#literally left the theatre in silence

[pinkflipphonez]

Alfred loving Twilight being canon is so funny to me 💀 is he team Jacob or Edward lool

a NATIVE love interest? in a MAJOR motion picture? he was team jacob NO QUESTION…

but needless to say breaking dawn p1 left him devastated. he has now converted to team edward

[dearest-nell]

reality.

s. harrington x reader, 3.2k

summary: steve has fallen in love with his best friend without even realising, and now there's nothing left for him to do but continue to fall. friends to lovers, steve is pathetically in love, gender neutral!reader, mentions of drinking.

a/n: literally can't think about anything else but this little romantic idiot loverman, so here we are. unproofread, sorry!

Steve was not sure when it was that this all became real to him. Time seemed to blur together in flashes of colour and memory. There were so many days with you, so many moments that had changed his life or altered his very being. How many moments could he name that might have been the one to shift delicate sands between you? Your friendship spanned years – wonderful years filled with the warmth of summer sun soaking into your skin on the beach of Lovers Lake, sweaters shared so often between the both of you that even the woollen fabric could not decide who it smelled most like. 

He remembered movie nights in the dimness of Hawkins theatre, half empty rows of midnight screenings where your horrified cries over every slasher could be muffled by his shoulder, his arm around your waist, tucking you safely away from every fright around. You were the only person who slept in his bed just to talk, to stay up all night whispering dreams and hopes and secrets. You were full of his secrets, after all, sworn to protect and sworn to keep. He wanted to keep you more than anything else in the world. 

Steve couldn’t pinpoint the moment his deep, unwavering affection for you had become something new, something so tenderly romantic that even he himself had been shocked by. He had been in love before, sure, but not like this. Steve Harrington had never considered himself capable of loving another person quite so much. It was greedy, and selfish, and selfless, and all consuming, and so peacefully quiet that he was sure nothing else might ever settle him quite so nicely. 

The attraction had always been there, after all. You were ethereal, otherworldly, angelic in a way that Steve was sure no one had ever been before. It didn’t matter what anyone else had said, you were the most beautiful creature to ever grace his life. Even as friends, he knew it. He’d watched you swim in the chlorine mess of his pool clad in nothing but your underwear, leaving Steve swallowing thickly around the unshiftable lump in his throat that seemed to appear just for you. He’d run his hands across your sides in the deep blue of the night, memorising the curve of your hip with trembling hands that ached to hold you tighter. He’d been lost in your eyes so often that sometimes the colour of them was printed on the inside of his eyelids, haunting his dreams with visions of your smile - your hand in his. 

He couldn’t name the moment it changed, but he could name the moment he knew. It was an ordinary night by anyone's standards; the kids, now graduating, had rented a VHS of some film he likely should  have known the name of. He thought the actors had looked familiar, maybe recognised the hit song on the soundtrack, but the rest seemed a blur to him. He’d been half exhausted from a day at work as it was, and you had promised to take him home early if his social battery began to dwindle. It was incentive enough for him to try, though about 35 minutes into the film, Steve had felt that wave of exhaustion slip over him. He wanted his own bed, wanted the silence and dark of his shitty apartment to swallow him whole. He’d moved to whisper to you, hand squeezing your knee beside him only to discover your quiet, even breaths as his only response. Your head rested so fittingly on his shoulder, one curve perfectly slotted into the other, a soft place for you to land. It wasn’t often that you fell asleep during movies, but Steve knew you were just as exhausted as he was from an even longer work week. 

Steve did not look back towards the dingy, yellow hazed television screen even once after he’d spotted you. He was fixated on the gentle peace that had settled across your features, brow line soft, unmarred by worries of the day. He wondered what you were dreaming about, what thoughts and wishes filled your imaginings tonight, and whether he would get to hear about them once you’d woken. It was one thought that had shaken him, though. One that made him stop to think, that lost him to his surroundings entirely, consumed by questions. 

Are you dreaming about me, too? 

The overwhelming sense of hope was what had alarmed him, hope that perhaps you wanted him, wanted him with you even in your dreams – wanted him just as badly as he seemed to want you. How had he not noticed before? How had he not understood that every moment without you just felt like another moment spent trying to get back to you. 

Oh god, it was love. There was nothing else to call it. It was love of a friend and so much more. It was love of a person that Steve hoped never to face life again without. It was a desperation to keep you close that left a tightness in his chest, unmoving and unshakable. There was restraint enough in him that kept him from waking you just to pull you tighter, suddenly so aware of this need that had shadowed so closely at his heels all this time. 

He stayed the entire film just so you could sleep right there on his shoulder, undisturbed and so entirely loved. 

How he managed to keep it to himself after that was beyond all understanding. Steve didn’t keep secrets, or at least not his own, not from you. How exciting it was to be falling in love like this, and yet all he could think about was how horrific it was that you were none the wiser. Hadn’t you felt it too? That shift between you? It was all he could think about, and it left him twitchy, nervous and bumbling, ungraceful compared to his usual charismatic charm. Though you smiled at him like you always did, watching him as if he were still your most favourite person in all the world, and Steve had never felt more alive. 

It was why here, now, all he could do was watch you. Weeks later, still pining, still so incredibly in love with you, he was helpless but to stand by your side, drink in his hand idly sipped just to give him some kind of distractive reprieve, the taste of whisky heavy on his tongue as you watched the band before you. The lights were luminous, flashes of blue and yellow and white swallowing you in their glow, your body swaying contentedly to the rhythm of music he had half forgotten to listen to. He’d been excited to see this band weeks ago, and now all he could do was stare at you. 

You’d dressed up; hair styled, body wrapped in fabrics that Steve wanted to run his fingers through. There was glitter on your cheeks that glinted in the neon lights, and if Steve had not seen the cheap packaging himself, then he might have considered it the mark of an angel gracing your skin. 

Steve had never wanted to kiss someone so badly in his life. 

How he had gotten away with such blatant staring was a mystery, and he chalked it up to the masses of people pressing in closer and closer together as the night went on. No one was watching him, so no one was watching him watch you. 

As if triggered by some divine intervention, you turned to smile at him, yelling something about how great the band was, the sound muffled by the buzz of electronics and minute long guitar solos. He nodded back dumbly, his own smile a perfect mirror of your own, a free hand running through his now sweat slick locks. 

“So good.” Was all he could yell back, trying to peel his gaze away from your own, his own personal boulder up the hill; an unwinnable battle. 

His staring paid off, at least, when he caught the way the masses seemed to close in around you. Your view was more and more obstructed with every new beat, bodies taller and far less considerate than the two of yours huddling in tighter. He watched as the perception crossed your mind and on pure instinct, Steve was pulling you into him, slotting your body into place right before his own. He was wrapped around you like a protective barrier, arm hooked loosely around your waist, hand gripping possessively at your hip, his drink knocked clean out of his hand as the man by his side threw his arms up to the music. He tried not to glare, not for the loss of his drink, but for the way it so easily could have come tumbling down on you. The drink seemed like the least of your worries though. Steve offered you an apologetic grimace only to be met with another of your smiles, the warmth of your regard smoothing out the roughest edges of his trepidations. 

Your hand slipped into his, eliciting the softest of sighs from Steve to feel your comforting touch, and he felt his body relax as you pulled his other arm snuggly around you too, your entire body now encased in the safety of his hold. Somehow he knew that you had done this for him, that snuggling yourself in deeper like this was to ease his worries, not your own. He was here protecting you, and somehow here you were, still soothing him without so much as a thought. He wished he understood how you knew him so well, how you seemed to know intrinsically what he needed. It felt foolish to hope that maybe it was for the very same reason that he knew you so well. Maybe this is just how friends are. 

This did not feel like friendship, though, not with you pressed so tightly against him, bodies swaying as one to the steady rhythm of the melody around you. Your arms were crossed around yourself, hands gripping onto his forearms as if you could hold him right back. You were holding him, he realised. Holding him as best as you could from the position you were in. You had relaxed entirely into him, head resting back against his shoulder, movements languid and comfortable in his arms, fingers tracing secret scribbles into the goose-prickled flesh of his skin, so reactive to even the smallest of your touches. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself, couldn’t decide where to look or what to say or how to breathe, even. Breathe, Steve, breathe. 

“Are you comfy?” You called out, head angling up to catch a glimpse of his expression. Your palm flattened out comfortingly against his arm, and Steve tried not to melt under the tenderness of it. 

He nodded, dipping down to speak a little more closely, using the volume of the room as his excuse to allow his lips so close to the plush curve of your cheek. “‘m comfy. Is this okay?” 

He squeezed his arms around you once, twice, to emphasise his concern. You inched your face higher, views of one another now more clear as the space between you dissipated, your noses bumping clumsily against one another as the crowd continued to shift around you.

“Yeah, thanks.” If he didn’t know you half as well as he did, Steve might have missed the way your eyes seemed to widen at him, mouth parting imperceptibly as if you were about to continue, words dissolving right at the buzzer. 

His brow lifted curiously, nose nudging yours with purpose to ease the words from you. The look you gave in turn was enough to steal the very breath from his lungs, his chest constricting with the nerves that such intensity always seemed to summon in him. You looked pained, somehow, and Steve didn’t miss the way your arms seemed to tighten around his own, leaving his hands to squeeze at your sides reassuringly, one slipping its way to cup at your jaw. The wide of his palm engulfed your cheek, his rough, calloused, fingers stroking soothing circles into the curve of your skin, holding your gaze to him. 

“What’s wrong?” He mouthed, not wishing to raise his voice when you were pressed so closely to him. He was preparing to pull you away at a moment's notice, to flee the crowd and tuck you somewhere safe in some dark corner of the room to catch your breath. He knew something was wrong, could feel the weight of some unspoken thought pressing down on you. He’d steal it if he could, take it on as his own so you could smile again. It had only been a minute and he was already aching to see it once more. 

It all seemed to move in slow motion for him – time slowed to a standstill as the room seemed to fade away. There wasn’t anyone here but you, but him, standing here in this crowded empty space, looking at no one but each other. He watched you tug your lip between your teeth, one moment of contemplation that had him second guessing everything before you moved, lifting up onto the tips of your toes to reach him, his arms tightening again to keep you steady. 

Your eyes flickered, shifting nervously between his eyes and his lips, and Steve felt his own part as the surprise of your boldness hit him. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to kiss him and this was your way of showing it. He could see the way you tried to inch closer, watching through hooded eyes as you evaluated his reaction, drifting somewhere between closer and further with every breath. 

No one could blame him for his eagerness, not really. Not when you were looking at him like it would kill you not to kiss him, not when he felt so entirely needed, so entirely worthy of this moment. He brushed his hand at your cheek, nudging forward slowly, his eyes imploring as he watched, waited to know that this was really what you wanted. 

You just smiled up at him, and Steve might have died right there to know that he was the reason why. 

Steve’s focused remained heavily on his movements, head lost somewhere in the necessity that he needed to kiss you right. He felt like his very happiness relied on it – like he would die right here, right now, if you did not know just how much he wanted you. Needed you. 

He moved unhurriedly, lips tracing so softly against your own that he thought he might be dreaming. There was no conceivable way that a person could be so delicate in his hold, so plush and divine and perfect. It was a moment out of time, kissing you like this amongst the ever constricting crowds, the violent noise of a band crescendoing around you all the while. 

And you were kissing him too. 

He could taste it in your touch, the eagerness, the way you tried to reach further, twisting in his arms to fit closer to him. He wished he could swallow his grin, helplessly amused by that gentle desperation in you – how could he not smile over the neediness in your touch? You tried to speed up the kiss, to grip him tighter, one hand curled into the fabric of his shirt, the other tugging him down by his hair. 

His groan was involuntary, and his purchase at your face was all he had to usher you, slow fingers coaxing you back into a relaxed state, pulling himself back to look at you with desperate eyes. 

He had no words, nothing that he could say that could convey the meaning of this moment, nor the depths of his feelings for it. He could see that glaze in your eyes, feel the way you swayed on the tips of your toes as your balance betrayed you. He didn’t mind – it was his excuse to tug you all the closer, setting the pace once more as his lips slotted against your own. 

He felt your sigh rather than heard it, could feel the way your muscles relaxed under the press of his hand at your back. It was a sick sort of pleasure that flooded him, pride taking over to know that he had this effect – this power over you. If only you knew how much more you had over him, how he’d do almost anything you could ask of him just to keep you here. 

A knock from a burly looking man was what it took to break the kiss, and Steve might have been thankful had he not almost dropped the two of you in a brief lapse of balance, his head turning venomously to glare at the man who Steve certainly could not take in a fight. He might really have gotten his ass kicked there and then over his petulance, a child raging over his favourite treat being ripped from his hands. Was it so much for him to want this moment to be perfect? He wanted 5 minutes to enjoy it, to kiss you senseless, to solidify that this would not be the only time  to do so. 

Thank god for you, really, to remind him that he was still in the moment. Your hands at his face tugged him away from his anger, focusing his attention back on you, your own amused smile soothing away that spike of rage that had stolen his attention so briefly. You dipped up, pecking his lips so suddenly that all he could do was stare. He felt like an idiot, and maybe it was because he was one. He was a fool in love, and perhaps now you were starting to see it. 

