#and the theatre kids think he is but the rest of the student body still knows he’s a loser

[libidinous-weeb]

monoma is a broadway musical fan and i know it in my heart. he’s actually very good at repeating lines and acting out scenes and belting the songs out at the top of his lungs.

broadway stans come get your man he’s trying to show off to the hoes in choir class and it’s not working because he’s unfortunately the most arrogant guy in the room.

he keeps camping out at the piano before class and playing the songs from wicked and the freshmen have formed a circle around him. it’s a nightmare. please come get your man i’m trying to read ahead on the new piece we get today but i can’t focus cause he’s too fucking loud.

[klausinamarink]

One Kid Gone, Another Up and Vanished (part 5)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 next: Part 6

a bit of a weirdly chill chapter this time. might take a break after this part but my brain is always on you know like a liar creative mode so who the hell knows xD

“Have you seen my nephew?”

“Has my nephew stopped by here recently?”

“Did he mention anything worrying?”

“If you see him, call me by this number, would ya?”

Wayne’s never been much of a theatre boy unlike Eddie, but he supposes he knows how the extra actors feel when they have to repeat their few lines over and over for their plays.

Eddie’s not anywhere in town. Nobody has seen him last night or this morning. Some of the people he’s asked look at him strangely and say why should he even be worried.

A part of Wayne wants to grab them by the collar and shake them and furiously spit on their faces while he cries out, “Shouldn’t you be worried if your own child disappears and might be hurt!”

He doesn’t do that.

He keeps his head down as he says his lines and leaves.

He checks at Hawkins General Hospital, something he’s been putting off since he drove off and left the police chief at the dirt. He reckons that if Eddie’s hurt, he could’ve at least have the sense to run in here.

But the nurse at the front desk shakes her head with a frown and says nobody with Eddie’s description came in.

He says his lines and leaves.

He starts checking the spots Jeff had listed for him.

The first is some old picnic table close behind the high school. When Wayne gets there, there’s a few students loitering. They see him and quickly scramble off. He calls out for them but they don’t look back. He eyes at the table, absent of any sign of Eddie, and leaves.

He goes to the rest on the list.

Some spot in the forest called Skull Rock. The abandoned Creel house. A gas station out of town.

Eddie’s not at either of them.

The Hideout is the last one he visits.

Wayne prays to heaven above this is where his boy’s at. But he doesn’t see him. The bartenders only confirm that while Eddie has make visits before (“not a bad band, by the way. Vocals need a little work though.”), he’d only came for an hour on Halloween night last week.

He gives the bartenders his lines and leaves.

At this point, Wayne’s considering looking far out of town. Bloomington’s close.

But it’s already nearing four in the afternoon, his gas needs a refill, and he feels so tired. It is God’s miracle that his body hasn’t collapsed yet, even in the drive back to Hawkins. He feels a bit grateful that today is his day off, but he has to call the plant later for a few more days off.

The sun starts to set as Wayne pulls over to the house. His mind is starting to get fuzzy from exhaustion and hunger so he walks inside automatically.

He even hollers out, “I’m home!” A vain attempt to hear Eddie’s response.

Only silence greets him.

Wayne sighs, worrying a thumb over his front temple as he readies the pullout couch. Then he stops himself. Looks down the hall to where Eddie’s bedroom door remains close.

He walks down and carefully opens the door. When he peeks through, he sees the hundreds of memories of catching Eddie doing whatever boys like to do on their own: Eddie writing in his notebook, Eddie playing the guitars, Eddie reading a stolen dirty magazine, Eddie dancing to that loud headthrashing music, Eddie staring up at the ceiling depressed, Eddie smoking, Eddie crying from a bad day.

This time Eddie’s not here.

Wayne shuffles to the bed - mindful of the messy clothes thrown about, Eddie we talked about this - and gently lays himself on top of the unkept blankets. His feet barely hang over the edge as he stretches. There’s a faint smell of sweet cigarette smoke as he breathes in.

When Wayne finally falls asleep, the memories surround him comfortably and he feels the phantom weight of Eddie hugging him tightly.

He prays that his nephew will still be hugging him, living and breathing and safe.

—

As they walk to Mirkwood, Eddie thinks it’s safe to say he and Will are little more prepared.

They’ve stopped at one of the houses on the way to stock on bottled water (thankfully drinkable, man they were parched) and weapons. Well, their ‘weapons’ were really just some knives. But Will had skillfully crafted a couple into spears by tying the handles with twine on the ends of broomsticks.

At least Eddie could sweep the demogorgon off its feet should it come back.

(Will groans first at the joke before laughing. Then he laughs even louder when Eddie cries in mock betrayal over the loss of his jester skills.)

He also snags a backpack from some guy’s bedroom so Will won’t break his back carrying the cans. They’d both nearly gagged when some rotten-smelling goop and wrinkled algebra textbooks were shaken out.

Will also brings up a couple startling facts about this hellish environment.

“I think the vines are a hive mind.”

Eddie had nearly dropped the water he’s holding to clean his cut. It’s not bleeding badly anymore, but he doesn’t want it get infected. “I’m sorry, what?”

“A hive mind. Like the vines are alive and they’re some messengers to the monster.” Will waves his hands around a bit as he speaks, though he keeps lowering them to his lap. “Remember when the demogorgon was outside your place and it only came in right after you stepped on a vine? It’s probably how it knows where we are.”

Eddie slowly moves his feet away from one particular thick vine. He breathes out a whoosh. “No stepping on vines. Easy enough.”

“I think these are spores too.”

“What?”

Will blows away a few speckles of ash from his face. “I thought this was snow, but… I’m more convinced it’s spores.” He stops to cough and fuck, that throws Eddie’s anxiety up into goddamn Mars because none of this was even fucking ash.

There’s no kind of gear around in this house or the one next door to keep them from inhaling more of this stuff. So Eddie grabs the cleanest shirts he could find, rips them into bandana-style masks, and fits them over his and Will’s face.

Eddie hopes to god that they don’t already have lung cancer and can at least live for another few decades.

It’s also on the way to Mirkwood that they really get to know each other.

Eddie learns that Will loves his mother and older brother from the moon to back. That he’s been drawing since he was practically born and wants to be an artist. That he has a secret hideout called Castle Byers. That he has a trio of best friends that he bikes to school and play DnD with and who are definitely also looking for him.

Eddie doesn’t give his whole life story (like he really wants to trauma dump on the kid, no thank you), but he does share a few things about himself. Will’s eyes are bright when he talks about playing guitar and a new hobby of sewing band patches on his denim jacket. He also speaks fondly of Uncle Wayne. (“I wish I had a cool uncle with Garfield mugs.” Will says with a wistful sigh) Though the ache in his ribs nearly shutter his voice away when he recalls the truck engine driving away.

“Ya know that if you ever go missing, I’ll search even the lands of Hell for you.”

He said that yesterday, didn’t he? Then why hasn’t Eddie heard from him? Why isn’t Wayne been trying like Will’s mother apparently been doing?

He stamps down the nasty feelings down he hasn’t felt since he was eleven and instead talks about summer visits to his extended family in Alabama.

“Wait, so you’re from the countryside? Like a farm boy and stuff?” Will asks with a tilt of his head.

Eddie cackles and ruffles Will’s hair. “A farm boy? Well, maybe for the help, but it’s a job I will never do even when I’m retired. Haystacks and cow smell are too much for me.” He points a mock accusing finger at Will. “Also wipe out any classist stereotypes from your precious brain. I don’t want to hear any questions about lack of running water or food or schools because we do have them. That’s right-wing businessmen propaganda for ya.”

Will nods seriously. Though he keeps whispering “Alabama” under his breath like it’s a magic word. Eddie lets that one slide. Alabama is a nice name to say a lot.

They finally reach to what Eddie assumes is the Byers residence. It looks worn down with the darkness and vines. He grabs the handle of Will’s backpack to keep him from running into sudden doom.

“Environment check, Little Byers.” Eddie says in his DM voice.

Will huffs but he stops moving and glances around. After a moment, he announces, “No demogorgon in sight!” Then quietly, “So far.”

Eddie lets go of him and moves in front, broomstick spear brandished. He walks carefully over the vines, not willing to make the same mistake in his house.

Oddly, the front door to the Byers’ is already open. It makes Eddie’s guts turn with unease. He slowly steps inside, nearly dying of a heart attack when he hears something from the kitchen. Then relaxes when he realizes that it’s actually some normal people chattering.

“Mike’s been taking this hard. I know it’s ridiculous to say that, Joyce, but he really cares about his friends. And Will going missing is making him act out a bit. But he’s been looking too.”

“Oh, that’s.. uh, sweet of him..”

Will brushes past Eddie as he goes inside. The kid stands in the living room, staring at the kitchen where the voices are coming from. Then he runs down the hall, looks up, and starts jumping up with a hand outstretched.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Eddie calls out. His eyes automatically lower to the ground where Will’s jumping on. The floor is surprisingly spacious from vines, but he doesn’t want any risks or a heart attack.

“Trying.” Will pants out with every jump. “To get. Lights.”

Eddie looks around, both inside and outside before carefully walking over to Will. He watches for a minute, glancing dubiously at the very dead lightbulb in the ceiling. Then he scoops up Will in his arms. Damn, twelve year olds are heavy.

“Okay, that’s enough hopping, Little Byers.” He’s about to move away - to where in the house he doesn’t really know - when a small orange flash makes him pause. It’s a literal ‘blink and you miss it’ but he swears he sees it.

He looks at Will, who’s staring intently at the ceiling light. His fingers brush against it. Then it happens again. The orange glow, this time blinking long enough to be noticed.

A small gasp falls out of Eddie’s lips. Will excitedly taps at his shoulder and points to a door at the end of the hall. He obliges.

It’s a bedroom, clearly for Will’s mom. Eddie’s not sure what to look for, but Will points again. This time, at a spot at the foot of the bed. “Right there. See?”

Eddie doesn’t see but slowly makes his way anyway.

Will scrambles out of his arms and holds out his hands, eyes furrowed in concentration. Then, faintly like a spell, small dots of glowing orange appear. One by one like a fairy doing tiptoes.

Eddie’s certain that his jaw falls to the floor. He’s so entranced that he doesn’t even startle when the voices suddenly move behind him.

“Holly! I’m sorry, she always wanders off-”

“No, no, it’s okay. But.. did she- did you see something?”

The glowing disappears. One is still present, beaming from Will as he smiles under his mask, “Told you the lights work.”

It doesn’t take too long for Eddie to find his voice again, “Ho-ly. Fuck.”

— —

Taglist: @unclewaynemunson @steves-strapcollection @hellion-child @sidekick-hero @mmmmwaffles94 @demolitionjetstar @hbyrde36 @princessstevemunson @sirsnacksalot @tartarusknight @lyriclight @kodaik97 @plsdontdrinkmylavalamp @wuttttttttttt @bookbinderbitch @gutterflower77 @tentativeghost @soaringornithopter @angeldreamsoffanfic @panicatthediaz @renaissan-vvitch @manda-panda-monium

[sanyu-thewitch05]

Kill The Prince

tw: suicide, unhealthy tendencies, mention of drugs, murder.

A/N: I decided to write this quick oneshot fic because I got inspiration from the song Kill Bill from Sza.

Yuu POV

"I'm so sorry, but we can't stay together." Malleus says, holding my shoulders. 

"Why? This is so sudden?" I ask, hoping this relationship still has a chance.

"I'm going to marry the princess of a neighboring kingdom. She could provide much-needed resources to our-my nation. I still love you. It's only a political marriage." Malleus responds, hugging me. "I promise that if I ever divorce, or if she falls in love with someone else, I'll marry you."

I'm so mature

I'm so mature

I'm so mature

"I want him back. The pain hurts so bad." I cry as Azul listens to my woes.

"There's other fish in the sea. You shouldn't be hanging onto the words of a boy who will probably never want you again." Azul advises, giving me a glass of water.

"You don't get it. I only want him." I say, feeling nothing. 

If I can't have you, no one should. 

I might kill my ex. Not the best idea(I know) 

His princess is next! How'd I get here?

I still love him, though. 

Rather be in jail than alone.

"Face it, kid. Malleus is a lost cause. He seems to like that Princess Briar a lot." Leona tells me as I stare at Malleus and his princess sitting oh so close together under a tree. 

I'm so mature

I'm So Mature

I'M SO MATURE!

I only want you, and if I can't have you, no one can.

"I might kill my ex, not the best idea," I say to Grim, taking out the sharpest iron dagger I could find. "I still love him, though. You know I'd rather be in jail than be alone." 

"Please don't do something drastic. You're the only one I have in this world." Grim says, looking at my mascara-stained face.

I put him down, then walk to Diasomnia. I sneak into my beloved's room and straddle him in bed. 

I did it all for love.

I did it all on no drugs.

I did all of this sober.

I DID IT ALL FOR LOVE.

I DID IT ALL ON NO DRUGS.

I DID ALL OF THIS SOBER.

"Yuu, why?" Malleus chokes, spitting up blood.

"Don't you know I did it all for us?" I say, wiping blood from his mouth. 

That princess walks in, and I stab her in her cheating, whoring, homewrecking heart before she could scream. 

I just killed my ex, not the best idea. I killed his girlfriend next. How'd I get here? 

Rather be in hell than alone...

I stab myself in the chest, falling to the ground next to my beloved. Perhaps we'll have a happy ending in the flames that seem so natural to us. 

"Yuu!" A faint blurry figure screams, rushing to my body. 

I just killed my ex, not the best idea. 

I still love him, though.

Rather be in hell than alone.

I'm so mature

I'm so mature

I'm so mature.....................................................................

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"That was amazing, everyone!" Vil cheers, clapping loudly with the rest of the film club students. Malleus, the princess (Epel), and I get up and bow to the crowd in the theatre. "Come back same time tomorrow for opening night rehearsal," Vil instructs, getting up and handing bottles of water. "Oh, and Yuu, please take the knife and bloody shirt off. I don't want a repeat incident of Deuce and Ace thinking you've been stabbed, even if it was a bit funny."

[mochii0park]

metanoia; 01 | kth

Title: Metanoia

Pairing: Taehyung / Reader

Part of series: Waterlilies and Japanese Bridge

Genre: angst I collage!au

Pairing: student!reader x photographer!taeyhung

Word count: 4,7k

Summary: Vante, a household name among photographers became known for his minimalistic photography style that came along with his secret persona. Never showing his face on his own exhibitions fueled the public’s desire to learn more about him which skyrocketed his fame. While preparing for his next exhibition Vante went missing. Disappeared into thin air and even now a year later was never found.

Author’s note: I am very conscious of any grammar mistakes. Although I have read this chapter three times I am sure I’ve missed some so bare with me. 

On another note, I have switched the dates of the chapters for Saudade and Metanoia. Since this story got more attention compared to Sauade I’ve decided to write it before the date.

This is my first attempt at writing on this platform and I hope it will reach out to a wider range of readers and catch your interest. Any feedback is greatly appreciated.

Taglist: @ggukkieland​ @honig-und-millch​ , @deliciousdetectivestranger ,

Masterlist

Metanoia masterlist

< intro | next chapter >

You sink into the overaged draggled yellow chair, catching second-hand embarrassment at the sight before you. The boy walked about, his thrusts were not enough to keep the neon hula hoop from falling. He attempts to fumble his way out of the mess, but it was too late. The left ankle twists itself and before you know it, he hits headfirst against the wooden flooring. The professors rush towards him, medics following behind. The boy tries to pull himself up but fails his body slumping against the stage. To your left Mingi snorts, stuffing his face with popcorn amused by the scene playing out.

“I don’t mean to sound rude or whatever, but people need to search up the meaning of talent before their eyes skip to the word show.” Minnie ruckles her nose, her mouth loop sided.

“I find this highly entertaining,” Mingi speaks up, mouth full of food. He takes a sip of the cold beverage rested in his lap and shakes the mixture before swallowing.

To his left Yeonjun shudders at him, “Talent or not I would rather replay that scene than watch Mingi be a slob. It makes me want to bleach my eyes out.”

Mingi rolls his eyes ignoring Yeonjun as he pops more popcorn, oblivious to his own weird antics. Although the four of you are friends for years, Mingi managed to take you all by surprise with his uncanny behaviour.

The second act starts and suddenly you contemplate your university choice. Reasonably the overbearing staff of your university wanted the timid first years to feel welcomed hence this so-called show. In hindsight, you think a friendly party would’ve been just as good.

Halfway through the act, you feel a light tap on your shoulders, professor Kim Namjoon stands there like a sore thumb in the mass of students’ bodies. With his hovering height, freshly dyed purple hair and the rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose he was sure to stand out. He shifts his footing from one to the other foot anxiously waiting for you to follow him, few students commenting on the disruptions that his appearance caused.

You observe him for a second, accompanying him out of the theatre into the cold November air. He fumbles through his leather briefcase before fishing out a small, crumpled flyer. Opening it he shoves it into your hands while tweaking his glasses.

“I have a favour to ask you Y/N. There will be a course taking place here and I would love for you to attend it with your peculiar friends.” He says emphasising the word peculiar.

You knew that Mingi gave Namjoon the creeps even though the latter denied it.

“No.”

You push back the flyer spinning on the balls of your feet ready to join your friends.

“Y/L-…”, Namjoon groans, “Do it for your brother-in-law.”

Widening your eyes, you look at him shaking your head.” This isn’t the time to use our family relations to bribe me into a stupid course.”

“Did you even read what’s it about?”, you take the flyer from his hands skimming through it.

Photography course

Length: 10th November till 10th June

Time: Friday, 6pm -8pm

Attendance: Third years and above

Equipment not needed for the course

Your eyes pause at the date, laughing releasing itself from your chest. Surely Namjoon was kidding when suggesting this. You were in your last year which meant you would soon be flooded with work for your final project. In conclusion, there was barely enough time for you set foot out of your studies let alone attend another one of the university’s poor attempts to make a course for students to bond over.

“You understand I’m in my last year. I don’t have time to go out and have fun with my friends. How in the world did you think I would fit a whole-ass course?”

Namjoon releases a breath running a hand through his thick hair, desperation evident on his face.” I am sorry to have to do this, but I am cashing in my favour.”

You become stiff mouth agape, incoherent vowels coming out of you. It takes you a few seconds to gather your thoughts, “you promised to not cash it in. You gave me your word.”

“And you gave me yours.” Namjoon retored sassily, finger pointing at you, “I won’t tell Sunmi if you promise to do me a favour when the time comes.”

Pushing your tongue against the palate, you try to control the boiling anger.

The incident happened four years ago, back when you were still figuring out your college life. Namjoon and you were acquaintances, sharing one elective course called German Literature. Needless to say, both of you suffered greatly.

By the end of the year, you noticed your sister piqued Namjoon’s interest. Grossed out by the idea of your older sister engaging in any kind of relationship/activity with a twenty-three-year-old, you kept your distance until the faithful day.

Choi San was the synonym for the devil himself. With his fiery red hair and dazzling cat-like eyes, he lured you into his messy life of illegal parties and binge drinking. You still find yourself cringing at his pathetic excuses of professing his undying love to you when it was all under false pretences. His eyes bearing into your naïve soul, pulling your heart out and wrenching it until your friends came to pick up the pieces.

Sitting in the police station you counted down minutes before your older sister would burst through the door and finally decide to disown you. With your head nested between your knees you suck in the tears threatening to spill, the euphoria from the alcohol long gone. You’ve dialled Mingi’s number first, the others were a no go when it came to answering their phones. He picked up in a matter of seconds. After explaining the situation, you figured he would bring his own parents to bail you out instead Namjoon comes first, after him a stressed Minnie trying to keep up the pace with him and a Yeonjun who’s pulling his masks further over his nose in a lame attempt to be unrecognizable. Mingi idly meanders behind them in his pyjamas with not one care in the world. Namjoon pulls a small amount of money handing the police officer and not long after you were free.

At that moment you’ve truly recognized your friends as the people you wanted to keep in your life forever. Namjoon jokingly said he would someday cash in his favour. Little did you know the joke would get over your head.

“You’ve waited for four years to cash it?”

He shrugs and nods lightly. Quickly he composes himself, washing his features of playfulness and switching them up with hopelessness. “It’s really important for me that you and your clique of friends attend this course. Professor Seojoon organized it-“

At the mention of your favourite professor, your eyes light up making Namjoon shudders. The little “crush” you harboured didn’t go unnoticed by him. Putting his hands on your shoulders he gains your attention again before continuing, “his brother is the one to hold the course so you must come. I will put in a good word for you all. Maybe he will go easy on you during quizzes.”

You roll your eyes knowing fully well that you didn’t need Namjoon’s intervention although it was greatly appreciated. Putting the flyer in your back pocket you throw a thumbs up to Namjoon, “Well Minnie and I don’t need any favouritism and I am almost certain you can’t do much for Yeonjun and Mingi seeing as they are in different departments.”

“Oh?” Namjoon’s brows shot up at the revelation, totally dismissing the idea that you know each other any differently than through the classes you attend, “I thought Yeonjun was in the literature department, as for Mingi it’s far-fetched but I didn’t want to sound rude.”

“Actually, Yeonjun is in the Vocal department while Mingi is in the Physics and Astronomy department. He’s also on top of his class, both are.”

Namjoon seems stunned at the information you threw at him, but he recovers swiftly, “Bunch of nerds.” He chuckles at his own jokes before both of you bid goodbyes. You slowly make your way to the cafeteria mind set on pursuing your friends to join you and Namjoon running to the staff meeting hoping to extinguish the chaos caused by the talent show.

Pushing past the mass of people on the campus your sneakers squeak against the pavement, the chatter between the students becoming louder as you push the cafeteria doors. Making your way towards the table in the further left corner you spot Yeonjun’s eye-catching hair. The pink shade fits well against his pale skin making him noticeable from afar. The boy throws a piece of chips at Mingi, the latter catching it mid-air.

The rustling of your chair brings them out of their bubble. Minnie plops her elbows on the table, hand supporting her cheek as she lays it there, eyes staring at you amusingly. Mingi continues to catch Yeonjun’s chips, his attention now slightly focused on you. “How was the talk with professor Namjoon.”

“I need a favour to ask you.”

“Last time you asked for a favour we had to bail you from jail,” Mingi adds face void of any emotion causing Yeonjun to almost choke on the piece of chicken from his plate. Minnie reaches for his head hitting him hard on the back.

“That was four years ago for God’s sake.” You yell, a few students turning bothered by your loud voice disrupting their meal.

