#so I sang the first four verses for him and the one other girl in the class in my mediocre untrained voice

[isfjmel-phleg]

. . .

[kumkaniudaku]

Stay A While (5)

Summary: Terry and Patrice enjoy each other with the promise of bright future.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 4.9k

Part: 5 of 5

Warnings: Smut (18+), NSFW

A/N: Thanks so much for joining me on this ride. I hope the journey turns out to be worth it.

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four.

“Uh, my name is Terry, I’m from North Carolina, and I wanna dedicate this one to my lady over there in the orange dress. You look good, girl.” 

“Oh no.”

“Sing your song, baby!”

A mix of encouragement and admiration at Terry’s public display of affection rang out in a poorly lit karaoke bar in the French Quarter. Liquor, good food, and good people were the perfect mix for a good time with the vestiges of Summer break rapidly slipping away. Terry stood on stage with a goofy grin and low eyes, pointing everyone toward his favorite audience member. 

Patrice had never been so embarrassed in her life. When she’d dared him to do something crazy on the last night of their spontaneous vacation, she thought he’d finally get that tattoo of her name on his ribs like he promised way back when. Singing in front of a crowd of rowdy strangers wasn’t on her bingo card.

Her hands covered her mouth to muffle her near-uncontrollable laughter. 

Terry couldn’t sing. At least not well enough to give a tipsy rendition of Patrice’s favorite Usher record. She still remembered forcing Terry to listen to Raymond v. Raymond over and over again in her cramped bedroom, many times not getting past Track 3 without gushing over how she hoped to marry the R&B heartthrob one day. Terry secretly carried a deep disdain for Usher up until his mid-20s, but couldn’t dodge the memories any time “There Goes My Baby” would play and take him right back to that cramped bedroom with his dream girl. 

He started just as Patrice expected. Though he knew the words like the back of his hand, his pitchy tenor was a far cry from the vocals needed to properly serenade an audience. He didn’t care though. As long as he could pull a belly laugh from Patrice he’d make a fool of himself in public every time. 

Between the second verse and bridge, Terry decided to take his antics up a notch. He abandoned the stage to make a beeline for Patrice with the mic in hand for a personal show. She was sure to play into the bit with playful hoops and fake screams between giggles. When he was close enough to touch, she pretended to fangirl like she was front row at one of Usher’s Vegas shows. 

“Baby, lovin’ you feels better than everything, anything. Put it on my heart, you gon’ get a ring,” he sang, spontaneously remixing the lyrics so far off-key that, if not for the levity of the ordeal, he’d surely offend every music lover in a 50-mile radius. “And I promise, our time away didn’t change my love.” 

Completely enamored with the absurdity of the moment, Patrice ran her fingertips across Terry’s abdomen underneath his shirt like a crazed fan and winked. Terry acknowledged the dangerous line she was toeing by flashing her a flirtatious grin to match the seductive sparkle in his eyes. 

Their connection overrode Terry’s awful singing performance enough for the crowd to show support through an assortment of cheers and supportive hollers only a city full of spirited Black people could provide. 

Always the perfect gentleman, Terry bid Patrice farewell for a moment with a peck on the cheek before returning to the stage to cap a truly unexpected performance and receive thunderous applause. 

“Oooo-weee. That’s your man, love? I’m talking official official?” The middle-aged tourist’s question and her thick accent interrupted Patrice’s daydreaming while she watched Terry’s every move with part of her bottom lip caught by her top row of teeth. 

“Yeah,” she answered, finally tearing her gaze away to acknowledge the woman while fiddling with the opal necklace he’d gifted her at dinner. It was the necklace symbolizing their first real date and the end of their friends only arrangement. “That’s him. Ain’t he somethin’?” 

“Somethin’ ain’t the word. I might need to head on up to North Carolina and get me one of them. My God today!” 

“He’s got a cute little single friend out in Percyville if you down with our Asian brothers. Former Marine too.” 

“You got a picture?” 

The two women fell into conversation about Ken’s availability while Patrice waited for Terry to rejoin her side. He soon returned with two shots of tequila in hand and a smile fighting to be freed from behind his poker face. 

“What was that about,” he asked, nodding at the woman who’d begun to show her friends photos of her potential beau as he placed a shot in front of Patrice.

“Might’ve gotten Ken somebody to take him out of the streets. You know he like ‘em thick and fine.” 

“I taught my boy a few things.” He used the hand closest to Patrice to breach the split in her dress and grip her inner thigh. He maintained contact, waiting for her to get shy and shoo him away. 

But she didn’t. She met his show of dominance with one of her own and crossed her legs to keep him in place, keeping him close to the pulse at her center. Two could play the secret foreplay game.

“What’s that about,” she asked, pointing at his gift of top-shelf reposado and ignoring the flutter in her stomach once he began rubbing slow circles on the top of her thigh with his thumb.

He smirked. “A little something to toast with.” 

“Oooh. What’re we celebrating?” 

“Being free, being together, and…” He lifted his shot glass, prompting Patrice to follow suit. 

“And what, TJ! C’mon!” 

“And…I got the job.” He followed his surprise by taking his shot, finishing with a quiet laugh while watching Patrice sit in unblinking shock. He squeezed her thigh again. “Don’t let me drink alone now. Bottoms up.” 

Shock gave way to a soft squeal and tiny, animated hand claps before Patrice took her gulp of tequila. Excitement had her rushing to swallow so that she could pull Terry into a series of quick kisses across his face. 

“I’m proud of you,” she complimented against his lips. “Tell me about it.” 

She stole another kiss to taste the remnants of buffalo sauce and alcohol on Terry’s tongue. He let her explore uninhibited until she’d had enough. If she wanted to put on a show, he’d be a willing participant. Even more so in the privacy of the Airbnb that belonged them to until sunrise.

The sexual tension had reached a tipping point and the clock was ticking. Images of her body beneath his were starting to be the only thoughts Terry could concoct.

Terry’s face was completely flushed, usually even caramel skin now red from lust and one too many drinks. A slow, tipsy grin put all his teeth on display before he ran his tongue across his bottom lip. 

“We can talk about that later. Can we get out of here right now, though.” 

“Yeah? Why?” 

Patrice assumed they were having a good time with at least one more stop on their self-guided nightlife tour. His eagerness to abandon plans was uncharacteristic. 

Terry continued to smile then leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “I really wanna make you cum tonight. You been waiting too long.”

A shiver hit Patrice’s spine as she tried to maintain some level of composure in a room full of people. Terry easily pushed her thighs open to free his hand, being sure to brush against her lower lips with the tips of his fingers. 

Terry didn’t need to speak when he stood to pull her chair back from the table. Patrice allowed him to tug her to her feet and out of the bar, waving goodbye to her new friend who gave her a congratulatory thumbs up. 

However, any morsel of confidence she had while they made out like teenagers in the backseat of a taxi had waned once they reached their dwelling for the night and the reality of their situation set in. 

Their first time together was her first time. She was young with too many influences in her ear telling her that the only way to make a man love her was through her body. No matter how many times Terry assured her that they could spend that truly imporable hour of alone time in her hotel room catching up, she insisted that they test the boundaries of their affection. 

Now, with history repeating itself, she couldn’t help but feel a deep pit of nervousness and uncertainty growing in her belly. 

Patrice stood in the bathroom mirror, tussling with her hair that had gone from pressed roots to a mess of frizz and curled ends. She suddenly hated the way her cotton slip dress fit and how the lace bra and panty set seemed to bunch in all the wrong places. The only thing she wanted to do was look like the woman of his dreams, but her confidence was waning with every second she spent judging her appearance while Terry waited patiently in the bedroom. Frustration was building and bringing the sting of fresh tears to her eyes.

On the other side of the door, Terry spent his time adjusting and readjusting the pillows on the bed. His bare back and shoulders glistened under the soft, warm light emanating from the floor lamp across the room, partially from the heat, but mostly from sheer nervousness. 

“What the fuck are you doing,” he whispered to himself, suddenly embarrassed. 

Terry forced himself to take a seat at the edge of the bed to calm his nerves. The last time he’d been on the brink of having her in this way, he was a young man with no clue how to love a woman. Now, all he wanted to do was prove that he’d earn every morsel of her trust back if she let him. 

He never told Patrice that their first time was his first time. He was scared out of his mind, wanting to give in to his fantasies but afraid to send the wrong impression. The memory of that summer afternoon never left him. But, it was time to start anew with a title and the promise of a different result on the horizon.

Taking a deep breath, Terry wiped his sweaty palms against the soft fabric of his briefs and sighed. 

“You okay in there,” he called out, concerned as the minutes ticked by with no communication. “I don’t wanna rush you. Just checking in. Tell me to leave you alone if I’m doing too much.” 

“I’m okay. One second. I’m fixin’ my hair.”

“Take your time. I’m sure you look…”

The soft sound of the door opening stopped Terry mid-sentence. Patrice stepped out, one foot in front of the other, until she was past the threshold and under his doting gaze. 

“...gorgeous,” he finished, the word coming out in one breath. “You are absolutely gorgeous, Treece.” 

Patrice had decided on a bun on top of her head with tendrils in the front and back that couldn’t quite reach the rest of her hair. She’d traded her light makeup for a bare face still glowing from her nighttime skin routine. Her slip dress clung and dipped in all the right places without the lace from her lingerie interrupting the smooth fabric. She looked at him through long lashes, her expression reading as the same timid girl from all those years ago.

Terry stood to his full height in reverence of her breathtaking form. The most skilled artists and creators from around the world couldn’t have dreamt of a more captivating marvel in his opinion. She was the pinnacle of beauty. 

Patrice watched him draw closer, her head slowly tilting up as he began to dwarf her with his stature. He reached out to trace her jaw before lightly gripping her chin between his thumb and pointer finger. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey, yourself.”

Goofy smiles and giggles followed their awkward introduction to ease the anxious energy in the room.

“Is Terrence James Richmond nervous behind little ol’ me,” she teased with a tickle to his sides. 

“I got a few butterflies, I’m not gon’ lie,” he laughed. “Just wanna make you happy, is all.” 

“I was gonna say the same to you.” 

“You have no idea how happy you make me.” 

His voice came in just above a whisper, nearly drowned out by the chirping of crickets outside. 

Their noses brushed against each other as Patrice stood on her tip-toes to rest her arms around his neck. Her fingers traced circles at his nape, making the hair all over his body stand at attention. 

A tentative peck connected their lips and gave way to more needy, hungry kisses that transformed them into eager teenagers making out for the thrill of physical contact. 

Euphoria wasn’t enough to explain Terry’s headspace. He was high off every kiss, lick, and bite Patrice allowed. He couldn’t get close enough. It wasn’t sufficient to pull her closer with a firm grasp on her ass. He needed to taste her, to be consumed by her, to consume her in every way possible. 

“Put me to work. Tell me what you need,” he whispered, breathless as blood began to rush south from the slight pain of Patrice’s fingernails digging into his shoulder blades. 

“You. Fold me, bend me, flip me, I don’t care. I just need you.” 

Patrice was far beyond playing coy. She’d drop to her knees and beg at his feet if he asked. Whatever she had to do to feel him from the inside was on the table. 

Terry didn’t make Patrice go to extremes for his affection. He preferred to acknowledge her request by carefully sliding the straps of her dress down her shoulders and arms. 

He watched her skin become more and more exposed with intense focus, taking note of the way her nipples seemed to salute him once they met the bedroom air. He acknowledged both of them with a soft caress that earned a whimper from Patrice as she watched him handle her with care.

Never in her life had been methodically unwrapped like a present on Christmas morning. Her heartbeat had gone below her waist, throbbing in an almost painful cry for her lover’s attention. Terry kept her yearning at bay with a slow kiss while he pushed her garment past her hips and to the floor. 

Patrice disrobed him with an equal measure of care, offering quick kisses across the expanse of his chest while she slid her hand past his Calvin Klein waistband. Round, doe eyes looked back up at him to catch the precise moment when Terry’s eyelids blinked closed from the sensation of her fingertips brushing past his sensitive tip. 

Her soft palms worked his shaft - up and down, up and down - until his member was proud and bobbing from the weight of itself without something keeping it at bay. 

Fearing what might happen if he let her continue, Terry pulled her back to his body for sensual openmouthed kisses on her full lips. The soft smack of their lips and tongues created perfect harmonies in the still room, communicating more desire than either of them could effectively vocalize. 

The intensity began to rise at exponential rates, sending them in a clumsy frenzy to the bed for somewhere stable to fully experience one another. Terry’s back hit the cool cotton sheets first with Patrice collapsing on top with a surprised yelp that made them both laugh.

“Don’t fight it,” Terry instructed, pushing a stray piece of hair from her face while he stared up at her lovingly. “Let go. I got you.”

His reassurance made her heart do a backflip on the way to its new home between her legs. She needed him in the worst way.

Terry leaned up to kiss her lips once, twice, and once more to linger. His fingertips traced a blazing path from her waist to the bottom of her ass to partially push her forward in a silent plea to kiss her where he missed her most. 

“Let me taste you. Is that okay?” 

Something about the way he asked for permission with eyes those stormy eyes robbed Patrice of her ability to respond with words. He prompted her to move forward again with a soft tap on her backside, finally convincing her to lift her hips and scoot toward his face. 

Cautiously, she hovered above his mouth with thick thighs flanking either side of his head. 

He moved slow with sweet kisses and lazy licks to mix spit with her wetness in a one-sided love song to his favorite girl. He was effortlessly sexy, combining broad strokes of his tongue between her lips with expertly timed sucks at her clit to elicit filthy words that fueled his best oral performance yet.

He ignored every plea for mercy and her cries for a break to compose herself. There was only one objective. Two if he were lucky to push her into a water show for the ages. 

Animalistic instinct had them trading moans in time with each other, fully in throws of passion. Every grind against his nose and call of his name made Terry want to show her the full extent of his skill. 

His face glistened beneath her with his eyes still low but open enough to get the full visual of her undoing.

“Terry, that is - oh…shit.” 

Full sentences became senseless babble as she clamped her eyes shut to brace for that familiar feeling pooling in the pit of her belly. Patrice struggled to maintain focus on herself while Terry enjoyed his new favorite meal. 

The velvety smoothness of his tongue took broad passes from her entrance to her clit, stopping every so often to chase wetness that had escaped to her thighs. He wanted every drop and then some. 

His moans and groans as he feasted vibrated against her most sensitive spots, turning her mind into television static. Seeing her unravel with every soft suckle at her clit and agonizingly slow, broad lick across her swollen lips drove him to near-obsessive levels of lust. 

Her chest heaved in a fight to keep her heart rate level as his efforts to make her cum for the first time became more targeted. 

“Fuck, baby” she moaned, finally taking a look down to watch the master in his element. “Look at you. You gon’ make me cum, huh?”

Terry seemed to smile at her admiration. If he could get her to talk back, her eventual undoing when all was said and done would be that much more satisfying. 

Taking her challenge, he began to push her to her limit. She was putty in his mouth as he brought her closer and closer to the edge, soft sucking turning into a talented tongue making moans devolve into nonsensical utterings until she was squirming for release while his arms kept her locked in place for a wild ride.

Almost there. Almost there. Then a brief pause to start from the top. More lazy passes and passionate kisses to rev her up to the point of delirium and practically screaming to finish. 

Just when she thought she may have to threaten him on the third revolution of his torture, he delivered on his promise from the bar. 

Colors emitted smells. Sounds became vivid pictures across her eyes. She could taste the stars as she erupted in a way she’d never done before. The prickle of his facial hair on sensitive skin felt like shockwaves on her skin. 

“Oh fuuuuck! Yesyesyes!” 

Her hips jerked without her permission, taking Terry’s face on the ride of his life. He kept up through it all with no objections. If death came from her thighs cutting him off from the oxygen needed to breathe he’d wear death like a badge of honor in the afterlife.

Another string of expletives fell from her lips in tandem with Terry’s muffled groan as she gripped the sheets below her for dear life. This was Heaven. She was sure of it. 

Terry took one last deep inhale with his nose pressed against her pussy before kissing along the warm skin of Patrice’s inner thigh while she came down. She caressed what she could reach of his head in appreciation and beckoned him to release his suction on her pussy. 

She rushed to get back to his lips to taste herself on his mouth and he welcomed her with open arms. 

Kissing. Grinding. Skin-to-skin friction. None of it was enough for Terry. He desperately needed to be inside her to satisfy the near-painful stiffness he was experiencing. 

His attempt to flip Patrice on her back was futile once she pressed her weight into his legs to keep him in place. He roughly nipped at her shoulder before trying again with the same result. 

“C’mon,” he pleaded, almost begging for the go-ahead to fill her to the hilt in one smooth motion.

Still, she denied him pleasure. Patrice shifted to straddle his waist, slowly dragging her hands up and down his torso while his stomach clenched from the warmth of her core on his body. 

“Lay back,” she breathed out, partially lifting her hips to reposition herself on top of his length. He hissed at the sensation of her gingerly dragging her wet, warm entrance against his shaft. “I’mma handle this one. Relax, baby.” 

If there was a thought to be had, Terry couldn’t piece it together to save his life once Patrice completely enveloped him inside her slick walls. His jaw tightened then fell slack once she began to work her magic. A slow bounce and grind combination in his lap kept her breast rolling in a lewd show with Terry as the lucky winner of a front row ticket. 

Patrice kept her head thrown back like a cowgirl, feeling perspiration gather on her forehead while he gave him all she had. His hands giving her firm smacks on the hip and ass acted as a round of applause each time she buried him deep and pulled back up with expert precision. 

Her right hand slid from its spot on his chest to his throat for a barely there squeeze just as a quiet gasp made her aware of another incoming orgasm. 

The feel of her thumb gripping his esophagus made Terry expel a sound that he wasn’t aware he could make, somewhere between a whimper and a growl awakening each of his senses. 

The sight brought him the beautiful visual of her eyes shut tightly in concentration while she glowed like a heavenly body from the lamp’s light. Her hair had slipped out of its bun, leaving a lion’s mane of coils to toss wildly in the wind. 

Smell brought with it the earthy scent of sweat and the lingering musk of her pussy. A smell that could awaken a deep longing in him in even the direst circumstances. If he could bottle it and wear it as fragrance, he’d do so proudly just to have her with him at all times.

Hearing pulled in the sound of their skin slapping together in time with the intermingling moans in the room. He’d never been so loud before, so unabashedly in the moment with another woman. He cursed, called her name, and praised her with equal ferocity. 

Touch was satisfied by the handful of ass he used to ease the stress on her thighs while she bucked wilder than ever before. 

Something akin to a growl erupted from his throat as he strained to hold back release. “You doing so good for me, baby. You know I love you right?” 

“Yes!” she cried out, hips starting to sputter out of control with Terry gently stretching her on every stroke. 

He wrapped his arms around her waist tighter as he fucked into her in search of their shared release. She sagged forward for the ride, her brain turning into mush while her mouth hung open with no sounds.

“Good.” His voice came through clenched teeth. “Because I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.” 

She put up no resistance as he paused his pounding to flip her onto her back with a dancer's grace. Having her laid out beneath him, body open, leaking, and waiting for him was as exciting as the first time. He was reinvigorated. Any onset of sore muscles and tired hips was gone the moment she keened for his attention. 

Terry’s eyes were blown wide with excitement while he decided where to put his mouth first. He quickly settled on one of her legs, slowly lifting it by the ankle to lick and kiss the birthmark by her Achilles. His tongue traced an invisible map past her heel, to her pedicured toes, and back to her calf before closing his lips to cap his display of affection. He propped the leg on his shoulder and then pressed forward to bring his chest down over hers. 

Patrice’s small mewls from the burning in her hamstrings became caught in Terry’s mouth as searched her mouth with sloppy enthusiasm. Her whining grew louder still once his tip pressed past her entrance.

“You can take it,” he affirmed, pushing deeper. “I know you can. I’m so proud of you.”

Affirmations and appreciative pecks across her face overrode aching muscles. She wanted, needed, to please him. 

They released content sighs in tandem once they were pelvis to pelvis. A snug fit made every long stroke intoxicating as Terry set an even pace. 

The repeated squeak of the bed added to their symphony of sounds growing more rabid by the second. They were off to the races on the way to an explosive finish line. 

Terry was relentless as he kept her in place for a proper and precise fuck that reached all the way to her heart. She’d begun thinking up baby names and nursery themes when he split his attention between earth-shattering penetration and the addition of his thoughtful stimulation of her clit to cover all bases. She was just along for the ride and hoping that she could keep her volume at a reasonable level when the inevitable took over. 

Patrice was the first to cum just as Terry intended. Her back arched off the bed in near levitation while she called his full name and the Lord’s to the ceiling.

“That’s what I like, beautiful. Give me everything.” 

He smiled down at his work, obsessed with the sight and sounds of her much-deserved orgasm. She couldn’t hold back if she wanted to. Wetness coated both of them as her hips circled to feel him fill her to the brim while a rush of endorphins flowed through her nervous system.

At the crest of her wave is where he came undone. 

The involuntary clinching sent Terry into a tailspin of frenetic strokes and broken sentences with his face tucked firmly into Patrice’s neck. She comforted him through it all, speaking directly into the shell of his ear and punctuating every few words with a soft kiss. 

“I wanna do this for the rest of our lives. Don’t you want that, baby?” Terry forwent a verbal answer in favor of a short grunt as his pace became erratic. “Fill me up. Let’s try for that son you used to tell me about.” 

“Fuck, Treece.” 

“Maybe we’ll name him after you. He’ll have my eyes and your smile, hm. Think you can do that for me tonight. I know you wanna cum. Do it for me, baby. Go ahead.” 

The magic words. He came with a gruff groan and a slew of profane words that would otherwise be offensive to any outside of the bubble they’d created in those walls. His toes cramped, eyelids clamped shut, and ears rang while every breath came out shaky and labored. Patrice joined him throughout the ride until he returned to the Earth’s atmosphere. 

Neither of them moved, preferring to hear the other’s steady in and out while their chests rose and fell together. 

“One year,” Terry started, keeping his attention focused on bringing Patrice’s ring finger to his lips as he lay on her chest. 

She paused the imaginary circles she was drawing on his shoulders and looked down at him. “One year what?” 

“Gimme a year and you’ll be coming down the aisle or standing in front of the judge, whichever one you want. Where you wanna honeymoon?” 

“Mmm, how about Puerto Rico?” 

“Done. Summer wedding?”

“Early fall.” 

“10-4.” 

“Yeah,” Patrice questioned, giggling. “And what else? What’s next?” 

 “Making our parents grandparents, hopefully. I’m trynna be an honest man. Take me out the streets, please!” 

Patrice’s cackle at Terry’s antic invited him to join at full volume. “An honest man, huh? I can do that for you. I’ll make an honest man out of Terrence Richmond, no problem. It’s the least I could do.” 

“Mhmm.” Regaining some strength in his body, Terry kissed his way from her chest to her mouth, only stopping when he had her arching into him for more contact. He spoke with his nose pressed to hers. “Patrice Nicole Richmond. Sounds good, right?” 

“Sounds perfect.” 

Terry hummed his approval, preferring to get back to the worship he had planned from the moment they set off to New Orleans.

Every second in their lives, together and apart, had brought them to a new beginning that neither of them could’ve imagined. If tonight was day one of forever, they vowed before each other and God to make it glorious one day at a time. 

Terry had lost a lot. Money, family, himself. But under the white glow of a full moon and the touch of the one he cherished most, he’d gained so much more. Something he’d been searching for without the word to call it by its name until he got back to her front step one afternoon.

Love.

----

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @hrlzy @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl

[matchingbatbites]

Eddie kisses Steve for the first time to Whitney Houston.

It's the summer of '87, and he's been dragged along to celebrate Robin's birthday with her, Steve, and Nancy, and the four find themselves at at gay club in Indy where the music is always loud and the people are usually friendly.

They’ve been here for a couple of hours, and Eddie has been at the bar for about ten minutes, taking a breather from the chaos of the dance floor. 

He’s just debating hopping back into the fray when a familiar intro starts, and he immediately searches out Steve in the crowd. Eddie may be a metalhead, but even he can't deny the talent that Whitney Houston has, and I Wanna Dance With Somebody is a god-tier song.

(Ignoring the fact that it quickly became Steve's favorite song, the younger cranking the volume and belting the lyrics any time it comes on the radio, something that makes Eddie melt every time he gets to witness it.) 

Eddie finds him in the crowd, along with Robin and Nancy, the three pressed close as they get visibly excited by the familiar music. He can see them singing along to the first verse, the crowd in the building drowning them out, and when the chorus hits, Steve and Robin pull Nancy into dancing with them.

Somehow Steve's eyes catch his, hazel meeting brown from across the dance floor, and Steve is beaming as he sings along, and fuck Eddie is so smitten. He watches Steve dance with the girls, keeps expecting his attention to turn back to them at some point, but his focus stays on Eddie.

The song moves into the second verse and Eddie's heart jumps into his throat when Steve points at him before making a ‘come here’ motion while still mouthing along with the lyrics. 

Eddie is halfway across the floor before he even realizes he's moved. He's making a beeline to Steve, eyes never wavering from the other as he slips through the mass of bodies, and the grin doesn’t budge from Steve's face, only gets bigger the closer Eddie gets.

As soon as he's in reach, Steve is grabbing his arm, pulling him closer as he yells a "Dance with me?" over the music. And Eddie is no dancer, but he says yes just to keep the smile on Steve's face, and god, is it blinding.

He lets Steve take the lead, mostly just enjoying the closeness, the casual touch, but he still finds himself singing along by the time the chorus rolls into the bridge.

And then there’s that line again, the one that had him speeding through the crowd, the one Steve sang, sings again, while looking directly at Eddie.

I need a man who'll take a chance

On a love that burns hot enough to last

And Eddie finally gets it. He slides a hand to the back of Steve’s neck, fingers tangling in soft hair as he tugs him forward, lips pressing to Steve’s ear so he can be heard over the music.

“I wanna take a chance, Stevie. Will you let me?”

He barely gets a glance at Steve’s shocked face before that blinding smile is back and Steve is nodding. 

“Fucking please, Eddie.” 

[jasonsknight3]

I was asked by @eva-sparda20 what my thoughts were on Arkham verse Jason and his parents. Here’s the story and the rant. I think most Jason variants have the same story for the most part. I also know in the original story his mother wasn’t actually Cathrine but was Sheila, I honestly don’t roll with that sorry line. I like the newer version where his mother is Cathrine. Besides, the original had been somewhat rewritten and is different from the original. That’s all! Enjoy, and just know there are dark themes. Sad ones. Be prepared.

⚠️Warning!⚠️ mention of drugs, abuse, sexual acts, and death.

AKJ’s father and mother are no different than the other Jason Todd variants. A selfish mother, deadbeat dad who may or may not have tried to make ends meet but was too drunk or drugged out like his wife Cathrine. AK Jason’s dad who is Willis Todd was abusive, abused his wife, abused Jason without discrimination. At some point in Jason’s life his dad started sleeping elsewhere. Going to the next best thing. Wherever he felt like going. Keeping the bed warm for another woman. Before that Jason’s dad did try to take care of Cathrine the best he could. However it’s hard to have a drunk man try to take care of a drugged out woman. He grew tired of trying, frustrated, he wasn’t in love with this woman anymore, it was a pain, an inconvenience. The abuse started shortly after giving up when Jason was around 3 almost four. Willis left when Jason was 6.

As for Jason’s mother, she was barely conscious. She was a good girl who got caught and fell in love with the wrong crowd. Once she got caught up with Jason’s dad and it was all downhill from there. Once addicted to drugs she couldn’t quit. No one stopped her, there was no voice of reason, she probably would have been outcast from her upstanding family. During the beginning of Cathrine and Willis’ relationship Cathrine got pregnant. She was mindful enough to not do any drugs during this time. At least not a lot of drugs. It’s still a miracle that Jason was born with any sort of disability mentally or physically.

During the first few months she took care of infant Jason, breastfeeding, sang him to sleep, all of the things. She was clean for a little bit but when Jason was about 2 she gave in to the itch that had always been in the back of her mind. The need that she felt ever since she stopped. Willis was more than happy to provide too so that didn’t help in the slightest. That’s when the cycle started to a point where it would never stop, wake up, shoot or snort a drug, and drift. The abuse she insured didn't really matter to her, she didn't feel it anyway. When she would “wake up” from the high she would see the bruises, the swollen parts and a beat up Jason. She couldn’t handle the failure. That fact that her parents were right. She’d become nothing. A failure. What’s better to do to forget them to do more drugs? Worked so far.

Jason started taking care of his mom when he was almost 4. When she was somewhat conscious he gave her water or beer, whatever was accessible. He learned to never let her have milk when drugged out. That was…a traumatic experience in itself. A bad mix. There was hardly any food in the house, just some crackers and some food that was in the freezer for a long time. He saw his mom use the microwave once so he knew what to do. He’d cook frozen food the best he could. Sometimes Cathrine would complain that the food was still cold through groans and have formed sentences. When his mother was completely passed out though he’d try to give her water, most of it didn’t really make it far, just pooled in her mouth and slipped down the sides of her lips. A miracle she didn’t choke.

When his father was around he was on high alert. The fights, when his mom was somewhat awake and alive having animated arguments and fights with Willis. Jason would hide under the table just waiting for it to be over. If Cathrine was passed out the narrative changes. His mother is defenseless. Vulnerable. So he stepped in protecting her the best he could. Most of the time it just ended with him flat out on the floor next to his mother hurting and sobbing. Sometimes as far as bleeding.when Jason’s dad started not coming home anymore he took care of his mom full time. Feeding her, sometimes helping her bath and wash up. That mostly included just a cold wet cloth and scrubbing. She still smelled most of the time.

The times she was awake she’d leave, usually to get her fix. Most of the time she came home with stringers. Jason witnessed all sorts of disgustingly sexual acts. Heard the most obscene words. Name calling, hair pulling, licking, fevered kisses, naked skin, and sounds that kept him up at night. Things a little boy who is only 6 shouldn’t see or be exposed to. Eventually he came to understand that those visitors were being paid with her body for drugs. He started stealing and dumpster diving for himself and his mom. Jason was light on his feet and hadn’t been caught by the cops. Not at all. He’d been jumped before though for food by some other street dweller. That was an awful time. He practically crawled his way home.

By the age of 8 Jason’s mom stop rousing so much, she stopped mindless babbling about things Jason didn’t understand and one day…she stopped moving all together. Her lips and fingers are blue from the lack of blood flow. Slight built up frothing at the mouth. A scary sight for Jason. He’d clean away the froth and try to warm her up. He tried to give her water but that wasn’t going to wake her. Not this time. No amount of pinching, shoving, or patting woke her up. He even punched her as hard as he could but she didn’t wake. He bawled because he felt guilt for hitting her hard. Reminded him of his dad. He’d apologize to her crying. “ ‘m sorry, I-i didn't mean ta hit ya hard.” The next few days he tried to wake her up but nothing. She was gone. Sadly there was no time to process, he had to fend for himself now, to try and survive. Part of him hoped she’d just wake up. He checks from time to time every time Jason comes back home. He stole, bargained, and ran the street. Smarter than any kid his age without an education.

One night he saw something, a sleek looking car that had a bat on it. A symbol. He had heard of Batman, but had never seen him though. Pretty stupid of him to leave such a nice car unattended. He would look around and when he saw the cost was clear he’d take a heavy four way wrench and start to work on stealing one of the tire plates. A shadow casted a darkness over him. Someone looming over him. Gripping the tool in his little hands he whipped around to swing at the individual only for it to be ripped from his hands. Batman was terrifying but Jason wouldn’t let him know he was afraid. A slew of colorful curse words and creative threats spewed from his mouth. Threats he knew he couldn’t really keep but he wanted to get this Batman to understand he wanted a pushover or easy to take down. The Batman analyzed him, looking him over quietly for a moment before the odd sound of laughing. Jason should have ran but he didn’t. He stayed. He was confused. Batman smiled and said “hungry?” Jason would causouly accept. That night he’d eat more burgers than he’d ever had in his whole life. Fries and a drink. He ate like the starved child he was. That was where his life started as Robin. The snowball that brought him to who he is now. The Redhood. The vigilante of the streets. The man who used to be the Arkham knight. The man who is playing Batman’s game but with his own rules.

