closer.”

Four heads turned toward the bar, studying the scene unfolding by the counter. Sure enough, your head lingered close to Viktor’s mouth, your neck stretching slightly as though he were, indeed, telling you a quiet joke meant only for you to hear.

“Or,” Jayce countered, raising an eyebrow, “it’s loud in here, and he’s favouring the good leg.”

“Quiet, unbeliever,” Hale dismissed him with a dramatic wave of his hand. “Now, pay attention. Look at his hand. It’s hovering over her, see? He touches her every so often—nothing dramatic, just enough to remind her he’s there.”

The group watched as Viktor’s hand brushed your arm, subtle but deliberate, before retreating again.

“And now,” Hale continued, lowering his voice for effect, “he’s going to make her look. Watch how he gestures toward the bar—something he said, no doubt very clever—and there it is. She’s looking at his hand.” Your gaze flicked down to Viktor’s hand as he emphasized his point, your expression a mix of amusement and concentration.

“Now, notice her,” Hale said, leaning forward conspiratorially. “She’s holding back, but she’s doing that thing she does when she likes someone. See how she doesn’t look directly at him when he talks? Instead, she leans toward him, like she’s pulled by a magnet.”

Right on cue, you tilted your head slightly toward Viktor, though your eyes remained fixed elsewhere.

“And now,” Hale declared with a triumphant grin, “he’ll look away, and she’ll steal a glance. Ah! There it is.” He pointed as your gaze darted to Viktor’s face the moment his attention shifted elsewhere.

“And what is she looking at, you ask?” Hale continued, his tone dripping with faux gravity. “She’s checking if he’s comfortable with her. Or, in Viktor’s case, if he’s in pain. Watch her eyes.”

Sure enough, your gaze swept over Viktor’s posture, subtly assessing the way his body shifted against the cane.

“And now, for the dramatic finale,” Hale announced, holding up a hand as if to quiet an invisible audience. “He will pass her the first cup of coffee, and she will take it from his hand. That way, they’ll touch—skin on skin. And…”

The group collectively held their breath, eyes fixed on the bar. Viktor handed you a cup, your fingers brushing briefly.

“She’ll look at him and make a joke,” Hale continued confidently, “and—yes, there it is.”

You said something with a wry smile, your eyes glinting, and Viktor’s laugh followed—a soft, genuine sound that made his shoulders relax.

“And now,” Hale finished with a flourish, “he’s shoving four sugar packets into his coffee while she’s not looking. I guess that’s just Viktor being gross.”

Sue stifled a laugh, Mel smirked, and Jayce shook his head in disbelief.

“And this,” Hale said, leaning back triumphantly, “ladies, gentlemen, and beautiful creatures, is the cautious love that we are lucky enough to witness blooming before our very eyes.”

“With your voiceover, it feels like spying on someone having sex, Hale,” Mel quipped, arching an eyebrow.

“Exciting, isn’t it?” Hale replied, completely unfazed, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. Reading people was his superpower, and he had seen through Viktor the first day they all met in the very pub that was now their place of refuge. You, he knew by heart.

“Man, you are frightening,” Jayce whispered loudly. “Watching this careful study, well… maybe you’re right, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up,” he added, glancing toward the bar. He hurriedly returned to his notes, mindful that you and Viktor would be back any second and shouldn’t know what had just transpired. Feeling the weight of three questioning stares, he sighed and elaborated, “Viktor does more of… guest performances rather than full seasons, if you catch my meaning.”

“Oh, let him try a guest performance with my darling girl, and I will shove his cane up his—” Hale’s expression shifted instantly from threatening to sickeningly sweet as he noticed you eyeing him from the distance. “Did you get what your heart desired, my love?”

“I suppose. What are you guys talking about?” you asked, your gaze sweeping suspiciously over the group before landing briefly on Viktor. You sent him a silent question, but he didn’t seem to notice, too absorbed in his meticulous effort to sweeten his coffee.

“Nothing… Renaissance theatre history… lip gloss,” came a broken chorus of voices in response.

Your eyebrows shot even higher on your forehead. “Uh… as you wish, weirdos,” you dismissed, focusing on your sandwich instead.

The group fell into a brief silence, the kind that crackled with unspoken thoughts, pens scribbling, papers being shuffled around. Jayce kept glancing toward Viktor one time too many, his eyebrows furrowing as if he were trying to decode something. Viktor’s patience snapped first.

“What?” Viktor asked, irritation colouring his tone. “Do I have something on my face?”

Jayce blinked, startled. “Huh? No, just… never mind,” he muttered, hurriedly returning to his notes. Was it possible for his friend to have a thing with you and never mention it?

Before the awkward moment could deepen, Sue suddenly jolted upright as if struck by lightning. “Shit! I need to pack!” she exclaimed, shoving her notebook into her bag with alarming speed. She leaned over to you, kissed your forehead dramatically, and declared, “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m away.”

You rolled your eyes, chewing on your sandwich. “No promises.”

Sue hesitated for a split second, her gaze flickering briefly toward Viktor before snapping back to you. “Or do,” she added with a sly grin, winking.

You snorted, shaking your head. “Have a nice weekend, Sue.”

“You too!” Sue called over her shoulder, already halfway out the door.

Once she was gone, Jayce tilted his head curiously. “Where’s she off to?”

You swallowed your bite and shrugged. “Spending the weekend with her dad. Family bonding time, you know how it is.”

Viktor, who had been stirring his coffee in a slow, thoughtful rhythm, glanced at you. “So, you are alone for the entire weekend?”

You met his gaze, an eyebrow arching. “That’s right. Why? Got something in mind?”

Viktor’s lips curved into the faintest hint of a smirk, but all he said was, “Maybe.”

You tilted your head, your eyes narrowing playfully. “Careful, Viktor. As a wise man once said, too much love can kill you.”

Jayce, who had been sipping his drink, choked on a laugh, sputtering as he tried to regain his composure. Viktor’s brows knitted together in confusion for a moment. He rested his chin on his hand, mulling it over until realization dawned. He straightened, looking at you with mild disbelief.

“Wait,” he said slowly, his voice laced with both amusement and incredulity. “Did you just quote Meatloaf at me?”

You grinned wickedly, your eyes glinting with mischief. “What can I say? I have range.”

Jayce laughed again, shaking his head. “I can’t decide if that’s impressive or completely unhinged.”

“Unhinged,” Viktor replied flatly, though the corners of his mouth twitched in betrayal of a suppressed smile.

You raised your sandwich in a mock toast. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Of course you would,” Viktor muttered, taking a long sip of his now overly sweetened coffee.

But as if taking your cautionary tale seriously, Viktor didn’t reach out to you at all on Friday evening or Saturday. You had half-expected a witty text or some excuse to drop by, but your phone remained stubbornly silent.

You told yourself you didn’t care. If Viktor wanted to brood or busy himself with his mysterious projects, that was his problem, not yours. You weren’t going to waste your weekend waiting for him to decide otherwise. So, when you overheard someone in the dorm hall mentioning a party on the third floor that evening, you figured it was better than wallowing in boredom.

[papurgaatika]

Keep A Leftover Light Burning

Pairing: joel miller x Ceramicist! reader

MINORS DNI WITH MY WORKS PLEASE !!

