#Dunno if he can play guitar

[ivan-fyodorovich-k]

I don’t understand the guitarist obsession with chasing after sounding exactly like such-and-such player; I mean sure there are guitarists who inspire you and you might buy an amp or a guitar or a pedal or whatever because you want your guitar style to be in the same vein but at some point shouldn’t you want to sound like yourself when you play?

[dynamic-power]

Eddie has a mole on the back of his neck.

It's on the right side, just beside the first knob of his spine and just below his hairline, and it's only visible because Eddie has tied his hair into a bun on the top of his head to cool off in the stifling heat of Steve's garage.

Steve wants to bite it.

He doesn't know why. He's never felt the need to bite Eddie before, but there is something about that mole that is begging to have Steve's teeth leave a mark around it. He wants to lick at the skin, taste the sweat shining in the light, kiss that spot that he's never kissed before.

He realizes with delight that he can. He couldn't a month ago, not without it being incredibly awkward, but now that he an Eddie are involved-

He crosses the stuffy room, stands behind Eddie's stool, and leans down. Eddie's been playing his guitar and must not have heard Steve approach because his body jumps when Steve's lips press to that mole.

Steve grips Eddie's hips to still him and darts his tongue out, lapping at damp skin. The taste of soap and sweat and Eddie explode across his tongue and he hums. Eddie leans back, and Steve takes his weight easily, wishing they weren't wearing shirts. He wants to feel skin on skin.

"Do you need attention?" Eddie teases as Steve continues to mouth at his neck.

"You have a mole here," Steve informs him, pressing a soft kiss to the spot before licking at it again.

"Do I?" Eddie sounds distracted. Steve likes that, deciding that he does, in fact, need attention.

"Yeah. Think you have any more I don't know about?" Steve asks, wrapping his arms around Eddie properly, encouraging him to put his guitar down.

"I dunno," Eddie says, "wanna find out?"

[nvuy]

I saw the Boothill text messages leaks and he physically can not cry. How does this info make u feel 🎤

GIVE ME THAT 🎤

“Theoretical question…” Boothill gratefully takes the glass of wine you hand to him before you sidle up next to him in the grass. “…But say the sun was g’nna blow up tomorrow, and you were the only one that knew about it. What would you do?”

He pulls off his hat and rests it by his feet. He feels you staring at him. Your gaze is warm, yet something about it bothers him. Like you’re trying to read him.

He presses his lips together in a thin line.

“That’s definitely a question,” you murmur beneath your breath. “Why?”

He says nothing for a moment.

The warm breeze is gentle.

He’s still staring at the sunset when he replies, “dunno. ‘M curious.” His words are accompanied by a casual shrug.

He hears you shift, maybe slightly uncomfortable. The wine in your glass sloshes.

He takes a sip from his own glass. It’s not his favourite, but you can’t really afford anything to his tastes. But, for what it’s worth, the wine is nice, and good enough to take his mind off how his metal fingers still seem to tremble when he mentions the end of the world.

Sweet and benign on his tongue, just like you. He hums and studies the drink through the glass. Maybe cheap booze ain’t too shabby.

“I guess I’d spend it with my family,” you say. You, too, shrug.

“Would you tell ‘em?” He turns his head to look at you. “That the world’s endin’?”

He watches as you inhale.

Then, you say, “no.” There’s a light shake of your head to accompany your words. “I don’t want to scare them.”

That’s what he did, too. Many, many years ago.

He remembers seeing red smeared all over her little face. How it slowly turned a deep purple as she held her breath. How it then faded completely with its colour, and he lost sight of her gorgeous pinkish cheeks when she took her final breaths.

“What would ya say to them in the last minute?”

He can’t remember her voice anymore.

That lump in his throat swells, and it feels like a cold marble. He’s so tired of trying to swallow it.

“I think I’d be too busy crying like a baby, but…” It was a lighthearted joke as you nudge him in the side. He only lets out a humourless puff of air through his nose. “I’d tell them I love them. That they’re the best people I’ve ever known.”

Something heavy weighs in his chest like hot iron, burning and bubbling at the base of his throat. “Yeah. I get it.”

You touch his cheek gently. “You okay?”

He’s not. “‘M fine.”

“Would you stay with me?” you ask him. “Theoretically. If the world ended tomorrow?”

That cracks a smile on his face, though it’s light. “Sure I would. Theoretically.” The sun always felt nice on his face.

Your skin was even nicer against his. You rest against his shoulder, and he leans his head to press his ear to the side of your face.

“If my metal body’s good for anythin’, I’d try to shield you from the blast.”

You snort. “I appreciate it, though I don’t think even a cyborg can withstand the sun exploding.” You reach up and pet his hair. The white strands pool along your fingertips like running water.

He leans into your touch. “Still. I gots ta try.”

You sigh and flick his forehead lightly. “All theoretical, Boothill.”

The cowboy hums, and you feel it ripple across your skin like waves. “Course.”

“Hopefully the world doesn't end tomorrow,” you add. “You still haven’t taught me how to play the guitar.”

Boothill turns his head so his nose presses to the side of your face. Although his skin is cold, you feel warm and fuzzy. “Even if the world ends, I’d be happy right here.” He reaches down and pats your lap firmly.

He feels your face heat up and you groan. “You’re terrible.”

His cold lips press to your temple and he snickers. “You like it.”

[piningforstan]

I just recently found your page and love your work!!

can you write an angsty Stan fic where reader and Stan are still dancing around their feelings and reader finally gets the courage to confess to Stan but maybe overhears a conversation with him and Ford out of context saying he won’t date them and r is crushed? Then cue r trying to move on and jealous!Stan and then they get together somehow?

Thank you!!💕

I ended up placing this fic when Stan and Ford are still in high school before their falling out. I apologize if the timeline with Carla isn’t canon, I just wanted to include her. Also, reader is mentioned as a female a few times but this can easily be read as gender neutral.

I hope you like it!

You loved alcohol as much as you loved getting bamboo shoots shoved under your nail beds. But Carla “Hotpants” McCorkle had just broken up with Stan, and it was your duty as his best friend to support him. And if that meant drinking cheap beer on the beach with his brother, then so be it.

“I thought she was the one,” Stan grumbled. He crunched his empty beer can, belched, then reached for another.

You rolled your eyes. “You say that about every girl. Even that one you saw in a dream.”

You knew because you kept a detailed record of Stan’s revolving door of women, each declaration of love another stake in your heart. Secretly, you were pleased that Carla ended things with Stan. You could never date him in fear of ruining your friendship, but that didn’t mean you liked to see him with other girls. Especially not stuck-up bitches like Carla.

“I just dunno what she sees in this new guy.”

“He doesn’t litter?” Ford answered. He nudged the growing pile of discarded cans with his foot. Stan’s brother never drank, but he certainly lamented about how much the two of you did.

Stan continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “So what he can play guitar. Anyone can do that.”

“Can you?”

“No.” Stan angrily kicked up sand. “But I would learn if I thought I had a chance of winning her back.”

“You don’t need her,” you told him. The beer in you warmed you from the inside out, initiating the familiar tingling sensation in your legs that happened when you drank. “You’re Stan motherfucking Pines.”

Stan grinned at you. “You’re right. I don’t need her.” After slurping down the rest of his beer, Stan grabbed the bottom of your chair and pulled you closer. He pressed a sloppy kiss to your temple.

It wasn’t anything you weren’t used to — Stan happened to be very affectionate, even worse when he was drunk — but it still sent your pulse skyrocketing.

“I got the only girl I need right here,” Stan said, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

Your insides turned molten. Of course, you loved when Stan called you “his girl” but the sting of the words were especially painful in the wake of his breakup. You would never actually be his girl in the way that it mattered.

You could never jeopardize your friendship with Stan, or Ford. You had been inseparable since you were children, when Stan received a particularly nasty note about you in class and instead of passing it on promptly ate it. You took a likening to him immediately. And, since Stan was never without his brother for very long, Ford became the reasonable cornerstone of your friendship.

It wasn’t until a few years ago that you realized you saw Stan as much more of a friend. To be specific, when he successfully grew out his mullet and you fawned over it instead of throwing up in your mouth. On anyone else you might’ve. But it weirdly fit Stan, who you’d watched go from a weird, skinned-knee little boy to a weird, broad-shouldered man with dark curls that you desperately wanted to run your hands through.

Ford shattered the moment. “Why don’t you guys just date then?”

You’d both been asked the question before. It was expected, when a boy and girl were friends. Parents, nosy teachers, old ladies peering at you from wiry glasses. Usually the two of you fielded the question with various degrees of hilarity — “he gave me an STD” or “that’s my sister!” — but tonight it felt profoundly different.

Perhaps it was because you were so close, physically. Or perhaps because you had confided in Ford the secret crush you harbored on his brother. You trusted him not to tell but to hear it now, spelled out in the air, made you stiffen.

“She knows all my disgusting habits,” Stan finally said to break the silence, “I couldn’t trick her into it.”

He grinned at you in your peripheral, a certain softness in the corners of his mouth that weren’t usually there. You rallied your best grin back,

“Yeah, it would be weird. Right?” You chuckled nervously.

Stan, with unprecedented exuberance, nodded in agreement. “S’weird. I’ve seen you in your retainer. Could never fool around with you after that.”

Ouch. You pretended it didn’t feel like a blow to the stomach. “And you smoke too much. It would be like kissing an exhaust pipe.”

“See? It could never work.” Stan tore another beer off the plastic rings, drained it, then announced he was going on a walk. You watched his retreating form until you were sure that he could no longer hear you.

You whipped around. “Ford! What was that?”

“I’m sick of you two dancing around the subject. If you just dated I wouldn’t have to sit out here every few months when you inevitably get dumped because you’re with the wrong person.”

You groaned and slid down in the lawn chair, covering your face with your hands. You actually liked the smoke that clung to Stan’s clothes, the deft flick of his thumb striking up the lighter. Why did you tell him you didn’t?

You’re a coward, your inner voice accused. You panicked. It wasn’t like you could exactly agree with Ford, especially not after what Stan said about your retainer. Did he mean that?

If he did, that was worse than anything else. Not only did he not harbor a secret attraction, but he was repulsed at the idea of you together.

Stan stumbled back down the beach a few minutes later, to your chagrin. It was much easier not to think of him when he wasn’t in front of you; even like this, swaying on his feet and looking slightly green.

“Stan, are you —?”

He lurched and fell face forward into the sand.

Ford glared at you like it was your fault. “This is the last time.”

“Sure. Just get his other side.”

“Thank you again, hun.” Caryn Pines smiled sweetly at you. The small kitchen smelled profusely of her perfume and cigarette smoke, wrapping around you like an embrace.

“Yeah, of course. No big deal.”

Caryn looked at you strangely, in that way that adults did sometimes. “You’re always takin’ care of my Stanley. I know he ‘ppreciates it, even if he doesn’t say it.”

“I couldn’t leave him on the beach.” You took a bite of the babka that Stan’s Ma put out, chewing thoughtfully. “Again.”

Caryn always tried to feed you when you came over, no matter how fleeting of a visit. You had seen her sneak the food out of packages and container and pass it off as her own, but you didn’t care. It encompassed her parenting abilities — well-meaning but slightly manufactured, a desire to be the mother that she wanted to be but not exactly the drive to put in the work.

Either way, you knew she loved you like her own.

“Ya know, I see the way he looks at you. And you look at him. It doesn’t take a psychic to figure it out,” Caryn said.

Your face warmed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“He’s crazy ‘bout you. I know my Stanley.”

“But what if…what if we broke-up ? I can’t lose him in my life.” Tears strained your voice. Here you were, admitting your feelings to another Pines family member except for the one who actually needed to hear it.

Caryn clicked her tongue and edged around the island, pulling you into a hug. “But what if it’s great? What if it’s everything you imagined?”

“Maybe,” you said, muffled in her side.

Caryn gave you a final squeeze. “I could only pray for someone like you for my son. Say, you don’t happen to have a sibling for Ford, do ya?”

You shook your head. Caryn made a gesture like too bad then fiddled with the coffee machine.

“Here.” Caryn shoved a steaming mug in your direction, then wiped her hands on her dress. “Take this upstairs for me, will ya? I’ve gotta check on Shermie.”

You stood rooted in place for an embarrassing amount of time, mulling over what she had said. What if it was great? Your heart jumped. Maybe she was right. You would tell Stan.

Emboldened, you crept down the hall and past the living room. The TV flickered ghostly blue lights over the couch where Filbrick snored, and you were careful to avoid the creaky stairs. It wasn’t ever said aloud but everyone knew in the house not to disturb Pa after work. He wasn’t abusive, that you could tell, but somewhere on the verge of it.

Stan and Ford’s voice drifted from their shared bedroom — Stan’s gruff, drunken mumbles and Ford’s clever quips lined with affection.

You were going to tell him. You loved him.

A hitch of agitation in Stan’s voice made you pause at the first step, just out of earshot, a silver of light falling across you from the cracked door.

The delirious, bubbly feeling of excitement in your chest fluttered uncertainly.

“Oh, would give it a rest, Sixer?”

“Stan, I just think —”

“You know how I feel about her,” Stan interrupted. From your vantage point you could see him sprawled out on his bed, one hand over his face.

Her? Meaning you?

Your grip tightened on the mug. Here it was, the universe delivering you a sign that Caryn was right. That you were right.

The view didn’t offer any insight on Ford but you could hear his desk chair squeaking as he leaned backwards, contemplative. “And how do you feel about her?”

A beat of silence, the covers rustling as Stan lifted himself onto his elbows. “She’s my best friend.”

“Uh huh.”

“And-And of course I love her.”

“Uh huh.”

“But I could never date her.”

Your blood turned cold. What? Didn’t he just say that he loved you? Whatever brief, sweet bliss you had went plummeting into the ground. You turned away, coffee in hand, unable to listen to more.

Stan stared up at the ceiling, at the water stain that looked like an elephant. Sometimes when he tried to get his feelings out, the words would run circles around and around in his head until he chased them down. It didn’t help that he had drank so much.

Towards the end it wasn’t even really about Carla anymore, but you. You, with your dumb perfect face and laugh. The way that you stuck around despite knowing everything about him, about his family, leaving him feeling raw and infested like an overturned rock.

His stomach churned. Stan waited for the nausea to pass, pinning down his words before eking out, “I would fuck things up with her. It ain’t worth it. Losin’ her. Ya know?”

God he hoped he was making sense. The room was spinning and the elephant was now doing summersaults.

“I wouldn’t let you,” Ford quietly replied. “I know you love her. I’d stop you from fucking up.”

Stan laughed, dry and brittle. “No one can stop me. I’m a one man fuck-up.”

“You’ve never been one man.”

Stan curbed his nausea enough to look at his brother. Really look at him. Any other given day and he might’ve kicked him for saying something like that. His throat bobbed. “Yeah. Yer right.”

A moment passed between them, one of those brotherly, twin moments that he hadn’t felt since they were kids. Ford clapped his hands together.

“My first declaration of not letting you fuck up is to tell her tomorrow how you feel.”

“What? Tomorrow! No way.”

Ford narrowed his eyes. Stan waved a hand and flopped back down onto the bed, resigned. “Fine, fine. Hey, can you tell that elephant to stop moving? He’s bein’ a real dick.”

After that night, you avoided the Pines family like the plague, dodging after-class visits and letting calls go to the answering machine. Your parents asked where your “boyfriend” was, as they lovingly referred to him, but it only felt like salt in the wound. Stan would never be your boyfriend. He said it himself — he could never date you.