Side notes: Jason’s life never really had a pause. He still kept on going in life and didn’t get a chance to heal or even pause and think things over. His own feeling came out when fighting criminals. Batman’s mistake was not giving Jason time and therapy before throwing him in the world of Robin. He didn’t get to think about the loss of his mother or father. His mind was so focused and overworked on education (which he excelled in) being Robin, detective work, being Bruce’s son, he never got time to pause and heal.

Jason’s mother was found by the neighbors of the apartment they lived in after she started stinking. An unfortunate end.

Arkhamverse redhood does sometimes think about his parents. Sure it’s sad but he can’t necessarily find it in himself to feel sad. There wasn’t a connection there and there was an emptiness there. He also has so much more trauma on top of his parents. The joker, Batman, all the other things.

Currently he’s trying to heal. He’s had some time nowadays to settle. He’s had a few mental breakdowns. He’s so out of sorts. Full on crying, heaving breaths, all of it. Over everything, there is so much pain there isn’t a distinction. He’s trying to go to therapy and figure it all out but it’s hard. Therapy is great but no amount of therapy could change his mistrust, jumpy moments, nightmares, and PTSD. Sure it could suppress them but they always come back. Especially with his kind of trauma.

[mountingpulisic]

YOU BELIEVE ME NOW?

part one

It had been a total of two days since you broke up with christian, yet that didn’t stop him from sending multiple texts or calling a dozen times a day. you had gone as far as blocking his number, not needing the constant reminder of his infidelity. 

your brothers had called you on three-way after your fight with christian, asking you if they needed to drive down to cobham and teach the pretty boy a lesson. you dismissed their protectiveness and assured them you were able to deal with this heartbreak on your own. 

you were an absolute wreck nonetheless, it felt as if someone came and ripped your heart out of your chest and stomped on it repeatedly. 

it was as if you were going through the seven stages of grief, but you had skipped the first four steps. 

the first night of your heartbreak you had cried. you cried watching the movie, someone great, you cried when you saw his favorite ice cream in the freezer and you cried when you had to fall asleep alone.

the second night of your heartbreak, you cried a little less. slowly accepting the harsh reality that the one person who promised to never hurt you, had. 

now here you were, at one o’clock in the afternoon, blasting taylor swift. christian had always asked why you sang with so much emotion to her break up songs even though you two were perfectly fine, you had told him that you were an empath, she made you feel her pain. 

at the moment however, you wonder if she felt yours as you belt the lyrics of babe. 

there was a light knocking at your front door as your favorite verse had started to approach, one that you could now relate to. 

“since you admitted it, i keep picturing it. her lips on your neck, i can’t uns-” your singing had come to a dramatic stop when the one person you were singing about, stood in front of you with the said girl you were also singing about. 

you went to close the door but christian’s hand had halted the movement. 

“five minutes. i am asking you for five minutes to let me explain.” christian pleaded, removing his hand from the door when he felt certain you weren’t going to shut it.  

“this is my sister’s friend rileigh, she is in town with her boyfriend on a business trip. I ran into her while we were both leaving the bar, y/n. I didn’t plan on meeting her there, i was actually with mason and ben. you would’ve known that if you had answered any of their calls.” 

you squinted your eyes at him in disbelief, was he really catching an attitude with you when he was the one caught cheating? 

christian qued rileigh to speak, jerking his head towards you when facing her. 

the pictures posted in the article didn’t do her any justice, she was a mix of bella hadid and freaking beyonce for crying out loud. 

“he is telling the truth, y/n.” you wanted to rip your hair out, her voice was even attractive. “ i tripped over my heels and grabbed onto his arm to steady myself, my boyfriend is even in the pictures, just a few feet behind us.” 

you didn’t know who her boyfriend was nor did you care, you weren’t looking at anyone else in the photo but her and christian, you didn’t need to analyze the people around them too. 

“then where’s your boyfriend now?” you asked crossing your arms over your chest, looking between them both, wondering where the one person who could help prove their case was.

“he is in the car, i can go get him if you want me to?” rileigh had offered. when you had just stared at her back she took that as a sign that she needed to go retrieve her boyfriend in order for you to believe christian. 

with rileigh walking off to go grab their star witness, it left you and christian in an uncomfortable silence. 

“you got a lot of nerve, pulisic. bringing your other woman to my doorstep, way to rub it.” you whispered shouted at the dumbfounded brunette, christian couldn’t believe you still thought he cheated on you.  

“do you hear yourself right, y/n? who in their right mind has all the evidence in front of them but still chooses to believe a magazine company whose livelihood depends on stirring shit up? and are you seriously listening to taylor swift right now?!” 

before you could respond back to him, rileigh was walking up the stairs hand in hand with her so-called boyfriend, she could’ve pulled him off the street for all you knew. 

“now do you believe me? this is her boyfriend, y/n. this is justin.” 

eyeing the couple in front of you, you couldn’t deny their obvious chemistry, he was holding her tightly around the waist as she leaned into him. 

“I’m not sure if i e-” christian had shrieked loudly interrupting you. 

digging into his pocket to retrieve his phone, he had tapped on it harshly a few times before he shoved it in your face. his screen reflected the same article you had read a few days ago.

“look closely, don’t focus on rileigh and i, focus on our surroundings.” pinching the screen, christian enlarged the photo for you. 

lord behold, there stood justin behind rileigh, holding on her waist as she gripped christian’s forearm, supporting the fact that she indeed had tripped and was using christian to break her fall. 

mouth opening and closing, you couldn’t find any words to stubbornly argue back and christian had realized this, his smirk growing an inch per second knowing he proved you wrong. 

you go to argue another theory but christian shuts you up by lightly pushing you back into your apartment with him following behind. you heard him thank the couple for their assistance and close the door. 

“I take payments for an apology only in the form of sex.” christian cheekily said as he made his way towards you, not being able to keep the smile off his face. he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him. you rolled your eyes playfully as you melted in his touch. 

you felt like a complete idiot for even believing the article. however to your defense your emotions were at an all-time high after reading the scandalous title and seeing the picture for the first time. you had also felt ashamed of yourself for not trusting christian. 

“i’m sorry, baby. i shouldn’t have ever dou-” you were cut off by christian pressing his lips to yours, the two of you moved in sync as christian overpowered you for dominance of the kiss. needing to catch a breath, you two had separated, lips however still ghosting over one another. 

“I don’t care what you have to say because i know if it was you pictured closely with another man i would’ve reacted the same. y/n, i need you to know that you’re it for me. there’s no other girl that can make me feel the way you do, there’s no other girl that i want to have my last name, there’s no other girl y/n. I forgive you princess.  now i just want to forget that these past two days ever happened okay?” pecking you lightly on the lip, christian pulled you into an intimate brace. 

“christian, im seriously so sorry baby. what can i do to make it up to you?” you asked, pulling away slightly to admired his face. 

his famous grin started to make an appearance, bringing along his dimples this time.

startling you, he cupped his hands from right under your ass cheeks, swiftly picking you up and heading towards your bedroom.

 “I did say i only take apologies in the form of sex, princess.” throwing you down onto the bed, christian was swift to dispose of his shirt, showing off his toned biceps as he pulled the fabric off his body. slowly making his way towards you, christian began to kiss delicately on your thighs before he made his way up to your lips to kiss you hungrily. 

after a moment of passionately making out, christian pulled apart from you suddenly. 

“what? what is it?” you asked frantically, missing the warmth of his body pressed up against you. 

“my key, i want my key back y/n.” 

you were astonished at the moment; he had interrupted foreplay for a damn key? 

“okay christian, i will give you back your key after, now cmon.” you said pulling him back into the kiss but he stubbornly held his arm out to create distant between the two of you. 

“key first, then sex.” he sternly said, crossing his arms to physically tell you he wasn’t budging until he got it back. 

grumbling loudly, you dramatically got out of bed to go retrieve the stupid key he was whining about, christian was sure to give your ass a firm smack as you climbed out. 

as you sought after the key, christian sat content in your bed. he wasn't playing again games when it came to winning you back, and he proved that to you.

[nerdieforpedro]

Canto para mí mismo (I sing for myself)

Nuestras Canciones Series

Santiago “Pope” Garcia x Amalia (plus size OFC)

Main Masterlist/ Santiago Garcia Masterlist

Teens and up (My blog overall is 18+ MDNI)

Summary: Amalia sees a private moment of Santiago’s healing process.

Word Count: 495

Warnings: FEELINGS, mentions of violence and death, angst, PTSD, established relationship, Santiago and reader are maybe late thirties to early forties. Grown people.

Notes: My first Santiago series! I did not expect it to be so…full of feelings. 👀 I heard Oscar Isaac sing, it made me feel various things. I’m maybe working through some things. It’s all come together in four parts. Special thanks to @maggiemayhemnj for helping me with the song. It’s a dirge I came up with. I write poems sometimes, why not a song of mourning? I have range. 😎

Amalia hears it when she enters the house the dulcet sounds of his baritone. Setting her bag down on the counter and slipping off her shoes, she quietly makes her way closer to the sound, swaying with the delicate plucks of his guitar. Santiago was practicing again which was therapeutic for him. He enjoyed singing and writing the occasional song, though he’d never show his brothers in arms. Santi would describe it as being too raw to share with them, there was already so much buried between him and his comrades.

His voice was sullen, recalling his time in Delta Force. He often described it as ‘a hell that tempered my soul but also broke it.’ Pope wasn’t sure how else to describe that time in his life outside of his best friends. That was the best part to him, all the other stuff he pushed away and often bullshitted himself as he did others. It wasn’t until he met his wife Amalia that he was forced to really see himself. All of him. He held a few notes for varying times, throwing each one away at the end, before taking a deep breath and starting again. He’d learned to breathe through his nose and not through his mouth, he’d get a large breath that way, but he’d need to be able to make it last through the lyrics. He was struggling to get one line and sang a few times, changing the pitch so see if that would help. Pope’s thick fingers strummed a different cord, it appeared to resonate with him as he moved on and continued with his song.

His wife watched from the doorway as he played, his eyes closed as his voice carried throughout the house and she smiled. Small steps Santiago took along the area rug in their shared office, bobbing to some beat that she wasn’t privy to. Amalia was aware she was intruding on a private moment as he normally played like this when she wasn’t home, having caught him before. “I’ll only play you the happy songs mi vida (my life). Leave the darkness with me.” Though she wasn’t happy about it, she understood keeping parts of himself closed was protection for him and he’d already given her so much. She’d allow him to have his own space to explore the complex and at times ambivalent feelings he had that shaped who he was now.

The blood of our brothers stains the earth

Never coming home

Their blood is on my hands too

I couldn’t do anything nothing

I made it out with my brothers

We were good for a time

We lost one in the jungle square in the head

I could barely sell a story to his family

Just like he could barely sell a home

We’re all drifting here

Longing for a battle that will never come

Amalia continued to watch her husband sing a dirge for the past that still haunts him.

Next: Verse Two

Santi’s Peaches 🍑: @for-a-longlongtime @legendary-pink-dot @maggiemayhemnj @morallyinept @megamindsecretlair @pedritapascal @rhoorl @yorksgirl @dameron-grant-spector @pamasaur @sin-djarin @i-own-loki @soft-persephone @soft-girl-musings @readingiskeepingmegoing @saturn-rings-writes @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @musings-of-a-rose

[univvrse]

we're in all the magazines (chapter 5)

chapter title: because i wanna be your boyfriend

hawks x dabi

There were four members of the band 'Puncture'; each with deeply buried secrets. Dabi, Hawks, Shigaraki and Mr Compress.

Each about to find out things about eachother that will change their relationship as band mates forever.

previous can be found on my masterlist

on my ao3 if you'd prefer

1.1k words

Everything was amplified. This was the first thing Dabi noticed when he stepped onto the stage. The lights he had grown accustomed to became suns. He could feel the crowd’s excitement, their anticipation. Every sound and movement became one and separated all at once. There was no question of “what if something goes wrong” plaguing his mind. He was impossibly present, and yet still untethered.

When the music began, Dabi’s instincts took over. He didn’t even have to think. Their opening number was Poison Heart, a song Dabi could’ve sung from his grave. It was one of the first songs he’d performed with his band, far before Keigo joined. There were no words to describe how Dabi felt in the moment. He wasn’t emotional, it was more like he was part of the music.

Their audience tonight was louder than all the ones before them added together and multiplied by ten, but the members of Puncture hardly registered them. Everything besides the music had faded out, leaving them in a world fabricated by their own cacophony.

Keigo’s eyes strayed to Dabi more times than he would willingly admit. There was something addictive about the way he held himself, the way he moved, the way he manoeuvred himself in such a perfect manner, anyone who saw him must think every action of his was meticulously rehearsed, pre-planned. What was so gorgeous about him was that almost nothing was.

Dabi grew progressively wilder, damn-near prowling across the stage, shooting suggestive looks to members of the crowd, drinking in their desperate screams. His chest vibrated, the cries fuelling him. It felt as though he’d unlocked a bottomless pit of energy. He found a perfect balance between shouting and singing. A sort of melodic screaming.

Each song went by perfectly. Not even Tomura could possibly have had any complaints. They were all perfectly in time with each other, instruments were tuned to perfection, Dabi’s voice was perfectly suited to every song.

“Okay! We have one last song to perform for you guys!” Dabi’s voice seemed to ricochet through the room. He waited for the cheering to die down, “I think you guys are gonna like this one!” he looked over to Keigo, tapping his mic and cocking his head. Keigo stared back through half-lidded eyes, nodding when he realised it was a silent gesture to ask if he was ready to back the song.

“One two three four!”

Puncture began to play. Dabi lips split into a heinous smirk as he sang, “Hey, little girl,” the members had collectively agreed to perform this song with more hardcore sound than how it’s originally played, “I wanna be your boyfriend.” Dabi shrugged off the leather jacket he’d been wearing, allowing it to drop to the floor, “Sweet little girl,” the singer turned to his guitarist, “I wanna be your boyfriend.”

Keigo’s eyes widened and trained in on Dabi, staring unapologetically. Gaze still honed on Dabi, he lowered his mouth to his own mic and joined, “Do you love me babe?” Dabi traipsed towards Keigo, one hand gripping his microphone, while the other reached to outstretched fists protruding from the sea of fans before them, “What do you say?” Dabi jumped back, pumping his own fist in the air, “DO YOU LOVE ME BABE?” screams erupted at the rapid switch in energy. It was all Keigo could do not to throw his prized guitar to the floor and join Dabi, “WHAT CAN I SAY”

Keigo turned from his mic to fully face Dabi. They decided he would only sing backing for the verses, that way he could better focus on his guitar. Dabi continued to drift towards the blonde, still pausing after every few steps to stomp, jump or headbang at any parts he felt needed a physical boost. Keigo was shamelessly staring, too drugged out to care who saw his eyes travel from Dabi’s face down to where his bullet-belt met his wife-beater top. With every exaggerated movement, the top would ride up, proudly showcasing a v-line and a happy trail. Keigo wondered what that’d look like at eye level, Dabi towering above him, head thrown back, white-knuckling blonde locks and letting out sounds the devil himself would cover his ears upon heari-

Keigo was yanked from his fantasy by a touch to his jaw. Lightning seemed to dance over the affected skin. He had never been more grateful to the guitar in his for arms keeping his hands so busy. He thanked whatever God was above that they had opted for the more rowdy sound with this song, hoping it masked his shakiness as something actually intentional.

Another touch, this one slow and unmistakable, tracing from his jaw to his collarbone. Keigo whipped around to see Dabi standing behind him, slightly off to the right. The boys couldn’t pull their eyes from each other. It felt like there was a current between them, some sort of electric buzz that amplified the energy they created together. Keigo’s guitar grew impossibly louder, and Dabi’s voice strengthened. Dabi winked at Keigo and spun to face the audience, “I WANNA BE YOUR BOYFRIEND.”

Keigo stepped forward, pretended to forget he had a microphone of his own, and leant into Dabi’s mic instead, attempting to match his energy for their shared verse, “DO YOU LOVE ME BABE? WHAT DO YOU SAY?” he strummed his guitar vigorously enough to break the skin of his fingertips, “DO YOU LOVE ME BABE?” Dabi was now staring intently at Keigo, their faces separated by nothing but a mere few inches of air and the cold metal of the microphone.

Blood trickled from Keigo’s fingers, dirtying the strings he expertly played. He could hardly feel it. Up close, he could finally study Dabi’s face, his pupils blown, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead, he looked positively insane. There was a sort of insatiable look of hunger behind his eyes that made Keigo’s head spin. He needed Dabi in every way imaginable. He sang with the intensity of a man sentenced to death who had been told he would be spared if his performance shook the world, as if his life hung in the quality of this performance. Keigo couldn’t bear it. It took every inch of willpower in him not to close the torturous gap between them.

The song was nearing its end. Dabi had resumed his crazed jumping, punching at the air above him, still by Keigo’s side, “HEY LITTLE GIRL, I WANNA BE YOUR BOYFRIEND” he moved impossibly closer to Keigo, “SWEET LITTLE GIRL, I WANNA BE YOUR BOYFRIEEEEND” he ended the song with his renowned scream, staring provocatively at Keigo.

Fuck willpower.

Keigo’s hands left his guitar and moved to Dabi’s face, intertwining his bloody fingers with black hair, surging his face forwards to meet the singer’s lips with his own. The crowd went wild, filling the room with cheers and wolf whistles. Dabi didn’t even take a second to react, immediately leaning into the kiss, grabbing roughly at Keigo’s face, mic still in one hand. His tongue slid from his mouth to prod at Keigo’s lips, which parted obediently.

[lnnlove]

leather and lace | e.m.

eddie munson x fem reader

summary: your band plays at the hideout on thursdays and you've always competed with eddie munson. when you realize your actual feelings towards him, you start sending messages in the songs you choose to sing and eddie notices. a (fr)enemies to lovers with mutual pining story where the upside down is never mentioned and the only conflict is the one that these two idiots in love create on their own.

word count: 10k

warnings: slight asshole!eddie, general angst, cussing, marijuana use, drinking, reader uses fem pronouns, mentions of harassment, beginnings of smut, if I missed any please let me know!

author's note(s): I did not fact check if all of the songs mentioned were released at the time this would be taking place (I feel like this is '87 or '88 and our boy got to graduate), please don't hate me! this is basically an open love letter to miley cyrus's version of heart of glass (when they sing heart of glass in the story, imagine this version) which obviously was not around then so if you can't ignore a few inaccuracies, don't read. also, i've just decided the fourth member of corroded coffin is named kevin instead "unnamed freak" or "freak 1" as he is referred to on wiki and imdb (😭).

here, have an accompanying playlist bc I love you <3

The Queens of Noise were what you sentimentally named your band after winning the middle school talent show when you sang the song of the same name by The Runaways with your four best friends.

"It's easy to sing the same words over and over again," Eddie Munson said to you backstage after the awards. "You just sang to the recorded song, you didn't even play your own instruments." That was the first thing the older boy ever said to you.

"Whatever Eddie. You're just jealous that we won," you replied to him with squinted eyes and a look that said eat shit Eddie Munson.

"First place doesn't prove anything except that the teachers like you better than us. It doesn't mean you actually have any talent," Eddie sneered, "come on guys, let's go."

Eddie brushed past you to leave the auditorium, jutting his shoulder into yours harshly as he walked past with his band Corroded Coffin following closely behind him, but Gareth actually smiled sweetly at you and your friends and Jeff quietly congratulated his sister standing behind you.

Ever since that day, everything you do is to prove Eddie Munson wrong.

Eddie said it wasn't impressive if you weren't playing your own instruments, so you learned guitar. Sarah switched to keyboard from piano lessons. Jess took up drums and Heather decided on bass. Tiffany (or Tiff as she preferred) got her brother Jeff to teach her guitar and she turned out to be better than you so you became the lead singer. The girls all help you on backup vocals and sometimes Sarah takes the verses of songs that require a more soprano voice, just like Stevie Nicks and Christine McVie the two of you like to joke with each other.

By the end of your freshman year in high school, you and your girls had solidified yourselves as the Queens of Noise and were practicing every other day in Heather's garage (much to her parents' dismay). You all decided to enter the talent show again next year.

You thought Eddie might finally see your group as a proper band according to his standards since your friends would be playing the music for One Way or Another by Blondie while you sang. But all he said to you after the show was "Easy for you to get all the attention when they're stuck with all the hard work," motioning to your friends behind you before brushing passed you to the other guys.

So you decided you could start playing the second guitar part under Tiff on some of your songs.

After you played on stage for the county fair in 1985, The Hawkins Post wanted to write a story about the band. You found out at the after party Tiff was having, so of course naturally Eddie was there with Jeff and the other boys too.

"Remember us when you're famous," Gareth joked and the other boys congratulated you in some way, but Eddie's competitive nature compelled him to say "Of course they want to write about it, all you know how to play is the hippie shit everyone loves."

"Don't talk about Fleetwood Mac like that man," Kevin retorted in your defense.

You dismissed his comment, but decided you could start training your voice to sing more like Joan Jett and Cherie Currie anyway. It had always been obvious to your friends why you made the decisions you did, but they knew better than to bring it up.

You thought he might finally be impressed during your senior year when the Queens of Noise started playing at the Hideout on Thursday nights and you consistently had a bigger crowd than Corroded Coffin did on Tuesdays.

"No surprise that the drunks of Hawkins would rather watch a bunch of girls on stage than listen to real music," Eddie claimed.

He loved to taunt you over the songs you chose to play, insisting that his metalhead preferences were better than the covers you did of Stevie Nicks and Fleetwood Mac, Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, The Runaways, Pat Benatar and Blondie.

Although you and Eddie would never call each other a "friend," you were nearly always around each other. You even had to endure two extra years of high school with him because he refused to apply himself to academics. Your bandmates had gotten close over the years, bonding naturally over shared interests and participating in healthy competition any opportunity you got. Eddie had a good relationship with all the girls except you, who appeared to be a perpetual thorn in his side. It was fine because he was the exact same to you.

The other members of your bands could still give their all to the band while supporting and cheering for the other but you and Eddie, both as stubborn as you are, could almost never put the aggression of competition aside.

Jeff and Tiff were close as siblings, Sarah and Gareth finally took their flirtation and secret hookups to the next step and told everyone they were dating in '86, and even Heather, Jess and Kevin were close because they lived in the same neighborhood. All of that was great, except that it meant you had to run in to Eddie all the time at parties, movies, or the other's shows.

"For someone who doesn't like me, it seems like you're one of our biggest fans," he'd mock you when they got off stage.

"I just came to keep Sarah company asshole," you respond with rolled eyes.

"Whatever you say Y/N," he'd joke as he walked away from you.

It seemed like you'd had a version of that conversation after every show you went to.

Just like going to their nights at the Hideout, you'd been roped in to many movie nights at Jeff and Tiff's house before, and stopped being surprised when often times Eddie would join as well. It typically ended with you two in some type of disagreement about the movie being good or not, since Eddie considered himself such a movie critic.

It wasn't always that bad though. Eddie is the type of guy who always noticed when your drink was empty and was quick to get you another. He'd stepped in several times to say "Hey man, she said she's not interested," when drunk assholes harassed one of you at the bar or parties. You noticed he would always seem to stick close by after something like that happened.

"A tad flat tonight babe," Eddie announced to you after forcing the heavy back door of the bar open to join you in the alley after a show one night.

"Not right now Eddie, I'm not in the mood," you attempted to brush him off.

"What's wrong, can't take a little constructive criticism?" he taunted.

You scoffed and turned your back to him, hoping he'd take the hint and leave you alone. But Eddie is not very good at leaving you alone.

He circled around to face you, dropping his head to meet your eyes when he noticed the smudged mascara under your lashes and clear glassiness in your eyes.

"Whoa whoa, what happened?" he said, bringing a hand to your shoulder. But you look away from him, unable to meet the concerned expression on his face.

When you don't answer, he jumped to conclusions.

"Did some asshole say something to you?" he questioned you, "other than me?"

How is it that he can make you laugh at a time like this? As small and delicate as your little laugh was, it shot something much stronger to Eddie's core.

All you could do was nod, feeling silly in his presence for letting something like that get to you. You noticed Eddie's jaw clench when he raised his head and turned it to look behind you toward the door.

"What guy? What's he wearing?" Eddie asked.

You didn't want to answer. You didn't want him to do something irrational or even get hurt because of you.

"No Eddie," you whispered.

"Tell me Y/N," he demanded.

"Okay, he's sitting at the end of the bar wearing a white collared shirt."

You'd barely finished before Eddie tore off in the direction of the bar. You stayed out there another minute or two collecting yourself and wiping your eyes clean of makeup.

To this day you're not certain what happened. But when you got back to the group, the guy at the end of the bar was gone, Eddie had a bag of ice from the bartender on his right hand, and your friends didn't say a word about it.

He punched a guy out once when he came on too strong to Jess after a gig and now you know he'd done the same for you even though the two of you barely ever saw eye to eye.

You found yourself in the smoke circle with Eddie at every party and he'd always let you take the first hit of a bowl. He'd let you bum a cigarette behind the bar or outside of school any time you asked and would light it for you sometimes even though you never once asked him to do that. The groups would get together to go to movies and concerts sometimes, all piling in to Eddie's van and carpooling to the city.

"Ah ah ah, what's she doing here?" Eddie asked, eyes darting to you. He can't resist an opportunity to torment you.

"Come on Eddie, you know Y/N's part of the group just as much as we are," Jess defends.

"I'm the one who told you all about this concert in the first place, Munson!" you argue.

"Can't you two please behave just for one night?" Gareth asks from his spot behind Sarah, head hanging over her shoulder. She nods in agreement.

You and Eddie hold eye contact for a few moments, considering all of your options.

"I will if he does," you bite as everyone begins to pile into the van.

The groups' eyes trail to where Eddie towers over you, watching from their seats in the back of the van.

"Fine," he answers, "after you," motioning for you to take a seat inside so he can close the back door. You move to climb in and can't help but gasp silently when you feel his hand under yours gently squeeze to help lift you into the van. But when you look back to him once you're seated, he's already slamming the door shut and turning his back to you to walk around to the driver's seat.

He left you alone the rest of the night, but there were a couple of times you shared quick glances from where you danced with the girls and he was standing behind the group nodding along to the music. You almost thought you could even make out a smile on his lips. But that was wiped from your memory the second he looked away from you and back to the stage.

Sometimes you could swear you caught him looking at you across the room with a look that wasn't hateful. Sometimes he even did things that sent a jolt of warmth to your stomach. But that was quickly diminished every time when Eddie would return his attention to another girl or say something that reminded you of his disdain for you. You tried so hard to ignore the pangs of jealousy when you saw him with someone under his arm or the flutters in your stomach when he held eye contact with you. All of it just added to your confusion and the frustration you felt towards him grew with every broken gaze.

✽✧✽✧✽✧✽

That brings you to tonight, Thursday at The Hideout. It's 7:45 and you're getting ready for your weekly show at 8:00. The stage is all set and you're backstage with your girls, putting final touches on makeup and warming up for the performance.

"Shit," you hear Tiff utter under her breath after a snap echoes through the small green room.

"What's wrong Tiff?" Heather asks from her place on the couch.

"My string broke," she announces, stress lacing her voice.

"Shit," the other girls repeat.

"I don't have any extras," Tiff says anxiously.

"Okay, okay, don't panic. I'll be right back," you announce on your way out of the door. You know Eddie's here and maybe he has some extras. You'll just be a little late on stage.

You make your way from the green room behind the stage, into the office and then out to the bar where Eddie is occupying a seat talking to the bartender.

"Eddie," you call out nervously as you approach him.

"Y/N," he returns tensely.

"Do you have any extra guitar strings with you?"

"Other than the ones that are strung to my electric, no. Sorry sweetheart."

"Fuck," you mutter under your breath, secretly shuttering at the nickname but turning away from him and leaning your elbows on the bar, attempting to come up with another solution.

Eddie eyes your slumped figure and brows that are furrowed in contemplation.

"What's the matter?" he asks.

"Tiff's string broke and we're obviously supposed to be playing in a few," you motion to the stage.

"Ah, that is quite the pickle you're in," he teases you, his mind calculating what you'll ask him next.

You think of something and sigh, closing your eyes and bracing yourself for what you're about to ask.

"Eddie...." you begin.

"Yes dear?" he mocks.

"Can we borrow your electric guitar? Pretty please," you utter with monotone.

Eddie exhales, puffing his lips and eyeing you sarcastically.

"That's a pretty big favor to ask without a cherry on top," he jokes. "Ask me again like you mean it." He says with squinted eyes examining you. He loves having power over you, there's no way he'll relent this easy. He'll make you beg a little first because he's reveling in the pouty expression on your face right now.

"Eddie please," you swallow your pride and begin, "if you care about me in any way at all, can I pretty please with a cherry on top borrow your guitar that I know is in the back of your van right now anyway?"

He fake considers for a moment, prolonging your torture.

“And what makes you think I care about you?” he asks, seriously.

“You're right, nothing. I wouldn't dream of you having any type goodwill towards me," he smiles at your response, quite satisfied with it. "But if you like me even just a little. I mean, not like me. but if you think I deserve any amount of kindness - "

"What'll you give me if I do?" he interrupts.

"Anything!" you shout impulsively, "Anything you want." You regret that instantly while considering all of the things he could ask of you.

"Jesus Christ babe, yes if you're that desperate, you can borrow my guitar."

You sigh, relieved, trying to ignore the twisting feeling the pet name causes inside you. Eddie stands from his seat and moves past you to the door to go retrieve the guitar from his van.

You stand, slightly in place as you awe at the fact that you just successfully asked Eddie Munson for a favor, and he said yes.

"You okay in there there?" he asks from his place a few feet away from you, interrupting your thought and grabbing your attention with a small wave in front of your face.

"Yes, Munson, I'm fine," snapping back to your normal self and rolling your eyes at him.

Eddie smirks, he secretly loves when you call him that.

“Good. For a second there I thought you might be in love with me or something," he jokes before turning around to make his way out of the door.

You curse yourself for not being able to think of a witty response and wait by the bar for the few minutes it takes him to return.

He hands you the guitar. "If you return her with even a scratch - "

"I know I know, you'll have my head," you interrupt jokingly, as you grab the instrument from him and turn hurriedly to leave for the girls backstage, not thinking of the many ways he could interpret that.

You return his guitar the same night with no mention of what he wants for his payment. He'd briefly considered asking for a kiss just to torture you, but quickly decided against that thinking it would be too much like the creeps who hit on you girls at the bar all the time. Eddie was not actually interested in coercing you into anything.

So Eddie decided to drop it, not wanting to hold anything over your head or make you feel like you owe him anything.

But a few days later, he opened his van door to find the new Dio and Judas Priest tapes he'd been wanting from the music store but hadn't bought yet with a note that simply said "thank you," in your scribbly writing that he recognized from class. You'd noticed him eyeing those tapes during your shift at the store and thought two tapes with your employee discount was the least you could do to thank him for saving your show.

Eddie smiles to himself at the thought of you doing something nice for him, even going as far as breaking in to his van to keep it a surprise. He chuckles to himself, thinking how out of character it was for you to do something sweet for him. Maybe, he thought, she feels the same. But he dismisses the thought as soon as it enters his mind. No, we're just even now. Nothing's changed, returning to his normal train of thought and strengthening his resolve to continue treating you as he always has.

