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junkdrawerfics · 3 months

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You're Scaring Me

Jasper Hale X Reader

Summary: Request - Can you write one where the reader does something major told her not to do and he gets mad when he finds out and then jasper tries to console her and she’s jus really guilty and upset and then the major comes back out and they talk it thru.

Word Count: 3558

Warning: Angsty maybe. Obviously some unhealthy anger stuff, but it ends well, I promise.

Note: I liked the idea of doing something with the wolves, but felt Jasper/the Major wouldn't ask you to stay away from people, especially if they were your friends. So I took a route regarding reader's safety, since he'd totally go feral over that.

---

Saying Forks was in the middle of a blizzard would be an under exaggeration.

You’d never seen snow like this. You could barely see past your front porch, it was coming down so hard. School had been canceled, of course, and Emmett had convinced the family it would be fun to try hunting with the added challenge of not being able to see.

Jasper had hesitated to join at first, to leave you alone in this storm since your parents were away, but it only took a little soft convincing from you for him to relent.

On one term, at least

“Please stay here ‘til we get back,” the blond repeats worriedly as he puts on a coat - that he doesn’t need, you might add

“It’s not that bad out, Jasper,” you chuckle, eyes glued out the window.

“Darlin.”

His voice shifts subtly. You blink, glancing back at him over your shoulder. Jasper stares right back at you, eyes narrowed, a familiar intensity burning behind them. Your body figures it out before you do, fine hairs standing on end, pupils dilating. A sharp contradiction to the smile that lights up your face.

“Yes, Major?” You ask, barely missing a beat.

The man takes a step towards you, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders straight. It’d be intimidating if you didn’t know better.

“You goin’ to listen for me?” He asks, voice low, accent thicker than before.

“Of course, Major.”

The barest flicker of a smile pulls at the vampire’s lips. Such a sweet thing. The way you look at him - all wide, puppy dog eyes, attentive and loving - it makes him feel raw with the need to protect you, even if it’s just from the blizzard.

Tender in a way he’s never been, the Major touches your chin, drawing close enough that he can feel your warm breath stutter against his lips as he murmurs, “Then be a good girl and stay put for me. I don’t want you out in this weather.”

You can’t help but soften, fondness curling in your chest. He really is just a soft teddy bear at his core.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” you insist, curling your arms around his waist, “I won’t go out, I promise.”

“Good.” The Major closes the small gap between you, lips pressing against yours in an unrelenting kiss. It’s all you can do to keep yourself upright as his hand curls along your jaw, drawing you closer, closer, until your head is spinning from the feeling. You’d think he’s going off to war again by the way he kisses you.

You can barely catch your breath when he pulls away. Heat blooms across your cheeks, and you bury your face in his chest to hide it, which earns a low chuckle from the blond. He presses another kiss to your temple, this one softer, gentler.

“Love you, darlin,” he murmurs, all honey and sweet and Jasper again.

You melt against him, voice muffled by his sweater, “Love you too, Jazz. Stay safe, please.”

“I won’t be long,” he reassures you, “Emmett will give in when he realizes all the animals are hidin’ from the weather.”

You huff a laugh. Perhaps. Emmett is stubborn, reckless, and stubbornly reckless. Once he has an idea in his mind, it’s hard to get him off it, like today. But you’re sure Jasper’s right. He’ll give up once he gets bored.

“I’ll hold you to that mister. I’ll be lonely without you.”

“Well, we can’t have that, now can we?” He leans down, catching your lips one final time. You can feel his grin through the kiss. “Just a couple hours, darlin’. I’ll drag him back if I have to after that.”

He’s still reluctant to leave, but the nagging worries are quieter now, enough that he can drag himself from the comfort of your touch to join his brothers outside. You watch them disappear into the haze of snow, like ghosts, before shuffling back to your kitchen to work on some homework.

It shouldn’t be so hard to stay busy until they get back. Right?

---

That’s what you thought, at least. But one hour quickly turns to two, which quickly turns to three and still no Jasper. By the fifth hour, you’ve finished all your work and find yourself staring into an empty fridge with a growling stomach.

Of course your parents would forget to stock up before going on a business trip.

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you glance outside. It’s still snowing, but not…as bad. You could probably make it to the grocery store and back without any problems. And you’d probably get back before they do, so Jasper wouldn’t even know.

Everything would be fine.

You layer up, tucking a scarf tightly around your neck. It might be a little lighter outside, but it’s still well below freezing. It’ll be quick, though. The grocer is maybe a five minute walk, and you only need a couple things.

Popping your hood up, you grab your house keys and venture out, shuffling the whole way there.

---

“Brave of you to venture out in this,” the cashier chimes, scanning your microwave meal and milk - you figure you might as well get stuff for breakfast too.

“Didn’t have much of a choice,” you hum shakily, teeth still chattering as you hand him some cash, “I’d rather be cold for a bit instead of going hungry.”

“Fair ‘nough!” The cash register dings and he hands you some change. “Stay safe out there, miss.”

“Thanks.” You cast him a smile, “You too. Hope it clears up a bit before you have to leave.”

“God willing.”

You slip your gloves back on and heave the bag of supplies from the counter.

On the walk back, you’re a little less careful, eyes wandering as you tread through the snow. The journey here hadn’t been so bad. Sure you’d almost slipped a few times, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought it’d be. It was actually almost nice, once your face went numb at least.

Your thoughts wander to the food in your hands, pace picking up a bit as you think about how nice a warm meal will be after this. And well earned after a long day of work and a hazardous journey to get it. Maybe you could cuddle up on the couch and turn on a movie while you eat. That sounds ni-

-and you’re falling.

You screech, boots slipping against the ice as the world tilts wildly. Instinctually, your eyes squeeze shut and you wait for the impact, hoping your layers might be enough to cushion the fall.

They are, thankfully. But they aren’t enough to stop your ankle from twisting as you tumble a bit off the sidewalk.

The pain is instant. It pulses up your leg, sharp and fiery compared to the cold seeping into your bones. You suck in a sharp breath, teeth gritting as you bury your face in the snow. It’s all you can do to keep yourself from crying, that stinging sensation starting in your eyes, a lump forming in your throat.

God, you’re so screwed.

—

“Darlin, I’m back,” Jasper calls out softly, brushing the ice from his hair as he slips into your warm house.

Almost instantly, he can tell something’s wrong. Jasper stops, brow furrowing. Usually you’d be bounding up to tackle him by now, a beautiful smile on your lips, asking how things went. It’s something constant, a custom he enjoys more than he’ll admit.

There’s no greeting this time, though. Even as he stills, focusing on the sounds of the house, he can’t hear a thing. No footsteps, no heartbeat. It’s eerily silent, empty.

You’re not here.

An uneasy feeling settles in his chest. Jasper speeds through the house, checking each room, hoping his ears are just tricking him. Maybe you’re just asleep or reading in some corner. With each empty room, though, the feeling worsens, gripping him by the throat, unrelenting and violent. He’s spiraling, he knows it, can tell he’s walking along an all too familiar edge, blurred between himself and-

The Major pauses at the door to your bedroom. Empty. Your coat isn’t where you usually leave it. Neither are your boots. It leaves little doubt in his mind where you’ve gone.

You didn’t listen to him.

The blond takes a slow breath, holding back the anger that washes over him, white hot and smoldering.

It’s rare for you to not listen to him. You know his none-too-gentle requests are for your safety, they always are. Because while Jasper would rather die a million times than see you hurt, the Major would bring the world to its knees if it meant keeping you safe. He’s never had something as good as you in his life and the need to protect that, to protect you, well - that drives him to his knees. And now you’re out in this storm. By yourself.

The door slams as he throws himself back out into the snow to find you.

---

The snow is picking up, you notice glumly as you carefully flip over in the snow. Even the slightest movement makes pain prickle up your leg, but you can’t lay face down in the snow much longer, not with how you’re quickly losing feeling in your nose.

You sniffle, swiping at your eyes to keep the tears away. What are you supposed to do now? It’s not like you can stay out here. Frostbite doesn’t exactly sound appealing, but neither does the idea of limping home with this pain. You could call…No, no, he’d be so mad. You can’t call Jasper.

Not that fate really cares about what you think.

You squeak when a pair of arms suddenly lifts you out of the snow. The only thing that keeps you from screaming is the familiar cold touch of your captor and the mess of blond hair flickering in the snowy breeze. The fear slowly disappears when you realize it’s just Jasper.

Quickly replaced by a tight, anxious feeling in your chest when you see the tense set of his jaw and how the lines in his neck stand out under his pale skin. He’s upset. He’s upset with you and your ankle is still throbbing and your eyes are stinging again and-

You inhale shakily, an apology ready to spill off your lips, but the look he gives you makes it all die on your tongue. His usually stoic expression turns dark, eyes narrowed with barely restrained anger.

“You open that mouth, sugar, and I promise I won’t be goin’ easy on you,” he drawls, low and heavy, accent dripping off each word.

Not Jasper. You bite your lip, eyes immediately dropping to your lap. Definitely not Jasper.

You can’t bring yourself to break the stifling silence after that. Not when you can practically feel the Major’s anger radiating from him, which does nothing to ease the turmoil swirling inside of you. The soldier is never this open with his emotions, usually so careful to maintain a mask of indifference. With each step, you can feel the tension rising, his grip tightening, and your chest almost hurts from how hard your heart is beating.

It all comes to a head when you make it to the house. The moment your feet hit the ground, and he knows you're safe, the reins of his control slip, an uncontainable rage burning through him.

“I told you not to go out,” he mutters, pacing back and forth in your small entryway.

He can’t stay still, too scared of what he could do. Every cell in his body desires to pin you against the wall, handle you rough and selfish, make you realize how awful it felt to come back and find you gone. But he can’t. He won’t. That’s not what you deserve, he knows that. Jasper would be better at this, he would be gentle, but the Major has never been good at gentle.

You blink at him, wide-eyed from the door. It’s like watching a lion pace at the bars of a zoo, except there’s nothing between you and him. Nothing to keep you safe except him. He could do anything and you wouldn’t be able to stop him. You’re just a human, after all. And the Major has had his share of violence. Even though you know he would never hurt you, you can’t stop your hands from shaking.

“I wasn’t, I wasn’t going to be out long,” you try and explain, digging your fingers into the material of your coat, “I promise-”

“You promised you’d stay put,” he drawls roughly, hands clenching behind his back.

“I was just goi- going to get food!”

The blond grits his teeth, his usual impassive tone sharpening, “What on earth were you thinkin’?”

“I- I thought I’d be back before you,” you spit out, and immediately snap your mouth shut.

The Major stops pacing, every muscle in his body going rigid. You bite your cheek, pulse racing as he slowly turns to you, those gold eyes burning so dark you swear they almost look red. Like blood. Something tightens in your chest. That was the wrong thing to say.

“So you purposefully disobeyed my orders?”

“I didn’t-”

“You decided to be foolish and risk your life goin’ out in this storm,” he growls, slowly closing the space between you, “without anyone knowin’?”

You shrink back a little, panic clouding your head. The Major stops in front of you, frame towering over yours, making you feel impossibly small. Tears prick at your eyes as you shuffle back against the door, pain shooting up your leg as you put weight on it.

“Answer me, darlin.” He doesn’t relent, eyes burning into you. Waiting.

A lump forms in your throat. You bite your cheek, desperate to keep the tears at bay, eyes glued to his boots. You can’t. You can’t do this.

But the blood drains from your face when a fist slams into the door beside you, practically splintering the wood. You can feel it shake against you before settling into silence.

“I’m not goin’ to ask again, (Y/n),” he murmurs, deadly calm again.

You hold your breath, slowly bringing your eyes back up to the Major, and the look on his face makes your heart drop. It’s drawn into something unnervingly blank, cold. No more anger, just…

“Major-“ A tear breaks down your cheek, your voice unbearably quiet. “You’re scaring me.”

The change is instant.

Like light breaking through the clouds, the emptiness leaves his eyes, filling them back with warmth and concern and love.

And you crumble.

Jasper catches you with ease, arms wrapping around you tenderly as he lowers you both on the ground. You curl into him, face buried in his coat as the tears come freely now. You couldn’t stop them even if you wanted, and you’re just so tired, so hurt. There’s nothing left in you, all you can do is cry and cling to him for dear life.

“‘m sorry, I’m sorry,” you hiccup miserably, and Jasper feels his still heart break. “I’m so sorry, Jazz, I didn’t mean to. I just, I just needed food, and it wasn’t that far, and I thought- I thought-”

He hushes you softly, fingers brushing through your hair as he unwinds the swirling mess of your emotions. You can feel it, you’ve always been able to, the subtle shifts and gentle pulls. Never too much, because he knows you wouldn’t want that, but enough so you’re not drowning in them.

Eventually you’re calm enough to take a full breath, the air stuttering past your lips as you go limp in Jasper’s hold. He draws you tight against him, brushing his hand down to rest at the nape of your neck, just a comforting, constant pressure.

“You’ve nothin’ to apologize for, darlin,” he murmurs eventually, voice muffled in your hair. “I’m the one who should be. I had no right treatin’ you like that, no matter how worried I was.”

“But-”

“No,” he cuts you off firmly. “It wasn’t right, darlin. It was my fault for bein’ late. He…He’s mighty overprotective of you, and he- I don’t know how to handle myself well when it comes to you. I hope you can forgive me.”

“I do…” You sniffle, the sound soft and sad, but your grip on him tightens. “But I should’ve listened, then I wouldn’t have slipped and gotten hurt.”

Jasper pulls you back suddenly, brows furrowed in surprise, “What? You’re hurt? Where? Do I need to get Carlisle?”

You laugh weakly, his overwhelming concern easing the tightness left in your chest. The tension drips from your muscles, adrenaline slowing. “No, no, I’m fine. I just, I fell…outside and I think I twisted my ankle, is all.”

“Let me see.”

You squeak as he sweeps you up for the second time today. You wrap your arms around his neck as he carries you to the couch. Every touch is slow, careful, as he sets you down and goes to work on getting your boots off. You wince a little when you have to bend your ankle, and he murmurs a quiet apology.

Relief washes over you though when his cool fingers smooth over your heated skin. It’s like the best ice pack ever. You can’t help but sink into the couch with a sigh, eyes fluttering shut.

Jasper purses his lips. It must have been a bad fall since your ankle is angry and swollen. He should have come back sooner, then this wouldn’t have happened. You wouldn’t have gone out in the storm, you wouldn’t be hurt, and the Major never would have scared you.

His thoughts flashes back to the look on your face. The fear glimmering in your eyes as he leaned over you. It’s burned into his mind, replaying over and over.

“Major, you’re scaring me.”

After a few seconds too long of silence, you peek an eye open. Jasper kneels, statue still in front of you, eyes set on something distant. A frown catches your lips, and you lean forward, touching his chin gingerly. Those gold eyes dart up to you, coming into focus, flicking between their usual warmth and a familiar steeliness. You shake your head fondly.

“Major,” you call, hand resting against his cheek, “come on, let’s talk.”

He straightens ever so slightly, but instead of drawing back like you’d expect, the stoic man covers your hand with his own, turning to skim his nose to the inside of your wrist. He takes a deep breath, eyes closed. You sit there, just like that for a while, watching him quietly.

When he talks, his voice is a low, calm rumble, his lips brushing against your skin, “I’m sorry for actin’ like such an animal, sugar.”

You purse your lips. A part of you wants to just forgive him. Move on from all of this and forget it. But then you remember the sound of his fist hitting the door, the way it resounded in your chest in place of your heartbeat. You’ve never felt like that, and you don’t want to feel like that again.