You hated the heavy grayness that clung to you, and most importantly, you hated that the one person you wanted to talk to about Stan was…Stan. And you couldn’t. How mortifying it would be to confess something so life altering for him to say that he only saw you as a friend.

Stan left message after message, wondering what he had done and if you could. But you couldn’t bear to see him. You ate lunch in the girl’s bathroom and nearly sprinted to your car after school, peeling out of the lot as soon as the final bell rang. He tried to come by your house, too. Your parents, loyal to you no matter how much they loved Stan, told him you weren’t there.

It was safe to say that, after a month of this, they were relieved when you stepped out of your room in actual clothes. Your mother actually clutched her pearls. “You look amazing. Where are you going? Did you make up with Stanley?”

You ignored that line of inquiry. “I have a date. Not with Stan,” you added, well aware that was the follow up question.

“Oh.” Your mother’s happiness faltered slightly. “Who with?”

“Just someone from school. I’ll make sure they drop me off before curfew.” You pretended to be oblivious to their probing stares, kissing them each on the cheek before striding out the front door to the idled car in the drive.

A dark shape shot out of the driver’s seat and scrambled to open up your door. Eugene glanced nervously at your house as you climbed in. “Are you sure you don’t want me to meet your folks?”

“I’m sure,” you said, monotone.

Eugene had been interested in you for a while now, but you always hedged your answers, not wanting to commit. Last week you finally said yes. You needed to get over Stan — even though the first thing you thought of was how he would laugh at Eugene for opening your door. You could just hear his rasping, seething laugh. Pussy, he would call Eugene, and you would punch him.

Throat thickening with tears, you forced yourself to admire Eugene in the glow of the streetlights that passed by. He was classically handsome. Smart, kind. A musician. Everything that, on paper, would make the perfect boyfriend. It was incredibly sweet that he wanted to meet your parents and open your car door.

Yet all you could think about was Stan: his untamed mullet and cauliflower ears from boxing, the nose slightly too large for his face that was crooked from all the fights he instigated. The braying sound of his laugh and how he thought it was funny to snap your bra strap. The fact that, beneath the jokes and the crude humor, he was soft and compassionate and an excellent artist. He always made you laugh. He was a million things that Eugene would never be.

But Eugene was one thing Stan wasn’t.

Interested in you.

You shoved all of that down by the time Eugene pulled up to your date, flashing him your most winning smile. A drive-in movie seemed innocent enough. You were confident that Eugene wouldn’t try to make any moves, but you still directed him to park near a minivan of children.

“Want to steal some candy from them?” You asked.

Eugene’s expression shifted as if you’d suggested something morally offensive. “What? From the kids?”

“I was just teasing,” you said. You hadn’t been.

Stan would’ve happily jumped at the offer, distracting the family with one of his wild stories while you snuck a pack of candy. The two of you would then share whatever snack and giggle the rest of the movie over your cleverness.

You felt like throwing up. Why couldn’t you stop thinking about Stan?

Abruptly you shoved open the door. “I’ll just go get snacks then.”

“Wait!” Eugene’s voice was muffled, you had already shot out of the car and nearly closed the door. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“I’ll pay,” Eugene said.

“It’s fine.”

You needed to get out. Needed to get away. Without waiting for any further questions, you slammed the door shut and stalked off towards the concessions. The night air was uncharacteristically cool, brushing over your flushed skin.

“Okay, calm down, you’re okay. You’re on a date with a nice guy,” you coached yourself.

“You’re on a date?”

You wheeled on your heel. Stan stood a few feet away, brow furrowed. His fur-lined jacket bulged with hidden contraband. “Stan?”

“You’re on a date?” He repeated, the timbre of his voice sinking dangerously low.

“Yes.” You raised your chin.

His jaw feathered. “I haven’t spoken to you in, like, a month. You’ve been dodgin’ my calls and avoidin’ me. What’s goin’ on? Now you’re on a date?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” you bit back.

“You don’t?” Stan barked out a scathing laugh. “You just stopped talkin’ to me without any s’planation. What am I supposed to think?”

You stepped into line at concessions. “I don’t know, Stan.”

“Talk to me.” Your name on his tongue was a prayer. “Please. I can’t take this.”

A knot formed in your stomach. You ordered for you and Eugene then brushed past Stan, ignoring his protests. He followed you to Eugene’s car. You wretched open the door, intending to fling yourself inside, but Stan stopped it. He leaned down to peer at your date.

“Eugene? Really? This guy?”

Eugene sputtered. You gritted out, “Stan. Go. Away.”

Stan’s dark gaze bounced from you to Eugene, then back to you. The look on his face was unreadable. “Fine.”

The door shut with a resounding thud. It took all of your strength not to watch him walk away. You tore off the top of a box of M&M’s and shoveled the candies into your mouth.

“Was that Stan Pines? I thought you guys were, like, friends,” Eugene finally said.

“Not anymore.” The candies slid down your throat, suddenly dry and pasty.

“Oh.” Eugene pretended to fiddle with the radio, switching through stations. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Mercifully, the movie screen flickered to life and saved you from more awkward conversation. You kept putting handfuls of candy in your mouth to keep from talking or interacting with Eugene at all. Frankly, you just wanted this date to end.

Eugene respected your space, too, which only worsened your conflicting emotions of shame and regret. You wished you could apologize to him but you couldn’t form the words.

You were jerked from your self-loathing when a huge shadow played across the screen, disrupting the movie. Yells of outrage sounded from across the grassy knoll, until the dark shape on the screen split apart. The candy in your stomach threatened to come up. The profile was unmistakably Stan’s, confirming your theory when you twisted around to spot him in front of the projector, entangled with Carla McCorkle.

He grabbed her hand, smirking at the enraged onlookers, and ran off.

Carla? Again?

Eugene examined you. “Do you…want to go somewhere else?”

“Yes. Please.”

He took you to get Dairy Queen, then dropped you back off at home. The passing shadows in the window told you that your parents had anxiously been awaiting your arrival. Eugene moved to get out, to open your door again, but you laid a hand on his arm.

“I’m really sorry. About tonight,” you choked out.

Eugene smiled sadly. “It’s okay.”

You kissed his cheek and climbed out of the car, up the stairs to your house. Eugene waited until you were safely inside before pulling away.

School sucked. You were forced to see Stan with any number of girls. In fact, it seemed as if he was going out of his way to flaunt them, the lingering touches and kisses. It burned you inside.

He preferred anyone but you.

Another month passed, each day growing more and more unbearable without your best friend, without Ford, the reliable foundation of your friendship. With the end of school approaching, so was college, the awaiting jaws of a monster threatening to swallow you whole. You couldn’t even tell them that you got accepted into your dream school.

When a hand grabbed your arm, the familiar face following, you were struck with a swell of emotions. But it wasn’t Stan. The body was all wrong, the measured expression never once belonging to him but his brother. Ford’s eyes were pleading. “We need to talk.”

“Stan can’t know about this,” you said after consideration. Ford nodded.

He brought you into a deserted classroom. You lingered near the door, not sure what to say after all of this time.

“Stan is falling apart,” Ford said without preamble. “I don’t know what happened, but neither of you can continue like this.” A flicker of vulnerability crossed his features. “I can’t.”

You inhaled. It wasn’t fair to drag Ford into this, but it was hard not to. You could never make him side against Stan. “I just…I can’t do it.”

“Do what?”

You turned your face from him, ashamed. “I heard him. That night after we brought Stan home from the beach. He said…he said he could never date me.”

Ford’s face shutters closed. “Is that all you heard?”

“I didn’t need to stick around to hear about how abhorrent the thought of dating me is,” you replied, tone bitter.

Ford flipped open his messenger bag and rifled through it, muttering something that sounded a lot like “two idiots” before finding what he needed. He handed you a folded flyer. “Stan is throwing a party here this weekend.”

“And you’re telling me this because…?”

“You should go.”

You glanced at the paper. The address stated a beach not far from your usual haunt, promising alcohol and a good time. Leave it to Stan to make invitations to a party like this, complete with crude renditions of women in bikinis. You clutched the paper. “I’ll think about it.”

Ford was halfway out the door when he stopped. “He really misses you.”

The words resonated with you the rest of the day. Sometime between meeting with Ford and that weekend, you decided you would go. Eugene told you he couldn’t go, he had to study, so you informed your parents you were going out and that was that. They let you without complaint, probably because you had been moping around the house the last two months.

Tonight you donned your best dress, black and sparkling and totally inappropriate for a beach party but when you bought it, at the mall with the twins, Stan hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off you. There had been no reason to wear it until now and you secretly hoped he had forgotten about it so you could shock him all over again.

By the time you arrived, sweat had gathered at the base of your neck and dampened your hair. You regretted wearing the dress upon seeing the other girls in their bikinis and hotpants, and made a beeline for the keg to soothe your nerves.

The beer was sticky and warm. You sipped it, wishing that instead of being here with people you didn’t know (or care about) you were with Stan and Ford on lawn chairs. The usual. Instead you gazed out upon the rest of the party and found Ford, trapping someone into listening to his theories most likely, and Stan presiding over a beer pong games.

Almost as if your gaze was a beacon, Stan looked up immediately as you spotted him. A cord of familiarity, of affection, tied you together and you could feel its tug behind your navel.

Stan stormed over to you, kicking up sand in his wake. “What are you doing here?”

“Ford invited me.”

“He did?” Stan searched for his brother, who had conveniently found somewhere else to be. “Why are you here?”

“I got invited, remember?”

“Where’s Eugene? Is he here, too?”

“No.” You didn’t feel like giving him an explanation, didn’t need to. You especially didn’t want to tell Stan that it was because you were still in love with him.

His dark eyes hardened. “Where is he?”

“What does it matter to you?”

Stan’s mouth moved as if he was biting back a retort, debating whether to say it. He raked a hand through his hair. He spit. “It doesn’t.”

You spent the rest of the party drifting from place to place, never lingering long. The bonfire funneled smoke into the air, as inconsistent and tangible as you, a ghost on the outskirts. You’re not sure why you came, why Ford invited, why you were still here. The beer had given you a nice buzz, a certain looseness in your limbs, and you decided that was enough. You started up the sandy dunes, shoes in hand, when you heard the sand behind you being displaced by footsteps.

Stan followed you, silhouetted by the fire in an orange haze. “What do you want?”

“I’m walking you home.”

“No. You’re not.” You marched off.

He trailed behind. You thought that he might get bored or fed up and leave you alone but he persisted. Only once you hit the sidewalk did you furiously spin around. “What do you want?”

“I ain’t lettin’ you walk home by yourself,” he replied.

“I walked here by myself. I’m fine.”

Stan took a few steps toward you. “Just let me do this, okay?”

“It’s your party, you shouldn’t leave,” you replied.

“Exactly. My party. I can do what I want.” Stan drew to his full height, shoulders back, reminding you that without his rounded posture he cut an intimidating figure. But it wasn’t intimidation he sought, but protection — protection of you.

Your back molars gritted together. “Fine.”

It actually felt nice, relieving, actually, to walk side by side with him. He maintained a step or two behind you, undoubtedly sensing your anger, but you didn’t correct him. You stayed like that, your strange, wordless dance all the way to your house. When Stan moved as if to follow you inside, what he would’ve done before, you barred him from the door.

“You shouldn’t,” you told him softly.

His brow furrowed and Stan shoved his hands in the pocket of his jacket. The porch awning cast him half in shadows. “What did I do? I know you’re punishin’ me but what I can’t figure out is why.”

“I’m not…I’m not punishing you.” You wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Then what? Is it your new boyfriend?”

“Who, Eugene?” You shook your head. “No, this isn’t because of him. And he’s not my boyfriend.”

“He’s not?”

“No.”

“What ‘bout yer date?”

“It was just one time. And it was a mistake,” you admitted.

“Tell me what’s goin’ on.”

Stan’s infuriatingly handsome features were set in determination. You wanted to go to him, bury yourself in his chest and let him envelope you. But that same feeling twisted, grew sharp teeth that latched on and refused to let go.

“Why? What do you care?” You fired back. “You’ve been so busy with your tongue down every girl’s throat that I’m surprised you even noticed I wasn’t around.”

Something shifted in Stan, a spark igniting into an inferno. “You’ve been avoidin’ me and ignorin’ my calls, refusin’ to speak to me without telling me why. I don’t get it. If you’re so against me, then why do you care what I do?”

You hissed back, “I don’t. But it’s hard to miss when you’re dry humping your flavor of the week in front of the whole school.”

“How do you think I felt when I saw you with Eugene?”

You paused, his words soaking into your skin. The fist of anger in your stomach loosened at the pain in those words, if only slightly. “I didn’t know you were going to be there, Stan. And I didn’t think it would matter even if you were. You could never date me.”

“What?” Stan’s entire body stiffened.

“You said it yourself,” you said. You were loathed to say the words aloud, which made you cry, which only made you angry to be crying. “You could never date me.”

“When did I ever say that?”

“I heard you,” you said. You explained to him how you had overheard the conversation between him and Ford that night. He listened the entire time, quiet and unmoving.

Stan rubbed a hand over his face. “You didn’t stick around to find out why?”

“Sorry if I didn’t want to hear how repulsive and horrible I was,” you snapped.

“I told Ford that I couldn’t date you because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. The last few months have been hell, doll. Going without you every day has been…unbearable.” Stan brushed his knuckles over your cheek, tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Please don’t make me go through that again.”

You leaned into his touch, eyes swimming with tears. “I’m sorry, Stan. I only did it because I couldn’t stand to be around you if you didn’t feel the same way.”

“Same way?” Stan’s mouth morphed into a tired, wistful smile. “I’ve loved you since that first day in class. Since you saw them passin’ that note and instead of bein’ upset you raised your chin.”

You faltered. “You love me?”

“Of course I love you.” Such a simple, genuine statement.

“Stan, I love you too. I’m so sorry —”

“No, I’m sorry. I should’ve just told you how I feel. I’m an idiot.”

You touched his arm. “No, you’re not. Well, you are, but not because of that. I was scared too. And I hurt you.”

“I’m tough.” Stan lifted your chin up, forcing you to look at him. In his face you saw a whole lifetime of memories, of laughter. “But you gotta promise me not to ignore me again. Messed me up so bad that Ford said he saw me stare at a wall for two days straight without sayin’ a word.”

“You? Not talking?”

“I know.” Stan shuddered. His composure softened a bit, examining you as if seeing you for the first time. “When I told you that you were my girl, I meant it. You’re the only girl for me.”

In way of reply, you grabbed the front of his jacket and pressed your lips to his.

You had kissed before, in middle school, just to get the first one over with. It had been brief and awkward, his front tooth clashing off yours. This kiss maintained the same level of comfort, of familiarity and safety, but charged with a current of passion. He kissed you like he had been waiting his whole life to do it again, pulling you into him in a frenzied manner.

Stan’s tongue ran over the seam of your lips, parting them so that he could slip inside, invited by your breath of surprise. You melted into him. Everything about him, this moment, felt right. Perfect. His hands in your hair and roving over the form-fitting dress you had worn for him, sighing and muttering praises on your flushed skin.

You didn’t stop until the porchlight flickered on and the front door ensnared you in its beam. Stan still held you to him, lips bruised, frozen. Your mother took one look at you entangled together on the porch and then sighed in relief.

“Well, finally.”

[the-kr8tor]

I'm doing it! I'm writing a request! :D

(Ik you're suuuuppperrr busy I'm so sorry you can take as long as you want I'm in no rush you're so sweeet and literally a lifesaver cause every time I read your posts, I get infused with the energy of 2 million Suns)

So I was thinking about a oneshot where r is waiting for Hobie to come backstage after one of his performances and this know it all groupie type guy is like, really giving her a hard time and he won't listen to anything she says he just sucks or wtv. Then Hobie comes out like, total golden retriever all giddy and happy to see r and the other guy is just baffled. Dunno it's kinda silly and based off of a post I saw a while back presenting the idea of it.