Neither one of you ever bring it up again, but you have hope that maybe things are different between you now.

✽✧✽✧✽✧✽

The following Saturday was special because the band that was scheduled to play at The Hideout canceled and Sarah and Gareth convinced the owner to let Corroded Coffin and The Queens of Noise play back to back to fill in.

It was a big deal for both groups. You'd been playing Tuesdays and Thursdays for years, but a Saturday is different. Saturdays are for big groups, sometimes even from other cities. There's always a bigger crowd and one of the bands who used to play on Saturdays at The Hideout are on a small nationwide tour now.

Best of all, you'd be able to be there for each other's big moments front and center on the floor while the other group played on stage.

You and the girls practiced every day after work in preparation and even agreed to skip work the Friday before to finalize the details and make sure everything was clean and perfect. You all agreed on your strongest songs and put together a set you were really proud of. You were even going to debut a Blondie song that you've put your own spin on to see how the crowd likes it.

On Saturday, you and the others all arrived in the afternoon to begin setting up and warming up. You shared the green room backstage and it felt like any other night you all got together at Jeff and Tiff's. Gareth and Sarah were draped over each other on the couch, Jeff was playing some card game with Kevin and Heather, Tiff was tuning her guitar in the corner with Eddie who was strumming along to something, and you were sat at the vanity with Jess, sharing a joint for your nerves and deciding when to start your makeup and hair.

"Let me get a hit of that please," Tiff requests and so you bring the joint to her in the corner, holding it to her lips. After she takes a drag, you offer it to Eddie and he accepts quietly with a raise of his eyebrows. You let him keep it because you figure he'll want more than just on hit.

The boys were scheduled to start at 8:00 and then you would follow them at 9:00.

It was 7:00 when you broke the silent calm that had fallen over the room.

"Shouldn't we do a toast or something?" you suggest, "I mean this is kind of a huge fucking deal." You can't help the nervous laugh that falls from your lips after the realization hits you.

"We should," Jeff agrees, "we're playing a FUCKING SATURDAY SHOW!"

The group erupts in shouts, hollering cheers and praise for the situation you've found yourselves in.

"Okay then let's circle up," Sarah says as she jumps off the couch, pulling her arms around the two standing closest to her.

The nine of you circle up in the middle of the room, wrapping arms around each other and huddling together. Eddie stands across from you, gazing down at your excitement as he pops the cork out of the complimentary bottle of champagne left for your group and spraying the foam over all of you in the center of the circle.

"We all drink," he declares, pulling the bottle to his lips and taking a long pull of the lukewarm wine before dropping his head back down and returning his gaze to you.

He extends his arm, handing you the bottle. You accept it with an appreciative smile and take your pull.

"To...." Eddie begins, unsure of how to make a toast. "To us!" he shouts when you take your drink.

"To us!" the others chant in chorus.

"To us," you say when you finish your sip and pass the bottle to Gareth on your right.

Everyone passed the the bottle until it was empty, and then it was time for the boys to go on stage.

While the boys played, you and the girls were front and center to the stage moving to the music with each other and getting the crowd excited. You usually sang along but tonight you were trying to resist the urge so you could save your voice. Their music buzzed through the amps and speakers plugged in around them, vibrating in your chest. You danced and swayed with your friends to get yourself warmed up for your show.

The stage at The Hideout is just a platform that's elevated about three feet. If you're standing at the front of the crowd, you're still close enough in height to whoever's on stage that you can interact, something you've taken advantage of many times in the past while on stage and in the crowd.

From your angle below, the boys were backlit by the stage lights and covered in a warm halo that illuminated their forms. You couldn't deny how beautiful Eddie looked on stage. A natural performer, a personality that shined up there. You secretly ached at the thought that he seemed sweet and flirty with everyone but you.

The boys were great during their set. Of course they always were. But you enjoyed tonight more than any other night because it felt like they all were glad that you were there. There was such little animosity coming from Eddie that you almost thought he wanted you to be there instead of just accepting your presence. You even caught his glance a few times from your place below them.

During their last song, you had to leave the crowd and get backstage to take their place, but you were able to see the last song from the side stage. Gareth and Jess and agreed to use the same drum set, so all you had to do was walk out with your instruments, get Sarah's keyboard, and adjust the mics to be ready.

Suddenly you were wracked with nerves.

After their last song, you all cheered and whistled at the top of your lungs from the side stage so they could hear you over the rest of the crowd. You saw Gareth blow a kiss to Sarah and a blush creep up Kevin's neck.

"Thank you," you hear Eddie on the mic. "We are Corroded Coffin." Another cheer from the crowd. "Now please welcome our Queens of Noise."

Our Queens of Noise.

The possession in Eddie's words rung in your ears and froze you in place.

The boys were approaching you as they exited the stage. Kevin patted Heather's back in encouragement, Jeff hugged Tiff off the ground and told her to get out there, Gareth did his handshake with Jess before twirling Sarah off the ground and setting her down with a kiss.

Eddie spun Heather around and then moved toward you. He was glistening with a thin layer of sweat and his smile was contagious. His chest was heaving with breath and his delicious musky smell surrounded you as he casually enveloped your head in one of his arms and whispered "your turn" against the top of your head. Then you felt him release your head and his other hand on the small of your back nudged you forward. He was so relaxed, as if this was not the first time he's ever embraced you.

Yeah, things were definitely different now.

You took a step forward and shook off the surprise that had overcome you.

You were on fire during your set. You could feel your diaphragm tighten in your stomach as your sang deep, bellowing notes. In between your verses or the chorus, you'd dance back to back with Heather or Tiff, twirl and sway in the middle of the stage, shimmy to Jess in the back on drums and blow kisses to Sarah at her place on keys. Your stage presence was something you were proud of.

You noticed the boys squeeze their way to the front of the stage with their drinks during the third song, all nodding along and praising you all in their own boyish way. You think this is probably the closest Eddie's ever watched one of your gigs, and try to act unfazed by his closeness.

The last song of the set was your new one. You'd only sang it in rehearsal. Never in front of a crowd and never in front of Eddie.

You took a few deep steadying breaths before nodding at Tiff to begin her riff. You nodded along to the beat from her, Heather and Jess, closed your eyes and took a breath before singing the first line.

Once had love and it was a gas. It soon turned out, I had a heart of glass.

The crowd responded well, singing along and screaming for you.

You heard a loud whoop from Jeff with hands cuffed around his mouth and even a shout from Eddie.

During the break when Sarah took over with a keyboard solo, you take a moment to breathe and dance to the music from your friends around you. Below you, the boys were passing out shots and you notice Eddie raising one above his head, intended for you.

You squat to his level to accept it, offering him a quick clink as a cheers before standing, knocking back the shot, and jumping back in for the rest of the song.

Eddie thinks it might be the hottest thing he's ever seen. He swallows a gulp that rose in his chest and exhales deeply.

The crowd erupts into a chorus of cheers and praise on your last note and you inhale sharply to regain your breath. You smile into the mic and say thank you to the people in front of you. You gather with the other girls in the middle of the stage and bow while they cheer for you before turning to exit the stage.

Eddie calls your name from where he's standing by the corner of the stage as you walked down the stairs on the side.

You walk over to him, your heart pounding from the adrenaline in your system from the show and also from the look Eddie was giving you. He looked so good standing there with the stage light behind him and rush from their set still evident in his eyes. Maybe this is it, you think.

He exhales as you approach him like he had been holding his breath.

"That was great," he admits, his eyes taking in your chest rising and falling with heavy breaths and your post-stage glow.

"Yeah right Eddie," you scoff, rolling your eyes and turning away from him towards the bar. You're so used to his insults that you can't even register him being sincere.

He catches your wrist and spins you back toward him. You collide with him, bringing your free hand to his chest to steady yourself and look down to where he is holding your wrist between your bodies.

"I'm serious," he breathes, eyes trained down at where you stand pressed against him.

He towers over you with a look in his eyes that you don't recognize. Your breath hitches in your throat and you can't think of what to say.

"You were amazing up there tonight," he continues, "I couldn't take my eyes off of you."

Your lips part at his words and your insides twist. Every thought has left your brain as you stare up at him. His eyes are so inviting that it makes you forget all the things you'd planned to say to him for years when he finally admitted that you impressed him. Your gaze falls to his lips just for a second and you allow yourself a selfish moment to indulge as you imagine what he would taste like if you leaned in and just kissed him right now.

Your fallen eyes don't go unnoticed by Eddie.

Eddie begins to dip his lower to you when you're interrupted.

"Y/N, come on, the boys are buying us a round," Sarah says from behind you before crashing clumsily into your back, placing her arms on your waist and peeking around your shoulder to kiss your cheek, completely missing Eddie's expression and the moment that was unfolding in front of her.

She pulls you back and your wrist is freed from Eddie's grasp but you don't break your eye contact with him until she spins you around to face Heather, Tiff, and Jess who came along to collect you.

"What was that about?" Heather whispers in your ear as you're pulled into the group's embrace.

"I don't know," you whisper in response. But you think you might.

"He looked like he was going to eat you up," Tiff jokes, well aware of the implications in her tone.

You secretly wished he would. But you swallowed that feeling into your stomach, convincing yourself that there was no way he felt that way about you.

The girls giggle around you as they make their way to the bar to celebrate. You accepted drink after drink handed to you that night, but you weren't able to fully celebrate. Not when Eddie didn't follow you back to the group. Not when Eddie had looked at you that way. Not when you weren't sure what you were feeling in your stomach. Not when you could be putting yourself in the most vulnerable place you've been in in years. And especially not when you could be exposing yourself to someone who you're certain couldn't return the feelings you're having.

You didn't see much of Eddie after that Saturday at The Hideout. You went to your job at the music store every day thinking he may turn up, but he never did. He gave you the cold shoulder on his way out of the door when you tried to say something to him at their show on Tuesday and he wasn't at yours that Thursday. Avoiding you, you thought to yourself and tried to swallow the feeling that it elicited from your gut. Of course he was. How could you have been so stupid to hope something was there?

What you didn't know is that Eddie was hiding from you, worried that he'd revealed too much to you that night at The Hideout. Part of him wanted to reveal more to you. But he wasn't even sure himself what he felt for you. So until he figured it out, he was doing the safe thing and staying away from you. Except this coming Thursday because he agreed to cover for the bartender at the bar, so there's no way he could skip your show.

✽✧✽✧✽✧✽

You went back and forth between being certain the way he'd looked at you after the show was out of desire and thinking the way he was holding your wrist firmly was out of hating having to admit that you put on a good show. But either way, the taste you'd had having of him close to you was not enough.

So when Sarah told you at Sunday's practice in Heather's garage that the boys would definitely be at your show on Thursday, you couldn't help but ask "all of them?" sheepishly.

"I think so, why?" she asks, giving you a probing smile with raised eyebrows.

"No reason," you shrug off. "Think you ladies would be up to learning a new song for Thursday?"

They agree, exchanging knowing glances to each other as they took their places.

On Thursday, you arrived through the back of the bar so you didn't see Eddie until you were on stage. You could feel his eyes on you from his spot behind the bar but you refused to lift your gaze to him. He'd been giving you the cold shoulder for over a week and two could play at that game. Besides, your song choices for the night were bold and you thought you might chicken out if you saw anything in his eyes that changed your mind.

You sang I Hate Myself for Loving You and it meant more to you tonight than it ever had before. Your past relationships and meaningless hookups never once crossed your mind when that song came on, but one stupid tall metalhead with stupid brown button eyes and stupid long hair that you want to run your fingers through flashes through your mind every time you've heard it for weeks now.

Jess started playing the beat for your last song and you took a deep breath as you closed your eyes and felt the music surround you. Tiff came in on guitar while Heather and Sarah kept a steady bass line that you're certain was the only thing keeping your heartbeat regular.

We've been here too long, tryin' to get along. Pretending that you're oh so shy, you begin to sing.

You glanced at Eddie behind the bar who was watching you. You wondered if he recognized it yet and if his heart was racing like yours was at the sight of him.

Do you wanna touch, Do you wanna touch, Do you wanna touch me there? Where? There. Yeah! Yeah, oh yeah.

You have to hold the mic with both hands and screw your eyes shut to will yourself to finish the song without looking in Eddie's direction again. When you were done, you said "that's all for tonight, thank you" to your crowd and you quickly exited the stage.

While the other girls went the bar immediately for the post-show shot tradition, you took the opportunity to sneak out back for a quick cigarette, desperate for a moment alone to catch your breath before facing Eddie.

But of course he doesn't allow you that favor.

Eddie watched your attempt at a sneaky escape and followed you out after pouring the other girls their shots on the house and making sure there was no one else at the bar for drinks.

You were standing to the right of the door with your back to the wall when he came out, you had a joint hanging loosely from your lips while you clumsily searched in your pockets for a lighter. You'd realized in seconds that you didn't have one, but you were still using that as your excuse not to look up at him.

Eddie reached his arm to you with his lit zippo, raising it to your lips. You leaned in with your hands cupping the end of the joint, allowing the flame to light it and take a deep hit immediately.

You finally lift your eyes to meet Eddie's. He's staring hot daggers in to you. You swallow the feeling growing in your throat, becoming acutely aware that neither of you have said anything yet.

"You sing that just for me?" Eddie asks, taking a dangerous step closer to you.

"What?"

Eddie tilts his head in frustration, squinting his eyes at you. Annoyed, he snatches the joint from in between your lips and tosses it to the ground, ashing it with his toe. He can't believe the capacity you have to bother him.

"You heard me," he says, bending at his hips so he's eye to eye with you, lifting his hands to either side of your face and caging you into the wall.

Your breath hitches in your throat. Your insides twist into a knot and your legs feel like they're melting. He hovers above you, your lips only parted by a few inches. His face is tilted towards you and he's drinking you in, reveling in the way your eyes fluttered shut and your chest began to heave.

"I," you whisper unsurely. "Yes, I did."

"And yes I do," Eddie breathes before moving forward, admitting the answer to the question you were asking with your song and crashing into your lips.

He brings his left hand to cradle your cheek and uses his right to grab your waist and pin you to the wall. You ball his shirt in your fists to pull him flush against you before reaching your arms to rest on his shoulders and wrap around him, sending one hand to the nape of his neck and feeling his hair between your fingers.

"God, I hate you," you whimper as Eddie breaks from your lips to suck sloppy kisses into your neck.

"No you don't," he murmurs with confidence just below your ear before returning to your lips.

"No I don't," you repeat into his lips.

You part your lips for him, allowing Eddie to slip his tongue inside. "You drive me fucking crazy Y/N," he utters into your mouth and you mewl in response.

His tongue moves smoothly with yours and he tastes like the shot of whiskey that he took just before following you out here. He was warm against you, both your chests breathing heavily between you. Eddie trails his hands all over your body in exploration. You wondered if he could feel your heartbeat with how hard it was fluttering against your ribcage.

You realized what you felt pushing against your stomach is his hardened cock swollen against his jeans and you moan into his mouth, clenching your thighs together at the thought of him filling you up and becoming aware of the wetness pooling between your legs.

The noise drives Eddie wild. He reaches down, sweeping his large hand down your waist, over your hip and to the back of your thigh. He grips the dough of your thigh and hikes it up, hooking it around his middle and lining your warm center up with his throbbing erection. You gasp at the sudden friction you didn't realize you were aching for. It's just a taste of what he could give you. You feel his lips pull into a smile against yours, knowing the effect he's having on you. You consider giving in to him, right here.

Your mind races with possibilities.

Have I felt this way all along? Has he?

Is this how it will be from now on? Does he want that too?

What if he doesn't? He definitely doesn't. He doesn't know how much it would mean to you.

What if it's just this one time? You'd never survive that.

"Wait," you say, breaking your kiss and catching your breath. Eddie rests his forehead against yours, ready to jump back in whenever you're ready. "I can't."

"Why not baby?" he whispers against your lips, hot breath fanning over you.

Baby. It sends a fluttering to your stomach. Your heart aches. You want him.

"I'm scared Eddie." Your eyes are closed.

"Scared of me?" He pulls away and straightens in front of you.

"No," you open your eyes to see the pained expression that paints his face. You want to kiss it off. You bring your hand to cup his cheek and he leans in to it. "I'm just really scared of getting hurt," you feebly admit. Eddie is silent for a moment. You pull your hand from his cheek and hug it to your middle. His silence scares you and he stays silent for just a second too long. You turn to the direction of the parking lot and take one step, then another.

"No I would never - " he tries to assure you but he was a second too late. You're already walking away from him.

When Eddie returned inside without you, he was met with the barrage of worried faces of his friends.

"Where's Y/N?" Jess asked, stating the thing that was obviously on everyone's mind from the kissed out look of Eddie's lips that were swollen and stained slightly with the color you'd been wearing.

"She uh..." Eddie trailed off with his face turned to the side, unable to meet the concerned looks in their eyes. "She left."

A choir of questions sprang from their mouths.

"She left?" Heather asked quietly, dread tugging in her stomach knowing something must have happened.

"What did you do to her man?" Jeff asked at the same time.

But Eddie didn't answer. He knocked back a shot from the bar and walked away from the group, the sting of rejection still too fresh inside him to discuss it any further with the group while he was fighting the negative feels rising in his gut.

The group watched as he approached a table of girls across the room, and couldn't help the groans that they sighed out in unison with rolled eyes, realizing how completely unprepared they were for the fallout that was sure to follow Eddie's agonizing attempt to nurse his ego.

You drove home in tears, shaking from the sudden absence of Eddie you felt and sickness churning your stomach as you played the events back in your head. The shock eventually wore off and your tears slowed to a stop, but the nausea remained until you fell asleep that night, unsure if you did the right thing or made the biggest mistake of your life.

✽✧✽✧✽✧✽

You called out of work the next day, allowing yourself one day to wallow in self pity since you were now leaning more towards thinking you made a huge mistake. It seemed like your lips still tingled from the pressure of his kiss, your body felt hollow without his touch and you longed to feel it again. Your heart ached every time your mind betrayed you and flashed the memory of his wounded expression through your mind.

It wasn't until Saturday morning that the girls showed up to your house, forcing themselves in to confront your sullen state. You were asleep when they opened your door.

Heather climbed into bed beside you and mirrored your position on your side, bringing her forehead to yours and tracing a soft finger down your nose to wake you up.

Jess sat at the edge of your bed with a caring hand placed on your exposed calf and Sarah hovered behind her with her head hung over Jess's shoulder.

You took count of your friends as your blurry vision cleared before realizing one was missing, rolling over on your back to see Tiff with her head hung low to meet your eyes and hands on her hip. "Good morning," she greeted briefly, "now spill."

You sat up a scooted closer to Heather, making room for Tiff to slide into bed on your other side. Sarah and Jess sat at the foot of your bed, crossed legged and facing you, both clutching one of your excess pillows for comfort.

It feels like you've been in a variation of this arrangement a hundred times before, either cuddling or being cuddled by your girls while you or the other works out their problem. It feels the same as it has since you were little girls. Like nothing has changed in the decade you've all been taking turns crowding into each others rooms, only this time something has changed. Something huge.

You don't hate Eddie Munson at all. You love him.

You were afraid that he wouldn't feel the same, that he'd only planned to be with you once and things we be the same between you after.

But now you were more afraid of never having him at all.

When the girls left, you decided you'd suppress your fear and just call him. But when you heard to the dial tone for the eighth time, you hung up with a huff and looked up to your ceiling to choke back the tears that threatened to fall.

On Monday, you knew that he'd be at Gareth's for their practice. Sarah gave you the number for his garage phone and when you called, Gareth answered.

"Hello?" Gareth asked on the other end, kindness always evident in his voice.

"Gareth hey, it's Y/N."

"Y/N?" he asked, thoroughly surprised.

"Yeah," you said with your eyes screwed shut, "listen, is Eddie there?"

"Eddie?" Gareth asks, and you can hear him shift on the other end of the phone.

"Yeah," you say, embarrassed while you wait.

You hear unclear whispering in the receiver, mumbling from definitely more than one person.

"Um, sorry Y/N," Gareth returns, his voice dripping with uncertainty, "he's not here."

You gulp down the lump in your throat, knowing there's no way he's not there.

"Okay," you sigh, defeated. "Would you just let him know I called?"

"Yeah, I'll tell him you called."

"Thanks Gareth." And you hang up.

You thought about going to their show Tuesday, but the dread that filled you when the time came was enough to keep you away. If he was avoiding you, you didn't want to make it worse by forcing him to see you. Not yet.

So on the next Saturday when you saw Eddie passing in front of the music store window during your shift to get to Family Video next door, you blinked first to make sure you weren't imaging it. But before you could understand it, your legs seemed to be carrying you towards him while your brain was yelling at you to turn around.

You ran quickly from behind the counter, leaving customers alone in the store and you threw open the door, flying out of it and running after him before he could get inside the other store.

"Eddie!" you shout at his back.

He pauses, shoulders tense in his leather jacket as he stands up straight. He hesitates for a few seconds, making you afraid that he won't turn around at all.

But he does. And the stony look on his face makes you wish he hadn't. His brows are knitted together in a furrow and his lips are pushed together in a tight line.

"What do you want?" Eddie says, so calm that it unnerves you.

When you don't answer right away, he shakes his head slightly and sticks a hand out like you're inconveniencing him.

"Something you want to say?" he asks, his eyes staring at you, annoyed by your silence.

"Yeah, I.." you choke on your words.

"You what Y/N?" Eddie scolds, his eyes squinted at you the way they used to when he looked at you. Before. "Your stash running low? Need to buy an ounce? Someone's instrument is broken and you need to borrow one? Your car's not starting and I need to fix it?" His tone is getting more and more exasperated.

You can't form any words. All you can do is stand there and accept him berating you. His words hurt and your lower lip begins to tremble.

"Because unless it's one of those things, I don't know what you could possibly be talking to me for."

When Eddie finishes, he turns and walks away. You exhale and a tear spills over your eyelashes and down your cheek.

✽✧✽✧✽✧✽

"He hates me," you say on the phone to Sarah when you get back behind the counter at work.

"I don't know, Y/N I think maybe he's just hurt you know?" Sarah attempts to soothe.

You disagree.

"Listen Y/N," you hear Gareth say distantly in the receiver before a shuffle on the other end. "I've known Eddie a long time okay?" His voice becomes more clear. "And he's not very good at this kind of thing. He'd much rather avoid his problems than deal with them and right now that's you."

"Oh thanks a lot Gareth, I feel so much better," you joke.

"Not his problem," he says. "I mean... the problem is he feels rejected, like you don't feel the same about him."

You heart drops.

"What do you mean the same about him?" you scream.

"Shit," Gareth curses under his breath, "I've said too much."

"You're gonna have to say a little more," you threaten.

"Well, we all know it, Y/N" Gareth explains, "he's always teased you and stuff because he loves to get a rise out of you. I can tell he has feelings for you. The whole hating you thing was always an act because he got off on the wrong foot when we were kids and he kept it up because didn't know what else to do."

You can't believe what you're hearing. His words ring in your ears like a squealing amp and your breathing picks up.

"Oh my god," you whisper, dropping the phone while you try to grasp what Gareth has just told you.

"Gareth, why the hell have you never told me that?" you faintly hear Sarah reprimand him on the other end of the phone.

"Um, okay okay," you catch back up, "Gareth can you please just make sure he comes to our set on Thursday?"

"I don't know, it'll be really hard to convince him."

"Just do it!" you and Sarah yell in unison before you slam the receiver down.

You know what you have to do. You lost your words when you tried to talk to him so you just have to find someone who's already written the words for you.

✽✧✽✧✽✧✽

When Thursday came, you were hopeful things might work out. You took deep breaths in the mirror as you got dressed for your show at The Hideout. You were sure of your feelings now and you'd make Eddie see, one way or another.

Gareth came to you and Sarah on Monday to say that there was no way in hell he could get Eddie to the entire show on Thursday, so you devised a plan to get him there in time for the last two songs. So you knew you had to make the last two count.

You'd felt like you were floating through the entire day, like a puppet going through the steps of a routine, legs carrying you places without you thinking about it.

So when you found yourself in the green room before your set, the gravity of the situation finally started to set in as time inched closer and closer. Your stomach twisted into knots and your mouth went dry.

The girls noticed the shift in your spirit immediately and came to you with hugs and enough encouragement that your doubt was replaced again and you felt good enough to take the stage.

Your set went by in what felt like just a few minutes. You had your normal crowd at the tables and some in the standing space in front of the stage, including the three attending boys of Corroded Coffin. You silently wished time to slow down, you were so nervous for what was coming. So when you were playing your fifth song, Sarah nodded to Gareth who snuck away to the phone.

He dialed Eddie's number from memory and waited eagerly for an answer.

"Hello?" his friend answered. Gareth let out a sigh of relief.

"Hey man," Gareth began, "Do you think you could come get me and the boys? Jeff's car isn't starting."

"Uh yeah I guess, where are you?" It was a dumb question. He knew where they were.

"The Hideout," Gareth said with eyes closed and teeth gritted in suspense as he waited for Eddie's answer.

"Shit, it's Thursday isn't it?" Eddie cursed into the receiver.

"Yeah man, but they're almost done with the set so you don't have to stay or anything. And we'll wait outside for you," Gareth lied. He was trying to time it perfectly for Eddie to arrive for the last two songs and have to come inside when they weren't waiting outside for him.

"Alright alright, I'm leaving now."

"Thanks man, see you in a few," Gareth silently celebrated in place as he hung up the phone and made his way back to his friends for the last of your set.

It was almost perfect. You looked around the room but didn't see Eddie when Jess tapped the count off for Heaven Is a Place on Earth with her sticks and you had to start singing the first chorus. You try to ignore the worry that he won't come growing inside you and sing the song, closing your eyes for the first verse.

When the night falls down I wait for you, and you come around.

When you finished the first verse, you opened your eyes and see him. He was standing at the very back of the room with his back against the wall. It looked like he had just walked into the door and he wasn't planning on coming any closer. He kept his lips pulled together in a tight line, his head head slouching against the wall and he looked at you through hooded eyes.

You smiled as you continued the song, happy that your plan had worked. You couldn't help yourself and met his gaze as you sang baby, I was afraid before but I'm not afraid anymore, hoping he understood to true meaning behind the lyrics.

When the song ended, Gareth followed your gaze and saw Eddie standing at the back of the room. Eddie met his eyes and gestures for him to get the others and leave. Gareth is shaking his head rapidly at Eddie, refusing to leave. You knew you had to act fast.

You cleared your throat into the mic. Eddie stops motioning to Gareth and his attention snaps back to you.

"We have one more for you tonight, and it's new for us but I'm sure you'll recognize it." You pause for a few cheers from the audience. "It's um... for someone special who made it tonight," you murmur into the mic. "I hope they know who they are." The room falls mostly silent, spare a few whispers you can hear among the crowd.

"I think maybe a few of you do," you joke into the mic, hearing comfortable laughter fill the room. And with that, you nod at Tiff to begin the music.

There's a few seconds of music before you have to come in with lyrics, so you use them to take deep breaths and when you glance at Eddie, you notice he's already moved a little closer. There's no going back now, you think. So you close your eyes and start singing.

Tonight, I want to give it all to you. In the darkness, there's so much I want to do. And tonight, I want to lay it at your feet. 'Cause boy, I was made for you and boy, you were made for me.

You looked up to see that Eddie has moved to his friends and he's watching you. His expression has slightly softened and you think you can maybe even see a grin painting his face in the dim light.

I was made for lovin' you, baby. You were made for lovin' me. And I can't get enough of you, baby. Can you get enough of me?

You sing directly to him, holding his gaze that's he's trying to intimidate you with. He won't win because you're not scared anymore. He's the first to break your eye contact, turning his head when Jeff nudges him and he begins nodding along with his friends.

Tonight, I want to see it in your eyes, feel the magic, there's something that drives me wild. And tonight, we're gonna make it all come true. 'Cause boy, you were made for me and boy, I was made for you.

You continued singing, moving your body to the music on stage for him, but your eyes never wandered far from where he stood in front of you.

Eddie exhaled the breath he was holding in, giving in to his weakness for you as he watched your electricity on stage. Someone passed him a shot. He downed it without even stopping to ask what it was, smiling at the stranger and thanking them. He needed it for his nerves. He was not sure what he was going to do when you finished singing.

I was made for lovin' you, baby. You were made for lovin' me And I can give it all to you, baby. Can you give it all to me?

You draw out your last note slightly, and breathe deep with a heaving chest when your song ends. You smile at the applause, lower your head back to the clapping crowd and see Eddie weaving his way through the people to the front of the crowd at the stage, to you.

Your heart thumps at the sight of him coming towards you. Just as he approaches the stage, you bend at your knees and come down closer to his level. You're hovering just inches above him at this height, his head is turned up only slightly to meet your eyes.

Neither of you say anything as the crowded room is cheering around you. Eddie stares at you from his place beneath you and the heat flushes you, pink rising from your chest and into your neck.

Almost instinctively, Eddie surges forward and you meet him without second thought, bringing your empty hands to either side of his face.

You kiss him with desperation, as if you could kiss away the agony of the last week, as if you didn't kiss him like this he would disappear from in front of you forever, like this is your last chance.

The crowd erupts around you, cheers and shouting and applause filling the room. It causes you both to break your kiss because of the huge smile that spreads on both your faces.

"You sing that just for me?" Eddie breathes against you.

"Yes."

"You mean it?" he asks in disbelief.

"Every word," you promise, planting a sweet kiss to his lips as his insides burn up with your love.

Then you feel his hands reach up and grab your ribs. He applies the slightest pressure, telling you to jump, that he'll catch you. And he does. You wrap both arms around his neck and Eddie pulls you off the stage effortlessly. He lowers you with firm hands on your ribcage to straddle your legs around his tall frame and keep your lips trained on him the entire time.

"Yeah you're welcome!" Jeff shouts.

"See you later then? We'll just pack up here!" Jess yells from stage with sarcasm.

"It's about fucking time!"

The whistling and catcalling you hear behind you grow more and more distant as Eddie walks you to the closest door, unwilling to waste another second without his hands all over you. You lift one hand from its place on his back to give them all the bird.

You can thank them later.

[burnedbyshoto]

i wonder

i wonder (if you remember the way we looked at each other)

— Living as roommates with your best friend is easy until someone fucks up and catches feelings.

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut fem!reader, and they were roommates, childhood friends!au, university!au, quirkless!au, modern!au, americanized university experience, alcohol consumption, drug consumption, the plot is for the sex AHA, womanizer!shouto, shouto and reader are bad roommates but seiji is worse, shouto has sex at 16 for the first time, vouyerism-ish, iffy shouto tendencies, jealous!shouto, jealous!reader, drunk sex so dubcon depending on you, nipplegasms, reader has nipple piercings, blowjob, switching, marking, biting, scratching, praise kink, missing tag ;)

word count: 20,141

a/n: this is for the roommates bnharem collab! please check out all the other amazing fics and art! note to self, dont get drunk the night before this is due and I hope you guys enjoy this!!! I had a lot of fun writing it!!! also,,, sorry if mobile doesn’t correctly format!

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

You cracked your eyes open.

The gentle white stream of light permeated through soft cotton curtains, lighting the room in pale stripes and careful touches. Dust particles danced within the shining light, bending and twirling with the flowing air and moving winds. You breathed in deeply, your body still tired, your head still foggy from a night of distractions and too many drinks. 

Your eyes are closed once again, your still hazy mind trying to ignore the bitter, rank taste of the alcohol and cum on your tongue and your hands scratching as your naked cleavage. There was still enough time in the day; it was Sunday after—

Wait.

CUM?!

Your eyes flew open, your lips smacking each other as you confirm the awful, salty taste of cum on your tongue. Your hands swiping up and down your front to confirm your state of undress. Your heart starts hammering in your chest, your palms immediately sweating as you try to think about just who the fuck you ended up back in bed with.

