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dragonnarrative-writes · 30 days

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Transferrable Skills

Part 1

Your therapist warned you about superstitious thinking. You've been working on it. In fact, you've been very good at catching it, challenging yourself to relax, and letting things go. Even before this big work trip, you consciously avoided the "unhelpful" rituals and reminded yourself that the little ones were just to make you feel secure, not to actually influence the future across an ocean.

"I'm very nervous," you had told Señor Snuggly two weeks ago. Your worn out stuffed lizard hadn't said anything back, of course. "That's normal, because it’s an international flight. So I'm going to give you a hug good-bye, and you're gonna stay here to watch the house. I know it's not going to change anything, but I'll feel better knowing you're here."

At the airport, you realized that you had forgotten your toothbrush. It had satisfied the part of your brain that was looking for one (1) thing to go wrong. Superstitious thinking, but the kind that helped you to relax and listen to music until you boarded.

Now, forced to sit on the floor, surrounded by shouting men with guns, your brain is stuck on your lopsided stuffed animal and blue toothbrush. Of all the things that could pop into your head, why those?

You almost let out a nervous giggle at the mental image of Señor Snuggly using your toothbrush as a shiv to save the day. And then the idea of what would happen if you started laughing right now almost startles you into another burst of giggles. You clap your hands over your mouth and curl into yourself a little bit more.

Next to you, your boss throws you a sympathetic look. "You okay?"

"No talking!" The nearest assailant yells in heavily accented English. You're pretty sure the attackers have been speaking Russian, but you could be mistaken. He brandishes his gun. "You want to die?"

"She needs to go to the restroom," your boss answers.

"No, I don't," you protest. You really, really do, and have for the last two hours. But being escorted out of the room alone seems like enough of a Bad Idea that your bladder can wait.

"No, she does not," the man confirms. "Shut up. Do not talk."

You meet your boss's eyes and try to silently convey, Why are you trying to get me killed?

His doughy face says back, I am a white man who goes to the gym once a week, and I really like the John Wick movies. I have delusions of being a hero. If one man takes you to the bathroom I have the mistaken belief that I can overpower two men with guns to save everyone. Also you're a black woman, so don't you have super powers? I believe in you, queen.

You may be projecting.

Ten minutes later, just as you're wondering if you should suggest a group field trip down the hall to the bathrooms, a series of gunshots rings through the building. The energy in the room goes from nervous to frantic in an instant. Your bladder shuts up. The Russian men start shouting and waving their guns, apparently too agitated to speak English. Two hostages start crying because no one else speaks Russian, just English, French and your half-forgotten, informal, Mexican Spanish.

Another three Russians come bursting in the room, snarling something you can’t understand. They grab at a couple of people, force them to stand at gunpoint and gesture to the rest of you. And then everyone is up and kind of moving in the direction of the door. But you can’t get out of the door because they’re blocking it, but they’re really agitated that the room is still full of hostages. And then some people are being pushed back down to the floor. Your boss ends up sitting back down again. A hard hand closes on your arm before you can get down, and you and four others are dragged out.

The leader says, “You all are dignitaries, yes? Your embassies will send money or they will watch you die.”

This is, potentially, the worst possible scenario. None of the five of you are even remotely important, let alone dignitaries. You’re not 100% sure about most of the others, but you’re an aid. An aid to an aid, really. The blonde woman with the remarkably sharp bob is a personal assistant. Today’s conference was about health data management, of all things.

You decide you’re not going to die with a full bladder. You look to the man holding your arm in an iron grip and point to the upcoming door on the right. “Can I please go to the restroom? I’ll be quick.”

He asks the leader something in Russian, and then you’re being shoved through the bathroom door. He doesn’t follow you into the stall, but it’s still so awkward to pee knowing that there’s a man with a gun waiting for you. You’re so glad you aren’t on your period - opening the wrapper on anything right now would feel louder than it has since middle school.

The door to the restroom opens just as the toilet finishes flushing. You hear a scuffle, an aborted shout, and then something heavy hits the floor. You freeze, heart racing. But then there’s no more sound.

You wait for what feels like an hour but must only be a minute before calling, “H-hello?”

You don’t get an answer. Unlocking the door and easing it open, you peek out and stifle a gasp. The man who had escorted you is on the ground, a pool of blood growing around him. His gun is gone.

You’re halfway through washing your hands before you realize you’re on autopilot.

It takes everything in you to fight down the urge to freeze in place and make yourself inch around the body to the door. When you poke your head out, the hall looks so normal that it makes you dizzy for a second. You try to decide what to do through the anxiety fog. You can’t hide in the bathroom with a dead body, and you probably can’t go back to the big room with everyone without getting shot. You have no idea where the other faux-dignitaries were taken. Apparently, there’s at least one person going around killing people in bathrooms.

You try to think of what your therapist would say in this situation. All of the options feel bad, she would say. So you can’t not do anything because it feels bad. Thank the anxiety for trying to keep you safe, then try to pick the least awful course of action.

“Fight, flight, freeze, fawn,” you whisper to yourself. Fighting is right out. “Flight, freeze, fawn.” There’s a body pouring blood right behind you. “Flight, fawn.” No one is around to appease. “Flight.”

Another gunshot and shouting. It sounds like it’s coming from the left, so you head right.

You shuck off your sensible kitten heels and fervently wish your otherwise sensible pantsuit wasn’t pastel purple in this very beige hallway. Not that a thicker-than-European-average black woman mincing around in a Swiss hotel and conference center would be inconspicuous in a black suit, your mind counters itself. You try to force your brain to shut up, with mixed success.

You wander a good five minutes, reminding yourself not to panic at every locked door you try. The halls are so quiet that you half convince yourself that you’ve gotten out of immediate danger. So of course, right as you’re about the round the next corner, one of the Russians appears, reeling backwards. And then he collapses, a knife sticking out of his neck.

You can’t really worry about that, though, because right after him comes one of the largest men you’ve ever seen. He must catch sight of you out of the corner of his eye, because his head snaps to look at you. You barely register the assault rifle in his hands because his eyes bore into you through the top half of a human skull.

Oh, I’m glad I already peed, you think, staring into the eyes of Death.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” the man says, growls really. “What are you doing here?”

“I… bathroom? Please don’t kill me. I’ll cooperate.” you squeak out. Oh, fawning! Cool.

“Price, I’ve got one of the hostages,” he says, nonsensically. “I’ve cleared the east wing.”

You jump when his walkie-talkie - of course it’s a walkie-talkie - squawks back an “Affirmative. Status?”

“She’s up and walking,” the man says, not taking his eyes from yours. “Seems uninjured.”

“Stow her somewhere safe.”

“Negative,” Death says. Before you can panic because what the fuck does that mean? he says, “Bringing her back with me.”

“Copy.”

When he takes a step toward you, you stop breathing. Everything in you is screaming RUN and DON’T MOVE at the same time. His second step in your direction results in a full body twitch. You get the impression that the gun is pointed at the ground, but the only thing you can really see is bone white over a black mask and what might be really pretty brown eyes, but the shadow from the overhead light really makes it hard to tell and your vision is going a bit darkaroundtheedgesandohI’mstillnotbreathingthat’snotgreat.

You’re shocked into gasping when a gloved palm touches the side of your face. The rough material helps you settle into your body, just in time to start hyperventilating.

And that’s when things get weird, because Death says, “Easy, lovie. Settle, f’ me, yeah? Deep breaths, like we’ve practiced.”

Your brain latches on to the familiar command to settle before you can even question why it’s familiar. The way the man makes a long, low shushing noise makes you so suddenly weak in the knees that you stagger where you stand.

And then it clicks. Holy shit. You know this voice. You know these commands. You’ve been listening to and learning them at least once a week for the last six months. He doesn’t even sound that different from over the phone or on a video call.

“There you go, that’s good,” Simon, the dominant you’ve been seeing online, tells you through his skull mask. “Keep breathin’. In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

It’s the second time in your life you’ve been surprised out of a panic attack. “W-what the fuck? Si?” you gasp. “What are you doing here? Did you kill that guy?”

“Questions are gonna have to wait,” he says. “Keep breathing. In for four, hold for two. In for two, out for eight. Can you do that?”

“Why are you in Switzerland?”

“Breathe,” he rumbles. “Settle.”

“No,” you hiss, even as your shoulders relax another fraction. The corners of your eyes start prickling with tears.

“This is a double red light situation,” Si says, staring into your eyes. “I know you’re scared, but I’m going to get you out of here. You trust me?”

“You are wearing a skull on your face.”

“And you’re wearing a purple suit,” he answers. “There are people who want to shoot both of us. You get one more outburst, then you’re breathing and following me. Acknowledge.”

What the fuck? “This isn’t a scene!”

His eyes bore into yours. “Might surprise you, but I’m aware. Acknowledge.”

A distant shout makes you flinch. You relent. “Acknowledged. Four in, hold two, two in, out eight. Follow.”

“Good girl,” he says, patting your cheek once. “Stay behind me.”

#dragonnarrativewrites fanfiction #transferrable skills #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #kink fics #this turned out so much more humorous than i expected and is so much fun to write #manic pixie dream ghost

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dc-marvel-life · 7 months

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Slipped My Mind

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x reader

Summary: Bruce forgot a very important day and the whole family is making sure he knows it. He tries to fix the mistake before you get home

Word Count: 917

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Bruce was sitting in the Batcave on the bat computer going over some files after a night of patrol. It has been a strange day for Bruce because no one is giving him the time of day today. It all started this morning when he woke up to an empty, cold bed without you. He didn’t think too much about it because you both are busy people with jobs. You own a very popular restaurant downtown.

Alfred comes down to the Batcave to give Bruce his nightly coffee. Once Alfred is next to Bruce he just throws down the tray in front of Bruce. Bruce looks at Alfred wondering why he just did that, but Alfred just has a straight face. Bruce lets out a sigh and nods his head. He picks up the coffee and spits it out.

“Alfred why is the coffee cold and bitter” Bruce grabs the napkin on the tray and cleans his mouth.

“I bet that is how Mistress Y/N feels about you today,” Alfred says under his breath then walks away. Bruce looks at him wide eye not understanding where that just came from. He ignores it now and will talk about it later with him. Right now Bruce is tired and just wants to see and cuddle his wife.

After a bit, the boys come back from patrol. They didn’t want to work with Bruce tonight. They didn’t give a good reason. They just mumbled under their breath and left.

“How was patrol tonight boys?” Bruce asked trying to make conversation since he was being ignored all day.

“Why do you care about how patrol is when there are more important things to be worried about right now,” Jason says taking off his helmet. Bruce looks at Jason with narrowed eyes trying to understand what he means by that.

“Jason is right and you need to do better or you are going to lose her,” Dick says with anger behind his tone.

“Lose her..” Bruce says to himself.

“Have you not noticed that she hasn’t been here all day because I have and miss her!” Damian yells. Bruce starts to think; are they talking about you not being here?

“Y/N isn’t here because you have forgotten your 10-year anniversary,” Tim says out loud. Bruce's heart stops for a second and he looks at the date. They were right, it was you and Bruce’s 10-year wedding anniversary and it has slipped his mind.

He stops everything that he is doing and runs out of the Batcave. He takes off the suit, gets into one of his many cars, and drives to the nearest store at this hour. He goes in and buys everything that you like and rushes back home to get everything set up for you.

After about an hour you arrive home after a very long day. You go up to your shared room with Bruce and open the door in awe. There are rose petals everywhere with lit candles and all your favorite snacks, candies, and drinks. You look at Bruce with a serious face.

“Are you cheating on me?!” you say angrily.

“Why would you think that?” Bruce says confused.

“Baby, I love you and everything but you aren’t the most romantic person in the world sometimes. You know how to treat a woman very well but you don’t really show it too much. Now I come home on a random day and this is all done. I have to think that you are cheating on me and got caught” you explain and Bruce starts to laugh.

“Oh, this is great. You also forgot” Bruce smiles and walks over to you.

“What did I forget?” you start to think about what was so important about today, and then you remember. Today is your anniversary.

“Bruce I am so sorry that I forgot. I was so busy this morning getting stuff for the kids. Dick was wearing too small of clothes, so I went shopping for him. Jason needed new guns because somehow he lost them. Tim needed new computer parts. Damian has a field trip so I had to drive to the school and drop it off. Barbara needed help getting somewhere today. Then the restaurant was understaffed tonight so I had to jump in” You ramble on but stop one Bruce pulls you into a hug and leans in to give you a deep, passionate kiss that takes your breath away.

“Happy anniversary dear. We both forgot and that’s okay” Bruce says and you both laugh at it.

“Wow we really did forget, but it has been the best 10 years of my life” You give Bruce a chaste kiss.

“Now I haven’t been able to see my wife all tonight and the boys have been giving me the cold shoulder because they think you are mad at me for not remembering,” Bruce says.

“Let me go talk to the boys and explain what really happened,” you say and try to leave Bruce’s hold but can’t get out of his strong grip on your waist.

“Now we still have a few hours left in our anniversary and I want to spend it taking care of my hard-working wife who has been on her feet all day,” Bruce says and picks you up with ease.

“I like the sound of that” You wrap your arms around Bruce’s neck and kiss him. You both spend the night remembering why you got married in the first place.

Masterlist

Request are open

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jo-harrington · 5 months

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Sunsets.

They were always better when you watched them with someone else.

You glanced down at the hands in your lap: yours and Sam's, twined together like your lives have been for the past 5 years. The best of friends from the moment her family moved into town. You couldn't remember a time when you existed without her.

She's chatting now, telling some story about her boyfriend's dunce behavior to cheer you up after Mark broke your heart. Douchebag. You don't really know how you got here of all places; how things seemed to go so right with him and then so terribly wrong.

Sam made a joke at both Patrick and Mark's expense. You laughed and the sound of it was unfamiliar and almost roared in your ear, like a hundred people were laughing.

Everyone always laughed at Sam's jokes. Everyone loved Sam. Everything always worked out for her, even in the most unlikely situations. She was just lucky like that.

You told her once, after she won the talent show at school, that it almost seemed like she was the star of The Samantha Show or something. She found it hilarious, apparently, but you had an inkling that her feelings were still hurt. This was real life, not TV. She didn't just win because she was some main character, she worked really hard on her dance routine.

You felt a little bad after that, never brought it up again. The dark little voice deep down inside you smothered for now.

Because yeah, she did work hard. You knew that. She was smart and talented and funny and caring and a great friend and neighbor and that's just how it was because...

Because...

Because she strived to be all of those thing.

Things you…really didn’t bother with.

Because you were…

You.

Average, squeaking by a three-point-something GPA, wannabe artist who could barely draw, never left town before even when there was that field trip to DC because you got the mumps. A little nervous, a little clumsy, a little romantic with your head in the clouds. You always had a crush but nothing ever really came of those crushes until Mark.

The only boy to ever like you back and then he broke your heart.

“I just want to disappear,” you muttered pathetically and let go of Sam’s hand to cover your eyes again.

"So do it!" Sam finally hopped to her feet in the way that only she could, raring for another passioned, motivational speech that she was known for. You really needed one of those and also loathed that she was about to give you one. "Disappear! Leave!”

This was not the speech you expected.

"Uh, what?" you let out a mixture of a scoff and a laugh, tears forgotten for now. "What do you mean leave? Hello, graduation in a few months. Prom? Then college. What happened to your big plan last week? One last summer in Port Geneva?"

"Forget one last summer," she waved her arms wildly. "This is your life! You're my best friend, I want you happy. Tell me the truth. Do you really even want to go to college? Wouldn't you rather pack up big blue and go on that adventure like you talked about in 8th grade?"

At your blank stare, Sam grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you.

"That's the whole reason we're friends in the first place don't you remember? The ice breaker?! Are you kidding?"

"I don't have a clue," you giggled as she jostled you around.

"Our entire friendship built on a lie. UGH. Ok. Mrs. Mills what-do-you-wanna-do-in-10-years activity? And everyone's was stupid. Tina wanted to be on the cover of Tiger Beat for the Girl Superstar issue. Patrick...gotta love him...but he wanted to be the starting quarterback for the Miami Dolphins. Mine was so dumb I don't even want to say it, great first impressions I made as the new kid.

"But you wanted to see the world! Pack your bags and board a train around the US. Paint the sunset at the Grand Canyon. See glaciers in Alaska! Hell, you even said you'd travel to Middle Earth if you could. And I thought you meant the equator!"

You both laughed and as she went on and on about things you apparently said 4 years ago and as the memory came back to you, your heart ached.

Yeah, you did say that stuff didn't you? You’d been such a silly, idealistic kid before you grew up and reality hit you time and time again.

"That was just kids stuff Sammie," you laughed dismissively. "I'm...I'm gonna take classes at State, and I'm gonna work at the furniture store and I'm gonna..."

"You're gonna pine over Mark Greckman over the rest of your life?" The hands were on her hips again. "No, ma'am, you...you're gonna go on your adventure and...oh my...you're gonna find a prince of some European kingdom or...or a handsome stranger in an Italian villa. Or both. Hoards of men fighting for your affection."

"Please stop," you stood up and grabbed her as she started waving her arms around and pantomiming kissing a tall stranger. "Stop it."