Thank you for requesting! Sorry for the wait, I hope you still like it ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.2k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw food mentions, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

As the band closes their last song, the crowd cheers and hollers at them. Hobie, all pumped up and sweaty, bows to the audience. The colourful stage light illuminates his features well, lighting up all of his perfection; from how sweat clings to his cheeks, sliding down to his chiseled clavicle. His piercings shine brightly under the warm light, the cherry red guitar in his ringed hand acts as a beacon to the rowdy crowd. Yuri goads them on, arms riling up the crowd for an encore. Turning the clapping and screaming to thunderous applause and screeches.

You're situated along the side of the stage, and on the other side of the bannister where the crowd is currently starting the largest mosh pit you've ever seen. You crane your neck up to the stage, unintentionally meeting with Hobie's hazel eyes that were already turned towards you.

He confidently winks in your direction, a few people behind you screeches like a wild banshee. They don't know the wink was for you and for you only. You wink back, more bashful than the one he threw at you. It's your little signal, a signal that you and Hobie made when he's about to finish his set so you could wait for him backstage where he always runs towards you with his arms wide, grinning triumphantly and embracing you until you're breathless. You're familiar with his affectionate winks, but that doesn't mean you're used to them. He always catches you off guard with them, loving the way your eyes widen with your hand flying to your chest as if he just jumpscared you. Truthfully, you wouldn't have it any other way.

“Fine,” Hobie reluctantly cuts off your little staring contest with the silent promise of being by your side the moment the band finishes this one song. His lips press on the mic, eyes roaming around the packed stadium. “you lot better be fuckin' ready.” An immediate wave of whistles and yells echo around.

With his guitar riff starting back again, lights turning red and acting as the band's spotlight, you walk towards the event bouncers. Once they see your v.i.p ID they let you through the doors and into backstage.

Passing by the snack table placed by the event organizers, you stumble back to it. You then take an armful of water bottles for the entire band, and then you take a single black and white cookie just for Yuri and her sweet tooth.

Arms full, you wait by the side with the perfect view of the band playing with their whole heart. Hobie jumps on an amplifier and backflips off it. Your heart almost fell into your stomach when you thought he couldn't land on his feet. But of course he did, Hobie practically backflips off the bed every morning (not really he’s a grumpy riser) so it's only natural that he lands on his feet like an experienced gymnast.

Yuri and the others jam together in harmony, Ned belts out while James looks like he wants to crowd surf from the look in his eye. You hope he doesn't, not after what happened last time.

“Cool t-shirt.” A voice suddenly says next to you.

“Thanks.” You glance at the tall stranger while you adjust your hold on the water bottles and cookie.

“It's vintage isn't it? I know from the crude design.” You furrow your brows at the comment, especially that you and the entire band stayed up late to finish an entire sack full of the handmade shirts. “It's from their first album, right?” The man raises a brow, like he's questioning your knowledge.

You flick your eyes down to his own shirt, it's a recent one, definitely better than what you have on but it doesn't share the same amount of sentimentality. “Yeah, I know, I was there.”

“Right.” He scoffs, you take a step away from him, turning your attention back to Hobie, who's still not done with the last song. “Of course you were there.” Your jaw tightens, annoyed at best but you're not willing to leave backstage just because of him. “If you were there, you'd know that the shirt was technically designed for their second album. Not the first.”

You turn your head sharply, “you're right, it was.” Smiling, your eyes tell otherwise. “But it was made for the first album because the band couldn't be arsed to make another design for the second one so the second release of the shirts were in a bigger quantity. Hence the misunderstanding that it was for the second album instead.” You finish off your sentence with a smirk.

“Yeah, sure, lady.” He scoffs, unconvinced. “You probably can't name a single song from that album.” He makes another annoying entitled scoff “As if you were actually there—”

“There's our girl!” Yuri appears behind you while you basically throw daggers at the man with your stare. She clasps your shoulder, nudging you happily. “Ooh, cookie! Thanks, babe!” Yanking the snack from your hand, pecking your cheek, she spares the fan a glance then quickly makes her way to the green room to rest before the meet and greet.

“Where's our cookie?” James pouts, feigning a frown.

“I've got some water for you, Jamesy.” You almost forget about the fan gawking and aweing next to you.

“It's not the same though!” And yet, James still takes the bottle from your hand, patting your shoulder as thanks.

Ned clicks his tongue and shakes his head, following James, he takes his share, walking backwards and still teasing you with a disapproving face. “The sheer favoritism!” To add to his so-called discontent, he slams the doors of the greenroom. You're sure that you even heard a muffled, “give me that fucking cookie!” from him.

Before you come looking for your favourite guitarist, Hobie appears from behind you, arms snaking along your middle to wrap you in his anticipated hug. “How's our number one fan?” You lean back, smiling up at him, not minding how his sweat now sticks to your back. You meet with his eyes as he pecks your temple with a resounding smack of his lips. You can see the adrenaline waning off him in waves as he carefully puts more of his weight on you without making you fall from the increased weight. You find yourself giggling more and more, already forgetting about the intrusion.

“I'm good. Hi.” He expects that reply from you, not from the man across from you. “I'm your biggest fan, Hobie!” Holding up a trembling hand to shake Hobie's hand, you seethe in place.

“Thanks, mate.” Hobie, being polite, shakes his hand. “But if you were the biggest fan, you'd know that this shirt…” he pats your stomach, hand lingering there. “was lovingly made by my girl for the first album.”

He's had his fair share of people like him, he takes their words in stride, but the moment someone does it to you, he'll be sure to fight back. He's convinced that if you weren't interrupted you'd be wiping the floor with the rude fan’s face by proving him wrong. Or literally wiping his face down on the ground if need be.

You grin wider as you see colour drain from the fan's face. “I ordered shawarma for everyone.” You provide the biggest slap to the rude fan by ignoring him. “I hid the biggest portion for you.”

Hobie chuckles into your shoulder before taking your hand and leading you away without another word to the strange fan. “And everyone says Yuri's your favourite.”

[angelicpoison12]

sugary sweet ✧˖°.

just a silly aftercare moment with Adam, but he gets his feelings hurt a little

word count: 664

tags: drabble, Adam drabble, Adam being Adam, suggestive (at the end), Adam is butthurt over being called a 'big back', discussion of animals, tooth rotting fluff, pillowy comfort, SFW, MFA, gn!reader, no pronouns used on r, no use of y/n, Adam is a crybaby

SFW ✦

“if you were an animal, what do you think you’d be?” 

you asked Adam one night, your bare bodies entangled in the cotton sheets. He thought for a second.  “fuck, babe. can't you be like any other bitch i've banged and just ask dumb questions?”  you laughed at that, and asked,  “and what kind of questions are those exactly?”  “shit, i dunno.. favorite color? favorite food? dumb stuff that can be asked over and over again, and it’ll be different every time. i mean, my answers never change, but that’s because i’m cool.”  “it’s because you’re a nerd,”  you remarked with a smirk, nuzzling your nose into his neck affectionately. he groaned and rolled his eyes. finally, he answered your question. 

“i’d probably be an eagle, or maybe a peacock. i don't fucking know, just something that looks badass.” 

you honestly should’ve expected such an answer from Adam, but it still made you giggle, even if he wasn’t trying to be funny.  “now you. you can’t just ask me a question without me turning it around on you, babe.”  Adam remarked with a smirk, pressing a (surprisingly) tender kiss to your forehead.  “hm.. i’m not sure, actually. i’ll let you choose one for me.”  “in that case, a bunny.”  “and why a bunny?”  you asked, sitting up to face Adam properly. he had his cheek against his elbow, propped up against his pillow, gazing up at you lovingly. Adam always looked at you like you were his deity.  

“because you’re just.. small. so much smaller than me. and you’re cute, as well. you've got such pretty, innocent eyes, too.”  Adam hummed, sitting up to cup your face, kissing your jaw, then your cheek, his lips lingering as he whispered,  “.. and you’re always so excited when i come around. i want you to be my little bunny forever,”  Adam said. he pulled you close, your chests pressing together, his large, calloused hands from playing the guitar, making their way over your back and shoulders.  “i’m never lettin’ you go, baby. I promise.” 

in the midst of the gentle atmosphere, you nestled into Adam, enjoying his warmth. then you smirked as you said,  “i don’t know, Adam. I can’t see you as something like an eagle or peacock.. maybe a cute little piglet.” 

that made Adam stop dead in his tracks. 

“a fucking pig? why, babe? are you calling me fat?”  he retorted, crossing his arms and pouting like a child. you howled with laughter, trying to calm down to explain yourself. 

“no, no! not at all, Adam! pigs are cute! they’re big and strong, plus they’re loud, they’ve got flair sometimes, and uh..”  you trailed off, but you couldn’t hold in your laughter when you saw how red Adam’s face was. 

“first, Lute calls me a ‘big back’ at work, now-”  “she called you a what?!”  You were nearly crying from how hard you were laughing now, both arms around your belly. All Adam did was cross his arms again, pouting once more.  “A fucking-a ‘big back’, whatever the fuck that means!”  “oh my god... babe, she’s kinda right.”  “you’re so mean!”  Adam wailed. y'know, for someone being as huge in general as Adam, he was the biggest whiner and crybaby you knew. 

“aw, Adam.. you know i didn’t mean any of that, right?”  you said, gently cupping his face to kiss his lips.  “you didn’t..?”  Adam asked weakly. you didn’t mean to genuinely hurt his feelings, so the sight of him being so vulnerable was making your heart ache.  “yes.. i didn’t mean it at all, i promise. i was just joking around.”  “promise?”  "i promise.” 

Adam kissed you, humming as you pulled him closer, allowing you to roll on top of him.  “so.. wanna go again?”  Adam asked you with a smirk. you chuckled and nodded.  “hell yeah. just let me get some water, okay?”  “why not just drink my cum? it’s got way more vitamins than water,”  “.. why did I get with you again?”  "because you fell in love with my face, duh. now c'mere, this 'big back' needs to blow your back out."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

my sweet little snowflake buddies!

@6esiree , @frxstwalker

[moralesluvr]

Helloo✋🏾 I know it’s late af but I just wanted to get this request off my chest lol. May I request a hobie brown x reader where the reader is doing a “don’t kiss me” prank on him? Just a funny thought

'don't kiss me!' prank ft. hobie brown

♡ pairings & aus: hobie brown x fem!black!reader ♡ summary: you see a prank that a girl pulled on her boyfriend from tiktok, so you decide to try it on hobie ♡ warnings: very sad pouty hobie, reader being a bit of a meanie ♡ a/n: i loved writing this! thank you for your request! ♡ got a request? | masterlist ♡

YOU KNEW IT WAS WRONG.

Okay, maybe not exactly wrong, but it was definitely morally cruel.

You had saw the TikTok while you were sitting on the toilet in Hobie's bathroom, chatting with him about any and everything while he showered. You decided to stay at his place because it was late and you had missed him, so you figured you'd just steal some of his clothes and sleepover for a night or two.

When the idea came into your head, you slumped back onto the toilet seat and pretended you were just watching videos about makeup so that Hobie wouldn't be suspicious.

"Can you hand me my flannel, lovie?" He requested, and you sighed at the use of his slang that you've had to pick up over the last six months. You grab his towel and throw it over the curtain rod. You hear him suck his teeth, "Why do you have to be so annoying, eh?"

You hum with a grin, "Dunno. At least I'm not boring."

Hobie pulls the shower curtain back, and you nearly bite your lip.

This challenge was going to be hard.

The towel that you handed him was wrapped firmly around his waist, his chest glistening to the water droplets that reflecting from the bathroom's cheap lighting. He walks over to you, ready to kiss you, but you stand up and cough. "Um...I'm..hungry. Yeah, I needa' snack."

"Did you not just see what I was tryna do?" He almost pouts, following you into the kitchen, "I wanted to kiss 'ya, then you left."

You grab a bag of chips from his pantry, sitting down at one of his island stools, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't notice."

Hobie hums at you, walking back to his room, "Whatever."

You were sure that you had already made him upset. He wasn't always in a clingy mood- actually, mostly rarely- but when he was, he was upset if he didn't get what he wanted.

And although you did feel like you were being mean, you needed to get the prank on video to show him, and to laugh at later. So you rose from your chair and ran after him into the bedroom. He had on simple black pajama pants and no top, his hair pulled up in a bun. He was fiddling around with his guitar while sitting on his bed, so he didn't even notice when you propped up your phone and pressed record on your video app.

You winked at the camera when you did it, sliding onto the bed with him. He stopped playing.

"So why can't I kiss you?" Hobie asked, "Does my breath smell bad? Swear I just brushed 'em, love, so I know that isn't it."

"It's none of those things," you assure him, tapping your nails on the outskirts of his guitar. Usually he would flip if someone did that, but with you, he didn't really mind.

You saw him lean closer to you, and then his eyes start to close, and you rested your palm on his chest as you pushed him away. He gives you a watery-eyed look, "Okay, Y/N. D-Did I do somethin'? Because you're not wantin' to kiss me at all. Talk to me, yeah? Please?"

His big hands are cupping either of your cheeks as he looks at you intensively, and you can't help but break. You lean in, your lips connecting with his. You expect the kiss to be warm and light, but Hobie had a different motive. His right hand left your cheek as he snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to deepen it. A satisfied sigh leaves you as that same hand finds one of your braids. He twirls it in his fingers, pulling away from you, "So now you want to smooch me, hm? What's the matta'?"

You laugh, your head being thrown back at how humorous the situation was to you. Hobie's straightfaced, though, and he's not laughing when you look up again. You cup his cheek, your other hand pointing to your propped up phone, "Look, baby, it was a prank!"

Hobie gives you a playful slap to the shoulder, "Don't do that again, love, yeah? Was bloody painful."

You laugh, leaning in as you kissed your boyfriend.

"Don't worry, I won't." You smiled.

And maybe you wouldn't deprive him of kisses again, but when the time came, you'd definitely be playing more pranks on him sooner rather than later.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 ☻ thank you for reading!

𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓🕷️: @queenesther996

[im-notbean]

☆ Bakusquad, Holding their hand / What their hands feel like! ☆

Bakugo Katsuki

Man, we all know that Bakugo dead lifts. Or weight lifts in general. So his hands are callused as fuckkkkk. But like also supper fucking soft at the same time?? (My brother weight lifts and has the exact same thing, crazy right?). His hands are always a tiny bit warm or sweaty,so when you try to hold his hand he get really self conscious and moves his hand away for yours. But he really likes it when you go like "Babeeee." and grab his arm and frown, he thinks it's adorable but we all know he won't admit that out loud.

Kirishima Ejiro

Two words. Baby. Soft. Hands. I swear Kirishima has the sofest hands known to man. And he fucking knows it. Like you brush against his hand slightly and he just will take your hand and intertwine your fingers. And when you turned to him a little flushed he flashes you the biggest smile with his shark teeth and with his own slightly pink cheeks, to say the least your in heaven.

Kaminari Denki

He has some light scaring on his hands, and they look either like his vains or lighting. Loves it when you go down and kiss some of his hand scars, it make him feel so loved abd cared for. He. Will. Intertwine. Fingers. He'll be skipping around and then he'll intertwine your fingers and you two will be skipping around together! (Might I say this is probably the sweetest thing I have ever wrote in a bit, okay bye)

Sero Hanta

I think out of the Bakusquad boys Sero has the most calloused hands out of the other 3. Sero is definitely strong but like a leany-ish strong, Sero really needs to flex for you to see all of his muscles. Which means he has strong hands, really vainy too. I can see him walking behind you and holding one of your hands and your waist at the same time.