A/N: howdy howdy and welcome all now this is a very special fic for @burntheedges for the @pedrostories secret santa event!! I hope you like it and find it as fun as i did. I think this isnt a trope that we see very often, but after a healthy dose of tiktoks (and watching the scene from ghost again) this came into being. As always thank you to my beloveeeeeeed @carlynkurin for beta reading, and peace and love on the planet earth from me, xoxo Remember that TLOU is created by a zionist so please look at the resources at the end of this fic and in my bio on ways to donate and educate yourself!! tags: Ceramicist reader, smut, porn with plot, oral (f! receiving), publicish sex, strangers to lovers, lots of wet clay, joels arms require their own tag Word count: 3.4k Summary: Sarah forces joel to go take a day to himself, pushing him in the direction of your pottery studio. Despite calling yourself professional and priding yourself on your morals, you can’t help but… fantasize about the man in front of you. 

Joel needs to take time for himself. He’s always on, always ready to go at the flip of a switch,  never taking time to sit and breathe. Everyone knows how hard he works, and despite what he says, Sarah knows that he needs to do something calming. Something that doesn’t involve carving wood or going to the shooting range with Tommy on the off chance that both of them are free for long enough. So being the perfect daughter that she is, she enrolls him in a ceramics workshop that she had gone to once. It was a small studio, tucked away next to the Palace Theatre in downtown Georgetown, soft and quaint in the suburbs, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Sarah managed to get a hold of you over the phone and explain the situation, a smile threatening to creep onto your cheeks at the sheer amount of care she had for her father. You tell her not to worry about the price and that you would stay open for an extra hour next weekend just to get him in, a squeal on the other side is all the confirmation you need as you pencil it into your schedule. 

Sunday rolls around and Joel… Well, he was being Joel. Stubborn and groaning as Sarah essentially pushes him out the door to make the drive up IH-35, complaining about “I build things for a living,” and “it’ll be a waste of time.” but Sarah is hearing none of it and one look from her has Joel slipping on his boots. In any other circumstance, he would have praised her for holding her ground, but right now he just sighs and gets into his truck realizing just how much of his stubbornness had rubbed off on her. 

He ends up at the studio just before 5, the sun starting to dip under the horizon, casting beautiful pinks and oranges around the sky. He’s still bitching and moaning as he makes his way to the building, taking a deep breath as he steps inside. You barely even hear the jingle of the little bell above your door, too busy fighting with your sink: now clogged with clay from your last class with 3 kids under ten who didn't understand that when you told them not to dump clay inside the sink. You had meant it. “Fucking thing!” you groan, poking a paintbrush into the drain, hoping to get enough clay out of it so that it would run again. 

Joel stares at you, half confused and half amused with the scene in front of him; your hair a mess, your apron covered in clay and paint, hacking into your sink in ways that he knows won't do you any good. He clears his throat after watching you struggle for about 30 seconds, stifling a smirk when you jump and look back at him. “Need some help? I’m s’possed to have a class now- my daughter-” he shakes his head at the idea of sharing the whole story again “Did I get the wrong time?” 

You look absolutely mortified, dropping the paintbrush in the basin and giving the man in front of you a weak smile “No! No, I just got a little... occupied… you’re on time” You wipe your hands on the front of your apron, not even bothering to attempt to fix your hair, before walking over to greet him. Properly this time. “You must be Joel. Your daughter was very persuasive on the phone.” 

Joel’s smirk shifts into a full-blown smile at the mention of Sarah, the pride he has for the girl shining through. “Yeah, she’s a good one.” he praises. Despite his reluctance to listen to her advice, he knows just how good her heart is, and how much she cares about him. I “Ain't sure what she told ya, and to be honest she hasn't told me what I'm s’possed to be doing here either”

You can't help but smile at his words, the pure adoration for his daughter combined with the slight nervousness in his voice was endearing in ways you weren’t sure how to describe. “No worries, I promise it isn’t anything scary.” You glance around the studio. Outside, the sky had begun to darken, the soft lighting of the different lamps inside the building casting the both of you in a warm glow. The glaze on the ceramics you had on display was a wide assortment of colors: intricately painted motifs, bright splashes of colors, silly cartoons, almost anything you could think of. You pick up a faded apron and hand it to him, watching him stretch as he puts it on. A brief flicker of guilt passes through you as you ogle him, but then you see the way his biceps strain against the fabric of his shirt and the guilt gives way to something primitive. 

He turns back around and you look away with a cough, a slight warmth creeping up your cheeks when he raises his brows at you. “Right um-” you stumble over your words, more unrefined than you would have liked to be “Sorry, sorry. We’ll start with choosing what you’ll want to make. I always recommend something easy, like a bowl or a spoon rest..” you pick up a pencil cup that had been painted to look like a pencil and a spoon rest that was a simple blue color, to show him “I already have the clay prepped so we can get started straight on th-” 

Joel cuts you off as he glances around the studio, pointing at a lidded cookie jar “That one.” His words leave no room for argument but certainly bring questions up to the surface. “I'm gonna do that one.” You had been making ceramics for years, starting with air-dry clay in school, continuing to use the wheel throughout university, and eventually quitting your day job to start the studio. You knew the skill level it took to make a jar, the precision and technique to keep it balanced, and it just wasn’t a beginner project. 

“I'm sorry, the cookie jar?” You try not to let your voice betray your disbelief. It wasn't that you lacked faith in the man in front of you, you made sure to be confident in all of your clients, it was simply an issue of skill. “I don't know if that’s the one for you to start out with, it’s a little advanced-” 

But Joel was having none of it. If he was going to be forced to sit here and make something to “calm him down” then damn it it was going to be something that takes skill and effort. Something that he could bring home to Sarah and brag about slightly. Was it a little strange that he wanted to one-up his daughter and prove that he didn't need to be here? Maybe a little bit, but he didn't dwell on it. “Yes ma'am.” His voice is set in the decision. “I'm sure it can't be that bad, let me at it.” 

Never one to truly tell people no, you simply nod and get the prepared clay out. It was soft and slippery, staining your hands a taupe color as you brought it to the wheel, plopping it down on the wheel, and pressing down on the sides to make sure it stuck. “Alright, so with the jar..” you gesture for him to take a seat in front of the wheel, moving to stand behind him “It’ll be a little bit more involved than something simple, but you're in good hands I promise.” Your words are soft, and frankly, you were excited. You didn't throw fun projects with clients as much as you’d like to anymore, focusing more on teaching the basics, so this was honestly a welcomed surprise. “We’ll just start with getting the basic shape of it, you’ll take your hands like this, and we’ll work it up.” 

You sit on your stool behind him, usually, you’d be able to reach around and help with hand placement but good god was he broad. You adjust and readjust your position a few times, finding it oddly difficult to find the right mix between comfort and functionality, eventually ending up with your legs spread a little bit past their comfort level, so that you could lean over his shoulder and help him with the shaping. You squeeze some water onto his hands, moving them to cup the base of the clay and pop the wheel to life. His hands were big under your smaller ones, the roughness contrasting both the soft clay and your skin. You can't help but feel a twinge of something stirring inside you as you help him bring the clay up and down, your hands guiding his. Joel’s brows were knit together in concentration, both endearing and attractive as you watched him focus on the clay. The movements of his hands under yours were careful, almost hesitant, his eyes peeking back at you every so often for assurance. 

Once the clay was at an appropriate size you moved your hands off of his, the wheel slowing to a stop. You swear that you see his hands twitch to stay under yours, but your mind might be playing tricks on you. “Now call me unartistic but this ain't really lookin’ like a cookie jar yet.” Joel raises his brows, a slight hint of teasing hidden in his southern drawl, and you can’t help but snort at the comment.