“Lets go.” You urged, thumbs circling at his cheeks, the adrenaline in his body dissipating into something peaceful at the tenderness of your touch. 

He nodded dumbly, not a moment wasted considering anything else in the room but you. Who could have possibly cared that the show was only half finished, that neither of you had heard your favourite songs yet, that you had been dying to try the specialty cocktail of the night that was plastered across posters behind the bar, when Steve could be the one to take you home? Fuck literally anything else here because your hand was easing its way into his own, and his cheeks were sure to ache at the strain of his smile on his face as he shouldered his way through the crowd, parting bodies to ease the two of you through the masses, and nothing could have been more important to him in that moment, or any other moment to come, than you. 

Forget it all, because Steve was going to kiss you again as soon as the night air broke around the two of you, and by the way you clung so tightly to the back of him, he’d never been so assured that you were just as pleased by the notion as he was. 

Steve could not remember the moment his feelings for you had become real to him, but he’d never forget the moment yours had.

[wnbnny]

꒰ forever and a day ⭑ ꒱ - y.jh

genre ⋆ slice of life, est. relationship, fluff w small bit of angst, jeonghan x fem.reader! | wc ⋆ 0.9k | author's note ⋆ i was listening to fireworks & rollerblades & forever & a day is my favourite song on the album so i decided to write abt it >< listen to forever and a day as you read <3 | not proofread bc i wrote this at 3 a.m >< tw ⋆ reader is mentioned as 'wife', insecurities

i started driving through the hills, told me to come and get you

"hannie?" you called out softly, head peeking out from your shared bedroom's door. jeonghan raised his head, locking eyes with you. "yes?" he hummed, eyes filled with an unreadable softness and emotion you couldn't quite place.

no words convey the way it felt for me to finally hold you

"can... can i join you on the couch?" you asked tentatively, not wanting to bother him and disrupt his peace when he looked so cozy curled up on the couch. "of course baby, you don't have to ask. c'mere," he stretched out his arms, an open invitation for you to mold perfectly into.

in my arms just long enough to know

you took a step forward, and it wasn't long before you had finally crossed over the expanse of the living room to stand in front of him. you climb onto the couch, afraid to accidentally step on his limbs, tangled up in the heavy yet soft blankets. settling your head on his shoulder, you were enveloped in a comforting warmth, jeonghan's arm subconsciously pulling you closer into his side. the tv was playing an old rom-com, and the two of you settled into comfortable silence as you cuddled.

know every word you're gonna say before you even think it 

"she's so pretty," you comment, eyes fixated on the actress on screen. it fills your heart with a pang of mixed envy and sadness, insecurities coming to the surface. what if jeonghan thought you were ugly and left you for someone better? there were so many prettier women out there, ones that had beauty you could only dream of. the nagging feeling in the back of your mind grew even louder, drowning out the background noise. your hands, tangled in the blankets, fisted them slightly, clenching as you tried to futilely conquer the negative thoughts. jeonghan frowned, noting your fidgeting which could only mean one thing. "hey, you're prettier," he remarks, looking down at you. "thanks," you murmur, but jeonghan can immediately tell you don't believe him. "i mean it." he furrows his brows, and cups your chin to make you face him. his brown orbs bear into yours, hoping to get the message accross. you nodded slowly, the dullness in your eyes slightly disappearing, but not completely gone. he would work on convincing you, jeonghan vows. for now, he settles back into the cozy silence as you watch the sitcom.

but somehow, every joke you make is funnier each time around

"did you hear about the new store? you should visit it sometime, i've heard it's really good," you ponder. you and jeonghan are at the park, out on a date. "sounds great, but it would be better if i had you to accompany me," jeonghan leans in, a playful smirk on his face. you giggle and blush, rolling your eyes in faux annoyance. "oh, shut up, you big flirt."

your laugh is such a perfect sound

jeonghan watches as you giggle as you chatter with your friends, a fond smile on his face. you look radiant and happy, and he vows he will do whatever he can to always keep that smile on your face.

these butterflies lived a million lives to say

you blush, watching as jeonghan leans down to tie your shoelaces for you in the middle of a movie theatre, butterflies in your stomach. "done," he finishes with a smile, standing to press a featherlight kiss against your knuckles as you beam up at him.

i swear I've known you longer than

"oh my gosh, remember when we first met? i literally spilled coffee all over you," you laugh, on another day with jeonghan, this time at a cozy cafe. "you looked like you were on the verge of crying," jeonghan chuckles, then adds softly, "you were cute." 

i don't believe in destiny but i might have to say

"hannie?" you ask, and he hums in response. "yes?" "do you believe in destiny?" you ask, curious. "hmm... not really. i think you get to choose how your life turns out, whether through your actions or decisions," he explains, and you ponder on his answer thoughtfully.

your melodies, they're changing me

this time, you and jeonghan and sitting on the floor of the living room, christmas lights twinkling merrily on the colourful christmas tree in the corner. jeonghan is singing, strumming on his guitar, and then cozy warmth of the hot cocoa you hold in your hands envelops you in a soft, fluffy cocoon of love.

i'm yours, forever and a day

you and jeonghan stand under an archway, hands intertwined and cheeks flushed, giddy with excitement. he was dressed in a sharp tuxedo - and you in the most stunningly beautiful white dress that seemed to flow like water. "i, yoon jeonghan, promise to take y/n l/n as my wife, to have and to hold, from this day onward; for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part. i promise to love and cherish you, to be the rock for you to lean on when you're down and had a bad day at work. i promise to be the one you can trust and confide in, to pour your burdens and insecurities to, and if i could, i would take them all from you, so that you may always have that radiant bright smile on your face i love so much. i promise to love you, forever and a day."

mastertag : @starseungs

[blossoms-phan]

tit summary/thoughts/spoilers under the cut!! <3

hiii wanted to make one of these just so I can ramble about everything bc what a crazy night LMAOO gonna make another post about the day so this is just about the show

my soul left my body when the lights went dark omfg, that is literally one of my favourite parts about concerts/live shows. the smoke and lights was a lot but the second they came out it’s like everything cleared up, i loveee how they come out with their backs to us and then the happy silly music when they’re running around saying hi hehehehe

the whole intro/beginning part was so fun i just loved the bits when they were just talking to us, canada love, the history of dnp/why we're all here etc etc. the dolls/diorama is such a fun little phistory recap, though i will say it was not as wild as i was maybe expecting or what they've done on other nights lol. they "wrestled" in the first one, nothing in the manchester apartment, "kissed" (69-ed lol) in the london one and that was it but they were all SO well made (shoutout pj and sophie), i loved phil's hoodie for the 2 apartment era hehe

role model or no-le model: very fun section, i wish i could tell you all the fill in the blanks we did but i can't remember for the life of me lol i shouted yaoi so loud for all of the lawyer dan ones but alas :( but i do remember lawyer dan writes erotica about timbits, then when the side by sides came up on the screens after it had been changed to "Phim Phbits" which made them both genuinely laugh it was so sweetie. we killed regular dan and doctor phil

phanspiracies were: toilet, clothes, tour bus and wedding. honestly very solid picks, it was so surreal seeing those "phan proof" comps of them wearing the same clothes on the screen down to the zoomed in picture of the underwear from the christmas cookies video 😭 the tour bus clip will never not be crazy but it was SO funny bc we cheered so loudly after phil said it was true that they shared the bed and dan was judging us but all i could think about is the stunned silence from phantwerp day one, i will never forget listening to that live and it's probably been so entertaining for them to see the shift from that lmao. the wedding edits were so funny dan was like "i know you had that as your desktop background for 6 years" and someone behind me was like "YES I DID", dan's little kick and cheeky smile at "i'm just opposed to anything traditional" ok sure

i can't remember which section this was during it was something to do with discussing a past era but phil said "maybe I was just horny" and i screamed lmao

the boxing segment ajdjkskjsf i have been waiting for it my entire goddamn life tbh and it was so fun. no one told me about the visuals on the screen ok why do they look so GOOD in them?? i wasn't actually expecting them to knock each other out or anything but it did seem a tinyy bit tamed down from what i've seen before, like they were being very gentle with each other lol but it was cute, the bite was still bite-y and the run around the theatre was craaaazy, the camera following them is so good lol

they yapped for moose. meese. meeses for a minute straight and i forgot it was supposed to be a bit it was so natural they're good at it whether they like it or not

oh yeah that's the other thing. they are fucking INCREDIBLE performers. like, they are so good at what they do and it was one of the highlights of my life getting to experience it irl. the show is incredibly well paced, the script is funny, the audience participation makes it but it's so insane to see how well they work together. the comfort and familiarity after so many years plays a huge part (there was a solid like 7 shoulder touches btw) but their dynamic is soooo good, they play off of each other so well. literally everything @cheekyvank described to me about dan as a performer is true. he was ALWAYS moving, he moves his mouth and bends and grooves and does the absolute most but it's soooo natural, like he has so much fun doing it. that man is a theatre kid all grown up and it's incredibly endearing but he's also a master, like he was MADE to be on a stage, he's so fucking good at balancing between roasting and teasing us and pointing out at people and winking and he called out someone filming without actually saying anything and it was so smooth and lowkey hot but also like jesus i didn't even risk TRYING to take a picture i am sooooooo scared of him. also thanks to you @jonsaremembers i was looking forward to the 4 g's all night, i am their geeky girlie forever and ever 🫶

and phil. oh my sweet precious baby angel. my heart was burstingggg with phil love all night. he is so, so so so good literally everything right with this world tbh. you can tell he has SO much fun on the stage as well, there's moments where his smile softens or he just looks out onto the audience and i want to shower him with love and affection (and we did! i honestly think one of the loudest screams was for "normal phil" during role model hehe). he is so effortlessly funny, the silly little run over to the microphone every time for the "hiatus" was one of my favourite bits of the show. i absolutely loved his getting real with us bit, it reminded me so much of his youtube videos- and i hope he knows how powerful and meaningful that "light entertainment" is for us. his voice was soooo soft and gentle it was like we were his children he was talking to which i guess we kind of are in this context. i love him forever and ever

sister daniel. INCREDIBLE follow up. i knew it was coming and nothing prepared me for Her. another part of the set design/production that is so well done, the visuals and the bass dropping when she comes out is SOOO fucking good. i have never screamed so loudly in my life. i would do anything she asked me to. the underwear were so fucking short i could not see a THINGGG like. fucking hell. lots of pulling the dress down and legs crossed/staying sat the whole time though lol which fair but the confessions and water spraying was fun, it will never not be funny when dan shames people for opening their mouths after they say it's sister daniel's bath water lmfaooo

the SONG!!!!!!!! the most fun. in the entire world. it's so good it's so fun. the lyrics, them going FULL boy band mode, the hands folding over and doob grab was infinitely more devastating irl. dan is so fucking good at the dance i love you forever terminal theatre kid and i think phil has reached the peak of how well he can do it and i want to give him his flowers for trying his damn best every time you keep doing you baby. the part where it kinda slows down and they're just doing the geekiest moves ever like those are my BABIESSS dfjksajdks standing up to rave with dnp in a room full of phannies was the highlight of my entire fucking life.

this was SO much longer than i anticipated and i'm probably still gonna go on about things as i remember it but it was genuinely the most fun and memorable night of my life. i love these two silly little guys so much, it was so surreal seeing them in person after over a decade and i would do anything to experience it again but i'm so, so grateful i got to do it once and i will cherish the memories forever. and this has only made me more insane about them and cemented the fact that i wholeheartedly believe they love us, this new era, and that they're not going away anytime soon so i WILL see you guys back on the internet and hopefully outside of it one day again too <3

(i lied here’s the one picture I took aka far from dan’s prying eyes during the part where they’re not there being gay getting out of their clothes)

[themotherofblood]

Hi! I literally devoured your Vampire Series, it's awesome!

I was thinking since it's summer why don't our vampires go to the sea? Something like Daemon and Rhaenyra want to see the baby girl in a swimsuit and they're specially prepared for that. But the girl is shy because vampires look just divine and she has quite a few scars and marks left on her. And in the end they calm her down.

um! yes! 100x yes! This one is a blurb I AM INCAPABLE OF WRITING THEM. ENJOY THIS 1K+ baby mind you :) So have fun spending a day at Summerhall.

Vampire!Daemon x reader x Vampire!Rhaenyra

masterlist | series masterlist | Vampire AU

warnings: compulsion, oral (F), mentions of blood. a very teeny tiny allusion to self harm (if you squint)

a/n: also Netflix exists in Modern!Westeros :) also reader is kinda toxic but hey this is a dark series so eh. Also other than Marvel, lemme know what odd niche thing you think exists in Modern!Westeros (Teslas? Harry Styles? Cupcake Remixs? EUPHORIA?!) Also, Summerhall is built on one of the StepStones island and reader lived in Storm’s End

Rhaenyra had been worried, you weren’t yourself the past few days. Having merely shown them a glimpse of the sunshine you were for a week, you became quiet again. Obediently offering up a wrist or lifting your skirt for Daemon when asked, pulling up your hair and dropping to your knees on Rhaenyra’s command. Then returning to shield yourself within the pink walls of your rooms. Binging some medical surgery show and smiling along at its romance.