Think, y/n, think!

A small grunt came from behind you, and you felt your entire body go rigid immediately. The soft expel of air fanning against your sticky neck is both welcomed and untrusted. With what can only be described as you, as stiff as a stick, peering behind your shoulder similar to a mother who definitely heard her child throw up on her bed but is somehow praying that she was hearing shit, you turned around.

A messy bedhead of red and white greeted you: unfocused, sleepy grey, and brilliant blue eyes staring back at you with fond familiarity and welcome.

“‘Morning, y/n,” Todoroki Shouto grumbles, voice husky, scratchy, deeply warm from his slumber. His next words are damning, though, the slight pride and knowing implications in the small breathe he uttered next. “Had fun last night?”

There was silence, a stroke of hesitancy, then crushing all-consuming fear.

You screamed.

At the top of your lungs.

O N E  W E E K  A N D  A  D A Y  E A R L I E R

“Who the fuck touched my fucking Angry Orchard Rosés?!” a voice snapped from the kitchen; the tone was fed up, seconds from blasting to smithereens.

You were in the living room, a pair of sweats on, your hair not put together, your face still bare. The music you played as part of your pregame ritual was practically vibrating the wooden floor as you sang along to your music. The telling glass bottle of deliciously pink alcohol swinging inconspicuously between your fingers as you drank it between verses. Despite your other roommate (who you repeatedly told your friends to be ‘like Bakugou but a gazillion times worse because you don’t and can’t like him,’) being seconds from trying to start another feud or possibly a lawsuit against you, your mouth dropped in mock shock before guzzling down the rest of the drink.

“I saw that you fucking skank!” Shishikura Seiji screeched from the kitchen; his stomps were long and heavy as he made his way from the kitchen to the living room where you were. “There were two bottles left in there! Don’t tell me your alcoholic ass drank them both! So help me, I’ll press on your damn chest until you’re puking out my drink.”

“Shishikura, stop,” Shouto spoke up, his own arm raising as he took a long, slow drink from the other missing rosé bottle. “These are 2% alcohol, you’ve had them in the fridge for months now, and you never drink them anyways.”

You grinned as you pulled the glass bottle from your lip, your face failing at the fake look of surprise, guilt, and sorrow for your unwanted and unneeded roommate.

“Sorry, they’re such girly drinks. I figured I’d take them off your hands,” you speak with distractingly bright amusement. “Alcoholics like me, we don’t care. Watch out; I might go for your mouth wash if you’re not too careful.”

“You do that, and I’ll poison you like a damn bitch,” Shishikura threatened, his voice in a menacing growl.

“Ooooo, you want me to bark for you, Shishikura? Want me on my hands and knees?” you taunt back, walking backward until you’re collapsing onto the couch besides Shouto. Your arm quickly sneaks between his, and you lay your head on his shoulder. Shishikura’s face is flushed red, his pupils beady as he trembles with concealed rage.

“She’s quite good at it,” Shouto chimes in, the corner of his mouth twitching into an amused smirk as he takes another drink of the weak liquor. He shifts on the couch, allowing you to curl more comfortably at his side; the both of you know just how much your incredibly prude roommate hates any sort of PDA. “Want to hear her bark? She’s also quite good with her tongue.”

As if to emphasize Shouto’s point, you stuck out your tongue, refusing to break eye contact with Shishikura as the tip of your tongue breached the opening of the bottle.

“The actual fuck is wrong with the both of you?!” Shishikura spluttered, his face somehow turning purple and green and red. A truly incredible sight to be had. “‘Childhood friends are great roommates to have’ my fucking ass, you both are monstrosities!”

Shishikura stormed out of the living room, his ears neon red as his purple hair fell to cover his face. As soon as he was out of sight, you turned to Shouto, your tongue removing itself from the bottle and back into your mouth as you began to laugh loudly.

Childhood friends to roommates, ah, what a remarkable story you had with Todoroki Shouto.

It was accurate to relay that you had known Shouto for more than seventeen years now at your current age of twenty-one. Seventeen years of being what is easily seen as the best of friends, the closest companions, and indeed a bond that would withstand time and situation. 

The two of you met during the first week of what was preschool. Although both of you could not remember a single instance of events during this time, your mothers had always been excited to relay this story to you for many years that you could remember. It was odd to try to remember it, but even as they painted a picture of your first interaction, you could do nothing but admit that it sounded exactly like how it could have gone. 

You couldn’t remember being four years old; you don’t recall what it was like to strain your neck to look up at your parents or how it felt to be so utterly dependent but to scream brazenly about your childish independence. Your mother smiles when she retells the story of your first interaction, of how you were holding her hand as she walked you to the building where your preschool was to be had. 

Your hand was so small in hers. Tightly clutching onto her fingers as you looked around at the other children who were also arriving or had already arrived. Some children were bawling by their parents, others aimlessly playing with toys, and some were attempting to talk to one another, but by the apparent looks of curiosity surrounding the babbling and rambling tangents that could only be understood by a firing toddler brain, everyone was getting along. 

A teacher greeted you kindly, squatting down to reach your eye level as they excitedly introduced themselves and asked for your name. You, of course, with your hands clutching the skirts of your mother’s dress, responded with hesitant confidence.

“You’re such a brave girl!” the teacher awed happily, stretching out a hand for you. “Is it okay if I take you from your mom and show you which cubby is yours?”

There was a moment of confusion, then clear understanding hovering over your little head. Your mom looked down with an encouraging smile and pushed you forward.

“Do I get a middle cubby? I don’t want a top one,” you admit, your hand stretching out to grab the teacher’s stretched-out hand. 

Your mother watched on happily as you removed your schoolbag and lunchpail and placed them neatly within the somehow middle cubby marked with your name. The teacher also helped you put on your white school slippers before gesturing towards the bright, colorful room, their mouth moving as if explaining every little detail before pointing at the corner. Your mother tilted her head, curious as she followed the teachers point to the corner of the room where a boy with exceptional red and white hair — split perfectly in the middle — sat quietly, with fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

(Shouto, although he can not remember this day himself, will argue with you and only you that he was, in fact, NOT crying.)

Trying to not allow the shock of the unnatural hair color affect her, your mother watched as you nodded to your new teacher and walked over with clenched fist confidence to the small boy.

She watched as you approached him, your jaw moving as you so obviously spoke, hopefully introducing yourself. The boy looked up at you with bright, wet eyes but seemed to speak right back to you. 

“Alright, parents! Thank you all for dropping off your children! Do not worry. We will take great care of them all, and they are in competent hands! First days are hard for everyone, so if you can exit quietly, I, and the rest of us teachers, would appreciate that greatly!”

Or at least that’s what Rei claimed the teacher said.  However, your mother was watching on with increasing exponential horror as she watched you throw a punch at the air before twisting around and pointing right at her and saying with a voice that was much too loud.

“Punch whoever made you cry, Shouto-chan! My mama says that it is okay to punch bullies!”

Thankfully no one but your mother heard you, and even though she scolded you on the way out, whisper yelling that you “better not punch anyone!” her relief was for naught.

When she would return in the afternoon, a bit late because there had been a hold up on the train, you were pouting sitting on the floor with a scuffled uniform, your arms crossed definitely. Next to you was the boy with red and white hair, equally scuffed next to a white-haired woman and an older white-haired boy.

“Oh my god, what happened?!” she shrieked, racing over to you.

“Y/l/n-san,” the teacher spoke with a tone that indicated disappointment with the subtle undertone of amusement. “Y/n-chan has something to tell you.”

Your mother had taught you many things, she will admit, in your very short life. But sass and annoyment was something not often seen in your household or in you, and to see it so blatantly on your chubby-cheeked face was quickly giving your mother greys.

“Shouto-chan told me that his stupid bully brother Touya was being a meanie, and so I helped him punch him back!” you said with tears in your eyes because you didn’t want to back down from your actions, but you also did not like being scolded. “I don’t regret it!”

“Y/n!”

“Y/n-chan!”

“I don’t either,” Shouto-chan grumbled as your mother collapsed to her knees and began to profusely apologize for you to the woman who was undoubtedly Shouto’s mother. “Touya-nii was making fun of my hair again… y/n-chan helped me, though. Please don’t scold her!”

To say the most in the shortest amount of time, you were, in fact, scolded despite Shouto’s begging. Touya stopped making fun of Shouto’s natural hair. Rei accepted your mother’s apology. The teachers were given two bottles of sake.

And, of course, the most important, the most paramount thing to arise from this first day of school was that your and Todoroki Shouto’s friendship was now bound by blood, sweat, and tears.

Preschool became elementary school, which became middle school, and fading into highschool.

It was without saying that your relationship, your friendship with Todoroki Shouto, was probably one of the biggest, most defining parts of your entire life. He was there when your first tooth fell out, when he dropped ice cubes down people’s shirts, you two had bathed together when you were young, had sleepovers well past the age where him being a boy and you being a girl should have made things weird. You laughed when his voice cracked and dropped, he elbowed your chest plenty when you began growing boobs, you taunted his lack of body hair, he bought you your favorite ice cream and heating packs on your first period. You attended cram school together, went to the park and beaches on days off from school. You were partners in every school activity except under specific circumstances. He had listened to you when you told him excitedly about your first kiss when you turned fourteen, and you laughed when he said at the age of fifteen that he had still yet to kiss anyone.

Everyone always claimed, always asked, wondered, and whispered if the two of you were dating. Childhood friends still this close and not dating? Unheard of; practically illegal! Nevertheless, you ignored the disappointed frowns or the hopeful grins as you and Shouto both denied any sort of romantic connection.

Soon the both of you were in high school, and Shouto was mere days from turning sixteen. Much like when the both of you were when you were four years old, you seemed to be the one spouting many words — sometimes unnecessary words that wound you both up in trouble — of wisdom. You were loud when you needed, talking most of the time only to him and your surprisingly large group of friends. (You weren’t that surprised. Everyone wanted to be friends with the handsome, could easily be royalty or a model, Todoroki Shouto.) Shouto remained, for better or worse, quiet, reserved, and a bit awkward. He was a sweet boy, don’t get it wrong, and you would protect him until the end of your days, but the boy was a complete airhead and relied on you for interpreting social interactions.

“Camie-senpai wants me to go over to her house after my birthday,” Shouto explains, his hands exchanging his school shoes for his outdoor ones. “Something about wanting to do that one second-year first-year student project thing for the third years right away.”

“You have Camie?” you ask, slumping against the metal lockers with a slight thud. “Lucky, she’s so nice… I have stupid Agoyamato. Have you had a conversation with him? It’s actually the worst! He thinks he’s all that!”

“I’m sure it’ll be okay; you’re nice enough that he won’t be like… that,” Shouto smiles, slinging his bag on his shoulders before nudging his head towards the exit. “Ready?”

“Am I ever ready?” you ask with a whine but nevertheless proceed onward.

Time passed, and between cram school, actual school, some clubs, eventually January 11th passed and you held an ice cream cake that Shouto loved. You ate the cake together, relaxing as you sat in the warmth of his kitchen.

“Happy birthday, Shoucchan, never change!” you chirp, shoving his arm that rose to place the piece of cake in his mouth with your shoulder and watched as the sweet pastry splattered on top of the table. “...um?”

“I’ll give you ten seconds to run.”

“Only ten?! What about the happy birthday boy.”

“Oh, true. Three seconds to run.”

“Why?!”

“It’s my birthday.”

An hour later, when your stomach hurt from laughing too much and the sickly sweet weight of too much ice cream cake, you lay snuggled into Shouto’s side as the both of you watched some old movie.

“Thanks for always being here for me,” you mumble, eyes growing heavy as the heat of Shouto’s body began to lull you to sleep.

“I’m always here for you,” Shouto softly responded, hand gliding up and down the curve of your spine. “We should get you home. Your mom yelled and nearly skinned us both the last time you fell asleep here.”

“Only cuz she’s scared that we’ll have some sudden revelation we like each other and fuck each other’s brains out,” you groaned, absolutely not content with having to move. With your face buried in your hands now, you missed the weird pattern in Shouto’s chest over that.

“Come on, let’s go.”

“...fine, just because it’s your birthday.”

The next day, when Shouto followed Camie home instead of you, there was something that made you feel off as you waved at them goodbye. It wasn’t jealousy, that much you knew, but something worse when you watched the way your never-been-kissed-before best friend was ignorant to the dark eyes Camie sent his way.

To be quite honest, you’re not sure if you should be as surprised as you are when you get a phone call at ten p.m. to the sound of a confused, suppressed, overwhelmed voice of your best friend asking if you could confirm if Camie had fucked him. You then stayed on the phone for Shouto until well past two a.m., your heart hurting as he recounted the memory over and over again. You weren’t sure as to why your heart was breaking. By the sounds of it, Shouto had actually enjoyed it, but with every stammer to his voice, you felt lightyears away.

Most shockingly, however, was the effects this had on Shouto and his overall persona.

From ages four until fifteen, Todoroki Shouto was someone who was quiet, observant, took things a bit too literally, at all times was entirely precious in the way he interacted with people, and most importantly, unaware of the female population who lusted after him. It worked well for you because it was fun to tease him about things, nag him about how he was sixteen, and hadn’t been kissed even though if he asked any girl at school to kiss him, they definitely would. 

But sixteen-year-old Todoroki Shouto was a new shift, a new paradigm for you to learn. It wasn’t that he wasn’t confident before, but now he emitted a sense of confidence that he was aware of, that everyone was aware of. He became mature, sophisticated, styled even. He was still at times quiet, always completely observant. He rarely took things literally and understood rhetoric and sarcasm and hyperboles. Long gone were the days of preciousness, and instead, there was a sense of a predator on the hunt that bled in the way that he talked to people. Most importantly, however, he was fully aware of the female population and precisely who was lusting after him.

He flirted with women and girls. You would find him leaning against the lockers talking with them, somehow trapping them despite not actually trapping them. A new girl was sitting at your table with him practically every week in high school, each girl asking for the hundredth millionth time that the both of you were not dating. Some girls were even bold enough to apologize to you for stealing your best friend — as if you wanted Shouto.

You had already seen his dick, thank you very much (although the last time you saw it was well before you were nine years old), you weren’t missing out on how it probably looked now! Honestly, you had no idea how Shouto never managed to run out of female students to fuck, the school wasn’t that large, and he seemed to go through a few a week sometimes.

But he was your best friend, your childhood friend, and no matter how many girls came crawling back to your lunch table, bawling to Shouto to take him back, soaking the fabric of your skirt to help convince him to take her back, you stayed. You stayed, accepting the fact that your best friend had become an awkward teenage boy and turned into some high school sex freak.

You stayed when his shaggy hairstyle was clipped and became short.

Overnight, just as he went from being a complete virgin to not one, he went from a scrawny sixteen-year-old boy to a leanly built eighteen-year-old hot-ass heartthrob womanizer.

High school wasn’t forever. Even though it took you about a year to accept and integrate Shouto’s new sex life and behavior into your daily lifestyle with him (he always left four of the three days open for you as all his relationships were casual only). Soon enough, the both of you relaxed and found your own relationship to be entirely the same, and when university exams and applications came about, it was decided that yet again, the both of you would follow each other anywhere.

Which is where you were now.

Tokyo University,  a third-year student, living in an upscale three-person apartment with your best friend, of course. Shouto plus someone who practically begged in the most unbegging way to live with you.

Todoroki Shouto and Shishikura Seiji in the same apartment as you made for an interesting combination.

You hadn’t wanted Shishikura Seiji as a roommate at all. Period. 

There were about eleven other people you only considered asking, but they all said no for their own reasons. Bakugou and Midoriya had found their own apartment closer to the University, and for much cheaper, Kirishima and Mina were RA’s and could not move in. Kaminari said he liked Sero’s couch too much to leave, and Sero couldn’t live in an apartment without a balcony. Momo said the room was too small, Jirou said she’d rather continue living with Momo, Uraraka said it was a tad bit too much for her to afford (to be fair, you didn’t have to pay because the Todoroki’s were paying for your housing, but you understood), Tsuyu and Hagakure said they were living at home. Iida said he would be too uncomfortable living with a couple.

Everyone you found on the street wouldn’t accept your offer. Hence, Shouto invited the meatball and rosé obsessed Shishikura Seiji to live with the two of you simply because he was Shouto’s lab partner in one of his advanced physics classes. Stupid chemical engineering nerd.

At twenty-one years, you can now say that you’ve entirely adjusted to Shouto’s womanizer ways. Too often do you find yourself sitting at the kitchen counter, a steaming cup of tea in your hand as you drink it in slowly, watching with much amusement as either a no-name girl leaves or a walk of shame Shouto enters. It happens at most five times a week; you were used to it. While the unease had finally left, you had to admit you were impressed your best friend could easily sleep around as he did and maintain his outstanding grades.

However, just because you were finally used to Shouto’s womanizer tendencies didn’t mean the world was. Even in University, your fellow students would ask with wide eyes and behind flat palms if the two of you were dating — specifically if Shouto was cheating on you or if it was an open relationship. You would each and every time, smile cheekily, shake your head and say with a roll of your eyes: “No, we’re not dating. He’s not cheating, and no, this is nothing more than us being best friends. Sho is too much of a jealous person to allow for an open relationship.”

Somehow, the constant begging of approval and the erasure of any romantic connection between you and Shouto from the plethora of female students at Tokyo University wasn’t even the most annoying part of it all. No, not at all.

What really ground your nerves was a pattern you noticed when you were eighteen.

Unlike Shouto, you hadn’t had the chance to lose your virginity until you were eighteen. Most of the boys who liked you always assumed you and Shouto were dating, the ones who gathered the courage to ask you out anyways were boys you were less than impressed with. By some act of some higher god, your crush — the school's third-year baseball team's captain when you were a first-year — reappeared in your life and asked you out. It wasn’t your best decision, you can fully admit it, but he was friendly and sweet as he fucked you in his small bed.

You hadn’t expected sex to be like that, and if you had enjoyed this, you couldn’t help but wonder just how Shouto was in bed to have girls behaving like that.

However, the spell was broken when he helped you change back into your clothes, and he begged you not to tell Shouto he was the person you cheated on him with.

It was on this day that it clicked.

What went for him, unfortunately, went for you too.

Except where girls rose to the challenge to dethrone you from Shouto’s side (a shame because they were vying for a seat that you had no claim over), the boys lowered their head like some damn omega to Shouto’s alpha.

Disgusting.

Even with the plentiful, plethora, consistent denial of your relationship with Shouto, even with the tally of girls, Shouto’s bedded (and more excitedly, deflowered — ugh!) rose consistently, no one ever really believed you weren’t dating him! Too many a time, you had been centimeters from making out with a guy for them to pull away, screeching that they couldn’t allow you to betray Shouto. The men who didn’t care were sleezebags, and thus, with a growl and a snarl, you found that you were only able to fuck men who thought jackhammering their fingers into your labia — yes, your labia — would make you cum.

You didn’t want to say you hated your childhood best friend for such duplicitous, selfish reasons… but you did.

But today was Saturday, a few months into the new second semester of the school year, and with school spirit once again high and workload low. The entire campus was brimming with parties, celebrations, alcohol drinking competition, sleazy dancing, and enough sexual tension to kill all celibate people.

So, we look back to where we started.

Shishikura Seiji running away as you nestled back against Shouto’s chest.

“I didn’t think he was actually going to drink these things,” Shouto sighed, spinning the last few remaining drinks of his rosé in his hand. “It’s been in the fridge for almost five months.”

“He probably made his meatballs again and needed something terrible to blame the flavor on,” you half joke half say in complete seriousness. You were not fond of Shishikura at all, and he was not fond of you either. He had a tendency to mansplain everything, which continuously ground on your nerves, especially when he had no jurisdiction to act so confidently.

He was a physics major, not a goddamn god.

Fuck off.

“I feel sorta bad,” Shouto sighs, his hand low and warm on your waist. “But I will admit, these drinks are practically like carbonated water.”

“2% alcohol,” you stress, your grin widening as you pull away from his chest to stare at him. Your gaze is bright, and his eyes are filled with amusement. “You’re either the world's lightest lightweight or a child with no tolerance to actually expect to get drunk off this shit.”

“I think you’re slurring your words already though, you sure you’re okay, lightweight?” Shouto teases, his soft smirk teasing.

“Who was the one who took three shots and passed out?” you wonder innocently, finger to your chin as if you were trying to remember.

“At least I don’t throw up when I crossfade.”

“IT'S NOT MY FAULT. MY BIOLOGY JUST HAPPENS TO WORKS THAT WAY!”

“Alright, bitch,” Shouto snorts, completely unattractively, “hurry up and get ready, yeah? We have a party we’re already late to, and we have no drinks for an actual pregame.”

You squeal excitedly, having forgotten the massive party that was being held a few blocks away. “I’ll be ready in ten!”

Typically, when you went out partying, you went with the group of eleven people you would have rather replaced Shishikura as a roommate. To get ready for said parties, you would always find yourself at Momo’s place with an outfit change, makeup bag, and hair styling items. You had made it a tradition with the other girls to get ready together. The only exceptions to which this wouldn’t happen was when someone had a work event or some family thing come up.

In your case, you had been stuck at a professor's office, diligently helping to put together their research journal as they were in their final steps of publishing their findings. Due to your friendly relationship with your professor, the time had been lost, and your ten p.m. call time to arrive at Momo’s had been missed with a quick:

↳ held up at work! go on without me, sorry! see you at the party!!!!

When you crashed through the front door of your apartment, you froze, seeing Shouto in the hallway by the mirror. Sometime between getting his haircut to be shorter and from this day, he had begun to style his hair by threading it back by his fingers, and boy, it looked fucking good. He was already dressed up for the party. Black joggers, a white t-shirt that was a bit too small if the tight, seductive way it clung to his muscles spoke of anything, and a hoodie he had no care about in case he lost it after taking it off once getting there. Shouto was practically immune to all weather types, he could be in both snow or fire without a single worry, but he knew that a large sweatshirt that smelled like him was enough to hook and line any truly desperate female.

Shouto had chuckled, taking in your frazzled state with years of practice and nudged toward the fridge, already knowing that you had missed your pregaming with the girls.

“Shishikura has two rosés left. Grab ‘em, and we can pregame together.”

But that was all unimportant and already said.

In the end, it took you thirty minutes to get ready.

You had practically smeared on your makeup, hoping the warm, crazy miscoloring would be hidden within the crazy light show the party would definitely be displaying. Your outfit consisted of a tank top that exposed your cleavage and a skirt that hugged your legs and ass just right.

You came stumbling out of your room, fingers trying to shove on your earrings, the rings on your fingers clicking loudly against each other. You smiled breathily, gratefully accepting Shouto’s sweater as you slipped on your comfortable heels at the doorway before hurrying out.

Shouto kept an arm around your shoulder the entire way out, the immense heat of his body keeping you warm as his sweater rested lazily, awkwardly, around your shoulders and arms. You didn’t want to put it entirely on to save your makeup, and in case anyone had any fucking thing to say about the show you and Shouto were putting on. Eventually, the bright and comical conversation between you and Shouto began to grow louder as the pounding of dance music began to ring in your ears. Soon enough, you passed a few drunk people, more and more, until you reached the house where the party was.

Shoving the sweatshirt into Shouto’s chest, you grinned as the smell of alcohol, weed, over-cologne men and women, the faint smell of puke, and the gross crawl of BO flooded your nose.

Ah yes, nothing like a university party.

Shouto laughs at your evident piqued excitement, and after he pulls on the light blue sweatshirt, he grabs your hand, and into the overcrowded home you go.

The intense heat of overcrowded bodies on a dance floor that also makes up a drinking game floor makes you grateful for your choice of clothes. Everyone around you is already drunk, sloshed, intoxicated off their ass as unknown drinks spill from their red Solo cups, sometimes even raining down on you. You grimace as Shouto continues to pull you through. You can taste the Hennesy on your upper lip and somehow know that whoever was drinking it was a freshman with a vendetta to kill his liver and love for drinking before coming of legal age.

“What do you want to drink?” Shouto yells over the nearly obnoxiously loud music. He has his sight on the drinks counter. “Mixed or the juice?”

“Fuck me up with the jungle juice!” you yell right back, pressing to his side as two dancing (see, vigorously dry-humping) nearly trample on top of you. “Parties are meant to be a non-sober event. I need to be borderline blacked out five hours ago!”

The agreeing chuckle from Shouto isn’t heard by you at all, but you can feel his chest give a familiar vibration as finally, he pulls you from the sea of bodies to where the floor is especially wet and sticky. You’ve reached the bar area.

Grabbing your own red Solo Cup, you watch as Shouto makes his own drink. Heavy on the alcohol, light on the mixer, and a good handful of ice (he’s always liked the cold better). His hand reaches for your cup and you offer your cup up as he opens up an ice chest filled with neon-colored jungle juice.

When the drink is returned to you, the both of you cheers and take a long drink.

“Y/N!”

“Y/N-CHAN!”

“You’re finally here, you fucking slut! Getcha fat ass over here now!”

Your neck is twisted to see the absolutely plastered group of girls you considered to be your closest friends, and you laugh loudly.

“Seems like I’m needed,” you yell at Shouto, trying your best to act nonchalantly as he smiles knowingly at you. “Text me about what you decide to do if we don’t see each other?”

“Of course,” he simply responds before placing the curve of his cup back onto his lip as hands grabbed your arms and whisked you away.

In a matter of sixty minutes, you all had played five drinking games.

The girls felt it was imperative to get you to their level right away, so they started off with a game of King’s Cup. Not only was the deck rigged against you — you pulled all four of the four cards and thus had to chug four times — but you had drawn the last King and drank some weird concoction of jungle juice, a tequila shot, a vodka shot, and whatever the fucking hell Mina was drinking. How you managed to chug that and stay on your feet was beyond you, but it was without saying that you had utterly and inevitably caught up with the girls.

After the King's Cup came the Flip Cup game, your team won thankfully due to Mina’s one flip wonder as Kaminari struggled to down the shot in the cup.

After Flip Cup came Smoke or Fire, a game that had Tsuyu stuck on the bus for a record-breaking one round. No one could believe she did that.

Then came a round of Shot Roulette to end with what you were currently doing now, using a drinking card game Momo had made in her spare time to do embarrassing things at random.

Five games in an hour… you questioned if there was by any chance illegal substances in the jungle juice because it had felt like a whopping two minutes.

“It’s midnight!” Hagakure hollered, stumbling backward as she grinned in drunken, stupid happiness. She giggled before singing, “Midnight… memoriessss~!”

Mina groaned at the reference but completely perked up as the dance music changed suddenly from its slightly mellow, good vibe song to none other than Everytime We Touch by Cascada. By tradition, by applicable law by all and every god, when this one song played, everyone needed to stop what they were doing and immediately head to the dance floor.

With your hand slightly sticky with alcohol, and your mind absolutely clouded with alcohol, you whooped loudly as Mina dragged you to the dancefloor. 

You, seven girls, formed a closed circle, your Solo cups sloshing over with alcohol, and your faces scrunched tight as you danced and sang as loudly as you could. Each pounding beat of music vibrated in your chest, each offkey note sung by the party-goers making you feel light, happy, dizzy, and oh so perfectly drunk. For just a split moment, you lock eyes with Shouto, who’s across the dance floor, his arms wrapped around some girl you don’t recognize, eyes drinking you in. You smile for a bit before turning back around, arms rocketing up to the air with your excitement.

Although the song ended, the DJ continued to play bangers, and you never once stopped in your mirthful dancing and grinding against your friends as the night continued to carry on. But when you spun out from Mina, your entire world spinning with it, a pair of warm, heavy, large hands rested on your waist, and you laughed.

“Who is this?” you ask, head slamming backward to try and look at the person who had caught you yet hadn’t tried grinding against you. “Oh, Inasa? Hi!”

Yoarashi Inasa was one of your University's well-known jocks. He was a skilled runner, one of the best Japan has ever seen despite his body type telling you he was a bodybuilder. Immediately your smile of idiotic stupor became intentful, seductive, still bordering extreme intoxication. Was Inasa your type? No, not really, but you could reasonably and accurately say that he was a handsome man, with a fantastic body, not to mention a pleasant personality.

You also itched to know what his dick looked like.

This was definitely someone you could see yourself fucking tonight.

“Hi, y/l/n,” Inasa said, his naturally loud voice easily picked up on despite the music being blasted in your ear. “How’s your night going?”

You lick your dry lips, eyes blinking a few times before you turn in his arms, your arms stretching so that you could wrap them around his neck. “Better now that you’re here,” you smile shyly. “How’s yours.”

“Ahem,” Inasa blushes, his eyes staring straight at your cleavage before looking back up at you. “H-Hoping to get better from here! Well, I’m sure it will be.”

“Oh?” you ask, your confidence building faster and faster as you press further against him. “Anything you have in mind?” —you press your thigh suggestively against the semi-hard spot against his jeans. — “Anyway... I can... help?”

Inasa groans deep in his chest, his head knocking backward at your implications, the pleasant vibrations passing on to you. You grin, fingers scraping against the bottom of his buzzcut and bringing him closer, praying for a kiss. But as he returns his head back down, his gaze leaves yours for a split second, and you watch in horror as a sobering look washes over him.

“Actually… you’re here with some random dude, right? I don’t want to step on his toes. I thought I saw you come in with some guy; sorry y/l/n, I can’t do this.”

And just as quickly as he was against you, he was gone.

It took everything in you not to screech bloody murder over the fact that you were once again left horny with no man to take responsibility for it.

Calculated Rate of Not Getting Dicked Down When I Want to Get Dicked Down When Coming to a Party With Shouto: 78% Calculated Rate of Not Getting Dicked Down When I Want to Get Dicked Down When Coming to a Party Without Shouto: 22%

Walking home alone, cold, and with extreme bitterness towards Yoarashi Inasa was a sadly sobering experience. By the time you collapsed onto your bed, you were only slightly buzzed, boarding sobriety while not being sober exactly.

Fuck men.

Fuck their cowardness over a nonexistent romantic/sexual relationship between you and Shouto.

But also… you really wanted to fuck men right now.

The slicked horniness of the potential thought of bedding Inasa had made its unignorable appearance via your soaked panties. You hated yourself, hated your biological needs and lusts.

“I’ll wring Shouto’s neck in front of all of them next time,” you grumble to yourself. “Stage a fake breakup for an imaginary thing…”

Nestling further into your pillows, your eyes closed, body relaxing against the bed when a peculiar sound seemed to echo in your ear.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Your eyes slammed open, your jaw-dropping at the very obvious, entirely embarrassing sound of Shouto having sex on his desk sounded in your room! Of course it sounded in your room. His desk was pressed to your wall because that would mean whenever he was his icky womanizer self, you wouldn’t have to hear anything! Your rooms were soundproof but apparently not movement proof.

The thwack of the wood desk slammed against the wall, and with your ear so close to the wall, you began to hear the shaky, intense breathing of Shouto. The whines, keens, and screams of the girl he was fucking as she begged for more. Sobbing that his cock was too much for her.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Your panties soaked even more, and with a brain that somehow retracted back into its state of stupor, your fingers brushed against your swollen, ready clit.

This was wrong, so very, very wrong, you thought, the sounds of pitched whining against the stupidly impressive, steady, consistent fucking.

Your mind was a drunken fever. 

Your eyes closed not all the way, yet blind to the wall before you as your finger danced and teased against your demanding clit.

You whined softly, matching the groaning of Shouto, who banged something other than the desk into the wall.

For a moment, just this once, you wanted to be the one desperately clinging to Shouto’s back, hips snapping and circling in tandem to his, allowing him to drill his cock deep within you. Your back arched, heat reaching your toes, buzzing filling your lips.