“I will not call you unartistic, it isn't supposed to look like a jar yet.” You hum and wipe your hands on your apron “We’ll do the lid to it later, but you have to actually make it into a bowl first.” your thumbs gently press down onto the center of the clay to form a soft dent. The wheel starts back up again slowly and you start to open the center up a little bit. “Right so now you just gotta take your thumbs like I did and- perfect!” Joel manages to press his fingers slowly against the clay, working it open, and god you wished that was you more than anything at that moment. You press on the sponge, the water dripping down his hand and onto the clay, almost sensually. Your eyes are locked on the way his thumb dips into the clay, the way the clay comes up onto his skin. Your mouth is dry, and you cough as you stand up, needing to take a deep breath and try to compose yourself. 

“Everythin’ alright?” Joel's voice rings out from behind you as you move to take a drink of water, and you swear if his voice was just a tinge deeper, you would have choked right then and there. In the rush of getting up, your brain had ceased to realize that moving off the pedal would stop the wheel from turning.

You feel like an idiot. A stupid, hormonal, completely unprofessional idiot. You take a moment to scold yourself mentally before turning around to face him again. “Yeah, yes. Sorry I just realized how thirsty I was, I just needed water.” You move back to your stool behind him, halfway composed, and move to start the next step. If you'd been in front of him for one more second, you would have seen the knowing smile on his face. There was no denying the attraction between the two of you. Pressed up against each other, hands touching, dim light surrounding you both, it was inevitable. You move your hand to show him the right finger position “so you’ll want to take your middle and ring finger-” You press the two of yours inside of the bowl to give him an example and you swear he laughs a little bit. 

“Oh, believe me, darlin” his voice rings out, big fingers expertly finding their way into the exact position. “I know all about this one.” You watch his fingers glide up and down the inside of the bowl, your hand on top of his, steadying his wrist. You bite at your lip, fingers shaking slightly on top of his. Your chest was pressed against his back and you could feel your nipples hardening. You were annoyingly turned on. This wasn’t normal for you, this wasn't something you do, get the hots for a client, but here you were. And with the way Joel's fingers were methodically moving over yours, you were begging that he felt the same way. “Wouldn’t mind showin’ ya all I know about it.” The want in his voice makes you clench subconsciously, your breath faltering for a second. 

You hold your breath for a moment as if trying to make sure you hadn’t imagined his words in a haze of horniness, only to be broken out of that haze when he shifts and pushes his stool back, and turns around to face you. Both of your hands were covered in wet clay and your aprons were messy, neither of which stopped you from pressing your lips against his. You sigh against his mouth as your hand's fist in the fabric of his shirt, staining the fabric with readily drying clay. “I don't usually do this,” you murmur when you pull away for air, your lips swollen and red. 

Joel just grins at your words “S’alright, honey,” his lips find their way to your jaw and move down to your neck, his nose nudging at the fabric of your shirt. “Don't gotta explain anything to me.” His voice is like molasses, smooth and syrupy, keeping you stuck on his every word. You let him move you around, the small wooden stools were less than ideal for either of you. In the mess of standing up and finding a table to bend over your shirt comes off and he groans at the sight of you, his hands grabbing at your waist, staining your skin with water. “Good god… sight for sore eyes…” You can't help but flush slightly at his comment, feeling more exposed while you stare at his fully clothed figure.

 Joel picks up on it, his hands moving from your waist to his shirt and apron, a frustrated noise leaving his mouth when the knotted strings keep him from taking it off. “Let me,” you whisper, reaching around to undo the strings, the fabric of the apron sagging and then getting tossed to some other corner of the room. You stare at him. You couldn't not stare at him. At the hair covering his chest leading down to his belt, the soft yet strong features of his body, at his hand undoing his belt. Your own shorts had been removed, your hands moving to reach into his jeans until he stopped you, a pout and protest forming on your lips. 

Joel just shakes his head at you, picking you up and setting you on a relatively clean table, his body wedged between your legs. “My momma raised me to be a gentleman,” he hums against your skin, kissing the tops of your breasts, nudging your nipples with his nose before giving each of them their own kisses “I didn't take ya to dinner, at least let me get my fill yeah?” Your back fully arched into his mouth as his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, hands gripping the edge of the table so hard your knuckles were white. The feeling of his tongue flicking against the hardened bud had you moaning out in ways you had never imagined you would, and you swear you could feel him smirk even as he licked a stripe down the soft skin of your tummy. 

His knees crack as he settles between your legs and the sight of him is so sinful you can't help but moan softly. He raises his brows at you, a warm chuckle leaving his mouth at the sound, his lips pressing against the inside of one of your thighs “Look that good?” His voice is laced with a gentle mocking as he presses another kiss, a hair's breadth away from your aching cunt “think I got the better view though.” You don't even have the time, nor the brainpower, to reply before his lips press against you, a groan vibrating against your skin as he tastes you. “Sweetest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had… could get damn addicted.” 

Your lips are parted as his tongue swirls around your clit, your whines and moans spurring him on even further. “F-fuck joel-” you manage at some point, his broad shoulders keeping your thighs spread apart, despite how much they’d like to clamp around him. He was good at this and he knows that, moaning at the sound of his name on your lips, the words giving him a newfound energy. You feel his warm palms against your thighs keeping you spread open for him, and you almost whine when his tongue leaves your clit, only to cry out in ecstasy when his tongue prods at your pulsing hole. His nose is pressed up against your clit, giving you just the right amount of friction as he gathers your slick on his tongue, cycling between fucking it into you and laying it flat over your cunt. “Joel- joel oh fuck-” Your moans are frantic as he continues to send you closer and closer to that edge, his motions only getting faster as your hand fists in his hair. “Oh my god- fuck fuck fuuuuck-” your legs shake around his head, his hands keeping them apart as he works you through your orgasm, not stopping until you were spent and hazy, laying back on the table with shuddering breaths. 

Your eyes were pressed shut, chest rising and falling rapidly in the aftermath of your orgasm, only to peek open when you hear the clink of his belt. His mouth was covered in the sheen of your orgasm, a hungry look in his eyes as he spits into his hand and pulls his cock out. “Tasted like a damn dream,” he groans while he strokes himself. “Gonna remember this forever…” Your eyes are locked on the motions of his wrist, the steady pace, the pearly precum that was leaking from his tip. “Fuckin’ perfect… makin’ me feel like a damn teenager again.” You wait with bated breath as he continues to stroke himself, wiggling your hips in order to entice him. 

 “Joel,” your voice is soft, but so heavily full of need it was almost painful “Please… I want you.” If you were being honest, you thought that it would take more convincing, that you would have to ask more, but Joel was desperate, maybe more so than you were and so when he sinks his cock into your dripping cunt it was ecstasy for both of you. Your eyes fall shut again at the feel of him, the stretch so much but so good. “Oh my god…” you whine, pushing yourself onto him further, your breathing stuttering when one of his hands palms at your breast, the other one gripping your hip with so much strength you think it would leave a mark. 

“That’s it…” he groans, slipping into you all the way. “Fuckin’ perfect pussy, like she was made for me.” His words are punctuated with shallow thrusts that fill you up again and again. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in closer to you. The feeling of his hips pressing against yours is something you would never be able to get out of your memory. 

You both lay there, bodies pressed against each other, his hips rocking into you slow and steadily, the dim lighting of the studio casting an ethereal glow over the scene. His hips move at a steady pace, keeping you full of him as the coarse hairs around him press against your clit with the right amount of friction. It doesn't take much time until he's panting on top of you, your lips pressed against each other's in a heated kiss as you feel him spill inside you. 

“That was…” you were breathless, his chest still against yours, the rhythm of your hearts syncing up. 

“Yeah…” He grins, pressing a kiss against your forehead gently. “I know I told ya I was a gentleman but, I really would like to see you again… of course no pressure if you don't want to or anything-” 

You cut him off with a small laugh before he can keep going, nudging your head against his. “I want to, Joel.” You smile gently at him “Plus, you didn't finish the jar.” You grin, looking in the direction of the unfinished work of art he had started. “And then I have to fire it, then glaze it, then fire it again, then… well you get the point, I think I’ll be seeing you quite a few more times, Joel.”

