#my face in the theater was just :O

[louismygf]

just recently watched this is us with my college friends

[ifangirlalot]

could you write a fingering smutfic w reader x mike or richie?? I love your fics 😭‼️

˗ˏˋ 𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐓𝐒 ˎˊ˗ | starring mike wheeler & richie tozier

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

*~smut!~* [𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘]: fingering, lewd language, no p in v this time

You guys do know it's okay to request for more than one character, right? I'm more than happy to do more than one :p

Also, sorry to disappoint, but requests are off until further notice, I have like 20 something in my inbox that I need to get...... :')

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

┊ ˚➶ ｡Mike Wheeler ˚ ☁️

Mike Wheeler was most certainly not a "ladies' man". Mike Wheeler was a nerd. He spent most of his time playing nerdy fantasy RPG games in his basement with his friends. He didn't know the first thing about pleasing a woman.

Or at least, he didn't think he did.

But from the way [Name] was currently writhing underneath the tips of his fingers, the way her plump pink lips were opened into an 'o' shape, the lewd, pornographic moans slipping through as she screamed at him for more, he was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, he was better at it than he gave himself credit for.

[Name]'s fingers closed around his wrist as his two digits continued to piston in and out of her wet, gummy opening. "Oh god- oh god, Michael, don't stop, don't stop, don't stop!" she begged, panting heavily for a few moments before elicting another loud moan.

Mike's teeth sank into his lower lip as he slowly circled her clit with his thumb. He watched with fascination as she parted her legs even further apart, chewing on her own lip as she looked between her legs, watching his fingers appear and disappear from her pussy opening.

"Cumming soon." [Name] announced, tilting her head back against the pillow.

With new motivation, Mike pulled his fingers out slightly and jammed them back in at a new speed. He could hear the wet pap sound his fingers made every time they thrusted into her sweet, wet hole. She was so wet he could see the moisture glistening beneath the dim lighting in his basement.

And then she came. With a series of throaty moans, high pitched gasping, and loud whimpers, [Name] spilled her orgasmic liquids all over his fingers. He could feel the bulge in his pants throbbing as he watched the thick, cream colored liquid drip down his wrist.

┊ ˚➶ ｡Richie Tozier ˚ ☁️

Richie pretended to be into the movie playing at the Derry theater. He really did. But he just couldn't. The damn thing was so fucking boring. So about twenty minutes in, he walked his fingers between he and [Name]'s seats and to her thighs. She was wearing a sundress tonight. Lucky for him, right?

Keeping his gaze straight ahead so as not to draw attention to himself, he pushed the hem of the dress skirt up slowly with his index finger. He could feel the soft, smooth skin of her thigh beneath his fingertip.

[Name] gasped, quickly pushing his hand away. "Richie, are you crazy?!" she hissed, her face flaming red with embarrassment. "Not here, we're in pub-"

Richie cut her off. "Shhh… Just relax, doll. Lemme work my magic."

Evidentally, she wasn't too objected to him, as she didn't protest again. On the contrary, she cracked her legs open slightly. Richie smirked to himself and slowly pushed his hand up her skirt again.

His fingers reached what he wanted and he let out a low, satisfied hum. "Hm… all wet, doll? Damn girl.. already?" Richie smirked and pushed the girl's panties aside.

As his fingers began working her over slowly, [Name] let out a soft moan and reached between her legs, placing her hand over Richie's above her clothes. Richie inserted two digits into her sweet, juicy cunt and slowly thrusted them, his thumb brushing her clit in quick stroking motions. He wanted so badly to finger fuck the shit out of her, but he didn't want the noise of her sopping cunt to draw attention over, so he kept his thrusts slow and even.

[Name] could barely contain herself as is anyway. She squirmed and whimpered through her clamped shut lips, her hand pushing against Richie's and trying to get his fingers to go in deeper, deeper.

Her sounds were starting to get to him. He could feel his cock stirring to life in his jeans and he groaned quietly, wanting nothing more than to bury inside her pussy to relieve the both of them. But instead, he pummeled his fingers deeper into her cunt and ticked off the minutes until this damn movie was over.

[nanamis-angel]

𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐬! ♡

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ৹ you and yuji are classmates and you might have a lil crush on him. so what happens when nobara suddenly notices this and drags megumi along to "spy" on the both of you when you suddenly agree to go with yuji to the theater and watch some silly movie?

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 ৹ yuji x fem!reader, fluff, chaos, overall silliness, this is honestly more about nobara being chaotic and megumi being dragged along into it. megumi is lowkey a lil hater but I love him.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ৹ 1.4k

𝐚/𝐧 ৹ because we all need a little silly jjk content after the most recent jjk leaks. also apologies for any improper grammar or misspellings, this is hardly proofread. (hearts divider by @/s-h-o-w-y).

“So really the theme of it is love!” You watched as Yuji, your fellow classmate, desperately tried to explain the plot of Human Earth worm four to Megumi and Nobara. Their facial expressions showed that they were clearly uninterested in it.

“Sounds childish, I’d rather spend my time on something worth it.” Nobara replied. Clearly they had two separate definitions of “worth it.”

Yuji’s eyes fell on Megumi, all big and beady as if he were begging him to agree. Megumi just scratched the back of his head. “I’m not really a big movie person.” He said, looking away as to try and push off Yuji’s plea casually.

After his friends answer, Yuji had a look of defeat on his face, disappointed that no one wanted to watch the movie with him. You knew it was something that he enjoyed and you didn’t want him to feel bad or that none of his friends cared about his interests, so you spoke quickly after seeing his face.

“Uh, I’ll go see it with you.” You said, hoping that it would fix Yuji’s sad mood.

Immediately, Yuji’s face lit up. “Really?” He asked.

But before you could even answer, he grabbed your hand and started for the door. “Great! Lets go!”

You yelped as he practically dragged you along with the biggest smile on his face—completely innocently. And out the door the two of you went.

Megumi and Nobara watched the scene with confused expressions before Nobara’s changed to one of contemplation. “Huh? What’s up with you?” Megumi asked, noticing her face.

“I know for a fact [Name] doesn’t like movies like that… So why would she agree to go?” Nobara spoke her thoughts out loud as a reply, furrowing her brows in confusion.

“What are you trying to get at?” Megumi asked, slightly irritated by her cryptic reply. Perhaps he was just slightly unaware of the possibilities that Nobara seemed to have caught onto really quickly.

Nobara seemed to connect the dots in her head. “Unless… She feels bad for Itadori because she likes him and that’s why she agreed to go!” She exclaimed proudly as if she had just solved some sort of mystery.

Megumi’s facial expression turned to one of confusion—maybe even with a little bit of shock before it fell into one of unamusement. “Are you serious?” he asked at her ridiculous notion. “She could totally just be pitying him. That doesn’t mean she likes him.”

“Are you a girl?” Nobara deadpanned, her stare like daggers.

Megumi’s brows furrowed. “What? No. What’s that got to do with anything?”

Nobara crossed her arms. “Exactly, so you don’t know how women function. I can see it in her eyes, she totally likes Itadori. And now you and I are going to go spy on them and get answers!”

“Are you crazy?” Megumi asked. “it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Pfft, says you.” Nobara taunted. “I’m bored and I know you are too, so let’s go! I need something exciting to happen around here!”

***

In the theater, you were awfully close to Yuji as the movie played. You had to admit the mad scientist was a little unnerving, even for you, a girl who fought curses every other day. So you found yourself instinctively latching onto Yuji’s arm and secretly wondering when the theme of “love” Yuji claimed was in the movie earlier was going to happen.

From the back of theater, Nobara was keeping her eyes fixed on the two of you towards the front. “Look, see? She’s holding on to his arm!” She whispered to Megumi.

The two of them (AKA Nobara and a very unwilling Megumi) had snuck into the theater so you and Yuji wouldn’t see them. Nobara had been paying close attention to you and Yuji the entire time in order to see any sort of affectionate exchange. Megumi, however, just blankly stared at the big screen, wondering how Yuji even enjoyed stuff like this.

Yuji chuckled as he felt your arm wrap around his in suspense. “The mad scientist is kind of crazy, isn’t he?”

You nodded your head. “Mhm, conducting experiments like that is psychotic.” You replied in a whisper. “When does the romance start?”

Yuji smiled. “Soon!” he replied.

Truly, on the inside, Yuji’s heart was absolutely soaring. Having you so close to him and so casually too—it made his heart clench. He had always had a little crush on you ever since meeting you, but out of respect for you, he never said anything.

He never wanted to make you uncomfortable or anything but knowing that you felt comfortable enough with him was making his absolute day.

Megumi had hear your voices and saw just how content Yuji looked. His brows furrowed in confusion. “It can’t mean anything. Itadori is always smiling.” He thought to himself. There was no way Nobara could be right about this… Or could she?

***

As the movie ended, you were shocked to see that the movie really was indeed about love and the main character had found love despite his unique and different circumstances. It was oddly endearing when you thought about it.

“Wow, I guess it really was about love.” You said as you and Yuji began to walk towards the exit together.

“Yeah! It was great, wasn’t it?” Yuji asked with a big smile.

You nodded and then felt your cheeks heat up as your hand brushed against his. But before you could do anything, Yuji took hold of it—his smile never fading. He had done it so casually it almost shocked you but you didn’t mind it. You averted your gaze however, not wanting him to see the embarrassed look on your face.

This was definitely not how you were expecting this to go but you didn’t mind. Besides… you had already been kinda crushing on your fellow classmate for quite some time already.

“They’re leaving!” Nobara alerted Megumi, shaking him. “Wait, are they holding hands?!”

In just a few seconds, Megumi attempted to get up from his seat and leave the aisle already and Nobara tried to push past him, trying to get a better look to see if you and Yuji were really holding hands or not. And then both of them toppled over each other onto the hard ground of the cinema.

Your head snapped over to where you could now see Megumi and Nobara on the floor. Megumi looked as if he were about to summon Mahoraga he were extremely agitated that Nobara had just sent him barreling for the floor and she looked like a caught kid the moment her eyes met yours.

Then, Yuji noticed them too. “Oh! Fushiguro, Kugisaki what are you doing here?” he asked, obliviously. “I thought neither of you wanted to come!”

Nobara rushed to her feet, scratching the back of her neck. “We changed our minds!” She lied, blurting out the words. “We just didn’t want to bother you guys!”

“Right.” Megumi gritted out as he got up and dusted himself off. He glared daggers at Nobara for a brief moment.

“Oh, well the movie was cool, right?” Yuji asked as the four of you continued to the exit. At this point, you and Nobara were counting on Megumi to answer the question.

As you walked out, you slowed to be right by Nobara. “You came to spy on me and Yuji, didn’t you?” You asked with a smug little grin.

Nobara sighed, knowing it was pointless to deny it. “Fine, you caught me. But I was so bored.” She spoke in defense of herself.

You let out a loud laugh. “And you dragged Fushiguro into this?” You snorted, wondering how she had even gotten Megumi out of the school and to the theater in the first place. Now that must’ve taken some convincing.

(Or perhaps Megumi was slightly intimidated by Nobara; which was reasonable.)

“Hey, at least I was right.” She huffed, crossing her arms. But then she looked at you with some curiosity in her eyes. “But I have to ask… when did you start taking interest in Itadori anyway? It feels like it came out of nowhere.”

“It kind of did.” You replied, your eyes set on Yuji, watching him as he walked and talked right beside Megumi. “I mean, I guess I’ve kind of liked him for a while but today was the manifestation, I suppose. He’s really sweet and he’s really passionate about the things he loves… Makes me wonder what he’d be like in a relationship.”

As your gaze was fixed upon him, Nobara could tell you were getting a little lost in your imagination and she knew exactly what that meant for you and Yuji in the next coming months.

Her look of curiosity immediately turned to a smug look and under her breath she whispered. “I was right. Take that, Fushiguro.”

[sommerbueckers]

hey baby! so i couldn’t really come up to some scenario, but i would realllyyyy like to see smth like reader is a professional ballerina and has a 🤏🏼 age gap w Paige, (P could also be r’s older sister’s friend if thats sits well with you) and like they have a situationship or Paige tries to hit on r, but P keeps her playboy attitude (ifykwim). I would be really happy to see this especially when i’m in love with everything u do, but its alr if you don’t feel like itt! Love ya and forever grateful 🫂♥️

𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭

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✰ 𝐰𝐜 :: 𝟏.𝟓𝐤

✰ 𝐡𝐢 𝐦𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 !!

✰ 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲

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THE MUSIC CEASED, AND the entirety of the theater was submerged in a thick silence. You panted softly, your gaze casted downward while your hands were raised above your hand in an 'O' shape. Seconds passed, seconds that felt like hours, before the audience erupted with cheers.