“Yes, fuck, right there, Todoroki!” the girl screamed, begged, and prayed. “Oh my god, yes, yes yes, right there, right the— mmph!”

You find your teeth sinking into your fist, trying to keep your pounding, horny induced brain from crying out. You wanted to know what he was doing to her, if he had kissed her silent, shoved his fingers in her mouth. Maybe he had fucked her so good she couldn’t possibly say more.

There is nothing from Shouto you can hear, no noises of praise, nothing except the occasional ragged breath that seems to permeate through the walls and whisper sweetly, teasingly, like a succumbs in your ear.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

It increases, in noise, the wall separating your room from his beginning to rattle, shake in his conquest.

Your fingers are wet, entirely slippery with your conquest, your hips thrashing against your touch, clinging to a phantom memory of the last male you had managed to fuck. Then, as your stomach trembles with the orgasm that's mere seconds from blessing you with a release, you hear him—Shouto.

“Fuck.”

It’s not much. If anything, this girl should be so embarrassed she hasn’t been able to elicit a loud response from Shouto, but it’s a verbal gift from heaven above for you. His voice, tight, husky, drenched with a driving lust, whispers to you and only you, wrapping you in this blanket of solitude and need. 

With your back arching from the mattress, your hips leaving the soft surface, and your jaw growing slack, your moan is silent, unheard by no one but the heavens as you cum. Heat floods throughout your entire body, tickling and twirling in you until you can’t do anything but shudder, shaking as you fall back down on your bed, dizzy and completely satisfied. 

You don’t think about it.

Don’t try to unpack just what happened right now because the reality that you had just masturbated to the sound of your childhood best friend fucking some random girl is a bit too much. Even for you.

So you don’t think about it, and soon the thudding of the desk on the wall is nothing but a drumming lullaby, and sleep consumes you.

When you wake up, you don’t remember what you did.

You get up and trudge to the bathroom, your party clothes abandoned completely so that you’re wearing nothing but a large shirt you had stolen from Shouto years ago. You scratch your belly as you walk into the bathroom, eyes caked with your sleep still as you begin brushing your teeth.

As you brush your teeth, you begin to take off last night's makeup — well, whatever remained of it.

Spitting out the last foamy remains of the paste from your mouth, you rinsed your mouth before washing your skin. You looked much more awake now. Slapping your cheeks in an encouraging, ‘im a functional human adult taking part in some random face wash commercial,’ you exited the bathroom and went to the kitchen. 

Shishikura was already in the kitchen, his face expressionless, entirely dead to the world as he scooped some rice into a bowl and topped it off with some eggs.

“Morning,” you yawn, arms stretching over your head as you near closer to your unwanted roommate.

Shishikura sneers at you, but even he was more polite in the morning, sometimes.

“I heard the both of you get back last night,” Shishikura mocked, slamming the lid to his rice cooker with an unimpressed scowl. “You were thirty minutes apart. You know, if you two still want to be partying like a bunch of eighteen-year-olds, do it respectfully.”

Your smile back at him is as fake as he is, and you refuse to move out of the way as he tries to walk back to his room. He growls — gross? — and sidesteps you, grumbling the entire way back to his room as you roll your eyes at his retreating form.

What a child.

You entered the kitchen, fixing up your own things for breakfast.

Kettle brewing hot water for tea, rice cooker on for your own rice (you make enough for Shouto too), and you begin cooking some ham and eggs, readying yourself for a Sunday for going to the library and studying. You hummed to yourself, your phone plugged into the speaker as your music filled the quiet morning air.

You bobbed your head in rhythm with the music, your eyes concentrating on slowly cooking eggs as you poured the hot water from your kettle into the teacup. As you placed your teabag in, you looked up to the sound of a creaking door and grinned wickedly as a girl with light blue hair walked out of the hall you and Shouto’s room were in.

Her dress was rumbled, a few blooming red and purple marks sitting prettily on her collarbone, and her face flushed red as she began to scurry out.

“Bye!” you call out, laughing at the scared eep from the girl and the disgruntled groan from Shouto’s room.

You set down your tea, flipping the eggs in the pan as you heard more shuffling before finally, Shouto made his appearance. He was in nothing but grey sweatpants that sat so low on his waist you could not only see the band of his boxer-briefs, but you were entirely aware of the v-lines, the abs, the pecs, and the small happy trail from his belly button down. You also noted that there was not a single mark on his body, and you wondered if he had ever taken a single mark from a one-night fuck before.

God really cursed you with an objectively attractive best friend, huh.

“Morning, slut,” you sing, noticing with happiness that your rice cooker sang a merry tune, indicating that the rice was done. “Breakfast?”

“Mm,” Shouto grumbled, his hands rubbing his face as he trudged closer to the kitchen, taking a spot on one of the stools. “Depends. Did you make it?”

“...I always make it.”

“I think I like Shishikura’s breakfast better.”

Silence.

You glare at Shouto, and in turn, his lips press to a comfortable, teasing smile.

“Fend for your damn self then.”

Shouto laughed loudly as you began to stubbornly fix yourself a bowl of both your servings. You ate far less than he did, but still enough to fill you until after three pm, so the size of your bowl was hysterical. 

“You’re such a horrible wife-roommate,” Shouto accuses, standing up from the stool and entering the kitchen to try and persuade you otherwise to give him his own food. “And here I thought that you liked cooking for me.”

“Go tell your stupid wife-roommate Shishikura instead,” you cry loudly, the faux sniffles from you stupidly fake as you begin to shovel a mouthful of rice and eggs into your mouth. “I’m shwure you’chll beh happ t’gther!”

“That’s absolutely disgusting, y/l/n,” Shouto accuses, his nose scrunching as he traps you in his arms, mouth trying to intercept the food moving from your bowl and into your mouth. 

With another desire to prove how unsatisfied in your roommate-marriage you were, you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue full of uneaten, partially chewed rice.

“Ea’ eh!” you mocked, your grin growing as Shouto’s initial instinct was to whip his head away from you.

But as always, because Shouto enjoyed being incredibly annoying, he went after your tongue, readying to eat the chewed-up food off your very tongue. 

Eventually, you gave Shouto back his part of the breakfast, laughing as the both of you chatted about who was going to repay Shishikura for the used rosés. Neither one of you could decide, and so it was something to be solved later. Noon, however, came and with a nod, you accepted Shouto’s hug goodbye, to which you twisted his nose triumphantly as you waddled out of the front door, clothed in your winter gear, textbooks, and laptop,

It was time to brave the world and get this paper done.

“Mina, I mean… absolutely no offense when I say this, but it still shocks me every time you say you’re a chemistry major. You just seem so…”

“Dumb?”

“Yeah.”

“You gotta be some kind of stupid to willingly take inorganic chem,” Mina laughed, balancing her textbooks on her head as the both of you climbed the stairwell to the library’s study rooms. “That's why I have the dance minor! Best of both worlds!”

“Could never forget about that,” you laughed as the both of you neared the top of the stairwell.

You didn’t mean to notice him. As a matter of fact, most of your failed conquests at parties never amounted to much anger from you, but seeing Inasa from across the way, his face buried in some aerodynamics textbook, anger boiled in you. On the way to meeting with Mina, you had realized your mistake last night and how you wouldn’t have made said mistake if it hadn’t been for Inasa! You could’ve been dicked down, slammed against your bed and wall as the giant of a man fucked you!

“I’ll be right back,” you sneered, eyes narrowing as you passed your textbook to Mina.

With fire following in ever long, powerful stride, you blinked and immediately found yourself before Inasa.

“Hi. Wanna explain what happened last night?”

Inasa reacted as if you had shot him, his knees coming up to hit the table, his body knocking backward, and he tumbled, crashing to the floor as you watched with a gaping mouth.

“Y-Y/L/N!” Inasa shouted, his face going through half a billion emotions before settling in anxiety-filled fear. You watched, horrified yourself, as he swung to his knees, his head crashing to the floor as he began apologizing to you. “GOODMORNING, HOW ARE YOU TODAY?!”

“Pipe it down, Inasa!” you hiss, your cheeks flooding with embarrassed heat as you garnered the attention of everyone on the floor. “I’m not going to hurt you! I just wanted to talk!”

“Aha, yes, of course!” Inasa laughs, a full belly laugh. He sits up and you freeze seeing the bloodied cut on his forehead. He stands up, completely unaffected by the gash on his forehead, and uprights his chair before sitting comfortably. “How can I help you?”

“What happened to you last night?” you try again, eyebrow raised, arms crossed definitely and awkwardly because yeah… you were confronting a guy who didn't want to sleep with you. “You were into me and then suddenly wasn’t.”

Inasa laughs more, although nothing you said, implied, or did was even remotely funny.

Irritation runs through your veins.

“Inasa, please,” you sigh in helplessness, your eyes annoyed, pleading, and hopeful that he would be the one to finally give you an actual reason.

“It’s… it’s not you. If that’s what you’re wondering,” Inasa finally sighs. His face turns uncharacteristically solemn as his tongue passes through his lips, his shoulders raising to a shrug. “Typically speaking, you are exactly who and what I want when I endeavor in less than chivalrous but still passionate activities. I wanted you last night, and I will not lie that even as I left, I regretted behaving as I did.”

“Well, you did it, and it sorta really sucked,” you laugh, your mouth taut in a frown as your feelings are genuinely hurt.

You keep being put down, and there’s no reason for it.

Why couldn’t you be as sexually active as you wish you could be?

“...Todoroki has a claim on you,” Inasa spoke slowly, his mouth dipping from a usual smile to a frown. “I know you guys aren’t together, but in a way, you two are.”

“No,” you say with complete certainty, anger burning in your chest, “we’re not.”

“Try telling Todoroki that,” Inasa shrugs, his fingers scratching through his buzz cut. “Listen, I wanted to have intercourse with you last night; I did. I also am aware that Todoroki is a womanizer, but he said you were off-limits for all of us.”

“He said that?” your voice is perfectly calm, not showing the raging fire in you.

“Well, no, he definitely did not,” Inasa sighs, the palm of his hands pressing tightly against his eyes. “He has never said it… but it’s the way he talks about you, how he looks at you. It’s a claim on you, even if it’s not a verbal one, and well, no one wants to defy him.”

Your nostrils flare in your irritation, and you find that you’re stepping into Inasa’s personal space, his eyes going wide as you step between his legs and press your hands on his chest.

“I’ll be going home in about five hours. If you still want to fuck me, wait for me,” you say slowly, trying to make sure he understands. “I don’t care if Sho looks at me the way he does; he is not my boyfriend.”

Inasa gulps, his tan skin sporting a healthy pink flush, “Yes, ma’am.”

Five hours later, you’re walking into your apartment with Inasa behind you, his warm, slightly sweaty hand clasped in yours. You make eye contact with both your roommates, Shishikura, whose eyes are rolling to the depths of his skull, and Shouto, who looks like a wall. You, despite the anger you’re feeling for Shouto, smile prettily, then grin wolfishly as you corral Inasa towards your room. You send your roommates a wink before closing the door with a decisive click.

Much like you assumed the night prior, your drunken hazed, lust-driven, anger-flared thoughts proved to be right. Inasa fucked you against the wall, deep into the mattress, he drilled and fucked you until his dick was wet with your slick, and his leg was trembling with his plentiful unleashed loads. But you weren’t done yet, too many times have you been denied, and even though Inasa was trembling, his voice shaking with desperate pleas to slow down or he would cum too fast, you rode him with powerful, swiveling hips.

Once he left, you felt light again.

Your head light, body glowing as you dressed your bruised, cum slick body in a robe as you trudged to the bathroom. You showered, letting the warm water and sweet-smelling oils drench your body before you eventually exited, your hair in a towel, Shouto’s shirt on your person again.

Waltzing to the living room, you grinned as you collapsed on the couch, every grievance you held when you walked in forgotten at the moment.

“Hello,” you smile, your head falling onto Shouto’s lap who was, at the moment, very interested in his phone. Shishikura was gone, undoubtedly leaving in case he heard something he didn’t want to hear during your little four-hour sexscapade. “I am a leaf flowing through the river right now, if you’re wondering.”

“Don’t need to wonder. You were perfectly loud enough,” Shouto grumbled, his eyes rolling. “Says something that I could, considering the rooms are soundproof.”

“I should hope so! After you, the girls rave that Inasa is the best fuck on campus,” you hum, still on a delirious high as you attempt to reach for your best friend's hand to grasp. But to your shock, Shouto jerks away from your touch, and he stands, letting your head fall roughly on the couch. And just like that, your anger is back. The emotion Inasa had managed to fuck out of you for a bit returned at full force. “Shouto?!”

“What?” he snaps.

“What the fuck is your problem?!”

“My problem is that you brought someone to fuck at fucking five p.m.,” Shouto explains, his expression like the void, empty, dark, menacing. “We agreed to keep it until past ten.”

Your face screws up as you push up off the couch, “Are you kidding me?! I’ve seen you constantly bring girls to fuck at any and all times of the day! Don’t suddenly bring that shit in when it clearly isn’t an actual rule in this apartment!”

“You were also being obnoxiously loud,” Shouto narrows his eyes at you.

“You are too!”

“When am I ever?”

“I literally listened to you fuck that girl last night against our shared wall!”

“You moved your bed to our shared wall?! When?!”

“Doesn’t matter! I would’ve heard it just fine on the other side!”

“The girl wasn’t even that fucking loud!” 

“You can’t ever remember the names of the girls you fuck! Do you know anything about them ever? Are you even using condoms?!”

“You only ever fuck men with questionable personalities.”

“Gee, I wonder fucking why!”

The two of you were nose to nose, anger flaring and near tangible between the two of you.

“What do you mean?” he grits slowly.

“I’m talking about you mad dogging any male human who so much as looks or thinks of me!” you snap, finger shoving between his pecs. “No one touches me because somehow they respect the way a womanizer looks at me.”

“I’m not looking at you in any special way,” Shouto squints his eyes, completely not having your accusations.

“Even if you don’t, this fucking behavior is pathetic of you!” you say, hands motioning between you two and the room. “I had sex, and you’re acting like some pathetic child! I have been putting up with your sex-craze tendencies since we were sixteen, asshole! Sixteen! If I want to gloat and float about having sex, then I fucking deserve to.”

His nostrils flare, his upper lip curling in a small twitch before he rolls his eyes and walks away.

“That’s right, Todoroki,” you laugh bitterly at his retreating form. “Walk away from a fight because you can never win them.”

It took a bit for the dust to settle, but as soon as it did, you realized in horror that you and Shouto had, for the first time ever, fought.

Being roommates with Shouto was always a fun thing. Having your childhood best friend right at your disposal meant that you could have dinner nights, movie nights, game nights, morning waffles, hikes, and literally anything whenever and wherever you wanted. He was a person to talk to when the days were long, and there was no one else in the world, the person who was there for you through thick and thin. But for two days, he had been locked away in his room, unwilling to look at you, refusing to be anywhere near you.

Your friends had noticed immediately.

The way the both of you hadn’t shown up together, the way you sat at opposite ends of the table, refusing to be trapped in a conversation together. Separate the two of you were, and the world acted as if Earth had dropped out of gravity.

You could care less right now.

You were rightfully mad at him! How dare he act so pettily over you having a sex life when you were expected to blink, turn the other way, and laugh when he would shower after a girl would leave before joining you on the couch to watch a movie. He was in the wrong, not you!

But even if you were unwilling to budge and he was refusing to see things the way they should be, you were now incredibly lonesome. So as you sat with your back on the mattress. Your butt to the wall, and your legs kicking against the wall, you thought of what you could do. With a bitter sigh, you rolled off your bed and scurried out of the apartment. Nothing but your wallet and ID on you so that you could get to the store on the first floor of the complex.

Holding the item in hand, you knocked on a door, your gaze already on the floor, embarrassed that you were going to do what you had to do.

“What?” came the annoyed voice of Shishikura, the door to his room opening as he looked at you unimpressed and very obviously unwelcomed.

“Truce?” you asked, raising the six-pack of Angry Orchard Rosé Cider. 

Shishikura looks at you, at the ciders, then back at you.

“Fine.”

How in the world you’re drunk off of four rosé ciders is beyond you, but you are. You’re in the living room, laughing so hard that your stomach hurts as you’re trying not to snort the liquid from your mouth and out your nose. Shishikura is equally plastered off of one drink, his red a ruby red against his purple hair. He’s leaning against you, his breathing ragged, near asthmatic as he tries to once explain just how Shouto looked like when some girl slapped him across the face yesterday for ghosting her after sex.

“He was so shocked!” Shishikura squeaked out, his voice pitchy and incredibly high as he laughed more and more. “You should have seen it!”

Your feet kicked at the air, your face and lungs burning with a fire you hadn’t felt in so long as your laughter turned silent. You gasped for air, trying to contain yourself but failing hysterically.

“Do you wa’ another meatballsh?” Shishikura suddenly asked, his hands flailing to grab his plate of meat. “I think you want another o’.”

“I wan’ ‘ne!” you cried with a slight slur, tears of joy slipping past your eyes to which you haphazardly scrubbed them off your face. “They’re soooo good! I didn’t think they could be so… be so good!”

You find yourself eating another meatball, drinking it down with the cider and feeling happy again. Shishikura goes still by your side, and you hum in wonder, unfocused eyes trying to find what had caught his attention and falling onto the one man you were mad at currently.

Shouto was standing at the apartment entrance, dressed in ripped black jeans, a tight grey turtleneck sweater, and his backpack slung on his shoulder. It was, without a doubt, a studying-only outfit. You knew and have discussed too many times with Shouto about how he never trusted women to take his turtlenecks off without potentially ruining the fabric.

“Well, someone’s finally home... from a night of beddin mo’ women, huh?” a voice spoke, but you were completely unsure if it was you or Shishikura who said it.

Judging by the way Shouto’s eyes locked on Shishikura and not yours, it seemed it was him who said it.

“No, I was doing something,” Shouto retorted, his hand gripping the strap of his backpack, his eyes shifting between you and Shishikura. “A paper for class.”

“Sure,” you end up speaking up, your voice sounding completely sober. You sit up so that your elbow is resting on Shishikura’s nearest shoulder. You raise the glass bottle to your lips, drinking its content without care, never once breaking eye contact. “What was the paper's name? You going after your TA? Or was it a professor by chance?”

Shouto’s eyebrows furrow, his face completely unimpressed by your comeback, but he remains silent.

“He looks like he’s trying to cosplay that one Young The Rock picture, no way would a dignified professor or TA fuck him!” Shishikura laughed with a loud bark, and all of a sudden, that was all you could see too.

The both of you howled with laughter, laughing and slapping each other as you attempted to drink the last bits of the rosés as Shouto rolled his eyes and walked away.

“This is fun. No wonder why you guys do it to me so often.”

-

As time does, it moves forward.

It seemed as if the entire campus had tuned in to what had transpired between you and Shouto. No one the slightest bit sure as to what happened, but everyone knew something big had happened. There was no more walking together before classes or after classes, no weird Instagram or Snapchat stories of the other, both of you never having to excuse yourself because you had plans with the other. Even though they claimed to not care about other people’s business, the school was suddenly invested in the single speculation that Todoroki Shouto’s and Y/l/n Y/n’s relationship was over.

“Breaking News, it was never a real relationship!” you would scream the first few times you heard it, which only worked to make them whisper louder that you were in further denial.

For the last seventeen years of your life, you had never gone more than two days without talking or seeing your childhood best friend. Those two days happened when Rei had experienced a staggering, hospital-inducing breakdown from stress and had subsequently burned Shouto when you were five years old. The two days were because he spent four days in the hospital. The first two days, he was not allowed visitors as the hospital staff put him under a coma to help his body from entering shock and heal. Of course, the moment he was awakened, you were dragging your mother to his bedside.

That was the only time you hadn’t seen or spoken to Shouto consistently.

But since Sunday evening, you had only seen Shouto once when you were drunk with Shishikura. You had only spoken to him then too.

For the first time in seventeen years, you broke your record of not talking or seeing Shouto.

From two days to five.

It was weird.

You felt almost empty.

So when Mina and Uraraka placed their arms around your shoulders, their eyes dead serious, you knew that they had a distraction for you.

“The deltas are throwing a party,” Uraraka spoke with mystery. “It is on Saturday.”

“It is only right that we go, get our asses so drunk our blood is practically a distillery, and fuck anyone who looks at us a second longer than anyone else,” Mina agrees, her tone wise and knowing as she nods her head.

“Our question to you is:” they spoke together, their voices weirdly, obviously practiced, in synch. “Are you in?”

Your tongue is pressed between your lips, your fingers pressing against the textbook you were using to help support your essay’s thesis, and you roll your eyes.

You grin.

“Obviously.”

And as time promises each and every time, Saturday finally came.

“What is our objective tonight?!” Mina screams over the background music that Jirou is blasting in Momo’s larger-than-life bathroom.

“To fuck bitches and get money!” Hagakure, the only one currently not downing a drink, screams back.

“NO, WRONG!” Mina shakes her head, climbing onto the white marble countertops and pointing at Jirou. “Kyo! Your turn!”

“To beat that prick in the sound booth and prove that I’m—”

“NO! Wrong again! Yaomomo!”

“Um, to make everlasting mem—”

“INCORRECT, YOU GORGEOUS PRINCESS! Tsuyu, don’t fail me, babe!”

“Well, it’s to prove to Todoroki that y/n-chan should be able to fuck any person she wants.”

“A bit lengthy, a bit focused on the wrong parts of it, but YES! Tonight’s operation: get y/n a man — preferably Inasa — who fucks the negativity out of her!”

You laugh loudly, rolling your eyes as you lean in closer to the mirror. You hold a Mike’s Hard in one hand, and in the other is your eyeliner as you paint on your makeup. You’re not really hearing the conversations that the girls are having, your own mind too lost in the music, and the swaying you’ve picked up as the three bottles of Mike’s you’ve had in the past thirty minutes are calming down your still frazzled nerves.

You don’t pull away from your reflection until after you’re done smoothing over your favorite lipstick on your pouty lips. You look over at your reflection and see Mina dancing with an awkwardly stiff Jirou and a delightfully giggling Momo on the bathroom countertops. A smile forms on your face, happiness radiating in your chest, and you grin looking at your friends.

But Shouto still sat in your mind, and you couldn’t help but wonder why.

Why did it hurt knowing that he was avoiding you as much as you were him?

Why didn’t he just try to corner you?

Why did you care that he didn’t?

He was your best friend in the entire world, since your earliest memories, he’s been there, you reason, your whooping not quite as loud as you watch Jirou awkwardly be sandwich between a grinding Mina and a complacent Momo.

It was his fault you, you further reasoned, smiling widely at Hagakure, who was twirling around you, applying her lipstick as a super crazy never before seen talent of hers. He was the one acting like an idiot over the people you slept with even though you let all the people he slept with slide!

But why did you?

Your brows furrowed slightly, unfurrowing just as quickly as Mina pulled you and Uraraka up onto the countertop with her as Jirou and Momo dropped to the floor.

You fucking were in love with Shouto, damnit! Of course you let the stupid personal things go just to appease him! Your back straightened, your eyes rolling as you began to dance with the Kehlani music thumping in the background, but then you freeze.

You were in love with him.

You loved Shouto.

Not in a friendly, platonic, family way.

In an ‘I would date you if I could and marry you on the prettiest beach in front of the most beautiful sunset’ way.

You found that your body was dancing on autopilot as you began to reassess your thoughts, your actions, your wants with Shouto, desperately trying to disprove this love for him. But no matter what you did, you found that it was true no matter what angle you looked at it.

The bass dropped, and you went stiff, your body standing straight and tall although you felt incredibly, terribly small.

“I love him,” you spoke, although you’re not sure who to. Maybe it was to the laughing gods above you or the crying spirits around you. But the girls heard it for some reason, and they, as they were patiently waiting for these past six, nearly seven days, caught you as you went weak.

Finally, realizing that you were in love with your childhood best friend was not the conclusion you expected from a week's silence from Shouto and you. But as you were currently in a crop top with a mesh shirt underneath and the most ripped jeans you owned, chugging down a neon green and blue nearly toxic alcoholic drink, you realized that being at this party was the right way to conclude this circus of a week.

The rush of the liquid dropping down the beer bong was something you found yourself struggling to keep up with, and you felt some of the liquid pour out of your mouth as you grunt, trailing down your heaving chest, creating an image in your onlookers as you refused to choke or pull away. Swallowing the last bit of the drink, ripping the plastic tube out of your mouth, you threw your hands in the air, Tsuyu, who had held and poured the contents for you, screaming too as she lifted your arm in victory.

You couldn’t really hear the music anymore, much more entranced with the music you were singing on your own, and you were currently holding Mina’s face, touching foreheads with her as you spoke a mantra of your love for her.

“Ashido Mina, you are the baddest bitch in the whole wide world. I love your pink hair and your fat ass, and I would die for you. I love you… so fucking much,” is what you said. How it was actually said and how it was perceived is a whole other story because Mina laughed loudly and allowed you to hug her despite your sticky alcohol body.

Your twenties were the new two’s, it seemed.

“Yo, y/l/n!” a voice yelled, and although you let go of Mina’s face, your arms found a new home around her neck as you turned around.

“Hm?”

Your terrible drunk eyes looked all over before falling on a man wearing a basketball jersey and joggers.

Shindou Yo, one of campus’ manwhores. He had a reputation similar to Shouto, you knew that very well, but you were aware that he was disturbingly creepy. According to many vital witnesses, the man slept with just about anyone willing regardless of gender, so not only did you know what the girls thought of him, experienced with him, there was a wider demographic not even Shouto had entered. Number one thing to be told was the fact that Shindou was into some heavy, dark shit to an extreme, his room reeked of sex, and he himself smelled like booze, weed, and BO. But a strong dick was a strong dick at the end of the day.

“Come play beer pong with me?” he asked, his hands shoved into his pockets as he smiled innocently. “I’ve heard some pretty solid shit about your skills, and I want to see how I add up.”

“I’ll play!” you agree immediately, jumping at the thought of drinking more. “Bu I don’t wa’ beer… ish nashty.”

“Anything for you, darling.”

With your arm still holding onto Mina, you accepted Shindou’s hand and allowed him to drag you off to where he wanted to play the game of beer pong.

The game of beer pong went without a single thing going wrong. You were paired up with Shindou, and Mina had managed to find Kirishima in the crowd before you got to your destination and demanded she have him as a partner and not Monoma.

It was safe to say that you were drunk, disgustingly out of your mind. It was an intense game of Cup Pong, the two different teams equally as bad in the drunken stupor, but finally, the two teams were down to a single cup and Kirishima — who was the only reason why they were winning!!!! — had the last ball. You watched in terrible apprehension, fingers digging into Shinsou’s biceps as Kirishima rose the wet ping pong ball to Mina’s lips and let her blow on it for good luck before bringing it back in and began a few steadying practice throws.

“You know, I’m glad I saw you at this party,” Shindou whispers to you, his head ducking down so that you and only you could hear that.

“Why?” you say a lot louder than you wanted, your heart hammering in fear that you would lose this game.

“Because you’re sexy as fuck,” Shindou spoke, his voice turning deeper, huskier, “and now you’re single.”

You blink, attention stolen from the game as you forgot about the final cup and looked at Shindou with a blank stare and an open mouth.

“What?”

“Cuz you and Todoroki are over,” Shindou explains to you as if you’re a child. “You guys are over, right? That’s all everyone’s talking about, and all us guys are ready to fuck you whenever you’re ready.”

His smirk irritates you, the lust in his eyes angering you as you drop your hold on his arm.

“We weren’t together, and you knew that,” you say, eyes narrowing as the crowd watching the game explodes in raging cheers as Kirishima sinks the ball into the cup. “Why the fuck would Shouto be fucking every girl that walks if we were together? What makes you think I’d be okay with it?”

“You’re a cuck,” Shindou continues on, confidence unaffected. “Oh, are the two of you maybe changing roles now? Does the big guy want me to fuck you in front of him?”

Your fist makes contact with his throat before you can even stop yourself and the cheers quickly turn into gasps.

After apologizing profusely to the party holders, they decided that you could, in fact, stay at the party. Your knuckles throbbed in pain, the alcohol in your system buzzing in you in a way that wasn’t fun or relaxing as you made a simple side-step dance move in the middle of the dance floor. The girls, who had at the beginning of the party, drifted ways, had once more glued themselves at your side on the floor. You weren’t in a dancing mood as you took a drink of what you assumed to be a Moscow mule made by Mina for you to keep you at a high for the rest of the party.

Like hell you would ever let Shouto cuck you!

Let him fuck another woman in front of you?

You would go insane if he ever thought that would be acceptable.

“Down girl, relax!” Mina yelled by your ear. “I thought I was babysitting y/n, not Bakugou Katsuki!”

You startled, realizing that your frown had become a fierce snarl as you danced on the floor.

“Come on, babe, let’s get you feeling good again; let’s enjoy this night!” Mina exclaimed, her hands pushing your drink to your mouth and forcing you to chug the contents of the drink. The red Solo Cup is dropped to the floor as soon as you finish. She grabbed your wrists and began to fluidly move your arms — or as well as she could manage herself because she, too, was drunk.

But with Mina winking and smiling at you, the rest of the girls eventually throw themselves into your linked dance circle, your own negative emotions left and in came joy.

It took about another round of ten songs for the dance circle to be destroyed and to have all of you resuming a rave-like jumping and scream-singing as Jirou finally snuck her way into the DJ booth and succeeded to take over. You spun around at the end of one song, laughing completely out of breath as you clapped your hands together. You often forget that while Jirou only listened to a very specific genre, she was a musical genius who had banger playlists for every occasion.

It seemed frat parties were one of them.

However, the next song had your head tilting backward, your grin spreading even wider as you began to move your hips in slow, distinct movements. Dancing with your hips was something you had learned, something you instilled into your dancing category for as long as you could remember.

The beats were loud, deep, thumping deep in the ground and vibrating with great strength in your chest as you pointed a finger at Mina, who was also dancing similarly to you. Your lips moved as you sang the song quietly, the heat and humidity of the room suddenly pressing onto you like another person. You hummed, flicking the parts of your hair sticking to the nape of your neck off, grateful for the slightly cooler air hitting your sweaty skin.

As you rolled your hips down, your hands fanning yourself, trying to cool down your deliriously warm, alcohol-heated body, you froze for just a bit. A person pressed to your back, your ass pressing against a hot thigh, and a hand resting upon the curve of your thigh, keeping you in place. You might have cared, but the body against yours was a welcomed one. Your hips and ass continuing to move in tandem with the music, deliberate highs and lows, and you worked your way up and down the man's body who met yours with spinning accuracy that made you began to pant, your heart racing because this was hot to you. You raised your arms behind you, clasping onto his neck, keeping him on you.

His hair was soft under your touch, slightly sweaty but threaded and parted between your fingers just too easily. His left hand, which had found a spot on your stomach, was radiating heat, something easily felt due to you only having mesh cloth there.

It was slow.

Sensual.

Somehow familiar.

Absolutely mind-numbing.

His chest broad against your back, muscles strong and tight against you.

He was skilled, practiced. Someone you knew was not going to disappoint you, and as your lust-glazed eyes took in the entirely shocked looks of your friends, you finally turned to look.

Somehow, someway, you weren’t shocked at all to see Shouto’s clouded, dark eyes locking on yours. Your world seems to freeze as something between you and Shouto is so obviously broken between you, forever changing, no longer able to go back. It didn’t matter that this was the first time in almost a week you had seen him, had talked to him, he was there, and you wanted to feel his skin scorching against yours. His touch screamed of his want for you, your recognition of your love for him, and your current lust for him. You were angry, hurt, confused, but you were too drunk to care, too intoxicated on the spell the two of you created on this dance floor.

But even as your world froze, the music continued on.