They had your things shipped from your old apartments up at Storm Street, even your little cactus on your coffee table was returned to you safely. Daemon bought you a much larger one, thinking it would have made you happy. You admired the gesture, but it was big and just a little bit ugly. You spent a few hours scrolling through your laptop and phone that was also returned to you, you wouldn’t run, they knew you wouldn’t. Your mind so tightly in their grasp, you no longer looked at the main gates around the island.

Today you laid curled in the theatre room, a melting bowl of strawberry ice cream on your lap as you hummed along to another concert documentry, you missed going out— the fun behind getting ready with friends, the drunk unrelenting laughter and feeling damn sexy by choosing to dress slutty once every month. Now all you saw was scars, yellows, blues and purples. They would have taken longer to heal if Mrs Stone hadn’t brought you a steaming cup of tea with two drops of either Daemon or Rhaenyra’s blood.

You would never see them on the days you healed, away from the island for their business, and you were happier for it. Finding the scarring rather displeasing to look at and relief that you could frolic around this giant property in your PJ’s and messed hair. Sometimes when you truly felt lonely, you would put on your headphones, blaring against your ears as you danced down the hallway. All of whom in witness were the many paintings of Old Valyrian nobility and Targaryen royalty. The first day you did it, merely mumbling along the lyrics but by the end of the month you were sure Mrs Stone could hear you screaming the songs from the kitchen.

The same over and over again for four days at a time, you grew a little worried over your mother—her silence was agonizing to this day. She didn’t have much to say, you wanted to tell her, you were lonely and even alone you might have been addicted to the gentle heaviness in your heart every time you woke up in bed alone after an exhaustive night of being fed on. Yet everytime you heard their car doors thud close, you’d run down the grand stairs to greet them barefooted and in a pretty dress. Throwing yourself at whoever walked through the doors first.

Today in particular, you stood in your giant closet, finally feeling comfortable to partake in all that it was stocked with. While you were happy that your older clothes found a home within the white trim dressers. The gowns, the little girl in you screaming as you put one on, you couldn’t lace it through though, all poofy and tulle. Underneath you had on a lingerie set, throughly pretending to be one of those catalogue models.

You took to the east wing hallways again, waving at the portrait of Baelon Targaryen. Waving around your skirts to a up tempo song and the cool stone underneath your feet. You came to stop at a glass enclosing, Rhaenyra’s coronation gown and her crown laying on a velvet red pillow. Your reflection covering the silhouette of the dress, you imagined yourself in it. You were sure the seams of the dress were made of gold threads.

You were pulled out of your thoughts at the sound of the main gates opening Daemon’s car waiting behind it.

Fuck. They were home early.

You hiked the skirt of your gown and ran down the hall to your bedroom, struggling hard to be rid of your dress and gazillion straps on your lingerie and changing into a more modest sundress to cover your bandaging. You knew you wouldn’t make it down the stairs in time so you sat down on the arm chair by the fireplace with a book. Trying hard to calm your thudding heart. Just as you expected a knock rang down your door before it opened just a little.

Rhaenyra poured in, dressed in a long red dress. Her arms wide as she came to engulf you, snuggling her chin on top of your head.

“I thought you would return the day after?” You asked, smiling up at her.

“Hmm, the Bravosi deal cracked a lot easier than we had hoped and Daemon found a fine meal last night. So we thought we’d return to our darling sooner.” She explained, lifting you up to sit in your spot and pull you down on her lap. “Unless, you didn’t want us to.”

You shook you head, resting it against her temple before reaching lower with your lips to kiss her. “Where’s Daemon?” you looked back to the open door.

“At the docks getting the yacht out.” she said, tucking your hair behind your ear and rubbing her nose against your neck.

“The yacht?” you were sure they even had nuclear weapons under this palace and Daemon could have been Iron Man because why not? You just wonder why.

“Well the weather is just too perfect to waste it so,” she looked towards the window “and I thought you loved swimming, what better way to spend today?”

Rhaenyra could hear Daemon grumbling down at the beach, scolding yet another house keeper for some odd detail they might have missed. She shook her head “I’m going to go check on Daemon before he rips the head of another worker. Get changed.” She pecked your lips before leaving to find Daemon.

You padded back into the closet, this time putting away the gown you were messing around in neatly. Probably costs an eyeball, you dig around for while to find your older swimsuit, a cute green one piece with paisleys on them, perfectly worn in. Then it hit you when you looked around your closet for a moment. Greens right… you loved that one and now it was probably burned along with other green clothing that you were now noticing missing.

You groan when you can’t find it, instead find a sea of newer one and two pieces. You nearly bang your head twice against the drawer before pulling out a white one. Just as you change the dread fills you, they’ve never seen you like this. Not so bruised, usually all that’s left by the time they lay with you again are small puncture scars that they yet again poke through new. Finding no reason to find a new favourite spot to drink from.

You grimace at the odd colouring of your scars clashing with the white, damn it, stretch marks would have been one thing. It was bearable to you but these scars were ugly. You hastily peeled a patch bandage and sticking them on your inner thighs, the left backside of your shoulder (not and easy accomplishment) and neck. Then you prayed to the gods of makeup gurus and tried to hide the yellowing with concealer. It didn’t work very well but it was better than before, instead of pulling on a cover up you pulled an cardigan with longer shorts. Groaning in your hands before leaving to find them.

You stood at the gates, you couldn’t leave them. Tapping your foot, wondering if they forgot about your little predicament. “I’m stuck here!” you chided out loud, knowing they could hear your from the beaches lower.

Daemon was quick to the gates, you hugged your torso, hoping none of the scars where viable as he gave you a once over. He was sizing you, eyes squinted as he leaned on one hip. He approached you, letting his palm curl around you cheek as he kissed you, commanding—almost a threat.

“You can go through gates,” you mind went blank as his eyes dilated.

“I can go through the gates.”

Your eyes cleared and you looked to gates, Home..? No, no. You stay here now.

Daemon was still watching closely, taking note of the way your heart jumped for a moment. He wanted to trust you, not that you could run far from the bridge across to the mainland forest. He thought maybe you were pliant enough that he wouldn’t have to. Yet your heartbeat jumped once more.

“You will not run.” His eyes dilated once more, clutching your jaw harder.

“I won’t run.”

You shook your head once more and the butterflies faded entirely. “Head down the steps on the left. Nyra is waiting for you on the dock.”

You nodded before skipping down the gates, not a second glance was offered to the mainland bridge. You ran down the long dock to Rhaenyra waiting in the boat your thudding ballet flats warning her much before. She helped you onto the boat, before swiftly twirling you into her arms. Her fingers feeling under the fabric of your cardigan and smiling at the feeling of your bathing suit.

The sun had its glare set upon the open warm sea, the cool winds however making the weather bearable to your skin. In the one hour you had been on the boat, you had been hen mother scolded by Rhaenyra twice. First because you forgot to bring a pair of sunglasses. Second, you only had a bowl of strawberry ice cream for breakfast. You had sheepishly smiled at her as Daemon smirked at his wife. He didn’t mind you being spoilt, anything to keep you here willingly—he didn’t enjoy compelling you. The consequences of compulsion would rain down far worse on you than them.

There were already a few signs, odd blurring of your memories of your older life. You had entirely forgotten which middle school you went to until the reminded you uncomfortably in a conversation. Luckily the many photos albums and stashes of Polaroids you had at your apartment were more than enough grout to fill the gaps in your memory. Then there was spurts of blank, one moment you could be speaking or whimpering in their arms to just blank—robotic like the colour drains from your eyes.

“I wonder what other spoilt things you are up to in the day,” Rhaenyra huffed as she pulled your other leg onto her lap to rub sunscreen on. She knew, both her and Daemon very much knew about the dance parties with their ancestors in attendance. From all the cameras around the house that they checked upon every night away from you.

“Does talking to Aenys Targaryen count?” you giggled, making Daemon’s eyebrows perk up. “He seemed like a good listener, very pretty.”

“Very weak.” Daemon coughed. “What else?”

“Uh… watched a documentary on whales actually. Fascinating.” you mused before looking out to the sea “I’d like to see one some day.”

“Now, why don’t we go for a dip huh?” Rhaenyra pawed at your pink cardigan, the gentle pull gave her glimpse of the white bandage. “Are you still bleeding?” Her eyes scrunched.

“Did you not take the tea?” Daemon questioned, immediately wondering if Mrs Stone would soon be lunch.

“No— I did.” You shook your head, completely forgetful of the anxiety bubbling within you an hour ago. Rhaenyra tilted her head, confused at the rise in your thudding heart. Daemon too pushing down his sunglasses to look at your with a frown upon your face. Your mouth opened and then closed.

“Well?” he questioned with his palm out.

“You’ve never seen me on healing days, it— it’s not pretty,” you stuttered “so I thought I’d cover up.”

Both Rhaenyra and Daemon visually relaxed, both contemplating worse than what was bothering you.

Rhaenyra said nothing, just hooked her fingers around the buttons of your cardigan before pulling it off, Daemon watched Nyra and you, but mostly listening to the music that was your heart. He hadn’t heard something so reactive, accustomed to the rapid increase in his feed’s heart, the crescendo of fear and the sloshing of blood as he controlled its flow from the carotid artery.

You winced a little as Rhaenyra peeled apart the bandage on your shoulder, peppering little kisses on the bruise “not ugly.” She figured if they had stained such delicate skin, they could kiss it better too. She nodded her head to Daemon, demanding he follow along.

Daemon shook his head Nyra, his sweet wife perfectly cunstruck by a human, so was he—maybe, big maybe. He kneeled infront of you, shimming your shorts up to peel away at the bandaging on your inner thigh. His cock twitched at the sight of the healing bruises and the distinctive puncture marks of his fangs.

His pink tongue poked out as he suckled on the spot—keep it fucking marked he thought. You hissed out loud at that, making Rhaenyra kick Daemon in the thigh as a warning glare. He sneered at her before obliging and peppering kisses up your thigh. You wiggled on the spot as his kisses trailed upwards.

“Needy slut.” He muttered under his breath, he could smell your pooling cunt already as Rhaenyra peeled through the bandage on your chest.

Daemon hooked his fingers around your cotton shorts and pulled them down. His nose rubbing up at your clothed mound, Nyra knew exactly what he wanted to do as she shuffled backwards, letting your upper body rest against her chest. She pulled your white bathing suit to one side, letting Daemon groan and flatten his tongue against your warm folds.

He used his thumb to gently push at the hidden pearl, using his tongue to pry open your folds. He was about to open his palm and lay a smack on your mound, he couldn’t help but crave the sound of your yelps and cries. Rhaenyra was faster though, knowing her husband far too well as she reached over to catch his wrist.

“If you’re going to be a dick, we can switch. You like my tongue better anyways, don’t you sweetie.” she teased her husband, this was a fight you refused to get in between as you looked between the pair.

“You didn’t think I was a dick last night with my tongue in your cunt, riñītsos.” He countered, it was never more apparent that they indeed were a married couple.

You couldn’t help stop the cackle that tore through you next, you pursed your lips to stop another from pouring through but instead choked on a yelp as Rhaenyra slapped your cunt. You bit your tongue from smiling as you gave her your sweetest eyes as an apology.

“Don’t be a brat,” she scolded, still giving Daemon a warning glare to be be nice to you “and you keep licking.”

You curled to your side with a moan as the tip of Daemon’d tongue pushed against your hood before suckling it in mouth.

“Daddy.” You mewled, your hands reaching down to grab hold of his silver hair. The ardent feel of his tongue pushing you masterfully to a longing completion.

“Is he making you feel good, honey?” Rhaenyra pulled your chin up to meet your eyes, you nodded breathlessly. “What do you say?”

“Thank you, daddy.” your toes curled around his shoulder as his tongue rapidly flicked against your reddened bud.

Daemon has a voracious need to feel you gushing onto his tongue as he poked into your clenching hole, Rhaenyra reached down to play with you clit but he slapped her hand away— his turn, he knew you liked his tongue the most. He replaced her fingers with his, rolling the bundle of nerves between his fingers. He spat onto your pussy, admiring your scrunched up face as he rubbed tight circles onto your bud.

“Now, whose tongue is your favourite again?” He asked “gotta answer if you want to come today, pet.”

The vehement predicament he had just pushed you into was cruel, just too cruel for your poor heart as you eyes welled up, your bottom lip pouted out. Looking conflicted between Rhaenyra and Daemon as they bottom looked at your expecting an answer. You mouth opened and then closed as your deeply gulped, he couldn’t hold his serious face together for longer. The sweet battle in your mind, he knew your answer would come along with a major punishment at the hands of the other.

He shook his head once more chuckling, making Rhaenyra giggle and press a kiss to your temple.

“Go on, come on daddy’s face.” Rhaenyra whispered in your ear as she let your hair.

