#never read the scarlet letter

[likes-words-and-shrimp]

Seeing that one post going around that's just basically 'say if you ever read fanfictions that are better than published books' and it's like, yeah of course there are some that are better, because some people are genuinely good writers, but also there are good books too, and then seeing people say things like, 'I have never read a good book I only prefer fanfictions' and it's just?? Seek out some books? There are so many different kinds, for so many different things. It just sounds like you're reading for an easy serotonin boost than really engaging with the work.

People who write books and people who write fanfics have one thing in common: they write. They are doing the act of writing, and each person is going to have different styles and come at it with different experiences. Also, if your favorite fanfic writer comes out with an original work that's not just filing the serial numbers off, will you read it? Or are you only there because they're writing your favorite characters from another piece of media (which might even be from a book?). Speaking as a fanfic writer who is happy when people compliment my writing, please read some books I'm begging. Not everything is from booktok.

[mellow-plum]

"Dear Eliza, this is something I should have said a long time ago. I love you."

Miss Scarlet and The Duke (2020-)

[zapsoda]

trying to find good literature recs after the yellow wallpaper (CERTIFIED BANGER PLS READ IT if u havent its a really beautiful well written gothic horror short story) and its all like random feminist literature and while there is nothing wrong with that it is Not what im looking for im looking for well written gothic horror that makes you Think, the politics is just a bonus

[shima-draws]

for some reason, i remember someone (maybe the person who coined the shipname) saying lakehouse was a reference to some sort of song or show???? don't remember the exact details but like... not everyone is gonna know the reference

Yeah somebody said it's from a movie that I've literally never heard of before aklsdnsakdn

Just stick to smth that makes sense within the confines of Pokemon. Knowing the reference of a movie from 2006 isn't a universal experience

[randomfoggytiger]

Someone else who relates to Dimmesdale!! (My English teacher hated him with a burning passion, but aren’t we all hypocrites?)

HOW COULD SHE HATE DIMMESDALE?

Hester was the true hypocrite, imo: our modern day small time celebrity who made a reputation off of her bad name and refused to take accountability for any of her wrongs or toxic patterns of behavior.

Dimmesdale was aware of how incredibly messed up he was, but also didn't want to lose the life he desperately wanted. Soooooo he lived against his own principles, tried to eschew all praise of virtue, and literally and metaphorically tortured himself to death in penance.

Love him. The chapter of him descending into the forest, exploring the dark side that Hester already passively accepted and her ex husband embraced and nurtured was a TRIP. And it was exactly what fifteen year old me needed to read at that time.

Incredible character.

And one of those books that shines with a great teacher and great cover art. And I had good ones.

[cryptturon]

i dont know how to articulate my thoughts in a way that doesnt sound pretentious so don't take my haphazard thoughts too seriously.

was i disinterested in the books we were required to read in school because it was less than interesting, or because it was provided to us in such an environment that thinks it encourages reading by actively discouraging it through dictating what is or isnt appropriate media on a puritan catholic basis?

the things that stuck more were the movies i.e. the boy in the striped pajamas, pearl harbor, and a few others whose premise i can recall despite forgetting the titles. maybe because they were.. obviously cinematic, compared to pages swamped in words. i'm capable of reading novels, but they tire me out faster, bc while it is normal to take breaks between chapters with a bookmark i find comic-format so easy while also interesting and immersive that i finish a book in just an hour at least. plus, a majority of the novels i own were predecessors to a show i finished in its then-entirety (and even then i havent read them all because the show' visual made the overwhelmingly shitty parts of the writing bearable. in the books i had none of that.)

so it makes me wonder. is maus an effectively strong experience because of its execution? because if so, would it have stuck with me had i been required to read it for class? we werent allowed any comics for book reports and such due to typical art elitism rooted in everything, so it makes me wonder if i was just missing out.

or is it only as strong to me because i read two-thirds of it from 11pm to 3am, fatigued from a day of walking around with friends i hadn't seen in weeks or months, and finished the rest when i woke up less than 2 hours ago? i do want to doubt the conditions being as specific as they were are the sole reason or a reason at all, but that makes me think about how dull reading was in school.

like, could it have been as easy as providing us with maus? it just feels so pathetic that my education was as lacking as it probably was but i keep finding more and more reasons to believe it was worse than i last thought and i dont know if i can keep going

[zukkaoru]

happy birthday to nathaniel hawthorne, american author who wrote the house of the seven gables and.. yeah i think that's it actually

[cherubfae]

love letters || hazbin x reader

with alastor, lucifer, sir pentious, angel dust, husk, & vox!

You think you're being sooo sneaky leaving all these sweet love letters for your favorite guy. You're not. They 100% know but if they'll do anything about it is another question entirely.

tags: gn!reader! but implied male/masc reader for Angel ofc :3 mostly fluff!! mildly suggestive in Luci's & Vox's, slight angst for Angel, mention of alcohol consumption in Husk's! Alastor being his usual self lmao

Alastor

You must think you are quite the clever little thing, leaving such sweet notes around for anyone to find. Little letters you think he doesn't know come from you. His shadows haunt every crevice aware of all that goes on within the hotel's interior, and especially those that dwell within his radio tower. It is amusing watching you slither into his abode to leave yet another sweetly decorated note on his control panel while Alastor lurks within the darker corners of his tower. Scarlet eyes soaking you in like a lion hunting a gazelle.

Then, like smoke, you slip out the hatch and down the ladder towards the hotel as quickly as death. Trying to seem casual, whistling an off-key tune.

Curious, he grins. What a curious creature you are, hmm? He picks the letter up, his red claw caressing the crease of the seal. His name stares up at him, written in exquisite cursive and emboldened red ink he wished was blood.

With a single claw he slits open the top of the envelope with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel, withdrawing its contents that had piqued his interest. Immediately, his smirk widens. Positively Cheshire-like.

"My, my, darling. You are endearing, I hope you know that!" Alastor cooed with crackling static. He traced his finger along the penmanship.

He pictures you hunched over your desk fretting over such a delicate piece of stationery. Your words oozed admiration for the Radio Demon. How truly touching! The sentiment was most definitely mutual. Next time, he'll be sure to catch you in the act, little lamb.

Lucifer

The King of Hell was quick to move in upon Charlie's insistence. Eager to make up for lost time with his daughter, he takes on all sorts of tasks and attends every event she has planned. Every team-building exercise, there was Lucifer at the forefront; lest his rubber duck depression returned.

Initially, he's quite confused by the sight of a white and gold foiled envelope placed neatly on the center of his pillow when he returns to his quarters to rest. He's never seen his name written with such care. The scent of love and genuine fondness exudes from the small parcel and tempts his senses. It catches him off guard, a puff of hot air escaping his lips, blinking owlishly.

He's lightheaded as he reads the letter with one hand braced against the wall beside him. An apple-red blush coats his cheeks and creeps down his neck. The scent of you clouds his mind and corrupts his thoughts. He's starting to feel dizzy yet oh-so-happy!

You... You wrote this didn't you, sweetling? Red eyes wash over the page. He closes his eyes and presses the letter to his lips as he leans his back into the wall. It's surely from you, but why didn't you just come and talk to him instead of being all mysterious and cryptic? Has he not made his affections for you clear enough? Perhaps you were shy and felt more confident in staying anonymous.

Lucifer couldn't promise you or himself that he wouldn't go and find you immediately after he calmed down enough to be well-composed in a public space. He was practically vibrating with excitement.

Shaking out his hands and jumping in place, Lucifer straightens his tie. If all goes to plan, he'll have you snuggled in his warm embrace as he flies over Pentagram City before sundown.

Of course, he will make sure all six of his massive wings are preened and looking their best first. Hey, he is the King of Hell after all! He's gonna show off for you a little.

"Alright, darlin', I hope you're ready for a night on the town." Lucifer sucked in a sharp breath and exited his room swiftly making his way to you.

Sir Pentious

Sweet man is so flabbergasted! Surely this is a prank, yes? No? Oh my, then that must mean--! His pupils dilate and water, a big cheesy grin sneaks across his cheeks. His tail swishes behind him lightly and it's hard to fight the blush off his cheeks. It takes everything in him to collect his breath as he clutches the letter to his chest.

"What'cha got there, boss?" Points out one of his Egg Bois. Sir Pentious all but squeaks and shoves the paper unceremoniously into his breast pocket.

Pentious rasps, "No-nothing that needs to concern you!"

"Oh, okay!" Chirps his Egg Boi, waddling off.

Sir Pentious sighs, slitted eyes wander over to where you sit at the bar engaged in deep conversation with Angel and Husk. There's a weird tug in his chest he's never felt before. A longing. You catch his eye and give a gentle smile and offer him a tiny wave which he returns eagerly. He sighs dreamily, coiling in on his tails. I hope I may catch you at a more opportune time, my heart.

Angel Dust

Whenever he's had a particularly rough night at Valentino's, Angel retrieves a pastel blue shoe box from deep within his closest, almost completely filled to the brim with letters, gifts, and keepsakes you'd given him. Even the silly little half-assed doodle you made of him as a spider. He saved it all.

You're so cute, thinking that you're all anonymous when you are absolutely not, leaving him the cutest fuckin' letters that make him want to explode. It's nice. Having someone want you and not for sex. The pure heart of gold of yours was gonna be the double-death of him.