Slumping further into the seat, cheeks reddened from the heat of the sudden attention you gained you say quietly, “there is a course taking place this year and I would love if you could attend it.”

Mingi was the first to read the flyer once you push it in the middle of the old table. He hums a couple of times and gives you a thumbs up, unlike Minnie who scoffs.

“A whole semester? Y/N you know this is impossible to juggle this with our final project. As much as I would love to participate you know what you’re asking for is too much.”

You bite your lower lip remembering Namjoon’s words. “I know but professor Seojoon is organizing it, and don’t you think having him on our good side would mean a lot?”

Minnie shrugs and pops the strawberry into her mouth. “I understand, but it’s on Fridays. The only time I can spare for parties and clubs, and you’re asking me to spend it studying something I am not even remotely interested in?”

You turn towards Yeonjun knowing if he agrees Minnie will crumble under the pressure of your group. He scans it quickly and shakes his lightly head from left to right before agreeing to accompany you making Minnie collapse her shoulders in defeat.

“Fine but if it takes too much of my time I am signing out.”

“I love you guys so much.”

“Cut it with the sappy shit, I have piano lessons.” Yeonjun gets up telling you goodbye before he disappears in the ocean of students his pink hair no longer visible. A distant scream could be heard a few seconds after, “I love you too.”

You smile feeling the love of your friends.

“We love you too.” Mingi gets up and places a carton of freshly squeezed apple juice in front of you sending off a small smile. Just like Yeonjun, he’s gone.

                        -

Nose buried deep into the book; Taehyung tried his best to mute out his brother’s lame attempts of starting a conversation he never intended to finish. Legs resting on the polished marble table he did his very best to further fuel Seojoon’s irritation. The older one pacing back and forwards provoking Taehyung’s headache.

“If you would just listen to me.”

Kim Taehyung detested surprise, especially those he didn’t catch on early. This one though topped the cake. “There is no need to listen.”

“Quit being stubborn.”

“Oh, the irony.” Taehyung looked up catching his brother’s burning gaze,” contrary to your beliefs, I must say you are the one who’s stubborn here. When a person asks for space and time you give them that instead of forcing them, wait sorry what was the word again? Yeah, lightly pushing them into holding a course. One which they never asked for or showed the desire to hold.”

“You needed a little push in the right direction.”

“Arranging a one-year course isn’t a push you idiot,” Taehyung shouted; the book was long forgotten and tossed aside on his couch. His yell echoed in the empty room causing Seojoon’s to scowl. He found comfort in a small armchair adjacent to the marble table. “You can’t bury yourself in books and spend your days in the atelier. It’s not healthy Taehyung.”

“I don’t remember asking for advice.”

Seojoon was on the verge of giving up, letting the course get cancelled before it even happened hadn’t it been for the twelve people that signed up and Namjoon’s effort to recruit them.

“Look-“he takes a deep breath calming himself, “You can think of it as a one year course, but in reality, it’s eight months. When you count Christmas, New Year, Easter you can cut one month coming to seven months in total. I’ve gone all out for this course, please don’t make me go and explain to my higher-ups why it’s cancelled before it even started.”

Taehyung shut his eyes trying not to feed the growing frustration inside him. Seojoon takes the time to look at his brother, the embodiment of pain. The eyes that used to shine brightly at the sight of new opportunities were now dull and empty, almost as if his soul left the body. It tore him apart to see Taehyung like that, powerless and what added more to his pain was the inability to help him.  

“It’s been a year since I’ve held a class.”

“I know you Taehyung. You are a man of many talents and there is nothing that can convince me otherwise. You need to move forward and face the fear you’ve been holding onto. It’s been a year. Nobody will judge you.” Seojoon’s eyes soften as he walks up to his brother ruffling his hair, hoping that his sincerity got through to him.

“I don’t know Joon.”

Before Seojoon could even start talking Taehyung shakes his head and moves hurriedly reaching for the knob. Seojoon takes a step towards Taehyung, but he doesn’t even give him a chance to speak as he runs right out of the door leaving him alone in the atelier.

The water drips from Taehyung’s wet hair down his face creating a false comfort, the sound of water coated a perfect cover to hide his emotional baggage. It became a habit of his to seek solace in the bathtub surrounded by lavender soaps that Yuna bought. A tradition carried on from their mother to them. The scent took Taehyung back into his childhood spent in his family home in Busan. Carefree of responsibilities and the heavy burden the world carried.

He recalls the delicate touch of his mother’s fingers untangling his locks while singing Elvis’s song can’t help falling in love. Her voice heartening Taehyung as he wept over a dispute he had with his second brother Hyungsik. The vivid memory of his mother placing a kiss on the crown of his head before wiping away the tears from his cheeks.

“Siblings are there to teach you about life,” she whispers softly, “They teach you what it means to be kind, to be fair and to know you will not always be right. They teach you about teamwork, conflict resolution and most importantly Tae they teach you what it is to love and to be loved.”

Opening the door of Seojoon’s study, Taehyung is greeted with a sight to behold. Leaning against the door frame he watches Yuna and Hyungsik dancing in the middle of the muddled room, furniture pushed aside to create more room. They attempted to follow Yuna’s new choreography, Seojoon’s seated in the leather armchair grading assignments although he would glance up occasionally laughing at the duo. More like laugh at Hyungsik’s failed attempts but he didn’t need to know that. Noticing Taehyung’s presence, Yuna runs over linking their arms and pulls him forward oblivious to the slight tension between him and Seojoon.

“Idol my ass, “she scoffs at a gasping Hyungsik, “Taehyungie I need a dance partner for my new choreography. Hyungsik can’t even learn the basics.”

“Not my fault the younger generation goes overboard with their dances and outfits and singing. In my time we relied on our charms, and not how you call it? Fairy ending? What is even that?”

“It’s when idols finish the song, and the camera pans on of them giving them some more love and screen time. Right?” Taehyung looks at Yuna for approval. She places Taehyung’s hand over her shoulder, linking her arms around his waist while he kisses her temple and puts his cheek on top of her head.

“Admit it you’ve gotten old Hyungsik.” Seojoon derides.

That was enough to motivate Hyungsik to crack his fingers and reach for the tablet, “Give me the goddamn tablet. I’ll show you who’s old.” burying his nose into the gadget, he replays the video repeatedly.

By the time he made it through the first segment of the dance, Taehyung was sure he could blindly replicate the choreography himself.

“Couldn’t you ask one of your professors or other idols in training to help you?” Taehyung asks as the two observe Hyungsik’s rusty moves.

“One friend is busy finishing school projects and Jungkook-a has too many events lined up to help. I haven’t seen him since last Friday and I don’t feel comfortable asking Jimin-ssi to practice with me.”

“Isn’t he your professor?”

“Yes and no. He helps the idols which have already debuted in our entertainment company, that’s Jungkook. Jimin-ssi does occasionally step in when other professors are prevented from teaching. But his job is being a full-time professor at the EQ Royal Dance Academy.”

Taehyung nods, the information flying over his head as Hyungsik messes up a move and topples to the floor. He erupts into fits of laugher for the first time in weeks and Seojoon is suddenly reminded what’s it like to be happy. He knew bringing Yuna home for the weekend would do Taehyung some good. The sight warms his heart, his siblings bickering loudly, breathing some life into the old room. Resting the assignments on the nearby table, he sits up to join them. Catching Taehyung’s gaze he looks towards the boy, brows raised.

“I’ve thought about it and-” Taehyung stops for a second, but Seojoon’s soft gaze prompts him to continue. “I’ll take the job.”

“Well, you better get ready because it starts in two hours.”

“What?!”

                       -

There were many ways you could spend your Friday night, like partying for instance yet here you are sitting in your car listening to Minnie whining. Mingi’s soul stuck somewhere on his iPod the second he set foot in the car, his head bobbing to the music blasting from his AirPods. Yeonjon was the only one not present. Due to his idol actives, he was held back by his vocal coach, but he promised to be there for the second lecture.

Placing your analogue camera on the desk, you tug your hair into a ponytail mentally preparing yourself for two hours of dullness. Minnie sits to your right while Mingi takes the chair to your left. The three of you seating yourselves in the front of the classroom, Namjoon’s words bunch of nerds playing in your head.

Shaking the thought away you see the watch tick eight pm as the door swings open.

When Namjoon told you professor Seojoon’s brother would hold the course you had expected a man either older than him or somewhere around his age, not a handsome make you take a double look type of a man; two or three years older than you.

His features were nothing short of a Greek god. He stood head and shoulders over you even when you were seated, confidence radiating from every fibre of his being as adjusts his bag over his shoulder. Pushing his brown curls away from his face he allows you to look at it. Perhaps you were exaggerating but you never saw such a gorgeous man. Straightening himself up you take notice of his attire for tonight’s lecture. An orange blazer draped over a white shirt brought out his sun-kissed complexion paired with the same-coloured trousers. A type of anonymity laced itself with every step he took in your direction, his stare a mixture of coldness and determination.

He comes forward, eyes scanning each one of you before he sets his gaze on you. It lingers there for a second, his expression unreadable before he breaks it.

“Hello, my name is Kim Taehyung and I’ll be your lecturer for this course.”

For the first time, you see Mingi’s focus entirely on Taehyung. His presence demanded to be felt and a part of you was sure he knew it. Taking the camera in his hand he turns towards you.

“I assume you have at least once taken a photo, whether with your phones or camera. Moreover, I am positive you have attempted to make an aesthetic photo for your Instagram feed. How many of you were successful?” laughter filled the lecture hall,” The goal of this lecture isn’t to make a photographer out of you nor to help you improve your skills. The point is to make you fall in love with photography. The rest will come easy.”

He walks around the desk and opens an old leather binder. Walking towards your table he places it in front of Mingi allowing the three of you to peek at the content of it. There neatly stored in a plastic sheet were his photos. Mingi pushes the portfolio in front of you, allowing easier access to both Minnie and you. Slowly leafing through the pictures, you stop in total awe. Eyes trailing over a simple photo of a ray field, caught somewhere in later November or early December judging by the snow. The contrast was striking, the clash of the colours and the depth of field creating an imaginary line between the ray and the sky.

Taehyung observes your dumbfounded expression, intrigued by your sudden amazement he ambles to your side. He rakes over the photo, which was a thereby sheer mistake, panic rushing through him. In a reckless attempt to stop you from further prying into the photos he grasps the portfolio out of your hold knocking over your camera in the process. It hits the floor shattering the lens into pieces, the film rolling down until it stops near his feet. Cursing himself for his abrupt action, he looks at you. Your eyes drift from the broken camera to Taehyung’s face.

He hurriedly squats picking the pieces, analysing the damage. Beyond repair.

“I am so sorry. I-” he says placing the parts on your table trying to come up with more words of apology.

“It’s alright.” You shuffle awkwardly in your seat not liking the spotlight put on you.

“I’ll be sure to repay you the coasts of a new camera.”

You shake your head; the camera was already outdated, and you were sure Sunmi would let you borrow her digital one from the gallery. “It’s fine.”

Taehyung puts his lips into a thin line, the confidence he marched beginning to leave his body. Although you showed no anger or resentment towards him, he still felt the need to apologize. Swallowing the awkward moment, he paces towards the centre.

“Today we will start with simple terms such as ISO, Aperture and Shutter speed. Three things you should get familiar with.”

Fetching his Nikon camera from the case he turns it around. Swirling the button on the upper part of the camera he adjusts the mode to manual. Pushing another button towards himself the camera shows three circles in the middle of the screen.

“The first circle is shutter speed. That’s the speed at which the light of a camera sensor is exposed to light when taking a photo. Slow shutter speed captures the blur of subjects in motion. It’s valuable for night and landscape photography. On the other hand, high speed allows you to freeze a single millisecond in time.”

Pointing to the middle circle he continues. “This is an aperture, the opening through which light passes through the lens to enter the camera. Its size can be modified to control how much light reaches the sensor.”

Lastly, he shows you the third button. “ISO represents the sensor’s sensitivity to the light. The higher the number, the more information will be captured in other words the picture will be brighter.”

Taehyung fumbles with the camera for a few seconds before he focuses it on you and with a click and shutter of light, he takes your photo. With no time to recover you feel a blush creep at the thought of how the picture turned out. “As you can see this is the perfect setting for the indoor portrait. Now if we put the shutter speed high and the ISO low-“

He again takes a picture of you turning the camera screen to the students. The photo was dark, your features barely visible but still your figure could be distinguished. “This is an underexposed photo. Now if we set the shutter speed to let’s say 1/40 and places the ISO high-“

Expecting his move this time, you look up at the camera. Taehyung halts his action for a slight second before he presses the button. Looking at the photo, the brightness is overbearing. “This is an overexposed photo.”

He places the camera in front of Mingi, Minnie and you allowing you to take your time and compare the three photos he took. “Why am I showing you this? Because for your next assignment that’s what you will do. You will take three photos of the same object. The object you choose should be something that left a great impact on you. That can be your family, your friends or an inanimate object such as phones, books etc. The choice is yours.”

Pulling out stacks of paper he leaves them on the corner of his desk.” These here are today’s study notes. I don’t expect you to write down notes while in the class, but I do expect you to finish your assignments. That will be all for today.”

The students began leaving the room each taking one paper, Taehyung stood there, hands in his pocket looking through every pupil that passed by. Minnie was first in line, her flirt mode on. You see them exchange a few words, Minnie’s behaviour suddenly going from sweet to sour in seconds. You dally your way to the desk aware of his gaze burning holes in the side of your head.

“Sorry, Y/N was it?” You peek up not expecting him to spare you a second let alone address you.

“Yeah?”

Taehyung scratches the back of his neck awkwardly.” I am sorry for what happened to your camera. I know you said it’s fine, but I feel responsible for it. I would feel better if you let me repay you by buying a new camera or at least participating in the coasts.”

“No, really it’s fine.” You laugh as you say it for the fourth time today.” I will borrow my sister’s camera for the course. If I do find myself in a need to buy a new camera, I will let you know.”

Before Taeyhung could protest you nod politely and leave the room. Biting his lip, he couldn’t help to feel bad about the wreck he made knowing full well how much an analogue camera costs nowadays. Taking the Nikon one from your table he swipes through the photos deleting each one before he pauses on the last one. It was the first black and white photo he took of you.

Your eyes were focused on Taehyung, although taken aback by the light they held their composure your mouth pulled into an affiliative smile. The white light made your baby hair stand out in the black background. For an unexplained reason, Taehyung felt a small tug, one he couldn’t pinpoint the meaning of. Shutting off his camera, he exhales through his nose and throws the bag over his shoulder.

The first lecture was done, thirty-three to go.

all rights reserved @moochi0park

[nincompoopydoo]

PAIRING, BAGELS, REPEAT

— PALM TO PALM IS HOLY PALMER’S KISS ; PART 3 / ?

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 1846

SUMMARY: You’re back to teaching at Gotham High and you end up overlooking rehearsals for the GHS drama club’s upcoming annual play: Romeo and Juliet that no one ever attends. In the spirit of keeping your students’ hopes up, you decide to take it upon yourself to draft out a plan to drive more people to come to the play. The key is the man you’re in love with.

WARNINGS: Vague description of a nightmare, death and an annoying teenager.

A/N: This is really going slowly like a true slow burn. I hope yall like this one. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

In the light of your unemployment as a teacher, Gotham High miraculously offered your old job back after Mrs Wilson, one of the senior English Literature teachers, died of a heart attack unannounced. In all seriousness, apologies were made, admitting they had a mistake with firing you because well, you were clearly a passionate teacher. To your surprise, you were told your students even missed you. Hence, you accepted a job from GHS once again because you would do anything to avoid the smell of burgers and the sounds of hungry crying children. After the whole burglary incident, the Big Belly Burger at midtown was forever doomed as customers gradually decreased over time. It was Gotham after all, people should be used to these kinds of things by now. Including witnessing Batman saving you, the whole experience felt like a fever dream. As excited you were and weirdly unbothered by the whole near-death experience, you realized that if you were to talk about it, no one would genuinely believe you anyway. He was a myth to most citizens of Gotham, but you’re an exception because you’re well acquainted with the knowledge that Bruce definitely knows Batman.

And oh boy, do they talk.

It’s your secret to keep and so is the Batarang you stole. You’re also dying to tell Bruce.

So, you find yourself back in the hallways, crowded with sweaty teenagers, but you would choose this over anything else in a heartbeat. Apart from returning to teaching uninterested students about the works of Shakespeare and Harper Lee and forcing reading lists onto them, you are also replacing Mrs Wilson as the GHS Drama Club’s advisor. Stage performance may be personally foreign to you but plays were practically your forte. That was how you ended up spending your Tuesday afternoons, preparing the members for the club’s annual play. This time, they decided to perform the classic: Romeo and Juliet.

As an English teacher, you were frankly sick of the play, forbidden love was a tad overrated to you. Yet the kids were genuinely trying their best. Shaniqua and Oscar were currently rehearsing their lines as the two infamous star-crossed lovers; You watched them with pride. The two were quiet in your classes but they truly shone on the stage of the school theatre.

“And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss—teach, what does this whole scene even mean?” Shaniqua exclaims and you chuckle, “This scene is simply a metaphor where Romeo is a pilgrim wanting to erase his sins and Juliet is a saint. So, he is basically trying to convince her to kiss him so that he can truly be free of sin,” your explanation echoes through the room, and you notice Oscar turning red when you mention the word ‘kiss’. It was clear as day that the poor boy really liked the girl he’s currently hand in hand with but you don’t want him to feel nervous and uncomfortable about the thought of kissing her. “Now Oscar, you can kiss her on the cheek and that’s fine. Shaniqua, say it with more emotion, okay? Everyone got it?” The response you received was a sputter of hums and nods. Before you could continue, Josh, who plays Lord Capulet and is sitting lazily on the handmade throne, speaks up much to your dismay, “Why is it so important that we put so much effort into this. It’s not like anyone is going to come.” The kids around him began agreeing with his statement, and it was honestly completely expected of him but it was the truth. No one attends the drama club’s annual play. As you're trying to calm everyone down, your phone buzzes on the table in front of you. It’s a text from Bruce, asking if you could come over tonight, phrasing it like he’s a schoolboy sneaking from his parents to meet with a girl late at night. Then, like an epiphany you have an idea although there’s an eighty percent chance it wouldn’t go through. Nevertheless, you turn to the rest of the students with a hint of a smile on your lips. “I might have just the idea to solve that.”

-

A brief span seemed like an eternity when sleep doesn’t come easy to you. Tonight was a different case; thoughts were completely clear and concise. In much need of sleep, you steal the chance to savour in this clarity and serenity for as long as you could. To feel his warmth, arm gently resting on your abdomen and the occasional whiff of his deodorant from his ebony shirt you’re dressed in. If this was what bliss feels like, you never want it to go away. Your eyes grow heavy, flickering into darkness due to exhaustion from a long day of rehearsals. At once, you’re struck with the reminder of the idea you had this afternoon. It is more of a favour, involving none other than Bruce. There’s a tinge of guilt whenever favours are involved because you never liked asking for help. You were furiously independent and responsible, relying on others was out of the question. Yet, Bruce has always seemed to find a way to weave himself in your mistakes and problems, constantly there to help out. You have to remind yourself this isn’t about you. It’s for the kids. Special guest, Bruce Wayne, playboy and billionaire. Sounds awesome.

As your consciousness begins ebbing away, you feel Bruce shift from beside you, grasp tightening upon your waist. Before your dazed mind could even fully process that he was in the midst of a nightmare, his eyes are wide open, heart-pounding and it seizes him up instantly. With deep breaths, he closed his eyes once more, unable to shake the feeling of dread that rattles in him. Then, a sudden cold touch to his arm—he jumps and snaps his head to look over his shoulder.

It’s you, still laid in bed with a prominent frown upon your brows. Your hand squeezes his forearm and all he feels is instant relief. His heart still pounds, not in fear but with affection. “Are you okay?” you drawled as you watch his lingering hand, fingers weaved between the strands of hair. The silver ones glint under the low light, contrasting the deep brown ones. You notice how his hair had grown along with his five o’clock shadow becomes more evident by the days. His face away from you, finally nodding in response to your question. “Yeah, just... a bad dream. His voice is subdued as he shifts under the sheets, head leaning against the headboard. Despite your weakened state, you bring yourself to sit up, twisting your body to face him properly. "You wanna talk about it?” you say, patting his shoulder lightly in a comforting manner. You watch him rub his eyes, exhale tightly and shake his head. “No. Anything but that.”

His response comes out almost harsh but Bruce doesn’t mean for it to be perceived in that way. His dream was the usual, the normal ones he’s used to by now but in times of stress overwork, they have started to become more intense and violent. This time it involved you, for the first time, and he watched you vividly get shot in the forehead—trails of his memory as Batman when he encountered you at the burger restaurant with the muzzle of a gun inches away from you. It haunts him to think that if the circumstances were different if you hadn’t texted him those dreaded four words, you might be dead.

He certainly is not telling you about the dream. Never in a million years.

Bruce turns to you and you’re still staring at him, worry carved deep in your furrowed brows. Change of topic was merely necessary at this point. “So, how has school been? The kids still mean to you?” Classic Bruce, always sweeping his problems under the antique Persian rug. You don’t blame him because you wouldn’t know better.

It was your turn to sigh at the mention of school but since tonight’s pillow talk is heading towards your job as an English teacher at GHS, you might as well use the opportunity to pitch in your plan. “Still mean, but the drama club kids are really great,” You thumb the edge of the blanket, unable to hide your growing smile. “Speaking of which, the annual play is next Friday and they have been rehearsing all week but,” you paused as you watched his right brow gradually lift. “No one comes for it. Like, no one and I hate to see all their efforts just thrown out the window like that—”

“So, you want me to go for it.”

You blinked, wondering if your explanations were too obvious of its underlying intent or Bruce could just read you like an open book. You won’t be surprised if it’s the latter.

“If it’s no biggie. You don’t have to because I know you’re very busy but I don’t want the special guest to end up being the Big Belly Burger mascot.” Your smile widens and Bruce chuckles. Hell, it’s probably past midnight and you’re still able to find ways to be terribly funny. Literally terrible. After a beat of silence, he clears his throat. “I’ll clear my schedule.” It didn’t need much anticipation or thought because despite everything going on in his life, he knows he’ll do just about anything for you. You’re practically beaming at him and he finally sees it’s all worth it in the end. “Thank you, Bruce.” Your voice is sweet, and it makes his heart swell ever so slightly.

He sometimes wishes the two of you weren’t trapped in this loophole of unsaid confessions and hidden strong emotions for the other.