People stood, people whistled, people clapped, and you felt your body finally relax. The man beside you, Theodore was his name, smiled proudly to the crowd before he gently took your hand and led you backstage. Once the two of you were concealed by the thick, black curtain, you leapt into his arms.

"We did it, Theo! We did it!" you hailed, your voice muffled as you spoke into the fabric of his leotard.

Theo chortled in his own disbelief, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist.

After months of rehearsing and previewing the performance, you and Theo had finally brought it to the stage. Pas de deux was no walk in the park, you had many bruises to attest to that, but the hardest part was over: Opening Night.

You fanned your face after Theo set you down, your lips permanently stretched from ear to ear as the people backstage repeatedly congratulated you. A while after you retreated to your dressing room, wanting nothing more than to see your family who had been waiting to see you all night. You and Theo walked out together.

"You were amazing out there, Svea."

"Me?" you gawked, a laugh following afterward. "You were incredible! When we first started rehearsing you didn't even have the strength to lift me! You remember that?"

"Yes, unfortunately, it's hard to forget," he sighed, shaking his head.

You playfully nudged him arm with your elbow, "You've come a long way, so you better celebrate tonight."

"I will. I'm gonna 'get turnt' as you say," he smiled.

The two of you reached the front lobby where it had begun to clear out. Though people still lingered, as people usually did, it wasn't hard to spot your family amidst all of them.

Your mother waved excitedly, rushing toward you with the largest of smiles on her face. She took you into her arms just as Theo had done, her grip was much weaker than his.

"Oh honey, i'm so proud of you!" she cried, her brown eyes going glossy with tears.

"We, Sonya," your father chimed in from behind her.

"Yes, yes," the woman waved dismissively. "That young man was great too, I thought he handled you with so much care."

"We! We thought that," your father had stepped forward now, wrapping his thick arm around you and drowning you in his cologne. There was a bouquet of red roses in his hand, secured together with a silky black ribbon. "We got these for you. Your mother picked them out, of course, but I paid."

You laughed lightly, "Thank you dad."

"Alright, outta the way! My turn!"

Your head snapped in the direction of your sister's voice, grimacing as she pushed your father aside and pulled you in for a hug. She was a few years older than you, but the top of her head stopped just above your shoulder.

"You looked like a spec of dust flyin' around out there, I wasn't sure if it was really you," she said, squinting upward. "Look like you could use a donut or two."

You patted your stomach, "Definitely could."

"If you ride with me and Paige, we'll take you to Krispy Kreme or something," she winked.

"Paige?"

As if on cue, Paige appeared behind your sister. She also had a bouquet of flowers, but these were different from the ones your father had gifted you; these were special. It was a bundle of hibiscuses tied together by a pink ribbon, Paige had always known what you liked. You stared at her in awe — of the gesture of course.

She presented them to you with a smile, the smile that she often gave you whenever she did something remarkably sweet but didn't want to make a big deal out of it.

"You got me these?" you tilted your head at her.

"No," she frowned, "your sister did. She jus' didn't feel like holding them."

"Actually I gave them to you when I went to the bathroom and you refused to give them back after that," the shorter girl argued.

"Oh." You hid your disappointment well, nobody seemed to notice it as you thanked your sister for the flowers and followed the group out of the building. Of course Paige hadn't gotten the flowers for you, the gesture was too grand, and Paige often preferred to keep things clandestine.

You, Paige, and your sister separated from your parents, heading toward the parking garage where the two had parked.

Paige fell into step with you, her hands stuffed casually into her pockets as she smiled down at you.

"You looked pretty up there," she whispered, "You look pretty all the time, but, especially when you're dancing."

You blushed at her compliment, shaking your head and keeping your eyes steady on your sister's back.

"Not gonna thank me?"

"Thank you, Paige."

"That didn't feel genuine," she sucked her teeth, "I think you'll have to give me a kiss to prove you meant it."

You flashed her a disapproving look, "You know I don't kiss people i'm not dating."

"You kissed me before," she reminded you, lowering her voice a bit.

You sighed slightly, glancing up at her to find her giving you that signature smirk. "Maybe later."

That answer seemed to satisfy her enough, she nodded triumphantly and began to walk ahead of you to assist your sister in finding the car.

Did you want to kiss Paige? Of course you did, what girl didn't? But that was the problem, any girl that wanted to kiss Paige got what they wanted. You knew you couldn't have her all to yourself, so you tried to find peace in the little piece that she'd given you.

"LEMME TAKE A PIC OF YOU WITH YOUR FLOWERS."

Everyone had gone to bed except for you and Paige. The two of you were standing in the kitchen, the light to the fan above the stove hardly illuminating your faces.

You swallowed a bite of your donut, "Um, why?"

"Because they're pretty," she shrugged, "and you're pretty. So, why not?" She always knew exactly what to say. She grabbed the bouquet from the island and handed it over to you.

"Say 'Paige' on three," she smiled.

Your shoulders slumped, "I'm not saying that shit."

"Fine. Jus' say 'Cheese' then," she rolled her eyes.

"Cheese..." you repeated, cradling the bundle of flowers in your arm. Paige's finger rapidly tapped the button, taking more pictures than she needed. "Can I see them?"

"If you want," she shrugged, "but you gotta give me somethin' first." She was childish wiggling her eyebrows at you.

You scoffed, moving back toward the counter to set the flowers down. "Can you ever just be nice without a price?"

"Bro c'mon," she sighed, tilting her head. "You can't really sit there and tell me you don't wanna kiss me."

She was right, you couldn't. The truth was you bad been waiting all night to kiss Paige, you just wanted to seem stronger than you were. She was staring at you with those bright blue eyes, those perfect pink lips pulled into a smirk, she knew what I was doing.

She stepped closer, her phone lying abandoned on the countertop. "How 'bout this," she started, "i'll ask you one last time, and if you say 'no' I won't ever ask again, okay?" She was pretending to be sweet, like if the thought of her kissing me actually made me uncomfortable then she would stop if I asked her to. She knew i'd never ask. She knew I wouldn't say 'no', not to her.

She was towering over me now, her eyes low, gaze determined to break me. I pressed my hands to her abdomen, I tried to find the strength within me to push her away but all I could manage to do was keep her there. She trapped my wrists in her fingers, snaking them under her shirt to lay against her skin.

"Tell me," her voice was low, and she was breathing hard through her nose. Like she was trying her hardest to contain herself.

You couldn't look her in the eyes, but you could feel her breath hot on your forehead.

"C'mon, Svea, tell me. Tell me you don't wanna kiss me."

"I can't."

"Why can't you?" she urged.

"Because I do wanna kiss you," you sighed out, having accepted your defeat.

Paige stepped back from you, nodding her head with a victorious smile. "I know."

You had fallen for it, just like always. She'd steer you away from your boundaries, right until just after you broke, and then she'd play you like a fool. Just like she had done just now.

She tauntingly pointed her finger at you, breaking off a piece of your donut and tossing it in her mouth. "Next time, don't be so stubborn."

She retreated up the stairs to your sister's room, leaving you alone in the dimply lit kitchen with your lips parted and a tingly feeling between your legs.

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[agaypanic]

former theater kid as well !! maybe a story about regina with a gf in theater club ?

My Little Star (Regina George X Theater Kid!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Your girlfriend comes to see you in your last high school show.

A/N: depending on which regina you’re envisioning with this, au where everyone has smartphones. post!mean girls regina bc then i wont feel too bad if she seems too ooc. ive been thinking a lot about romeo and juliet lately so the play is romeo and juliet teehee

***

If you had told your younger self that at the end of your senior year, you’d be the leading star in your final show and be dating Regina George, she would’ve thought you were insane.

Yet here you were, getting ready for the opening night of Romeo and Juliet while your girlfriend spam-texted you words of encouragement.

Regina <3

You’re gonna do so good, I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU!!!

I was gonna keep it a surprise until after the show, but I got your favorite 

*Sent 1 Attachment*

Unlocking your phone to respond, you were greeted with a picture of Regina sitting in the auditorium holding a large bouquet of your favorite flowers. She had a great big smile on her face, her eyes squinting from it. 

Your breath hitched. You knew Regina loved you, but the picture radiated her feelings of pride for you. It made you want to run out and smother her in affection.

Instead, you texted her back.

You

OMG you’re literally the sweetest Regina!!

I’ll be looking for you in the audience lol

Regina <3

I’m sitting in the very center, so hopefully I’m easy to spot

Especially with this giant ass bouquet

You laughed at the message and soon got a tap on your shoulder from one of your friends, telling you places were in five minutes.

You

I have to go, we’re gonna start soon

But I’ll be looking for you :)) 

You waited until you saw a response from Regina before putting your phone in your bag.

Regina <3

YOU’RE GONNA DO AMAZING

BREAK A LEG <3333

DON’T ACTUALLY BREAK A LEG THO

THAT’D BE BAD

I LOVE YOU!!!

Laughing at her stream of messages, you put your phone away and rushed out to your place. As much as you revel in the fact that you had a leading role, you were already waiting for the show to be over so you could see Regina.

***

If you had to choose one, the death scene was probably your favorite. It was dramatic, which was always fun, and you got to stab yourself with a retractable blade.

“What’s here? A cup, closed in my true love’s hand?” You took the empty cup out of Romeo’s, whose real name was Jared, stiff hand, inspecting it. “Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end: O churl! Drunk all, and left no friendly drop to help me after?” You dropped the cup in distress, wondering what to do. Then your eyes fell on Jared’s lips, and you had a revelation. “I will kiss thy lips; Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, to make die with a restorative.”

You held his face gently in your hands and leaned down to kiss him. Every time you went through a kiss scene with Jared, you pretended it was Regina you were kissing. The passion seemed more authentic that way.

You pulled away, staring down at Jared.

“Thy lips are warm.” You said brokenheartedly. You were just barely too late. If only he had waited a while longer to drink the poison so you’d be awake to stop him.

“Lead, boy: which way?” You heard from offstage. 

“Yea, noise?” You looked toward the direction of the noise’s source in a panic. “Then I’ll be brief. O happy dagger!”

You grabbed Romeo’s dagger and raised it to the audience. And that’s when you caught a glimpse of Regina. Despite the room being dark and her being far away, you could feel her excitement as she watched. You had to stop yourself from smiling.

“This is thy sheath,” You say before shoving the dagger into your heart. You gasp a little and look up. To the audience, you could’ve been looking up to the heavens in your last moments. But you were doing your best to stare into Regina’s eyes that were fixated on you. “There rust, and let me die.”

With that, you fell on top of Jared’s body, doing your best not to crush him as you ‘died.’

The scene continued from there, and you did your best not to move. Your back was killing you from the long show, but eventually, it ended. When you came out for bows, you heard a particularly loud cheer, and you didn’t have to guess who it was. It made you smile even more, so much that your cheeks started getting sore.

When the bows were over, and the cast and crew were finding their friends and family in the audience, you ran to Regina. It was a bit difficult weaving through the crowd, especially in your costume, but eventually, you reached the blonde, who had her arms opened wide and ready to catch you.

“You were amazing!” Regina all but shouted in your ear as she hugged you, squeezing you tightly. “Absolutely showstopping. One day, you’ll be a famous actress.”

“You think too highly of me, Regina.” You said with a giggle, and you were sure that your reddening cheeks were showing through your heavy stage makeup.

You grabbed your girlfriend’s face and kissed her. It was a million times better than pretending you were kissing her instead of Jared when you were on stage. Regina’s hands dropped to your hips, pulling you close against her. When you let out a little moan, you knew you should pull away before you felt like you couldn’t turn back.

“These are for you,” Regina said before biting her slightly swollen lip, giving you the giant bouquet she had gotten for you. One thing about Regina was that she was never cheap.

“I love them.” You smiled, giving her a few pecks.

“Anything for you, my little star.” The nickname made you giddy, made you feel like you were the only ones in this gigantic room. “Now how about you go change, we get some food, and then you sleep over at my house?”

“That sounds perfect.” You kissed Regina again; it was like you were addicted to her lips. “I should go now. If I kiss you anymore, I’ll probably never leave.”

“I definitely wouldn’t complain,” Regina smirked, but agreed that you should go change. She turned you around by the shoulders and gave you a quick pat on the butt to send you on your way, laughing at the way you squealed in surprise.

[doki-doki-imagines]

Can you write earrhrealmers feel about an s/o that likes giving them head? Like, it’s a hobby at this point 🤣👀

author note: the request is nsfw, but the hcs are suggestive, so no action is described! Spoiler: most of them are more than fine with lol

Johnny Cage: -Does he seem worried to you? You could spend your entire holidays between his legs, and Johnny wouldn't complain. -Do that in the seat of his car or in an empty theater, and Johnny will see stars, planets, and universes, from his mouth a river of compliments for your good work. -But what kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn't return the favour? Get ready, Liu Kang gifted him with those hands, and they aren't there just to be looked at.

