#those two use to hate kids with a burning passion

[0lympian-c0uncil]

Demeter: Hey, Hera.

Hera: *punches Demeter in the stomach*

Demeter,*clutching her stomach*: What the FUCK?!!?

Hera: You are one of my very best friends. And I cannot stand by and watch you throw away your life like this. You're too young....YOU'RE TOO BEAUTIFUL!

Demeter,*weakly*: What the fuck are you talking about?

Hera: I'm talking about the baby that's growing inside of your belly right now.

Hades: See ya! *leaves*

Demeter: ... I'm not pregnant!

Hera: Well, not after that punch you're not. I've been taking Muay Thai classes.

Demeter,*pissed*: I was never pregnant, Hera!

Hera: ...Oh- are... you sure?

Demeter: YES I'M FUCKING SURE!!!

Zeus: I'm sorry, but why the FUCK is everybody yelling over here?

Hera: Oh, I found this positive pregnancy test and—

Zeus: *punches Demeter in the stomach*

Demeter,*doubling over*: AW, MOTHERFU--

[thelargefrye]

ATEEZ AS MIDDLE SCHOOL TEACHERS ... bullet - point fic ( 17+ )

pairing : teacher!ateez x teacher!f!reader (separately)

genre : teacher au, fluff, comedy, workplace romance, bulletpoint headcanons, implied co-workers to lovers (for all of them), secret relationships (for a lot of them)

word count : 4.1k

warnings : middle schoolers (yes this is needed), mentions of students shipping their teachers, mentions of a past make-out from college (mingi's section)

note : inspired by these prompts and my own job lol

honorary tag : @sanjoongie

what i think it would be like working with ateez in a middle school and perhaps being something more than co-workers with them.

KIM HONGJOONG

he's a math teacher – seventh grade and also head of the math department at the school

when he's teaching, he's in his element and he's very passionate about teaching his student and the content

he was terrible at math when he was a student and often tells his own students in order to motivate them...

sometimes it works but most times it doesn't

he's definitely one of the more stricter teachers at the beginning of the year, but lets up near the end of the year

students love him, like there's not one kid who hates him

some students do wonder how he manages to get away with his funky hair colors, but no one really questions it anymore

he's also very stylish and is known for his fashionable looks that make him look like he just came off the runway

the two of you met when you started teaching at the same school, he's been teaching for two years longer than you have

you also teach seventh grade and immediately clicked as friends on your first day

he answers any questions you have that isn't content related and is kind of seen as the head of the seventh grade as well

he gets along well with the older teachers who have been doing this for 20+ years, those teachers either go to you or him when they need help with the new programs that admin is making them use in class

a lot of the students ask him if you two are dating because you're the younger teachers in the grade-level and are always hanging out

"dating? why are you worried about who i'm dating? we have equations to worry about," he would say and always brush them off

most of the students drop, not really wanting to make hongjoong upset but that doesn't mean the question won't come up again later on

your students will also ask you the same question and like hongjoong, you brush them off and not really answering them

the students would often go back and forth on if you two were dating or not with some even trying to provide "evidence" that you were dating

and some students gave up on thinking that their literature and math teacher were dating

until one day you showed up to school wearing a cardigan

and not just any cardigan

a cardigan that hongjoong wore a month ago, one that students knew was custom made by their teacher himself

and the whole seventh grade lost their minds because holy cow, their literature teacher and math teacher WERE in fact dating

the evidence of you wearing hongjoong's cardigan was enough to convince all the students it was true

so then some of them decided to confront you both

"teacher kim, teacher l/n we know your secret."

you and hongjoong were of course confused because of course your students had to be cryptic about everything... seventh graders 😒

"we know you guys are dating! teacher l/n, you're wearing teacher kim's custom cardigan!"

hongjoong had never turned his head so fast in his life and he immediately looked at the cardigan and sure enough

it was his

and you two were busted because now all your students knew you both were at least something, if not more than friends

PARK SEONGHWA

seonghwa teaches eighth grade reading / literature, he also has his masters in special education and administration

he is also the teacher that heads student council – like he built it from the ground up after the teacher before him let it crash and burn allowed it to be ruined

but seonghwa rebuilt the student council club and now its flourishes thanks to his leadership skills and teaching the students those same leadership skills

being a teacher is like a family job, his mother was a teacher and taught at the same school that he now teaches at

he wanted to become one to continue her legacy

students think he's way too handsome to be a teacher

he's also way too nice to be a teacher but like... none of the students ever give him issues

like even the behavior students don't disrespect him like they would other teachers – its kind of crazy

you had always admired seonghwa because of how good he was at his job and honestly... you were kind of jealous of him too

but you wouldn't dare tell him

you can't help but be amazed when you watch him speak at department meetings and how he always voices his thoughts so elegantly

seonghwa is also never afraid to help you if he sees you struggling or to ask for your opinion during meetings when he notices you haven't spoken

and he'll always back you up which surprises you because you aren't friends or even in the same grade

you kind of developed a crush on him but again you would never tell him or anybody for that matter

which to be honest, your crush and admiration is probably what lead you to volunteering to help out with the student council overnight trip to a student council convention

it was you, seonghwa, plus the ten student council students that qualified to go

you really never knew who exhausting planning a field trip was and seonghwa amazed you once again with how well-planned out the trip was

it kind of made you feel guilty because of how little you did to help out with the planning

"don't feel bad y/n! i'm glad you volunteered to come, i usually struggle with finding someone to come with me to help chaperone."

"really?"

"yeah."

well... that did make you feel a little better

and of course since you two were the only chaperones, that meant the two of you got to room together

the students were pretty sure they almost saw you pass out in the hotel lobby when seonghwa told you that

"teacher l/n, are you okay! you don't look so good!"

"i'm fine..."

"you're fine with sharing a room together right?" seonghwa asks once the two of you are alone in the hotel room

the students were also in their own hotel rooms and winding down after the long trip, you could feel yourself sink into the bed once you got into the room

"its fine, i don't mind," you tell him and seonghwa gives you a warm smile as he settles down on the bed next to yours "are field trips always this exhausting?"

"only the overnight ones"

"great"

JEONG YUNHO

eighth grade history teacher but he's also taught sixth grade history in the past as well

yunho is very serious about teaching and strict when it comes to listening, doing work, being respectful, etc.

especially in the beginning of the year, but does let up a little bit near the end and after exams and stuff

he has a strict schedule that he follows when teaching his content and knows his content like the back of his hand

he has a routine and the students are quick to learn it and make sure the others are at least doing what they are suppose to be doing when the bell rings

but despite how strict and stuff he is, yunho loves teaching and the kids love his class

even if they don't like it at the beginning, the class and yunho will grow on them before the year is over

even the other teachers respect yunho and will ask him on how he teaches certain events and whatnot, always going to him for tips on where to find good materials

yunho is like the jack-of-all-materials

even has his own tpt page because of how much stuff he has made for his own class and co-workers

you will also always find him and san hanging out together in each other's room during their planning time

usually gossiping about students or other teachers

students have learned that when san walks into yunho's room, then its serious because san never leaves his room during class time

also no one ever really bothers yunho because of how strict he is with teaching and getting everything he needs done, to get done

however, students are shocked when you walk into yunho's room one day WHILE he's teaching to ask him a question

like their jaws drop when yunho stops teaching in order to help you with something and laughing with you as he brushes your apology off

it was like they just watched a mean dog turned into the friendliest puppy when you walked in

some of them questioned if they were transported to a different reality because there is no way this is happening

you and yunho are like night and day, yunho with dark button-ups and you with your funky colored pants

"you're seeing this to right?" one of them would whisper to the other students around them

the students were too stunned to speak

"hey! get to work, i expect you to have these notes written down by the time i'm done," yunho would say and immediately the students would get to work

"thank you teacher jeong, i appreciate the help with this new program"

"sure, its no problem," he says as he walks you to the door. "choi came to me during planning asking about it plus some other teachers as well"

"ah, well glad i'm not the only one struggling!" you let out a laugh and yunho returns it and laughs with you, "i'll see you after school, yeah?"

"of course"

you wave as you close the door behind you and yunho immediately goes back into his teaching mode

once again leaving his students shocked and with whiplash from how fast his attitude changed

"we really were in just another reality"

KANG YEOSANG

seventh grade history but wants to one day be a librarian

yeosang loves history but is also certified to teach reading/literature

a lot of the students and teachers love him for how nice he is to everyone

he really connects well with the behavior students, like a lot of them will always say he's there favorite teacher

even the ones who never come to class, go to yeosang's class because who in their right mind who skip teacher kang's class?

no one that's who

students will always go to him when there's an issue because they know he will help them

that's why a lot of them are surprised when they find out him and wooyoung are best friends since high school

"you and teacher jung are best friends!?"

"yep! have been for years!" and yeosang is proud to say that him and wooyoung are best friends and can teach together at the same school

none of the students can get over how handsome he is as well and a lot of sixth graders can only hope to get him in seventh grade

"teacher kang, you're so handsome you could be an actor!"

yeosang can only smile at the comments, not really saying anything as he's use to those comments by now

well coming from his students or other adults that is

however, hearing those comments (or reading them) from you is a different story

he doesn't know how you manage to time it whenever his students are doing independent work but you do

he'll be at his desk or walking around, when you come in and some the students will immediately greet you

you simply smile and wave at them before walking over to hand yeosang something

"i got the stuff from your mailbox while i was at mine," you told him

yeosang thanks you and you smile at him before turning and leaving

you usually go to the mailbox when you need a break from your class and there's already someone in there to help

yeosang looks at the stuff in his hands, and notices the folded piece of paper that had his name written nicely in your handwriting

he opens it as he walks to his desk and immediately feels a warmth overtake his face

'you look really pretty today, yeo ;) can't wait to hangout after school in our usual place! miss you already!'

yeosang quickly stored the note in his desk, before quickly going back to teaching and trying to hide the excitement of seeing you later to the back of his mind

CHOI SAN

eighth grade reading/literature teacher along with seonghwa and school's volleyball coach

he played volleyball when he was in school and so he's very passionate about the sport and his athletes

a tough coach and an even tougher teacher, but only because he knows all his students can do better than what they showing him

like seonghwa with student council, san managed to help the volleyball team go to nationals thanks to his coaching and the his girls' effort and teamwork

a lot of students are scared of him because of how he coaches, especially his athletes – like even just the mention of san gets them scared

but really san just wants the best for all his students and just like volleyball, he's also passionate about his teaching

very writing focused versus seonghwa who is more reading based, but they work really well together to make sure all their students are getting the same knowledge and material

san's not afraid to speak his mind during department meetings and the other teachers know this – like he will straight up call something out if he knows it won't work

seonghwa usually has to cut him off because of this, they are a very funny duo and students love watching them interact

"teacher choi is like a dark cloud and teacher park is like a sunny day"

like the kids, you are also intimidated by him because of how much just pure authority he gives off

like you would think he's a principal from how students act around him

he actually does step up as an admin when the actual principals are out of the building because he does have his masters in administration, so he could very well one day become a principal

but going back to you being intimidated by him 💀

you never really dared to approach him, always sitting on the opposite side of the room during department meetings

mainly because you didn't want to get on his bad side

"please teacher l/n, can you help us start this club?"

"sure, girls!" you were more than happy to help sponsor their club "who's the other teacher?"

you watched as the girls' faces deflated at the question, of course you don't blame them for not knowing that clubs needed two teachers to become official, not just one

"i have a teacher in mind!"

"who?" "tell us!"

"coach choi, can help! especially since volleyball is over!"

you felt the color drain from your face at the thought of san and you running a club together

"teacher l/n will you ask coach choi if he can help us?"

"sure... i'll ask."

"a club?"

"yeah, some of your volleyball girls recommended you and wanted to see if you could be the second teacher sponsor."

"ah, that's right. the school has that stupid two teacher club sponsor rule. always did think that was dumb."

san thought for a minute which felt like a lifetime the longer you stood in his classroom

"sure, why not. i'm sure it'll be fun to run a club together."

"i'm sure the girls will also appreciate it. i'll send you the information when i hear back from the principal about the club."

"of course, if you have any issues let me know."

"will do, thanks!"

that was definitely a lot less nerve-racking then you thought it would be...

maybe running a club san won't be so bad after all

SONG MINGI

mingi is THE ms. frizzle aka the best science teacher you will ever have

he teaches sixth grade science and is always having some sort of fun with testing experiments and theories with the students

science class will forever be ruined after you have him as a teacher because no one is doing it like mingi

literally older students will come by to see either him or wooyoung and they will always ask mingi what he is currently doing in that class

and while he's an amazing teacher – he's also hella clumsy

like students learn fast not to leave their things in the floor if they don't want this 6ft tall man tripping over and possible destroying their things

someone save this man from all those decorative pencil pouches and metal water bottles pls 💀

anyways, a lot of students love mingi because of his fun personality and not because he almost below up the science lab because a experiment gone wrong

very much into team building and having all the students work together towards a goal because he knows how important teamwork is in life and wants students to have it

a lot of students are actually intimidated by him when they first see him because of his tall stature and harsh look

but he's really cool once him and the students build that rapport

so a lot of students were surprised when they found out that you and mingi were best friends

it never really clicked for most of them since you both taught different grades AND subjects

but then during school assemblies and such, you and mingi would always be sitting next to each other

whispering and laughing to each other and it would leave students bewildered when they saw the two of you

like "what in the world are they laughing about?"

"you know... the kiddos asked me the other day about us," you said, leaning over and whispering into his ear

"yeah?"

"they asked me how long we've been friends"

"w-what did you tell them?"

"since college, i left out the part where you made out with my best friend before tripping over her bag and landed into my lap."

you could tell mingi was blushing, his ears turning red at your words

"i-it wasn't like that!"

"i know, no need to feel embarrassed. i agreed to go out with you didn't i?"

you couldn't help the smirk on your face while mingi had a pout on his own, completely forgetting that the two of you were suppose to be watching the talent show and not flirting

JUNG WOOYOUNG

teaches sixth grade math and is an on-going menace to his students

you either love or hate him because of how he teaches and runs his classroom

always changing the seating desk arrangement in his room which keeps students on their toes

he's always a complete 180 from hongjoong who is the head of the math department

like students get whiplash when they go from wooyoung to hongjoong because of how different they are

but that's not to say wooyoung is bad at his job, on the contrary wooyoung is fantastic at his job

always has a math pun ready to whip out when needed and is always dishing out savage remarks to his students when they try to be a smart-ass to him

they learn quick that they won't be able make smart comments with him around

wooyoung is just very blunt with how he's feeling – like if a student makes him mad you'll know he's mad

does a lot of bootcamp punishments (i.e makes them do exercises when they don't listen to him like: jumping jacks, squats, nothing too extreme) this makes kids not want to disrespect him because they know what will happen if they do

some parents have thought it was "extreme" but he simply told them "well it got your child to listen for once in their life" – that shut the parent up real quick

but wooyoung rarely gets serious because he has the respect from students and so those bootcamp punishments are rare and few in-between

most of the time he's fun and playful which also travels over to how he acts with his fellow teachers

including you

wooyoung always visits you when he's on his planning period

like your class can always expect him to stop by at least once during their class

which none of them mind cause that means they can see their favorite math teacher again but don't tell hongjoong that

however with his constant visits, it makes students question if you guys are dating

especially when wooyoung is always complimenting you when you're at your desk and you both think that the students can't hear you

"you look very lovely today, teacher l/n."

"watch yourself, jung."

you eventually have to run wooyoung off so you can get back to teaching

"oh they are totally dating" students would whisper to each other watching the two of you interact

students really really ship you guys together and are always questioning you about your ideal type and stuff

but you always brush off their questions and comments about how you and teacher jung would look great together

and eventually the students had moved on to something else and you were thankfully left alone about your love life by your students

until one day when you and wooyoung were spotted by some students outside of school

you and him had went to the store together, not really thinking about school as you both spent time together

however that peace between the two of you was set ablaze when heard a familiar "teacher l/n! teacher jung!" and snapping the two of you out of your daze

wooyoung was quick to greet the students who approached you both, a smile on his face and arm around his shoulder

and you knew your secret was out because of how the students' zoned in on wooyoung's arm around your shoulder

you couldn't help but dread what would happen when you arrive at school tomorrow

"i didn't like keeping it a secret anyways," he would making you smack the back of his head in response before pushing the shopping cart and walking away from your boyfriend

CHOI JONGHO

eighth grade math who got roped into teaching seventh grade science as well

jongho is really in his element when it comes to math

and is really hanging by a thread when it comes to science

like he's the opposite of mingi and HATES science – like who thought it was a good idea to have this man teach it?

oh, they did a budget cut and so they were down a science teacher? makes sense.

the kids either love or hate him because of how he teaches

his eighth graders and seventh graders are like night and day when it comes to literally everything

it might also have something to do with the content but just let him complain about his seventh graders

you actually found him one day in the workroom stressing over his science while eating his ramen

you remember some of your kids talking about jongho and you've seen him at faculty meetings

but never had a one-on-one conversation with him mainly because he was in a totally different content and grade from you (he was still an eighth grade teacher at the end of the day)

you know hongjoong really likes him and praises him for learning how to adapt so well to a new content era that he never studied in

you think that for a first-year teacher he's doing a lot better than you had when you were in his shoes

and you figure what's the harm in talking to him and seeing how he's doing

"everything going okay, teacher choi?"

he's caught off guard by your voice, jumping and looking up at you as you walk over to get your copies from the copier

"oh, um, i'm fine. just thinking about what i'm gonna do for my science class"

"ahh, that's fair, i still can't believe they have you teaching science and math for your first year"

jongho lets out a laugh which is followed by a small "yeah... i can't either"

"but hongjoong says that you're doing a good job for your first year, so you should be proud! hongjoong never compliments anyone"

"really?"

"really. and just know that if you ever need help just reach out. i know you're not a seventh grade teacher but us who teach seventh grade needs to stick together. its a tough group."

"oh my god, i'm so glad you think that as well! i thought it was just me!"

