#Crenshaw is now older as well | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

forever--darling · 5 years ago

Text

mine - s.m.

ceo au

a/n: I suggest listening to I put a spell on you by annie lennox while reading this

warnings: 8.3k words of slight curse words, innuendos, and ceo shawn mendes

Ding

Surrounded in the sweet smell of pastries and bread, you had been so caught up in the comfort that the building provided while your nose was stuck in a textbook, you had failed to notice that you were still in the middle of a shift. Your eyes were tracing over the same line over and over as a small feeling filled your gut like you were missing something, but you tried to write it off and continue studying. You had a huge test the next day that was worth a large percent of your grade and you couldn’t afford to fail it, so any distractions had to be rid from your mind. And, they had but it wasn’t until the loud beep went off again that it alerted the attention of the man stood at the front counter who had been ringing up another customer.

The older man poked his head into the doorway to see you bent over the counter, eyes trained onto the thick book and zero perception of where you were. He sighed before beginning to yell your name over and over into the back room. Seconds later, your head tore away from the book, startled and brought back to the fact that you were still at work.

Pushing yourself away from the counter and away from the textbook, you grabbed two oven mitts. “Oh, shit!”

You opened the door to see the smoke rising from the baked treats and quickly reached for them hoping that you hadn’t burnt the last batch of the day. Slipping the hot pan onto the wood counter, you slipped the oven mitts from your hands as your eyes fell back to the still open textbook. Your neck was twisted to the side in a desperate attempt to analyze the words and have them stick into your brain.

“Y/N,” he called again, taking your attention away from your studies for the second time.

“Right,” you replied, slamming the book closed, making sure to mark your page before you continued to prepare the muffins for their basket. You sighed with relief that not one of them appeared to be burnt black.

Minutes later, you appeared from the back room and approached the front counter with a brown wicker basket sat neatly into your palms. Covered in a clear plastic bag tied at the top with a pink ribbon to ensure that the muffins stayed in the basket when delivered, you slid the basket onto the counter next to the other one. It appeared to be the same despite the different flavored muffins and the grey ribbon tied tightly at the top in comparison of a pink.

You sighed in a way to prepare yourself to face your boss, “Here you go, Oscar. The last batch of the day, all made and ready to go.”

Oscar, your boss and owner of the building, nodded sparing a glance towards the basket as he continued to jot down words on a notepad with a black pen. “Not burnt?” he asked raising an eyebrow his words soft but serious.

“Not burnt,” you replied, hands running along the plastic wrap before falling onto the ends of the ribbon tightening them. “Luckily. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, hasn’t been the first time.”

“And probably won’t be the last,” you admitted teasingly.

Oscar nodded knowingly as laughter bubbled from the back of his throat, “Probably not but it’s okay, you’re a college kid. I knew what I was getting into when I hired you. So what class is it this time?”

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned back against the counter, body facing the back wall at the chalkboard menu you had written on with new pastries that morning. “Physics, which I don’t even know why I’m taking in the first place. Anyways, I have this huge test tomorrow and it’s a large part of my grade. I’m struggling enough as it is so I can’t fail.”

“I see,” Oscar responded, already able to feel the stress seeping out of you, “And have you figured out what you want to major in yet?”

“Nope,” you replied popping the “p” as you began to rock back and forth on the balls of your feet, “Not a clue.”

He smiled, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out, and if you never do and college doesn’t seem like the place for you, there will always be a place for you here.”

“Thank you, Oscar. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” you said sending the older man a warm smile.

“Anytime, kid,” he mumbled, returning your smile with a wink.

Oscar Wheeler had been the owner of Sensationally Muffin for almost three years now and had opened the bakery after leaving his former job as a salesman. At rolling in at the height of around six foot, Oscar Wheeler was a broad shouldered man that had a strong large build at the age of forty-five. He had umber colored skin, with warm yellow and copper undertones, that wrinkled at the corners of his mouth and around his eyes. Grey hair rounded the edges of his head, standing out against his black buzzed head while also being shown present around his facial hair that ran along his chin and upper lip.

Besides his handsome middle aged features, Oscar was a sweet man that would spread kindness wherever he went and found a comfort in the bakery business. He loved the happiness that was brought from making the baked goods and found solitude in his small quaint little shop that bursted with warmth. From his presence, he provided a kind of compassion that no one could fake and because he was so nice and talked to anyone that walked through those doors, the small bakery became a place of support and love for many people.

Oscar had built the life he had always hoped for in the last three years and it always warms your heart at the business he had created. As a previous salesman before, all he had ever done was work. Day after day, chained to that desk, losing the feeling of what it felt like to actually be living. One day it had gotten to be too much and he quit on the spot, invested his savings into a dusty old building sat on the corner of first avenue.

He built this place out of nothing all by himself and because he had always been working he wasn’t married and he had no kids. He didn’t have a family like many men did his age and instead created his own family, here. He had formed friendships here and as corny as it sounded, you had found your own little family within these four walls.

Even though the bakery had been up and running for three years there were still not many workers that had settled here. Oscar was a man who relied on honesty and selflessness. He was picky when it came to who he hired. He had rejected many college students the moment they walked in through the doors begging for a job, and it came to quite a shock when he finally had hired you. It was over a year ago when you had just gotten done with what ended up being one of the worst classes you had ever had and along with that had been stood up on a date.

It was snowing and the wind was blazing and you couldn’t bare the idea of moping all the way back to your apartment to only get pitied for the rest of the night by your roommate. Instead, you wandered the streets, which seemed almost empty due to the storm, trying to busy yourself until the time seemed acceptable to return home.

However, it became difficult to stay out in the cold any longer when the wind picked up and you stumbled into the first warmest building you could see. If only you knew that when you walked into the bakery that day, snow falling from your clothes, that it would be the start of meeting some of the best people of your life. From then it was the easiest decision Oscar had made, from seeing how you longed to get warmth from the small fireplace and offered to help with anything. So when the time had came that you finally asked if there were any jobs in the small building, you had instantly grown to love, he had said yes without even giving you an interview.

That was how the little Sensationally Muffin family started and despite the sadness that took up the man of never getting married or having children, it was quickly replaced by the happiness of your presence and the bakery’s presence. Because at the end of the day, you were his daughter whether from blood or not.

“So, are you still okay to deliver these tonight or do you have to get home,” you were brought out of your thoughts by the man of the hour himself who was reorganizing some of the pastries in the box placed near the counter.

“Only two stops?” you asked, looking towards the two baskets on the counter.

“Yes, two stops,” Oscar confirmed adjusting a piece of coffee cake before sliding the small plastic door shut.

“Then yeah I can. Suppose I can take a break of studying for a little while, which I’m guessing since this basket is all blueberry muffins and it’s a Thursday that we have yet to deliver Mrs. Crenshaw's basket of muffins,” you stated, eyes looking towards the pink bowed basket that was filled to the brim of just blueberry muffins.

“You’d be right.”

“Of course, I know how much Mrs. Crenshaw loves her blueberry muffins,” you laughed.

Oscar smiled as he moved the two baskets towards the other end of the counter so you could just grab them on your way out, “She does. Anyways, I got a call from Roxy one of the head nurses of the nursing home. She said that they’ll be at the park again like they are usually on Thursdays. She says today they got some college kid to sing to them with his guitar so they’re just hanging there until six, when they’ll have to get everyone back.”

“That’s nice, I’ll head there first. Won’t want to miss them,” you replied, untying your blue apron from around your waist and folding it up in your hands, “So where’s the other delivery supposed to go?”

“Uh, it’s a large company building near the center of the city. I attached the address to the basket so you know where to find it and put the man’s name so you don’t get lost once you’re in there.”

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion at his words as your fingers knotted into the apron in your hand, “A company building that’s different. We don’t usually get orders from places like that.”

The older man nodded but couldn’t help the small smile on his lips, “Yes, but I have to say I’m not complaining. Business is business and I will take as much of it as I can get.”

Your expression softened and chuckled knowing he was right. Walking into the back room, you placed your apron down on one of the bottom shelves and began to place all of your notebooks and your textbook back into your backpack. Still curious of the journey you were about to take, you continued the conversation to see if Oscar knew anything else. “So, with this company building do you know anything about them or about who made the order?”

“Uh, yeah. I believe it was some assistant or someone like that. Ms. Bloom, I think it was. She was calling about placing an order of muffins for her boss. Heard from a friend that we have the very best. Said that her boss has a thing for muffins and would probably like the small surprise from all of the meetings he has been having the last couple days non stop,” he said now starting to tidy up the counter.

“Hmm busy man,” you commented pulling the backpack over your shoulders before you clock out of your shift, “Is it a big company?”

He nodded, turning his attention away from the front counter towards you as you approached the basket of muffins, “Yes, very. Like muli-million very, I think, but you shouldn’t have to worry about that. You have enough on your plate as it is.”

“Funny,” you thought out loud as your fingers began to trace around the white card that was pinned to the basket, the words hidden on the other side, “A multi-million company is buying a fourteen dollar basket of muffins. You would think they would at least buy some that are sprinkled with bits of gold, but hey lucky us. Business is business.”

Oscar chuckled at the way you quoted him and couldn’t help but to walk over and pull you into a side hug, “That’s right, so I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Definitely.”

“Okay, be safe. Text me if you need anything and good luck on your test,” he said, hand placed comfortingly on your shoulder.

“Thanks,” you mumbled out, grabbing both baskets and turning to walk towards the front door sparing a small wave over your shoulder, “Bye!”

He waved back a smile pulled across his face, causing his eyes to wrinkle like they tended to always do. Squeezing past the glass door, you ended up on the sidewalk that wasn’t as busy as it had been previously in the day since most people had made it at home by this time on a weekday. You smiled at the feeling of wind dancing across your skin and the sight of the sun starting to fall from the sky as you moved towards the side of the bakery to locate your transportation and one of the things you loved the most in this city. Your bike. Hating how crowded the streets would get for driving, you would rely on your beautiful bike to get you from one place to another whether it’s to deliver muffins, or get you across campus as fast as possible. Gosh, you really loved that bike.

It was a light blue Schwinn bicycle that had a white seat and a metal basket hanging in the front off of the handlebars housing a place to hold the muffins. Unlocking the bike from the bike ramp, you placed both orders of muffins into the hanging basket and swung your leg over the seat. Situating yourself onto the bike, you set out to your destination, one of two until you were able to go home and crawl into the bed of your apartment.

By the time you had managed to drop off the basket of muffins in the park for Mrs. Crenshaw and get out of the park, it had taken you almost a half an hour. You didn’t think that when you got there that Mrs. Crenshaw would insist that you stay and continue to argue over it for the next fifteen minutes. Even when you had mentioned that you had another stop to make she would just interrupt you by talking about how great the music was this college boy was singing, or go on about how cute he was as if that would make you stay and visit with them awhile. You thought it was sweet that she wanted to talk to you and you felt a little guilty about leaving in a rush, but knew that you could just visit another day.

Another day when you didn’t have to go deal with multi-million company people and have to study for a huge Physics test. When you somehow had managed to slip away from Mrs. Crenshaw because she was stuffing her face with muffins and dancing to the music, you quickly grabbed your money from Roxy, the head nurse that Oscar said made the call, and hot tailed it out of the park before any of the other elders could pull you into a conversation.

You were walking your bike down a sidewalk that went out of the park, waiting to get out towards the street to hop back on and get going. Knowing that the road was approaching, you stopped your bike for a second to take a glance at the address written on the card of the basket. Reaching over and into the bike basket you flipped the card over and read over what it said.

Mr. Mendes

Mendes Corporations

982 Edgefield Drive

Toronto, CA R1A K3G

The bike ride from the park to the company building took exactly seven minutes give or take and luckily it was a place you couldn’t get lost finding. From a few blocks away, you were able to spot it and it’s crystal glass walls. By the time you had actually arrived outside of the building, your jaw had hit the floor. When Oscar had said company with an office building, you never expected this. Even when, he said “multi-million” you wrote it off thinking that he was just kidding. Yeah, you thought “oh it will just be a small brick company building that was two or three stories high” - yeah no. This was not the case.

This company had to have been large and very much a multi-million maybe even billion. The building was tall coming up to maybe being the height of a small skyscraper that went up multiple stories, made out of clear glass, accented with silver steel to add detail to the building. With windows surrounding the whole building, it no doubt had a lot of light pour in during the day. Or maybe the windows reflected the harsh light to hit back at the streets, considering you couldn’t see within the building through the windows. Either way you couldn’t know until you actually stepped in. The front was fitted with two sets of doors on either side of a silver large revolving door and above the door were the words Mendes Co. splayed across in thick black letters that no doubt lit up at night.

To accompany the doors there were two doormen dressed in black fitted suits and white earpieces on, standing on either side of the regular doors. They looked more like bodyguards and could be for all you knew, but with them opening the sets of doors they stood by, it gave you the impression they were just very well dressed doormen. As you looked up at the building, it seemed to go up forever before being cut flat by the open styled roof, that no doubt probably had access to it from a door and stairs.

Surprisingly with a place that looked so high class and well done, there was a metal bike rack sat near the road. Even that seemed to be better than the other streets you found bike racks at. It was clean and reflected off the lights of the city, not one speck of dust or rust. You somehow found yourself standing outside, looking around to see if the people walking near the building were better dressed and looked ready for a business meeting, but they all appeared like you. Casually dressed and not paying attention to the gorgeous building, they were passing as if it were a normal thing.

Noticing that the sun was setting more and more behind the city the longer you stood there gaping at the business building, you quickly tore your gaze from it to lock your bike against the bike rack. When secured and sure that it wasn’t going anywhere, you took the basket of muffins in your hand and made your way towards the revolving door. Both doorman/ bodyguards looked you up and down as you reached the door and no doubt if you hadn’t been holding that basket of muffins they probably wouldn’t have let you walk in just by the way you dressed.

As soon as you laid eyes on the bustling building from the inside, you knew they definitely wouldn’t have let you in. The inside was the nicest place you had ever seen. The walls from the ceiling to the floor were white and smooth showing a faint reflection as you walked by it. Anything else was silver or black causing the whole room to appear sleek and smooth leaving you with the question of what the hell this company really did and was. And if that wasn’t it, the lobby was filled with people fitted like they were made of money.