It almost comes naturally when he leans to you and presses a swift kiss to your forehead. Instead, it’s contradicting everything the two of you consider normal. He isn’t thinking straight and now your smile has disappeared, mouth agape and eyes very wide. Your brain stops.

Uh, what the hell just happened?

It hits him like a punch to the gut and the growing awkward silence is deafening. Yet, he doesn’t apologise because if he does, it doesn’t mean anything when in reality, it means so much more than just an accidental gesture. You don’t mention anything because you don’t objectify his actions. Kissing Bruce was fine when there are no strings attached but a peck to the forehead is way too affectionate for the man.

Before the both of you begin to overthink the events of a few moments ago, Bruce’s rational conscience kicks in and he clears his throat. “Get some sleep. You had a long day today.” He pats you on the shoulder awkwardly and you hum, shifting your head to lay back on the pillow. “Yesterday.” you correct him as it’s well past midnight. He chuckles, now laying flat on his back as he stares at the ceiling. Silently, the two of you agree to forget whatever happened a minute ago and to just...sleep it off.

TAGLIST:

@raineeace

[qianoir]

IT3D 2 - Galaga vs. ET

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: college students!WayV x Chinese fem!reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: non-idol au, college au

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ (Do not interact if you are under 18)

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: heavy cursing (censored), mentions of sex, nudity, love octogon, foreign humor, overbearing parents

♡ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.2k

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @eggbutnotyolk @d1nne @fanficbitchwhowriteskpop @staysstrays

Preview < 1 < 2 < 3

Your stomach started to churn during the lesson so you pulled out a handful of white rabbit candy from the front pocket of your bag. There was more candy than school supplies in your bag so you generously handed a few each to Xiaojun and Kun, whose empty tummies thanked you greatly. The professor soon closed the lecture and the three of you headed out together.

"I don't suppose either of you guys have dance next?" You ask the two boys with a slight laugh.

Both shook their heads. Kun pulled out his schedule, "I have biology." Xiaojun was searching for something or someone behind you as he spoke, "My next class isn't until 2. I'm gonna go try to find one of my other friends. I'll see you guys later?" Kun and you farewelled Xiaojun’s take off.

"Come on, I'll walk you to the dance studio." Kun offered his arm, which you accepted. "You know where dance class is, but you aren't in it?" Kun shook his head, "One of my friends takes dance, as well. He got so lost this morning, I had to help him find the hall."

"Wow I wish I had a friend like you four hours ago.." You told him, remembering Xuejiao and her useless a.ss. Kun smiled, "He should still be in there. He has like 3 dance classes mixed in his schedule." You took note of this and unlinked your arm from Kun's as he delivered you to the dance hall. "Thank you for walking me."

"No problem. I'll catch you around. Good luck!" Kun waved good-bye as you walked into the studio. Immediately, you were hit with shocking sound waves and saw a few very skilled dancers performing some contemporary urban routine. You walked along the far wall to the back corner of the room to put your stuff down then unpacked your dance clothes and walked into the dressing rooms.

Dressing rooms in China are usually very strictly organized to separate genders. The room you walked into did not clearly decipher what gender it was made for, so you could only hope you chose the correct one. You turned a corner housing unoccupied lockers and.. a man fully clothed in ballet attire.. thankfully. The beautiful Asian man looked up from fixing his tights.

"I'm so sorry I thought this was the women's dressing room!" You stuttered, blushing in uncomfy embarrassment.

The man chuckled at you and stood up straight. "You're fine. Everything on this campus is co-ed." He said with a small eye roll. "Oh.. that's a little.. discomforting.." You said, dragging your eyes to the floor to avoid staring at the beautiful man's beautiful body.

He pointed to your dance clothes. "You're taking ballet?" You nodded. "So am I. The class is about to start.. you should get ready quickly." He walked past you, out into the studio.

The strange encounter gave you chills. You wondered if he was the friend Kun mentioned. After all, he was the fourth Asian guy you had seen today. Am I just like a magnet for cute Asian boys?

Taking his advice, you quickly got dressed and slipped out into the dance room where the instructor was already giving his new term speech. You tried to attract as little attention as possible as you walked to sit in an empty space on the floor, which was a little further ahead from the boy you previously met.

"So enough about myself, let's go around the room and have each of you introduce yourself and tell us about your dance background. Starting with blondie over there." The instructor points to a pretty girl with dyed blonde hair.

"Hi, I'm Hyo Yeon Kim, I'm from Incheon, South Korea and I have been dancing mainly hip hop since I was seven years old."

The class claps and this continues for every student. Then it's his turn. He sits up straight and waves around the room as he introduces himself.

"Hi, I'm Sicheng Dong. I'm from Wenzhou, China and I have specialized in traditional Chinese dance since I was 10 years old."

So Sicheng is his name..

Suddenly, the studio door bursts open with a petite Asian boy panting like he just ran the Great Wall.

"S.. sorry.. I'm late.. I slept through the alarms.. I never set." The boy fixes his dance clothes which were thrown carelessly over his body.

"That's ok, son. Come in and introduce yourself and tell us about your dance history." The instructor motions for him to join the group. The boy suddenly has so much energy and brightly greets us, waving his hand high in the air.

"Hi everyone!! My name is Chittaphon “Ten" Leechaiyapornkul! I'm from Bangkok, Thailand and I have been dancing since the womb!!" Everyone laughs at his personality, except Sicheng, who just rolls his eyes, but still smiles at the bubbly boy. Ten takes a seat on the floor next to Sicheng who offers him a hi-five. I guess all the Asians keep it tight here, huh?

"We're almost done, you there, go ahead." The instructor points to you and you straighten your spine before speaking.

"Hi, I'm Y/N. I'm from Hong Kong and I have been dancing contemporary ballet since I was eight years old."

"Very good, Y/N. I think you will fit in nicely with our ballet class." The instructor nods at you before addressing the whole class, "Right, so we will continue to get into actual dancing in the next class. Thank you all for showing up, even if not on time." Everyone turns to Ten who just smiles cheekily in return. "Class dismissed."

You pick yourself up from the floor and decide to wait until everyone has changed to change yourself, since the idea of co-ed dressing rooms still doesn't sit well in your mind. While you wait in the corner, Ten and Sicheng walk towards you.

“Y/N, right?" Ten asks. "Yes, that's me." You smile. "We should hang out sometime! We have a whole clique of native Chinese friends you could be a part of."

"Actually I think I may have already met some of them. Do you know Dejun Xiao and Kun Qian?"

Ten nods enthusiastically. "Wow small world! I'll add you to a group chat with all of us. Give me your phone!" Ten takes your phone from your hands and starts typing your number on his own. The device is suddenly buzzing with new message notifications as it is returned to your hands.

"I can't be late to my next class- we can meet up later! See you, Y/N!!” Ten rushes out of the studio, leaving you and Sicheng alone in the corner.

"Sorry if he scared you. He can be a bit hyper." Sicheng says with a small grin. You wave him off, "It's fine. You should go change now."

"Are you waiting for me to change so you can be alone in the dressing room?" You stay silent. "If you've been taking dance classes since you were eight, you should learn that going out of your comfort zone is essential." Sicheng teases, but offers another option, "There is a better place to change if you're that uncomfortable with it, come on."

Sicheng leads you into the dressing room where you are met with various colors of boobs and a.ss cracks. You just look up and let Sicheng guide the rest of the way. You hear him giggle at your flushed face. You arrive at a spatial closet that is filled with hi-tech film equipment. "This is one of the theatre storage closets. Xiaojun and I hang out here a lot."

Sicheng looks around the room while you stand there, bag in hand and ready to change. His eyes land on you awaiting awkwardly in front of him and he realizes, "Oh sorry! I'll leave you to change." Sicheng apologizes and rushes out of the closet. You laugh at the quirkiness of the cute boy and start getting dressed up again.

Walking out of the storage closet, you see Sicheng waiting in the empty dressing room. He holds up your schedule as he notices you coming out. "You dropped this and I couldn't help but see you're free for a couple of hours. I was wondering if you wanted to get lunch with me and the rest of the guys in the group chat Ten added you to? My treat." He says, handing back your schedule.

You stuff the paper back into your bag, "I would love to."

"Awesome. Let's go."

The two of you walked around the campus and met up with five other Asian guys by the sculpted fountains, three of them being Xiaojun, Kun, and Ten. Xiaojun and Kun noticed you immediately. "Hey nice to see you again. I see you've met Winwin and Ten." You look at Xiaojun confused. "Winwin?"

"That's my nickname." Sicheng blushes. "You can call me 'Win.' It sounds manlier." He puffs his chest a little.

“Y/N, this is Lucas and Hendery. Hendery is from Macau and Lucas is from Hong Kong, like you!" Kun introduced you and Lucas gave you a hi-five, "Waaah what's up, little Hong Konger!?" You laugh as his hi-five pulls you into a bro-hug, where your face painfully smacks into his hard chest. "It's been a while since I've met someone from my hometown. What are you doing in America?" Lucas asked you.

"My parents wanted me to attend an Ivy League to become the best doctor in Hong Kong, so here I am with painful irony." You answered. "Cool, cool. I'm studying animal biology. I love animals, especially puppies."

"You are a puppy!" Ten calls out and everyone agrees. "We actually have a dog and two cats hidden in our dorm, but don't tell the DA." Lucas puts a finger to his lips.

"GUYS LOOK WHAT I JUST SCORED! THEY'RE GIVING OUT FREE CONDOMS!!"

The annoying, orange-haired, Taiwanese kid from your chem class ran to all of you with like 20 unopened condoms in his hands. All of the guys facepalmed and you just rolled your eyes at more of his immature behavior. Yangyang’s eyes fell on you and hid all of the condoms behind his back as he screeched, "What the hell guys!? Why did you invite a chick to hang out with us?? We can't have a girl knowing our manly secrets!"

"B!tch, you and I both know those aren't going to fit your 5’8” a.ss." You motioned to the golden X-tra large rubbers hiding behind his back. The guys except Yangyang laughed when his face started turning red, proving the accuracy of your assumptions.

"You two know each other?" Asked Xiaojun. "We have a.. history." Yangyang narrowed his eyes at you, stuffing the condoms into his backpack without breaking visual contact. "Get over yourself. We only met this morning." You scoffed. The young boy stuck his tongue out at me like he had done once before.

"Let's go eat. I'm starving." Hendery groans.

The group walks to the dining hall where different restaurants are catered to the students and staff. It was decided to eat at a Hawaiian rooftop grill. You sat near the edge with a great view of Manhattan. Winwin sat on your right with Lucas and Kun next to him. Xiaojun sat across from you with Hendery and Yangyang on his side, and Ten at the front of the long table. You looked over the menu placed in your hands.

"Get whatever you want, ok?" Win told you and you complied with thanks. The guys ordered a bunch of food for the table as well as for themselves; you ordered a simple ahi tuna poke bowl.

Upon the food’s arrival, Kun starts a conversation. "How is everyone's first day going?"

"My professor hit my wrist with a ruler because I said Galaga sucked." Yangyang answered. "You had it coming. You think ET: The Video Game should have made a comeback." Xiaojun attacked.

"None of you fools gave ET a chance." Yangyang crossed his arms and looked away.

"My calc professor ate an egg and bacon biscuit from Tim Hortons, then fell asleep." Win said as he stuffed his cheeks with macaroni salad.

"Did he ever wake up?" You wheezed and asked him.

"No."

"Hendery what's on your neck?"

"He got that good-good on the first day- my man!" Yangyang said with his cheeks full.

"Some kid in my aerophysics class launched a bottle rocket into my neck. It really hurts." Hendery replied, rubbing the sore area.

"D.amn."

...

"This dude in my psych class kinda packing no homo." Everyone groaned at Xiaojun’s comment, Ten just smiled and beamed him up.

Everyone finished eating and you offered to pay for yourself, but Winwin wouldn't allow it. You all walked back to the fountains you had met up. Yangyang, Hendery, and Kun left for their next class together. "What do you have next?" Win asked you. "I have biology." You replied.

"Oh you're with us!" You looked over at Lucas and Ten. Turning back to Winwin, "I'll see you later. Maybe we could have a movie night sometime this week, just you and me?" He proposed. "Sure. That sounds fun. Also thank you for buying me lunch, it was yummy." Win smiled at you. "No problem. I'll text you tonight." You nodded and parted ways with the lovely boy who walked with Xiaojun- the other lovely boy.

You walked off with the three Chinese boys, not looking forward to biology, but glad to spend the hour with your cool new friends.

To be continued…

*DA = dorm advisor

𝘲𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘳

[greatbigbellies]

Another continuation of THESE TWO stories. In part three, Leo finds himself even MORE pregnant than last time. Will he still fit in his living room? Find out! Contains allusions to sex, (basically) rapid preg, hyperpregnancy, weight gain, and belly worship. Enjoy!

Leo looked himself over in his full length mirror, in awe at just how much his body had changed over the last two and a half years. It had been about six months since he had successfully delivered he and Marko’s 50 beautiful kids, and as much as his body had recovered, it had also changed as well. His chest was noticeably larger, but even more so was his hips, widened by his extraordinary pregnancy. Some of the pregnancy weight had stuck too, giving him much thicker thighs and a squishier booty. Overall, he was significantly more pear shaped than when he’d started, and overall, he was okay with that. Marko certainly didn’t mind…

Leo smirked. “I can feel you staring,” he said, able to sense when Marko was ogling him. Marko stepped through te door with a playful sigh, “I still don’t know how you do that. I didn’t make a sound!” he said, stepping up next to Leo, pulling him in by his waist. Marko kissed the top of Leo’s head, causing Leo to smooch him on the cheek, in turn. “What’s going through your mind hon? You’ve been checking yourself out in the mirror for almost ten minutes now,” asked Marko. Leo sighed, “I dunno babe… I’m just… is it weird that I really, REALLY miss being pregnant?” he asked.

Marko shook his head, placing a hand on Leo’s flat, empty tummy. “You carried those little guys for two years, you kinda got used to it…” he smiled, “Besides, we both really enjoyed ourselves with it...” Their gazes met in a loving, slightly charged eye contact, and Leo began picking up on the signals Marko was sending. “Would you… be up for doing it again?” Marko finally asked. Leo’s mouth curled into a mischievous grin, “Only if we can go bigger this time?” he asked. Now it was Marko’s turn to smile, “Like… time and a half?” he asked. Leo shook his head, “Bigger,” “...double?” “A LOT bigger,” Markos eyes went wide. 

“Babe you were full of 50 last time, how much bigger do you want to go!?” asked Marko incredulously. “Why don’t we set ourselves up with fertility treatments, and see where life takes us? Numbers and quotas aren’t sexy, chance is sexy,” Marko’s breath grew a little shaky, “Are you sure you can handle going bigger this time?” Leo smiled, “I’m excited to push my boundaries!” he replied.

Marko pulled him in for a deep kiss, “Your ambition is also sexy,” he whispered. Leo stood on his tiptoes and whispered back into Marko’s ear, “Then what say you we get to work tonight?” he offered. Marko scooped him up in his strong arms, carrying him bride style and turning toward their bed, “I thought you’d never ask!”

And get to work they did. Frequent trips to the local fertility clinic and regular “sessions” in bed quickly showed that Leo’s ability to conceive mid-pregnancy had not waned, but actually increased, much to the surprise of medical experts everywhere. As the two experimented, hey found that Leo was growing SO pregnant that one could actually see him slowly grow larger by the second after the couple had fooled around, a fact Leo would take some time to adjust to…

2 months later

“Are you sure you don’t want to just… email the guy?” asked Marko, a little worriedly, in the drivers seat of the couple’s van. “I want to at least attend ONE class in person, even if I’m too big for the desks!” replied Leo from the passengers seat, squeezed between the back of the chair and the glove compartment. His belly, while still in the first trimester, had ballooned to look quintuplet heavy, and that was a conservative estimate. In order to maintain some modesty at his size, he wore a sleek, black, belly support belt, which covered his underbelly. Over that were dress slacks, which paired well with his maternity button-up dress shirt. The shirt only BARELY reached to the hem of the support belt, but overall, he looked sharp, and it was clear an attempt was made.

“I know you want to take some classes and eventually earn a degree, but… aren’t you making it a little hard for yourself like this?” asked Marko. Leo shook his head, “Naw hon, it’s all part of my master plan. See, I waddle in like THIS,” he gave his belly a hearty pat, “and gain instant sympathy, then I tell the instructor I’m growing too large to get around, and he’ll switch me to his online course, AND grade everything I do with a curve! Because clearly the tired, hugely pregnant guy is doing his best!” Leo grinned a troublesome grin, “meanwhile I’m stuffing my face, getting foot rubs, and half-assing all of my assignments for easy college credits!” Marko shook his head, a little exasperated. “You’re such a little slytherin,” he said, getting out of the car.

He circled around and opened the door for Leo, helping him get to his feet. He gave him a little smooch on the head for luck, “You don’t think our little escapade before you got dressed for this is going to be a problem, do you?” he asked. Leo shrugged, “more belly, more sympathy,” he replied with a little smirk, before turning to waddle away. Marko turned on his heel, and shifted back into the divers seat. He wondered if Leo could make it through the whole class. “He’s grown to love the attention though,” he said to himself, “So maybe he’ll be okay…”

Leo DID love the attention. Compared to his outing at the mall so very long ago, the pregnant man had come to revel in the stares he received. Sure, some were stares of confusion, but more so there were stares of admiration, and curiosity. In some rarer cases, he even noticed a couple stares of jealousy, and a little lust. Leo knew full well that Marko wasn’t the only person into sizable midriffs, he just wasn’t expecting to see so many others. And he could certainly tell who was who in this case. The stolen glances and subdued blushes were all the proof he needed.

When he reached the classroom and stepped through the door, his sizable belly entered before the rest of him, and immediately he was the center of attention. The space was set up like a theatre, with rows of seats lined up, bolted to the floor, with little folding desks built into the arm rests. Cautiously, Leo made his way down the shallow steps toward a middle row, his tummy blocking his view of his feet, making each step a little more treacherous than he liked. He squeezed into a spot toward the right side of the room, close to the door so he could leave easily.

Leo’s wide hips and ass meant he filled the WHOLE seat, with a little overflow, and the front of his tummy brushed against the back of the seat in front of him. He was really starting to feel his size. The other students were clearly trying to be polite, but it wasn’t a secret they were all eyeing him, all secretly wondering if he’d go into labor right then and there. If only they knew… thought Leo with a smirk. 

He tried unfolding the desk to write on, but… his oversized belly just got in the way. He tried everything short of brute force to try to get it to unfold for use, but alas, he took up too much space. He shrugged, and grabbed his notebook from his bag, resigned to use his belly shelf as a table. That was when he felt something shift deep within his body. “Oh no,” he whispered.

He’d started growing again. Marko had been right.

Leo realized that maybe sex right before class wasn’t such a great idea, but it was too late now. Leo felt his button up shirt grow increasingly tight, and the stitches on his slacks and belly belt strain as his body stretched for new occupants. He fought against the friction of is own thighs against the arm rests as he tried to get up, the slowly increasing weight of his belly not doing him any favors. He felt something rip, and jerked up rapidly in response, which just caused a button on his shirt to pop off. PING! It bounced off of the whiteboard, and Leo felt a blush of embarrassment roll across his face.

Everyone was actively staring now, and Leo needed to vacate, quickly. Turning with a wide breadth, he started waddling back up the steps. PING! Another button popped off as his belly belt rode down, exposing more of his bare, pale tummy. He threw his notebook back in his bag and dug for his phone, needing to get ahold of Marko. He could feel his pregnant belly slowly stretch itself bigger, and for the first time, Leo wondered if they overdid it on the fertility drugs.

He burst through the door with surprising speed for a man in his condition, and finally found his cell. Speed dialing Marko, he heard his belly belt pop a little with each step, the elastic failing as he continued to grow. “C’mon, c’mon, pick up!” he pleaded. Leo felt his belly start to widen out, and realized that his belly belt was just growing too tight to be safe. Taking a deep breath, he yanked the belt down, causing his huge and heavy tummy to flop downward form the lack of support.

“Hello? Is everything okay?” Marko finally picked up. “No! This was a mistake! I started growing in class and I’m too big for everything now! Come pick me up!” Leo hissed into the receiver, trying not to make any more of a scene. “Alright, just, go to where I dropped you off, I’ll be right there!” Leo hung up and began waddling toward the exit, his tummy swaying a little more with each heavy step. He could feel his weight increasing as he moved, and swore his midriff wasn’t the only thing swelling up.

He left the college building just in time to watch Marko pull up, getting out to open the car door for his poor husband. Marko’s eyes grew wide when he saw how much Leo had grown in such a short span of time. He ran to meet him halfway and help Leo back to the van. Right as Leo sat down fully, he felt his slacks split open at the seams on the side, letting out a resounding RRRRRIIIP! As his thighs became exposed. Marko quickly shut the door to preserve any privacy Leo still had, and scurried back to the drivers side, hopping in and driving away. 

Leo’s hands covered his face as his cheeks burned with a vibrant blush. He couldn’t believe he’d let that happen. “Are… you okay hon?” asked Marko. Leo nodded, his hands not leaving his face. “Yeah… I’m just going to switch to online classes and never show my face there again. It’s fine,” he whimpered. Marko felt bad for him, that had to be embarrassing. “Would… some ice cream make you feel better?” he offered. Leo slid his hands down, giving Marko the cutest look. “A gallon of sherbet would be nice…” he replied. Marko smirked, “...and some tummy rubs while you eat it?” he sweetened the deal. 

“Mhmmm…” “...and… maybe a little more than just a tummy rub?” Marko offered. Leo smiled for the first time since he got in the car. “You know that’s what got us into this mess,” said Leo. “I know… but we’re out of this mess, and you said it yourself, you’re going to switch to online right away. What’s the harm?” Leo, without breaking eye contact, firmly gripped the sides of his shirt, and pulled them apart, popping the rest of the buttons. “You just wanna get your hands on this tummy, don’t’cha?” he teased. Marko turned bright red, and sped up the car. He had ice cream to get.

5 months later

“You think it was a bit much to rent out an entire theatre for just us?” asked Leo, his massive, gravid form slowly squeezing through the double doors. “Not at all, we’re sneaking in 95 extra people, I’d say we’re getting our money’s worth!” joked Marko, helping Leo navigate the tight confines of the wide movie theatre halls. Leo’s belly, now the size of a small car, was supported by a makeshift frame with rotatable wheels, with a soft pillowy top to make it more comfortable. It creaked under the massive weight of Leo’s pregnant belly, which audibly sloshed with amniotic fluid. Thankfully, the ramp down to the center seats was wide, though Leo could still feel the walls brush against the sides of his tummy.