Grabbing Shouto’s hand, you spun around so that his chest was now pressed against yours, your legs between his. You continued dancing, continued to roll your hips down as you sunk down to the ground as Shouto remained standing, his hand supporting and balancing you as you went down and up. He began to dance with you again, the world seemingly disappearing as the two of you ground and panted heavily in each other's ears.

He pushed forward, and you whined, feeling the blazing swollen heat of his semi-hard cock against your stomach, but you met him there.

Your fingers fisting in his hair as his hands found their way into your back pockets, gripping your ass, and your eyes fluttered shut as his mouth, blazing, intense, and intentful, mashed against yours. You kissed him back immediately, all defenses abandoned to that of your lust, wants, and needs. His mouth was a fire, his kiss a blaze that consumed you, drowned you, made you push for more.

It was a kiss that lasted who knows how long, but by the time you had separated, you could feel the familiar sting to your slowly swelling lips and the song that had ended.

His eyes were a near black, his cheeks flushed, and his arms kept you so close you had to think if you were in the privacy of your home or in public.

“I want you,” you whispered, your voice begging, pleading for him.

“I need you,” he responded, his voice equally wishing.

“Take me home,” you speak, lips pressing sloppy, desperate hot kisses to his neck. “Take me home and fuck me.”

“Fuck, yes, okay. Let’s go,” Shouto pants, his hands leaving your ass and grabbing onto one of yours before taking you and dragging you away.

It wouldn’t hit you until much later, but the very first kiss you had ever had with Shouto was in the middle of a dance floor, at a party where the male population had been ready to snatch you up after your relationship with Shouto was so-called over.

You were breathless.

No matter how deep you inhaled, you felt like you weren’t having enough oxygen flooding your veins, filling your lungs. You laugh loudly in the night, uncaring about the strangers you passed looking at you and Shouto, who chuckled and snorted with every giggle you made.

This felt crazy, insane, something serendipitous and not real even in the smallest of bits.

He kissed you.

He wanted you.

He said he needed you.

Wants and needs were different things, but he said need.

He needed you.

Just you.

Your feet ached from the running, but you could only focus on Shouto, your mind filling and swimming in the memory of his body pressed to you. The way his lips ghosted over your neck, and the way he danced against you — with you. The four-block walk back to your apartment seemed too far, and your eyes locked on a nearing alleyway.

With much more strength than you should have, you shoved Shouto into the alleyway, your mouth immediately pressing onto his.

Shouto groaned into your mouth, letting you drink his noises as you pulled him close, consuming him in a messy clash of teeth, spit, and tongue. You whined back, your legs slotting between his thigh and grinding down on the hard muscle. It alleviated the growing, scorching heat in your panties but also intensified it, making you want for more and more and more.

“You drive me fucking insane,” Shouto groaned in your mouth, shifting and guiding your rolling hips his thigh better, more fluid, more intense.

Your eyes barely cracked open, your mouth no longer kissing him put pressing against his in an open mouth pant. Your drunken breath saying nothing but implying the world.

Something Shouto was more than keen on giving you.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered for you to hear, so reverent, so holy. And so that you, the center of his world, the only thing he saw and believed in, knew how passionately, how ardently he believed in you, his mouth slid down your neck, and his teeth sunk in your flesh. He claimed you, praised you, making you a part of him.

“I’m still so mad at you!” you moan, voice pitched, whiny, and deliriously high. “I love you, asshole. I love you, and you sleep around! I love you, and I don’t care if you sleep around, but you care that I sleep around?!”

“I love you too,” Shouto mumbles against your neck, his teeth continuing to press into your skin that seems to explode with heat at the revelation. “I love, and I’m an idiot; I’m so sorry.”

And then he does something with his tongue against your neck, the soft of swipes, the wet tickling heat making your head slam back against the brick wall, and a mangled, strangled moan of unadulterated want emits from you.

“We'll talk about this in the morning,” you pant, fingers fisting in his shirt. “We can fix this, but right now, shut up and fuck me.”

“Y/n—”

“I’m horny,” you interrupt, hips sharply jutting into his leg. “You made me horny. Take responsibility.”

His eyes flashed dark, his nostrils flaring, and your words cemented in his head. He resumed his painting, his worship on your neck as you cried loudly in the alleyway, desperate, needy for more.

It was dizzying to have him on you like this.

For so long, you had only touched him in a few ways, had only ever felt a specific type of warmth. But this was unlike anything you’ve ever done with him, to him. It felt like you were burning and freezing, consumed by heat and energy and everything Shouto. His all too familiar cologne filled your nose, drowning your brain, invading your senses. His frantic heartbeat felt against your own body, telling you exactly how you were affecting him, how you made his heart speed and jump with every breathy whine.

“Fuck, I can’t do this. We need to get home now!” Shouto growls, his hands grabbing you by the wrist yet again and pulling you away.

His strides are long, quick, and powerful. You’re running to keep up, beautifully out of breath, staggering and stumbling to keep up in his objective to get back to the apartment now.

It doesn’t seem to take long before he’s pushing open the doors to the apartment complex, corralling you through the doors and into the elevator to get to the eleventh floor. The elevator doors are behind you, and with no one else in the life, you turn on him and immediately resume your own endeavor of claiming Shouto with your mouth, body, and soul. He matches your intensity, hands roaming from where the clasp of your bra sat to the curve of your ass. He grabbed you, pulled you in closer, the air in his nose staggering as you stammer against his mouth.

Teeth touch lips, tongues in each other's cheeks, and Shouto leads you out of the elevator backward, his one hand on your waist forever steady and the other one holding the key. Your fingers are back in his hair, pulling and tugging sharply on the soft, short strands with nearly disappeared gel. He gets to the door, fumbling with the key as you continue to kiss him, distracting him with the smallest of movements.

“Which room?” he asks against your mouth, pushing you through the threshold, his foot closing the door behind him.

The shoes are haphazardly kicked off and you’re now on your tiptoes to continue kissing him as you were. You tried to think, tried to figure out if you wanted to be surrounded by Shouto’s scent or to have him displayed in your room. His teeth then suckle on your bottom lip, biting down on the swollen, hot flesh just gentle enough that your mind draws a blank and your voice responds on its own.

“Mine.”

You shriek then, Shouto swiftly picking you up off the floor and you panic, hands swatting and beating on him as you scream to let you down. He continues walking, holding you without a worry, his arms remaining strong and firm beneath you. But with your distraction, with your lips no longer pressed sinfully against his, Shouto’s mouth finds a junction point on your clavicle and sinks his teeth down again, claiming you once more.

“S-Sho—” your voice hitches, the feeling too intense for you to process all at once. You hear your room door open and close, and without warning, you’re soaring through the air before collapsing on the bed.

“You think I go to the gym to get muscles for fun?” Shouto taunts, his fingers hooking under the dark grey t-shirt he’s wearing. “Angel, I go to the gym to make sure I can fuck you in any position, against any surface or wall you want.”

Your body feels like it's scorching as he removes his shirt, his muscles rippling and moving seductively with the devious, intentional movement.

“What’s wrong, y/n?” Shouto asks, the shirt dropping to the floor, removing all traces of oxygen from your person. He steps closer, fingers circling around your ankle and suddenly pulling you in toward him until you were sitting at the edge, his lips hovering over yours. “Cat got your tongue?”

Your tongue feels dry in your mouth, but your eyes narrow before you push up and capture his mouth back with yours. He kisses you back deeply, bending down so that you begin to shift backward, allowing him the space to crawl onto the bed with you, and at the last moment, your leg wraps around his waist and spins the both of you. Shouto gasps as you pin him onto the mattress, your tongue invading his mouth, brushing and swirling against his, coaxing his own tongue back into your own mouth. With the wet heat in your mouth, your teeth playfully, just gently dig into his appendage and tug.

“No, but it seems like I got yours,” you humor him, your teeth releasing his tongue, and Shouto looks up at you like you were both the sun and the moon, and the stars were a gift to him.

It takes your breath away.

Shouto grins, shifting onto his elbows so that he’s closer to you before kissing you again.

The kiss is growing louder, both your mouths ever so consuming, trying to relay years of repressed, unknown emotions and feelings within a drastic, incredible touch. Your hips begin shifting against his crotch, humping his clothed erection, demonstrating yet again the power and grace you hold in your body.

Shouto’s hands move from your ribs up to your breasts, and with the hot, rough flesh of his skin, he squeezes your tender flesh. You moan into his mouth, hips bucking wildly against him at the sensation. It isn’t a powerful flesh, but a reminder, a demonstration of just what and where he could inflect passionate actions.

Your hands scour his chest, fingernails dragging teasingly down his firm, developed muscles, fingers flicking and teasing at his own exposed nipples. Shouto grunts into your mouth, hips bucking powerfully upward into your clothed cunt, and you splutter at the power behind it. But it seems as though Shouto is over the fishnet mesh shirt and crop top you’re wearing because he’s tugging it out of the waistband of your jeans and commands in a deep, lust-ridden voice: “Off.”

Goosebumps flash across your skin, bubbling and spraying across your sensitive skin as your shirt and crop top join Shouto’s on the floor. Your gasp loudly when Shouto rolls the both of you over swiftly, his mouth immediately pressing hot, viper kisses on your breasts. All thought and reason leave your mind as his teeth nip and pull. His fingers pushing the straps of your bra off your shoulders and shoving your boobs out of the bra in a firm hold.

“You have no idea how fucking long I’ve wanted to touch you, kiss you, fuck you,” Shouto whispers, his tone almost dark as his hot air fans against your already pebbling nipples. “Fuck, angel, you’re better than anything I’ve ever dreamed about.”

You whine loudly, fingers tangling in his hair as you desperately, wordlessly try to persuade him to put his lips around your attentive, eager nipples.

“I always forget you got these things,” Shouto says in wonder, his fingers touching the metal bars sitting so innocently, deviously on through your nipple. He tugs on the bar, and all the nerves in your breast fire and tingle, and your feet curl by his back as you whimper. “Fuck... I can’t believe I forgot…”

“S-Shouto, I fucking swear!” you almost screech, hands desperately pulling at strands of red and white, wanting his teeth and tongue and the suction of his mouth on your nipple. “Stop. Fucking. Talking!”

Shouto chuckles, his eyes of blue and grey flashing up at you dangerously, knowingly.

“Okay,” he says cheekily, and as if he read your thoughts, his teeth gently bit down on your all too ready nipple. Your head slams against the mattress, your chest feeling alive as if you had been electrocuted. He sucks your nipple, teeth tugging on the sensitive flesh, clacking against the metal in your flesh. His fingers taking care of your lonesome nipple, keeping it company with gentle, purposeful rolls as he has you sobbing his name.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, although you have no idea what you’re begging for. Your hips pathetically grinding into his clothed cock, trying to get yourself to cum while not having been touched. “Sho— Shouto!”

Shouto pulls away from your nipple with a loud pop. His breath panting, short, and overwhelmingly strained as if simply sucking your throbbing, needy nipple had given him the same amount of pleasure as it did you before consuming your forgotten one. Just as before, you melted against him, begging please, pretty please to him but never telling him what you were wanting. You didn’t know what you were wanting.

But unlike before, his hands leave their attentive position on your free nipple and slam your hips back down onto the mattress, keeping you down and still as he continued his ministrations until you were nipplegasming. You choked as the orgasm consumed you, your body going rigid and your eyes rolling to the depths of your head as his hot mouth was all you could think of. For a moment, the needy wet heat between your thighs was easily ignorable, something unneeded until Shouto was pulling away and kissing you again.

His chest was pressed tight against your own chest, your sensitive, overstimulated nipples rubbing against his chest with the welcomed friction as you let out a wordless, near-dizzy sigh into Shouto’s mouth. He kissed you with incredible passion, with dizzying heat, and consuming lust.

Your voice was so small, your voice easily drowned in Shouto’s mouth as your fingernails dug into his back and raked down pathetically, desperately proving that you were still here. Still fighting him on just who would win this night. Your fingers went down the curve of his spine, trailing down until you found the waistband of his sweats, and with his mouth everso distractingly on the swell of your breasts, biting, marking, and sucking hickies and his print on you for forever, he helped you slide the pants off.

In an almost dramatic fashion, his eyes burning deep into yours, leaving you stunned and a worshiper at his feet, he rose off your bed and let the pants fall. You shakily inhaled, your eyes suddenly transfixed and only seeing the hard, leaking dick that stood tall and proud against his twitching stomach. At the mere sight of him, you now truly, completely, and entirely understood just why the girls were obsessed.

From tip to the base, he was thick, the flush of his skin gorgeous, the curve of his cock optimal to fuck anyone. He was long, thick, and delicious—trimmed pubes of red and white and balls that had your mouth watering and going dry. You wondered, imagined, tried to visualize just how much it was going to hurt getting that in you. You’ve never had a man with a dick like that, never had to choke or fuck on something that looked like it would possibly render you stupid the moment you were impaled.

“Can I?” you ask, ‘can I touch you? Can I suck you?’ go unsaid.

“You owe me one,” Shouto says, his words teasing if it wasn’t for the way his voice betrayed him with the eagerness, the want and inexplicable tell that says if you don’t touch him, he will lose his fucking mind. “Please, do it.”

You’re dragging him back onto the bed, sitting him by your headboard, spreading his legs apart as you situate yourself between them. With a tentative, shaky hand, you reach out and grab on his dick.

His flesh is hot to the touch; it's hard and twitches just so at your grasp. Shouto lets out a gasp mixed with a whine, and you look at him with wide eyes and parted lips. Unable to help yourself, you lean in, your nose touching the underside of his length and nuzzling into the flesh. You look back up at him with hooded eyes, eyes dark with mirth, lust, and an overwhelming need to please Shouto. He stares back, eyes entirely too bright, almost scared, almost as if he can’t believe this is happening.

You smile softly, eyes breaking contact to look at the swelling cock in your hand, and then back at him as your tongue pokes out of your mouth and puts a long, wet stripe against his length.

And Shouto?

Shouto moans like a man who’s had warm food after days of starving.

You lick from base to tip, saliva mixing with precum as your mouth presses teasing, open mouth kisses down the length of his cock, tongue pressing against the sweltering heat of his balls.

“Fuck, y/n, stop teasing,” Shouto grits, his hips pathetically snapping into nothing, his hands desperately trying to touch you, to which you swatted him away each and every time. You tut, shaking your head. With both your hands fisting his dick at the middle of his length, your squeeze and pull in opposite directions.

The reaction is one that you were hoping for, Shouto’s head slamming to the headboard with a clash, his legs jumping just a bit, and precum coming out in even heavy drops. You laugh breathlessly at his display, enamored with how fucking easy he is to get to make noises. He’d never made noises before, no other girl had him the way you did, and that made you crazy with power.

Before you wanted to, your mouth consumed to head of his cock, allowing the musky smell that was completely and only Shouto to fully consume you. You sucked on his thick swollen head, tongue pressing on the leaking slit on his head as he choked on your name. You smile, taking him in further, straining against the weight in your mouth, the pressure on the back of your throat, and the stretch of your throat. As soon as you had him a bit way in, you were pushing out, his hips driving to find you but missing you. Shouto’s noise was almost broken, near needy, and your head spun with his noises. Unable to stop, you pushed in again, allowing the drive of his hips to send his cock further down your throat.

Tears filled your eyes at the action, his cock much too large, much too thick to be fucked into your throat as such. Your fists acted as a barrier as you adjusted, your throat humming, mouth moaning as Shouto lost himself to the heat of your wet mouth. You bobbed your head, fucking him diligently and intently with your mouth, driving him further down, your tongue and hollowed cheeks. You sucked his dick with the intention of ruining him, of making him fill your mouth and throat with him so he could never doubt that it was him you wanted, him you needed to consume. You let go of one hand, allowing it to fondle with his balls as his cock went further into your mouth, the sounds of your choking, gagging, and crying egging him on.

“You take me so good,” Shouto sang to you, whispering words that only you’ve heard. “Fuck, angel, take me all the way. I know you can do it.”

With his hands at the back of your head, your fingers squeezing his balls, and the shaky removal of your final hand on his cock, he drives his hips all the way up. Shouto curses loudly, and you choke, feeling the rush of cum shooting down your throat, and you’re let free.

“Swallow it all, don’t spit it up,” Shouto breathes, his body shifting upward, eyes intent, focused. “Let me see.”

You cough violently, mouth closed as you swallow the salty cum, only letting your mouth open to allow the drool and spit to drip from your flat tongue as you show him that you swallowed every last seed. He groaned, grasping you by the chin and pulling you back in for a passionate, all-consuming kiss. The taste of Shouto and his cum sat heavily in your throat, and you were shaking as he began to unbutton your jeans, shedding them off of you as he flipped you back around so that your back was resting against the mattress.

Salt sweat dripped down your neck, and Shouto left fingertip bruises on your waist, your knees and legs awkwardly kicking as you finally got your jeans off your ankles. You shuttered, feeling Shouto’s hot, spit-slick dick pressing against your stomach, your cunt flipping and twisting at the thought of taking him all in.

“You’re still, fuck… you’re still hard?” you gasp, Shouto’s fingers tracing the innards of your thighs, scratching at your ass, slapping it once, twice, leaving you pitched and shaking.

“How can I not be when you’re down beneath me?” Shouto asks, his eyes looking at you as if he was burning the very naked image to you in his brain for him forever. “You’re mine, right?”

The question itself, while unexpected, was not unwanted.

You feel yourself nodding, your fingers scratching up his flexed arms, “Yours and only yours.”

“Good,” Shouto smirks, leaning in, his entire weight on the one hand beside your head, making you groan as his lips were so close yet so far away. “I’m yours as you are mine.”

With that, his fingers pressed to your thus far, unattended to clit, your legs shaking, kicking the air as you howled in pleasure. But it was such an intimate place, something you never expected Shouto to ever touch, and so, in a voice so pathetic you couldn’t even recognize it as yours, you screeched: “D-Don’t touch that!”

Shouto cocked an eyebrow, his head tilting as his fingers swirled around your swollen nub, sending just enough electrifying pleasure through every neuron in your body. “Why not?” he asked, voice authoritative and curious and sadistic. “It’s mine — you’re mine. I can play with what’s mine whenever I want.”

The words make your entire will collapse, the words liquid heat in your ears and mind. You moan loudly, feeling Shouto adjust your hips, lining your spasming cunt with his cock, and with his tongue delving into your mouth, his lips pressing against yours, he slowly pushed into you.

Shouto was loud the entire way into you, the deep grunts, breathless moans, and mindless babble of how this was unlike anything he’s had before, better than anything he’s ever imagined. He bottoms out quickly, hands leaving purple bruises against your skin as you lay on the bed silent.

Your back is entirely arched, jaw slacked, voice dead on your tongue because the feeling of him buried deep within you is staggering. You let out a single tone noise, your mouth gasping for breath as your voice finally begins to come back to you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whisper over and over, your legs tight around Shouto’s hips, shaking with the feeling in you. “God, y-you’re so big, Sho… I’m—”

You can’t finish your sentence because he shifts just enough that his cock is meeting places in you that had never been encountered before. Your eyes roll back again, your fingers pressing ruby red scars to his back as you scratch and tear his back.

“You’re so fucking tight, shit,” Shouto pants, his mouth panting against the sweat on your collarbone, his own breathing heavy and spaced. “You’re perfect, y/n, so fucking perfect.”

You preen with those words, your mouth finding a home at his temple to which you kiss him, drag your lips down to his ear. You bite and nibble as you adjust to him buried deep within you. And he heaves a sigh and pushes up off you, eyes daring to stare into you as he huffs almost in disbelief of this entire night.

“I’m going to start moving,” he says, fingers scratching down your sides to your thighs. “Are you ready?”

Not trusting your voice, you nod. Shouto smiles, leaning back down for one last kiss to which you quickly returned, staying there as his hips moved backward before thrusting back into you. It's the first thrust of many, but your arms wrap even tighter underneath his own, your nails scarring his back as he goes again and again. You fucks into you deliberately, readily, with purpose and skill that speaks wonders and lives up to the many rumors you’ve ever heard.

His thrusts are powerful, slapping into your thighs with a mighty smack, making you whimper and wail into his salty neck as your hips lift up to meet his. It's a powerful dance, a dizzying cycle. His cock sliding up and down your puffy velvet walls, your weeping walls clenching him in a vice, unforgiving and unwilling to let go.

He speaks praises into your ear, your yours, your mouth.

“Such a pretty angel, moaning for me, crying for me, tell me you want my cock. Tell me you want me buried in your fucking stomach.”

You are converted to him in return, seeing him, speaking to him, devoted to him.

“Fuck, I want you more. Faster, harder! Don’t stop! I can feel you in my stomach, Sho! Fuck! Fuck me, fuck me fuck me!”

His weight is pressed on your thighs, spreading your thighs further apart, fucking into deeper, fucking you so powerfully, so desperately your soaked cunt squelches and drips your essence, soaking your bed and his legs. Your teeth sink into his skin, copper filling your mouth, and your vision feels missing as you are slamming your hips up, rolling them desperately to fuck back into him. You can feel his hand clutching yours, pressing it into the mattress as he somehow speeds up again, drilling you into the mattress, the bed creaking and bending under both your weight.

“More, more, more!”

And he gives, and gives, and gives.

You wail his name, the heat in your skin, tickling your clit and innards making you sweat, the alcohol on your skin sticking you to Shouto.

Shouto grunts your name, hisses your name, damns you heaven and back for having such a fucking grip on him. It's when he looks into your eyes, cock drilling into you at a speed and power that no human should ever obtain, one hand gripping yours and the other pinching and teasing your clit, you cum, bursting open at the seams.

Your orgasm is loud, clenching, all-consuming, and you drag Shouto down with you as he stammers, shudders, and cums deep within your womb. His seed spilling out of you as the both of you collapse onto the bed with breathless, thoughtless minds.

“Fuck,” he says.

“Right?” you chuckle.

And with your nose pressed to his sweaty, sex-lulled body, you fall asleep with his hands traveling up and down your spine. Hopefully, things would be well when you woke up.

P R E S E N T

To stop you from screeching so loudly you woke up the entire world, Shouto held his hand to your mouth, his eyes wide, terrified, and completely confused.

“Please stop yelling… my head hurts…” Shouto begs, his face completely exhausted but with that post-orgasm sleep glow.

“We had sex?!” you shriek, throwing his hand off your mouth. “We were mad at each other, and we had sex?!”

“Oh,” Shouto seems to remember, his head rolling before he sat up, bringing you up with him. “Right, we should talk about that, huh?”

“You think?!” you shriek, entirely overwhelmed with the fact that you had done so much embarrassing shit last night.

It’s quiet for a bit. The birds chirping outside an almost cheerful taunt as the both of you, for the first time in seventeen years, find it too awkward to talk. No one wants to speak first, to mention the elephant in the room, for once it happened, there really was no going back. Not that there was much to go back from.

“I’m in love with you,” Shouto finally says. It’s an admittance, a whisper that's strong despite it told in such a hushed voice as if you would laugh at him as he confessed. “I’ve actually been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”

Now that shocks you.

Your eyes are wide, and you’re staring at Shouto, unsure what to say, what to ask, but you know you need more answers.

“I know, hard to believe, huh?” Shouto chuckles, his hand running through his sex and sleep disheveled hair. “It’s true, though… I don’t remember not ever being in love with you.”

“No… no way,” you say, your body running cold, and you shiver. You remember then that you’re sitting up, and you’re very incredibly naked. Shouto notices and moves to grab a blanket at the foot of the bed and wraps it around you. “That doesn’t make sense,” you argue, your furrowed brows making your skin crease as you try to think back on all your years and memories, looking for signs in which Todoroki Shouto loved you. “You never showed it.”

“Camie said the same thing,” Shouto sighed, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he shrugged nonchalantly. “Before I was sixteen… I don’t know; I guess I could understand why. I only ever talked to you, always paired up with you. I let you hold my hand, and I let you hug me… I thought me telling you that I had never been kissed before would make you want to kiss me, but it never did. I know I was awkward and a little different when we were younger, so when I was paired up with Camie… I thought she would help me.”

“By fucking you?” you asked, your frown deepening as you remembered your bitter feelings over Camie stealing Shouto’s virginity.

“She… she said that by being sexual, maybe you would see me as a man, and not the four-year-old crying boy in preschool,” Shouto smiled sadly, his fingers picking at one another. “Me having sex was supposed to show you that I was a man who wanted to see you as a woman in return, but it didn’t work.”

“Well, no shit,” you snort, relaxing a bit although you felt limp. You found yourself leaning against Shouto’s strong shoulders, your head landing heavily on him. “You went from a virgin to fucking anything with a wet hole.”

“...yeah, I’m sorry about that,” Shouto said with regret, his shoulders sagging just a bit. “At first, I thought I needed to fuck more girls to prove I was a man to you because you acted like nothing had happened after Camie… but sex was fun, it felt good.”

“Sex is good,” you agree with a soft chuckle to which he returned.

He shifted a bit, arms tightening and relaxing before he finally admitted, “It helped distract me from you because you looked at others the way I wanted you to look at me.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper back.

“No, don’t be,” Shouto speaks firmly, his arm wrapping around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your temple. “It was my fault. I was never assertive enough, confident enough to simply confess.”

“So, does you being in love with me having anything to do with you driving the entire male population away from me?”

Your eyes look up at him, finding his embarrassed gaze before he glances away.

“That actually wasn’t intentional… I guess I just talk about you a lot.”

“Yeah, but still doesn’t mean you couldn’t ever deny it yourself!”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Apologize then.”

“Y/l/n Y/n, I am sorry for making the entire male population we’ve ever come across think we were an item and not telling them otherwise. I am sorry for keeping you from enjoying sex while I continued to. I am lousy, and my love for you should be unreturned because that was ass of me.”

You sigh, your lips pursed to keep from smiling as you looked back at his handsome face.

“Now, ask me the damn question, crybaby.”

“Crybaby?”

“You finally admitted that you were, in fact, crying!!!!!”

If you asked Shishikura Seiji what the worst thing about being the third roommate to Todoroki Shouto and you was, he would give a million and three answers as to why it was the worst.

One: he absolutely hated how loud the both of you were. Todoroki Shouto was someone he thought was quiet and introverted, but whenever he was around you, he was loud. You were just plain old loud, and he thought it was annoying.

Two: he absolutely hated your rice. Call it petty, but after you fed him on his first night and tried putting him into a chokehold for saying the song your rice cooker sang at its end was the stupidest fucking thing ever made, everything you made taste like ash and dirt.

Twenty: he hated that there were biweekly karaoke nights. He would be studying away in his room and wanted to die when he heard the all too familiar sound of Mamma Mia’s Here We Go Again blasting in the living room.

Hundred fifty-seven: SO. MUCH. FUCKING. SEX.

Three hundred thirteen: SO. MUCH. DRINKING.

Five thousand: SO. MUCH. WEED.

Ten thousand three: you put his toilet seat up whenever you’re drunk, so he falls in when he goes to pee in the morning.

Five hundred: the way the both of you looked at each other, fucking disgusting.

To say the least, there were a lot of many different reasons scaling from actual issues to petty small shit, but Shishikura was not in any position to find a new apartment, so he stayed. To be quite honest, having been living with Dumb and Dumber (you and Shouto, respectively), he only thought there would be one thing that would make him lose his actual mind.

The day that would inevitably come and the both of you realized your feelings were, in fact, returned. He didn’t want to even imagine how the animalistic sex he often had to hear coming from your hallway would increase, or the sappy stupid romantic love he would see in the living room because as best friends, you both had no care for PDA and if you were allowed to kiss? Allowed to have sex? He feared he would have to wear a hazmat suit in every corner of the apartment. You both were already incredibly loud as a duo (see reason one as to why he hates living here); he feared the worst when the mutual love was realized.

But he exited his room a week after that Sunday morning with a fully loaded water gun just in case. His eyes narrowed, the hair on his neck raised as his beady eyes focused in on the living room.

Shouto sat on the couch, his back on the armrest, and you sitting between his thighs as you watched him play some game on his Switch, your smile large and annoyingly bright, but he realized that he couldn’t hear you screaming or speaking so loudly he could listen to the conversation.

No, as a matter of fact, Shishikura couldn’t hear a single word; the words being exchanged between you and Shouto spoke so softly, so intimately, it shocked him. Shishikura noticed with an almost awed surprise that even though your smile was as annoyingly bright as before. It wasn’t directed at anything but Shouto, and Shouto’s smile, while nowhere near as big, just as warm and full to you.

It was intimate, romantic even.

Nothing had changed in your relationship except now, finally, now, you were allowed to kiss and fuck each other like heat-driven animals.

Shishikura was shocked to his core, unable to comprehend the sight in front of him.

You nor Shouto paid him any mind, too lost in the game and in each other to look his way as he made his way into the kitchen for his lunch. Shishikura set the water gun on the counter, a small smile spreading on his face despite himself, and chuckled.

Maybe the two of you together weren’t something to hate on after all.

“Hey, is that a water gun?!”

[phoebe-delia]

Teddy Bear (Dronarry)

Okay. Yes I have done this prompt already—a long time ago. But I had this idea, back then, and I wrote it down and I wanna do it now. So here is a second entry for @drarrymicrofic prompt: serenade.

Oh, and if anyone is wondering—it is directly inspired by this scene from Full House. Also—I was going to have this just be Drarry + a third-wheeling Ron, but I decided: fuck it. We can have some Dronarry as a treat. Also: this is my first triad fic so please be gentle! HUGE thanks to my darlingest @basicallyahedgehog for the beta and cheerleading. CW: one tiny blink-and-you-miss-it innuendo.

"Alright little one, what song do you want to sing tonight?" Harry smiled helplessly as Lily gave him a wide, toothless grin from her new 'Big Girl Bed.'

"Teddy Bear!" She exclaimed, her words slurry but eager as she pounded tiny, demanding fists onto the quilt in her excitement.

Harry heard Ron murmur to Draco, "She gets that from you," and then Draco's retaliatory smack to Ron's arm— it was light, from the way Ron still snickered.

Harry turned back to the two of them—Ron's impish grin and Draco's half-hearted glare. "Are we ready?"

"I know I am—unlike some people," Draco sniffed in Ron's direction. "I know how to carry a tune."

Ron leered. "Mmhm—and I know how to make you sing."

Harry and Draco both flushed. "Can we please get back on track here?" Harry huffed—a bit too breathily for his own liking. "Now—" he said, grinning brightly at an obliviously smiling Lily. "Ready?" He let his husbands nod at him affirmatively. "A-one, a-two, a-one, two, three, four!"

The three of them clapped their hands rhythmically, Ron and Draco singing "buh-pa-da-da" while Harry started the first verse:

"Oh baby let me be Your lovin' teddy bear Put a chain around my neck And lead me anywhere.

"Oh let me be—" he paused to let the other two sing—"Oh let him be"—before joining in—"Your teddy bear"

They continued the song, each taking turns as practiced—according to Draco's specifications, which both Harry and Ron had to admit worked well, especially as Lily settled down, her head on her pillow.

"Don't wanna be your tiger." (Ron)

"'Cause tigers play too rough." (Harry)

"Don't wanna be your lion" (Draco—who always sang that line with a bit too much enthusiasm).

Then Ron again—"'Cause lions ain't the kind you love enough," and the three of them held that note for a one, two before—

Draco took back over, singing the chorus while Ron and Harry happily snapped their fingers to the rhythm of their background, "buh-pa-da-da"'s.

And then, finally, Draco sang, "I just wanna be your teddy bear—" and the three of them ended with a harmonized, "Oooooooohhh" that Draco let go on for a second before lifting his hand and making a fist to cue the end of the note.

Harry watched Lily's eyes start to flutter closed, a contented smile curving her lips. He glanced over his shoulder to see Ron and Draco with similar expressions of aching love and fondness for their daughter. "Good night, darling," Draco smoothed a hand over Lily's head, leaning over to press a kiss to her head.