From the tight suits that clung to each man to the women that dressed in short pencil skirts or dresses paired with a blazer, their hair all pulled up out of their face and showing their beautiful soft features. Plus, every women had a pair of heels at least six inches tall on the bottom of their feet making them look even more business sexy and tall. Like extremely tall. You weren’t exactly a very short person but next to all these women, they made you look like the size of a twelve year old next to a bunch of NBA basketball players. In that moment you had never felt so out of place before with your ripped skinny jeans and sneakers.

Your hair was messily pulled into a ponytail with pieces framing your face and along with the jacket and backpack you had on, a grey long sleeve shirt that hugged your chest tightly. Your face barely had any makeup thinking that for work all you needed was some mascara but now you wished you had put on some lip gloss or something because compared to all the other women who supported a lipstick your lips just looked dry and cracked. You knew you didn’t belong in that building and so did everyone else. They all followed you with their gaze and probably felt relieved that there was a basket of muffins in your hand meaning you weren’t actually here for something important. It was funny that the basket provided you with protection from the well dressed vultures and you knew that it would be a whole different story when you had to leave basketless.

Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, you moved your way through the lobby towards the front silver desk that appeared to be just as smooth as the walls. A woman sat behind the desk her blonde hair pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head with a tight black skirt and white blouse with the top buttons undone. She looked up from the computer but instead of giving you a harsh glare like everyone else, she offered a soft smile not enough to show her teeth but enough for it to be a smile.

You took a deep breath never feeling this nervous to deliver a basket of muffins before. Raising the basket, you gestured to it as you explained why someone like you would be in a place like this, “Uh, I have a delivery for a Ms. Bloom which is really-- uh, for a Mr. Mendes.”

As your words came out stuttered and fast, you mentally groaned at making yourself look like an actual idiot. Now you made yourself look even more out of place if that could even be possible. At embarrassing yourself in front of a woman who was basically a model, you could feel the heat rush up past your neck settling onto your face. You tugged at your jacket mercilessly, worrying that you might actually be escorted out of the building, but a sigh of relief flew past your mouth at the small chuckle made from the model worthy receptionist. “Yes, Mr. Mendes’ office is on the twelfth floor and as soon as you walk out of the elevator there should be a large desk where Ms. Bloom sits.”

“Alright, thank you,” you replied, raking your fingers through your hair anxiously before making your way towards where the woman was pointing that held the elevators. As you rounded the corner towards the elevators you found people bustling in and out not caring about bumping into you along the way.

There were a total of six elevators all with large silver doors and blue buttons off to the side. You had managed to slip past a sea of people that were just leaving elevator two and enter into elevator four which only held a couple older men dressed in black suits and a small group of women who were whispering to each other in the corner while sneaking you glances. They were tall like every other woman in this place and dressed in tight business clothes as usual. You were lucky to get an elevator that wasn’t full of people because that might not have set too well with you if you had.

The elevator itself was lit with white and had lights showering down from the top as the walls were cut into squares all around, bouncing your reflection back at you. Again the nicest elevator you had ever been on and wished more than anything that yours back at your apartment building looked as good as this.

“Floor?” one of the men asked who had white slicked back hair and was carrying a brown briefcase. He didn’t spare much of a glance to you which you felt relieved to not have to face his judging eyes, when you could already feel a hole being burned in the back of your head from the women.

“Uh, twelve,” you mumbled, hearing the whispers stop behind you for a few seconds before starting up again.

You weren’t even surprised probably anybody and everybody in this building knew that the twelve floor belonged to the owner of this whole corporation. Which meant that if the lobby were as dressed as they were, walking out of this elevator and onto that floor probably looked liked visiting royalty, and you were not one to walk through the doors and be among royalty. Because of the women behind you, you couldn’t help but dig your fingers into your side while trying to take smooth sturdy breaths but it became too much when you heard one of them say something about how you looked.

It was muffled and you couldn’t hear much of what she said but it was enough to know it was about you. It caused your stomach to sink further than it already had for being required to be in this building, so it made you a little less fidgety when you reached back and pulled your hair loose from the ponytail letting it fall. Your shiny unbrushed waves laid across your shoulders and you smoothed them down at the top, hoping that it looked a little more put together than it had in the ponytail.

Luckily, the twelfth floor was the lowest floor selected so you were able to be the first one off the elevator. When the awful ride finally came to a stop at your floor, you spared the men a small smile. “Have a nice day,” you said before walking out of the elevator.

The doors closed behind you and instead of walking forward towards the desk, sat a few feet down the hallway tucked up against a wall, you stood still. Clutching the basket to your chest, you gaze across the most important floor of the whole entire building. As expected, its lined with white from Ms. Bloom’s desk to the chairs that sit tucked into the few other smaller desks sat abandoned in the hallway to the walls. Also, right above Ms. Bloom’s desk was Mendes Co. in the same way it was on the front of the building. Block letters in dark black, concluding that this was in fact his floor. It was modern and sleek and made you wonder to no end about who this man was. Mr. Mendes.

He must have held so much power, in whatever the hell he did, to build a building so large and so high class. You had no doubt that he had a lot of money and from how expensive everything was and set out to be there was no doubt in your mind that Mr. Mendes had to have been older. He had to have built this company up over courses of years to get it to where it is now. It didn’t make much sense to you though that if this company seemed to have so much money and was so well known why you had never heard of it until now. It made you think that if had been around a while that you would have heard about it at least once or twice. Maybe you hadn’t heard of it because you were just some college kid that had her head stuck in a pile of books.

Within the nice floor, you could hear the faint sound of voices, phones ringing, and the sound of heels clicking against the floor, along with music that had to have been John Mayer but you couldn’t be sure. It smelled faintly of rosewood and spices mixed with some kind of cologne which instantly sent your mind in a frenzy at how good it smelt passing through your nose. It made your body sway and your head swell from how much you were beginning to like it, and knew that all the women that worked here most swoon in the presence of the masculine smell. They probably had fallen to their knees, once or twice, for their boss if Mr. Mendes smelled anything like his floor.

You were brought out of your thoughts at the sound of a high pitched voice that appeared very annoyed, “No, Mr. Mendes is in a meeting I told you that a half an hour ago and he will still be in a meeting a half an hour from now. I will let him know that you called like I said I would before.”

You looked to find the voice coming from where the large white desk was set against the wall, being no doubt Ms. Bloom. Approaching her and the desk, you watched as she yelled something into the phone before slamming it down back onto the desk, hanging up the call all together. She sat down in the grey plush chair at the desk and began to fiddle with the computer as if she hadn’t noticed you. You took that small moment to analyze her from head to toe and wasn’t surprised at all with what you were seeing. It was as if there was a pattern for the women that worked in this office or even set foot on its expensive tiled floors.

She had tan skin that looked like she had just come back from vacation and sleek caramel hair braided back into a low bun with not a single piece of hair out of place. She had piercing blue eyes that matched the colors of the ocean and stood out even more against her dark eyeshadow and winged liner. She had a small button nose that was contoured to perfection and plush pink lips that looked glossy in the light. She was dressed in a tight black dress that fell to right above her knees, showcasing her long freshly shaved legs, and it was so tight against her body that she couldn’t have been wearing a bra or any underwear. It was clear that if it was that tight and she still decided to wear it to work that it probably didn’t bother her.

And, from the way she ordered the basket of muffins to surprise her boss, dress skin tight with a face full of makeup, and be so defensive on the phone about him it was not hard to realize she had something for Mr. Mendes or maybe with him. You weren’t entirely sure but it wouldn’t be a surprise that with what money he appeared to have he could afford to sleep with his assistant and hire every beautiful person that walked along Toronto. As you thought about it all, you made sure to make a mental note to ask your roommate later that evening about the corporation because with everything you had discovered in the last ten minutes you had never been so curious in your whole entire life.

“Yes?” her high pitched voice snapped from behind the desk, not bothering to look up.

“Oh, uh I have the basket of muffins you ordered from Sensationally Muffin,” you whispered softly, slightly worried she would bite your head off if you said something wrong.

Instead, though at your words, her eyes lit up and a small smile feel on her face but that all slightly faltered as she looked up and locked gazes onto you. She frowned as she looked you up and down before letting out a distasteful noise that sounded much like an ew. She covered it up though with a small cough and turned her eyes to the basket in your hand. It was a mixed batch between one's like chocolate chip and blueberry to apple cinnamon and pumpkin. In fact the basket had almost every flavor except lemon which was requested to not be added.

You even added in your favorite muffin creation; a triple chocolate craze muffin that was filled with chocolate syrup. Of course it was delicious and drool worthy but something you could only have one of. They weren’t ordered very often and because the basket required almost every muffin you had on the menu, you thought you would sneak it in because it really was made for the high class. Now that you are standing with the basket in your hands, you’re happy that you added it, or maybe you weren’t because this man seemed to have everything except for your muffin. Which thanks to you, the triple chocolate craze will bless his taste buds though he has probably tasted the grandest of things compared to a chocolate muffin.

You felt the basket get tugged from your hands and set down onto the desk. It was funny, how much that delicious basket of muffins blended in with the rest of the building because of that stupid grey ribbon. No one would even be able to tell that it was fourteen dollars and came from a cheap bakery a few blocks away. It was sad that something so delicious would have to be given to a man that seemed to be screwing his assistant, but like Oscar always says business is business.

“How much do I owe you, for the muffins?” she asked picking out a black leather wallet from within a desk drawer.

“Uh-”

“Wait,” she holds her hand up cutting you off and at first you have no idea why. Then you realize that she has stopped you because of the voices that are coming from down a hall near the elevator that you somehow had missed when you exited and looked around the floor. They were getting closer and one obviously stood out towards Ms. Bloom when she quickly grabbed the basket of muffins from the desk and gave you a pointed look. “I’ll be right back.”

She turned away from you and fast walked, almost a jog, away from the desk in the opposite direction of where the voices were coming from. Her heels clicked against the floor as she went in a fast set of twos as she made it down the hallway towards a pair of double doors that went all the way up to the ceiling.

They were made of wood and stained dark almost to the color of black and had rusty red undertones that were seeping past the dark hue. The handles were silver rods that hung off the door and went up past the height of Ms. Bloom even in her heels. Probably stainless steel from the way they looked. She tore open one of the doors and slipped in, disappearing behind it with the basket of muffins in her hands.

You stood and took a deep breath, running your fingers through your loose hair tugging at the ends. Closing your eyes with the exhaustion kicking in, you could now hear the multiple pairs of footsteps echoing within the floor and the voices becoming more clear. As they seemed to be just around the corner, you could now identify that it was definitely a group of men. All low and deep, shouting multiple things at once, clearly arguing. However, there was one that stuck out like a sore thumbs amidst the others. It was higher and soft to the ears.

He seemed to be the one centered in the attention because though the rest of voices were jumbled together you were able to hear his words clear, “Enough, enough. I answered everything in the meeting, now stop because I have other things to attend to.”

Though his voice was demanding and sent a shiver down your spine it did not ward off the other men and only made them yell louder down the hallway as they rounded the corner. Hearing the muffled shouts burst from no longer being a wall away, you turned in the direction of the voices, that sounded clearer then they had before, faces being matched towards the rowdy sounds. Sure enough, walking in your direction was a group of what appeared to be six middle aged men dressed in suits and surrounding the very person that caused their shouting. They trailed behind him and as they only got closer to where you stood it was not hard to spot the man out who stuck out among them. He was tall. Taller than the rest of them which proved to be the first thing that made him stick out.

The next thing was his age. You easily noticed that he was half of their age at most and very handsome. Possibly the most beautiful man you had laid eyes on and that said a lot, since every young male worker in this building could make your knees weak, but him god he was something else entirely. He had dark curls sat at the top of his head that looked all messy and hadn’t been styled which only made him look more gorgeous. Which seemed impossible since he had a sharp jawline, pretty brown eyes, and pink pillowy lips. He also obviously was fit, you could tell from the way the dark blue suit hugged his long body. It made you wonder what someone like him was doing in a place like this instead of on a billboard somewhere but when the rest of the building was also good looking it kind of wasn’t a surprise that he was here either.

“Gentlemen,” he announced, revealing his soft silk like voice, making it evident that he was the one that had stuck out among their constant rambling down the hallway, “The meeting is over, I appreciate your time but this shit’s done.”

He continues to walk down the hallway towards you and the men still refuse to give up despite how cold it sounded. He tries to ignore them, looking elsewhere than the six men around him. In doing so his brown eyes fall onto you, stood abandoned at his assistant's desk with flushed cheeks, looking so out of place. At first you thought he would glare at you or laugh at the sight of you in a place like this. Which wouldn’t have been all bad if his laugh ended up to be just as beautiful as he appeared to be, but instead he cocks his head to the side looks you up and down with a curious glint in his eyes.

You shuddered under his gaze and can feel your cheeks become even more red from his intense stare. He refused to look away from you and as he looked you up and down once more, he began to lick at his lips. You didn’t know at all what it meant the way he was looking at you or why, when there were plenty of more attractive women to drool over, but felt slightly appreciative of it anyway because he was very hot. However, that turned from just a hot man in a suit staring at you into something much more real fast.

“Mr. Mendes!”

His eyes broke away for a second at the sound of his name and your blood had ran cold. Your eyes widened at the name and soon realized that this tall man with curls who stood in the middle of the men was the man of this company. He was younger than you had ever expected and now it didn’t appear such a surprise that all the women dressed the way they did especially Ms. Bloom. Any woman would want a man like that who owned what he had. In fact, I’m sure many women did. That’s why you were as shocked as you were to see his eyes on you.

He noticed your expression as soon as he moved his eyes away from one of the men back to you and realized at the mention of his name that you were startled. You looked like a deer in headlights, innocent and doe eyed. It made his stomach burn at the thought of being with someone like you. A woman pure and not invested in a world of money. It turned him on in a way it never had before, and though you were a complete stranger, if the hall were empty he would have you bent over that desk within seconds, right under his company’s name.