Angel hasn't quite worked up the nerve to ask you out yet. It's something he ponders every day, especially when reading your newest letter. He feels too stuck, too... Fucked up. That's not something he'd wanna put on you. You've never treated him like anything but a person. You saw the real him.

Instead, he lives for your letters. Wishing things could be different, that he could find the power to cut the contract with Valentino, and truly become yours when he's no longer that fucker's pet.

His eyes well with tears as he cradles your latest letter, praising him for how well he'd done at Charlie's little team-building experiment. He pretends it's you that he's holding. His fingers combing through your hair, smiling to himself when you lazily lean up his body to kiss him ever-so-softly. A true kiss made of real love, not lust. You snuggle into his chest fluff with your arms around his waist.

"Baby, I," with a blink, Angel is back to reality. The weight on his chest had only been a snoozing Fat Nuggets. Angel sighs, stroking his little buddy's ears. "Maybe one day, I can be strong enough for both of us, baby." He says out loud, hoping your heart will find his words.

Husk

He's quick to snatch the new letter up before anyone else sees, sending his half-drunk whiskey all across the countertop with a clang. Husk cussed under his breath, stashing your thankfully dry letter beneath the bar for safe-keeping until he could read it later.

"Why'dja gotta leave it out in the open?" Husk grumbles without malice. The playful sway of his raised feathery tail and soft hum as he wipes up his spilled drink was always a good sign of his rare, pleasant mood.

You're growing more and more bold with each letter. Leaving them places where someone other than Husk could accidentally misinterpret them: Charlie.

The last thing he needed was the well-meaning Princess of Hell to overextend herself and start playing matchmaker. Husker was doing just aces on his own. His love life was his and his alone to fuss about. He finished cleaning up the bar for the night, keeping the booze secure in its display case until the following day.

Husk peruses the letter freely in the privacy of his bedroom, one arm folded beneath his head. His golden eyes flicked from word to word. His pupils expand as he exhales an airy chuckle, lingering on the word handsome. The sound of his own trill rumbling in his throat startles him enough to drop the letter and slam his elbow into his nightstand.

Hissing, Husk pressed his palms against his shut eyelids. "Fuck, baby, ya really got this ol' cat comin' undone, huh? Sneaky little minx." He lied back down with a huff. "If only ya knew." His eyes slip shut. Tomorrow. Husk would finally approach you tomorrow.

Vox

"I see you still don't wanna text these, huh, baby?" Vox scoops up the letter taking residence on his seat, hastily clawing it open. He plops down on his chair, leaning back. "Too shy to be so vulnerable for me?" Vox's sharp-toothed grin spreads wide across his display screen, red dripping from the corner of his mouth as he hungrily drinks in your words.

"You are too fuckin' cute, aren't'cha, darlin'?" Vox chuckles, smashing his fist against his console with triumph. A bolt of electricity spirals around the system, causing him to yelp as it spans across the entire city. He created another blackout. "FUCK."

Vox is at your doorstep in a matter of minutes despite the darkness of Pentagram City. The forever-flushed red sky is light enough to find your apartment building. He's dressed in a new suit and feigned ignorance when you opened your door, holding a new letter. Surprised to see him there. Hah, caught with your hand in the fuckin' cookie jar, babe.

Allowing him into your home, Vox easily towers over you with a big grin. You looked fuckin' adorable, staring up at him so meekly.

"You didn't need to hide your feelings from me, sweetheart." He gently tilts your chin upwards. A single cyan claw grazes the line of your jaw, sliding to cup your cheek with his full palm.

"Vox, I," you stammer. Your sentence goes no further than those two small words. Vox traces your lower lip with the tip of his sharp thumb, smiling as your eyes flutter shut. He waits to see if you continue to speak and when you don't, he nods and tugs you to him by your hips. You gasp against him and he smiles, a bit softer now.

"I know, baby. I've gotcha," Vox's mouth presses tight to yours, lifting you up further into his arms for better access. Electricity soon ignites the house and city, Velvette must've gotten things running again.

|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024

[draconicscreaming]

Lost Bet

Was losing a bet against Iharu so bad?

Notes: Suggestive. Been a while since I've written anything so apologies! Not proofread.

Pairings: Reader x Hoshina

“I am not wearing that.”

“Yes you are. You lost the bet. Either this or go streaking-”

“OK, OK FINE,” You bark out harshly, snatching the clothing item from Iharu’s grip. He grins, flashing that sharp toothed smile in a way that makes you want to smack it off his face. You shove it into your gym bag and grumble to yourself, turning to leave.

“Next workout session, you have to wear that. If ya don’t, I’ll think of something worse. Or, ya know, that streaking,” Iharu goads. You shoot him a look that does nothing but continue pulling that smile of his into something more cocky and smug. You don’t say another word as you stalk out of the room and to your quarters.

Note to self: Never make a bet with Iharu again.

—-

The following day you kept to your promise. As much as you wanted to break the arrangement, your pride wouldn’t let you do so. Or you just wanted that asshole to shut the fuck up. Though, your pride was going to get wounded one way or another, especially the looks that you were getting in the training room. Your cheeks burned, arms crossed over your chest with your back facing the far wall to keep your shame from becoming more apparent.

Iharu grinned at you from across the room and your frustration flared white hot in your chest again.

He had… Gifted you a new pair of workout shorts. One’s that fit nice and snug that help accentuate the curve of your ass and the width of your hips. You wondered how the hell that bastard knew your damn size. Pervert. They were black in color. Simple. Something you would’ve normally worn as a pair of training shorts. Except for one. Tiny. Little. Problem.

Plastered across your ass in bold, white letters read: Vice Captain’s.

Everyone you came across gave you a look, mixed between amused smirks or mild concern. You were lucky, so far, in not coming across the Vice Captain himself just yet. You hope that he’s busy with paperwork from the most recent Kaiju attack.

“Hey~ What’s wrong over there? You’ve been sitting in the corner this whole time,” Iharu calls, sauntering over with his arms crossed over his chest in a confident stride. “Why don’t ya come hit some dumbbells with me? Eh? Eh?” He leans forward and nudges your cheek, “If ya do that one little thing, you can go change out of those. Let you out of the punishment early.”

You glare at him, wishing the rage in your eyes could combust into flames on the spot. But the idea of running back to your room as quickly as possible after this was a very welcome idea. You slap his hand away and stalk past him without another word, Iharu trailing behind you still radiating that essence of Pure Bastard.

You grab a pair of dumbbells and take your place across from him, your rear still facing away from the door. Just in case. You can’t stand to keep looking at Iharu’s stupid expression anymore and opt to close your eyes, deciding that losing yourself in the workout would be a welcome reprieve from your embarrassment. Just this set and it’ll be all over.

Breathe. In and out. Curl. Uncurl. The repetition of the weights help ease some of your frustration and you shut everything else out to focus on the reps.

“Hey.” One. Two. Three.

“Hey, y/n” One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

“Y/n,” Iharu said again, finally slicing through your focus. Your eyes flash open and you drop the weights to your side, glaring at him.

“What!?,” you snap before you freeze suddenly. Now you know why Iharu’s gotten your attention. You see him in the corner of your eye and your head slowly turns to meet Vice Captain Hoshina’s eyes. His eyes. They’re open and boring straight into you, arms crossed and those scarlet orbs swimming with an emotion you can’t quite place. Does he look pissed? But how could he see? 

You’re facing- Oh shit. The mirror. You’re not facing a wall at all.  

Your cheeks grow red hot at this realization and you drop the weights, standing upright stiffly and giving him a salute. “Vice Captain Hoshina, I-”

“My office. Now,” he commands and turns from the training room and leaves. You couldn’t place his tone either and the feeling of dread crawls up your spine, cold and paralyzing. You stand there for what feels like a solid minute, before you reluctantly will your feet to move and follow after him.

You don’t look back at Iharu. You don’t give that bastard the satisfaction.

—

The door clicks behind you and you approach his desk. The Vice Captain is sitting in his chair, papers in his hand and his attention is fixed on them. His eyes are closed this time. But you know better to assume that he’s actually reading whatever he has. He’s just waiting.

You stand before his desk and give another salute, throat dry, and your heart hammeriing wildly in your chest. You're dizzy from the stress of the situation. “Vice Captain. I’m sorry. I lost a bet and Iharu-,” you find yourself explaining, hurrying out your words before he could cut you off. Would he be less pissed at you?

Vice Captain Hoshina places the papers down on his desk in a measured movement, turning in his chair to face you fully. He meets your eyes and he… Smiles. You immediately blush and stiffen, overwhelmed by the expression. He didn’t look pissed at all. He looks pleased and when he shows that scarlet gaze again, it’s heated with something that sends a bolt of electricity straight through your body.

“Vice Captain’s, huh?,” He muses, stroking his chin and his gaze drops to glance down at your shorts. His other hand lifts and he swirls his index finger in a motion telling you to turn around. You blink at him. 

“Come on. Don’t be shy,” Hoshina says lowly, “I wanna see it properly.” 

You oblige him and slowly turn around and stop when you’re facing the opposite end of the office. Was this really happening? He.... he likes these shorts on you? The realization causes your heart to flutter and another dizzying feeling to wash over you. This time for a better reason.

You didn’t hear him get up from his desk. Not the squeak of his chair and not the light tapping of his boots against the floor, but he’s suddenly standing right behind you. You gasp when his hands rest on either side of your hips, giving them a light squeeze. His breath brushes against his your ear when he speaks, this time his words a little more husky, “I can make ya mine if ya want. Wear these shorts for me again, yeah?”