"Ok I'm done, I'm done," she promised. "I just don't want you to be crying over that idiot anymore. And we might be close to graduation but...I don't know...you can still change your mind."

"Hmm," you shrugged. "I dunno. If just sounds so…”

“Unlike you?”

“Yeah.”

"Just think about it," she urged you. "You and your Volkswagen Beetle…and the world...the whole universe if you want it! The possibilities are endless. I just feel like...1985...it's gonna be your year."

There was a spark of inspiration that grew inside of you, and in your heart, you knew she was right.

You pulled her into your arms, grateful to have your best friend.

"Port Geneva was filmed in front of a live studio audience."

Eddie hit the rewind button on the remote and watched the scene speed in reverse until it hit Sam’s big speech. He hit play and watched for a minute then paused, the blurry image of your giggling face frozen on his screen for the foreseeable future.

He sighed and leaned back on the couch to enjoy your company for a minute.

The living room was dark, only illuminated by the glow of the TV and the street lights outside shining through the windows. There was a stack of tapes on the coffee table, along with his abandoned homework. The pizza he ordered would be here soon but for now…it was just you and him.

“M’sorry Mark was an asshole,” he said aloud into the still room. “To be honest…I kind of warned you about him way back.”

You don’t say anything. You never do.

“I know, the heart wants what it wants.” He picked a piece of lint off of his jeans. “I just want to look out for you honey.”

You stay smiling on the screen, and he can imagine it got the slightest bit bigger when he said that.

“I know you try to look after me too. Guess that doesn’t stop either of us getting hurt right?” He chuckled and pat his hands on his lap.

This was pathetic, talking to a fictional character like they were really in the room with him.

You were just…you were everything. And you’d been there for him, a balm to his woes. You had been since he started watching Port Geneva way back when, but especially since everything went down last year.

With his dad and the house and…

There was a knock at the door and Eddie hit the eject button so he could put in the next tape in watch with dinner. It was gonna be a good episode, you tell Mark off and even punch him; he remembered it fondly.

Defending yourself. He was proud of his girl.

Eddie ate his dinner and watched his episodes, taped from when they originally aired. Wednesday nights at 9pm, right before the news. He did his homework and occasionally repeated the rewind-pause-play act that he had perfected over the years so he could make another joke or, just once, complain about his chemistry homework.

Life was hard. For everyone. But especially if your name was Eddie Munson. Still, he endured. He’d never been a stranger to fantasy and escapism, he had his books and his game and his movies but there was something so…comforting in the realism that was your show.

A small suburban town full of normals. All sorts of mundane activities that mostly everyone made feel were…life altering events. And a handful of misunderstood outcasts—like you and Scott and Bonnie—who played supporting characters to the stars. Stars that were, quite frankly, unrealistic and annoying.

Eddie felt that way sometimes though, like he was just some background character waiting for his chance at the spotlight. Who had been the main character in his story, huh? Ronnie? Yeah…he could see that, now that she was on her great college adventure.

But with her gone, what would come of his storyline? Did he just fade into the background again?

Eddie ejected the tape before the current episode finished and propped his feet on the coffee table as he flipped the channels to something else. He needed to focus on something else. He would come back to his tapes, to you, another night and he would wish that you were real once again. Knocking on his door, taking him on a grand adventure with you.

But for now he just needed to stew in his…sad secondary character thoughts.

You got your time in the spotlight, a 2-episode arc at the end of the season, and as much as he hoped that it would be his turn soon…to be the character everyone loved…the person everyone loved…he knew it might never happen for him.

Eddie the Freak. Eddie the outcast. Eddie the idiot.

He would even take a single scene dedicated to him at this point.

Was that too much to ask?

Coming in 2024.

Find the Masterlist here. And the original blurb here.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #Eddie Munson angst #stranger than (fan)fiction #eddie munson #Stranger things fic

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charliemwrites · 2 months

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I’ve been thinking about “mean” (okay no they’re mean) characters.

Specifically, I’m thinking about Rook “Duke” Alistair being best friends with Actual Assassin and meanest bastard around, Velikan.

They’ve known each other since her early days back in the Air Force. Maybe Duke, freshly nicknamed and bright-eyed, got caught up in some sort of ambush with a shiny new unit.

And maybe Velikan was going to kill her as collateral, but for reasons not even he knows, he didn’t.

And now he’s got this duckling (she’s even blond and fluffy like one) that’s practically imprinted on him. Every time they cross paths (and they keep crossing paths for some fucking reason) she lights up and waves, babbling updates about her life. She doesn’t mind his gruff tone or his short temper, or the absolute mauling she receives when he finally acquiesces to spar her.

It’s not that she doesn’t know he’s an assassin. Oblivious as she can be, she’s not stupid. Just the opposite, in fact. She recognizes that approaching him at any point is like sticking a hand in a tiger cage. And yet she still does it, even when they’re out in the field.

How she’s not dead yet, for pure annoyance alone, he’s not sure. But he figures that she’s spent so much time being an inconvenience to him specifically that he’s earned the right to put an end to her.

And then he’s not sure how she isn’t dead from natural selection.

“I thought you were military,” he hisses, brushing dirt off her shirt and pants. Why is he doing so? Because he’s annoyed that she slipped on pile of wet leaves.

“I am!”

“You have no discipline, no coordination, and no sense of self preservation.”

She beams. “I think that last thing is something they encourage, actually.”

He stuffs her into a good hideout and tells her to stay while he takes care of their his tail.

It’s not just the slipping, tripping, and falling. If anything would make him believe in luck, it’s Duke having the worst of it. Falling objects and loose floorboards, changes in a guard rotation or a light coming on at the worst moment. She’s smart and quick enough to watch out for herself, but only just.

Maybe he lets her live out of pure bafflement. Morbid fascination with someone so smart and yet so—

“Stupid,” he growls, dunking her head in the rain barrel.

She comes up sputtering, but giggling. “This isn’t how you’re supposed to treat acid exposure.”

He dunks her under again for good measure. She shakes off on him like a dog afterwards and he genuinely tries to strangle her. But then she gets her sharp little teeth in his arm and bites, proceeds to inform him that he’s going to need antibiotics with a bloody smile.

Is he going to personally bring about her violent, gory end? Yes.

Is she also his best friend? Somehow.

“Do you think cinnamon floss or mint floss is better for improvised stitches?”

“I think you should just bleed out.”

“It’s not for me, dummy…. Yet.”

He’s not relieved when she gets the position with the CIA, but something close to it.

They hire him for their dirty work often enough that he sees her regularly. Her ridiculous, cluttered desk and her grotesque stash of snacks and her constant rotation of injuries because they still let her near machinery.

“You stink,” he scoffs, lifting her right out of her chair as she squeals. “You are taking a shower.”

And because she has the attention span of a fly, he goes in with her. She fusses when he gets soap in her mouth or eyes, but he just tuts that it wouldn’t happen if she were capable of doing it herself. And dignity? Long forgotten as he scrubs her down from head to toe, pinching when she complains about being babied.

“Do not act like a child, then,” he gruffs, throwing a towel in her face.

Honestly, Laswell should be ashamed.

“When was the last time you ate?” He demands, squishing her cheeks with a little shake. “Eh? When was the last time you had something other than blue candy?”

“‘S raspberry.”

“Are raspberries blue? No. They teach this in school. All that sugar has rotted out your little brain.”

It turns out the answer to his food question was “too long.” He trades her potatoes for carrots, but only after holding her nose closed until he could force peas in her stubborn mouth.

Ridiculous, really.

#I don’t… know #I just needed to write something and post it to get out of this block I’ve been having #it’s not necessarily good but…#ta-da #velikan #cod Velikan #rook ‘Duke’ Alistair #cod oc #my oc #cod #thoughts™️#my writing #weird friends #dom friends

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piratefishmama · 10 months

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Forgiven Not Forgotten | Part 8

The mirror wasn’t weird anymore. But Eddie still found it sort of unnerving to look into it. To see scars on his face. Scars that told the story of time having passed. Time he didn’t remember passing, and knowing that, from context clues and behaviours of the people around him…

He should remember it passing.

They weren’t telling him something. Keeping truths from him for his own good and while yes, nice, lovely, they were protecting him from something undoubtedly harsh, the urge of wanting to know was more of a pain in the ass than it’d ever been before.

Curiosity killed the cat and all that jazz.

Unfortunately he wasn’t a cat, he didn’t have nine lives, he had one, and that’d already been taken from him, so he was really pushing his luck. Especially considering he wound up on that little trip out into town, partnered up with team super girl. Or team Byers-Hopper. He’d wanted to be with the people he knew, Steve, Robin, Nancy… but no, Eleven, the actual superhero had linked her arm with his, and that was that.

She basically adopted him. Pulled him into the direction of team Byers-Hopper.

“She’s comfortable with you” Joyce explained from left field, they’d wound up in a music store after several clothes stores, and Eddie, while mindlessly flicking through the metal vinyl’s, had been watching the psychokinetic teen perusing bins with Will for tapes, Hopper somewhere down the aisles looking for an album to replace one he’d lost in the chaos.

“Can’t imagine why, I don’t know her.” He knew of her, but only through the brief ‘there’s this girl, she has superpowers’ run down during the great Eddie Munson manhunt of ’86. She was the girl. He didn’t know what he expected, but… it wasn’t her.

She looked so fragile. Her hair at her chin, styled in a way that Eddie recognised as someone who also didn’t quite know how to handle natural curls. With a brush and nothing else.

Too young to have been through what she’d been through. She should be in a mall somewhere, trying on clothes, gossiping about boys, or girls, or anything not related to fighting for her life.

She shouldn’t have been through what she had. But then, none of them should have been.

“We find it best not to question it when El takes a shine to someone, it means good things, that’s what we’ve found so far. It means there’s something good in you.”

“Well… if anyone were going to see it… m’glad it’s the superhero.” Joyce smiled, gave him a gentle pat on the back that shouldn’t have been as comforting as it was, probably the overwhelming amount of mom energy she seemed to just radiate, “…do you know what they’re hiding from me?” Just as out of left field as her appearance beside him was, and it had at least some of the desired effect.

She looked surprised. She looked uncomfortable, she looked… like she knew.

“It’s nothing that you did, Eddie, I promise you. I think… I think they’re keeping it quiet because… if you did wind up remembering… the government would likely try and blame you, they’d have an excuse to blame you, the fact that you don’t, well I think that is what’s keeping you out of a lot of trouble.” It was keeping him safe. Keeping him out of the line of fire. Even if it was also keeping the people he’d tentatively begun thinking of as friends… out of reach. “They’re probably trying to avoid jogging that memory of yours for your own safety.”

“So there should be memories…” finally, some kind of clarity. While they’d all been nice to him, while they’d all been glad he was okay, nobody acting like he didn’t belong there, nobody being mean to him… Steve wouldn’t even help him unpack! He and Steve had been fine during the whole Vecna thing, they’d been okay, they’d laughed and joked, they’d gotten along, and now— “did I hurt Steve?”

“Not that I know of, he wouldn’t have told anyone if you did though, knowing him he’d be keeping it to himself to stop you from receiving the fury of The Children. So if you did, you’d have to pry that from him yourself.” Right… pry the knowledge from Steve. Okay, he could do that… if he could get Steve alone then maybe, just maybe, he could talk to him.

Steve was the only one who knew about his void, right? He was safe with Steve, he could talk to Steve. “I suppose I’ll speak to Steve then, thanks Mrs Byers”

“It’s Joyce, Eddie… you can call me Joyce.” He nodded, his smile small, but there.

“Eddie!” And there was the Supergirl, having left the bin to join them, taking his arm to pull him back with her toward Will “there are tapes you will like here. Will says you like Metal, I think I have found some, the name says Iron something, and I am certain that that is a metal.” Joyce offered him a smile, before releasing him from their conversation with a gentle shoo motion.

His attention switched to El as she pulled him along, and with a much bigger smile, he confirmed that “yeah, that’s a metal, Ellie, why don’t we find something for Max too, since I’m sure she could do with something other than Kate Bush by now” and gosh couldn’t that smile of hers just light up a whole goddamn room and make all those negative thoughts just disappear into the wind?

“Yes, I think so too.”

They dropped off the new tapes at the hospital on the way back to home base, the car fully loaded with clothes,it was intended to be a quick visit, Max was still asleep, so they didn’t plan to stay long, but Lucas was there beside her as usual, reading wonder woman comics to her as she slept. She’d wake up soon. The doctors said she would, and he’d be there when she did.

El added a new little woollen friendship bracelet to Max’s wrist, alongside the three others she’d already placed there through the week and whispered something to her, nobody caught what it was, nobody tried to. If El wanted everyone to know what she said, she’d have said it out loud.

It was Lucas who made him feel less like a piece of the background, just by smiling at him and asking him “you doin okay, Eddie?” Checking in with him.

“Feels like I need a montage to catch me up on what I’m missing but… yeah m’good man. Red likes Wonder Woman?”

“Mhm, big on the girl power, y’know? As if anyone could be tougher than her” as if anyone could be braver.

El was pretty damn special but… El could throw things with her mind, could snap all the bones in a human body with a thought, Max was just… Max, impossibly brave, but so very human.

“Princess Diana would bow at her feet, I have zero doubts. What about you though? You’ve barely left this place, can’t be good for you…”

“I’ll rest when she’s awake, she’d do the same for me. And before you say it don’t worry, I’m fully prepared to endure her attitude when she finds out how long I’ve been here. She can be mad at me all she wants, I’ll be here when she wakes up.”

“Good…. m’glad y-you’re… you’re prepared, stalker…”

Part 10

#PirateWrites #ForgivenNotForgottenFiclet #Steddie #Post!S5 #Mentions of Kas Eddie #Hurt/Comfort #Miscommunication #GASP!!

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futbol16 · 1 year

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As your Captain ・ Barcelona Femení

This one is for these two requests although I have slightly changed it, I might have forgotten what the original request was, but I hope you enjoy!

Requests: "Can we have some angst/hurt with Barcelona girls or lionesses?"

"Hopping in on the request because you are the best 🤩🤩🤩🤩 Would you write one where the girls wrongfully got the message that Y/N would move to Lyon or worse Real Madrid and the team gives her the cold shoulder and very angry training sessions, Y/N notices after a few days and every attempt of dialogue fails. Having enough Y/N lets all her frustration out when no one expected it, lots of tears and anger and most importantly disappointment. She disappears for hours and it's freezing cold and the girls in the meantime found it was a lie to jeopardize the time. They’re all frantically searching for her and trying to call, she comes to training the next morning, none of the girls sleeps, soaked in rain and not able to talk to her cold temperature and shivering. She catches a intense flu and the team has absolutely never felt worse"

Word count: 1,9k

The final whistle of the match is blown and you excitedly run towards Mapi before jumping on her back and the two of you join the rest of the team celebrating.

Your team had won 5-0 to Real Madrid with you assisting a goal and scoring one of your own as well.

As you glance over to the other side of the field you take in the way Misa lazily picks up her goalie gloves she had previously thrown to the ground. A frown takes over your features when you see her try to wipe her tears away, tears that obviously weren’t anywhere near stopping.

You were always one to respect your opponents especially if they were on the same national team as you, you had seen the way Misa desperately tried to get her team together in the match. She was captain and truthfully she was the only one actually playing for Real Madrid today.

You don’t wait long as you make your way towards her and gently pull the taller girl into your arms, whispering praises into her ear as you try to comfort her.

Misa was your friend on the Spanish team and you knew she’d be more disappointed in her own performance than anyone else’s.

She holds onto you as well, burying her face into your shoulder, occasionally nodding at your words and she thanks you when you tell her you need to get back to your team.

Your actions didn’t go unnoticed by the Barca girls, or the cameras and fans at that and they all watched, confused.

No one thinks about it for too long though as you and the girls get back to the locker room and celebrate the wonderful win.

A few days after the match you notice the sudden change in air from your teammates.

You feel their eyes on you, watching your every step, yet when you’d turn around they would already be busy with something.

They also haven’t said much, at least not to you which was very unusual as usually you and most of the younger girls would be joking around, loudly laughing at each other whenever you got the chance.

Not now though.

Training has been a bit different, your training partner, Patri had switched with someone else and now you had Marta.

It’s not that you didn’t like the girl, you really did, but you were used to training with Patri and her switching up without a word left you hurt and confused.

You knew the defenders on your team could be aggressive, but what you were experiencing right now was far from how teammates would challenge each other.

Their main target seemed to be you and you only. Tackles were sent your way left and right at every drill and you were sure that someone also tripped you up on purpose when you were walking to the back of the line.

It hurt. You didn’t know why they had been avoiding you and why so suddenly. You had thought over everything you had done in the past week that could have made 22 people have it out for you, but nothing came to mind.

Team chemistry was off. It was obvious to you, to your teammates and most importantly to the coach and staff members.

Jonatan had also taken notice of how you seemed to always end up on the ground in drills that on any other day you could have done in your sleep.

It isn’t until you’re clutching your ankle, laying on the turf as you try to breathe through the pain, that he actually intervenes.

As a medic makes his way over to you, Jonatan calls your name from not too far at the sidelines.