Ashido Mina

Mommy? She has scars on the palm of her hands that are really rough to the touch, she doesn't show it but she's actually really inscure about them. So before you hold her hand kiss her scars, then she'll melt into your touch. (see what i did their 🤭)

Jiro Kyoka

Mommy 2.0?? I can see her finger tips being a bit more roughed up from playing the guitar, maybe some light scaring on her middle finger or pointer finger? But her hands are generally a bit on the dryer side and calloused, but soft, dunno how but they are. She gets flustered the slightest bit when you move to hold her hand.

-__-__-__-__-__-__-__-__-__-__-__-__-__-__-__-__-

[turnersverse]

with the exception of you i dislike everyone in the room.

a/n: this is my first fic and i have no idea what i'm doing so please bear with! please feel free to leave any feedback bc the last time i wrote was over a year ago sooooo ...

you discover alex's true feelings for you after finding his notebook he is always writing in but never shows anyone

friends to lovers, alex and reader have been friends for about 10 years !

you'd been in the studio all day with the band, even though you weren't apart of it you would often help with some of the guitar parts, seeing as you played it yourself. the monkeys already had about 4 songs for their new record, and you had a feeling this album could boost them to worldwide fame.

you were sat next to jamie, who was plucking at random strings on his guitar, his face scrunched up in concentration as he worked out in his brain the arrangement of notes. matt and nick were stood behind alex, who was hunched over his notebook that he wrote anything to do with the monkey's music in.

"al, mate, we need the lyrics. i don't know what i'm doing over here." jamie said, still looking at his guitar.

"just write a riff or something, i dunno." alex mumbled, before adding. "and can you two stop breathing down my neck? all i'm going to be able to write is how nick o'malley's annoyingly hot breath was gliding over the back of my head."

matt and nick just laughed as alex glared at them, nick starting to purposefully blow air at alex.

"right, stop it now." alex frowned, standing up from his seat. "i'm going for a smoke." and with that he left the room.

"he's got loads of songs in that stupid little book, he just doesn't want us to see them. i have a theory that he's just gonna start a solo project." matt said, sitting down on the sofa next to you. nick still hovered by alex's previous seat, looking between the notebook and the other three.

"no, nick, you can't." you said, knowing what nick was planning on doing.

matt caught on quickly, "i mean, it wouldn't hurt. al's not gonna know..."

"yeah but if he doesn't want us to see them, he'll have a good reason for it." you argued. jamie sighed and stood up, walking to the door.

"i'll go speak to him." the guitarist said before leaving the room.

you sat back, more comfortably, on the sofa. "why don't one of you write something? 'r u mine' is fairly based on the drums."

matt just scoffed, "yeah, i'll write summat, and then alex will come up with some lyrics that won't fit it at all." this had happened just the other day with jamie, who had written 'the best riff of his life' (as he'd called it) before alex showed the rest of the band the lyrics to a song he'd called 'mad sounds', which was much slower than what jamie had come up with.

"lets just have a peak.." nick said, inching closer to the notebook.

"nick, no." you said firmly.

"nick, yes!" matt said, a stupid grin on his face. the drummer looked at his mate, and a look was exchanged between the two. before you could even register their plan, matt had pinned your arms behind your back as nick grabbed the notebook.

you gasped in shock, looking between the two lads. matt was laughing whilst nick flicked through the book, until he stopped. you watched as his eyes scanned the page, before he spoke up. "hey, this is really good."

"let us see then." matt said, and nick handed the notebook to matt. you glanced over, although you knew your best mate would be fuming if he found out, the anticipation had got to you. scribbled at the top of the page were the words 'stop the world i wanna get off with you'. you read through the lyrics, finding that the song was obviously some sort of love song.

"that is really good." you said quietly, a few lyrics sticking out to you. a few phrases you'd heard before. matt hummed, and started tapping the floor with his foot. he flicked to the next page, where alex had written the guitar part.

"oh yeah." matt nodded, "this is similar to the tune we did the other day. 'why'd you only call me when you're high?'"

nick nodded, "yeah i noticed that. dunno who the lyrics are about but its pretty good." as he mentioned the lyrics, matt glanced at him, a certain look in his eyes.

you caught that, confusion written on your face. alex was your best mate, if something was going on, he'd tell you. but you felt like you were missing something here.

just as nick was about to say something, alex and jamie walked back into the room. you, matt and nick all looked between each other and alex, your eyes saying 'uh oh'. alex glanced at matts lap and saw the book.

"what the fuck?" he stormed over to matt and snatched his precious notebook up.

"alex, its good!" matt said, raising his arms up in defence.

"i dont want to do that one." he said angrily.

"why not?" you added in, looking at alex.

alex sighed, looking at you before sitting in the seat he had been in before. "lets just do something else."

"no, lets do this." nick said, his hands now on his hips.

"i wanna see." jamie said, walking to alex and picking up the notebook. alex didnt stop him, he just sat watching jamie's reaction.

after a few moments, jamie looked up with a smile, "this is really good."

"thanks." alex mumbled.

"we could do it. we could do a bit of.." matt stood up and went to his drums, picking up his drumsticks and drumming a bit of a beat. "we could do a bit of that."

alex nodded in approval, "yeah. i wrote the guitar as well. its on the next page."

matt smiled, now knowing that alex had given in as jamie flicked to the next page and looked at the guitar part. "yeahhhhh." he said, nodding his head. he put the notebook down and picked up his guitar, strumming the parts he remembered. everyone in the room collectively nodded, as nick picked up his bass and started playing stuff that would go along with the main guitar.

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

the band finished up in the studio 3 hours later, with a demo recorded for the album. alex had offered for you to go round his for tea, and you had gladly accepted. this was something the two of you did often; you would get together and order some sort of takeaway and spend most of the night talking. this had been a sort of tradition ever since alex bought his first house, and you and him spent the first night in there talking until the sun rose.

alex put out his cigarette before unlocking his car as you finished locking up the building. you got into the passenger side, flicking the radio on when alex started the car.

'starman' by david bowie was playing, a song you had always been fond of. you hummed along the the melodies as alex sat in a comfortable silence.

"i was thinking of covering summat for the album." alex spoke up, his accent prominent in his words.

"yeah?" you glance over at him, knowing he probably had an idea of what he wanted to cover by the tone of his voice.

"i was thinking that poem, the one you really like."

"what, 'i wanna be yours'?"

alex nodded. "yeah. thought it would be nice."

you nodded, a small smile on your face. "if you could pull it off. whats all this about though, with the new song and that? a new lover maybe?" you said, wiggling your eyebrows at alex.

"what? no!" he said, looking at you and then back at the road. "stop wiggling your eyebrows at me, you knob."

you just laugh in response, shaking your head as you turned your attention to the road. after a few moments, alex spoke up again.

"did you like the song though? i thought the lyrics were a bit.. i dunno.. cheesy."

"i think it's really good, al. it's similar to the stuff you wrote for 'suck it and see', in a way." you commented, holding back the other thoughts you had.

"yeah, i havent been feeling very.. romantic, lets say, since me and alexa broke up." alex said quietly, knowing that for the past 10 years, there probably hadn't been a single day he hadn't felt that way.

the two settled into a comfortable silence for the remainder of the journey back to alex's house. when they arrived, alex unlocked the door and you went straight to his living room, grabbing 'your' blanket from the back of the settee before settling in the corner of his l-shaped sofa, where you always sat. alex came back into the room with two cans: a can of carling and a pre-mix malibu and pineapple. he passed the latter to you, a quiet 'thank you' leaving your lips.

"chinese or pizza?" alex said, holding up the menus he had also collected from the kitchen.

you hummed, thinking for a moment. "pizza. usual order?"

alex nodded, reaching for his phone to order the food. you got comfy in your seat, pulling the blanket over your legs. you took the tv remote off the coffee table and flicked through the channels, not really reading what was on as something else plagued your mind.

"alright, cheers mate." alex said as he ended the call. "pizza will be here in 45 minutes."

you nodded, your eyes still focused on the tv screen. alex came and sat down next to you, pulling some of the blanket on to his lap and watching you try to find something to watch.

"that sounds good." he said to a true crime series you had stopped your scrolling to read the description of. you clicked on it and placed the remote back down on the coffee table, now concentrating on the series.

alex watched you for a few moments before watching the tv as well. he felt as if something was off with you. usually you would rest your head on his shoulder. he also felt like you'd been a lot quieter today, which you never are.

"are you okay?" he spoke up, watching you turn to look at him.

"uh, yeah." you said quickly, turning your attention back to the screen.

sighing, alex reached for the remote and paused the series. "no you're not. whats up?"

you pull your legs up to your chest, avoiding eye contact. "nothing, its just.." you trail off.

"just..?" alex said, waiting for you to continue.

you sigh, just deciding to spit it out. "the new song.. the lyrics."

alex felt his heart drop, knowing that you knew. "yeah?"

"'with the exception of you i dislike everyone in the room'. you said that to me. at the 'suck it and see' release party." you say, quietly.

"y/n.." alex said, praying silently for you to look at him. "i'm sorry."

you look up at him, confusion written all over your face. "why are you sorry?"

"i dunno, i'm sorry for letting my silly old heart feel like this. i understand if you don't feel the same. but every word in that song is true. the meaning of it all.. and i've always felt this way. thats not the only one as well. so many songs have been inspired by you, and how i feel for you. i'm so, so sorry if you don't reciprocate these feelings, but i can't hide them anymore." alex said, and you could see it all in his eyes. the desperation for you to feel the same, the fear of rejection, the look of love.

you didn't know what to do. you knew you felt the same, and it scared you. it scared you that you'd always loved alex, but could never bring yourself to do anything about it. you never dreamed he would feel the same until today.

"please say something." alex said quietly, watching you.

"i feel the same way." was all you could say at first. you watched as the look in alex's eyes completely changed, how it softened.

"it scares me alex, because i dont want to lose you. i can't lose you. you're my best friend, but i've always felt more. i've always longed to be the one you write songs about. the one you kiss goodnight and wake up beside every morning. but i'm so, so scared. i'm scared i'll ruin it all and i'll lose you. i'm scared of love." you say quietly. the next thing you knew, alexs arms were around your waist, pulling you to his chest.

you clutched onto him, relishing in the feeling of being in his arms. "don't feel like that. don't be scared. you'll never lose me." alex said softly.

you look up at him, watching as his gaze flickered between your eyes and lips, your breath stolen away as he closed the gap between you and met your lips with his. and in that moment, you knew that had been where you were wrong. as your lips fit alex's perfectly like a puzzle. you knew you were made for each other, soulmates both platonically and romantically.

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

another little a/n: i didn't really know where i was going with this, and i'm sorry if the endings shit😪

p.s if you noticed the miles reference ily

[suuuupernovaaa]

Requested by anon. Hobie Brown x f!Reader. 'Open Arms' by SZA, Travis Scott.

I know this is all bad, but please, put a leash on me. Who needs self-esteem anyway?

Rated M. 18+. Mostly fluff.

Samantha's elbow, unbelievably sharp and bony, grinds into my side. I let out a yelp, and yank myself away from my best friend. "What the fuck, Sam?"

She's grinning at me, and then her gaze slips away, following something over my shoulder. I follow her eyeline and see him - Hobie Brown, walking towards us across the grassy lawn of the park. His guitar is strapped over his back and his hands are in the pocket of his studded leather vest. He's walking towards us and as his gaze meets mine, the corners of his mouth turn up just a little bit - which is a beaming smile for Hobie.

We've only just started dating. It's been three... dates, if you can call them that. The second date was helping Hobie and his friends paint a mural. The third was dinner, which I burnt, on the floor of my apartment, because I'm waiting for my new kitchen table to be delivered. The first, Hobie told me on the third date, was the time we ran into each other at the grocery store and he asked me on what I thought was our first date, but then learned was apparently our second.

Though I've dated plenty before, there is something distinct about Hobie. When I first met him, I assumed he was the kind of guy who could not settle down, who could not commit, and who wouldn't be interested in sharing his feelings with anyone.

You could have nearly knocked me over with a feather when, as we sat on the floor eating burnt roast chicken over my coffee table, Hobie looked me right into my eyes and told me he was feeling nervous every time he saw me.

"Dunno," he'd told me, "I just think... that you're special, Y/N. This is somethin' special, and I don't want to mess it up."

I nearly choked on my dry chicken, and the tears that gathered in my eyes as I took a sip of water. The truth was, since the moment I'd been introduced to Hobie Brown, I'd known I was in trouble. Everything about him screamed for me. I was obsessed. I was trying to play it cool, but hearing him call me special, call the budding relationship between us special, nearly sent me into a fit.

"Jesus," Hobie said, hitting my back gently. "You alright?"

I wiped the tears from my eyes and set my water down. "Yes. Sorry. Shit. I really like you, Hobie."

We smiled at each other like two idiots who were bound to fall in love.

As he walks toward me in the park, I'm smiling like that again. I can feel Sam rolling her eyes next to me. "Oh, my god, are you going to fuck him in front of everyone here?"

I shrug, and elbow her back. "If he asks."

She shoves me. "I gotta run. See you tonight?"

"What's tonight?" Hobie asks as he reaches us, and Sam begins her departure.

"See you!" I holler. "Sam is going to help me put together my table and chairs. She's handy."

"I mean this in the most pro-feminist, anti-sexist way possible, but you've got a man now. I can put together your furniture," Hobie says with a teasing grin, and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me close to him. "Or, I can bring you a pizza after you work. Christen the new table."

I press a soft kiss to his cheek. "Perfect. Around 8? Shouldn't take us too long."

It's embarrassing, how I melt in this man's arms. When he mentions Christening the kitchen table, I don't think of eating food there. I think of myself, laid back, legs spread, Hobie between them...

But pizza with Hobie and my best friend is good, too. Jesus, I need to pull myself together, hold on to my dignity and self-respect as long as I can.

Hobie dips me backwards a little bit, and presses a firm kiss to my mouth, letting his lips linger on mine for a long time. My head is spinning when he finally sets me upright again. "Maybe once Sam leaves, we can Christen the table another way," he whispers, and a shiver runs up my spine.

I don't really need self-respect, do I?

[stevenssticks]

P, i can’t stop thinking about childhood friends to lovers with Slash

like, imagine going on silly little adventures together, sitting together at class, sleepovers, going to literally everywhere together that everyone just knows that if one of you is here the other one is close, just being the best of friends and doing everything together

and then your feelings really start to reveal, and you start hanging out even more than before that even your parents start to try to pair you, sharing your first kiss, first makeout session, first everything and just being the cutest couple cause everyone in your hometown literally saw you both from the start

ughhhh i’m such a slut for the whole childhood bestfriends to lovers 💔

OHHH MY GOD :((<3 this is the cutest thing like i LOVE childhood best friends to lovers it’s my all time fav.

like imagine the two of you at your bi weekly sleepover, literally just existing in each others company. slash is ofc playing his guitar when you ask him “can i try something” and slash can only get out like half of a yes before you’re lunging at him, planting a messy uncoordinated kiss to his lips before you pull away faster than he can react.

you saying “sorry i’m sorry i dunno why i did that” and then slash is throwing his guitar to the side and pulling you back in to finish what you started<3

the kisses are so sweet, n you smile into the kiss and it’s not THE BEST kiss you will ever have but you wouldn’t know, because it’s your first, and his too. and the both of you don’t know what you’re doing you just know how in love you are, and how much you both yearned for this moment for longer than you would ever admit to yourselves.

slash laying you back on his bed to keep kissing you, attempting to get some open mouthed, deep kisses that you enthusiastically but clumsily return. pulling away to bury your heads in each others shoulders, laughing and also crying because woah. this is really it.

saying little “i love you”’s over and over to each other in between more kisses :((((

AAAAAAA :((((((((

[pedgito]

Hey! I'm very awkward when it comes to requesting stuff but I'm shooting my idea and if you decide to write it, awesome, if not, I'll still adore you and your work. Anyway, what about a reader that's always been kinda there and around but Eddie never noticed her. Maybe she lives in the trailer park as well and one day Wayne orders Eddie to help out neighbors with something and Eddie gets surprised by her existence or something...