He presses his body against your back, his hands guiding your ass to press more flush against him. “Y-yes, Vice Captain,” you squeak out, earning you a rumbling chuckle from the man. Your head swims with the sudden turn of events. Not that you were upset. No. This was a dream come true.

Little did you know, Iharu was about to win another bet.

[my-castles-crumbling]

admirer - @wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 329

It starts with a single, red rose. Delivered to Sirius Black at breakfast, brought by a school owl, and dropped on his plate. Blushing, he tucks it into his hair, through the dark locks that are tied into a bun. 

And everyone gapes. Because Sirius Black has certainly never been one for flowers.

The next week it’s a letter. Nobody realizes at first that it’s out of the ordinary until Sirius, while reading it, turns a delicate shade of pink that makes Marlene McKinnon crack a joke about him going soft. But Sirius seems too happy to care.

A few weeks after, it’s a hair tie. He’s been growing his hair out longer and longer, needing to pull it back for Potions and Herbology, and the Gryffindor girls have been complaining about him stealing all of theirs. So, at breakfast, one is delivered. A ribbon, embroidered with moons and an intricate pattern of stars. Immediately, he pulls his hair back with it, little tendrils slipping down in his sparkling eyes.

Painstakingly-folded origami, small boxes of chocolate, beautiful quills. The gifts continue. And every time, Sirius’s reaction is as mistifying as the last. He’s known for being confident to the point of obnoxious, for not caring about the little things. But when the owl delivers these tokens of affection? Everyone can see it: He all-but-melts.

Bets are made. Coins exchanged. People have hunches, but nobody knows for sure. Until the last day of sixth year, when the (now well-known) owl swoops down, and heads turn. But it’s not Sirius the owl lands in front of. 

Remus Lupin, blushing scarlet, has a gigantic bouquet of roses on his plate; so big he can no longer see across the table. And, as the Great Hall bursts into murmurs, Sirius grins. 

“Think they all know who my admirer is now, Moony?” he asks, landing a kiss on the taller boy’s cheek. 

But Remus just rolls his eyes and pulls his boyfriend in closer.

[megamindsecretlair]

Runaway Lover, Part 2

Pairing: Professor!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. SMUT. ANGST. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female receiving) teasing/mocking, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, possession kink, all consensual. Power imbalance.

Summary: After learning that Stunna is your teacher, you must drop the class. When you're unable to, you try to break things off with Stunna. Only it doesn't go so well.

Word Count: 6,067k

Part 1 | Part 3

A/N: Everybody say thank you @melaninpov. The responses to this fic was overwhelming! I love ya'll so much! 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 @melaninpov @twocentuar @blackpinup22 @babybratzmaraj @theyscreamsannii @kiabialia @thedonsfactory @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @nworbaij @hopefulromantic1 @lesbiantreehugger @longpause-awkwardsmile @badassdoll @kholdkill @blackpinup22 @cardi-bre91 @blowmymbackout @jay-mach @sageispunk @yourofficialgal

You wanted to throw up. You wanted to disappear. You wanted to jump out of your skin and never look back. 

To his credit, Stunna - you refused to call him by his real name - continued on with his spiel, effectively ignoring you. The only thing you could think of was how good he felt. How good he smelled. Those sweet and filthy words he whispered in your ear while he was playing with your pussy. While he owned you. While he seemed to reach inside you and yank out your soul. He stole the damn thing back in Punta Cana and now here he was. In your city. In your school. 

Your anxiety twisted your gut into painful knots that no amount of breathing exercises could fix. You felt as if you had a scarlet letter on your chest. Could anyone tell? Would anyone know? 

You tried to cast your eyes around the room, but there were only the bored looks on everyone’s faces. There were some people checking him out. You didn’t blame them. The man was gorgeous. And the chocolate outfit was so sexy against his dark skin. You wished he was wearing his grills as well. That would ruin you.

You slumped in your seat and looked everywhere but at him. You needed to drop this class. You needed to escape. There was no way that you could spend the next four months staring at that piece of art and not fail the class. Or want to leap over everyone and jump his bones.

You knew what those hands could do. You knew what filthy images he could conjure with his mouth. His deep voice was sinful and you spent a glorious Saturday getting to listen to him speak, laugh, or tell jokes. 

You couldn’t do this. But fear kept you glued to your seat. You could not get up in front of everyone and walk out where everyone could see. And what would Stunna do? Ignore you? Chastise you? Tell you sit your ass back down?

There was only so much he could do without turning awareness to the fact that you knew each other already. The last thing you could afford was a scandal. You’d end up in a newspaper somewhere. Or worse. On the news. You pictured them finding an embarrassing photo of you from the gram and blasting it nationwide. 

The headlines would write themselves. No. You did not need that type of negativity and you were not prepared to do that to Stunna either. So you endured. You waited. You avoided looking at him but you couldn’t close your ears.

You focused on breathing. You daydreamed. You did anything you could not to focus on how those pants fit his long frame. His ass looked magnificent. The sleeves of his sweater were rolled up to reveal his forearms. 

His eyes caught you staring and he fumbled in his speech. He recovered quickly, going over his syllabus for the class. How it was important to show up because he was the type to challenge thinking. He wasn’t going to be a stuffy professor, or at least he wouldn’t try to be. 

You heard a soft sigh to your left. You turned to the sound. There was a woman next to you with pale skin and strawberry blonde hair. She looked at Stunna as if he hung the moon. 

You didn’t blame her but there was a surge of jealousy. You wanted to tell her to look somewhere else because he was fucking taken. The realization that he did not belong to you was like a bucket of ice water down your back. You turned your attention back to Stunna as he told everyone to introduce themselves.

You fought off a groan. If possible, you would sink further into your seat. You hated when professors did this type of shit. Couldn’t they get to know people some other way? In this day and age of technology, how hard was it to print pictures and names and study it like they made students study for an exam? 

Stunna parked his sexy ass on the edge of the desk in the corner of the room. He had an iPad in his hand and he seemed to be jotting notes after each student said their name and a hobby of theirs. 

When it was your turn, Stunna said your name. You took a deep breath and recited your name. You drew a blank on any and all hobbies you ever partook in. “I like to travel,” you finally said. 

Stunna smirked and nodded. “Any interesting places?” He asked.

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I just came back from the DR, actually,” you said.

Stunna nodded. “Very cool! Now, let’s see…” He looked down at his iPad and called the next person but he still had that smirk on his face. You needed to get out. You needed away. He could not make light of the fact that you knew each other. Knowing fuck well it could jeopardize not only you, but his teaching credentials.

Soulmate or not, you were not going to let him throw away his career. The rest of the class went by while you slowly died inside. Stunna introduced some of the books he wanted to read and discuss for the next few months.

As soon as he dismissed the class, you were the first one out of the door. You didn’t think he tried to call after you, but you didn’t give him the chance to. You flew out of the classroom, out of the building, and made a beeline towards the Admin building.

You ran up the steps, lungs burning as you raced across campus. You had a runaway thought that life didn’t seem quite so dull considering that Stunna was in your neck of the woods. But you squashed that. Nothing could happen as long as he was your teacher.

You went up the elevator and got off on the floor with your academic counselor. You made it to his office and knocked on the door. Mr. Sullivan pushed his glasses from his face and looked up with a smile. He was a sweet, if aloof, man who seemed to phone in his work rather than take any joy in it. 

“How is the first day of classes?” He asked. He smiled politely, but there was a look in his eye as if he was trying to place you. 

“I need to drop a class. Or get a different class?” You sat down in front of Mr. Sullivan’s desk and clutched your backpack to your chest. You didn’t want to look at your phone. You didn’t want to see missed calls or texts from Stunna.  There was nothing to discuss until you had all your cards on the table. 

Mr. Sullivan’s thick eyebrows drew down as he woke up his ancient computer. He typed around and hummed as he did so. Your leg bounced a mile a minute as he looked up something on it.

“Forgive me, what’s your name and student number?” 

You told him, repeating it over and over because you were talking too fast for him. Once he got your information, he was back to humming as he searched. “Now, which class do you need to drop?” 

You rolled your neck and told him, again, what you needed done. He nodded and went back to clicking around. There couldn’t be that many literature classes at this fucking school. 

“Oh, dear,” he said.

“What does that mean?” You asked. You chewed on your bottom lip. You fought everything in here to jump over the desk and use his computer to drop the class. 

Mr. Sullivan shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s too late to drop the class,” he said.

“What? What about the first week's grace period?” 

“Usually, yes, you would have the option to switch classes. In your case, however, every literature class at your level is currently full. Perhaps you can check back in at the end of the week and see who starts switching around. Although, you do need this class in order to qualify for your major. I would not suggest dropping it and trying to make it up next year. Six classes are difficult for any student…”

He began to drone on and on about preventing burn out, protecting mental health, whatever else his nasally voice could conjure up. You tuned him out as his words replayed over and over. You were stuck with the class. Or you’d have to try and take six next semester. You could do it, you had no doubt about it. But you shouldn’t have to.

Your last year was your last hurrah before you had to think about what you wanted to do with your major. If you wanted to do grad school or not. You could do a summer class but now was the time to think about internships. 

You sighed and sat back in your seat. Hope was cruel. Hope was spiteful and evil. You had your hopes up that Mr. Sullivan would be able to help you but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t save you. 