"oh no, everyone knows seventh grade is always the worse year, we all struggle with them at some point"

"that really makes me feel better about doing my job"

"jongho, you're doing a great job. the kids love you and there will always be those kids that make you feel like you are terrible at your job. but all you have to do is teach to the ones who want to be there, and worry about them."

you tell him the exact same words you were told when you were a first year and thinking the same thing

"thank you, y/n"

you can't help but smile as you nod your head, taking your copies and heading back to your room while jongho finishes his ramen

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network : @cultofdionysusnet @cromernet

[queer-little-demigod]

Hi lea!!!! Can you write about an clarisse la true x apollo!reader

Clarisse got in trouble for something (what's new tho) and got a punishment of helping out with the little demigods art class for 2 weeks (or however long) the volunteer teacher is reader. At first Clarisse did NOT wanna be there she acted like a baby for the first few days but after she got more involved and started to understand she enjoyed it (she would never admit it), she started talking to the kids more (she totally has favorites, reader has to constantly tell her dont be so obvious about her favorites 😭) it got to a point where the kids would start talking to her outside of class. Also Clarisse definitely doesn't develop a crush on reader. AT ALL. SHE DEFINITELY HATES HOW PASSIONATE SHE IS ABOUT THE KIDS AND ART AND HOW GOOD SHE IS WITH KIDS SHE DOESN'T THINK ITS CUTE AT ALL. SHE DOESNT THINK OF THAT CLASS AS ONE BIG FAMILY. I mean what???? Who said that???

Anyways when it's time for her to go reader takes some of the kids to make a goodbye sign for clarisse; clarisse takes her 100% not favorite kid on a secret mission to make an 'I'm staying' sign. Then reader and Clarisse present them at the same time and it's all cutesy!! After class, reader asks clarisse on a date via showing her a pain she drew of them on a date and hopes she gets the message!

Thank you! :)

you got an artist inside you - clarisse la rue

summary where clarisse finds herself falling in love with a girl over paintbrushes and a punishment

fic type fluff

pairing clarisse la rue x fem!apollo!reader

word count 1.8k

warnings none

The camp was usually sleepy, quiet, and mostly empty apart from a few stray campers training here and there. But with summer already beating down with a burning force, it was full of kids running around, training left right and center, and all-in-all just general chaos.

So with the burning heat came grumpy older campers, which meant fights.

And a fight at lunch is what led to Clarissa having to help the younger campers with art class, with the co-teacher being none other than you, Y/n L/n, counsellor of the Apollo cabin. Additionally and otherwise known as the girl Clarisse was smitten with.

"Clarisse La Rue if you don't stop whining like that right now, I am going to smack you," you grumbled in utter frustration for the fifth time that hour, when she complained to you about some kid not cutting the paper the way it was supposed to be cut.

For a child of the god of war, she was such a wuss sometimes.

"But they're not following-" she began to protest, but a smack upside the head with a roll of wrapping paper shut her up.

"They're seven year olds in a summer camp art class," you emphasised on those facts. "They're gonna do their own thing!"

This was how the first few days went. She complained, you disciplined both her and the kids. But once she got used to the whole routine of you both giving instructions and the final products having irritatingly distinct variations, she cooled down.

If this was going to be a punishment for the next two weeks, she might as well enjoy it.

The art room, as usual, was a mess. Glitter was everywhere, coloured pencils were strewn around, papers were on the floor, blackened and trampled on. The strong scent of glue made everyone a bit woozy, and there was enough shouting for supplies across the table to give even the calmest camper a sensory overload.

Clarisse sat in the danger zone where the most glitter was being thrown around and spilled, and her soft skin was already glimmering with purple and red glitter as she tried restoring order. However, instead of yelling as usual she was laughing along with the little kids.

One kid in particular, you noticed, she helped far more than the others. A Hephaestus kid named Dennis, who was the sweetest little thing with big, round glasses and bronze hearing aids that you had Charlie customise so they looked like metal elf ear tips.

You pulled Clarissa aside and scolded her with a smile, “Clar, you cannot pick favourites!”

Clarissa loved your smile with everything she had. So naturally, she was so captivated by it that she didn't hear you the first time. Nor did she register the scolding.

"Excuse me, but Dennis deserves special treatment--" She began, but you cut her off.

"No, he's just like the other kids, okay? Just make sure you don't pick favourites, please," you sighed and walked away, going back to showing the kids how to make paper butterflies.

But you're my favourite, she thought to herself. She wished she had the courage to say it out loud, admit her feelings for you, but she couldn't.

Later, as time went by, as days of standing in clouds of glitter and glue fumes began and ended, Clarisse found that she was apparently likeable. After classes, during training, during dinner, she'd have little kids pulling her sleeve to talk to her, she'd have kids randomly hugging her at odd times of the day, or giving her small artworks like a wonky bird or a odd-looking Cerebrus. It shocked the campers beyond belief.

But for you it just made your love for her grow.

One day during class, a Demeter kid named Flora started to cry because glitter went into her eye. You rushed over immediately and helped her up, holding her in your arms as you took her to the basin to clean her up.

"Shh, don't cry, baby, it's okay, I'm gonna wash it out, alright?" You said softly.

"Guys, focus on your work, Flo's fine," Clarisse said, clapping her hands to direct the staring kids back to work, her eyes fixed on you as you washed Flora's eyes with water gently, telling her that she should not to go so close to the page when blowing glitter off in the softest voice the child of war had ever heard.

You were so gentle, like the softest summer breeze which didn't make the leaves rustle, but cooled one's warming skin. You were so precious, with your soft smile and loving words. Your voice was sweet like honey, no matter who you talked to or how.

If your voice was bottled, she swore to the gods that she'd get drunk on it every night.

"You okay, champ?" She asked, gently ruffling Flora's soft brown hair as the girl sat down. "You're a strong girl, aren't you? Showed that stupid glitter it's place."

You giggled at the way she spoke, covering your mouth with your hand to hide it. It was ridiculously obvious that Clarisse thought the kids in the art class were like family, and it was genuinely so adorable.

Seeing her like this, curly hair pulled back in her red bandanna, arms splattered with paint here and there, with glitter shining off her smooth caramel skin with every movement she made into the light, lit up something inside of you. Seeing her without her usual scowl, pulling funny faces with the kids as she showed them how to draw a monster, made your heart beat twice as fast.

However, two weeks went by with heartbreaking speed, and before she knew it, she was in Chiron's office, listening to him gleefully say she was officially un-grounded.

But honestly? She didn't share his happiness.

Nor did you.

"What?! Already!?" You exclaimed that evening as you sat in your cabin at your desk, which had plans put out for what to make for the next art class.

"Yeah," she grumbled, lounging on your bed. "I hate it."

"That's rough, but it's okay, you can always hop in to volunteer,"

"What do we tell the little ones?"

"The truth?"

"You're fucking crazy if you think they'll go with it,"

"I'm out of options, Clar," you leaned back in your chair and put your hands over your eyes. "I love that class, and I love teaching art."

"I know, and as much as I hate to admit it," she sat up. "So do I."

The very next day, Clarisse rushed to Chiron and begged him to let her stay for that class. Even going to lengths that she told him how she felt for you.

"Fine," he relented. "You can stay with the class for as long as you'd like,"

She'd never run to the forges to find a kid so fast.

"Beckendorf!" She exclaimed, looking at the cabin counselor. "Hey, where's Dennis?"

The boy looked around, and his eyes landed on Dennis, who was inquisitively watching one of his half-sisters mold a few practice swords, helping occasionally with putting the swords in water.

"Dennis!" Beckendorf exclaimed, "Clarisse wants to talk to you!"

Dennis immediately ran over, grinning broadly, showing his gap-toothed smile. "Hi, Clarisse!" He said, excitedly.

"Hey there, big boy!" She smiled back, giving him a high five. "So listen, I'm going to need your insane artistic skills and your help..."

While you did help the other kids make a 'goodbye' sign for Clarisse, on the side you decided to confront your feelings.

You knew you liked her from the beginning, from when you first saw her infectious smile, from when you heard her deep laugh reverberating through the empty Apollo cabin on days where you both would plan lessons.

She held the key to your heart, she knew her way past your walls. She clearly also knew how to remain in your thoughts, subconscious and conscious, to the point where you found yourself in the art studio, canvas on an easel before you.

Thoughts of her, of feeling her coarse, battle-worn hands on your skin, of gazing into those deep brown eyes which were like the colour of the rain-kissed earth, and when she fought were like the evening sun, golden enough to put the wings of Icarus to shame, made your paintbrush move. It made your colours flow like the blood in your veins, made each stroke perfect enough to create the scene you most desired on the canvas in front of you.

You stepped back once you felt the need to express yourself flow away, gazing at the canvas. A scene it held, and what a scene indeed. The sky was cornflower blue, a cloudless day, with the sun’s rays shining down on a big oak tree. The leaves were paler as the golden light kissed the surface, casting sharp shadows on the pillowy grass.

But then there was vivid orange and red, a flash of bronze. In the foreground there sat both you and Clarisse, the latter having more detail than any part of the drawing.

Then the dreaded day came where you all had to say goodbye to her.

The little ones were devastated, not letting Clarisse go anywhere without following her around like baby ducklings, making her explain to them that she's not going away from camp, she's just not going to teach them anymore.

At the end of the final class, just as everyone unveiled the 'we'll miss you' poster, she and Dennis revealed their 'I'm Staying' poster, causing a loud, thunderous cheer to erupt from all of you.

Later, you pulled her aside to give her your canvas painting.

Nerves wracked your body, your palms began to sweat.

When was the last time you had felt this nervous? It was probably your cello recital the day you had come to camp...

"Holy shit, Y/n this looks absolutely amazing!" Clarisse exclaimed, taking the painting in her hands.

She didn't miss the detail you had given her, drawing her angelically, despite her thinking she was the opposite. It was so well done that the brush strokes weren't even visible.

Please get the message, you blockheaded, oblivious fool...you thought.

Deciding to act against your nerves, you asked her in a shaky voice, "That's a painting of us on a date...would you like to go on one with me sometime?"

Clarisse's heart stopped. Had you just asked her out on a date?

She was at a loss for words, they didn't touch her tongue, nor did they pass her lips. She stood there, speechless, gaping at you for a moment too long.

"I mean, I get it, you're probably not even a les--" you began, but a pair of gentle lips on yours silenced your words.

Sparks flew, butterflies went haywire, your brain short-circuited. You didn't know what to doo, just stood there frozen with shock. Kissing the girl you had liked for the last few months now.

Clarisse, however, was ecstatic. Her mind was a burst of colour, her body was ablaze. She felt like she had wings, and her heart was taking her up, up, up.

Once she pulled away, she winked at your blushing face and dopey grin.

"It's a date, L/n."

hi, it's me! lea! i hope you enjoyed this long overdue oneshot <3 requests are open via dms or asks!

[strawberryspence]

PART 1

Eddie did not know what to do. It was one mistake, made in a dimly lit bar, and he honestly doesn’t even remember the guy’s name. Was it John? Jeremy? Jason? It was one guy, he never even flirts anymore but Steve looked so good that night that it hurt. Hurt so bad he needed someone to temporarily fill that gaping hole in his heart. Because how can Steve Harrington ever want him in any way?

His mother, Cecilia Munson, used to call him sweetheart at the softest times of the day, sunlight dancing through their rooms, just for the two of them. He remembers being nine, young, sharp edged from his father, wondering why anyone would look at him and call him sweetheart, not when he hot wires cars and pick locks. His mother smiles sweetly at him, explaining, “You, Eddie Munson, have the kindest and biggest heart. I call you sweetheart because I love you.”

Of course, Eddie’s in love with Steve. Of course, he calls Steve sweetheart because he loves him. How can anyone not fall in love with him? He calls Steve sweetheart because its true. Steve is a sweetheart. Steve’s sweet with the biggest kindest heart he’s ever seen on anyone. Sure, he wasn’t the best in high school, but he’s proven that he’s better now time and time again.

He gets a visit from Dustin two days after the bar incident, pounding at his door like a hurricane. When he finally opens the door, Dustin’s red faced with anger, “You’re fucking lucky I love you or I would’ve bought Erica Sinclair with me.”

Before he can even ask what’s happening, Dustin’s listing the ways Erica can hide a body, never to be found again. Eddie sighs. The group knows now, of course, they would. News spreads like wild fire with the kids. It’s because of those damn walkies they have (he can’t begrudge them for it when it once aided in saving his ass.)

“How did you find out?”

“Jonathan.”

“Jonathan?!”

Dustin shrugs, “He’s got vendetta against you now. I don’t know dude, they’ve always had a weird friendship. Max thinks they were a throuple at some point, Lucas thinks they’ve got a thing going on just the two of them and Will won’t say anything.”

Jesus Christ, Eddie’s not one for jealousy but there’s something green cruising through his veins right now and he hates it with a burning passion. He needs Dustin to leave so he can scream into a pillow, or maybe sob in the shower.

“Why are you here?”

“I am here to make sure you fix this shit you fucked.”

Eddie looks up at him with surprise as Dustin crossed his arms, eyebrows raised, “Everyone knows Steve’s the biggest sweetheart. He may hide it with his big hair or his sarcasm, but we all know. If you do like him, which you do, you dumb ass. You have to fix this, Eddie. I haven’t seen Steve this upset before and I was there when Nancy dumped him.”

Eddie blanches at the statement, it tears straight to his heart at the fact that he made his sweetheart upset. God, he's an idiot.

The next morning Eddie goes into mission mode with a bouquet of daisies in one hand and a bag of cookies he bought from the bakery on the other as he arrives at the Harrington’s mansion. He’s gonna fix this today, come hell or high water.

Robin answers the door and Eddie’s sure he’s never seen her look more feral and that’s saying a lot when they've fought a magical evil wizard together. Robin’s looking at him like she’ll gauge his eyes out if he makes a wrong move, which he deserves.

Eddie asks for Steve and before he can finish the door is shut to his face. Well, he deserves that too. So he knocks again, ringing the doorbell as annoyingly as he can.

Robin opens again, nostrils flaring, “What do you want Munson? If you’re here to make my best friend cry again, I am asking you to leave now.”

“Robin, I just want to talk to him. I want to apologize. I made a mistake and I want to fix that mistake.”

“Then what? You're gonna go calling him sweetheart again without strings attached?”

“You know that’s not what it is. You know, Robin.”

And she does know. She knows about Eddie’s feelings for her best friend and the fear of not being good enough for Steve. Robin’s afraid no one will ever be good enough for her Steve but before the bar incident, she thought Eddie’s the closest thing to good enough.

For a second, Eddie can see Robin soften, then she shakes her head, “No.” Robin says, her back straightening.

Robin’s about to close the door again when Steve comes into view. A blanket draped over his shoulders, hair messy, glasses askew. If it was any other situation Eddie might’ve swooned at how soft he looks like but he’s eyes are red rimmed from crying and Eddie hates himself even more.

“Let him in, Rob.” Robin stands solid at the doorway, not moving. Steve looks at her wearily, “Robin.” They have another one of their silent conversations, before Robin gives up, “Fine.” She leaves the door open before marching up the stairs to give them privacy.

Eddie hands him the daisies and the cookies, Steve smiling down at it before inviting him into the living room with a small smile.

“I am sorry.” They both blurt out at the same time. Eddie’s not even sure to why Steve’s apologizing. Steve then goes on a tangent about how sorry he is for making the assumption that the name sweetheart is only for him and that it meant something more. It wasn’t Eddie’s fault, it was his and his only. He says it’s okay and he didn’t deserve Eddie in the first place and he wasn’t that special. Every word just crushes Eddie even more. How can Steve think he doesn’t deserve Eddie? Him of all the people?

Eddie can’t do anything but scoop him up in his arms, trying his best to give him the best hug in the world as he apologizes for his mistake. Eddie assures him that he is Eddie’s only sweetheart and Steve didn’t make anything up in his head. Eddie tells him he is in love with him, and Steve tears up but at least there's a big smile on his face.

Then and there, Eddie makes the decision to show Steve the love he deserves, to woo him off his ass. Eddie loves him, through and through, and Steve’s always gonna be his sweetheart and if in 50 years they don’t end up together, Eddie will never call anyone else sweetheart, because that’s for Steve, his nail bat yielding, bad ass, sweetheart.

They don’t kiss. Content with just being in each others arms, knowing their true feelings for each other. (Also because Eddie feels like he needs to earn it) Robin goes down when it gets too quiet, and when she sees them in the couch she smiles sweetly at the image of the two of them tangled together.

She walks up on them, “I am so glad you two made up.” Eddie’s smiling up at her when Robin’s fist hits his nose.

“ROBIN!!!” Steve’s clutching him, he’s pretty sure his nose is bleeding and when Eddie looks up, Robin’s holding her fist like it hurt her to punch, but she’s grinning the biggest grin Eddie’s ever seen on her face.

“Again, I am glad you two made up. I love you both very much. But if I you make him cry again, that’s not the only thing I am breaking.” Robin smiles before kissing their heads and heading to the kitchen to get him an ice pack.

They look at each other before promptly bursting into laughter as Steve tries to wipe his bleeding nose with his own hand.

Eddie does woo Steve. On the third date Eddie planned for them, Steve finally kisses him. They’re in his car and Eddie’s rambling about his new campaign and how the kids loved it. Steve kisses him mid-way the conversation. The kiss itself, Eddie thinks, is just as sweet as Steve. Steve holds him like he’s the best thing in this universe and like it’s a privilege to be kissing him, rather than the other way around.

Eddie does not stop wooing Steve. He picks him flowers in random fields, takes him on dates, makes him dinner, leaves tiny notes on his bathroom mirror, (he also woos him amazingly in bed), packs him lunches, makes him mixtapes, burns CDs, and, three decades later, playlists.

They’re 40, Steve found his first grey hair yesterday and Eddie’s knees hurt more often that it should. But Eddie still calls Steve sweetheart. Their kids cringe at their parents and their vintage pet name for each other, but their smiles don’t hide the fact that they adore their parents love.

Steve knows he’s special, because Eddie Munson calls him sweetheart for the rest of their lives.

Eddie knows he deserves this life, this love, because Steve Harrington loves him.

[early20sfailingplenty]

Ugh Eri my brain is being mean to me :(

Do you think the Sinclairs would like a chubby partner? I’m a bit in the heavy side and I feel like they wouldn’t find me attractive:/

Especially Bo, he seems like the guy to like skinny and pretty partners:/

I know the Sinclairs would love a chubby partner!!!! Are you kidding????🥺Those men have been starved of love their whole lives, so much so that it may as well be a foreign concept to them. It exists only in fairy tales and stories, never in real life. Sure, Vincent acts on it with Bo as a team effort to carry on their mother's legacy, but cruelty was how she expressed 'love' (or that was how she framed it; the Sinclairs still don't know much better, even as we meet them in canon) and so they continue on with that, too.

Cruel is the world, crueler still were their parents, and the Sinclair men use that against everyone including themselves. They know little of love. Devotion, yes, loyalty, yes, passion, yes, but love? Bo scoffs at the notion, Lester smiles but it's weak at the edges, and Vincent nods sagely but on the inside, bitterness burns his throat like acid. Hatred for that which has never been really his. Or his brothers'.

