She knew that it was only a matter of time before someone else, of her kind, took interest in her Elphie.
And, though understandably so - because her Elphie is beautiful, wonderful, talented, kind, unique in a way that one would be glad to come cross once in a century - Glinda still feels possessive.
(She hadn't meant to interfere, not really. Elphaba can take care of herself. It's just that he's such a prick, smirking and sliding up next to Elphaba like he was worth an ounce of her time, complimenting on her writing, her dress... settling a hand on her back... Elphaba countering wittingly at his lame jokes... And then his teeth had glinted white.)
"Avaric, back the fuck off," Glinda says, or rather, growls, at her fellow vampire. Her hand is in his cravat, nails biting into her own skin at the intensity with which she is pulling him to the balls of his feet. Her strength is unparalleled when she gets like this, and Glinda thanks her royal lineage for it when she sees the flicker of nervousness in Avaric's eyes. "She's mine."
He stares at her a moment longer. Searching her face for something, though she isn't sure what, because if this prick doesn't get out of her line of sight in the next two seconds, she will smear his blood on the bar floor herself.
Like one of the victims unfortunate enough to cross their path when they get insatiably hungry.
When he finally scoffs and rips himself from her grasp, straightening out his suit, Glinda watches him stomp away. She tries to tamp down the fire burning bright in her abdomen when he spares a bitter glance over his shoulder (at her, at Elphaba watching slack jawed), barely.
When the door swings shut behind him, Glinda grabs Elphaba's arm. Ignoring everyone else around them blatantly staring, she drags her closer, nuzzling her nose in the crevice of Elphaba's neck, breathing in her scent.
Her mouth salivates at the idea of biting, of marking her human right then, right there in front of everybody to see.
Glinda's mind is still clouded. Hazy. Red.
(She could not give a damn.)
"You look gorgeous tonight," she purrs instead, grazing her fangs at the soft patch of skin on Elphaba's neck. The fire in her undead being climbs into her chest at the soft whine spilling from Elphie's lips. "I want to drink you."
"Glin..." Elphaba gasps, like she's unable to suck in a full gulp of air. It makes Glinda's head pound. "We are in public."
"So? Let them see." Her teeth presses into that patch harder. It feels so tantalizing. Glinda doesn't usually make it a habit to let her vampirism run rampant in public - it is unbecoming, and besides, her family is notable enough to deem it unnecessary - but Elphaba makes it a habit to ruin all her notions of decency and social aptitude. "I want everyone to know that you belong to me."
"There wasn't anything between me and Avaric," her Elphie tries to reply, but is cut short by the sharp squeeze on her waist. She quickly replaces the rest of her sentence with a nod. "Yeah, whatever you want, my sweet."
"You. I only want you," Glinda hisses, before they both moan at the first pierce of flesh.
I'm not really sure if you write things with the reader in it, if not ignore this. How Jack would react to a reader that is really shy and can't really talk with strangers (Even the other newsies), that would be cool, since Jack work is all about selling things and have contact with people. If you could add, the reader usually hides behind his back. Hope you don't mind, keep on with the good work!
I'm just going to do Jack with a shy newsie in general if that's ok.
Jack would think it is absolutely adorable at first (especially with younger newsies)
If they're on the older side his patience would probably wear down after a while but he wouldn't show them
He'd sell with them with the trade being "I'll talk if you hold the papers."
100% would try to encourage them to talk to the other newsies by allowing them to get used to it first
He'd sit with them as the other newsies do their loud activities around the lodging house, bring them with him as he talks to others
Anything to just get them used to the surroundings and the other people
The others don't push anyone to talk either, they'd talk to anyone and not expect a reply.
Jack probably wouldn't make a fuss the first time they spoke to the other newsies either, he'd just give subtle nudges to keep going
Only once they were comfortable with the other newsies would he get them to try actually selling it
Although if they were young he'd 100% milk the kid hiding behind his legs just that little bit longer
Just like he did with Les
Davey would be there behind the scenes to make sure that Jack didn't overwhelm anyone too fast
🤎 multiple kisses / kisses all over / kiss after kiss
*****
"C'monnn call in to workkk," Chloe whines, refusing to budge from her position on top of her girlfriend. Her legs tighten their bracketing on Beca's hips, trapping her in. She presses another kiss to Beca's face, giggling at the sleepy weak shove to her shoulders. "Please?"
"But I'm not sick," Beca grumbles, rubbing at her eyes. She accepts the lips brushing softly against her own, coming up smiling a little at the end when Chloe pulls away. "Totally healthy."