“Alright, gonna turn you left now,” warned Marko as he walked to the side of Leo’s belly, squeezing between it and the wall. With more grunting than he was proud of, he turned Leo 90 degrees to the side, meaning he could now move forward down to their spot, smack in the center of the empty theatre, the perfect view. “I’m not TOO pregnant, am I?” asked Leo, seeing how out of breath Marko was after the effort. “Nonsense -HUFF- honey, in fact, I intend to make you -HUFF- even more so tonight!” he teased in response.

Leo’s footfalls were slow, but heavy, as his gravid body had swelled pretty much everywhere but his face. His ass and hips were wide enough for two seats, and his breasts had expanded considerably in order to ramp up milk production for later. Really, even with his mammoth midriff, he was still a sight to behold. After what felt like ages, they had finally reached the center-most seats. Leo noticed an extra wide one had been installed at a 90 degree angle, allowing him to sit comfortably and watch the film without being blocked by his belly.

“How did you pull this off?” Asked Leo. Marko winked. “I have my ways,” he answered. Leo slowly lowered himself into the seat, the soft cushions feeling good on his aching, pregnant body. He sighed in relief, happy to get off of his feet, and just reveled in being pampered by his husband to the point of theatre remodeling. He felt special. “This whole experience would really go well with some carmel corn… OH or some red vines!” Leo began feeling the pangs of pregnancy cravings. 

Marko’s proud smile grew into a smug grin as he slid past Leo’s gargantuan belly, shuffling around in some bags. “What’s you doing hon?” asked Leo. Marko quickly made his way back to a place Leo could reach, before handing him a bag of caramel corn, and a drum of red vines. “I had a feeling you would want these,” Leo took the candy and gestured for Marko to lean forward, which he did, before placing a playful little peck of a kiss on his nose. “You’re adorable. Now sit down, the lights are dimming!

Marko took his seat next to his massive husband, a hand idly resting on the pregnant belly as the lights went out and the film began, kicking off a lovely evening.

8 months later

Leo was glad they had such an open floor plan in their house. Not only did it add a lot of brightness to the space, but it gave him a place within the house where he could FIT. Now carrying somewhere in the neighborhood of 270 to 300 babies, the doctors aren’t sure on specifics, his astoundingly large belly had the volume of a city bus, though retained a vaguely orbular shape. He’d been immobile for a while now, though aside from some cabin fever, Marko was able to provide everything he needed to be happy. Marko was now a stellar cook, and was great at getting what Leo wanted before the man even had to ask for it.

Right now though, Marko was relaxing, playing on his switch and lounging, where else, but atop Leo’s gigantic belly. At this point the widened apex of tummy skin was less of a shelf and more of a mattress, and the large curve of skin was so warm and inviting to Marko. He’d seen every inch of this belly countless times, but he as still amazed at it. Marko’s nightly cocoa butter rubs had been doing their job, as Leo didn’t have a single stretchmark on his person, even when carrying around 300 babies.

“How’s you town coming?” asked Leo, resting on the couch. His butt took up two cushions, and was now wide enough that it would impede passage through doorways if his tummy didn’t do that already. “Really good! I just got Audie to move in! And my garden looks so cute!” Leo pursed his lips in thought, “Which one is Audie? Is she the fox one?” he asked. “I mean… she’s ‘supposed’ to be a wolf but she looks like a fox…” replied Marko. He gently sat up, scooting to the left broadside of Leo’s tummy, and sliding down, nintendo switch in hand. He landed with a solid THUNK and walked over to Leo’s side. “You know that’s got to be hell on your knees,” advised Leo. Marko shrugged, “You’re not wrong, but like… it’s so fun to do that,”

Leo jokingly rolled his eyes and looked at the handheld screen, taking in Marko’s painstakingly curated garden. “Are those… trans pride colors?” asked Leo, pointing to a strip of blue, pink, and white along the right side of the flower beds. Marko grinned. “Yeah, that section is for you! And if you count, I have 52 total flowers in place, two for us, and 50 for the kids!” The pair smiled warmly. “You’re going to need a MUCH bigger garden here in about a week…” said Leo, his hands resting on his massive boobs, pushed to the sides by his even more massive tummy.

“Oh don’t worry, I’ve already started stockpiling more...” Marko trailed off. “Something on your mind, honey?” asked Leo. Marko shook his head slowly, before changing his tune. “I’m just… really, REALLY, going to miss this tummy of yours. And I’m trying to think of how to make the most of these last few days without seeming too needy, y’know?” he explained. Leo sighed and smiled. “Honey you’re NOT needy for wanting some extra tummy time before I pop. If anything I’M the needy one in this relationship. You do all the work! I just sit here and gestate!” Marko blushed. “I mean yeah but being pregnant is work in and of itself, especially THIS pregnant! Like I don’t want to do anything you aren’t comfortable with,” Leo placed a hand on Marko’s shoulder. He would have used both hands, but he couldn’t reach past his own chest. 

“Marko. My love. You have my full, complete, and enthusiastic permission do to whatever you would like to with my belly, for the next seven days. Whether is be painting again, massaging, dressing up, touching, lotioning… whatever. Go absolutely nuts babe. Consider it a gift for taking such good care of me!” said Leo. Marko’s eyes glittered and cheeks flushed bright red at the possibilities. He giddily bounced in place, “Are you sure?! You can rescind that offer at any point, it’s okay!” Marko said in a fast, excited tempo. Leo nodded. “I know, but I don’t plan to. This is your week babe, starting right now!”

The first thing Marko did was plant a firm, deep kiss onto Leo’s lips, which Leo leaned into passionately in turn. “You’re the best babe!” Marko said, bolting around to the front of Leo’s gargantuan belly. “What are you doing?” laughed Leo, having to shout so his voice would carry to the far end of his tum. “This!” Marko pressed his whole body into Leo’s belly, his hand working its way to his popped navel. He began rubbing tiny circles around it, occasionally stopping to poke it. Leo was sensitive there, and Marko knew it.

At the same time, he began planting kisses of increasing duration over Leo’s taught skin, which riled up some movement from inside. “Oohhh, they seem to like that…” said Leo. “do you?” asked Marko. Leo paused, “...Yeah,” Marko began alternating between kissing and licking Leo’s distended, hyperpregnant midriff, eliciting groans and coos of pleasure from Leo. Marko then did something he never had before, and left a delightful little hickey on the aft of Leo’s tummy. He stopped, waiting for a response. A few long seconds passed before Leo asked “did you just… give me a hickey?” Marko blushed so hard you could hear it in his voice. “Maybe… I won’t do it again if you don’t want me to. I know you pride yourself on your blemishless tumm-” “Do it again,”

Now Marko paused. “You sure? Cause I’m gonna get really into it…” “That felt like nothing I’ve ever had before. Please do it again,” Leo responded. Marko didn’t hesitate to fulfill his request, and left three more in semi-rapid succession, before retuning to kissing and affectionately worshipping the belly. It was going to be a good week for Marko.

[comfortwriting]

A Walk To Remember - R.W

Ron Weasley x Fem Reader - Part 1/2

Masterlist, Request Rules, Part 2

A/N: To the lovely angel that requested this, thank you so much - this has been so therapeutic and enjoyable for me to write; thank you for being so patient and kind. I hope I’ve done this right!

Based HEAVILY on the movie: A Walk To Remember.

Warnings: mention of cancer, death, heavy theme of religion and god, blasphemy, fluff, sadness. 

Since Ron and Harry fell out in fourth year because of the Triwizard Tournament, Ron unfortunately found himself surrounded by the wrong people, he didn’t have Harry anymore - his one true best friend and he didn’t have Hermione anymore to keep him level-headed. Ron wasn’t himself and everyone could see it, he cared more about his social status than being a good classmate, and a good wizard. 

His parents were sending more Howlers to Ron than they had ever sent to Fred and George, no one could recognise him from the kid who put himself in the line of fire to protect Harry and Hermione when they were trying to retrieve the Philosopher stone, but you - you still wanted to see the good in him, you knew under the ridiculous attitude and his stupid behaviour, lay a heart of gold and lots of potential.

“He’s late again.” Lavender rolled her eyes, standing around in the dark, looking at the Hannah Abbott .

“Ron will turn up, don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Hannah replied, continuing her conversation with Dean Thomas.

“Took him long enough.” Seamus pointed towards a very tired Ron walking alongside Nigel Wolpert from a few years below.

Ron and Nigel continued to walk towards the rest of the group, Nigel shivering every now and then in his thin plaid pyjamas. Finally meeting up with the rest of the group the six of them continued their stroll to the Great Lake. 

“Sleep well?” Hannah taunted Ron.

Ron shot her a sarcastic smile “brilliant, actually.” 

Lavender instantly tried making a move on Ron but he blew her off “if you want to have a dance go and ask Neville.” causing everyone but Nigel to go on a tangent about how geeky, strange and pathetic the herbology student was. 

Nigel wanted to speak out to defend Neville but in front of such cool people, especially Ron, he didn’t want to ruin his chances of climbing up the social ladder. 

“So what is it that I have to do?” Nigel beamed up at Ron.

Obviously getting into any friendship group requires some sort of need to prove yourself, whether it’s promising to not share secrets, to never date another's ex, the usual ‘bro’ and ‘girl code’ but when it came down to this group, they would go to unfair and extreme lengths. 

 Dean, Seamus, Lavender and Hannah all stood at the edge of the lake, smirking. 

“go on, tell him.” Seamus glided his outstretched hand, presenting the lake to Nigel.

“Well, uh, Nigel - you’re going to go for a swim in that lake, mate.” Ron tried to act coolly, unbothered and the least concerned. 

Nigel’s face dropped, starting to panic. “But there's Merpeople in there, Grindylows - the Giant Squid!”

“It won’t be that bad” Hannah laughed. 

“Yeah, dear Ron will be going in with you.” Lavender bit on her lip, staring at Ron.

Ron remembered to keep his act up, “yeah, you won’t be going in there alone” he lied. 

Nigel nodded his head and agreed to go through with the orders he had been given, he took of his pyjamas and was left freezing cold in his boxers, he turned around to look at a fully clothed Ron.

“Are you not getting undressed?” 

Ron shook his head, his arms folded. “Nah, I’m sensitive to cold temperatures, reminds me of uh.. you know.”

Nigel remembered the second challenge during the Triwizard tournament, not wanting to ask any questions or mention Harry and Hermione. 

Nigel and Ron got closer to the lake, Nigel tipping on the edge. 

“We’ll go on the count of three, alright?” 

Nigel continued to shiver, nodding his head and wrapping his arms around him to keep him warm. 

“Three, two, one!”

Instead of joining Nigel and swimming, Ron pushed the younger student into the Lake, causing him to fall head first into the water. The group broke into laughter, yelling at Nigel and cheering but the cheers soon turned into screams and sheer panic. 

Nigel tried to swim but couldn’t his body went into shock due to the temperature of the water, and his fear of being attacked and dragged away by the residents under the water. His arms waved up above him as his head went under. 

“Someone do something!” Lavender yelled, “Ron!”

Ron swore under his breath and quickly stripped out of his pyjamas, making a rope for Nigel to grab to pull him aside. Whilst Ron hurried into the water, grabbing a hold of Nigel’s arm, trying to get him out of the water. Nigel’s head fell back and his breaths shallowed, his lips and skin turning blue.

The yells coming from Mr Filch rang out through the school grounds - panicking everyone. 

“We’ve got to go!” Hannah grabbed Lavender’s arm “if we get caught we could get expelled!” 

“Hurry up, Ron!” Dean hissed, following the girls. 

Seamus stayed for a moment as Ron got closer to the the edge he and Nigel were standing minutes ago, Ron got all of strength and lifted Nigel up, placing him down on the grass, Seamus pulled Nigel back and helped Ron out of the water. 

Once Ron got back on his feet Mr Filch and now a yelling Hagrid stormed across the grounds, getting closer and closer to the three boys.

“We’ve got to go now!” Seamus glared “leave him here, he’ll be fine, lets go!” 

Ron going against everything good within him, fled with Seamus and left Nigel, alone and inches from death. 

Unfortunately, to Ron’s distaste, he didn’t get away with what happened that night - his friends did, but thanks to Professor Snape, he didn’t. Ron got caught moments before he got to the common room, Seamus miles in front of him. Ron spun his impressive web of lies, although Snape didn’t believe him - but everyone else did. 

Stuffing toast into his mouth his eyes locked with yours for a moment whilst you took a sip from your goblet, you and Ron had known each other even before Hogwarts, you shared almost every class together, but that didn’t make you friends - you were far from it.

Deterring himself from your gaze, Seamus laughed.

“Stare any longer and your the pumpkin juice in your goblet will turn to wine.” Seamus teased.

“or my potions book will become a bible” Ron teased back.

You were a half-blood, your mother a witch and your strict religious dad a muggle - you found it hard to believe at times that you were even allowed to attend Hogwarts but your dad wanted the time that you had left to be enjoyable, he even moved to Hogsmeade so he wasn’t too far away if you needed him. 

Ron and Seamus both swore under their breaths as Professor McGonagall stormed towards them.

“Mr Weasley, a word in my office.”

Professor McGonagall sat down, picking up her long piece of parchment that sat on her desk “after being caught up in such a serious incident, don’t think for one moment that you will go unpunished.”

Ron slouched in his chair and grinded his teeth.

“For this term, every weekday after dinner you will be helping the house elves clean down in the kitchens, every Saturday mornings you will be helping a handful of first years with their brooms bright and early! and you will also be taking part in a theatre production in Hogsmeade for the rest of your Saturday, to ensure that you won’t skive, you will be transported to Hogsmeade with other students.” 

Ron’s face dropped, everything he hated all mixed together had been thrown on upon him whether he liked it or not, and worst of all, he couldn’t get himself out of it if he wanted to graduate. 

Dean, Seamus, Hannah and Lavender found it hilarious seeing Ron clean up with the house elves, they too mocked you and your faith in god every chance they had.

Walking outside to join the rest of the students in Hogsmeade, you heard Lavender’s laughs from behind you. 

“Oh Ronald just look at her, she’s as helpless as it gets. Clinging onto that bible as if her life depends on it.”

Ron stayed quiet, his eyes burning into the same sweater you wore every single day without fail. 

“We should go together sometime” Lavender spoke out again at Ron.

Ron looked at his ex and almost grimaced “I’m not doing that again alright? we’ve been through this.”

Ron departed from his group, waving goodbye and walking slowly behind everyone else. Noticing Ron behind you, you slowed down so you could walk next to him - you were always alone when you went to Hogsmeade and you felt like having some company before your theatre class.

“So, you’re going to be in my group right?” you smiled, hoping the small talk wasn’t that bad.

Ron ignored you, continuing to follow the other students. 

You didn’t want to give up on the golden haired boy just yet, you didn’t know why but there was something in him that stood out to you, something his friends couldn’t see - perhaps something Harry and Hermione missed.

“I think a change of scenery will be good for you - Nigel is also recovering slowly, you should visit him-”

Ron stopped in his tracks and gave you a horrified look “don’t you have bible verses to stress over? shouldn’t you be focusing on the mythical man instead of me?”

You raised your eyebrows and felt quite taken aback, you were used to having your head bitten off but you were trying to break the ice, you weren’t pushing your faith on anyone. 

“You don’t know me at all” you replied, pursing your lips, storming past him.

You, like many of your group enjoyed theatre with a passion, the guy in your class had written the play himself and you were so proud, his writing more than a work of art and you could tell something beautiful would come from it. 

After being assigned your roles, you couldn’t help but feel satisfied knowing that Ron had a role of his own, even if he wasn’t expecting such a thing. You felt a tinge of excitement inside of you, knowing that the two of you would be spending more time together. 

Going through your lines, Ron was slouching in his chair as usual, speaking in monotone whilst he read his parts, you couldn’t understand why he didn't want to be here - to redeem himself. 

After your first class, you didn’t go back to Hogwarts with the other students, you were allowed to visit your dad whenever you needed and today you felt like spending sometime with him, going through your bible and getting the reassurance you desperately needed.  

Ron, who did not have permission to stay out, went against the rules anyway, getting himself a Butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks and some jelly slugs from Honey Dukes.

Leaving the extravagant sweet shop, Ron bumped into you, almost dropping his treats. 

“what are you still doing out?” he asked, chewing down a slug.

You smiled sheepishly at him “I could ask you the same thing” 

The two of you walked back to Hogwarts, going through the constant back and forth of him trying to test your faith and speak against god, trying to get you to reach breaking point - but it wouldn’t work. You had patience, you were full of love and you could see the beauty in everything - the exact opposite of the boy next to you. 

“you shouldn’t dumb yourself down to fit in” you sighed, snuggling into your sweater. “you should care less about your social status and more about your future.”

Ron shoved another jelly slug into his mouth “you think you know me, do you? well you don’t.” 

Ron and Seamus sat on the sofa in front of the fire, the two of them scrutinising the play, picking apart the script piece by piece and acting it out sarcastically. 

“It’s gonna be brilliant” Seamus grinned, flicking through the pages. 

“You sound like my brothers, it’s going to be a bloody nightmare.” Ron groaned, looking miserably into the flames. 

“That's why its going to be brilliant, you’re going to make a fool of yourself!”

After another week of feeling tired and nauseated, you tried your best to pull through it, focusing on god - his love - his warmth, you focused on seeing your dad at the weekend, being able to drown your fears in the path god had chosen for you. 

“Oi, y/n” Ron whispered, pulling you aside and tearing you away from your thoughts.

You stared at him and waited for him to continue talking, holding your bible to your chest.

“Look, can you help me with my lines after class on Saturday?” he asked, his mouth barely moving so everyone around him would find it hard to lip read. 

“As long as you aren’t doing it only to benefit yourself”

Ron rolled his eyes “yeah, whatever - can you help me then or what?” 

You nodded your head, ticking off a box from your list “I don’t see why not” you smiled “thanks to you I have one less box to tick”

Ron gave you a strange look, then noticed his friends walk down the hall towards the two of you. 

“We’ll go to my dads, we can practice there, but promise me one thing?”

Ron started to become inpatient “bloody hell, what?”

You took a deep breath, facing your fears “promise you won’t fall in love with me.”

Ron felt delighted, he thought making this promise was the easiest thing he had ever done in his life “I didn’t think it would be that easy.” Ron’s friends stared at him, pulling faces behind your back “I’ll see you on Saturday” he paused before walking away “I promise.”

Little did Ron know, the promise he made would be the hardest one to keep.

“Ronald Weasley?!” Your father freaked out “I’ve told you to stay away from lads like that!” 

You sighed, hearing a knock at the door, you stood up from the table “the lord preaches forgiveness, dad.”

Walking over to the door, you opened it, Ron stood there with another bag of jelly slugs, swallowing one down “can I come in then”

“Yeah - make yourself at home, wait in the living room, my script is upstairs.”

Ron walked around your living room. searching the moving faces in the picture frames, the candles on the mantle piece, pictures of Jesus and multiple mini statutes of him surrounding one another on a shrine. 

He couldn’t help but feel the hairs stand up on his neck, he wasn’t used to all this religion thrusting itself into him, the eyes of a higher being judging him for each and every sin he committed. 

“You must be Ronald.” Your father spoke out, almost making Ron jump out of his skin. 

Ron turned away from the altar, holding out his hand for your father to shake, but withdrawing it soon after your father declined.

“Thank you for-”

“I didn’t” you father spoke over him “that was y/n decision.” 

After being grilled for his behaviour from your father and running through the same romanticised script, Ron couldn’t wait to break free from it all, from judgement of the lord, your fathers none existent approval, slowly getting friendlier with you.

The more Ron noticed you, the more you stood out to him. You weren’t just the girl devoted to god that was glued to a bible - you loved animals, you thought they were magnificent and spent hours reading about them. 

After finishing breakfast you walked over to where Ron was sitting with his friends, you felt confident and excited to see him again outside of Hogwarts.  

“Will you be coming back to my place tomorrow?” you asked, smiling at him. 

Seamus started laughing, almost choking on his juice. 

Ron felt mortified, there's no way he could allow his friends to get the jump on him for being your friend. 

“yeah, in your dreams” Ron spat, making Seamus laugh more. 

Your butterflies wings felt like they had been ripped off, your smile fell and your heart ached, but you refused to curse him, instead you swallowed hard and walked away - reminding yourself that this was a good thing; he wasn’t falling in love with you. 

Playing the piano and singing with your father, the two of you were interrupted by a sudden knock on the door, you ignored it, hoping whoever it was would go away but they didn’t. Standing up, you walked over to the door and saw Ron standing in same spot as he always did on your porch.

You tried to close the door before he stopped you, shoving his hand in the way. 

“Look, don’t take it that personal, alright?” 

You crossed your arms, pulling on the sleeves of your sweater. 

“I still want your help, it’s just, you know what my friends are like.” 

You couldn’t believe your ears, you couldn’t believe how heartless Ron was in this moment. 

“Are you trying to say you want us to be friends in secret?” you faked a smile, noticing Ron’s face brighten up.

“exactly that! yeah, brilliant!” 

You however didn’t brighten up, your fake smile crumbled and your expression turned sour. Tears made your vision glassy and you felt like taking your sweater off you were that hot with anger. 

“I can’t believe you, Ron - I can’t believe I saw something good in you, let me go and cry to god about it.” you replied angrily, slamming the door in his face, going upstairs and questioning whether or not waiting the next few months out would be worth it. 

Your confession struck something in Ron and he couldn’t explain it, out of nowhere he was practicing his lines without sarcasm but with seriousness instead, he genuinely worked hard at helping first years with their brooms and even encouraged them to give Quidditch a thought. During minor dress rehearsals of the play Ron was taking constructive criticism onboard, pushing himself to do better, to remember his lines and to be a persuasive actor. 

He felt himself feeling guilty for what he had done and said to you each time his eyes landed on you, each time you shared the stage together, Ron wanted nothing more than to make things right, even if he found it to be incredibly difficult to begin with. 

You noticed these changes in Ron like you had noticed everything else about him, you could see how much the first years appreciated his hard work, how much fun he was having away from the bad influences he wanted to impress so badly - deep down you were praying that he wasn’t doing all of this just to benefit himself. 

Ron took a deep breath and walked through the hospital wing, seeing Nigel sat in his bed, reading a muggle children's book. 

“Alright, Nigel?” Ron greeted nervously, standing at the end of his bed. 