A/N: From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free

READ: This account stands with Palestine unequivocally, and so— I require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE;  HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. Silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist.

PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS. 

Thank you for reading, and free Palestine

[inkdrinkerworld]

Hi! Could I request number 19 with Sirius! I'm seeing the vision of a victorian playboy vampire in my head hehe, thank you <3

He would be such a prim little vampire!!

You hear a bang in the theatre as you start closing up and roll your eyes.

A month and a half ago, you’d have been scared, but after all this time at the theatre you can’t bring yourself to feel the fear.

When you hear the bang again and the unmistakable sound of glass shattering you stomp to the stage room and glower.

“Oh a theatre loving vampire, how original!” You call as you spot the blood sucker on stage near the broken bulb.

All your coworkers had mentioned seeing the black haired man multiple times but they all brushed it off as a specter.

You’d met the black haired man one time on your smoke break when he’d looked longingly at the cigarette and then hid again.

“Is that sarcasm or sass, mortal?” You smile as he sits on the stage, his coat only a little crumpled.

“The things you’d do for attention, I would hope you could tell the difference, Sirius.”

He shrugs, watching as you clean up the bigger bits of glass with your hands. “I was bored, you never show fun plays anymore. I’m bored of Hamlet and Julius Cesar.”

You roll your eyes, tutting when he makes to help you. “What would you prefer?”

Sirius takes the glass from you, and cleans the smaller shards. “The Ferryman? King Charles III? I’d even suffer through your actors rendition of Twelfth Night, darling.”

You sigh as he tosses the glass into a rubbish bin. “They’re not that bad.”

Sirius gawps, “They’re entirely awful! There’s no passion or soul in their acting.”

You snicker, “Pot calling kettle black a bit there, Siri. Neither do you.”

He nips your hand playfully, “I have enough of a soul for the theatre.” Despite the playfulness, you know he’s sad about not being able to act anymore.

“Maybe I can talk them into something you can be in. Introduce you as my foreign friend, you could pass for French.”

He flicks his hair and bares his teeth, he’s got a pretty smile even with the fangs.

“You’re a doll, but I think I’m a bit past it poppet. Plus, I’d outshine them so spectacularly that I’d be getting so many calls that I couldn’t go to.” You lean your head on his shoulder, even with all the layers he’s cold.

“I wish you weren’t tied to this place.” You murmur, Sirius shrugs. A millennia goes to the perimeter of a place really numbs you to it.

“If you find a Lovegood you could break it, but I do believe they’re all gone.”

You sit up, “A what?” He cannot be serious.

“A Lovegood, they’re the best magicians in the world. Well witches is more accurate, but they’ve got that sense of whimsy to them that can’t be dimmed even through generations.”

“Sirius ask me what my last name is.” you’re buzzing and he can hear the excitement in your blood.

“Poppet,” you shake your head.

“I told you occultism isn’t as feared as it used to be. These talismans aren’t just a joke. My mum says they help you see things,” you shrug.

“I used to think she was full of it, till I came across ghosts and a few other things that definitely made kids think I was crazy.”

“You’ve been under my nose for months? I’ve lost my touch then.”

You can’t help the teasing lilt to your voice, “Well you can’t really be blamed Can you? You haven’t fed on anything but mice in decades.”

Sirius scowls, “I won’t feed on you, don’t even try it.”

You shrug, “I’ll go home and see if I can get anything out of my mother about the Lovegood legacy. See if I can find Luna’s grimoire.”

Sirius kisses you’re forehead, “You’re a saint, do try not to get hurt looking for it. If you can’t find it, I’m quite comfortable where I am.”

You don’t say anything as you walk out, Sirius stopping you for a kiss to your lips before letting you go.

You’re certain you can find the book; your great great grandmother was just as kooky as you are, you have an inkling of where to look.

[ventismacchiato]

i was thinking about swy and my brain just collapsed because it kept overflowing with headcanons. anyways heres the ones i compiled or at the very least remember

yn is the type of idol with those compilation videos like 'yn tripping over air for 5 minutes straight'

windblume and delusion has watched those compilation of videos that are like "*insert member* being wifey material" just to laugh maniacally at every moment so that person gets embarassed (like in a good way)

whenever its scaras birthday most of the others just gift him vapes (i lowkey forget what he was smoking so mb)

↑ adding on to that but i feel like yn would get them a different gift like earlier swy yn defo gives him the most useless gifts on planet earth (if they even decide to)

delusion fans still have this argument on whether childe is hot or ugly (its still ongoing just way less popular with scarayn being trending)

delusion and windblume hang out three times a week (or the maximum they can) every night and scara and yn are just sitting on the edge glaring at each other back in the earlier days of them being an idol

d&w (shortcut for delusion and windblume cause im NOT typing allot) have game nights. the games range from stardew valley to the most horrifying thing you can imagine

whenever yn is gifted a stuffed toy/plushie by a fan scara throws it out because hes paranoid (but tbh its actually really common when youre an idol) that theres a camera. counts for both earlier and later swy like i genuinely believe that he just does nice things most of the time behind their back

whenever you see a fischl stan theres an 85% cahnce they have said 'she was definitely a theatre kid' at least once in their lifetime

you know those videos where idols will wake up from their nap/sleep and everyones looking kind of messy and that one has perfect hair. thats lumine.

theres an ongoing joke that venti should be in jail for underage drinking just because hes considered short by windblume fans

omg i love ur headcanons!

i think scarayn wud have a stupid tradition (they’d never admit it) when they were rivals of getting each other stupid gifts and when they get tgt they still do it (scara wud spoil yn obviously but add a stupid gag gift)

the childe argument omg my poor baby HAHA i’d defend his ass that man is BEAUTIFUL

awe the hanging out 😢 i hc their dorms are near eachother so they see eo often, like lunch in between training and having meals tgt and scarayn wud just sit in their own corners and ignore eo

awe the plushie!! he wud so do that 😭 subtly looking out for yn cus he can’t hide he cares to some level

ok lemme add some of my own!

scara dropping the cap to a bottle of wine in a live and pretending he can’t find it so he has to drink the whole bottle and everyone tweeting about how bad his acting is. and then kazuha walks in and picks it up and scara swipes it out of his hands

when scara is knocked out and tired he doesn’t give a fuck who gets in bed with him. so maybe there’s a few videos of behind the scenes where aether or childe will just crawl into his bed and scara doesn’t say anything but he’ll shift over

i feel like since idols go live maybe they’d livestream themselves playing games with fans, like yk how taehyung played with fans and they all let him win and waited for him but then when nayeon played among us they killed her immediately (i think i’m rmbring this right) so whenever scara plays all his fans r letting him win and he eats them all up but then when childe plays they all kill him instantly

chiscara reacting to fanart:

scara: who is that, cus i know that ain’t me. why do you guys keep drawing me as the bottom? i would never let this ginger top me in a million years, have you seen him? he’s pathetic. god. if anything i’d be telling him what to do from the bottom—

childe: alright not too much on me 😓

did u guys see that clip of gummy (?) singing seven days a week as if she’s singing in a church choir 😭 i hc seven is scaras solo song so imagine he’s mcing a show and the debut idol who sang his song rlly badly in a cover comes up and he can’t help but call them out for it

based on that one keeho video i think if childe ran into fans he’d take photos with them but also ask them to take his insta pics for him 😭

i feel like childe wud love to troll paparazzi, aether wud wear long wings and walk around with child and ppl wud think he’s with some girl

[anyarose011]

December Never Felt So Wrong {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: You didn't want to go anymore; not after what just happened in your room with Angus. Still, you had to. In the end...well, happy birthday, Jesus; sorry your party was so lame.

