you should create an indvidual twitter account for this so all entries can be retweeted instead of the hashtag? just a suggestion!
Good Idea! I was originally gonna create moments for each year but I didnt realize you could only make moments for your own tweets
So i’ve made a sheithmonth twitter account and will be rt’ing all the SM twitter entries there. (It’ll just take a couple day since my computer had to go and short itself out last night)
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a birthday gift for @quiznakingred/@lepusastrum
based on @applepieken‘s sheith frat au fan art
this fic is also on AO3
“Frat parties are stupid,” Keith groaned as Romelle pushed a pair of red sunglasses into his hair. This already seemed like overkill, but he’d said he’d go. Not that he’d be happy about it.
“I thought you’d never been to one,” she hummed as she moved back to dig through his closet.
“I haven’t, but frat boys are lame and parties are awful. Which means frat parties are even worse.”
“Your logic is flawless, as always, Keith.”
“I know,” he cast Romelle an iceless glare as she rolled her eyes at him. He pulled the dress shirt on anyway, then motioned to himself in question.
“You’re still going?”
“Well, yeah.”
“But—”
“I’m not letting you go to some lame party alone. At least if I’m there we can bitch about how lame it is together.”
“You’re the best!”
“I know, now come on let’s go.”
———
Twenty minutes later, the two of them were pulling up on the grass of an already full yard.
Romelle got off the bike first, straightening her dress after removing her helmet. Keith followed, going slower to put off having to go in the house. The music was loud, the front porch was already trashed, and the windows flashed with neon lights.
“It’ll be fun, I promise,” Romelle squeezed his hand reassuringly, pulling him forward with her. “I heard Shiro’s going to be here.”
“Of course he will be, Alpha Phi Alpha is his frat.” Keith’s mouth snapped shut, realizing his mistake, but Romelle was already beaming at him.
“I thought you said frat boys were lame.”
“They are, I— Shut up!” Keith definitely wasn't blushing.
“Cute,” the girl grinned, pulling him along again until they were through the door.
Like every party he’d been to, this one was already crowded and getting fuller by the minute. He followed Romelle to the kitchen. She greeted a few people as they walked through the house, hugging a girl with short red hair that he recognized from one of his physics courses and waving a little too shyly at a boy who looked similar but was taller and had a bit of a southern accent. Matt he guessed based on Romelle’s previous rants about how smart and cute and sweet the boy in her robotics lab was.
Keith kept going as the other boy started up a conversation with his friend. Luckily the kitchen was only a few steps away and he spotted a familiar face. “Hank, right?” he asked a little ashamed that he wasn’t completely sure of the guy’s name despite being partnered on several projects together.
“Hunk,” he corrected politely with a bright smile. “You want something to drink?”
“Yeah, what’ve you got?”
“Beer mostly, any particular one you want.” He opened the fridge and stepped to the side to reveal various blue and red labeled bottles.
“Nothing stronger?” he questioned, wanting something to dull the claustrophobia that was starting to set in by being surrounded by so many people.
“There’s jello shots on the table, but that’s about it.”
Keith gave an awkward thumbs up and headed in the direction Hunk had pointed.
When he got to the table however, the shots had been cleared to sit on a cabinet in the corner and there was some type of game going on. Not particularly interested, but having nothing else to do, Keith grabbed a couple shots and stood on the sidelines to watch.
It seemed simple enough, despite how intensely everyone was watching and hollering with every made and missed shot of the pingpong ball. By the time the game was over someone had found (or maybe crafted with MacGyver-like drunk ingenuity) a crown of beer cans and had placed in on the winner’s head.
“I am the Beer Pong King!” the winner, who Keith also vaguely recognized but couldn’t put a name to, declared, downing one the remaining cups of beer on the table. “Who’s next? Or are you all afraid to face the nine-time undefeated king.
“It was only six!” Someone hollered back from the crowd and that seemed to only fuel the winner’s ego.
“No volunteers then?” The boy looked around and for some reason locked eyes with Keith. “What about you, mullet? Let’s see if your just as talented off school grounds.”
While Keith wanted to correct that technically the frat house was campus property so technically was still school grounds, the competitive side of him won out and he stepped to the opposite side of the table. Though even know he still couldn't put a name or even any details to the reason that he and the King apparently knew each other.
From the first shot, the other boy seemed to realize his mistake as Keith easily sunk the ball into his opponents cup. “Drink up,” he smirked, the thought of losing not even entering his mind. It wasn’t even a fair fight. He won that match easily, trying not to turn red from the attention as the crown was removed from the former King and placed on his head. Seven rounds later, he bowed and stepped away from the table the undefeated king of the night.
By the time he settled onto the empty couch in the corner of the living room, he’d completely lost track of Romelle, but didn’t mind as he sipped from his glass, free hand keeping the crown steady on the top of his head. But eventually he got tired of having to do that and switched it out for the sunglasses he’d hung on his pocket so that they’d help keep the hair out of his face.
As he was finishing the last of his drink, he looked up as another was lifted into his line of sight. “You look like you could use another.” Shit, Keith’s eyes lifted to meet warm steel ones.
“Thanks,” he tried not to blush as his fingers brushed Shiro’s when he took the offered cup.
“Can I sit here?” Keith nodded, sipping the drink and avoiding eye contact. But he still found himself sneaking glances from the corner of his eye as the man dropped down next to him. He tried (and failed) not to memorize the spread of his legs or the thick muscle of his arms in his cut off shirt or the way his bangs sprung out from the opening of his backwards cap or the way his gum snapped between his teeth in a somehow non-irritating but actually very sexy way.
“I’ve seen you around before, never here though.” Keith hummed as a reply instead of answering, afraid that the man could here the way his rough voice was turning Keith’s insides to jelly. “I’m Takashi by the way, everyone just calls me Shiro though.”
“I know,” this time Keith managed to answer, proud of the way his voice didn’t waver.
That earned him a soft chuckle that made him nearly faint. “Your cute.” I’m not! “But I bet I could turn you into a bad boy.”
Keith turned to him at that, leaning in close. Closer. Closer. Until there mouths met and Keith was kissing him deep and hard, lapping at the inside of his mouth for a moment before pulling away. Shiro just stared wide-eyed and red faced and that earned him a smirk as Keith removed his sunglasses and pushed them up on Shiro’s nose, leaning in close again. “I’m already a bad boy, baby.”
He pulled away, picking his drink back up and winking as he chewed on the gum he’d stolen. “See ya around, Shiro.”