The melancholy this time around sat on you like a ton of bricks. You hadn’t expected to find Stunna on your trip. You hadn’t expected to fall so fast for him. You had your entire life to find someone, true, but you already found your perfect person. Written in the stars for you. Made for you. And now this.

“Now of course, there are some classes offered in the summer for a summer term. But…”

“That’s alright, Mr. Sullivan. I’ll stay in this one. Thanks,” you murmured. You left his office, let the next kid come in and bug the old man, as you left the Admin building. This shit fucking sucked. 

You finally fished your phone out of your pocket. As expected, there were missed calls and desperate texts from Stunna.

Stunna: Please, talk to me.

Stunna: Please

Stunna: I didn’t know! We never talked about it.

Stunna: At least let me know you’re alive??

Each text hurt your heart worse. You could feel his desperation, no matter how far apart you were physically. It felt as if his heart was calling towards yours. Connected on some plane you couldn’t see. The last text from him was an address. 

Stunna: Please, meet me tonight. Just to talk.

Yeah, right. If you went to his place tonight, you’d do more than talk. Your attraction to him was that strong. That powerful. You knew you needed to talk to him if you were going to stay in his class. You were both adults. You could keep your hands off of each other, right? 

Later that night, you met up with Angela and Stella back in the dorm you all shared. They could tell that something was wrong with you but you couldn’t begin to describe it. Every time you tried, the words dried in your throat. Wilting like old flowers. 

“Girl, damn. What happened between you and that guy?” Stella asked.

“Did he hurt you?” Angela asked right after. 

“It’s fine,” you said. Your leg was back to bouncing. Despite your earlier protests, you needed to talk to Stunna. Meeting at his place wasn’t the smartest move. But what was the alternative? Anywhere you met publicly, you worried that anyone would read it all over your face. You’d be just as obsessed as the girl in your class. 

“It’s not fine. If he hurt you, run me his name. I’d beat that mu’fucka up!” Stella said. She held up her tiny fists and shadowboxed in the living room. 

You giggled and shook your head. “I promise he didn’t hurt me. He was the perfect gentleman,” you said. Even while he was in your guts, he was still sweet afterwards. He knew exactly what you needed.

“Then what the hell is going on?” Angela asked.

“Right? I feel like we should have told her to look the other way,” Stella said.

“How could we? That man was so damn fine!” Angela said.

“All of them were! Like where the hell they grow them at?” 

The sisters went back and forth talking about Stunna and his friends. They were right. All of them were fine. But Stunna was different. Smooth skin, neat beard. Tall as a tree. He checked every last one of your boxes. Smart, funny, cultured, traveled, well read. 

You were in trouble. You were standing on the train tracks watching the train approach with lights on, horn blaring, and you couldn’t make yourself move. Didn’t want to move, truth be told.

The time to meet Stunna grew closer. You felt it like the swing of a pendulum. You kept checking your phone. You hadn’t answered Stunna and he hadn’t sent anything else after his address and plea for you to come over. 

Before it got too late, you told the sisters that you would go to the library to see if they had the books you needed for class. Anything to avoid having to go to the student store to purchase the books you’d only need once. They continued to talk and watch TV, content to still recover from the trip.

You went to your room, closed the door, and let the panic overtake you. You tore through your closet trying to find an outfit that screamed that this was casual. You were not trying to look pretty for the man. 

Jeans seemed too casual. A skirt seemed too suggestive. Romper seemed too out of place. You were thinking too much about it. And you were stalling. You sighed and chose a dress. It still seemed too suggestive, but dresses could be casual. It was whatever. It was no big deal. 

You got dressed and left the dorm, heading across campus and off site. There were campus-owned apartments here and you quickly walked, hoping to avoid trouble. The air was cool, almost cold, and there was a light breeze that made trees sway. 

In your haste to leave, you forgot a jacket. Stupid. Stupid just like your decision to hike to his apartment up the block. Your feet carried you there anyway and soon you were outside of his door, knocking on it.

A second later, Stunna opened the door. He changed out of his outfit for the day. He wore gray sweatpants and a black tank that highlighted his amazing physique. 

God took his time with this one. 

There was no doubt about it. You were momentarily struck dumb, openly staring at his body.

“You wanna come in?” His deep voice shook you from your filthy thoughts. 

You smiled and giggled nervously. He stepped back and you went inside. The place was like any other standard apartment. White walls, bright hardwood floors that had seen better days, with a small kitchen and bar area. 

He had boxes lined up against the wall. Some were open and some weren’t. He was still in the middle of moving in, but he had a linen couch and recliner, coffee table, and a flat screen TV with a football game playing. 

He crossed the room and put it on mute. He wiped his hands on the back of his sweats, calling attention to his glorious ass. You clasped your hands in front of you lest the traitorous things do something rash, like smack his booty. 

“I was hoping you’d come.” 

“I didn’t think I was going to,” you admitted. You felt silly standing in the middle of his living room but you didn’t want to sit down and get comfortable either. 

“I’m glad you did. Now I wish we would’ve at least discussed where we were from. When you said you were starting classes, I just didn’t think that it would be possible you’d be in my class,” he said. 

You groaned and rubbed your temples. “I tried to drop the class today,” you said.

A flash of hurt ran across his features before he turned to the TV. A moment later, his features were schooled and he nodded. “That’s probably for the best,” he said.

“I couldn’t drop it. It was too late. Everyone else was full and if I wait till next year, I’d be working overtime to pass all my classes,” you said. 

Stunna just stared at you across the gap. You played with your fingers, tapping the tips to keep you grounded. 

“I don’t like this,” he said. He gestured towards the couch. “Please, come sit. I won’t bite.” He grinned at the end of his sentence and you rolled your eyes, fighting off a grin. He was so damn corny.

You stepped closer anyway, feeling better with each step towards him. You didn’t like being that far away from him either. You sat down, smoothing your blue dress over your legs so that you wouldn’t give him the wrong impression. Maybe jeans would have been better. You definitely needed pants right now. 

You felt the heat of Stunna’s attention on your legs, but you clasped your hands over your lap and kept your legs firmly closed, no matter how awkward or painful it was because of your thick thighs. 

Stunna sat on the edge of the cushion, legs spread wide and taking up so much room that his knee almost brushed yours. His knee may as well have been a raging fire. This was insane right? To feel so intensely for a stranger? 

Stunna didn’t feel like a stranger, that was the problem. He felt like you had known him all your life and you were only remembering your time together. It was surreal and you had no frame of reference for something like this. 

“So you can’t drop the class. And I just got hired so I can’t drop it either,” he said.

“Nope,” you said, emphasizing the P. 

“We didn’t imagine our connection in Punta Cana. It felt like I was dying when you walked away,” he said.

“Don’t say that,” you said. You sighed and refused to look at him. 

“Don’t tell you the truth?” He asked.

“We can’t do anything about it! You’re…my teacher,” you said. 

“I’m not suggesting we do anything about it. I’m just…I’m saying that we can’t ignore this. I just found you,” he said. He tilted his head so that he could catch your eyes. You looked up at him and melted. 

He was so damn cute that it hurt. It physically hurt you that he looked that way, smiled that way, and all of his attention was focused on you. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world and it was cruel.

“We finally found each other and the universe really said ‘guess again’.” You tried to smile but your heart hurt too damn much. 

Stunna moved his hand and slowly grabbed yours. You let him. He slid his fingers in between yours. His hand was hot to the touch. But comforting. Solid. Real. He squeezed your hand and brought it to his lips to place a small kiss on the back of your hand. 

“It’s not forever. We can restrain ourselves for four months, can’t we?” He asked. 

You licked your lips and looked him over. How? How could you be in the same class as him or be near him and not want to touch him? Hold him? Kiss him? You had shared so much on the beach in the DR and more so in his room. 

He pried you open and stared deep into your heart without flinching. He touched your soul. Melded and meshed your worlds together. You couldn’t ignore that. You also didn’t want either one of you to get in trouble. Someone would catch on. It may not be now or in a week, but someone would eventually. 

“We can restrain ourselves for four months,” you agreed. It was only four months. Twelve weeks. That was nothing. It would fly by. 

Stunna nodded and squeezed your fingers. “So, that means we probably shouldn’t meet like this. Or be alone…ever in the next four months. Because I’m not strong enough to resist you,” he said.

“Shut up!” You laughed and shook your head. 

“I wish I could let you see inside my head. You have been on my mind all day. All last night. The things I was thinkin’ ‘bout you earlier,” he said. He bit his lip, head tilted to the side. If you squinted, you were sure that you could see the dirty fantasies playing through his mind. 

“You are insane,” you said. “That doesn’t help!” 

“You’re right, I’m sorry. That was inappropriate,” he said. 

He still held your hand in his and you stared at it. You fit like two lost puzzle pieces to a complicated puzzle. You didn’t want to let go. But you needed to. It needed to start now.

You started to slide your hand from his. He squeezed your hand, unwilling to let go. “Stunna,” you whispered.

“This shit isn’t fair,” he said softly. 

“I know. It’s not forever, right?” You asked. 

He nodded and loosened his grip. You slipped your fingers from his. You lied. This was the hardest shit you ever had to do in your life. Saying goodbye to him the second time hurt a lot worse. It was physical blow to your gut. 

In the DR, you could pretend that it was just a vacation fling. You were talking about meeting up again, but that was in the future. At some unknown date that you didn’t have to think about. You had weeks or months to get to know each other. 