Kenshi Takahashi: -With his highlighted senses, every time you go down on him, Kenshi thinks to go a bit crazy. -His tattooed hand running on your head, not setting a rhythm, just touching you. -Honestly? He wouldn't mind if you stayed there forever. -But Kenshi is a nice guy, you know? After you finish, he'll tap his lap, prompting you to sit on it. -It's your turn sugar, and you'll stay there for as long as he wants to.

Raiden: -He isn't that much at ease? Don't misunderstand, Raiden loves to look at your face, at your lips taking him so nicely, but- -He just prefers to be the one on his knees for you, lavishing you in compliments at each whine and twitch your body makes. -Raiden won't make you go at it more than once, he enjoyes it, clearly, if the words that leave his mouth mean something you should feel more than proud of yourself, he just can't wait to get his hands, and mouth, on you. -"Thank you, strawberry. Now it is my turn." -Why strawberry? Because Raiden says you taste as sweet as one on his tongue.

Kung Lao: -Baby, go at it as much as you want. -Lao will look at you, hands behind his head, enjoying the sight like you are his favourite movie. -For sure, the imagine will stay in his head for long, at times becoming an intrusive thought while he is working. -Lao showers you with compliments, getting sweeter and sickening the nearest he gets to his apex. -He'll return the favour, but give him a few minutes. It's hard to go back to Earth when you are in paradise.

Liu Kang: -"It seems you enjoy getting on your knees for your God." He says, lifting your chin up with his index finger, smirk plastered on his face. -Can you tell he is enjoying this? Because he totally does. -One of the few that worry for your jaw, maybe he has seen something in your future? "Thanks, dear one-" He says, brushing away the hair that are stuck on your face "Now it is my turn to thank you."

Geras: -He doesn't feel that much mortal needs, so for sure, he won't ask for that. -But since you seem to enjoy it so much, Geras won't stop you. -But don't be too pushy, Geras is a busy guy, and at times, too much physical touch overwhelms him.

Bi-Han: -You don't have time to act of your own volition that his hand is already grabbing your hair and pushing you on your knees. -It would be terribly rude if Bi-Han didn't do that exactly when you want to go down on him. Does he have a sensor? Do you have a particular look in your eyes? -You'll never know because Bi-Han will rather die than admit that he knows you and your body reaction like the back of his hands. -He will be harsh and fast. If you want to suck him so much, you have to be ready to be used as he prefers. -It won't last long, tho. Bi-Han prefers to be the one on his knees for you.

Kuai Liang: -He is particularly busy with work…doesn't mean he always has a moment for you. -He thanks you the entire time. You don't know how relaxing it is receiving this for Liang. -Like, if you want rough, he can do it, switching pretty fast. -At the end, he'll thank you anyway. -"My little spark, you are amazing. Let me return the favour now."

Tomas Vrbada: -Really? You want to do that to him. Blood is pumping dangerously fast. -It's one of the few moments Tomas has control, so he will be pretty rough. -Tap if it is getting too much! He still isn't used to this and can't control his strength well. -The last thing Tomas wants is to hurt you. He'd feel so bad afterwards that he would avoid you as much as he can. -So sit him down and tell him you'll learn and improve together; a sigh of relief will leave his mouth. -"So…wanna try now?"

[readsaboutreid]

Detangling | S.R. imagine

this is just gonna be a short little imagine because i can't bring myself to write anything more right now and i could imagine spencer being the absolute best partner about a situation like this

You walk into the door and Spencer follows behind you. You hadn't spent as much time at your apartment since you and Spencer started getting serious, but your place was closer to the theater he had taken you to for a showing of a documentary on your favorite subject he had surprised you with tickets to go see.

After about 45 minutes of watching Star Trek on the couch together he asks you a question you'd been hoping he'd avoid asking. "It's really warm in here, love," he mentions, "why don't you take off that beanie?"

"I-I'm cold," you mutter, not meeting his eyes.

"You're flushed and sweating," he reasons, stroking a finger down your cheek before putting the back of his hand to your forehead. "You don't feel feverish. Is there another reason you're wearing the hat?" He asked with a knowing look in his eyes before you break down crying. "Wait no, please don't cry, I'm sorry I-I didn't mean to upset—" his panic is cut off by your sigh.

"It's okay, Spencer," you exhale shakily. "I'm just—I, uh, I've been feeling a little bit down recently and my hair is kind of a depression rats' nest." Your cheeks heat with embarrassment but you finally meet his eyes, which soften with understanding at your confession. "I've been hiding it with the hat until I can just go to a hairdresser and probably just have them cut it all off. It's what my mom used to make me do if I let my hair get this bad and it's kind of just the easiest way to make myself presentable again."

Spencer wraps you into a tight hug on the couch next to you. "What, uh, what if I were to help you so you don't have to cut it all off?" he asked softly, before hastily adding on, "unless that's what you want to do."

Next thing you know you're going into your bathroom and returning with a hairbrush and sitting down on the ground in front of him.

"I'm sorry about this, Spencer," you mumble as you wait on the ground in front of the couch, between his open legs. More tears prick your eyes from embarrassment and your lip trembles. "You shouldn't have to take time out of your day to take care of me like this."

"Hush, I won't hear any of that nonsense." Spencer chides from above you as he grabs the hairbrush you had approached him with. "I like taking care of you, and that's why I offered do this."

"But I—I'm an adult," the tears that welling in your eyes start to fall down your cheeks and your voice breaks as you pull your knees up to your chest. "I should be capable of taking care of myself by now!"

You hear Spencer sigh above you before you feel him shift around on the couch. He stands and walks around where you're seated until he's on his knees in front of you. He gently pulls your hands from your face, kissing each one of the palm softly and then holding them in his own. In his eyes you can see none of the shame or disgust you're expecting to see. Instead his eyes are filled with love, understanding, and concern.

He's quiet for a moment before reaching out to wipe your tears away gently. "Did you know that there are approximately 280 million people worldwide who suffer from depressive disorder? That doesn't even factor in those who suffer from depression as a symptom of an underlying physical or other mental illness." He leans in and kisses both of your cheeks. "I know there's no magic thing I can say to make you feel better, but just know that there's no shame in struggling. Or asking for help from those who love you."

"O-okay," you stammer as you look at him again before he stands and moves back to his spot on the couch. He slowly begins working his way through the tangles, holding your hair and pulling the brush through until eventually your hair is fully detangled and in need of a wash. "Th-thank you, Spencer."

He pulls you up and kisses your forehead before wrapping you into another tight embrace. "Never be afraid to ask for help when you need me, sweetheart," he whispers.

[ronearoundblindly]

Some Steve for you to enjoy 🥰🫶🏻

Gurl, this f***ed me up! I wanted to try to make it a snippet of Item 107 or The Cinder King, but the muses were just like "you know what you need? emotional damage." So now here we have my first semi-legit period piece (which has zero useful era detail eh) and truly is just the carrier for skinny!Steve love. Hint: It's thirsty, smutty love with hardly any plot ANGST.

Hello and welcome to Lexi's most self-indulgent fic ever. It's got everything: crippling insecurities about my real-life stuff, horniness unmatched even if there were sex pollen shot directly into their faces, and everyone is touch-starved. \o/ Enjoy! WC probably close to 3k but idk because I'm too afraid to look back at it. *slams post button*

Turned away again, Steve "4F" Rogers steps out of the recruitment center to see you standing there, staring up at the posters promising glory.

People hustle around you, several even knocking into you, but you remain transfixed, invisible. You're clutching your purse like a lifeline.

Down one step, worn-through shoes barely hiding every seam in the cobblestone, Steve has to get closer because that's the direction of home and a lonely, empty apartment he can hardly afford. He has to pass by. He has to, but then he sees the amber light reflect on trails of tears down your cheeks.

He has to stop.

"Miss?" Steve clears his throat, his own arm smacked by a rowdy man who then swats at your ass just as Steve tries to get your attention again.

You jolt and turn to him in surprise, hand flying up to cover a sob, sweeping to wipe the evidence of emotion from your face.

Fast--faster than Steve really processes--he's shouting for the guy to apologize before the guy makes to advance, Steve presses himself between you and the asshole still laughing at disrespecting you, and then he--Steve--is getting shoved into the alley with you still at his back.

It's dusk. The alley is nearly black. Steve can hear you crying but he's slipped on the stones wet from an afternoon rain. He scrambles to right himself.

Amidst the cries, he hears grunts of anger and resistance, terror creeping into his chest as Steve thinks you're being assaulted.

"Piece of shit," you bite out. The silhouette of you hurling your bag at the man's face repeatedly is clear from where Steve crouches, backlit as you are by the movie theater marquee.

Then the guy is down on the ground, too, being stomped on by your two-inch heel. "Piece of fucking shit."

"Woah," Steve jumps forward to hold you back. "Woah, language, ma'am. Let's go. Just leave him."

He has a weak arm around your waist, but you kick at the man one more time for good measure, hissing "liar" before turning to follow.

Your hand in his, Steve hurries through the streets, picking the ones he knows are busier but maneuverable to make sure you're not being pursued. Each time he looks back, he sees your sinking face, more tears, more exhaustion, and he makes a flash decision.

He doesn't stop until he locks the door of his apartment behind you both, and you break down on the bare wood floor.

"You hurt? Did he hurt you?" Steve's boney knees land a few inches from yours and he leans over, his long fingers brushing over your pinned hair and stiff curls that dislodged in the commotion. "You're alright. You're safe here."

Where your legs crumple underneath you, your slip lays over your thigh, uncovered by the skirt pooling on the other side of your hip. He can see the outline of a garter strap and the top of your stocking beneath the silky material. Steve's always loved pretty, delicate things. He also loves the faint bulge of flesh around the restraints.

There's meat on your bones, something to hold onto, and he shakes his head, chastising himself for noticing all the wrong things about the crying woman in his home. His lonely, empty home.

Steve attempts to think of anything other than your body.

"Do you know him? What'd you call him a liar for?"

You sigh in defeat, hands flopping into your lap, and confess that it wasn't about him so much as a man not here anymore. Gone. To war. You tell Steve a rambling tale of excuses and snide comments, of a parting that left you wondering why that man--any man--bothered to be with you in the first place, of a surety that you weren't ever wanted.

"I thought he loved me but he lied."

Steve sits cross-legged in front of you now, enthralled and utterly confused. Why would anyone...?

"That's the worst part," you exclaim, voice cracking. "I don't know. I'll never know." Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your skirt. "I heard today that he died. Don't know where. Don't know when. And I hate that I still care."

"But he wasn't good to you," Steve soothes and wraps his hand around yours, "and he wasn't good for you."

All you do is shrug and hide your face. Tears falls to the fabric below your eyes and seep through in dark patches.

He scoots forward and lifts your chin with a gentle nudge. When your puffy red eyes meet his, he's struck by how lucky he feels to see you like this. It's odd to think someone who knew you more and for so much longer couldn't feel infinitely more attached and protective. You're so vulnerable, so open, so...

"You're beautiful." Steve's tongue swipes over his dry lips. "You're so beautiful."

The words are loaded heavier than tanks and pack the punch of a bomb. He can tell you don't truly hear him by the way you shrink and shake your head out of his hold.

"Don't do that," he pleads. "Please don't hide from me."

"You don't know me."

"No, but I--"

"You don't even know my name!"

He sits back and offers his hand.

"Hi, I'm Steve. It's nice to meet you, and I think you're beautiful."

"That's stupid," you lash out, bitterly spitting the half-hearted, heart-breaking words. "You must be an idiot, Steve."

It's not the first time he's heard it, but it is the first time he's not mad at hearing it. He believed those things, too, long ago, before his mom convinced him to see the possibilities in one's struggles. If you perceive it as an obstacle, it is an obstacle. Perceive it as an opportunity instead and use it. Those aren't her exact words, but Sarah Rogers has so many different ways of teaching the same fundamental lessons that Steve can't remember the phrases anymore.

He can remember the feeling. He remembers seeing both obstacles and opportunities.

"Is it stupid to want to touch you?" he whispers. "Because I would love to touch you."

The question is purposefully leading since he knows from your story that's exactly what you long for. It'll be more impactful if he shows you he longs for that too.

Slowly--so slowly--his hand comes up to your cheek again, his fingers tucking behind your neck.

"I don't want your pity." There's still bitterness but no power behind it. You gently shift closer and meet him halfway.

He's kissed girls before, he's fooled around, and he has, in fact, slept with one girl. They went all the way--twice--which means Steve knows what it is to be pitied intimately. He knows what it's like to want something so badly you don't care what the motivation is.

You deserve to know his motives.

"I don't pity you." His focus falls to your quivering lip. "I want to make you happy." He's close. He's so close his breath rolls warm over your face. "I want to make you smile."

A soft whimper leaves you just as his mouth arrives.

"I want you," he says into the kiss.