You on command, shrieked, relaxing and letting the dam break through as your thighs shuddered along with your body. You hands tightly clutching onto Rhaenyra

“There we go, what a good pet.” Daemon coaxed you through your high as he kept his rubbing going until your orgasm turned to over-sensitized whimpers. Rhaenyra let go of your bathing suit, still stroking your arms as you recovered.

“Thank you.” you huffed once more at Daemon who returned to nursing in his scotch.

“Now go swim.” Rhaenyra patted your thigh as she pushed you up, gesturing at the very calm open waters. You looked to her once, still dazed before looking at the Sunset Sea. You smiled as you climbed down the ladder to the lower deck. Stopping for a moment to drop you cardigan in the floor, before running to the water.

Tucking your legs in a canonball as you squealed before splashing into the water.

Daemon then turned to his wife “you’re getting bossy these days Nyra, don’t make me spank it away.” He warned her as she pulled of her red kaftan to reveal her maroon bathing suit. He laid a quick swat on her milky pale ass as she followed behind you, sitting on the lower deck with her painted feet dipped in the water as she watched you swim.

“She still likes my tongue better Daemon.”

ahhh you guys, this was so much fun to write hehe. I had this scene of Daemyra bickering like a married couple for a long time and I’m so glad I could use it for this AU.

Also, reader was totally screaming The Weeknd songs and Taylor Swift songs to all the Targaryen portraits.

And yes. There will be a chapter where Rhaenyra dresses reader in 120AC attire for roleplay :)

Ps. I’m trying to piece through a Vampire lore like pros cons and might do a backstory of their turning :)

taglist (thank youuuu!! ♥️♥️)

@fan-goddess @funnybunnyxxx @avalyaaa @evattude @you-youuuu

[leslutdepointedulac]

Louis getting insanely jealous over Estelle and Celeste cosying up to Armand is quality Loumand content.

And what appalled me as I watched was not their exquisite form, their delicate features and graceful hands made hard as glass by vampire nature, or their bewitching eyes which fixed on me now in a sudden silence; what appalled me was my own fierce jealousy.

Like, he met Armand only the night before. They've known each other only a few hours, they've had one conversation at this point and yet already, Louis' seething with jealousy at the idea of literally anyone else touching Armand, despite the fact that they've known him significantly longer than he has.

When else has Louis ever gotten this territorial over anyone, ever. And they barely know each other.

Bonus moments of Louis being weird about Armand:

Louis getting giggly over Armand literally just looking at him, like he's a teenage girl.

And my heart expanded when I saw him this way, saw that no one amongst the small throng caught his glance as I caught his glance, and no one held it from time to time as I held it.

"Omg he looked at me! He doesn't look at anyone else like he looks at me, or for as long. I hear wedding bells!"

And Louis arguing his love for Armand with Claudia.

Claudia: He draws life out of me into himself,. . . Life out of the boy who is his slave, life out of me whom he would make his slave. He loves you. He loves you. He would have you, and he would not have me stand in the way.

Louis: You don't understand him!

Louis " you just don't get him like I do. You should be happy for me that I'm getting a new man, and grateful I'm getting you a step-dad" de Pointe du Lac.

Louis ignoring Claudia's foreshadowing of her own fate.

Claudia: No, I understand him only too well,. . . It is you who don't understand him. Love's blinded you, your fascination with his knowledge, his power. If you knew how he drinks death you'd hate him more than you ever hated Lestat. Louis, you must never return to him. I tell you, I'm in danger!

Louis: Early the next night, I left her, convinced that Armand alone among the vampires of the theatre could be trusted.

Louis really said "And so I ignored my own daughter's fears of being murdered by my new boyfriend. Just because she can't get a man, doesn't mean I can't."

And finally, whatever this is.

It was an icon for me of love. The love I felt. Not physical love, you must understand. I don't speak of that at all, though Armand was beautiful and simple, and no intimacy with him would ever have been repellent.

Louis: I curse god everyday that I cannot have sex the mortal way. Not a day goes by that I don't wish I could fuck Armand. Just, absolutely rail him, and let him bang me in return. I want to obliterate each other's asses, is that so much to ask 😫

Moral of the story, Louis is down incredibly bad for Armand, moreso than he's ever let on about his same feelings for anyone else. Not even Lestat got this kind of treatment from Louis. I just know Lestat is fuming about that. Lestat would be so jealous of Louis' jealousy over Armand.

[lantanasmuttyfanfics]

Can you do some dizzie (daring x lizzie) maybe some pinning or like in theatre? (Because Lizzie and Daring are both actors together in the books)

Nsfw or sfw idm

As promised here is the new Dizzie fic!!

Anyway before you all read I just want to say I’m not trying to villainize Apple it’s just for the story purpose hope you enjoy

Have a good dayy!!

—————————

Lizzie prided herself in being unbothered in all that didn’t concern her. She ignored what didn’t matter in her eyes and made a show of her disinterest.

Blondie doesn’t have a story to broadcast? Doesn’t care. Apple feels miserable after finding out that a royal and a rebel are dating? Doesn’t care.

So why was it now that she was so bothered by idea of Daring Charming starring as the male lead in a new romance play the director came up with.

She shouldn’t care for him. He broke her heart and didn’t look back once, he was everything that Lizzie resented so what was it that bothered her.

Maybe it was the fact that deep down, despite the heartbreak she still liked him. Even with everything she found herself pinning and yearning to be looked at the same way as before.

But now she was lucky if he gave her a glance. Maybe that was why she didn’t want to see Daring acting like a love struck fool with Apple White on stage.

Yet here she was now, doing exactly that. “Apple I need more desperation.” The princess smiled while getting in position. Lizzie thought her voice was like a dying cat as the scene played out.

But that didn’t matter as Lizzie watched with envy as Daring swooped in and literally knocked Apple of her feet with his charming smile.

That deep part wished it her in his arms, her the one he looked at with such adoration as he recited his lines. Her the one he leaned down on and gave a kiss.

Lizzie thought her heart would tear from the shear agony that coursed through her. But that didn’t matter as the next second as he was gazing at the crowd, Lizzie and Daring made eye contact.

Her breath caught momentarily as his looked her over with something she couldn’t pin point. Lizzie wished his gaze would stay on her a little longer but atlas he averted his gaze and Lizzie felt disappointed bubble within.

“Alright! Good run through everyone we meet here again tomorrow same time.” Everyone started to filter out and Lizzie foolishly lingered behind.

She wanted to talk to him, she wanted to confront him or even just speak to him. Have his gaze on her for more than a second.

as Daring sauntered towards the exit Lizzie took a deep breath her hands instinctively fixing her dress and hair before she put on the nicest smile she could master.

As she did her and Darings eyes met again and he gave her a small nod before looking of behind her.

“Dar-.” Bouncy blonde curls interrupted her vision as Apple White let out an excited squeal. “Oh Daring! How charming was that. I’m so glad I decided to audition this year.”

Apple took Darings arm and laid her head on his shoulder as she just now seemed to realize that Lizzie was there. “Oh did you need something?” Apple let out a small giggle.

Daring watched the two not uttering a word until the silence became deafening. “So uhh Lizzie did you need anything?” The two girls who seemed to be in a staring competition finally broke their gaze.

Lizzie gritted her teeth, her anger already roaring after being interrupted. “Umm no… nothing.” Apple clapped while saying something Lizzie didn’t care for.

Daring on the other hand furrowed his brows and looked at Lizzie was small suspicion. But as she didn’t speak up he promptly left with Apple.

Lizzie watched the two fade away, her heart cracking and constricting as that yearning and want came head to head with her logical side.

Her logical side said, they were over and done she needed to move on and get over it. She was Lizzie Hearts and heir to the Hearts throne. She shouldn’t be pinning for some stupid prince.

But her heart that was full of yearn and want told her that there could always be something, that she had a chance. If only they talked she’d see.

But in the end and as always her logical side won and Lizzie made great deal of effort suppress her want for him.

“Lizzie? Join us at the mad hatters tea shop?” Alistair and Kitty appeared before her and Lizzie put on her unbothered expression as she walked out head held high.

“Lead the way.” And as she followed her life long friends not bothering to notice anything around her she missed the way Daring stepped away from Apple.

Missed the way he followed her until Kitty threw him a Cheshire glare while inspecting her nails. And missed as he called out to her voice full of desperation.

——————————

New fic coming Evil queen x good king fic coming out tomorrow or Saturday!!

Anyway again not trying villainize anyone it’s jus for story purposes

Have a good dayy!!

[quitealotofsodapop]

Gods help Macaque when Jade-Face learns how risky the pregnancy Wukong was going through actually was. If he thought she was mad the first time around, she was twice as pissed off at her surrogate son/protégé when she learned that most Stone Monkeys do not survive childbirth and that its very possible the only reason Wukong is even remotely as healthy as he is was due to the fact he was quite literally immortal and a group of mortals his successor is family with just so happened to find and adopt him into their pack "just in time!"

The furious Nine-tailed vixen momma.

I understand from another ask you meant Jiuweihuli aka Nine-Tailed vixen.

But yeah, her and Jade-Face are like the lethal duo of a pissed-off mom and auntie ready to kick Macaque's butt for his recklessness. The two force Mac to sit his butt down and roast him verbally for hours over tea. After the Shadow Play incident, Mac just knew his adoptive mother/mentor was on the otherside of the stage door ready to yell at him for; "Messing with those nice noodle people!" and left himself open to attack from a certain demon.

Mayor: "Bravo! Bravo! What a perform-" Macaque, not even paying attention: "Thank the buddha, get me out of here. Sneak me out the fire exit or something. Anything's better than facing her right now." *(later getting interrogated/threatened by LBD)* Macaque: "Ugh... hard to decide what woman I'm more afraid of."

And since his disappearance left behind a bunch of dark magic with the Bone Spirit's signature on it - the rest of the theatre staff immediately freak out and peace together that the Vixen's protege has been kidnapped. The Monkie Kid gang get a screaming, worried phone call from the theatre house about Macaque going missing - MK doesn't think much of it since he barely tolerates his not-mentor - but they get very concerned when the words "bone spirit" pop up.

Jiuweihuli: "It's terrible. I know he's been acting like a bum lately, but the last time he dropped off the face of the earth like that he died." MK, very tired but concerned: "Wait. Died? And you say there was Bone Spirit magic left behind?" Jiuweihuli: "Yes. Biggest culpurit I can think of is that boney b-word who was bumping around earth for a while calling herself the Ivory Lady. I performed for her Emperor whats-his-name a few times." MK: "Monkey King says a Lady Bone Demon was the one who threatened him during New Years." Jiuweihuli: "Small world. Whats the King up to now? Taking plenty of rest?" MK: "Actually him, DBK, and Red Son are running across Heaven, Hell, and the Underworld right now looking for clues on what the Lady Bone Demon is planning." Jiuweihuli, after a long silence: "...He's doing what now!?"

The Vixen decides in that moment that this family hasn't a braincell to rub together, and orders her twins to try and keep an eye on where ever Macaque shows up. She also calls up her niece Bo (the demon accountant) in the Celestial Realm since she works as an assistant to Lao Tzu.

Bo, on the phone: "Hmm, no sign in the palace auntie but- oh no wait... some Asura just got their bums handed to them. Yeah, there's food flying everywhere. Yeah I see the King flying around out there, he looks fine but he just ate a dumpling bigger than he is. I'll keep you posted auntie."

Jiuweihuli is a nosy fox and she will find out where her idiot understudy and his boyfriend have run off to. And when Bo gets back to her in a hurry with the knowledge (from skimming Lao Tzu's research) that Wukong is pregnant with a Stone Egg that typically kills the parent... Macaque better wish he only dies if he fails LBD.

Mac seeing the Jin and Yin following him during S3 like:

[bapydemonprincess]

6 or 10 for the angry confessions (I'm trusting you to do something amazing with whatever ship you feel like dabbling into!)

MHMMM I think I have an idea, I am a bit low on energy and practically DRAGGING the inspiration to do this out of the depths of my brain buuuut.. lets have some Sebagrelle drama UwU

It had seemed to be a typical evening of Grelle Sutcliff visiting... Until the red reaper had suddenly started stiffening up.. and all-together pulled away from the sweet yet hungry kisses she shared with the demon, and her usually playful and flirty demeanor took a drastic U turn into a complete opposite barrage of emotions.

"Rufina, please tell me what is bothering you or else I cannot-"

"Oh, please as if you DON'T KNOW." She snarled, now full on livid and on the verge of clearly marching out without giving ANY explanation.

Sure the chaotic reaper in red Grelle Sutcliff could most certainly blow up from time to time. She'd huff and puff and sometimes need to literally stomp around to get it out. However.. very rarely was her anger so specifically serious and hurt and focused on Sebastian themselves.

As if the demon had finally spurned her.

And she stood there, on the spot, in the middle of Sebastian's room, staring at her red high heeled shoes and nothing else.

Fists gripped tightly at her sides.

“…This is why I knew I shouldn’t have gotten close to you.”