Now, he was real and in your face. Now, he was close enough to reach out and grab. An ache thumped in your chest and you stood up. If you didn’t get up and leave right now, you were going to break down in his new apartment and no man needed to see that. 

You stood and stepped away from his couch, already feeling the numbness creep back in. The hopelessness that the next four months would drag on and on. You made it halfway to the door before Stunna called your name.

You turned towards him just as he was crashing his lips to yours. You hadn’t heard him cross the distance, but with his long ass legs it probably only took him two steps to reach you. He grabbed the sides of your head and tilted your head so that he could kiss you deeper. 

The strength of his kiss undid you. You melted instantly into his arms, kissing him back with as much desperation. He backed you up until your back hit the wall and he pressed you into it, rubbing his erection into your lower belly. 

You had a taste of that so you knew how good it felt. How well he maneuvered it to bring you the most utmost pleasure. You gripped onto his shoulders and held him closer to you while you kissed and explored each other’s mouths.

His warm lips were heaven against yours. Tongue playing with yours. You never wanted it to end. Just kissing him got your panties damp, arousal starting to leak out of you. Sweat gathered between your thighs and you rubbed them together, needing more friction than that.

Stunna broke the kiss, giving you some much needed oxygen. It brought a little clarity. “Stunna, we can’t–” 

Stunna kissed you again, cutting off your complaints. “We need a proper goodbye right?” 

“We had one yesterday,” you pointed out. 

“Naw, this is a real one. Please. I can’t let you walk away for four months without something to hold me over,” he said. 

“You so nasty,” you said and grinned. 

He looked into your eyes and grinned. His smile would always slay you. It was so open and joyous. Straight teeth. Perfect teeth. Perfect smile. Perfect man. 

“Hm, I seem to recall a bad little girl letting strangers play with her pussy,” he said. He smacked your lips with his, once and then twice. He kissed along your jaw and then started kissing your neck. “You can’t wear a dress like this and not expect me to lose my mind.” 

“I didn’t know what to wear!” You said. 

His hands moved from your head down your sides and then gripped your ass under your dress. He moaned, clenching and unclenching your ass cheeks with a low growl. 

“Do me a favor and don’t wear dresses for the next four months. I won’t be able to handle it,” he said. 

You made a strangled noise in the back of your throat. He wouldn’t be able to handle it? “Then you have to come to work looking like a bum, because that’s not fair,” you said. He got to look like an Adonis while you had to dress like a nun? How was that fair?

He squeezed your ass and you moaned, back bowing off of the wall. “Take these panties off for me,” he said. 

Your hands flew to your panties before your mind caught up. You hesitated briefly. Stunna stilled against you, likely giving you a chance to step away. Fuck it. You needed a proper goodbye. You needed something to hold you over as well. Something to get you through these next four months.

You got rid of your panties and he helped you take off your shoes and then your panties. He grinned, lips returning to yours. You moaned, feverish for his kisses. Stunna hissed knelt down in front of you.

He gathered up your dress and pooled it around your hips and fisted it in one hand. He spread your pussy lips with his free hand and delved into your pussy with his tongue. 

“Oh shit!” You moaned. You lifted one leg to give him better access. He growled his appreciation and moved his long tongue towards your dripping entrance. He pumped his tongue in and out of you and your eyes rolled back.

“OH fuck!” You screamed. Your hands dug into his small afro and pulled whatever you could get your hands on. His mouth felt amazing on your pussy. His nose tickled your clit and you felt it in your belly. You huffed and moaned, thighs shaking. 

He moved his tongue to your clit and flicked it back and forth with a speed you didn’t know he possessed. Your whines turned to desperate cries as you began to shake in earnest, screaming out an orgasm. 

Stunna rolled his whole head, slurping up your juices. He moaned into your pussy. He smacked your ass as you twitched above him. You looked down and caught his eyes at the same time. You almost came again. Locking eyes with him brought a level of intensity to the moment that you couldn’t describe. He made you feel like you were a giant. Or sitting on top of the world. 

When he was done with you, he slowly withdrew. There was a spit chain between his lips and your pussy. He grinned, watching it expand. He finally licked his lips and broke it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood up. 

“Taste even better than I remember. Should’ve seen the nut I busted in the shower this morning,” he said.

Your head dropped forward against his chest. “Fuck, don’t tell me that,” you said.

His rumbling chuckle vibrated against your cheek. You lifted your head and moved your hand beneath his sweats. He went commando underneath and you lifted an eyebrow at him. He grinned as your hand wrapped around his dick. You stroked him slowly because you didn’t have enough lubrication to get him going.

“Was gripping my meat and stroking, thinkin’ ‘bout you. About the sounds you made. The way you fit me so well,” he said. As he spoke, his tone went lower. He leaned forward and kissed you. 

He moved his hips and your hand slipped out. You looked at him with the question in your eyes. He grabbed your hips and turned you around. “As much as I would love those lips on me, I’ve been dying to get back in this pussy,” he said. 

He tugged the top of your dress until it came down and trapped your arms to your sides. He pushed you against the wall. The cold hit your nipples and you cried out. He scooted in closer and you felt him tug his sweats down. 

He lifted your left leg, slapping his meat against your pussy. The wet smacks were filthy. You moaned and he ran his dick in between your folds, getting the tip wet.

The tip of his dick pushed at your entrance and you moaned. He slid in, inch by inch, savoring the feeling of getting filled up by him. You were a huffing, panting mess by the time he bottomed out. He kissed your neck where it met your shoulder and you moaned. 

“Fuck,” he whispered.

Exactly your sentiments. You fit. You were a perfect match. He filled you up, just this side of incredibly full, and you closed your eyes to the sensation. To the feeling. He pinned you to the wall and began to move slowly, sliding in and out of you.

“Shit,” he moaned. 

“You feel so good, baby,” you moaned. 

“I feel good? You feel like home,” he said. He continued to kiss your neck, nibbling a bit, as his strokes increased. 

Your hands were on the wall, trying to anchor yourself against him. His strokes increased until he was rutting inside of you. Each thrust drew a ragged moan from your lips. He moved to a different angle and touched your sweet spot. You cried out, shaking desperately on his dick.

“There’s my fucking spot,” he said. He grinned against your skin. Your head flopped to the side. You bit your arm. He felt too good. Slipping in and out of you. The wet smacks of your combined juices were lewd and turned you on more. Made you drip more. 

“So fuckin’ wet, nasty girl. You like this dick, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” you moaned, nodding your head. 

“You like this dick inside you?” He asked.

“Uh-huh, so good,” you moaned. You drooled against your arm. 

“Let me hear you then,” he said. He moved his free hand down between your legs and began to stroke your clit in tandem with his thrusts. Your moans increased in volume, turning into screams as you crashed into another orgasm. 

Stunna kissed your cheek and jaw, licked the shell of your ear. “Sound so pretty when you cum. Music to my ears, baby,” he said. 

“Nut in me,” you moaned.

“What?” He asked. 

“Nut in me, please, I need it,” you moaned. 

Stunna growled and increased his thrusts. They turned into a brutal fucking, spearing you. He still played with your clit as he slammed into you, fucking you just how you liked. There was no begging. There was no negotiating. You didn’t have to stop in the middle to communicate that yes, it was okay to get rougher. It was okay to rock into your shit. 

Stunna just did it. He gave you exactly what you needed. 

“You want this nut?” He asked.

“Yessss,” you moaned. 

“Fuck, I’m so close,” he said.

“Stunna, ouuee Stunna,” you moaned in between his strokes.

“That’s right, you let me know who owns this pussy,” he said. 

“You. You own this pussy,” you moaned. He groaned before you finished your sentence. He nutted, his hot cum filling you to the brim. Some of it even slipped out and ran down your thigh. You shivered, your head turning fuzzy at the sensation. 

Stunna finally stilled his strokes and let his dick pulse. You hissed feeling it. Stunna dropped your thigh and grabbed your neck. He pulled you back into him and you turned your head so that you could kiss him. The kiss was sloppy and you both panted, breath fanning across each other’s faces. But any touch of his lips was worth it.

Stunna kissed your cheek. “I still got some more for you,” he said.

“More?” You asked.

Stunna slipped out of you and then roughly turned you around. He kissed you, pressing you back against the wall with the force of his kisses. He kissed down your body, rolling his tongue around both of your nipples. You cried out. 

He tugged you by the front of your dress towards the arm of his couch. He bent you over it and spread your ass cheeks. He moaned and smacked your ass. 

“Fuck, I need all night with you to say goodbye,” he said. 

You were too blissed out to chuckle. Or laugh. Your head was floating, flying; your mind went on a little trip and you had no plans of returning. 

He slipped back inside and you shared a moan, feeling complete once more. He immediately went back to pounding and rutting, slamming his thighs against your ass with the force of his strokes. 

“Who own this shit?” He asked.

“Youuu,” you moaned.

“Own the fuck outta this pussy. Feelin’ so good, pussy feelin’ so good. It’s mine now,” he groaned in between thrusts. The arm of the couch dug into your gut and it felt good. You felt just as you did on Saturday night. Possessed. Owned. 

“It’s yours!” You moaned. “It’s yours, Stunna!” 

“Damn right. Gonna write my initials in this pussy,” he groaned. His fingers turned bruising on your hips. 

His initials were already there. It felt like with every stroke, he was stitching your souls together. You became one soul every time his tip kissed your cervix. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” you moaned on each thrust.