Instead of fighting, you grab at his jacket, pulling him until you're both falling into the stand lamp. You taste of salt and something sweet he can't put his finger on. Steve resolves to put that on the list of things to find out about you.

He keeps kissing you as you both fall, the lamp now wedged at an angle by the side table. Despite the tangle of tongues, Steve keeps his hands to himself. He doesn't quite have enough answers.

"What do you want, beautiful?"

Hesitant as he pulls away, gripping worn leather like your purse in the street, your eyes dart between his. You're a dream beneath him, but that sounds too selfish to voice.

"May I..." Steve is already panting "...get you off the floor? More comfortable?"

Maybe you haven't been able to say the words, but Steve doesn't need more convincing to know you want him.

He could tell from the way you pawed at him. He could tell from the multiple times you crashed him into the walls along the hall to makeout more. He could tell from the way you melted like hot butter at his every returned touch, but finally, you two made it to his bed.

He'd be embarrassed by the lumpy old thing if there weren't a curvy, luscious dame standing with wide legs at the foot of it, letting his tie slip through your hands as he sits stunned.

Steve swallows thickly.

"Let me see you." It comes out as more of an order than the hopeful question he intended, but when he sees the command shiver through you, he feels six-foot-six and powerful as all hell.

You two share the burden of unbuttoning all of your layers, spinning you a few times to release front and back and side to side. His hands spread and roam to relish each garment, each moment, until you're top half is naked.

He stares, fierce blue irises muted by the dim light on his bedside table, 'beautiful' on his lips every second you spend with your finger yanking the knot of his tie and sliding off the bond. When you lean to pop his shirt buttons, your breasts hang in his face.

Steve stops you by your wrists, peaking up at you through his long lashes as he takes a nipple in his mouth. He keeps thinking it--beautiful--while his tongue sweeps flat across pebbling flesh. Each subsequent swirl has you melting again, pressing more of you to his face, dragging nails up his chest, sighing long and deep. When he switches to the other side, your fingers bury in his hair. He takes his time to worship you, tracing his own fingertips around the hem of your slip and garters.

He doesn't get impatient, if anything Steve feels greedy for wanting more, for praying this lasts forever, for needing all you're willing to give.

His teeth graze your skin in wanton lust, and you flinch in surprise, knocking you off-balance.

You fall to your knees on the mattress, straddling Steve's slender body beneath your hot core.

"Sorry," you mutter, wriggling to stand, forcing Steve to wrap his arms around you and halt your retreat. "I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you."

"You can sit on me morning, noon, and night," he rasps. "I won't complain. I'll thank you, beautiful."

He groans pathetically when you relax, the grind of your ass making his slacks pinch tighter and tighter. Steve lets his head fall back on the sheets, eyes fluttering shut. The army might not want him, the world outside may forget he ever existed, but you see. He could get addicted to this feeling. He might get lonely without it.

Steve isn't strong enough to keep hold of you, but your weight never leaves, his erection still slotted between your cheeks. His mouth drops wide when your hips roll. Steve whines when you rise up enough to resume unbuttoning him. His lungs and heart go into overdrive, but even so, Steve doesn't want you doing all the work.

He flips you--using the sum total of his strength--and shuffles backward to stand, ripping the tails of his shirt from beneath his belt and shucking off his trousers. That part he could have been more patient for, but Steve smirks and brushes away the hair falling in his eyes, chest heaving from exertion.

He's pleased to see you watching him, ogling his body without judgment. You look like you want to eat him alive, and he is perfectly fine with that.

His palm lands on your knee to sneak higher beneath your slip, nimble fingers popping the clasps along your stockings and hooking through the band of your underwear. You lifting for him is all the permission he needs. Steve leaves your slip, garter belt, and stockings in place, and in a cheeky twist, he lets your underwear hang off one of your ankles, kissing your inner thigh, pushing your knees wider for him to fit.

He throbs in his boxers at the sight of your sex.

Nerves roil in his belly at the idea he is solely responsible for your pleasure. As he glances up to you, propped up on your elbows with a fearful and expectant gaze, he sees a poster promising honor and glory, a service to be proud of, and for the first time, he has doubts.

You see it in his eyes.

"Steve?"

He wants to participate and show that he's worthy of you.

This isn't about him though, and Steve Rogers is nothing if not dedicated anyone other than himself.

"Right here." He snaps back to reality, laying his hand to your thatch of hair and gently teasing his thumb along your folds. "I'm right here, beautiful."

It's an honor to touch you. He's proud of the moan elicited because he strokes over your clit rhythmically. The glory of watching you writhe is all his.

Steve's breath stays rapid as yours picks up. You're fisting the sheets, slick pooling beneath the pad of his thumb, helping him pick up speed. He dips into you, tests the breach while pushing his boxers down, and crawls over the edge of the bed. Like magnets, you guide each other higher till the pillows cradle you.

You're a broken record, repeating a desperate loop.

"Steve," you whimper.

"Won't ever lie to you." He captures your lips again. "Want you so badly. I'll want you all the time."

Steve doesn't understand why you won't talk to him, so he slows, eyes questioning and brow furrowed. You have to see. The light is right there.

Bottom lip trapped, you still say nothing, but your arms raise to his smooth face and plead in the silence.

He wants the same thing. He wants to feel. Not just the sting of rejection. Not just the slippery, rough stones through his shoes. Not just the empty ache inside. He wants to feel like someone cares whether he lives or dies.

You care even when you don't want to, but Steve can earn you, your care, your smile and your tears. He'll get up and come home to you every time. He needs you to come home to.

Otherwise, this is a lonely, empty apartment. Otherwise, he is a lonely, empty man.

Your hands bring him close, lips pausing just before contact while Steve sinks two fingers into you.

You gasp. His fingers curl. His thumb goes back to work. You kiss him with what little breath you can hold between muted cries until Steve notices your roving hands tug at his waist.

He wants the same thing.

Sitting back on his heels, Steve drapes your thighs over his, his slick fingers spreading you. He's mesmerized watching his cock disappear inch by inch, and the caress of your walls shuts down all other brain function. All he can do is slide against you, bent into your soft body, your breasts padding his jerky thrusts, the base of him perfectly laving the hood of your clit in the growing mess.

You're wet, and he's driven wild by the need to make you come. He tries to sit up again, to play with you properly, but he's stopped by the weight of your legs crossed behind his ass, the strength of your thighs anchoring him in place.

Steve takes huge, deep breaths through his nose because he won't last concentrating on how your body bounces and ripples, plush beneath his boney form.

You get wetter, looser in a welcoming way that spurs him to drive himself home faster. He sucks in air, though it's futile once his heavy balls start to seize.

Suddenly, you shout, stretching to push yourself completely flush with his pelvis, and he has to pull out, keeping aligned with the cut of you as aftershocks make you mindlessly hump him. Steve's cum shoots all over his belly and your chest, some drops dampening what clothes he didn't discard, stains of joy replacing stains of sadness.

His chest might explode. He's gasping, taxed beyond his naughtiest dreams, head lolling toward the ceiling with his throat high.

He feels your legs fall away, and Steve hopes for an instant that you embrace him even though he might suffocate in the process.

The envelopment never comes. The world is fuzzy and too warm beyond him.

He hears the sink in his bathroom turn on just as he lands palms-down on sweaty sheets. He tries every trick he knows to calm down. The water still runs after all the time it takes for him to recover and stand. The closer he gets to the doorway, the clearer the sound really is.

Sobbing.

"Beautiful? What's wrong? Did I--"

The faucet squeaks off, and you barrel out, nearly running him over, your arms covering your chest and your disheveled hair hiding your face.

"What are you doing? Are you cold?" Steve tries.

"I'm disgusting," you hiss in a mad dash for the pile of clothes on the floor.

He trips over his feet to stop you, corralling you as best he can, but you're quick. You certainly have fight in you. Steve only want to show you you do not have to fight him.

"Come back to bed," he commands hopefully, grabbing your wrist as you scoop up your wrinkled dress. "I should clean up, but please, please, come back to bed."

There is something broken and fearful in the way you finally meet his eye. He's torn apart, shredded down to nothing in a single look. That's not how a feral animal sees the world; that's how an animal, abused and betrayed, locks the world out.

Your protection is what you really took off for him. Your thick armor is what Steve got past.

"I didn't lie." He lets go of you and steps back as calm as his rasping breaths can manage. "I want you. I want you to stay." He wonders whether he ought to cover himself, too, because perhaps total vulnerability makes you more nervous.

So he presents himself as an opportunity, not an obstacle.

Steve finds his boxers a foot away and says one more time, "I hope you stay."

Unmoving, your eyes follow his walk to the bathroom, and in the split second he's looking down to turn the tap, you're gone.

Disappointment floods his system, but like all the other stamped failures in his record, Steve goes through the motions of caring for a body that thwarts his desire to live at every turn. In fact, it tries to die so often, he's always surprised to find himself here, staring at this mirror again, wondering why he gets back up.

He's also surprised to find you here, in the bed with the sheet pulled up to your chin, nodding to the side table where you've placed a cup of water.

The tiniest of genuine smiles curves your lips.

Steve's home is neither lonely nor empty anymore. He could cry.

A/N: this got so incredibly out of hand... I'm so sorry. But also, thank you for reading!

Tags: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn

@late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries

@rogersbarber @blogbog710 @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads

[miffysrambles]

Protective! Macaque with S/O OneShot

(Warning (?) : This one gets kind of intense with the themes of being harassed, I didn't know if that needed a warning but just to be safe!)

You were backed into a corner of an empty alleyway as you were pleading with the creepy stranger to leave you alone already.

“I-I said please leave me alone, I’m not interested!” You frowned up at him as he pressed one of his palms against the brick wall from your response of trying to walk away from him.

You were beyond uncomfortable at this point, he had followed you to isolate you for gods sake!

You were only on your way to the small theater to see your boyfriend after work, apparently the stranger saw you walking on the sidewalk and decided he wanted to pursue you.

“Aww come on sweetheart, I could treat you better than anyone ever could.” He winked down at you, making your stomach and heart feel like it’s been punched. 

You realized this guy wasn’t going to take no or stop for an answer, deciding your best option was to make a run for it so you weren’t isolated and around other people for help.

The creep saw you shift to the side, knowing what you were going to do next as he grabbed you by the wrist as you ducked underneath his arm.

You cried out as his grip tightened around your waist, “Where you going sweetheart, I’m not done with you yet.”

You squirmed in his grasp as you struggled to get him to let you go, your fingers trying to make his grip loosen.

This only made his fingers grip tighter, making you seethe in the squeezing pain.

“Heh, you’re cute when you struggle like…”

His words trailed off as his eyes locked above you instead of into yours, a low growl emitting from above your head.

“Get you hand off of them before I rip it off your arm…”

Oh dear Gods.

The creep quickly released your wrist, making you rub the red finger marks around your limb as it already started to bruise.

Your boyfriend Macaque had appeared in your shadow, poking his head out from a portal above you as he used another to rise from the ground to appear in front of you to defend you.

He looked behind him to see he had left bruises on your wrist as you seethed in pain.

Macaque saw red as he felt raw anger pulse through his form.

He hurt you.

HE HURT YOU.

In a flash, Macaque grabbed the creep by the shirt collar and pinned him to the wall on the opposite side of you.

“On second thought, I should rip you apart limb from limb for even laying one of your disgusting fingers on them.”

The creep’s smug composure was long gone, now replaced with shivering fear as he pleaded with Macaque to leave him alone.

The simian gritted his fangs as he raised his fist to land a blow to his face, wanting to make sure he wiped that horrid smug expression off of him for the rest of his days.

He was stopped as your soft voice called out to him, snapping him out of his enraged state as he looked back at you.

“I… I just want to go home.”

Macque looked back at the creep as he growled once more, “You got lucky pal, if I ever see you even dare to look at my partner I’ll rip your eyes out myself.”

Your boyfriend let go of the creep’s collar as he scurried off, you wouldn’t need to worry about him coming back because if you were in his shoes you wouldn’t.

Macaque never went back on his words when it came to you.

He ran over to you as he gently took your bruised wrist into his palm, pressing a loving kiss against the mark.

“That son of a bitch was lucky you stopped me, I’ll tell you that much.” He muttered against your skin.

You smiled as he scooped you up into his arms as he summoned another portal to take you home, landing on your couch as he pressed his lips against your own.

“I’m gonna stay with you tonight, is that ok starshine?” His low voice asked, making you smile once more as you nodded. 

“Of course hon, I’d actually really like that.”

He sighed in relief as he laid back on the arm of the couch, pulling you close to his chest as he kissed your forehead and held you like someone was trying to take you away from him.

Macaque wanted nothing more than to keep you close to him as much as possible tonight, seeing someone make you so scared and uncomfortable ignited the protective urge in him.