You broke away from his gaze at the sound of Ms. Bloom returning back to the desk and you had never been so relieved to hear the sound of her heels clicking against the floor. You noticed the way she spared a glance over your shoulder towards “Mr. Mendes” her boss before looking back towards you smugly. “How much?”

“Uh, um…”

“Excuse me,” she snapped, “Are you def, how much?”

“Fourteen dollars,” you replied swallowing the lump in your throat.

She picked through her wallet and handed you a twenty before shoving the wallet back into the desk. “You can keep the change save up to buy something that isn’t… well that,” she sneered gesturing to you up and down.

“Thanks,” you mumbled softly too focused on the gaze still locked on the back of you to even defend yourself against the snippy comment from the assistant.

Not sparing another second, you turn on your heels and head straight for the elevator. Walking by his tall figure and the other men, you can feel his eyes follow you all the way to end of the elevator. Even when you enter into the small moving box, when you look back out towards the floor you can see his brown eyes disappearing behind the silver doors as they come to a close, leaving you alone and in complete relief to be on your way out of here. As you ride down in the elevator back to the lobby, he on the other hand clears his throat and fixes his black tie before scurrying away to his office behind the large dark wooden doors.

When he is safely behind them, the men no longer are able to bother him and eventually disperse given up. Shoving his hands into his front pockets, he walks across his office, hands tracing along his desk, stopping at the basket of muffins on his desk. It being the very reason why someone like you were in his building and why you had wanted to leave in such a hurry. He chuckles softly to himself before he continues forward to one of the wall clad windows of his office. He leans against it, gazing down towards the sidewalk in front of the building that appears so much smaller from where he stands. It’s minutes later by the time he notices you bolt from the building and head straight for your bike and though he has to squint to see from how small you appear he knows it’s you from how frantic you are.

He is interrupted by a small knock on his door and the sound of it opening. He doesn’t even have to turn around to know who it is. It was going to happen some time today, he knew from the way she dressed in that skin tight black dress that hugged her whole body leaving no room for undergarments. Other days, that dress would have him locking his office and taking her onto the top of his desk where she would scream for his mercy but today his sight was too focused on something else to give into her.

“Mr. Mendes,” she said seductively, knowing how much he liked to be addressed that way in the office by her. “I got you a basket of muffins. Your favorite. With how many meetings you’ve been having, I thought it would make you feel a little bit better or just cheer you up. I know how those meetings can be.”

He didn’t turn around or even acknowledge her words at first too focused on you as you unlock your bike from the bike rack, climb on, and ride away down the street. It finally registered that she had been talking when you were no longer in sight. “Oh, yes. I see.”

That was all he had said and he still hadn’t turned around. She was pushing out her chest and rubbing her thighs together waiting for him to turn and look at her. She had gotten him a basket of muffins and instead of shoving her face down onto his desk as a way to express his gratitude, he was just staring out the damn window. It had been a week since he had devoured her on his grey couch sat in the corner of the room and she was dying to feel his burning touch again.

Usually by now, he would have been hot and horny to do a couple rounds from his desk to the couch or even on the floor. Anywhere he could just to relieve the throbbing that would appear between his legs from her in that skin tight dress but clearly that wasn’t the case now and she could see that. See that something else was taking up his mind or perhaps someone else. She was getting nervous that he wasn’t going to turn around, that he wasn’t going to acknowledge her in that dress, and wasn’t going to finish off the ache that her thighs couldn’t do on their own.

“Is that all, Ms. Bloom?” his voice broke her from her thoughts and she felt her heart drop into her stomach.

She was shocked that he was denying her and denying any moment to pleasure himself. With realization of what he really was saying that shock turned into anger. Her blood began to boil and now she was beginning to feel hot in more than just one place. Waiting another second, thinking he was going to change his mind, she lost it fully when he sent her a glance over his shoulder and raised his eyebrow clearly annoyed. His eyes showed no trace of lust or need and instead was emotionless not even giving her a once over like he always did. At his small glance, her eyes narrowed and sent him the coldest glare she could muster as her lips curled into a snarl.

“Yes, Mr. Mendes that’s all,” she spat, the words sounding like venom dripping from her tongue as she turned on her heels and stomped out of the office making sure to slam the door on the way out.

He sighed at the childish behavior, pissed at her response to him refusing to have sex with her. Sure, she was hot or whatever but clearly she didn’t understand that it was going to happen sooner or later. That he was going to get tired of her and toss her aside. He can only stick with one woman for so long before it starts to taste the same on his tongue.

Since she was his assistant, she should’ve known this out of anybody with how many women, who worked under him, that he would bring in this office to fuck. Each only ever lasting a few weeks at most, she should have easily known this was going to happen. It was just the way he was and no woman could change that. He knew that if she continued to be upset about the whole thing that he would have to fire her, leaving it only being five months since she’d been hired and even if he did have to, it wouldn’t be a problem.

Many women wanted this job and would kill to wait on his hand and foot at every hour of every day. It would be easy to replace someone like Ms. Bloom. Plus with her now tossed to the side, he had his eyes set on something else. Something that he was going to get no matter how hard it was because he never got refused. Turns out this something was just a college girl who worked at a bakery making muffins.

next part

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fanfic #my writing #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes au #ceo au #shawn #mendes #shawn x reader #shawn x you #shawn x y/n #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x you #shawn mendes x y/n

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armsdealing · 4 years ago

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CHARACTER SHEET repost. do not reblog.

𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

FULL NAME. daniel arcelio salazar espinosa PRONUNCIATION. i’m not smart enough for this shit right now, figure it out. NICKNAME. dante, dan, danny GENDER. cis man HEIGHT. 6′0 AGE. 31 ZODIAC. leo SPOKEN LANGUAGES. english, spanish, some portuguese

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬��𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

HAIR COLOR. brown EYE COLOR. dark brown SKIN TONE. light brown BODY TYPE. muscular but not bulky. ACCENT. mix of chicano and standard inner-city LA inflection. VOICE. on the deep, raspy side. DOMINANT HAND. left. POSTURE. lil bit of a slouch. a cool amount. SCARS. a scar on his right cheek, and a cut in his left eyebrow. bullet scar in his abdomen. a few surgical scars. TATTOOS. he has the god huehuecóyotl in the back of his left hand, and xochipilli on the back of his right hand. roses in his left foream and a sacred heart in the inner side of his right elbow. BIRTHMARKS. N/A MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S). his hand tattoos, the stripe on the side of his head, his low-pitched voice and his laughter.

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 !

PLACE OF BIRTH. crenshaw, los angeles HOMETOWN. leimert park, los angeles FIRST WORDS. "´áme!” (as in “dame” -- gimme! -- in spanish) SIBLINGS. ramón and mariana salazar. PARENTS. rené and pilar. PARENTAL INVOLVEMENT. his parents were both full time workers, so for the few first years of his childhood, he mostly was left to be under his older brother’s supervision until the work day ended. still, they tried their best to help him with his homework and school affairs, watching over him and trying to keep him “on the straight path” -- but he had still ample time to do whatever he wanted, considering how lax ramón was about everything as long as he did his homework and chores. time his little sister was born, his parents were a little older and had a little more time, and so dante suffered major middle child syndrome. with rené and pilar having to look after “the princess of the house” and ramón out in the streets wilding, he was kind of unsure of his position in the household. he couldn’t be the favorite, as that spot was already seemingly “taken” by the younger kid and only daughter, and he couldn’t be the “rebellious” one, as his brother already had that role down, seeing as he was in the beginning stages of joining a gang.

and then he got shot, and lost his foot, and then not much later ramón went to juvenile. and his parents truly pulled through during this portion of his life. looked everywhere for all possible resources to help him, made a bunch of calls and public appearances, took him to all his physical therapy sessions and psychology appointments, and just -- really took his trauma seriously. it helped his recovery in a tremendous way, and dante is very grateful for them. they pulled a 180 in a way, especially his mother, who became a bit of a helicopter parent during his late teens, but he managed to convice her he was okay. and he really was okay. and pilar begrudgingly accepted it and eventually let him go.

he ultimately considers them to be good parents. not perfect, but very good. he still gets along really well with the two of them.

𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 !

OCCUPATION. he’s a musician. a guitar player, to be precise, though he also plays piano. used to be part of a fairly popular punk group called Cadejos, left out of “professional differences” with the lead singer. he’s also a songwriter -- he wrote half of cadejos’ discography. and he writes music for other groups. he even writes pop music sometimes. CURRENT RESIDENCE. an apartment in santa monica. CLOSE FRIENDS. used to be the people he started out cadejos with, but fuck those guys. currently, he’s good friends with la’rissa @streetsofsecrets RELATIONSHIP STATUS. no strings. FINANCIAL STATUS. he’s doing well financially, but he ain’t rich by any means. DRIVER’S LICENSE. yeah. CRIMINAL RECORD. cops stop and “mistake” him for someone they’re looking for all the time, but he’s never been arrested so far. VICES. cigarettes, weed. did a bit of coke in his early twenties, but cut it short.

𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 !

SEXUAL ORIENTATION. bisexual. ROMANTIC ORIENTATION. bisexual. PREFERRED EMOTIONAL ROLE. submissive | dominant | switch. PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE. submissive | dominant | switch. LIBIDO. medium-to-high. TURN ON’S. confidence, neck kisses, biting, artistic-driven people. dirty talk. putting his fingers in your mouth. TURN OFF’S. people touching his leg stump, as it’s quite sensitive. it’s a sign of trust when he lets people touch it, but during sexual situations it’s uncalled for either way. any hardcore bdsm. LOVE LANGUAGE. quality time. RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES. most relationships he’s had have been on the casual side, due to his transient lifestyle and being constantly on tour. he prefers that unless he’s really into the person. he’s been with a few overly jealous people and he’s realized he’s not into his partners being constantly on his business about where he is and if he’s got company, especially since he usually doesn’t do things to warrant mistrust, he’s just busy and most of his work is done during the night time and it involves going to bars, clubs, parties, and sometimes they can come with him and sometimes they can’t. overall he’d be okay with settling down, they just need to be okay these things.

it’s also better if you don’t come on too strong right from the start. again hes okay with serious relationships, monogamy, etc -- he’s at the age where he “should be thinking about it”, according to his mom anyway -- but he’d like to start off simple. build things gradually. big conversations like that at the very beginning make him uncomfortable.

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 !

CHARACTER’S THEME SONG. acción - la vida boheme HOBBIES TO PASS TIME. reading. listening to music. videogames. boxing. driving his motorcycle on the highway. MENTAL ILLNESSES. treated PTSD. PHYSICAL ILLNESSES. deals with phantom pain now and then. LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED. right-brained. PHOBIAS. none. SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL. high. VULNERABILITIES. his family.

TAGGED BY: people a long time ago. TAGGING: @nightmove @exmateria (judai) @streetsofsecrets (la’rissa), @amorcitio, @surviveds (your choice), @brutlist, @soypeor (your choice)

#* dante.#misc.

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pumpumdemsugah · 4 years ago

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I'm not really academically inclined but I've been trying to understand black feminism ideas as I enter my 20s. I find that watching videos even of poets or writers(nikki giovanni, morrison,baldwin) really helps. I've read Crenshaw and I have a few masterosits saved but si there anything you've found to be a good starter? I've been looking into lectures as well. ATP I think anyone who refuses to learn and regurtitates BS on social media is doing real harm. Mostly sad for BW who do this though.

Not all the books I'm mentioning are about Black women exclusively but they have perspectives and insights I think are good so you don't end up with dumb repackaged views. Also I didn't find them to be difficult reads. Most things by bell hooks is good tbh. I think she's a great starter.

Black looks is a good introduction and not a very long book either. Ain't I a woman is also good. I know I've read more of her stuff but I genuinely cant remember the titles 🤣 but there's a reason people say read bell hooks

I really enjoyed Colonise This! It has lots of different essays by women of colour.

On photography by Susan Sontag. It's about the gaze and photography and I really enjoyed the part about Diane Arbus

Heart Of The Race: Black Women's Lives in Britain. Not really about feminist concepts but it sheds a light on the lives of Black women in the UK between the 60s and 70s

Female Chauvinist Pigs: Women and the Rise of Raunch Culture: Woman and the Rise of Raunch Culture. It's more about Raunch Culture back in the mid 00s with a focus on Britain but I think some of the stuff mentioned fits well now

Sister Citizen by Melissa Harris Perry. I'm still getting through it. It's well written I just haven't finished it

Patricia Collins has alot of amazing books about Black Feminism I've been meaning to read like Black Feminist thought

None of these books are particularly hard to understand and assumes you're a beginner so you don't have to go in not knowing what terms mean for the most part.

It sounds like you're off to a good start. Personally I like audio books as long as the person doesn't have a disgusting voice lol. It's a nice way to learn something new if you're doing a mindless activity so you can focus. There aren't enough audiobooks of older Black Feminist stuff unfortunately

I use to read these black female focused blogs back in the late 00s early 2010s but the names have changed and I don't remember lol . I use to like crunk feminist collective blog back in the day but I haven't read anything on there in years so I can't really say if they're any good but the older stuff should still be there

I feel like as long as you're taking in new ideas be it video , audiobook or reading it helps you not have this very narrow social media focused view of the world. Idk about podcast tbh so I can't really say anything

I definitely agree anyone that refuses to learn is causing harm and lots young Black women on social media that claim to be feminist are doing that

#anonymous

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artisticestheticreads · 5 years ago

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SWEET TOOTH

A/N: So I saw a post from @wakandascrystal that said “hear me out, (Y/N) got 4 older brothers who won’t hesitate to end a nigga life if they try anything with their baby sister..but The short yellow off the shoulder dress (Y/N) got on at the neighborhood cookout got Erik ready to risk it all.” LIGHT BULB. Don't worry. I got her permission and she wanted to be tagged so here it is. There are also links in this piece so watch for bold and italicized font.

A/A/N: So, this is still a reader and Erik one shot but you will go by the nickname “Sweets” and “Baby Girl”...oh and your last name is Moore.

WARNING: Contains drug use, swearing, sexual puns, angst, and fluff

SONG RECOMMENDATION: Nite and Day by Al B. Sure!