“Y/L/N, I want you in my office after practice!”

Your ankle had been fine after checking it out but you did have a small limp as you walked into the coach’s office, ready to talk with him.

As you take a seat in front of Jonatan, he doesn’t waste time as he gets right into it.

“Y/N I’ve noticed how the team isn’t connecting and I know you have too. As captain, and especially now since Alexia isn’t here, I need you to figure out what happened.

Whatever it is, you need to fix it, talk to them. We can’t go into a match like this.” you nod at his words and as you get excused, you immediately walk to the changing room where you knew the rest of the girls would be.

For the first time in a week they acknowledge your presence as you walk in and instantly take notice of the hard look on your face.

You looked mad, something that scared them since you rarely showed this side of you to them. The girls in the room freeze in their movements as they look up at you, silence overtaking the room and they watch as you slightly limp towards your bag.

Shoving your shin guards into it you also turn towards them. Your voice is cold and eerily emotionless as you start to speak.

“I have no idea what happened or if I’ve done something but it’s clearly affecting our performance as a team and I won’t have that. I’m telling you this as your captain, if you don’t get yourselves together and communicate what you’re feeling then I’ll gladly sit you out on our next game.

As captain it is my job to take care of the players but I can not do that if you guys ignore my existence. This is unacceptable and I don’t think I deserve this!”

The last part is spoken harshly and some of the girls visibly shiver at your tone.

Looking around the changing room most of your teammates’ heads are lowered, a guilty look on their faces, but Mapi, Patri and Mariona glare at you, a look you can only give back to them.

You leave the room at the silence you receive and make your way to one of the other offices.

Back in the changing-room Irene takes the team's silence as her chance to speak up, she had been one of the few who hadn’t totally ignored your presence after the ElClásico.

The barca team finds themselves in Jonatan’s office less than fifteen minutes after you’ve left and Jonatan looks at them panicked as he’s bombarded with questions.

“What? Repeat that question?” he asks as utter confusion and surprise is written all over his face.

“Has Y/N already signed with Real Madrid?” Aitana questions again, this time saying it slower, but the coach only stares at the group of football players standing in front of him.

They shuffle uncomfortably under the man’s gaze before he talks.

“Now where the hell did you hear that from?” it’s now the team’s turn to stare at him now as they take in what he’s saying.

“So wait, Y/N isn’t transferring to Real?” Patri is the one who voices her thoughts first.

“No, no of course not!” Jonatan laughs at the idea of you ever wearing the Real Madrid badge over your heart, you had made your distaste towards the club clear to him.

“But everyone keeps talking about it!”

“Who’s everyone? Girls, don’t tell me you got this information from the internet, you didn’t believe another rumor now, did you?” the coach looks at them expectantly before sighing at their guilty faces and he rubs at his face for a second.

“It was only because of the whole Lyon thing from last time, people kept saying she’d transfer to them and well, yeah, we believed another rumor.” Pina admits, her voice growing quieter by the end.

“But we also discussed last time that it was only because she signed the contract extension with Barca late, right?” they nod at his words.

“Look, I understand that you misunderstood the situation and I now also know why you guys haven’t been doing too well in training, but this is very immature of you all.

No one is transferring anywhere unless your captain or I say so. And the way you’ve handled this is disappointing, Y/N is your teammate, she’s family and family shouldn't be treated like this.”

As he lectures the girls, they all nod along, admitting they’ve been wrong and that they’d like to fix it.

“Y/N is in another meeting right now, but I suggest you talk with her first thing tomorrow at training.”

When the team walks into the training center the next day they take notice of your bag already sitting in your cubby, or rather still sitting there.

Training soon starts and as they try to get a look at you they see the dark circles under your eyes and your somewhat puffy cheeks. You looked exhausted and you were barely halfway through training.

A sloppy move from Lucy results in you sitting on the turf as you try to catch your breath and she is instantly standing in front of you, helping you up and apologizing.

You dismiss her and start towards the beginning of the drill when you stumble slightly. The brunette is there to catch you when your body decides to give up and you pass out.

The team runs over worriedly as the medics make space to get you off the field. They watch as you’re carried into the medical room before having to resume practice.

Thirty minutes later they’re all crowded in the unusually spacious medical room and Claudia takes a hold of your hand when she sees the state you’re in.

You have cooling rags placed all over your body and you look exhausted as you breathe slowly. The medic fills them in on the diagnosis, telling them that you’ve got a fever and have also overworked your body.

When some of the girls look at her weird she goes into detail.

“Y/N stays the night at the facility sometimes to get in extra training or work on something. Security has gotten used to her being here at this point and let her have the pitch to herself for the night.

Unfortunately Y/N over here has forgotten that temperatures have dropped during the night and she’s caught a cold now.” she tells them with an amused chuckle and the team looks at you sadly.

Mapi walks over, gently running her finger through your hair and she smiles when you lean into her touch slightly.

A sneeze breaks the team out of their trance and you reach for a tissue as you blow out your nose.

The room is immediately in chaos as everyone tries to apologize for their behavior and you smile up at them gently when both Pina and Mapi explain the situation.

As they calm down a bit they make a show of apologizing to you one by one before promising that they wouldn’t believe another rumor unless you’d tell them yourself.

You’re taken care of by your teammates for the next week until you get better and they shower you in love and small acts of kindness, still feeling incredibly bad for how they’ve treated you.

You soak up the love you’ve missed out on, but you still couldn’t have asked to be part of a better family.

Barcelona was your home and you wouldn’t trade it for any other team.

#woso imagine #woso one shot #woso x reader #barca femeni x reader #mapi leon x reader #claudia pina x reader

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hcdragonwrites · 8 months

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Apple Blossoms (@journey-to-the-au What if AU fic)

A cute Haarini and Wukong fic that I’ve been dying to push out. God I love this pairing so much. Please ENJOY!

“How long do you think it will take?” Bajie, third disciple, was leaned against the monastery wall a frown furrowing his snout. The pig had just wanted Wukong settle their Master into an alcove in the room, set away from any windows or doorways. Of course Trip had asked Wukong to go begging for fruits- even though the monastery had given them a hearty course of noodles and steamed buns from the kitchens. Wukong had obliged his master, bowing low before seeking out her and asking her if she wanted anything.

“What do you mean?” Wujing was tending to some clothing, working a needle through the ripped and broken stitching along the edge of the fabric. The river demon didn’t seem to have a care in the world as the Stone Monkey leapt from the window and out into the afternoon light beyond.

“Come on Wujing!” Bajie stated exasperated. “ You can’t be blind to what’s going on…” he motioned with his hands to the open window where their brother had gone out and the silver form of Haarini who brought over the scrolls Tripitaka had requested from the monastery archives.

Wujing looked up from his stitching when Bajie have him a kick in his leg and blinked. It took him a moment between looking out the latticed window and to the silver simian beside their master to piece together what was bothering Bajie so much.

“Oh you mean between Wukong and Miss Haarini?” Wujing asked. He didn’t quite see the point his brother was trying to make.

“Yes. The ape is practically head over heels for her and he doesn’t have a clue!” Bajie fumed. He watched Haarini help lay out stones to hold the old and crumbling scroll open, setting a small red candle nearby so Tripitaka could read the fading letters with little strain. Bajie liked to think he was an expert on love and courtship. He had experience - albeit mostly rejections but he would never admit they were failures, just wrong girl wrong time scenarios- and had an eye to see that when Wukong looked at Haarini he had all the tenderness in the world.

“I think the young Miss is also in love with him.” Wujing commented softly. He was almost done fixing the hole in his spare trousers. Bajie whirled off the wall and gripped the river demons shoulders and gave such a violent shake as to send the needle flying out of his hand.

“So you see it too?!” Bajie ground his teeth. If he was a fire demon, steam would have been coming from between his teeth. “Why doesn’t Wukong come out with it and just say it?! It’s infuriating.”

“Infuriating that he’s clueless ?” Wujing bent down to feel for his needle, staying calm even though some of the stitching from his hard work had come undone. “Or is infuriating because Bajie is jealous that our brother has someone interested in him?”

The sly taunt pricked the pig just as Wujing found his needle again- only to loose it as his brother grabbed his shoulders and shook again.

“Wujing! I had a wife remember.” Bajie huffed. “ If anyone knows romance it would be me!”

“Keeping your wife locked up while your in-laws called you a monster?” Wujing pushed his brother off him and caught his needle up again.

“I plowed their fields! I harvested their crops! They should be thankful for such a good Son-in-law!” Crowed the ex marshal. Haarini peaked around at them from her place beside Tripitaka. They were making such a noise about marriage and the pat exploits of Bajie she couldn’t help but listen in.

“Tell that to your ex wife.” Haarini heard that and immediately turned back to the scriptures Tripitaka was gently explaining. Whatever the two brothers were talking about- she wanted nothing to do with.

“Why doesn’t he just say it?!” Bajie reiterated, setting himself back down and against the wall.

“Say what?” Wujing was already engrossed in his work again, having forgotten what point his brother was trying to get to.

“That he loves her Brother! That he is doting on her like a moon eyed dawn after its mother!” It was adorable to see the very cheeky and very sly monkey stumble over his own feet in the presence of a girl. It would give Bajie satisfaction- if it didn’t confound him that this monkey had gained the amour and fluttering lashes of a lady!! “He practically tangled tails with her at every moment!”

“Maybe Wukong doesn’t really understand why he loves her… or what he may be feeling.” Wujing observed.

“What do you mean Wujing? Are you hinting that … Wukong may Never have … felt love before?” The thought seemed so sudden, so alien to Bajies mind that he recoiled from it. Bajie had loved almost since the moment he could conceptualized the thought. There were a lot of pretty women in the courts of Heaven and across the cosmos. I mean… they were women! Pretty dainty things with lips and curves and they all smelled wonderful! To think Wukong had never felt love.. never trysted with another …

“He’s felt love.” Wujing amended. With a pull and tug, the thread came free of its binding in a nice stitch. The hole was mended. “I just don’t think he’s ever had a crush.”

Wukong traipsed through the grove of apple trees, smiling softly to himself. His basket was full of fruit from seven different mountaintops now. He had oranges, cherries, plums, peaches, strawberries, mangos and apples. An assortment of fruits he had to beg and somersault across ranges and deserts for, to hop and skip rivers and oceans just to get across.

Wukong wouldn’t range so far for several reasons. One was his master had a terrible stroke of misfortune that always plagued him to no end whenever the monkey was gone. One would think after so many kidnappings and snatchings, trickings and plyings with sly words, that his other brothers would become more observant right ? Wrong! Wujing could be depended upon, bless him. But Bajie? Sometimes Wukong wanted to peel those pig ears off his head and wipe that grin from his snout in frustration.

When it came down to seeing glamour Wukong was the best. No demon could hide from his discerning eye. His Master knew this- and still would be swayed my Bajies words to disbelieve the Sage.

Bajie had talked his Master into saving demonic women who could pluck the very souls from bodies. The pig had made arguments against Wukongs cautions when it came to a platter of fruits that smelled too sweet or tea that looked just a bit to colorful. And the third disciple ? He had a terrible and scary habit of falling asleep at any and all hours. Ba Longma, their second brother and disciple, had had to wake the pig on more occasions then not.

So the rest of Wukongs reasons? They solely fell on Bajies shoulders. The blame for Wukongs paranoia was at the pigs feet. However that had changed when she came to join them.

Haarini.

She was a flash of silver white fur that had taken him by surprise, knife held to his throat and her teeth flashing. “Who are you?” Had been hissed from a face full of violence and fear.

I am someone completely confused and surprised. Had been Wukongs first thoughts.

Wukong had knives, polestars, maces, bats, clubs, swords, halbergs, quarterstaves, fans, morningstars, greatswords, axes, arrows, tekko, butterfly swords, falchions, rapiers, katana, Dadao and all things sharp or meant for killing pointed at him along the journey. The people wielding them had been mortal and demon alike.

However none of them had been monkey. It was like … looking into the past. She resembled nothing of his people, nothing of his mountain. She wasnt him, had never been him.

Yet the fear… the tremble… Haarini had been in a state when she came to the group. It had taken communicating and gentle coaxing by all to get her to ease. And when she did ? She promptly fell to sleep like a stone being dropped in water. Wukong felt a smidge of something within him beginning to grow white hot. An ember of a feeling he had not been aware of missing.

He had been king of Flower Fruit Mountain longe before he had been imprisoned beneath the Five Phases mountain. Though he hadn’t acted kingly in quite a long time, Wukong felt himself beginning to slip back into that mantel.

Was he bossing anyone around and giving orders and such? No. Being a king was a bit more then that. Besides Bajie would probably disregard him as he always did if given an order. No this was the other side of Wukong that had been seen in glimpses and flashes, like a white Hart in the woods.

This was the part he had always at his core had been: loving. Caring. Compassionate. Wukong wanted the best for his people. He had been driven across the sea to find in in Sabhuti and learn of the art of eternal life. The monkey had cultivated himself for years- all in the name of seeing his people live long and happy lives. To forever live.

Wukong had seen what death did. It took the joy from the living, took a person they loved - wether it be mate or child, mother or sibling- and left nothing but the frozen form from whence their soul inhabited. A husk of the bright flicker that had been before. Wukong had seen his fair share of tears from his people when the first of their troop had died, heart giving out in the middle of festivities and livelihood.

He had tasted the tears of his people as they had buried the elder, the first death Wukong had seen so naturally snatched in the prime spark of life, thrown petals onto the body. Wukong had experienced his first burial. He had seen the mourning.

That sorrow had been a thorn in his foot, a bite from a bug he could not ignore. He worried at it, picked at it. Would he suffer the same fate? But if he did- who would be left to protect the little children,the elder mothers, the stubborn adolescents, from the things that prowled and saw them as nothing more then Monkeys?

They were more then Monkeys. Each of his people had a name. The elder, Sunrise, had been the first name etched into the stone monkeys heart. Wukong refused to forget his smile, the way he called the loudest in the halls during feasts, or how he liked to tell the little ones ghost stories and make the mothers box him about the ears.

Wukong had made a determination, a declaration to himself. That would be the last needless death.

He had not been able to fulfil it completely.

Wukongs own need to secure safety had lead to his rise in power, which had lead to Heavens notice of him. This had lead to the first incidence of scorn and contempt by immortals Wukong had ever experienced. From Humanity? He had learned in his time with Sabhuti that bot all the disciples there looked at him with fondness.

They were mortal men, unaccustomed to the long days of merriment and joviality that Sun Wukong had created in his mountain. Their time was fleeting in Wukongs mind- like grains of sand racing to the bottom of the glass. Wukong wanted to stop his own pell mell fall into that same trap- and had succeeded.

From immortals however ? Beings he had given respect to - as much as he could while also giving them a bit of cheek and teasing for that was his way, to tease and to teach- and had been full of wisdom to him?

They had treated him nothing like his people. Nothing like Sabhuti. Contempt and belittlement had been slung at him.

So of course he had reacted.

That had been more then Five hundred years go. Ages since he had last seen his people, the children, the elders of his mountain.

Flashes of his old self, of the caring free loving monkey king from before had been slow to come forward. Yes he was still a cheeky and conniving trickster. But the playful care ? The kind he would use to tease the children of the mountain into trying new things, or to encourage his generals into learning new maneuvers ? That came in rare flashes in the most secluded moments with Tripitaka, when his master was not breathing down his neck about the importance of every life.

The importance of every life is moot if your being picked out of some upstart demons teeth.

However… Haarini had woken something Wukong was not expecting to awake until he was home and back on his mountain. Care.

Wukong set the basket down in the dew speckled grass, humming as he leapt into the tree above. The cloud cover here was beautiful - frosted in the dying light of the sun and cold crisp scent of winter winds. Wukong was in a place that had longer winters and shorter summers, where the breath of winter was always a step from the door. But for right now the summer was warm enough to fight the chill winds.

Up among the twisting branches, blossoms and apples hung. The smell was soft and fragrant and numerous. The blossoms were small, delicate little things. Bees late to their hives still flitted over them. Wukong picked the best branches and gave them a fast snap. They came away like toothpicks, the blossoms hardly disturbed.

Wukong hoped down setting the branches in the top of the basket. His smile was soft. Warmth settled in his body as he placed the little cloth back over his findings. Then with a breath he spun away, up and over clouds in a somersault that sent him into the air and beyond.

Wukong was soon back at the monastery. The rooftile beneath his feet was still warm from the sun. Night had fallen fully, the blanket of stars in full display. Cicada’s and cricket song flooded the night. The monastery’s paper lanterns gave off a amber honey glow, the fluttering of moths casting large then life shadows across their surfaces.

Below the tiled roof came the comforting murmurs of conversation. Candlelight spilled from the latticed window below. Wukong could hear Bajie and Wujing arguing and the gentle tones of Haarini and Tripitaka in polite conversation. He pulled a bit of fur from his coat and blew, creating a woven basket. Wukong separated the fruits for his master and the little treats he had gathered for Haarini. There was a bit of honeycomb he had snatched, the apple blossom branches, the best Mangos and a few rich and juicy strawberries.