“I know you were worried,” you start nervously, wetting your lips. The Major doesn’t say a word, eyes set on you patiently, just waiting for you to continue. You take another deep breath, “I know you asked me to stay home and it upset you that I didn’t. I know you want to keep me safe. But…but it scared me, how angry you got, and that’s, that’s not okay.”

“It’s not,” he hums in agreement, thumb brushing soothingly over your pulse.

You nod and feel a little more confident as you go on, “I, I might do something you don’t like in the future, and if I do, you need to talk to me first. Nicely, please. I love you, like I love Jasper, but we’re equals, even if you’re a lot stronger and bigger than me. ” His lips twitch a little in amusement. You shoot him a scolding look, which makes him fall back into seriousness. “I don’t take orders. I listen because I know you care, but you need to listen to me, too. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He pulls your hand back, pressing a brief kiss to your knuckles. It softens you a bit. A small smile draws across your lips. “You have my solemn word, it won't happen again. And my deepest apologies.”

“You’re forgiven,” you chirp. The last of your worries melt away at the smile he gives you, all lopsided and charming. You shake your head with a laugh, “But you owe me, mister.”

“Well, of course,” he concedes easily, desiring nothing more than to cheer you up now, “What can I do for you, little lamb?”

Shifting awkwardly, careful of your ankle, you jab a finger at the plastic bag you dropped by the door, “Make me some dinner! Cause I’m starving and that’s what got us into this mess.”

The vampire laughs, fully laughs. It’s something you don’t get to hear often, so you absolutely love it. Love him and the way his eyes crinkle with mirth as he pushes himself to his feet, tipping a nonexistent hat to you. Jasper.

“It would be my pleasure, darlin.”

“Thanks, hun.”

---

This was SO hard to write! I suck at doing anger, because it's hard to represent the unhealthy relationship stuff. I tried to turn it around cause I believe ultimately he's a respectful man, and that's how I want to portray him.

So I hope you guys like this! Sorry if the pacing's weird or anything, I just wanted to get it done!

#reader insert #x reader #reader #jasper hale #jasper whitlock #twilight saga #twilight #jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock x reader #jasper x reader #the major x reader #the major #angst

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starryinkart · 3 months

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[CLICK FOR BETTER QUALITY!!!]

(Likes and Reblogs are appreciated!!)

Soooo I was sucked into Poppy Playtime again because of these goobers!! I don’t think I’ve ever posted Poppy Playtime stuff on here before, buttt I think I will now, I just wish the fandom was a bit bigger and more lively lmao 🤣

Catnap is my #1 favorite, then DogDay, then KC, and then Hoppy! I love the others too, but Bubba and Crafty are so hard to draw atm. I just need to practice more with them!😓

{Colorless Lines Below!!}

Headcannons for them below too!!!

———————

Some headcannons in the show universe cause I’m feeling fun:

- Catnap is the youngest! DogDay is the oldest of the crew! Their age order goes (oldest to youngest) DogDay, Bubba, Picky, Kickin, Crafty, Bobby, Hoppy, Catnap!

- Catnap doesn’t talk much, but he can. Just with a low voice that tends to be calming, and very sweet sounding. He usually just points, says short answers like yes or no, and nods.

- While Kickin (or KC) is the most egocentric and confident, Hoppy is the most energetic and tends to like talking people’s heads off, which causes them to butt heads at times, all while Picky tends to be the usual third wheel, often just quietly eating.

- Crafty is the most creative while Bubba is the most thoughtful and intelligent, which usually allows them to have deep, meaningful conversations of the wonders of life together.

-Crafty is the shyest out of the bunch, usually drawing with Catnap calmly, sharing her creations with him or hanging out with Bubba.

- Bobby and Picky tend to share their love for the world together, usually playing dress up with each other, talking about crushes. or cooking of course! Bobby always has something lovely to share and Picky, in contrast to her name, always is open to trying something new, as long as she thinks she may like it.

- In contrast to the canon, all of the crew just magically woke up in the Playcare, with no memories of before they opened their eyes to the colorful world around them. DogDay and Bubba were the first to appear, Picky, Crafty and Kickin spawning after, Bobby and Hoppy spawning together and Catnap spawning alone. There seems to be no way out, so the crew just embraces their situation and tries their best to not think about it too much.

- Catnap was the last and most unexpected to spawn in. From the time he opened his eyes to the new world around him, he had felt like something was off, like he didn’t belong there. While most of the others treated him nice, some of the crew were uneasy about his sudden appearance, seemingly years after the last of the previous arrivals had spawned in.

- Catnap begins to grow close to DogDay, almost becoming like his little brother. They spend the most time together, due to DDs kindness and warm welcoming energy towards him on his arrival! Also them both noticing they wore opposite necklaces, Cat being the moon and DD being the sun helped with that connection too!

- Kickin doesn’t really like or trust Catnap much, and doesn’t try to hide it, making snarky remarks and comments to clearly express his dislike for him.

- Catnap is super playful with the others, his best friends being Dog Day, Hoppy and Crafty! He tends to move like a ghost, the crew not usually noticing they are in his presence until they turn around! A lot of times, he hangs by his tail on the trees to say hello, or can be found in the fields laying in the grass and sleeping.

- Cat can sleep anywhere that is a surface, and is not wet.

- Every once and while, Cat swears he can see a skinny, metallic hand in the shadows, beckoning his attention. He’s tried to bring it up to the others, but they either think he’s acting weird, insane, or tell him not to worry about it.

———————

If you want to hear more, my asks are open!!! And I will be drawing them inbetween my Absolutely Chapters for Murder Drones, which I am STILL working on and Chapter 4 is coming out soon!! Promise, I didn’t forget, things have just been busy!!

ALSOOOOO New Murder Drones Comic for King Solver N coming this weekend 👀👀👀 Perhaps some angst or something fun?

#poppy playtime #smilling critters #poppy playtime smiling critters #poppy playtime catnap #catnap #DogDay #artists on tumblr #digital art #fan art #dog day #kickinchicken #craftycorn #hoppy hopscotch #bobby bearhug #bubba bubbaphant #picky piggy #PoppyPlaycareAU #< that is what this AU is called for now #starryinkartwork

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chelseeebe · 3 months

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everything has changed

you and steve were once the bestest of friends, cruelly torn apart when you’re forced to leave hawkins suddenly. fifteen years on, everything has changed and yet, nothing has changed.

i had this idea a while ago and then have recently become re-obsessed with the song so decided to give it a rewrite! it’s kinda giving seven x everything has changed and i love that. i have a sitcom level idea of a part two for this but i’m not sure it’ll ever come to fruition

18+. no smut but my blog is 18+ :) mostly just fluffy friends to lovers stuff hehe

‎♡‧₊˚

“you promise we’ll be friends forever?” steve asks, quirking his little eyebrows up. still so innocent, so unaware that the world was a cruel place.

“i promise!” you’d shrieked, toothy grin beaming over at him as you sat poised on the climbing frame. “we’ll write letters every week and in the summer you can come and visit!”

steve whooped with glee, the metal frame shaking from the force of his body, “okay! my mom has your mom’s number so i can call you,” grubby hands clinging onto yours.

you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug, wobbling atop of your tower. full of hope and your shared joy. oblivious to how the next 15 years would play out.

life hadn’t been so kind as to keep the two of you in contact. steve’s mom had tried to explain it to him, but his poor seven year old brain couldn’t quite grasp it.

it was only when he was older that he had realised what had happened.

you had been whisked away to california, your mother’s home state, far away from your dad. for your safety of course. his mother had warned him not to mention where you had gone to anyone, and he’d stuck by that.

and really, life had gotten in the way of thinking about you too much. basketball tryouts and getting girls into the back of his bmw had taken precedence over fading thoughts of freckly girls he once knew.

steve was at college now, admittedly tagging along with robin, but he was enjoying it. he played basketball, studied children’s education and had even scored himself a kinda stable girlfriend.

he’s sat in the library, book open and unread in front of him on the table as robin attempts to convince him to go out tonight.

“it’ll be fun! besides, i promised my roommate that i’d go.. y’know she’s having a hard time,” turning on the puppy dog eyes that more often than not, worked on him.

he groans, “i don’t know rob.. finals are coming up soon and i really need to get this down if i wanna graduate with you,” though he makes no effort to actually pick up the book, more interested in the coffee robin had used as a bargaining chip.

“steve,” almost warningly, “come for an hour,” nodding at him, as if to subliminally make him agree, “and then i’ll help you study all day tomorrow, okay?” tilting her head, bright green* eyes glistening at him.

“fine,” succumbing to her pleas, “but you owe me,” sending a glare across the table as he finally turns the page.

robin grins, happy she’d gotten her own way. again.

they walk arm in arm into the bar, squeezing through the crowd as they attempt to locate robin’s mysterious roommate.

steve sighs, whispering into robin’s ear, “why do i have to be here? just because your roommate is a lonely weirdo, doesn’t mean you have to drag me out too,” pouting like a petulant child.

she pinches his arm, causing him to yelp into her ear, “this is why i used to pray for the ceiling light to fall on your head in mrs click’s class,” pulling away from him as she spots whoever she’s looking for.

“wait.. what?” he calls out after her, weaving through the crowd to find her again.

she has her face buried into someone’s shoulder, blabbering about the busy bar and how good it was to get out.

robin pulls away, gesturing over to steve as this lucrative stranger meets his eye.

it’s you.

the little girl who had promised to be his best friend forever now stood before him, all grown up. he almost doesn’t believe it. in fact, he can’t. not until you speak, his name echoes around meaninglessly.

“what the fuck?” he gasps, still in utter shock.

“it’s really you? you’re.. oh my god, you’re steve of course you are,” wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug, the exact way you had fifteen years ago.

you even smell the same, a distinct sort of vanilla smell that takes his mind hurtling fifteen years into the past. he almost wants to throw up from the turbulence of it all.

“i can’t believe you’re here,” you gasp, still nuzzled into his shoulder, “this is so surreal,” now holding him at arms length, dissecting his face in the same way he was yours.

you looked the same and yet completely different. no more gappy smiles or sun bleached hair, very pretty. his seven year old self had thought so too, but your friendship had meant more.

“you two know each other?” robin perplexes, watching the scene unfold with zero context.

“we.. uh- yeah,” unsure of how much he can divulge, still under strict orders from his mom to never tell a soul where you’d gone.

“we were friends, i was born in hawkins so.. god, this is so weird,” you exasperate, letting go of his frame to talk to a bewildered robin.

“you’re from hawkins? you told me you were from california?” robins face twists in confusion.

“it’s a.. complicated story,” you look back at him, still trying to decipher if he was even real, “i moved away when i was young but we were like, best friends,” baring your teeth with your smile.

“well shit, i’ve got time,” robin laughs, sliding into the booth, she looks up at steve, “drinks on you.. you know, to celebrate,” wiggling her brows in that irritating way she did when she wanted something.

he dutifully obliges as you begin your story, he supposes that now you probably can.

your dad had moved out of hawkins a while ago, it wasn’t exactly a secret as to why you guys had just up and left so abruptly. steve had always hated him, made sure to glare daggers into his back when he and his mother would pass him in the street or in melvalds. he felt he owed you that.

plus steve was angry, angry that you’d had to leave him behind because of your dad. his tiny mind couldn’t comprehend that it was for the better, only understanding that it was your dad’s fault his best friend had been taken from him.

steve’s curious about california, how your life differed from hawkins. you play it off as nothing special but you smile differently when you speak of afternoons after school spent on the beach and learning to surf.

he makes some off-hand comment about making it out which causes your brows to furrow, “so did you,” tapping the table in front of him, “remember we would talk about college? living in a big house together?”

he chortles, almost choking on his beer, “yeah, with ten dogs and three cats,” shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all.

“wow..” robin butts in, “so you did this with other girls before me?” faux-offence written all over her face.

you beam, looking between the two of them, “so are you guys dating?”

steve does choke this time, sputtering as the bitter liquid slides down the back of his throat.

“no!” they chime in unison.

“jesus christ, you think i’d date him?” robin falls into a fit of giggles, it didn’t hurt his ego anymore. robin had very particular tastes and that very much didn’t include men.

“thanks rob..” he snarls jokingly, “i uh, i have a girlfriend.. just not robin,” he’s not sure why he’s apprehensive to tell you. christ, he’d only re-known you for five fucking minutes.

“sorry, i just assumed..” shrinking into your seat, desperate to change the subject.

he’s modestly pleased that you don’t ask any more about his girlfriend, which in turn makes him feel a rotten sense of guilt.

“yeah well, to assume makes an ass out of you and me,” robin adds, giving you a poke to your ribs for good measure, “and he’s definitely not my type,” her nose shrivelling up in disgust.

you snigger, poking robin right back as she explodes into her myriad of reasons why she would never date steve. she kept a list.

there’s a sickening feeling of affinity, like all the years you hadn’t been together just ceased to exist, they no longer mattered.

especially when your eyes meet as robin prattles on, like you’re sharing an old joke.

he doesn’t like this, doesn’t fancy his odds of coming out of this unscathed but that doesn’t stop him from shifting his chair closer as the night goes on. nor does it stop him from walking you home, supporting a tipsy robin on his arm.

and it most certainly doesn’t effect him when you hug him goodnight, nestling your chin into his shoulder the way you used to.

fuck.

steve climbs down the steps into the strange smelling studio, he hadn’t even known this ever existed. there’s art littering the walls, the shelves, just about any surface that was available.

you’re at the back of the empty room, dabbing a paintbrush onto a canvas, completely unaware of his presence.

“hey.. robin said you’d be down here,” he speaks softly, so as to not startle you.

you still jump, clutching your chest as you spin on your heel, “jesus christ,” panting rather dramatically, “you scared the shit outta me,” shock turning into a wide smile.

“sorry,” he chuckles, weaving through the easels, trying his damn hardest not to touch or knock anything over, “what ya’ working on?” peering at the canvas.

it’s a beautiful scene, a lone swing set lies in the middle, surrounded by a peachy-pink sunset. it’s reminiscent of something he can’t quite place.

“oh just..” shrugging him off, “some stuff for my exhibition.. i dunno if i like it yet,” downplaying the glorious work of art in front of him. as if there were any need.

“what are you talking about? it’s so good,” still clinging onto his backpack strap.

you shake your head, taking the apron off of your body, tossing it onto the hook full of other dirtied aprons. “i can do better.. anyway, did you trek all the way down here for a reason or..?”

he lingers by the painting for a second longer before turning to face you, remembering his actual aim, “yes! are you joining us for dinner tonight? robin wants you to meet all of our friends,” he offers, though he’s aware it’s not much of a deal for you.

“uh.. who’s gonna be there?” you ask, quirking a brow. he’s aware that you’re not exactly a social butterfly.

“well, nancy, jonathan, vickie.. argyle, if jonathan can convince him to come out,” they were all nice enough, if he and robin liked you, they definitely would too.

“i dunno..” wrinkling your nose.

“come on,” he pleads, “it’ll be fun.. they’ll love you. nance’s been begging me to get you out.. please?”

you shake your head, as if weighing up your options, “okay.. fine, but dinner’s on you,” as you drop the pallet into the sink for someone else to deal with.

“great,” he beams, there’s something to be said about the fact he still hadn’t introduced katie to the rest of his friends yet.. but he doesn’t wanna think about that.

his hand comes to rest on what he thinks is a dry desk, waiting for you to finish up, only to find his hand now covered in goopy white paint, “oh shit,” he fusses, pulling your attention from the sink.

“oh fuck, i should’ve told you that was wet..” looking between his outstretched hand and his eyes, a giggle bubbling on your lips as he stomps over to the sink.

“oh is this funny to you, huh?” joining you at the basin.

you run the hot water for him, grabbing the bottle of soap ready to clean his hand, “well it’s a little funny,” lips twitching while he stands like a lemon.

as steve normally does, he acts before he thinks, pressing his paint-covered palm to your cheek, only registering what he had done when you shriek in response, splashing water everywhere.