Part 6 of ?? (Masterlist)

Warnings: Swearing, in depth discussions of grief, mention of character death.

The song is for you theatre kids; yes, there is a Christmas album of the cast of Hadestown. While I love the original, the one with Reeve Carney and Eva Noblezada hits different. I think this was my favorite one to write so far; especially with the interactions with Mary and Elise. Also, lol, possible interpretation of reader's character having a thing for Elise? Again, it's all up to you, but just wanted to say that. Also, part 3 of not being able to escape being an awkward/moody teenager because it's a fanfiction. Anywho, hope you guys cry, but it'll be worth it :)

Word Count: 6.1k

You dared not look at Angus the whole drive to Miss Crane’s house. Even when getting into the car, you avoided his gaze like Lot did Sodom and Gomorrah. There was no way, after he was more than likely going to kiss you (or you him), could you even acknowledge his existence.

But why did you stop yourself from kissing him?

No matter, as your father drove all of you to Miss Crane’s house, you managed to block out that question which clawed at your mind. The door was unlocked when you four arrived at seven, and you filtered in. The house was still heavily decorated in Christmas paraphernalia like you had seen it days ago when you were with Elise. Yet, with how many people were gathered on just the first floor alone, it almost felt as if you were entering a stranger’s house.

Well…not exactly.

Truth be told, this was neither you nor your father’s first Christmas party with Miss Crane. You went with your mother to only one before she passed, and even though Miss Crane would still hold out invitations for you and your father…neither of you ever went. Elise and her aunt would understand of course, especially in the first years after your mother passed; Christmas is always a complicated time after the death of a loved one.

“You made it!” Miss Crane’s voice of gratitude and her gently clutching your arm broke your thoughts. “Welcome. Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!”

She had looked at Mary once you nodded with a smile, and Mary mirrored her. “We’re happy to be here. Where should I put these?”

Miss Crane lifted the cover of the brownies Mary was holding at and gasped before taking the tray. “Those I’ll be putting on my bedside table.”

Mary laughed. “Oh, you’re a wicked woman!”

“You have no idea.”

“Certainly a lot of people here!”

Leave it to your father for that to be the first thing he says. Still, Miss Crane took it in stride.

“Yeah, yeah, some family, friends from town. Only you guys from work.”

She spent her time pointing out all of her family members (some you remembered, most you had no idea who they were), and you were honestly blanking out. Up until you saw a familiar face.

“Elise!” You cheered as if she was your guardian angel. You hadn’t even noticed Angus wandered off to stare at a snow globe until you saw him visibly flinch upon your exclamation.

Your friend laughed as you embraced her. “Nice to see you too.”

“It’s been forever!”

“It’s been two days.”

The adults around you merely chuckled, and once again, it was Miss Crane who spoke up. “This is Angus Tully, he’s one of our students at Barton. Angus, this is my niece, Elise.”

Neither of you had pulled away from each other during this whole introduction and were merely still wrapped in each other’s arms as if it were normal. Still, it did not escape you how, once Elise and Angus’ eyes met, it was as if you weren’t there.

“Niece Elise.” He nodded, smiling. “Nice.”

And it seemed like he felt the same. So, there you were, between them in a strange physical and emotional sense. Of course, you were selfish, so you couldn’t revel in the discomfort for long.

“You must forgive him.” You said to Elise but loud enough for everyone to hear. “He’s so simple minded, he finds rhymes to be most intriguing.”

She giggled, shaking her head, and Angus rolled his eyes. “Can you go one night without being mean to me?”

“Fitzwilliam,” you smiled, pulling away from Elise. “you’re asking me not to breathe.”

Your father intervened. “Alright you two; no need to fight when we’ve barely gotten through the door.”

Miss Crane tapped his shoulder, looking back at Elise. “This is Mr. Hunham. He’s one of our finest teachers. History, right?”

“Ancient Civilizations.” He said.

It seemed like her words fell on deaf ears to you, Elise, and Angus. The way they were looking at each other…how Elise would glance at everyone only for her eyes to land back on Angus, and how it was the same for him too…

Neither of them ever looked at you though; only at each other.

Miss Crane called your name, and then Elise’s. “Why don’t you take Angus to the basement and introduce him to our family tradition? Do you remember?” She asked you.

You were honestly so discombobulated, you could only huff. “Good lord, it’s been years.”

“Oh hush, you remember.” Elise teased. “Come on.”

She led you and Angus down to the basement, and you both followed. It was almost frightening how much whiplash you’d gotten just from taking one step down the stairs and was immediately met with Holly Jolly Christmas and the smell of glue. Several kids, as young as five and as old as eleven, sat down at the tables you sat at only once, creating what they deemed to be works of art.

“This is what you wanted to show me?” Angus chuckled.

It was normal for someone to laugh at it. Hell, you knew he was laughing with it, but this was the most he had been on your nerves all week (for many reasons you were too bothersome to list).

“I grew up playing down here during my aunt’s parties.” Elsie smiled, tilting her head to you. “She was only here once, but I still think the pieces we’ve made should be hung in the National Gallery, don’t you agree?” She said your name.

You put on a smile. “For sure.”

“I think it’s kind of cool.” She said. “There’s a purity to it. I mean, every child is an artist. The problem is remaining an artist when we grow up. Picasso said that.”

She could study Art History, perfect her French, move to Paris and work as a tour guide in the Louvre. That was a dream she told you she had ever since you were children; but yet there she was, throwing it all away to flirt with a boy she had just met.

One who wasn’t even attractive at that (not the first lie you told yourself that night).

“Picasso’s cool.” Angus immediately said. “I saw Guérnica once. You know, the big mural, with the horse?”

He attempted to pose like the painting you wish you could see, and it was so dreadful you didn’t know which one was worse; that or him and Elise’s incessant talking about the stupid painting at the stupid Museum of Modern Art in stupid New York City. So, to spare yourself, you immediately ducked into a small table of little girls; something you thought you would do only if you were held at knife point.

Still…they were actually sweet, surprisingly. You all would ramble about meaningless things, which perhaps made it all the more meaningful when you would laugh at the stories they told you; whether it was something tame that happened in kindergarten, or what a third grade girl said to you.

“Boys are stupid.”

You nodded. “That they are. Although, I’ve found that a few of them are nice.”

“I said they’re stupid, not mean.”

“Well, they can be. But again,” you reiterated. “they can be sweet.”

“Not like my daddy.” A six-year-old girl spoke up, drawing on her paper plate with a purple crayon shorter than your temper around some men. “Mama says she ‘put him in the doghouse’. Which is weird, we don’t even have a dog, why would we make a house for him?”

You fought every part of yourself to not laugh. So, you merely smiled politely. “That does seem rather unusual.”

“You talk funny.” One of the older girls said.

“So do you.” Was your reply.

“Do not!”

“Do too.”

“Do not!”

You were about to continue the ridiculous chain until you heard Elise laugh. Your head immediately snapped to see how she and Angus were hunched over some paper with their hands completely covered in paint. It was like the aftermath of a car crash; you couldn’t look away no matter how much you knew deep down it would only hurt you to keep watching.

She had that look in her eyes you rarely ever had with boys, and although you were practically on the other side of the room from them, you could cut the tension with a knife if you had one; and proceed to stab yourself like Juliet.

Then, like you knew she would, Elise kissed him.

That’s what made you tear your gaze away, and you took your father’s advice from long ago: once you felt sick, you ran away.