Sebastian had already been stalk still as well, accessing this situation like his long immortal life depended on it.

But that...

Eyebrows lifted high, mouth parted open; agape with pure open honest to god shock.

...

Sebastian had always sensed despite Grelle's constant foreplay and coaxing from the very beginning she had some reservations about a full-time dedicated relationship as well. Clearly better at hiding that fact than the butler, who wore such insistences on his sleeves like giant signs for EVERYONE to be sure to see.

But once the butler had finally given her the "green light" and they'd started to get quite a bit cozy...

(...aka a lot of intercourse...)

...She'd "softened up" in her own Grelle Sutcliff fashion; holding and kissing the demon idly, from cheeks to arms to hands. Giving the butler flowers and little trinkets- of a usual feline variety -almost every time she arrived.

And of course the immortal creature, such an expert in these types of things (even if mostly for the sake of SEDUCTION not a full time relationship), returned the gestures in full.

And so for a good long while.. things had appeared to be going perfectly between demon and reaper.

Up until... whatever the hell this was!

"I.. don't understand."

Sebastian finally broke the choking silence, hands starting to carefully lift from his sides, as if to reach out to his lover in order to comfort.

...Or to shield himself if possibly necessary if talking things out did nothing.

A huff of a bitter, quiet laugh left Grelle.

And she shook her head a bit.

"You really don't know? You... you never sensed me out there?"

"...Out where?"

"The other. Day."

Grelle was full on gritting her sharp teeth as she got the words out.

"Just the other. DAY."

Sebastian's eyebrows dropped down at once as his mind started doing the fastest back-track through his memory it had ever done. (That he could recall..)

All he could remember of any kind of "other day" was the little outing he, the Earl, and all the servants had partaken in when they'd needed to go shopping for things such as a new hat for Finnian and new spectacles for Mey Rin.

"Do you mean you had seen Young Master, the servants and I out and about in London...? Because.. it was merely a brief outing to acquire-"

"MERELY AN OUTING THAT TURNED RIGHT INTO YOU SAVING THE LIFE OF A GORGEOUS SLIP OF A WOMAN; WELL KNOWN FOR HER LOVELY ACTING CAREER, MIND... AND EVEN WENT ON TO HELP HER BACK TO THE THEATRE PROPER AND.. AND..."

Grelle's face looked ready to explode at this point.

"LET HER RIDE YOU WHILE YOU WERE IN THAT.. THAT.. FUCKING UNICORN SUIT!!!"

"Oh.. sweet Lucifer..."

"AND THEN SHE GOT TO KISS YOU!! ON THE UNICORN SCHNOZ, YES, BUT STILL!!!!!"

"Grelle."

Sebastian's eyebrows went up again, and his lips were still parted, and he finally dared to take a step closer.

"I imagine, my dear, you did not catch exactly what happened after all of that..?"

Grelle was openly sniffling, and quickly slapped a hand to her face to rub away the tears threatening to reveal themselves away.

"What does it matter, the fact remains that all of THAT happened! There's no.. taking it back! And.. honestly.. it was foolish of me to expect YOU of all people to become only loyal to one lover!"

"Rufina you must realize by now that's just.. foolish of you to think!"

The demon had moved close enough, to reach out- very very carefully -and gently cupped the woman's still reddened face.

His thumb glided easily over the drenched cheeks, as he gently stared into her eyes.

"Keep in mind the fact that I am with you to this day is a miracle, my dear.. For you know better than anyone that I had no intent on being in any kind of relationship."

Grelle still frowned and tried to look away from that damned blasted sweet and open pretty face before her.

"But..."

"However when it does come to demons and the concept of .. love in this sense.. "

And Sebastian's face, too, began to heat up, for he'd never planned on telling her this..

(At least not for a long, long time..)

"We mate for life, Grelle."

The reaper's disgruntled look started to fade instantly as curiosity and surprise took hold.

"And considering how long are lives are.. it is indeed a very serious matter when a demon finally makes such a decision."

"But.." Grelle started again, and briefly her frustration flared up once more.

"If that's the case WHY did you DO all THAT?!"

The demon chuckled openly...

And shrugged.

"Advertising."

....

"What."

"My young lord has begun to sell perfumes for Funtom. And so, while at first I merely saved that woman out of wishing to stop and traffic catastrophe.. I saw the opportunity while helping her- and her lover -out in making it to their appointed play on time.."

"....HUH???"

"So then once that was all said and done, Ms. Diaz would be delighted in becoming the mascot for young master's newest product of perfumes!"

...

Grelle was no longer angry.

...

Nor was she happy.

...

This whole reveal simply made the red reaper confused..

...

(And... beginning to feel a bit.. embarrassed...)

"Grelle,"

Sebastian cupped her face in both hands once again.

He was completely serious, as he leaned in, staring deeply into her phosphorescent gaze with his gleaming red hellish one.

“What part of "I want you, and only you" do you not understand, my love?"

And then... despite still being a little confused about why the hell Sebastian was LIKE THIS...

Grelle started to crack a smile.

And tear up again.

"Ohh.. you.. silly old devil," She choked out, laughing again, and tried to reach up to wipe her eyes again.

It was at this point that Sebastian Michaelis started purring in relief and if that wasn't enough, his lips had turned up into the sweetest, gentlest smile.

"Perhaps, but I'm your silly old devil, Miss Sutcliff.. Please remember that."

"Ohhh, SHUSH!"

Grelle practically squealed, before glomping her arms around the demon's neck and slamming her lips into his.

And that sweet delightfully deep purring seemed to amplify as the demon curled his arms fully around his love.

His mate.

And returned her kiss.

Note: This whole plot is referencing the bonus chapter 85 The Butler, Taking Off, which just coincidentally happens just after the Public School arc is over. Just imagine Grelle Sutcliff was there all along.. getting a good look of THIS:

SCANDELOUS!! 😱

[mobirights]

In The Limelight - wolfstar

A snippet from a wolfstar fic I'm working on based on my experience in the American high school thespian society (level: impossible. -1000 aura for long-lasting trauma). Theatre kids unite!!! There are so many terms in here that only a theatre kid would know, and I will define them when the fic is published, but right now... I'm lazy, just look them up lmao.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Remus hates One-Acts. 

Well—that’s not entirely true because he’s literally in Godric High's this year and it's always his favorite experience. He just hates watching them, especially at Districts. And he admits some of them are really good. He’ll never forget that production of Sorry, wrong number from Sophomore year. Literally on the edge of his seat that entire show. 

One-Acts in general, however…

He’s fallen asleep during at least 60% of the One-Acts he’s watched in his four years of high school. His final year is no different. That is why he has noise-cancelling earbuds, James’ shoulder, and his comfiest pair of vans. 

“One Act nap?” Lily asks from his other side just as he lays his head on James. 

Remus looks forward as the EmCee walks on stage in a bright green hat and announces the third One Act performance of the day (first for Remus and everyone at Godric because they arrived late).

“Good morning, District Six! Our next performance is a production of Love’s Labour’s Lost by William Shakespeare.”

He rolls his eyes and turns to Lily, sighing. “One Act nap.”

The thing is, Remus loves Shakespeare as much as the next drama nerd. His first show at Godric was a production of As You Like It and it’s probably in his top five experiences at this God-forsaken school. But for a One Act? Come on. There have been some good ones, but more often than not, schools don’t know how to properly cut shows to forty minutes without losing a lot of integral plots and meaning that Shakespeare intended. He still shivers remembering that one production of Taming of the Shrew in Sophomore year. 

“Stage Managers, are you ready?” The EmCee calls back to the curtain, met with two voices shouting back “Yes!”

“Troupe 228, your time starts now.”

The house lights dim. Just before everyone goes quiet, Remus manages to whisper, “Which school is this?” to James on his left who smiles brightly and mouths Salazar as the troupe’s crew starts to set up their stage in the semi-dark. 

Remus huffs and turns his music high enough to drown out the noise, but low enough to go unheard in the silence of the PAC. 

Salazar Northern Preparatory Academy. SNPA for short. Godric’s rivals, naturally. Remus tries not to be concerned with school rivalries and petty feuds, but everything about SNPA just grinds his gears. Technically, their real rival is Rowena High School because it was built after Godric in the 80's and stole half their student body because of zoning changes. Salazar, though? Their rivalry and hatred for each other dates back to before the schools were even built.

But Remus would rather not think about that. He just wants to take his nap and ignore SNPA like he does every year, James’ alleged long-lost friend from there be damned. 

He’s about to close his eyes when the stage lights turn and a group of girls and boys walk on stage in the most ridiculously modern teenage outfits. He assumes one of them is the Princess of France, and the others her attending Ladies and Lords.

Huh. Interesting way to cut the show, starting with this scene. 

The boy playing Boyet starts the opening monologue, and Remus is surprisingly entranced, his head half-way to laying on James’ shoulder. As the scene goes on, he somehow gets engrossed in the story. He doesn’t remember when he turned off his air pods, but the voices on stage are now clear and not muffled. He finds himself genuinely enjoying the show. The girl who plays the Princess's comedic timing could rival James—and he will never know he said that because as much as he loves his friend, Remus will not be fueling James’ football-field-sized ego. 

James wraps his around him and Remus leans into the touch. He might just watch this all the way through.

Then—and this will be documented as the moment Remus lost all sense and reason—the King and his Lords walk on. If it wasn’t obvious before, this is a very modern rendition. From the way James and Lily literally cover their mouths, he’s sure the modern costumes for the King and Co. are hilarious, but Remus is only focused on one thing.

Person.

Front and center is the most beautiful man Remus has ever seen in his life. Maybe he’s exaggerating because a younger version of him would have said the same thing about James (don’t judge him, he was repressed and the boy was nice to him), but this is different. 

“Fair princess, welcome to the court of Navarre.”

Holy shit. Yeah. Way different. 

The beautiful man in question has shoulder-length jet-black hair that looks softer than silk. His skin is like a porcelain doll’s, almost eery in its pale complexion, but so enticing. The only thing Remus can imagine is how bright his face must flush in the sun. Not only that, but this man has the voice of an angel—No, not an angel. A devil. It’s raspy and soft all at the same time. Smooth vibrato that steals all the attention on stage. The voice of a true singer, no doubt. 

As beauty in human form continues to talk, Remus feels lost. He’s seen and read this play more times than he can count, but with a voice like that, he can’t even follow the story anymore. All he hears is the honey-sweet voice of sin incarnate.

Yeah, he’s fucked.

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

“An Enemy of the People” + Meeting Matt Smith a THIRD time(?!?!)

I saw Matt Smith last night in his play, “An Enemy of the People” in London and I’m still super overwhelmed by it all, especially as I was up at 6:45am for work before I went to the show AND I ended up not getting home until 5am, but to sum up my experience last night with Matt:

I was sat in row A, which is the third row from the stage behind AA and BB, so I was SUPER close to the stage

THEY HAD A REAL DOG (German Shepherd/Alsatian I think?) ON STAGE IN SOME SCENES OMG OMG OMG I LOVED THIS SCENE STEALER

Matt was absolutely incredible, he had a full on like 5 minute monologue where he was shouting into a microphone about capitalism and the rot of government etc, and there was utter silence the entire time

It then turned into an audience trauma dump of sorts because they had some microphones given to audience members to air their grievances with the government/system/society, it was incredibly powerful

The rest of the cast were amazing too of course

I was in the “splash” zone because there was a moment where the cast were along the sides next to the audience while Matt was on stage and then they threw paint-filled balloons at him, and when they hit him they exploded so we had to have tarp pulled up over us just before it happened because the paint would have hit us

Matt has a DILF belly and I am 100% for it, at one point he lifted the bottom of his shirt to wipe the paint from his eyes and I nearly died

After the show, I went to stage door to try and meet him - but because it was a Saturday night in London it was a nightmare and so he could only do quick signatures and no pictures with people

I DID get my program signed by Matt ☺️🫶🏻

Also one of the other cast members (Zachary Hart) was talking a lot to my friend just before Matt came outside and he turned, saw me, looked me over and then went “I like your shirt! 🙂” (I was wearing a TNBC check shirt)

After the show, I was with some friends I knew from Twitter who were also huge Matt fans, and we went to a pub that was down the road from the theatre after they had changed clothes… and Matt and the cast were there?!?

Matt brushed up against me twice when he was going to/coming back from the bar and I nearly passed out like one of my friends had to take me outside because I was hyperventilating

(This is also an autistic thing though that’s unrelated to Matt because it was super packed and loud and hot in the pub)

After the pub closed, my friend said the bar in her hotel would be open until 2 so we went there, left our stuff in her room, and then we went down to the bar… and Matt and the cast were there too?!?