No one was every gonna mess with his sugarplum ever again, he was gonna make sure of that. 

[samoankpoper21]

MTL to date a plus size person - Shiratorizawa Academy

A/N: This is a REPOST!! I didn't like how the first one came out so I decided to revamp, rewrite, and edit, edit, edit this post. Took me forever but we finally made it y'all 🥲 Again these are based off of my opinion/what my gut fupa tells me 🤣 I am also writing from a chubby!/plus size! POC reader POV. All of them are aged up/of legal consenting age. Also in celebration of the fact that the Haikyuu! movie hit theaters in the USA yesterday!! Enjoy~!!

Content Warnings: some cursing, suggestive smut, fat shaming if you squint really hard, small mention of someone attempting to unalive themselves

Ushijima Wakatoshi: I don't know why but I FEEL IN MY GUT that this mans loves him some THIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIQQQQQQQQQQ women. He's a big boi so he loves him a thiccccc partner. He loves squeezing your love handles and playing with your thighs, it's his stress reliever. The softness of your skin when he kneads it with his rough, course hands instantly relaxes him. You got cellulite? He doesn't care. Got stretch marks? Baby he'll kiss and trace 'em. Fupa? UGH HE LOVES THE PUDGE. One thing he cannot stand is how sometimes you let society's beauty standards dictate whether he should be with you, he finds it frustrating how you get lost in your head and start comparing yourself to the women you see via ig. He's always encouraged you letting you know IF your weight really bothered you then he would continue to support you by being your gym partner. Regardless please let this man continue to support you physically and emotionally because he will. The sound of the TV only served as background noise, Wakatoshi's head nestled on your tummy as your left fingers ran through his hair, your right hand holding your phone. You were scrolling through instagram a flurry of women similar in age popping up on your feed toting their tiny waist, wide hips, huge tits, and even bigger ass. Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! It was Wakatoshi's dm's going off. Staring in amusement at his sleeping form you chuckled. How could he sleep through all of that? Switching into his account you figured maybe it was Tendou sending him pictures from Paris. He had tons of unopened messages from women, his requests way past 50+. The most recent sender caught your eye, your eyebrow arching up, a slight frown forming. It was from a former classmate named Hana, your memories of her unpleasant. Regardless of the fact that she knew you and Wakatoshi were together in high school she still tried to get him alone, persuading him how much of a better partner she would be instead of you. Back then Wakatoshi just ignored her blatantly telling her, "I'm with Y/N." You clicked on her profile silently gasping; you hated to admit it but she looked amazing, her pictures garnering thousands of likes and comments. Most of her profile were pics of her showing of her "natural body" from working out, the men in her comments thirsty. You tried to switch back to your account but the phone slipped causing you to quickly catch it before it hit your face. Letting out a sigh of relief you glanced at your screen semi panicked, you had just opened Hana's message. >>Wakatoshiiiiiiiii (7:35:06PM) >>Wakatoshi heeeeeeeyyyyy (7:35:10PM) >>I'm talking to you (7:35:20PM) >>I know you see my messages Toshi-kun (7:35:40PM) >>Wow you're really going to ignore me? (7:36PM) >>You're really going to ignore me for that fat bitch 🤣 (7:36:15PM) >>She doesn't' deserve you (7:36:25PM) >>You deserve to be with a REAL woman (7:36:40PM) >>Sends tit pic (7:37PM) >>Like what you see baby? (7:37:20PM) >>Let me take care of you like a real woman should (7:37:35PM)

Love? you hadn't realized Wakatoshi stir in his sleep. "O-oh Ushijima." He frowned at the use of his family name, noticing you averting his gaze. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to it's just your notifications kept going off like crazy and I thought it was Tendou sending you something-" Wakatoshi gently peeled the phone away from your hand peering at the screen, his frown deepening. He sighed typing out his reply: 'Hana, I do not appreciate you sending me such pictures and calling the love of my life, my wife, 'fat'. I suggest you take anti-harassment classes or cyber bullying classes. Don't ever reach out to me again. P.S. A real woman knows that she doesn't always have to resort to using her body to get a man." After he sent that to her, he blocked her, closed his eyes, and deeply sighed. "Ushijima, are you...are you mad at me?"

"I can never be mad at you love. Frustrated, yes. You aren't calling me by my first name or the other names you call me."

"O-oh." you nervously chuckled. He sat up pulling you against him so that you were straddling him, his hard cock pressing into your clothed pussy causing you to gasp. His hands were softly running up and down your thighs, he leaning forward so that your foreheads touched. "Y/N," his gruff baritone voice called out. "I only have eyes for you. I just wish you saw yourself the way I see you."

"I do baby! It's just that sometimes," he shifted his hips causing a delicious friction taking your breath away making it hard to concentrate. "I-I get discouraged when I see -ngh- pics like that." He was kissing the sensitive spot on your neck that he knew would make you weak, submit to his desires. His right hand was squeezing and kneading your thigh, the left gripping your ass. "You are all I need. Rolls and all. I wouldn't have it any other way." Chuckling you kissed the tip of his nose, Wakatoshi's hips never faltering in the way it rolled against your aroused cunt. "I love you Toshi." "I love you too."

Tendo Satori: There's something aesthetically pleasing when you see a big girl/guy with a skinny/lean/muscular partner 😊 It just works okay? Again I feel it in my gut that this man LOOOOOOOOOOOOVVVVEEESSS THIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIQQQQQQQ WOMEN 😊 He's had to learn/adapt on his own to ignore the scrutinizing, judgmental stares due to him being a monster he has a monster cock there's no persuading me of otherwise so when he meets you being confident in your skin and owning the fact that yes you are "fat" he can't help but fall for you. ⚠️UNINTENTIONAL MANGA SPOILER⚠️ Satori becomes a chocolatier in Paris. When it comes to sex he's mid key heavy on the food play: he loves drizzling chocolate, white chocolate, whipped cream, or caramel on his partner's thighs, tits, and tummy; loves watching you squirm as you watch him slowly lick all the sticky, sweet ingredients off his favorite meal. "Ma chérie," he purred. "I made a new recipe and would love for you to try it."

"Of course love. You know I can never resist your chocolates. What's the occasion?"

"Valentine's Day is around the corner and the baker wanted me to create a small chocolate snack with a...punch." Punch? Knowing Satori he wouldn't outright tell you what that 'punch' was. "I hope you're not trying to kill me this time love."

"Never that ma douce," He kissed the top of your head as he set a saucer of small, dainty, assorted chocolate squares in front of you. "Enjoy." He smirked. Taking the milk chocolate you popped it into your mouth savoring the sweetness as it melted; you popped a dark chocolate square moaning as the sweet, strawberry jelly like custard gushed into your mouth. "Mmmmmmm mon bébé these are sooooooo goooood."

"Careful now love," He cooed with his back turned to you. "Those are aphrodisiacs." You nearly spit out the third piece you were on. Fuck it. "Is it working?" He asked shyly. You couldn't deny the embarrassing amount of wetness that was gathering in between your legs, your body heat rapidly rising. "Love?" Your quietness caused him to worry, turning around to find that you were no longer sitting at the table, your shared bedroom door slightly open. "Love?" Poking his head inside slightly he smirked to find you panting, lying on the bed naked with your legs spread, your sweet essence already dripping on the sheets. "Oh lo lo lo, so it works hmm?"

"If you don't shut up and fuck me right now Tori."

"Of course mon petit monstre."

Semi Eita: I'm not gon lie I kept overlooking this man but my gut kept going back to him. I am convinced that this man likes his women chubby 😊 Random but I saw this youtube short where they were simping over Semi's hands and I have not been the same since 🤣 His aloof nature allows him to tell people off when they disrespect you or if he feels that you are uncomfortable; however his aloofness is also his downfall sometimes 😅

Admittedly you didn't have the typical build of a body guard, standing at 5', 2" weighing at 250 pounds the academy doubted you: how can this fat chick be able to protect someone? Will she be able to withstand and withhold big crowds? You proved that despite your short height and heavy build you were strong, resilient; the academy calling you Little Ox. The academy had assigned you and 2 other male guards, Yuuji and Rito, to assist a famous band, the lead singer scoffing at you. "This puny thing is supposed to keep the crazy fans away?"

"Don't doubt her Kaku-san" your teammate Yuuji defended. "She has skill and talent, made it fair and square like the rest of us."

"Tch. Just make sure she doesn't get lost in the sea of fans." Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you took note of the shaved headed drummer named Namio, the long haired bassist Kouki and the stoic, handsome, guitarist Semi with headphones around his neck.

As the band made their way through the airport from South Korea, fans immediately swarmed towards them pushing and shoving trying to get through. One intimidating look from you and an extension of your arm caused the fans to slow down, Kaku's eyebrow raised. Yuuji flanking from the back smirked at Kaku's reaction. That reaction was short lived as you noticed an individual moving at an intense speed towards the group from your direction. "Little ox!" Yuuji yelled. Everything happened in a blur: you hit the assailant's forearm knocking the knife out of their grasp, pulled them towards you, threw them over you shoulder slamming their body down, your knee to their back twisting their arm pinning it. Everything went quiet except for the assailant's labored breathing. "Let me go! Let me go!" he screamed.

"Y-N chan! Are you ok?" Rito asked.

"I'm fine. Oi!" you gently slapped the side of the assailant's head. "I'm giving you one minute to explain yourself. After the minute is up I will break your arm."

"I'm not talking to you! You just got lucky to catch me!" Your hold on his arm tightened and twisted further as you continued to count down. "59...58...57...56...55..." the assailant screamed, cursing at how you're hurting him.

"L-let him go." Kaku pleaded. Kaku shivered at the cold, distant expression you gave him. "45...44...43...42...41...40..." She truly is a monster Kaku thought to himself.

"29...28...27...26...25"

"Aaaaaaaaaaagggghhhhh! This is all Kaku's fault!"

"Oh?"

"Ever since that stupid guy announced he was dating that celebrity my sister has been so depressed! Are you really okay with one of your fans dying?!"

"Oi, did Kaku-san hold a gun to your sister's head and tell her to die? You think hurting this man will help your sister? She needs professional help. You're just trying to find someone else to blame because you don't want to help. Stop living like this." The man broke down sobbing, you sighing. "Rito -."

"Security's beside you Little Ox." Turning slightly you nodded your head easing off of the sobbing man, grateful that Rito, a man of few words, was always a step ahead.

"Y-Y/N-san-" Kaku began."

"Please refrain from intervening. That'll make my and your job easier. You asked whether I was able to protect you guys, withstand a crowd? This is enough proof right?"

"Y-yes."

"Rito! Yuuji!"

"Yes!"

"Let's continue shall we?" the walk to the van was quiet, Semi taking note of your full figure: your blazer a bit tight around your middle section, the way your love handles poked out, your ass sticking out of your black slacks. He sensed the dominant aura emanating from you the moment he laid eyes on you but found it thrilling to experience how much of a hold you had over your teammates. Semi isn't one to be submissive but he knew you could be submissive and that made the blood rush to his cock. He couldn't help as his imagination ran wild: you laying on his bed panting in all your naked glory, your tummy scrunching up, begging him to fuck you; Semi's long, thick, calloused fingers from years of playing guitar thrusting into your glistening cunt; Semi grabbing your hips slowly thrusting into you from behind as you pleaded with him to fuck you faster, harder. He needed release.

As the weeks went by Semi would observe you silently: admiring the way you carried yourself, how analytical and precise you were when it came to ensuring the venue they were performing at was safe and that no one could get through. He found himself drawn to you, falling for you. One day before a music show performance Semi found that his feelings for you were overflowing, bubbling over; that if he didn't express how he felt then and now he would go insane. Pulling you to the nearest staircase he trapped you between his arms, your eyebrow arching. "Mr. Semi, why are you trapping me in between your arms like so?"

"If I don't do this now I know I'll regret it for the rest of my life."

"What are you-"

"I like you." You could feel your face heating up as a million thoughts swept through your mind: was I that obvious? Did he catch on? I thought I was being careful with my facial expressions? Did I stare at him too long? His thumb swiped at your cheek bringing you out of your reverie. "What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" Biting your lip, tears threatening to spill over, fists clenched, you answered. "Semi-san, if you're only teasing me then I suggest you stop. This is going too far."

"I'm not." He firmly set. Looking up you saw the unwavering emotion in his eyes. You still couldn't believe that Semi had feelings for you, he never showed the slightest bit of interest; always politely saying good morning and making sure to let you pass first, you getting a whiff of his cologne. "But I'm..." you carefully whispered.

"Huh?"

"I'm bigger than you."

"So?"

"You don't mind?"

"I could care less if you're bigger than me. I fell for you not your body." Letting a moment of silence pass he asked, "Wait...do you not like me back?"

"No, no I'm sorry. I do. I like you. A lot."