Your chest was constricting by the time you got up the stairs, and you wanted to say it was because of going up them so quickly, but it wasn’t. Hell, it wasn’t fully because of seeing them kiss, it was a little, but there was something else; what, you had no idea.

This was all your own fault anyway; you told her from the start you didn’t like him (you didn’t, what’s made you change?) and that she’d probably like him (they’d be good for each other too; she’s sweet, he’s not, they’d balance each other out).

Taking a deep breath to calm your racing heart, you decided that whatever was weighing on your shoulders, you weren’t going to let it ruin the rest of your night; Angus and Elise be damned. You decided to people watch to soothe our worries and create imaginary stories for each and every person that passed your way; a game you and your mother played whenever you went out.

There was an older man with his wife, both perhaps in their early nineties. They met in Boston by chance, he had grown up there, she was from Wyoming perhaps and wanted to experience a city to the east that wasn’t New York.

A woman just a little older than you sat by herself with a drink in her hand. She told herself and everyone else she’s content with just sitting against the wall, watching the room be full of life, and she genuinely meant it.

Your father…oh! He was talking with Miss Crane, and it seemed to be going well.

So, to give him privacy, you decided to further wander around the house. All seemed well as Christmas carols played throughout the halls, until you reached the kitchen.

There, hunched over in the corner with her shoes off, was Mary Lamb, trembling. You felt your soul leave your body, and your eyes met Danny (you hadn’t even known he was there until you saw him move towards you).

“I…” He began. “Do you want to try to talk to her?”

All you could do was nod, approaching her. “Mary?”

She shook her head, not saying a word. You stood beside her and saw as tears cascaded down her cheeks. Your breath shuttered with hers; you already knew. Even without her having to tell you, you already knew.

“Do…do you want me to get my dad?” You asked meekly.

Mary didn’t say anything. You just looked at Danny and nodded. Turning on your heel, your chest wasn’t constricting, but you felt like there was something rotten within your stomach. Something so rotten only a parasite would find it delicious and decide to eat every part of you.

Which is of course when you would quite literally bump into Angus Tully coming back up from the basement.

“Hey,” he greeted with the biggest smile on his face. “thought you got lost, where-?” Just as he saw your fallen face, his did as well. “Are you okay?”

You swallowed thickly, feeling tears spring into your eyes. “Where’s my dad?”

“What happened?” He softened his voice and it only made you want to tear him apart.

Shaking your head, you asked again. “Where is he? I…”

He said your name, repeating his question. “What happened?”

Taking a deep breath, you only said. “Mary…”

Angus nodded, not needing anything else. “I’ll go find him.”

You turned back to the kitchen, waiting with bated breath and arms crossed. Your father and Angus came in soon after, seeing Mary the exact same way you saw her over the kitchen counter.

“Mary?” Your father asked gently. “Mary, are you all right?”

“Just leave me alone.” She grumbled.

Danny placed a hand on her back. “Want me to take you home?”

“Back off!” She hissed, turning around. “Back off.”

Your father shut the door as she cried, and you felt shame that you couldn’t even pick your gaze up from the floor while it all happened.

“He’s gone.” She sobbed, and that was all it took for everyone to decide to go home.

Your throat was clogged with emotion the whole time, and you felt bad for asking to say goodbye to Elise as Mary clung to your father and Angus.

“Just make it quick.” Your dad said, and you didn’t even take time to nod, sprinting back to the basement.

It was as if nothing changed, and she smiled up at you once you came down the stairs.

“So?” Her face was all aglow as if you had something good to tell her.

“I…” you swallowed. “We have to go.”

“What?”

“Mary uh, her son…well…” Why couldn’t you just say it?!

Elise nodded. “Oh…I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” you shook your head. “I’m just sorry we have to go; I was having fun.”

She tilted her head to the side, her gentle smile being a dead giveaway, she knew you were lying. But, to not bring that up, you tried another tactic.

“So…Angus.”

Elise shook her head, laughing. “He’s nice and smart too; I can see why you’re friends with him.”

You cringed. “I wouldn’t really say that.”

She said your name, a little more serious. “I know something’s bothering you. I don’t know if it’s with Mary or Angus, but please just tell me.”

It was a lot of things; not being able to go to Copenhagen, Teddy Kountze and Jason Smith being sorry excuses for men, the damn letters, Angus Tully telling your father about the damn letters, Angus Tully in general, the stupid Christmas party and…and…

“I’m…I’m glad you like him.”

No, it wasn’t that but that’s all your mouth could form.

She nodded. “I do, but now after meeting him in person,” she shrugged. “just a friend. Not even really, I barely know him. I don’t know why you’d think he’d be my type.”

“You kissed him.”

“Yeah?”

“What do you mean ‘yeah’?!” You cried. “Don’t lie to me and say you didn’t even have the tiniest crush on him.”

“Like how you’re lying to me right now?”

That was uncalled for (in your mind at the time, in actuality, yeah it was called for). “What?”

“I asked you what’s bothering you, but you’re not telling me.” She looked annoyed now, and that was worse than if she was fuming. “Look, unless you like killed someone, it can’t be that bad.”

Swallowing thickly, you took a few moments to try your best to recover yourself. Saying hesitantly. “I…I think I’m being stupid.”

“That’s impossible.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Why are you stupid?”

“I don’t want you to leave me for some dumb boy.”

She stared at you, and you were surprised how quickly she responded despite the astonished look on her face. “First of all, not going to happen-.”

“-You say that now.”

“Let me finish, please. Second of all, you’re not stupid because of that; not for anything, mind you.”

Taking a deep breath, you shook your head and leaned against the wall of the basement, Judy Garland singing Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas in your ears. “I don’t know why I’m making a big deal about it.”

“It’s normal.” She leaned with you. “Half of my friend group back home ditched me to spend more time with their boyfriends. What’s funny is that some of them have a new one every month.”

“It shouldn’t be normal.”

“It shouldn’t,” She shook her head. “and for the record, I meant it’s normal to freak out about it. I want you to know thought that I won’t do that, and you better not either.”

“Never.” You chuckled. “Besides, a boy has to like me first for that to happen.”

Elise grinned as if she was the Chesire Cat from Alice in Wonderland

“What?” You gave her a look.

“I think you should talk to him.”

You already knew who he was, but your heart still stopped. “I…I…him?! Which him?”

 “Just talk to him.”

You stood absolutely still…What the flying fuck were you supposed to do with that information?! Before you could utter another word, Elise hugged you tightly. “Merry Christmas,” she said your name so sweetly before pulling away but still holding you at arm’s length. “if you need anything, just come over; I’ll be here until after News Years.”

All you could do was nod, wishing her a ‘Merry Christmas’ and then having her walk with you up the stairs and out the door. Everyone was waiting for you in the car, and you somberly entered the other side in the back.

“Are you okay, baby?” Mary, to your surprise, was the one to ask.

“Uh huh.” Was your immediate response, nodding.

The rest of the car ride back to Barton was silent, and it began to snow.

It was the second time (two too many) you lied to Mary that winter break; you weren’t fine. You laid awake deep into the night despite the fact you couldn’t hear your father snoring anymore. You not being able to sleep only caused you more stress, which caused you not to sleep.

After tossing and turning for perhaps almost an hour, one thought made you sit up in bed.

You forgot to lay out Christmas cookies and milk.

You also forgot to make the Christmas cookies.

So, not having anything else better to do, you slipped on your shoes, stole your father’s flashlight, and snuck down into the kitchen.

You only needed the flashlight in the darkened halls, because to your surprise, the kitchen was completely illuminated. If that wasn’t enough, you saw Mary sitting at the main counter, smoking a cigarette. You stopped in the doorway, almost hiding behind the corner like you were a little girl again when you first met her.