I dunno, I just like the "falling for someone who was already there all the time" trope...

Thanks xx

author’s note: this has full fic potential and i love it, but enjoy what little drabble my brain could handle. <3

cw: sfw, neighbors/meet-cutes, set in 86, reader and eddie run in different circles, wayne is such a dad he can’t help it, this isn’t really fluffy exactly, but it’s very sweet

word count: 2k

Living near the Munson’s had always been, for a better lack of words, eventful. You move in six years prior, the world being ushered into a new era of the 80s, a quaint but rundown neighborhood that looked normal, and a new school to throw yourself into, again—your parents were also never really home.

So, as a result, you’d learn to care for yourself. It wasn’t their fault—things were tough, money needed to be made, and you were at the perfect age to manage keeping yourself alive and fed, regardless if it was done in a justifiable or acceptable manner. And the neighbors were nice—most of them, at least.

You’d learned pretty quickly that it was a place for the older residents of Hawkins, men and women in their late 50s alongside a couple small families—a young woman with a small toddler, another family of four, and right next door; an older gentleman and his son.

You never spoke to him, not once. Wayne, the older man in question, only finally spoke to you when he caught you outside on an early morning taking out the trash, parents having already left for the day.

He worked nights, so he had just come home from a very long shift, a cigarette perched upon his lips. He was nice, polite—but obviously exhausted.

“You alright, kid?” He asks suddenly, though his voice is calm.

He wasn’t oblivious to the fact that you were almost always on your own, driveway empty of cars or even a bike, leaving you chasing down the bus or walking to school most mornings.

You shrug honestly, offering a small smile.

“I’m managing.” You tell him, meaning it. “Thanks for asking.”

After that, it becomes a regular thing. Wayne checks up on you when he can, quick and fleeting conversations in the early mornings when the sun is just starting to come up.

You learn that his son isn’t actually his son, rather his nephew. He’s a couple years older then, trudging his way through the beginnings of a tumultuous freshman year—and you don’t see him often, only by coincidence in the halls where he doesn’t even glance your way.

He’s awkward, tall and lanky, hair in the weird stage of being too long and too short all at once—he’s probably growing it out, you think. It’s a wild next of curls that is nothing a brush couldn’t fix, but it didn’t seem like he owned one. Eddie, that is.

Wayne calls him Edward when he’s mad, coming home too late, being loud when he’s so desperately trying to sleep—you can hear all of it, the walls of your trailer are so thin that nothing is safe.

And life is busy; those six years pass in a breeze, but things are still the same. You’ve never spoken a word to Eddie, your parents are still gone most of the time, if not more now that you’re of age, and Wayne still looks as tired as before, though less buried under the weight of scourging for cash.

Eddie must have some type of job, or something—and he’s extremely loud, always playing with his guitar on the weekends when he’s home, amp placed under the bedroom window adjacent to yours. It’s not like you can really complain, it’s broad daylight, most people are out living their lives, but you’re stuck at home.

He can sing, you’ll give him that. So, it’s not all bad.

He drives too, a clunky piece of junk as Wayne calls it, but to Eddie, it’s his beloved. Wayne almost offers to ask Eddie if he’ll give you lifts to school, but you’re adamant in your refusal.

“I like walking, it’s fine.” You assure him. “I wouldn’t want to bother him.”

“Boy’s like my son, he’ll do it if I ask.” Wayne says, eyes flicking up toward Eddie’s bedroom, his shadow crossing the window. “You two would get along, you know.”

“I dunno,” You disagree, “we don’t exactly run in similar crowds.”

Wayne makes a noise, a small huff of acknowledgment.

“He’s struggling,” Wayne admits, “on his third try at graduating and I’m starting to think it’d be easier to pull him out and help him get his GED.”

You knew that much—Eddie should’ve graduated already, yet he was still stuck at the same lunch table for those following years, preaching to young minds of the susceptible D&D nerds.

“Maybe—“ You agree, but Wayne quickly cuts you off.

“Hey, you’re smart,” Wayne assumes, but he’s seen the textbooks you’ve brought home, levels above the classes Eddie takes, “got good grades?”

“Mostly A’s,” You admit, “m’trying to get into a good college and AP classes look good on paper.”

Wayne thinks for a moment, falling silent as he flicks the ashes away from his cigarette, “Think you can do me a solid?”

And Wayne’s never steered you wrong, even offering you dinner when your parents forget to buy groceries for the week, making sure your belly is just as full as his. He constantly grumbles about how careless you parents were, similar to Eddie’s—you never pried on that matter, feeling like it was none of your business.

“I can try.”

“How do you feel about tutoring Eddie?” He asks curiously, “He’s a good kid, I swear—he just can’t focus for shit.”

“I…don’t know.” You reply wearily, “I don’t think he wants to take that stuff seriously—“

“He does, he does,” Wayne insists, “it’s hard for him to learn in that type of setting, I think he needs the one on one. I understand if you don’t want to, I just think it might be worth tryin’.”

Wayne senses your hesitance.

“I’m sorry for asking, you don’t have to—“

“I will,” You respond quickly, not harping on it any longer, “I mean, I can.”

And maybe this was the biggest mistake you’ve ever made, but you wouldn’t know if you didn’t try.

You knock on the trailer door a couple days later, in the earlier hours on a Saturday morning, a book clutched to your chest and a tired smile on your face—but when the door opens, you’re not met with the same expression.

If anything, it’s surprise that’s riddling his face.

Wayne must not have said anything, which is just as mortifying.

“Who—“ Eddie stops himself, eyeing you carefully, “are you—don’t I have a class with you?”

You nod slowly, “Econ, yeah.”

“How do you know where I live?” Eddie asks, though he doesn’t sound offended, more amused if anything. “Did Dustin put you up to this?”

Henderson was a little shit, you knew that much—but you’d never spoken a word to him either.

“Eddie,” He’s just as shocked you know his name, eyes raking over your carefully, “I live next door.”

Eddie’s brows furrow, door cleaning open to peek at the trailer beside him, gaze quickly flicking back toward you. And suddenly it’s all clicking in his head, though slowly.

“You must be the reason I have to make an extra plate of dinner, right?” Eddie asks with a soft smile.

Whatever earlier assumptions you had about him dissipated into nothing, melted by the grin on his face and the subtle dimple in his cheek.

“It’s not my doing—Wayne worries about me.” You tell him, hoping he’ll understand. “Food’s good though, better than what I could make.”

Eddie widens the door silently, without question really, allowing you to step inside. It’s as barren as it is cluttered, random knick knacks on the shelves, counters, but devoid of trash.

“Wait, holy shit—you’re friend’s with Buckley, aren’t you?”

It’s startling, but you nod. You were—also in band with her, along with a long list of extracurriculars—why that one stood out the most to him, you’d never understand. You weren’t even aware Eddie knew you existed.

“Sort of,” You land on, “We’ve got a lot of classes together.”

And as if you weren’t already taken off-guard, Eddie speaks again.

“You play…trumpet?” He asks, snapping his fingers in celebration when you nod. “And piano?”

“How do you—no one knows that.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, genuinely confused, “I saw you playing a couple months ago—I was on the way to Hellfire and you were by yourself, I thought you were practicing for something—“

“You watched me play?” You ask curiously.

“Yeah, yeah—you’re really fuckin’ good.” Eddie admits, “It’s not really my style but I love music, so—“

And he’s mentally beating himself up over not recognizing you sooner, feeling like a complete ass.

“Well, I don’t know if Wayne told you, but he asked me to help tutor you.” You explain, “I get it you want to kick me out, I’m just trying to do good by your uncle, you know?”

Eddie shrugs carelessly, “We can try, but I’m not promising it’ll help.”

“Are you sure you have the time?” You ask, knowing his weekends were usually occupied by something a lot more distracting and loud. “No guitar practice today?”

Eddie snorts at that, “Shit, yeah—I’m sorry about that.”

“I’ve listened to it for six years, I’m used to it.”

Eddie gawks at that, feeling even worse.

“Hey, it’s fine—I wouldn’t notice me either.”

He smiles slightly, “It’s not that.”

You plead with him silently, following him to the small table tucked in the corner of his trailer, two chairs on either side.

“Kinda thought you were a ghost, honestly—“ Eddie admits, “or just like, figment of my imagination.”

You scrunch your nose in confusion, taking a seat across from him.

“I swear I’ve never seen you around here—that’s mostly my fault, I’m not home often.” Eddie tells you, “but I remembered your face when I’d see you at school, didn’t know your name—I mean, I still don’t but—“

You snort softly, offering him your name with a quiet interjection. He nods knowingly, grin growing wider.

“I feel like an asshole for not realizing you’ve been my neighbor for that long—Wayne always talked about you, kind of in passing, but I never thought anything of it.”

“I’m not offended, Eddie.” You tell him, hoping he’d understand.

And it’s not that Eddie didn’t remember your face, he just couldn’t believe it was real, that you were real. He could’ve sworn you didn’t exist at all, like he’s been making you up in his mind.

“Can we make a deal?” Eddie asks suddenly.

“Depends.” You counter, smile pulling at your face.

“If this works, will you teach me some stuff on the piano?”

Eddie was the definition of never judging someone at first glance, his interesting style contrasting his personality in the best ways. He’s always came off as dark, pensive, similar to his uncle in the way he always had a cigarette between his lips or a scowl on his face.

“If this works—sure.” You agree with ease.

“God, I feel like a total ass.” Eddie admits, slamming his fist against the table softly, “Six years, are you sure?”

“It’s not for lack of trying, Eddie.” You tell him, “If I wanted to be noticed you would’ve known. I’m really good at blending in, unfortunately.”

It still doesn’t change how he feels.

“Besides, you never realize how much people reveal about themselves when they don’t know you’re around.” You add shyly, eyes connecting with him briefly.

Eddie laughs slightly, leaning forward to flip the textbook open.

“We can circle back to that,” Eddie teases, “I won’t forget.”

There’s not a day that passes following where Eddie hasn’t wedged himself into your existence, determined to discover everything that he’s missed out on.

And it’s startling how much you like him, the fact of him being right out of reach for so long—it’s bittersweet.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[walkingintheheartbreaksatellite]

Lover

(Harry Styles x Fem! swiftie! Reader)

Summary: Harry asks Taylor to perform Lover at his wedding as a surprise to his wife.

Contents: Mild angst, cringey fluffiness, dirty joke(bestlifeonline.com), mentions of insecurities, mentions of past relationship, cursing

(Ya’ll can thank Miss. Taylor Alison Swift for this idea. Came to me during the Eras film.)

I did it. Sitting at this table with Harry, during our wedding reception, all my dreams have come true.

“Y/N… Y/N!”

I shake my head, turning my attention to Harry who’s looking at me expectantly.

“Hm?”

He laughs and squeezes my hand.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Mrs. Styles?”

I blush and shrug my shoulders.

“I don’t know, just kind of lost in my thoughts honestly. We’re here… We made it H. Like can you believe that?”

He smiles and shakes his head, squeezing my hand. Before he can respond, the DJ announces something over the microphone.

“Ladies and gentleman, please join me in welcoming the happy couple in their first dance! If the bride and groom could make their way out to the dance floor!”

Harry stands and takes my hand, leading me to the dance floor with a smile. He positions his hands and wraps them around my waist as I wrap my arms around his neck. The music starts to play but every other second, it skips.

I start to tear up, frustrated that my perfect moment could be ruined. Harry sighs and kisses my forehead before he lets me go and heads over to the DJ’s station, no doubt to figure out what’s going on.

I see him physically sigh from across the room and I frown, looking down at the floor as I try to hide my tears. A few minutes later, he takes me back into his arms and holds me close with a smile.

“I thought-.”

He shakes his head and just presses his forehead against mine before he whispers softly.

“It’s fine. Trust me.”

Before I can respond, I hear someone tapping on a microphone. I turn my head to the small stage and see none other than Taylor Swift. With a guitar in her hand.

“Is this thing on? Oh okay cool it is! Hi guys! My name’s Taylor and I’ve been given the tremendous honor to sing this song for these two amazing people here. It means so much to me that this song means everything to them and their relationship. Please join me in welcoming Mr. and Mrs. Harry and Y/N Styles.”

I look at Harry, my eyes tearing up as he smiles.

“You did this?”

He pecks my lips and smiles but he doesn’t respond. He just pulls me closer as she begins to play and sing.

We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January

And this is our place, we make the rules

“Harry… I can’t believe you did this- Did you- Did you plan this?”

He laughs and shrugs.

“Maybe yes, maybe no. You’ll never know though.”

I laugh and shake my head and he spins me around with a loving smile.

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear

Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

Flashback, 3 years before:

“Y/N, I’m sorry this isn’t exactly what I planned… I just wanted tonight to be perfect and now-.”

I smile and shake my hand, placing a hand over his. I look around and spot an ice cream shop across the street.

“It’s okay. I’m here spending time with you. It doesn’t matter what we do. How about we go get some ice cream? Nothing could go wrong with ice cream.”

He laughs and nods, taking my hand and leading me to the shop. We head inside and order our ice cream, then stand to the side while we wait. A familiar song comes on the radio and I start to him and sing along to it.

“You’re my my my… lover.”

Harry takes my hand before I know it, he’s pulling me into his arms and spinning me around the ice cream shop at almost midnight. I laugh and dance with him, enjoying the odd but sweet moment between us.

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

“Do you remember our first date? What made you pull me in?”

He purses his lips before he smiles and answers.

“I dunno really. It just felt right. My body moved faster than my mind did. But we sure surprised them, didn’t we? Dancing at practically midnight in an empty shop, just because we wanted to. We’ve always been like that, haven’t we?”

I laugh and nod as he twirls me around before he pulls me in closer than before, resting his for forehead against mine.

And ah, take me out, and take me home

You're my, my, my, my

Lover

“Y/N… I know I’ve told you this… Multiple times in fact… But you are one of a kind… Everyday I just fall more and more in love with you, whether we’re dancing in the kitchen, watching a movie, attending one of my numerous events or even just sitting quietly together. I love you Y/N. I’ve… I’ve never known what true love feels like until I met you. And I never want to lose what we have…”

I tear up and try to blink away my tears before I peck his lips a few times.

“Dummy… What did I say about making me cry today of all days?”

He laughs and pecks my lips. His hands move to my waist and he lowers me down, dipping me before he pulls me close again.

We could let our friends crash in the living room

This is our place, we make the call

Flashback, Christmas 2 years ago:

“I love your room, H. It’s so boyish and adorable. Makes me almost want to squish you.”

He groans and shakes his head before he plops on the bed on to his back.

“Mum hasn’t touched anything since I left. She leaves mine and Gem’s rooms the way the are and I have a feeling it’s for this exact reason.”

I smile and lay down next to him, resting my head on his chest before looking up at him.

“It’s sweet. You’re her babies. Of course she would leave them. I’m sure my mom would’ve too if we’d had a housing growing up.”