Once that was settled, Wuong felt his fur itch. The urge overcame him and he set to grooming- settling his orange and reddish fur back into place. Ears immaculate, clothes without a speck of dust, tail looking less poofy then before. Once his body stopped itching so terribly, Wukong rapped his knuckles against the latticework and gave a happy hoot. There was a silence then Haarini returned the greeting, musical voice answering his in greeting.

The frame was opened and Haarini stuck her head out, yellow eyes flashing in friendship.

“What are you doing out here? You can just come in.”

“I want to give you something.” Wukong waited eagerly at the edge of roof. He was leaning down looking at her, hands holding the tiles. Everything was cast in a sort of upside down view, the room beyond the window a mess of jumbled shapes. Except Haarini. The simians silvered fur was like a second moon in the light as she quirked a brow at him.

“And that cant be done inside?”

“Not with Bajie.” He peered a bit further and into the room. The third disciple was carrying on about his ex wife and how he was a great husband. Rubbish. He may have done the work of seven people and then some but he had kidnapped his wife first off. That was something no father in law would enjoy. Or mortal women.

“The pig will only ruin it!” Wukong decided to use his secret weapon- he pressed his face close to hers, blinking to make his eyes grow large. “Please Haarini it will be a good surprise.”

Haarini blinked then laughed, snorting in a way that set Wukongs spine to rippling in the most beautiful way. He loved seeing her delight. The Sage would become the greatest jester in all the heavens if he got to hear her soft laughter.

Wukong passed the basket through the window, the one containing the majority of the fruit “Here take the fruits to Shifu and then come back to the window.”

Haarini took the basket and disappeared from sight. With her gone the itching began again in Wukongs fur. He had to resist turning to it and grooming by biting a fang into his lip. It felt like ages bur it was merely moments before she reappeared. The silver monkey was back at the window looking up. Wukong offered her a hand and pulled her up.

He didn’t let go and neither did she. Haarini leaned in looking at the identical basket covered in cloth and back to his golden eyes. Wukong took that moment to try and regain some of his thoughts back. Her smell was in his nose, her hands were soft in his. The way the dim starlight caught in her fur and danced across it like an Arctic crest of permafrost… she was so beautiful.

He could get lost in those eyes… warm like nectar and soft in the light…

“You are eager to show me what you have.” She spun and now was holding both of his hands. She looked up at him, a smirk on her face. “It better not be a trick.”

“No trick. Just close your eyes.”

“Wukong if you put a frog on my head..”

“It was one time! One!”

“One too many!” Her laughter echoed again. Wukong felt his ears melt in the sound of it. He was egged on now, entranced and encouraged by her mirth. A bit of the old King slide out from that place beneath the mountain of memory. He laughed back, allowing that play to prance upon his soul.

“But the frog had the same color eyes as you- it was a comparison” He teased and clucked. The words had their desired effect.

“You cheeky furbag!” Haarini called, smacking his shoulder in mock battle. Wukong felt none of the slaps but felt the little free spark in his heart flair to a flame.

“I am no cheek!” Wukong said with all the mischief.

“You are full of yourself and you know it.” Haarini teased. “Is this why you didn’t want to go down with Bajie?”

“Bajie likes my good humour! He would laugh at my jokes all the time before you came along.” Wukong puffed. He crossed his legs and gently coaxed Haarini down beside him.

“Possibly because you threatened him with a smack between the eyes.” She gestured to his ear where he hid his staff and mimed pummelling someone on the head.

“All in jest. I promise!” He pressed a hand to his heart as she glared at him. He felt a prickle of worry, just a smidge, as he motioned again.

“No frogs just close your eyes. Please?” Baby eyes engaged once more, trying to coax her not to be suspicious.

Haarini reached up and tugged on his ear in play.

“Alright. But if what you give me moves, I will shove it down into your gullet.”

“I dont doubt that.”

He waited until she had closed her eyes. He tested it by waving first his hand then his tail in front of her nose. Her face remained impassive, calm. The Sage had to shake himself bodily to get moving. She just was so pretty in the starlight — it should be criminal to shine without stars.

Wukong turned back to the basket and set to work. He quickly took the branches and easily wove them together. He only lost a few petals from the precious flowers. The scent smelled wonderful, crisp and clear. Wukong felt his tail twitching in excited flutters. He almsot giggled and ruined the surprise. Then Wukong turned and, with delicate care, set the crown of branches and blossoms onto her brow.

“Wukong wha—“ she was a bit startled, opening an eye as the cheeky King sprinkled the last of the apple blossom petals onto her.

“Behold! The flower Queen!” Wukong gave a regal bow, hands swooping back and out as his forehead practically kissed the tiled roof. “All hail the queen of spring!”

“You made me a crown out of blossoms?” Haarini gently ran a hand up and over the little branches that Wukong had woven together. The pale pinkish white petals gave off the softest smell and made her fur look lustrous.

“I couldn’t get you a bouquet.” Wukong chuffed smugly - and with a little bit of mirth. “Those are in the cities and the last time i got you one you nearly bit my fingers.”

“Wukong,” Haarini reproached, “You didn’t get me them-you stole them.”

“I acquisitioned them!”

“You stole them!”

Wukong smirked down on her. And unfurled his hand.

He dropped more petals onto her upturned face. The petals brushed over her nose and lips and Haarini breathed in the pollen.

This elicited the cutest sneeze The Great Sage Equal To Heaven had ever heard. Wukongs eyes blew out as she rubbed at her nose. “Oh my…”

Of course poor Haarini was unaware of the fawning King. She simply rubbed at her snout, trying to gain some composure. The petals had spread their pollen right into her face and nose, setting her to a few more sneezing fits.

A few more adorable honks that had Wukong all but fallen into himself in the urge not to suddenly grab her. It was just so … cute!

Haarini grumbled about the unfair advantages he had, specifically the one where she had no petals to throw at his smirking face when she had been right in the argument all along.

“Wukong my nose is streaming do you have a—“ her eyes had cleared enough to notice how close Wukong had gotten. He was less then a handspan away. He was laying on his belly, feet kicked up over his back, tail curled in a crescent.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Cute.” Wukongs head rested on his two hands as he peered up at her.

“What?” Haarini felt her ears beginning to burn, her fur itching all over as this monkey looked at her like she was the moon and stars and heaven come all to earth. Her heart gave a leap and her emotions were off and running. She had never had anyone admire her like that- had never had someone jest and play and look with such golden eyes into her face …

“Super cuuuute!” Wukong called again, reaching out to tap her now blushing face with the pad of a thumb. Haarini felt steam leave her ears and her fur curl. That heartbeat earlier ? It was racing- galloping- full sprinting like an Arabian horse over the desert dunes.

Seeing him looking at me like that …. I want to —

“Stop it, it was a sneeze!” She slapped at his face, feeling the thoughts of her heart beginning to overwhelm her. Haarini had had bachelors court her. She had had bachelorettes try and weave flowers into her fur. None had ever tempted her eye or caught her heart. There had been handsome ones, kind ones, ambitious ones. As the next matriarch of her troop, Haarini had felt a pressure to perform- to love and to tryst as her mother wanted and secure a successor to the bloodline.

Love had not come into the equation of it.

She had never expected to find it here, leagues away from everything she knew and loved, in the form of a monkey whos eyes glowed like the desert sun, whos laugh made her bones shake in pleasure and whos hands held the gentleset touches. A warrior such as he touched with the softness of day blending to twilight. Subtle and gentle.

Like he was now against her face, holding her in his palm and she, leaning in like she belonged there.

“The most adorable sneeze ever!” Wukong chortled as Haarini regained her independence from her lovesick heart and growled. She gathered some of the fallen petals up.

“Lets see how you like petals in your face!” Haarini pressed them into Wukongs face just as the simian had opened his mouth. The poor King was set on a fit of coughing and sneezing that had Haarini in stitches- but also rubbing his back and apologizing. Wukong returned the favour however as he grabbed her and tugged her back down and into him.

Haarini valiantly struggled under the wrestling. It was like fighting to pin and flip a mountain. She could try all she wanted but each time she got some headway over the King he would simply topped her back onto him. Then under him.

They both lay on the tile for a moment, Haarini catching her breath as she laughed and Wukong hardly breathing as he stared down at her. She was flushed a darker shade- from exertion or laughter he could not tell- and it added a undertone that had him staring into her.

Each time I look at her its like seeing her for the first time. My mind just cant give her an accurate shape.

Maybe one day I can ask an artist to paint her portrait. I never want to forget her smile.

Wukong flopped onto his side beside Haarini, fingering a bit of her crown.

“You are so cute covered in flowers.”

“Shut up-“ her breathes came out a bit faster but with no serious reprimand in them. Wukong felt a bit of a thrill. He had won. “I hope you have more then flowers for me.”

“Of course.”

Under the starlight, in the casting of apple blossoms and the smell of ripe mango and strawberries, the two sat. Enjoying each others company long into the night- past when the cicadas stopped their singing, past when the sky began to grow warm like milk tea in the turning of the day. Haarini talked and teased to Wukong and Wukong listened and teased back. They didn’t realize they were leaning into and upon each other, tails curled and wrapped like vines. When eventually Haarini fell asleep, it was Wukong who curled about her. He grew in size just enough to shelter her from whatever wind came upon them. He slept light, the seeping warmth from the roof tiles lending a heat to wherever they pressed into. Bellies full of fruit and hearts full of one another, the bight passed in peaceful companionship.

A companionship blossoming into the petals of love.

#hcwrites #hcfanfics #writing stuff #a journey to the au fanfi #for journey to the au #HERE SHE IS #A BEHEMOTH #4k words i beleive #it is always the dialouge that makes it longer hehehe but i love this slice of love #YES I KNOW APPLE BLOSSOMS COME IN MANY SIZES.#but also some smell nice and i imagine Haarini in soft little white pedals #jttw au #sun wukong #what if au #haarini #jttw sun wukong #zhu bajie #tripataka #i like to think of Ba Longma as the second apprentice personally #I MEAN HE WAS HERE BEFORE PIGSY SO THAT TECHNIQULLY MEANS HES THE SECOND APPRENTICE #jttw fanfic #I HOPE I CAPTURED THE BABIES WELL #WEEEE #SOME FLUFF TO CHASE DOWN THAT BEAUTIFUL SORROW FLUFF GAVE US YESTERDAY MY GOD #THAT SHIT IS STILL LIVING IN MY HEAD RENT FREE #jttw tag #jttw fanfiction #I LOVE WRITING FLUFF OK #FLUFF MAKES ME SAPPY #I kept seeing that scene from walle when they hold hands with the music going in the background

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aalissy · 13 days

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What If

Andd day 16 is done now :). Another short lil post-relationship, pre-reveal Adrienette chapter. I hope you like it <3. Lemme know what you think!

AO3

“What do you think would have happened if we never found each other?” Adrien murmured softly. They were at her computer, playing Ultimate Mecha Strike for what had to be close to the millionth time.

“Ha! Impossible!” Marinette waved off his comment. The idea of her having never met Adrien was too crazy to think about. She had always been destined to meet him.

He paused the game and she turned to look at him, blinking in slight surprise.

“I’m serious. What if we had never met?”

She shook her head, her pigtails swaying as she did so. “And I’m telling you that it’s an impossible question. I was always going to meet you.”

“Come on, Marinette.” Adrien chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “What if we had been in different classes or different schools?”

Marinette frowned slightly, taking a moment to think. The first scenario seemed very unlikely for them to have never met but the second... the second seemed quite a bit more likely.

Slowly, she began to word her thoughts, “I think I still would have met you quite easily even if we had been in different classes. After all, I know both Marc, Aurore, and Zoé and they’re in different classes.” Adrien tilted his head in agreement with her point. “Different schools might be a bit trickier but we had that field trip to New York once so I’m sure eventually we’d have had a trip together or something that connected our two schools.”

Marinette beamed over at him after finishing that last sentence. After all, the thought of having never met Adrien just seemed inconceivable. Besides, she was Ladybug, so she’d certainly have to save him at one point or another. But, she couldn’t exactly just say that. As much as she may want to.

“Alright, fair enough.” Adrien chuckled, leaning back in her chair as he popped one of the macaroons her parents brought up for them in his mouth. “But what if my father had never allowed me to go to school at all? How would we have met then?”

She hummed lightly, nibbling on her lip in thought once again. This was also a fair bit trickier. But then, she snapped her fingers. “Fashion!” Marinette practically shouted.

“What?” he asked, his brow creasing with confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” she dragged out. “I’m destined to be a fashion designer and you would be a model working for Gabriel Agreste. Our first meeting would be legendary!” She sent him a goofy grin.

“Ahh, but you’re forgetting. I’m not a model anymore,” he teased.

“Adrien, sweetheart, I love you.” Marinette reached over, placing her hand over his, practically melting into a big puddle when his eyes softened at the touch. “But if, in this alternate universe, your father was keeping you from school, then I’m certain he’d force you to continue modeling forever.”

Adrien opened his mouth, surely about to say something before he closed it with a quiet, dumbfounded laugh. “You know what, I think you’re right. I was only able to stand up to my father in the first place because of you.”

She squeezed his hand, trying to bring the smile back to his face. “Not to worry, of course, once we met, I would swoop in and save you from your modeling career. Maybe I’d get you a job at the bakery or something.” Marinette giggled.

Adrien grinned, a warmth spreading through him at Marinette's words. "A job at the bakery, huh? I could get used to that."

Marinette laughed, her eyes sparkling with affection. "Just imagine, you in an apron, covered in flour, trying to bake pastries."

"I think I'd make a mess of it," Adrien admitted with a chuckle. "But if it's with you, I'd give it a try."

They sat there, enjoying each other's company, the game paused forgotten on the screen. It was moments like these, simple and sweet, that made them cherish their relationship even more.

"Hey, Marinette," Adrien said softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Yeah?" Marinette turned to him, her gaze filled with curiosity.

"I'm glad we found each other," he said, his voice sincere. "No matter how crazy the 'what ifs' are, I'm just happy we're here, together."

Marinette's heart fluttered at his words, a smile spreading across her face. "Me too, Adrien. Me too."

He leaned over, pecking a kiss against her lips that had her smiling into his mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck, tugging him down to her as she deepened their kiss.

They shared this sweet moment of kisses, just relishing in the warmth of their connection. They knew that no matter the twists and turns life might have taken, they were meant to be together, playing video games, baking pastries, and facing whatever challenges came their way, side by side.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #mlb #ml #fic #fanfic #adrienette #adrinette #ml fic #adrinetteapril2024 #adrienetteapril2024 #adrinetteapril #adrienetteapril #love square #pre reveal #post relationship #post relationship pre reveal

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novaaaaaa-writes · 17 days

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𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞

for @queenpiranhadon, who requested an atla modern school au ;)

genre: atla modern!au

warnings: very minor swearing, tackling (american football game)

also forgive me if i got some terms wrong im not a football person

“Aang! Come on!”

“Wait up!”

Aang winced as he entered the stadium, hundreds of voices scraping his ears while he speed-walked behind Bumi. Tripping over the steps (and bumping into a few sneering highschoolers - “Sorry!”) as he and Bumi ascended up the bleachers. Bumi stopped at two empty seats a little bit behind the front row.

“Dude, how did you manage to get us tickets to a highschool football game?” Aang asked.

Bumi ran a hand through his spiky hair and winked. “I have my ways, old friend.”

He always did.

Aang grinned. “Bumi, you’re a mad genius.”

“Shhh, the game is starting!” a boy in front of them hissed.

The stadium dimmed, and a spotlight shone on the football players in the middle of the field, burly guys in blue and red numbered uniforms sneering at the opposite team.

“Introducing the game of the century! Or should I say, the semester?” the commentator chuckled.

Silence.

“Wow, tough crowd...erm, anyway. On the right side, our home team, Omashu High School's Turtleducks!” the commentator announced, the spotlight shining on the team in blue. A chorus of cheers and boos sounded.

“And please welcome our visiting team on the left, Boiling Rock High’s Dragons!” The spotlight shone on the team in red. More cheers and boos.

“Let the semi-annual tournament games begin!” A horn blared. The teams kicked off and immediately started tackling each other.

“Who are we rooting for again?” Aang whispered to Bumi after a while. Aang knew nothing about football. He bounced his leg up and down in his seat, almost without realizing it.

“The Turtleducks, dumbass.” Bumi muttered. “Look at our side of the stadium.”

They were literally surrounded by kids in blue shirts, waving the Turtleducks’ team logo, a little green and yellow turtleduck wearing a football helmet, on little flags and cheering them on.

“My bad,” Aang chuckled. “They aren’t doing very well, though.” The score was 6-2 for the Dragons, and it was nearly half time. The way this was going, Aang didn’t think that the Turtleducks had a chance at-

“Sokka, you idiot! You weren’t supposed to catch that!” a girl near the front row shrieked at one of the football players in blue.

“I KNOW, KATARA!” the guy yelled back, exasperated.

The girl, presumably Katara, rolled her eyes and sank back in her seat. She was cute, with her long, braided dark hair and bright blue eyes, the same shade as the sea. The girl looked older than Aang and Bumi, though. Probably a highschooler.

Bumi nudged Aang in the side…less than gently.