Chloe pouts. "But I'm not." She feigns a cough. "Soooo sick. Need alone time with my girlfriend, mhms. Need her to take care of me."
"Oh?" Chloe can see the moment it clicks, when Beca decides to play along. She tries- and fails- to hide her smile of victory. "And what has gotten you so out of it today, Beale?"
"Deprived of one tiny grumpy brunette. With awes music taste. And a tendency to wear raggedy old band shirts." Her lips trail along the line of Beca's jaw, down her pulse point to where she delights in the jump she receives when she offers it a gentle nibble. "Doctor's orders to spend this gorgeous spring morning outside with her today."
"Ignoring that first bit because you're cute." Beca's hands find home on Chloe's waist, where it always fits. Like it was made for her. She tilts her head back against the pillows to provide Chloe with more space to work with. More space to kiss. "Doctor's orders huh?"
"Mmm, yep." Chloe takes the skin of Beca's chest in between her teeth, sucking on it with her tongue, soothing it with her open mouth. "Vital for my health."
Her heart leaps at the groan that is released to the ceiling, which is dancing with strips of sunlight peeking through the curtains, "Guess I have no choice then."
🤎 multiple kisses / kisses all over / kiss after kiss
*****
Glinda being too exhausted and sleepy to even speak one coherent sentence could just be the cutest thing Elphaba has ever encountered.
(And that is including that time when they were taking their daily walk and Glinda found a kitty out abandoned on the street and begged Elphaba to let them keep it in their joint apartment.)
"Elphie..." Glinda mumbles, nuzzling on Elphaba's neck, where her shoulder meets it. Elphaba chuckles, pushing her glasses further up her nose, and finishes this sentence that she is typing on the laptop perched precariously on Glinda's back, who's laying on top of Elphaba's chest.
"Hm?" She presses a soft kiss to the top of Glinda's head. Breathes in her sweet shampoo.
"Mm sleepy."
Elphaba sets her laptop aside on the bedside table. Places a hand on Glinda's soft silky hair and threads her long fingers through the blonde tresses. "I know sweetheart. Want to take a nap?"
"Mm soon. Kiss."
"Hm?" She knows what Glinda wants in this moment; what she has always wanted to feel safe and warm and comfortable before drifting off to sleep. But she just likes to poke fun at Glinda when she gets this incomprehensible, because Glinda's usually very careful- and particular- with her word choices.
She hides a smile between her teeth.
As expected, Glinda expels an exaggerated huff accompanied with a little pinch to Elphaba's waist. "Need kisses please."
"Oohh, okay," Elphaba says, pretending to be enlightened, laughing outright now. She brushes her lips to Glinda's forehead, then her nose, then her cheeks. Kiss after kiss. "Like this?"
"More..." Glinda's voice is trailing away now, a sign of her consciousness slipping. Her hands tighten in Elphaba's t-shirt.
And Elphaba indulges, kissing everywhere that she can reach; on Glinda's face, neck, shoulders, while she caresses reassuringly down her back.
"Goodnight, Glin."
💘 fake relationship / mutual pining / dared to kiss
Please, someone, anyone, save me.
Glinda's smile is getting strained by the minute. She's standing, silently, as this man who is clearly of high status (that she's too polite to refuse), is talking her ear off about some investment or other, that she could care less about.
Her feet are cramping in her heels, drink clutched for dear life as her mind fights to not zone completely out. They're at a bar, and Fiyero - the traitor- was supposed to be with her to make her feel less alone when he dragged her into the late evening, but the man is nowhere to be seen.
For only minutes, now. But apparently that was enough time for some finance bro to slide up to her and place a hand on her waist.
Just when she was about to tell him that she's too gay to even consider being (remotely) interested in him- in a nice way of course, her parents have taught her that much- someone else sidles next to her.
Dark hair, green eyes. A stranger that smells so good that Glinda feels like she's deep in the woods. With lips that she barely get a proper look at before they are placing a chaste kiss on her own.
Adrenaline rushes through her veins as Galinda moves across the stage, the lights overhead brilliant and warm and colorful and she knows she looks dazzling as she dances, singing to her own song with the earpieces that keep her on track. She giggles through the chorus in all the right places, makes that one voice change that makes her fans go wild, and lets her eyes stray to the side, to that dedicated spot to the left near the closest floor seats, to make sure that the sole person in this entire sold out stadium there for her is listening, watching her performance.