They knew little about it until you. The flowers which bloom in their hearts when you walk into the room, the way Bo's cheeks get a little hotter when you turn around (he hates to see you go, but loves watching you leave - he's a pervert just like his brothers), the way Vincent cannot help but stare after you as you move around the room. You are beautiful and each of the brothers have their own favourite thing about you; physically and otherwise!

They care not for how you look, they care only for how you feel; are you dressing comfortably, eating well? Whatever those two things mean for you; if you're comfortable, then they're happy!💖 The Sinclairs never knew what love really was until they met you, and now they have found you, they will never let you go.

That's a threat and a promise!

[toshidou]

oddly specific british hcs . . .

characters // the 141 (simon "ghost" riley, john "soap" mactavish, kyle "gaz" garrick, john price)

an // don't ask me what this is, because i really don't have an answer for you. my brain just spat this out at me mid walk and for some reason i decided to post it here. i am so sorry.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

He's scared shitless of Year 7s, despite knowing full well that he was one of those little bastards when he was a kid. Not much puts the fear of god into him, yet something about a group of little shitheads who think they own the world has him crossing to the other side of the street at the sight of them.

Got suspended from school one time for stealing one of the dildo's from the RE classroom and supergluing to the seat of the kid who tried to bully him.

Got good grades at school. Not because he put in the effort, but because he stole all the exam answers from his teachers desk and spent the night before the exam memorising it all. "Work smarter not harder" was his motto.

Once got lost in a Primark. He was only looking for some cheap sleep wear, and ending up somewhere stuck between rows of Disney clothes and screaming children on leashes.

Has an unhealthy obsession with Monster energy drinks, he once drank so many in a row he went temporarily blind in his left eye. Still drinks them to this day.

John "Soap" Mactavish

He once had a full on mental breakdown in ALDI because the cashier was scanning things too quickly and he couldn't keep up.

Has started several fights in pubs because someone insulted Iron-Bru, both Simon and Price have had to drag him out of nearly all of them kicking and screaming garbled Scottish insults.

Used to dip his sherbet dib dab in dirt as a kid.

Once got in trouble in maths class for spelling "80085" on his calculator and laughing so hard he pissed himself.

The only time he laughed that hard again was when the Queen kicked the bucket. Price looked nothing short of disturbed.

If one more person comes up to him and yells "DISGUSTANG" in an exaggerated and shit Scottish accent, he's going to commit serial arson.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Went to private school, and gets bullied for it by the entire 141 as soon as they find out. They rib him even harder after they find out he was head boy.

Got invited to a night out in London by one of his rich acquaintances from school, which ended up being The Box. That night single-handedly gave him more PTSD than any mission he's ever been on.

Has personal beef with Percy Pig after he almost choked to death on one, and to this day he will never live it down that Ghost had to give him the Heimlich.

Has an unhealthy addiction to the Spice Girls. Sometimes he forgets he lives on a military base and still sings "Wannabe" at full volume in the showers. He's had to swear Soap to secrecy on numerous occasions.

His favourite Spice Girl is Scary Spice.

Captain John Price

His biggest guilty pleasure is listening to Take That. He'd first heard them first thanks to his mother being worryingly obsessed, and started mockingly singing along to their songs on brief phone calls from his barracks after he'd first joined. Little did he know that soon he too would unironically love their music. And yes, he cried when Robbie left the band. It's a secret he's taking to the grave.

Hates Waitrose with a burning passion, he once threw a fit over the price of a packet of peanuts and scared the middle-aged woman and her baby two aisles down.

Saw Gaz choking on a Percy Pig, and then proceeded to buy him every available Percy Pig related merchandise for Christmas.

Loves vinegar on his chips from the chippy, and when he found out the smell makes Soap gag, suddenly he loves his chips drowning in it.

[kiwiaok]

aftg is eating up my brain so badly, I have a constant stream of ideas and I’m shit at actually writing them but I need to get them out of my system bc it’s suffocating, so:

• an au where king and sir turn out to be shapeshifters so andreil magically acquire two spoiled kids

• andreil saying to each other ‘IU’ instead of ‘I hate you’ or ‘I love you’ or anything else. they use it in every kind of situation bc it’s the testament of how much they feel about each other and that’s more important to them than anything else. they’re fighting? IU (I hate you, I’m scared for you, I’m scared of how much power you have over me, I still want you to stay) they’re having sex? IU (I trust you, I love you, I’m going to take care of you, I’ll make you feel good) they’re breaking down? IU (I’ve got you, I’m here, I’m going to stay, I’m going to help best I can)

• a fic where neil dies in baltimore and we see the aftermath told from his perspective as a ghost: introspection, character study, cannibalism, polaroids, inspired by strangers by ethel cain:

• neil taking great pleasure in buying andrew expensive things and seeing him use them, not out of possessiveness but bc he truly just wants andrew to be happy and taken care of. and andrew learning to accept those gifts bc neil never wants anything in return, not even gratitude

• neil getting drugged at eden’s by some stranger and proceeding to glue himself to andrew’s side. the next day andrew is frustrated by that show of trust and he asks how neil could know that it wasn’t him doing the drugging. to which neil replies that he didn’t know that, but he knew that andrew wouldn’t drug him or let anyone touch him without a good reason. so it was okay, he just needed to trust andrew’s judgement and stick by him. and then andrew realising just how much faith neil has in him and having a breakdown about it

• after neil’s bad days, andrew spoons neil and keeps his hand wrapped around neil’s throat while they’re sleeping. it makes neil feel safe and grounded and makes andrew drunk on trust and control (bonus scene: foxes witnessing this one day and completely failing at understanding their dynamic)

• neil getting into a habit of spitting after his time at the nest bc riko used to spit into his mouth and make him swallow it as a power play. whenever neil remembers it the thought of any spit in his mouth, even his own, makes him sick. so he spits

• whenever aaron is on the edge of relapsing instead of telling anyone he just trails after andrew 24/7 bc he knows his brother won’t let him destroy his life

• tlou au where andrew is traveling the world in search of his twin brother and he’s hired to transport neil somewhere. meanwhile, they fall in love with each other and they find out andrew was supposed to deliver neil into his father’s hands (andrew promised neil safety and he refuses to break his promise so this becomes the first job andrew ever failed)

• andreil breaking up and neil desperately trying to prove to himself that he can move on so he takes the page from andrew’s books and starts sleeping around, but he only succeeds in hurting himself and feeling miserable (they get back in the end bc I need them to be happy)

• OH MY GOD HORNY KANDREIL CLASSICAL MUSIC AU!! kevin (and neil?) playing violin and drew being freakishly good at playing every instrument he ever touches but especially the piano. kev giving a performance and andreil sitting in the first row, neil getting a hard on bc kevin looks so good in his suit, with slightly greying hair combed back and passion burning in his eyes. andrew discretely edging him on, palming neil’s dick through the fancy suit’s material and keeping eye contact with kevin the whole time

AND SO MUCH MORE AAAAAA. this is insufferable, I’m writing fics in my head to fall asleep and then I’m waking up literally quoting aftg (genuinely happened last week, I felt like a lunatic) and then I’m going to uni and I spend every lecture thinking about how I can use my degree to better write about those stupid murderous college athletes. what kind of crack did you put in this series, nora?????

[chaenqen]

strawberries & cigarettes — jay park

swear words ! kissing ! enemies2lvrs ! female!reader ! not proofread and most definitely not — real !

he has had enough. every — single — day — you pretend like you don’t know him like you don’t care about him like you don’t need him, when both you and him know that’s far from the truth. he’s had absolutely enough of your bratty attitude and he’s going to show you that you can’t ignore him all the time and most definitely — not — forever.

“hey.” your locker door slams shut, almost making you let your school books fall out of your arms from the surprise. you turn your head to the person who slammed your locker, facing one of the many people that you definitely did not want to come across today and any other day. “Jay…”

you let out a dissatisfied sigh before turning your body towards the tall boy, his hand resting on your now closed locker, staring at you with that same old careless look. “what do you want, Park? don’t have anything better to do than to almost cut my hands off?” you roll your eyes, turning on your heels and walking away from him, school books in your arms and bag on your shoulder, ready to go home.

he follows behind you, you can almost feel his burning gaze on the back of your head but decide to ignore that for now, just trying to make your way back home. “actually i do, shithead, but i decided to get on your nerves because your reactions are priceless and i could really use some entertainment right now” he was now walking backward in front of you, body turned towards you, hands in the pockets of his black leather jacket and a big fat smirk on his lips. oh, how you hated that smirk…

“oh yeah? well, i’m not here for your entertainment, so get the fuck out of my face, Park, i don’t have the nerves to deal with you right now.” you spit out at him with an angry expression, speeding up a little to walk past him and out of the school building, making your way to your bus, hoping that you aren't too late. “oh come on princess! you know you like being played like that~” he doesn’t actually mean that, but you don’t have to know that, do you?

your eyebrows raise in disbelief as you hear his painful words. “are you being serious right now, Park? are you fucking kidding me? just because you little piece of shi-”

“dare to finish that sentence and i’ll step on those crappy little books of yours.” he threatens, his foot stepping slightly on a few of the papers that fell out of the said books “oh yeah?” you scoff, eyebrows raised in a way of showing your disbelief. “you little — piece — of shit.”

he steps even closer to you now, not caring about the books on the floor or the papers that are now scattered across the pavement, slowly being blown away by the wind. his hands quickly and hastily reach for your face, both of his hands on each side of your flushing red cheeks as he pulls you in for that long-awaited, passionate kiss. his lips don’t leave yours for probably like — three minutes or something. you don’t care about anything right now either, you don’t even care about the fact that you ‘hated’ him. all you care about right now is that his lips are sealed with yours, tasting like strawberries and cigarettes, feeling like two clouds colliding. your stomach is doing left and right turns right now, probably also driving a hundred kilometers per hour as your mind is clouded with the thought that you finally gave into that desire. that desire — to be his.

[dolcettamagica]

do you mind sharing some resources or giving some info that could help teach about what's going on in Kurdistan?

OF COURSE OMG

kurdistan’s timeline

more in depth history

kurdish genocides

another source to genocides

and again…

kurdish groups (pkk, ypg, ypj) saving us from isis

abdullah öcalan’s take on women’s rights

so, first you have the understand that kurdistan has been colonized by four countries: turkey, iran, iraq, syria. iraq and syria gave the kurds autonomous regions (which is the bare minimum). rojava is the syrian occupied kurdistan and bashur the iraqi occupied kurdistan.

those four countries did (and do) the same disgusting shit israhell has been doing to palestine, since 1923: prohibited the language, the national colors (turkey has prohibited new adidas shoes a few days bc they have red, green and yellow😭), raped women and kids, use illegal chemical weapons (the last time? two years ago), deporte them, genocides, even cutting off olive tress of kurds and so on.

iran hates the kurds with a burning passion, especially bc jin, jiyan, azadi was started by the kurdish freedom movement (pkk) centuries ago.

the most hate tolds the turkish regime. turkey’s crimes against kurds are ENDLESS. the worst being the dersim massacre. turkey also collaborated with ISIS to kill kurds in rojava. at the beginning of last october erdogan started to bomb rojava again!, citizens and even mosques. if you want all the crimes turkey has done to kurde you should ask for an extra ask cause turkey is the absolute worst.

the best news site regarding kurdistan is anf

you can also follow @/newsfromkurdistan on instagram.

[psychedelic-ink]

Watercolor Eyes ║ Santiago "Pope" Garcia

a/n: this fic is directly inspired by @prolix-yuy 's absolutely gorgeous series something new I can't recommend this series enough it was such a joy to read, and after reading her headcanons about the other sw! triple frontier boys I couldn't stop thinking of santi <33 thank you so much for allowing me to be a part of this world and write for it! I hope you enjoy 💕

and special thank to my bby @inklore who supports me always and beta'd this fic for me, ilysm 💖

pairing: santiago "pope" garcia x fem!reader

genre: smut with little plot, minors dni

word count: 7k

summary: after another day of lack of customers and loneliness, you come across a flyer that might grant you a night of relief and pleasure.

warnings: sex worker!santi, oral (receiving & first time), dirty talking, bdsm dynamics, soft dom!santi, sub!reader, reader showing brat tendencies, brat tamer!santi, piv, use of a condom, squirting, the use of sir, swearing, orgasm denial/cumming on command, soft bondage, dry humping, teasing, begging, aftercare

Watercolor Eyes Masterlist

The neon letters shine loud and bright within the night: Cafe Watercolor. Seeing the pink sign used to make you smile, it was a sign that represented your dreams, your hopes, your future. Now it only symbolizes the harsh truth of reality. You’re a failure. Unable to get your small bakery cafe off the ground. You sit behind the counter, head propped up with your elbow as you look outside with a bored gaze. The air conditioning hisses, mixing with the coffee shop playlist you prepared the day before you opened up your little cafe. The tunes of a melancholic piano overlaps the sound of the air conditioner, the vocals of “The head and the heart” filling the small space. 

Summers in Florida consist of humidity, rain and the burning sun. To you, it’s hell on heart. But as someone who always felt more focused with the pitter patters of raindrops, it wasn’t that bad. With a broken sigh, you watch a couple, hand in hand, soaked to the marrow, running to the bus stop. The pouring rain should’ve been any coffee shop owners bread and butter, people searched for shelter, the scent of coffee and sweets was always enticing enough to beckon them inside. Sadly, they either ran past the shop, much similarly to the couple from before, or took shelter at the coffee shop right across from you. It was brighter, bigger, and had all of those fancy new drinks. Right now your menu is limited, you focus on the baking aspect more, there lays your true passion, but you enjoyed a good cup of coffee as well so you threw that into the mix too. 

And you know it’s good coffee. Those who bothered to enter would be astounded by the rich flavors and the free baked goods you threw in. You just need them to take one bite. After that they came again and again. 

But a couple of regulars isn’t enough to keep your business afloat, not in this economy. 

You could only hire two baristas, and since they were underpaid grad students, you didn’t blame them for not wanting to stick their neck out for the small shop. They were already juggling two other jobs. 

Your family warned you; Don’t do it, they had said, You didn’t waste years of study just to open a coffee shop. Since you were a kid they wanted you to delve into the cruel world of academia. You studied archaeology, it was fun. Obviously. Who wouldn’t like to dig and unravel the remnants of a ruined civilization? But your heart always ached for something else. You didn’t want to waste your life competing with friends and others, you didn’t enjoy your classmates viewing you as a threat just because you got a good grade. You hated always having to look over your shoulder, worrying if the person that smiled at you genuinely meant it or not. It was chaotic, stress inducing. The job itself was fun, but the backstage wasn’t. 

So you quit right after finishing grad school. Sure, maybe you should’ve stuck it to your parents and quit sooner, but you assumed if you actually finished studying they would finally let you go. 

Of course they didn’t. 

Shaking your head, you force yourself to stand up. You might as well close up shop. You don’t need your electricity bill to get even higher. Heart broken, you walk to the large window, the day's special baked goods written on the window. You almost cry when you wipe it off the board, you worked really hard on those croissants, you will have to take them home, again. At least your neighbors were happy about the free desserts. 

The rain had stopped. Lonely water drops sliding down the glass, you see that the couple is still waiting for their bus. When the guy leaned in for a kiss, laughing and wet, your heart breaks a little. How long has it been since your last date? When has anyone ever looked at you like that? No one, that’s who. You had one lousy boyfriend and a couple of bad dates, after graduating your whole love and effort had gone into the shop. Needless to say you didn’t have much time to scroll the endless fuckboys of Tinder. 

Tearing your gaze away from the couple’s private moment, you turn off the neon light, and push back the misplaced chairs. The silver lining is that you don’t have to do much in terms of cleaning. You’ll wipe the counter, pull out the plugs just in case, and that’ll be it. You already left the kitchen spotless after baking, which you’re glad for since now you can just go home. 

Your chest heaves as you pick off the tray of croissants and package them to take to your neighbors. It's like this every night, your need to cry doubling tenfold whenever you take something you make home. You know they’re good. You just need people to give you a chance. You grab the last croissant for yourself and bite into it, dinner is settled. As you chew you moan at the taste of vanilla custard and the berry glaze, the flaky pastry crumbles, it gets on your clothes, sticks to the roof of your mouth. With the back of your hand you wipe your mouth and pat yourself down. Now you can leave. 

Before leaving you take one last look, the passing cars casted their light inside, moving along and leaving the shop in darkness once more. Just like you. But it won’t last like this for long. It can’t. You won’t allow it. 

Locking, and checking by rattling the door, you stuff the keys into your pockets and head home. The rain has faded but it’s still quite windy. The leaves of palm trees echoe and you see the remnants of flyers ghosting across the pavement. You see the silhouette of your bus, your steps pick up and when you realize you’re about to miss it, you run– 

You’ve barely taken a couple of long strides before something sticks to your face, you collapse on the wet ground, mud and water seeping into your clothes as pain spreads across your chest. 

Immediately upon getting up you see that the bus is gone, disappeared into the wind. 

“Shit!” ignoring the state of your clothes you stomp your feet like a child throwing a tantrum. You viciously tear the piece of paper that led to your demise and glare at it. “Fucking– I’m going to curse the company who made this damn…flyer,” 

Your eyebrows rise with curiosity. Looking down, you see a glossy flyer between your fingertips, or rather the remnants of it. The half bottom rips and falls to the concrete with a loud splat. However, the thing that piques your interest is that this particular flyer doesn’t belong to a company. It’s for a very specific service provided for lonely people like you. You drag your gaze across the men that decorate the poster, all of them looking very very handsome. It’s been a while since the color had faded from the flyer but you assume it’s from the sudden rain pour. 

You should really just throw the poster away, walk your sweet ass to the bus stop and head home. 

Instead, your eyes gaze at the number written in a bold font. Lucky you that the number was written on the top part of the flyer and not the bottom. Before the other bus arrives, you hurriedly pull out your phone, also soaked from the fall, and type the number, cursing every time your phone gets the number confused due to your wet fingers. 

When you finally succeed in putting the numbers in, you shove the flyer into your bag to throw out for later and very carefully make your way to the bus stop. 

You’ve been staring at your phone for about an hour. 

You’d taken a brisk shower, gave the rest of the croissants to your neighbors, in which they thanked you, inviting you in and after dodging that bullet, you finally managed to relax on the couch. 

However, what you’re doing isn’t really relaxing. 

The black written numbers start to shake, your eyes stinging from staring at the screen for too long. Are you really going to do this? Are you really so lonely that you need to pay someone to spend time with you? Well yes actually, you are. It’s not like you’re shameful about asking for a service, a couple of your friends had done it, it’s just that you didn’t really know what to say when you called. Did you just say what you want? Do you need to ask for a specific man? Will it be safe? What if you get an STD among everything else? 