I’m genuinely not joking, we were NOT stalking him, we had talked about going to pub days ago and - as I said - one of my friends was literally staying at that hotel and the bar there was the closest one still open. To be honest, I was feeling anxious at this point because I was terrified Matt would see us and recognise us but also I was freaking out because I wanted to talk to him so bad as I didn’t get the chance at the stage door during the chaos

It’s a bar where they have music playing, like at a club, but there’s no dancing and they sit you at tables and take your drinks orders, and we were two tables away from the cast

Zachary walked past and said hello to one of my friends again, because he recognised them from earlier, and he grinned/shouted hello back when we waved and said hello

Matt walked past us and the friend mentioned above and I shouted hello at him and waved, but I didn’t want to bother him by going up to him because 1) it was nearly 2am, 2) I didn’t want him to be weirded out or think we were stalking him, and 3) I ’m 99% sure he was drunk because he’d been hanging about in the pub and then the bar for a total of four hours 💀 anyway, Matt smiled and shouted hello back

My friends went outside the hotel to smoke after the bar closed (I was the only one out of a group of 5 who didn’t smoke 😭) and the cast came out to leave, and one of my friends asked him for a picture but his co-worker Jessica Brown-Findlay apparently got mad at her and said “no, we are not doing that”. Matt was super nice to her though and said she looked great, and “know we love you!” before he left

(Side note: one of the other friends thinks Jessica was pissed off because when we were outside the pub earlier, her husband asked my friends for a cigarette and were chatting to him while they smoked (I was there under an umbrella absolutely freezing my tits off lol) and they said it might be a possessive thing? To be genuinely honest, none of us had any clue it was her husband even when he said “oh yeah my wife Jessie is in a play down the road”, like it genuinely didn’t click for any of us that he was talking about Jessica, and he approached us for a cigarette, not the other way around)

Unrelated to Matt but still relevant to understanding the night/my feelings:

I was very exhausted because I started my new job yesterday morning, was up at 6:45am because my dad insisted on dropping me off at 8am despite me not starting until 9, I was on my feet the whole day, I didn’t have time to run home and change so I had to do my make up on the train (luckily my uniform was given to me in the morning so I was able to wear my evening clothes, change into work clothes and then change back at the end of the day), my feet were super sore and blistered because I was wearing brand new trainers from work that didn’t fit properly… yeah. Anyway.

(Side note: I LOVE my new job so much, I am not complaining about it at all, it was amazing, it’s just unfortunate scheduling that I started on the same day I had the ticket for the play)

I missed my last tube and my last train home (last train was at 1am) and ended up having to borrow money to get a taxi to Piccadilly station from the hotel, at which point it was 3am and I was feeling very exhausted AND also emotional

There were issues with the tube because of the weather and so I had to wait an extra 30 minutes while also needing to pee and suffering from exhaustion, didn’t get on a tube until about 3:30? 3:40?

I think I was crying at one point after leaving the hotel because when I got to the tube station to wait for a train, a woman also waiting came to check on me and asked why I had been crying

I kept on dozing off on the tube between stops, and I’m very lucky I didn’t get robbed to be honest (probably because I had my bag on my lap and an arm resting over it)

I ended up in South Ealing at 4:15am, and I knew if I got a bus I wouldn’t be getting to the nearest town to me until 5am (and I still wouldn’t have been home) so I decided “fuck it, I’m spending £27 on an Uber I guess”

I fell asleep in the Uber and the driver was pretty annoyed about it, I ended up getting home at 5am - somehow I was able to remove the rest of my make up, message my friends to tell them I was home safe, get in my PJs and climb into bed

Here’s some photos of the stage before the play started, Matt at the end of the play (covered in paint), and Matt at stage door

(I did NOT take photos or videos of him in the pub or bar, because I want to respect his privacy 🙂🫶🏻 I am also NOT going to share the name of the pub or hotel/bar, not because I want to gatekeep or anything, but because of privacy and out of respect)

[stereo-slime4]

Woe! Broppy fankids be upon ye!

Left to Right/Oldest to Youngest:

Rose (short for Rosiepuff), Fern, and Basil

Character descriptions under the cut!

Rose:

Overachiever. Under absolutely zero external pressure to do anything other than be happy, but has convinced herself that she needs to live up to the example of every single positive adult figure in her life. And there's a lot of positive adult figures in her life. Every person she's ever met will tell you that she's a ray of sunshine, an absolute delight, and probably the sweetest person they've ever met, but because of how strict Rose is on herself, she refuses to believe any of it. One of the main causes of her imposter syndrome is her inability to practice what she preaches, but what she preaches is stuff like "do whatever makes you happy as long as it doesn't hurt anyone" and "if it doesn't directly impact your life, it's none of your business." And she genuinely strongly believes both of these, and loves just about everyone she's ever met (subscribes to the ideologies mentioned in the chorus of Hozier's Someone New), however she is also a nosy bitch, a chronic hater, and, again, is constantly policing her thoughts, behaviors, and interests in favor of being a "good person". She is also obsessed with music to the point that she invented the iPod so that she could listen to music wherever she went. She cares a lot about and for her brothers, but thinks that, should anything go wrong, Basil would be the better king seeing as Fern avoids any opportunity to learn responsibility and what it takes to rule like the plague. She's also definitely the loudest of her siblings

Fern:

Gayest kid on the football team, straightest kid in theatre club. If he doesn't want to do something there is no chance of making him do it, and if he does want to do something there's no stopping him. Hasn't done a household chore since age 10. (Rose will do it for the sake of having more stuff to do, Basil will do it because Fern has blackmail. Work smarter, not harder!) Most people who've met him call him an underachiever, and that's pretty accurate. He's stubborn, determined, and clever enough to do literally any and everything he sets his mind to, and yet he doesn't! Probably because he accepted pretty early on that no matter how hard he tried, he'd never be as good or as cool or as legendary as most of his family, so he just stopped trying to be. Now, he doesn't think he's capable of putting actual effort into anything he isn't obsessed with. He thinks Rose is a stuffy, bossy, prissy know-it-all, but that she'd probably make a pretty solid queen one day (better than him at least). If it ever came down to it, he would insist on Basil being king over him any day, as he has absolutely no interest in ruling anything ever, and no confidence that he would be capable if he did want to. He will, however, take just about any "minor" leadership position he can get (ex. Head of the Trollstopia Bergenball team, or director/stage manager of the latest village play)

Basil:

If he went to college, he'd be a liberal arts major with a minor in mathematics. My personal favorite blend of artistic and autistic. Definitely the quietest of the siblings. His main interests are arts n crafts, ukulele, math, and plants. He is not gay, nor is he trans, but he does absolutely listen to Cavetown. Gets picked on a bit for his hobbies and interests and generally for being a nerd, refuses to tell anyone about this ever. Pretty reluctant to talk about his interests and new projects and stuff because of this, even with his friends and family he's hesitant. People who've met him call him quiet, nerdy, and withdrawn. Anyone who actually knows him knows that while he's definitely nerdy, and he does tend to be quiet (though he loves infodumping, it's just more like you get several paragraphs and then near silence for the next hour), he is not withdrawn. He loves people and loves being around them and is definitely an extrovert, he's just also kinda scared of people. He has so so so much trust and faith in his siblings it's insane. Absolutely refuses to believe anyone actually thinks he would be a better king than his big brother because No??? He would not???? Are you kidding????? I mean, if he was asked to be king, he definitely would, but it wouldn't be very enthusiastically.

[sosohh]

@jilychallenge | Partner: @blitheringmcgonagall  | April 2023: Letters and Texting.

Prompt: First date - “ Words We Should Never Have Left Unsaid / P.S I Still Wait For You’.

I’m so sorry it’s late but I literally had to force this thing out of my birth canal. xoxo

Also mahoosive thanks to @blitheringmcgonagall who helped me decide the most embarrassing events to happen in chapter 1

Read it on AO3

Words we should (never) have left unsaid 

or 

I just keep waiting for the day when I’m not an idiot around you.

If you asked James Potter if he loved the theatre, he would answer very diplomatically that ‘yeah, it was alright’, and ‘sometimes the tunes get stuck in your head, you know’, and ‘my mother brought me up on a diet of show tunes, I can’t help that I sing them out loud sometimes, God’. 

As a matter of fact, being a naturally curious and inquisitive (and sometimes lonely) child, Euphemia Potter had enrolled her son into a summer of theatre classes in the hope that it would use up his endless energy and perhaps guide her son onto the path of acting so that she would always have some free theatre tickets. As naturally, if her son chose that path, she was sure he would succeed.

So when she was called into the theatre to ‘chat’ about James, she was surprised (yet also unsurprisingly unsurprised) to learn that James had gone AWOL for an hour, only to be found backstage watching the technical crew pull on the fly ropes for My Fair Lady – ‘accidentally mum, I swear!’ and had zero intention of retuning back to rehearsals about ‘being a tree in the ocean’ (James’ words). Euphemia Potter, being a woman of many talents, strong maternal instincts and an unprecedented prowess at sniffing out the places and things her son was interested in, managed to sweet talk the theatre into allowing her son to apprentice backstage on weekends, which lasted until he gained enough qualifications for him to earn a paid full-time technical position at the theatre.

And so, nearly 15 years later, James Potter found himself backstage during a performance of the touring production of Cats at the WNAC, having only just started the same week.

A few years ago he done a refresher training residential week and quickly became friends with an extremely tall Welsh man called Remus. They’d stayed in touch, Remus often staying at his and his best friends’ London flat whenever he was working on a production in the city, and a month ago Remus had been in touch about a technical position opening up at his venue. And James, looking for a change in life, scenery and jobs, had applied and got the job.

So here he was, backstage in the labyrinth of a new theatre, belting out Memory along with Grizabella who was singing over the tannoy.

‘Touch me’, he sang, ‘It’s so easy to leave meeee – oof!’.

Rounding a corner, James collided into something soft and firm.  Someone, he mentally corrected. Something soft and warm and -

‘You’re dangerously close to my boob right now.’

‘Oh my god’ – James jumped as though he’d been shocked and stepped back quickly, and in doing so, walked into some lockers which lined the corridor.

His curses now joining the clang of the metal and Grizabella’s voice, he could swear the silence from this stranger was louder – or maybe that was his embarrassment he could hear. Blowing through the corridor like tumble-weed.

‘That’, the woman deadpanned, ‘was either incredibly bad timing or I need to make a trip to HR’.

James cringed. He could well imagine the phone call to his mother if she found out he’d been suspended in his first week pending investigation into inappropriate conduct.

‘Oh, it was definitely incredibly bad timing.’ He closed a locker door which had swung open with the force of his hit and had come to a stop near his ear but the locker door popped open again and slowly creaked to a stop. ‘I would never -’ he cut off, embarrassed, just as Grizabella let out another cry of ‘Touch me!’

The woman laughed – prettily, he thought, before internally berating himself; ‘Not the moment, Potter!’ - and motioned to his head, which he still had a held in his hand to soothe the pain from the locker.

‘Do you actually need me to have a look? I’m a first aider.’

‘That would only honestly make this situation more embarrassing,’ James said, grimacing at the thought, before shutting the locker door again, only to hear it pop open a second time, ‘so no, I’m good. But, thanks.’ He dropped his hand, even thought his head was still smarting.

‘Um, right. Okay, well,’ she gestured past James and towards the crew room. ‘Is Remus in there? I need to have a chat about finding the WOC’s Gobo - I think they’ve definitely misplaced it but they’re looking to blame someone...’

‘Oh, good luck.’ James said wryly, ‘I’ve been trying to find him for ages. I think he’s ignoring my texts because I thought his dinner was ravioli and not tortellini and God forbid I don't know my pasta. Also, if I deviate from this path that I've learned around the building, I just know I’m going to get lost.’

She laughed again, ‘Yeah, this place is a bit of a maze, but you get used to it pretty quickly. Mind, if you’re only here for a week, maybe you need to put some chalk on the walls or something?’

‘Oh, I’m not – I work here, I’m not with Cats.’

She looked at him for a beat, and then with some confusion asked him;

‘Oh, sorry. I just thought – I mean, I could hear you down the corridor singing all the lyrics’.

James flushed and laughed awkwardly, his hand making his way back to the base of his head, willing himself to rid the redness he could feel creeping its way up his neck.

‘It’s my mum’s favourite musical so..’ he trailed off, trying to laugh through a smile, which in hindsight, surely made him look even more bizzare.

‘Right.’ She said, and when the silence almost got too painful she added; ‘Um, well, I better get – I’ll just teams Rem...’ before starting to walk away.

And for some reason, some strange reason which made him question his sanity for the next 12 hours straight and sporadically for a good few days later, he saluted and called after her;

‘Cool, okay, well, bye. And sorry for almost touching your boob. I honestly wouldn’t - well, I mean, you do have nice boobs - not that I’ve looked! Or touched! God. Sorry.’ And with a final note of desperation he added, ‘Bye’. Then he turned around and promptly walked straight back into the locker door.

He could’ve sworn he saw a second bail of tumble weed blowing past in his mind’s eye. Along with an actual trickle of blood with passed his eye from the now angry looking cut above the eye socket.

Ten minutes later, patched up and with a first aid form sheepishly all filled out, he finally located Remus, and accosted him with a nonchalant (or so he thought), ‘Remus, who’s the woman that works here with ginger hair?’

Remus, put down his fork of butternut squash macaroni and said, ‘That’d be Lily Evans, Front of House and she’s not going to HR.’