Elphaba, as always, stands there, in her pressed black suit and stoic expression. Her clear steady gaze meets Glinda’s, never leaves even as Glinda shoots her a dimpled smile before (satisfied,) focuses on an arbitrary fan in the crowd, winking at them just so they can catch it on their phone cameras. That intense stare burns a trail right to the tips of her toes in their heels, encouraging her to put on a show more so than any of the other tens of thousands of people in that stadium. It makes her excited to (rather than prepared to). It carries her through the rest of the songs, the rest of the setlist.
The material of her cutout dress glitter, sparkling brighter than the stars in the evening sky that are trying to peek through. Her own voice sounds strange in her head, though louder than the many others singing along, which are vying to bleed into one with the way they are perfectly in sync with her lyrics. Glinda’s hold on her microphone is gentle but firm as she gives everyone what they want, paid for, looked forward to, traded plans with, for that night.
Glinda loves being a pop star. She has always dreamed of being an artist ever since she first held a karaoke microphone toy at seven, and now, fifteen years later, she’s finally made it. The energy of the crowd brings a flush to her cheeks, their open adoration causing her heart to soar, and their connection to her own feelings making her so validated and seen. Wanted. Perfection. Though it oftentimes can be lonely and suffocating and overwhelming, she wouldn’t trade it for the world. She’s worked too hard to reach that point. Sacrificed so much.
She finishes off the choreography with her backup dancers, skipping across the stage to the inconspicuous mark identified with a dollop of pink tape. Glinda poses, as rehearsed, her breath tumbling out in soft pants, sweat beading on her forehead, hair slightly damp and dark and returning to their natural waves.
(She hopes her makeup’s still flawless though.)
Glinda glances, again, to the left.
Elphaba’s smile is small but still decipherable, only there for Glinda to pinpoint due to the amount of time that they’ve spent together. The corner of her lips quirk up the tiniest bit in fondness (and if Glinda allowed herself to dare to hope, with pride, too), and for some reason it makes Glinda’s eyes sting with unshed tears.
Her chest suddenly feels tight, like there is a weight on it, but Glinda ignores it as she turns back to address the audience. She curtsies while everyone else bow deeply to signal the end of the show, grinning widely while the cheers heighten into a deafening roar. The lights flash elegantly into synthetic rainbows, showering across the stadium not unlike shimmering bubbles. Taking a few minutes of reprieve to catch her breath and make sure that the noise isn’t a danger to her poor eardrums, she takes out her IEMs to give her expected speech.
“I had such a fun time with you all here tonight! The Emerald City really holds such a special space in my heart, and well. I hope your memories here in the past couple hours were as beautiful as mine for those years spent at Shiz, if not more. Thank you all for coming to the show and spending the evening with me, and see you in the next! Now I must go,” she finishes with a delicate chuckle, “Before I float away in all the goodness everyone has bestowed upon me.”
When she’s finally off that platform under the pressure of tens of thousands of Ozians, Elphaba is there with her pink converse. Glinda is grateful for the bit of privacy the darkness beneath the stage provides as she’s pretty sure the tabloids would have a field day printing articles about the gripping of her bodyguard’s shoulders as she carefully removes Glinda’s heels for her.
It’s fine, Glinda thinks, as the heat in her cheeks refuses to fade. It’s just a caring gesture. Nothing more to it. Any reasonable person with a heart would understand that she probably requires a change of shoes after two and a half hours of elaborate dancing on the pinches of her feet. Even if she’d never ask for it.
She shouldn’t read into it much. Couldn’t. It’s not like Elphaba will say anything substantial if she prods.
“Just doing my job, princess,” Elphaba would always reply in that dry tone that Glinda foolishly, determinedly, wishes to crack someday down the line.
(And princess as in “pop princess.” As the public deems her. Presumably.)
Elphaba ties the laces, accentuating them into double bunny ears. She straightens into her full height, placing a hand on the small of Glinda’s back, right there in that spot where her glittering dress gave way to a slip of skin, guiding her back out into the crowd for the final stretch of public attention.
She smiles. And waves, as expected. For the cameras, for the eager faces, for the anticipation and the admiration and the happiness that it provides others.
“Glinda, we love you!”
“You did so amazing, I love you so much!”
“I’m such a huge fan!”
“It was perfect, Glinda! The best show ever!”
“Aah! Glinda!”
“You look so beautiful!”
Elphaba keeps her steps quick, steadily pushing Glinda along even as fans try to reach out, swiftly inserting her body between them to block their line of sight. While Glinda makes it her day’s mission to please the public, Elphaba could not care less.