Reon Ohira: Much like Semi Semi I struggled (I wasn't trying to be biased what with the community/culture I grew up around). He's literally the fine, thin line holding one from crossing into the least likely to date a plus sized individual - it may be because the anime doesn't really focus on him 🥲 or the fact that I don't know much about him 🥲😅 If I'm wrong please tell me 😅 In regards to Reon it's a loud, low hum when it comes to him; like I feel that he would appreciate the fluffiness of a plus sized individual. He's known to be the person to calm the team down/center them so I can imagine that his partner would be a little feisty in comparison to him.

Standing in line for a funnel cake you and your husband Reon Ohira were merely enjoying each other's company, conversation ebbing and flowing smoothly. Standing on your tiptoes you pouted. "Babeeee," you whined. "What's taking so long?"

"Well hunn we're at a carnival. There's bound to be a long line for sweets." He pecked your forehead and continued to stare ahead. Taking this time your eyes slowly swept over his features: prominent brows, sharp nose, pointed ears, tanned skin, the veins snaking down his forearm, the intricate design of it on his hands always turned you on. You were about to stand on your tiptoes again to whisper something raunchy until a hard bump against your shoulder caused you to stumble. Turning quickly to catch the offender you yell out, "Hey!" Ohira, arms snaking around your plump waist already trying to steer you in, calm you down. The man turned around to stare at you blankly, phone in hand. "Maybe you should get off your phone while walking."

"Sorry. Must'n have seen ya."

"How the hell you miss my big ass?"

"Babe," Ohira hissed. The man smirked and agreed. "You're right, how could've I missed someone taking up so much space?" Ohira lengthened to full height booming, "I don't appreciate you talking to my wife like that. I understand that you have your own preferences but disrespecting my wife is unacceptable." The murmurings of the crowd caused the man to feel uncomfortable, his face turning beet red. "Tch." He swiveled around and stomped off. "Are you okay love?"

"You know I coulda handled it."

"Absolutely not. Someone disrespects you they're disrespecting me."

"Okay daddy." You smirked knowing the effect that word alone had on him. Feigning innocence you snaked your arms around Ohira's waist, making sure to press your boobs against the lower part of his chest tightly so that it would push up against him, looking up at him with doe eyes. He groaned when he saw how big your eyes were. "Behave bunny." he warned.

"What are you talking about? I am behaving." You pressed yourself tighter to him pouting, making sure to "adjust" your chest, Ohira's grip on your waist tightening. "Do I need to fuck that attitude out of you bunny? Smirking you answered with, "After we get that damn funnel cake."

[burnednotburied]

You're My People

AO3 Link

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Synopsis: You and Abby take refuge in an abandoned house to catch your breath and attempt to recover after the encounter with Ellie in the theater.

Tags: slight angst; hurt/comfort; mentions of death and blood; tending to injuries; (mostly) unspoken romantic feelings; reader is a young woman (same age as Abby)

Note: To be absolutely 100% clear, the reader is NOT meant to be Lev or Yara. Reader is a woman (about the same age as Abby) who met Abby on Seattle Day 1 when she was also meeting Lev and Yara. The four of them stuck together. None of this is super relevant for this story. (Just know that Yara was with them, but she was killed just as she was in the game, and Lev is around here somewhere.)

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“Don’t ever let me see you again.”

That’s what Abby had said to that girl – Ellie – before walking away without so much as a backwards glance.

You had quietly followed Abby out of the theater, because what else could you do, but you didn’t know how you were supposed to feel about what you just saw.

Watching Abby incapacitate one man and shoot another in the face without hesitating. Seeing her beat Ellie into the floor while she lay there motionless.

And the other woman. The one who was pregnant…

“Good,” Abby had seethed when Ellie told her. She almost seemed happy about it. Happy to repay the wrong that was done to Mel. An eye for an eye. A life for a life.

If you hadn’t called out Abby’s name when you did, dragging her from the haze that was her desire for retribution…

Well, you could guess what would’ve happened.

You were just glad the two of you had decided not to bring Lev with you. That he was somewhere safe.

Neither of you spoke a word as you navigated through the dark streets of Seattle, her leading the way with you following quietly behind, just as you had been doing since you met. Although now you may have allowed for a bit more space between the two of you than you did before, trailing further behind. Lost in thought.

It had been three days since you met, but it felt like so much longer. A nagging voice in your head insisted that you really didn’t know Abby very well, despite how it felt.

She hadn’t given you any reason not to trust her. She had never hurt you. In fact, she had fought so hard to keep you and (more importantly) Lev and Yara safe. She had even turned against her own people, killed her own people, for the sake of protecting you.

No, that wasn’t right.

Those weren’t Abby’s people anymore.

“You’re my people.”

Abby had looked so earnest when she said it back on the Seraphite island just hours before. And you had believed her.

The words left you with a feeling deep in your chest that was hard to describe. You thought it might’ve been… belonging. Something you’d been hoping for but never found. You’d always wanted to truly belong to something.

Or someone.

There hadn’t been any time to dwell on the feelings or what they meant.

And now all you feel is a pit in your stomach.

Why were you so shaken up? This is stupid. You’ve killed before, and you’ve watched Abby kill.

But this felt different. It wasn’t self-defense. It wasn’t necessary. It was dark and angry and honestly terrifying. She was honestly terrifying.

But it was justified, wasn’t it? You could argue that maybe it was necessary.

Ellie had been hunting Abby for days, killing her friends and seemingly anything else in her path.

Ellie killed Owen.

You weren’t sure of the exact history between him and Abby, but you did know how important he was to her. And you had seen the look on her face when she found him dead.

Who’s to say Ellie would’ve ever stopped coming after Abby and the people close to her? Who’s to say she’ll even stop now?

You’re just beginning to arrange your fractured, contradicting thoughts in a way that makes sense when Abby comes to a sudden stop in front of you. You would’ve run into her if she hadn’t stretched her hand out behind her in warning.

“We need to stop. Get out of the rain. Regroup.” Her voice is strained.

You hadn’t really even noticed that it started raining again, harder this time, but you can walk in the rain. Lev is alone, waiting for the two of you to return.

You open your mouth to protest, only to shut it again when Abby turns to face you fully. She’s balancing her weight unevenly, heavily favoring her right leg. A significant bloodstain runs all the way down to her left ankle. And her face…  

The pregnant girl had come from nowhere, attacking Abby from behind. She managed to slash across Abby’s cheek with a knife before you took her down with an arrow through the shoulder. It had been your only real contribution to the fighting in the theater, but it had been unavoidable. Abby had been in danger.

Now she’s standing in front of you, soaked from head to toe, from the rain and with blood, and you have no idea how much of that blood is hers, but there are definitely some significant injuries that need to be tended to.

Abby takes in your silence and your wide-eyed stare for a moment before shifting a little in place and clearing her throat. “Um… we can try in there. Yeah? The houses here should all be deserted.” She gestures weakly to the building closest to you.

You finally find your voice. “Yes, yeah. Let’s—let’s go in there.”

You pull your gaze away from Abby’s and walk past her, toward the small house, pulling your bow from where it rests over your shoulder and notching an arrow in the string. It suddenly occurs to you that you’ve walked all this way without your weapon drawn while Abby was injured and unarmed. For a moment, you’re glad that the Wolves and the Seraphites are too distracted fighting each other elsewhere to be roaming around in this area. Or else you and Abby would probably have been killed by now, both of you practically stumbling through the streets like a couple of vulnerable, mindless children.

You shake your head, silently scolding yourself and promising to be more alert, starting right now with sweeping the house.

The front door is mostly intact and slightly ajar. You approach carefully, painstakingly forcing it further open with your shoulder, fighting against rusted hinges and warped wood. The floorboards creak beneath your boots as you step inside, quickly scanning the entryway for anything or anyone that poses a threat. Abby follows behind you, trying not to visibly limp on her injured leg and holding up a small flashlight taken from the aquarium.

“Come on. You need to sit down,” you say over your shoulder, just loud enough to be heard over the pouring rain outside. For a moment, it looks like she might argue with you, maybe insist that she make sure the building’s clear first, but she seems to decide against it, giving you a quick nod of her head in response.

With your bow still drawn, you lead the way through the first floor of the building, passing a bathroom and a kitchen before arriving in what was once the living room. The room is filled with furniture in various levels of destruction and decay, somehow the most well-preserved among them being an old couch pressed against the back wall.

You point to it. “Sit,” you tell Abby. The fact that she listens and moves toward the couch without protest, albeit very slowly, is further proof of the extent of her injuries and her level of exhaustion. “I’m going to check the rest of the house, okay? I’ll be back. Don’t move.”

Abby lets out a scoff, immediately followed by a second, more pained noise. “I couldn’t go anywhere if I wanted to.” An attempt at a joke, made through gritted teeth. You give her a hesitant, worried look, long enough that she forces a small smile and attempts to reassure you with, “I’m fine. Go.”

She’s lying and you know that, but you don’t have much of a choice. You turn to go quickly search the house.

The second floor is clear of any discernible threats but also of anything that would be useful in helping Abby. On your way back to the living room, you rummage through the downstairs bathroom and a couple of mostly empty coat closets in hopes of finding something. Medical supplies. Even clean cloths.

You find nothing there and move on to your last hope, the kitchen. This room is even more ransacked than the rest of the house, and still, you don’t find what you’re looking for.

“Ugh,” you loudly groan, clasping your hands together on the back of your neck and casting your gaze upward in frustration.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Abby quickly asks from the other room, sounding ready to jump up off the couch and rush to your rescue even in her current condition. It makes you smile until you remember that this is no time to be smiling.

“It’s nothing. The house is clear. I was just looking for some medical supplies.”

“Who needs medical supplies?” she asks, trying her hand at a second joke. This time you let yourself smile for just a second.

“You do, Abby,” you say, “You need medical supplies. Urgently.” You’re still staring up like the answer will be written up there if you just look hard enough, when something in the space between the one of the top cabinets and the ceiling catches your eye. If you’re not mistaken, it looks like the corner of a first aid kit.

It’s too high for you to reach standing, and there’s nothing for you to stand on top of. The countertops are broken, the pieces scattered across the room, and the wood of the lower cabinets is rickety and unstable at best.

You’re grumbling under your breath about damn high ceilings and unnaturally tall cabinets as you reenter the living room to find Abby almost exactly where you left her, left leg now up on the couch and elevated, right foot still on the floor. Both of her hands are hovering over the gash in her thigh, like she’s not sure if she should touch it or not, her face tense and focused. She’s in pain.

You pull your eyes away and look for something sturdy enough for you to stand on, eventually deciding on a mostly intact, only slight wobbly small metal table.

“Do you really think now is the best time to rearrange the furniture, honey?” Abby asks, glancing at you in her periphery. She’s joking again, and you know that, but you can’t help the warmth that pools in your cheeks at her use of the affectionate pet-name.

“I--“ You clear your throat, “I need something to stand on. I think I found something in the kitchen.”

“Aww, you can’t reach the top shelf by yourself?” Abby asks, amused. She turns her attention from her leg to watch as you drag the table out of the room. It squeaks along the floor the entire way, making her laugh softly.

 The fact that she’s being playful with you starts to ease your lingering panic about her many ailments. If she’s cracking jokes, she can’t be that close to dying, right?

“Crazy how you’ve lost like half your blood supply, and yet you still have enough energy to tease me,” you say, your own teeth gritted now. The table is much heavier than you anticipated. “And, for your information, the thing that I’m trying to get is not on the top shelf. It is above the top shelf. On top of the cabinet.”

“Uh huh. Sure… Take your time. I’m just over here, casually bleeding out.”

“Well, I’m no doctor. But I’m pretty sure that if the knife had hit any major arteries, you would’ve bled out a long time ago. So you’ll be fine for another minute. Probably.” With one final shove, you manage to get the table where you want it.

You carefully step up on the table, hoping that some sadistic asshole didn’t throw an empty first aid kit all the way up there just to waste the time and energy of some poor, desperate fool in need of medical supplies. (You, of course, being that poor desperate fool.)

After brushing off a thick layer of dust, you grab the handle. The kit is full.

“Yes!” you shout, nearly stumbling off the table in your excitement.

Abby can tease you all she wants and try to make light of the situation, but she can’t hide the look of relief that washes over her features when she sees what you’re carrying.

And, if you were paying closer attention to her face, she also wouldn’t have been able to mask the way her eyes go wide and her cheek – the one that’s not covered in blood – gets visibly pink when you get on your knees in front of her. “Uhhh hey, you can—you can sit on the couch.”

You raise your eyebrows, confused by her sudden nervousness. “No, the angle will be better this way,” you insist. “Just bring your leg over here.” She concedes, avoiding eye contact as you help her maneuver her injured leg so that her foot is back on the floor, practically between your knees.