It was a hot July day where the neighbor was holding its 50th Annual Block Party. There was old school music playing loudly, children in swimwear running around with water toys, mothers bringing tons a food down to the eating area and men playing games like dominos, spades, and poker. The smoke of the grills filling the air making people even more hungry. At one home, a young man stood on the porch in a crisp white tee, tan cargos and white running shoes with a chain with a ring, another with a gold ankh and a matching watch on his wrist. He dreads were tossed to the left and he had a Budweiser in his right hand. He was with his long term friend Ron who looked like Odell Beckham with no tattoos and short hair.

“It’s good to have you back, E. Real talk. You been gone for too long” Ron said as he rolled a blunt and began to smoke. Erik sipped his beer and said “yeah, decided to visit my real family. My Aunt is like my moms now, T is like that annoying ass big brother that think he know everything and princess was showing me some sneakers she making for me. They coo.” What he didn’t mention was the scars he had for ever kill were removed and how he was dead for like a week and brought back to life by his genius cousin and also that he had royal blood in his veins.

Erik saw a group of four men walking to a house across the way; the Moore Brothers. From left to right, there was Darnell, Andre, Mitchell, and Junior. “Welp, there goes the Nigga Turtles”, Erik said before Ron laughed. “Yeah, they keep getting bigger to keep niggas away from Baby Girl.” Speaking of, a white Nissan Altima pulled up passed the orange sign that cut off the street and parked; that’s when Erik saw her as if they were in slow motion. Her skin was a bronze glow that glittered in the sun. Her 4c curls resembled a cloud that framed her round, babyface with big roasted chestnut eyes that can hold heat in them. She finally walked from the driver side to show her figure. Her off the shoulder yellow dress hugged her thick body oh so well. Her curves screamed ‘look at me’. Her breasts were sitting at attention and her behind was like a chocolate peach. She showed off her legs in a pair of wedges and her golden chain read ‘Sweets’. The back of her right shoulder was home to an adorable baby jaguar tattoo.

“There’s our Baby Girl”, Darnell said getting her families attention. She opened up her arms to her mother and father with a smile receiving hugs then her brothers waited for their turn. Erik watched as he placed his hands in his pockets and when he saw them walking in their home, Baby Girl, walking behind, he whistled. She looked around and finally saw Erik. He nodded at her with a smirk and she waved small with a wink before walking in. “Cuh, you must got a death wish or somethin’. You know damn well them negroes do not play ‘bout their sister.” Erik turned to his friend with a chuckle. “Ron, aint no one scared of them muthafuckas, dawg. You talking to a man who has killed at least 2,351 people around the world. I’m a Navy Vet, they should be scared of me.”

“E, they don’t care about that shit. To them, you still Lean Bean to them,” Ron said as he smoked. Erik cringed at how he used to look and said: “Why you gotta bring up old shit for, huh?” He turned back to the street to see Nat and Baby Girl walking down the street with trays of food. Erik smiled and walked down catching up to him as Ron followed. “How y’all ladies doing”, E asked making her smile. “We good. How about you? Long-time, no see, E”, she said with her brow raised. “Eh, I’ve been good but who told you to get thick on me, looking a cute fine apple”, he said with a smirk. “Good one, E. But I can say the same about you”; they smiled at each other.

He looked behind to see that the brothers were nowhere in sight. Erik got closer and she said “getting a little close there. You don’t wanna get in trouble by my brothers, do you?” He chuckled and said, “I ain’t worried about them.” When he was about to wrap his arm around her neck, he felt a palm on his chest and they looked to see it was the Moore Brothers and Sweets rolled her eyes. “Well, well, well. If it ain’t Lean Bean all grown up. What you tryna do”, Darnell asked as he signaled Mitchell to remove his hand. “Guys, we were just talking and besides, I’m not a baby anymore. I can handle myself”, Y/N said making everyone look at her. Erik held her hands up with a chuckle and said “y’all heard her. She can handle herself.” Darnell’s eyes cut to him then he said to Andre “get the food” and signaled Junior to flung her over his shoulder. Darnell said “that was strike two. First was whistling at her. We watching you, Lean. Bean”. They walked into the crowd but Sweets and Erik’s eyes were still on each other. Ron looked to Erik who stood with a look in his eyes like he wasn’t about to give up. Erik started walking and said “that gives me one more strike. I love a good ol’ challenge.”

“Fuck. This is like high school all over again”, Ron said following him. Erik saw Baby Girl being put down, fixing her dress, poking each brother in her chest and taking the food from them walking away; the brothers walked the other way. “I need you to cover me. I’m going in”, Erik said to Ron. He saw her in the food area, dropping off the food and stood by her. “You okay, Sweets”, he asked and she looked up to him. “My bad. I’m good. I just wished they would stop babying me. I’m gonna be thirty soon for God sake.” Erik nodded, started to caress her arm and said “I get it. You the only the girl and you the baby. You gotta put yo foot down, Baby Girl, if you want them to respect you. I mean you are a grown-ass woman after all.”

She looked up at his face and grinned as he did the same. They noticed how the music was turned down so she took his hand into hers and made their way onto the curb with everyone else. The neighborhood got into a huge oval and the leader of the block with her family stood in the middle; she had a headset microphone. “Good afternoon, neighborhood. I just wanted to thank everyone who has come out and brought out many dishes to this affair. I have a few announcements to make beforehand though. I would like to congratulate the new addition to the Smith Family. Jeremiah Richard Smith was born at seven pounds and 8 ounces.” Everyone cheered and Erik leaned into Y/N’s ear and said “that’ll be ours one day”; she grinned. The leader continued with “and also congratulations to the neighborhood’s favorite baby girl, Y/N “Sweets” Moore for her grand opening last week of her own bakery called ‘Baby Girl’s Sweets’ located in the Crenshaw Mall. We are very proud of you”. Everyone applauds and the smile on her face lit Erik’s whole world.

“And finally, we would like to welcome back Mr. Erik Stevens for his safe trip back home from being in the Navy and from his home country of Wakanda.” Everyone cheered and laughed as he took a cheesy bow. “Now, everyone please bow your heads and join hands as we go into prayer.” Everyone did so but before Erik did, he looked across the way to see the Moore Brothers with joined hands and death stared across the way. It reminded him of the US Movie and he could have sworn he heard the horror version of ‘I Got Five on It’ somewhere. Y/N looked up to him and caressed his beard, saying “E, it’s ok. Look down”; he did what he was told after she kissed his cheek.

“Lord Jesus, our brother, be with us today. Bless our happy gathering, and bless this meal that we share. Protect us all, and help us to grow in your love. Lord Jesus, we praise your holy name forever. In Jesus Name, Amen.” Everyone started to make their plates and Y/N with Erik made theirs the same; grilled chicken, mac n cheese, greens, potato salad, and cornbread with cups of her Koolaid. Erik asked, “so, how the bakery doing?” She sipped her drink after she ate a chunk of mac n cheese. “It’s actually really good. My folks have been spreading the word getting me noticed. Even ABC 7 came down. You should come and try some of my cake.” Erik looked at her as she ate again and said “why try some? I want the whole thing.” She looked at him and scooted closer to him. “Be careful. You may get a sweet tooth.” He took her soft hand and kissed it. “Girl, I’ve had a sweet tooth for years now”, he said smoothly and she blushed with her cute nose wrinkled. Nat and Ron came to the table with plates and drinks were dead silent.

“How the food, y’all”, Darnel asked with a smile and cup in his hand, sipping. “Good”, Nat and Ron said but Baby Girl and Erik only looked at one another until Junior and Andre pulled her seat far away and place their seats between them. “Yeah, Ms. Richards did the damn thing with the mac and cheese,” said Mitchell as he pulled up a seat next to their sister and began eating his plate. “Boy, if you don’t stop smacking in my ear, Ima hurt you”, she said ith her brow raised that made E smile. As the group ate, Erik and she would steal looks at one another. As Junior and she talked, Erik sipped from his cup, noticing Darnell looking at him. Nigga staring too damn hard but I got something for all of them, he thought to himself, leaning back into his chair with a smirk.

“So, Baby Girl, when can I try that cake of yours?” Everyone at the table looked at him and she answered “anytime you would like. But, I should warn you. It will be the best cake you have ever had and ever will”, she said. “I would love to have some right now if you don’t mind”, he said and with that, she stood, looking at him with a grin of her own. “Coming. Right. Up.” She looked at Nat and they made their way to the dessert table. Erik watched her with a grin and his head slightly tilted. “Strike Three”, Andre said and Darnell added, “you think you slick, huh nigga? Tryna fuck with our baby girl like we ain’t here. That's aight. Let’s go.” The brothers stood and Ron looked at E. “Cuh, you a dead man. Real talk.”

“Man, shut yo ass up,” E said looking into his friend’s soul. After dessert, the group sat and talked for a little but there was no sign of the brothers anywhere. Erik and Sweets talked and laughed until the announcer said “aight, calling all men. It is time for the basketball game and Andre & Darnell volunteered to be captains. They will call their other four members one by one. Winners get a $50 Visa gift card.” They all applaud and Andre started to read off names. “Aight, so I choose Junior Moore, Toni M. Montell, Chad Jordan, and Ronald D. Duke.” Erik, Y/N, and Nat looked at Ron who stood slowly walking towards his team confused. Darnell said “on my team. I chose Mitchell Moore, Wolf Thomas, Erik ‘Lean Bean’ Stevens and Daniel Bryant.” Baby Girl looked at Erik and shrugged as he stood making his way.

Two hoops were across from one another a couple yards away and the guys were preparing themselves. Y/N stood in front since she was tad short and Erik slid his shirt off, making her lips part. He looked at her and walked over to her with shirt in hand. “Hold this for me, yeah”, he winked and kissed her head. The game was going and it was tied 20 - 20. Darnell’s team actually got along, like if they were family. They cracked jokes and played fought on the sidelines like nothing happened...or was it? There were two minutes left in the game and the opposite team missed the shot but Erik took the rebound. He ran down court being guarded by Mitchell. He looked over at Baby Girl with a smirk and right when he was about to shoot it, Mitchell hit him with a hard elbow to the nose resulting him to fall hard to the ground: he still made the shot.

Mitchell, Junior, Darnell and Andre ran to Erik as the others watched and aimed to attack him. Darnell hit him with a left hook, Erik did the same and Baby Girl screamed “stop it! Leave him alone.” She slipped out her mother’s hands and stood in front of the flying hands which stopped. “Y/N ‘SWEETS’ MOORE, GETCHO LIL ASS OUT THE WAY, NOW. HE AIN’T NO GOOD. WE PROTECTING YOU”, said Darnell but she said “NO! I CARE ABOUT HIM TOO MUCH AND HERE Y’ALL ARE! THE FUCK Y’ALL JUMPING HIM FOR! Y’ALL ACTING LIKE A GROUP OF PUSSY ASS NIGGAS! What y’all couldn’t do one on one or something? He did nothing to y’all but y’all being such fucking idiots that you think you’re protecting me but you’re actually hurting me!” The brothers looked at her and as Darnell reached his hand out, she pushed aside and smacked him with the black side of her right hand. He covered his jaw as his mother pulled them out the street. “Team Andre is disqualified. Team Darnel is the winners.” The crowd went away from the drama and back to the party.

Y/N stood in front of him with nose dripping blood and his head held up. “E, I’m so sorry. I-I don’t know what to do to make this better.” He snatched his shirt out of her hand and held it to his nose. “Don’t bother. Ima just catch you later”, he walked off and heard muffled crying behind. He wanted to stop and hold her but his feet wouldn’t let him. He was in Ron’s house, lying on the couch with an ice pack to his face and eyes closed. “She tried to help, E”, Ron said and Erik said “I know, Ron. But the Moores are right. I ain’t good for her. I wasn’t back then and I’m damn sure not now.”

“E, she don’t give a fuck so why should you? I mean Sweets smacked the dog shit outta her brother and told them off. She didn’t deserve what you did,” Ron said and Erik sat up looking at Ron as he sat in his armchair. “You right. I guess I’ll go apologize since my nose stopped bleeding.” Erik went into the bathroom to see his nose slightly swollen and had a scar on it. He grabbed a band-aid to place on top and took a few aspirins, he put on a black shirt and walked out the door to the dance floor. The sky had gotten dark and the street lights were on. “Hey, Stevens. Wait up”, Darnell said but Erik kept walking. The Moores rand and stood in front of him making him stop. “What the fuck y’all want? Y’all tryna try and jump me again,” he asked and Darnel sighed.

“We sorry, man. I mean, we can be a bit protective but what you expect? We got a baby sister and this shit hard. She ain’t little anymore and we just don’t want her to get hurt”, Mitchell said. “Yeah, we just tryna make sure she good but I guess she can make her own decisions”, added Junior. Andre had his arms folded and said: “Y/N is literally our world and we just don’t want to see her cry.”

“But we made her cry because we tried to kick ya ass. We hate seeing her cry and all. We apologize and if it means anything, we think you cool. The laughing we did earlier was real. You a cool ass nigga, Lean Bean. No hard feelings”, Darnel said and reached his hand out. Erik looked at them all and took his hand into his shaking it. “If y’all don’t mind, Ima go to apologize to my girl”, he said walking to Y/N who back was turned. He tapped her shoulder and she looked up to him. “E, I’m really, really sorry. I didn-”, she said before his thumb grazed her bottom lip. “I’m sorry. I mean. I shouldn’t have been mad at you. Sweets, I love you a lot. I’ve always had.” His lips touched hers in a peck then eventually, as “Nite and Day” by Al B. Sure played through the air, the kiss got needy and intimate with fireworks popping in the background.

𝕊𝕀𝕏 𝕐𝔼𝔸ℝ𝕊 𝕃𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ

It was late July when Erik walked into a huge bakery in jeans, a black tee and matching sneakers Shuri gifted him. He went to the counter to the cashier who had a big smile. “Hi, sir. How can I help you today?” Erik nodded and said, “yeah, lemme get a slice of the famous Sweetie double chocolate cake, a whole Lean Bean pie and lemme get a cute four-year-old Hershey Kiss.” With that, he heard a pair of little feet running to him. He felt a pull at his jeans and a cute little girl with her curly hair pulled into a pineapple style. She wore a pair of jeans with a cute chef jacket and a mini pink apron. “Hi, daddy”, she said smiling up at him. He picked her up and said “hey, baby girl. Where my kisses”, he asked and she kissed all over his face. “That’s more like it. Now, who told you that you can look cute pineapple today?”