With a loud groan, you throw your head back and let your hand fall to your lap. This is iditoic. You’re idiotic. It’s just a simple call. If whoever is on the other line sounds shady you can just hang up and pretend this never happened. Yeah. That’s it. It’s just a phone call. They can’t see you. Or force you to continue to talk. You have the power of the red button, you’ll be alright. 

With a sudden surge of bravery, you raise your head and make the call. You quickly put it on speaker and anxiously listen to it ring. It feels like an eternity until someone finally picks up the phone. 

“Hello?” 

Oh shit. Shit shit shit– The voice that comes from the other line actually sounds good, honestly you were expecting it to be a pervert heavily breathing down the line but this is a very pleasant surprise. 

When the honey-like voice speaks again, he sounds amused, as if you’re the funniest thing that happened to him all day. 

“I can hear you breathing, you know? I won’t bite, promise,” he chuckles, breathy and airy. “I mean, unless that’s what you’re asking for,” 

“Y-Yeah sorry,” you stumble with your words. Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to remember the name of the place. “Is…this Pope’s?” 

“It is and I’m Santiago, but since you sound so sweet you can just call me Santi,” 

Your body heats up at his words, this is probably the most flirtatious thing anyone has said to you in months, even if technically he’s just saying that because you’re a potential customer. Your thumb rubs the corner of the smooth surface of the phone, you don’t know what to say next. 

“Sorry, I don’t really know what to say,” 

“That’s alright, I have all the time in the world,” 

You relax at the playful tint of his voice, a soft smile ghosts across your lips. 

“Do you really?” 

“Well no, but you can still take your time. I can also ask you some questions to ease you in?” 

“Sure?” 

You hate how unsure you sound of yourself, but also you don’t think you can hide it. You genuinely feel lost, mind wandering about how others acted during these calls, you bet they knew what they wanted. They most certainly aren’t like you, causing problems by being shy and calling without looking up what to say beforehand. Damn, you really should’ve googled it first. You’re positive you can find a wikihow article about this. 

“Okay let’s start out easy then, why did you call Pope’s?” 

“For…company,” 

“Just for that?” 

You can see his smile through his voice, you bet he has an amazing one. You suck in a breath, chest puffing up as you ponder over what your next sentence should be. 

“No, I would like…you know,” closing your eyes, you swallow. “Sex,” 

You half expect him to laugh but he doesn’t, a soft hum echoes and he follows up with another question. 

“Alright, the follow up questions might be a bit awkward but I need to ask–” 

“Awkward?”

Your panicked tone seeps through the line and reaches Santi’s ear drums. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be holding your hand through it all, cariño. They’re mostly questions about your medical history,” 

You nod then remembering he can’t see you quickly add, “Of course, thank you, Santi,”

When the questions are done, you check your phone only to see that an hour has already passed, much to your surprise, it felt shorter than that. Santi had asked you everything. Even things you never would’ve thought about asking a partner. And honestly it relieved you that he was so detailed with the background checks, just by his voice you can tell that he cares about what he does and for both parties concerned. It was nice. It reminds you a bit about yourself and your own work ethics. 

“Okay I think that’s everything,” he states. “Do you want to continue with this?” 

The uncertainty you feel comes rushing back, an encore, if you will. 

“Yeah, I do. I-If everything's good,” 

“Everything’s perfect,” you hear the gentle tapping of a pen. “And I think I already have the perfect match for you. Where are you? An otel?” 

“Uh…” you look around your apartment. “I’m actually at my apartment…will that be a problem?” 

“If it’s not a problem for you it’s not a problem for us,” he answers, voice a bit more timid than before. “But I will need an address, but if that’s going to be an issue I can look up nearby motels if you tell me which part of the city you’re in?” 

“N-No, it’s fine,” 

As you give out your address the red alarms in your brain screeches at you. It’s loud and mind numbing. Rightfully so. Santi tells you that it’ll take about half an hour for them to arrive and he hangs up, when he does, what you’ve just done dawns on you. You gave your address… to a stranger on the phone. And not just any address, your home address. You really are fucking stupid. 

You could’ve at least taken up Santi’s offer to find you a motel nearby, this is your fucking home. 

“Okay, you’ll get through this. Just deep breaths, take deep breaths…” 

Placing a hand on your chest, you inhale and exhale about five to ten times. Your chest rises under your palm, you can feel your heartbeat. Everything will be alright. You have a pan that’s perfect for smacking people, better yet you have rolling pins of all sizes. You’ll be fine. You’ll be okay. 

You get up and head to the bedroom, it’s a mess, sadly your home didn’t get the same squeaky treatment as your shop. 

Everything will be okay. 

The doorbell rings and your heart nearly jumps out of your throat. After tidying up your room, and yourself; you shaved with hurry, then put on a bra and underwear that matched in color. It’s the little things. You had a couple of toys you enjoyed, if he failed the two of you could always use those. A single woman has needs after all, and after checking the batteries you placed them into the drawer of your bedside table. 

Another ring follows and you hurry to the door. You might be wearing matching underwear but other than that you hadn’t put on anything fancy; your favorite oversize shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants. 

Clearing your throat, you call out to the person waiting on the other side. 

“Who is it?” 

“Pope’s,” 

This is actually happening. He’s actually here, and not a minute late, or early. 

You open the door with trembling hands, the man on the other side doesn’t move an inch as you observe him, he only smiles, shooting you a quick nod and a playful wink. He stays there until you fully open the door, even then he doesn’t budge, he waits patiently while your curious gaze rakes his body. His eyes are as rich as the coffee you brew, lashes long, soft looking. You see a bit of gray mixed in his dark hair, the corners of his eyes creasing as he smiles at you, lips lush, made for kissing and pleasuring another. For a moment you want to reach out and drag your fingers across his jawline, you wonder if it can actually cut into your skin. His five o’clock shadow will definitely chafe between your thighs and the phantom of the feeling is enough to have your insides clench. The veins peeking above his skin meanders down into his black fitted shirt, you want to see more. 

He clears his throat, smile widening into a grin. 

“Can I come in?”

You know that voice, how could you not when you gave very detailed information about your sex life to that same smooth baritone. 

“Santi?” 

You might be imagining it, but you think his eyes sparkle when you recognize him. His excitement makes your lips break out into a smile. 

“The one and only,” 

Heart thrumming madly in your chest, you move out of the way. He continues to wait, an eyebrow raised as he chews on his bottom lip, he looks you up and down. What was he waiting for? Tilting your head, you answer his gleaming gaze with your confused one. As an answer, he raises both eyebrows, smiles and tilts his head to the other side. 

Oh. OH.

He’s waiting for you to verbally invite him in. 

“C-Come in,” 

His smile never fading, he takes one long stride into your apartment. It’s elegant, graceful, and you can’t stop staring. 

Santi quickly does a once over of your home as he toes off his shoes. Oddly enough, it feels like him being there completes a picture. Maybe it’s because you’ve been lonely for so long but it just seems like he belongs. You push the door as he turns to look at you, if he smiles at you any longer you might melt into a puddle. 

“Should we…” your gaze falls to the floor, and with that see his socked feet; black with colorful polka dots. “Nice socks,” 

“Thanks,” he grins. “It was a gift from a close friend,” 

“You must really like socks then,” 

“Among other things,” 

His lashes flutter, eyes soft like clouds. It takes every ounce of your self control not to swoon, he feels like he ripped a whole out of your dreams and escaped. 

“So, bedroom?” 

Your voice gives away how nervous you are, you almost breathe out a sigh of relief when Santi shakes his head. You still have no idea what to do. And you already feel vulnerable as it is, you’d probably bust a vein if you also stripped in front of him. 

“Loving the enthusiasm but maybe we should talk a bit first,” his eyes linger on the couch. “I still don’t know what you want yet,” 

He sits and you follow his trail, sitting on the armchair across from the couch. 

“I thought I already said it on the phone,” you whine, thoughts swirling. “Please don’t make me say it again, I’m already plenty embarrassed,” 

“Don’t be,” his stern tone takes you by surprise, he leans, arms resting above his knees as he stares you directly in the eyes. “There’s no reason for you to be embarrassed, it’s completely normal,” 

“Really?” 

Santi grins, eyes sparkling. 

“If it wasn’t Pope’s would be closed already,” 

“I guess you’re right,” a faint chuckle falls from your lips and upon hearing the sound he leans back, getting more comfortable. “So what do you want to know?” 

“Things you enjoy during intercourse,” he thoughtfully rubs his chin. “Kinks, fetishes, anything you can think of. If you want to roleplay or not, anything,” 

“Anything?” 

“Well, there are a couple of things I say no to but I don’t think you’re going to say any of them, but if you do I’ll let you know,” 

He winks and your lungs nearly explode. You rapidly blink at him, lowering your gaze, you think about his question. In terms of kinks you actually hadn’t tried out many, you’re curious about a lot of things but never knew how to ask for them. Exhaling, you fiddle with your fingers and look up, your cheeks aflame. 

“I always wanted to try…BDSM stuff but I don’t know if I’ll actually like it,” 

This seems to spike his interest, the curve of his eyebrow reaches all the way to his hairline, lips curling mischievously. 

“Have you tried anything before? Bondage, blindfold, or whatever?” 

“Uh…not really,” you nervously chew your bottom lip, legs squeezing together. “I never really brought it up before and my ex, well, he didn’t seem to be that interested. He tried to finger me, well not really, just attempted to rub my clit from over…my underwear, it kinda hurt actually, hated it. It's fine when I do it but maybe I just don't like it when others do it. So I’m not sure if I’ll even like the things I think about,”  

“Sounds like an asshole,” 

Santi’s sudden change in demeanor takes you by surprise. He seems actually angry, but also, slightly surprised by your sudden burst of honesty. Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything. You didn’t want to overshare, or upset him. Before you can apologize he cuts you off. 

“We can try the things you’re curious about, we’ll start slow, obviously, and establish a safeword,” he looks you up and down. “Do you know what a safeword is?” 

“I do,” 

“Good girl,” 

Your heart skips a beat or two, a gasp parting your lips, you stare at him wide-eyed. He glows at your reaction, sucking in his bottom lip, he brings his perfect teeth on top of it. 

“You like that?” 

You nod. 

“Alright, I’ll let you pick the safeword,” 

“How about….” your eyes drag back to his feet. “Socks?” 

He snorts, and you grin, “Socks? You’re unbelievable, how about the word for slowing down?” 

“Curtain,” 

Turning his head, he looks at the dark red curtains you own, then shrugs. 

“Fine by me. Do you have any idea what you want to try?” 

“Not really…sorry,” 

“You don’t need to apologize,” his smile grows soft and it seems like he wants to reach out to you but decides against it at the last minute. “What is it that sparked your interest?” 

You shrug, “I don’t know– I guess the idea of someone taking care of me, having control and knowing what’s best for me. I just, don’t really want to think, if that makes sense–” 

“Loud and clear. I have a general idea of what you need, unless you have anything specific in mind?” 

When he shoots you a questioning gaze, you shake your head and he nods. 

“Okay then, we can get started, if you’re ready,” 

When he gets up and extends a hand, you’re sweating buckets, beads of perspiration coating your skin. You look up to see his calm expression, a soft smile and adoring eyes, you take the offered limb and lead him to the bedroom. 

Your stomach still churns with anxiety but as his fingers squeezes around yours, you know that he’s got you. 

“Strip and lay on the bed,” 

You didn’t expect the mood to change so suddenly. His harsh tone sends a shiver down your spine, wetness spreading between your legs. While he isn’t looking at you, Santi starts to unbutton his shirt, and when he notices you’re frozen with a slight tremor to your hands, he walks up to you and cups your cheeks. You lean into his touch, heart stammering as you close your eyes.  

His lips find yours. It’s tender, soft and when he licks your mouth for permission, you greedily open wide for him. A moan seeps into the kiss, taking the opportunity your open mouth provides, he licks your tongue, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. Your heart swells. It’s been so long since you’ve been kissed, and it never felt like this. Santi pulls away, lips glistening and eyes full of understanding.

“Do you still want to do this?”

You breathe out, “Yes,” 

“What’s your safe word?” 

“Socks,” 

He can’t help the way a giggle rattles his chest, the melody reaching your ears. Leaning in, Santi playfully rubs his nose against yours. 

“Strip for me then,” he hums. “I need to rectify a wrong,” 

You want to ask what he means by that, but deciding that you’ll find out soon enough, you head to the bed, leaving a trail of clothes in your wake. Still feeling a bit self conscious, you leave your underwear and bra on. You also have an ulterior motive, you secretly want him to be the one to remove the last articles of clothing. You seem to get your message across. He licks his lips, left only in his boxer shorts, he crawls between your legs. 

You don’t know what to expect when he slides your underwear down your legs and throws it to the floor. You certainly don’t know what to expect when his mouth inches closer to your begging heat, wet and wanting. 

You’ll never forget the moment his tongue languidly slides between your folds. 

“Oh fuck–” 

Your back arches, mind and body confused, your fingers clutch the sheets. His lips close around your folds, tongue deep inside as his hands steady your thrashing. You barely hear him letting out a satisfied hum, the vibrations shooting a jolt of pleasure throughout your body. It’s mind numbing. Amazing. His tongue is pure sin, soft and velvety. You’re lowkey pissed this is the first time you’re feeling so good. Santi relentlessly mouths at your core, lapping up every ounce of slick that makes its way out of you. Your finger finds the back of his head, pulling at the soft curls. He parts for you and you whine, hips wiggling up as you beg for him to go on. 

Disapproving, Santi clicks his tongue. He peels your hand away from his head, and sends you a warnful gaze. 

“Behave,” 

“Y-Yes–” between your lustful haze you gasp out a word you don’t expect. “–Sir,” 

You have no idea where that came from but he doesn’t question it, instead, when you pull your hand back up to your hip, he breathes out a kiss into your inner thigh. He sucks in your clit and flicks his tongue, you let out a sharp exhale, eyes squeezing shut. It’s only been what, ten minutes? You’re about to cum all over him. 

He looks up at you with half lidded eyes, you feel him smiling as he flattens the wet muscle, dragging it around the sensitive bundle of nerves. However, nothing prepares you for his fingers. Your whole body jolts when he traces your entrance with two thick digits, playfully pushing only the tip in. Before you know it, your hand is buried deep in his hair once again. 

This time Santi yanks it away, and before you know it his face is hovering an inch above from yours, both your hands pinned above your head, his lips damp and swollen. You swallow upon seeing the annoyance lingering in his eyes, legs trembling with heat building between them. 

“Didn’t I just say to behave?” he snarls, pupils dilated. 

Something mischievous rolls in your gut, with a sudden surge of bravery, you challenge his angry gaze with your own. 

“So? What are you going to do about it?” 

It’s so minimal, the flare you see in his eyes, slightly widening. If you’d blinked, you would’ve missed it. 

“Don’t tempt me, cariño,” he leans closer, breath ghosting across your burning skin. “Are you sure you want to play this game?” 

A moment of pause. He’s giving you a moment to object, to use the safeword. You don’t. Instead, you wiggle your arms, trying to peel away from his iron grasp. His lips twist into a devious smirk, the tip of his tongue darting out to touch the edge of his teeth. 

“Alright, let’s play then,” 

The air is forcibly pushed out of your lungs when you find yourself flipped over to your stomach. His hands moving across your body, you find your knees tucked under your thighs, hands held behind your back. He shifts behind you, holding your wrists with one hand, he leans off of the bed and scoops something off the floor. You feel the soft fabric of his shirt wrapping around your wrists, keeping them completely in place. 

Santi’s chest is flushed against your back when he whispers in your ear. 

“Look at you, all nicely wrapped, the perfect present,” 

You struggle against the binds, a groan rattling in your chest as you figure you won’t be getting out of them anytime soon. With a huff, you bury your face into the pillows. 

“Not fair,” your voice comes muffled. “It’s not my fault if it feels good, it’s my first time,” 

He coos, and rubs the small of your back, “I know, baby. I know. And that’s precisely why I need you to stay put,” 

His sinful mouth finds you again. Slurps and groans fill the bedroom. You feel incredibly self conscious as he parts your cheeks but it all fades away with his tongue plunging deep into your core. With two fingers, he draws quick, small circles around your clit, making your body sing with pleasure. Turning your head, you attempt to breathe in a bit of oxygen, but all of it leaves you at the same time when you moan out his name, again and again and again. 

“Fuck– Fuck, Santi…” you whine, pushing into him. A warning growl rips from his throat. “S-Sorry it just feels,” you gasp. “It feels so good, I-I think I’m gonna actually cum,” 

Spit dribbles from the corners of your lips and wets the pillow underneath. You want to look at him, watch him eat you out like a starved man but you can’t. The fog lifts only for a moment when he stops, only to press his lips into you again, the bed begins to sway, only a bit, a rocking sensation if you will. You attempt to mouth out a question, but cry out instead. 

“Not yet,” he rasps into you, the rocking of the bed picks up. “Wait for me a bit more baby, just a bit more,” 

Wait for him? What– Wait– 

“Are you–” you’re cut off by your own moan caused by an especially harsh pinch on your abused clit. The pain makes you tingle with pleasure, eyes rolling back, you forget your question. You start to beg. “Please, sir, please let me cum– I need to cum, please please please,” 

“Hold it in,” 

The melodic tone of his voice only electrifies you. Tears build up in your eyes as your cunt flutters around him, slick dripping down your thighs. The pleasure buzzes in your ears, body screaming for you to cum, you’re trying to hold it back, you’re trying to be good, his good girl. Fuck– 

“Cum. Now.” 

Before you can even process the words, your body obeys. 

It’s blinding. Breath stopping. Your body tenses, cunt gushing around his tongue and fingers. Your arms forces against the binds made of his shirt, cloth digging into your skin as your body starts to spasm. Both of your moans mix together, composing the most beautiful melody you’ve ever heard. Santi’s eccentric pace becomes slow, sensual. Tongue lazily lapping up everything you have to offer, he eases you down from the high of your ecstasy. You take heavy breaths, head spinning, You breathe out a languid moan, muscles still throbbing with the buzz of pleasure. 

Santi pulls away and you drop to the side, luckily you’re too gone to actually feel embarrassed from falling. You hear his low hum of a chuckle as he crawls closer to you, he unties his shirt from your wrists and gently kneads your biceps. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Y-Yeah,” 

You know that this is just service he provides, but you can’t help but reach out to him, he obliges with a smile and nestles between your arms, kissing your neck gently. A broken sigh falls from your damp lips, he huddles closer, body snug against your own. Mimicking him, you come closer too, your bare thigh grazing against his clothed cock. You still and he looks up to you, brows knitted together. His confusion grows when a grin spreads across your face. 

“Did you cum?” you ask, eyes bright and shiny. 