Nigel looked up at Ron and closed his book, staring at him. “Considering the fact I almost died and went into shock, I’m not too bad.”

Ron bowed his head in shame and felt like he did when his mum would scold him for misbehaving. 

“I’m really sorry mate, I am.”

Nigel looked at Ron and shook his head “I was stupid for believing you’d go in there with me, I’m asking myself if it’s stupid of me to forgive you.”

Tonight was the night you had been looking forward to the most, the one and only performance of the play - the one night you were able to get yourself dressed up - your hair and make up done, the dress you rented fitting you perfect. 

Dean, Seamus, Hannah and Lavender were sat in the front row, Lavenders camera at the ready taking pictures of Ron in his suit every chance that she could. The rest of the Weasley family were sat watching, Fred and George having the time of their lives thinking of ways to embarrass their little brother, Molly and Arthur feeling so relieved and proud that their son had started to pull himself together. 

Your father sat at the front row also, feeling excited to see you come on stage, for you to experience such a special moment in the time god had left to give you. 

The two of you read your lines, talking and acting like a couple who were in love, finally not hiding it amongst the other characters. Ron sat down in his seat and you pulled the cloak off your body and sat down next to him, continuing with your lines. 

Ron suddenly forgot his lines that he had worked so hard to remember, your presence making him feel as if he was in the presence of an angel - this was how he felt when he saw Hermione at the yule ball, only making him more determined to make things right with you. 

As soon as you revealed yourself, Lavender stopped snapping pictures and put her camera away, the jealousy she was now feeling eating away at her. Seamus had to close his mouth it was gaping open for that long, he couldn’t believe you were the same girl that wore the same sweater that only devoted herself to god. 

Fred and George stopped bitching about their brother and like everyone else, they were captivated by you, trying to find out if you had bewitched the audience or took a potion before hand.   

Reaching the last legs of the play, Ron failed to deliver his lines and had to improvise instead, his eyes roamed your angelic face and he blurted out such a compliment it made your heart skip a beat. 

“You’re beautiful”

You wanted to correct him but at the same time you felt flattered, you weren't used to compliments unless they came from your dad. Getting lost in the moment, Ron leaned in and pressed his lips against yours, the two of you sharing a kiss whilst the red curtain knitted together, putting an end to the show.

Your breath hitched in your throat, you told yourself over and over that it was just a kiss - just part of the show - nothing more, nothing less - Ron wasn’t falling for you and you couldn’t allow yourself to fall for him. 

Afterwards, Ron’s family praised him for doing such a good job, but Ron couldn’t stop himself from watching you, your father pulling you away from the big crowd. Walking out of the theatre, Ron spotted a familiar face, approaching him out of the crowd. It was Harry. 

“You did an amazing job, Ron.”

Ron stared at the lad in glasses he once called his best friend, he stared into his eyes and allowed his anger to consume him. 

“Clear off” Ron replied “I don’t want you anywhere near me.”  

Burying yourself in another book about creatures, you couldn’t help but giggle at the illustrations of Nifflers holding gold in their hands. Ron walked into the Great Hall, everyone staring at him and Lavender whispering to her friends about you and him. 

Ignoring them, Ron walked over to you and sat down beside you, seeming more cheerful than you had ever seen him. 

“Reading another book about creatures are we?” Ron smiled. 

You looked up from your book “it’s another box on my list, read one hundred books.” 

Ron smiled “I think you’re brilliant.” 

You felt a wave of irritability swirl in your stomach, you couldn’t tell if your health was crumbling even more or if it was because of Ron. 

This was it, he was falling for you and you were falling for him, the two of you breaking such a sacred and important promise, committing one of the biggest sins that reined heavily in your head. 

You stared at Ron and started to panic “what are you doing?” you barked, shutting your book “stop trying to figure me out” 

You stood up, your heart pounding in your chest, you kept drilling the path god had chosen for you into your brain, telling yourself over and over that you and Ron couldn’t happen, no matter what it couldn’t happen. 

Ron didn’t give up like he used to, instead he chased after you and trapped you into the corner outside. 

“I thought a girl like you wouldn’t be afraid” Ron said in disbelief “don’t be a plonker, y/n. Don’t deny how you felt that night, I’m not denying it-”

You put your hands over your ears, shaking your head, if he knew why you were running he wouldn’t be so forceful, you wanted to tell him the truth right there and then but you were terrified. 

“you have no idea what I feel Ron!” 

“I do and you know it! you want to be with me like I want to be with you!” 

Tears streamed down your face, your big secret sitting on the tip of your tongue, trying to pry your mouth open and set itself free. 

“I can’t!” you cried “I warned you!”

Ron stayed still and watched you walk away, his heart and head screaming at him to follow you, to kiss you one more time, to just say screw it and start over again.

[andilovetowrite]

Of Everything You Could've Said (Part 1)

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: You didn’t think going for a movie night with your best friend could turn into you icing him out. And the worst part? You weren’t even sure why you were mad at him….

Warnings: Angst to fluff. I think this could be a two-part story, but let’s see if I can finish it in one go. Mixed feelings are running through, and Peter is perplexed…A few tears, but nothing too wrong.

Using the prompts:

“I have an extra ticket… Would you like to go with me?”

“YOU SAID, TO BE HONEST, STOP HITTING ME!”

“Why the hell is there glitter everywhere?”

“I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”

Based on a request, you can find it here!

Prompt list, if you have some ideas.

Here is my Masterlist in case you want to find more of my work :)

You didn’t expect it. Let’s just put it that way. It came out of nowhere; what were you supposed to do? Or say?

Sadly, instead of handling it like an adult, you did the 2nd dumbest thing you could ever do. You shouted at him.

And now you are sitting here in your bed at 9 am on a Saturday, eating your third pint of ice cream. If anyone were to walk into your room, they would see you huddled up under 4 layers of blankets, with yesterday’s mascara running over your face. But you were quite comfortable staying right where you were. Under the cover. Out of the public eye. Out of Peter’s eye.

You groaned, not knowing what you were going to do when you eventually got up out of your ridiculously comfortable bed. Want to know what went wrong? Why you were basically a spineless bag of tears and ice cream, who doesn’t have a best friend?

Here’s how it went.

23 hours ago

“Heyo”, Peter said, his head popping into your window. His brown hair was hanging over his eyes, and you could make out the red and blue suit that was sticking out from underneath his shirt.

“Hey Pete, ready to go?” You asked, shrugging your jacket on. He nodded, which looked a bit comical due to him being upside down. You chuckled, moving closer to him. “Really? What about this little piece of fabric?” you asked, pulling his suit out a bit.

“Oh yeah… you mind me changing here?” Peter asked, jumping into your room with ease. You shook your head, smiling at what you were about to say, knowing it was going to rile Peter up.

“Please! Your naked in my room most nights anyway”, you said cheekily, turning to see Peter’s face go red.

“I don’t-wha-um that’s because-spiderman-uh”, Peter stuttered out, a vast blush lighting up his body. You laughed out loud, peering at Peter from under your eyelashes.

“I’m kidding. I’m kidding. Go change”, you said, turning away from Peter. But you couldn’t help feeling glad that you had turned around so that Peter couldn’t see a similar smile that lit up your face when you heard him grunting softly while taking off his suit. After a minute or two, he called out, telling you that he was ready.

“Where are we going again?”, he asked from behind you.

“Oh uh, my dad got 4 tickets to a movie, so he and Pepper used two of them. They gave me the other two, so I got an extra ticket. You wanna go with me?”

You kept quiet, knowing Peter was probably nodding his head enthusiastically before he remembers that you can’t see him. “Yeah, yeah I can come with you. All I have to do is Physics homework, and prepare for the Plank Test.” You turned around to see him flexing his muscles. “At least one of them is going to be a piece of cake.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, lightly punching his arm. “Okay, Mr Muscle. Let me just get my stuff”

His spiderman suit was lying on your bed, which you picked up, chucking it into the laundry vent like you did most of the time. “Alright, let’s go”, you said, but then you realized you were still wearing sweats.

Calling out to Peter, who was now talking to your dad, you asked. “Hey Pete, skirt of jeans?”

“Um, probably jeans”, your dad called out, when Peter quickly said at the same time.

“Skirts are good!”

You looked between Peter and your dad. “Uh, thanks dad, but I think I’ll just wear a skirt. It is pretty hot today.”

Your dad rolled his eyes. “When did my own daughter stop taking fashion advice from me? I’m Iron Man for god’s sakes. I was on Vogue last month! And, what if someone tries anything bad with you. Skirts are easy to access, you know?”

“Ugh, thanks, dad. But you are probably forgetting your daughter is a superhero. And so is Peter. Oh and also, it was Pepper who was on the cover. You flew in from behind to be in the shot” You said, walking back into your room and picking out a skirt. It was either the brown one, which you loved, and was comfortable… or the red one, which Peter loved. Or so you assumed. He always had a hard time forming sentences when you wore them. The choice was clear. So you picked the red one. Don’t judge! It’s not because of Peter. You just thought it would match your top, plus...you liked red.

Walking back into the hall, you saw Peter standing there, fiddling with his thumbs as your dad spoke to him, listing off some instructions.

“So always open the door, oh also, she loves reading this one series and-”

“Hey dad. Do you think we could go to the movies? Or are you gonna hog my best friend?”, you asked, smirking at the two of them. Peter looked at your dad, giving him a nervous smile for some reason.

“Bye Mr Stark”

“Bye dad”

“Bye kids. Be back by eleven.”, your dad said, before winking at Peter. “Good luck Pete”

Smiling at him, you both walked out, excited for whatever you were gonna watch. But more importantly, just spending time with Peter. Because of superhero duties, as well as just normal student duties, hanging out with him was becoming few and far between, making you cherish this time.

“So what was my dad saying? Good luck for what?”

“Oh um, nothing. Nothing at all. Something for the test, uh plank”, Peter rambled, trying to mask something. You almost sighed out loud. As part of your “job”, you did most of the questioning and interrogation. Seeing through lies was easy enough. And it probably wasn’t something you had to bother about, so you just let it slide.

“Okay then”, you said, but you still saw that Peter was looking away, biting his lip. “Hey, did he tell you anything about the movie? I have no idea what we are watching”

Again, Peter shook his head too quickly. “N-no, I don’t know.” Taking a deep breath, you were confused, glancing at Peter. Sensing your discomfort, he gestured his his hand out to the street. “We’re here, let’s go in”

Looking around, all you saw was a dark road, and a metal door. “Where-where are we? Oh my god, are you plotting on killing me?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “C’mon, Mr Stark said this was the place. Private theatre or something”

Pulling me in, he pushed the door open and led me in. Inside was dark, with shimmers of purple coming from the walls. Throwing your hands around Peter, you held onto him with one arm, and the other tried to feel where you were walking.

“Uh Pete, why the hell is there glitter everywhere?”

“You’ll see”, Peter said, his voice excited but nervous.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll also see that”

After taking about three more steps, dim orange light started showing up, and we emerged into a small room. And it took my breath away. In the middle, was a table for two, with a sweet candle in the middle. A glittering chandelier hung above the ceiling, showing small sparkles around the room, and the smell of Delmar’s sandwiches walfed through the air.

“Wha-what is this Pete?!”

“Uh, well, it’s a dinner. I, um aren’t the best at this, so Mr Stark helped me out a bit with it”

And suddenly, it clicked. Tony didn’t even go to a movie this week, and Pepper didn’t even mention anything about it. And when he gave you those two tickets, it didn’t have any title or venue. Not only that, but he also asked you if you would like to invite Peter, which is probably why Peter came all dressed up. And it would also explain the quiet talking behind your back.

Walking over to the table, you saw a familiar sandwich on the plate, but that was the furthest thing from your mind. “Wh-why would yo-you do-?”

“Oh, well, it seems pretty formal, and you love Delmar’s food, so I thought it would be a good ide-” Peter said, misunderstanding your question as he came up behind you.

“No NO! I mean, why all of this?”, you asked, knowing fully well why.

“Well, I uh, really like you. More than a friend. I’m pretty sure I love you Y/N-”

Peter said this, his face glowing with adoration and I could see the love in his eyes. His eyes were shining from the light, and I could see a smile forming on his face a he picked up a rose from his chair and held it out to me. And for the first time, you were speechless in front of Peter. Your Peter. Your best friend Peter.

You wanted to say the right thing, you really did. But what came out of your mouth wasn’t even remotely right.

“No Peter! I can’t- why would you-ugh”, you said in a rush, tears forming in your eyes. Not knowing what to do, you went and hit Peter. “Why would you- this isn’t for friends Pete! Honestly, why would yo-”

“I know! I want to be with you, like a cou-couple. YOU SAID, TO BE HONEST, STOP HITTING ME!”

Shaking your head, you could see Peter’s face drop at your expression, the meaning of your words settling in. You could see tears coming down his face, and his mouth started to open, but you couldn’t face him. Not with how fast your tears were streaming down your face. And definitely not with how fast your heart was going.

“Y/N I-I’m sorry, damn it please don’t go-”

But you didn’t hear the rest of it, running out into the street and going as fast as your legs could carry you back home. And when you got back, you didn’t even bother doing anything, tears clouding your eyes, as you fell into your bed, letting your pillow soak up the mixed feelings and confusing thoughts as you fell asleep to the memory of Peter’s heartbroken face…

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wow, I love angst. This is only the first part, since I think I’m going to work on a second part of this soon. I hope I did the request justice, and I loved writing it. Thanks!

Taglist: @a–1–1–3 @idkatee @eternalscribblesforthesoul @loudbluepancake @poisondevotion @scram1326 @t-hollanderr @305weasley @starknik22 @marvelfansworld @lou-la-lou @lomlparker @marvelfansworld @wowitsel @vanteguccir @fullcheesecakeengineer @ifyouknewhowmiserylovedme @ladykxxx08 @allegras-sunflower

[rabunnzelwrites]

  I HAVE AN IDEA OF AN UNDERTALE FIC SO STAY WITH ME;

so it’s basically human!cast and i wanted to play around with everyone so here we gooo

they retain the forms of humans going out and doing day to day activities since prejudice against monsters is still so relevant. the way they do so is through glamour technology created by dr. gaster & alphys.

sans & papyrus serif

- although there isn’t a set ethnicity for any of the monsters, i do imagine them being poc. personally, both brothers for me are tan / brown skinned with light eyes and white hair. sans is about 5’2 whilst papyrus is about 6’1, 6’3 with his boots on.

- sans is a senior in high school whilst papyrus is a freshman. the two are both top students but sans tends to ditch class because he can’t be bother to go. the only class he willingly goes to is his father’s, mr. gaster’s AP physics.

- since he got to the surface, sans does weed every so often when he gets stressed out. papyrus knows this and tries to stop him but he still does it behind it back since it helps him relax.

- papyrus is apart of the culinary arts club at the highschool despite his failures of spaghetti. he still is determined to learn and has the extensive knowledge of pasta varieties. he also enjoys going to DND sessions in the RPG club.

- although sans was forced into robotics by his father, he genuinely enjoys being in jazz band! he plays the trombone and tried to pick up the tuba but it was too big for him.

undyne ryba

- ryba is the czech word for fish! quite fitting considering undyne is a...y’know fish :-)

- undyne still has her red hair ofc! her eyes are now blue but protrude out like a fish. she’s quite pale in appearance but is quite freckly all over. there are also dry patches of skin where her scales use to be! she stands around 5’9

- undyne is a junior but is the captain of the girl’s softball team. she’s their top player because of all her training from the royal guard and seems to play at every game. she has definitely fought someone after a game when her coach wasn’t there.

- the concept of having heterosexuality being the norm doesn’t really exist in the underground ( because love is love and monsters know that ) so she was confused when people had to ask if she was into girls because she thought everyone just liked who they liked.

alphys lagarto

- in brazilian portuguese, lagarto translates to lizard. again, because you know...alphys is like a lizard :,)

- alphys is quite short and stocky in appearance, being tan skinned as wel. she has long curly blonde hair but it’s always seen tied up into a bun or messily put together with a headband. i do imagine her having buck teeth though, personally i find it fits with the ‘geeky’ kinda look she has. she probably only wears sweaters and jeans, plus a TON of anime shirts in the girliest color. she’s about 5’3-5’4

- she’s a junior & one of the top students in her grade! she’s sorta known as a teacher’s pet since alphys seems to suck up to all her teachers by being a pushover. she’s in AP science with sans and always clings on to him.

- she’s a member of the anime club and an avid on goer of the robotic club, although she doesn’t talk in either and prefers just to watch from a corner. whenever the topic of magical girl series comes up, she will RANT about toyko mew mew until someone brings up something new. she’s also really into musicals but specifically hamilton, be more chill, and dear evan hansen.

mettaton and blooky revenant

- napstablook shortened his ‘human’ name to np, requested solely by mettaton. personally, he thinks it has a nice ring to it and he could use it for his new tracks. he still prefers if people call him blook or blooky.

- the word revenant can be described as, ‘anyone who comes back after being gone for a long while’.

- mettaton is tall and thin in appearance, looking quite androgynous in looks. personally i see him having a fluffy mullet. he’s pale in appearance but his dark eyes and hair stand out from the rest of his look. he’s in theatre and fashion club and is quite popular for not only being a great performer but his growing social media platforms where he does makeup tutorials and outfits of the day. 

- blooky is only average height and dresses kinda like a skater boy. like mettaton, he’s very pale but differs with his platinum blonde hair and pale blue eyes. he’s popular on soundcloud for making lo-fi hip-hop beats and often accompanies mettaton during rehearsals, sitting in the back whilst he’s programming. he also skates in his free-time.  

frisk, chara, and asriel dreemur

- as for frisk, chara, and asriel...i imagine that chara and asriel are older than their sibling by a year. frisk has just started middle middle school and the two are basically frisk’s body guards. 

- although chara often has tendencies to be off0putting to other students, their adopted mother, toriel does work at the school as a monster history teacher. when they get detention, it’s always in her class. 

- asriel is a nerdy kid and is part of the drawing club! most of his notebooks are filled with his oc, the god of hyperdeath. 

- whilst frisk strictly goes by them/them pronouns, chara goes they/she but both of them are afab non-binary in my AU. although frisk is younger than their siblings, they are quite popular with their older classmen and seem to have friends in the dandiest of places.

i hope yall enjoy this idea! let me know if i should continue.

[morceid]

Beating the Dead Swan

Chapter 2: lonely angels wrapped in silk

read on ao3

<- chapter one

Summary: Penelope gives the profiles of Camille and other victims like her to the team.

Word Count: 1928

Category: angst

Content Warnings: general criminal minds murder stuff

A/N: noting here that this fic takes place in 2005 when criminal minds starts and spencer is 24

It started out a simple equivocal death investigation. Seven women had been found in their apartments, dead with their wrists slashed. Unfortunately not an unusual occurrence, Detective Conner thought nothing of it. Upon trying to contact the employers of each victim, Conner found they all worked for the same people, and decided to mark them down for further investigation just in case. When the fourth victim was found in her father’s beach house just outside of Virginia, the case became federal and handed to the FBI.

The case, being low priority, was given to Derek Morgan to monitor the progress of. 

“You’re completely sure there’s nothing about the bodies that connect these victims?”

“Agent Morgan, if there was anything I would tell you. I think it’s time you tell Detective Conner to rule these deaths a suicide.”

“Alright, will do.” Derek hung up with the coroner. Just then his mobile phone rang with the number of the detective displayed on the top of the screen. Derek sighed.

“Agent Morgan.” He answered.

“Agent, there’s another victim-”

“Conner, listen, they aren’t connected, there is no signature unless you can consider the suicide, I think you oughtta-”

“She was called in by a friend. Not a family member, not an apartment manager, not a coworker, a real friend. Derek, he’s devolving.”

Derek sighed, “Detective, I’ll let you send her body over to the coroner but I doubt there will be anything remarkable.”

There was some mumbling on the other end of the line before Detective Conner gave a response.

“That’s the thing, Agent Morgan, this victim is remarkable. She had piercing holes in her ears just like the others.”

“And how is that remarkable?”

“Her ears weren’t pierced.”

“And you’re sure about that, Detective?”

“Her best friend swears it. Do you think they could be puncture marks?”

“I’m not sure, let me tell Doctor Phyllis.”

Derek set down his mobile phone and dialed the coroner on his office phone.

“Doctor Phyllis?”

“You back again so soon, Agent?”

“Look, we got a new victim, she's got puncture marks on her ears. Not piercings, puncture marks. Can you check the other victims to make sure they’re not puncture marks?”

“Okay, give me a minute.”

Derek heard the sound of doors opening.

“Well, shit, they are puncture marks. On every single ear.”

“Thanks, Doctor Phyllis.”

Derek hung up on the office phone.

“Do I still have you here, Detective?”

“Yep. Were they piercings?”

“Nope. Bring in the girl’s friend and call in the family members of the other victims. We’re gonna need to talk to them.”

Derek hung up the phone and ran up to Hotch’s office.

“Something up, Morgan?” Hotch asked.

“You know that case Detective Conner asked me to look into?”

“The one with the suicides?”

“Yeah, well they might not be suicides. I’m having Conner bring in some people to ask them some questions. You mind if I ask Rossi and Prentiss to help?”

“Of course not, but if we get another case then leave the questioning for Detective Conner, alright?”

“Gotcha, boss.”

Derek gathered Rossi, Prentiss, and Penelope in the break room to discuss the case.

“Babygirl, you want to read out the profiles of our victims?”

“Reluctantly,” Penelope pulled up each of the files onto her laptop. “Danica Wilson, a 45 year old woman, was found by her landlord. She grew up in Victoria, Canada, but when she was 12, her parents got a divorce. Her mother moved her and her three siblings to North Dakota shortly after. All throughout highschool she seemed immensely interested in biology and chemistry. She was really good at it too, she took AP classes and she was a promising student. Unfortunately, her mom didn’t want her to do anything of the sort, and set her up for ballet classes her junior year. To appease her mom she studied the history of dance during college and ended up climbing up from an intern at a dance company all the way to a choreographer. Her love for science was still there the whole way through though, she’s been taking free college courses online for biology for about a year. She was found with her wrists slashed and spread out in a star shape on the middle of her bed. There were no fingerprints anywhere in her home and the slashes appeared to be self inflicted. Her mom died a week before she was found, all of her siblings live in other states, and she didn't have any close friends. She never dated, even though she had perfect brown eyes and blonde hair. According to her siblings she had all of the boys at her school after her. Despite there being no evidence of depression or other mental illness officers deemed her mothers death as a stressor and marked her death a suicide.”