“Her mommy did”, a voice from behind the counter said. It was Y/N in a similar outfit and hair as their daughter, Mariah. He leaned down and kissed her lips softly making Mariah giggle. “Are y’all on break now,” he asked Mariah and she nodded hard and fast making them laugh. He sat her down in his lap as Y/N stood at the counter with her cashier. Mariah pulled down his bottom lip and he said “uh, baby girl. What you doing?”

“Momma told me about the stowy of when y’all fell in love and I’m making suwe youw teeth awe okay.” He looked at his daughter confused until she asked “daddy, do you still have a sweet tooth?” He chuckled and looked at his wife. “I will always have a sweet tooth, baby girl.” Sweets looked at them as he looked up at her and they winked at each other with a smile.

𝒯𝒜𝒢𝒢𝐸𝒟 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸𝒮

@muse-of-mbaku

@im5ftbutmythroat66

@chaneajoyyy

@melanin-samii

@theunsweetenedtruth

@doux-ciel

@unicornluvin8765

@vikkidc

@wakandantings

@thadelightfulone

@mzamethystp

@simbiann

@tropicalsun10

@babydoll756

@notoriouslynay

@vminax

@quinsly

@pinkdemolition

@quietstorm-73

@chaoticcashfancroissant

@bugngiz

@chocolatedippedinhoney

@yafavcocoa

@lostgalaxies

@mbakuwife

@youreadthatright

@babygotl01292003

@acceptyourselfloveyourself

@madamslayyy

@yoyolovesbucky

@theogbadbitch

@wakanda-inspired

@bitchacho25

@toniilaney

#Erik Stevens #Erik Killmonger #Erik killmonger x Reader #erik killmonger x oc #sweet tooth fic #angst #love #smut #bp fanfic #artisticestheticreads

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ishakzander · 5 years ago

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‹ RAMI MALEK, HE/HIM, CISMALE, ASEXUAL. › ISHAK ZANDER is the THIRTY-SEVEN year old THAT CAME TO beaver creek, colorado, hired to work as a PASTRY CHEF in the manor. when a friend asked them what they thought of the manor they said, ❝ TO THE DEVIL WITH FALSE MODESTY. ❞ they claim CARRIE is their favorite scary movie, and if they were to die in a horror film they would HAVE SENT A GOODBYE VOICEMAIL TO THEIR FAMILY BEFORE BEING BURIED ALIVE. their fears include SUFFOCATION, HOSPITALS and SNAKES, and they don’t know we know, but… HE WAS INVOLVED IN A REVENGE PORN IN HIGH SCHOOL. ‹ STAFF OF THE MANOR, Pastry Chef. ›

hey hey hey! tis me again, aren, and i’m back with a second muse! and here we go...

STATS—

NAME: Ishak Khalil Zander BIRTHPLACE: Denver, Colorado HOMETOWN: Denver, Colorado DOB: September 28 ZODIAC: Libra AGE: 37 HEIGHT: 5’10 (1.78 m) WEIGHT: 70 kg (154 lbs) HAIR: Black EYES: Green S/R ORIENTATION: Asexual / Demiromantic OCCUPATION(S): Pastry chef. Sous chef (former). Executive pastry chef (former).

Name pronounced as EE-SHAK or ISH-AK.

Egyptian. With some Greek lineage.

Youngest of two; has an older brother.

Majored in Cultural Studies.

After graduating from college, he went and studied in Le Cordon Bleu in Paris, France.

Can speak fluent French, colloquial Egyptian-Arabic, basic Spanish.

An absolute optimist.

His five favorite food groups? Cake, chocolate, macaron, cheese and wine.

Believes in superstition.

200% foodie.

A perfectionist, especially when it comes to his craft.

Catch him snowboarding or hiking during his rare-free time/off days.

Awkward when it comes to technology.

Interned, worked for and was mentored by Wolfgang Puck.

Was the First Family’s executive pastry chef throughout President Obama’s term. (This totally happened in this universe OKAY.)

Then, he moved back to Denver, CO – reunited with his family, and worked as a pastry chef for The Mandalorian. (Yes, I borrowed this from SW but shhh it’s easier for me to remember lmao.)

Come 2018, a job post for the Crenshaw Manor was forwarded to him via email; the pastry chef position. He applied and was hired.

Despite his overall sunny, outgoing, positive disposition… he can be snappy (esp in the kitchen), snarky (don’t bad-mouth immigrants, ever), insensitive (refer to snappy lol).

He’s heard of all the ghost stories and lore concerning the Manor™. He will neither confirm nor deny, but he’s got lots to tell if you’re up for a good story (or some urban myths).

As for his secret, while he wasn’t present when the event took place, he was pressured and manipulated into posting the video online by people he, at the time, thought were his friends. A flagrant outcome, a divisive fallout, and disciplinary actions were taken.

FEARS

SUFFOCATION: He got locked up in a closet when he was little when the fear mounted (and it was dark) and suddenly, he was unable to breathe. HOSPITALS: While he can count the number of times he’s been in a hospital, most had to do with death. He’s lost a cousin, an uncle, a close friend and a co-worker. Want to know what these four have in common? They all died at precisely 3 AM yet different calendar dates and the cause of death were all undetermined. Oh, and mirrors were found shattered in the restrooms. SNAKES: Because they slither and crawl and no thank you fjkvjdfksfbnkj

BIO

Sometimes you watch old videos of yourself. The ones were taken by your older brother, by your mom. There’s something subjective about them, the camera angles, and the crisp sound, your own voice sounding so young. Your mom video calls every now and then when she’s not busy with the restaurant, you are in desperate need of a haircut or a shave, and when you see for yourself you call her back just to agree, to have that good ‘ol mother and son fun banter. You’re good friends with your dad, you’re his confidant. You look up to your brother because he’s quite the role model, he’s fun and witty and everything you’ve aspired to be.

Your childhood was good. You’re the son of Egyptian immigrants. Your father’s a biochemist, and your mother’s a chef; you clearly took after the latter, although you took a lot from the former, too. You’re appreciative and passionate about your roots, proud of your culture. You had good friends, participated in activities in and out of school.

High school was another world, you felt alienated for a season, had to adjust. But you found your place, found your friends. At least, you thought you did. You felt safe, well-liked, ever the social butterfly. Your brother warned you about certain friends, how they never felt right, how they looked at you differently. Of course, you elected to ignore his advice. And then something happened—

It wasn’t the same, you’ve changed. You grew up overnight, forced to face your demons and to deal. Your name was cleared, sure, and your family still loves you. Always have, and they never looked at you any different. They still trust you, they believe in you. Your real friends? They’re a small group, and they stayed—you’re thankful. You’re forgiven, but you’ll never forget. You went to a different high school once the semester’s ended.

College was fun. Your first fling, your first relationship, first drag of mary-jane, first unofficial cook-off. A lot of firsts. Oh, and apparently, you’re now a damn-good cook, quite the baker. One of your best friends questioned why you’re not pursuing Culinary Arts, and you jokingly told him it’s because you want to go to all the free parties and concerts first. You graduated with honors, your family’s proud. You feel good. Still, you felt unaccomplished.

Paris was something else. You wondered how you’ll fit in, how you’ll pull through. But you fucking did. Despite the odds, scheming, and competitive classmates. You’re on top of your class, lauded by your peers and teachers. That’s right, you’re feeling accomplished now.

You started off as a sous chef, a tall task. However, you’re excellent under pressure, you’re damn good at what you do. You’ve faced adversity (dissatisfied customers and foodies), felt a surge of pride (executive chefs and critiques praising your work), humbled (your family and roots are being credited for your skills, your upbringing).

Being the executive pastry chef for the First Family’s a highlight of your life. You didn’t think it was possible, but it happened. It was the First Lady who recommended you when she and her daughters dined at one of Wolfgang Puck’s restaurants. Up to this day, it still feels surreal.

You go back to Colorado once President Obama’s concluded his final term, full of sound and happy memories, friendships, an experience unlike any other. Then, you take up the pastry chef post for a well-known shop, the owner’s a family friend, and personally asked you to fill the spot.

Now comes a new chapter.

You’re now the pastry chef for the Crenshaw Manor. You’re familiar with the stories, the gossip, and everything else in between. You’re familiar with the silence, eerie, and bone-chilling. You hear the whispers, the voices. You’ve seen the figures, have photographic evidence. But you dare not disrupt the balance.

You follow the protocol because you value your post.

Wanted Connections

I don’t have anything specific fbsjjkvjkakbjka

Throw anything at me or let’s brain storm!

I also don’t kind going off chemistry and going with the flow!

Find me on disco or IM here!

#manor.talk #muses that enjoys all things creepy and haunting and cake #joakim also likes cake btw jbkjfsdkjks #manor.intro #sorry for any typos or error #[ intro; ]

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redremys · 5 years ago

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But soon you’re so distracted with what you’re finding You forget to call.

This basement? Was warped. As Remy walked through his aisle, glancing over old paintings and odds and ends, he didn’t truly notice the rocking chair for a while. Rather, his focus more occupied with one of the old boxes that sat not too far from it. Poking through it, finding a single flash light in the midst of old wires and an old game console, it’s when he stands does he notice the television.

“Weird.” He whispered as he approached, ready to possibly sit in the chair himself and see if the old thing turned on. But, with every step the chair began to move. Caution now pulsed through his veins as his voice picked up, “Gabe?” He called out, but no answer. Something was happening, he could feel it. “Hello.” Finally, he said as he approached the chair, but still nothing. So before it he sat, taking note of the older gentleman who occupied the chair.

“My man, are you alright?” He asked, finally drawing the attention of the man.

“Hello.” He answered, which, caused Remy to take a slight step back.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt whatever... this is.” Remy said, gesturing to the television which was off.

“Damned thing hasn’t worked in years.” Harold answered, gesturing to the television. “Would you mind taking a look at it for me?”

Remy wasn’t sure what to do, a piece of him saying to up and leave but, the defeated tone of the man’s voice pulled him to the television, looking behind it.

“It’s not plugged in, you never thought to check that?” Remy said, his tone amused as he reached for the cord and plugged it into a near by outlet.

“Guess I don’t know as much as I thought I did.” The man said, a small smile on his features as he continued to rock in his chair. The television not on yet. It’s then Remy flicked the switch and on the screen nothing but static. “Damn,” Harold said, kicking his foot out to hit the screen. But as he did, it went directly through it.

Now this? Scared the fuck out of Remy.

“Yo man what the fuck,” his tone three octaves above it’s usual tone, “your foot just- fuckin, the screen man what the fuck?”

“First time you’ve ever seen a ghost?” Harold asked, amused at the other’s reaction. Remy, though, was not as amused as he began to gesture.

“What the fuck- Yes? No, maybe... Not?”

“I’d think not, relax, take a seat. What’s your name, son?”

Remy followed the ghosts instructions with ease, sitting down on one of the crates. Looking at the man confused he genuinely for a second forgot his name. “Jeremy Collins, uh, and yours?”

“Harold Crenshaw, Jeremy is a strong name. Was a contender for our son Anthony but, Idalia loved her little Tony.”

“Fuck off man you’re not Harold,” Remy said, the words falling from his lips more out of surprise than accusation.

“Didn’t your mother teach you to watch your mouth, if my Idalia heard you talking like that, it’d be some hot sauce on the tongue.” Harold said, finger wagging in Remy’s face, though there was a small smile on his features. There wasn’t this strange sensation of misery or fear that Remy would have expected coming face to face with a ghost. Rather, he seemed... lonely, maybe out of touch.

“She didn’t, but that’s another story. But, what are you doing down here? I mean, really what the f-... heck,” Remy catching himself brought a smile to Harold’s face before he continued, “are you doing here? If I die I hope I can at least go out a little this basement is kind of... nasty.”

“Don’t play with the devil and expect to not be burned, Jeremy.”

“Remy, please,” Remy interjected, just to be ignored.

“Jeremy-” Harold said, almost as a matter of fact, “your friends are looking for a way to keep the lights on, come with me.” The old man lifts his body from the chair but not without struggle. Remy reached out to help, but, it’s then his hands moved through the man.

“Appreciate it,” Harold smiled as he straightened his posture. “But it’s alright, there’s no pain, just a struggle.”

It’s then the old man lead Remy down the aisle, but as they reached the bottom of the steps things were much different. No one was walking through, the color had drained and lights have dimmed. As if the life was sucked out of the house as they headed toward a dark corner.

Now, though, Harold lifted a box from the ground and revealed a large tote, pulling it out he pulled the lid off revealing a box of lanterns. “Had extra after the tunnels. Don’t take those down, though. These here are important.” Harold said as he pulled one out. Holding it closer to Remy, revealing faint markings carved into the metal.

“Alright what’s that shit there. When they started doing marking shit it meant demons or something, right?” Of course his only knowledge would be from the show he played a role on. Brows knit together as he looked to the man who looked... well, dumbfounded.

“You seem to have all the answers all the time, huh?” Harold asked with a small smirk, then dropped the lamp back into it’s place.

“Yeah, probably, I just mean when people start making all those weird-”

“Shut up, kid. You’re better when you keep your mouth shut. Tell your friends about the lanterns and burn them at night.” Harold rattled off, before his attention was drawn else where. “Aw, shit.”

The man pushed past Remy now, and of course, the faux blond followed. The scene he watched unfold being that of his best friends, holding each other as Shane took his last breath. Remy was quick to try and call out to them, but as he knelt down he felt someone’s hand on his shoulder.

Shane’s hand pulling him back where Remy was quick to stand.

“What the fuck’s going on,” Remy said, but Shane just shrugged. A small smile on his features before he lightly slapped the side of Remy’s face before taking a couple of steps back.

“You know what’s going on Rem, you gotta stop playing up this act. Why didn’t you come looking for me... At all?” Shane asked with a lopsided grin.