“Hey!” Aang yelped, causing a dozen pairs of eyes to shoot daggers at him. He offered a sheepish smile, and the eyes went back to watching the game.

“I see you eyeing that girl over there,” Bumi mummered, smirking.

“Uh, no I’m not!” Aang blurted quickly.

“Calm down, man, she’s two rows down.” Bumi gave him a light shove. “Go shoot your shot.”

Aang knew that there was no arguing with Bumi. He trudged slowly to the front row and stopped at the seat next to Katara. The Dragons had just scored a touchdown, and Katara groaned loudly. Aang jumped.

“Oh, sorry!” she exclaimed, scrambling to regain her composure. “I didn’t see you. Do you wanna sit here?”

Aang glanced back at Bumi, who had apparently forgotten that the football game was happening and was watching him and Katara intently. Bumi grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

“Sure!” Aang said, a little too loudly. He flushed.

“Uh…yeah, I guess so.” He tried again, trying to sound careless and giving a little shrug for good measure. Suddenly self-conscious, he pulled his beanie farther down his head and plopped in the seat next to Katara. “I’m Aang.”

“Katara,” she said, smiling and putting her hand out to shake.

Aang took it.

“Sorry for scaring you,” Katara continued. “But my brother, Sokka, is the shittiest defense to ever grace this team.” She pointed in her brother’s direction, who was being tackled by one of the Dragons. Aang shuddered internally. Football was not a sport for pacifists.

“Who’s the guy suffocating him?” Aang had to ask.

“That’s Zuko, he’s the Dragons’ offense. Kind of a legend,” Katara groaned again. “Look at him! He’s not even trying to get up!”

“Yeah,” Aang agreed, wondering how a person could get up after being completely crushed by another. Who knew? Aang sure didn’t.

“What grade are you in?” Katara asked. “I’m a freshman. Sokka’s a junior.” She rolled her eyes as Sokka finally got up from the ground. “Mentally he’s still five.”

Aang considered lying and saying that he was the same age. After all, she was really cute. He heard Uncle Gyatso scolding him. Aang, my boy, if I’ve learned anything in the decades I’ve been alive, it’s that lying never gets you anywhere.

“Eighth grade,” he told her. “I go to Omashu Junior High.”

“Oh, cool! I went there,” Katara said. “Who do you have for English?”

They chatted more as they watched the match, Katara occasionally cursing her brother as the game went on. Aang learned that Katara was part of Omashu High’s debate team. And part of the girl’s basketball team, the water polo team, the student council, and a part of Kyoshi’s Girl Scouts. This girl really did everything. How in Omashu does she do all that?

Aang, enthusiastically, told her that he was captain of his Uncle Gyatso’s airball team. That got him an impressed look from Katara, and his cheeks felt hot.

A loud whistle rang through the stadium, causing everyone to wince and cover their ears in an attempt to block out the sound.

“That’s halftime.” Katara nudged a zoned-out Aang in the shoulder, sending sparks down the latter’s arm.

“Oh, right,” Aang exclaimed, jumping out of his seat. Katara gave him a puzzled look and rose from her place on the bleachers. She gathered up her water bottle and slung her purple backpack on her shoulder.

“I’m gonna go find my brother,” Katara said before bounding for the steps, her high tops clicked against the dark wood of the bleachers. “See you after halftime?”

“Um…yeah, see you then.” Aang tried playing it cool, but on the inside little fireworks were going off because Katara invited him to sit with her after halftime. Aang sped-walked back to Bumi, who was sitting cross-legged in his seat with a playful smirk on his face.

“You two sure hit it off,” his best friend teased.

Aang rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Shut up, man.”

#nova writes #writing #atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar: the last airbender #atla modern au #writers on tumblr #writing requests

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pedropascalsx · 10 months

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The Wrong Screen.

Summary: Pero goes to the movies and accidentally stumbles into the wrong screen.

Warnings: None? I mean he swears a few times but that’s it. No relationship etc. It’s just Pero treating himself to trip to the movies. A brief spoiler from the trailer of the upcoming Barbie movie.

Word count: 1068.

A/N: I don’t know what this is lol. I just feel like this is Peros kind of luck. Lol

Also shoutout to the incredible @frannyzooey for glancing over this and giving me the most helpful suggestions and edits. You are awesome! Thank you!

The second the trailer pops up on TV, he reaches for his phone on the nightstand. As a history teacher and unashamedly a lifelong history fanatic he was excited by the movie and after thinking to himself that it has been far too long since he had gone to the movies, he decides that he deserves a treat.

Pero searches his local movie theater and having a rare day off work the next day happily books himself into the almost empty 10am showing.

He had been looking forward to seeing it, having seen the first trailer months before, but as usual life and work got in the way and he had forgotten it was due for release.

For a workday, the movie theater was surprisingly busy. it had immediately impacted his mood, hoping for a quiet screening with no potential distractions from fellow movie goers.

Showing his mobile ticket to the man working the booth, he strolls across to the concessions stand and orders himself a large popcorn, some nachos and a coke.

“Oppenheimer.” He grunts at the usher in front of him, again getting out his phone and showing his mobile ticket.

“Screen six sir.” The man says happily. “Enjoy the movie.”

Grunting an unenthusiastic ‘thank you’ at the man before making his way towards the screen, he growls under his breath when a bunch of kids leave one of the theatres almost trip him up; clearly hyperactive and on a sugar high.

“Brats.” He scowls before pulling open the nearest door and skulking into the theatre, clutching his snacks and drink.

He had selected a seat right at the back in the left hand corner, because at the time of booking it was the most secluded and he was least likely to be bothered by movie whisperers and pretentious phone screens.

The previews yet to start, he sits in his seat, and placing his nachos and popcorn in the vacant chair beside him, digs into his pocket for his cell phone. While he wasn’t at work he figured he’d read the daily email blast to keep up with everything while waiting for the previews to start.

Humming contentedly as he reads through the email, it recounts a disastrous start to the morning at the college he teaches history at. Happy that his classes had been cancelled due to multiple field trips that he refused to chaperone and two of the buses hadn’t turned up which left a bunch of kids who were due to visit the Smithsonian stranded. He chuckled at the thought of his pain in the ass faculty advisor having one of her many meltdowns over this.

So distracted by his phone he doesn’t pay any attention to the herd of excited patrons making their way into the theatre.

Men and women dressed in bright pink and purple patterns, some in formal attire and some not so formal dress enter the room excitedly. Giggling and gabbling about the movie they’re about to see.

Pero slightly raises his eyebrows at the excitement he can hear around him but doesn’t look up from his phone. Oppenheimer was a fascinating man and it would make sense that people would be excited to see a biopic about him Pero simply thinks to himself.

Eventually the lights dim and the previews start to flash up for a few movies including a few horrors, the next instalment to some shitty franchise and a romcom; nothing that really grabs his attention and makes him want to plan any upcoming trips back to the movies.

The previews end and just as Pero starts to grin with excitement the title card appears on screen and it’s like he’s been punched in the throat.

BARBIE [2023].

Dir. By GRETA GERWIG.

“Fuck.” Pero growls before peering around the room. Finally spotting the elaborate and bright outfits, people dressed as their favourite dolls throughout the decades. ‘Wrong fucking screen.’ He mumbles under his breath.

Unsure whether to run out now or wait for a bit to avoid too much embarrassment Pero just sinks into his chair. Rolling his eyes as the movie begins. Bright pink sets, insane outfits and the most attractive cast he had ever seen. "Just make it through the first fifteen minutes and I can sneak out of here,” he reasons with himself, before shovelling a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“Do you guys ever think about dying?” The gorgeous blonde on screen says in the middle of an elaborate dance routine, making everyone around her and the music come to an abrupt stop.

‘You could leave now’ Pero thinks to himself but stays firmly seated, more intrigued by the movie than he had imagined possible. Surprised by the increasingly dark theme that seemed to be hiding in plain sight underneath the multiple shades of vomit inducing pink.

With every scene that passes including one that involves her having to pick between a pair of heels and some birkenstocks Pero finds himself enjoying it more and more and by the time her and Ken are out of ‘Barbie Land’ and navigating their way through ‘The Real World’ the movie he had originally come to see had been long forgotten about.

Every heartfelt piece of dialogue surprisingly resonates with him and as Barbie begins to cry for the first time ever he finds himself completely moved by it. Touched by the message of the movie he can’t help but feel a little disappointed when the credits begin to roll and the movie has ended.

“Wow,” he murmurs out loud, “That was… really fucking good.” He remains seated until everyone else has hurried out, letting himself enjoy looking around at the outfits and their smiling faces. Listening to them chatter happily and discuss their favourite scenes as they skip towards the exit.

Once he’s alone he picks up the popcorn box, nacho tray and empty cup and makes his way towards the exit. Dropping the garbage into the bin and pulling out his phone and checking the time.

It was still early in the day and he had nothing planned for the rest of it, so he strolls back towards the ticket stand in the front of the movie theatre.

The next showing of Oppenheimer a few hours away, he shrugs his shoulders and walks towards the man at the stand.

“Just one ticket for the Barbie Movie please.” He says with a smirk.

#pero tovar #pero tovar fanfiction #the great wall #the great wall fanfiction #pero #pedro pascal #my fanfiction #my fanfic

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aestariiwilderness · 2 months

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BB Season 3 Thoughts, Part II, since this is apparently a thing I'm doing at the moment *SPOILERS*

For the new episode. I have already forgotten what it's called. Aside from "The One Where Omega & Crosshair Become Hustlers"

So, from what I'm seeing from this, Crosshair is most relaxed and content (a) in an inversely proportional relationship to the aggravation of the people around him; bonus points if he is causing the aggravation and (b) when someone else -- ANYONE ELSE -- is in charge. Up to and including small blond civilian. That's when he can snark the most at the people soldiering on under the actual responsibility (see: Hunter, Rex), footloose and fancy-free in the knowledge that even when the plan goes wrong, it won't be His Fault. This is, objectively, hilarious. ("Smoker-Coded Angst Man Manifesting As the Physical Representation of a Hard-Bitten Hedgehog Perfectly Happy Being Smoker-Coded Angst Man: Film at Eleven"; "Younger Sibling Most Fulfilled In Life When Criticizing Older Siblings' Plans While Bringing Absolutely Nothing to the Table").

The extent to which he is taking this in "Life Changing Field Trip with Little Sister Less Than Half My Height" is both hilarious and concerning. (Seriously. Is there brain damage here? Is he just that determined to Not Be Making the Decisions? No wonder he identified so hard with the Empire, the man can't seem to function without an overlord to be bitter about).

Omega is setting her sights too low. JUST letting all the animals free? JUST helping Gregor? JUST helping Hera's parents? With a squad of elite commandos (who were also, when they met her, cocky nine-year-old morons with blasters and mild superpowers, I will grant you that) wrapped around her little finger against their better judgment, she could have pointed them at the Emperor by now and BANG. The next thing you know, through the power of plot, family, and completely unhinged clone shenanigans? Palpatine is a smoking pile of nerf nuggets, someone's lost a limb, Omega's hanging from the Senate Dome, and we're still retrieving Hunter after he accidentally grappled onto a passing speeder and got dragged three planetary blocks downtown.

Omega, having just survived prison, a prison escape, and a violent crashlanding into a planet that actually seems to be the geographical equivalent of Crosshair himself, flying high on step 45.7a of this escape "plan": wait we need the navicomputer so we can go back and rescue all the other prisoners! Crosshair (who was on step 2: survive?? Maybe?? Why is there a dog behind my seat??): what

Crosshair's biggest complaint with Omega's leadership: you're wasting my murder skills! Rampart wouldn't do this to me

Omega's first idea for a moral, peaceful resolution: um. Gambling. I've done it before and earned lots! (Crosshair, frantically rearranging everything he knows about his brothers in his head: you've what)

Omega's second idea for a moral, semi-peaceful resolution: RELEASE THE KRAKEN

Baby Goggles Victorian Street Urchin Child (which Crosshair was totally 100% down with beating into the ground at the slightest provocation, which is also 100% in character)

Omega, morphing into Hunter after five minutes with Crosshair in a mildly snarky mood: STOW IT

Omega, ship thief master. Han Solo wishes he had what she has

Scottish?? Imperial Officer??

All the clones. They're all so homeschooled

Crosshair, wearing a soft quilted jacket instead of the black gothic armor caked with blood his soul naturally craves: ugh mom why

Oh, don't even with this ominous music and Wrecker not smiling. Please. Pull the other one, it's got bells on. Is being miffed at Crosshair a rational reaction? Absolutely. Would they be in this mess without his, uh, everything? No, they wouldn't. Is being suspicious of Crosshair a rational reaction? Yes, and VERY HEALTHY TOO. Do I want them to be mad at him? 100% with this garbage man. Which is why it will be very hard to convince me that in the next episode, actual marshmallow Wrecker and currently-held-together-with-string-and-duct-tape Hunter aren't going to take one look at Crosshair, missing-stray-cat-with-one-ear-and-no-redeeming-qualities, and burst into tears.

#the bad batch #bad batch season 3 #star wars #spoilers #the bad batch spoilers

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neos-schlond-poofa · 2 months

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all i know since yesterday is everything has changed

MY FIRST REQUEST EVER!! in this LIFE CHANGING fic full of TWISTS and TURNS and indescribable VIOLENCE and HEARTBREAK, mc falls in love with eva's kindergarten teacher, donna beneviento, after somehow divorcing miranda. also posted on ao3!

for the amazing @isas-bathbombs :3

The first time MC stopped to talk to Donna was an afternoon in August, just to explain their current family situation. Apparently MC was in the process of a… very complicated divorce with their wife. MC rambled a bit about the whole affair; Donna didn’t get much about what they were saying. There was a lot of talk about control and sabotage and arguments and… crows?

She really didn’t get it, but MC wanted to make sure Donna would watch over their daughter, Eva, extra carefully during her classes. She was just a kindergartener, and this was her first year of public school. Previously, she was enrolled in a school literally made by her other mother. How does that even work? How rich were they?

It was a bit insane, but Donna appreciated the concern MC had for their child. Donna wasn’t a mother herself, but she did have her own child in the form of her niece Angie. It’s not like it was rare to see parents care for their kids; it would be concerning if they didn’t. But… Donna could tell MC had such a love for their child and really just wanted the best for her.

Donna didn’t expect to see MC that often. Of course, they would be there to pick up and drop off Eva for the days when they had her, but surely, MC wouldn’t directly talk to Donna that much, right?

Well.

The second time MC talked to Donna was when MC claimed that Eva lost her jacket at school and asked if she knew where it was.

It was mid-September. There had rarely even been a slightly chill day. Why would Eva have worn her jacket to school and lost it? Donna hadn’t even remembered seeing Eva with her jacket.

Was MC lying just to visit Donna? If that was the case, she was flattered. No other parent had ever done something like that to just talk to her. It was a nice change from the usual activities Donna was accustomed to.

They talked for a while until MC noticed the time. They waved goodbye to Donna and took Eva out, having seemingly forgotten about the jacket. Donna smiled as she saw the parent and child walk out of the room.

It was only a day until MC came to visit again. This time, for a much more trivial matter. They were interested in the color pencils Donna had used in her class; Eva had brought home an absolutely beautiful drawing that now lived on the fridge, with a cookie monster magnet holding it up. And MC was absolutely obsessed with the colors.

Donna learned that MC was an artist, at least an artist for fun. It had been their hobby for years and they began to pick it up again after the divorce. Donna told MC which brand she bought them from and even offered to give MC their very own pack. MC refused; they knew they were quite expensive, and Donna obviously didn’t make much as a kindergarten teacher.

And then the next day, MC returned. This time, during class, a bit during lunch. They stood at the end of class until the bell rang, watching Donna teach the class. They were able to see the care Donna put into her teaching. It was as if the students were plants, and she was helping them bloom into amazing people. Her patience, the soft tone in which she spoke to them, simply everything about her was just incredible to MC. Donna even seemed much more confident with the children as opposed to MC; she was definitely in her element in the classroom.

After the lunch bell rang, MC and Donna had a chat. MC just came to bring a field trip permission slip that they forgot to put in Eva’s bag. Donna thanked MC and said goodbye to them, but MC did not move. Instead, they just started asking Donna about everything.

Literally everything.

MC asked about her hobbies, why she became a kindergarten teacher, and, for some reason Donna did not know, if she was in a relationship of some sorts. Donna told MC about her favorite pastimes; she was a gardener and a dollmaker. In fact, multiple of the dolls that the students played with were made by Donna. She often took requests from the children, with most of the ones she did being based off of their favorite characters. MC could tell she really cared about all of the students she taught. It was absolutely a step-up from the teachers MC had before. They were glad Eva was in such good hands when they weren’t around. Donna also simply said that she became a kindergarten teacher because she cared about kids and wanted to help them grow; she was especially inspired by her niece that she adopted years ago, who didn’t have the best relationship with any of her teachers. And finally, Donna told MC the most information: she was single. Still, a really odd question… surely, MC didn’t have a crush, right? Who would love someone like her?

Donna decided to take her turn to ask a question. She asked something on the mind of every person MC talked to…

What does MC stand for?