“Then we have Maya Peto, 22 years old, found by her sister.”

“So there’s no age preference?” Rossi asked.

“Precisely,” Penelope continued, “She grew up in Detroit. Her parents raised her in a Christian household and shes been openly gay since she was 18. Her dad died when she was 14, leaving Maya and one sister to be raised by their mother. She did exceptionally well in math, but seemed to have no interest in pursuing it as a career. Instead, she became captain of her dance team in highschool and went to Wirtson’s Dance Academy for college. Her last year there, she was picked by Next Star Theatre Company, the same one as all of the other victims, to be on their ballet team. She was found just like Danica, and would be just like the rest of the victims. Her now ex-girlfriend and her had a kid, his name is Gene, he’s a year old, and Maya had full custody of him because Khloe, the girlfriend, had begun doing drugs about a week after Gene was born. How could lesbians have a child? Khloe was cheating. Maya gained full custody of Gene after a year long legal battle, and she had left him with her sister for a weekend while she baby proofed her house. Unfortunately, when she went to Maya’s apartment to return Gene, she found her dead. It was the anniversary of her father’s death when she was found, so the ever so ignorant officers deemed it another suicide.

“Then we have Annie Carr, 24. A coworker found her. Born here in Virginia, Annie was raised by her dad after her mom died when she was about one. She seemed to have a pretty awesome life. Her dad worked two jobs and she’s never had all that much money, but she was a happy kid. She went to a community college and ended up taking the same internship that Danica Wilson took, but she has stayed in that internship for years, mooching money off of her dad and siblings. Mabel Golden, the coworker that found her, claims that there’s no way Annie could’ve killed herself. She didn’t show any signs of depression or mental illness, though she could be pessimistic at times. Mabel said their boss was threatening to let her go, seeing as she hasn’t improved her work ethic in the last five years. Deemed another suicide.

“The fourth victim was Valentine Orange, 36, found by her father. She grew up in Maryland, started acting and dancing at six, her family was pretty wealthy, and she got accepted into the same dance academy and theatre company as Maya Peto. She also danced on the same ballet team. She told her team leader she was going away for a week to her father’s beach house, and when her father came to get her on the day she was supposed to leave, he found her in the guest bedroom, just like the other victims. The beach house was located in Maryland, and due to Detective Cooper’s hunch, the case got handed to us for an equivocal death investigation.

“Francis Falstaff, our fifth victim, was found by her adoptive mother. She was 22. Both of her parents died in a car crash a month after she was born, so she grew up in a multitude of foster homes. When she was ten her and her sister were adopted by Baron Falstaff and Maggie Falstaff. They seemed to be good parents. They went to all of their school events and paid for both of the girls’ college tuition. Francis was trying to make it into the same theatre company that employed the rest of the victims, specifically to work as a jazz dancer. She seemed to have killed herself, just like the rest of the victims, but her mom insists that she couldn’t have. She had a very promising life ahead of her. When they dissected her room they found an evidence board in the back of her closet. Her sister, Yvette, was stabbed to death a couple years back on the way to a party, and Francis was obsessed with finding the killer. Which is why she didn’t have many friends. When it was all processed, they found that the evidence led to Yvette’s boyfriend at the time. It was assumed that this weighed heavily enough on Francis that she ended up, well you know, on the same day she found out.

“Jane Sweeney, the second to last victim who worked on the Next Star Theatre Company ballet team, was 29. She’s been with the company since she was 20, and unfortunately her private teacher was the one who found her. Her father left when she was young. She liked expressing all of her success, almost narcissistically so. According to some other people on the dance team she was the best dancer and loved flaunting it. She was a kind of queen bee and seemed to value herself more than others most of the time. It just doesn’t make sense for her to kill herself.

“Lillian Bonner was the next victim. She was 54. She taught modern dance at the company. She lived with and was found by her only son, Tyrell, who she had with her husband Ivan. Though they were still legally married, the two were separated. Tyrell, who’s 16, said she was a fantastic mom. She always made sure he was fed and had someone to talk to. He told her practically everything about his life and he is having a really difficult time without her. He doesn’t believe that she would do that to herself.

“Our last victim was Camille Price. She was 25. Her best friend, Spencer Reid, who was on the same ballet team, found her. She was the only one who really had people around her. She grew up in Virginia with her parents and two brothers, one older, one younger. She visited them whenever she could. Everyone in her apartment building loved her, she even made dinner for one of the elderly occupants every Friday. Spencer doubts there is anything that would want to make her commit suicide, and to put the icing on the cake, there were puncture marks on her ears that police mistook for piercings. ‘What were they?’ you ask? Injection sites. How do we know this? Spencer swore that there was no way they could be piercings because Camille never wore earrings the entire 8 years he knew her because the Next Star Theatre Company does not allow their dancers to wear piercings or jewelry.”

“Alright, let’s go see if these people got any info for us.” Rossi got out of his seat and headed towards the interview rooms.

TAGLIST: @hotchrocket @hotpotatowoman @thisdeathtollbringsnopeace @endingsbeginnings @d3pr3ss3d-w33d-wh0re @nonbinary-spencie @moss0ntherocks @scandinavian-punk @drinkingcroissants @penemily @izzyl13 @leomo0n @tiedyedrose1705 @natclis

[kishimoto-did-us-dirty]

Naruto Arts School AU

Reposting bc I love this post and bc I can lol

Character

- major

description

Naruto

-Drums

okie nobody can deny that our main boy over here is a loud soul, however, he can also carry a damn good beat that compliments his band mates’ music really well. Tbh, he sucked at music to begin with and had trouble matching rhythms and listening to his band mates when they played, however he eventually became a really good rhythm maker.

Sasuke

-Guitar (lead)

He’d be assigned to the same band as Naruto, and that’s how they met. This boy is a damn good guitarist y’all, but has attitude problems™, and used to not be able to deal with Naruto’s haphazard beat making, thus perpetuating a rivalry between the two. He constantly feels overshadowed by his elder brother Itachi, a piano major.

Sakura

- Dance

Ya girl fucking demolishes every single dance routine. Initially starting out with a focus on ballet (pre-shippuden in canon), our pink headed queen soon realized that she wasn’t getting the full experience of what it meant to dance. Her point shoes were her loves, however they hurt and nipped in places not just physical. She realized that she didn’t want to be pigeonholed into a genre of which she would be inhibited by standard, and rather to dance so as to forget technical perfection. Thus, what would partner with post-shippuden Sakura in canon, Art School AU Sakura got into hip-hop. And bitch, she goes hard. A lot of the other girls who she used to dance ballet with admire her for her absolutely BODYING her dance routines, but also for never sacrificing her femininity to dance and not taking BS for being a girl who goes so hard in a male-dominated genre. (Some people believe that hip-hop is heavy hitting and a little metaphorically “dark” so to speak, which Sakura is not. So obviously I expect a little disagreement regarding this, however if you look at people like Delaney Glazer or Kaycee Rice, that is how Sakura would dance).

Hinata

- Creative Writing

Shy and bookworm-like, Hinata can write the best poetry, romance and adventure pieces out of all the creative-writing majors. She’s especially good at writing character relationships and development, and has such a subtle sense of intelligent wit in her writing, that if you blinked you would miss it. However should you catch it, you’re sure to chuckle. Her only struggle is that she tends to drag on in important scenes, stretching them against the regular flow of the rest of her writing. Needs validation for her writing through an IV drip.

Kiba

- Drums OR Photography

Drums for obvious reasons (loud and obnoxious), although ruff boi looks good with a camera, too. Great at landscapes and street photography.

Shino

- Creative Writing OR Photography

I could definitely see Shino having fucking beautiful handwriting, and being a beast at writing anything within the sci-fi realm. I could also see him doing some journalism, and writing for the school paper. He’s very good at the logic of his sci-fi books and coming up with logical but enrapturing stories, that intermingle knowledge and mystery. He’s a very specific type of read, however, and may not appeal to all, however if you enjoy anything similar to Star Wars or Hitchhikers guide to the galaxy, then Shino is your author. If this doesn’t float your boat, though, try photography-major Shino. He can get the best angles of bugs he sees, and has an extensive portfolio with entomology-related snapshots.

Ino

- Dance

Like Sakura, she, too, began with a focus on ballet, however began to branch out into contemporary ballet a little later than Sakura. This is another reason why Sakura switched her focuses, as she and Ino had always had a fierce rivalry for dieting (ballet dancers are pressured to be as thin as possible) as well as battling for technical perfection when they were ballet focused. As the two grew, Ino focused more so on contemporary, but can certainly do some hip-hop with Sakura every now and then, just as Sakura occasionally takes a contemporary class with her. The two still have a rivalry, however, just not to the previous extent as when they were actively competing against each other. They’re more like sisters.

Shikamaru

- Guitar (bass) OR Creative Writing OR Architecture

Smart boy’s a tricky one. He would either be a bassist, a mystery and historical fiction writer, or, of his school offers it, be great at architecture. Idrk.

Choji

- ermmmmm….. maybe graphic design? Tech theatre (props)? Vocal???

Choji is hARD dwnccnpc (that’s what she said). I could see him behind a computer screen, animating and designing games/covers/posters or whatever. He could also do something in theatre, but I don’t think he would do anything up on stage. Something like props would suit him. He might do something in music, tho???? Can he sing???? Help???

UPDATE: Choji is a band kid. He plays tuba or some shit. Big boy got big lungs.

Tenten

- Dance

Always has been, and always will be a hip-hop dancer. She wanted to be like Tsunade, a legendary dancer and followed in her footsteps, taking up hip-hop. (that’s why Sakura focused on hip-hop, too, because Tsunade mentored her and taught a few of her classes, too). Tenten is fast and can keep up with any beat. Not only is she a great dancer, but she’s also athletic, and does track and field (cross country), football, and softball at another school too, since the arts schools doesn’t offer it. Overall great dancer with styl. She’s really looked up to by some of her underclassmen for her cheery, but badass style and skill.

Lee

- DANCE (hip-hop, too)

It’s sweat. It’s burn. It’s energy. It’s Lee.

Neji

- Violin

First chair violinist in his freshman year for the school’s philharmonic orchestra. He be extra like that.

Gaara

- Guitar (bass)

He had a lonely childhood with neglectful/abusive parents, and rock music really helped him with that. Emo music is emo and often made fun of, but the songs have messages and Gaara related, so self-taught himself the bass guitar to help cope, and bring him closer to the music that salvaged him.

Kankuro

-Art

Specifically sculpting. For obvious reasons.

Temari

- Acting

Girl can make you cry with some of her monologues. Total lead. Has a seriousness in her acting that makes her believable, however can falter on the less-serious roles. She may also double-major in whatever Shikamaru does. And she’s better at it than him.

Itachi

-Piano

Boy could play any etude at age 7. Performed at Carnegie Hall when he was 10. And no, he didn’t pay to play there. The hall invited him. Began composing at 9. Has perfect pitch. Owns international awards. If he’s not at school it’s because he’s traveling to play for crowds. He excels at classical and baroque, however has an ear for romantic, and enjoys playing/composing pieces either written or inspired by romantic pieces. Enjoys Schumann, Debussy, and Tchaikovsky. Hates modern classical music, though. Can only take cinematic pieces composed by people like Williams, however can’t stand Prokofiev at all. He does like modern music, though, so long as it’s outside of the orchestral/classical music realm. He likes R&B. He would have liked to do film with Shisui, particularly producing, however his parents pressure him with piano, so he helps Shisui with student films and projects outside of school (will probably pursue film after graduating, tho).

Shisui

- FILM / VIDEO PRODUCTION

Fight me on this!!! THIS BOY IS SO GOOD AT CINEMATOGRAPHY MY FILMMAKING ASS CAN’T EVEN. AS SOMEONE WHO IS IN LOVE WITH FILMOGRAPHY, TRUST ME, SHISUI HAS IT™. THE IT™. HE’S GOOD AT EVERYTHING. CINEMATOGRAPHY. DIRECTING. SCREENWRITING. GRIP-WORK. EDITING. PRODUCING. HE’S SUCH A FILM NERD TOO, AND WATCHES OLD FILMS ALL THE TIME. HE’S JUST TOO GOOD AT IT. DOES STREET PHOTOGRAPHY TOO. HE’S OVERALL A GENIUS WITH CAMERAS. Does film with Itachi outside of school and teaches him, and the two are overall geniuses at filmography. They want to start their own studio together (they do, and it becomes huge). He becomes a leading director, while Itachi becomes a producer and directs sometimes too.

Sasori, Deidara, and Sai

Guess.

Kakashi

- Saxophone

It’s the only thing that suits him and it suits him so well. Has suave.

Obito (omfg his arms y'all)

- Not to say drums or anything, but…. drums.

Narutard 2.0. But he also dabbles in other areas of music. Like, he can also play guitar and sing. He’s also pretty good at music production. Makes R&B sometimes. He wasn’t always the best musician but proved to be a late bloomer, and really harnessed his potential. Tries to be as suave as Kakashi and his saxophone. He isn’t.

Hashirama

- Vocal

OkaYYYYYY. VOCAL GOD. CAN DO RIFFS AND RUNS AND HAS PERFECT PITCH. ALSO THE SWEETEST GUY??? WAS A CHAMBER SINGER AS A FRESHMAN. EVERYONE LOVES HIM, GOOD BOY ENERGY.

Likes to belt.

Madara

- Piano

Total prodigy, but hates classical music. Once was accompanist to Hashirama for a solo vocal performance and hasn’t been left alone since.

Tobirama

- Viola or Cello

Some sort of string instrument and takes it very seriously. Probably plays cello because violas are violas and that’s lame (if you know, you know). Has almost as many awards as Itachi and Madara, but hates his usual piano accompanist, Izuna.

Izuna

- Piano

Also a piano god. The uchihas breed them. Hates being accompanist for Tobirama. They’re secretly best friends though, don’t tell anyone.

Karin

- Tech Theatre.

Idk why. Probably started out with props and made her way up to TD (technical director) in senior year.

Suigetsu

- Tech Theatre

Fucking hates theatre kids. Assistant TD. Karin hates him.

Jugo

- Visual Art

Paints landscapes and nature. Really good with oils and gouache respectively.

Yamato

- lmao Trumpet.

Met Kakashi since they both play brass, but boy he ain’t got that suave. That’s why he plays trumpet. Lmao he plays the fucking trumpet anjdwcnojdnn.

Rin

- Vocal

Sweetest voice and could also play the acoustic guitar when she sang. Died in a car accident junior year. Kakashi was at the wheel when they got hit by a drunk driver. Obito saw the whole thing.

Kurenai

- Visual Art

Can create dream like paintings that almost seem like illusions.

Asuma

- Cello / guitar

Used to play cello because of his parents, but loves to play guitar. Can sing but his voice is raspy from smoking.

Gai

Who the fuck do you think teaches dance?

Jiraiya

- Guitar (lead)

Used to major in lead guitar. Sucked at first. Probably has a couple, casual Grammy Awards (they’re actually not that hard to be awarded with, The Recording Academy award many people outside of mainstream media. My school has a few). Now teachers as head of the Band department at this school.

Tsunade

-Dance

Legendary dancer. Probably toured with a few famous people. Now teaches. Mentored Sakura, and mentored Ino but for a shorter time.

Orochimaru

- Idk, didgeridoo, or some shit

Definitely a wood wind. Flute maybe??? Teaches now but no one knows what he does. Pedophile. Has a thing for Sasuke.

[yongiefilms]

[6:21 pm]

dedicated to my precious li ( @meraki-mark​ ) for always managing to bring a smile on my face and being an absolute sweetheart. happy birthday my love, this one's for you. i hope you like it! <3

you don’t know why you auditioned to be in the school musical. you had no idea what you were thinking as you clearly had no experience in acting or singing like all the other talented drama kids around school. yet, for some reason you found yourself writing your name on the sign up sheet and filling out an application.

you didn’t expect much at all going through the audition process, noting you were one of those few individuals who would never be noticed regardless of how hard they tried to be.

however, when you saw your name printed in bold under the list of kids who had gotten a callback, you were surprised to say the least and even more so since it was a callback for the lead role.

there was no way it could be possible, they must have made a mistake because you weren’t like the rest of them, you were just you, someone who honestly didn’t know what they were doing, especially when it came to theatre.

but your name didn’t disappear from the list, no matter how many times you blinked your eyes and shook your head, it was visibly printed there in twenty-four point font. you supposed you made a sufficient impact to at least be considered to be casted in the musical, something which was an accomplishment within itself.

your astonishment would further become an ever present emotion since a few days after the callbacks, the cast list had finally been posted.

you were tense when you had finally managed to push through the crowd of students to view who was lucky enough to get a role out of the hundreds who had auditioned.

your name was the first one you laid your eyes on under the character’s name who so happened to be one of the two lead roles in the musical.

you couldn’t believe it. you got in.

your eyes were wide as you stared at your name in shock and the exclamations of congrats from your surrounding peers were drowned out by your feelings in that moment, feelings of utter happiness and relief. sometimes it took trusting in yourself and taking that leap which reaped the best results.

if only there wasn’t a tiny problem that no one would have ever assumed一your stage fright.

you didn’t have horrible anxiety and panic presenting per say, but you had a moderate degree to where you would shake, your hands would become clammy, and you stuttered through your speech...aspects that did seem grim in hindset.

albeit, your stage fright wasn’t the worst of your worries, being in the back of your mind until you truly had to perform in front of others, in front of an audience of hundreds of people.

everything would be okay for you had the power to overcome your fear and going to rehearsals after rehearsals for months on end you knew you had become better.

you were no longer scared saying your lines in front of the cast and crew. you no longer stumbled over your words or shook in your spot. you were cool and collected, two characteristics you never were before.

maybe it was because of your own self or because of the people that you had grown closer to over the last few months. you had all become a family, supporting each other and aiding each other when needed.

everyone assisted in many regards, but watching your costar deliver his lines under the stark, white stage lights in the auditorium with his skin glistening, you thought one of them helped more than others.

mark lee was his name and you were sure that while you both were romantic interests of the characters you played, the affection your character had for his intermixed with your own liking.

you wouldn’t admit you had a crush on mark lee, no, not at all, but seeing him standing there in all his glory and with the fine grin he gave you nearly everyday, you knew you were lying to yourself.

mark lee amazed you and left you in awe every single time with his artistry so it was hard not to catch fondness.

those very emotions would be ones you were thankful for when opening night rolled around since the stage fright you so assuredly assumed had departed, never really had.

you had made the mistake of secretly peering through the red curtains that shielded you from the eyes of the audience before the show, your once still heart beating briskly in your chest at the hundreds of people occupying the seats in the auditorium.

the nerves were back and they wouldn’t go away.

you rapidly let go of the curtain and took a step back, trying to focus on your breathing.

but to no avail一you weren’t calm.

it was a minute till showtime, a minute gone too fast when the lights dimmed to blackness and enclosed you in its embrace.

the overture started immediately, but it too went by too quickly for the lights came back on and the curtains opened to begin the show.

mark stepped out onto the stage, his persona exuding confidence and reassurance in himself. a small smile was painted across his face and while he was reciting his very first lines, he had suddenly turned his body ever so slightly to face the left corner of the stage, where you conveniently were encompassed in the dark, hidden from sight.

in the midst of his dialogue he had the chance to lock his eyes with yours and give you a subtle wink, his smile widening when he saw your mouth fall agape.

he undoubtedly meant to target you, only you, with his actions and the warmth that coursed your veins was a feeling you could get used to because count on mark freaking lee to get rid of your stage fright all in one go. courtesy of his gorgeous smile and cheeky wink that was enough to turn fear into love.

[simply-trash5]

PuppetBoy

Okay Kankuro simps, got some more juice for ya! Seriously this was so fun to write. It is a college AU about Kankuro and a reader. I am pretty proud of it. I would love to write some things for you so PLEASE request. Seriously. I’ll even try smut (I’ve never written it before so we’ll see how it goes). Drop them in the ask box and if you like what you read you should totally tell me because i am a self conscious bean.

What the hell is that noise? You think to yourself as you look around. It sounded terrible. Whatever car was making that noise was definitely on it’s last leg. You nod your head realizing it was the same guy you see everyday parked across from the education building at your college. You could hear loud metal playing from the speakers and the windows shaking as he pulled into the lot. He jumped out,slammed the door and gave the tire a swift kick. Wow he’s kinda cute. He stood almost 6 ft. tall and had on a black hoodie that hung lightly over his brown hair. His black jeans had rips in the knees and you could see he was wearing scuffed black DocMartens. You continued to follow him with your eyes as he passed you walking toward the theatre building. He had an eyebrow ring and gauges. Oh shit, I think he caught me staring. He looked at you, scoffed and kept walking toward the theatre building. Is he a theatre major? You wondered to yourself. Maybe he just has to take a fine art credit. Letting your thoughts wander you pulled the straps on your bookbag tighter and walked to your class in the education building. 

The class seemed to drag on forever, and you knew after that you had to go to your nannying job which would take up most of the evening. You wished that you didn’t have to have a job, but unfortunately scholarships didn’t cover all of your tuition. You grabbed your keys from your pocket and headed toward the parking lot. Climbing into your car you started the engine and began making your way to your job. You loved kids, so nannying was a great gig for you. When you arrived at the home of a doctor in your area you were greeted by a small boy with a large grin. “Ms. Y/N, can we go to the children’s theater today? Mom said we could go if it was okay with you, she even left my booster seat so you can drive!” You giggled and shrunk down to his height. “Well if your mom says it's okay, it's fine by me. Let’s grab your jacket and booster seat and we will leave.” The small child ran into the house. His mother approached you. “Thank you so much for watching Trevor,I know he is a handful but i'm rather fond of him.” You gave her a huge smile and told her that it was no problem and explained that you were going to take him to the children's theatre. She said her goodbyes and you walked into the house to retrieve the boys booster seat so that you all could make the 4:00 production of the Three Little Pigs. 

The little boy sitting in front of you on the floor giggled wildly as a wolf puppet “ran” off stage. You smiled down at him. The curtains closed and the crowd gave them a round of applause. The stage hands and puppeteers began to disassemble the set so that they could get ready for the next show when you saw a familiar face. It's car boy. You smiled in his direction, and didn’t realize you may have looked at him a little too long. “Hey, take a picture, it will last longer.” The mysterious boy gave you an annoyed look and a blush began to creep up your face. He was wearing a tight black tshirt that showed off his muscular arms and his tattoo of a sandtimer on his forearm. “Come on Trevor, lets head home,” you said steering the young boy out of the theatre.