There’s already a tear in her pant leg where the gash is. So to avoid having Abby stand up and take her pants off or cutting all the way around at mid-thigh, leaving her with half a pair of pants for the foreseeable future, you opt to just rip the fabric a little more on either side of the tear.

But you have a bad habit of occasionally thinking about something and then doing it, forgetting the often necessary in-between step of alerting the people around you to what you’re going to do first. You take the already-ripped fabric of her pants in your hands and tear, successfully making a hole large enough for you to properly clean and dress the wound.

The sound Abby makes when you do this surprises you. It’s almost sounds like a whimper—a noise that you don’t think you’ve ever heard her make before. There’s a twisting heat in your gut that seems to be a recurring side effect of being close to Abby, which you choose to ignore in favor of focusing on the more urgent (and honestly less daunting and less complicated) task at hand.

She’s quiet as you get to work cleaning the gash. Wincing slightly but remaining still.

The cut is deep, but as you expected it missed the femoral artery. You would have to stitch it up, though, and you told Abby as such. She nodded and watched you carefully as you quickly prepared, hoping to get this part over with as quickly as possible.

You moved even closer to her. Abby’s shin gently pressed against your front as you leaned over her knee, bringing your face closer, your movements precise and intentional.

Abby brings her hands down on either side of her legs, bracing herself. Her shoulders tense, muscles engaged. You have to tear your eyes away. Focus. You look back down at her thigh.

As you work, a strand of your hair falls from where you had tucked it behind your ear and into your face. You let out a light, annoyed huff. Before you attempt to blow the strand out of your eyeline, Abby’s fingers gently brush it back behind your ear. You feel yourself blush deeply, saying a quiet thank you before going back to sewing her up.

When the last stitch is done and you’ve carefully wrapped the wound, you feel Abby’s fingers run through your hair again, this time for no other reason but to draw your eyes up to meet hers.

“Come up here,” she says, her voice low. You stand, bringing the first aid kit with you, and feel the springs in the cushions creak beneath you as you sit on the couch, facing her, closer than is probably necessary. Before either one of you says anything else, you begin gently wiping away the blood surrounding the cut on her cheek, cleaning around the wound.

It's clear to you now that her wounds weren’t quite as detrimental as you had feared. With her leg sown up, her face was the only other thing that required your attention. Most everything else was superficial and would heal on its own. The rain had done a poor job of washing away all the blood, but it seems that much less of that blood had come from her than you had anticipated anyway.

“I can do that,” Abby says in a whisper, watching your face as you carefully and meticulously clean hers.

“I know,” you reply, just as quiet. “I want to.”

A few moments go by in silence until Abby once again breaks it.

“I’m sorry about tonight,” she begins, quickly adding, “Not sorry that I did it, but sorry that you had to… see me that way.” Her eyes are downcast. You know it’s weighing on her. Not just everything that happened today, but the fear that what happened could have a lasting effect on this thing you two have only just started to build. Call it trust or friendship or maybe something else entirely.

You shake your head. “Don’t apologize. I’m glad I was there. You shouldn’t have had to do that alone.” Abby nods, but you know it doesn’t do much to assuage her worries.

You still don’t understand what happened back in the theater. Or why it happened. Part of you wants to ask for the history now. How she knows Ellie. Why she wants Abby dead.

Maybe in time she will tell you, but you’ve already decided to trust her. To lean into whatever this thing between you is, and whatever it might become.

So instead, you ask another question that’s been in the back of your mind.

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” You pull your hand away from her face, finished cleaning the cut there. It may form a scar, but it doesn’t seem deep enough to warrant stitches. (And you’re not brave enough to try, on her lovely face so close to her eye.)

Abby smiles softly, leaning forward just a bit to bring your faces closer together. “You’re going to have to be more specific, honey.”

That pet-name again. It makes your head spin. Makes you want to close the already shrinking distance between you and press your lips to hers. But you don’t do that. Instead, you explain, “On the island. When you said that… I’m your people.” You pause, hesitating over the last few words.

Abby stops for a moment, almost looking confused, and you start to spiral internally. You realize that it was probably just something she said in the heat of the moment. To calm you down and get you to keep moving, towards safety. You wish you could take your question back, retract your stupid words. Swallow them up and hide them inside you, along with your ever-growing feelings.

Abby finally answers. “Yeah. Of course I meant it. You’re my people.”

“Yeah?” You break out into a grin.

She nods, smiling and sincere. “Yeah.”

It’s that one, small word that makes you close the distance between you. Not to kiss her, but to gently rest your forehead against hers. Abby seems stunned, like maybe she was expecting the other thing, or hoping for it, but she recovers quickly, closing her eyes and maintaining the physical contact. You close your eyes too.

“You’re my people too, Abigail Anderson.” You can feel her laugh quietly and open your eyes, pulling away just enough to see her face again. “So… where do we go from here?”

“Santa Barbara, California,” she says. You remember overhearing part of a conversation about that between Abby and Owen yesterday. You figured that’s where she would be heading; you had just hoped to be given the chance to tag along. But you guess you didn’t have to worry about that anymore.

So you nod your head thoughtfully. “Sounds good… Sunny.”

“Hmm, yeah. That’s what I hear.” You’re both smiling. Happy, strangely enough, given the circumstances.

“Abby…”

“Hmmm?”

“We are going back to get Lev before we leave though, right?”

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

Note: If you read all of that, THANK YOU! This is the first fanfic I’ve written—and the first time I’ve written at all in a long time—so this is me dipping my toes in the water.

[theupsidedownsrealestateagent]

Steve takes Robin for a drive and doesn’t tell her where. Robin’s not paying attention, too tuned into picking a good radio station, that she doesn’t know where they are until Steve Parks.

It’s the field that Starcourt used to be. The town hasn’t figured out to do with the land yet, so for now it’s just a giant plot of land,

Steve grabs her by the hand and starts tugging her further into the field. Robin assumes Steve knows where he’s going since he keeps referring to a piece of paper.

He’s not talking, too focused on navigating and making sure Robin doesn’t trip and break her neck. He’s clearly on a mission so she stays silent, knowing when he’s ready he’ll explain.

It takes a solid five minutes, and sure Robin’s a little sweaty now but the way Steve’s entire face lit up when it seems he’s found whatever he’s looking for.

“Oh my god, I think this is it!”

Robin’s eyebrows raise up in question, “And what is, it?”

“This is. This is, the movie theater bathroom.”

Robin does a dramatic gasp, “Where it all started!”

Steve claps his hands and points at her with excitement, “Where it all started!” And he takes a seat roughly where they would’ve been that night. Robin follows his lead and sits down too.

He sighs, and Robin thinks he’s looking a little spacey. She nudges to tip of her shoe o his and asks, “So you wanna talk about why you brought me here? I know it’s not for our anniversary.” Waggles her eyebrows to let him know she’s teasing. It’s how they’ve shown each other how much they care over the years.

Steve catches her eye before looking away, “Kinda seemed like the only good spot. And y’know been wanting to tell you this for a while but it’s a little inevitable now.”

“Inevitable? If you don’t want to tell me you absolutely don’t have to”

Steve laughs, “No, no it’s not like that just I know me and I’m going to want to talk about it.” He pauses finding Robin’s eye again, taps there’s shoes together a couple of times. “I’m gay Robin.”

Robin’s face goes soft, she grabs his hands and yanks him into, because of their positions, a pretty awkward hug. “Huh and here I thought I was gay Robin.” She squeezes him lightly, kisses the top of his head.

Steve groans, “You’re the worst!”

Robin stills for a second realizing , “So, is there something going on between you and—“

“We made out last night and I’m pretty sure he’s my boyfriend. Robin I have *so* much to tell you!”

[minafeu]

I'm not the greatest at writing when tired and it's 11 pm before I got to school the next day but I thought I'd give a snippet of what I have so far. The chapter will be called "Girl, So Confusing" because the tension I've written is utterly divine and fits the title because the way Red be acting is so confusing to Chloe.( @uhhhh-em-draws-stuff this is for you pookie 😘)

Theatre class. A place where many don't have academic rivals but Chloe was unlucky enough to have her academic rival in her Theater class. Today they were doing line readings just to make sure the teacher picked the right people for the roles. Chloe reading for Juliet and Red reading for Romeo. An irony Chloe could care less for but still funny none the less. Red takes her hand as per the directions of staging "If I profane with my unworthiest hand. This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: My lips two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss." Red had an annoying sly smile on her face, knowing she was slightly getting under Chloe's skin.

She take a deep breath and begins her line. "Good Pilgrim, you do wrong your hands to much, which mannerly devotion shows this; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch. and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss." They make eye contact whilst Chloe recites her lines lines. It's obvious to Red that Chloe has honed the craft of theatre for many years which is almost impressive if it weren't for the fact she acted slightly cocky about it. It elicits a small chuckle out of Red, it being humorous that Chloe thinks so highly of herself.

"Have not saints lips, and holy palmers' too?" Reds voice is soft but firm. Chloe laughs slightly and states "Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer." She give an unserious smile, emulating the character of Juliet. It's almost impressive how well Red is doing as Chloe has never seen her so theatre. Red simply brushes off the slight look of disbelief on Chloe's face and responds. "O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do: They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair." Her smile growing more cocky, her head tiltes slightly to the side as she watches to see how Chloe react. "Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake" Chloe speak softly, shaking her head lightly during my lines. She lightly looks Red up and down as she recites Red next lines.

Red steps a bit closer to Chloe. "Then move not while my prayer's effect I take." She takes Chloe's chin in her hand, just a few inches from her face. "Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged." Chloe rolls her eyes lightly, breaking character for but a moment. She clears her throat, takes a step back from Red and delivers the line promptly. "Then have my lips the sin that they have took." Chloe's gaze is questioning with a hint of innocence, replicating how a child of Juliet's age would have said it. "Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again." Red looks into Chloe's eyes, a mischievous smile on her lips. "And scene!" Their teacher calls out.

After a few moments, Chloe goes to her seat and grabs her things, intent on getting to her next class to have peace for just a few moments. The only bad thing about next hour being AP history was perhaps the fact that the seating chart just had to have Red sitting right next to her. It was the only class they sat next to each other and every moment felt like hell on earth. As the teacher begins to give Red compliments on her compelling acting Chloe checks her phone and texts back her mom. After about a minute, the teacher begins to compliment Chloe who dutifully takes them. Red simply rolls her eyes. Ah yes, little miss perfect taking compliments like it's nothing. It's almost as if she isn't Satan incarnate in academia clothing and a pretty smile.

(now published as a full chapter on ao3)

[galactiquest]

We all know how touch starved Knives is but what if his s/o was also touch starved to the point of clinging on to him like a kola or a backpack. Just thought it may be funny that he's just acts like it's just the norm walking around with his s/o hanging off him.

Touch-starved Knives? I'm already there. I'm in the theater, Anon. I've got my popcorn and my large drink and I'm ready.

This idea was so cute to me I decided to write you some little imagines and a bite-sized ficlet, too! Hope you enjoy!

Millions Knives x Reader: Touchy

Content Warnings: None again, just tooth-rotting fluff. Doesn't have any specific Knives incarnation in mind, since they're all ever-so untouched and in need of touching.

First off, don't expect him to outright admit anything, ever. Knives is very much a "if I don't think about it, it'll go away" kind of guy. So there's no way he'll ever come up to you and be like hey, guess who didn't get enough skin-to-skin contact as a growing youth, this guyyyy. But do expect him to start getting clingy once he realizes he can.

It's like getting your first taste of your new favorite food. Now that you've had it, you can't get enough. Suddenly he's pressing his hand up to yours while standing next to you (not handholding, he tried this once and got overwhelmed and had to go bite something for a while). Or he's hovering behind you, resting his head on yours. Or he's laying next to you, tracing patterns across your arm/shoulder/back/whatever's available and allowed to be touched.

It's one thing if you're fine with touch. But if you're touch-starved like him, on the other hand? You're trying to sap that same affection from him. Since he's quick to overwhelm (as previously stated) it can be hard at times, but he slowly, surely, gets used to the sensations of pressure and touch that aren't violent or painful, just kind and pleasurable.

So, the touch becomes more constant, more level, more in-tune with each other. It starts feeling very natural. And that natural-ness feels great.

Hugs. So many hugs. That feeling of pressure between the two of you is relaxing and reassuring. (Also you totally get pressed into those "airbags" of his if you know what I mean.) He's so precise with his movements that he can hold you at the exact tightness that makes you feel the best. Who needs a weighted blanket when you have the Compression Boyfriend?

Koala backpacking? Absolutely. 100%. Crawl all over this man. Crawl up him like a vine. He's so used to it by now, he just lets it happen, even in the middle of work. Sometimes he'll pretend you're not there, just for the giggles. Completely straight-faced, but makes you laugh like mad.