He clears his throat, lips curling up into an amused smile. Leaning in, he teases your earlobe with his tongue.  

“I might’ve,” 

“Never would have pegged you as someone to be this quick,” you tease, hand sliding between your bodies, you cup his cock, a subtle moan leaving you as you feel how wet he is. “Not that I’m complaining. It’s hot as hell,” 

“Don’t get cocky,” 

He crashes your lips together, large hands cupping your chest and pulling you even closer against the firm frame of his body. His fingers tease your nipples, rolling and pulling them. Your skin tingles, and you whine into the kiss, hips grinding against him. Santi’s lips never leave your own as he lifts himself and pulls you underneath. Your palm still snug against his length, you feel him hardening again. 

Surprised, you break the kiss, a heavy laughter trembling in your chest. With a wide smile, he grins. 

“Told you,” 

“You’re full of surprises,” 

“I am,” he stops for a moment, looking to the side, he looks back at you, seemingly unsure. “Do you want to continue? We can stop if you want to, or if you feel worn out, ” 

“Oh, I’m definitely good for round two,” you purr, brushing your lips against his. “Make me feel whole again,” 

“Fuck, alright– Let me go get a condom really quick,” 

Santi gets up and you realize that you haven’t had the time to properly observe his temple of a body. His back muscles flex as he dips down and grabs his pants, hurriedly searching the pockets for that colorful piece of packaging. The boxers he wears hugs his ass, leaving little imagination to the eye, you’re certain Santi would look good in everything, but right now you think he looks the best naked. He turns on his heel, his chest firm, a bit of fat around his belly but still defined. Eyes going lower, you see his fully erect cock, the darkened tip peeking out of his waistband. You bite the inside of your cheek as you inside clench around nothing, you can’t wait for him to fill you up. 

Before you know it, Santi’s between your legs again, rolling the condom down his impressive length. He’s so thick, thicker than you imagined he would be. Santi notices your gaze, lips playfully pulling up. 

“You think you can take me baby girl? Where’s that confidence from before?” 

“O-Oh…it’s still there just a bit,” you clear your throat. “Shocked,” 

“Word?” 

“Socks,” 

“Good girl,” 

Purring like a cat, you part your arms, allowing him to bury his face into the crook of your neck as he slants himself between your thighs. You adore feeling him this close, his warmth making your heart stutter. He nudges your entrance, slowly pushing in. Your whimpers spiral into moans and he drowns out the noises by claiming your lips. The stretch is addictive, the tingle of being spread wide by someone who knows what he’s doing makes your eyes roll back. Santi inhales you as he pulls back, eyes searching your face. You flutter around him, with the mere sensation of his cock, you grind your hips.

“You good?” 

“Yeah,” 

“Can I move?”

“Please, sir,” 

He growls into your skin, the vibration seeping into your body, it makes you tremble as well. When Santi starts to move, all you can do is hold on to him, nails biting into his skin as he slides in and out of you with precision. He breathes raggedly into your flesh, cock hitting your deepest parts with every thrust. You feel as if you can’t control your body, it arches, bends, curls but your brain is completely mush, only pleasure ringing inside. With your moans and whines growing in volume, Santi starts to slam his hips, the sound of skin slapping against skin spurs you on further. You scream his name, breathing and panting curse words without knowing. Your heart swells, he makes you feel so good. His thrusts, deep, lasting. You can’t breathe, eyes squeezed shut as the bed rocks into the wall. Your cunt clenched around him, the coil inside you tightens, ready to burst but he’s still going. It feels like he can go on like this for hours. Fuck– 

You hug him tighter, if possible, teeth finding his shoulder, you bite into him. You don’t even know where you are anymore. All you can feel is him. His scent, his body, his sounds. Nothing else. 

“Fuck fuck– Santi– ‘Love you–” 

Your eyes shoot wide open, you see him staring at you, he doesn’t look mad, or weirded out. But still, the panic overwhelms the pleasure, you flail, tears quickly building in your eyes. 

“You love me?” he mutters, one eyebrow elegantly raised. 

“S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to– I didn’t–” 

Santi doesn’t slow down, in fact his hips speed up. He sees your glossy eyes and leans to kiss them both, you feel the throb of his cock, and another moan quickly replaces your frantic apologies. 

“It’s okay,” he reassures you, mouthing the words into your cheek. “It’s normal. Say whatever you want, it only means that I’m making you feel good. You’re not the only one,” 

Your heart feels like it might stop at any moment, “I’m not?” 

“No,” he leaves a trail of open mouthed kisses as he dips between your breasts. He mouths against them, tongue playfully licking the salt of your skin. “So just let go,” 

And you do just that. 

Letting your head fall back, you revel at the way he draws a stiff nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling around. Your chest heaves with his every shattering thrust, his hand slides between your wet bodies and finds your clit. He rolls the sensitive nub between his fingers. Hallowing his cheeks, he grazes his teeth around your nipple, you chant his name, a string of curses following right after. You have no idea what else you might be saying, you might’ve asked his hand in marriage at this point but you don’t care. You let go. You forget the shop, the insecurities, the loneliness and you just feel. 

It doesn’t take Santi long to wind you up, dangling you off the edge, the heat builds and builds, so much so that it feels like it’s burning. Something besides pleasure swells inside you, something’s coming, you bite back your moans, and slap his back. 

“What is it?” he pants, voice dripping with lust but still full of concern. “Do you want to use the safeword?” 

You furiously shake your head, your lips part with a gasp. 

“It’s– I’m going to cum but– It’s too much, I’m–” 

He presses his lips into your ear, you listen to his breathing, steady and slow, the slide of his cock and move of his fingers rips another groan from you. 

“Let go,” 

Your cunt gushes around him like it never has before, it’s more intense than the first time, it makes you cry, beg. The squelching becomes louder, you’re still coming. He sings a moan into your skin, your cunt throbs at the sound of his voice, it reminds you of the caramel you make. Santi’s movements slow, fast thrust shifting into soft rolls of his hips. Your breath hitches every time his pelvis grazes against your sensitive clit. He pulls you from your dazed state with a soft kiss, both hands coming to lay on each side of your face, thumbs stroking lovingly. 

“You alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you inhale a deep breath. “Did…did you?” 

A soft chuckle vibrates across your lips, he nuzzles your nose. “I did,” 

You fight the urge to call him back when he pulls away, you haven’t realized how secure you felt under his weight. However, you really need to initiate a war against your inner demons when he lifts himself off of the bed. Carefully removing the condom, he ties the end into a knot and turns to you. 

“Bathroom?” 

“First door on the left,” 

You lay back down as he leaves, hands and arms sprawled above the sheets. Your mind begins to clear, kind of, closing your eyes you can still feel how he felt plowing into you. The fact this is a service is both a pro and a con. A con, because he can’t stay. A pro, because you can call him and ask him over anytime you want to. Well, not really. Maybe once a month, all your money goes to the shop and rent, you wouldn’t be able to hire him. 

You’re surprised at his return, his right hand holding a wet washcloth and the other holding a glass of water. The bed dips under his weight and he grins at your confusion, the towel gently cleaning the mess between your legs. 

“What? Did you think I just left?” 

“I didn’t,” he gives you a look of disbelief and you giggle. “I didn’t really!” 

“Good,” his eyes scan your body, observing every patch of skin. “Does anywhere particularly hurt? Aches?” 

“No,” 

“How do you feel? Mentally?” 

“That’s good too, feel very light,” 

You don’t miss the way he hisses out a breath of relief, “Great,” he checks the watch you hadn’t realized he’s been wearing. “We still have ten minutes,” 

Suddenly you can hear the imaginary clock ticking, maybe you weren’t alright after all. 

“Cuddle?” 

His smile is wide, kind, soft. You swear you melt into the sheets. Letting the used towel fall to the floor, he lays next to you and pulls you into his chest. You listen to his heartbeat, steady, safe. 

“And you thought that you wouldn’t like it when others did it,” he chimes gleefully, quoting you when you opened up about your bad experience with your ex. “It looked like you enjoyed my fingers just fine,” 

The soft baritone of his voice soothes you, your eyes flutter close, a pleased hum parting from your lips. 

“I did,” you smile into his chest. “Thank you, this was just what I needed,” 

“It was my pleasure, cariño. Literally.” 

The last thing you feel is his hand slowly dragging across your body, fingers rubbing your worn out wrists. 

Best money you’ve ever spent. 

a/n: to be notified of future work follow @psychedeliclibrary and turn on notifs 💕

[vidawhump]

Symphony of Stars

Masterpost

Before all hell broke loose, the forests that evening were peaceful. Young fledglings caused mischief while others tried to maintain the chaos. Elias had been sitting on a tree branch, his sleek black wings tucked neatly against his back. He watched in amusement as younger ravens chased each other on the ground, attacking with makeshift swords and shields. He began to let his guard down. There hadn’t been any human hunters in the area recently. There had been minimal mishaps, and his best friend had picked up a bit of his community’s local language, called Aves. Elias’ best friend was a human who called himself Eden. The two were an unlikely duo, mostly because Elias hated all humans with a burning passion. Hell, he often killed any humans he deemed a threat on sight. Exactly how Eden and Elias had grown so close is still something of a mystery, even to themselves.

 While Elias bathed in the sunset’s warmth, panicked caws caught his attention. They were desperate and echoed through the air. A dire cry for help. Elias tumbled out of the treetops to find the distressed cries. He landed in a secluded part of the forest, an area that Elias’ flock avoided to protect the young from frequenting coyotes. But coyotes would have been a much preferred scenario over what transpired that day.

A young fledgling was being wrangled into a net by two humans. Without a second thought, Elias tackled one of the humans to the ground. With flared wings, he crouched on all fours. Before he could pounce on the human holding the young starling captive, they pulled out a pocket knife and held it to the child’s neck.

The human couldn't be bothered to introduce themself or make pleasantries before issuing an ultimatum.

“Come with me or the kid gets it.” Their voice was smooth and feminine, dripping like honey laced with poison. It left a bitter metallic taste in Elias’ mouth. To emphasize their point, they pressed their knife into the soft skin of the child’s throat. Small beads of crimson red dripped to the ground.

“Tick-tock, birdie.”

Heart pounding in his chest, Elias knew he had to make a decision. Granted, he wasn't known for making the best decisions, but could he make any other choice? He was stupidly self-sacrificial, and this was a fledgling in danger. No, no matter how many times he reminisced about the event, he knew he couldn't have made any other choice.

Unmoving from his position, he bowed his head, just enough to show the dangerous human he could be pliant. Watching and calculating, the human holding the fledgling signaled the other towards Elias. He desperately wanted to attack the humans. He remembered the same mantras he’d been repeating and proved to himself his whole life: Humans are evil, they are toxic beings that destroy everything they touch, and they will find you, and they will kill everyone you love, and then yourself.

Eden was human, but he was only the one-in-a-million benevolent human from a virulent species. If a few rotten apples spoiled the whole barrel, the entire orchard must be wasting away.

The human cuffed his hands behind his back, his feet together, and taped his wings so they couldn’t expand. The honeyed voice spoke again, though not to Elias.

“Don’t damage the bird, we want to keep his wings relatively intact.”

He initially assumed the humans wanted to kill him and used the fledgling as bait. After all, he had been viciously defending his flock for years. He’d dedicated his whole life to keeping his community safe. It’d make sense for them to try and kill Elias. But it seemed as if they were going to keep him alive. There was absolutely no reason for them to be keeping him alive. Wouldn’t that only be a hindrance? If it wasn’t, he was going to be an absolute menace for as long as they had him detained.

The human threatening the fledgling had wispy long brown hair and deep green eyes. Those pine-green eyes bore into him as she watched the other human tape his wings. Seemingly satisfied with Elias’ new restraints, they handed their knife off to the other human. While taking the knife, the sharpest end between his fingertips, the other human bent down and whispered into the fledgling’s ear.

“Go and sow the seeds of chaos .”

He smacked the fledgling’s shoulder, dangerously close to where she had been cut, and a sinister smile took over his face as the starling fled the scene. The brown-haired human shot him a dirty glare.

“What are you trying to do? We’re supposed to make a clean escape, not let the kid run rampant and make a scene! Cmon, we need to get the bird out of here. Uncuff his legs so he can walk by himself. I don’t wanna carry him. He smells weird.”

Elias scowled at the brown-haired human, mildly offended that she called him out on an entirely true fact.

The human that was bending down to uncuff his legs, stared at him. He whispered to the brown-haired human.

“…Cassidy, I think the bird knows English.”

After a brief pause, he spoke again.

“Cassidy, it knows you called it stinky.”

Cassidy gazed down at Elias, an inscrutable expression on her face. Something of confusion was prevalent. She wasn't sure how to feel about the bird knowing she called him stinky. Or that the bird creature spoke the same language she did.

She shook off the notion and moved on.

“Whatever, it doesn't matter. Uncuff him, we have to go.”

The other human took the cuffs off his ankles and hoisted him up. He guardedly followed behind the two humans out of the woods. The one called “Cassidy” led him by a chain connected to his handcuffs. Elias was itching to be freed from the cuffs. Several times, he strained his wings to try and break the tape. He wasn't very discreet about it though, and the humans caught on quickly. This only resulted in more layers of tape on his wings. Elias hated how sticky it felt on his feathers.

He slightly relaxed with the knowledge that the starling was safe. He couldn't forget the image of the young starling under the human’s blade. Their wings were stiff and body trembling. Pitch black eyes wide and glossy with fear. He could almost feel the starling’s heart pounding alongside his own.

At least they’re safe now, he thought. He gazed up at the darkened sky. The sunset had long passed, and the stars twinkled brightly above him. He couldn’t help but think they were taunting him. They were free, roaming the vastness of space, and he was here, tied up and led out of the forests he called home.

The silvery crescent moon peeked at Elias from behind the treeline. On any other night like this, he and Eden would climb to the top of his favorite hill and stargaze. Every night they would talk about everything there is and nothing at all. He wasn’t quite sure how to define their relationship. But they made each other happy, so there wasn’t much else to it.

He missed Eden. Yet there Elias was, not alone, but lonelier than ever before. Led away from his home, seen by nobody except the crescent moon and shining stars.

Featherbound Taglist: @whumpy-wyrms @rainbowsandwhumperflies

[gtlurker]

My first ever story (and post) on this site! It's tilted inhuman and is about a girl named isabelle who do to genetic experimention is shrunken to four inches tall, it's also going to be told In multiple povs from each charater. the story can be a bit graphic and has a few mentions of suicidal thoughts so warning for that, otherwise I hope you enjoy.

Chapter one.

Isabelle

The first time I felt real hope in my life also ended up being the last.

I was nine when my father brought me and nine other kids to his lab where he and his team of seventeen scientists and three assistants researched the limits of the human body. I foolishly thought it was my parents showing an interest in something I was passionate about.

Science.

I used to love science. I loved taking the time to figure things out and learn about whatever I wanted in my own experiments, I loved picking things apart to find out how they work, and I loved the amazing feeling I got when I finally figured things out. But after i learned what it's like to be on the other end of the stick, whats its like to be picked apart for someone else to figure out how i work,

I hate science.

I pull my knees to my head as I try to conserve the very little warmth my cold cell provides. My eyes squeeze shut as the door creaks open, someone’s here. Nobody should be here, they only left two hours ago. I'm given six hours and thirty minutes of sleep every night after the experiments. Why is someone here? Please, god don't let it be another scientist wanting to play doctor with my tired body during the only break I'm allowed to have. I don't hear footsteps. It must have been the wind playing tricks on me. The familiar click of the door shutting once again gives me half an ounce of comfort as I realize I'm alone again. Everyone else is gone. I press myself against the cold metal bars of my cage and take in the room around me, the same overly clean environment that I've grown used to over the last ten years.

A sigh escapea my lips as I take in the sight of the table they use to perform their sick experiments on me, they hadn't even bothered to clean up my blood. No doubt they left it there to torture me further. The sight of my blood on the table only reminds me that I will never escape, not even death can free me from this fate. Death cannot save me if death cannot reach me. I close my eyes again and go through a mental checklist of what they haven't taken from me yet. my memories, my voice, my thoughts. My memories, my voice, my thoughts. My memories, my voice, my thoughts. I repeat in my head over and over, reminding myself that no matter what else they take, I will always have those three things, even when I wish I didn't. envy is the only thing that comes to mind when i think of the other nine kids who were here with me, partly because they don't have to live with their memories and their thoughts, and partly because they even got to die.

The first of us died of blood loss, so they altered our cells so that we don't get the luxury of bleeding out.

The second caught fire due to the actions of a careless scientist, so made it so our skin can't be burned.

The third had died from being pumped with too many drugs at once, so they made us immune to overdose.

The fourth had died of sickness, so they made us immune to that too.

The fifth had attempted an escape, so they diminished our size down to nearly nothing. He had died during the tests to see if that would work.

The sixth had suffocated herself with a pillow, so they replaced our lungs with a robotic system that produces a different type of oxygen that only our bodies could handle.

The seventh had been crushed to death, so they made our skeletons able to withstand the weight of buildings.

The eight had died of cardiac arrest, so they made our hearts fifty times stronger than any human heart should be.

The ninth had been dissected and stolen for parts.

I am the tenth. The result of how far you can push the limits of the human body, and that is only until they find a way to break me too. I glare at the pile of blankets in the corner, there covered in too much blood and grime to be even considered as usable. They refuse to wash the blankets, which we regrettably used as tourniquets to tie off our wounds back when all this first started. The smell of them used to be nauseatingly disgusting, and I almost wish I could get sick from being around them.

Maybe if I was sick theyd give me a bit of a break. I doubt it though, they would more likely find a way to make me immune to that too. I wonder how long it's been since I have had the cold or even a stomach flu. I wonder how long it will be till I get sick again. I wonder how long it will be until I die, or if I even will die. I used to think It was my right as a human being to have a proper death outside of a place like this, but would I still have a right to leave this lab if I no longer have my mortality? I shake my head as if I'm shaking off the existential crises before it can fully develop.

“Atlas, did you even bother to make a layout of the building?”

an annoyed whisper cuts through the cold silence, And a pit of dread starts to build in the bottom of my empty stomach. It wasn't just the wind. I get up too quickly in an effort to try and get a look at the intruder of the lab. This person is quiet, I haven't even heard their footsteps once since the door shut. Why are they so quiet? Could they save me? Could they hurt me? Where are they? My eyes scan the room as I try to find the ghost person that's sneaking around the room. It's better if I find them before they find me. Almost like the ghost I keep comparing them to, they've hidden themselves perfectly. Away from the sight of the four cameras in the corner of the room, and away from my view. I can't make out if there's one or two ghosts in the room with me. I heard the man say a name, but I only heard one voice. What if there's no one here at all? What if after ten years of living in agony and suffering has finally broken me?