(There had been instances where she had to scold Elphaba for being particularly aggressive.)
A young girl cried her name and Glinda turned, pausing to pay her a compliment and genuine smile. She already knew that Elphaba would be upset at her for doing so but she crouched down to hug the girl anyway, answering her questions about some of the theatrics of the performance.
“We have to go, Glinda. The car is waiting.”
Despite herself, Glinda rolled her eyes. “It can wait for a little longer.”
Something shifts in Elphaba’s gaze, and her hand twitches at her side for a split second. A rare moment of deviation of her cool facade but Glinda would gladly take it. It’s a small victory.
She decides to not push her luck any further than that, though, and reaches the car without additional waylay. Elphaba holds the door open for her, Glinda sliding past with a purposeful brush to her wrist, before ducking in herself. She slams the door shut behind them.
The vehicle begins to move.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Elphaba huffs, tossing Glinda’s heels on the opposite seat. There is a bottle of water tucked into a compartment which Elphaba picks up to shove at Glinda. “You don’t know what could have happened.”
“She was a child!” Glinda protests. She wrenches open the cap to gulp a few mouthfuls to hydrate her throat. Then hums a bit to soothe her voice. “Nothing could have happened.”
“It’s my job to prevent you from anything happening, so I think I should have a say on whether or not it could have. Happened.”
“Like there would not have been plenty of time for you to do something if it had.” Glinda peers up at Elphaba from beneath her lashes, resting her chin on her hand. “Did you have fun, Elphie?”
Elphaba glances past Glinda’s shoulder to the streets cruising out the window. “It’s not-”
“Did you,” Glinda says, punctuating her question, because Lurline, she was so sick of Elphaba skating and avoiding, “Have fun?”
“I don’t see how that would have mattered. It’s not like I had a choice on the matter of attending.”
“Just answer the damn question.” Good thing the privacy screen is up between them and the driver.
Elphaba pursed her lips. Glinda can see her debating with herself on whether or not to indulge her but Glinda had already seen the display of affection after the last song. And she knows that Elphaba knows too. She just hopes for a confirmation, and a quiet extension of something beyond strictly professional in this weirdly tense in between of their relationship.
“Perhaps.”
And that alone brought her more joy than the entirety of the performance that evening.
bc i love yall and lowkey was stewing at work all day today and need to excise some of my pent up stress-
AND BC ANNA CAMP GOT A GF RAHHHH
from this ask meme
🤎 multiple kisses / kisses all over / kiss after kiss (didn't i do this already??)
also read on ao3
*****
"Babe," Beca says, voice muffled with the position of her mouth buried in the back of Chloe's neck.
Work was rough that day; the clients were picky, the bosses were particular, and Beca already had more close calls of mental breakdowns in a week than she would rather have in her lifetime.
She wanted nothing more than to cuddle up with her girlfriend and doze on her tummy, tough badass reputation be damned. (It's not like the Bellas are living with them anymore anyways.) But sadly, Beca had come home to no girlfriend jumping on her with open arms like usual, but instead to a delicious smelling kitchen and pop music floating from their shared speakers.
Beca'd followed the scent to find Chloe shimmying her hips to Ariana Grande, with a spatula mixing dark batter in a bright blue bowl. Her iconic yellow cup set meticulously to the side. After standing there silently for a couple of seconds, Beca had released a fond sigh and wrapped her arms on Chloe's waist, kissing her cheek in hello, laughing when Chloe jumped a foot in the air in surprise.
Now she's grumpy, because Chloe is taking forever. The brownies- which she is apparently making to destress from finals- are taking their sweet time glopping into the baking dish, their viscosity strong with how rich Chloe likes to make her recipe. Beca'd already pressed kisses to every inch of Chloe's neck and shoulders that she could reach, so her patience is wearing thin on not having Chloe's hands card through her hair.
"Hm?" Annoying. She knows what Beca wants.
"You done yet?"
Chloe giggles, scooting her butt backwards to carefully slide the pan into the oven. Beca follows, wrinkling her nose to the hot air blowing against her exposed arms. When it's secured, Chloe spins around, giving Beca a proper kiss since that morning.
Then another. And another until Beca's left breathless and her cheeks are (but she would deny it) unmistakably pink when Chloe pulls away.
Her hands card through Beca's hair. Slow, soft, gentle. There is this affectionate look in her sparkling eyes and Beca's own drop.