He sighs and pulls me on top of him so i now rest my chin on his chest.

“I shouldn’t have let you talk me out of hosting Christmas. I have plenty of room and a bigger bed! It also would’ve saved me the embarrassment!”

I laugh and shake my head. Before I can respond, Anne, Harry’s mom, pops her head through the doorway with a smile.

“Hey you two! We’ve got snacks and some tea downstairs! Why don’t you come warm up! Gemma wants to finish decorating the tree!”

I smile and nod, getting off of Harry before holding out my hand for him to take.

And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you

I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all

Flashback, 6 months ago:

“Y/N, I promise! We’re just friends! I would never want to be with her again!”

I frown and keep my back to him, refusing to look at him.

“But you know she’s better for you. She fits in better with your lifestyle and it’s obvious she still wants you… Maybe you really are better off with her…”

He groans and grabs my shoulders, turning me around forcefully.

“I’m not with her. I haven’t been for years! Nor would I want to! We’re better as friends! And before I go into all the reasons why it should be you, I’ll tell you why it’s not her. I care for her deeply… But she’s not down to earth like you are. She doesn’t understand what it’s like to work hard for what you want. Everything is handed to her. But you? My god… My Y/N. Your heart, your soul, your determination and your will… You never give up. You put your mind on something and there really is no stopping you. Your promotion at work, moving to London to be with me after only 8 months together. You have lived such a painful life and look at you. You are one of the strongest people I know. You inspire me to be the man I want to be… And that man loves you. All of you. So i don’t want to hear any more about how you think you’re not good enough. Fuck the fame. It’s nothing without love. The only words I want to hear are ‘I do’. Yeah?”

I sigh and give him a small smile.

“I should really know better by now. Every time I feel insecure, you always seem to burn me and love me all at once.”

He laughs and wraps his arms around me, kissing my forehead.

“Good. No more being mean to my girl.”

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever)

You're my, my, my, my

Lover

Flashback, Harry’s 29th birthday:

“Happy Birthday old man.”

He rolls his eyes and laughs before he hugs me.

“Y/N, don’t start. I’m 29..”

I laugh and hug him tight.

“He’s 29 folks! Twenty noine!”

“We’re never watching that episode of New Girl ever again. Well, at least until you turn 29. I’ll be playing it on a loop that day.”

I snort and shake my head, pecking his lips.

“Y/N…?”

I look him in the eyes an hum. His eyes soften and he smiles.

“Thanks for coming with me… I know it hasn’t been easy… But having you with me…It means everything to me. I love you.”

I smile and peck his lips softly.

“I go where you go.”

Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?

With every guitar string scar on my hand

I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover

Flashback, a year and a half ago:

“Hey… H? Can you teach me how to play guitar?”

His eyes widen and he smiles before nodding enthusiastically.

“Of course I will, love! But why the sudden interest?”

I shrug and smile.

“I don’t know. I mean I already know who to play ukulele. Couldn’t be much different. And honestly I really want to learn how to play Push. You know how much I love Matchbox.”

He laughs and nods. He grabs a nearby guitar and pats his lap, motioning me to sit. I quickly do as he says and he starts to position my hands on the guitar, strumming it softly as he does so.

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

All's well that ends well to end up with you

Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover

Flashback, 3 months into their relationship:

“Y/N L/N I swear! You are the most overdramatic person I know! And that’s saying something!”

He laughs and shakes his head as he looks at me, my eyes welling up with tears.

“I’m sorry! It’s just so sad! They could’ve been so good together and look at how miserable they are!”

I wipe my tears and Harry shakes his head, laughing.

“That’s Klaus’ fault! And Caroline’s not miserable! She has Stephan and she’s pregnant! She’s literally a pregnant vampire!”

“They could’ve been amazing and I’m not sorry for crying! This is why I don’t watch this with you because you love to tease me!”

He laughs and hugs me, kissing the side of my head.

“That may be true, but I love you’re overdramatic ways. Cry. I’ll be hear to wipe your tears away.”

And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me

And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover

Flashback, 6 months ago:

“Psst. Y/N. Y/N!”

I groan and advert my eyes from my phone to look at him, only to see a devilish grin on his face.

“What?”

He smiles even more before he whispers to me.

“What’s the difference between a G-spot and a golf ball?”

I groan and look at him.

“What, was Niall bored again?”

“Just answer the question Y/N!”

I sigh and look at him.

“I don’t know, what?”

He smiles and whispers again.

“A guy will actually search for a golf ball!”

I groan and Harry laughs, throwing his head back into the couch.

“Tell Niall to find some new material because that joke was not a hole in one.”

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever)

Flashback, 6 month anniversary:

“No matter how many times we go out, taking you home has to be my favorite part.”

I give him a look of shock and his own mouth drops, realizing what he just said.

“No! I just meant! I just meant that.. When I take you home… I give you a kiss goodnight… I always sleep better with a kiss goodnight. Honestly I wish you just lived with me so I could kiss you goodnight and good morning everyday…”

My mouth gapes in complete shock.

“A-Are you.. are you asking?”

He looks in my eyes and purses his lips, giving me a small nod.

“I-I know we’ve only been dating six months but… I love you Y/N L/N… I’m serious about us. More than I ever have been with anyone else… You can say no… I’ll understand-.”

I grab his cheeks and pull him down to my level, wrapping my arms around him as I kiss him passionately. He smiles into the kiss and wraps his arms around my waist, lifting me up slightly.

After a minute or so I pull away for air and Harry smiles, resting his forehead against mine.

“I love you Harry…So much.”

He smiles, pecking my lips lightly before hugging me again.

A couple weeks later:

I wake up to the sun in my eyes and arms wrapped tightly around my waist. I slowly turn to see a sleepy, smiling Harry. He squeezes me in his arms and pecks my lips softly.

“Good morning, love.”

I smile and snuggle up close to him before whispering back to him.

“Good morning, boyfriend.”

You're my, my, my, my

Oh, you're my, my, my, my

Darling, you're my, my, my, my

Lover

Present, the wedding reception:

Harry holds my close, one hand holding my hand as the other remains secured to my waist. As Taylor finishes singing, harry softly whispers the last few lyrics to me before her kisses me. In the moment, nothing else mattered. It’s like it was just us and no one else was around…

6 years later, 6 year wedding anniversary:

I wake up, groaning as I turn only to be met by a small, look alike of my husband.

“Hi mommy.”

I smile and take Riley into my arms, hugging her tight as she giggles.

Riley Anne Styles, our honeymoon baby. Shortly after we came home from our honeymoon, I discovered I was pregnant after repeatedly getting sick while I was trying to get my some done. She’s 5 years old and an exact copy of her daddy. She’s a mommy’s girl, and is always close to my side.

“Good morning, my little bug.”

Riley groans as she wiggles in my arms.

“Mommy! I told you! I’m a big girl! I’m not little! Jude is little…”

She pouts and I smile, planting a kiss on her cheek.

“That may be true, but you’ll always be my little bug. Just embrace it, love bug.”

I sit up and get out of bed, carrying Riley as I walk out of the bedroom and downstairs, where the smell of eggs and coffee waft through the house. I set Riley down and she paddles her feet over to her daddy, who’s holding our son, Jude, while cooking at the stove.

Jude Edward Styles. A carbon copy of myself and our unplanned miracle. I was on bed rest my last trimester because of complications and he spent a few weeks in the NICU. He’s our little fighter and a daddy’s boy through and through. He’s only a year and a half but he’s so lively, you can’t but smile when you see him.

“Daddy! I woke up mommy!”

Harry turns around and sighs when he sees me.

“Ri- I told you not to wake up mummy, remember?”

Riley frowns and tears up a little. Harry sighs once again, turns off the burner and moves the pan to the back burner before turning around.

“It’s okay lovie, but remember, sometimes mummy needs to sleep. Remember how she’s been gone because of work? She was really sleepy and she got home pretty late last night…”

“Baby it’s okay. I slept great and I feel fine. C’mere bug, it’s okay.”

I kneel down and Riley runs over to me, flinging herself in my arms.

“It’s okay, love bug. Know one is mad at you. Right daddy?”

Harry smiles and nods. He fixes his hold of Jude before he walks over to us and kneels to my level.

“Sorry love, I just-.”

I kiss his cheek and shake my head, smiling.

“I know, and I appreciate you for doing that. But I feel fine. I missed you and I missed the kids… I didn’t want to be gone so long, especially because of our anniversary but work just kind of got out of control-.”

Harry pecks my lips and takes my free hand in his, squeezing it.

“I know, my love, I know. But you’re home. And I have so much planned for tonight, I just need to take the kids to mum’s-.”

“I love that you made so many big plans, I do… But- Can we maybe keeps the kids tonight? Do our anniversary dinner another night..?”

Harry smiles and nods.

“Of course. I know better after 6 years of marriage and 2 years of dating that you hate fancy restaurants for special occasions. I was going to cook your favorite and we were just gonna stay in and do- things…”

I laugh and shake my head.

“Last I checked, this is our anniversary, not just mine. Do I have any more say in what we do?”

He laughs and nods.

“Well, go ahead Mrs. Styles. What did you have in mind?”

Harry sets Jude in his lap and he crawls over to me with a drooly, toothy smile. I take him into my arms so I now have both my babies in my lap.

“I want a day with all my babies. Like we used to before we both went back to work…”

He smile and nods, before he pulls out his phone. He makes a quick call and just like that, we have a day full of family time. We go to all of our family places, and for the first time in a while, everything felt… normal. We spend the morning at the kid’s favorite interactive museum and then get some lunch before hitting the park. The kids manage to exhaust themselves so we take them home and put them down to nap. Normally, Riley doesn’t nap but she doesn’t sleep the greatest when Harry or I have to travel for work, so we decided to let her sleep.

We set them down in the tent in their playroom, and before I leave the room, I see Jude cuddle up to Riley and my heart melts. I snap a quick picture and fix their blanket to cover them more before I leave the room. I walk out to the living room to see Harry on the couch, his legs propped up on the davenport as he scrolls the the channels. I sit down next to him and curl up next to him, kicking my shoes off so I can curl my knees up. Harry wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me close before pressing a kiss to my head.

“They’re out cold. Jude was cuddling Ri when I left and I kid you not H, I almost cried.”

He laughs a little and sighs.

“Missed you lover, we all did. But it was nice getting some one on one time with them. I tried getting Ri to sleep in her bed but she wasn’t having it. She missed you. Always cried after you hung up at bedtime. But mum came over and had a tea party with her. They managed to get Jude to join them but of course, that lead to them fighting over crowns and then he demolished the tea party in his dragon costume.”

I snort and shake my head.

“Of course he did. He’d live in that thing if he could.”

We cuddle and after about an hour, the kids wake up. We play in the backyard and have a nice, family dinner. After bath time, the kids are off to bed. As expected, Riley demands I read her a story and tuck her in, leaving Harry to handle Jude.

“Mommy, read more!”

I sigh and give her a small smile.

“Just one more, bug. Then it’s bed time. Now what are we reading?”

She gives me her normal sneaky smile before dropping her bombshell on me.

“Tell me how you and daddy met!”

I sigh and shake my head with a smile.

“Okay, okay fine.”

I lay down next to her, pulling her close as she snuggles up to me.

“So it was a little over 9 years ago. I was on something that you could call an adventure-.”

“Like Bluey mommy?”

I smile and nod.

“Yes, my love. Like Bluey. Anyways, I was on an adventure. I took a break from work and I decided to travel. I couldn’t pick where I wanted to go, so Papa booked me a flight for somewhere. A whole different country! My first day there, I visited this small coffee shop by my hotel and there’s where I met daddy. He was behind me in line and we ended up talking, and the rest, my sweet girl, is history.”

She giggles and cuddles up to me.

“And then you got married and then I was born? And then Jude?”

Before I can respond, Harry’s voice rings through the room.

“That’s right, lovie. And they’ve been the best years of my life.”

Harry’s leaning against the doorway, smiling with his arms folded. He walks over to the small bed and sits down at the edge of the bed.

“Daddy, were you happy?”

He smiles and leans down, pressing a soft kiss to her head before sitting back up.

“Very. Mummy is my best friend and I love her very much. And she gave me you and your brother. Our little family is all I’ve ever wanted and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Now how about we get some shut eye, little miss? You’ve got a big day tomorrow. You’re going to nana’s!”

She smiles and giggles, nodding before she shuts her eyes. I place a kiss to her cheek and she smiles before turning her back to me to face the wall. I get up from the bed and walk out of the room with Harry, quietly closing the door.

We walk upstairs and start our nighttime routine, smiling at each other as we enjoy the silence. We get into bed and I cuddle up to Harry, who pulls me in his arms. We lay there quietly for a minute until Harry speaks up.

“6 years, how crazy is that?”

I laugh and cuddle up to him.

“They’ve been good to us though. I love you more and more each day. And you know? I can’t wait to see what the next six years bring us.”

He lifts me up and lays me on top of him so I see his smiling face.

“I was thinking… How would you feel about trying for another?”

My eyes widen in shock.

“Baby? H, Jude isn’t even 2!”

“But he’s walking and by the time the baby is born, he will be! Lover, please!”

He pouts and gives me his puppy dog eyes. I sigh and peck his lips.

“Fine, fine. I give in.”

He smiles and pecks my lips.

“Did you have a good anniversary, Lover?”

I smile and nod.

“I did, I really did. It was perfect. Thank you, H.”

He nods before his eyes widen and he lifts me off of him, rushing out of bed and into the closet. He comes back a moment later with a medium sized box, wrapped in blue ribbon. My eyes widen and I frown.

“Harry! I thought we agreed no presents!”

He gives me a weak smile and hands me the box anyways.

“I know… but I couldn’t resist!”

I smile and reach into my nightstand, and pull out a small box before handing into him.

“Neither could I.”

He laughs and pecks my lips. We open our gifts at the same time, but I’m more anxious to see his reaction.

“A locket?”

“With me and the kids in it… I have an old coworker who designs them now so.. I designed one and he made it. That way, when you have to go and you get overwhelmed and can’t call… You’ll still have us.”

He tears up and puts it on before bending down to my level and pulling me into a kiss.

“I love it, Y/N. I really do.”

I smile and wipe his tears before pecking his lips again. He then grabs my present off the bed and hands it to me, gesturing me to open it. I sigh and open it slowly. Inside, is a finished brown box, seemingly to be a music box. I open into and tear up at the sound.

“It’s our song…”

He smiles and nudges his head to the box.

“Keep looking.”

I open it more and as a general music box has, there’s a figure inside dancing. But based on the immense detail, it looks like Harry and I on our wedding day. The box is littered with pictures of us with the kids and some with just us. I tear up and set the box down, pulling him into a hug.

He laughs and hugs me tight, pressing a kiss to the side of my head.

“It’s perfect…”

Harry smiles and opens the box, placing it on the bed before he lifts me up and pulls me into his arms.

“Dance with me.”

I laugh and nod, laying my head on his chest as he holds me and we slowly sway. After a few minutes, I readjust and wrap my arms around his neck, our foreheads resting against each other as he softly whispers to me.”

“Darling you’re my, my, my, Lover.”

———————————🩷————————————

Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought!!! If you liked this, please feel free to check out my masterlist!