“you asshole!” you gasp, brows furrowed as you conjure up something for revenge.

that’s when you grab the still paint-covered brush and smear it over his cheek and nose, staining his features a daring bright orange.

“oh it’s like that is it?” he grins, grabbing your wrist with his clean hand, threatening to mark you again. “you don’t wanna mess with me, i’ve got the upper hand,” sticking his tongue out slightly, unable to shake the way your eyes still glistened the same.

“if you want me to come to dinner, you’ll put your hand down.. call a truce,” bargaining with him.

he obliges, holding his hands up in surrender, “okay.. okay, you win,” unable to contain his laughter as he washes the paint from his palm.

you shoulder barge him as you come back to the sink, pulling your clean brushes from the water and leaving them to dry on the metal board.

“we’re gonna have to swing by my room,” you smile begrudgingly, shoving your stuff into your bag, watching as he dries his hand.

“okay,” his grin still lingering, “personally, i think you should just come to dinner like that.. it looks great,” enjoying the ribbing that came with being your friend.

you scoff, practically pushing him out of the studio, ensuring he couldn’t wreck havoc on anything else.

the pair of you glide down the hall, steve filling you in on the guests that would joining you for dinner when a voice calls his name from in front.

katie bounds up to him, smile fading the second she sees the new colour of his face, “why are you orange?” face screwed up as she rescinds her offer of a kiss. he’s slyly thankful that your adorned his face now.

“oh we.. i- i tripped, got paint everywhere,” he chuckles, feeling like a scolded child.

katie hums, “right.. that’s kinda weird,” her eyes flit over to you and the paint on your face, “you trip too?” a judgemental look flashing across her features.

“no,” shrinking into yourself, “steve.. tripped,” doubting your own words, like your measly paint fight needed to be kept secret. but maybe that’s just how he felt, is that wrong?

he can’t decide.

“hmph,” katie frowns, her attention turning back to steve, “go and clean up.. you look like a clown,” before speeding off down the hall, ponytail flouncing around as she goes.

he just rolls his eyes continuing out of the building as you scurry along behind, “she seems nice,” sarcasm dripping off your tongue.

“ignore her,” brushing the whole encounter off, “she’s just.. pissy because i’m busy tonight, don’t take it personally,” offering a short smile. he glances at his watch, grimacing at the time, “oh shit, we’re late,” grabbing your hand as he starts sprinting ahead.

“i can’t meet your friends like this!” you holler, bounding behind him.

“they won’t mind!” he screams into the wind, dodging other students with a skill only possessed by someone who chronically sleeps through their alarm.

they really don’t.

in fact, robin bursts into laughter as you walk into the diner, “i’m not even gonna ask,” tapping the plush cushion for you to slide in next to her, steve follows closely behind.

the two of you share a look, an inside joke that was just yours. he liked that, it made him feel strangely important. like he was worthy of sharing things with just you.

everyone is lovely, obviously. he had no doubt that they would be. argyle corners you about california, discovering that it is a rather large state and no, you won’t have bumped into each other.

steve doesn’t want the night to end, he’s selfish like that. so he does the sane thing to ensure you spend as much time together as possible, walking you and robin back through campus, still adorned with paint.

“thank you.. for making me go,” you smile coyly once you reach your door, robin had already disappeared off inside, leaving just the two of you.

“no worries.. i told you they’d love you,” shoving his hands into his pockets, mostly so he doesn’t do anything stupid.

you chuckle, reaching for the door handle, “i’ve really missed you, you know? it’s like it’s all hit me at once,” shrugging your shoulders as if that were just some nonchalant comment he would ever be able to forget.

“i missed you too,” he adds, truly meaning it.

sure, he’d found friendship again but nothing had ever felt quite like you. it was different, and even now after years and years of being in separate states, with no idea that the other was even still alive, it all felt normal.

like you could walk back into that park tomorrow, sit on the swings and just natter away about everything and nothing like you used to.

“goodnight, see you tomorrow?” you smile, sliding through the door, waiting just long enough for his reply.

“of course,” returning the smile.

he hums all the way home, a child-like joy overrunning his senses. he thinks about you when he dreams, of sharing crayons and candy. high-pitched giggles and an unfaltering feeling of love.

it had been weeks of hanging out now, sharing tales from your childhood, robin was still struggling to understand that you were also from hawkins. “you’re just.. it’s crazy, you’re nothing like the usual hawkins dwellers and the fact that you were friends with him? wow..” she had muttered with a swift jab to steve’s arm.

she had had the bright idea of a sleepover, they hadn’t really been able to since moving to chicago, out of respect for their roommates but now her roommate was you, what was stopping them?

“why don’t we push the beds together?” robin blurts out, like a lightbulb had just gone ding on the top of her head.

you nod excitably, going to heave your bed across the room. steve pushes the end of the bed frame, connecting it to robin’s as she stands there doing absolutely nothing to help.

“phew thanks robin, couldn’t have done that without all your help!” steve quips, throwing his best friend a snide smile.

“shut up dingus, my nails are still wet,” as if that made it okay.

you smile at the two of them, stood in your pyjamas that steve had definitely not been gawping at. he doesn’t mean to, he knows it’s not like that. he has a girlfriend for christ’s sake.

that’s what he’s been telling himself anyway.

“you’re in the middle,” robin declares, looking at you, rather than him, “put your cold feet on somebody else for once,” before climbing into her side of the bed.

you slide in next, cuddling up to robin as you do. steve’s next, fashioned in his excuse for pyjamas, namely a chicago university shirt and his boxers. it probably wouldn’t go down well if katie were to find out but he didn’t particularly care.

there’s a joke there, something about sharing a bed with a lesbian and his childhood best friend but he can’t be bothered to think about it.

not when you turn over to face him, all smiles and warm cheeks, he has to remind himself that robin is on the other side of you, mumbling something about not waking her up early.

“goodnight,” you grin, relaxing into the pillow you shared as the light flickers off.

“night,” he replies, pulling his eyes away from your shadowy features, deciding that staring at the fuzzy ceiling was better than being a freak.

you roll over slightly, head falling onto his shoulder making his breathing falter, sworn to this position until you up and moved. it’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make.

he shouldn’t be thinking like this, you’re friends, old friends to be exact. and he has a girlfriend.

except, he awakens in the morning, stiff shoulder and a cricked neck, taking a peek at the other side of the bed to find robin had forced you into him with her sprawling limbs.

you rouse not long after he does, blinking at the light and hurriedly moving your head from his dead arm.

“oh my god,” you remark, “i’m sorry.. was i on you all night?” wriggling around the small space you held.

steve exhales, lifting his arm in the air in an attempt to get some blood flowing back into the extremity, “yup.. it’s okay though,” quickly rolling over to face you, “sleep well?”

“well, apart from robin’s foot in my back.. yeah, pretty well,” chuckling into the pillow as you shy away. he wishes you wouldn’t.

“then it was worth the dead arm,” returning your abnormally bright smile, you were far too chipper for this time in the morning but he didn’t mind. made a difference from the usual grump robin was in, for sure.

“you should sleep over more often,” you smile.

he heart soars, god he’d love to. “oh yeah? like we used to?”

the crinkle by your eye returns, remembering times gone by, “yeah, just like that,” speaking softly, as if it wouldn’t take an industrial alarm to wake robin.

“you wanna go get breakfast?” he asks, before this devolves any further.

“absolutely.”

there’s a knock at the door, tommy doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even make a half assed effort to pretend to care so steve huffs and gets up to answer.

you’re stood on the other side, already smiling as you wait. it’s a welcome sight, without robin he’s been a little stir-crazy, not yet brave enough to venture to your room without her there.

maybe he’s afraid that something would happen, maybe he’s not. he’s not entirely convinced that he’d have the power to stop himself.

“i just came to give you a ticket.. for my exhibition, it’s on saturday so.. if you’re busy i totally get it,” you fret, offering out the ticket to him.

there’s an undetermined feeling in his stomach, looking down at the paper ticket in his pal, warmth rushing to his chest at the fact you’d even considered him.

steve steps out of the room, closing the door behind him, away from tommy and listening ears. tommy and katie were friends somewhat, mostly by association through his girlfriend carol. anyhow, he wasn’t keen on him telling some misconstrued story to carol and then reaping the punishment from that.

“wow..” still starstruck that you had asked him. “i’ll be there.. wouldn’t miss it,” sliding the ticket into his pocket, mostly so he would stop looking like a weirdo for staring at it.

“okay,” you nod, smile up to your ears, “it’s only small..” here you go again, downplaying your talent as if steve would ever care.

“stop it,” he warns, jokingly rolling his eyes, “hey, i’ll walk you back.. i needa get out of that fucking room,” gesturing for you to take the lead.

you chatter all the way across campus, talking about everything and nothing, he wants to ask if that painting of the swingset will be there but doesn’t. letting you blabber on about composition and the asshole gallery manager that wants you to set up at 6am.

its only when you reach your hall that you stop, turning to face him with a genuine smile that makes his heart thud.

“it’d really mean a lot if you came..”

he nods, stepping closer only just, “i will, i’ll be there,” assuring you as much as he could. he meant it, too. there’s really nothing he could think of that would make him not go.

he allows his gaze to slip to your lips, he lets himself do that even though he shouldn’t.

studying the curve, the slight gap between your bottom and top lip, the way they twitch with what he hopes is anticipation.

you’re both inching closer, neither of you acknowledging what’s about to happen. the air is thick, silent even. a knowing sense that you’re either about to ruin everything or become something more.

two doors down, a door swings open, a voice bellowing out, “i’ll catch up!” before a boy speeds out, glancing at the two of you briefly before disappearing.

you clear your throat, averting your gaze, studying the dirtied floor, “okay.. i’ll see you saturday,” coy smile as you unlock the door and potter off inside.

steve stands there, blinking at the wooden frame as if you’d somehow materialise from the other side.

he hightails it back to his room, in some sort of daze as he attempts to reconfigure himself. his relationship and his friendship with you. nothing made sense.

he’s not sure it ever will again.

fuck he wishes robin were here. of course she’s at some stupid family reunion when he needs her most. his next port of call would be you and well.. that didn’t seem particularly helpful.

he errs on calling robin, floating around his room with no purpose. at least tommy was no where to be seen, unsure if he could’ve handled his beady little eyes and snooping questions.

katie would be waiting on him, he always stayed over on thursdays, at least he used to. before you were back i. the picture. before you had completely consumed his mind with your stupid smile and stupid face. both a distant memory and an important part of his current life. it’s fucking dizzying.

it’s not really stupid, he thinks he’s stupid actually.

steve does what he does best and decides to ignore his brain, grabs his keys and storms out of his dorm. he’s grateful that katie’s house is on the opposite side of campus from your building. that way he couldn’t accidentally wind up there instead of where he’s supposed to be.

she welcomes him in, a pink, frilly house that steve had always detested a little bit. it smelt too strongly of vanilla and the other girls always side-eyed him, bitter and judgemental over something he couldn’t figure out.

it’s now that they’re sat on katie’s satin bedsheets that he realises that he really, really doesn’t want to be here.

nevertheless, he swallows it down. putting on false pretences as they fake-watch the shitty rom-com she’d turned on to fill the silence.

“so.. have you got your suit for saturday?” katie asks, playing with his limp hand.

“yeah,” resisting the urge to move his hand away, “sorry- saturday? i thought it was tomorrow?”

katie had asked- or more precisely begged him to escort her to this senior send off ceremony. some bullshit sorority ritual that made zero sense to him.

“uh.. no, always been saturday,” she’s still smiling, still trying, “steve, i told you weeks ago,” her frustrations seeping out of her pores, spilling over onto her features.

“you said friday,” so sure of himself, so sure that she was wrong. how would he forget that?

unless something, or perhaps someone was shrouding his mind.

“well, what plans are more important than your girlfriend’s senior send off?” she asks, all defensive.

he struggles to answer, there’s no way he can really spin it to make it sound less bad, strangled noises drift from his throat as the words fail to form.

“exactly,” katie pouts, crossing her arms over her chest, “you’ll just have to rearrange.”

steve doesn’t stay over, makes up some shoddy excuse about needing to study to get out of it. she’s not happy, obviously, but when is she?

he’s grateful that the campus is quiet as he stalks back to his dorm, thoughts swirling through his brain. everything is so confusing, his cushy little college life had been majorly disrupted and now all of the plans he had made had come crashing down.

there had been conversations about finding a house after graduation, moving in together randomly starting their life and yet, that couldn’t be further than what he wanted.

at least now.

steve finally gives up, turning to the only person he thinks will rationalise his thoughts, robin buckley. who has pulled her grandmother’s phone into the private dining room just for this conversation.

“we nearly kissed,” he spits out, eyeing the group of drunk students passing in the hallway. wouldn’t it be great if it somehow got back to katie through some nosy busybody.

“what? when? why didn’t you call me sooner?” she demands, “why didn’t you kiss? oh my god steve harrington, you’re so useless.”

“uh.. what do you mean why didn’t we kiss? remember my girlfriend? who’d chop my balls off if i ever cheated on her?”

“who cares? nobody likes her anyway,” robin roars right into his ear.

“i’m not gonna even acknowledge that.”

“okay, well, did you want to kiss her?”

steve pauses, perplexing the situation. he doesn’t need to really, of course he wanted to.

“..yeah.”

“well there you go!” she shrieks.

“it felt.. weird, i dunno, i think she wanted to too,” he curls the cord around his finger, “and now katie wants me to go to this senior send-off thing but there’s the exhibition.. i don’t know what to do,” his shoulders slumping.

“wait wait wait, what do you mean it felt weird?” dismissing his dilemma. you know, the thing he had actually called her about.

“well it felt right.”

the line goes silent but he can still hear her faint breathing down the line. she’s thinking, probably attempting to sweeten up her words. but eventually she sighs, “i think you know what to do.”

“but i don’t! rob i really don’t! why do you think i’m calling you at fucking one am?”

she clicks her tongue and steve can picture what smug look she has on her face, it was a signature feature of hers, especially when she’d been able to prove him wrong. “you do. i think you called me because you wanted me to tell you what you want to hear.. but i don’t even need to do that.”

he wails into the receiver, all he’d wanted was a clear cut answer from his best friend. a little advice and maybe some confirmation bias, was that too much to ask for?

“you’re no help,” he scowls, patting his now empty pockets in search of more coins, “i haven’t got any more change.. i’m gonna have to go,” sighing as he’s left on his own with his head once more.

“you’ll do the right thing, steve. i know you and i trust you,” before the line cuts out, the dial tone screams out.

he slams the piece of useless plastic back onto the holder. that wasn’t helpful, rather just some weird, reverse psychology lesson. he feels cheated, his first option of just flipping a coin would’ve been more helpful.

his feet drag along the carpet back to his room, swallowing the guilt and all of the other confusing emotions he seemed to have accumulated.

it’s funny that even though robin hadn’t exactly said anything specific, he’d known what she was talking about. it’s even funnier that as he climbs into bed, all he can think about is you.

steve hangs back, stood at the back while the speech finishes. he doesn’t know what he’s doing here, what he’s supposed to be looking at or talking to, incredibly out of place.

no one pays him any mind, too interested in whatever this balding man has to say.

you don’t spot him either, keeping your eyes trained to the art director. he can tell you’re nervous, picking indiscreetly at your hangnail, chewing on your cheek. you’d never liked, or been particularly good at public speaking, steve was your voice for many years. not that he minded.

there’s lots of chatter, people walking around the small space with their hands behind their back, putting on this facade that they were art snobs and not just weird middle-aged people looking for something to do on a saturday afternoon.

they all sort of disperse, ogling the paintings and such. leaving him stood in the middle of the room like a lemon, wondering if he should just go over to you or wait until this had all finished.

but you meet his eye momentarily, head snapping in his direction when you realise who it is. your lips slowly curve into a smile, ditching the conversation to weave through everyone to him.