If the ghost-man is nothing but a figment of my broken imagination, then it wouldn't hurt me to talk to him, to call out for help. It would ease the neverending loneliness that this place has instilled in my mind. But on the off chance that it is a real person they could be dangerous and here to hurt me further. Stepping away from the edge of the cage I go over the pros and cons of calling out to him. Pro, if he's fake he doesn't pose a threat. Con, if he's fake then I've truly lost it and will have know way of knowing. Pro, if they're real then they could save me. Con, if they're real they could be scientists. A sigh escapes past my lips, and at the same moment a beaker falls and shatters on the glass tile. A strong smell of bleach invades the room and the ghost man lets out a series of curses in an accent that sounds almost french. Why would my mind make him french? I shake the thought from my head almost as quickly as it forms, what's important now is that i can finally see him. He's in all black with a hood covering the upper half of his face, but I can see a small scar on the left side of his jaw. He's obviously very muscular even with his slightly baggy clothes, and is holding a pistol tightly in his left hand. Why is he armed?! I watch in paralyzed fear as the man looks up and meets my eyes. His brows furrow as confusion takes over his features, he lowers his gun to his hip and takes a cautious step towards me, I return his gesture by also taking a step back. He takes another, more curious step forward, and I again step back. We continue this back and forth until he's at the edge of my cell and I'm pressed firmly against the furthest wall of my cell.

A tense silence fills the room as we both stare at each other intently, watching, and waiting for the other person to make the first move. A chill breeze passes through the room and a shiver racks my tiny body. This man is huge next to me. I've grown used to being man handled and grabbed by scientists whenever they wanted to use me for their sick experiments, but for this ghost-man to stand in front of me and really let me take in his size, its a new form of torture that none of the scientist could even hope to come up with. What if that's what this is? The scientist sending in someone to fuck with my head when they ran ran out of ways to deystroy my body. “Que diable…” the man breaths out a sigh as his shoulders slump with what seems like defeat. What the hell does “que diable'' mean? He's definitely real if he's speaking a language I don't know. He almost seems just as and if not more confused than I am. His eyes shift to the rotten pile of blankets sitting in the corner of my cell. And I feel heat rise up my neck and dye my face a subtle shade of pink from the embarrassment of this stranger seeing me in such a disgusting state. I straighten out the threadbare dress that hangs loosely on my body, before attempting to fix out my hair. I don't know why I care about how a stranger views me, maybe it's because he's the first person who's seen me in years who wasn't actively trying to hurt me. I flinch as he raises a hand that's bigger than my whole body, and gestures to me, more specifically my height. “Are you. . . Isabelle liana?” he asks, his thick french accent breaking through the silence, and my breath hitches in my throat when he says my name. I press myself up further against the wall, the cold metal pressing against my skin. He knows my name. Why? There's not a chance he's here to do anything good if he already knows who I am. I shake my head no, lying in the hopes that he'll leave and not hurt me. “Do you know where I can find her?” he asks, and i shake my head once more, i don't think he has good enough eyesight to catch the fact that i'm trembling with fear of what he may do if he finds out that i am in fact, isabelle liana. “Why, why do you need her?” My words are rushed since I'm not sure how well my vocal cords work now since I've only been using them for screaming the last year. His eyes widen and his face shifts to one of shock and slight confusion at my sudden refound voice, and it takes him a few moments to regain his confusion. He rolls his head as he contemplates the way he could phrase things. Does he think I am a child? “Her brother hired me to find and rescue her.” he explains, shrugging his shoulders and leaning down to peer into my cell once more. I shudder under his heavy gaze, but as his words sink in, hundreds of thoughts rush through my head, one playing louder than all the rest. “Damiens okay?” I regret the words the moment they leave my mouth, and the regret buries itself deeper in me as a smile spreads across his face. “You know damien?” he asks, a playful hint to his tone,

“Yes.” i responde.

“And you're not isabelle?” he asks.

“I am not.”

“How do you know damien?” he crosses his arms and leans on his left hip. “Family ties.” I confidently replied. “Like a brother?” He raises his eyebrow. “Yes.” I cross my arms in return. “So you're isabelle?” he tries to suppress his smirk. “obviously.” fuck. I don't know if it's sleep deprivation or hunger, but this guy is starting to annoy me more than scare me. A grin plays on his lips as he chuckles quietly, I flinch at the sound and take a step back. My eyes go wide as he pulls out a small pair of dull looking scissors out of the large bag he wears on his hips, but they dont look like normal scissors. They're bigger than his hand and seem like they should be stored in a tool box.

“What is that?!” I shout, now fearing for my safety once again with this ghost man. “Chain breaker.” he replies blankly, before raising it to the lock of my cell. It moved to the far back corner, getting as far away from his chain breaker as I could. “I'm ronan, in case you were wondering.” he tells me as he swings open my cell door. I gasp, the only barrier between him and my safety easily stolen without a care in the word from him. Tears brim my waterline at the thoughts of everything he might do to me if i dont get away from him. But I can't. He's blocking the only exit with his way too big hand that is now entering my cell. Oh my god his hand is in my cell. My eyes snap shut and I put my hands up defensively. “NO!” I cry out, and a small sob escapes my throat. the warmth that's been radianting off his hand leaves my cell. And I almost want it back. Sobs rack my pathetically small body as he just watches, I bet he's just struggling to contain his amusement at seeing me like this. He was lying about knowing damien, he guessed i had a brother and this is all just one big trick set up by the scientist to torture me even more than the already have. My sobs soon turn to wails as I realize that I indeed am going to die without seeing my brother again, Ronan, if that even is his actual name was just sent here to bring false hope just so they could rip it away one last time before they finally kill me. And that's only if I still can die, they might bury me under ground and leave me there to starve or dehydrate, whichever comes first, then study the effects it has on my inhuman body. No one will reprimand these awful people for everything they've done to me and the nine others who lost their lives in this place, they'll bring in a new batch of kids and do the same to them, and all our deaths will be in vain. I flinch when I feel a finger begin to gently pat my back, and I jump away from it. “Hey, hey, calm down, stop screaming.” he says, as he puts his hands up so i can see there not doing anything to hurt me. “I already told you this but i'll tell you again, your brother, Damien Liana, hired me, Ronan Moreau, to rescue you from this place.” i shake my head no, not wanting to believe a word he's saying, this man has managed to go from terrifying, to annoying and back to terrifying, and i don't think i could trust him even if i tried. I flinch hard again when I notice that he's slowly extending his palm towards me. But it stops before it even enters my cell. “Please, I promise I'll get you out of here safely.” he says, and i wipe some of the never ending tears off my cheek. “Pinky promise?” I whisper, and he chuckles at my childish request. His hand shifts so that he's holding out his pinky finger to me. I hesitantly hold mine out as well. Because of the immense size difference we can't interlock our fingers, so we just touch the tips together. It may not seem like much, but it means alot to me that he was willing to go along with such a childish request for the sake of my comfort. This time, when he reaches out a hand for me to climb onto, I take a deep breath, and step onto the hand that's offering me the freedom that I have been praying for.

[yfmconfessions2]

THE puff anon is back once again💪 AND IM HERE TO DROP SHIT!!!

Puffs glasses are so thick. Like he cant see shit without them. And if anyone takes them away he will start throwing hands with everything but the person. He once hit a wall so hard it practically cracked and he could barely use his hand for a week and Axel (who stole his glasses) was terrified to come near him for that week.

He actually likes kids but only the ones that can behave and dont cry their eyes out every two minutes. If they do, he starts going insane and will NOT hesitate to fight a literal child.

Puff and the band were wanted by the police so many times that atp they can call the cops their friends.

Pulls the dumbest pranks known to man and finds them hilarious. Like he gave Benatar a glass of water that was literally filled with kilograms of salt, and proceeded to laugh so hard he cried when Benatar struggled to get the salty taste out of his mouth for 10 minutes.

ALSO when Puff laughs like really REALLY hard his laugh goes silent, and then it turns into maniac cackles. If anyone ever heard him laughing that hard at night they ran away immediately.

Hates bugs with a burning passion. If theres at least one spider near him he will slap it with anything he has until it turns into a liquid.

Puff LOVES spicy food but his stomach cant handle it. He will devour 10 spicy noodles at once and then cry in the bathroom for half of the night. But does he care? Absolutely not. He can and WILL do it again.

I bet he once saw Benatar crying and he wasnt the reason of that so he went "Geez pull your shit together pussy." And walked away, a few seconds later Puff came back with a tissue and just sat down next to him, acting as if he didnt give a damn.

He plays video games every chance he gets. That man will rot in his room for 20 hours a day playing Call of Duty, proceed to tell 30 people to kill themselves and then go out of his room and look like he came back from the death

He cant aim for shit. Literally cant. Game wise AND real life wise. He wanted to throw a rock into a wall once out of pure rage but hit a random person that was far away instead. He was never seen in that spot ever again.

Puff's either desperate for a relationship or doesnt give a damn. He will go and literally beg a girl in a random club to be with him and the next day he breaks up bc "Lol nah, ur not pretty i was drunk." And then regrets it so he wants to find a new chick again.

He has a love-hate relationship with horror movies. Like once in a while the whole band has a movie night and Puff always says they should watch a horror movie bc all of them are scared and he isnt. Axel, Benatar and Dee Jay just look at each other and just smirk. When they turn on the movie and the first jumpscare appears Puff literally screams like a small girl, and then just says that he felt something sharp. Hes just a pussy BUT WILL HE ADMIT IT? Never.

Never read a whole book in his entire life.

His favorite ice cream is salted caramel and lemon.

Talking bout lemons, he loves sour shit. Like he can devour a whole lemon without cringing while everyone looks at him like: 😨

AAAAAND THATS ALL I GOT FOR NOW! I HOPE U ENJOY READING THOSE BC THERES A BIT OF THEM LMFOAAO

HI PUFF ANON 🤩🤩🤩

YOU SHOULD MAKE A WEEKLY MAGAZINE THAT COMES IN THE MAIL I WOULD SUBSCRIBE IMMEDIATELY

i love these thx snookie 🥰

[spiderking-of-queens]

Chapter One: Welcome to Hawkins

Summary: It’s your senior year at Hawkins High in November 1984, and you can’t help but think about all of the missed opportunities you’ve had to get to know Eddie Munson over the years. (6.5k words)

Author Note: This is mainly a Fem!reader x Eddie Munson fanfic that will have many parts, but (spoiler alert!) this one’s also for those of us that can’t choose between Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington... The series will also include the reader’s relationships to some of the other characters in-depth (Max Mayfield features heavily at the end of this one. The reader has a Dustin/Steve-esque friendship with her). I’ll be following the timeline of Stranger Things canon as closely as possible, starting with season 2 and going beyond season 4. I cannot stress this enough, this is going to be a literal novel. Like, 200 pages at least that I have already written. (Really proud of this, not gonna lie. I put my heart and soul into it. Literally did nothing but write this series for the past two months and I don’t care that no one is gonna read it lmao.)

Warnings: Mentions of abuse and racism from Billy (this is a Billy hate fic sorry not sorry, he is the worst). The reader has quite a few specific attributes mentioned about her life, but none really about her appearance. She’s an outcast and socially awkward and has controlling parents. Mild bullying. Reader used to be friends with Tommy and Carol when they were kids (YUCK). 

Masterlist

November 2nd, 1984

Eddie Munson was difficult not to notice. 

The first time you saw him was your first day of your freshman year in 1981. You were sitting alone in the cafeteria listening to music on your Walkman when a blur of motion captured your attention out of the corner of your eye. It was Eddie, going on a first of many tirades you would witness, putting on a show. Most of the people in the room didn’t seem to notice or care, but you couldn’t stop staring. 

Who did this kid think he was? Why didn’t he care what people thought of him? What was he even speaking so passionately about?

You lowered your headphones to listen. 

“There is no way that The Empire Strikes Back is better than A New Hope. No. Way.”

He was standing up, slamming his fists on the table as he argued with his friends. You agreed with him, but you didn’t understand why this was something to get so riled up about. 

You listened to him and his friends go back and forth as you sipped your milk through a straw. Then his eyes shifted over towards you and the milk almost came out of your nose as you choked and scrambled to pretend that you hadn’t been eavesdropping. You set your drink down and looked out the window, but you couldn’t help turning your gaze back to him to see if you had successfully fooled him. You hadn’t. His eyes were still on you, and a smirk appeared on his face. Then he winked and you could feel your face begin to burn. Without thinking, you put your headphones back on, gathered up your things, and got up to leave. 

The last thing you wanted to do on your first day of high school was draw attention to yourself. Middle school had been miserable, and you were determined to make it through the next four years unscathed. Whoever this kid was, he seemed kinda like trouble, and trouble was not something you needed more of. 

Although you tried your best not to, you kept your eye on him for the rest of the school year. He was entertaining to watch, and something about him intrigued you. He seemed to be the complete opposite of you. He didn’t give a shit what anybody thought of him and you admired him for it, no matter how ridiculously he acted.

You learned his name when he was in one of your classes during your sophomore year. It turned out that he was a grade above you, but had failed most of his classes. The more you noticed him, the more evident the reasons he was failing became. He was disruptive. He didn’t even try to pay attention. Sometimes, he even took a nap in the back of the room.

One day, he sat beside you as he sketched in his notebook. He was focusing so hard, a pen in his mouth as he was shading. Sketching was something you enjoyed, too, and for some reason seeing that you had this in common gave you butterflies. You tried to nonchalantly stretch your neck to get a better look, and discovered that he was actually spelling something out in big, sharp letters: CORRODED COFFIN. You raised an eyebrow, curious about what it could mean. Then you snapped out of it when he shuffled some papers around to cover it up. You looked at him before you could stop yourself, and he was staring right back at you with a bashful look on his face. 

“Just brainstorming,” He explained with a shrug. “Band stuff.”

You gave him a weak smile, feeling ashamed for being so nosy, and returned your eyes to the front of the classroom again. If you weren’t so shy and embarrassed, you probably would have said something. You would have apologized for snooping, or told him what a great band name you thought that was. But instead you slumped back into your seat and pretended to listen to your teacher. 

Later that year after you turned sixteen, you got a job at Melvald’s General Store. During one of your first shifts, you were sketching absentmindedly in your notebook when the store quieted down a little. The familiar sound of the bell over the door chimed away and you barely gave it any thought, but still looked up and said your usual greeting. You did a double take when you saw Eddie standing at the front of the store, his hand shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket. He was with someone you didn’t recognize, someone older. You had overheard once that his parents weren’t in the picture anymore. You wondered if he was his uncle. The man smiled and said hello to you as he picked up a basket, and Eddie stared back at you. 

You tried not to watch them as they collected their groceries, busying yourself with your doodles, but you couldn’t help looking up every now and then. You prayed that from their perspective, it just seemed like you were doing your job and keeping an eye on all the customers. 

“Hold this, please” you heard his uncle say as he pushed the basket into Eddie’s arms. You looked up and made eye contact with him as he nearly fumbled it and gave you a sheepish smile. You smiled back, stifling a giggle, and quickly went back to drawing. Had he been watching you, too?

When they came over to check out, you went over your usual ‘did you find everything okay?’ speech and rang them up. His uncle asked you for a pack of Camel cigarettes, and Eddie perked up at this. 

“Make it two,” he chimed in with a smirk, and you both raised an eyebrow at him. 

“In your dreams, kid,” his uncle scoffed, then turned back to you. “Just the one, please.”

Eddie scowled at him and looked at you for help. You shrugged and smirked back. He wouldn’t get any sympathy from you. You were on his uncle’s side. Smoking was not a hobby you were keen on, even if the idea of him smoking a cigarette sort of gave you butterflies. 

After they left, you felt equal parts relieved and empty. You went back to drawing and figured that would be the end of the day’s excitement, but a few minutes later, the bell rang again more frantically and Eddie was standing in front of you before you even had a chance to register it. 

“One pack of Camels, please,” he muttered, clearly out of breath. 

You stared at him, bewildered, and didn’t move. 

“Please hurry,” he urged, frustrated by your hesitation. “My uncle is next door at the pharmacy and I may have lied and said you miscounted our change. Sorry about that, by the way.” 

You raised an eyebrow and turned to grab another pack of cigarettes, then slid it across the counter towards him as he eyed the door nervously. He studied your lack of an expression as you waited for him to fish change out of his jacket pockets. 

“You disapprove?” He asked. 

“Just not a big fan of lung cancer,” You teased. He wasn’t expecting that response, and grinned at your repartee as he handed over his money. 

“Okay, sure. But, how cool would they make me look, though?” 

It was like he could read your thoughts. You didn’t reply to this, but he could probably guess your answer by the red flush that was painted on your cheeks. He put the pack of cigarettes in his pocket and patted it, then gave you a smirk. 

“Can I trust you to keep this our little secret?”

“Sure, Eddie,” You snorted. “You can trust me.”

He seemed pleasantly surprised that you knew his name. Maybe even flustered. He was peeking up at you through his mop of hair shyly. 

“Thanks. I owe you one. See you around.”

He turned to leave and took one last look at you before disappearing through the door. You watched him reunite with his uncle, who was grinning at him and reached up to mess with his hair. Eddie wrinkled his nose and pushed him away so he could fix it. You smiled to yourself as you wondered what he was teasing him about. 

This interaction was enough to keep you hooked for another year. 

The first time you realized your feelings for Eddie were more intense than you initially realized was during your junior year.

When you came back from summer break and saw him again in the cafeteria, you began to notice things about his appearance that you hadn’t before. He had let his hair grow longer, and you thought you saw the dark outlines of new tattoos on his arms. You had the sudden urge to go over and study them. You wanted to run your fingers over them, to know why he got them and what they meant to him. Your face burned red with shame at these thoughts. There was no way you could let yourself fall for him. You learned early on in your life that nothing good could ever come from those kinds of feelings. Only shame and heartache.

Later that year, he was pinning a flyer to the bulletin board near your locker. You recognized the name printed on it. It was the same big, bold letters he had sketched into his notebook a year prior: Corroded Coffin. You smiled a little as you realized that he had the courage to make his dreams a reality. Even though you had no right, you couldn’t help but feel slightly proud of him for it. He caught you looking once again, and smiled back at you. 

You let your eyes linger on his face before you turned back to your locker to pull out a textbook. This time, he didn’t let it slide. He leaned against the wall, facing you, and crossed his arms.

“You should come, if you want to,” He said.

“Wh-what?” You asked in shock, nearly fumbling your books.

He nodded towards the flyer.

“To see my band. We’re not very good, but it could be fun.”

