me spreading the good news of Moonstruck (1987) to the bi 18 and 19 year olds at work - queer elder shit right there
The way I love her... my constant support and never ending ball of sunshine and warmth. 🥺❤️ @hopesmoon
// Look at the bastard.
He's sad. He's melancholic. He needs friends and people who love him for who he is.
GIVE SOME LOVE AT THIS ASSHAT EDGY BASTARD 💞💞💞💞💞
@pcripeteiia liked for a starter.
“I had hoped the house divide would have improved with time, but that’s foolishness on my part, isn’t it. There’s simply no reason to detest one another for arbitrary placements like that. We were only so different because we made ourselves different.”
“Under different circumstances, I think you and I could have been friends.”
FANTAVATAR & MOONSTRUCK, The Little Branch, Uber
lewis leaving his girlfriend by herself on a desert island in the middle of the night to chase after his ex not once but TWICE. violence
Do The Push And Pull - The Moonstrucks (Silver Machine, 1976)
Moonstruck - Season 2
Part 1: Labels
For the first time in her life, Francesca Moon was in love. It wasn’t the kind of love she was used to, which she had come to realize was not actually love because you shouldn’t flinch every time the person you love comes closer to you.
She stood between Grayson’s legs as he sat on a stool at the bar in The Cove, his hands resting on her lower back and his tongue in her mouth. She had grown to love his urgency to have her, even in a room full of people.
She had also grown to love the other moments she shared with Grayson, the ones that didn’t include the sex part of their undefined relationship. She adored the way he got out of bed in the mornings, ruffled his hair, and trudged out of the room only to return with two mugs and say, “coffee?” in a raspy voice that made her squeeze her legs together. She liked watching him practice, too. Especially when he was writing a new song with the rest of the band and he was casually placing his fingers over the keyboard, so effortlessly it made him look cool.
But most of all, she loved feeling happy. And safe. And with Grayson, she finally did.
As they kissed, with adrenaline from their usual set at the bar still pumping through their veins, Frankie was ready to tell Grayson she loved him. She wasn’t sure if it was too early, if maybe they had moved too fast or saying I love you after sleeping together for nearly four months was kind of jumping the gun. But it was the truth.
She didn’t tell him though, mainly because she feared if would scare him away or make his face coil in disgust. They were just sleeping together, after all.
Instead, she bit his bottom lip, to which he let out a throaty groan and suddenly grabbed her ass, right there in the middle of the bar with dozens of people around them, and she said, “wanna get out of here?”
Grayson’s lips curved into a smug grin before he kissed her again, and behind the pair, Floyd commented on how they were somehow worse than Ethan and Sage. As Carter laughed at the joke, Sage smacked Floyd’s arm and told him that she thought Frankie and Grayson were actually quite adorable.
“Let’s go,” Grayson told her, sliding off his stool and finding her hand. He intertwined their fingers, and Frankie immediately wondered if it meant something more than just, I’m taking you home so I can sleep with you, not because I love you.
Little did Frankie know, Grayson loved her longer than she loved him. One night, about a month after they had hooked up for the first time, Grayson stayed up and watched Frankie sleep. And yes, he was fully aware of how creepy it was to sit up on his elbow and watch Frankie’s chest rise and fall as she snored quietly. But he also didn’t really care. That night, he wrote a list of the things he loved about her, as cheesy as it was. The list started with the feather tattoo inked between her breasts, which he also loved but didn’t include in the list, and ending with the way she said his name. Not while they were in bed, but rather, the way she said it casually. If she had a question, she’d raise her eyebrows and say, “hey, Grayson?” in a higher pitch than usual. Or if they were at rehearsals, she’d turn to him and say, “Grayson, play it again.” It didn’t matter how or why she was saying his name, but when she did, Grayson found himself smiling each and every time.
He had written her a song, and he swore that when the time was right — when Frankie had given him a sign that she felt the same way — he would play it for her. And that would be how he said his I love you for the first time. He thought about this as she followed him into his apartment and peeled off her shirt and ordered him to take off his clothes.
They didn’t make it to his bedroom. Instead, he hoisted her onto the counter and fucked her as she wrapped an arm around his shoulder, threw her head back, and said his name. She also moaned, “yes, fuck, just like that,” and “don’t stop, please.” Her voice was both desperate and sexy in the best way possible, and Grayson kissed her as he mentally reminded himself to write about this very moment in his song.
Frankie, on the other hand, repeated the words I love you, I love you, I love you in her mind.