“you came,” you state, like there was ever a chance of him not coming.

“i told you i would,” he’s not one to break a promise. ever.

“no i know but, robin mentioned something about your girlfriend, she didn’t know if you were.. forget it,” throwing your hands about, ridding the air of your words.

he’s not exactly surprised that you’d have doubts, not after your almost-kiss the other night. he hadn’t seen you since, too busy with the exhibit to sit and dwell on it, he bets.

steve shakes his head, “nah, i had something more important to do,” full of unbridled exhilaration, it’s like his body knew he had made the right choice.

you flush, avoiding his eyes as you usually do when you’re nervous or embarrassed. “well.. thank you,” shrugging him off. he so wish you wouldn’t.

he decides to just lay it all bare, tired of skirting around the truth and minimising his obviously very real feelings. “this isn’t the right time but,” smoothing down his wrinkled shirt, “i just wanted you to know that i’ve wanted to do this for weeks and.. shit,” he sighs, cupping your cheek and moving in before you can protest.

your lips connect, sending flames through his veins, you’re not expecting it judging by the lack of movement on your part, stood frozen even as he pulls away.

“sorry,” the first thing he says, watching your face as you stand shocked.

he was so sure that his feelings would be reciprocated, had pretty much convinced himself that you were destined to grow grey together but maybe he’d got it all wrong.

his cheeks burn as you just blink, time slows and he wishes that the floorboards would just collapse under him so he could disappear forever.

in lieu of a reply, you smash your faces together again, this time steve’s not quite expecting it, your noses bang against each others. but he doesn’t move, his smile growing against your lips.

there are a collection of muttered oohs from the crowd. it was rather a lot for a saturday morning.

“sorry,” you echo, biting down into your bottom lip, “not the wrong time at all,” your eyes shining through your spindly lashes.

steve bursts into laughter, drawing an even bigger crowd of eyes as he does so. his eyes dart around the vaguely stunned audience, “hey look, find me after.. i’ll be here,” gently pushing you off to go and do whatever the hell it is that artists do at these things.

you nod, all dazed and smiley, immediately falling into conversation about a painting.

he’s only dozing when the door creaks open, too encapsulated by sleep to bother to open his eyes. you’re dead to the world, snoring softly curled into his chest.

a quiet gasp rings out from the door and then just as expected, robin bounds over to your bed, poking his arm that was both underneath your shoulders and hanging off of the bed.

he peeks a look at his slightly deranged best friend, the lamp was just bright enough to showcase her enthusiastic grin, “you did it!” whispering far too loudly, “i knew you’d make the right choice,” buzzing around the room.

she damn near jumps in the air, clicking her heels together like some freak.

steve just closes his eyes again, falling back into sleep with a grin on his face and you between his arms.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic

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yuugen-benni · 6 months

Text

''...Excuse me ?''

Prompt: Getting hit on in front of your lover Fandom: Bungou Stray dogs and Genshin Impact Characters: Ayatsuji Yukito, Fyodor, Dazai - Freminet, Wanderer, Dehya Gn!Reader (They/them)

Ayatsuji Yukito: I feel sorry for anyone who likes jealous boyfriends because Ayatsuji is not one. While a random man is hitting on you, he will literally be standing next to you, as if testing to see if the man will realize that he is your lover. But this obviously failed. Ayatsuji is now staring at the man, raising an eyebrow and you can tell he is mentally cursing the man in a clever way. If the person gets too close, or does something that makes you even more uncomfortable, he pokes the tip, still hot, of the kiseru pipe on their forehead and push them back.

''How long will I have to listen to this ?...*sigh*... Sir, use your last remaining neuron to realize that: they're with me''

Fyodor: He laughs…HE LAUGHS. Fyodor is surprised, that you got hit? Maybe, but he's actually surprised by the man's boldness. I mean...he is scary, he exudes death so if someone is by his side it is either his partner in crime or maybe his lover.

When the ''conversation'' becomes more suggestive, he decides not to watch the show anymore and literally just take you out of there.

''It was really fun to watch, but now leave my lover alone if you don't want your heart to stop beating''

Dazai: He's a son of a b!tch, but a lovable one. Dazai will act like he's just a friend and started telling the guy about you (or rather, lie about you to protect your privacy) pretending to help the guy hit on you. Yes, he's just taking advantage of the situation; BUT YES, Dazai is also protecting you so don't be mad at him. At the end of all this performance, he will play his final card: ''They're great people, aren't they? Having them as a lover must be wonderful and guess what? They are my partner!''

Freminet: Poor thing, he doesn't know what to do! Does he explain?, Does he just push the guy?, Does he grab your hand and run away??? I believe the last option is more effective. Freminet isn't even used to talking to strangers, let alone someone hitting on his lover. But he tries, he tries hard. And when the guy becomes more invasive, he acts on impulse and pushes you to his side.

''...O-okay, I'm sorry but- you're being extremely disrespectful with my partner''

Wanderer/Scaramouche: This little man here is trying not to beat the ass of the person who is hitting on you. He's holding on so tight that his fists are white. But, as always, Wanderer pretends he's not jealous and then lets you handle the situation… before he does something he shouldn't-- but if the person is very insistent on ''having your heart'' he will definitely do something he shouldn't. He will use words… bad, horrible words or even opt for physical aggression... well you at least are safe now.

Dehya: This is a somewhat unlikely event because once you are under her gaze, nothing bad will happen to you. But, maybe, at some point when you two are shopping, and you end up distancing yourself a little, it can happen. She's prepared… a little too much, but she won't hesitate to confront the guy/girl who has started to make you uncomfortable. At this point, she won't even care if she's being overprotective or not, as long as you're okay.

''Are you blind or something? Can't you see that they're not interested ?''

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catsteeth · 1 month

Text

The Caged Bird and The Leashed Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

+:✿ Chapter - 2 ✿:+ White Mare

previous chapter | next chapter

Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it.

CW: slow burn, MDNI, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, alcohol consumption, mention of parent(s) death, mention of arranged marriage, mention of prostitution, mention of NSFW themes

Word Count: 3037

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Ever since that day in the stable you filled your days with reading, sewing, mindless activities to keep yourself busy. Anything to relieve your mind of the horrors of Kings Landing and your shameful thoughts of the giant who roamed the halls. Loras and you grew distant since you rejected his hand in marriage, in turn you spent your time with the Starks. It was hard at first to be without your only friend but you were determined to get your cousin out of this city. But it wasn’t hard when Sansa clung to you like a scared beaten dog. You were treated no better of course. But at least you knew how to handle such cruelty with a stepmother like Lysa.

“Don’t let them see you cry,” You’d repeat holding her face “Don’t let it show. Don’t you see how much pleasure he derives from seeing you like this?”

Arya would teach you small things she learned during her sword training, and in all honesty it was the most fun you’d had in years. You found yourself becoming more and more invested in those little girls' well being.

It seemed as soon as Nedd arrived in Kings Landing his time ended.

That day seemed like a dream. You were summoned by Cersei to her Chambers.

“Has Lord Stark mentioned anything to you about the nature of your fathers death?” Cersei questioned you calmly as she poured wine into her gablet.

“My fathers?” You asked genuinely confused, she nodded as she sipped her wine “No, your grace.”

“Good. It would be cruel of him to spark paranoia in the mind of a grieving daughter.” She said as she paced the room with her goblet of wine in hand.

“Paranoia?” If you weren’t before you would be now.

Cersei interrupted you once more “Lord Stark will be arrested for treason today. Somewhat unrelated but it would seem that Lord Stark’s head is filled with paranoid thoughts.”

You didn’t understand why your uncle was on trial for such a crime. You were just a girl to these men, they didn’t speak of such things with you, that is yet. “Little bird, you are a clever and strong girl. I know you are loyal, loyal to the Starks, they are your family. But it is important to be loyal to your allies just the same. Sometimes family will only drag us down, allies however can make us stronger.” Cersei not so subtly threatened you.

You nodded politely, as soon as you could leave you tried to find your little cousins.

You found Arya by the stables. You noticed the men lying dead on the ground with the Stark girls baggage. You saw Arya holding her bloodied sword after pulling it out of the stable boy.

She was horrified, you approached her slowly and quietly.

“Arya” You spoke gently but that didn’t stop Arya from jumping and pointing needle at you. “Arya, you need to run.” You said softly, almost a whisper.

She ran to you dropping needle, she wrapped her arms around you. You held her close but kneeled to her height.

You held her face with both your hands and your eyes bore into hers. “Your family is not safe here. You are not safe here.” Your grasp on her head did not waver. “You have to find a way out, get to the city, find a way out of the city, get to the north.”

“I can’t!” She began to whine as she cried

“You can!” you stroked her hair trying to keep her attention “You killed those men?”

“Just the stable boy” she cried softly

“You killed a man. That's more than most women will ever kill.” You pulled her face closer trying to make sure your words reached her “Listen to me those men will come and they will kill you. Don’t trust anyone, never tell them your name, never tell them your house. Lie, and get good at it. Kill if you need to.” You said as you grabbed needle and put it in her hand, “Now go.” You say as you let go of her and she runs off.

‘Good’ you thought as you watched her run away. As you watched you didn’t notice the tears that had fallen from your eyes.

Soon enough you were summoned by Cersei to witness Nedd’s verdict.

She didn’t anticipate what came next, and neither did you, watching the death of your uncle.

You held Sansa through it. As she screamed and cried, you tried your best to conceal her eyes.

Your eyes however dodged from your uncle to The Hound behind him. You hoped he would do something to stop it, but he didn’t

And so, it happened.

The second hand of the king died.

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He thought of it every night.

The moment he touched you, your skin, the moment his rough hands caressed your throat.

He rolled the thought over in his mind millions of times. Gods’, it tortured him to no end. He tried to bury himself in his duty, bury himself in any woman who looked the slightest bit like you on the Streets of Silk, even taking himself in his hand at the thought of your scent…. More than once.

The thought of you sparked resentment and anger in his chest. He was Kingsguard now, he had no use for a woman, had no use for these emotions he felt.

He hated you for it. Hated you for the way he wanted to rip Loras’s head off anytime he saw you and him in the garden. Hated you for the way he thought of your eyes everytime he closed his eyes. Hated you for the way his mind would wonder at you at any turn even on duty. Hated you for the way his chest tightened anytime he caught even a glimpse of you around Kings Landing. And he hated you for the way your eyes caught his. Each time it was like a deadlock, those eyes, they were a bow and arrow and they shot through him each time.

He grumbled under his breath anytime you were near. Purposefully look away from you as if you didn’t exist. You pretended not to care, but you fought hard just to catch a single glimpse of his face. The burns that draped across the right side of his face like the sheer lace curtains you had in your room in the Eyrie that distort your view from the window.

Neither of you had much time to think about these emotions during the following days. You were spending your time mothering Sana as she grieved her fathers death. The Hound was now King Joffrey’s personal bodyguard now that Robert was gone. A terrible task truly.

Even worse one when your stubborn and rebellious tongue didn’t obey your better judgment around the new king. The Hound tried to convince himself he hated it, but it turned him on even if he didn’t want to admit it. He tried to keep you safe, as safe as he could. Whenever you shot an annoyed glance, a cleverly concealed insult Joffrey's way, the Hound would simply divert Joffrey’s attention to something else. But if you ever got on Joffrey's bad side he couldn’t do much, far be it from him to question a king. On Joffrey’s name day you tested his patience. Joffrey had you and his lady Sansa accompany his side during his Name Day celebration. However you felt a slight sting of joy knowing you’d be so close to him once again. But more so your stomach turned in on itself. Joffrey no doubt invited you for the explicit challenge of trying to elicit some kind of reaction from you in some way. This became clear once he continuously asked for your input on the celebratory fighting. You’d had a small fascination with combat at first. It was like a dance but with blood and swords. but soon you’d grow bored of it.

As The Hound had beaten a man to a whimpering submissive pulp the fight was over. Joffrey clapped and cheered as The Hound removed his dog helmet.

Still you were stunned by him. You wanted to hate him for not helping your uncle. You tried to hate him but in all honesty you knew he couldn’t do anything to stop it. He’d no real power, no real way of stopping it.

“Well struck, Dog!” Joffrey shouted, and snapped you out of your trance.

Joffrey turned to you and Sansa “Did you like that?” he asked, taunting you and her.

“It was well struck, your Grace.” Sansa replied, stoic.

“I just said that.” Joffrey said, his eyes narrowed, his tone deepened.

Ser Meryn looked over in Sansa’s direction. You knew what that meant,

“I found it boring.” You chimed in, your eyes just as narrow as his.

“You did?” He asked with the same threatening tone

“Mm” you nodded

“And what man did your house bring to fight?”

“Brought no man.” You shook your head

The Hound returned to his station by the Kings side. He pretended not to listen but he was, intensely.

“You brought no man to my name day tournament?” He questioned further, you knew he would have taunted you further. To state it was for lack of good men or perhaps your dead father’s power died with him, that your house was to die with it.

“Not one.” Your head whipped towards Joffrey, gaze sharpening. “Not one man wished to celebrate your name day it would seem.”

“Ser Meryn.” Joffrey commanded.

You noticed the Hound's head tilt in your direction as Ser Meryn walked towards you and slapped you across your face, cutting your lip with the armor of his glove. As Ser Meryn walked away you turned your head back towards Joffrey.

“You are a pretty girl, a little more plump than I would like, but still a pretty girl.” Joffrey said “You should be more agreeable in tone, or you might find you won't be so pretty.” He smiled as he threatened you.

“Hm?” He waited for your response as you wiped the blood from your lip.

As you looked up, “Do you wish for me to cry, your Grace?” you asked almost mocking.

Joffrey began to dryly chuckle at your remark, probably about to order another hit for you as Ser Dontos Hollard stumbled onto the tournament drunkenly. The Hound cleared his throat, getting Joffrey to shift his attention towards him and not you. With his attention shifted you were safe once more.

Your eyes stayed on the Hound however. You knew what he had done for you, however subtle it was, you noticed.

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You found yourself spending more and more time near your mare. The moon shined on her just right for her coat to shine almost like metal, and your candle light shined on her just perfectly for her to glow like the sun. Lika, she was the only thing left you had from your home. You’d begin to yearn for the times you’d be furious with your fathers decisions and his useless attempts at comforting you. Because at least if he’d seen you were struck the way you had been, he’d have taken you home. He’d have helped you. But for now, you had Lika.

As you sat in front of Lika’s stable, you read some book you’d stolen from Tyrion at some point. It was hardly interesting, infact you’d almost fallen asleep but Lika nuzzled her snout into your neck and sniffed you deeply, jolting you awake before you smiled and wrapped your arm around her head. You began to stroke the side of her head as you heard a low and deep voice beckon from the entrance of the stables.

“Fuck are you doin’ girl.”

Your head snapped towards him, relief befell you once you saw it was him, the Hound.

You looked back towards your book, “Reading, or I was anyway.” You replied softly

“Read in your room,” He said gruffly as his large hand opened the doors to the stable wider. He was so tall he ducked into the doorway as he walked inside.

“I’ll decide where I read.” you said defiant as always.

With a dry chuckle he began to walk towards you, “Words like that are the reason you got that cut on your lip.”

“You don’t have to remind me of it.” You thought to yourself how this is exactly how you must sound to Sansa.

“Fuck-” He hissed under his breathe “You don’t want my help? Suit yourself.” He huffed “But don’t scream for me when you need it.”