‘How do you know?’ James cried and sunk into a chair in mortification.

[gayfandomnerd225]

I had a lovely call with @aguyinthepubliceye today for several hours (with a bit of a break for suppers and Father’s Day)

He was too tired to watch a new production of rtc so we just studied in silence for a while

At some point he mentioned possibly picking a name (he currently goes by his last name) and I won’t say anything more but I think it fits him perfectly

When he finally gathered up the energy to start it, we watched the version with masc Ocean and trans masc Mischa

I had to leave for supper before we finished but we got to call again later to finish it up

We agreed that the actors who played Mischa and Ricky were definitely dating

We loved the friendship that they portray but the way Ricky looked at Mischa was definitely not just platonic

We love trans mascs who do theatre but Mischa just wasn’t giving it

Ricky killed it tho, I’ve never loved Ricky Potts so much in my life

I literally got chills during Jane Does song, that song was absolutely phenomenal

After the show was over we went back to studying (I was vaguely studying while we watched)

He asked if he could read out loud in Spanish and I said go head, because I wouldn’t know what he was saying anyway so it couldn’t distract me

He left at some point, I think it was because I was making fun of his English but I can’t quite remember

He came back quickly tho, right as I was about to send a message in all caps telling him to get back

When he said he was going to bed I basically begged him to stay up because he doesn’t have school tomorrow and studying is no fun without him, and he did :)

But then he mostly distracted me by sending me stupid memes

When I finally finished studying he said it wasn’t fair because now he was awake and I couldn’t leave

So I left

And then he sent me an audio with a lot of bad words that I will not repeat, all affectionately of course

The second he heard me come back he stopped the audio and it sent and he told me I probably won’t wanna listen to it (he then made me listen to it while still on call)

I finally managed to escape /j, we said our good nights and I love yous and mwahs and then I left to get ready for bed

I love him. I love him so much I don’t know how to explain it

[sassy-ahsoka-tano]

Angel and the Freak

Character/Fandom: Eddie Munson - Stranger Things

Requested: yes - anon!

Prompt: When you forget your prized jean jacket backstage after theatre rehearsals, you have no choice but to run back and get it. Finding yourself face-to-face with the school's resident freak, Eddie Munson, you learn just how charming you can be. [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: none! this is ✨ wholesome ✨

Rating: Pg || Word Count: 4.0k

A/N: anon, you literally read my mind??? i've had a shred of an idea floating around in my brain for MONTHS of writing an eddie fic where the reader does musical theatre because the hellfire meeting in ep. 1 is so clearly on the HHS stage. so this was PERFECT

If you want to be added to my stranger things taglist, fill out this tiny google form!

[ request | masterlist | wanna be tagged? ]

🦋 mila

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

As you grab the handle of the car door, you suddenly feel the missing weight of something that should be tied to your waist. You quickly search your body, but you don’t find what you’re looking for.

“Oh god, wait! I forgot my jacket. Hold on, I’ll be right back!” you shout to your friends, spinning on your heel before they have a chance to protest.

You rush away, back toward the theatre. You need that jacket; it’s your prized possession. You’ve put way too much work into it to leave it behind. As you swing the back door to the theatre open, your ears are flooded with loud, harsh music. You furrow your eyebrows and stalk quietly toward the sound. As you get closer, you realize that you’re listening to “Dreamer Deceiver” by Judas Priest. You’d know that song anywhere; it’s one of the songs you use to practice expanding your vocal range.

You wade through the backstage area, cluttered with racks of costumes and set pieces all painted and ready to be deployed for the first show tomorrow night. You peek your head around the corner of the wall. The stage is lit by the lights above, a mix of blue, yellow, and red which casts a muddy glow over the scene. Your eyes track across the stage and find a man, a student, you don’t recognize. He’s bent over a table, his arms moving wildly. Your eyes land on a small black cassette player stacked on top of a bunch of boxes. You can tell just by the sight of this student that he’s not a theatre kid. You’d recognize him if he were. With a shrug, you step out from behind the wall.

“Um, hi!” you say loudly.

You were hoping he’d be able to hear you over the loud music. But, after waiting patiently for a few minutes with no response, you forcefully clear your throat. Still nothing. You cup your hands around your mouth and prepare to shout.

“Hey!”

The boy’s head suddenly snaps back. He glances over his shoulder in your direction. With the low lighting, you can’t see his face, only a mane of uncouth, long, curly hair. You squint and raise your hand to wave. He lunges over the table in front of him and clicks off the cassette player. Once the room is encased in silence, you step forward awkwardly.

“Um, hi,” you say. His back is still turned away from you as he fiddles with something. “Sorry for interrupting you.”

“Hey, no problem. What, uh, can I do for you?” he asks.

Your eyes are too busy scanning the room to notice that he’s turned toward you. Your gaze continues to search and re-search the exact spot where you’re fairly certain you had left your jacket.

“I just forgot my jacket and was wondering if you happened to see it. I thought I left it over-”

“Oh, yeah, got it right here,” he interrupts you.

At the sound of his reply, your stare centers on him. Your eyebrows raise as you meet his deep brown eyes. Now that you can see him clearly, you would swear you know him from somewhere. His hair is wild and long, falling all the way down to his shoulders. His soft eyes are friendly; they remind you of a puppy’s. He's actually super cute, maybe even pretty. You can’t place a name to his face, but…maybe he’s in your history class with Mrs. O’Donnell? Yeah, that feels right.

Offering a smile, you step closer to him to take the jacket from his fingers. As you do, your fingertips gently brush against one another.

“Thanks,” you say.

“No problem. Cool pins.”

“Oh, thanks!”

You giggle nervously as heat creeps up through your ears. You quickly swipe your finger over the top of your favorite Lord of the Rings pin, which reads “Gamgee for President.” Can you say embarrassing?

“That’s actually why I came back for it,” you continue. “I’ve put a lot of work into this jacket with all the pins and patches and stuff.”

“Oh believe me, I get it,” he replies, leaning back to grab something behind him

As he does so, the hem of his shirt rides up just enough to give you the slightest peek at his stomach. Your eyes can’t help but drop down to take it in. You bite your lip as you feel butterflies in your stomach, fluttering softly. You’re all but positive now that Mrs. O’Donnell’s class is where you know him from. But his name…what is it?

He presents a jean vest to you. You take it from him, nodding as you examine it. Judging by the frayed hems, it looks like he’s cut or ripped off the sleeves. There are pins and patches placed haphazardly across the fabric. Each piece of decoration is merchandise for a different metal band: Motorhead, W.A.S.P., Judas Priest, etcetera. You flip the jacket over and smile at the massive Dio patch sewn onto the back flap.

“Kind of a metalhead, aren’t you? Very impressive, though,” you say, handing the jacket back. “You don’t have as many as I do, but I have the exact same Judas Priest one, actually.”

“No shit.”

You pull your jacket up, maneuvering to the exact spot where you know that very same Judas Priest pin has been secured for the last eight months. He steps forward, leaning closer to examine it. He chuckles, his fingers swiping over the glossy surface of the metal pin. You bite away the smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth. He smells like a mixture of smoke, musk, and something mildly sweet that you can’t quite identify. It’s a nice smell, natural and not chemical like some colognes. After a moment, he pulls away, glancing down at you with furrowed eyebrows. His eyes flick up and down your figure. You cross your arms over your chest defensively.

“What?” you ask.

“You just don’t seem like the kind of person who would have a heavy metal band pinned on your jacket, that’s all.”

“Don’t judge a book by its cover,” you quip, narrowing your eyes. “I happen to dabble in metal so I can work on my vocal range. Judas Preist, in particular, and that song,” you gesture to the player, “specifically.”

“Really? You in a band or something?”

You laugh, shaking your head.

“Not exactly. I do musical theatre. Hence the jacket being left over there. We’re doing Grease for the spring production and I'm playing Sandy.”

You wince as the words leave your lips and wonder why you feel pressured to impress him so much. Why did you think telling him you’re playing little miss Sandra Dee herself would impress him, anyway? Silence has settled between you, his head nodding slowly. You don’t have to justify yourself to him, to the likes of E-! His name suddenly clicks in your head. Your pleasure in remembering it moves you to break the awkward tension.

“Hey, I do know you. It’s Eddie, right? You have Mrs. O’Donnell’s history class for fourth period. I knew you looked familiar! I’m in that class, too. I’m-”

“Y/N,” he says, a smile spreading across his handsome features. “I know who you are.”

“Right,” you nod, dropping your embarrassed gaze. “Well, I know you're not in theatre, so what are you doing back here?”

He uncrosses his arms, pulling his shirt taut. Your eyes move down to take in the logo printed on it: a satanic red face with horns jutting out from its skull, haunting yellow eyes, and jagged teeth. To the sides of the figure, you recognize a sword and a mace with oddly shaped dice. The words HELLFIRE CLUB are printed in bold, black letters across the top of the shirt.

“Just setting up for a club meeting,

“Hellfire Club? What’s that?”

“Only the most badass club this school has ever had.”

“Okay,” you chuckle. “Well, what do you do?”

“Asking what we don’t do would be a better question,” he answers, flicking his pointer finger matter-of-factly. “We battle evil vampires, drink ales at the local pub, discover treasure, and go on long adventures to defeat evil and save the world as we know it.”

You raise your eyebrows. 

“You…what?”

He sighs, his smile fading quickly. His lips flatten as his cheeks heat up into a soft pink.

“We play a fantasy game called Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Ohhh, yeah…” you squint your eyes and lean close, jokingly whispering, “isn’t that the game that promotes Satanic worship or whatever?”

He chuckles deeply, the sound tinged with an almost sinister tone.

“According to adults who don’t know any better.  According to the fried brains of intellectually weak and easily persuaded teenagers who are slaves to popular customs. According to the school that forces conformity on every student who goes here.”

“Forced conformity?” you repeat, nodding slowly. You shrug. “Sounds like a drag.”

His eyes flick up to catch yours. The corner of his mouth twitches up into a smile. His gaze momentarily drops down to your lips before returning to your eyes. You ignore the temptation to move closer to him and, instead, lean around his body to see what’s behind him. You gesture toward the table on which tiny figurines and sets are meticulously placed.

“So how do you play this fantasy game?”

“It’s pretty simple, really. You create a character and then you make decisions as if you were that character. You roll dice with each decision and, depending on the stats of your character, your rolls determine whether you’re successful or not.”

As he explains, you step around him to approach the table. You lower yourself down so that you’re at eye-level with the surface. Each figurine is delicately and painstakingly painted. The attention to detail is incredible. You snatch one up, a tall green figure holding a giant axe between his hands. The figurine’s face is drawn into an angry frown, the long, pointed teeth gnashed together.

“Sounds a bit like theatre, actually,” you muse.

Eddie steps up beside you, placing his palms on the table. He leans over the surface, mimicking your position.

“In a lot of ways, it is theatre. In fact, there’s actually a class that would be perfect for you,” he says, reaching to grab one of the figures.

When his arm gently brushes against yours, you gulp down your nerves. The butterflies in your stomach are flipping over each other.

“Class? What does that mean?” you ask.

“Your class is like the type of player you are. Different classes have different abilities. For example, that,” he points to the green man you’re holding, “would be a barbarian. Barbarians are super strong but not very intelligent. They can inflict a lot of damage but they’re shit when trying to solve puzzles. This, however-”

He holds his palm out flat and, nestled in it, is a woman clad in a bright orange dress with a purple crown adorning her head. She holds some kind of musical instrument in her arms; it looks like some type of medieval harp. You move a little closer to him, peering down at the figure.

“This is a bard,” he continues. You glance up into his eyes for clarification. “Bards are magic users. They weave magic through words and music to inspire allies, demoralize foes, manipulate objects and minds, and even heal wounds.”

“Wow,” you nod. "She's so beautiful and elegant."

"Mhm," Eddie hums in agreement. "She looks a lot like you, actually."

You glance up at him with a teasing smile.

“So what is, like, their most powerful spell?” you ask, trying to distract yourself from the pounding of your heart.

“Bards have a ton of great spells. While not the most powerful, one particularly awesome one is Charm Person. That spell allows the bard to charm an enemy within their range. If the target fails to roll a certain number, called a saving throw, that creature is charmed by the bard until the spell ends. Super useful and very compatible with bards, since they’re extremely charismatic.”

“Oh? So…you think I’m beautiful, elegant, and charismatic?”

You allow the smirk on your face to grow across your cheeks. Eddie lifts his eyes, wide and round. He stares at you in surprise. You think you notice that blush returning to his cheeks. His eyes once again flick down to your lips. Yours do the same to his and you gently lean forward, anxiously waiting for him to make a move. For a moment, it seems like he’s giving in. But he suddenly jerks backward and clears his throat loudly. You heave a shaky breath and continue talking to dispel the awkwardness that’s festering between you.

“So, let’s say I am a bar..?”

“A bard.”

“A bard, right. How would I…cast this spell?”

“Through your instrument, whatever your character has. For a bard, their instrument is like a weapon. So instead of channeling your spells through a staff like other magic users, you would use an instrument.”