MC opened their mouth, only for the bell to ring and a horde of kids rushed into the room. Donna had to quickly go back to teaching and said her farewells to MC. One day, she would find out what MC’s name stood for…

Donna thought about that conversation all day. A parent never went out of their way to talk to Donna like that. They all just viewed her as a good teacher, but quite an awkward person to try to have a conversation with. Maybe MC would visit again more, and they could grow their friendship.

MC did visit the next day, but this time to ask if they could be a chaperone for Eva’s field trip. Of course, Donna said yes; they were in desperate need of one actually. The former one they had apparently had a terrible break-up with some actress… she sounded pretty familiar, but MC couldn’t pinpoint who exactly it was. But, it really didn’t matter. Now MC was the chaperone! And they had a chance to hang out with a really cute and nice person.

And then, the next day, MC came, just to ask a few questions about the field trip. Useless questions really… it seemed just like they wanted to find reasons to talk to Donna. But, that couldn’t be the case. They were just trying to be prepared.

Hopefully, at least.

The idea of someone having interest in Donna was outlandish to her; she hadn’t gone on a date in years, and most people who interacted with her often ended up just finding her weird. And the last person she loved… . Maybe it was for the better that Donna didn’t try to find love. And maybe, MC just wanted to be nice, and didn’t like Donna that way.

Although, wouldn’t it be nice if they did?

MC was there every day of every week, always having an interesting conversation topic to talk to Donna about. And every day, the two got closer. It was a bit overwhelming for Donna; she wasn’t used to this much conversation out of what was needed. But, she enjoyed it. She enjoyed talking to someone so kind and thoughtful. It was a new part of her day, and she loved it.

But then one day, MC wasn’t there. They never arrived and Eva had just gotten picked up by one of her aunts.

It hurt. It really hurt Donna. She had looked forward to it all day, and then no one was there. Just like all the times before. She was so stupid for believing MC had an interest in her.

Donna requested a substitute for the next day of school. Maybe it was a bit stupid to miss a day of work over a relationship that was strictly just meetings at school. Maybe it was stupid to get so invested. Maybe it was stupid to even fall in love.

The bed became all Donna knew over the weekend, with her niece occasionally visiting to check up on her. At least someone had still cared.

Donna’s depressive episode was interrupted when she heard an unfamiliar knock at the door. It definitely wasn’t her niece; she had her own key. Donna didn’t order anything too… maybe it was one of those weird religious groups trying to recruit her for something? Or a survey taker? Definitely not anyone important.

But the knocking persisted, and Donna had no choice but to put on her coat and go to the door. Slowly but surely, she dragged herself and looked through the window first, just wanting to see who it was.

It was MC. With a huge bouquet of flowers. There were roses, tulips, lilies, and more, all a dark, beautiful red. And a huge smile on their face.

Donna instantly opened the door, her emotions a mix of sadness, anger, confusion, and enamorment. Why did MC not visit yesterday? Did they really care that much to find her house with a bunch of lovely flowers? How did they even find her house?

Words started pouring out of MC’s mouth. They stumbled over all their words, but Donna understood everything.

Apparently, MC had ordered the flowers the day they had missed school and planned to bring them to Donna after school, but the order took too long and they couldn’t make it in time. And when they were ready to go the next day, some weird lady was teaching instead. Then MC had to track down Donna, and found her niece on Instagram, and had to explain everything without sounding like a creep trying to track down her aunt to kidnap her.

Luckily, her niece was excited that Donna was finally close to finding love, and drove MC there. An absolutely terrible decision on MC’s part; they should’ve just drove themselves. MC didn’t think it was possible to get in a crash almost six times in ten minutes. And now, they had an audience a few meters away, parked in a broken-down car with a window slightly open, eyes peering through.

Donna was stunned that someone had done so much for her. MC really cared for her. It was… beautiful. Someone had truly loved Donna.

MC asked for forgiveness; their rambling wouldn’t stop until Donna put her finger on MC’s lip, shushing her before staring in their eyes. And then, Donna leaned in for a kiss, cupping MC’s face in her hands.

Their kiss was beautiful. It felt as if sparks were flying, as if the sun was shining down on them, the beautiful, golden daylight engulfing them in an unexplainable aura.

It was also accompanied by the faint cheering of Donna’s niece.

MC asked Donna if she would like to go on a date to a puppet-making class. It was silly, yes, but Donna could tell MC put thought into it; it was close enough to dolls and they would both be able to make cute, matching puppets that were a sign of their love. And of course, Donna said yes.

She was excited. The past few days had been so dreary, and now, the future seemed brighter than ever. Donna invited MC inside, and they talked for hours. MC even revealed the second time they ever visited Donna wasn’t intentional; MC had genuinely lost the jacket. But they saw the care Donna had, the love and the understanding. And that’s what made MC fall in love. Someone had helped them with someone as simple as trying to find a lost jacket that wasn’t even at school, and thus began MC’s quest to find random things to talk to Donna about. Someone had put in the effort to unlock Donna’s heart and show her love again, and Donna had shown blind care and affection for the recently divorced MC, someone who had felt very dejected about love until they met her.

It was perfect.

And as the moon rose, the two had to say their goodbyes, promising to meet tomorrow. But before MC walked out the door, they turned around and looked at Donna, a glimmer in their eyes.

“I love you.”

#resident lover #resident evil #resident evil village #re8 #resident lover fanfic #resident lover requests #donna beneviento #donna beneviento x mc #maria clara #maria clara truther #but donna doesnt know it #my first writing in like. ages jesus #slight cass reference if you squint #mc from the hit sapphic visual novel dating sim resident lover

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yutasbellybuttonpiercing · 2 years

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Make me sin - MK.L

Pairing: Mark Lee x fem!reader

Word count: 7946 words

AU/Genre: kinda childhood friends!AU, churchboy!mark, bad influence!reader, smut, fluff, angst?, humor

Warnings: biblical themes, christianity, this is practically 7k of blasphemy and some change (I'm sorry), mentioned alcohol abuse, smoking (cigarettes), corruption (in both a sexual and non-sexual way) mentions of masturbation (m), oral (m & f receiving), deepthroating, hand job, dirty talk, facial, fingering (f receiving), cumming in pants

Summary: Your questionable lifestyle does not sit right with your parents. Hence, you're sent on a field trip of your local church in hopes of a positive outcome. As you meet the other supervisor Mark, a long forgotten childhood friend of yours, you're itching to crumble down his walls of dedication to christianity to get him to sleep with you. But what if the awkward churchboy tickles feelings out of you that you haven't felt before?

A/n: please keep in mind that this is fictional, it does not mean I agree with the reader's opinions, choices or actions. Stay safe and respectful when it comes to religion. Also, this is kinda fast paced, there could have been more pushing and pulling, but I kinda like it like this.

Your parents never asked much of you, not when your sibling was born, not after your grandparents died, not when you moved out because your parents didn't approve of your party lifestyle. They just let you be. And maybe that had been the problem.

To say you're a troublemaker would be cringe, but accurate. For the third time this year, your parents had to bail you out of jail - nothing serious, just problems you'll get with the law if you're someone who parties (too) often - and they were not happy about that to say the least.

"Please, for once in your life, please listen to us," your mother begs you, "please go on the field trip with the confirmation class of our church. I promise, it will help you get better..."

"I've already talked to the pastor and he agreed. You're going. End of discussion. Now get in the car, I bet you're still too drunk to drive." Your father holds open the door for you.

And with that, it was settled. You don't know why supervising a bunch of teenagers (?) to make sure they're not drinking or having sex would help with your alcohol and finance problems, but here you are: 10am sharp with your luggage in front of the church.

To be honest, you're still kind of hung over, but at least you look somewhat presentable with two aspirin in your system. Your hair's up with a big black hair clip, your body wrapped in the clothing of the night before, but covered with a decent looking coat from your mom. At least, your parents allowed you to bring your own clothing...

"Hey!" A voice greets you. "Are you here as a supervisor?"

You turn around until you're eye to eye with some guy. He must be a little taller than you, but right now - because of your plateau boots - you're at eye level. He grins brightly. He's kinda cute.

And he looks kind of familiar...

"Yeah?" You answer.

"Sweet! I'm Mark. May God bless you!" He beams. Where does he get all his energy from this early in the morning? Probably he just slept enough, unlike someone else who'd been up until 5am to get picked up at the police station by their parents...

"Mark?! You mean as in Mark Lee?" You can't believe your ears.

"Wait-"

"The last time I've seen you, we were like- what? Seven?"

"Dude, what?! That's crazy! I didn't even recognize you! Wow, you changed so much, what are you up to? I haven't seen you around here on Sundays, are you always skipping church or what?" He laughs, putting his hand on your shoulder. You eye his hand on your shoulder dismissively until he draws it back.

"Actually, I don't come to church at all. The last time I've been here was when I was 10 because I heard they gave out free cookies on Christmas." Your fake-smiling lips turn into a tight-lipped line. "Turns out they weren't."

Mark laughs. "Yo, dude, you're so funny. Just like old times! Imagine not going to church." He leans forward to catch his breath from laughing so hard. You ask yourself what's wrong with him.

Mark Lee. The son of your father's best friend a couple of years ago. They got into an argument over some stupid shit so you weren't allowed to hang out with Mark anymore. Mark's grown up so much, of course, but he's still cute, like he was on your playdates all those years ago. Now you'd rather have a different kind of playdate with him...

The next second, the bus arrives and Mark counts the children (???) (you should find out how old these people are) and then guides everyone onto the bus. Once everyone's inside, he sticks his head out of the bus door. "You coming?"

What else are you supposed to do...

After putting your luggage into the bus, you climb inside and sit down at your assigned seat next to Mark who gets up to give a speech for the- kids? You take this opportunity to quickly switch seats with him so you're next to the window.

He just accepts this and sits down, then the bus begins to move. After about 5 minutes, you realize that this was a mistake. You swear that if you hear one more person talking about God you will hop off this bus and get drunk at the next gas station. Instead, you put in your AirPods and listen to some music.

You're 3 songs in when suddenly someone removes your right AirPod. You slowly turn your head, glaring at the culprit, Mark, who just puts the air pod into his own ear while asking what you're listening to.

LibidO by OnlyOneOf keeps playing and after a few lines, Mark looks at you, shocked.

"Yo, we can't be listening to this. This is not something Jesus would approve. It contains hmhmhm themes..." Mark whispers to you and you almost spit in his face with how hard you snort from laughing. Then you realize he's serious. Did he really just censor that word?

"Chill, bro, it's just music."

So you continue to listen to your playlist. And Mark does even bop his head to it.

Mark is immensely emerged in his bible the next time you look over at him. Of course you could talk to him and catch up, but actually, you don't care. You probably won't even see him again after this trip, so why bother with making awkward smalltalk? Mark also doesn't seem to be interested in your hobbies or which classes made you drop out of college.

The bus has mostly gone quiet, some people where sleeping, others talking lowly in the back, you finally get the chance to take in the beauty that had become Mark, he had a cute face, still, but his chest area was actually pretty nicely built such as his ass which you saw earlier when he got on the bus.

Something inside of you tells you that you probably shouldn't think like this, but you can't help but to imagine what he would be like in bed. A shy church boy in the streets... you know what they say. You kind of want to find out what happens when you tease him a little.

So you pretend to be stretching, making sure to move enough to get his attention on you before spreading your legs to touch his and pushing your arms together so he can get a great view on your cleavage. In the corner of your eye, you can see him gulp. You smirk.

Pressing your leg further against his, you sit back and relax, feeling the warmth of his thigh against your own. A wave of arousal floods over you and you have to ask yourself: has it really been that long for you to get horny because someone's leg is touching yours? Apparently.

"What are you doing, Markie?" You whisper a little too close to his ear, visually seeing him shiver.

"Uh, I was just reading my bible." Mark seems a little nervous.

"Can you explain it to me~?" You ask him in a sweet voice, biting your lip. Maybe he is into dumb girls?

"Well, see, in this part-"

"What about the story where Jesus is nailed to the cross." You look deep into his eyes "Wouldn't you like to do that with me?"

"Uh, well, I guess that would hurt-"

"I like it when it hurts, Mark."

"I'd have to put nails through your palms..."

"Wouldn't you like to see me spread out for you, naked and completely at your mercy?" You put your hand on his thigh. "If you know what I mean?"

In Mark's head, it seems to be clicking, finally. His mouth shapes an "o" as his eyes flicker down to your lips, then your cleavage, then back up to your eyes. Then his ears turn red. "I-I mean..."

"Don't tell me you believe in this 'no sex before marriage'-thing." You gesture the quotation marks in the air with your fingers, a mocking tone on your tongue that Mark seems to miss.

"I-" He leans closer to whisper, "I do, but it's not like I have never done the thing... I did it twice and had to ask for forgiveness afterwards"

"Really?" You raise an eyebrow, he nods. You can't decide if this means more or less fun for you. Who would have thought you'd meet old childhood friend Mark on this trip - and then plan on twisting his morals and get him to fuck you?

After what seems like forever, you finally arrive. You put the teens in their rooms and then go to your own, unpacking and chilling a bit before dinner. On the way there you realize that you and Mark would be sharing a room and this gives you an idea.

Mark sits on his bed on the left side of the room, you excused yourself a few minutes ago to change your clothing in the bathroom. As you come back, now dressed in a revealing, cropped shirt, Mark's eyes fall directly onto your tits, mouth hanging open a little as he takes in the sight.

"Like what you see, baby boy?" You grin as you step towards him.

"I- uh, I wasn't-" he tries to explain himself, but leans back as you come closer, taking a seat on the floor in between his legs, batting your lashes as you look up at him.

"Don't lie to me, Markie, it's okay if you stare. It's okay if I turn you on." You smile sweetly and he gulps.

"N-no, it's not. I can't think about you like this. It's wrong! I can't have these thoughts about you, I've known you when we were kids! This is not what Jesus would want," he rambles.

"Mark. I don't care about what the bible says." You look into his eyes, a flat expression on your face, before you tilt your head to the side. You already love making him nervous, the way his eyes widen and eyebrows rise when you say something sinful.

"W-we have to go now- dinner! Yes, dinner, come on..." He grabs your hand and helps you up before turning around to adjust his pants. You smirk. Maybe not this time, but next time you'll get the sweet church boy to fuck the living shit out of you.

Dinner had been nothing special, apart from you sucking deliciously on your popsicle, shoving it down your throat while keeping steady eye contact with Mark who almost chokes on his own saliva.

Afterwards, you meet everyone for a camp fire.

The fire is already set up as you arrive, waiting for the rest of the children to gather at the location. The first thing you do is light a cigarette, the first one for the day since you didn't have time before, the whole trip occupying you completely.

Mark realizes what you're doing, still he hushes, "yo, dude, what are you doing?"

"I'm obviously smoking."

"You can't do this here, what if the kids see?!" He looks around, panic in his eyes, before he grabs your arm, pulling you after him. You squeal at this, surprised by his actions as he hides you behind one of the many small houses of the area.

"What the hell?!" You snap, almost having burned yourself in the process of being dragged away.

"If you have to do it, at least don't make it so obvious for everyone to see. You're a role model after all..." Mark mumbles, looking around if anyone's seen your slip-up. He huffs out the breath he's been holding after confirming that no one caught on.

Whilst all of this, you just lean against the wall, inhaling the smoke and puffing it out with a cocky smile, scanning the panicking Mark in front of you. He's so cute when his eyebrows are scrunched together like this...

"We got lucky this time." He turns to you, taking in your figure leaned against the wall. You're still wearing the reveling shirt – and no bra – and he still hasn't grown accustomed to the sight.

"Markie, you're so stressed about this, why don't you let me help you relax a little?" You raise an eyebrow as you smile.

"What are you suggesting?" Mark's eyes widen as you loop a finger through his belt buckle, pulling him closer. He gulps as his gaze flickers down to your lips wrapping around the cigarette before you blow the smoke into his face.

"Want some?" You grin, offering him the cigarette.

"Isn't that a sin?"

The way he asks you of all people... He looks at the cigarette, then back up at you, debating. You can almost hear the gears clatter in his brain.

"Smoking isn't directly mentioned in the bible, so... I think it will be okay?" He smiles unsurely.

"Do you know how it works?" You pull him a little closer again since he's shied away, and he just shakes his head. "You wrap your lips around it, then you inhale, like this." You demonstrate it to him. "You have to inhale deeply into your lungs, otherwise it has no effect, then you breathe it out through your mouth."

Mark nods, understanding the explanation as you place the cigarette in front of his mouth, giving him the chance to still back out, or to come closer and follow your instructions. He does the ladder, leaning forwards, keeping steady eye contact with you as he takes the filter into his mouth, lips grazing over your fingers that are holding it out to him.

Your breath hitches. It's so sexy, for some reason, how he listens to you, does forbidden things because you tell him to. Also, you can't help but imagine that his lips would look so good wrapped around your clit instead...

Mark inhales, forcing back a cough before breathing out, the smoke blowing into your face. Fuck, you want to kiss him.

"Good boy," you breathe out quietly, but you're sure he hears you as he blushes faintly before taking another hit. You two share the cigarette in silence, gazing into each other's eyes until it's burned down completely.