Tag List:

@be-with-me-so-happily @swiftmendeshoran @babyiamperfectforyou @freedomfireflies @kaminokatie @harrysmimi @violetsandfluff @fruitmans @fruitmansrecs @harringtons-honey @rafaaoli @kimmi-kat @erggggggggg @cayleyhannha-blog @acesofspadess @that-mcu-fan @styles-barnes-bitch @purple9950 @justmystyles @itslottiehere @daydreaming-laur @atharryshouse

[fannyspammy]

We’re Okay

Adam Warlock x Reader

Summary: y/n & Adam disagree for the first time

Warnings: none ! just fluff :)

A/N: fifth part to the Firsts series! Sorry it took me so long to get the next part up! Had a super busy week :/ If you haven’t read the previous parts yet, my masterlist is here! (Can be read as a oneshot tho!)

taglist: @spderm4nnnn @nocturnest @joeysjaskier

[not my gif]

Adam loved everything y/n loved. Half because she was the one who introduced him to most things, and half because y/n just had good taste.

He loved all the different food she introduced him to, the books, the movies, the music. You listened to just about anything — classic crooners, r&b, pop throwbacks, show tunes.. you name it! Naturally, Adam listened to just about anything as well, but his favourites always featured a strong guitar.

Y/n nodded her head to the beat as The Black Keys filled her ears. They were one of her favourite groups, and one of the few she’d seen perform live on Terra before finding herself in space.

She was stretched over the couch, feet up on the arm rest on the side farthest from her, singing softly along to Everlasting Light.

“In me you can confide.. When no ones by your side.. Let me be your everlasting light.”

Adam walked in, cold drink in hand. “What’ya listenin’ to?” Y/n removed one of her earbuds and held it out for him to take. She retracted her legs to allow him to sit, and he pulled them back over his lap once he was settled in his spot. Taking the earbud, Adam immediately recognized the song and nodded his head in approval. Placing his drink on the coffee table, he leaned back into the pillows behind him, and they sat in contentment, singing along and creating actions to lyrics.

As the song ended, the rhythmic intro to Howlin’ For You began. “Oh, I love this one!” Adam stated. “Dan Auerbach.. what a legend.”

Y/n agreed, retelling the time she saw him live in concert. “His guitar solos were insane. Definitely my favourite guitarist.”

“Second favourite, you mean,” Adam said, shrugging lightly. Y/n raised an eyebrow and tilted her head in question. “After Adrian Belew, right?”

“Oh, I mean, he’s great, but Auerbach is still my favourite.”

Adam stared at her like he couldn’t believe the words that just came out of her mouth.

“You’re joking right? Adrian Belew is the greatest of all time!”

Y/n shrugged. “I dunno, I love his stuff too, but I think I just prefer the blues-y rock vibes over a lot of Adrian’s experimental stuff.”

Adam’s mouth was slightly agape now. “Oh c’mon. Oh Daddy? Pretty Pink Rose? I mean, the man played with David Bowie!” He was sitting up now, sharp eyebrows furrowed in frustration and hands out with his palms up in a ‘what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about’ manner.

Y/n sat up too, sensing more tension than she thought was necessary for such a trivial topic. “Babe, chill. So I don’t think Adrian Belew is the greatest of all time, so what? Why is it such a big deal to you?”

The golden man stood up now, throwing his hands down to his sides as he did. Her legs slid off his lap as he walked away from the couch, pacing a few steps away before turning around to face her again.

“Why isn’t it a bigger deal to you? How can you not think he’s the greatest guitarist of all time? He’s so clearly unmatched!”

Y/n rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “Why is it so hard to accept that I prefer Auerbach’s style? I’m not saying Adrian isn’t great, it’s just personal preference! When it comes to the experimental stuff I can only listen in small doses. I prefer alternative. Why is that such a problem for you?”

“Because we always like the same things!” He shouted. Y/n was taken by surprise, eyebrows raised in shock before her expression softened into a more curious one. Adam sighed, rubbing his temple with his palm as he sat back down on the edge of the couch. “We… I always like everything you’ve shown me. Everything. I mean, I don’t think I’ve disagreed with you once since we met. What if it starts with this — I like Belew and you like Auerbach — and then it becomes other things? And then next thing you know we don’t agree on anything?”

Y/n stared at him intently as he explained himself. He looked like a sad puppy, eyes round and lips in a pout. She stifled a chuckle as she realized what he was saying. Leaning forward, knees bent up to her chest, she placed her hands on his thigh. He looked at where she touched him before looking into her eyes. “Adam, it’s okay for us to disagree!”

He looked at her sheepishly. “It is?”

“Yes, silly,” y/n smiled at him, amused. “It’s sweet that you’re concerned about us growing apart, but every couple disagrees on some things. And usually over more important things than who the best guitarist is.”

Adam relaxed and scooted closer, bringing his hands to rest on the back of her calves. His thumbs rubbed her shins gently. “So.. we’re okay then?”

Y/n smiled. “Yes, you idiot, we’re okay.”

Adam sighed in relief. He adjusted his position so he was resting his head on her knees, an arm hooked around her leg to hug it close to him. Y/n melted at the sight him — a powerful man who could single-handedly bring down an army, so soft and delicate with her.

She brought a hand to his head and stroked through his hair before placing a kiss on his forehead. He snuggled closer at her show of affection and y/n smiled once again.

“We’re okay.”

[mephinomaly]

[TL] Backdoor - an Original Scenario written by Akira

Backdoor is a short original story written by Akira-sensei to accompany the release of the Crossroad animated series. I recommend watching it before reading this, especially if you haven't read the original Crossroads.

Please enjoy my translation below!

—

Backdoor

I break in from the backdoor. I feel like a super cool outlaw from one of those movies. Avoid the countless traps, blindly shoot the enemies like bang bang bang! Feast your eyes, idiots of the world!

I am the great Oogami Koga…!

"..."

By the back door is a guy with blond hair who’s sorting the trash out, probably works here part time. Since I came in and started acting like a weird middle schooler, he looks at me, surprised.

“Hey, you–” Part-time-kun (tentative name) puts his hand out with a totally bored expression. “One thousand yen. It’s the entrance fee.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

“Next time come in from the proper entrance, ‘kay?” Part-time-kun (tentative name) doesn’t lecture me any further and exchanges my 1000 yen bill for a sleek plastic card.  If I show this at the bar, I can get a drink and stuff. I thank him. “Enjoy your night～♪”

Part-time-kun (tentative name) is side-eyeing me, and at this point in time I’m so embarrassed all I want to do is go home but I pull myself together and head inside. 

I’m in a cheap underground livehouse in the downtown area, near Yumenosaki Private Academy, the school I’m going to attend. 

My sanctuary is here.

My god is here.

***

The livehouse I've been hanging around in lately is built a little weird. The entrance to the stairs is in a back alley. At the bottom of the stairs, there’s two corridors, one leading left, the other right. There’s a lot of soundproof doors, standing one after another. The majority of these small rooms are booths, meant to be hired out by amateur bands to practise in. If you look through the window of one, it’s normally empty since nobody really uses them.

Well, these days people don’t practise by actually picking up an instrument, playin’ until their fingers hurt.  I’ve been doin’ that too lately, sittin’ at home ‘n staring blankly at my computer screen. I dunno. 

At the end of the empty corridor, there’s the employees only room, the kitchen, and the back entrance which I found by accident when I was trespassing. 

I’ve been short on cash lately because I’ve been buyin’ like, introductory books to playin’ the guitar ‘n stuff so I’ve been sneakin’ in that way ‘cos then I don’t hafta pay the entrance fee. No-one’s ever around anyway. 

“I won’t be able to come in that way next time,” I complain as I walk down the corridor in low spirits, stopping when I find the soundproof room I’m looking for. 

The biggest, most extravagant door is in the middle of the corridor. At the back, at the heart of this place— is the livehouse, or I guess you could call it a music hall. 

“♪～♪～♪”

I open the weighted door and my entire body is blasted by music. 

This is it. This electrifying feeling.  

At the back of this relatively wide space is a really nice stage, and that’s where bands that have signed up to perform do so. The entrance fee also covers one drink, but you can order more food and drink and enjoy the show at the same time. It’s your average livehouse. I dunno though. I’m underaged, so I stick to a non-alcoholic tomato juice whilst enjoying the show.

Since this place is close to Yumenosaki, a lot of the customers are scruffy-looking students. I never thought young me would come to a place like this. I’m just in ordinary clothes. This place pays attention to its customer base, so there's not a drop of alcohol or a single cloud of cigarette smoke to be seen. Only super cool music is playing. It’s echoing. 

“～...♪”

My God is in the middle of the stage, singing enthusiastically. The lyrics are in English, and I understand almost none of them. The lyrics are probably about wishing for world peace, or religious sacrilege; something complicated but meaningful. When I asked what he was singing about later, he said something like “I’m so happy because my cute little brother has recovered from his cold!”

Is he stupid? Or am I the stupid one for being so entranced by him?

But. I didn’t know that sort of thing back then, so I was genuinely moved by him.

Illuminated by the dim stage lighting, his pale corpse-like skin stood out in the shadows— him.

Crimson eyes like hellfire. 

Black hair that melts into the darkness.

From between his seductive lips that are sexier than any girls’, comes a masculine, deep voice. 

He looked simultaneously like an angel that could rescue the world and a devil that could destroy it too. Whether angel or devil, his singing voice was powerful enough to completely change the very fabric of this world.

“～...♪”

The name of the person I respect the most in this world is Sakuma Rei. 

My God.

***

I was born and raised in an unremarkable environment. 

We’re middle class. My dad’s an office worker and he earns a pretty decent wage, and my mum’s a housewife, which is rare nowadays. 

They bought a nice detached house in a nice place. Both of my parents like kids and like taking care of others, so I grew up pretty pampered. I’m aware that since I was spoiled, I grew up to be a selfish, cocky brat. I was given whatever I wanted. I didn’t know what I really wanted though since it would be handed to me before I could even think about it. When I got to an age where I didn’t need to be looked after, my parents got a dog to satisfy their overflowing need to help others (?). His name’s Leon. He’s the best dog ever. 

I fussed over him too, but not in the way my parents did. Everyday, they’d treat him like he was a baby, doting on him, probably the same way they treated me. It made me sulk a bit. 

I could tell that my parents’ interest had shifted from me to Leon. Leon isn’t bad. He was bought to be loved. He’s a pedigree, he was born for this, to be doted on. He’s a really good boy and whenever I felt sad he’d snuggle up close to me and put his face next to mine. So I wouldn’t be lonely. So I knew I wasn’t alone. 

But I felt that the amount of love I had received up until this point was steadily decreasing, and it made me anxious. 

—Alas! Miserable, spoiled Oogami Koga-kun!

But I wasn’t shameless enough of a person to say “pay attention to me instead of the dog!” Leon deserved to be loved as much as I did— I wandered around town, searching for someone other than my parents who could love me.

I was starved, yearning. I looked like a stray dog scavenging around for something to fill me up. My parents aren’t bad. Neither is Leon. I’m probably not bad either. 

I’ve already finished compulsory education. I had reached the age where I could fend for myself. So I should have. I’m sure other people are doing that. We leave the watchful eye of our parents, tackle teenagehood, and find out who we are. Find what we want to do with our lives. After countless trial and error, I found what I was looking for— Sakuma Rei. His music satisfied what my soul had been craving. 

***

The performance ends, and Sakuma Rei disappears behind the stage. 

I’ve never been on stage before, so I don’t know what it looks like back there. There’s probably a passageway that leads to a green room or something. The livehouse is weirdly dark and it’s hard to see much of anything, so it really looks like Sakuma Rei vanished like a ghost. 

The person who fills the gap in my heart, vanishes. 

So I grow anxious again and begin blindly searching for him everywhere. I make my way through the livehouse, pushing through the swathes of people who came here to see Sakuma Rei.

—Sakuma Rei, Sakuma Rei, Sakuma Rei.

My soul wants him. 

Of course, I’m not part of his family. We’re not even acquaintances, let alone friends. He’s probably never even heard of me. But I didn’t mind either way. I found him, met him, fell in love with him, and had my yearning quenched. That alone made me thankful. Sakuma Rei, without a doubt, saved me. That’s all I wanted. I was just a sheep, one of hundreds who came here. To me, he was the night sky, something I thought I could never reach. I didn’t mind just watching from afar. That’s how I really feel. If I never got to see him closeup, I’d be fine with that.

And yet. 

“What you’re drinking looks good.”

Suddenly, the tomato juice I’d ordered, which I didn’t end up liking because it was weirdly sweet, is taken from my hand by someone next to me. 

—The hell, bastard? That’s mine. When I go to look up at whoever grabbed my drink with a belligerent expression, I realise it’s Sakuma Rei. 

“If you’re not drinking it, I’ll have it. Singing’s got me workin' up a sweat.”

Naturally, my body stiffens.

That’s Sakuma Rei.

If I reach out my hand, I could touch him.

I’m so surprised by what I originally thought was something that could never happen, I have nothing clever to say and instead, like an idiot, I freeze with my mouth ajar. 

“What’s up? Oh, you’re at that age where you think indirect kisses are embarrassing, right…?” Sakuma Rei says with a somewhat apologetic expression. Then he says something absurd.

“Oopsies, sorry～…Don’t worry, I take full responsibility for stealing your first time. Mhm.”

That was the first conversation we had, and it’s not exactly something I can brag about to anyone. 

Ever since then, ever since that moment, I’ve been at the mercy of this arrogant person.

***

I step through the backdoor.

The unmotivated-looking blond employee is slacking off on his phone again today– he’s a playboy called Hakaze and is actually the manager of this place. He’s also supposedly one of my senpai from Yumenosaki. He glances up from his phone at me with a gross expression.

“Look look. I just got another girl's number. I’m typing out my first message now.”

“Shut up, I don’t know you. Don’t talk to me, playboy.”

About two years have passed since I had my first conversation with Sakuma Rei, Sakuma Rei-senpai, a conversation I’d rather not remember. 

I’ve got a bit taller and a bit stronger. 

I practised intensely so my guitar and singing skills have somewhat improved. 

Whilst I was growing, Yumenosaki had gone to the dogs.

Yumenosaki Private Academy’s an idol school steeped in a rich history and tradition. But inside, it was rotting. 

I wanted to be like Sakuma-senpai, so I followed him without thinking and took Yumenosaki’s entrance exam like an idiot. I was blinded. I didn’t know anything. Every Yumenosaki student is shit. Naturally, I noticed that since I frequented the livehouse in order to see Sakuma-senpai. 

A rotted miniature garden where those with dead eyes spend their sad youth reeking of corpses. Sakuma-senpai was weirdly energetic despite the backdrop of death, so I got it wrong. No. I think I was just an immature, stupid brat, so I didn’t notice. 

Sakuma-senpai had those same dead eyes. 

In the mountain of dead bodies, he was clinging onto life. He was the only one who didn’t want to die, he was the only one praying for something to happen.

No-one could save him. 

A bespectacled monk boy from a temple came along and evoked anger in him, trying to make him into a human— into something more than human.  The stupid, lost dog just wagged his tail and followed the hand that fed him. 

We didn’t realise that the person that was always grinning like a fool, and living what appeared to be a happy life, was actually suffering more than anyone. He desperately needed help. You can see why we didn’t notice; he looked like he was having fun.

When he stood on stage with me and Shitty Glasses as Deadmanz, he lived each day like it was his last. He looked genuinely happy—he looked like he was alive. But that was only a short-lived dream. Once he steps off stage, the spell breaks, and he turns back into a corpse.

A revolution takes place at the rotted Yumenosaki.

Sakuma-senpai was seen as a cause of evil and exterminated by those who claimed to be on the side of justice. The evil monsters had been defeated, and everyone lived happily ever after. It’s creepy when a corpse moves. Yeah, nothing will change if you don’t exterminate all the gross monsters, right?

—Fuck you, you bastards!