“I didn’t know- I did, I went looking around.” Remy defended, though they both knew the answer.

“You avoided it. Because you knew I was already gone. Time to wake up from the dream Rem, this isn’t a vacation anymore.” Shane’s words more demanding than lighthearted now as he walked up the steps. “And Jesus Christ, talk to Nate. Stop with your bitchy attitude and butt hurt bullshit. You know he had to have come for more than just to piss you off.”

And like that, Shane was gone. Harold walking up beside him and slinging an arm around his shoulders. “It’s alright kid, ghosts always think they know so much. Don’t know a god damn thing. Lets get you back.”

“Back?” Remy asked, following Harold’s lead as they walked to the rocking chair. Of which, Remy’s body sat. Lifeless, but not dead? He looked like he was asleep. But before Remy could say anything else, Harold sat him down into the chair.

With a sharp and heavy breath, he woke. Standing up from the chair.

“What the fuck.”

tl;dr // remy is met by harold who takes him over to a corner and shows him lanterns with latin written on them which makes them important and are actually all in the tunnels as well. then remy finds the scene of gabriel holding onto shane who dies. ghost shane calls remy a bitch and to man up before harold puts remy back in his body and out of the veil. of which remy loudly wakes up and yells what the fuck. unsure what is real and what is fake now he’s gonna go find gabriel and shane and be upsetti.

#manor.event #there is a tl;dr at the bottom #all of it is garbage but harold is a good man #TRULY this is all garbage #enjoy #tbt. self para

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novantinuum · 6 years ago

Text

Together in Wanting

Read on AO3, comments and kudos there appreciated

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: T

Words: 2700~

Pairings: Fiddauthor

Story Summary: Ford overanalyzes every aspect of his strengthening crush on his roommate, and Fiddleford finally makes a move. (Content warning for some brief internalized homophobia.)

Very much inspired by an early RP with @the-ill-doctor, and my personal envisioning of how Ford and Fiddleford initially got together in our RP stuff. No context of that is needed to enjoy this, though. :D

It only took the better part of a semester for thoughts of Fiddleford to become hopelessly and inseparably entangled within his mind. Like a single, minuscule spot of ink spilled on thick parchment— the property of capillarity pulling it through each and every layer, pigment spreading so deep one might never hope to separate the two again— whatever bewitching influence the man had unknowingly cast on him had grown and grown and created...

He shifted restlessly under his sheets, stealing away what were likely the last possible shreds of warmth his ratty bedding had to offer.

Well...

It certainly created something new, Ford thought, anxiety buzzing deep through his bones. Something that wasn’t supposed to happen, not to him, not here. And yet, ignoring every hesitant voice that echoed at his peripherals instructing— no, demanding— that he come to his senses least trouble find him, something beautiful. Truth be told, he’d never experienced anything like this before, this... level of inexplicable attachment to another person. It was as intoxicating as it was infuriating. Here he stood, bottom of the pecking order— a college freshman, and one who didn’t have a lick of spare time to dedicate to paltry, fanciful matters such as these— and he just had to choose to be sweet on his own one-and-a-half-year older roommate!

Well, not that he had any choice in the matter. If it were up to choice, he’d probably have jumped ship that fated day he noticed all his thought patterns inevitably looping back around to that warm hearted, gregarious, confidence-for-miles southern genius. With every nervous flutter he felt within, it was almost maddening. Almost, if not for the payoff he received whenever he responded to his puns with an even dorkier one (Hey Fidds, what kind of ghosts haunt the chemistry lab? Methylated spirits) and his roommate’s laugh rang out loud and free.

Dear god, he loved the sound of his laugh. The breathy twang of his voice as he sang along with his banjo, as off key as it was. Hah, and to think he once scorned all of Fiddleford’s southern quirks...! What changed his mind? What became different in the four months they’d coexisted together, since that first day when Ford foolishly almost wrote him off as a brainless southern hick?

Oh, he remembered that day so vividly he could nearly recount the exact emotions that filtered through his being at every turn. When he first met Fiddleford Hadron McGucket, he hated him. He was utterly furious, because he was so low strung about everything, and so folksy, and taking up space in what was supposed to be his single dorm, his sanctuary from the rest of the world, but thanks to a housing mishap became sanctuary to two. He fell right into the insidious trap of judging him by mere appearance, right into blatant hypocrisy. The guilt he still felt for that was palpable, pressing down upon him like lead. Hopefully one day he’d find the right moment to apologize.

Still, it was all too unimaginable.

How could he possibly have known then what he knew now? That he’d fudge his first set of final exams and receive a few A minuses because he, Stanford F. Pines, couldn’t stop thinking about a man? Or that he’d be friends with him to begin with, after bemoaning over him ceaselessly to Ma that first week on the phone? What if he explored this the way he would with one of his experiments, conducted an unbiased scientific query focused on the origin of human romantic interactions within the temporal lobe of the brain? Could he ever pinpoint the moment, the precise variable, that sent that first ripple of nervous energy through his chest? Was it the day Fidds commented on a sketch of his DD&MD character and called them ruggedly handsome, not knowing that Ford based this elven sorcerer on himself? (Or did he know??) Maybe it was the first time he casually rest a hand on his shoulder— an action likely as natural as anything to someone from the tactile South, but entirely foreign to him. Or perhaps it was when they found a common interest in tinkering and stayed up until three am building an alarm clock Rube Goldberg would be proud of out of a busted toaster, some notebook spirals they salvaged from the trash, and an oven mitt?

How many hypotheses could he forge?

He shivered in the bitter January chill, his blankets no longer appropriate protection from the elements. He tilt his neck to catch a glimpse of his roommate, eyes squeezed closed and breathing evenly in the bed across the small dorm. The distance between them was only a few feet at most, but it might as well have been impenetrable. Ford sighed wearily, laying limp on his back, as if the weight of a loss he hadn’t yet experienced had already settled upon him.

Who was he kidding? All these thoughts he’d let enrapture his mind, these idle fantasies of what could be? Foolish. Shameful, that deep, terrified part of him whispered. For a number of reasons.

Reason one, his subconscious monotonously supplied once again. Reason one is that you’re not here at this dead-end school to entangle yourself in the lives of others. You’re here to prove your worth to your family and to academia, however you can. Reason two. He’s your roommate for the rest of the year. If you make a move, and you botch this up, life will become painfully difficult.

Reason three.

Reason three was most of his worries, and why he still hesitated to make any sort of advances. He already knew Fiddleford was... well, queer, as many of the man’s friends oft referred to themselves. But Ford? He wasn’t sure if... he never... How would he even...

True, he never felt any strong inclination towards the so-called ‘fairer sex’ as a kid. Even whatever throwaway crush he had on Cathy Crenshaw in the second grade seemed more manufactured than real, since every facet of society he’d encountered aimed to press upon him the concept of man and woman, groom and wife. But if he’d never experienced anything... romantically... inclined in the first place, then how on earth can he know for sure if that’s what this is? In the end, however, he supposed it wouldn’t be changing much about the way people saw him either way. He was already a poor, Jewish Jersey kid from a mixed family with a rare genetic mutation, why the hell not add ‘gay’ to the mix?

The minutes ticked on into endless oblivion, the only noticeable sound except for the low wind whistling at their window and the drunk laughter of those rowdy frat boys a few doors down. He nestled even further under his blankets, settling so they pulled all the way up to his chin.

He desperately wished he were braver. Truth be told, even if he could amass the courage, he didn’t know if Fiddleford would be interested. Again, his roommate was one and a half years older. They were both adults, sure, but was that still too weird? Would it be a deal breaker? At the very least, he counted himself forever lucky to have him as a friend and confidant, no matter what happened (or didn’t happen) between them. No matter what doubts assailed his thoughts, he would cherish each second he could get with him: Those few stolen moments on campus where Fidds would find him after class and they’d circle around the quad talking about DD&MD or the Apollo missions or that new academic journal on string theory Ford recently found for what felt like hours. Unique instances like last Friday, when they grabbed a bite to eat off campus together at Fidds’ impromptu request. Lazy evenings spent in the dorm not doing anything in particular, just progressing on coursework or personal projects, but always in each other’s welcomed company. Every bit of winter break, when Fiddleford kindly invited him to stay with his family in Tennessee so he didn’t have to hole up in the frigid dorms or return home.

He couldn’t help the hopeless, stupid smile that teased at his lips, his cheeks almost hurting from how wide it ran. See, and this was precisely why his feelings for Fiddleford couldn’t be downplayed as mere friendship or camaraderie! He never got this way thinking about his other DD&MD mates. Still, it was late, he was cold... letting his mind replay the same broken record all night long wouldn’t do him any favors. He yawned, and curled up to conserve as much body heat as possible.

“You still up?” a voice whispered softly from across the dorm.

He froze into a panic. All this time, Fiddleford wasn’t asleep?? Shit, shit, he didn’t notice him staring dazedly at his side of the room the whole time, did he?

“Yeah,” he replied on automatic, instantly regretting not pretending to be deep in slumber.

Fidds turned in his bed so they faced each other, head propped up on his pillow. “It sure is cold, huh.”

“It, ah... It sure is."

“An’ my blanket ain’t helping.”

“Uh, I- I could check if I have an extra?”

He didn’t. But oh, for Fiddleford, he wished he did.

“Y’know... with all that ice outside,” he drawled, “maybe we oughta work together to conserve heat. Mind if I... bunk with you, for the night?”

Never in his life had he been more grateful that he had the freedom to hide his blushing face under the covers. Jesus, Stanford, don’t go falling to pieces just yet.

“Bunk wi- with me?”

“Sure! I reckon that way, we can combine all our bedding and hopefully not freeze ta’ icicles in the middle of night.”

The unexpected proposal left his mind flooded with nothing but formless static, wholly undecided in its path. He... why would... What if they...

“Of course, only if you’re comfortable,” Fiddleford added quickly, and he knew he’d have to give a coherent response soon least he risk coming off as rude.

“I am!” he blurted out. “I mean, I- I’m not opposed. To the idea of it, to us, uh... yes.”

Nailed it.

His roommate grinned. “Be right over, then!”

He watched with a tumultuous mixture of dumbfounded shock (that such a proposition had ever occurred) and eager anticipation (that he would ever want to share a bed in the first place) as the man eagerly bundled up blankets in his arms and traversed across the room to him. While Fidds was taking care of that, he pulled back the corner of his comforter in preparation, as well as scooting himself clear to the wall. Gotta allow him as much space as possible, just in case his reasons for bed sharing weren’t the same as Ford’s reasons for his hands shaking like a leaf in sheer nervousness. Thank goodness he could excuse that away as the bite of the cold.

Fiddleford threw his blankets over the twin sized mattress, and true to form there was an instant increase in warmth. To think he’d nearly forgotten what such comfort felt like! After tucking the blankets in against the far wall— cute, real cute— he climbed in beside him. His long legs brushed against his, meeting with the hem of his sweatpants.

“Here, I can—“ he murmured, shifting his feet to allow him more room. “Is that—?”

“Yeah,” he said, settling in with a soft smile and resting his head on the pillow, nose mere inches from his. “Thanks,” he added, a flash of genuine appreciation in his eyes.

(Misty blue, he noted. Reminded him of the surf.)

Side by side, they lay together in pregnant silence for an unknown duration. Their overlapping heartbeats were the only identifiable sound other than the clock’s ticking, and the never ceasing whistling of the wind. Seems the frat boys, at least, had since gone to sleep.

“Ford...”

“Hmm?”

“You do know I like ya’, right?”

And with that, a jolt of electricity shot through his entire nervous system. His tongue went slack, and Fiddleford spoke again.

“Like, like like you?”

Oh sweet Moses, it was as if his stomach had turned itself inside out- but not in an unpleasant, sick in bed with carbonated water and soda crackers sort of way, not at all. No, rather the odd sensation was light and fluttery. His face felt curiously warm, a welcome change from the frigid conditions he’d suffered in all night up until now. Breathlessly, he tried to splutter out a response.

“Y-you... you mean to say that you—?”

“Was wonderin’ when you’d finally notice? No offense, but your head’s kinda been up in the clouds.”

“I—“

He closed his eyes, steeling his nerves.

“I- really like you, too,” he finally admitted, that fluttery sensation acting up again at declaring it out loud for the first time.

“Oh, we all know,” he said fondly.

His eyes shot open.

“We?"

“What, d’ya think the rest of the crew couldn’t notice? Ford Pines, ‘m sorry ta say you really ain’t as subtle as you think you are, pining away over here.” Fiddleford paused to reach across to his face, and brushed a stray bit of his brown hair behind his ear. He peered thoughtfully into his eyes. “You ain’t subtle, and neither am I, frankly. It’s why I decided to be the first to speak up ‘bout it, ‘cause lord knows it probably wouldn’t‘ve been you.”

“I’d say I resent that, but you’re probably right,” he said with a warm chuckle, already feeling a great deal more confident about the scenario than he did only moments ago.

That wonderful man simply had something about him, something about the upbeat, genuine way he talked, that could put even the most nervous of souls at ease. He couldn’t explain it, not fully, but whenever he was around him he felt inspired to do things he’d never before considered. To take risks, to experience new and better things, to say ‘fuck it’ and sign up for that cryptography elective he desperately wanted to take even though it didn’t apply to his major... To always make the best effort he could to take care of himself, to live striving with purpose regardless of when that purpose feels impossibly distant on the horizon, to laugh daily even when laughter is the last thing he feels he’s humanly capable of...

To fall in love...

“How long has it been,” he asked, suddenly curious, “since you knew?”

“Since I knew...? Knew what? That I liked men? That you had a crush? That- that I also had one?”

“Any of it, really?”

“Hmmm,” Fiddleford thought out loud, tapping his slender finger to his chin. “Well, I figured out I was queer back when I was a kid. Had a crush on this young mailman we used to get ‘round our parts, see. And I knew you had the hots for me ever since I overheard ya’ muttering all sorts of cute things in your sleep.”

A nervous “Heh, heh” was all he could manage in response. He leaned his head ever so slightly closer to him.