If this is Stampede Knives we're specifically talking about (though I personally think the other Knives do this too) then you get to sit next to him, or even on his lap, while he's at the piano. No naughty business--just being close to each other while he plays the keys. Or maybe he'll ghost his hands over yours and show you how to play/follow your playing, if you already know how.

Alright, a little ficlet below the cut just for you.

"...My liege."

"What?"

Legato frowned at the sight before him. There was important business to be done, and here Master Knives was, fooling around. Letting you, the human he'd bonded with, crawl all over him like an insect.

"If nothing's amiss, Legato, then let's get to work." Knives huffed and picked up the paperwork from the table.

You shifted around slightly on his back, head resting on his shoulder, watching as he shuffled through the papers. This was one of your little games with him--you'd hang out on his back, literally, and he'd pretend you weren't there. He didn't care about the game, really, but it made you laugh. And if it made you laugh (one of his favorite sounds, if he had any), it was worth it.

"...Master Knives."

"Spit it out."

"Get that human off your back."

Knives growled. "That human has a name, you know. Besides, there's no human on my back."

You stifled a laugh as you looked at Legato, mouth twisting downwards in a frown.

"Yes, there is." Legato pointed. "They're right there!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Knives shook his head, then turned around to procure some more files from a shelf. As he turned, you looked back to Legato and stuck your tongue out at him.

"You arrogant little--"

"Legato," Knives grunted. "If you mean to insult me, I'll gladly slice you open."

Legato fumed, then finally spoke again. "Not at all, my liege."

"Good." Knives leaned over to rub his head against yours for just a moment, then returned towards Legato. "Then, let's get to work."

End Notes: I have a soft spot for Knives. And a soft spot for Knives learning to love, well, love. This is also dedicated to my friend who lets me shout about Knives at them. You're the best, K!

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Hell Pride University AU: Charlie & Vaggie

Charlie and Vaggie are sitting out on the rugby field on campus. The "stars" are out for once as they just sit on a blanket on the grass. Vaggie pulls a half empty pack of cigarettes out of her leather jacket and lights one up.

Charlie: (nose wrinkles) You know those will kill you, right?

Vaggie: I don't remember asking the future Theater, Counselor, Vocalist, and Dance Technician for a diagnosis. (Takes a long drag that siphons half of the cigarette before blowing five rings in quick succession)

Charlie: (blushes at the sight of Vaggie's lips making a perfect O) You'd be able to run better during your training and rugby matches.

Vaggie: Again. Don't remember asking. (Takes another puff) You didn't have to come with me out here.

Charlie: N-No. I didn't, but I wanted to. Believe it or not, I do like hanging out with you. (Waves her hand in front of her face as a whisper of smoke floats her way) Even if you so smoke like a chimney.

Vaggie: Hmm.... (continues staring at the sky as she lays on her back)

Charlie: (sighs and pulls her knees up to her chest) I just.... wish you'd take better care of yourself.... You're really the first real friend I've had.... I don't want you to.....

Vaggie: (plays with the cigarette between her teeth with her tongue and glances at Charlie, the kicked puppy look causes a twist in her chest and she sighs) Alright. One sec. (Takes a deep hit and exhales a billow of smokel)

Charlie: What?

Vaggie: (snuffs out cigarette on her tongue, a flash of the steel stud in her tongue glints slightly in the far off glow of the parking lot lamps)

Charlie: (mentally) Holy fuck she has her tongue pierced! (out loud) Vaggie, what the fuck?! You're burning yourself!

Vaggie: (tucks the cigarette butt into her empty soda can) It's fine. I can't taste anything anyway.

Charlie: Not.... what I was getting at....

Vaggie: (hands the pack of cigarettes over to Charlie) Here.

Charlie: Vaggie, you know I don't smoke.

Vaggie: No. I know that. I'm giving these to you to hold onto for me. Quiting cold turkey sucks, so I'm giving these to you so I can only smoke when you're around and only when I'm at the end of my rope. Once the pack is gone, it's gone.

Charlie: (in awe as she takes the half empty pack) Really?

Vaggie: (blushing) Don't look too into it. It's not that deep.

Charlie: (sniffling and tearing up) Yes, it is! Gimme a hug, bestie!

Vaggie: (gets tackled back onto the blanket) Agh! Dammit! Charlie! Get off! Hahahahaha!

[rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me]

d. di. dillo ml <3 could i maybe perhaps get hcs for the boys and a theatre kid! s/o? <3

A/N: I’m a stage manager so I feel qualified to answer these asks. I went down the high school theater train here because it felt the most applicable and I felt most confident writing it so…yeah. Hope you enjoy!

DARRY CURTIS

This man is an absolute saint and unofficially joined your set building crew once your show started because he works in construction kinda sorta and figured what better way to help your show than to help build everything you need

The rest of the cast and crew goes absolutely wild when he shows up the first time because let’s be real folks, Darry is absolutely stunning, incredibly strong, and an absolute gentlemen

He’s wonderful at helping you with lines too, if you need some assistance with memorizing or just someone to talk through them with, Dare is more than happy to help you out

Dare’ll give up his free time for that too, like in the evenings when he wants to do is crawl into bed and catch some rest before having to work again tomorrow, he’ll sit with you in the living room and recite lines until you feel confident

Come show time, he’s sitting in the front row with his brothers, grinning up at you when you’re on stage, clapping the loudest when it’s done <3

He brings you flowers too, a nice little bouquet that he gives to you after you’re done, congratulating you on such a good performance, he’ll tell you every show you do was even better than your last, no matter what happens

SODAPOP CURTIS

Sodapop absolutely loves that you’re an actor, he thinks it’s super duper cool and is literally so in awe of your talent no matter how talented you think you actually are-

He likes to joke, that if he were still in school, he’d be up on stage with you, acting right alongside you, playing every love interest you could ever have on that big stage

The theater director, I’m sure, would have loved to have Sodapop in the plays/musicals because just look at that man’s face and I will bet you actual money that Sodapop can sing too

On those rough days, the days where you can’t remember any of your lines, can’t hit any of your notes, miss every single one of your cues, Sodapop will be there to help you through it

Those days happen, I see them all the time, but Sodapop, with the gentlest voice you’ve ever heard and the sweetest smile on his face, will offer to help you with everything

Come showtime, Sodapop is sitting in that front row, right in the center of the stage, hearts in his eyes and flowers in his hands, eager for you to perform so he can see you doing your thing <3

PONYBOY CURTIS

Guess what buds, Ponyboy Curtis a stage crew kiddo because I said so and now it’s canon in this universe in which these headcanons exist-

He does lights or something, something where he’s around the cast enough to develop a huge crush on you but still separate enough so that he has to make an effort to see you

But once you start dating, Ponyboy finds himself being dragged into the cast circles and into your friend groups more often, being brought more into the acting group of people

One time, and I swear to you it happened one time, he was working one of the spotlights for a rehearsal and was so in awe of your acting talent that he just…forgot…to spot you during your big monologue…

When he notices that he missed his cue, he apologizes like a million times once he finds you again, and when you realize why he missed the cue, please give him a million more kisses because that’s really cute

After you guys finish your show, Ponyboy takes you out to the diner or something and have a little date with you and congratulate you on your job well done!

DALLAS WINSTON

After talking with my dearest friend, thanks a bunch @a-person-who-didnt-wanna-be-here, I finally figured out what I was gonna say about this boyo, I stared at his section for WAY too long

But anyway! If you’re dating Dallas and you’re doing high school theater, prepare yourself for him either asking a shit ton of questions about what you’re working on or absolutely not caring about anything at all

For sure, he’ll show up at your shows and give you a rinky-dink little bouquet of flowers and congratulate you on a job well done and have absolutely no clue about what show you just performed

Dallas will literally get up in the middle of the show and leave because he’s bored when you’re not on the stage and he’ll just hang out outside and smoke until he’s bored of being outside and wants to go back in

If you find yourself in the unfortunate situation where you have to kiss one of your fellow actors for a scene, you don’t have any good options regarding Dallas

Either you tell him before and have to deal with him complaining and threatening your fellow actor or you don’t tell him and run the risk of him finding out <3 good luck!

JOHNNY CADE

Supportive! Boyfriend! To! The! Max! Johnny is absolutely wonderful with a theater kid partner and I just know it all the way done to the marrow in my bones

He would help you run lines, hanging out at your house until the late hours of the night until you’ve got all your lines down and just help you remember them because he just likes you so much

Johnny doesn’t want to be in the plays/musicals and he doesn’t want to be involved with the stage crew either, but he hangs around rehearsals when he can because it beats going home and he likes being able to walk you back to your house when it gets late and stuff

The rest of the cast loves him though, he’s a sweetheart and a little cutie and ya know, he just, he never does anything wrong. He’s a little baby boy and I love him-

He comes to all your shows! You can always find him sitting in the audience cheering for you at curtain calls and waving when he catches your attention

Johnnykid tries to get the rest of the boys to come with him too, mostly Ponyboy, because he wants to show off how talented you are and all that good jazz!

TWO-BIT MATHEWS

Two-Bit is not in any of the shows. He’s never on a cast list, never in the crew, he doesn’t help with anything at all. But he’s always at rehearsals-

Why is he wasting his time at rehearsals you may ask? Why is he spending afternoons in that old theater, sitting in the uncomfortable seats and watching people practice a show he’s not even in? Oh, it’s because of you, of course!

He doesn’t do much, especially not when he’s got you sitting next to him, and a majority of his time is spent sitting with you and running his mouth about the other cast members and stuff

A large chunk of what he says are compliments on your acting and mumbled remarks into your ear about how you’re better than whoever is on stage or how the two of you could be off somewhere else, doing something else…

But everyone else thinks he’s kinda funny and he doesn’t cause too many problems when he’s around cause you keep him on enough of a leash that anything he does can be considered more funny than problematic

When opening weekend rolls around, he tells everyone he knows to come see you perform, hyping you up consistently and making sure when you come out for bows, you’ve got an audience full of people waiting there to cheer you on!

STEVE RANDLE

I feel like I boil Steve’s character down to a cheerleader boyfriend way too often but like- that’s just the way he is- I don’t know what else you want me to say-

But anyways, just imagine for a moment, sitting in the garage of the DX while Steve’s covered in grease, working underneath a car, while you sit pretty by the toolboxes and run lines with him

He offers to pick you up from rehearsals and drive you home for multiple reasons because a) he likes taking care of you, b) he likes hearing about your rehearsal, and c) he’d never miss an opportunity to drive you around

He drags Sodapop along to your shows because he feels weird going by himself but still really wants to show up out of the blue and surprise you by sitting in the audience with flowers

Triple bonus boyfriend points, he takes you out for dinner after your final show to congratulate you on a job well done and treat you to something while simultaneously showing you off!

While you’re rehearsing and stuff, he calls you his superstar because he’s goofy like that and will state how you’re the next rising star and compare you to all these famous actors/actresses and ask you not to forget about him once you make it to Broadway

TIM SHEPARD

Tim popped by your rehearsal one time because…I don’t even know why, probably cause you forgot your script at his house or something and everyone absolutely lost it cause Big Bad Tim Shepard is at a theater rehearsal

He doesn’t really talk to anyone but you, handing over that script and offering to pick you up after you’re done and take you out to dinner or something <3

Tim’s a pain in the ass to work on lines with, but he’ll help you out if you really need a hand with memorizing them-

I’m getting this visual of you sitting in the Shepard kitchen late at night, deep in thought at the kitchen table while Tim sits on the opposite side and reads from your script, feeding you lines when you need a little hint

He drops you off at the theater on opening day, way earlier than the actual showtime because call times are a thing and they absolutely suck, but he sends you off on your way with a good luck kiss

Tim doesn’t sit in the front row, doesn’t sit with your family, doesn’t bring anyone else along with him, but he’s there at your shows and always gives you a little wave when you bow, winking at you when he manages to catch your eye

CURLY SHEPARD

Imma just be real with you, there’s a really high chance that Curly might be thrown in reform during your show run, he’s a delinquent and ya know, he has a rough time staying out of the pen sometimes

In that case ^^ he sends Tim in his stead so that Tim can tell him all about how you did so that Curly can shower you with praise once he gets out

If he’s not in the pen! Yay! He comes to all of your shows and never buys a ticket, sneaking in every time because no one’s gonna stop him from seeing you perform during your big moments

He hangs out during rehearsals, causing a ruckus when he can and loping off with a smug smirk when he gets kicked out, after blowing you a kiss of course

Curly’s not gonna bring you flowers but it’s not because he doesn’t care it’s just cause he doesn’t have the money or the memory to get you flowers so he just gives you a bunch of kisses instead!

Random to finish, but don’t ever try and get Curly to run your lines with you because he’ll end up turning it into some sort of, remember-a-line-and-you-get-a-kiss game and then y’all will just end up making out instead of working on memorizing lines sooooo……yeah