“I won’t want it.” You say softly “Anyways, you can’t help me.-” You began as he cut you off

“I helped that Tyrell you love.” He said with venom in his voice and a softness in his gaze.

You furrowed your brows, stood up and faced him head on “And I have thanked you for it.”

“I know you helped that Stark girl escape.” He said matter of fact

You huffed “What do you want from me?” you asked pained

“I want you to stay away from me.”

“You seem to forget you came to me.”

“You should run from me, you should tell me to go.”

“I don’t run.”

“That’s the fucking problem with you, girl. If you’d any sense you’d think of yourself. Change that tone of yours. Change those eyes, the way you look at people… like you want to gut them.”

“I do want to.”

“Stubborn” he chuckled darkly “Stubborn will get you beaten.”

“Why did you come for me?”

“I saw the light-“

“No. If it were anyone else you’d’ve gone on your way by now.”

“Fuck does it matter?”

“Sandor-”

“Don’t call me that.” He hissed

“Tell me,” You say, raising a hand to his scarred cheek. He flinched and backed away quickly. His scowl deepened. He moved away from you, he turned to face outside the stables. “You wrapped your hand round my throat, and you won't let me touch your cheek?”

“It’s different, you’re not ruined.” He said whilst he stared into the nothingness outside the stable doors.

“Am I not?” You asked, your words felt sharp.

“No, no you are not.” His words felt gentler.

“I’ve no one, I’ve only this cage I sit in.”

“You’ve got someone,” He scoffed over his shoulder at me, my eyes looking up at him widening against my will. “You’ve got that Tyrell,” You huffed, “That stark child that follows you like a bloody shadow.” He looked back into the night, “I’ve got no one,”

“You do,” You say without noticing how bold it was until he turned to you, “Or you would, if you’d let them.”

“My brother.” he mumbled, his head hung low as he walked closer to you. “Pressed my cheek to the fire.” He finished, unwilling to give anything else. “I know you’ve heard the story, Baelish, that cocksucking rat, no doubt told you.”

“Course he did.” You didn’t lie, you never could to him. “But I asked you.”

He smirked slightly, his head still slightly turned away from you not wanting you to see.

Your hand rose to caress his cheek, you did it slowly. He flinched his head away slightly and in turn you pulled your hand back slightly. As his head came back, moving closer towards you. You moved your hand to his cheek once more, slowly. He grabbed your wrist before it could make contact with his face.

“Look at me,” He hissed “I’m a killer, the things I’ve done-” He thought back on those things “You don’t want this girl.” His grip on your wrist did not loosen, as if he was genuinely trying to protect you. “You’ll wed some lord, you’ll have his sons, and you’ll be far and gone from this shit city.”

“I don’t want to wed a lord.” Your eyes now are not so hateful but sad.

“World, doesn’t give a fuck what you want.” His hand reached out, slightly cupped the back of your head, hardly touching. He ran his hand down the length of your hair. Once he reached the end of it he held a lock of it in his hand to examine the color in the candle light. His deep, rich brown eyes reached yours once more. He could swear yours sparkled in any light.

“I’ll walk you to your chamber.” He said gruffly, peeling his eyes away with yours. He grabbed the book in your hand and walked towards the doors of the stables.

You let out a staged huff as you followed him.

As he led you through the halls you realized that you were doing just that, following him. He knew where your chambers were and knew how to get there swiftly.

The thought lit a fire in your chest.

As he arrived at your door he stopped, as you opened it you turned to look at him.

“You stole this from the imp.” He grumbled as he held up the book you did in fact steal.

Your eyes went from the book to him, “Are you going to report me to the Queen.” You said, you smiled slightly with your eyes. Testing him and his loyalties. He growled under his breath and walked off.

The way you tested his patience stirred something in him.

He’d definitely be taking himself in his hand that night again.

Is love the death of duty. Or is duty the death of love?

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lisannastraussisanangel · 10 months

Note

would love to hear ur headcanons for the canon couples (Nalu, Gruvia, Jerza, Gajevy) as first time parents

Fun fact: I actually wrote a fic about them adopting children (well Jerza, Nalu, and Elfever) if anyone is interested in that :)

Nalu

Lucy is literally stressed out the whole time

Natsu is pretty chill but his protectiveness has tripled

Lucy is the strict parent and Natsu is the fun one, but he will back Lucy up when needed

Unfortunately because of his heightened senses, Natsu really struggles with the baby crying. It's way louder for him and even hurts when he's holding the baby (too close to the ears)

Natsu struggles to sleep too. One because of the baby waking him up, but also because he is super protective and wakes up multiple times a night just to check on the baby (Lucy also doesn't sleep through the night but Natsu more so)

Lucy cheats and summons her spirits to help look after the baby. It really helps the new parents get time to rest (and also her spirits love the little baby so its a win win)

While they take turns working, Lucy usually stays home more. She knows Natsu needs to get out all his energy and she has no problem being a stay at home mom (at least for a little bit)

Gruvia

Juvia is literally always crying. Everything the baby does causes Juvia to burst into tears

Gray is in love. He's literally always cooing over the baby

They fight over who has to be the strict parents because both of them wanna be the fun one. Usually Juvia ends up as the strict one

Gray worries so much about the baby that he spends most nights sleeping in the nursery. Juvia keeps a spare blanket and pillow in there now, just so he can be more comfortable

The entire house is covered in toys (and other baby things). It has completely taken over their lives

Neither of them wanna work because they want to spend as much time with their baby as possible (unfortunately they have to so they take turns and only take simple jobs)

Juvia knits cute little onesies for the baby. She makes little dolls too. The dolls match the onesies. Its adorable

Jerza

Erza is super prepared and can literally handle any baby issue (throw up, diaper, teething, etc). She's got everything

Jellal on the other hand is always panicking. The baby hiccups? He's freaking out about if he has to go to the ER

Erza bought so many clothes for the baby. She treats them like a little doll and is always playing dress up

They are both the strict parents. Not terribly but they raise their child to behave (tho both are known to give in to the puppy dog eyes)

Jellal cries a lot. He cried when he found out Erza was pregnant, cried when the baby was born, cried when they brought the baby home, etc (he never thought he'd have a life like this)

For the first couple months after the baby is born, Jellal tries to do as much as possible because he wants Erza to rest (she did do all the hard work for nine months so it's only fair that he steps up after birth)

Somehow their home is always clean and they both always look well rested (well Jellal has permanent eye bags but that's just his normal sleep depravation). No one knows how they are so put together with a newborn

Gajevy

Gajeel is that dad that is always talking about his baby. He's always showing pictures, will turn any conversation into a baby story, and in general cannot go five minutes without talking about his baby

Levy did so much research before the baby was born. She bought literally anything and everything the books recommended

Unfortunately that means when something happens that wasn't in the book, Levy panics

Gajeel also has issues with his heightened senses. Levy takes pity on him when it comes to diaper changes (Gajeel has thrown up from particularly foul ones)

Gajeel tried to do that thing where you make the baby listen to music in the moms stomach, but it was his singing. Levy would come up with every excuse in the book for this not to happen

He does sing to the baby now, but Levy finds it adorable and likes to listen (his voice is more suited for lullaby's)

Levy reads to the baby every night. Her book picks vary from actual kids books to textbooks but the baby doesn't know the difference anyway

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megamindsecretlair · 3 months

Text

Thinkin' 'Bout You, Part 3

Pairing: Big Stunna x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Infidelity. TOXIC FILTH. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female receiving) teasing/mocking, cum play, spanking, dirty talk, degradation kink, breeding kink if you squint, all consensual. Use of n-word. Referring to female anatomy as "she".

Summary: As a sneaky link, Stunna is highly demanding of your time. He doesn't care if you get caught; when he wants you, he wants you. Your man takes you to a neighborhood block party that you're determined to have fun. That is, until you're introduced to Stunna and his wife.

Word Count: 8,379k

The Secret Big Stunna Files | Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: I'm sorry!!! I didn't intend for this to be so long. Let's all say thank you to @planetblaque who always helps me achieve greatness with these ideas. I had a really suck ass day and this healed me. LOL Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @blackerthings @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @thecookiebratz @iv0rysoap @notapradagurl7 @sevikasblackgf @miyuhpapayuh @xo-goldengirl @kindofaintrovert @flydotty @judymfmoody @slippinninque @soufcakmistress @henneseyhoe @westside-rot

You haven’t seen Stunna in a little over two weeks. Lyin’ ass nigga. You were irritable and ornery. Your friends and your man noticed the difference in you and you blamed it on the planets. You blamed it on PMS. You blamed it on anything but that bum ass nigga who was just supposed to be a good time.

This nigga really had you checking your phone multiple times a day. Things between Malcolm and Stunna were ramping up. Both were on high alert and had been making moves on each side. You only knew this because your man was plugged into all that shit. He wasn’t a top dog but he wasn’t a corner boy either.

He never mentioned Stunna by name but you knew that once you heard about Malcolm, Stunna was likely doing shit too. And fuck him, you missed him.

You sucked your teeth for the hundredth time as you got ready for this funky ass block party. You were not in the mood to be around others nor were you into being shown around like a pony. It was the one area where you and your man did argue. It was like he was with you just to show his boys that he could get with you. Which was wild, because he wasn’t ugly. Not by a long shot.

You finished with your hair and makeup and looked at your stank face in the mirror. This was such bullshit. Stunna was not your man. He had an entire wife that he was likely dicking down, cooking for, and showering with presents. The more you thought about it, the more you got mad irrationally. There was no way you were catching feelings for this nigga.

You were just addicted to his dick. Addicted to the way he held you like he loved you but fucked you like he hated you. Your man was too gentle for that and it was why you loved him. But why was it so hard to get fucked?

Your pussy was mad. That’s what it was. Your pussy was calling the shots. “Guess what bitch, you belong to me,” you said. You took a deep breath and looked at yourself in the mirror.

“You are that bitch!” You told yourself. It sounded silly the first few times you tried this, but you found that the more you practiced, the more your brain listened and you truly felt like that bitch. You had two niggas sprung off of you. Not many could say that and not get caught up.

You looked at your outfit on the bed. Some silly jeans and tank combo that would have looked great on you. You didn’t want to look great. You wanted to look fuckable. You had been telling yourself that time with Stunna was limited anyway. Stunna going silent on you was the best thing that could have happened.

The trash took itself out and now you could focus on your man. Focus on getting him so hot and bothered that you cut out of the stupid ass block party early. You wanted him to be desperate to rip your clothes off. To push past that little hint of shyness he clung to in the bedroom.

You flipped through your closet as your man came into the room. “Is you ready yet?” He asked.

“Not yet. Changed my mind on my outfit,” you said.

“Gah damn! You been getting ready all day!” He said. He sucked his teeth and went back to his phone. Always on his damn phone. If he wasn’t so shy, you’d swear that he was cheating. He had the better morals of you two. And you would not pick an imaginary fight just because you were missing dick that was never yours to begin with.

You walked over to him in your dark silky panties and pressed your chest against his clothed one. “We could always stay home and have some fun,” you said. You rubbed his arms and he let out a slow breath.

“Fuck, don’t do this to me,” he said. He kissed your cheek. “I would love to take care of that. But if I don’t show my face, I ain’t family. And you do not wanna know how these niggas treat you when you ain’t family,” he said.

You rolled your eyes and peeled yourself off of him. “Come on, babe, don’t do that,” he pleaded.

He stepped forward but you lifted a hand. “Bye nigga, let me finish getting ready,” you said. You wouldn’t look at him until he sucked his teeth and went back out into the living room. You closed the door behind him with a sigh.

Was there a way to combine your man and Stunna? Stunna’s desperate neediness and your man’s quiet consideration? You liked cuddles and shit, being wrapped up in your man’s arms. But you also liked getting the coins knocked out of you.

Decisions, decisions. Maybe it was time to move on from your man. You hated to have to kick him out. You couldn’t afford this place on your own and you doubted that you’d find a new man willing to pay all your bills and not wanna move in. You loved Nandi but you could not have her as a roommate. Shit.

Now you were back in a funk as you searched through your clothes. Hanger after hanger and none of the shit felt right. Looked right. If your man didn’t want to suck the jelly out of your pussy, then you would make that nigga jealous. Make sure everyone else at the block party was thirsting after you whether they had someone or not.

Your hand stopped on a bodycon dress. Army green and ribbed. Halter neckline. Ouuu. You stared at it. You were supposed to wear this around Stunna. You used the money he gave you to buy yourself a number of dresses, sexy panties, and a few pairs of shoes. Things that you could take pictures of yourself in or have him appreciate for half a second before he was lowering you on his dick.

Well, the nigga ain’t come around. And was your life supposed to stop simply because he couldn’t be bothered to text? All that “miss you so much baby, can’t wait to get in that pussy baby” shit was all a fucking lie.

Your phone chimed from your dresser. You lifted the dress out of your closet and brought it over to the mirror. You placed it in front of you to see how your body was looking and if you wanted to wear it. You peeped your phone.

Satan: where you at, babygirl? 💦

You:

You stared at the screen debating if you should answer or not. This was your big chance to end it for good. He couldn’t have possibly thought that you were going to come running whenever he snapped his fingers. Or in this case, hit you up like everything was fine.

He had you out here acting out of character for dick. It was good dick, mind you. Phenomenal dick. But not enough to make you forget who the fuck you were.

You: out.

The three dots on your screen started up immediately and you muted his conversation. The nigga could be mad. At the end of the day, he didn’t know where you were and he wasn’t going to show up while your man was here. Stunna was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them.

You grinned as you threw on the dress, feeling immediately sexy in it. You bought it with money that wasn’t yours and you looked incredible in it. Your ass was fat and you played with your butt, looking back at yourself in the mirror to watch it jiggle. All you were missing was Megan Thee Stallion pumping through your speaker.

However, your man nixed that while you were getting ready. You typically wouldn’t let a man tell you what to do, but he did make sense. When the queen was on, it added at least one more hour to you getting ready.

You bent over in your closet to find some all white sneakers you could throw on. You had an anklet that you got on a girl’s trip to New Orleans and you wrapped the shiny green beads around your right ankle.

You found a shredded jean jacket in your closet and tossed it on. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you looked good and felt good. Your hair was in an updo and doing what it do nicely. Your makeup was flawless. You felt so pretty. Fuck all these niggas.

Weak as you were though, you couldn’t help flipping your phone back over to see the dozens of texts from Stunna.

Satan: out where?

Satan: baby?

Satan: You see me texting yo ass.

Satan: I know I been gone, but cmon

Satan: really? This what we doin’?

Satan: out where?

He began to call you by your name in the thread, getting more and more agitated the longer he didn’t receive a response. Good. Let the brat know how it feels to be ignored. Let’s not forget, he was not your man.

You left the room, putting your phone in your pocket. “Okay, ready,” you said. Your man got off of the couch and that damn phone. He whistled as he looked at your outfit.

“Damn, you look good!” He said.

“Yeah, I know,” you said. You opened the front door and descended the steps. It was a nice, breezy night for once. The heat from earlier didn’t want to lose its grip, so it was a welcome change to the unseasonable chill.

“C’mon girl, you gon’ be mad at me all night?” He asked.

“Maybe,” you said. You folded your arms across your chest and waited for him to lock up behind you. You weren’t really that upset that he didn’t want to stay home instead. It was that at the end of the day, he was always going to run behind his friends than cater to you.

Women were always expected to drop everything for their man. To fall on the proverbial sword time and time again to lift him up to greatness. Where were the niggas that…liked women?

Niggas fuck with women, tough. It’s some type of rite of passage to get a girlfriend, treat her nice, get some loving. But it was always an argument outside of that. Where to eat, what to do. And when you made a fuss that you actually had interests that did not involve watching niggas play 2k with their boys on the mic, suddenly you were nagging too much and needed to go sit down.