***

“Wan-chan, will you be singing today too?” The bored-looking playboy asks, on his phone as usual. Guess he doesn’t really want to talk to me. “You should stop because you’re dampening the mood. People think you're one of Sakuma-san’s henchmen, so people think you’re evil too and will persecute you like he was.”

“I don’t care. I… I’m.” I growl, the shallow first person pronoun Sakuma-senpai sometimes used slips from my mouth [1]. I cling onto what I’ve got left of him. “I just wanna sing with all my energy. I don’t care what the rest of you do.”

“But you’re creating problems for the livehouse. A customer pokes fun at you or Sakuma-san, you get angry, and you start a fight—I really don’t want things like that happening.”

“I won't create any problems, I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Will you really? But you’re like the rest of the customers— You always look like you’re going to start arguing with other Yumenosaki students. You come in from the back entrance like, everytime, to avoid any trouble, right?”

“I still pay the entrance fee.”

“Why do you go out of your way to perform here even though you’ve got to jump over so many dangerous obstacles to get here? It’s super bothersome.” Playboy's grumbling as usual. He pulls out a key and throws it to me. “Here. I’ll give you a key to a room so you can change clothes and get ready. If you swear to not cause any more trouble, you can become our new breadwinner, Wan-chan. I actually want to cheer you on,” the playboy said and laughed insincerely. 

I hate his demeanour, so I snap back. 

“Don’t call me ‘Wan-chan’.”

“Sakuma-san calls you ‘Wanko’. I call you ‘Wan’ as in, ‘number one’. Honest, honest to god.” [2] Playboy’s face goes serious for a split second and he waved his hands around like he was trying to hide his embarrassment. “You can be my number one breadwinner, like Sakuma-san.”

“Don’t hafta tell me twice.”

Just like Sakuma-senpai, I’ll become the best guy in the world. My voice alone will excite the crowd. A flirtatious glance will have women swooning. With a single look, even the strongest of men will bow down to me. In an instant, their souls are gripped, I captivate everyone. I’ll become like Sakuma Rei too. But the journey is a long one. “Let’s go. I’m singin’ tonight.”

I reach my booth, key in hand, and change into my costume. I take out my guitar, who’s as important to me as my parents and Leon are. Once I’m ready, I head to the stage. To tackle this head on.

“Shake, you fools! Imma show you what real music is!”

I sing. My guitar does too.

Just like Sakuma-senpai did.

Right now I’m blindly copying him, but I pray that one day, I’ll be able to be just like him.

I hope this song reaches him, wherever he is. 

***

Once, I was starving, yearning. But when I found Sakuma Rei and his music, my soul was satisfied. 

—Now it’s my turn. 

“Rock ‘n’ roll…!”

Come on, idiots of the world. I’ll open your eyes with my music. I’ll become your God. 

~~~~

Translation notes:

[1]  in the line above this one Koga says ‘俺...俺様は’ or ‘ore…ore sama wa’. Oresama being the first person pronoun rei sometimes used, and its very egotistical.

[2] number one is pronounced as, in this case, ‘nanbaa wan’

[kissingghouls]

The Date (Mary Goore x Reader)

Summary: You and Mary are still trying to figure things out, but you've agreed to a first date. (This is a follow up to Winter Chill because frankly we all need to kiss Mary more often. 💕)

tags: kissing, somewhat sexual situations, feral cats, and soft soft he/they Mary Goore.

A guitar solo wails from a nearly busted speaker as you lean against the dive bar’s tricky door. The air is stale and the floor is sticky, but Mary lights up when they spot you ducking past the entryway and into the dingy room. It’s obvious to anyone who might be watching through the smokey haze, but it’s a look meant for you alone. That half-smile, half-smirk is a signature look that really only works on Mary’s lips. It makes you feel too warm, too tingly as you drag your body toward the empty seat in front of them.

You don’t miss that it’s the only “nice” barstool in the place, the only one in the entire establishment without gouges or missing stuffing and exactly zero crudely drawn dicks etched in permanent marker. Mary must have guarded the thing their entire shift as it was a treasured piece in the bar—a mighty throne for all the “tattooed freaks” and “weirdos” that made up your social circles. You wouldn’t be surprised if the regulars had been threatened with certain death or worse—room temperature beers.

“The fuck you looking at, Goore?” you hurl at him as you climb onto the seat.

“You, darlin’,” he answers with a grin and a wink.

Before, you would have rolled your eyes and walked away. You probably wouldn’t have been here on a Monday night in the first place. But things were different now and a warm pink blush flares across your face at their words. It’s funny that it’s all still new, how all the butterflies and funny feelings still show up even though you’ve known Mary for years. But you’d never known this side of them, this genuinely sweet and ridiculously smooth side that they reserved for whoever currently held their affections.

Whatever this was—this thing happening between you and Goore—you were happy to let itself play out rather than giving it a name and getting attached too early.

“You don’t stand a fuckin’ chance, Goore,” Mary’s boss hollers with a laugh and tosses a couple of pity bills into the tip jar.

“I dunno,” Mary sings with a shrug. “I’ve got a certain charm, eh darlin’?”

“I guess you’re alright,” you reply.

Mary plays it cool, but you can see the way their eyes light up like they’d just won a million dollars. “See Pat? I’m alright.”

“They pay you to say that?” Pat huffs with a laugh.

“You could have a little faith in me, man.”

“Nah,” Pat replies in a gruff tone. He stands and pulls his leather jacket over his shoulders. “You treat this one right, Goore,” he instructs with a friendly pat on your shoulder. “There’s a lot of ways to make someone disappear.”

“Jesus, Pat,” Mary laughs. “What makes you think I won’t mind my manners?”

“I’ve met you. But this one? This one’s a good kid.”

“How could you accuse me of such a thing Pat?” you ask in mock horror.

“My mistake, kiddo. Try to leave Mary in one piece, yeah?”

“I make no promises,” you call out as Pat walks away.

Mary leans forward, elbows resting on the bar as he asks in a low voice, “you gonna take me apart, darlin’?”

“Shut the fuck up, Goore,” you groan, shaking your head. “Are you ready to go or did I drive all the way up here for nothing?”

They grin and grab the tip jar. “Lemme get my jacket.”

Minutes later Mary rounds the bar shouting goodbyes at the regulars and their coworkers as you juggle your keys in your hand. You do everything you can to will away the nerves clawing at your stomach, but nothing quite works until the two of you are outside and Mary reaches for your hand. They stop and pull you closer, bottom lip chewed nervously between their teeth.

“Thanks for this.”

“For picking you up from work?” you ask with a laugh.

Mary rolls his eyes and groans, tugging you closer. “For the whole thing, I mean. The date,” they reply with a nervous tinge.

“Is that what this is?” you tease, knowing exactly what the two of you had agreed on when they’d proposed the idea.

“You’re not gonna make this easy for me, are you?”

“Isn’t that why you like me?”

“Of course, it is darlin’.”

You reach up and press a soft kiss to his lips. He tastes like mint gum instead of smoke and you can’t help but grin at the thought of Mary Goore nervously chewing through an entire pack in the hopes that they might get to kiss you again. You can’t help grabbing fistfuls of their jacket to pull them even closer as you dare to deepen the kiss. Mary’s hands go straight to your hips as your heart begins to race.

“You’re fucking dangerous, darlin’,” they whisper against your mouth, eyes closed and forehead pressed to yours to savor the moment.

“Maybe. You like it though.”

They nod. “Very much. More than you know. But as much as I enjoy making out with you in the street, I do have a nicer evening planned.”

“You’re really serious about this date thing, huh?”

“As a heart attack, sweetheart. Gonna romance the hell out of you.”

“Bring it on, Goore.”

Mary laughs in response, fully accepting your challenge by running past you and doing a little bow as they open the drivers side door for you. They tilt their head as they wait for your witty retort, but you’re too stunned to do anything but stumble over a “thank you” as you slide into your seat.

It’s a short drive to Mary’s place, but time seems to slow to a crawl when he’s sitting next to you. You can feel the cold still clinging to his jacket as he directs you toward a spot on the street that’s normally occupied by his roommate’s van. He assures you it’s more than ok steal the space, giving you another one of those Mary Goore grins that used to mean trouble, but now they’re starting to make your heart stutter in your chest. As you throw the car into park, Mary’s face is haloed by the streetlight buzzing above and all you can think about is how badly you want to kiss them again.

“Stay there,” he says quickly and jumps out of the car, sprinting to reach your door before you realize what he’s doing.

“You’re out of your mind, Mary,” you laugh, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of the entire thing.

“Hey, I told you I was going to romance you, darlin’.” They hold out a hand and help you out of the car as you take it. Their fingers are soft, lingering just a touch longer than expected as they run a thumb over your knuckles. “This is just the first step.”

“Should I be worried?”

He scrunches up his face, pretending to think. “Yeah, probably. Come on, darlin’,” he says as he urges you toward the sidewalk. “It’s cold as shit out here.”

You follow Mary up a winding set of narrow stairs and lean against the wall as they fight with their front door. The winter weather’s made the locks harder to turn and you can see the satisfaction on Mary’s face as the door finally swings open.

“After you,” they say with a broad sweep of their arm. You’re still shaking your head as they follow you in and realize the apartment is freezing. “Fucking piss,” Mary shouts in frustration and rushes to fumble with the thermostat. “I’m gonna kill him.”

They wait a bit for the tell-tale click of the heat kicking on and the distinct smell of radiators warming up fills the apartment. You watch them move through the space for a moment, realizing you’d been here before. Some distant memory filters in and the room is full of half-naked people and those plastic party cups while music blares at an unholy volume. You can’t remember what the party was for—a birthday or valentine’s day or something equally unimportant—but your heart feels like someone’s gripped it in their fist as a perfect vision of Mary leaning against the wall wearing a bored expression and that same battle jacket appears clear as day in your mind.

A screeching sound pulls you back to the present and Mary’s rushing through the kitchen to the back door. You hear it again, not screeching, but desperate meowing just outside the door.

“Hang on, hang on, I’m coming guys,” Mary says with a laugh before turning back to you. “Sorry, they can always tell when I get home.”

As Mary carefully measures out cat food into two plastic baby food bowls, the meowing turns to howling cries as though the cats know it’s dinnertime. You smile as two small cats swarm Mary as soon as he steps onto the balcony. He sets down their food and grins back at you as he waves you over. “That’s Scratch and that one’s Sniff. They’re pretty sweet for being feral cats, just don’t try to pet Scratch.”

“I can’t believe that stupid rumor was true. Mary Goore feeds street cats.”

Mary shrugs. “Is it that hard to believe?”

“No. Honestly, it’s the one rumor I always hoped was true.”

“Hmm, so you’re saying you think about me when I’m not around?”

“That’s hilarious coming from the guy who’s had a crush on me ‘for-fucking-ever.’”

“Oh, because you never had a crush on me?”

“I never said that.”

Mary smiles and takes your hand. “C’mon darlin’. We have a date.”

Back inside the small kitchen, Mary becomes increasingly frustrated as they open and slam each cabinet shut. There’s a growl under their breath, throaty and deep like the noises they make on stage and their shoulder sag in defeat as they stare into the empty fridge.

“So…uh…” he starts and rests his forehead against the door of the freezer.

“What’s wrong?”

“I swear I had a plan. I was going to do all this nice shit for you—I was gonna make you dinner! But it…uh…it looks like my roommate ate all the food?”

“Were you…trying to impress me, Goore?”

“Yes,” he confesses quickly. “Trying real fuckin hard here, darlin’.”

“You know you don’t—”

“I don’t have to do any of this for you? Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s just…I wanted to?”

“Well, you still could right? There’s got to be something left in here,” you suggest and begin to search the cabinets. Tucked away in a back corner is a single box of mac and cheese in little cartoon shapes. “Ah! What about this?”

Mary laughs. “Probably about as good as it’s gonna get. This ok with you?”

You lean closer to them and whisper, “I kind of love that stuff.”

A soft smile creeps across their face before they steal a kiss and send you off to the living room. You settle on the sofa and pull your sleeves over your hands as you fold up to keep warm. The heat might be making noises, but it’s still cold as hell in Mary’s apartment. You know it’s the kind of thing they can’t help, but you keep your discomfort to yourself. You didn’t miss that hint of embarrassment under his makeup because things weren’t “perfect” when you’d arrived, but you weren’t sure how to tell him that none of that mattered to you. You just wanted to be here with him.

“Well, this is a fucking disaster,” Mary states with a self-deprecating laugh and drops next to you on the sofa. They swipe at their face, clearly still upset by the way the evening’s events continue to unfold. The metal of their rings clicks together as their fingers smudge their already fading makeup.

It’s almost cute the way Mary is aggravated by things not turning out as planned. Hell, it’s cute that Mary made plans, but you weren’t about to let them put you on a pedestal—lest you fall from it later.

“Mary?” you start softly.

“Hmm?”

You don’t really have anything to say to follow up, so you crawl across the sofa and straddle his thighs instead. You level your eyes with the pale green of his, watching as his pupils go wide at the sight of you in his lap. “It’s not a disaster,” you tell him, slightly impressed that you’ve earned his full attention. “It’s just a regular date.”

“Fucking hell, darlin’,” they groan.

“What?” you ask with a doe-eyed innocence that has Mary pulling their lip between their teeth.

“You’re something else, you know?” they whisper.

You shrug and lean in, closing what little gap was left between the two of you. “I can’t help it. There’s just…something about you.”

“About me?” he asks in disbelief.

“You gonna argue with me or are you gonna kiss me, Goore?”

“Hmm,” he hums, pretending to think once more. “Yeah, I’ll be honest I think I’m gonna kiss you. Like, a lot.”

“Yeah, I think that’s a good plan.”

“Probably one of my better ones, really,” he says softly, urging you closer with each word before his mouth claims yours. He smooths a hand over your back as the kiss grows more and more heated. He shifts beneath you, turning to pin you to the sofa as he hovers above you. The weight of his hips against yours is like a dream and you reach up to pull him closer. Tongues twist as hands tangle in each other’s hair, fingers gripping with hesitation to find the perfect pressure to make the other moan. While Mary’s kiss is aggressive, they keep their hips almost respectfully still until you give chase with your own, raising to meet the slow, tentative grind.

The sound they make—somewhere between a whine and a whimper—is so pretty you’re determined to hear it again, but it’s too hard to think with Mary’s teeth on your neck and their fingers trailing under your shirt. They’re leaving marks, but you know you will too as soon as you get the chance, so you tug hard at Mary’s hair and attack as they throw their head back. Their eyes shut tight as you nip at the skin below their ear and suck an angry red mark into their skin. They make that sound again and this time it’s almost desperate as their hardening length drags over your sex.

Before either of you can do anything about it, a horrific noise erupts above you. Mary falls from the sofa, knees banging against the hardwood floor as you sit up and try to catch your breath. There’s a haze of steam in the room and Mary scrambles toward the kitchen to wave anything they can in front of the screaming smoke alarm. When the wailing finally stops, they turn back to you sheepishly and burst into an uncontrollable laughter.

“Forgot—” they heave between giggles, “forgot—about—the food.” They finally catch their breath and wipe away an errant tear as they shake their head. “Darlin’ I might not be cut out for this fancy date stuff.”

“Is this a bad time to tell you that it’s fucking freezing in here?”

“Yeah, I think the heat is out. I might have been…trying to pretend it wasn’t.”

“Ah, well, do you have…I don’t know…blankets? Like…maybe on your bed?”

“Darlin’ are you trying to get into my bed?”

“Yeah, actually.”

Mary grins. “Ok, this might be the best date I’ve ever had.”

-x-

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