He wore a tired smile as his thrusts grew sloppier, and Frankie leaned back on one hand, while the other slid between her legs.
When they were finished and breathless, Grayson pulled her off the counter and held her, his hands on the back of her thighs. Naturally, she wrapped her limbs around him, letting him take her to his room as he placed kissed along her collar bone and her breasts.
Grayson laid her down on his bed, and their eyes met, and somehow, they had become shy. Frankie’s cheeks burned, and Grayson’s smile was hidden behind his front teeth as they chewed on his swollen bottom lip.
“So I was wondering,” he began, crawling between her legs and kissing her lips quickly. She stared up at him, eyes wider now with a glimmer of hope. “You know how Ethan’s moving in with Sage?”
Frankie’s eyebrows knitted together, but she nodded. She was aware that her best friend had asked Ethan to move in with her, just four months into their relationship. “Um, yeah.”
“Well, I have an extra room now,” he said slowly. “And…I can’t afford rent.”
“So, like you can obviously say no, it’s not a huge deal,” he continued, reaching up to move some of her hair away from her neck. Their noses were just centimeters apart, and their bodies, still naked and covered in sweat, were pressed together. And somehow, he felt more vulnerable asking her his question than he did being completely naked with her in his bed. “But, if you wanted…the extra room…you could have it. Ya know, just…if you wanted a change of scenery?” Gosh, he felt so stupid. He wondered why the hell he worded it that way. Why couldn’t he just ask, hey, Frankie, do you want to move in with me?
Frankie stared up at him, and she swallowed visibly, which she hoped didn’t indicate how nervous she suddenly was. “Um, like, as in we’d be roommates?”
“So we’d be…bandmates and roommates and people who sleep together?”
The question hung in the air between them.
“You’re right, that’s a bad idea,” Grayson shook his head with a forced laughed and rolled off of her.
“No, no, it’s not, it’s just…” Frankie paused. “I just don’t know what to call you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like,” she sighed and turned to face him. “If I were to introduce you to someone, what would I call you?”
Grayson stared at her for a moment, analyzing the concern in her eyes. She had clearly been thinking about this for a while. He took a breath and said, “I called you my girlfriend the other day.”
Grayson’s heart beat a little bit faster, and he suddenly felt lightheaded as he realized he had admitted to believing their relationship was something much more serious than it was.
“This girl I give piano lessons to,” he laughed at himself and shook his head. “Her older brother has a drum set. And I pointed to it and said, ‘oh, my girlfriend plays the drums.’ And like, I didn’t even know I said it. And it doesn’t matter because she’s like seven and wasn’t even listening to me because she hates the piano, but…I said it. I don’t know,” he stopped talking and waited for her to response, but she didn’t, so he nervously continued, “but, I’m fine with just being your bandmate and the guy you sleep with sometimes.”
Frankie laughed. “I called you my boyfriend too,” she said, suddenly reassured that they were on the same page. “Remember when I called you while I was at the mechanic last week?”
“I told the guy I had to call my boyfriend to ask him about the price.”
“So,” Grayson smiled. “When you introduce me to someone, you…can call me your boyfriend.”
“If that’s okay.”
“As long as I can call you my girlfriend.”
They both exhaled, then laughed at how silly and juvenile it felt to have the boyfriend/girlfriend talk. Grayson placed his hand on her cheek, leaning in to kiss her again.
“Um,” Frankie pulled away. “But can we…discuss the roommate thing after battle of the bands?”
“Yeah, yeah it can wait,” Grayson chuckled.
“Floyd said he wants to be on the road by 8 tomorrow.”
The next morning, Grayson woke up to Frankie showering him with kisses along his neck and his chest. She smiled into his neck and said, “good morning, boyfriend.”
He expected her to announce the big news as everyone piled into the van for the road trip to San Francisco, where battle of the bands was, but when the others had joined them, Frankie said nothing.
Grayson assumed she didn’t because the others already knew about their relationship, and he figured they already consider he and Frankie to be boyfriend and girlfriend; therefore, Frankie didn’t see the need for an announcement.
As Floyd drove the van, with Carter in the passenger seat and Sage and Ethan playing some game with the highway signs, Frankie and Grayson sat all the way in the back and talked about the upcoming set.
“Okay, I think we have a solid line up, right?” Frankie questioned. “Like, it was a good call to start with All I Wanted, right?”
“Now you’re asking this?” Grayson laughed. “Come on, we’ve been practicing for weeks.”