“But me? Well, I s’pose it was... Apollo 12. Back in November. We were watching the launch downstairs, in the lounge, and you... you were just so passionate about it. ‘Bout the whole world ‘round us. All my days an’ I’ve never known anyone so in love with discovery, with askin’ why. Spending time with you’s been one of the best things in my life,” he admitted, blushing slightly.

“Same,” Ford agreed, grinning wildly, his cheeks the same shade of red. “So then, if we both...? What now?”

“For now, we sleep,” he said with a short laugh. “If we stay up any later, not even Cafe Cubano could wake us up in time for lecture, I’m sure."

“Ah, but you doubt the power of my ma’s famous Cafe Cubano.”

He snickered, and then— leaned over to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight, Ford.”

The man rolled over then, a respectful offer of privacy within their already intimate arrangement. Ford beamed, still entirely giddy and awed in light of everything that had happened, dusting his fingers over the skin his lips graced.

“Goodnight...” he wished, his restless form finally finding a sense of deep, encompassing peace.

For tonight, at least, his slumber would be sound and dreamless.

#gravity falls #stanford pines #fiddleford mcgucket #fiddauthor #gravity falls fanfiction #my writing stuff #headcanons pulled from for this fic- for anyone curious:#fidds is trans and bisexual #ford is panromantic ace but at this point in college IDs as gay bc i don't imagine he'd find those specific words until much later in his li #also ford is half cuban on his ma's side

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asktemmie-frisk · 7 years ago

Text

The First Steps (Lost and Found Arc)

As the door was closed, everyone in the room, except the good doctor of course, got nervous. They had no idea how they were going to break the news to this human about how they were doing. She could sense the tension, so she offered to let them choose who would start.

"So, who would like to go first?" Asked Dr. Lillian.

No one said anything.

"Okay, then. Who would like to state what their expectations are in group therapy?"

Asriel and Frisk's ears flared up in interest; Chara made an intrigued expression; Asgore and Toriel had a startled look.

"Umm...maybe I could go first?" Asriel asked, raising his hand nervously.

"Very well. What is your name, sir?"

"Um...my name is Asriel."

"Good. We're off to a good start. Why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself?"

"Okay. As everyone else knows, my name is Asriel Dreemurr, I'm the prince of all monsterkind, and I'm in group therapy."

"Why do you suppose you're in group therapy, your majesty?"

Asriel gave a surprised expression to the doctor. He didn't know she would be so respectful of his status so immediately.

"Yes, well...I believe...it's because...for a long time, I wasn't even a monster. In fact, I was really just a flower."

"Ah, I see. That's rather interesting. Would you like to talk a little about your time as a flower, Asriel?"

Dr. Lillian Crenshaw got ready to take notes with a pencil and a notepad.

"Okay. Give me a second."

"Of course, your majesty. You may take as much time as you need to prepare."

Asriel took in a few deep breaths to get ready to speak about his sins as a flower. He was nervous, but he was ready to get it out.

"Wait." Chara intervened.

"Maybe...excuse me, madam. I think you should know what happened before Asriel became a flower."

"Oh, I see. There was more to the story. Very well. Let's go to before such an experience."

"Thank you, madam. Asriel, you ready? I can't tell this without you."

Asriel took in one last breath and faced Chara.

"Yeah. We're ready." Asriel said with a slightly distorted voice.

"Oh. Flowey's getting involved, too?"

"Yeah. We are."

"Okay. Let's do this. Asriel and Flowey, you start with how it was before I fell."

"Right. Before I even met Chara, I was a pretty lonely kid. And it wasn't just because I was a boss monster. It was also because I was the prince of monsters. I was gonna inherit the throne to the entire kingdom, and everyone knew it. That's why most of them wanted nothing to do with me. They were worried that if they picked on me, I could get them in trouble with mom and dad. I didn't wanna be feared, I just wanted a friend, but I never got one for a long time. Then Chara showed up."

"When I fell into the mountain, Asriel found me and took me home to mom and dad. You know, these two older boss monsters? Anyway, these two are named Asgore and Toriel. Asriel is their son, and they were the royal family of monsters. They took me in as their own."

"When Chara and I first met, I was so happy to finally have a friend, and a human one, no less! She was just scared, but she warmed up to mom, dad and I eventually. After spending time with us, we got close enough to consider Chara as a member of our family. Then came that one day when Chara and I accidentally poisoned dad with buttercups. We were trying to make mom proud by making dad a butterscotch pie, but it didn't work. We mistook buttercups for cups OF butter, and he got really sick."

"I tried to laugh it off, trying to hide how terrible I felt for accidentally poisoning dad, but they all knew how I really felt. Later that night, Asriel saw me break down about the whole incident. I just cried so much, he came to me and comforted me. I swear, Asriel's a great big brother. I just wished I could've been a better little sister. And a better daughter."

"What? Chara, why would you say that?" Asked Asgore.

"Becuase I poisoned you by accident, and I felt really guilty about it, but I tried to laugh it off to keep you from seeing how bad I really felt about it. You got sick, and it was my fault. I mean, how was I supposed to know that buttercups were dangerous? They're beautiful, and they look innocent, but they're beyond toxic? How was I supposed to know that beforehand?"

Suddenly, Chara could feel the control over her body leaving her grasp, confirming her parents were taking over. Thanks to Flowey's natural ability to sense a soul, Asriel could feel Charon and Laura's presence becoming known.

"Chara, sweetie, it's okay. You wouldn't have done it if you knew beforehand what buttercups could do." Charon said, comforting his daughter.

"Yes, sweetheart. All your father and I did was tell you to keep away from the flowers." Laura said through Chara.

"We never told you which ones were dangerous, especially not buttercups."

Charon and Laura gave back control to their daughter. She shook her head a little to get her bearings back.

"Whew! Okay. I'm back." She said.

"Mom, dad, it's fine. I forgive you. I know you were just trying to protect me, and you didn't know if I was allergic to flowers or something else, LIKE buttercups or something."

Chara's parents mentally thanked Chara for forgiving them. Then Dr. Lillian got somewhat intrigued.

"That was unexpected." She said.

"Oh, yeah. My parents are dead, and I absorbed their souls. Now I can be with them forever. Sorry I didn't tell you."

"Interesting. Do you perhaps have the ability to speak to, or otherwise communicate, with your deceased relatives?"

"Yes. They can hear everything I say and hear, see everything that I see, experience everything as I do. Would you like to meet them?"

"Why, I dare say I would."

Chara let her parents out of her soul long enough for them to meet the good doctor, who was surprised that Chara was telling the truth.

"Um...hello there. May I ask of your names, please?"

"Y-yes. My name is Charon." The ghost monster said, approaching the doctor with a pacified hand.

"And I am Laura. We are Chara's birth parents." Laura said, standing next to her daughter.

"Ah. I see. My apologies. This is the first time I have had supernatural patients."

"No need to apologize. We are just here with our daughter. Speaking of whom, I think we'll be going back to her now."

Charon and Laura walked into their daughter, who absorbed them again within a matter of seconds. Chara got aroused for a moment, but she shrugged off her feelings.

"Excuse me, Chara, is it? Are you okay?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm fine." Chara said, recoiling from the resurgence of power that left her for a brief moment.

"It's just that whenever I absorb souls, it gives me a pleasurable feeling. It also leaves a taste in my mouth. Depending on the personality of the soul being absorbed, it can either taste good or bad. Those were my parents, and they taste and feel amazing."

"Oh. I see. You are also a hybrid. Just like Frisk. I was told long ago that he was a hybrid between monster and human, you see."

"Oh. Alright. Well, I guess I don't have to be scared at this point."

"Of course not. This is a safe place where you are able to speak of your secrets without persecution. Those who fail, or refuse, to respect that are not welcome in this room at this time."

"Good. Good. Now I can tell you everything we need to say. Anyway, I accidentally poisoned dad, and I felt really bad about it. I tried to hide it, but I couldn't. My family knew the truth.

Later on, I asked if I would be able to go back to the surface. They solemnly said no, but they told me how they became trapped down there in the first place."

"I think I can explain from this point." Said Asgore.

"Toriel and I told Chara that we were trapped in Mount Ebott due to the humans that employed magicians to incarcerate us all. Seven magicians erected the barrier with every last ounce of magic they had within them. With seven human souls, we would be able to destroy the barrier completely. Even if not seven human souls, at least such an equivalency. However, even if you counted every last monster in the underground, we only had enough for the equvalency of ONE human soul in power and maybe one or two monsters."

"Exactly. Upon telling me that, alongside remembering how I poisoned dad, I came up with a plan. The plan was to have Asriel absorb my soul so he could go to the surface, and retrieve six human souls. Six was enough to break the barrier, but I didn't care. My REAL plan was to use Asriel not just to free the monsters, but to kill every last human on the face of the earth. It took some time to try and convince Asriel to go through with it. You remember, Rei?"

Asriel was about to comment that his name is Asriel and not "Rei", but he decided to shrug it off just this once.

"Yeah. I remember. I gotta admit, you sounded so convincing, considering the fact that I didn't want you to die for us. You told me that all we needed were six souls."

"Yeah. Then you cried a little and tried to wuss out on me. I accused you of being a crybaby, and you agreed to do my plan anyway, despite how much you didn't want to."

Chara started to tear up a little. Dr. Lillian noticed and offered her some tissues, which she promptly took about 8.

"After that, I set my plan in motion. I got some buttercups, and I poisoned myself. I took enough to kill a grown man at the time. I was BEYOND sick. It was so painful to suffer from how incredibly toxic those buttercups were. I should've never even gotten close to them."

"Excuse me, doctor, may I have the tissue box, please?"

Dr. Lillian passed the box over to Asriel in a manner that seemed to say "knock yourself out". He started crying as he and Flowey remembered what happened.

"I remember the way Chara looked in her bed. She looked horrible. She was pale in some parts of her face, her eyes looked sunken and bloodshot. It was like she wasn't Chara anymore. We all started crying over her. Dad tried to stay strong for her, telling her to 'stay determined'. She really was the future of monsters and humans, even if she didn't want to admit it. I lost my mettle and tried to get Chara to wake up. I told her I didn't like the plan anymore. You won't believe how she felt after that."

"I think she would, Asriel. Death by buttercup is fucking torture. It was beyond painful to get so incredibly sick. I felt so weak while I just lied there in bed. All I could do was listen to you guys crying over my body. Then, I made the final wish: to take me to see the golden flowers of my village. I knew you guys couldn't grant me my final wish, but I didn't care. It was just a farce to 'give you a motive' to go up to the surface. Then shortly after I made that wish, I stopped breathing and moving. I just...I...I died. As I left my corpse, I saw Asriel, and absorbed me. The second he finished absorbing my soul, I took the reigns on his body."

"I was scared, and I could sense Chara's anxiety and anger too, but I just kept telling myself what I came to the surface for. I kept saying 'six human souls. That's all we need.' I kept replaying the message until Chara got to her village."

"When I got to my so-called 'home', I saw the villagers there. They were shocked that a monster came to the surface with a dead child in their arms. Then I got angry. VERY angry. I remembered every last one of their faces. To be honest, I was surprised, shocked actually, that they saw my dead body in their arms, and they wanted to attack Asriel for it. They thought Asriel killed me! I was like 'WHAT THE FUCK! You guys didn't care about me when I was alive, and now all you want is to avenge my death?!' I swear, they were all just hypocritical animals! They were ready to murder Asriel in cold blood. As I set my body down by those flowers, I turned to them, so angry at how they treated me, I was ready to slaughter every last human in that village. I couldn't control myself anymore. Asriel could tell I was hurting from them and angry at them all. He could feel my rage."

"I can't think of a worse time to man up and grow a pair. Before Chara could use our full power, I forced her to relent and snatched back control. She was beyond angry, and all of it got aimed at me at that moment. She was upset because she couldn't kill them because I refused to let her kill them all. Then came the barrage of weaponry. Boy, did they do a number on me. I got shot, I got stabbed, some of them threw these rocks at me, I got burned a bit by some torches. They launched everything they had at me. I asked them why, and they said it was because I 'killed Chara'. I should've said Chara killed herself, but that probably would've pissed them off even more. Why? Perhaps they would've thought I lied or something. Anyway, after that siege, I grabbed Chara's body and went back home. To the mountain."

"I was so angry at Asriel. I wanted him to give me back control after he took it away. It wasn't just for my plan anymore. It was for those monsters hurting my brother. I wanted them to reap what they had sown. They threw me away like a piece of garbage, and then they decided that wasn't good enough for them, so they try and murder my own brother?! I had enough of them all. I wanted to force them to pay for their wrongdoings. But Asriel wouldn't let me. He was the only voice of reason and I shut him out like it was nothing."

Chara blew her nose and wiped her tears with some of the tissues she got.

"After Asriel carried me back home, I asked him why he brought me back home. He told me he could sense my anger and hatred at some point, but the reason he gave me was a wakeup call. He said it was because I deserved to be with people who actually care about me. After that, I forgave Asriel for ruining the plan I made. Asriel was right to hold back. If he let me kill those humans, we would've started another, more devastating war against humanity, and I don't think anyone that was human would've survived. That's why when we finally succumbed to our injuries, I told him I loved him one last time before we both died."

"I suppose I should've died happy that Chara loved me as my sister until the end, but that day just REFUSES to leave my memories and I alone."

Asriel started crying softly and blew his nose, letting his tears flow unchecked.

"I blamed myself for that for a long time. I know Chara technically did have a role in it, but I still thought it was my fault."

"Yeah. To be honest, I thought it was all my fault because after all that happened, all the monsters fell into despair again. And the worst part is...I can't take any of it back."

"I...I'm so sorry that happened to you both." Dr. Lillian said, lending her heart out to them both.

"I know I can't take away your pain, but I want you two to know that what you did was simply you two trying to do something good. I mean, sure, it didn't work out, but you just wanted to help your people. Never forget that."

Chara and Asriel were surprised. There they were, talking to a human that didn't judge them for what they did, and it was like she heard it all before. They started breaking down a little.

"Thank you for your kindness, ma'am. Thank you so much!" Asriel said before he started wailing.

"You're welcome. If I may be so bold as to ask one of you, how does knowing what you've done feel in hindsight?"