After you put the cigarette out into your portable ashtray (you might be careless about your health, but not the planet's), you sigh, leaning back against the wall. Suddenly, Mark's hands appear right and left next to your face against the wall, as he tries to keep himself steady. "W-why am I feeling dizzy?"

You giggle. "It's the nicotine, it'll go away in a few seconds. Your body has to get used to it since it was your first time."

Mark nods. "Thank you."

"Thank me? For what?"

"For giving me the chance to do something like this. I liked it. I kind of like to be bad sometimes..." he admits, body having calmed down as he leans back, a hand coming up to scratch on the back of his head nervously. He's adorable, you think, and smile.

"Anytime."

The rest of the night goes by relatively easy. You decide to give Mark a break from your teasing and attempts to make him flustered and just casually sit by the fire with him and talk about nothing. It's when you two get back to your room and Mark decides to hop into the shower real quick. A few minutes later he comes back out.

Your eyes almost jump out of their sockets as you lift your head from your place sitting on Mark's bed. Mark is dressed in nothing but a towel, wet hair tousled as it releases droplets of water onto his shoulders and down his torso.

"Mark, are you trying to tempt me?!"

"I forgot to bring underwear-" he explains awkwardly, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. You almost don't register his words, brain completely occupied with taking in the sight of Mark's strong chest muscles and his abs. Damn, the boy works out. "Could you please hand me a pair? It's in my suitcase..."

"Oh hell no. I will not be supporting you putting on clothes, Mark. Why don't you stay like this, you're pretty."

Mark clears his throat a few times. "Please?"

You roll your eyes before reaching into his suitcase, grabbing ahold of some Spiderman undies as your hand brushes against something papery. Curiosity getting the best of you, you pull that out instead. It's a magazine.

"Mark Lee, why is there a women's dessous magazine in your suitcase?????" You screech franticly, mouth opening into a wide, shocked, but crazy grin, fist repeatedly punching into Mark's mattress in excitement.

Mark whines, grabbing the upper hem of his towel so it won't slip off his naked body as he steps closer to you, trying to snatch the magazine from your hands. "Just- give it back!"

"I can't believe it!" Your eyes are wide with joy, eyebrows almost at your hairline as you try to dodge Mark's attempts of getting the magazine back, falling back into the pillows, Mark's strong frame suddenly above you.

Your laughter calms down, but the grin stays as Mark's face is merely inches away from your own. You can feel his breath on your lips as you gaze up into his eyes. The two of you stay there, with Mark between your legs as you look at each other, eyes flickering down to each other's lips from time to time. Mark's lips look so soft and pouty, you just want to pull him closer and lick over them.

"Mark..." you sigh, and when you lift your hips a bit, you're sure you can feel his hardness against you.

"Hm?" He hums, eyelids heavy as he licks over his lower lip, eyes fixated on your own lips. If you did everything right now, you could maybe get him to fuck you. But is that what you want?

"Did you jerk off to that magazine?" You grin again.

"Yo, stop!" Mark whines, face scrunching up in embarrassment as he finally grabs ahold of the magazine and lifts off of you. Instantly, you sit up too, eyes immediately focusing on the way his towel bulges around his middle.

"So, did you?"

You didn't get an answer to your question, but really, you didn't need one. You can totally imagine what Mark does with that magazine when he's alone. It's kind of cute, actually, but you kind of wonder if masturbating is considered a sin. You decide to ask Mark another time, though.

It's the next morning, the night went by without any incidents because you didn't want to push poor flustered Mark any further. He's suffered enough for one day. That doesn't keep you from planning a whole bunch of evil shenanigans for today, starting early in the morning when you wake him up.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!" You grin down at his face. He groans, face scrunching up cutely before he opens his eyes. "I got alcohol, you want some?"

"What?" Mark's eyes widen as he sits up abruptly, almost knocking his forehead against yours in the process.

"You can't expect me to go on a hike with a bunch of kids completely sober."

"You're not gonna drink! That's not okay!" Mark's completely awake now, grabbing the bottle from your hands and hiding it under his blanket. Whatever he thought would happen was probably not that you begin to pout, hands immediately reaching under his blanket to win the bottle back.

"Give that to me, I need it!" You whine, hands wandering around under the blanket, occasionally stroking over Mark's warm body. You can feel him tense up as your hands reach his stomach, touching all over his abs in a poor attempt to find the glass container.

"You don't need it," Mark reasons. His face is flushed pink again, but he doesn't stop the ministrations of your hands. An idea pops up in your head.

"Then give me something better instead." You smirk, hands stilling under the blanket, resting a few inches above his crotch.

"Well, what do you expect me to do?" Mark frowns.

"You know exactly what I want." You grin, teeth catching your lower lip as you move your hand a little lower, hoping he'd get the hint.

"What-" he starts, but soon after he looks down, seeing your hand move towards his dick under the blanket and he gulps. "L-look, we really can't-"

"Why not, Markie, I promise it'll feel good."

"That's not the point!" He groans in frustration because he wants you to continue, so badly, but he can't. It's a sin. "I'll give you something else! Just- don't drink. Please?"

He's almost too cute with his puppy eyes.

"What will you give me?"

"Well, what do you want?"

"Hmm, what do I want..." you pretend to think, exaggerating the action by tapping your finger against your chin repeatedly. "I want you to kiss me."

Mark lets out a shaky breath.

"Or is that a sin?"

"It's- not..."

"Are you sinning when you look at those magazines, Markie?" You tease with a wink and he averts his gaze away from you. "Such a bad boy."

"Don't say that..." He tenses visibly. "Alright, we can kiss. Just let me brush my teeth first."

To your disappointment, you didn't get your kiss because just as Mark exited the bathroom, you heard a knock on the door, calling you for breakfast. Breakfast went by, the porridge not providing enough dirtiness for you to tease Mark about it by eating it sensually, like you did with the popsicle the night prior, plus you were kind of in a bad mood now. Who'd have known those church people would be such insufferable cockblocks?

Even so, after breakfast, you were rushed to grab your things and get going. You were still salty about not being allowed to bring any alcoholic beverages with you on that hike, but you were still hoping to get cock-drunk from Mark, anyway. Honestly, you're not too sure about that anymore, it's like a war between your core and your heart on how to continue things with Mark. You must admit, you kind of like the guy. He's cool to be around, funny and adorably awkward. Still, you like the expression 'cock-drunk' and grin to yourself as it pops up in your mind, mentally noting for you to remember it because it will surely gain you a laughter or two in your friend group.

"How long is this gonna take? I'm tired," you whine dramatically, your feet hurting because no one's told you to pack proper footwear. Mark walks beside you, grinning at your distress as he watches over the kids walking in front of you. "Another kilometer."

"Break?" Your eyes light up at the mention of you finally being able to rest your feet and maybe hide somewhere to smoke. Mark nods and smiles at you. God, he's so cute with his curved eyebrows and his little nose. You swear you will raise actual hell if you don't get a piece of him any time soon.

Finally, you arrive at a small cabin, and once you stored the teens inside with the tour guide explaining something about God – or anything, really. Who knows? Certainly not you – you find a comfortable enough looking rock behind a bunch of trees and decide to place your butt on the ground in front of it, leaning your back against the stoney surface.

Mark is quick to follow you there, sitting exceptionally close to you. You squint at him, his behavior suspiciously different, but he just takes a bite of his apple, looking at the beautiful creations of mother nature. He's so sexy when he does stuff.

"Why are you looking at me?" Mark suddenly asks, raising an eyebrow as he gazes over at you, eyeing you from the corner of his eye. For a second there, you're at a loss of words. It feels like someone had kidnapped good ol' awkward Mark and replaced him for a more confident version of Mark.

"You're hot." Phew. Saved. "And you still owe me a kiss."

Mark eyes widen comically and he chokes on a piece of apple, you assume, coughing frantically as you watch the tears gather in his eyes. You're glad that weird Mark is back, you kind of like him better. Once he's finally calmed down, he takes a deep breath, lifts his butt up from the mossy ground to get onto his knees. He shuffles over until he hoists a leg over your lap to take a seat.

"Aww, baby. Someone's eager to get his pretty lips wet, aren't we?"

Mark clears his throat, but nods. It's all you need to lean in closer, feeling his shaky breath ghost over your skin. Your gaze switches between looking at his eyes and and his lips, licking over your own at the thought of having them against your mouth.

"You have such pretty lips, Markie," you coo and Mark's response almost sounds like a quiet whine. He catches himself though, more or less, and responds with a whispered "Thank you".

At the undeniable closeness, you can feel your heart flutter and your stomach tickle with butterflies, but you choose to ignore that weird feeling of excitement and decide to only acknowledge the excitement happening in your pants.

Finally, you close the gap between you, feeling the softness of Mark's lips against yours as you kiss him. It's like a firework exploding in your body – though you, again, only admit to the thrilling bolt of want striking in between your legs – and your hands instantly fly to roam over his body.

Mark nothing but moans into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut before your own follow his action, his hands come up to cup your jaw gently as he pulls himself closer to you.

Experimentally, you lick against his lower lip and he almost instantly opens up for you to slide your wet muscle into the hot cavern of his mouth, tongue dancing and playing with his own. There must be a karmic imbalance somewhere in the universe, you think, because right now Mark is kissing you, finally, after all these hours of exhausting teasing.

You almost lose yourself in the kiss, nails scratching over the jean fabric covering his things as you try to pull him closer to you. Mark hums against your lips, tasting as sweet and sour as the apple he just ate.

The sudden raucous sound coming from Mark's pocket makes him jump, hands leaving yours to clutch at this chest dramatically as he shimmies off your lap to the take call.

Great. Cockblocked again.

To say you're moody on the whole way back would be an immense understatement. It's not that you believe in religion or fate, or anything for that matter, but you can't help but to feel like the universe is against Mark and you happening.

Mark quickly catches on to your distress and tries cheering you up with beatboxing and rapping a few lines from one of his biblical rap tracks on Soundcloud, but it actually just makes it worse.

Once you arrive back at the camp, you head off into the nearby woods, sitting down against a large tree in silence. You even decided against the idea of bringing your bottle of vodka with you, just because you didn't feel like it.

Slowly, you're kind of scared of the kind of person you're becoming.

When you suddenly hear your name being called out by Mark, you turn around to face him. He's taking big steps over the leaves and branches on the ground, but still manages to catch his foot on one big rock and stumbles.

"Why are you out here all alone?" Mark finally arrives by your side, plopping down next to you, wincing as he manages to poke another rock right into his ass cheek in the process.

You just shrug, dragging on your cigarette as you stare into the deepness of the trees.

"Come on," Mark whines, grabbing your shoulder to shake you slightly.

"Don't you see it?" You mumble, fiddling with the bud of your cigarette.

"That we never seem to get some time alone?" You turn to Mark quickly, eyes widened. You're surprised that he could see through you so easily, that he even noticed what you had been planning.

"Maybe it's a sign," Mark muses, gaze catching yours briefly, "I don't know for what, though."

"You mean, I should just give up?"

"No!" Mark's voice echoes through the woods, "I mean, I don't know. Maybe it's a sign to, " – Mark clears his throat – "to try harder..."

A smirk forms on your face and you watch Mark as his eyes take in the way his hands fiddle with each other in his lap.

"Markie," you sigh, putting your head on his shoulder, enjoying the warmth that his body radiates, "I want you so much, but – and this is actually scary to me – I don't want to corrupt you anymore. I want you to want me too, so much that you're willing to let God out of your life for just one night."

You turn to look at him. "And I'm willing to wait."

There's silence for a while, Mark stares into his lap, watching his fingers play with each other before he sighs, turning his head to look at you as well. "Maybe I don't want you to wait."

"Wh-", you start, but don't even get to finish the word before Mark leans in to connect your lips once again. The kiss feels different than the last one, much less needy and wild, but rather gentle and intimate. His lips move slowly against your own, there isn't even tongue involved, just softness and genuine feelings.

You're slowly admitting to yourself that you might really have feelings for Mark, and of course, why shouldn't you? Mark is an amazing guy, lovely and sweet, polite and helpful, awkward and funny. He's fun to be around, he's honestly everything your parents ever wanted for you, but can you bring yourself to overcome your pride and bring him home?

Mark parts from you, his breath gently fanning over your wetted bottom lip as he pulls back, eyes not leaving your mouth until he's leaned against the wood again. His eyes are hooded, but not from lust, but rather from- yeah, from what exactly? Does Mark even have feelings for you? Or are you just exciting to him because you're so foul.

A silence that is not particularly comfortable nor uncomfortable surrounds you for a moment, but then Mark begins to speak, "look," he turns towards you, the tiny stones on the ground probably scratching over his ass in the process, and you wince at the thought, but he doesn't seem to care.

"You're exciting to me, everything about you is so new and... kind of alien, that it intrigues me... but at the same time, you make me question stuff. Like, you've done all this stuff that I never could because of- you know," he halts, and you lean further into him until you can press your face into the crook of his neck, deeply inhaling his heavenly scent.

"I think we-" he clears his throat, "we kind of balance each other out, and I think that's a good thing."

"Even though I push you to do bad things?"

"That's life," Mark simply answers, smiling as he lifts your chin to press his forehead against yours, "I love how we connect."

"I love y-", you catch yourself before you say something you might regret, "that too about us."

Mark smiles even wider, pressing another chaste kiss to your lips.

Both you and Mark spend more time together in the woods, relishing in the feeling of one another being so close, giving you time to talk freely, without any worries in the world. You don't really remember who initiated your next move, but somehow the both of you ended up heavily making out against the stone wall of the small church on the grounds of the camp. It had gotten dark outside, so you were sure no one would come around and be able to find you, and this apparently put Mark at ease, so much that he's thrown all of his worries and morals out the metaphorical window just to be with you.

Mark's leg finds its way in between yours, hands grabbing onto your waist to push you down against it, his boldness catching you off guard. You moan against his mouth, still holding back to not wake up any teens and scar them for life.

"Mark," you gasp as his lips leave yours to kiss your neck instead.

"Hm?"

"Let's... go inside."

Mark halts.

"Inside?"

"Yeah?"

"In there?"

"Yeah?"

"But-"

"It's just a building, Mark, come on!" You smile, leaning in to nibble on his neck, kissing the soft skin before biting down. In response, Mark groans, nodding his head quickly, stepping away from you so you can lead him inside to sin.

You push the heavy door open to reveal the dimly lit inside of the church, only a few candles illuminating the interior. Pulling Mark with you, you choose one of the many benches that thankfully provides just enough space for you to lay down on it, pulling Mark on top of you.

"We shouldn't-" Mark mumbles, but contrary to his words, his lips find yours once again, smashing down on them repeatedly as he touches all over your body. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of getting to have Mark. Though you don't feel like you've won at corrupting him, you feel like you're at eye-level, making these decisions together since Mark had pretty much admitted to you that he loved the things you're doing to him.

Suddenly, Mark parts from you, "I don't know if I can."

"Okay, okay," you sit up, thinking for a second before a small light bulb lights up over your head, "how about a blowjob, then?"

"A b- how would that be any better?" Mark chuckles, a hand scratching the back of his head just like many times before, a gentle blush on his cheeks giving away that he's interested in your offer.

"You're not doing anything, it's all me," you suggest, then fall onto the ground with your knees, shuffling over to sit between Mark's spread legs once again. Mark looks around, unsureness in his eyes, but the noticeable tent in his pants gives away how much he wants this.

"Please, Markie," you pout with pleading eyes, hands coming up to stroke over his thighs, "please let me suck your cock."

"Holy s-, do you have to be like this?" Mark whines, throwing his head back as your hands draw closer and closer to where he wants them most.

"Like what?" You grin, lower lip caught in between your teeth as you look up at him mischievously.

"So freaking hot," Mark sighs as your hands reach his bulge palming him throughoutly through his pants. His hips begin bucking into your touch, eyes closing as he relishes in the feeling of your hands on him. Shortly after, you begin opening the button and fly of his jeans, gently tugging on them which causes Mark to lift his hips so you can rid him of his pants.

"Fuck, Markie, look what a big boy you are, " you beam, repeating your actions of palming his bulge, though this time his reaction is certainly more intense with fewer layers of clothing in the way.

Leaning forwards, you press your nose into the warmth of his clothed dick, inhaling deeply. Your eyelids flutter at the musky scent as it hits your olfactory receptors, groaning quietly, then you begin mouthing over his boxers, making sure to lick over his tip in the process. "You smell so fucking good, baby."

Mark's thighs tremble next to your head, and your hands find comfort in stroking over the expanse of his thigh muscles, raking your nails over them to make Mark shiver. The sounds he lets out at your ministrations sound heavenly to you, spurring you on to dig a little deeper.

"Will you let me taste you, pretty boy?" You ask, dragging your nose along the hardness in his boxers one last time before you sit back, gaze catching Mark's lidded from lust eyes.

"Yes," he breathes out, pulling his underwear down his legs quickly, chest heaving with every deep breath he takes to try to calm down his raging nerves. The moment his length springs free, you feel yourself salivate, licking your lips briefly as you take in his memorable size. Without hesitating any longer, you wrap your hand around his shaft, stroking gently to work him up a little more, enjoying the hot heaviness in your palm to the fullest.