The system was fucking broken. Niggas got their freedom and acted the fuck up. You knew it wasn’t all niggas. But you were damn tired of searching through the haystack for a good needle.

Finished, he moved beside you and grabbed your hand. You snatched it back and took off down the street. The block party wasn’t too far so you didn’t have to worry about sweating out your hair and makeup. But it was a brisk walk that you set. Maybe the exercise would burn off this lingering pressure.

Pressure that felt like you were going to combust from not getting some dick. Not even your man touched you. Because you were in such a pouty mood over Stunna’s dumb ass.

The further you walked, you heard music and laughter. Seasoned aromas from the grill made your mouth water as you thought of what you would get. Some ribs? Chicken? You couldn’t decide as your stomach rumbled letting you know that it was past time to eat.

Your man put his arm around you, pretending to his boys that all was fine and that you were the love of his life. Sometimes you don't feel like it. You let him though. It was easier than listening to him bitch and complain later that night.

The party seemed to ramp up as true night made everyone relax and hang out. The music was thumping and people were greeting each other, playing spades in the corner, or talkin’ shit. You spotted Nandi and Brooke over by the drinks and you kissed your man’s cheek and told him where you were going.

“Girl, what’s wrong with you now?” Brooke asked.

“What are you talking about?” You asked. You grabbed some Hennessy off of the table and poured a generous amount. You took a sip, letting the sweet cognac burn your throat.

“Yo ass always got a damn attitude now, snapping at people and shit.” Nandi held her hand out for the Henny and you handed it to her.

“I just be going through shit!” You said. You sipped more and the alcohol slowly worked through your system. Your shoulders loosened up and you swayed to the music. You may have drunk it a little too fast, but that was okay. You’ll get something to eat and it'll balance itself out.

“Shit like what?” Nandi asked.

You felt cornered by your girls and you eyed them both. The urge to spill everything was strong. Strong enough that you even opened your mouth but you resisted at the last moment. You sipped your drink and looked around for the food.

“Just shit,” you sighed.

Brooke looped her arm through yours and you walked as a trio towards the food. Heavenly aromas of chicken and ribs made your mouth water. The mac n cheese was almost gone so you knew it must’ve been fire.

“You gotta stop keeping stuff bottled up inside. That’s why ya ass mad all the time,” Nandi said.

“Mhm, that’s right. You know we got you!” Brooke said and shook you. You giggled even though you weren’t truly up to it. You didn’t want them to worry about you.

“I’m fine, I promise. I’m just sick of my man sometimes,” you confessed. There, they could chew on that.

“You know he treat you good, which is rare these days,” Brooke said.

“Preach on it!” Nandi raised her hand as if she was in church and agreed. You giggled and shook your heads at them. It was hard to be in a pissy mood when they were around.

You had managed to avoid checking your phone all night. You were sure Stunna sent all kinds of nasty messages calling you out of your name. Not knowing what he said was giving you a power trip. He could have gone radio silent. He could be fuming. The world would never know.

For the first time in two weeks, that boulder on your back felt lighter. You grinned at your friends, letting the alcohol give you a bit of “fuck it” attitude. Your man dragged you to this bullshit but that didn’t mean you couldn’t have fun.

“Uh oh, we in trouble,” Brooke said.

Nandi called you by your nickname, the one that meant no responsibilities. Or a fake name you gave to dusty niggas who were only entertaining for an hour. You grabbed a plate of food, the steam reaching through the styrofoam plate.

You sat and chit-chatted with your girls, cleaning your plate clean. Then you grabbed another drink and headed to the middle of the street, singing and rapping along to the current song.

You had drawn a small crowd, people following your lead to dance. A circle formed with people taking turns showing off their moves. Choruses of “ayes” and “okays” were chanted in unison, turning it into a giant communal experience.

Someone tapped on your shoulder and you turned to see your boyfriend. “Hey baby!” You said. You threw your hands around his neck and kissed him sloppily. He kissed you back, chuckling at your changing attitude.

“Feelin’ good off that drink, huh?” He asked.

“Real good,” you slurred slightly. Your eyes were half mast and you were swaying to the music. You were glad you wore sneakers. Trying to be cute while gone on the drink was not a sexy combination.

“Come on, I want you to meet some of my peoples,” he said.

You sighed and stomped your foot. “But I’m having fun!” You said.

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s real quick, I promise,” he said. He kissed your cheek and you groaned.

“Fine,” you said. You told your girls that you’d be right back and they better hold your spot. They giggled and agreed, telling you to hurry back.

Your man held your hand as you walked onto the sidewalk. You walked towards a couple. There was a plump woman with beautiful curly hair, a dark pink shirt and leggings. The man wore a gray Henley with the top two buttons undone. The sleeves were pulled up on his forearms. A gold chain sparkled every so often as the street lamps hit it.

“Baby, this is LaTrice and her husband Big Stunna,” your man said.

Your breath seized in your chest. You would have coughed if you had any air in your lungs. Your lips stretched into a smile as you shook hands with LaTrice. “Nice to meet you,” you said.

It was only by experience and repetition that made you recite the words automatically. She smiled at you. “I love your hair,” you said and grinned.

“Thank you! I love yours!” She said.

Stunna’s hand was warm in yours. Even smack in the middle of your significant others, he held on a second too long. “Nice to meet you too,” you said. You kept eye contact with him to a minimum.

The alcohol in your gut turned sour as you ran your tongue across your teeth. Your heart beat thundered in your chest. Your man pulled you into his side and you wrapped your arm around his middle and damn near leaned your head on his shoulder.

“We know each other from way back on the block. LaTrice didn’t play that shit. You weren’t gonna bully her,” your man was saying.

“Damn right. Fuck anyone who try,” she said. She fist-bumped your man and you smiled.

“You must have embarrassing stories about him from way back when,” you said. As long as you focused on LaTrice, you were okay. You were vibrating with energy. There was unrestrained anger, irrational jealousy, and outright longing. You just wanted to sink into Stunna’s arms and breath in his delicious cologne.

He looked damn, fucking good too. That Henley and chain combo was doing wonders on your body. Hearing him laugh was making your pussy throb and thighs clench. You crossed your legs and then immediately uncrossed them. You didn’t want Stunna to get the wrong impression.

LaTrice pulled a few stories out about your man and you teased him, throwing extras on it. You poked at his cheek and hip bumped him. You squeezed his cheeks and planted a little kiss there at all the stories LaTrice told you.

You weren’t doing it to make Stunna mad. Okay, you weren’t only doing it to make Stunna mad. You were a little too gone, tipsy on its way to drunk, and you couldn’t help feeling up on him. You damn sure couldn’t do it to Stunna.

“So what do you do?” Stunna asked you.

You were forced to look at him. The venom in his eyes could fell a horse. You swallowed a painful lump in your throat and you cleared it by drinking more. Stunna brought his own cup to his face.

He threw his arm around LaTrice and hugged her close. You explained your shit job and downplayed the description. It wasn’t a glamorous job and it didn’t really matter because he already knew this shit.

Fucking bastard. You licked your lips and tangled your hand with your mans. “Baby, I need another drink,” you said.

Your man looked like he wanted to die. As if you were committing some kind of grievous sin by asking for a drink around Stunna. Yeah, yeah, you knew the mu’fucka was important. Didn’t mean shit. Your other personality was out tonight and she was still in “fuck it” mode.

“Ya’ll have a good evening,” Stunna said. His eyes were for you though. He was not smiling. You smiled sweetly.

“It was great meeting you both!” You said. You turned away with your man and walked down the street toward the drink table.

“Yo, what the fuck?” Your man asked, as soon as you were out of earshot of Stunna and his wife.

“What?” You asked.

You poured yourself some more drink. As you did, your traitorous eyes went in search of Stunna. He was already facing you. He had positioned himself to stand facing the street. His boys were talking to him, but he was drinking from his red cup and eyeing you.

You turned away to look at your man, already sipping your own drink. Maybe you could drink enough to bypass the horny. You were already planning to ambush your man after this was over and finally get some dick. But after seeing Stunna…

“You know what! I’m trynna introduce you to my world and you off being rude and shit. Those people are important! You can’t just worry ‘bout yourself when they around!”

You waved your hand at him. “Back up, nigga and quit talkin’ to me like that,” you said. “I don’t give a fuck who it is!”

“You need to. Because all that money you like spending? Come from him,” he said.

Your face split open and you started to snicker. Stunna was paying for your lifestyle twice. It really shouldn’t be funny. You did really feel bad about stepping out on your man. There was no excuse for it.

But your man just had no fucking idea. You looked back towards Stunna who was still watching you like a hawk. You leaned closer to your man. “You know I appreciate everything you do for me, baby,” you said.

You tried to kiss his cheek to put on a good show for Stunna. Your man moved his cheek at the last moment. “I fuckin’ hate when you get drunk,” he said.

“I just fuckin’ hate you. You bummy ass nigga,” you said.

“You just get mean. You can’t handle that shit. You need to figure out why you chasin’ that shit so hard,” he said.

“Say another fuckin’ word,” you said. Your words were slow and measured.

“You’re a mean ass drunk!” He said.

You laughed and got closer to him. “Don’t bring yo ass home tonight,” you said. You walked away, walking back over to your girls and the music. You were out of Stunna’s eyesight. You were burning.

Fire danced just beneath your skin. The Henny made a dangerous cocktail in your gut. You were horny as hell, pussy throbbing and aching just from looking at Stunna. But you were also mad as hell. Why were you trying so hard to make this shit work with your man?

You were clearly total opposites. Wanting different things. Hell, he looked dead at yo ass in your panties and no bra and thought, “Time to go be with my niggas.” What? All this ass and…nothing?

You told your friends what happened and a chorus of, “Fuck that nigga” rang out. You agreed. But it did nothing to put out the fire inside you.

You just needed relief! You needed that sweet relief that came from a thorough claiming. You were sweating as if you ran a marathon but you refused to take off your jacket. You didn’t want Stunna walking by to stare at what wasn’t his.

You sighed as you pulled out your phone.

Satan: OH, like that?

Satan: You gon’ wear the dress I got you for that nigga? Kissin’ on him all in my fucki’n face??

Satan: Just ain’t gon’ answer me, now? That’s what we doin’?

You put the phone away and focused on your girls. You were going to have fun and that was all there was to it. The music turned up louder, the circle still going. You hopped in the middle and began to twerk, shaking your ass and putting the bodycon to good use. You knew your ass was jiggling in all of the right ways.

When you left the circle, your eyes immediately found Stunna. He was standing with LaTrice with his arm around her and sipping out of his red cup. You wiped the sweat from your brow and rolled your eyes.

Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him.

You cheered your girls on as they danced but you were starting to get woozy from the drink. You stumbled over to the drink table, grabbing some water.

“Say what’s up shawty.” You looked up and scrunched up your face. A dusty mu’fucka dared to talk to you. His teeth were yellow and stained brown, crooked, and his nose went in the opposite direction of where it should be. His outfit was a size too big, hanging off of his thin frame.

“The sky, nigga,” you said and sucked down the water.

He sucked his teeth and called you a bitch. Whatever. You stumbled closer to the nearest house so you could lean against it. Your eyes were crossing. The ground was spinning beneath you. You put the cool water bottle against your forehead.

“Shit,” you groaned. You did drink too much. Henny always made you act the fuck up. And you always regretted it. And yet, when you went out to a function again, Henny was the first thing you reached for.

You took deep breaths until the lights stopped spinning in front of you. You lost track of Stunna. Wherever he was, you knew he was wrapped around LaTrice. You had no right to be jealous but you were. You wanted to be tucked under his arm. Shown around by him.

It was corny when your man did it but if Stunna did it, you’d preen and giggle like a schoolgirl.

You stood up, ready to head back to your girls when something gripped your hand and yanked. You took a deep breath, ready to scream.

“Shhhh,” Stunna said. His other hand covered your mouth to prevent you from screaming and giving yourself away.

He pulled you in between houses, past the gated fence, and into a random neighbor’s backyard. There was a tiny shed back there with a door already propped open. You struggled against Stunna’s hold but he held firm.

He tossed you inside the shed and you stumbled over boxes and knick knacks on the ground. There was a table in the back filled with various tools. Stunna closed the door, shrouding you in total darkness.

“Turn on the light,” you said.

“No. Fuck you think you doin’?” He asked.

You could only rely on your intuition and the scent of his cologne as he crowded your space. “Move nigga!” You screamed, pushing against his chest. He barrelled forward until your ass pressed against the table.

“You don’t answer my fuckin’ text messages and then you show up here with that nigga?” He asked.

“That nigga is my man! You are not!” You pushed against him again, but your mind was back to swirling. Tipping. It was somehow worse in the dark. Robbed of sight to keep your equilibrium, the ground felt shakier than ever.

“Fuck that and you know it!” He yelled.

“Fuck you, Stunna! You’re here with your whole ass wife! What, you was gon’ fuck me on your way to the block party? Make LaTrice sit out in the car while I suck your dick?”

You placed your hands behind you, to steady yourself on the table. It was still in use so it wasn’t overly dusty, but it was still gross. You hated this. You hated being so near him and couldn’t claim him. Couldn’t name these feelings inside.

“And if I did? Your little ass belong to me,” he said. His hand found your throat and you hated how you responded. Hated that your eyes crossed and thighs clenched.

“I don’t belong to shit,” you said.

“Mhm, bet you if I lift this dress, that pussy gon’ be singing for me,” he said. He brought his lips close to yours but didn’t kiss you. He smelled like he drank just as much as you did tonight.

Your hands gripped his wrist. His smooth skin was hot to the touch. “Stunna, this is fucked up,” you said.

“You sayin’ I’m lying?” His lips moved against yours as he spoke. He was so damn close. He breathed out and you breathed in. It made it dirtier and naughtier that you couldn’t see him.

“Tell me I’m lyin’ and I’ll leave this mu’fucka right now. Tell me you ain’t fuckin’ dripping under that sexy ass dress. Shaking that ass that’s meant for me. You know I’on like that shit,” he whispered.

“This is my dress, Stunna.” You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t even lie. “Where’s LaTrice?”

“Answer my fuckin’ questions!” He slammed the table behind you and you flinched away. He still held you by the throat so you couldn’t escape him. Lord above help you, but you were even wetter.

“I’m not answering shit, nigga!” You yelled.

He chuckled and a fan of sweet alcohol fell across your face. He finally kissed you roughly, pressing his lips to yours enough to bend your head back painfully. You melted instantly, moaning and leaning into the kiss.

He pulled away just as roughly and sneered. “Tell me you want me to rock that shit,” he said. He placed his forehead against yours and breathed for a few moments.

You wished you could see his face. You wished you could see him in the light of day. But it would always be sneaking around with him.

“Fuck you, Stunna,” you said. You reached down to feel his chest. Lowered your hand until you were cupping him. He groaned from the contact. He was already so long and thick. His erection was straining against his jeans and you moaned.

He began to kiss you again, moving his hand from your throat. He gripped and squeezed your booty, molding his big hands to the globe of your ass. You moaned, finally feeling some kind of comfort. Some kind of proof that you meant something to somebody.

His tongue was thick against yours, exploring every corner of your mouth. You heated up for entirely different reasons. He moaned into the kiss, stepping closer. His erection pressed against your belly and you moaned.

Your pussy already clenched, thinking of that dick sliding inside of you.

As he kissed you, his hands slid your dress up. You helped him and moaned when cold air hit your legs. He moved his hands beneath your panties, growling at finding it wet. “Knew yo ass was fuckin’ soaked.”

“You know Henny makes me horny,” you said.

“I make you fuckin’ horny. Quit playin’ with me,” he said.