"It's terrifying." Chara said with her voice breaking.

"It's so terrifying because I realized all the consequences of what I've done. My parents are divorced, my brother died and turned into a soulless flower, I restarted an interspecies war, and the worst part is the whole world could've gotten destroyed by Talrok, and all of it was my fault! I should've never taken that first step. If I didn't, none of this would've happened!"

Chara and Asriel broke down in front of Frisk, the doctor and their parents. Frisk, Asgore, and Dr. Lillian looked at them in sympathy. Toriel had annoyed expression and left. She silently closed the door, and went outside. Then, Asgore and the doctor held out their arms, hoping to give the two a shoulder to cry on.

They noticed, and Asriel held onto Dr. Lillian, and Chara desperately clung to Asgore, both of them burying their faces in their chests as they cried. Frisk joined in, and stretched his dog ears long enough to encompass everybody in the hug. He purred affectionately as if to reassure Chara that she would still be loved.

"Chara, Asriel, you don't have to feel alone or guilty anymore. We're here for you." Frisk said, with one eye becoming pink, and the other turning cyan.

Chara and Asriel saw Frisk's eyes, and smiled tearfully at him.

"Thank you, Frisk. I love you." Chara said, starting to control herself.

"I love you, too."

Frisk let them all go and Chara went to him and hugged him. She didn't want to let go at all. She smiled at Frisk, feeling her determination flowing back into her.

"Wow. I...I feel...better? Like a weight was just lifted from my shoulders. Dr. Crenshaw, thank you."

The good doctor simply smiled at Chara placcidly.

"Now, who else would like to go?"

Asgore let go of Chara, ready to start.

"If it is no serious problem, perhaps I could go next?" He asked humbly.

"Of course, sir. Your name is King Asgore, correct?"

"Why, yes. Yes, it is."

"Excellent. If you would be so kind as to tell your story, it would be most important for us all."

"Very well. Let me just say beforehand that I am sorry that you had to hear this."

Everyone sat back down as Asgore got ready to tell his story. He was feeling nervous as well, alongside a little guilty.

#undertale #frisk (undertale)#chara (undertale)#asriel dreemurr #toriel #temmie #asgore dreemurr #boss monster #monster #human #hybrid #temmie-frisk #Chara's parents #Laura #Charon #sorry for the long post #i'm trying to tell a story here #lost and found arc

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katsbarrells · 7 years ago

Photo

That I Would Be Good

(6/?)

Read on AO3.

Teaser: Nicole Haught could count on one hand the number of times she’d stared down the barrel of a gun. In fact, two of the five times had occurred the same night, in the same room, within the same ten minutes, with the eldest Earp standing on the other end of the barrel. Each time, she’d managed to walk away unscathed…every time – except for this one.

Nicole Haught had never been one to turn a blind eye to anything. Even in the throes of an otherworldly madness, she wouldn’t let herself fall into a blind rage. Ms. Pleat-in-her-Pants had been proud of her internal compass, her third eye’s North Star. No matter where she was heading, she knew the direction. This is why even in her bout of madness, she’d never act out with complete reckless abandon. She’d never let her anger harm Dolls, or Waverly (especially Waverly).

Her resurrection had planted within her keen instincts, primal emotions, unparalleled hearing, and well, a killer sense of smell. Most of these would serve her well in her endeavors, though the latter was still questionable. The winter winds whistled through the trees, pushed snow drifts up against their thick trunks, and plugged Nicole’s nostrils with the stale aroma of cheap cigars and gas station liquor.

Her nose crinkled in distaste, the offensive malodor only served to define the direction in which her anger would be placed. Bobo’s Trailer Park.

Bobo Del Ray had been put down a rabid dog. Nicole Haught knew this. He’d met her in hell and made her pay for fighting alongside the Earp heir. He drew such delight in poking and prodding her like cattle lined up for slaughter – that her blood boiled at the thought of being so close to something he helped create. The degenerate community that he cultivated, his legion of demons living in oversized tin cans. Nicole Haught was furious at what Xavier Dolls had done to her, but she was even more furious at what his little experiments reminded her of.

The way the fire had licked her skin. The way the hot iron chains burned through her flesh, rusted metal rubbing against bone. The laughter of Wynonna’s kills filling the abyss. Revenants hated hell because down there, they had nothing to do. Until Nicole was sent down with them. They thanked her with every burn, scratch, and cut for providing them with entertainment. They never touched her – Bobo wouldn’t let them, but oh, did they torture her in so many other ways.

Hoarse laughter cut through the wind’s favorite tune, the sounds of sinister pleasure pushing Nicole over the edge. She’d heard laughter like that a thousand times. Perched atop of a snowbank overlooking the trailer park’s main entrance, Nicole let out a low growl and jumped off of the bank, gracefully sprinting down the hill and through the trailer park’s entrance. A few of the revenants were convened at the center of their little community, assembled around a large bonfire. Nicole could smell the lighter fluid they called vodka on their breath, even from yards away.

She crouched down, pushing herself against the back wall of a trailer and searched for some kind of distraction. After a few steps, she spotted a small branch that had fallen from a nearby tree. She picked it up and whipped it at the back of a revenant’s head.

“What the fu-…”

Nicole grabbed an icicle off of the trailer’s low-hanging roof, and launched it at another revenant. Now suddenly aware of their intruder –the demons broke off to search for their hidden opponent. Their eyes shifted from the bland human spectrum of color into a glowing red.

“Party time,” Nicole whispered to herself, though her voice was lower, colder. If she hadn’t known she’d said the words aloud, the voice would almost be unrecognizable. The former deputy jumped out from the behind the vacant trailer and whistled, arms at her sides, hands sprawled open as her phalanges elongated – nails hardening like steel on her fingertips.

“C’mon boys,” she called out.

The revenants turned to face her in unison six crimson eyes piercing through the darkness. They ran at her with supernatural speed, a speed that she could easily match. A primal, involuntary snarl passed through her lips as she struck the first revenant in the chest, her nails digging deep into his flesh. He cried out in pain as her nails sliced through the thin layers of flesh that covered his diaphragm. Nicole whipped her arm around and tossed the revenant aside as though he were nothing more than a rag doll.

One down (for now).

Two to go.

***

“Why are you pulling over, Dolls? We have to find Nicole.”

Dolls nodded along to the sounds of the youngest Earp’s persistence, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to get any sleep tonight unless he made up for his previous cruelty. “I know,” he hushed her, turning around to meet her gaze. “I promise we’ll find her.”

“Can we hurry up?” Wynonna interrupted. “I have to pee.”

Dolls, Waverly, and Doc rolled their eyes – each looking out the window. Sprawled out before them was a whole lot of nothing. They had driven out close to the salt flats, hoping that the new beast within Nicole would be seeking an open road to run on, but it was becoming clear that she had other plans.

“Pee now if you have to,” Dolls replied, unlocking the doors to the van.

“Seriously?’

“Don’t act like you haven’t done this before.”

“Fine.” Wynonna unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the van, running around the back to relieve herself under the shroud of darkness.

While he waited for Wynonna to finish emptying her bladder, Dolls took the silence as an opportunity to tune into the police scanner. Tweaking a few dials on the van’s stereo-system, he managed to intercept Sheriff Nedley’s radio feed.

Possible 187 with reported 240 over at Bobo’s Trailer Park. One female, 5’10, red hair. Three males, average height, slightly overweight.

Sheriff Nedley’s voice echoed through the radio scanner. “Thank you Deputy Charles. We’re getting some familiar feedback on this call, which can only mean one thing. Black Badge – I’ll meet you over there.”

Dolls shook his head at Nedley’s coyness and laid his hand on the van’s horn. Two honks later, Wynonna was jumping into the van, wiping her hands on her pants.

“Let’s do this thing.”

***

Waverly pushed both her sister and her former lover through the front door of the Earp residence, with the male members of their little suicide squad following closely behind. The youngest Earp’s brand of squirrely authority impressed and terrified her counterparts, but she was on a mission to get a grasp on their current situation.

“You!” She leered at Nicole and pointed to a chair. “You’re in trouble. Sit! Down!”

Nicole, who’s face was lightly dusted with cigar ash and revenant blood, did as she was told.

“And you,” Waverly turned her attention to her older sister, who was snickering at her sister’s tone. “Not a word from you.”

Turning on her heel, Waverly scanned through the remaining crew members: Nedley, Dolls, and Doc. “I want to know exactly what happened back there. And I wanted to know exactly what Nicole is. Comprende?”

Fearing for their lives, they nodded in unison.

Nedley took a step forward, his thumbs hooked around his belt. “I think I should be leaving. I’m not sure if I need to charge Deputy Haught here with murder or …attempted murder?” He rubbed his temples. “On second thought, I ain’t chargin’ her with anything. I’m pretending I know nothing about you people. I got Cake Wars on the TiVo and a mug of tea with my name on it.”

With that, Nedley turned around and left the Earp household, no doubt speeding away from the homestead with blood pressure higher than a harvest moon.

An awkward silence fell upon the room until Doc cleared his throat. “I do believe that I should be retiring for the evening as well. I have some reading to do on The Wikipedia.” Doc slowly stepped backwards and out of the house while Dolls, Wynonna, Waverly, and Nicole watched him retreat. The door slammed shut.

A blanket of understanding settled upon them and they soon affixed themselves to chairs around the kitchen table.

“Okay. I’m just going to say it,” Wynonna broke the silence. “You ripped Hank the Tank Crenshaw’s head clean off.”

“I did, yeah.” Nicole bowed her head, slightly ashamed despite the justifications she could make.

“You’re more than just a run-of-the-mill hellhound, aren’t you? Dolls questioned her, folding his hands in front of him.

Nicole nodded. “I haven’t been…completely honest.”

Waverly gasped, a disappointed sadness washing over her as Nicole confirmed what she already knew.

“There are some things you need to know,” Nicole continued.

Waverly swallowed her pride, recognizing the guilt in Nicole’s eyes, and reached out, taking Nicole’s hand in her own.

“Start at the beginning. Tell us everything.”

***

A thirteen-year old Nicole Haught stood in the bathroom of her parent’s home, trembling with fear. Her pants were ruined, a deep crimson staining the seam. Her mouth was dry, face numb. Her parents told her that this day would come, they just weren’t sure when. She scrambled around the bathroom, looking for something to cover up her rite of passage. Her eyes quickly settled on the sink. She shoved her pants into the bowl and turned the hot water on. Hot water is better at removing stains, right? She furiously pumped the Dial hand soap onto her pants and worked them in her hands, praying to whomever, or whatever, would help the stains go away. “Please, please, please…” she muttered to herself.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. “Nicole? Who are you talking to you? What are you doing in there?” The doorknob wiggled. “Why did you lock the door?”

“Privacy, mom!” She shouted, wincing at what would come next.

A mechanical click signified the unlocking of the bathroom door from the outside. “Make sure you’re decent, I’m coming in.”

Nicole turned the sink off and reached for a towel, wrapping it around her 3/4 –dressed body. The door slowly creaked open, and her mother, Diane, stepped inside.

“Honey, what are you doing in here?”

“Nothing,” she lied coolly.

Diane’s eyes scanned the small interior of the bathroom for some semblance of the truth before she caught a glimpse of Nicole’s pants in the sink. Her eyes lit up, though her lips curved into a frown as she realized what Nicole was trying to do.

“Oh, honey. You need to use cold water for blood stains.”

The hair on the back of Nicole’s neck stood up at her mother’s statement. She swallowed and nodded in response.

“Nicole – you know you shouldn’t hide this from me. Do you know what this means?”

“I’m…a woman now?”

Her mother nodded proudly. “You’re a woman now. And do you know what else?”

Nicole stood frozen, knowing full-well what it meant.

“It means you’re finally old enough to go down to the River. Let me tell the rest of the family. Tonight – we celebrate.”

Two hours later, Nicole was bathed and clothed in a flawless white cotton dress and white veil that her mother had purchased in anticipation of this very day. Her mother and father were standing on either side of her, each holding one of her hands as they stared out into the darkness of the River. Behind them stood dozens of others, each cloaked in black. The women’s faces were hidden by thin black veils, while the men’s faces were reduced to mere shadows beneath their hulking hoods.

Torches lined the river bank, wisps of smoke rising from the wall of fire.

“Are you ready, sweetie?” Diane asked, though something told Nicole that she’d have to be ready, whether or not she wanted to be.

“Yes,” she finally replied.

Her father, Darren, looked down at her and nodded encouragingly. “I’m proud of you, sweetheart. Our God opened up his veins and bled into this very water to nourish and cleanse the souls of those who open up to him. When you take him into your heart he will bestow upon you power, immortality…and most importantly; purpose.”

Nicole bit her tongue to distract herself from the fear that boiled her veins, and nodded.

“It’s time.”

Darren and Diane released their daughter’s hands and moved their hands to her back, pushing her towards the water. Nicole’s knees buckled, but she caught herself and trudged on. As her small feed padded across the riverbank and reached the water, the flames around her lifted, strengthening as she drew nearer.

Now up to her knees in the water, Nicole turned around to face her audience. From the water, they looked like powerful apparitions, haunting her until she bent to their will. That’s exactly what they were.

The young girl took a deep breath, spread her arms, and fell back into the water. The cool liquid warmed as it embraced her, the impenetrable darkness swallowing her whole. Nicole felt the bone-chilling sensation of arms wrapping around her from the river’s floor, holding her in place until she felt her lungs begin to burn. As she gasped for air and sucked in a mouthful of water, the arms released her, pushing her back to the surface.

Her eyes opened, her body floating. The stars were somehow dampened, the moon hidden behind a thick cloud. It took her a moment, but she finally stood up to stare back at her parents and their companions. They had all aligned along the river bank to watch her baptism, their heads bowed in some demented prayer. Nicole looked down at herself. Her pure white cotton dress now dyed obsidian.

“Welcome,” they greeted her in unison. “You are now a servant of the great one. Your devotion will be rewarded in the next life.”

“I am devoted,” Nicole coughed, more fearful than committed.

“Who do you serve?” They asked, their collective voices overwhelming the young girl.

Bulshar.

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