“Oh my god what did you say back?” your friend was screeching on the other side of the phone. “Well, see, I just kinda left.” you explained not wanting to relive the embarrassing moment. “Y/N, you have got to do something tomorrow. You’re going to see him in the parking lot and you don’t want it to be weird.” You were twirling your hair around your finger staring at your phone. “Y/N are you still there?” You snapped back to reality, “yeah, I think I will buy him a cup of coffee. I’m sure he never sleeps like the rest of us. He is a college student.” You both finished your conversation and you got ready for bed. You set your alarm early so that you could go to a coffee shop and grab him a coffee to make up for the awkward run-ins you had the last few days. 

“God its early” you whined to yourself but got ready anyway. You had to make a better impression on puppet boy. You gathered your things and headed out the door and made your way to a local coffee shop. You grabbed your latte and then decided it was best to just give him black coffee. You drove to your college thinking about the handsome stranger all the way there. His brown hair was shaggy and fell right into his eyes, which you melted at the thought of his hair being pushed out of his face. Your mind started to drift to what your next move would be as you pulled into the parking lot. Okay, it's 7:45 he should be here any minute. Shit what should I do? In a moment of extreme confidence you grabbed a pen out of your backpack and messily scribbled your phone number on the side of the paper cup. God I hope this works. You took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. You could hear him coming for at least a mile. Alright Y/N you cannot chicken out now. He rolled in and slammed his car door as he had every morning for the earlier part of the semester. It's now or never, you've got this shit. You beelined toward his car. He realized you were approaching and looked at you with a strange face. You immediately got nervous. You just sat the coffee cup on the hood of his car, turned on your heel, and quickly walked to the education building. “HEY! HEY COME BACK!” You heard him calling after you as you continued on your way to class cursing yourself the entire time.

Buzz

You grabbed your phone from your pocket. An unknown number had sent you a text. “How do I know you didn’t drug this coffee so you can turn my corpse into a puppet?” you laughed at the text and a blush spread over your cheeks. “Now why would I do that?” you replied. You typed “Also that is oddly specific” “What can I say, I like puppets?” The conversation continued for the next few days. You saw him a few times on campus but you never spoke in person. He would send you funny memes and videos at all hours of the night. Apparently puppetboy is a night owl. “Um btw, we’ve been talking for days and I still don’t know your name. What should I call you.” “My name is Kankuro.” “Well Kankuro, my name is Y/N. Its nice to put a name with a face.”

Shit I’m never gonna finish this run. You thought to yourself as you continued to run on the treadmill. You had your headphones in and music blaring. You loved to run and hadn’t been to the gym in a few days due to all of your nannying obligations. Okay, only a half mile more to go, you thought to yourself as you pushed your body to keep running. Out of nowhere you felt a large calloused hand on your shoulder. You snapped your head “Hey listen creep I-” before you knew it you were falling only to be caught by Kankuro. “Y/N you falling for me already?” Kankuro flirted giving you a tight smirk. You were shocked, not only by the fall, but by the arms around you. They were strong and helped steady you with ease. He was wearing a dark grey tank top which showed his muscles and tattoo off wonderfully. His legs were muscular too and looked amazing in the black shorts he was wearing. In his other hand he had a pair of boxing gloves. You began to blush and he realized you were staring at him, imagining what he looked like under that tank top. Your hand crept up to your neck where you fiddled with your necklace. He gave you a small chuckle. “I’ve got to go spar with my buddy, but if you want to you can meet me out front in an hour.” You smiled and shook your head and he turned and walked away. The shorts hugged his bottom perfectly and the tank top showed his shoulder muscles. You could see another tattoo on his back. Was it puppet strings? You pursed your lips and began to blush. I would love to see those strings up close. 

The hour wait seemed like the longest hour of your life. You waited out in front of the gym as he came bounding out the door. He was sweating and his shaggy hair was sticking to his forehead. He walked over to his car and opened the door. It made a horrendous screech as it opened and you stifled a laugh. “Whats so funny princess? Just for that we gotta walk to get food.” You blushed. Did he just call me princess? Why was that so hot? “Come on, I’m starving,” he said and began walking down the sidewalk. You walked hurriedly to match his long strides. Damn my short legs. “So Kankuro, where are we going?” he gave you a crooked grin. “Its a surprise.” You giggled and retorted “well how do I know you’re not trying to get me alone and turn my corpse into a puppet?” He gave you a devilish grin, “Well sweetheart lets find out.” Another pet name. Your face turned bright red and you stared at the sidewalk. You approach a deli that you frequent with your friends. “I love this place,” you exclaimed. “Well don’t be weird and actually order some food. I like a girl with an appetite.” You laughed and smiled. You ordered your usual and he ordered grabbing your food and heading outside to a table. You both began eating and chatting casually about your lives. You found out he loves horror movies, especially ones that feature creepy dolls or puppets. You also learned that he has a lot of horror memorabilia in his apartment and that he rarely sleeps. He boxes to keep himself busy when hes not working as a children’s puppeteer. He is studying theatre with concentrations in stage management and special effects makeup. “Kankuro, thats really fucking cool,” you said and began to tell him about yourself. You were studying to be a teacher and nannying as a job to make money for college. You lived in an apartment around the corner from the deli with a friend. “So Kankuro I noticed the sand timer on your arm, do you have any other tattoos?” He gave you another devilish grin.”Yeah I have a back piece that is marionette strings. I’ve loved puppets since I was little so I thought it would be cool. Do you have any tattoos?” You blushed. You stood and pulled up your athletic top to show a tattoo of your family's crest on your hip. You had to pull your shorts down ever so slightly revealing your black lacy underwear. He looked at the tattoo and then back to your face. “Thats a nice one,” he said and rubbed the back of his neck. The conversation continued and you all talked more about your semester and your family. You laughed and told him about how you liked to run and also about how you thought it was cool he was a boxer. “Maybe one day we can spar angel,” he flashed a smile in your direction and you smiled back at the thought. You both got up from the table and threw your trash away. It was dark and cool. You pulled your jacked tighter around your shoulders. “I guess I am going to walk home and let you get back to the gym.” Kankuro shook his head “absolutely not doll, its dark and I’m walking you home.” You blushed. Another pet name, this boy is gonna be the death of me. 

You began walking toward your apartment and your hands brushed several times by accident. “Damn Y/N if you wanted to hold my hand that bad all you had to do was ask. I aim to please.” You blushed and then punched Kankuro. “Still want to spar?” you said cheekily. You both walked in silence but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was as if you had known him your whole life. The comfort of him walking beside you felt so nice. “Well this is my apartment.” You sighed and reached for the door. 

BAM

The door slammed shut and you noticed a strong arm beside your face. Kankuro looked down at your lips and smirked. You began to blush. The tension was so thick. I swear im going to pass out. Your heart began racing as he leaned into you. Your back was pressed against the glass of the door with a strong arm beside your head. His other hand made its way to your tattooed hip, he drew circles over your ink with his calloused thumb. His hands were so large that you could feel his fingertips on your back. The heat rose to your cheeks. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against your lips. He pulled back, his hand still burning a hole into your hip bone. You opened your eyes to see a smirked Kankuro. You were in shock when he reached his other hand to brush a stray piece of hair out of your face. Your thoughts raced, you wanted nothing more to bring him up to your apartment and let him give you that devilish grin some more. 

“Guess I’m not a killer princess. Text me.” He chuckled, turned on his heel and walked back toward the gym. You watched him until he walked out of sight. You were ready to see him again and maybe see more of that back tattoo.

[thephantomofthe-internet]

A Fool for Love| Steve Harrington x Reader

MASTERLIST

Words: 7,354 OOF

Warnings: swearing, Shakespearean English, general fluff

Author’s Note: So I got inspired by @jxnehxpper‘s headcanon on Steve being a secret theatre lover and set to giving us what we deserve-Steve being a little theatre kid. And then I told her about it. And then I reread it. And now I’m doubtful of what this even is and how long it is. Good luck I guess

Tag List: @marvelslut16 @shinydixon @jxnehxpper 

The laces were too tight. You couldn’t breathe. You were going to faint once you got up there. And your sleeves were too tight. You were already sweating through the long sleeves. Damn your overconfidence and crappy old patterns. And damn the seventies for making their bodices too tight and tan suede lacing so pretty over rouge coloured linen. And your shoes were too loose; they were going to fall off the second you took a step. Stupid Tammy Thompson and her stupid wide feet. You weren’t even supposed to be here.

Mrs. Blackburn loved to plan out a big spring show without thinking about how many students would be there on auditions. She chose these bombastic plays without thinking about who was actually going to be there. The drama club was made up of about ten members, who’d all be there on audition day, and that was usually it. And Mrs. Blackburn would throw a fit about it to you, her trusted right hand man with a plan. Then she’d spend her classes kissing ass to get students to come out for promised roles after stroking their egos enough to get them to bother with extracurricular theatre. Most kids took the class for an easy A, a quick passing grade that would boost their GPAs without making them want to claw their eyes out. Only a certain type of student would go through with this sort of embarrassment.

So when Mrs. Blackburn announced the spring show to be an abridged version of Twelfth Night, a choice you thought was decent enough. Cutting down the b-plot with Malvolio and the servants made the story run smoother and cut a metric crap ton of roles. Unfortunately, Mrs. Blackburn didn’t have the heart to cut the fool, which meant that she needed another guy to be in the show. And your little crew of nerds only had two boys. If only cross dressing was something she deigned to allow, alas Mrs. Blackburn believed firmly in women playing women and men playing men, which made it even harder to cast anything. It was ironic, knowing the actual plot of the play she’d chosen. Still, now she had a little challenge to hum and ha over for a month before casting the thing.

It was during this casting point that you heard quite possibly the worst idea you’d ever heard.

You often ate lunch in Mrs. Blackburn’s classroom. The entire drama club did. It was a nice, quiet place where no screaming teens or bullies could attack a boy for trotting around in a kilt from costume cupboard and kick a girl for her looks if they didn’t conform to what was considered pretty by the rest of the school. A hodgepodge of personalities grew in there like bacteria. Usually, there shining saviour would eat in the teacher’s lounge with the rest of the staff, but as shows got closer, she’d make sporadic appearances.

“Y/N!” the door slammed open, Mrs. Blackburn standing in the doorway, her wild red curls bouncing wildly around her tiny face, her thin pointed glasses slipping off her nose. “I’ve done it!”

“You’ve done what?” you looked up from your sack lunch. Mrs. Blackburn looked a mess. Her olive green paisley skirt was stained with coffee and her raggedy cream blouse was flashing her bra to the world. She looked as if she’d gotten dressed in her donation bag. You had a sort of love-hate relationship with the woman. She was like a second mother to you, which meant that you loved her unconditionally but hated her in the moment.

“I’ve found us a diamond in the rough,” she marched over to the desk. As always, you’d taken over the teacher’s desk. You were the only person she trusted to sit there with her unmarked tests and unopened lipsticks gifted to her by Lisa Gardner’s Avon selling mother. Her hands slapped the fake wood “I’ve found our Duke Orsino.”

You watched from behind her as both Gordon Fisher and Dale Michaels deflated behind you. The only boys in the club would kill for a leading role. They shouldn’t have to kill, there were only two of them; there shouldn’t be a fight at all. But Mrs. Blackburn liked to do a bit of stunt casting within the Hawkins High School student body.

“No one has been chosen yet!” you turned you attention directly to them. Of course, that was a blatant lie. Both you and Mrs. Blackburn already had pretty much the entire show cast before auditions had even been announced. Dale would play the jester, who Mrs. Blackburn had flagrantly rewritten as a sort of narrator, believing herself capable of rewriting Shakespeare, and Gordon would play Sebastian. He was fundamentally much more attractive than Dale, and much less mockable. Dale was the kid hiding in the classroom in a kilt from Tommy H, which he was wearing because he ripped his pants and didn’t want to walk around with his stained tighty whities.

You turned your attention back to Mrs. Blackburn, a small excited smile spreading across your face. “Who is it?” you asked.

“Oh he’s simply marvellous! He’s in our afternoon class, a Mr. Harrington!” Mrs. Blackburn had a dreamy grin spread across her face, her hands linked together in front of her chest.

Your smile dropped “Steve? Really?” This had to be a joke. Steve was in your drama class so to speak, he was never there. He skipped every class and only showed up for tests and to do graded performances. And his performances were shit. He was never off script and even with the script in front of his face he couldn’t keep the lines straight. He was useless!

“Oh yes yes! We had a very interesting conversation just a few moments ago and he’s very intrigued by our production and I think that he’ll make an interesting, dynamic choice for the role!” Mrs. Blackburn mused, her arms floating around as she spoke as if she was performing Swan Lake instead of properly explaining her decision.

“So, he’s coming into audition?” you asked slowly, leaning on your elbows. Mrs. Blackburn nodded. That was a surprise. The great king of Hawkins high bothering to join the unwashed, artistic masses? That was a shock. You expected him to just demand the role to be his. Not that you thought he’d read the play. You doubted he’d even skimmed the Cliff’s Notes.

“Yes, I’ve already signed him up. By the looks of it, if all the auditions go well we’ll have a full cast without call backs.” She turned her attention to the cowering masses behind her, all staring up in awe. Well, all except Robin Buckley. She wasn’t really a part of the collective though; she was just there for Tammy Thompson.

“Alright, then I can’t wait to see what he does…” you replied with a small smirk. Everyone else in the room was thinking the same thing: Steve Harrington was going to choke. The second Mrs. Blackburn left the room, everyone began their muttering and musing. The only person who seemed to sympathize with the kid was Tammy, who kept whining about poor, poor Steve and how he was going to make a fool of himself. Everyone had seen Steve’s failings with performance, most of the room either spent their free period in your drama class or had taken drama with him in freshman year. His misgivings were known throughout the little crew, even Robin seemed to understand that the kid just wasn’t talented.

And when auditions rolled around, you except the worst. As always, you were playing stage manager slash costumer for the production, your chosen role, and you sat at the back of the classroom with a clipboard and red pen in hand. You had the audition list copied on a few sheets of paper with the role presumed to fit them best. You’d seen most of the room audition a million times before. Both you and Mrs. Blackburn had a clear idea of what was going to happen. And, for the most part, it all fell into place. Tammy, despite her pleas to be Viola, was much more suited to the prissy and rich Olivia; Dale actually wanted to be the fool, which made your life easier, now you wouldn’t have to crush him dreams; Heather Holloway would happily play Viola, which you were more than happy to give her; and sweet little Nicole Chandler would play the nursemaid Maria.

Then, there was Steve Harrington and Gordon Fisher. Gordon had come in and bashed all of your notions of him being fabulously brash and boisterous Sebastian by auditioning instead for the powerful and yet underwhelming awkward Duke Orsino. And he was great! He was better than great!

And then there was Steve. He was terrible. Just plain awful. He didn’t look up once from the crumpled photocopied pages he held in his fist and he didn’t seem to know what he was saying. No, scratch that he had no idea what he was saying. He wasn’t so much playing a character but instead just trying to pronounce the words on the page and string them together in complete sentences. It was painful. But, to Mrs. Blackburn, it was perfect. She clapped when he finished, smiling far too wide as she egged him on. She kicked you under the table to follow suit and you added in a few slow claps. With a hefty dose of praise hefted on him like whipped cream, she sent Steve off and turned her attention to you.

“He’s perfect,” she said. You almost expected her to let out a dreamy sigh, like a love struck teenager instead of a married middle aged woman. She just looked so happy about the whole thing. You took a bit of secret joy in popping her bubble.

“Gordon was much better for the part.” You slipped your pen behind your ear and crossed your arms over your chest. Mrs. Blackburn’s thin mouth dropped open into a tiny ‘o’, only really defined by her cherry red lipstick.

“What?” she cried before composing herself “No, no Gordon was fine, he’ll make a fabulous Sebastian, but Steve is what I want for the Duke.”

“Are you sure I mean-” You couldn’t help but try to argue the point. You knew in your heart that the little shows you helped put on weren’t award worthy by any means but you still took great care in making them as good as possible, if only as a self-serving move to make them watchable from the booth.

Mrs. Blackburn shook her head, her tiny mouth pulling into a stern frown. “The decision is made. You cannot change my mind, Y/N.” she said flippantly, turning away from her to collect her papers. “We’ll have the list up by Monday, yes?”

You swallowed and nodded once. Mrs. Blackburn swept out of the room, her silver bracelets clattering together as she left. Once the door shut, you let out a heavy sigh and put away your clipboard. You’d type up the temporary list and deal with your temperamental director. First, you had to find Steve.

You found him hunched over at his locker. If you didn’t know him better, you’d say that he was ashamed. But he was too much of a cocky shit to ever feel ashamed of his own showboating. And what you just saw was showboating. There was no other way to explain it. He didn’t care about the show, or the play, he only cared about himself and showing off.

You tapped him hard on the shoulder. Steve turned his head. He wasn’t certain of your name but he recognized you from only a few minutes prior. He wanted to disappear. He’d just made a complete fool of himself and now had to atone to his butchering of words he didn’t quite get.

“Look, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but if you’re just signing onto this thing to fuck around and make fun of people, I suggest you back the fuck down. Fisher and Michaels might stand down to your asshole buddies but I won’t.” you sneered, planting your hands on your hips and straightening your back to reach your fullest height. You had never been in a fight before, at least not one that wasn’t staged and within a classroom setting, but you’d stand up for those kids. Anyone who volunteered themselves for theatrical productions were doing something vulnerable, and vulnerability wasn’t something that could be taught or captured in a bottle, it was something given that should be protected. And you vowed to protect them from someone with ill will, if only to make your show better.

“Look,” Steve swallowed hard, looking away from you. Your gaze was searing into him and he was already embarrassed as is. He didn’t think he could blush any harder. “I’m not bullshitting. Mrs. Blackburn offered and I said yes, that’s all. No buddy’s gonna find out about this.”

You watched him squirm like a worm on a hook. He looked genuine. His eyes spoke more volumes than his words. You nodded, letting out a sharp breath through your nose. “Alright…” you turned on your heel and walked off without a goodbye to the thoroughly embarrassed boy.

Once the work started, it was a wash of a production. You wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Tammy was over the moon that Steve Harrington was joining them to play pretend and thrilled to explain to him that his character was in love with hers. He seemed horrified by the idea but dutifully played along. Gordon was beyond pissed, having to watch Steve stumble through lines and direction given by Mrs. Blackburn while he waited for his shot to do any acting at all. Robin was pissed too. Mrs. Blackburn had roped her into the production to do a few flute solos in pivotal scenes, which meant her having to watch the scenes she’d be playing in and you’d have to make her a little costume to wear. You’d been given your budget and some ancient patterns from Mrs. Blackburn’s collection, a 1970s renaissance faire dress pattern that didn’t fit in at all with the period. You bit back complaints about how little money you had to make anything nice.

You silently thanked god for Heather Holloway and her rich parents. They would pay to have her costumes done separately from your handiwork and all you’d have to do was make some decent things for the rest of the cast. You’d be sewing until your fingers bled. You were just thankful that you had made patterns for men’s pants in the same style of the dresses. You wouldn’t have to draft different sizes off a thin parchment pattern for them. Nicole, Tammy, and Heather were all around the same size so you’d only need to two different sizes of pattern. The project would be fairly simple.

Which meant that Mrs. Blackburn had to throw a wrench in everything.

She asked you to speak with her after your afternoon class one month into rehearsals. You stood awkwardly in front of her desk, your trapper keeper clutched tight to your chest, a few fingers bandaged from pricks and pokes from rouge pins and needles. You’d spent the night before alternating between putting blocking notes into your script and hemming the skirt of Tammy Thompson’s pale yellow dress. You’d bought a very pretty pale yellow brocade fabric with thin gold laurel patterns over the material and it was heavier than expected but it looked rightfully rich enough for a duchess to wear.

“Now, I might have overestimated Mr. Harrington’s acting abilities,” she said quietly, looking between you and the door. Steve was the first out of the room when the bell rang, he wasn’t lurking by the door waiting to hear you shit talk him. “He’s not performing well.”

“Well yes, I tried to tell you that when we auditioned him.” You replied, trying to hold back an eye roll.

“There’s no need to be bitter, he’s salvageable.” Mrs. Blackburn turned her attention to erasing the board. She had a freshman year drama class after this and the smelly youths would burst through the door at any moment. “What we’ll do is simply give him some extra help, less time working with the others and have him focus on really working on his lines. He’s not off book anyway.”

You nodded “So, what do you need me to do here?” Mrs. Blackburn reached into her desk and pulled out her pads of excused late slips, pulling out a pen and scribbling out your student information.

“Well, I can’t very well stop blocking the performance and we need to start heading over to the theatre soon. So you’ll handle helping Mr. Harrington from here on out.” She said nonchalantly. Her hoard her stinky children burst into the room, taking over the class with sound and fury, signifying nothing but an assault on your eardrums.

“So, and just for clarification here, you want me to make all the costume, stage manage the production, and teach Steve his lines?” you asked, taking the green slip she dangled out in front of you.

“Well yes of course that’s what you signed on to do and we always come through on what we choose to do.” Mrs. Blackburn turned her attention to her classroom, clapping twice to grab their attention. You knew that this was your cue to leave and you slinked away with your tail betwixt your legs, put back in your place by the older woman. You could’ve screamed. Teaching lines was not what you signed up for. Working with Steve was not what you signed up for. You signed on for making costumes and stage managing. Steve was not a part of the equation. He wasn’t even associated with the equation. He was a whole separate equation that you weren’t supposed to be tasked with solving.

And yet when Mrs. Blackburn announced that the rest of the cast would be heading to the theatre and you’d be staying behind with Steve to run lines, you didn’t complain. Steve did, he wanted to see the theatre, but you stayed silent, waving them goodbye as they left the cramped classroom. You and Steve stared at each other for a moment, silent and awkward, before you reached down and picked up the paper grocery bag you’d brought along with you and pulled out the pretty rouge pink linen you’d bought to make Nicole’s dress. You lay it flat on the desks and unfolded your newspaper patterns.

“Alright, sit.” You pointed to the desk in front of you and opened your patterning kit, pulling out your white tailor’s chalk and sewing scissors. Steve obeyed, tucking himself into the desk. You looked up with a forced smile “Alright, this is how we’re doing to do this. You are going to perform the lines without your script. When you need a line, say line and I’ll give it to you. Repeat it and then start again from the top. We’ll do that until you can say the whole thing without stuttering or calling line. Got it?”

Steve swallowed hard “Got it.”