She glanced at you, not that surprised. “What’re you doing up?”

You pursed your lips. “I wanna make Christmas cookies.”

It was stupid. Even if Santa existed, he wouldn’t bother with a stupid school, so why keep putting out cookies and milk only for you or your father to always be the one eating them and making a joke out of it Christmas morning?

Because why not?

“Okay if I help?” She asked.

A hint of a smile spread upon your lips. “If you don’t mind.”

You and Mary could tie your own aprons, but whenever you cooked together, you liked tying each other’s. You didn’t argue as she told you what ingredients to grab, and soon, after mixing together the wet and dry ingredients, then rolling the dough out, you were placing down several upon several different cookie cutters.

It all seemed well, working with only limited amount of talking but still smiling, and then, the thought that loomed in the back of your mind came forward.

“You alright?” You looked up at her and nodded without saying anything. She sighed, saying your name. “I know you’re not; and I know you weren’t after talking to miss Elise. Now, what is it?”

“Tell her.” your thoughts urged over and over again.

“I…” You sucked in a breath. “Can I ask you something? And you can tell me to fuck off if it’s-.”

“-Hey,” she interrupted. “baby Jesus is being born in half an hour, don’t use that kind of language; but yes, what is it?”

You surprised yourself by laughing briefly, then asking. “What was he like? Like…before I met him?”

Mary looked up, and for a moment you thought she was going to break down again, but she shook her head, returning back to cutting the cookies and placing them on the baking sheet. “Not much different from when you were nine and he was ten.”

“He always teased me for being two years older than me until he realized my birthday was before his,” you smiled. “then he wasn’t so old for a while.”

She nodded. “I think that was the only thing he was competitive at.”

“What was the first thing he wanted to be when he grew up?”

“Fireman.” She answered without having to think.

You grinned. “And what’d you think of that?”

“I knew he’d grow out of it.”

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“What was little Mary like?”

She huffed, a jesting smile on her face and that was enough for you. “Young, in love, could be freer than a bird one moment, and then quiet with her nose in her Bible the next.”

“How’d you meet Curtis’ dad?”

“School,” she peeled the last residue cookie dough off the cookies. “we were in choir together.”

“Wait a minute,” You giggled, picking up one of the sheets of cookies. “you never said you were in choir!”

She took the other one, and you both walked to the preheated oven, and she opened it. “I thought that was obvious when I took you and Curtis to church?”

“We were too busy plugging our little ears.”

“Hey!” She scolded after sliding in her sheet.

“Because of Old Lady Washington!”

“I understand if her singing was like a dying cat, but she was a good woman, God rest her soul. So, you say a prayer for her right now, you nasty, rotten creature.”

Sighing heavily, you take one hand off the tray you were holding to make the sign of the cross, and mouth a prayer.

“That’s better.” Mary nodded. “You want me to put the cookies in for you?”

“I’m a big girl.” You stated proudly, but as you bent down to slide the baking sheet into the oven, you hesitated, feeling the heat already burn your fingers.

You gave it to Mary yet felt no shame doing so.

“You wanna frost them?” She asked, and you both sat down at the table, waiting for them to bake.

“No.” You shook your head. “Too tired.”

“Thank you.” Mary said. “It’s…it’s good to talk about Curtis. I think I miss you both being little the most; don’t tell your dad I said that.”

Chuckling, a memory came to mind; one you thought you would take to your grave but…perhaps it was a good time to share it.

“You know…” you trailed off, a hint of sudden uneasy but joy lacing your insides. “Shit, I’ve never told anyone this before. But…he and I were each other’s first kiss.”

“Oh, I’ve known that.” Mary answered nonchalantly. “It was the first thing he told me when he got home that night.”

“Are you kidding me?!” You laughed.

“Hey,” She said playfully. “keep it down; the men need their beauty sleep.”

Shaking your head, you couldn’t help your giggling. “I mean, fuck, it meant nothing; we weren’t even teenagers, we just watched it in movies, saw my mom and dad do it like once, so of course we were curious. No, no, you wanna know the best part?” Sudden laughter filled your lungs, and you could barely make a coherent sentence. “I-I had a crush on him from thirteen to fifteen, and he had a crush on me when he was ten until he was, God I don’t actually remember. He enlists months ago, not even a full year, and before he goes that’s when he tells me had liked when we were kids. It-It meant nothing, he just wanted to let me know and-!”

Mary’s hand on yours never grounded you faster. Your whole world stopped, and when you looked at her, seeing her eyes that were both concerned, but not at all shocked, your heart did as well. You dropped your head in shame.

“I’m sorry.”

“Never be.” She squeezed your hand.

“I…” you suddenly lost your voice for a second. “I think I…I think I miss him.”

What a stupid way to say it. Of course you did, you had been ever since your father woke you up in the early morning to let you know. Still…what you knew the whole night, what the most bothersome thing that had been festering within you was:

“He’s really gone.”

“Me too.” She said softly, pulling you into a hug.

You couldn’t cry. You wanted to, God, you wanted to. You teared up this time around, but somehow, despite realizing everything all at once…no cathartic outburst, no weeping and screaming without a care in the world…

Just you and Mary Lamb, holding each other for only God knows how long.

“Oh,” Mary’s voice took you out of the peacefulness, and turned to see what she was looking at. “another one.”

 There, in a white shirt and plaid pajama pants, was Angus Tully; hiding behind the corner just as you did.

“I’m surprised you managed to make your way through the school without bumping into anything.” Mary stole the comment you would’ve made if you weren’t frozen already.

Angus leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and smiling. “I’m surprised neither of you heard it. What’re you doing up so late?”

He was looking at you when he asked, and you wanted to take the butter knife off the counter and gouge out his eyes to get him to stop.

Instead, all you said was. “Christmas cookies.”

“Nice.” He nodded, and the kitchen was left in a silence colder than the air outside.

Mary looked in between the both of you, before pursing her lips and untying her apron. “Well, I’m off to bed.”

“But-.” You began.

“-Angus, you’ll help take the cookies out of the oven, won’t you?” She asked him. “Little Jane Bennett’s always been scared of getting burnt.”

“Mary.” You warned, both about exposing your irrational fear, and also leaving you alone.

He nodded, grinning from ear to ear, and you wanted to throw him out an open window. “For sure.”

“Alright,” she sighed in relief, then walking past him to her room. “Merry Christmas you two, and don’t stay up too late.”

“No promises.” Angus joked, turning his head. When he looked back at you, you stood a little taller as if trying to compete with his height. He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Hey, I actually wanted to tell you-

“-Would you like some hot chocolate?” You sputtered out.

He blinked, taking in your question. “Yeah…yeah that sounds great. I don’t know where they keep the packets-.”

“-No, I’ll make you what my mom made me.”

…Was this your way of telling him you liked him? It could be worse; you could’ve said: ‘You’re so pretty, I want to throw a rock at you.’

Still, he smiled. “Alright then, what do we need?”

Technically, high quality chocolate, but you were at Barton; which would spend its funds on fancy buildings and overpriced textbooks, but not chocolate, which was complete bullshit.

So, the two of you stood over the stove, milk in a saucepan, a small tub of vanilla, salt, half a bag of M&Ms (courtesy of Angus Tully’s payment for waking you up the week before), whipped cream, and a full jar of milk chocolate chips.

“Why are we putting salt into hot chocolate?” He asked as you stirred the milk.

“It enhances the taste, besides, it’s just a pinch. Okay, pour in the chocolate.”

“All of it?”

“No, just…you know, my mom eyeballed it, so just don’t do all of it.”