His fingers moved to your clit again, flicking his fingers against it. You tried to lean up. You didn’t know why, only that you needed to move. To ease up a bit. He pressed on your back and made you take his dick. Made you take the brutal pounding. 

“Guhh,” you moaned and came with a loud cry. Your pussy gripped onto him and he moaned, thrusts turning sloppy and twitching. He came right after you, giving you another round of his cum. He soaked your pussy and you shivered, full body shaking.

Stunna slammed once more into you and then stilled, dick pulsing. His cum slipped down your thighs again. You were deliciously sore. You both panted in the quiet space. You listened to any sound he made. Greedy to capture everything. If this was goodbye, you were hesitant to see what hello looked like. 

Stunna slowly slipped out of you. You cried out. 

“Shh, shh, you know I got you, baby,” he said. When he was out, you were still sore as hell. You began to shake as the cold crept in. Something so powerful took a lot of energy. You weren’t just imagining things on Saturday. It wasn’t the anonymity of the vacation. You two shared a real connection. The kind love songs and poems were written about. And it was scary as hell. 

Stunna returned with a warm washcloth. You cried out, leaning up against the couch. Stunna cooed and talked softly. “I got you. I’m right here,” he said. He finished and wiped up your thighs as well.

When finished, he disappeared with the washcloth and then came back. He helped you stand and adjusted the dress back to where it should be. Then he moved towards the couch and had you straddle him. He held you and rubbed your back as you scooted into him and laid your head on his shoulder.

You didn’t speak. There was nothing to say. You had to find the strength to walk away from this in the morning. You weren’t going to fight it. You needed this goodbye as much as he did. You needed to get your mind wrapped around the fact that you couldn’t have this for months. 

It wasn’t the end of the world but it sure as shit felt like it. You were tired of being strong. But for now, you’d have to endure. It was the only way to get the best of both worlds. 

You listened to the cadence of his breathing. Warm chest. Strong arms around your back. “It’s not forever,” he said quietly.

No, it wasn’t forever.

D'awww, if you need more, you know I got you!

The Secret Big Stunna Files | Part 1 | Part 3

[waitimcomingtoo]

SLUT!

chapter five: don’t say I didn’t warn you

Series Masterlist

The first time you walked onto campus holding hands with Peter, it caught some attention. Your school was small enough that a reputation like yours was pretty well known around campus so now that you and Peter were public, people took notice.

“Everyone is staring at us.” You whispered to him and he could tell you were feeling self conscious.

“Well you look really pretty today. So they might as well be looking at us.” Peter replied. He could see you smile at that and knew he had just passed his first test as a boyfriend.

“This is just like that scene in Twilight.” You said as you passed through a group on onlookers.

“Which scene?”

“The one when they walk in to school together and everyone is staring.”

“Oh.” Peter laughed. “Yeah, I can see why you thought of that.”

You laughed as well and headed towards the library so you could study together before your class. On the way, you walked by one of the guys on the basketball team.

“Whore.” He said through a fake cough as he passed by. You stopped walking and let go of Peters hand.

“Why’d you let go? Are my hands too sweaty?” Peter asked and wiped his hands on his pants.

“It’s not that.” You sighed. “It’s because I’m poisonous. If you’re seen with me, you’re just gonna get a reputation too.”

“Who cares? We can wear the scarlet letter together.” Peter said and took your hand again. You looked down at your intertwined hands before looking at him skeptically.

“You really don’t care?”

“I don’t.” Peter shrugged so nonchalant that you believed him. You smiled in satisfaction and tugged him closer by his shirt to kiss him. It was your way of saying thank you and his way of saying he didn’t care who saw you together.

As the weeks went on, the buzz around your relationship died down and no one seemed to care anymore. All the while, you were growing more comfortable in your relationship with Peter. You kept up with your studying session during the day and went on dates at night. You were getting better grades and happier than ever.

Peter went back to his dorm after a late class one day with a huge smile on his face. He dumped his backpack on the floor and sat down on his bed with a happy sigh.

“Remember that girl from high school that we both liked?” Peter asked Ned.

“Liz? With the beautiful black hair and perfect bone structure? Who always smelled like Japanese Cherry Blossom? I vaguely remember her.” Ned replied.

“Yeah. Liz. I liked her so much. If you asked me back then, I would’ve sworn I was in love with her.”

“Why are you thinking about Liz?” Ned wondered.

“Because I realized I never actually liked her. I liked the fantasy I built around a girl I found pretty. I didn’t even know Liz and I thought I was in love. But I know Y/n. And I know that I’ve never felt this way before.” Peter said with another happy sigh.

“Oh no. You’re not saying you’re in lesbians with her, are you?” Ned gasped.

“Damn. I forgot about that movie. We should watch it again.” Peter said. “And no, I’m not saying I’m in love with her.”

“Okay. Good.” Ned relaxed.

“But I’m going to.” Peter added.

“You are? Isn’t it a little soon?” Ned asked him.

“We’ve been together for two months now. It’s how I feel. Why shouldn’t I tell her?”

“I’m just saying. I think you should wait until you know how she feels.”

“I think she feels the same.” Peter told him. “It’s just hard for her to trust people. That’s why I want to be the one who says it first. And I think I’m gonna do it next time I see her.” Peter said proudly. He then got a text and smiled when he saw your name on his screen.

“That’s her now.” Peter said and opened his phone to read your text. His smile slowly faded as his eyebrows knit together.

“What’s wrong?” Ned asked when he saw Peters face.

“She’s at a frat house. She wants me to come get her.” Peter said as he got off his bed.

“Ew.” Ned grimaced. “Why is she at a frat house? Is she trying to get scabies?”

“I don’t know. Probably a party.” Peter shrugged but also found it strange to hear you were there. The frat boys were the ones who bullied you and beyond that, you were never a party kind of person. He threw on his jacket and stepped into the December air to walk to the campus frat. He was let right in which he found slightly suspicious and texted you once he was inside. You said you were in the first bedroom on the second floor, so Peter made his way up the stairs and knocked on the door. When you didn’t answer, he frowned and started to get nervous. He opened the door and felt his heart drop when he saw you in bed with some guy in a hockey jersey. You were fast asleep in your hoodie and sweats with a cup of ginger ale on the dresser beside you. Peter felt tears come to his eyes and stood there frozen in shock. Brad and his friends suddenly appeared behind him in the doorway and laughed obnoxiously in Peters ear.

“Oh shit! The slut strikes again.” Brad laughed as he took a picture of you. Flash and Harry were right behind him, laughing and taking pictures as well. The commotion woke you up and you sat up as you rubbed your aching head.

“What the fuck?” Peter blurted, making your groggy eyes fly open. You looked at him in confusion but could barely see him with your splitting headache.

“Peter? What’s going on?” You asked as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

“You tell me. Who is that guy?” He shouted and pointed to the guy next to you. You gave him a confused look and followed his finger, screaming in surprise when you noticed the guy for the first time. He was too drunk to realize what was going on but you were starting to come back. You looked around and saw the boys laughing at you with their cameras out before your eyes landed on Peter. He was crying and staring at you with the most betrayed expression you had ever seen.

“Peter.” You said breathlessly, knowing how bad it looked. You were too focused on him to care about the pictures being taken or the teasing from the guys. Peters face twisted in misery as he turned to leave. He pushed past the guys who were cheering and calling you names and ran down the stairs.

“Peter, wait.” You pleaded as you ran after him. He kept running so you did too. You caught his arm in the lobby and made him stop.

“Please, talk to me. Let me explain.”

��I can’t believe this. I thought we had something.” Peter said as he wiped his face on the back of his hand. The music was shut off as people tuned in to listen to the fight.

“We do have something. That wasn’t what it looked like. I don’t even know that guy. Please, I need you to believe me.” You said and took his hand but he yanked it away from you.

“Believe you? How can I believe you when I caught you sleeping with another guy?” Peter shouted, making the party goers go “ooo” as they watched the drama unfold. You looked around in embarrassment and knew your reputation was never going to recover from this. People were filming and staring at you and all you could do was let it happen.

“It looked like that, but-“

“Everyone was right about you.” He cut you off, making you freeze as he said the most hurtful words you could imagine him saying.

“What did you just say?” You whispered in disbelief.

“I said that they were right. This is exactly what I was warned would happen if I got involved with you. You get what you want from a guy by pretending to like him and then break his heart. I should’ve known better.” Peter spat, making you stumble back in surprise.

“Peter, no. That’s not what’s happening. Please, just let me explain. I need you to believe me. What you saw wasn’t what you think. You know me, Peter. You know I’m not like what everyone says.”

“Maybe you are. Why else would you lead me on like this? You said you needed to go slow with me but then I catch you fucking some other guy? What are you, some kind of slut?” He shouted.

The room went silent. The world went silent.

You were wrong. Those were the most hurtful words Peter could say to you. People started to laugh and call you “slut” and all it’s hateful synonyms as you stared at Peter in disbelief. And as angry and hurt as Peter was, he knew he had just crossed the line. He wasn’t the kind of guy who used that word yet there he was, throwing it at you in a room full of people.

“You said you’d never call me that.” You whispered as a tear ran down your cheek. The betrayal in your eyes told Peter that he had already burned his bridge with you. You were never going to forgive him for that, so he decided he might as well put the nail in the coffin.

“Well that’s what’s you are.” He snapped. “If you didn’t want me to call you that, maybe you shouldn’t act like one. I can’t believe I was ever in love with you.”

“You’re in love with me?” You said breathlessly.