“Alright, we’ll start from the first scene.” You pulled out your copy of the abridged play. Steve looked at you for a moment, confused and you summoned him to begin.

He took a heaving breath and you began pinning your pattern pieces to the material. “If music be the food of love, play on, give me…” Steve began, already stuttering. He went silent before shamefully asking “Line?”

You looked up with a raised eyebrow. You were hoping for at least a few lines to be known before he needed help. Mrs. Blackburn underestimated how little he knew. “Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting the appetite may sicken, and so die…that strain again!” you read out, monotone before turning your attention to Steve “Start again.”

He spouted out the dialogue, just a nervous as before and stuttering all the while. You managed to get through pinning the skirt piece down before he called line again. He only got through a line of dialogue past your last prompting. Steve looked utterly defeated and small in his seat. “I can’t think like this…” he muttered.

“The stand up. Or pace. Whatever you need to do. Just get through the speech here,” you said with a sigh “Do you need the line?” Steve nodded sadly and you read out the next line and Steve started again.

“If music be the food of love; play on, give me excess of it; that, surfeiting, the appetite may sicken and so die…that strain again! It had a dying fall: o’ it came o’er my ear like the sweet south that breathes upon a bank of violets; stealing odour…enough, no more!” he took a heaving breath. He was halfway across the room now and staring at the wall. You had turned your attention to him and were watching almost in awe. He knew the lines. He knew the whole speech. When he finished, he looked to you as if for the next line. You didn’t give it, instead you stepped out from the desk.

“You know the lines…” you breathed. It wasn’t a good performance, but he was off book. He was putting in work. You were impressed. Surprised, but impressed.

“When I’m walking around the room I do…” Steve chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with a small smile.

“But you have no idea what you’re saying…” you breathed, watching as Steve deflated, giving a small nod.

“Why can’t he just write what he means, I get it’s supposed to be like poetry or whatever, but it makes no sense.” He pushed himself up onto the desk, crossing his legs under him.

“It helps to think about the character as a whole. What do you know about the duke?” you asked, taking a step back to approach the scene with script in hand.

“I mean…he’s a duke, which is an important person with a lot of people who work under him, and he’s in love with Olivia, who’s a rich duchess,” he counted them off with his fingers, chewing on his lower lip as he thought.

“Exactly!” you stopped him mid-sentence, pointing excitedly “He’s in love with Olivia and Olivia doesn’t love him back, right?”

“Right?” he had a right to be confused; Mrs. Blackburn had given Tammy the note to stop playing Olivia so moony eyed over Orsino for weeks now. She hadn’t stopped, despite swearing up and down that she wasn’t trying.

“She doesn’t, and so when he’s talking about love and music, do you think he’s happy to hear the music or not?” you asked.

“I mean…I guess yes and no?” you raised an eyebrow at him. That wasn’t the exact answer you expected. He continued “Cause he’s love sick, and being love sick is fun and terrible at the same time. He talks about being sick in the speech.”

You nodded “Yes! And when he says that he wants to surfeit, that means to like overdose. He wants to die from all the love. He’s overwhelmed by it all.” Steve’s smile grew. For the first time, he felt like he was getting it now. When you explained it, the scene made sense.

You reached for your scissors and picked up the material, taking a deep breath before making the first cut in the fabric. “Alright, now I want you to take all that stuff I told you and try to put it on the words.” You said, gesturing with your finger for him to start again.

And he did. He did the scene over and over again, pacing the room while trying to feel different things. It was easy to be overwhelmed-he was overwhelmed. Everything he was doing overwhelmed him. It didn’t help that you were watching him. He didn’t like being watched. And you kept smiling at some parts and frowning at others. He wanted you to smile all the way through it. That meant that it was good, that he was doing good. And he liked your smile. This was the first time he’d seen it directed at him.

“Alright,” you stopped him mid sentence, holding out a flat palm out “Enough pacing. The blocking has you seat in like this big chair.” You stepped out from behind the desks and pulled out a chair, placing it in the centre of the room. “Sit down, we’re going to put it altogether.”

Steve gingerly sat in the chair, positioning himself the way Mrs. Blackburn had instructed with his legs splayed wide and his right elbow propped on his knee, holding his head up. With a heavy breath he started again “If music be the food of love, play on…fuck!” you looked up from your work curiously “I forgot the line already! I keep thinking about the words and the meaning and the emotions and the meter-I can’t do it all.”

You nodded, pulling the pins out of the pattern and marking the pieces numerically. “Tap your foot to the beat of the words, one less thing to think about.” You said, capping the pin box. “Do it one more time and then we’re done. They’re finishing up at the theatre now, we have to vacate ASAP.”

Steve tried your trick. It worked. He was shocked. You knew so much about this stuff. He didn’t know anything about any of this. He felt like a doofus. But you helped him through. He thought it was a onetime thing, but every rehearsal you’d take him aside and work on the words. Mrs. Blackburn had cut the thing down to about two acts, still longer than most parents wanted to sit through, but better than five acts and two intermissions. He didn’t know how he was going to do this at all. Still, he felt safe with you watching. He could perform to you instead of the audience.

For your part, you liked working with Steve. You didn’t think that you would, but he was pretty self sufficient with the piece after you gave him your Cliff’s Notes version of the text to help him understand the scenes he had to do and the context of the play as a whole. And he was funny. You didn’t know that he was funny. And he hated Tammy. Anyone who hated Tammy was a friend of yours. She was brutally annoying in rehearsals and at this point was refusing to kiss Gordon. And poor Gordon was more than over having Steve there, he swore that the guy was doing something to distract Tammy. Of course he was, he was existing in her world for the first time, but you were quick to defend him, because he was trying. It wasn’t his fault that Tammy couldn’t keep it in her pants or that Heather was more focused on her costumes than her performance. Still, nobody understood why he was there.

Sat with Steve at the back of the Hawkins Community Playhouse, you decided to ask him. “Hey,” you asked quietly. Gordon and Tammy were doing their little love scene on the stage below and Mrs. Blackburn would kill you if she could hear you talking. “Can I ask you something?” Steve nodded, looking up from his script.

“Why are you doing this show?” Steve frowned and you backtracked quickly “I mean, this isn’t your bag I just was curious…”

“Honestly?” Steve asked. You gave a half nod, trying not to appear too curious. “Mrs. Blackburn promised me that if I did this, she’d pass me for the year and that I can skip out on the final.” Your eyes blew wide. You were pissed. Not because he was only doing the show for a decent grade, but because you still had to prepare a monologue performance to perform for your final on top of all this work.

“That bitch…” you murmured “I wanna skip out on the final!”

Steve laughed “Ask! She was only gonna pass me, I haggled for the final.”

“She’d never. She wants to work me to death, I swear.” You chuckled darkly. You flipped up the tan suede Bodice you built, the lace dangling loosely from the eyelets. It looked good. It would look better on Nicole, for now it would have to look good on the floor.

Steve was called up to the stage and you returned to Mrs. Blackburn’s side, watching the ending go down, as Viola’s true nature is revealed and Sebastian is reunited with his sister. It was a messy scene, with the Malvolio plotline cut there wasn’t a scheme to reveal or a villain to unmask, so the scene became instead a bit of a wedding. You still wished you’d done A Midsummer’s Night’s Dream, you would’ve actually auditioned for that show. Still, Twelfth Night was turning into a half decent show. You hadn’t expected Steve to bring anything, but he played the duke like a sort of well meaning dunce, a loveable yet hopeless fool. He just seemed to have fun, especially when Nicole and Dale were acting silly behind him. He just seemed to have fun with them, unlike Tammy and Heather who had no interest in playing and seemed to be fighting for who could look the most bored. It had been a long day, it was nearly eight o’clock at night and Mrs. Blackburn had sent her husband to go pick up pizza for the cast an hour ago. Everyone was exhausted, but you were supposed to do a full fitting for the cast after they were done.

Thankfully, Mrs. Blackburn ended the torture. “Alright,” she clapped once, calling an end to the scene “Let’s call it quits there. Y/N has brought all the costumes for the show with her today, let’s have a try on and then we’ll take our pizza to go. Sound good?” the whole room let out an exhausted half cheer and you picked up the massive duffel bag you’d brought from home.

“I hope everyone remembered their shoes,” you said, pulling out the first hanger, holding the intense yellow brocade with the golden Bodice for Tammy to take. “Heather, your stuff is here, right?” Heather scoffed, taking the three off the stage and picking up her own bag. You handed Nicole her dress and passed out the brown faux burlap pants and white puffy shirts. You’d made separate vests for each character-Steve’s a rich navy blue, Dale’s a jaunty royal purple with a matching jester cap from the prop closet, and Gordon a dull olive green. Their colours would have to do to differentiate them to the audience. Everyone left to do their try on and when they returned you were transported to the ren faire.

You stepped off the stage, joining Mrs. Blackburn in the fifth row. You smiled; the brocade looked lovely under the lights, as did the silver buttons you’d put on Steve’s vest. It was a bit wide. “Alright, Tammy you’re good to change, Steve stay put.” You jumped back onto the stage, stepping behind him. Up close, it was hard to look at him. He was too attractive. You were stunned that any man could look sexy in a stupid puffy shirt, but there Steve was, ruining your work relationship with him.

“Stay still, I’m putting pins in your vest, I don’t want to poke you.” You whispered, pulling a couple pins from your cushion. You felt Steve suck in a deep breath as your fingers grazed his lower back, tingles running up his spine. You pulled the material in a bit, pinning it flat. You noted that you’d have to add a couple darts to each side to make it fit better. It only took a few moments, but when you came back around to look over Steve he looked as if he might faint. “Steve,” he looked to you with blown out eyes “Breathe.” He nodded twice and you stepped off the stage. It was only a week until performances. He must have been scared shitless.

Steve was scared shitless. Of you. He didn’t know how to act when you were watching him. Well, he knew how to act, you’d trained him to play Orsino, but he didn’t know how Steve fit into your relationship. All he knew was that when he had to kiss Heather at the end of the show, he only had you on his mind. He couldn’t even look at you when it was over, he felt like he’d cheated on you. Which was insane, but the feeling stuck in his gut.

When the day of performances came around, Steve was shaken. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He hadn’t told any of his friends about what he was doing and yet word had gone around the school. All of his friends were coming opening night, he swore with pitchforks and rotten fruit to throw. When he got the theatre at four o’clock that afternoon, however, the whole cast was in a tizzy.

Heather was an hour late. And, according to Nicole, she wasn’t coming. “Her father’s hosting a benefit at the Carmel Country Club tonight, there’s no way that she’s showing.” She moaned. Mrs. Blackburn was already in the phone book, looking up the number of the club. She left to make a call, promising that Heather would never do such a thing.

Tammy was crying off her makeup in the corner, with Robin consoling her while trying to not get blackened tears on her white shirt. “She’s going to ruin my show! She’s ruining it!” she sobbed.

You were stood in the corner, unsure where to place yourself. Luckily, Mrs. Blackburn returned quickly. “I’ve just spoken to Heather,” she announced. The room fell into a hush.

“And?” you asked, looking up from the hot rollers you were putting in Nicole’s hair.

“And she’s not coming. She told me about this and I said it was okay. I guess I forgot.” Mrs. Blackburn replied. You knew that was bullshit, but you held your tongue.

“What’re we going to do???” Tammy cried out. That sent the room into an uproar, everyone talking over one another. Steve stayed silent. In truth, he was a bit glad to be rid of Heather. Maybe they wouldn’t have to perform.

“Now, now as we know in the theatre the show must go on!” Mrs. Blackburn cried. “Y/N, as stage manager, has been learning the blocking and pacing for the show. She will go on as Viola and I will make a speech before we go on! It’s all we can do!”

Everyone turned to look at you. You turned your attention to Mrs. Blackburn, walking over to her and whispering in her ear. “If I do this, I don’t have to do the final. You grade on this.” She looked you over and then turned once. You turned to the cast and sighed softly, nodding “The show will go on.” You shrugged, heaving up your trapper keeper.

“She doesn’t look right. She doesn’t have a costume.” Tammy whined.

“I will go to the school and get what we have left. I’m sure we have a pair of trousers and a puffed shirt for her to wear.” Mrs. Blackburn grabbed her purse off the makeup counter “Girls, work your magic on her.”

You put the last roller in Nicole’s hair and she grabbed your arm, pulling her into the chair next to her. “Grab that green skirt from last year!” Nicole called after her teacher “You’re gonna wear this dress for the opening. I’ll wear the skirt and whatever else she brings back, now let’s make you Viola.”

You were poked and prodded and burned until you were as close to looking like Heather as you were going to get. Then, you were stuffed into Nicole’s dress. Thankfully, Mrs. Blackburn had found two leftover puffy white shirts and a bodice, and the decision was made that you’d wear the rouge dress and she’d wear the green skirt from last year. It was a nice enough gesture, as was Tammy being forced to give up her extra pair of character shoes, which she did begrudgingly at the behest of Robin.

And then, you were stood offstage. And you were terrified. You’d never done this before. In your four years of stage managing, no one had ever called out of a performance, you’d never had to take over a role last minute. Your mind kept focusing on the discomfort of the costume. Nicole had tied your bodice too tight. Tammy’s shoes were too big. The skirt was too long. You were too wrong for this. You wanted to run. And then, the lights came up on Steve. Your breath caught in your throat as he spoke the opening lines so well and Robin began her first flute solo. Steve was doing wonderfully. With his left foot tapping lightly on the wooden stage floor, he knew what he was saying, even with distraction surrounding him. Internally, he felt as close to someone else as he’d ever felt in his life. Steve didn’t like that you weren’t in the audience to watch him, but he couldn’t see anyone with the lights on anyway. The audience clapped as he finished his scene and left with Dale, the lights going out fully as Robin cleared her chair and music stand and Gordon carried off the throne. Steve reached out and squeeze your shoulder with a kind smile.

“You have this,” he said softly. You heaved out a breath and stepped on the stage. You went right to the centre and right up to the edge, sitting down so your legs dangled off. You had no idea how Heather did this. You were too close to the audience. As the lights came up, you looked down at the lines in front of you. Dale stepped onto the stage in a sailor’s cap. He really had to play everyone in this stupid show. He nodded to you with a smile.

“What…” you voice came out in a whisper. No one could hear you. You took a breath, closing your eyes before trying again. “What country, friends, is this?” you asked loudly.

Dale’s smile grew. The scene was actually happening. “This is Illyria, lady.” He said, doing his best to sound like an old man.

The first scene was bumpy. Dale wanted to show off a bit and make the audience laugh, even though the scene was an info dump, which meant that you could just read the lines back to him and follow the blocking. You were more comfortable moving than you were speaking. But it got easier. Once you were dressed as Ceserio and working with Steve, things went smoother. You knew those scenes very well, the lines were almost memorized on your part from playing scene partner to him. Steve was fun to work with, he constantly made you smile.

It wasn’t hard for you to pretend to be in love with Steve. You felt like you were. Well, maybe not love. But like. Like a whole lot. And you were sure that he liked you to. Or maybe he was just that good of an actor.

The show went so fast. It was refreshing. Sat in the booth, it was a slog to get through, but onstage it went quick. You were nervous over the ending. You knew Heather’s last scene was a kiss with Steve. It wasn’t the passionate, intense kiss that Tammy and Gordon would do a scene before, but it was still a kiss. No matter how he felt about you, this was going to change your friendship forever.

You joined the cast last on stage, the who’s who of the plot being broken down, Steve was supposed to be mad when you came onstage, but he smiled like he’d seen what heaven looked like. You smiled up at Steve as the changed scene began, cutting the duel that leads the group into their explanations of the mix ups. Mrs. Blackwell hadn’t had the heart to cut a bit of Viola’s dialogue, so it lead the group into the explanations instead.

“After him I love, more than I love these eyes, more than my life, more by all the mores than e’er I shall love my wife.” You had no direction for what to do with the line. Heather had said it dramatically towards the audience. You turned your attention to Steve, caressing his face with your thumb. It was greedy, you were using the scene to get a bit of affection from the boy. You knew you shouldn’t, but you couldn’t help it. Steve seemed bewildered but happy, he fit the moment perfectly.

The scene continued as planned, with all the reveals shown to the characters and couples happily coupled off. Sebastian and Olivia were revealed to be married and that all was okay between Viola and Olivia once her gender was revealed.

Steve turned to you, smiling ear to ear “Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times thou never shouldst love woman like me.” He took your hands in his squeezing them tight.

“And all those sayings will I over-swear, and all those swearing keep me as true in soul as doth orbed continent the fire that severs day from night.” You replied, matching his giddy grin. The kiss was coming soon, he had one more line and then he’d plant one on you.

“Give me thy hand,” you both looked down at your still clasped together hands. The audience chuckled. Steve pressed on “And let me see thee in thy woman’s weeds.” You and Nicole rushed offstage and quickly changed you into the dress again. You were all butterflies and pins and needles, shaking in your loose heels. Nicole brushed out your skirt and smiled, escorting you back onstage.

The audience clapped politely on your return, you tried your best to smile although was hard to breath with Steve looking at you like that. He scooped you up in his arms and kissed you quickly before you had a moment to react. You swore that he had a line before this happened but you didn’t care. Your script was out of your hands anyway, he’d knocked it out of your hands when he lifted you off the ground. You swore you were flying.

And then you were on the ground. Steve cleared his throat. He was blushing madly. He remembered his line. He turned to Tammy, who was holding back a laugh before turning back to you.

“Cesario, come! For so you shall be, while you are a man; but, when in other habits you are seen, Orsino’s mistress and his fancy’s queen.” He announced, grabbing your hand and sweeping you off the stage, Gordon and Tammy in close pursuit. Dale and Nicole still had a scene, which Mrs. Blackburn had changed for them to share. You weren’t paying attention to them though.

“Nice work,” Steve breathed, squeezing your hand in his.

“You surprised the hell outta me,” you chuckled “Made me lose my script.”

“You look really pretty like this,” Steve said. You looked at him carefully. He was sweaty and shy, his eye barely met yours.

You smiled “Thank you, you look good in cheap period costumes.” You knocked your hip into his, making him stumble just a bit. He grabbed your hip, pulling them parallel to his.

“Yeah?” he asked, bring his left hand to grab your chin.

You smiled “Oh yeah, definitely,” you wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him down to kiss you again as Tammy and Gordon ran to grab you for curtain call. You didn’t care. Looking into Steve’s eyes, you knew he wasn’t a good enough actor to fake the way he looked at you. And you swore the world went silent in that moment, nothing standing between you and the swirling stars and hearts in his eyes.

[m00nlitknight]

more misc bowers gang headcanons.

henry.

takes pretty warm showers

they tend to be pretty short, and accomplish the bare minmum for his hygiene

takes his in the morning before school but after feeding the animals

brushes his fucken teeth in there

depending on the night before, he’ll either seek refuge from butch in the form of sleeping in the barn or belch’s house; granted he’s still completely mobile

if he were to be 100% honest he’s a bit annoyed that patrick is so independent. he knows that there’s strength in numbers, and really wants to be seen as ‘big bads’ 

in that same vein; he’s very possessive of vic and belch’s time. very.

not so much clingy, but moreso thinks that he is deserving of every ounce of time and attention whether it be his friends or a s/o

which is kind of what drives them away

had a hard time sharing anything in elementary school. those are his crayons dammit.

in elementary school he really enjoyed art class, and was actually pretty okay at sculpting, but butch drove him away from it by being well,,,butch,,,

deep down he wants to draw again, but outwardly he shows resentment toward the subject in entirety

actually gets worse as the years go on. the teachers at school don’t do much to stop it, actually gave up once he hit about eigth grade.

in class, he almost always manages to get an entire part of the room to himself ( the back ) or for his friends.

belch.

willingly allows henry to take all of his time.

is truly oblivious to his friends nature being derivitive of toxic

whenever henry stays over, belch typically sleeps on the couch or recliner. he knows the kid deserves at least one good nights rest.

not very good at art, but had a good time in elementary school.

within high school he joins some sports ( namely football )

he tried track, wrestling and basketball for a year but they weren’t really for him.

manages to iron himself into a pretty tolerable person after middle school. though it’s absolutely most noticeable when he’s around his friends ( and hardly even then since he’s still a teenager ) that he can be a teddy bear

outwardly, to the rest of the student body, he still has a pretty stony exterior. definitely a “do not fuck with me” vibe radiates from him.

a lot of discipline is from within. while he may not gain any respect from teachers, his coach sees the self-growth and applauds him from the sidelines.

no matter how much time passes, he will always be wary of patrick

like where the fuck does he go? what the fuck does he do?? why does he look like slenderman with a wig??

vic.

takes normal showers. if it’s too hot he suffocates from the steam, if it’s too cold he freezes.

usually plays music while he showers. doesn’t have spotify premium, unfortunately

they’re relatively short, but it’s okay. 

has the only semblance of a skin care routine which is moisteriser sometimes in the winter / colder temps when his face gets dry

recognizes henry’s behaviors, and has since he started being friends with him, but does his best to just try and not evoke his friend’s wrath

too afraid to say anything to belch or any adult. just looks forward to the future in hope

at school he absolutely has bde. he has a certain kind of swagger to him that makes him unapproachable, aside from his affiliation.

while he may not accel in visual art, he does have a secret appreciation for theatre and other forms. he would never tell henry.

usually the only one to attend belch’s games for the full time. henry gets bored and leaves about halfway through, and patrick never shows.

sometimes a bit sad about his social life, but he bears with it with optimism.

patrick.

takes his showers either blisteringly, unbearably hot or ice cold. jumps in whenever he’s ready, regardless of temperature.

has, in fact, jumped into the quarry when it was ice fucking cold

will take  f o r e v e r  in the shower if someone mentions something about needing the bathroom or even comes knocking.

however, the action of bathing is an absolute occassion for this guy

usually at night / fuckall hours. him in the shower in the morning / mid-day is an oddity

he’s fucking gross is what im saying

to build off of the previous music hcs; considering he really likes to do things for the sheer shock value his musical tastes absolutely reflect that.

100% bumps to msi is what im saying

the most independent from the group. he just sorta fucks off and does whatever he wants a good 75% of the time

that other 25% of the time is inclusive of school ( homeroom / detention / lunch, but its important to note that he’ll still cut without the other three ) and car rides, or group fucking around.

do not fuck with him at any costs. this should be obvious! there is no growth as a person with him, if anything his tendencies get worse without any attempts at stopping from anyone else.

really, truly, does not give a fuck about what anyone thinks about him. just about anyone is too scared to talk to him, so it’s basically just a free for all with him.