“I think we should finish with Somebody To Love,” Frankie chewed on her nail, zoned out.
“We’ve been practicing it as the second song, though.”
“It doesn’t make sense in the middle.”
They shared a look, and Grayson took it as an opportunity to kiss her, in the back of the van, with everyone else in close proximity. Sage glanced back at them, tapping Ethan to show him. Ethan only smirked and turned back around, but in the front seat, Floyd rolled his eyes.
When they arrived at the Marriott, which was a lot nicer in person than it was in the pictures they had seen online, each of them gasped softly and wondered how the hell they were going to afford the stay. Sage would probably have to ask Ethan to get her a bartending gig and Frankie would pick up more hours at the diner. Carter would suck it up and ask for the raise he should’ve gotten months ago, and Floyd would look for a second job. Grayson would too. If they win, though, they wouldn’t have to worry. But right now, in the hotel lobby which was packed with other bands, they each had their doubts.
Sage stared up at the crystalline chandelier over their heads and whispered to Ethan, “I bet that thing costs more than what I have in my savings.”
“This place is nice,” Floyd mumbled, setting down his guitar case and swiping his finger across a mahogany side table that had a stack of travel books no one has ever read on it.
“I’m gonna check in,” Frankie announced, taking a deep breath. She touched Grayson’s arm and said, “watch my bag,” and moved through the crowds of people to get to the front desk. She elbows her way through, mumbling, “excuse me, sorry. Excuse me,” until she reached the desk.
Grayson’s eyes wandered from the back of Frankie’s head, to the various groups scattered across the lobby, chatting amongst themselves. One was a group of women who each wore a lot of pink. Another, some boys who had to still be in high school, wearing Star Wars t-shirts and Reeboks. And another band looked like they were each cosplaying Harry Styles, with floral suits and wide-legged pants, just oozing with charisma and talent. Each band had their own look. A signature. But when Grayson looked at his own band, — Sage in a tight, silky dress; Floyd in light wash denim jeans with a matching denim jacket; Carter in a bright pink button up; and Frankie in an old, cropped ZZ Top shirt and jeans so ripped they could hardly be considered pants, — he wondered if they looked like they belonged here.
He looked back to Frankie at the desk, then squinted when he saw her talking to someone. He tried to get a better look, noting the man’s longer hair which vaguely resembled Grayson’s but looked greasier and darker. He had tattoos on both his arms, and he wore all black. A black tee. Black pants. He was smiling, while Grayson was scowling.
“So are you and Frankie like, official-official, yet?” Ethan suddenly asked, and Grayson snapped out of the fake scenario in his head in which he made up different pick up lines the mystery man could have been using on his girlfriend.
“You and Frankie,” Sage smirked. “You been all…lovey-dovey lately.”
“Um, yeah, actually,” Grayson shrugged, then slowly curved his lips into a smile. “We’re together.”
Sage squealed, and Ethan laughed, “finally.”
“Took you guys long enough,” Floyd mumbled.
“We’re taking things slow.”
“You guys fucked, like, a week after you met,” Floyd pointed out.
“Okay, we’re all checked in,” Frankie announced as she came back to the group, the man in black trailing close behind her. She handed out the key cards, then said, “uh, this is Sebastian. His band is playing too.”
Sebastian was about two inches taller than Grayson, and he was objectively a very attractive man, which made Grayson stand a little straighter and puff out his chest. He gave a wave to the group, and Frankie began introducing everyone.
“This is Floyd, our guitarist. Carter, bass. Sage, our lead singer and star of the show,” Frankie gave Sage a big smile. “And this is Ethan, her boyfriend who is also an honorary member of the band. And,” she looked at Grayson, and his face lit up with a smile. He waited for her to say this is Grayson, my boyfriend, but instead she said, “this is Grayson, he plays the keys.”
Grayson’s smile faltered, but he caught himself and forced a polite smile as he shook Sebastian’s hand.
“You guys are gonna have a blast,” Sebastian insisted. “We play battle of bands like, every year. Best weekend ever.”
“You play every year?” Floyd snorted and Carter elbowed his side.
“Yeah, man, it’s all good fun, ya know?” Sebastian flashed them a grin. “This year they really upped the stakes though. I mean, BottleRock? Shit’s intense. Usually the prize is like a couple hundred bucks.”
“We’re feeling pretty confident,” Floyd insisted.
“Yeah, I bet you are,” Sebastian said, and immediately, Grayson and Floyd scowled. Frankie, however, didn’t seem to catch the backhanded comment.