“Any kind of instrument?”

“Sure. Guitars, flutes, harps, drums-”

“What about a voice?”

“Sure, that, too. But you’d still have to have something like a microphone to channel it through.”

“Okay. And what kinds of creatures would the spell work on?”

“Oh, it could work on any. Doesn’t matter what type of creature you’re attacking. What matters is whether their stats are high enough to prevent you from succeeding. For example, in this case, creatures with low wisdom would be more likely to fail their saving throw, but a character of any class could easily fall under your spell.”

“And what class do you usually play as?”

“Well, I’m the DM, the dungeon master, so I run the game. I'm all the extra characters, the villains and anyone else the party runs into along their journey. But when I do play, I always go for a ranger or a bard.”

“Really? Wait, you don’t sing, too, do you?”

“God no. I think that’d be torture for everyone. I do play guitar, though. I’m in a band, actually.”

“Oh…” you say, perking up.

Your heart flutters. Everyone knows that guys in bands are way hot. Your gaze falls onto Eddie’s long, slender digits. Your mind momentarily drifts into a daydream of those fingers dancing across the strings of a guitar. You shake your head to snap yourself back into the present.

“Yeah, Corroded Coffin," he continues. "We play at The Hideout on Tuesdays. We get a crowd…of about five drunks.”

You laugh, shaking your head. He’s funny, too? You’re starting to think you should get out of there before he charms his way right into your life. Silence settles for a few minutes as you both waver awkwardly in the space between you. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to get out of there, and you probably should since your friends are waiting for you. But you can’t bring yourself to end this moment with Eddie. Something about him is drawing you in, begging you to stay a little longer.

“So would this charm spell…" you start, "would it work on say…another bard, perhaps?”

The hint of a smile tugs at his lips. He turns toward you, leaning against his elbow on the table. His head flops to the side, his jawline pulled tightly and sharply against his skin, the muscles in his neck taut. Your eyes snap over to appreciate his bone structure for just a second.

“Depends,” he says, his voice dropping to a low tone.

“On what?” you answer, embarrassed by the breathy undertone of your voice.

“Just how good of a singer are you?”

You haven’t really noticed, but you’re suddenly acutely aware of the fact that you’re standing so close to each other. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice your fingers on the table. Your fingertips are just millimeters away from touching Eddie’s. Your eyes are locked in a trance.

“I’m unmatched,” you reply teasingly.

“Oh yeah?”

“I can prove it. If I have to.”

“Please, my lady,” he gestures to the space in between you, “the floor’s yours.”

You straighten up and clear your throat. You take a deep breath and center yourself, just as your voice teacher had taught you to do. Once you open your mouth, you forget where you are and who you are. Whenever you sing, you’re transported to another place and time, where everything in the world is right and safe and happy. You almost feel like you’re flying, like your soul has sprouted wings.

Over the years, you’ve been told that you have a nice, clear, strong voice. You’re no Whitney Houston by any means. But as you belt out the lyrics to Sandy’s melancholy “Hopelessly Devoted to You,” you can feel the way your voice moves through your throat. You know when you’ve hit a note confidently. After a few bars, you allow your voice to fade out, holding the last note for a few seconds longer than usual.

Once finished, you open your eyes. Eddie’s eyebrows are raised, eyes wide. He’s looking up at you like you’re a piece of art, like you’re a beautiful landscape painting. You feel heat immediately gathering in your neck and face. You chuckle nervously and drop back onto the table, hunching your shoulders over. He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds and you gulp, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous. His silence is making you second-guess your talent. Maybe you’re not as impressive as you thought you were…

“You sound like an angel,” he finally says, in a tone just above a hushed whisper.

You look up at him, your heart beating erratically against your chest. Your palms are growing clammy with every second. Your eyes drop down to his mouth. You can’t tear your gaze away when his lips part. He’s even closer now than you realized and his head is tilted down toward yours. His gentle brown eyes are focused hard on your face, trained on your lips. The veins in his neck are pulsing with his heartbeat. You can just barely see his collarbone peeking out from underneath his shirt. Your eyes start to flutter closed as he leans a smidge closer.

“I take it the spell worked, then?” you whisper, finally tearing your eyes up to his.

He doesn’t respond, his eyes still sewn to your lips. He dips down. You raise your head up to meet his lowering one. The moment your lips connect, you know you’re a goner. Your fingers curl into a fist on the table, your fingertips tingling to feel his skin. His lips are soft and warm, encapsulating yours comfortably. He pushes against you firmly and you love the feeling of the pressure. When your lips part, you both waver in the space between, the heat of your bodies mixing. Wasting no time, Eddie’s head juts forward and he kisses you again, a little harder this time. His hand finds its way to your waist and he grasps onto you, pulling you a step closer to him. Your hands slide onto his chest, your fingers curling into his shirt to hold his lips on yours. You tilt your heads to reach each other better and-

“Y/N, are you coming? I-ope!”

Your lips slip from Eddie’s and you whirl around with wide eyes. Your friend, Caroline, is standing offstage, her hands wrapped around her mouth.

“Caroline!” you shout. “Oh my god! I-I forgot you were waiting for me. I’m sorry.”

“Oh no,” Caroline responds. When she drops her hands, a wide smile is pulled across her lips. “No, that’s totally fine. I didn’t mean to…interrupt here. We were just wondering what happened to you.”

“What? Nothing happened. I…” you stutter, glancing back at Eddie.

He’s leaning against the table, his head dropped so that you can’t see his eyes. You’re feeling frazzled, totally caught off-guard. You shake your head. You can’t stop the goofy smile that raises to your lips. You can feel yourself growing hot again, the embarrassment of a teenage crush raging through your entire body.

“Eddie was just helping me find my jacket, and we were…uh…”

“I’ll tell them to wait up for a few more minutes,” Caroline replies. “But we can’t wait forever. We’re late as it is.”

“Thanks,” you reply, shooting her a grateful expression. “I won’t be long, I promise.”

Caroline just laughs, throwing up a dismissive hand as she spins on her heel and disappears into the shadows. Releasing a breath, you turn back toward Eddie. He lifts his head. His cheeks are definitely a bright pink now. His bangs are hanging in his face, covering part of his eyes. He looks adorable, like a bashful puppy, and you almost laugh at how strange his softness looks draped all in black and red.

“Well, I guess I’d better get going. Thank you for this,” you say, gesturing toward the jacket.

“Anytime. I think, uh, you’re missing a spot, though,” he says.

“What?”

You furrow your eyebrows, holding the jacket up to examine it. You peer closer at the fabric as you discover the awkward empty space he’s referring to. The pin that belonged there must have come unfastened and gotten knocked off. You groan, your fingertip running over the vacant holes where the pin used to be secured.

“If you wanted, you could, uh…you can have this one,” he continues, stretching his hand out.

On his palm is a pin. You swipe it from his grasp and smile when you see what’s printed on it. It’s a Judas Priest pin. You smile and hurriedly clip it onto the jacket.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”

He just nods. You waver awkwardly for a moment, unsure whether you should do something besides just saying goodbye. A thought suddenly occurs to you.

“Oh hey, you should come see the musical. Our first show is tomorrow night. And I am the lead, so I can promise a charismatic show.”

“Yeah...listen, um, musical theatre isn’t really my thing,” he answers.

You nod, your face falling, your heart crashing onto the floor. You feel stupid. Of course, it’s not his thing. Why did you even ask?

“But..” he continues. Your eyes widen in hope. “If you’re in it, maybe you’ll change my mind, Angel.”

You can’t do anything this time to stop the smile from overtaking you. His use of a pet name for you only makes you smile harder.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. As long as you don’t use Charm Person on me.”

“I’ll try my best not to. But no promises.”

You both share a mischievous smirk, your heart fluttering with every breath you take. You clutch hard onto your jacket.

“Well, I guess, I’ll see you around,” you say.

You wiggle your fingers coquettishly, shooting him a flirty smile. As soon as you turn your back on him, you bite your lip hard, silently cheering to yourself. You only make it a few steps before his voice stops you.

“Hey, uh, Y/N?”

You pause and turn to glance over your shoulder.

“You should maybe come see the band, too. We cover a lot of Judas Priest, so maybe you’d have a good time. As it happens, we're actually in the market for a lead singer, too. If you're interested. I don’t know…”

You giggle softly and bite your lip.

“I tell you what, Eddie. If you come see me tomorrow night, I’ll drop by a show. You said Tuesdays at The Hideout, right?”

“Yep,” Eddie nods. “Corroded Coffin.”

“We don’t have rehearsals on Tuesdays,” you say. “Looks like you’re in luck. I’ll think about it.”

Eddie catches his lip between his teeth. There your heart goes, fluttering away again. Too nervous for a kiss and too excited for a hug, you settle on giving him a small peck. You quickly kiss his cheek and then dash away. You feel like a silly teenage girl but you love every second of it. You giggle as he shouts after you.

“See you tomorrow, Angel!”

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

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[multi-fandom-lunatic]

Movie Date - Kam Oneshot

Wrote this ages ago on my old oneshot book. Here it is!

______

“What’s this stuff?” Tam asked, digging his hand, and pulling out a perfectly buttered, crispy piece of popcorn.

“Delicious.” Keefe smiled, as he pulled Tam along into the cinema. Keefe’s icy blue jerkin seemed to turn a cloudy grey under the dark of the movie theatre. Tam, wearing a special Batman shirt, stood out, the yellow seemingly reflected off . . . Keefe had no idea.

“Ugh, it’s always when I try not to draw attention to myself,” Tam said, tugging on his silvery bangs. Keefe smiled as he turned to his boyfriend.

“Why would you not want to draw attention to someone as beautiful as you?” Keefe asked playfully. Tam’s ears and cheeks turned a light pink. Keefe let out a soft melodious laugh as Tam rolled his river-like eyes.

“No cheese, Keefe,” Tam groaned. “Please.” Keefe smiled even wider, his grin reaching his trademark icy eyes.

“I’m not lying. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” Keefe said honestly. Tam let out a breath neither of them knew he was holding.

“You cheated with that one, but I’ll allow it.” Tam conceded. Keefe pumped his fist.

“Bring on the parmesan.”

The two took their places right at the back, the heads of children and adults alike bobbing as they laughed at the screen.

“These trains suck,” Tam said. Keefe nearly spit out his popcorn.

“Trailers, you mean?” Keefe asked him, Tam folded his arms.

“I much prefer trains. But they suck.”

“Why don’t we call them trainers?” Keefe suggested a compromise.

“Only if we can both agree they suck.” Tam retorted. Keefe smirked.

“Deal.”

***

“This sucks more than the trailers!” Tam yelled after the audience gasped after a predictable plot twist. “It’s so obvious Giselle is the villain! She literally smirks and says, ‘I’m worse than what you think.’ Is everyone in the movie just an idiot?” Tam raged.

“Not just in the movie.” Keefe said, perhaps a little too loudly. At least ten heads turned toward them, nine glaring at him, fire in their eyes, and one belonging to a little girl, who just looked confused. Tam giggled.

“If I hear anyone say Sofia is a good protagonist, I swear,” Tam cracked his knuckles. “That’ll be the last thing they say.” Another group of angry adults turned towards them, this time growling. Tam had to resist the urge to ask them if they wanted a treat.

“And Fitzgerald’s anger issues are literally plaguing Geraldfia’s whole relationship!” Keefe said. “I’m a Kevinfia shipper all the way.” Keefe huffed.

“Hmmm, more of a Tamasin x Kevin shipper. Tamkev?” Keefe considered his answer for a second before replying.

“Ooh, yeah, change my mind, Tamkev shipping all the way!” Keefe said. Tamasin is literally the most emo-person-with-a-tragic-backstory, and Kevin is the flirty-sunshine-dude-with-abusive-parents, and they’re perfect for each other.” The two of them squealed in delight.

Keefe suddenly noticed a boy, who looked around seventeen, walk up to them. He had a kind smile, but he looked bored and tired.

“Hello, I’ve been told to escort you two out, due to noise complaints. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” The way he said it implied no room for further argument. Keefe huffed.

“We weren’t that loud.” Even Tam looked at Keefe like yep, we were.

“Please don’t make me call security.” Tam and Keefe looked at each other.

“No need for that we’re coming,” Tam said, grabbing Keefe’s hand before the blond could retort, and dragged him out. He was sure he heard the faint sound of applause as they left. After a moment of silence, Keefe blew out a breath and hunched over. Tam was on full alert. Was his boyfriend, okay?

Tam knelt a little to see Keefe’s face. He let out a whimper. Tam panicked. Was he really upset about not seeing the movie?

He broke out into a fit of laughter. Raucous, loud, laughter. Tam blew out a breath.

“Sorry, I, you, that- oh my gods!” Keefe tried to speak in full sentences, but he failed. Miserably.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Tam spoke with relief in his voice. Keefe knitted his eyebrows together.

“And I thought it was my job to be the care bear.” Tam scoffed.

“You wish, Hunkyhair. Get used to me not making fun of you 24/7.” Keefe offered him one of his signature heart-warming smiles.

“I will.”