He nodded, and you moved aside as he poured in half of the jar. You stirred it in as it quickly melted, then poured what you guessed to be a tablespoon of vanilla in. Your stirring was hypnotizing, so of course you zoned out, and didn’t even realize it until Angus brushed your bare arm.

You jumped, gaze immediately snapping to him. “What?”

He gave you a look; not one of annoyance like you expected. Well, there was a hint of that, but you quickly found out it was to mask concern. “I asked you what you thought of the party before Mary.”

“Oh…” you blinked. “Yeah, it was nice.”

Angus nodded. “You ran off at one point, what happened?”

“Bathroom; girl stuff.” You hoped that was enough to throw him off your trail, which it was.

He visibly tensed. “Oh…”

“Yeah.” you dropped your gaze back to the hot chocolate.

The only sound was the whisk hitting the saucepan as you stirred, then pulled it out to let it sit.

“So uh, is that why you’ve been acting weird this whole day?”

You slammed the whisk on the counter. “How fucking dare you!”

He flinched. “What?!”

“Is pissing blood the only good reason why I’d be like this?”

“Well, if I was, I’d be a bit impatient too.”

“You-,” you laughed, exasperated. “you’re a piece of shit.”

He clenched his jaw. “So then why are you upset?”

Avoiding his gaze, you mustered up the only other truth you could tell him. “I can’t find one of my books.”

Angus scoffed. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously!” You gritted your teeth. “My dad read it to me all the time as a kid, and I couldn’t find it when packing last week, so I’ve just been-.”

“-Bullshit, it can’t be that good of a book.”

 “Fuck you, it’s The Little Prince!”

“Look,” He hardened his tone. “I’m not buying it. And if it’s not you being a girl that apparently makes you hate me so much today, or really any day of the week, than what is it?”

The egg timer went off with a loud ringing. You quickly shut it off, having to stop yourself from slamming it back on the counter. You took the oven mitts and opened the oven, reaching in for one of the baking sheets.

After placing down that one, you turned to get the other only to see that Angus, with a washcloth in his hand, held the other. He placed the sheet down by yours.

Throwing the oven mitts off, you sighed heavily, rubbing your temples. Once you found an ounce of calmness, you said. “I know you told my dad.”

You didn’t even say what he told him, he already knew. His face fell, and it was the first time you wished it didn’t. You wished he denied it, got angry at you, hell, blame you for it somehow like so many other boys could have.

But he didn’t…he was ashamed.

Angus tucked his hands into his pockets, avoiding your gaze. “I…I was worried about you.”

Your heart stammered. “Why?”

“It…” he was confused. “What do you mean ‘why’? Some guy who your family isn’t friends with anymore was telling you to take pictures of yourself-.”

“-That’s none of your business.”

“It was for a while; not now, but that’s why I told your dad.”

You swallowed thickly, the emotion of the party, missing Curtis, and now threatening to fully break you. You shook your head. “I’m not angry at you; I’m…sorry I treated you weirdly, but…I don’t know.”

He took a deep breath. “I get it.”

You were both left in silence once again. You took a spoon out of one of the drawers, preparing yourself to taste test it. Then, to fill the empty air, you asked the only thing on your mind.

“So…Elise.”

He looked at you, then down at the counter. “What about her?”

“She’s sweet.”

“Yeah…yeah, she’s nice.”

“So,” you dragged out the ‘O’, almost having fun with teasing him about a girl as if you didn’t know how he felt about you. “do you like her?”

He furrowed his brow. “What, like, like like her?”

Giggling, you said. “Well yeah, you immature asshole.”

“I’m not immature.” He fired back, trying to hide his smile.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

“And for the record, no, I don’t like her like that.”

You nodded. “Not even when she kissed you?”

His lips thinned into a line, and you never saw a man look more uncomfortable from your own doing (besides when you alluded to him not being able to pleasure a woman only yesterday when he dislocated his arm). “Yeah, even when she kissed me.”

You smiled even though you felt strange. You took the spoon and dipped it into the hot chocolate. “Was that your first?”

“Yep.”

“I don’t know what’s the matter with you.” You teased, bringing the spoon up to your lips. “You closed your eyes, and when you opened them, you realized a pretty girl kissed you.”

“What if I wished it was you?”

You brought the spoon away from your lips instantly; both from how hot it was, and from what he had just admitted.

Immediately, he realized what he said, and stumbled over his words. “I-I uh, shit I didn’t-.”

“-Hot.” You interrupted, your mouth burning. “Yeah, yeah, it’s hot.”

“Oh.” He jumped back. “Uh, do you need water or-?”

“-No, no, I’m fine.” An idea (a horrid and dreadful one) came to mind when you turned off the stove and took the sauce pan off the burner. “Um…do you want to taste it?”

Angus nodded, wanting to do anything but acknowledge what just happened. “Yeah, yeah sure.”

He turned to grab a spare spoon off the counter behind him, but you took his face into your hands and brought your lips to his.

There was a delay in his reaction, but soon, his arms wrapped around you, and he pulled you in impossibly closer. Even if it technically wasn’t either of your first kiss, you acted as if it was; well…perhaps it actually was, at least a real one. It was sloppy, there wasn’t a rhythm (you didn’t even know you needed one to properly kiss apparently), and you were torn between keeping your hands on his face or trailing them through his hair.

Which is why you pulled away as soon as you felt it started. Angus, still with his eyes closed, leaned back into you at the loss, but soon snapped out of it once you backed away, catching your breath.

“Are…” he was catching his too. “are you okay?”

“What?” You asked, almost out of it. “Yeah just, needed to breathe.”

“Yeah-yeah, me too.”

It should’ve been uncomfortable; the most uncomfortable you’ve felt the whole night…but then, after you both could breathe normally, and looked at each other, you started laughing.

“How-how was it?” He asked in between snickers.

Your face hurt from smiling. “My lips are burning.”

“Really?”

“I mean, from the hot chocolate but-.”

“-You’re mean.” He shoved you playfully.

You scoffed. “And you’re just a baby. So, how’d it taste?”

His teasing halted. “…What?”

“The hot chocolate.” You asked innocently. “Did it taste good?”

Still being thrown through a loop, he took a longer time to respond before quite literally shaking himself out of it. “Uh, yeah-yeah. I uh-don’t add anything, it’s good.”

“Nice. Hand me some mugs, top shelf to the right.”

He followed without complaint, and you served up the hot chocolate, then drowning both of them in whipped cream before crushing up the M&Ms and sprinkling them on top.

The cookies were cooled by then, so you shared them as well while drinking your hot chocolate. Just as you spoke with the little girls at your table, you spoke about things that, to anyone else, would be meaningless; stories from childhood, school, books, the list went on. Still, for the first time in many days…it felt like there was no tension of any kind between you.

When all was said and done, you cleaned your dishes, then set out cookies and milk.

“For Santa?” He asked.

“Who else?” You questioned.

And this was when you knew Angus Tully was a good person. Despite the opening for overbearing teasing, and how you wouldn’t have minded it at all, he didn’t do anything of the sort. He simply smiled.

The two of you walked hand in hand back to the infirmary, taking extra care to be quiet. When you were in the doorway of your room, you turned to Angus.

“Merry Christmas.” You grinned, feeling your heart do somersaults the way he looked at you.

“Merry Christmas.” He said back, smiling as he cupped your face and kissed your cheek so tenderly.

Your face could’ve lit up the room once he pulled away you were smiling so much. You both uttered another ‘goodnight’ to each other and made your way to your beds.

You didn’t sleep much that night, but instead of it being from grief, it was from excitement. Excitement of finally letting something good happen to you.