You stared back at him, your brain screaming at you to say something, but the words didn’t come. You were too busy noticing how big and dark brown his eyes were for the first time. 

He shook his head as if he felt stupid for offering, but handed you a flyer anyways. 

“Here. Just in case. You can totally tear it up and throw it out if you want. Just do me a favor and wait until I turn my back?”

He chuckled at himself. You still didn’t know what to say. 

Did you want to go? Absolutely, yes. Would you go? No. Never. 

First of all, the idea of showing up at The Hideout by yourself made your stomach churn. What would you even do alone at a bar? Secondly - and most importantly - your parents would never let you go in a million years and you were too bad at hiding things from them to sneak out. It was an impossible dream, but you didn’t want him to know it.

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish as you gawped at him. Eventually, he gave up on waiting for you to say something and gave a little wave before he strode away. You watched him go, hating yourself for missing yet another opportunity to get to know him. 

When another year ended without you gathering up the courage to speak to Eddie, you thought that you had missed your chance for good. He was due to graduate, and Hawkins would probably be in his rearview mirror the second after he walked across the stage. He was too good for this town, and you knew it. You were devastated. But you were pleasantly surprised when you saw his familiar mop of curls at his usual table in the cafeteria on your first day of your senior year in 1984. You silently thanked god for his academic failings. You felt a little guilty for being so happy about it, but couldn’t help yourself. 

After Halloween, you were at your locker getting your books when you saw Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins approaching you. Your breath caught in your throat. Any time they locked eyes on you, you knew a painful interaction was about to ensue. No matter how hard you tried to keep your head down, they still managed to find you. 

Once upon a time, the three of you had been friends. Your parents ran in the same circle and you had spent many weekends at each others’ houses. But in middle school, they realized that your meekness and occasional awkwardness was a major flaw and began to tear you down for it, just because they knew they could. That’s when you decided that having friends probably wasn’t worth the trouble. 

“Hey, Y/N… Didn’t see you at Tina’s party. Were you too busy handing out candy with your mommy and daddy?” Carol sneered.

You pretended not to notice or care that they were speaking to you as you slammed your locker shut. They knew that your parents had always been controlling and overbearing, that you spent more time with them than anyone else whether you liked it or not, and enjoyed using this against you. 

“Nah. Pretty sure she just wasn’t invited,” Tommy added.

“What makes you think I would have wanted to go anyways?” You snapped. Your eyes widened. Defending yourself was out of character for you. 

“So you admit you weren’t invited? Ouch,” He said with a laugh.

You rolled your eyes and tried to push past them, but they weren’t ready to give up. 

“It’s too bad. I heard Steve was saving a dance for you,” Carol said, cocking her head to the side as she feigned sympathy for you.

You wanted to ask them how they would even know this since you heard that Steve had finally come to his senses and dropped them last year after he began dating Nancy Wheeler, but thought better of it.

This was their second favorite bit of material to use against you. While you and Carol were still friends, you shared who the two of you had crushes on at a sleepover. She admitted that she had a crush on Tommy, and lucky for her, it worked out. But you had a crush on Steve Harrington. He was part of your friend group, too, and at the time she had nothing but kind things to say about it. But soon it turned into a cruel joke. It had been a long time since you had feelings for Steve, but for some reason the idea of the two of you together was so hilarious to them that they just couldn’t let it go. It didn’t matter if it was true anymore or not. You were still ashamed about it, and they knew it. You were just glad Steve wouldn’t be around to hear about it anymore. 

“Aren’t we a little too old for this, guys?” You asked. It was a genuine, pleading question.

“That’s rich coming from you, Virgin Mary,” Carol scoffed. 

Your complete lack of romantic experience was always her most reliable comeback. Tommy laughed and wrapped an arm around her proudly. 

“Aren’t you the one who likes to hang out with little kids? That’s pretty weird, even for you.”

He was talking about Will Byers and Max Mayfield. 

Ever since you had gotten a job at Melvald’s, Joyce Byers had been a confidant for you, and you did her the occasional favor of watching Will when she and Jonathan were both busy. After everything that had happened with his disappearance and the bizarre faking of his death, there was no question why she had trouble leaving him on his own. You were more than happy to help out. Besides, he was a sweet kid, and you had more in common with him than most people your age. You were a lot like him when you were his age. He was quiet and an outcast like you, and you had an unspoken understanding between the two of you. Mostly, you enjoyed sharing your drawings with each other. 

Max, on the other hand, was new to town, and her brother, Billy, had recruited you to be her caretaker earlier that week. He had quickly taken stock of the social hierarchies of the school and made nice with Tommy and Carol, and consequently learned that you were an easy target. He also found out all about your desire to distance yourself from your parents, and knew that you had been trying to save up a little nest egg for when you graduated. Your parents had no idea that you weren’t planning to go to college, that your biggest dream was to leave town and try to make it as an artist. College meant four more years of misery and a degree that you didn’t want or need. Sure, your parents would pay for it, but only if you majored in something that they would approve of. Only if they could still control you. You couldn’t have that. 

So, yeah, you agreed to look after Max for some extra cash, and you actually had a decent time hanging out with her. She was everything you wished you could have been at her age. Strong, confident, witty. She was cool. You were five years older than her, and still somehow completely intimidated by her. But she seemed to enjoy your company, too. She even let you borrow a couple of her comic books. 

It didn’t take you long to recognize that familiar game of control in Max and Billy’s relationship, but at a much more sinister level. You couldn’t let him abuse Max the way he did. You decided not to accept Billy’s money, and made it a personal mission to be around for Max whenever she might need you. It was the very least you could do for her. The day before, Billy abandoned her after school and you offered her a ride home and let her know that you would be more than happy to be her chauffeur anytime. You didn’t want to make more trouble for her, but you also couldn’t stand the idea of her having to rely on Billy like that. You knew she could handle him. She had been handling him most of her life. But you wanted her to know that she didn’t have to be alone in it anymore. 

You saw a lot of yourself in Max, but the most distinct difference was her bravery and ferocity. You were planning to run away from your problems, but she had been facing hers head-on her entire life. Somehow, she was able to take all of the shit she had been given in her life and used it to harden herself instead of letting it break her. It was devastating to recognize, but admirable all the same. If it were you in her shoes, you were certain that you would have crumbled.

You blinked at Tommy, unsure how to respond. Then you realized you wouldn’t have to when a voice spoke up behind you. 

“Hey, needle-dick!”

You turned around to see none other than Eddie Munson, his arms crossed and a shit-eating smirk on his face. Your mouth hung open at the sight of him. 

“You talking to me, freak?” Tommy scoffed back at him.

“Yeah. Don’t see anybody else that fits that description in this general vicinity. Do you? Do you, Carol? You would know.”

Carol rolled her eyes and Tommy removed his arm from her shoulders to lurch forward towards Eddie. He was less than an inch from his face, but Eddie looked completely unfazed by it. Amused, even.

“You better watch your fucking mouth, Munson. You looking to get your ass kicked or something?”

“I’m sorry, I just don’t see why you would waste your energy trying to tear down some sweet, unsuspecting girl when you’ve got this treasure trove of good material standing right in front of you. I’m actually kind of offended that you overlooked me.”

Tommy chortled at this, equal parts amused and aggravated by this response. He was pissed that he wasn’t able to scare Eddie the way he could other people, but was enjoying the challenge. 

“I’ll take that as a yes, then,” He sneered, and grabbed him by the collar of his jacket to slam him up against the row of lockers. 

You yelped in horror, but Eddie remained inhumanly cool. He bursted out laughing as Tommy tried to stare him down.

“You’re cute,” Eddie mocked him and made a kissy face at him, which immediately made Tommy draw his fist back in preparation to hit him. You jolted forward and pleaded for him to stop at the exact same moment that Principal Higgins appeared from behind the growing audience of students.

“Boys! Break it up, now!”

Tommy immediately released his grip from Eddie’s jacket and took a step away from him. The only thing he was afraid of was authority. Eddie, on the other hand, only rolled his eyes in response. 

“Munson, how many times have we had this conversation? Why do you insist on seeking out trouble?”

“Guess I just can’t help myself,” He said with a shrug. 

“My office. Now,” Principal Higgins responded with a disappointed shake of his head, pointing towards his office door. 

Eddie didn’t try to argue with this even though it was complete bullshit. He just slung his bag over his shoulder and gave you a proud smirk before he walked away from you. Tommy and Carol glared at you as they linked arms and headed in the opposite direction. The crowd began to disperse, but you were still standing in front of your locker in shock, staring into space.

Did that really just happen?

You had been observing Eddie long enough to know that he also struggled with the occasional cruel comments from classmates. It was another one of the reasons you felt a ridiculous connection to him. The fact that he would willingly throw himself into the line of fire for you was something you certainly did not take lightly. It meant the world to you.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You had to speak to him, for real this time.

Did you really have anything to lose? Soon, high school would be over. You had spent the past three years hiding from everyone, trying to get by without making a sound. Without doing much of anything besides sitting in your room alone. The very least you could do was open your mouth to let Eddie know how much his act of kindness meant to you.

At the end of the day, you paced back in forth by Eddie’s van in the parking lot as you waited for him. You bit your nails and went over the speech you prepared for him in your head. Then you heard a familiar laugh approaching you and snapped your head up towards the sound. It was Eddie walking with some of his friends. 

His eyes locked on yours as he said goodbye to them, then he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and stuck one between his lips as he approached you. 

You smiled as warmly as you could at him even though you felt like throwing up.

“Hi,” You said meekly.

He grinned at this, showing all of his teeth as he lit the cigarette between them. 

“Hi,” He repeated. “Y/N, right?”

You nodded as you watched him take a drag and turn his head away from you to let the smoke billow out of his mouth. He didn’t take his eyes off of you for even a second.

“Did you need something?” He asked. 

This kind of question would have normally shut you down, but he said it with so much kindness in his tone that it soothed you instead. 

“I… I wanted to thank you. For what you did earlier today. You really didn’t have to do that for me.”

He shrugged and kicked a broken bit of pavement with the toe of his sneaker. 

“I just don’t like when someone goes out of their way to be an asshole to people who don’t deserve it.”

Your cheeks flushed. How did he know that you didn’t deserve it? You had barely uttered more than a single sentence to him. For all he knew, you could be an asshole, too. 

“Well, it really meant a lot to me. So, thank you.”

“It’s no big deal. You could have handled him yourself. I just couldn’t help myself.”

“Did… did you get in a lot of trouble?”

“No more than usual,” He chuckled, but this admission made you wince.

“I’m so sorry. It’s not fair that you took all of the heat for it.”

“Really, it’s okay. Don’t feel bad. I’m used to it. Besides, I owed you. Remember?”

He flicked his cigarette then held it up to help jog your memory. You had almost forgotten about your exchange at the general store nearly two years ago. You were stunned that he even remembered. 

He returned the cigarette to his lips as you searched your brain for something more to say to him. You were coming up empty.

“Okay. Well, thank you again. I’ll let you go,” You sighed and wrapped your arms around yourself as you began to walk away.

“Wait,” He called to you and put a hand on your shoulder to stop you. Your eyes widened at his touch and he pulled it away quickly. He exhaled loudly and threw his cigarette to the ground to stomp it out, then rubbed his lower lip with his thumb as he tried to choose his words carefully. 

“Look, I know this is probably a long shot, but I have this thing tonight. We call ourselves The Hellfire Club. We play, uh… D&D. You ever heard of it?” He squinted like it was painful to admit this to you, and awaited your response.  

“Sure. The kid I watch sometimes, Will Byers, plays it with his friends. He explained it a little to me. Sounds kind of fun.”

He let out a breath so deep that you could see it in his chest. He was fully expecting you to make fun of him, and was relieved when you didn’t. 

“Awesome. Great. Well, we’re always looking for new members. So, if you wanted to come hang out tonight, that would be cool. I mean, it’s fine if you can’t. I know it’s last minute.”

“I’d love to,” You replied so quickly that it surprised yourself as well as him. 

“Okay. Cool. We meet in the drama prop room - super fancy, I know. We usually start at eight.”

“Sounds good. Thank you for the invite.”

Your pulse was buzzing loudly in your ears as your heart raced, but you were trying to stay as visibly calm and collected as humanly possible. He was looking straight at you now, eyeing you up and down unabashedly, and you wanted to melt into the pavement. 

“See you there,” He said with a grin and turned on his heel to get into his van. You waved at him lamely and watched him drive away as your stomach churned with instant regret. You hadn’t really thought through the consequences of agreeing to go.

What if the other members of the club wouldn’t want you there? What if you couldn’t figure out how to play and everyone got annoyed with you? What would you tell your parents you were doing instead? 

When you brought D&D up to your mother one night after you had hung out with Will, she was horrified. She knew you had a penchant for fairy tales and make believe, especially as a kid, and was constantly worried that if she let you delve into those fantasies that you would lose your ability to function in the real world. Maybe she was right, but her incessant pushing for you to choose practical goals and hobbies didn’t stop you from falling into your daydreams. If anything, it probably pushed you towards them more as an escape. 

All you would have to do is tell your mother that you would be at some sporting event. Was it basketball season? No. It was football season. You would tell her you would be at a football game. She would buy that, right?

You let out a deep breath as you continued to reassure yourself that everything would be okay.

Eddie Munson had asked you, specifically, to come hang out with him on a Friday night after all of these years. Maybe it wasn’t too late to get to know him, after all. 

Surely, that was cause for celebration. 

Later that evening, just before dinnertime, you got a phone call from Max. As soon as she started speaking, you could tell that something was wrong. 

“Max? What happened?” You asked her, panicked. You could hear her breathing getting shallower as she was trying to fight back tears. 

“Can you just come get me? Please?”

You agreed right away and told your parents that you were going to the football game like you had planned, but that you were leaving a little earlier so you could find good seats and have time to get concessions. You were impressed by how easily you could lie in a crisis. They bought it and handed you the keys to their car.

Why they would believe that you of all people would go to a football game by yourself, you would never know. Maybe because they were hoping that you were finally fitting in with your peers the way they wished you would. Whatever it was, you were grateful for the miracle. 

As soon as you pulled up to Max’s house, she was already swinging open her front door and marching towards your car. 

“Are you okay?” You asked as you watched her get in and buckle her seatbelt.

“Just drive,” She muttered.

“Where do you want me to-”

“Doesn’t matter. Just anywhere but here.”

You didn’t push any further. You just put the car in reverse and backed out of her driveway, heading nowhere in particular. 

Since you hadn’t eaten dinner, you eventually decided to pull into McDonald’s and get the two of you a couple of Big Macs and fries to share. Max must have been hungry, too, because she didn’t object to this. You pulled into a parking spot and reached into the bag to hand one of them to her. She took it and immediately started eating. 

You watched her for a moment and then decided to try to talk to her again.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s going on, or are we just going to eat here in silence until I take you home again? Because if so, that’s fine, but I would still like to know.”

She finished her last bite and crumpled up the wrapper in her fist. 

“It’s just school. It sucks. And Billy’s a total asshole,” She mumbled as she chewed.

“Right. I’m sorry. Did something specific happen though? You sounded pretty upset on the phone.”

She swallowed and averted her eyes from you.

“He said something really awful to me. About my friend, Lucas.”

“What did he say?”

“He told me to stay away from him. He said, ‘Max, there are certain types of people you stay away from, and that kid is one of them.’”

You were stunned. You were aware that Billy was a piece of shit, but you didn’t know that he was also a racist piece of shit. You knew who Lucas Sinclair was, and he was one of the sweetest, kindest kids you had ever met. There was no other reason why Billy would make Max stay away from him. Your stomach churned. 

“Jesus Christ,” Was all you could bring yourself to say. 

“He threatened me, too. Grabbed my wrist really hard. It just freaked me out, I guess.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. You had never hated somebody more than you hated Billy Hargrove. 

“Of course it did. I’m so sorry, Max. Maybe I could talk to your mom? Let her know how bad it really is?”

“My mom knows how he is. How he treats me. She doesn’t give a shit. His asshole dad is the exact same. She just lets him push her around, and Billy, too.”

You shook your head.

“Well, if there’s anything I can do at all, please let me know.”

“You can pass me the fries.”

You smiled and happily handed them over. You felt so powerless. If you could have kicked Billy’s ass, you would have gladly driven over to her house and did it right then and there. But you hoped that giving her a safe space to vent was helpful, too. It was all you could really offer her. Well, that, and comfort food.

“What about school? What happened there? Maybe I could help you with that.”

“I don’t think so. It’s just these boys I’ve been hanging out with. They treat me like shit. One second they want me in their party and the next they’re keeping secrets from me.”

“Their ‘party?’” You asked with an eyebrow raised. “Are you talking about Will Byers and his friends?”

“Yeah. Will, Lucas, Mike, and Dustin. They keep talking about this girl El and all of this mysterious shit that happened to Will. But they won’t actually let me in on any of it.” 

“El? Who’s El?”

“I don’t know. But they had a meeting at school today and Mike wouldn’t even let me join. Dustin found this weird slug-thing and ever since they’ve been acting so weird. I’m so over it.”

Okay… So maybe you couldn’t help her with her school problems, either. All of that sounded pretty complicated and odd to you, but you did have a little bit of insight on what happened to Will. Not the whole story, obviously, but bits and pieces you had picked up from Joyce and Jonathan.

“Well, do you know anything about what happened to Will?” You asked.

“Yeah, kind of. Lucas told me he went missing and they thought he was dead. That some other kid drowned at the quarry and the police thought it was Will. He told me not to ask Will about it, though, because he’s having a hard time dealing with it.”

That last part was true. Will had pretty much stopped talking to you whenever you went over to watch him. The light he had inside of him seemed to have gone out. He didn’t want to share his drawings with you or talk about D&D or his friends. All he wanted to do was sit alone in his room. But you supposed this was an expected response after going through something so traumatic. You sighed. 

“Maybe they’re all just trying to help him out and keep his business private. I know it’s not fun being on the outside, believe me, but sometimes people just need their space to deal with things. I’m sure they do want to be your friend, they just don’t know how much to tell you yet.”

“How much to tell me? So you think there’s more we don’t know?”

You blew a puff of air out of your lips. You hadn’t intended to peak her interest more. You had heard some pretty bizarre things from Joyce at the store and in her home, but you weren’t sure you should give any of that information out. 

“I don’t know, Max. Maybe. It was a pretty wild ordeal. Lots of stuff about it didn’t make sense. I mean, I’ve never even heard about whoever this El person is before now.”

“What didn’t make sense?”

“Max, I really don’t think this is any of our business…”

“Come on. If you know something, you have to tell me. You said you wanted to help me. This is how you can help me.”