"Sleep well, sweetheart," Ron mumbled as he moved in close to kiss Lily's temple and wrapped an arm around Draco's waist. The two of them glanced up at one another, soft and open, and Harry let them have a moment while he kissed Lily's cheek. "We love you."

When Harry glanced back at them, two sets of adoring eyes met his gaze, making him inhale sharply. It still surprised him, even after so many years of being with these two incredible men, that he was living a kind of love he'd never known was possible.

"C'mon, loves," Ron said softly, taking Harry's and Draco's hands in each of his. "Let's go to bed."

[get-back-homeward]

The Saga of the Bowler Hat: In Four Acts

Sep 30-Oct 15, 1961: Paris trip

We planned to hitchhike to Spain. I had done a spot of hitchhiking with George and we knew you had to have a gimmick; we had been turned down so often and we’d seen that guys that had a gimmick (like a Union Jack round them) had always got the lifts. So I said to John, ‘Let’s get a couple of bowler hats.’ It was showbiz creeping in.

Gustafson happened to bump into them the day they left, Saturday September 30. “They both had bowler hats on, with the usual leather jackets and jeans. They said they were off to Paris, so I walked down to Lime Street station with them and watched them go. They were an incredible pair: always great fun, irreverent, and so close.” [x]

We still had our leather jackets and drainpipes – we were too proud of them not to wear them, in case we met a girl; and if we did meet a girl, off would come the bowlers. But for lifts we would put the bowlers on. Two guys in bowler hats – a lorry would stop! Sense of Humour. This, and the train, is how we got to Paris. [x]

March 2-4, 1964: Filming A Hard Day’s Night train scene

The specially-hired train was destined for Minehead and back, where for the next three days scenes were filmed in the suitably cramped setting. There was a dining car for The Beatles to eat in...[their] dialogue was recorded using microphones hidden inside their shirts, but numerous retakes were required due to sound problems.

The first we did was the train, which we were all dead nervous in. Practically the whole of the train bit we were going to pieces.

I’m sure it’s less noticeable to people watching in the cinema, but we know that we’re dead conscious in every move we make, we watch each other. Paul’s embarrassed when I’m watching him speak and he knows I am. [x]

March 29, 1967: With A Little Help From My Friends day

At two o’clock in the afternoon John arrived at Paul’s house in St. John’s Wood. They both went up to Paul’s workroom at the top of the house...John started playing his guitar and Paul started banging on his piano. For a couple of hours they both banged away. Each seemed to be in a trance until the other came up with something good, then he would pluck it out of a mass of noises and try it himself. They’d already established the tune the previous afternoon. Now they were trying to polish up the melody and think of some words to go with it.

“Are you afraid when you turn out the light,” sang John. Paul sang it after him and nodded that it was good. John said they could use that idea for all the verses, if they could think of some more questions on those lines.

“Do you believe in love at first sight,” sang John. “No,” he said, stopping singing. “It hasn’t got the right number of syllables. What do you think? Can we split it up and have a pause to give it an extra syllable?”

John then sang the line, breaking it in the middle: “Do you believe—ugh—in love at first sight.”

“How about,” said Paul, “Do you believe in a love at first sight.”

John sang it over and accepted it. In singing it, he added the next line, “Yes, I’m certain it happens all the time.”

They both then sang the two lines to themselves, la-la-ing all the other lines. Apart from this, all they had was the chorus: “I’ll get by with a little help from my friends.” John found himself singing “Would you believe,” which he thought was better.

Then they changed the order, singing the two lines “Would you believe in a love at first sight/Yes I’m certain it happens all the time” before going on to “Are you afraid when you turn out the light,” but they still had to la-la the fourth line, which they couldn’t think of.

It was now about five o’clock. [x]

The Beatles began by recording the rhythm track in 10 takes, the last of which was the best. It had Paul McCartney on piano on track one, George Harrison’s rhythm guitar on two, Starr’s drums and cowbell played by John Lennon on three, and George Martin playing organ on track four.

A reduction mix, numbered take 11, made free some space on the tape for further overdubs. Starr then added his lead vocals to tracks three and four, with backing vocals by Lennon, McCartney and Harrison. This session ended at 5.45am, and recording for the song was completed on the following day. [x]

1967-1968: Paul’s favorite artist inspires Apple Corp name and logo

We were discovering Magritte in the sixties, just through magazines and things. And we just loved his sense of humour. And when we heard that he was a very ordinary bloke who used to paint from nine to one o'clock, and with his bowler hat, it became even more intriguing.

René Magritte, The Son of Man (1964)

One day [Robert Fraser] brought this painting to my house. We were out in the garden, it was a summer's day. And he didn't want to disturb us, I think we were filming or something. So he left this picture of Magritte. It was an apple - and he just left it on the dining room table and he went. It just had written across it "Au revoir", on this beautiful green apple...So it was like wow! What a great conceptual thing to do, you know. And this big green apple, which I still have now, became the inspiration for the logo. And then we decided to cut it in half for the B-side!

René Magritte, Le Jeu de Mourre [The Game of Mora] (1966)

The title was found by Magritte's friend, the Belgian poet Louis Scutenaire, and is probably a play of words on Les Jeunes Amours [Young Love] (1963), the title of a work by Magritte showing three apples. The game of mora is "a game in which one of the players rapidly displays a hand with some fingers raised, the others folded inwards, while his opponent calls out a number, which, for him to win, has to correspond to the total of the raised fingers.” [x]

Epilogue

Paul McCartney’s 1989 My Brave Face single cover

My Brave Face lyrics, written early 1988 with Elvis Costello

January 1988: The Beatles are inducted in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame

[sunjaesol]

because your kiss is on my list

alternatively: four times juke snuck up on each other for affection and the one time they didn’t have to | based on the achingly beautiful fanart by @lovelyrugbee

1. 

Luke was being manic again. And not in a cute: “Oh my God, he’s so passionate about music!”-way, but in a: “He might actually tear his eyes out from these infuriating lyrics that aren’t working”-way. Every once in a while, songs didn’t flow out as easily as they usually did. The topic was a bit trickier, or the instrumentals didn’t mesh, or something was just off. Julie wasn’t too stressed about it. They had plenty of time to rework and fix things before the gig in two weeks. 

Unfortunately, Luke didn’t have the same mindset. 

He has been holed up in the studio all day, cramped on the windowsill to the point of submitting himself to a hernia and scrapping writing scrapping scrapping scrapping. The sound was infuriating, Alex being the first to poof out and Reggie following soon after when Ray became far more interesting than a guitarist going haywire. Which was sad, cause her dad was just unloading groceries. 

Alright. She had to do something. Standing at the doors of studio with a somewhat amused expression, she took in as her boyfriend was oblivious to the world and her. In any other situation, he’d notice and compliment the orange dress she was wearing. She thought about calling his name, maybe singing or jamming her fingers on the piano, but then a better idea came. A fun one.

Quietly slipping closer, a mischievous grin crawled on her lips. Thank God she was barefoot, or else her sneakers would’ve squeaked against the cement floors. He still hasn’t noticed her, the pinch between his brow so deep and lost in thought. 

Three, two, one... 

“Ah!”, she cried out like a warrior, snapping her arms around him from behind and snatching the damned songbook from his grasp. Before he could react, she smacked a wet kiss on his cheek and added a “Mwah!” for good measure. 

The startled Luke began chuckling, trying to get his book back, her peppering more kisses on his cheek in retaliation. He had to get out of this funk! Breathe a little! Turning his cheek to look at her, he smirked. “Sneaking kisses now, Jules?”

Julie hummed against his skin, eyes sparkling. Whispering in his ear, she said: “Stop breaking your head over these lyrics and relax. We have time.” 

His smile softened, gaze tracking the way she hugged him and then- “I like the dress you’re wearing.”

Ah, yes. There he was. 

2. 

Julie Molina truly made the afterlife less boring and a whole lot more bearable. Which became really apparent whenever she had an avalanche of homework and couldn’t hang out. Luke loved his boys, but damn did he miss his girlfriend a lot now. If the situation were different (you know, had he not been head over heels in love with her), he’d poof up to her room and annoy her until she came to the studio. Alas, he respected his girlfriend and her interest in getting good grades, so he had to deal with it. 

Bleh. “Dealing with it” was like a curse word to him. 

He hasn’t seen her all day though. She left early for school and didn’t pass by the studio when she got back. All he needed was a quick look and talk and maybe a hug and then he wouldn’t be so antsy. 

(What he’d give to wrestle her into cuddling right now. He was honestly blessed he found a girl who saw all of his need for affection and then gladly gave triple the amount.)

Yup. Screw homework. He had to see her. Without telling the boys, he stood up with a huff and poofed out. The offended “hey!” from Alex he ignored. 

Dropping into Julie’s room, a smile instantly bloomed on his face at the sight of her. She was on her bed, textbooks and notes splayed out in front of her while her curls danced with each breath she took. Even when tired, his girlfriend was pretty as hell. 

“Hey,” he grinned.

She didn’t look up and mumbled: “Hey.” A page turned. “What’re you doing here?”

Luke sat down on the edge of her bed, far enough so her pens wouldn’t roll away. “Haven’t seen you today. I missed you.”

This time she did look up, her weary eyes softening and smiling. “I missed you too. I have homework though, so...” The implication was there: please leave so I can finish. His hope for a hug quickly dwindled.

“Yeah,” he muttered, not ready to go back and get slapped by Alex. “Uh...” His eyes fell on her right hand, slightly more outstretched then the other. It just... laid there. Teasing him. Freaking tantalising him when he knew how good it felt whenever those fingers brushed his cheeks or raked his hair. 

It happened before he thought about it. Crawling onto the mattress, he snatched her hand and pressed soft kisses on the knuckles. Julie caught his gaze again, that smile he loved so much melting into an adoring puff - like she couldn’t believe this idiot was her boyfriend.

He didn’t mind being her idiot.  

3.

Sometimes, Julie was just that more adorable. Like now, with her hair spread around her shoulders and that small smile stuck on her lips and her eyes that seemed impossibly soft today. All for him, only for him. 

Sure, it was probably because they were working on one of their personal songs, but the fact remained that his girlfriend still left him rendered speechless months into dating.

“What if we try it in a lower key?”, Julie proposed, nodding at his guitar. 

The song in question was a song about them. It wasn’t so lovey-dovey that it would turn the guys off, but it was still blatant. Only they would write about ‘the sea glass green of his eyes’ and ‘the smile that put Mona Lisa to shame’. 

He did what she asked, her singing the same verse again. It held more depth now, soulful and lively. The rasp in her tone made it playful and egged him on to join, like it was truly banter between lovers put to music. It was them. It was her. It was-

Luke abruptly stopped playing, pushed his guitar aside and grabbed onto her. She hardly had time to chuckle as he pressed his lips onto her forehead and held her as tight as possible. Warmth filled his chest, that strange sensation of being loved and loving back twice as hard, as she clutched his body. He almost got choked up. Here he was, in the sundrenched studio with the girl he adored playing the music they created together and she was singing it in such a quintessentially ‘them’ way. No one but them would ever truly understand the magic they conjured. How it was only explained through grins melting on skin and the giddy skip in his heartbeat. 

“What’s that for?”, she smiled. 

His hand trailed from her back to her cheeks with an elated shrug. How could he explain to her her ‘Julie-ness’ was dialled up to two hundred without sounding insane? Caressing the skin, he murmured instead: “I guess you’re just irresistible today.”   

Her eyes squeezed shut at his words, like she was embarrassed how much delight it brought her, and pressed her face back in his shoulder. 

Letting that giddy skip in his chest kiss her again, he gently pulled away to sent her a wink. “Let’s finish ‘Wicked Love’, yeah?”

4.

“So, Flynn’s been thinking-”

“Mh-hm.”

“-about a new poster for the gig we’re playing. The old one is a little amateur and she made some new concepts. Wanna see?” Julie held her phone at his face, his hand leaving the strings of his guitar to gently push it back. Falling back on the bed, she frowned. 

“Maybe later, I’m figuring out this progression...” His back bend over his guitar again, only giving her a view of the black muscle tee. 

When Luke told her he wanted to hang out that Saturday afternoon, she had hoped it would be a bit more ‘Julie and Luke’ and not ‘Luke and His Guitar’ - alas, the girlfriend was competing with a piece of wood and some metal. While texting Flynn about graphic design was fun, it was time for Luke to start doing what he promised her.

Then again, she was a sucker for music talk. “Why don’t you try switching up the chords? Start with G instead of C.”

He tried it out, a grin crawling on his cheeks. “Yeah... yeah, that works. Thanks, Jules.”

“So?”, she sang. 

“Hm?”

With a sigh, she grabbed onto the strap of his guitar and gave it a tug. Luke’s neck rolled backwards in surprise, catching her playful smile.  

Chastely pecking his forehead, she said: “Your head is in the clouds.”

The teasing look of his matched hers. “You’re kissing my head right now.”

“Mh-hm,” she mumbled, loving the way his hair had that perpetual scent of apple and something inherently Luke. Kissing the locks, she added: “And you’ll be getting a lot more if you actually start hanging out with me.”

His book and instrument slid off his body just like that as he speared her into hug. Luke collapsed onto her body with the cutest grin and she knew she caught him. Their laughs chimed throughout the house for the rest of the day. 

+5.

Luke poofed onto her bed with a grin, his girlfriend automatically snuggling into his side and finding each other’s lips with ease. For a beat, they’re cherished the quiet passion shared between them. They didn’t need to do a lot to feel loved by the other. 

He pressed his nose into her curls. “How was school?”

“Good,” Julie whispered against his neck. “How was the studio?”

“Chill. Reggie scared a spider.”

She giggled, the sound making his grin widen and hide his face so she wouldn’t see how ridiculously giddy she made him. Turning her head so she’d see him anyway, her nose scrunched. “I know you’re smiling.”

“That’s my line, Molina,” he huffed, the teasing glint shimmering in his eyes. 

A signature brow quirked. “You got that on paper?”

He didn’t miss a second. “I love you.” He didn’t need to ponder or linger or rewrite or scrap or workshop the thought. It wasn’t even a thought. It was a truth and he’d repeat that truth over and over again until the universe knew it too and kept it in their books for centuries to come. He loved her, he loved her, he loved her. 

The smile that came was worth the truth, how her love for him broke through without a moment of hesitation. Now she’d say the same, over and over and over again, so the universe knew they were talking about each other and would always keep their names together in said books. 

Julie kissed him again, long and sweet and as easy as breathing. Her utters were barely audible, but his heart caught it. “I love you too.”

Locked in their embrace, they shared earphones listening to their favourite music until they fell asleep. (How Luke could fall asleep, but only when in her loving touch, he wouldn’t question. Some oddities of the universe were best unsaid.) 

@blush-and-books @unsaid-emily @bluefirewrites @willexx @ourstarscollided @alexjulies

[calamitykaty]

Soulmates

Reggie Peters x Fem Reader

Word count:3000+

A sweet fic for my sweet soulmate @alexpjoyner

Y/N sat tucked away in the corner of the coffee shop, her glasses perched at the tip of her nose and her eyebrows pinched together making her worry lines stand out. The yellow #2 pencil that was in her left hand was being gnawed at by her teeth. The small circle table was littered with textbooks and loose-leaf paper, coffee stains evident on her English assignment.

 Her attention was broken by the loud laughter that followed a set of rowdy teenage boys. Her eyes briefly met the eyes belonging to the leather-clad boy, Reggie, before she let them fall back to her assignment, a light blush dusting her cheeks. 

She knew all about Reggie, everyone did. He was only the overly confident and extremely handsome bassist for Sunset Curve, and he happened to attend her high school. Y/N like to think that she wasn’t just part of the status-quo but she too had a school-girl crush on Reggie. 

“Hola, Chica!” 

Y/N dropped her pencil into the fold of her book and closed the cover as her best friend, Rose, pushed her papers back towards her and sat down. 

“I know I’m pretty but why are you blushing?” 

“I’m not blushing…”

Rose let her eyes roam around the small room before her eyes landed on the most likely culprit. 

“I don’t know why you don’t just talk to him, y/n.” 

Y/N tucked a stray hair that had fallen into her face back behind her left ear with one hand while the other pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. She glanced over at Reggie,  his back facing hers and his hands gesturing excitedly as he explained something to his bandmates, though from the looks on their faces they weren’t nearly as enthused as him. 

“...because...he’s him...and I’m,” Y/n threw her hands up, gesturing at herself, “I’m me.” 

Rose rolled her eyes at her friend’s explanation or lack thereof. “Okay, one-” Rose held up her pointer finger, “he’s not nearly as cool as you seem to think he is and two--” she lifted her middle finger, “you being you is the best, you’re smart, you’re funny, you’re pretty---”

“And you’re obligated to say those things as my best friend so….” Y/N huffed out stubbornly.

Rose’s lips were stretched into a tight line as she pushed her chair back against the beige tiled floor, her eyes set on the group of noisy boys. 

“W-what are you doing?” Y/N asked, panicked. 

Rose ignored her friend and let her feet carry her over to the boys. She propped her left elbow up on Bobby’s shoulder. The brown-haired boy looked up at her from where he was seated and smiled, “Hey, Ro!” 

“Yeah, Ro, hey!” Luke chortled, his eyebrows dancing and his eyes locked on Bobby. Alex jabbed his elbow into the shaggy-haired boy’s ribs, eliciting a quiet “Ow!” 

“Anyways,” Rose rolled her eyes, “I’m gonna bring a friend to watch your band practice tonight.”

“Are you asking or?” Alex probed. 

“Not really!” Rose let her elbow drop from Bobby’s shoulder and sauntered back across the cafe to Y/N’s table. 

“They said you can come to band rehearsal tonight,” Rose said matter of factly, sliding back into her chair. 

Y/N shook her head vigorously, “No, nope….No! Absolutely not!” 

“You have to! They’re expecting you and it would be rude if you didn’t show.” Rose half-shrugged and burst into a fit of giggles at the scowl that Y/N shot her way. 

‘“Stop meddling in my life….” Y/N grumbled, her arms crossed tightly across her chest and the tops of her ears tinged pink. She gathered her papers into a neat pile and placed them inside the textbook before dropping everything into her backpack. 

“So...this means you’re going, right?” Rose drummed on both of her knees excitedly.

Y/N pushed her chair back and slung her backpack over her left shoulder before sliding the chair back in. She purposefully ignored the question until they both stood outside of the cafe. She stopped and turned to Rose, staring at her with a deadpan expression as the girl bounced on her toes. 

“What time?” 

Rose lunged at her and wrapped her arms around her shoulders, squealing “7pm! It’s gonna be great!!!” 

Several hours later, Y/N found herself standing outside of Bobby’s detached garage. She was an hour late and she could hear the four teens already practicing inside. She nervously wrung her hands together and took a deep breath, slowly exhaling before she pulled the doors open. She could feel her ears burning as all four boys stopped playing at separate times and stared at her. Her eyes quickly darted to Rose who was perched on top of the sofa. 

Rose hopped off of the sofa and skipped over to Y/N, throwing her arm around her shoulders and pulling her into the garage. 

“Boys!” Rose chirped, “this is Y/N,” she dropped her arm from Y/N’s shoulders and held both hands out showing Y/N off like a prize on The Price is Right. Y/N awkwardly threw her right hand up and waved at the four boys. 

“I’m Lu--”

“You don’t have to introduce yourselves, I know who you guys are!” Y/N rushed out as Luke began to introduce himself. She could feel the red of her ears move down to her neck as the embarrassment moved through her body. She tucked her hair behind her ear and looked over at Rose, pleading for her to save her. 

“You guys can continue, we’ll just be over here ignoring you!” Rose pursed her lips and grabbed her elbow, pulling her over to the sofa. 

Y/N sunk down into the soft cushions of the sofa and bobbed her head as the boys started from the second verse of Now or Never. She tried her best to keep her eyes on her lap but every now and then she would look up and let her eyes gravitate towards Reggie who would shoot her a wink. 

“Someone can’t keep his eyes off of you,” Rose sang out to Y/N. 

“Shut up!” Y/N hissed quietly and threw her elbow into Rose’s side. 

“I’m just sayin’” Rose wiggled her eyebrows at the girl, drawing a rosy blush to Y/N’s cheeks. 

Y/N looked over at Reggie as he set his bass guitar down into the stand before he wiped the sweat from his forehead. 

“Go talk to him!” Rose urged and pushed against her friend's shoulder. 

“About what? I hardly know him!” Y/n argued, stubbornly. 

“Reg!” Rose called out, grabbing the boys attention. Reggie turned around and lifted his eyebrows at Rose in question. 

Rose looked over at Y/N before looking back at Reggie and smiling, “did you know that Y/N holds the top score on Centipede at The Basement Arcade?” 

Reggie furrowed his brows and crossed his arms over his chest, “that can’t be true! I just took that spot last week!” 

“So you’re the RP that keeps fighting me for the top spot then?” Y/N narrowed her eyes at the boy but couldn’t stop the laugh that followed her question. 

Reggie let his arms fall to his sides and looked at her with his mouth agape, “ I challenge you! I challenge you to an arcade face off tomorrow at 6pm!” 

“Okay?” Y/N agreed unsurely.

“It’s a date then!” Reggie declared before walking over to the sofa and holding his hand out to Y/N. She hesitantly placed her hand in his and laughed as Reggie gave it a firm shake. 

“Okay...yeah. It’s a date.” Y/N agreed and let her hand fall back into her lap. 

“Looks like my work here is done!” Rose teased and pulled herself up from the sofa. She grabbed Y/N’s hands and pulled her up as well. 

Y/N said goodbye to each of the boys and was nearly out of the garage when Reggie called out 

“Wait! What’s your address? I’ll pick you up!” 

-------

They were surrounded by flashing lights, the sound of buzzers and pinball paddles being jammed harshly filled the room of the small arcade. Y/N looked over at Reggie as he lunged the small orange basketballs as fast as possible towards the hoop, his brows furrowed as he concentrated. A small frown formed on his face as the balls continuously hit the rim and bounced back towards him.

 The clock counted down the last 15 seconds and Reggie picked up the pace, throwing the balls at increased speed in hopes of getting several more points. He hadn’t even noticed that Y/N had stopped tossing her basketballs a good 45 seconds before him or that she had sunk nearly every basket that she threw or that she was easily beating his score before she bowed out to give him a chance. She had already beaten him at air hockey, overtook his top score on Centipede, and embarrassed him at skeeball. 

The buzzer on the machine rang out and Reggie anxiously looked at his score before leaning over to look at hers.

 An ecstatic smile lit up his face and he threw his hands in the air above his head in triumph and shouted “FINALLY!”

Y/N burst into giggles at the boy, her right hand instinctively covered her mouth. Her bottom front teeth slightly over-lapped and she had always been insecure about it. 

Reggie cocked his head and watched the girl as she laughed. His eyes held adoration at the way her nose crinkled at the top of her bridge and the way her cheeks pushed against her eyes so that they were just barely open. Without a moment of hesitation, he grabbed her hand in his and lowered it from her mouth, his palm felt hot in hers and his fingers slipped into the spaces between hers like a perfect puzzle. 

“I like your smile.” The words pushed against his lips with confidence but his red-tinged ears that accompanied his rosy cheeks gave his nerves away. 

He reached down with his left hand and grabbed the bucket that held their tickets before he tugged y/n towards the counter to turn the tickets in. 

“You could have told me you were so good at arcade games so I wouldn’t be out here embarrassing myself on our first date, ya know.” 

Y/n watched as the teenager behind the counter ran their combined tickets into the ticket counting machine. She looked over at Reggie and smiled, “ I didn’t expect you to be so bad, honestly. Maybe next time we just go play with puppies at Bonnie’s pet store, I’m positive you’d be great at that!”

Reggie dropped her hand in favor of placing both of his hands over his heart, a look of shock on his face at her words before he burst into laughter. 

“350 tickets, you can choose from these three sections.” The red-headed teenager pointed at the different things they could choose from. 

Y/N bounced on her toes and pointed at the small stuffed horse that would take 300 tickets. She pulled it to her chest and looked over at Reggie. 

“You can have the rest!” 

Reggie picked a multi-color friendship bracelet, a Rubik’s cube keychain, and a few pixie sticks. He shoved everything but the bracelet into the pocket of his leather jacket before he reached out for her left wrist. His bottom lip was tugged into his mouth, held by his top teeth as his fingers carefully tied the bracelet around her wrist.

“Your hand is cold...” Reggie stated absentmindedly as he tugged the knot securely, “you wanna grab a hot chocolate?”

Y/N pulled her wrist up to her face and examined the colorful bracelet before letting her arm drop back to her side and nodding, “yeah, that sounds good!”

The pair trekked outside and down the block where Rick’s pop up stand for hot chocolate was set up under a streetlamp. Y/N admired her winnings while Reggie quietly hummed a tune to himself that she had never heard before. 

‘What is that?” Y/N finally asked as the boy started the song over for the third time. 

“What’s what?” Reggie asked, his eyes darting around for what he was supposed to be looking for. 

“No,” y/n giggled, “the song, what’s the song that you’ve been humming.” 

“Oh...that...” Reggie’s right hand ruffled through his hair nervously. 

“Two hot chocolates, please!” Y/N quickly placed two dollars down on the cart before Reggie could. Rick shook his head at the two teens and poured two cups of hot chocolate with whipped topping into two styrofoam cups and handed them over with a “you kids have fun!”

“So?” Y/N looked up at Reggie expectantly as they made their way back towards the arcade. 

"Promise you won't laugh?" 

"I promise to try to not laugh," y/n compromised. 

“I guess I can settle with that,” Reggie nodded and took a deep breath in before he quietly sang out the chorus that he had been humming. 

Home is where my horse is

Riding through trees by the river

Feel that summer breeze, a smile gettin’ bigger

Home is where my horse is

Don’t need a house or a roof

I just lace up my saddle, lace up my boots  

Cuz home is where my horse is

As the last word hung in the air, Reggie quickly brought the cup of hot chocolate to his lips and took a large gulp. Y/N hadn’t laughed so he took that as a good sign as he finally let his head turn to the left to look over at her. 

“Sunset Curve goes country, I can get down with that movement, “ Y/N shrugged. 

“R-r-really?” Reggie sputtered out, hot chocolate dribbling down his chin as he did so. 

“Yeah, I mean..it’s kinda catchy.” Y/N said and began to hum the song to herself, “see, already stuck in my head!” 

“You should come to the next band rehearsal and help me convince the other guys. That’s what I was trying to sell them on at the cafe the other day.” 

Reggie threw his cup into a trash can at the edge of the sidewalk as they walked by. His rosy cheeks became inflamed when the cup hit the rim of the metal can and tumbled to the ground. 

“Careful, if you keep making shots like that I may have to start calling you Jim McIlvaine,” Y/N joked as Reggie sheepishly chased the cup down the sidewalk before tossing it into the trash can. 

“You can call me Larry Bird, though,” she said as she effortlessly tossed her cup into the trash can as she walked backwards. Reggie poked his bottom lip out and pouted as he jogged to catch up with her. 

“Something tells me you let me win that last game in the arcade.” 

Y/N shrugged her shoulders and let a playful smile play on her lips as she said “maybe you just had a sudden rush of NBA prowess in you back then and now it’s gone.”

Reggie slowed his pace as his 1992 silver honda civic came into view, the last car that sat in the arcade parking lot. It was only going to be a ten-minute drive for him to drop Y/N off at her house and he wasn’t quite ready for the night to end. He absentmindedly tossed his keys into the air and caught them several times before stopping at his car. Reggie leaned his back against the passenger's side of the car and looked up at the sky. The lights of the parking lot polluted the view of the stars. 

Y/N stood in front of Reggie with her left hand wrapped around her right wrist and her eyes focused on Reggie’s black boots. 

“I had fun tonight.” She finally said and looked up at the same time that Reggie let his head fall down from the stars, both of their cheeks were glowing with a red hue as their eyes met. 

“I did too,” Reggie agreed, “actually, this is probably the most fun I’ve ever had with anyone outside of the band.”

“You’re not just saying that, right? You actually mean it?” Y/N implored. 

Reggie cocked his head to the side with his brows pulled forward, the line between his brows crinkling. 

‘Of course, I mean it, why wouldn’t I?” 

Y/N let her eyes fall back down to Reggie’s boots as she shrugged, “I dunno, I mean…” she hesitated, slightly embarrassed about being vulnerable in front of him, “you’re...you’re in a band and you’re cool.... I mean...I hang out in the library and people watch. We're practically from different worlds." 

Reggie pushed himself off of the car and closed the distance between the two. He took both of her hands in his and let his fingers fall into the spaces between hers. Y/N felt her heart pounding against her ribcage and prayed that he couldn’t hear it. 

Reggie smiled softly at her before letting his eyes fall down to their intertwined hands for a moment while he gathered his thoughts. 

“I know we don’t know each other that well yet,” he paused to swallow his nerves and licked his dry lips, “but I wish you could see yourself the way that I see you right now in this moment. Because when I look at you, it’s like finding a four leaf clover...like I’ve been searching for you for an eternity and I can’t believe how lucky I am when my eye finally catches you.” 

Y/N slowly tugged her hands free from Reggie’s, the boy was taken aback by the response and opened his mouth to apologize only to find that his words were cut off by her lips crashing clumsily against his. 

“I-I’m sorry!’ Y/N stuttered out as she pulled away. Reggie placed his hand on the nape of her neck and pulled her lips back to his, the kiss slower and with more intention than the first. Both teens pulled away with heaving chests and flushed cheeks. 

Y/N looked down at her watch and looked back up at Reggie, “you know...we do have half an hour before Bonnie’s closes…”

Reggie moved aside and opened the passenger door for her before quickly running around the car to get to the driver’s side. He turned the key several times, the ignition switch fighting back against him before the engine finally turned over. He pushed the cassette the was popper slightky out of the slot back into the player and turned the volume up. 

“you listen to Make Out Monday?!” Y/N exclaimed with excitement as the words I'm kissaphobic don't wanna get too close to you… floated through his partially blown speakers. 

“They're my favorite band!” They both said at the same time and burst into laughter. Y/N reached forward and turned the volume up a tad bit more. Reggie drummed his fingers against the steering wheel as he drove and harmonized with the vocalists while Y/N threw all abandon to the wind and sang off-key alongside him. 

They made it to Bonnie’s with fifteen minutes to spare and rushed towards the pet store. Y/N quickly made her way to the counter and signed the puppy form that would allow them into the puppy play area. 

Reggie watched as several puppies rushed over to Y/N, the girl fell onto her back and laughed as they nipped at her fingers and nudged their cold noses against her skin.

Reggie found himself staring at her with a lopsided smile, adoration in his eyes and a sleeping puppy on his lap. 

Y/N couldn't believe that what started as a hesitant agreement to an unofficial date had turned into the best night of her life. They didn't know it then, but that date would be the start to a life long love affair. 

@straywonpil @siennanoelle01 @choppedhoundsludgeclod @cool-ultra-nerd @hxney-bunches-x @crybabyddl @sorryyoureoutofmyleague @dream-a-little-bigger-x @kcd15 @all-in-fangirl @ifilwtmfc @onlygetaway @iainttakingshitfromnobody @angryknighttreeprune​  @bathtimejish​ @lanasfandoms @miranda0102 @emotionalbruv @aliandthephantoms @multifandombabies @kinda-really-lost @5sosmukefan @alexpjoyner @mo-d3ans @hannahhistorian92 @sunsetcurvenotsunsetswerve @i-should-be-writing-my-own-fic @sunflowerbecca @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @n0wornever​

[luifairesaigner]

From the prompt: "Please? It’ll just be a few hours, I promise."