“Not anymore.” He said before he even knew what was coming out of his mouth. His face was burning all the way up to his ears. That was not how he wanted his first “I love you” to go. He hadn’t meant to blurt it the way he had but it just came out.

Your jaw dropped as a tiny gasp escaped your lips. Peter immediately regretted it but there was nothing he could do to make things right. The entire room was against you and on his side so even if he apologized, it wouldn’t reach your ears. You stared in each others eyes and the people in the room cheered for Peter while they ridiculed you.

“Yeah! Get her Peter!” Brad proudly cheered from the stairwell. Peter wondered what kind of guy he had become if Brad Davis was applauding his actions. In fact, he didn’t want the approval of any of the people in the house. Peters eyes softened and he opened his mouth to say something, anything, but you didn’t want it hear it. You ran out of the house with tears in your eyes and Peter silently watched you go. Some of the jocks clapped him on the back and expressed their pride in him, making Peter feel sick to his stomach. The music resumed and people started to talk about the scene and degrade you further while Peter stood frozen. The guy in the jersey came stumbling down the stairs and asked what had happened, but received no answer. Peter left without saying anything and went back to his dorm, slamming his door behind him as he went in.

“Woah, dude. What’s wrong? Where’s Y/n?”

“She cheated on me. You were right. She’s just a slut.” Peter mumbled as he sat on his bed. Now that he has used the word once, it was tumbling out of his mouth with ease. He didn’t know who he had become because he was not raised to be a guy who said things like that, and yet there he was.

“Wait, really? I’m never right. What happened?” Ned asked him.

“I walked into the party and she was in bed with some guy.” Peter said with a sigh as he replayed it all in his head. Now that he was out of the heat of the moment, he wondered about your initial confusion when you saw the guy in bed with you. You looked just as surprised as Peter was to see that guy there.

“I’m sorry, dude. I know you were about to tell her you loved her.” Ned said sympathetically.

“I just don’t understand. She told me all those rumors weren’t true. How could she do this to me?” Peter wondered out loud. He laid his head down on his pillow and felt tears leak out of his eyes and into his ears. He replayed the moment over and over again in his head until he eventually fell asleep.

Tag List 💋

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[superbsaturn]

arlefuri ; general dating headcanons

[ tw. last bullet point is nsfw! ]

arlecchino x furina (arlefuri)

it comes as a shock to furina that the first person to apologize to her since the end of her trial— and the successful avoidance of the prophecy —was none other than the knave. she never expected, nor would she force, her friends and ex-colleagues— or anyone, for that matter —to apologize for their treatment of her during the trial. however, it was certainly a shock when lyney arrived at one of her theater troupe’s rehearsals with a delicious smelling cake and a card meant for furina’s eyes only, which read in elegant cursive:

lady furina,

i hope you are doing well. i’ve requested that my children send you this cake to show my support to you and your troupe for any and all upcoming performances. while i had simply made a request for lyney to go out and buy a cake, he insisted on gathering a few of his siblings and baking it themselves, so i do hope it is to your liking.

i want to formally apologize and recognize your selfless acts as the former archon of fontaine. in our previous meetings i had been rather hostile towards you, and i am aware my presence leaves a less then pleasurable impression on you, however, i want to offer you some closure.

if you are interested in conversing with me, i’ll be at the cafe outside of hotel bouffes d’ete tomorrow evening around 9. should you wish to join me, it would be my pleasure, but i understand if you decide not to.

i hope you fair well, lady furina.

arlecchino.

furina had reread the letter about four times lying in her bed that night before she finally came to a decision. she needed this closure, whether she wanted to admit it or not. she was shocked to arrive at the cafe and find arlecchino stripped from her usual attire, wearing only a button down with the sleeves cut right at the dip of her shoulders, and her usual dress pants. she had already ordered herself some tea and was sitting with her legs crossed when furina sat across from her.

that night furina fell asleep with tears in her eyes, but for the first time in five centuries it was not because she felt self pity, but rather it was because arlecchino had said the exact words she had been needing to hear everyday since she had been cursed.

since then, the two would meet up once a week at the same cafe to enjoy fontaine’s nightlife, catch up on what could be shared, and enjoy tea, pastries, and one another’s presence. occasionally arlecchino would also attend furina’s theatrical performances, which caught the attention of a few steambird reporters. it didn’t help that a picture was taken of them at furina’s front door to her apartment after arlecchino had kindly walked her home.

eventually those walks home would lead to furina inviting her in for more tea and idle chatter, and those later turned into arlecchino cooking in furina’s apartment because she learned furina didn’t know how to make anything other than macaroni. one day, after some mindless contemplation, furina asked “would this be considered dinner dates?” without even thinking. she immediately blushed a scarlet red and was about to back track when arlecchino responded with a chuckle and a warm “i suppose they would be”.

that same night, when furina was walking arlecchino to the door to say goodnight and goodbye, arlecchino paused briefly and asked “would it be okay if i kissed you furina?” not wanting to startle her. there would be times where furina would involuntarily flinch when arlecchino moved too quickly, always quickly apologizing right after, but arlecchino understood. it was a fair reaction after all, so she was going to ensure that furina knew exactly what she was going to do and what her intentions were.

when a breathless “please” left furina’s lips, arlecchino hummed pleasantly, resting a warm hand on furina’s cheek and leaning down, kissing furina slowly but passionately, only deepening it when furina’s hands came up to grasp the lapels of her jacket. after breaking apart, a flustered, breathless furina returned back into her apartment, head spinning, wondering what she had gotten herself into.

she would later realize that what it was was a relationship with a very tender but stoic woman. it had been a long time since arlecchino had allowed herself to be an emotional being. with her children she showed them what she wanted them to see and nothing more, despite being a caring father. with the harbingers they only knew her on a professional level. but the night furina felt comfortable to finally— finally! —shed her gloves, she witnessed just how human the knave truly was.

although arlecchino hadn’t attended furina’s trial, she had received reports from her children and other subordinates of the events that took place. so she wasn’t surprised when her eyes came in contact with the burned skin of furina’s palm, which she gently took into her own hands, raised to her lips, and placed a gentle kiss upon it. “you can trust me, furina,” she whispered to the tearful woman, “i never want to see you hurt again.”

arlecchino was very gentle with furina, and while that mostly shined through in private, it was not odd— after a while —to see the two out and about with a gentle hand placed on the former archon’s back, or whispered words shared between them where no one else could hear.

nsfw: it’s why that night that arlecchino witnessed furina’s scar, she gently carried her through her apartment and onto her bed, carefully crawling over her and kissing every inch of skin that she could. she grazed her lips against furina’s neck, her hands carefully holding her close as furina whimpered against her. that night arlecchino showered the former archon in praises and compliments, leaving furina a blushing, flustered mess who hid her face against arlecchino’s chest at the end of the night. falling asleep with a peaceful smile on her lips.

[st-just]

Okay quasi-hate-reading a book review to avoid work and like

Did these people never have to read The Scarlet Letter in high school? Never heard of just...any pre-online moral panic? With trials and court intrigues and the House Unamerican Activities Committee?

Truly fascinated by the life one must have lived and the bubble one must have been in that 'gossip isn't just harmless fun and can have consequences now, because of Online' is a thought one might think worth publishing.

[penig]

Reading the Letters from Watson tag is similar to early Dracula Daily reading in that it’s so delightful to see people who have been grossly misled by pop culture be amazed and charmed by the original. The glee with which new readers recognize that Holmes is a weird little autistic guy and Watson is a young veteran with PTSD and that they have been brought together by happy chance when they need each other most, instead of an antisocial prick and a bumbling hero worshipper, is so satisfying!

In A Study in Scarlet, of course, they have not quite settled into their characters, but that’s all right, as they are both very young still. Watson didn’t even do a full tour in Afghanistan before being invalided out, and Holmes is still young enough for Watson to expect him to be training for his profession rather than practicing it. Just the age, in fact, at which people seek out roommates to share expenses and will take chances on total strangers in that capacity, to this very day.

They are still dancing around each other and being a bit cagey about showing their real selves; moreover, they are both wrong in some of their ideas about themselves and about how life works. Holmes’s “brain attic “ theory is obviously nonsense- brains don’t work that way! But it’s convenient for him to believe that they do at this stage of his life. Probably he evolved it to defend his pursuit of his special interests at the expense of more systematic and conventional studies. He is also on his best behavior trying not to annoy his new roommate, who is much more irritable now than he will be later when he’s learned to deal with his PTSD and the lasting effects of his wound.

But they are series characters and this will affect the amount and type of growth they are allowed. Certain things, once established, will never change. The game of deducing things about total strangers is here to stay, and so are the violin and the bewailing of the sorry state of modern crime; but most importantly, Holmes and Watson are in the process of bonding into an irreducible team of equals which pop culture has striven in vain to understand or to divide.

[ladykailitha]

Never Hold Back Your Step... Part 7

I know, I know. I put out a chapter recently for this one. But it was the closest to being done after my elbow started feeling better so it got to go first.

In case anyone was curious, this is the song that the title is based on. It's from the musical The Scarlet Pimpernel and it's about the lead, Sir Percival Blankney trying to get his friends to help rescue nobles in France during the French Revolution.

Steve is going to have a very rough go of it for the next couple of chapters. but we're nearing the third season so that should be fun (it might get glossed over a bit for the sake of this story's plot, as it's more about Eddie and Steve then the events of the show).