“Know your lane,” you said. He chuckled and kissed you again, sweet this time. You didn’t want sweet. You bit his lip and he hissed, jerking back from you.

He was right back to kissing you with more force. He lifted you and helped you sit on the table. You dangled off of the edge. He scooted in between your legs. “My lane is between these thighs. My lane is making you scream my name while I’m in that shit,” he whispered against your lips. He trailed kisses down your neck. He unzipped his pants and lowered them, scooting you closer to the edge.

He placed his mouth over your titty through the fabric and he bit down enough to tug on your nipple. “Oh fuck!”

He pulled your panties to the side and then you were gasping at the fullness of him. The sheer magnitude of being filled with him. This was also a new position for you. He had bent you in so many ways before, but it was never this intimate. This close. Pressed chest to chest and breathing each other in.

He began to rock inside of you, pulling all the way out and then slamming back in. “Daddy’s sorry,” he said.

“Fuck!” You cried out. Your thighs tingled as you locked them around his waist. He pressed sweet kisses to your forehead, cheeks, and lips. You held on to his shoulders because right now, that was the only solid thing for you. In the darkness, you didn’t know which way was up or down. There was just him.

“I know this little attitude is because you’re mad at me. Because I promised to deliver and I dipped. I had to take care of some business but I won’t be gone that long no more,” he said.

As he spoke, he rammed inside of you, sliding with ease aided by your horniness and the alcohol.

“You can’t promise that,” you said. “Ouue, shit.”

How did he make every glide seem different? Every hip thrust a different word, every groan a different tune? You felt weightless, gone off of the Henny as you were, but you were also attuned to everything he was doing. Moving. Saying.

“I can. And I’m sayin’ I’m sorry. That Daddy gon’ stick around and take care of his princess,” he said.

You moved your hands down to press against his chest. He knew he was swinging too much dick to be going at this type of pace. He moved your hand and placed it behind you, using force to keep your hand where he wanted it.

“Fuck you, I got a man,” you said. Stunna switched up his strokes so that he seemed to hit deeper and you cried out, throwing your head back.

“Yeah, me,” he said. He pressed his lips against yours and you were both fighting for control. Fighting with wet, sloppy kisses to see who would win out on top. Mama ain’t raise a quitter, so even as he tried his hardest to make you fold, you wouldn’t.

Not until he gave up control of your hands and brought those long fingers to your clit. You were already coasting close to your orgasm but you were holding it at bay. Too focused on making him see that you didn’t belong to each other.

He hissed and moaned when he made contact and you were gone, clutching to him and screaming out your orgasm.

“Say my name, baby. I’m the one making you feel this,” he said. He continued to flick your clit as you convulsed and broke. Shattered.

“Fuck! Stunna!” You finally relented. Let him have this fucking victory. Let him have it all. If only he could keep doing this. Keep bringing you to the edge over and over again and letting you fall over it safely into his arms.

“Sound so pretty when you cum. Daddy gon’ make it up to you. Can you get away tonight?”

You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. But your other persona was still out, still riding the drink, so you nodded. “I’ll have the house to myself,” you said.

He continued to ram into you chasing his own pleasure while you were still trying to recover from yours. He kissed you, sloppy again until he was moaning and releasing inside of you. He pumped a few more times as if he wanted to keep it all in there with just the power of his dick.

You giggled a bit and stilled, dick convulsing. “What’s so funny?”

You goofily told him and he chuckled, kissing your forehead. “Goofy ass. I’ll see you in an hour,” he said. He kissed you as he slipped out of you. He kissed you while he zipped himself back up. He kissed you while he moved your panties and helped you off of the table.

He cupped your face in his warm hands and kissed you, tongue licking your lips. “An hour,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah, hurry up,” you said.

He left first, slipping out of the shed and back into the thunderous noise of the party. You stayed behind, five minutes and then ten minutes. You were still trying to catch your breath. Still trying to piece yourself back together after finally getting what you wanted.

At what cost though?

When you were sure that you could walk without falling, you left the shed and closed the door behind you. The party was starting to wind down anyway. Your friends were dancing on random men so you didn’t bother saying bye. You didn’t see your man either. Good fucking riddance. Asshole.

You walked home in a dreamy haze, the alcohol still buzzing through your veins. You overindulged, that was on you. But you were also finally getting a night with Stunna. An entire night where you could find and lose each other’s bodies over and over again.

Making it home, you entered the house and locked it behind you. You had some time before Stunna showed up, so you stripped down to your bra and panties, threw on some good R&B music, and dipped into your personal stash of Hennessy.

You were swaying to the music when you heard the soft knock on your back door. You crept to it and peeked behind the curtain. Stunna stood there in all his glory, that Henley was still doing wonders on you even though you already got your orgasm.

As soon as you let him in, he grabbed the drink from your hand and shot it back. “I could have poured you one,” you said.

“What’s yours is mine,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. He was still trying to push that he was your man. Despite showing his wife all around the block. But you weren’t here to argue. You weren’t here to lie.

You walked into his arms and tilted your head up. He grinned, wrapping his hands around your waist, fingers sliding down to grip your ass. “You forgive me?” He asked.

“Nope. I’m trynna see what apology dick feel like,” you said. He laughed, throwing his head back. You cherished the sight.

He swayed to the music, dancing with you. You put your head on his chest and rocked with him. The music filled you up like water pouring from a cup. But there was a deep urge, a yearning to consume him.

You pulled him by the hand towards the back bedroom. You had kept all the lights off in the house. Not that you were trying to hide what was going on in here, by much. But you had found something in the darkness with him and you wanted to know if it was still there.

In the bedroom, moonlight slanted through your blinds illuminating part of the bed. Stunna was mostly in shadow as he stood beside you. Part of his face was brightened by the moonlight and you took a moment to breathe him in. Take your time. If one night was all you had like this, then you wanted to make it last.

“Apology dick huh?” He asked.

You nodded. “I kinda like you sayin’ sorry for once,” you said.

He laughed and pulled you closer, wrapping his hands around you once more. He kissed you and nibbled on your lips. “I am very, truly, deeply sorry,” he said. He slowly pronounced each word so there was no confusion.

He cupped your cheeks and kissed both sides, both of your eyes, across your forehead, and finished on your lips. He kissed both of your hands, bringing it to his lips with a quiet sigh. He dropped down to his knees and kissed your bare tummy, lips tickling you as he spoke. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for making you worry.”

He pulled your panties down and helped you step out of them. He kissed your thighs and then gently pushed you onto the bed. You sat down and he grabbed your feet, fiddled with your anklet with a smile and then planted soft kisses there and then rubbed them.

You moaned and closed your eyes. You didn’t think that your feet hurt all that much. You wore comfortable sneakers. But his thumb pressed into your arch and your back curved, thrusting your titties out.

He spread your legs and then set to work taking off his shirt. He kneeled closer, breathing deeply. His tongue darted out and began to lick and tease your entrance. He used his hands to spread you open, bare yourself in the most primal of ways.

He glanced up at you and you grinned at him. He then got to work eating you out like it was his entire reason for breathing. His lips teased your clit. His tongue darted in and out of your entrance. You were a moaning, crooning, sloppy mess under his masterful tongue.

Your fingers slid into his hair and tugged and pulled as you licked your dry lips and caved to the unrelenting pleasure. He made out with your pussy. So much so, you half thought you were intruding on a private moment.

You sat up a little to look at him at work. It was like he was praying between your thighs. On his knees, devoted to your pleasure. He worshiped at your altar, moaned hymns into your pussy, and gave offerings with his tongue.

One of his hands left you and you heard his zipper get pulled down. He moaned and the vibrations tickled your clit. His arm jerked as he pleasured himself while he made out with your pussy.

Your pussy fluttered and a moment later, you were clinging to his head as you smashed your pussy into his face, cumming without abandon. You screamed and cried out, shaking and trembling with pleasure.

Stunna stood up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. His chain looked damn good around his throat. He stepped out of his shoes, pants, and briefs. He made you sit up so he could take your bra off.

“Forgive me?” He asked.

“I ain’t heard no apology,” you mumbled.

“Like that?” He asked. “Yo little bratty ass get on my fuckin’ nerves.” He smiled but you knew that you really did get on his fuckin’ nerves. It should make you want to behave. He was really good when you behaved.

Before you could respond, he grabbed your ankles and yanked you further down the bed. You yelped and giggled as his gaze turned feral. His eyes were drooping, smiling out the corner of his mouth.

He pulled your legs up higher to rest on his shoulders. Your toes barely reached behind his neck. He lined himself up dipping into your pussy once, twice, and then slammed in on the third one.

“Shit!” You yelled. You dug your elbows into the mattress to try and get up. He held firm to your thighs.

Then he pushed forward, your knees grazing your chest. You heaved but couldn’t find enough air. “St-Stu-”

“I missed you too, baby. Now accept my goddamn apology,” he said. He rammed inside you.

Your eyes crossed and your body drooped down onto the bed, all the fight leaving you. He smacked your face, a tiny sting bringing you back to the present. “You gon’ accept my apology?”

“Nuh,” you moaned. He couldn’t expect you to speak while he had you in this position. He already fit snug as a bug, but now he felt even tighter. Your pussy sucked him in and didn’t let go. Didn’t want to let him go.

He had to feel the quake in your thighs. See the desperation on your face. The way you gasped and wailed for air.

“Grippin’ the fuck outta this dick. Fuck! Missed this fuckin’ pussy. Daddy missed the fuck outta this pussy,” he moaned.

Tears sprang to your eyes as you needed air but needed to cum even more. He pushed forward still, rutting inside of you. His chain bounced on his chest with the force of his thrusts. Your legs had no choice but to bend and open wide to accommodate him. He pushed your thighs as far back as they could go. Damn near touching the bed.

Stunna moved his face towards your titties, suckling them into his mouth and pulling.

“Stunna! Stunna! Fuck, that shit hurt!” You yelled. Hurt and felt so good, so magical. The bite of pain was its own shot of alcohol. He lifted his head and watched your eyes get watery.

“Accept my fuckin’ apology,” he said.

“No-o,” you moaned.

He increased the pressure of his thrusts, slamming into you with force. You scooted up the bed with each intense stroke. Pressure built up in your hips. Your hearing went out one ear. A tinny ring fought for dominance in your mind but you could only focus on that elusive feeling.

That whisper of an orgasm. The calm before the storm.

His balls slapped your ass. Your essence pooled out of you and soaked your thighs. Made a mess on the sheets. His grunting joined the fray. The moonlight caught glimpses of his sweat pouring down his face.

“You ain’t gettin’ this nut till you accept my goddamn apology,” he said. He started to slow down, slowing his strokes but they were no less powerful. That whisper was starting to drift on the wind.

“Wait!” You said.

“Yo hungry ass want this nut, don’t you?” He asked.

“Yes!”

“Been needin’ this nut so you can act right, huh?” His hips dipped with his stroke and you moaned.

“Yes! Fuck!” You cried and bounced on his dick, needing him to go faster. He was already impossibly deep, the Henny making him last longer like a little demon.

“You gon’ answer my texts?” He asked.

“Stunna, please, baby. Please! I’ll be good,” you whined. You didn’t know how the balance of power shifted. You didn’t know where you lost him. Perhaps he was just out of apologies to dole out, not used to the word falling from his lips.

He slipped out of you and you cried out, reaching for his hands to pull him back towards you. He grinned evilly and stroked himself a few times before joining you on the bed.

He laid down on his side and then pulled your right leg up. His right arm came around to keep it up. Satisfied that you would keep your leg in the air, he grabbed his dick and slapped it against your pussy.

The wet smacks and hint of pain made you moan and bite your lip. “You gon’ answer my texts,” he said, his voice raspy and low. He slid inside you and you groaned.

His arm came up to pinch your nipples, tugging on them as he started to move faster, slide in deeper. He pulled a little too hard and you cried. “Yes! Daddy, fuck! Yes, I’ll answer your texts!”

“All of my texts. Don’t you ever leave me on read again,” his pants blew across your ears as he slammed inside of you. He moaned and groaned, couldn’t help his dick from burrowing inside you and carving a space with his name on it.

“I won’t!” You moaned.

He moved his hand to your mouth, pushing three fingers inside. You happily sucked on his fingers, your head growing fuzzier.

“Shh, Daddy’s talkin’,” he said.

Your wet gulps and moans quieted down as he kept going. “You’re my fuckin’ bitch. And when I wanna get in this pussy, ain’t shit you can do to stop me. If I wanna fuck you before a party and got LaTrice outside in the whip, the fuck you gon’ do?”

Oh god. You were on that precipice again. Your lower belly ached. Pussy throbbed. Talk of his wife waiting outside while he fucked you stupid should not turn you on. And yet you were leaping off of the cliff.

Your body was soaring, flying, so high in the sky that you couldn’t see the bottom anymore. He moved his fingers away so he could hear your cursing, moaning, and screaming as you flooded his dick with your essence. Your whole body shook and convulsed.

Stunna wrapped his hand around your throat and thrust in earnest. You thought he was already hitting your shit, but he got up on his elbow and thrust as if there was no end in sight. As if you could consume him. Gobble him up.

“Accept my fuckin’ apology,” he screamed in your ear.

“I forgive you!” You managed to say around the hand on your throat.

Like it was the starting whistle, Stunna moaned and pushed inside, climaxing. His eyes rolled back, mouth open wide, as a shiver overtook him. Like he had been tense these past two weeks, bottled up, and found heaven as he came.

“Sheeit,” you whined as you felt his dick pulse and stuff you to the brim.

Stunna shook himself and slipped out, lifting up higher so he could watch his cum slip out. “Goddamn, babygirl,” he said. His cum continued to leak out and he groaned, pushing himself back in.

“St-Stunna!” You cried.

“I know baby, I can’t help it,” he said. He kissed your cheek and moved down to your neck, sucking on the tender meat.

Stunna eventually stilled, slipping back out and laying back against the sheets. The moonlight hit him just so and you sighed, both at the picture and the intense moment.

You couldn’t move. You were blissfully fucked out, pleasantly sore, and so deliriously happy you had no words.

Stunna stared at the ceiling with you, too busy gasping for air to say much of anything as well.

The moment didn’t need words. It transcended them. You always thought it was bullshit that you shared energy when you had sex. The shit just always felt good. But with Stunna, it was incredible. Mind-blowing. There was definitely a give and take of energies. You just weren’t sure what you would gain from him or what he took from you.

Stunna snaked his hand down towards you to tangle his hand with yours. You smiled as sleep tugged at you. Your blinks slowed until your eyelids were practically stuck together. You fell asleep to the soothing snores of Stunna.

The Secret Big Stunna Files | Part 1 | Part 2

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furrysmp · 5 months

Text

decided to go sunbringer designs for once. I have so many words oh my god

so. uh,

I am so normal about sunbringer joel smallishbeans so normal I swear. he's planning to throw the o from his name at scott btw.

... he and scar are related but I'm not explaining further until the actual fic about it comes out because there's so much plot significance in the smallishbeans.

... grian. has a book. that he borrowed from the Library. it's very relevant I swear the concept of the library is a plot point.

Also grians eyes are technically green! With a bit of purple and just. a layer of Dark over them to make them less neon green. its not in his genetics to have neon eyes. unlike scar and I swear their eye colors are relevant but like in a weird queerplatonic scarian dl based bit in the grian chapter of the fic

Mumbo is a long cat and being held by me specifically those hands are how I draw my mc skin. I wanted to draw him as this meme since 2021 but he's very hard for me to draw so I took the one time I'll ever draw him and did this.

Jimmy is. a creature. that has bird features but also cod features bc again half of the plot of sunbringer is based on empires 1. Also the bird he's holding is singing. And joel is stealing the song bc he has music type magic.