Pairing: Buddie

Word count: 777

Isabel and Josephina had taken a trip to Texas for a week to celebrate a relative’s 80th birthday. But Abuela owned a tiny Pomeranian and needed someone to watch her while she was gone. She wouldn’t leave without making sure Butterscotch was taken care of, and A-Shift happened to have four days off.

“Please? I’m ordering pizza and it’ll just be a few hours, I promise,” Eddie pleaded over the phone. “There’s not a lot to do here, so I brought the XBox… but he’s asking for his Buck.”

Buck didn’t really need to be persuaded to visit with Christopher. It was his favorite pastime. So, he got dressed and drove out to Whittier without a second thought. But agreeing to spend the night had been a stupid idea.

He reminded himself of that as he sat in darkness on the antique sofa in the den after they’d all said a quick goodnight. An afghan, handmade no doubt, hung over the back and there were two pillows and a comforter placed neatly at the end for him to use. But Buck wasn’t sleepy.

A Tiffany lamp on a decorated end table sat in front of a wall of framed photographs and Buck couldn’t help himself. Three kids, two girls and a boy, were prevalent in most of them and it melted his heart to see Eddie’s little face with chubby cheeks and doe eyes.

Food stained the tank top he wore as he sat in a high chair with one of his sisters beside him at the table eating cereal and Buck sighed with utter fondness. Christopher’s baby pictures looked so much like Eddie’s did. Same wild, thick hair cowlicked in every direction, same endearing smile that could light the world should the sun ever burn out. He couldn’t feel more in love if he tried; but he needn’t try. The secret feelings grew stronger every day.

Softly playing music lured Buck from his thoughts and he snapped his attention toward the doorway that led down the hall to the main house. The longer he listened, he realized it wasn’t coming from the actual house. Crouching toward the floor with each palm on each knee, Buck deduced that the sound had to be coming from… below?

The jaunty little tune felt familiar, but Buck couldn’t place it as he walked the corridor toward the kitchen. Though it seemed to become louder the closer he got to the front of the house. Between the living room and the kitchen there was a hallway with three doors. The first, an obvious bathroom. The second Buck learned to be a coat closet. And the third, the source.

As he walked tentatively down the stairway, Buck clenched the railing to keep from stumbling down to the bottom when both knees instantly turned to goo.

“Just remember what your old pal said, boy you've got a friend in me,” Eddie sang to a laughing Christopher as they sat side by side on a piano bench. “Yeah you’ve got a friend in me.”

“You gotta friend in meee!” Christopher squealed excitedly as he started the next verse. Eddie parroted it with perfect pitch as they looked at each other and Buck felt his pulse spike as he gnawed at his lips between his teeth.

His body on autopilot as he floated over each step, Buck shook his head to try and return to normal as he got close enough for Eddie to turn his head to notice.

He grinned when he saw him approach and Christopher leapt from his seat to throw his arms around Buck’s waist. Eddie didn’t stop playing, he only said, “Christopher got me out of bed so we could come sing a goodnight song,” before repeating the melody so they could catch up.

“Sing with us, Buck!” Christopher insisted and shoved Buck into the space he’d been sitting beside Eddie until their shoulders bumped. Christopher didn’t hesitate to perch himself atop Buck’s knee.

“You got troubles, I've got 'em too / there isn't anything I wouldn't do for you / we stick together and see it through / cuz you've got a friend in me!” they sang together until Eddie was riffing like Elton John and saying, “thank you, thank you, now goodnight.”

Christopher protested of course, but Eddie stood up with finality. “Alright, let’s get this guy to bed for real this time!” Eddie growled and touched their foreheads while he swept his son close to carry him up the stairs.

Lingering at the foot of the staircase, Eddie paused before he wondered, “You wanna come help me?”

[tefilovesreading]

Karaoke nights - Owen Joyner x reader

Pairing: Owen Joyner x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1,3k

Warning: mention of alcohol, couple swearing words and a bunch of fluff, ‘cause I love a fluffy story.

A/N: This is my first Owen fic, so I hope you like it. Also, let me know if I should make a taglist. Thanks for the pic @tewksburysmischief​

Edited by: @theamazingtomholland​

MASTERLIST 

The humid summer night in Toronto made Owen readjust his shirt, feeling how the fabric was sticking to his skin, but he couldn’t complain. After all, the temperature finally cooled down when the evening came, giving the couple a much-needed break from the heat.

“Are you okay, baby?” Y/N asked when she noticed his boyfriend run his fingers through his hair in a nervous gesture.

“Yeah, I’m just getting all sweaty,” he answered reassuring his girlfriend, “did Charlie send you the address?”

“He did, we’re a few blocks away.” The girl showed him the map on her phone screen and Owen nodded, locking just their pinkies, so their hands wouldn’t get sweaty as they walked to their destination.

“Where are we going anyway?” Owen asked again, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

“Charlie said it was one of his best mates’ place,” she commented swinging their hands to ease the blonde guy, “I’m sure we’re gonna have a good time, and if we’re not, when can always leave.”

“You’re right,” Owen sighed and leaned to kiss his girlfriend’s forehead.

“I’m always right, Joyner” Y/N bragged, sticking her tongue out to mess with Owen.

“Don’t get too cocky, babe,” he warned with a smirk, “you might regret it later.”

Charlie welcomed the couple inside and introduced them to the rest of the group, too many names Y/N couldn’t remember. 

“You guys want something to drink? A beer?” Charlie questioned pointing to the kitchen.

“I’m not sure if we should-” his friend interrupted him quickly.

“If you want a beer it’s okay, you know you can drink here,” Y/N saw her boyfriend nod slowly at his friend’s words, probably remembering that the legal age for drinking here was 19 and not 21.

“I’ll have a beer,” she said.

“Save the beer for later!” One of Charlie’s friends chirped, putting his arm over his shoulders, “we’re doing shots first, guys.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows in shock, but when she turned to see her boyfriend, he winked at her and whispered: “You’re done.”

What was supposed to be one shot of vodka, turned into three, probably four if Owen hadn’t spilled his before the glass could touch his lips.

“Owen is wasted!” Charlie sang with a laugh, “and here we thought little Y/N was gonna be the drunkest out of you two.”

“Oh c’mon!” she huffed and raised her glass, “you need to have a little more faith in me, Gillespie.”

“It’s not fair, she’s been drinking water,” Owen whined and filled his glass again with the clear liquid. 

“You gotta stay hydrated, baby,” she winked at him and threw her head back, letting the alcohol make its way down with a slight burn on her throat. 

“So guys,” the guy she vaguely remembered introducing himself as Nathan, started saying, “we have a little tradition.”

“If you tell me I have to do one more I don’t think I’m gonna be standing for much longer, mate,” Owen deadpanned, making the group laugh.

“Don’t worry, Owen, you don’t have to drink” Charlie patted his best friend’s shoulder and smirked, “but you do have to sing.”

Nathan handed him a mic and asked him what song he wanted to sing. To her surprise, instead of choosing a song from one of his favorite Broadway shows like he always did, he went with a Justin Timberlake classic.

“I’m bringing sexy back,” he sang getting into character so naturally, she knew his boyfriend was born to be a star, “them other boy don’t know how to act,” Charlie faked a gasp when Owen pointed at him as he sang the next verse.

Owen loved to see the bright smile on Y/N’s face as he sang and danced, making sure to give the people a good show, but most important, one that’d make his lovely girlfriend put a lot more effort into her show. 

“You see these shackles baby I’m your slave,” the blonde boy made sure to sing that line directly to Y/n’s face, loving the way she looked around all flustered and embarrassed.

“Take it to the chorus,” Charlie joined him, helping out his best friend with the background vocals. They were a complete mess together, and anyone could see it when they started singing the chorus together.

“Okay, that was one hell of a good show, guys,” Nathan said and turned to Y/N, “but I’m afraid we have to move to our next competitor, miss Y/N!”

“You said it was a tradition, not a competition,” Y/N accused him but received the mic he was holding out for her.

“It’s a traditional competition.”

Owen kissed her cheek when she passed him and grazed her hand. “I already won, babe,” he whispered. 

Unlike Owen and Charlie, she wasn’t the type of person to put on a show, sure she liked having fun, but he knew she’ll be embarrassed even if she did great. And he smiled when he heard her song choice. It was a bold choice.

The girl singing in front of him, with so much confidence and not a care in the world, was a view he wished to remember his entire life. And when she reached the chorus, he knew he was done, he knew he was head over heels for her. 

“Yeah you make me feel like, I’ve been locked out of heaven, for too long,” Y/N sang softly sitting on his lap, “for too long.” she finished, and he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“That was perfect, babe,” Owen kissed her cheek and felt the heat on her cheeks.

“As much as I love Bruno Mars, we gotta give this round to Owen,” Nathan announced, and she shook her head in disappointment.  

“I told ya,” Owen bragged, leaving a sweet kiss on her cheek, “you had fun, didn’t you?”

She turned her head to focus her attention on her boyfriend and nodded, his eyes were glossy due to the alcohol in his blood, and she was sure hers were just the same. 

“I did, baby,” Y/N said with a grin, “now let’s go and have fun.”

They spent the night laughing and playing random games with their new friends, enjoying the last night they were spending in Canada before going back to Oklahoma. Owen smiled softly at the girl leaning on his shoulder.

“I think it’s time for us to go back to our hotel,” he mentioned, getting up to say goodbye. He held a hand out for Y/N, and she took it gladly.

“Thanks for having us, guys,” the girl smiled politely at the group, “I really had a great night.”

“Thanks for coming,” one of the girls in the group told her with a beaming smile, “if you ever come back, let me know, so we can hang out.”

“Sure, I’d invite you to Oklahoma, but there’s not much to do,” she admitted scrunching her nose just a little. 

Y/N threw herself in bed with an exhausted sigh. Owen helped her take off her shoes and joined her. She wasn’t even drunk now, but she felt so tired she couldn’t keep both of her eyes open at the same time. 

“Shit, I don’t wanna move,” she mumbled, burying her face into her boyfriend’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, me neither,” he wrapped his arms around Y/N and pulled her closer to his body. “Did I tell you I love you?”

“Every day, baby,” she smiled with her eyes closed, “I love you too.”

“No, but I realized I’m seriously in love with you,” Y/N propped herself up, resting her chin in his chest, and smiled at his words, “when you were singing I couldn’t help but think how fucking lucky I am.”

“You’re the best, Owen,” she admitted, “I feel the same about you, but can’t we talk about this in the morning? I’m fucking tired right now.”

He laughed at her sincerity and nodded in agreement. With a last kiss on Y/N’s forehead, he pulled her closer and closed his eyes, ready to sleep. If having to sleep with his jeans on meant he could sleep holding his girlfriend, he’d do it every time he could.

“I really miss my Bindi,” he confessed in a whisper.

“I miss her too, now go to sleep.” 

[itspufflehuff]

Spidey Part2 - Sebastian Stan X Holland!Reader

Summary: What will happen between you and your brothers co-star after sparks fly in your first meeting at comic-con?

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | 

MATERLIST // TAGLIST

I wasn't planing on making a part two but as requested by @star-gazing-game here it is! You can read part one here and part three here. If anyone ever has a request or suggestion my messages are always open! Thank you for choosing to read my story and I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 4,935 (wow for a story I didn't plan on making I sure got lost in it. This is twice as long as the first story!)

~~~~

Once comic con ended you and Sebastian went your separate ways, making sure to exchange numbers first. The both of you still had to do some promoting for your movies and unfortunately, they were in different parts of the country. He would stay in California for a bit while you went back to New York. That didn't stop you from keeping up with each other. He would randomly message you throughout the day and it would always bring a smile to your face.

Sebastian: Another interview with the diva 🙄. I mean does he really need someone to carry all those juice boxes for him?

You were currently sitting in your apartment getting ready to have dinner. You were still appearing on talk shows promoting your movie and your career, now that people were noticing you more it was the perfect opportunity for you to talk more about your usual work and gain more of a following. Tonight you would be on SNL performing a parody skit of Wicked.

Laughing you responded back.

Y/N: Ugh I know right! He thinks he's so much better than anyone like 'oh look at me I'm Spider-Man' 🙄 go get your juice box and let the adults handle this

Less than a minute later your phone rang again.

Sebastian: I can't believe people think he's the better Holland when it's obvious you are.

Y/N: Thank you! Finally, someone who sees how much better I am than him

You set your phone down leaving it unlocked waiting for Sebastian's next reply. Instead, your phone read 'Tommy' as a video call came through. Confused as to why he would be calling you before an interview, you moved your food aside and swiped to answer the call.

Before you got to greet him Tom spoke, "Why are you texting Sebastian?"

Although his question caught you off guard that didn't stop you from thinking of a quick response.

Faking disappointment you shook your head, "Oh Tommy, have you been snooping on people's phones again? Hasn't mum talked to you about that already? Does she need to have another chat with you?"

His face turned a tint of red as everyone behind him laughed. You heard a voice call out, "Someone please tell me you got that on camera." It was Mackie.

Someone called back to him, "We got it!" Again everyone burst into laughter. Obviously embarrassed Tom cleared his throat, "I'll call you back later." Quickly he hung up the phone.

No new messages came from Sebastian after that. You assumed it was because his interview was starting. So for the next few hours, you busied yourself getting ready for your show later. This would be your first time performing for SNL, you were so excited but also nervous. You couldn't keep still all day you had to walk around, clean, jump, even sing. Anything to keep yourself busy.

They asked you to show up two hours early to rehearse one last time before the show began. You and your scene partner went over the opening scene that would lead into the song. Once you got it down you two warmed up your voices finding the perfect harmony. Your skit was second up and just like on opening night for all your other shows you were nervous. Sure you've performed live in front of people more times than you can count but each time was as nerve-wracking as the first time.

You had thirty minutes left before you had to go out when you got a text on your phone. Looking down you saw his name and a smile came onto your face.

Sebastian: Good luck tonight you're gonna be great xx

You felt a bit more at ease knowing you had Sebastian cheering you on from the other side of the country. You put your phone down and headed backstage where everyone else was talking as they waited for their turn to go up.

~~~~

"And now for our next guest, Tom Holland!" Your partner introduced. That was your cue to run out on stage. You stood to the right of her smiling and waving to the crowd. When the cheering died down you looked to her still smiling, "Actually it's Y/N Holland."

"We didn't book you today." She said faking confusion looking down at her cue cards, "Look it says right here Tom Holland. TOM. Not Y/N."

"You must've written the wrong name down because I was definitely asked to come down tonight."

She let out a nervous laugh looking at the audience, "No we called and asked for the Spidey twin. You know the new Spidey, not Toby or Andrew."

"I am the new Spidey. I don't know if you heard but I kinda did this new movie and I voiced Spider-Gwen."

"Ok, but we asked for the dancing twin?"

"I can dance too. Maybe even better than my brother." I wink to the audience who cheered.

"Wait, wait, wait," She said to the audience, "but we asked for the more successful twin. Surely that must be Tom. I mean he is Spider-Man. THE Spider-Man. He's gotten the Empire and BAFTA awards for best newcomer and rising star."

"Um tell that to my three Tony Awards for best newcomer and Best Actress." You held one finger up for best newcomer and two for Best Actress. The audience went wild cheering and clapping for you.

"Oh no." Your scene partner said, cuing the music to What is this Feeling begin.

"There's been some confusion over casting here at SNL" you both sang

"But of course I'll promote for Spidey," you sang then in a speaking voice you quickly said, "Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse out in theaters now."

Your partner looked at you rolling her eyes, "And of course I'll rise up above it"

"For I know that's how you'd want me to respond, yes. There's been some confusion for you see, my scene-mate is," you both sang.

"Unusually and exceedingly peculiar and altogether quite impossible to describe," you sang.

"Y/N" She deadpanned to the audience.

The both of you continued the song just as rehearsed. By the end, everyone cheered as you two marched off stage pretending not to like each other.

You stood for the rest of this show to watch the other skits they had planned out. It was so much fun, you were getting so used to being in a small room filled with the camera crew as you and the interview sat there talking. Of course, those could be fun too but this was a nice change.

At the end of the show, Tom called to tell you how amazing you did. "Watch out because I'm coming for your Tony's with some Oscars next." He threatened before hanging up. You laughed to yourself at your dorky brother. You couldn't help but notice the noise going on behind Tom throughout your phone call. He sounded like he was at a party or something. Then your phone rang again.

Sebastian: Tom has nothing on your three Tony's the only other award he'll be getting from the Oscars is biggest diva

You smiled reading his text, you were about to respond when another came through.

Sebastian: You did great tonight, I can't wait to hear you sing in person again

You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach. Of course you liked him. He was so sweet, funny, talented, and super attractive. But you two hadn't hung out since comic con or even seen each other since then. You didn't want to think too much about your relationship with him other than being friends but deep down you wanted more.

Y/N: Once I'm back on the stage I'll get you front row tickets

~~~~

Weeks had passed when you finally finished doing interviews and promos for Spider-Verse. Sebastian was finally back in New York but you two hadn't had the chance to meet up just yet. If he wasn't busy you were. Now that you had free time you decided to take advantage and take some time off of doing shows as well. Just a few more weeks then you'd go back.

That was until they called you desperate for a replacement, both the lead actress and her understudy got food poisoning and couldn't go on stage.  They needed a new Eurydice and you knew the part. You played it once before and you did amazing. Not wanting to let anyone down you agreed to cover, you were also really excited to revisit Hadestown. You loved playing Eurydice the first time so when the chance came to play her again you took it.

You immediately texted your brother excited sharing the good news. You wanted to text Sebastian but you knew he was in the middle of an interview so instead you waited for him to let you know when it was over.

His interview went on longer than expected. By the time it was over you were already down at the theater for a mic check and to get your costume fitted. When Sebastian texted you back your phone was hidden in your purse which then happened to be buried under a pile of everyone else belongings. After an hour passed he wondered why you didn't respond. Usually, you'll respond within a few minutes or before the hours passed. He didn't want to bug and keep texting so he waited for you to respond. He walked around his apartment trying to keep himself busy until he heard his phone buzz. Quickly he ran to his phone only to see it was a text from Mackie. Disappointed but not wanting to be rude he opened it up. It was a screenshot of some news article followed by the words, "This your girl?"

He opened up the photo and read to himself in a low whisper, "Actress Y/N Holland to star in Hadestown for one night only" he read further then jumped to his feet running into his room.

She's performing tonight? Why didn't she tell me?

It was already 6:30 and the show is scheduled for 8:00. That night was the fastest he ever got ready for anything. He showered, got dressed, combed his hair, and jumped in his car all within twenty minutes but he didn't care. He was going to see you tonight.

~~~~

On his way to the theater, he passed a man and woman selling flowers on the side of the street. Quickly he pulled over running over to them. They had a variety of flowers ready to be made into bouquets, the only problem was he wasn't sure which ones to get. He had never asked before what your favorite flowers were and he was not about to ask your brother so he did the next best thing, he googled it.

~~~~

At the end of the show, you were full of adrenaline. The crowd cheered as they stood for you and the cast. You had worked with some of the ensemble cast before on other shows so they came up to give you hugs before you all bowed and the curtain dropped.

You almost forgot how amazing and fun it was to be on stage. You walked back to your dressing room ready to change back into your clothes and go home. Your bag was thrown in the corner forgotten about but the moment you sat down a thought came into your head.

I haven't texted Sebastian back all day.

You ran to your bag digging through it to find your phone. It seemed to be lost somewhere in there and you were losing patience so you flipped your purse over dropping everything onto the floor. Finally finding your phone you walked over to your chair, opened up your messages, and went to Sebastian's name.

Y/N: Hey I sorta got busy... I'll tell you more about it when you've got time

You sighed slouching down in your chair, closing your eyes, and throwing your head back. You knew he was very understanding and wouldn't be upset with you for leaving him without saying a word but still, you felt bad. A few minutes passed when you heard knocking on your door. You sat back up before calling out, "Come in."

"I have time now if you want to talk." You heard a husky voice say from your door. You turned in shock seeing Sebastian standing there in a casual blue suit with flowers in his hand. You got up from your seat and started walking over to him as he walked closer to you, "Sebastian what're you doing here?"

"Well, when I heard you would be performing tonight I couldn't miss this show. I also got you these so I couldn't let you leave without them."

"Thank you, they're beautiful. How did you know these were my favorite?" You asked jokingly. You honestly thought it was just a coincidence that the flowers he got were your favorites.

He rubbed the back of his neck as a blush rose onto his cheeks, "I may have googled what your favorite flowers are."

You couldn't help but laugh, "I'm sorry I didn't mean for that to come out. It's just- you googled me?"

"Yes, I googled you!" He was laughing now too.

"I can't believe you googled me." You were smiling at him now. He was so much taller without your heels on. You took a step back, crossing your arms feeling a bit insecure.

"Well, I was hoping I could take you out tonight. Finally, get to hang out again now that we're here together."

"Yeah, of course, let me get changed really quickly then we can do."

He nodded walking out of the room allowing you to dress in peace. You ran around grabbing your clothes and throwing everything back into your purse. It wasn't too long until you opened the door with your purse and flowers in hand, "So what did you have in mind?"

"I was thinking maybe we can go back to my apartment. I'm sure you're tired and well were not exactly dressed for the same event." He looked down at your sweatpants and t-shirt.

"Yeah, maybe you're right."

~~~~

You followed behind him in your car to his house. You were slightly nervous since this would be the first time you both properly hang out together, alone, and in his house.

When you both got there he met you at your car opening the door for you and offering his hand, "My lady." You giggled at his antics but still took his hand, "Thank you, kind sir." He walked you up to his apartment while your arm was wrapped around his.

Once you were both in his apartment he looked down at his attire, "I am going to change real quick. While I'm gone feel free to make yourself at home. If you need to use the bathroom it's just through that door right there." He walked off to his room leaving you there alone. You put your bag down on the couch taking your phone out to see a text from Tom.

Tommy: How was your show? I'm sure you did great as always! That's how we Hollands do like to do it anyway

Y/N: The show was amazing! I had so much fun I missed performing but I'm still taking a few weeks off before I jump back into it again

You got another text when Sebastian came out of his room now wearing sweatpants of his own and a band shirt. "I don't have anything w can really eat right now so we can order food if you're hungry?"

"That sounds great. I'm fine with eating anything, honestly."

"Awesome, I know this great Chinese restaurant not too far from here we can order from."

You two spent the rest of the night eating and talking. You started off just sitting on his couch but as the night went on you got more comfortable switching positions. You would lay with your back on the arm of the couch, your legs dangling over the arm of the couch, then you moved so your head was hanging over the edge of the couch until you both somehow ended up laying on the floor talking.

Sebastian's head was right next to yours but your bodies were going opposite of each other. He grabbed some pillows from the couch keeping one for himself and giving you the other.

"What happened to you giving me front row seats once you were back on stage, huh?" Sebastian joked.

You propped your arm up on the pillow and rested your head on your hand facing him, "I wasn't planning on going back so soon. They needed me and I couldn't let them down! Plus you were in the middle of something I couldn't interrupt."

He did the same as you resting his head on his arm turning to you, "Excuses, excuses. You could've left a message or something! I would've dropped whatever I was doing just to see you."

You blushed looking away from him but he put a hand on your cheek turning your head back to him. His hand lingered as his thumb drew circles on your cheek, "Have I told you I love hearing you sing?"

"Maybe once or twice." You answered nervously.

"Well, then I'll just keep telling you." You looked into each other's eyes while his hand was still resting on your cheek. You thought for sure he would lean in for a kiss but he didn't. Instead, he cleared his throat and moved his hand. He looked up at the time before letting out a whoa, "It's already two in the morning! You should really get home and get some rest."

You were a bit confused. It felt like you two were having a moment and now he's rushing you home? Sure he makes a good point it is getting late and you're tired but what the hell?

"I suppose you're right." You laid back down on the floor not wanting to get up but Sebastian was standing next to you holding his hand out for you to take. He lifted you off the floor, "Come on I'll walk you to your car."

The walk to your car was quiet, neither of you really knew what to say. When it was time to go he gave you a hug which lingered. You were grateful it did. You didn't want to let him go he smelled like old spice and his body felt warm pressed up against yours. His head rested on top of yours as he rubbed your back with one hand. "Let me know when you're home, ok?" He pulled away holding onto your shoulders until you nodded.

~~~~

Sebastian laid awake in bed waiting to know you were home safe. He could've kissed you tonight. He wanted to kiss you but the gentleman in him wouldn't allow it. From the moment you two met he knew he wanted to take you out but you being Tom's sister he didn't want to do it behind his back either.

In the morning he set his plan into motion. The first call he made was to Tom.

It didn't take long for him to answer, "Hey mate, what's up?"

Sebastian felt nervous. What if Tom said no? What if this ruined their friendship, but he had to try. "Hey, Tom I was just calling to ask something."

"Shot."

"Well, I was hoping it would be alright if I take Y/N out on a date tonight?" He let out slowly. His palms were sweating and his heart was beating fast.

"What?" Tom didn't know what to say. Of course he thought Sebastian was a really great guy but you were his little sister. Did he really want to let you go out with him?

"I would like to take Y/N out on a date, but with your permission of course. I know how close you two are and I don't want you to feel like we're sneaking around behind your back. If you say no I totally understand and I'll keep everything as just friends."

If he were being honest Tom was impressed with the way Sebastian came to him before asking you out. He thought it was nice of his friend to come clean to him instead of asking you out without letting him know, which was something that happened before. "You know what man? Go for it."

"Are you serious?" Sebastian was stunned.

"Yeah! I know we joke around a lot about you and Mackie not liking me but you really are a great friend. Plus I saw how well you two got along during Comic-Con. I know you'll do what's right and make her happy."

Sebastian was over the moon happy. As soon as he hung up the phone his second call was to you.

~~~~

"Tonight at 5:00? That sounds great!"

"Ok, I'll pick you up then." As soon as he hung up the phone you shouted into your pillow with excitement. You knew you had a moment together last night! You just thought maybe it was your crush clouding your judgment but now you two have a date for tonight!

You jumped off your bed and went straight into your closet.

What am I going to wear tonight?

You rummaged through your wardrobe for an hour trying everything on. He said you would be going out to dinner then he would take you out for a movie. Cliche but you didn't care, you were going out with Sebastian Stan! After another two hours retrying everything on and pairing them with shoes. He mentioned the restaurant you would be outdoors so with that information you settled on wearing a maroon corduroy dress with a white long sleeve underneath and some black tights underneath. As for the shoes you went with black boots that had a heel to them.

It felt like time slowed down as if it knew how excited you were for your date. At 3:30 you started getting ready, first taking a shower then quickly putting on your outfit and shoes. Seeing as how you always had to wear so much makeup on stage you hardly liked to wear any off. You only put on a bit of concealer to hide the bags under your eyes, some eye shadow, and lipstick. Once you were satisfied with your look you started on your hair. Not wanting to do too much to it you lightly curled it and pinned it to the sides. As soon as you finished getting ready you heard a buzz coming from your intercom, "Hi Miss. Holland there is a Mr. Sebastian Stan here for ya."

Excited you hurried across the room to buzz back, "Let him up. Thank you, Jerry!" Within minutes you heard a knock on your door. You had set your purse next to the door earlier so you wouldn't have to worry about grabbing it o your way out. When you opened the door you were met with a shy-looking Sebastian once again wearing a casual suit although this time it was a plaid grey. He had one single flower in his hand and a dopey grin on his face.

"Hi, you look beautiful. Well, you always look beautiful but I never mention it so I am now."

You laughed at his stammering, "Thank you, you don't look too bad yourself. I mean you never look bad but I never mention it so I am now." You said coolly mocking him.

He noticed this and laughed looking down, "Thank you. I- umm- I brought you this. Just another one to add to your bouquet." He handed you another flower, the same as the ones from last night. You took it from him happily, "You're so sweet. I'll add it to the bunch right now." You began walking back into your apartment until you realized you were leaving Sebastian standing outside of your apartment door. You turned back around opening the door up for him, "Please come in while I put this away." So he did. He stepped into your apartment but remained by the door. He looked around at the setup and decor. "Wow, you really weren't kidding about those three Tony awards were you?" He asked impressed. You turned back with a chuckle, "I don't have to lie to sound cooler than my brother." "You got that right." He mumbled to himself with a smile.

~~~~

The restaurant he chose was on a rooftop overlooking the city. The view was beautiful and even though there was a rough over your heads it was clear allowing you to see the sky above and the sides were left open so a breeze could pass through. There were strings of light running through the top to illuminate the tables as well as a small jar filled with fairy lights.

Dinner went by smoothly. As you ate you both talked about your lives and the places you've been.

"Greece is amazing! It's my favorite place to go when I need to get away for a while." Sebastian gushed.

"You've been to Greece?! Oh my, I've always wanted to visit but haven't had the chance to go yet."

"You haven't been to Greece?!" He looked at you like you just kicked his puppy. "Well, I will just have to take you someday then." He took a sip of his drink and wiggled his eyebrows at you.

"You said it so you have to take me now!"

"I will." He said with both seriousness and playfulness.

"Promise?" You raised an eyebrow as you held your pinky out.

He rolled his eyes but chuckled taking your pinky with his, "Promise."

~~~~

After dinner, he drove you across the river into Brooklyn. You looked to him confused, "I thought we were just watching a movie?"

He smiled keeping his eyes on the road, "We are."

"Then we do we have to go to Brooklyn?"

"You'll see."

Once you saw it your jaw dropped. The car made sense now. Instead of his Tesla from the other night, he was now driving an SUV. You were confused when you saw it at first but didn't think much into it. Now he was driving you into the Skyline Theater and you understood why he brought his SUV.

"It's a drive-in theater?"

"Yup, check the back seats."

Behind you were blankets, pillows, and snacks that you for some reason didn't see before. He pulled into a parking space with the back of the car facing the big screen, "Wait here." He got out of the car, opened up the back, and started putting the back seats down. Carefully he laid the blankets and pillows for you two. Once he finished he looked up to you, "Now for some popcorn, Ill be right back. Want anything to drink?"

"Just water and a bottle of soda."

"Got it." He flashed you a charming smile before closing the back and walking off.  You sat there smiling to yourself like an idiot. You haven't felt this happy in so long, it was a different type of happiness. He came back quicker than you expected with drinks and a big tub of popcorn. Seeing as he still had the keys he opened the back once again to lay out the snacks. "Come on." He nodded his head over motioning for you to join him.

You sat in the back letting your legs dangle over the side of the car, "So what movie are we seeing tonight?"

"Honestly I don't even know" He laughed looking at you.

"You don't know?" You laughed along.

"Uh-uh. It could be a kid's movie, an adult movie, or it could even be one of my movies. I don't know. I just thought it would be romantic to bring you out here for a movie."

"That is sweet but also unbelievable." You laughed but hoped the movie would be something appropriate. Luckily once the movie began it turned out to be Just Go With It.

Sebastian pushed himself back allowing him to lay down, before he did though he took his shoes off and tossed them to the front. You followed along. As the movie went on you two slowly inched closer to each other. First, it started out with him putting his hand on top of yours then he slowly put his arms around your shoulder. You leaned into him resting your head on his chest. Although neither of you could see each other's faces you both smiled at the close contact. You would feed each other snacks and when he tried tossing popcorn into his mouth and failed you both had a contest to see who could do it first, of course, you won.

By the end of the night, Sebastian took you back to your apartment walking you to your door. With your door open you leaned on the frame and looked over to him, "I had a great night Sebastian, thank you." You placed a soft kiss on his cheek before turning to walk into your apartment. He grabbed your hand before you could go. You turned to face him slightly tilting your head you scrunched your eyebrows. He walked closer to you grabbing both sides of your face, "Can I kiss you?" Unable to speak you nodded your head. You felt like your stomach was in your throat.

He leaned down closer to your face, slowly closed his eyes, and placed a soft kiss on your lips. You thought your legs would turn to jelly but luckily they stood strong. You kissed him back wishing it would never have to end.