“Well, we better get settled,” she said casually. “Nice to meet you again,” she was being polite, Grayson thought.
“Yeah, totally,” Sebastian looked at her, his eyes darting to her mouth, then down her figure before looking back into her eyes. That was the third time he had done that, Frankie counted. “Uh, a whole bunch of us get drinks at the hotel bar on night one. If you guys wanna join.”
“Um,” Frankie looked to Sage for help.
“We’re pretty tired from the drive, but if we change our minds, we’ll meet you there,” Sage swooped in, flashing Sebastian a smile before grabbing onto Ethan’s hand. “To the rooms we go! See you!”
Frankie exhaled and gave Sebastian a smile before quickly following the others to the elevator. They piled in, clicking on the fourteenth floor and standing in silence.
“He was hot,” Sage broke the silence, and Ethan frowned.
“He was?” He asked quietly.
“Not my type, but yeah, definitely attractive,” Sage admitted.
“He plays the drums,” Frankie added.
“Maybe he’s Frankie’s type, though,” Sage joked, but it didn’t go over well as it was again followed by immediate, deafening silence.
Grayson stared ahead at the doors, waiting for them to open. He breathed heavily, gripping the handle of his duffel bag so tight his knuckles turned white.
“I don’t like him,” Floyd stated. “S’weird he wanted to make friends with the competition. Something’s fishy.”
“Whatever,” Frankie brushed it off as the elevator doors opened to reveal the fourteenth floor, which had red carpets and striped walls in different shades of beige. They tumbled out of the doors, shuffling with their bags and trying to find their rooms. “We’re down here,” she pointed to the right, then looked at Grayson.
He nodded and followed her to the room. She swiped the card and opened the door, revealing the small suite with one king sized bed in the center. She dropped her bags and immediately flopped onto the white comforter.
“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” she spoke, looking up at the popcorn ceiling.
“Just tired,” Grayson shrugged, sliding off his shoes and laying on the bed beside her. “Thinking about the set.”
“I think you’re right,” he said. “Somebody To Love should be last.”
“Right?” Frankie agreed.
“Why didn’t you tell that guy I was your boyfriend?” Grayson hated himself a little for asking such a silly question. It made him sound insecure.
“What?” She turned to her side and leaned on her elbow, and he looked at her.
“That Sebastian guy. When you introduced me, you just said I play the keys.”
“You do play the keys.”
“Yeah, but…I’m also…your boyfriend,” he sighed.
“Are you, like, mad right now?”
“No,” Grayson said evenly. “Just…confused. That’s all.”
“Look, I’m not trying to be buddy-buddy with the competition,” Frankie shrugged. “I didn’t think it mattered if that guy knew about our relationship.”
“It does matter considering he was undressing you with his eyes.”
“He was not,” Frankie defended weakly, even though she knew very well, he was. Grayson was quiet, looking back up at the ceiling. He took a breath. “I’m sorry,” she continued. “I really just…I didn’t think…my head is all over the place right now, I’m thinking about the set not that guy.”
“What was he saying to you?” Grayson chewed on his lip. “At the front desk.”
“He asked if I was a singer,” Frankie told him truthfully. “And when I told him I play the drums, he was telling me about his band and how he plays the drums too. I don’t know, I was only half-listening.”
“Are you really that upset?” Frankie watched him, suddenly growing more and more nervous. “I’m sorry, I’ll go to the bar and tell him you’re my boyfriend if you really want me to.”
“No,” Grayson answered quickly, then laughed. “It’s…it’s fine. I’m not…upset.”
“I’m not good at labels,” Frankie whispered. “Not good at the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing, really.”
“S’okay.” Grayson could’ve easily pulled her on top of him and told her, I love you Frankie. It would’ve been the right moment, he thought. Instead he pulled her on top of him, rested his hands on her hips, and said, “wanna make out?”
When Frankie laughed, the tension in the room disappeared, but as they kissed, Grayson couldn’t help but overanalyze the brief interaction with Sebastian.
His hands guided her hips against his, their bodies fully clothed, and she gasped softly against his lips. The only sounds in the room were the smacking of their lips, Frankie’s quiet moans, and the hum of the AC overhead.
“Maybe we should go to the bar,” Grayson suddenly mumbled as Frankie kissed the corner of his mouth to his jaw and then his neck. She lifted her head when he spoke.
“Just for like, an hour.”
“You would rather…go to the bar…than have sex with me?”
“Can we have sex, then go to the bar?”
“Only if you do all the work.”
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