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

****

Steve was taking a break from doing homework to work on his next comic. This one was a little bit more dangerous to put to paper in the sense that even the dumbest agent would immediately know what he was referencing. Well maybe not immediately, but definitely by the end.

But to the people who didn’t know that underneath their feet was this massive alternate dimension filled with murderous monsters? It was the easiest to hide. Giant wolves in a junkyard? The spunky new character who had more sass in her pinkie than the entire rest of the Party combined and considering Dustin was in this one, that was saying something.

He was lettering his favorite exchange between Max and Dustin. Her calling Steve insane and Dustin saying that he was awesome.

He could be both.

Really, all he needed to do was finish up the lettering and he would done. Then he could actually give it to Eddie and not chicken out this time.

Last time, he had brought it over to show Eddie, but had gotten cold feet at the last minute. Not that it had mattered, the ever loving idiot that he was had left it at the trailer anyway.

He already had his note to Eddie explaining the real events behind the comic on the back. Again with the instruction to do away with that page after he had read it.

He really, really didn’t want either of them in trouble with the Feds.

Steve looked up at the clock and sighed. If he wanted to get his homework done, he’d have to get back to it. He knew he really didn’t have to work that hard, having graduation in the bag, but he couldn’t help try anyway.

Plus at least two of his teachers had threatened to prevent any student who slacked off in class from walking in graduation. And he didn’t doubt that a least two others would do it, too, they just hadn’t said the quiet part out loud.

He put aside his comic and pulled his history book closer to him. He sighed again when he saw that he had barely done two questions. He dug the palms of his hands into his eyes and rubbed them.

He could do this.

****

Steve had been invited to a couple of graduation parties, one from a couple drama geek friends and another from Lyle on the swim team. Was even hosting one of his own.

Thankfully none of the were on the same night and he could do all three. Eddie wasn’t going to any of the ones he’d been invited to. Including Steve’s.

And as much as that hurt, Steve understood. He didn’t think that he could stand there with people graduating, knowing that he wasn’t going to be on that stage with them.

****

Marty, Janice, and Steve were all standing in the corner at the drama club party, drinks in hand and wishing to be anywhere but there.

“I’m just saying,” Steve muttered for the tenth time since he got there, “that we pick up Eddie and some real booze, drive out to the quarry and get proper shitfaced.”

Marty rolled his eyes. “So you keep saying. But I can’t if my parents find out I’ve ditched the party, I’ll be grounded until I go to college.”

He took a sip of his punch and winced. It wasn’t even alcoholic. It was Sprite and Kool-aid. Lime Kool-aid, no less. With lemon/lime soda? At least use it to spike cherry or some shit.

Janice suddenly ducked behind Steve and hid her face into his back. “Shit, it’s Tammy Thompson.”

Tammy walked up to Steve and Marty.

“Hey, guys,” she said cheerfully. “Glad you two could make. I heard Janice was going to come, have either of you two fine fellas seen her? I wanted to talked to her about where’s she going to college, just to see about what her prospects were.”

Marty and Steve shared a glance and then Steve frowned.

“Yeah, sorry,” he said, “she did stop to chat with us briefly, but then she moved on.”

Tammy pouted. “Well thank you anyway.”

She wandered off and Janice hissed, “So you could degrade them and make sure not to apply there, because they were beneath you, you hell beast.”

Marty snorted.

Steve just shook his head. He dumped his almost full plastic cup into a nearby garbage. “You guys can stay here if you want, but I’m out of here. I’ve been to some pretty lame parties, but this one takes the cake.”

“I’m with you there,” Janice agreed. “How about you Mart? You coming?”

Marty winced again and looked around. The music wasn’t loud enough to be heard and they were standing pretty close to the speakers. The food was just chips and store bought cookies. The drink was nasty as hell.

“Come on,” Steve said gently tapping Marty’s elbow. “At least let me give you a ride home.”

Marty deflated and tossed his cup in after Steve’s. “You’ve got me there, man. Yeah. Let’s go.”

Steve breathed a sigh of relief.

He led the way out to his bimmer and went to go dig out his keys out of his pocket when he was spun around roughly.

“Hey!” Janice cried.

Steve gulped. He was looking into the very furious and drunk face of Kyle Carver.

The asshole who had tried to sabotage Steve’s performance as Thomson in the school play by dumping water all over him.

He had been expelled and no doubt blamed Steve for that.

“It should have been me!” Kyle screamed in his face. “You ruined my life Harrington! You’ll pay! I’ll see to that!”

Then he took a swing at Steve. Steve managed to move to the side enough to have Kyle miss, but it was a near thing. He pushed Kyle’s chest.

“Back off, man!” he growled. “You ruined your own fucking life. You cheated on the audition, you tried to dump water all over me because you couldn’t get over the fact that I’m just better than you.”

He turned around to get into the car, but Kyle slammed his head into roof of the car. Marty and Janice screamed, hurrying to get over on the other side of the car.

Steve turned around and touched his forehead. His finger came away with blood. “You’re going to regret that, Carver.”

Kyle scoffed. “Billy told the team what an absolute pussy you are, Harrington. You couldn’t fight your way out a paper bag now that you don’t have that freak Munson around as your guard dog.”

Before Marty or Janice could stop him, Steve swung with everything he had.

CRACK!

Kyle stiffened like a board and went down.

Marty and Janice skidded to a stop to look down at the now unconscious Kyle Carver.

“What the fuck did you just do?” Marty asked in awe.

Steve wiped the blood off his forehead and spat on Carver. “What I should have done from the beginning. Take those assholes out. I was just afraid of what my dad would if I was caught fighting again after the incident with Byers.”

He gestured to Marty. “Come on, help me get this idiot off the side of the road.”

Steve lifted under his arms, while Marty and Janice moved him off onto the grass.

A passing sophomore saw them and made to open his mouth to scream.

“Hey, hey,” Steve said softly. “He’s just had a little too much to drink and hit his head. So why don’t you keep an eye on him for us.”

The sophomore nodded and the three of them slipped into Steve’s car, Janice at the wheel.

****

Eddie opened his trailer door and looked down at the trio of them getting out of Steve’s car.

“And just what did you two do to my boyfriend?”

Janice laughed and waved her hand at Steve’s smeared with blood forehead with a grin. “This? Oh this is nothing. You should see the other guy.”

Eddie sighed, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “What other guy?”

“Kyle Carver tried to get in Steve’s face and smashed his head onto the roof of the bimmer. So Steve here, just turns around and lays him out flat. It’s a good thing I could tell he was breathing, because holy shit, did Kyle go down hard.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow at Steve.

Steve shrugged. “It’s the reason I don’t get into fights. I don’t know my own strength.”

The other three looked at him in a mixture of shock and awe.

“Get your ass in here,” Eddie huffed. “I’ll get the first aid kit.”

Steve, Marty, and Janice made it up the steps and Eddie held open the door for them to all file through.

Steve sat down on a kitchen chair so Eddie could have a look at him.

“Let’s get you cleaned up first, sweetheart,” he murmured on his way to the bathroom.

He came out moments later with a large first aid kit and a damp wash cloth.

“Wow,” Steve said as Eddie set the kit on the counter. “You’re med kit is almost as impressive as mine.”

Wayne, who had been sitting on his recliner this whole time, snickered. “Eddie was very accident prone when he first hit puberty. All limbs and no idea where to put them. Plus, the bullying. I got the best I could afford just to keep up on it all.”

Eddie blushed a deep red as he wiped off Steve’s forehead. “The cut isn’t that bad, head wounds just bleed a lot. You’ll get more of a bruise than anything else.”

Steve nodded.

“I get why Eddie has an extensive med kit,” Marty huffed. “But why do you have an extensive med kit, Steve?”

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “I babysit six barely teenagers. One plays basketball and another skateboards. Plus, there’s Dustin who is just a walking disaster because he always has to be right and has absolutely no fucks to give to his general surroundings.”

Eddie snorted, rolling his eyes. That was a really good description of Dustin if he was honest. He liked the kid. He did. But low wisdom and high intelligence made for quite the disaster.

Janice nodded. “Yeah. I could see that. My little brother rollerskates and he is a menace on wheels I swear to god.”

Eddie finished putting on the band-aid and then kissed Steve forehead better.

“I’m sorry Carver was an ass,” he said packing away the first aid kit. “But I’m glad you won.”

“Steve told some kid to watch Carver because he was drunk and passed out,” Janice said gleefully. “So even if he does remember the encounter he knows he can’t say shit because then he’d have to admit to assaulting Steve first.”

Eddie kissed Steve again, this time on the cheek. “My super clever boyfriend.”

Wayne grunted as he got to his feet. “Come on, Marty and Janice,” he muttered. “I’ll take you home. I don’t trust this idiot to drive.”

“Hey!” Steve and Eddie protested together.

Wayne just shook his head as if they proved his point.

Janice and Marty said their goodbyes and followed Wayne out.

“Let’s get you some aspirin and into bed, darlin’,” Eddie cooed.

Steve nodded and followed Eddie into the bedroom.

He stripped down to his underwear and climbed under the covers. As he drifted off, he smiled softly to himself. It was nice to be taken care of for a change.

Just before he fell into a deep sleep, he felt a warm hand card through his hair and a soft kiss on his hair.

“Sleep well, Stevie.”

****

Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

In case you guys don't remember, Kyle is the one that got suspended when he tried sabotage Steve's performance as Sec. Thomson in the musical 1776.

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