Finally, you lean forward, gently pressing your tongue against his tip, and Mark nothing but whimpers, the muscles of his thighs clenching together with his abs that you can slightly make out with the way his shirt has ridden up.

"You taste so good, too," you sigh, flattening your tongue to drag it all over his cock, forcing a moan out of Mark's throat. As you look up at him, he looks so fucking beautiful, so fucked out and destroyed already that you feel like you could cum dry from the sight alone. His eyes are glazed over, eyelids heavy as he watches you lick over him with his mouth agape.

"Has anyone ever given you a blowjob before?" You wonder, leaning down to suck one of his balls into your mouth as your hand keeps rubbing over his shaft with the help of your spit as lubricant.

"N-no."

"Ah, so I'm your first?"

"Yes."

"Then let's make this count." And before Mark can question your statement, you move back up and slide him right between your lips, taking as much as you can of him at once, and Mark moans out so loudly you're sure someone must have heard.

You keep bobbing your head up and down his shaft, making sure your tongue teases him in all the right places, and pushing yourself to take him further and further into your mouth until his tip hits the back of your throat.

Mark stumbles over his words above you, all kinds of syllables falling from his lips in an attempt to comprehend the pleasure he's feeling. You let out a few humming sounds yourself that vibrate against his cock, too emerged in the feeling and just how hot the entire situation is.

Catching your breath, you pull him out of your mouth. Finally, enough drool has gathered all over his length and you wrap your hand around his tip, stroking it by flicking your wrist, thumb playing with his slit. Mark whines out, hands gripping the bench beneath him so tightly his knuckles turn white.

You begin taking him into your mouth once again, keeping eye contact as you swirl your tongue around his tip and taking his balls into your hand to fondle them. Something inside of Mark seems to snap, his hands coming up to hold onto your hair, carefully but desperately pushing you further down onto his cock. Your eyes roll back at his sudden roughness, enjoying the way his tip briefly catches at the back of your throat, then slides further down. Mark moans loudly, never ending sounds of pleasure leaving his pretty lips as he watches you taking him whole, your nose brushing into the cloud of public hair around his dick.

Mark's hips begin moving on their own accord, thrusting his hardness into your esophagus over and over again, not even giving you the opportunity to breathe properly as he chases his high, though you welcome him using your mouth and throat to his heart's desire. Tears gather in your eyes and soon begin running down your cheeks. You rub your thighs together to gain some friction, finally slipping a hand inside your panties.

"C-can I finish on your f-face?" Mark asks shakily, and you groan out in response, doing your best to nod while trying to force down your gag reflex as your fingers rub harsh circles into your clit. Mark thrusts a few more times, then pulls out of your mouth, making you pant before opening your mouth widely.

Mark tucks on his cock thrice, then groans out deeply. Your eyelids flutter shut just as you cum together with him, hole clenching around nothing as Mark paints his cum all over your cheeks, tongue and chin.

You feel a little light headed as you realize what just happened, you're tasting Mark's cum as you lick around your lips, then swallow all of it. Mark sinks down exhaustedly, flinching as you wrap your lips around his tip once last time to clean the cum off of it.

"Thank you," he finally manages to get out.

"Anytime!" You smile, wiping the remaining cum stains off your skin with a tissue you find in your pocket.

Mark takes another half minute to really come back to his senses, then begins speaking once more, "no really, I really appreciate it! Like, it was really good! Felt great! I hope you're okay too, but it seemed like you were enjoying it, so-"

"Mark," you giggle and put a hand on his thigh, "I loved it too. Great cock, by the way!"

"Uh-"

"Markie, I want to be honest with you," you start again, on a more serious note, and Mark nods attentively, "this is new territory for me. I usually just leave after doing something like this, but I kind of really, really want to cuddle... so..."

Not long after, you find yourself laying in Mark's bed, his shirt covering your body as you move closer to him, allowing him to wrap an arm around you. It's silent, all you hear is his heart contently thumping away in his chest as you place your ear on it, along with his gentle breathing. The situation, not weird at all, still feels foreign to you. You've never been a cuddler, but with Mark, you want to stay wrapped up in his arms until the day you die.

"I can't believe we did that," Mark speaks up, causing you to turn your head towards his face.

"Do you regret it?"

A few seconds go by, then Mark answers, "no. I really enjoyed myself. I don't regret it."

"Good," you sigh, fingers dancing around Mark's toned stomach, watching his abs flex as you tickle him slightly.

"What about you, though."

"What about me?"

"Yeah, you didn't even-"

"Oh, yeah, I did."

"Oh," Mark purses his lips as his eyebrows raise, "w- how? When?"

"You're so cute," you giggle, pressing a kiss to his chest.

"But it wasn't... like, it wasn't me who made you- you know?"

"Are you offering to get me off right now?"

An unsure squeaking noise comes from Mark above you, and you sit up with a wide grin. The sight of you causes the corner of Mark's mouth to rise up as well, "I mean if you want to."

"As if I'd say no to that," you wink before laying back down, Mark hovering over you within seconds pressing a few kisses to the skin of your neck before laying down beside you again, running his hand over your body towards your panties.

Just like you did, he touches you over the fabric before really diving in, stroking over your folds and clit with such expertise that you're confused if he's really only done this twice.

You press your hips further into his touch, secretly hooking your hands into the hem of your panties to pull them down yourself.

"Someone's eager," Mark chuckles, allowing you to rid yourself of the flimsy piece of clothing before creating some skin on skin contact with your slit. You hum delightfully at the sensation, spreading your legs further for his ministrations.

His fingers collect the wetness pooling at your entrance, spreading it around your folds gently, then concentrate on rubbing circles into your clit. You moan softly at the feeling, loving the way his fingers feel.

"I kinda- uh..." Mark speaks lowly against the shell of your ear causing goosebumps to form all over your body, "can I eat you out?"

You whine out, nodding your head. "Have you done that before?"

Mark shakes his head, then shuffles down the bed until he's seated in between your thighs. You spread your legs as far as you comfortably can. Mark's eyes are glued to your glistering folds, his eyes sparkling with excitement and lust at what's to come.

"Just do whatever you feel like doing, just try everything out, I'll tell you if something's not good, yeah?" You suggest, the last words almost getting stuck in your throat as Mark dives in, flattening his tongue to lick a fat stripe over your entire core, only to then continue with smaller licks over your clit. You mewl at the feeling, pushing further into his face, and his hands find comfort grabbing onto your thighs to keep them spread open for him.

From time to time, he looks up at you, the look in his hooded eyes sexy and aroused as he blinks slowly, letting his tongue test the waters around your most private parts. Soon, he gets bolder, suckling on your clit, even gently nibbling on it to make you dizzy with excitement, then he licks further down, plunging his tongue into your hole.

You moan out loudly, immediately loving the feeling, but as quickly as it came, it's gone again.

"Was that bad?"

"N-no, no, no! Good, was good, please, do that-" the words tumble out of your mouth until you feel him repeating the action, sinking his tongue into you as far as he can, licking around, thrusting in and out. You sigh, "- again..."

You press your hips into his face, practically riding his tongue at this point. Quickly, you feel the knot in your stomach tighten, heat spreading through your body rapidly, so you sneak a hand down to rub at your clit. The action obviously doesn't go unnoticed by Mark who reacts immediately by swatting your hand away and replacing it with his own.

"Fuck," you whimper, struggling to keep your eyes open at this point as Mark presses into your clit, massaging it throughoutly, " don't stop, don't stop, don't stop, don't- stop..." Your orgasm comes crashing down on you quicker than you thought at the sight of Mark grinding his hips into the mattress and groaning into your folds. You swear you see stars as you clench down on Mark's tongue who licks you lovingly through your high.

All you want to do is pull Mark up, kiss him, and tell him you're in love with him.

"That was great, but I should stop talking before I say something I'll regret," you inform Mark breathlessly who strokes over your thighs a few times before sitting up and plopping down next to you.

"Well, what if I have the same thing in mind?"

"Then it's still too early to say that," you decide, then gesture towards his dick "do you need help with that?"

"No, thank you." He grins, then begins cringing at the sticky feeling inside his pants. Silently, you smile at him, the fond look on your face probably speaking paragraphs about what's going on inside your mind, but you don't mind.

You want him to know, want to reveal how much you like him.

833 notes · View notes

fluentmoviequoter · 10 months

Text

The Freak and The Princess (III)

Summary: Eddie lets you walk by during his rant in the cafeteria, stumped by your quietness and manners toward the town freak. He then decides to be the perfect gentlemen. [Part 3/5] 1.7k Words

Warnings: implications of parental neglect and talks of emancipation as a minor (this could also be changed to parents that work a lot and aren't around; if anyone wants another version, let me know!), a fight?, Steve Harrington is a warning just because of who he is. I think that's all!

A/N: Here's part 3! I edited this and proofread it, but please point out any errors or things that you like! And please send requests; all the characters I write for are under my tag #characters! Hope you enjoy! :) Also, the movie I'm talking about at the end came out in 1983 and is actually based on my favorite book, so if you know what it is, we are friends now.

Part I. Part II.

The Freak and The Princess

Part Three: Best Served Cold (Revenge and Ice Cream)

I walked into school Monday with a new-found vigor for being silent. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, I didn’t want anyone to talk to me, and I wanted to be invisible. The night before, I had called Eddie and said I didn’t need a ride to school, avoiding subsequent questions when he asked why. I managed to go to my first four classes without seeing him. Walking toward the cafeteria after fourth period, I had to decide: go in and risk seeing Eddie and/or Jason or don’t go in and risk not seeing Jason and/or Eddie. I was at an impasse. Biting my lip and praying for courage, I pushed the door open, my eyes immediately finding the Hellfire table. Everyone seemed to be talking to Dustin and Lucas while Eddie wrote in his notebook.

“Oh, what the heck?” I thought and made my way toward the table. As I approached it, I saw Jason Carver walking toward them from the other direction.

“Oh no, what happened to you little freaks? Human sacrifice gone wrong?” he asked as he leaned over the empty seat by Eddie.

“Beat it, Carver,” Eddie said, sliding his notebook into his bag.

Jason looked back and forth between Eddie, Dustin, and Lucas. Realization struck, and he smiled wickedly.

“You didn’t tell him.” Jason smiled at Dustin and Lucas, who were suddenly very interested in the floor.

“No, but they told me,” I said, grabbing the back of Jason’s shirt and slamming him against the brick wall behind Eddie. I pushed my forearm against his throat – just hard enough to make it impossible to take a full breath - and leaned in. “Do you remember what I said I would do if you looked at or talked to them again?” He nodded. “And what did you do?” I growled, pushing against his throat. “What? Someone sell your tongue to the devil?” I asked, tilting my head as I released the pressure off his neck. “So? What did you do?”

“I talked to them,” he said, shrinking into the wall.

“That’s not true.”

“I hit them. Me and my buddies beat them up in the parking lot,” he said quickly.

“I’m going to be nice, and let me make this clear, all of this was very nice, and give you one more warning. Breathe in their direction again and you will find out just how mean I can be. Understand?”

He nodded and flinched when I slapped the brick beside him before raising my voice. “Understand?”

“Yes,” he said, tripping over his feet as he ran away.

The cafeteria was silent until Dustin started slow clapping. I walked out the same way I came in without looking at the Hellfire table. I scared Jason, that was the point, but if there was even a chance that I had scared Eddie, I would hate myself forever.

I walked straight through the school, across the field, and into the woods. I sat on one of the long-forgotten picnic benches and lay my head on my forearms. I laid there for a few minutes, enjoying the solitude. Someone was walking toward the table, and I groaned quietly, hoping they would see this table was taken and keep moving. The footsteps stopped by the table, and I debated lifting my head to see who it was. The bench shifted as they sat down on the other side, fingertips brushing my hair off my folded arms.

“How ya feelin’, princess?”

I jerked my head up, surprised to hear his voice. “What are you doing here?” I whispered.

He smiled before answering. “I wanted to check on you. Besides, these tables were my turf long before you arrived.”

“Are Dustin and Lucas ok?” I asked, still whispering.

“Ok? They’re ecstatic! Pretty sure they’re reenacting the scene and arguing over who gets to be you.” He laughed as he finished, and it was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever heard.

I smiled at the thought before looking down at my lap and playing with my fingers.

“When did they tell you?” he asked, more serious now.

“Thursday night in the parking lot. Steve went to see if we could get in the school, and they made me promise not to tell him.”

Eddie nodded, then stood up and stepped away. He’s probably mad I didn’t tell him and tried to handle it alone. The bench moved again, so I looked back up and saw Eddie sitting beside me, one of his hands sliding between mine, ceasing their fidgety actions.

“Let’s ditch. Go get ice cream or something.” He smiled, and I couldn’t say no.

I nodded, holding his hand as we walked back toward the school, turning into the parking lot and climbing into his van. He put a cassette in and twisted a dial, Metallica's newest album filling the van. I was mouthing the lyrics and looking out the window.

“You listen to Metallica?!” he asked, voice raised to speak over the music.

I nodded, smiling. Eddie smirked, turning it up as he pulled onto the main road. He parked in the small lot outside the homemade ice cream place, running around the front of the van to open my door. As usual, Eddie extended his hand and helped me out before walking beside me and opening the door. He refused to let me pay, turning away from me when I pouted. We sat at the back, eating our ice cream while I listened to Eddie’s one-sided conversation.

“So, Dustin tells me you agreed to come to Hellfire this week?” Eddie asked.

“I don’t know how to play, so I’ll just watch or something,” I responded quietly.

“Oh, we can certainly remedy that, Princess. I mean, you are talking to the dungeon master.”

He started explaining the basics of the game while I followed along, envisioning what he was saying in my head. He grabbed my hand, leading me back to the van and helping me in. After he climbed in and started the van, he turned to face me. “I say we go bother Harrington.”

I agreed, and Eddie backed out of the parking lot, pulling into Family Video a few minutes later. We walked in and started looking at movies since Steve wasn’t at the desk.

After a moment, we heard the back door open and Steve called, “Welcome to Family Video. Let me know if you need any help.”

“Got any good princess movies?” Eddie asked, making his voice deeper.

“Princess movies. Those would be in our children’s section on aisle-” He stopped talking as he rounded the corner and saw us trying not to laugh. “I should have known. Aren’t you two supposed to be at school?”

“We ditched for ice cream,” Eddie responded, placing an arm around my shoulders.

“You ditched?” Steve asked, obviously surprised as he looked at me.

I shrugged, failing to find the words to explain.

“What happened?” Steve asked, narrowing his eyes at us.

“She had a… conversation with Carver.”

“A conversation?”

“Of sorts, yeah.”

Steve looked at me with a hand on his hip, what I called his Steve Harrington Mom™ pose.

“Don’t do that look, man, she was standing up for Dustin and Lucas,” Eddie sighed. I dropped my jaw at his betrayal. “What?! He did the look, it makes people talk,” he defended quietly.

“It was him wasn’t it? I should’ve known. I’m going to kill that-”

Eddie cut him off. “Dude, it’s been handled. Trust me. And word to the wise? Stay on this one’s good side.”

I chuckled lightly, picking up my favorite movie and walking to the counter with Steve and Eddie as they bickered. Steve rented the tape under my name, and Eddie drove us to my house to watch it.

“This isn’t a chick flick is it?” Eddie asked as he collapsed on my couch with a bowl of popcorn.

“Nope,” I said, stealing a handful of the popcorn.

“Hey, make your own!”

“Technically it is mine, you just pulled it out of my pantry.”

“I have a question. It’s probably going to sound super rude, and I really don’t mean it to be.”

I nodded, urging him to continue.

“Is it voluntary? When you suddenly stop talking? Or is it a conscious decision? Because at first I thought you were really shy and would open up when I got to know you, but there are still days where you only say two words to me.”

“It’s not voluntary. Sometimes it just feels easier not to talk. I can’t explain why it happens but know that it’s never because I don’t want to talk to you, because I’ve wanted to talk to you since eighth grade, just could never get words out.”

“You’ve wanted to talk to me since eighth grade?”

“Yeah, that’s when I moved here and you were one of the first people I noticed, and the only one who made me want to talk. My parents just gave up on me, stopped trying to talk to me and didn’t listen even when I did. You and Steve are the only people who seem to make it worth talking.”

“I noticed you when you moved here, but thought a sweet, shy thing, like you would see me like everyone else here. There were kids in your grade who would talk about the ‘mute girl’, and I wanted to meet you, but didn’t know how.”

“Probably best we waited for it to happen on its own, there is no way I would’ve been able to talk to you back then.”

“Where are your parents now?”

“I got emancipated the summer between seventh and eighth grade. Then I found out that some second-cousin or someone left me this house and made the decision to move by myself.”

“You’ve been on your own since eight grade in a town where you knew no one and struggled to talk?”

“Pretty much.”

“Well now we have to add brave.”

“To what?”

“Your title. Beautiful, pretty, brave, kick-butt princess,” he smiled, pulling me into his side.

“This movie is based off my favorite book, and I love it, so if you don’t, keep it to yourself,” I said, attempting to shift his attention away from me.

“Yes, Princess,” he said with a goofy smile. I lay back against him and pressed play, perfectly content with my prince.

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