You rubbed your eyes and took a deep breath, full of regret for opening your mouth. But she was looking at you with puppy-dog eyes, silently begging to be let in on whatever secrets you knew, desperate for any scrap you could give her. At least this would serve as a distraction from her problems at home, right? How much could it really hurt?

“Okay, okay, fine. All I know is that the other kid that supposedly drowned was… completely made up somehow. There’s a laboratory on the edge of town, government-owned, that had something to do with it. They’re covering something up.”

Her mouth fell open in awe. She was clearly excited by this new bit of information, but it had always disturbed you since the moment you overheard Joyce talking to Chief Hopper about it. Max opened her mouth to pepper you with questions, but you put your hand up and tried your best to beat her to it. 

“I don’t know why they did it, and I don’t want to know, okay? You’ll have to figure that out yourself if you’re really that interested. But do NOT, bring it up to Will, alright? Or Mike either, for that matter. They don’t need to worry about it right now. Promise me?”

She pressed her lips shut and nodded in agreement.

“Okay. I promise.”

You snatched a fry from her and chewed it as you stared out the windshield and she processed this new information. Then she looked at you out of the corner of her eyes.

“Wait, you’re not messing with me, are you?”

You thought about lying and telling her that it was actually a prank to spare her, but decided against it. She would probably find out the truth eventually, anyways, if she really was friends with the boys. 

“No. I wish I was, but no.”

“Shit,” She muttered, shaking her head with a giant smile on her face. Her grin looked out of place next to your weary scowl.

“Yeah. ‘Shit’ is right. Welcome to Hawkins.”

After a couple of hours, you dropped Max back off at her house. You stayed parked on the street for a while to make sure she was safe, then pulled away when the house remained quiet.

It wasn’t until you were on your way home that you let yourself remember your plans to join The Hellfire Club that night. There was no question in your mind that agreeing to be there for Max was the correct choice, but a pit of anxiety and devastation grew in your stomach nonetheless. Hopefully, you would be able to gather the courage to explain the situation to Eddie on Monday and he would understand, but you couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling that you had blown your final chance with him.  To be continued...

[klein-sodor-bahn]

Charlotte “Charlie” Borsig

My girlboss has been updated too!

A few trigger warnings: Death, shitty parents, add*ction, s*x

Charlie was born on the 13th of December 1956 in Berlin. Her father adored her to pieces but when he found out his wife was cheating on him with a another man he heavy-hearted divorced his wife. Charlie was devastated and hated her stepdad. But little Heinrich she couldn’t hate. She raised him because two years later the second divorce happened and her mother slipped into alcoholism. Charlie basically ran to household. With 16 her former stepdad offered her an internship at the Ministry of national security (better known as Stasi). She was pressured to accept it. With 18 she was deemed worthy to become a spy for the GDR (in German DDR).

One of her first missions was to Scotland and there she fell in love with the future father of her sons Mr. Campbell. On the side she gathered information on her target, but she became pregnant and received an ultimatum. Leave the kids one month after birth or risk being hunted for eternity by the KGB. Knowing what happens when the KGB is tasked with hunting someone she left Donald and Douglas with their father. When she returned home she visited her mother in hope to get some empathy. But that didn’t happen…her mother scolded her and a nasty fight broke out. Charlie then ran away to her father who immediately pulled her into a hug and comforted her. After that event she took on her father’s last name: Borsig.

The years went on and Charlie until reunification racked up 8 murders. She hated every last one of them in hindsight. The most tragic one was the death of secretary who was a lesbian pressured into an affair with her male boss, but when the wife found out she was fired immediately. In a rage that poor woman took some import documents (the company was developing weapons for the US Army) and planned to sell them to afford her cancer treatment. Charlie was sent to purchase those papers and to get some additional information started a sexual relationship with her. She know the CIA was on that ladies heels and so Charlie offered her sleep pills which she had prepped so they looked normal even tho they contained a deadly Dosis. After the fall of the GDR Charlie fell under the radar of the secret agencies. In 1995 she decides to travel to Scotland to look for her boys. Dragging along her now 30 year old half-brother Heinrich.

In a small village she bumps into Henry who offers her to stay for the night and later help with the search. And with every day this small Englishman grew on her. He was so sweet and nice. A true gentleman. Charlie who throughout the years thought she couldn’t love again slowly realizes there might be a second chance at life for her. A life away from the lies and people who could backstab her any second. A life away from the freak of a mother. A place no one knows (except Henry) what she did. And when she finally meets Donald and Douglas. Her precious boys. She bursts into tears. Donnie and Douggie accept her as their ma. And when Henry offers her to stay she jumps off the train and goes with him.

Charlie loves to flirt with Henry who turns red like a tomato. She loves him and the quiet life in Scotland. Although she has some violent tendencies pulling a gun or knife on people who mildly disrupt the peace. Beware if she starts speaking German you are fucked. She’s also a bit needy sometimes (especially if she wants cookies). She hates family gatherings with a burning passion. In Scotland she later works at the local pub. Her smoking started after she had to leave behind the twins but due to Henry’s influence it becomes less. Charlie is also a fashion chameleon. Although she mostly wears black. Her worst nightmare is that all this happiness is gone and a secret service finds her in the end. But for now she’s happy. She later marries Henry and together they adopt a little boy.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

Door bell to your candy shop jingles as I skip in!

This is so exciting!! I swear!! Hope you are having a good day! 🌹

Can I pretty, pretty, pretty please with cherries on top have…

Praise kink,

Size kink,

Prey/predator

Gun play

With Manny 😈

Please feel free to do whatever you want with it! No special requests! I hope I did this right! Eeeeeep, I’m so excited!

Masterlist

War Games

Contains: Fluff, smut, consent and kink negotiation, praise kink, bratting, size kink, prey/predator, gun play, oral sex M receiving, fingering, P in V, aftercare.

3K words.

Comment if you want to be tagged/removed or follow #sp's kinkfest pick and mix.

The Mayans have their annual war games and a bet with Manny has you helping him practice in a very special way.

"No offense but it's kinda cute, everyone getting together like you're at camp to play games."

Bishop chuckled, "no offence taken Querida." You smiled and leaned into Manny's side, his arm coming up to hold you to him. 

"When is it and who's coming?" They looked at each other, cautious of how you were going to react, "oh no, is that turtle turd coming? I hate his stupid fucking face." You could tell they were trying not to laugh. 

Angel spoke first, doing his best to keep his composure, "in a week and yes, that turtle turd is coming, sorry." You felt Manny stiffen, he hated the man with a burning passion, everyone did, but Manny's was a special kind of hatred. 

"Nothing like finding the man you looked up to is a monster, good big brother my ass." 

"Well, Mi Tesoro, he won't come near you, not after the last time you two butted heads." They all smiled at the memory of you punching Canche in the face. 

"Thank God, now, let's talk strategy." Manny smiled, shaking his head with affection. 

"My lady, always the practical one." 

You were enjoying the dinner manny cooked when the conversation turned back to the war games "how does it work? I get the target practice and the hand to hand stuff but most war games, at least the one that the military put on have planned hunts and tactical games."

"We will be having that too, since it's here this year, will be doing it at the old chem factory and scrap yard." The old chem factory was bought by the MC a few years ago, now they use it for storage and a hideout since the factory ran twenty fours hours a day and they had a few small houses at the back for the foremen who would have to stay overnight.

"Wow, it is like camp. Are you going to swap ghost stories in your bunk beds at night?"

Manny gave you a look, "we actually might, half of those guys are little kids."

You giggled, "it's cute. It's sad that you won't be able to hide anywhere because of your long limbs."

He raised his eyebrows, "who said anything about hiding?"

The game was on now, "you think being built like Gumby will get you anywhere if you're chasing someone? There's nothing scary about being hunted by those blow up wiggling dolls at a used car lot."

"You take that back, you little brat. You think you could do better?" You knew you couldn't but he loved to prove he was bigger and stronger, it made up for the fact that he thought you were smarter.

"Maybe." He grinned, reaching across the table to take your hand in his.

"You wanna bet?" You smiled, squeezing his hand and leaning closer.

"You're on Emmanuel. Are we doing this at the yard or the old factory?" You could see the wheels turning in his head, then a look came over his face, one of heat and hunger.

"At the old factory, that way when I catch you, I can drag you all the way across the yard and fuck you in bed."

You blinked, "who says you're going to catch me? What are you going to do, flop your arms at me?" He clenched his jaw, your words getting to him.

"We have these guns that look like the real thing but they make a smaller bang and they fire these little powder balls that don't hurt when they hit you. If you're so sure that I won't catch you, why don't we make this as close to the real thing as we can?"

"You're going to trust me with a weapon, do you want to lose?" You smirked, "who says you're getting one, if you're so sure I need practice, you should make if easy for me."

"Done, I can beat you on my brain alone."

He stood up, and walked to your side of the table, taking his hand in yours and standing you up, "seal it with a kiss?" You smiled and leaned in, pressing your lips to his, "I'm going to kick your butt so hard."

He chuckled, "sure Mi Tesoro, you won't be thinking that when you're screaming my name."

****

You pulled up outside the warehouse, Manny's bike stopping next to your car. He was already grinning as he went to your trunk and pulled out the toy gun. "Let's go over terms." 

You smiled, running a hand up his chest while he rested the gun against the car, "I run, you try and grab me. Your goal is to catch me and take me to the house out back and mine is to get back here before you find me. If I win, you admit that I was right and if you win we get to have fun kinky sex together. All in all I win no matter what." 

He smiled, his hand coming to stroke your face, "I'm going to give you a five minute head start. You better run little girl." He kissed you one last time, his lips lingering on yours and if you were a betting woman, you'd think he was trying to make you weak in the knees. 

You ran around the back of the building, testing the door and finding it open before going inside and looking for the next place to go. You were stuck between a staircase and a hallway, choosing the staircase because you imagined that the second floor would be more empty and less used. 

You were right but that went against you, there was nowhere to hide and the staircase was the only way up and down. You heard the door open, your five minutes must have been up. You realised that you had to find some way to lure him away from the stairs so you could get yourself back down them without him grabbing you. 

You went to the other side, setting up an old tin can to fall over if he walked up it and waited. It took him a lot less time for him to get to the second floor than you thought it would and you were hit with the fact that living in a desert meant that there was dust everyone and your footprints must have left a path right to where you were. 

Thankfully, he felt for the tin can and you managed to rush past him, ducking the barrel of the gun as he raised it. He was hot on your heels as you flew down the stairs, cursing his long limbs as you barely escaped his grasp. You looked around the bottom floor, spying a door close by and went to open it, it was locked from the outside. Manny must have taken the time to lock all the doors so you couldn't run out and there was no way you were going to find the one he left open for himself before he got to you. 

"Come on little girl, just give up." You spun around, he was very close. 

"No way in hell noodle man." He smile, taking one tiny step towards you. 

"Are you sure that's how you want to play it?" 

You looked around, spying an old bit of cardboard before picking it up and lobbing it at him, Manny batting it away with the gun. You knew he had brought you into a trap, the open door was behind him. You raised your hands with a smile, "come and get me." He lunged and you dodged but he grabbed you, pressing the gun to your back. 

"Walk now, be my good girl and do what I ask." You had no plans to do that then you remembered something. 

It was late, you were resting your head on Manny's chest after a late night roll in the sheets. You ran your hand up his ribs and he flinched, "oh my God, are you ticklish?" 

"Fuck no, now behave and don't do it again." You disobeyed right away, digging your fingers into his side and he laughed like a madman. 

"Holy shit, you are." 

You took advantage, pinching his side and knocking the gun out of his arms as he bent over. You pointed it at him with a smile, "what are you going to do now long man?" His gaze became dark and his arms shot out in a flash, knocking the gun from your hands as he pulled you closer, spun you around and pressed your back to his chest. 

"I've got you now little girl." You tried to struggle but he was just too big and too strong. 

"It seems you do, I concede, you win." He smiled and licked a strip up your neck, a shudder running across your body. 

"Good girl, now you're going to walk to the foreman's house and not run again or you're going to regret it, a lot." 

You nodded, "we can hold hands, I lost, I'm going to be gracious about it." He smiled softly and leaned down to kiss you as he linked his hand in yours, the kiss all soft and warm. You walked to the house with incident, Manny opening the door. 

"Wow, this place is liveable." 

He smiled, stopping to stand in the middle of the room before taking your face in his hands, "I came by at lunch to make sure it was nice and clean. How are you feeling after that?" Manny wasn't an idiot, he knew well that adrenalin didn't always know who was safe and who was actually a threat. 

"I'm great, how are you feeling?" His hands moved to your shoulders to apply steady downward pressure. 

"I'm feeling like you should suck my dick." You resisted the force, looking up at him through defiant eyes. 

"Make me." 

He hooked his leg around your knee, supporting you as he brought you to the ground, "what happened y/n? You were being so good for me." 

You bit your lip, "you didn't say please." He blinked, his long eyelashes fluttering. 

"No, you're right there I did not." You could see him thinking, "be good please and suck my cock." 

You turned your head and kissed his forearm, "thank you, you're so polite." His chest was getting puffier and puffier. 

"Get to it or after you get me off I'm driving us home." You went to remove his jeans, only enough to get his cock out but Manny stopped your and pulled his pants down a little further, "you know what to do if you want me to stop?" 

You placed your hands on his bare ass and pinched his cheek, "yep." His cock was already hard and at attention. You removed one hand from his butt and wrapped it around him, Manny swallowing hard. You did your best to hold back your grin as you licked the tip, it was tiny and he must have only just felt it, because he looked down at you with raised eyebrows. 

"Have I ever made hollow threats?" 

You shook your head and gave him a real lick, Manny's hand finding the side f your neck as he held you gently. You wrapped your lips around the head and sucked, the suction causing him to grunt. You dropped your hand and licked it before returning it to his cock and jacking it up and down while your mouth focused on the head. 

When his breath began the heave, you moved your hand to his balls and took him down as far as you could. His hand moved in a flash to your shoulder as he squeezed, "there you go, my good girl, sucking my dick like you were made to." 

Before too long, he was pulling you off him and yanking you up and pulling up his boxers before stepping out of his jeans, "lay on the bed." You took a deep breath, considering your next move but Manny had other ideas, "you're always so good for me and I love you so much, if you behave, you know how good I can make you feel." 

You couldn't resist walking to the bed with Manny holding your hand. He stopped you just before you laid down and began to remove your clothes, staring at your top and kissing every inch of your skin he could. When you were naked, he stepped back and regarded you, "you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." 

You smiled and kissed him, Manny's thumb brushing your cheek. "Get comfortable Mi Tesoro." You did as he asked, settling into the bed with your head on the pillows, "good girl, I told you I'd look after you if you just behaved now what do you want, my mouth or my fingers?" 

That was like being asked to choose between a chocolate cake and a chocolate brownie. "Your fingers." He smiled and hopped up, "I better make sure they're not gross first." he rushed off to the little bathroom, coming back a few minutes later. 

"You're very sweet Emmanuel." 

He climbed back on top of you and hovered, "we've talked about this, there's no need to thank me for the bare minimum." He pressed his lips to yours, keeping you desperate by pulling his lips just out of reach every few seconds. He went to your neck next, kissing down your body before reaching your breasts and licking both nipples one after the other. 

He kissed across your stomach then over your hips and down your legs, retracing his path back to your lips and catching you in an intense embrace. His fingers brushed your skin, mapping out your flesh until he reached your core. 

"My good girl, you're so wet for me." You kissed him again, Manny's fingers running through your slit. 

"I'm always like this with you." Manny chuckled and kissed the tip of your nose. 

"You know how to give a man an ego." He brought wetness from your entrance to your clit to slick the way for his thumb as he slid two of his long thick fingers inside you, his mouth swallowing your moan and he stroked your G-spot. He knew what he was going, your skin feeling warm as he built you up to bliss. 

His lips found your neck, nibbling on the skin while his fingers picked up speed. It didn't take long for you to reach bliss and Manny didn't stop, clearly happy with how good you had been and uninterested in dragging it out. He sealed his lips to your as you came, swallowing each gasp and moan, "can you give me one more then I'll give you my cock?" 

You nodded, pausing to catch your breath, "can you lose the clothes, I'm a little cold and you're very warm." Manny smiled, removing his hand from you with a peck to your lips. He was naked in a flash then he pressed his hard body against yours. 

His fingers found your body again, Manny grunting as he slid them back inside you, his thumb circling your clit, "better Mi Amor?" 

"Much, thank you." His face nuzzled your neck as he worked you up again, sucking a bruise into your skin that you knew you be there in the morning. The second orgasm came on slow but hit hard and you pushed your hips into his hand as he worked your though it. 

"Good girl, would you like your reward for how good you've been for me." Your chest heaved as you formed your answer. 

"I thought this was your reward for winning?" He smiled and pressed his lips to your cheek.

"Every day with you is a reward Mi Amor." You smiled, Manny taking that as his go ahead before removing his fingers and using your wetness to slick up his cock. He lifted your legs over his hips and ran his cock up and down your slit before pressing his lips to yours and sliding inside you. 

"Ah, fuck, you're going to kill be y/n." You sighed as he bottomed out pressing your face into his neck as he started rocking his hips. 

"What a way to go." He chuckled, bringing his lips to yours before nipping your low lip. His hips picked up speed and he moved on if his hands to your clit while he angled his body to rub your G-spot. He started to falter, your effect on him as plain as day. 

"Fuck you're so tight, I'll be thanking the Gods every day that I get to have you." You wrapped your arms around his body and brought him as close as you could, your fingernail digging into his skin as his hips reached full force. 

His lips never left yours as you came for the third time, Manny grunting like an animal as he slammed into you. It took a handful of hard thrusts before you felt him pulse inside you then he collapsed onto you with a moan. His lips were soft when they found yours, his hips shifting till he slid out of you, then he was rolling over and taking you with him. 

"You good?" You buried yourself in his side, pressing your lips to his pec. 

"I'm wonderful, are you good?" He smiled, his cheek splitting with affection. 

"I'm great, do you want to stay here tonight or do you want to head home?" You sighed, you really didn't want to be here any longer than you had to be. 

"Home please, but give me a bit the catch my breath." He kissed your forehead and rubbed his hand up and down your arm. 

"Fine with me, I'll drive and someone can drop me back here in the morning." You closed your eyes, content to listen to his heartbeat as you came down. 

"I love you Manny." 

"I love you too y/n." 

****

Manny drove you home with his hand on your leg the whole time. When you got in, he took you right to the bathroom and ran you a bath, ordering your favourite takeout while he washed the day from your skin. Once you were both clean and fed, he tucked you into bed, settling next to you with your chest pressed together.

"Did you have fun today?"

You nodded, "so much fun, I'd love to do it again."

He smiled and ran his hand up and down your back, "I'd like that too."

Fin