Scott! Is the one guy I can talk about! Because he already appeared in the fic. He's part ender dragon and like. a child of stars? I have a lot of times I drew him before I think but idk how much of it I uploaded before so yeah. Please ask me about sunbringer scott smajor he's one of the only ones I can talk about and he has so much lore going for him he's so dear to me

impulse is. technically part ender dragon too? the specifics will be explained in his chapter of yhiwu (alongside. a lot of magic lore. like a lot. I have half that speech written already it's basically looking the empires fic in the eyes and going "fight me uwu")

And because impulse is aligned to shadows skizz gets to be some form of light dragon descendant? Like light isn't directly an element in the magic of this universe but it does have an equivalent in the element of Life, which connects to truth and love, whereas shadows and theatrics (and storytelling in general) is always aligned to whatever element is considered dark; in this magic system, being Void.

Tango is looking up at mumbo. thats all. I don't have a lot of notes because my tango is just a little guy.

(Etho is checking smth on his smartwatch and also doing his best to ignore bdubs rn bc bdubs is in his villain arc/hj)

... ngl the only note I have on the bdubs design is that it's accidentally inspired by my human design for the main character in the show I'm writing. Bracelets and sparkly eyes and a t-shirt and. Crimes.

also not much on the cleo design she was just fun to draw but the implications of her existence are spoilers and also not really visually indicative bc idk what a "zombie hybrid" would look like so she just looks. funky. her background is all stitched together btw I finally had a use for the dashed lines brush :D

martyn and ren are. BIG spoilers. But only to like chapter 5 of the current fic. I will say I highly enjoy their existence tho. Also my ren designs always have hawaiian patterned shirts its a personality trait he seems to possess. Also his glasses are like. a hologram? bc his ears are Dog so he cant have normal glasses w like. the things that go behind ur ears.

lizzie is. also very important. she gets the two animals thing like jimmy bc axolotl and cat were her empires animals. also her buns are heart shaped I saw some fanart of that and its really cute so I also have that. and she's also looking at the long mumbo! very confused.

bigb. scares me. like yeah secret life really be mans villain arc. I tried to reflect that by actually straight up mirroring his eyes and having him be. the only guy looking straight at u. he can see u. u can run but u cant hide. also he gets cookies. also also drawing facial hair is hard he's the only time I ever managed to make facial hair look. normal. ever. wont happen again.

gem is being adorable and also definitely a deer hybrid dont mind the magic or stuff its fine (her chapter is. third in the roster. I literally just need to finish the impulse chapter to convince myself that its ok to upload her immediately after ch2).

and pearl! who we know bc she gets first chapter of the fic and thats already out. her eyes are a bit like moons btw. also she's doing magic back at gem which is cute I think. idk.

also half of them have fancy hair shines. like joel having beans that get progressively smaller. or pearl having moons. :D

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 6 months

Text

It's Flawless, Really Something

Roy Kent x Teacher!Reader

Warnings: Language, flirting, a pervy parent, non-academic activities in the classroom

2.6k words

Teach Me Tonight Masterlist

“Did you save me that biscuit?”

Roy Kent leaned forward, hands on the plastic table, and smiled at you. His eyes were bright, and his black leather jacket hugged him deliciously; he was perfect, you thought. Stupidly, ridiculously, wonderfully perfect.

“Only if you’ve got exact change,” you managed to joke, holding out your outstretched hand.

Roy looked surprised at your teasing reply. Surprised, but also pleased. After your talk with Leanne, you’d made the terrifying decision that you were going to flirt with Roy Kent. You liked him, you knew that much. He clearly liked you, at least a little. And if he was ever going to ask him out, he, like any other man, needed a little encouragement.

With a content chuckle, the coach reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of quid, definitely more than the cost of one chocolate chip cookie. He pressed the money into your hand, curling your fingers into a fist as his warm grip lingered.

Despite your immediately wavering bravery, you held his gaze, not caring that he could probably see the way you gulped at his touch. “That’s a little too much, Coach,” you hummed.

“Consider the rest a tip,” he answered, giving your hand a squeeze before letting go. “For exemplary service.” He tilted his head at you. “How long’re you here for? Do they let you take a break, or do I need to call the union?”

“Maybe another half hour and then I’m pretty much done.” You smiled, not caring that there were students, and parents, and other teachers flittering around. “Why? You want to buy me a lemonade or something?”

He shrugged and picked up a chocolate chip cookie. “Or something,” he echoed with a wink. “Have fun.”

You watched unabashedly as he walked away, to where his sister and Phoebe were waiting for him. He handed the cookie to a bouncy Phoebe, while his sister waggled her eyebrows at him. Roy gave his sister a shove before glancing back at you, his smile widening when he caught you staring.

As you were wondering whether Leanne would kill you if you left her alone, Mrs. Seling rushed over mischief all over her face.

“Teresa’s dog got sick,” she said in place of a greeting. “We need someone in the dunk tank, just for twenty minutes until it’s Mrs. Halpern’s turn. Can you do it?”

Shit. The damn dunk tank. Every year, teachers brokered deals and offered bribes to avoid having a shift on the stupid thing, treating it like the torture chamber it was. The water was gross and weirdly warm. The air was freezing cold when you were soaked. Students lined up in droves to try to dunk their teacher into the water, and, worse, dads lined up to see the results.

Of course, Lee chose that moment to absolutely betray you and busy herself with selling brownies to a student’s grandmother, leaving you only able to smile weakly at Karen and mumble, “I guess.”

So, there you sat, hating the fact that you’d chosen today to wear a light-colored shirt to go with your jeans, but thankful for the fact that your students had terrible aim. Phoebe O’Sullivan stood among the gaggle of children who were desperate to see you fall into the tub of water that you tried not to think too hard about; her uncle stood not far, eyebrows raised in amusement, trying not to think too hard about how you’d look once you got dunked.

Normally, Roy thought of you as cute, pretty, adorable. An absolute distraction. But the thought of you in a soaked shirt, material clinging to your body… fuck, he needed to get his thoughts under control. After all, he hadn’t asked you out yet, hadn’t kissed you yet. But fucking hell, his mind was racing as he tried not to turn into a teenage boy with fantasies of a beautiful teacher in a wet t-shirt.

“Uncle Roy, you should try!”

Phoebe’s little voice dragged him out of his increasingly adult thoughts. “Hmm?” He stared at the ball in his niece’s outstretched hand, quickly comprehending what she’d just said. “Oh. Sure.”

He stepped up after watching one of Phoebe’s classmates throw a very wild pitch. Your eyes found his, carrying a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. He knew he could hit that stupid red target; he was a retired athlete, after all. A flick of his wrist, and you’d be soaked from head to toe.

But he saw the way Jack Price’s dad was leering at you, the way that fucker always did when his wife wasn’t around. And he felt that tightness in his chest again, the tightness he’d had that day at the zoo when he watched that skeeze put his hand on your shoulder. No way was Roy going to let slime see his personal fantasy.

Besides, you’d probably appreciate Roy not dunking you, right? It’d be rather gentlemanly. And you seemed like the type that wanted a gentleman. And Roy wanted to be what you wanted.

So, he gently tossed the ball, shrugging at you when it hit the backboard instead of the target.

“Thank you,” you mouthed, warming away that tightness in his chest. The relief and gratitude on your face was worth looking like he couldn’t throw a damn ball, as well as the fifty pence the ball had cost.

As he pondered how he could leverage his chivalrous gesture to finally ask you on a date, someone tapped his shoulder.

Jack Price’s dad smiled at him, that stupid, sharkish smile, tossing a ball up and down. “Guess you’re not as good at pitching as kicking, hmm?” he joked, as if they were the kind of people who joked with each other. “Watch and learn.”

Your gasp was sharp as you felt the bench disappear from under you and were instantly underwater. Dammit. You’d almost made it the full twenty minutes dry as a bone. Fucking Mr. Price and his fucking cricket hobby. You came back up rapidly, cheeks burning as the kids cheered on the sight of seeing their beloved teacher soaked.

To add insult to injury, Mrs. Halpern stood beside the dunk tank, ready to take your place. You clambered out of the dunk tank, shivering in the approaching evening air. All you wanted to do now was go home, shower, and put on your warmest pajamas. Never mind letting Roy Kent buy you a lemonade. You were cold, wet, and, admittedly, a little embarrassed by the way your shirt clung to your skin.

But you grabbed your things and put on that fake smile for your students who giggled over your misfortune and tried to make a speedy exit. Unfortunately, Mr. Price slowed down your plans.

“No hard feelings, right?” he hummed, eyes everywhere but your face. “It’s for a good cause, after all.”

Instinctively, you crossed your arms, attempting to hide as much as you could. “Of course,” you murmured, making a pathetic attempt to sidestep him.

He blocked your path, eyeing your figure. “Need help with those wet clothes?” he whispered as his hand landed on your shoulder, the way it had at the zoo.

“Oi.”

As you shrugged off Mr. Price’s hand, Roy Kent approached, peeling off his leather jacket. “You must be fucking cold,” he mumbled. Pointedly ignoring Jack’s dad, he wrapped the jacket around your shoulders. “How about that lemonade?”

“Thanks,” you sighed as Mr. Price scampered away. “But I should probably head home. Need a shower after being in that thing.” As you spoke, you did your best to ignore the feeling of Roy Kent’s jacket hugging you, enveloping you in the scent of whatever wonderful cologne he was wearing, a cologne he’d picked out in the hopes of bumping into you today.

“Sorry the jacket’s not more comfortable,” he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “But you can just give it back to me Monday. Keep you warm on your way home.”

You shook your head. “I have a sweatshirt in my classroom. I can just throw that on.” Seeing the slight disappointment in his brown eyes, you swayed forward slightly, batting your eyes at him- something you weren’t sure you’d ever done. “Walk me to my classroom?”

There was that smile. That fucking smile, the one that was bright enough to make you forget Roy Kent’s infamous rage, the perfect smile you wanted to kiss right off his bearded face. He kept on smiling as the two of you slipped away from the fall festival.

He liked seeing you in his jacket. It was just big enough to look cozy wrapped around your shoulders, and he cherished the way you tugged it tightly around yourself. Admittedly, he was a big jealous of the way his jacket got to be wrapped around you. He wondered if it would smell like you when he got it back; probably like the dunk tank water, unfortunately. Maybe he could offer it to you again sometime. Maybe even after a date.

You quickly unlocked your classroom and led Roy in, trying not to flinch when you heard the door close, silencing the already distant sounds of the festival. Neither of you bothered with the lights, instead letting the last of the sun softly illuminate the classroom. Roy followed you to your desk, wondering if you wanted him to leave or stay, and hoping beyond hope that it was the latter.

“Oh, here.” You slipped off his jacket and handed it to him. “Thanks again, Coach. Very chivalrous of you.” Your smile was probably the most confident he’d seen, playful and teasing. It was probably his favorite smile.

“Any fucking time,” he breathed. He was fighting so fucking hard not to stare at you. He knew he wasn’t a married dad like Mr. Price or the others, and he was pretty sure you liked the way he stared at you- but still. He didn’t want to be grouped with them, a creep who ogled you like a piece of meat.

But fuck, you were making it hard. That shirt clung to you like it wanted you even more than Roy did, flaunting the body you usually covered with cute dresses and jean jackets- a body Roy really liked. You pulled your dripping hair up in a clip you found on your desk, exposing a neck that Roy was sure would look great with a few marks on it. And you gazed up at him with wide eyes and parted lips, as if you were going to ask him a question.

He cleared his throat. “You headin’ home after you grab your sweater?”

You nodded absently. “Probably.” You took a tiny step back, hitting the edge of your desk. “You sticking around?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m with, uh, my sister and Pheebs.” Despite his best efforts, his eyes wandered. Fuck. “Sorry,” he muttered, wincing when he realized how obvious it was; he might as well be drooling.

You cocked your head at him. “For what?”

He shook his head, ears burning with shame and, if he was being really honest, desire. “For fucking…. Staring.” He made himself look you in the eye, which was somehow worse. “’m sorry.”

To his surprise, you smiled. “Don’t be. I… I like it when you stare.”

“Do you?” His voice was quiet, as if he thought being any louder would scare you off. “Why?”

You shrugged and hopped up onto your desk. “Because it’s you,” you said simply. Feeling dizzy from the way Roy looked at you, you reached out and touched his hand, grazing his skin with the tip of your finger. “You’re… you’re the kind of guy a girl likes to have staring.”

There it was. Since the first day of school, when he saw you in your little white sneakers and jean jacket, he’d been waiting for a clear sign that you were just as infatuated as he felt. And now, in your dark classroom, with your eyebrows raised and your hand on his and your lip caught between your teeth, Roy finally had his fucking sign.

He took a step forward and settled himself between your knees. Watching you carefully, he put his hands on your waist, digging his fingers into the soaking material of your shirt. You tilted your face towards him, finally giving him permission to do the one thing he’d been desperate to do since the moment you met.

Your lips were soft, even softer than Roy had let himself imagine. He had often wondered what kind of ChapStick he watched you apply on warm afternoons; cherry, he realized. Fucking cherry. For the rest of his life, he knew, whenever he tasted cherry, he’d be thrown back to this moment, kissing the pretty teacher in her classroom, amazed that someone so sweet would kiss someone so fucking miserable.

And kiss him you did. You brought your hands to the back of his head, pressing your chest flush against his. His hands fisted at your shirt, tugging it up a little so his fingertips could brush over your soft skin, still wet from the dunk tank, but quickly heating up as you deepened the kiss. Roy let you take the lead; he waited until your lips parted to open his own mouth, and your tongue was the first one to tentatively flick against his.

He groaned softly into your mouth and let one hand cup your face, thumb caressing your heated cheek. He could get used to this, Roy thought. Used to your cherry-flavored kisses and hands in his hair and body pressed against his, and used to your sweet smiles and shy giggles and bright eyes. He wondered briefly what other things he could look forward to getting used to.

“We,” you huffed into the kiss. “We should go before-” Your breath hitched as Roy’s mouth wandered to your jaw. “-before someone sees us.”

He sighed against your skin. You were right. Roy knew you were fucking right. This was a school. You were in your classroom. As exciting and tempting as it was to keep going, he needed to respect that. After harshly pressing his lips to yours one more time, he pulled back.

“Let me take you out,” he all but begged. “On a fucking proper date.”

Your smile was brilliant. “That would be lovely, Coach.”

He let out a breathy chuckle, the hand on your waist giving you a gentle squeeze. “I think you can call me Roy now.”

“Right.” You giggled, that adorable bashfulness returning, somehow even more endearing now. “That would be lovely, Roy.”

Fucking hell, his name sounded good coming out of your mouth. It sounded so good he couldn’t help pulling you in for another kiss, a slow, tender one.

“Any chance you’re free tonight?” he breathed.

You nodded. “I just need to go home. Shower away the dunk tank.”

Roy did his best not to let his mind wander to that shower. “Right. Right.” He cleared his throat. “And I’ve got to drop my sister and Phoebe at home. Think I could come around at eight?” He kissed your jaw. “We could go get a drink. I can stare at you some more.”

“Sounds perfect.” With a teasing shove to Roy’s chest, you hopped down from the desk and grabbed your sweatshirt from where it hung over your chair, quickly pulling it over your head.

The two of you ambled out of the classroom wearing matching grins and blushes. It was a good thing your classroom was clear across campus from the festival, because it was painfully obvious that the two of you had just been pawing at each other.

“Be ready at eight,” Roy hummed, intertwining his fingers with yours. “And get ready to be stared at all night.”

“Looking forward to it.” You leaned forward and kissed his lips quickly. “See you in a bit, Coach.”

Roy growled at you, a playful, sexy sound.

Your laugh warmed his chest. “Roy,” you corrected as you squeezed his hand. “See you in a bit Roy.”

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