#miles: about that beer I owed 'ya | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years ago

Text

Home Bound (Part 1)

Summary: Dean wakes up in the middle of nowhere Colorado late one night during an ice storm, shoulder dislocated and with no idea how he’s back from the dead. His one and only thought is to keep himself together in order get home to the bunker and figure out what the hell is going on...

Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,400ish

Warnings: language, angst, injury, mention of character death, mourning, supernatural events

A/N: Written entirely in Dean’s POV. Enjoy!

______

“Ow,�� I said quietly to myself. It was dark, middle of the night, and naturally raining. It was cold out, colder than it had been the last time I could remember being out at dark. It must have been winter now which meant it’d been at least a few months. Chuck was dead. Not that he would have brought me back. It must have been Jack. But why bring me back and not the others was interesting.

Cas and Sam were more like fathers to him than I was. I loved the kid, he was family. But I fucked it up a bit too much. He’d always been a scared kid with a million reasons to do the wrong thing and somehow he’d stayed good. I nearly killed him more than once. Nearly did it for what happened with mom. It was an accident and I’d almost pulled the trigger.

“Sorry, Jack,” I mumbled, holding my dislocated shoulder as I walked along the side of the road. “Should have brought back somebody else.”

I took a deep breath, coming up to a telephone pole. I needed to get the arm dealt with and forget about why I felt so crappy. I stopped when I got there and took off my belt, wrapping it around my bicep. I stood back against it and reached behind with my good arm and caught the end of it.

“Okay, okay, okay,” I said. I made sure my back was as flat as could be and my left arm had room to move. “Okay.”

I yanked the belt hard in front of me, shouting as my arm moved back into the socket. I groaned and let go of the belt, slumping down and grabbing my shoulder, taking big inhales of air.

“That’s better,” I said, closing my eyes for a beat. I knew I had to get up again and off the wet grass. It took a moment but I opened my eyes again and got my belt back on. My hand went back to my arm but it was a dull ache now and I could live with that a lot easier. There was still nothing around but dark road, prickly icy rain and trees. “Jack. Show up already.”

I spun around, rain bouncing off the pavement. I’d probably walked two miles from the field I’d woken up in. It wasn’t where I’d died, that was for sure.

“Maybe I’m actually dead,” I said. “That would make sense...but my shoulder wouldn’t be dislocated if that were true. Fuck, get your ass down here kid. What the Hell is going on?”

It was quiet as I stepped back onto the side of the road and kept walking along. There hadn’t been a single car so I was probably out in the middle of nowhere. If Y/N or Sam or anybody had done anything, I’d assume they’d be waiting for me. Not to mention how Sam was standing right beside me when Chuck threw out that force blast thing or whatever it was. He would have died too. Cas had already been gone but he knew it would happen for the plan. Y/N was a damn idiot and did my part of things. She was so fucking stupid. She should have...

“We both knew that neither of us were walking away from that fight. But I didn’t want to have to watch you die and now...I told you not to get in front of me and you died for it. So thanks for that.”

I clenched my fists, wiping off my face. I shook my head. I could be upset later. Something was going on. Something brought me back. The other crap I’d deal with once I knew what the hell was happening.

After another ten or so minutes there was a rumble behind me. I glanced back over my shoulder and turned up my jacket collar, hearing the car slow as it got closer. I kept walking when the lights hit me and cascaded along the road.

“Hey,” I heard when the car came to a crawl beside me. I kept my head low and heard the car stop. “You need a ride or something?”

“I’m good,” I said.

“You know town isn’t for like, ten miles right?”

I stopped and looked inside the car. There were three guys in there, all around my age, two of them bigger looking.

“Come on.”

“I like to walk,” I said, taking a few steps.

“You’re gonna be a popsicle,” the driver said. “You ain’t even-“

“I’m not looking to be in Deliverance tonight so get lost,” I said. I heard him park the car and I frowned when he got out. “Leave me alone.”

“Sorry but no. Me and my friends ain’t gonna hurt you. I don’t know what’s going on with you but you are not alright. It’s freezing out. I don’t know how you got out this far on your own-“

“Fuck off,” I said. The other car doors opened and I took another step away. No way could I take all three with a bad arm.

“He looks upset,” said the one from the backseat.

“Hey. I’m Sam and-“

“Sam?” I asked, the driver nodding.

“Yeah. I’m Sam and these are my buddies Jake and Austin. What’s your name?”

“Dean,” I said, debating taking off into the woods.

“Why don’t you let us drive you into town, Dean? It’s not safe to be out here in the dark on your own.”

“I ain’t getting in a car with people I don’t know,” I said.

“This guy. Geez,” said Jake, arguably the largest of the three. He stepped over and grabbed my arm, pulling me towards the car. “You better not be some psycho axe murderer.”

“Where’s his axe then, genius?” said Sam. “Come on, Dean. At least ride with us for a minute to warm up before you walk again.”

I shrugged off Jake, glaring at him, hoping he got the picture to back off. I reached behind me and was grateful to still find my small pocket knife in the jacket pocket Y/N had sewn in.

“He’s probably on drugs, Samson. Let’s get out of here. I don’t wanna ride in a car with him either,” said Austin.

“Dude. Just chill. Obviously something happened to this guy,” said Sam. He turned back towards me and I narrowed my eyes.

“I appreciate you trying to help and all but let’s go our separate ways,” I said.

“Could you take a hint? You look like you got your ass kicked. Come on before we all freeze,” said Sam.

“Whatever,” I mumbled. Knowing I had the knife made me feel a bit better about the situation anyways. I got in the back beside Jake, Sam waiting a moment before he was driving again. They ignored me for the most part aside from Jake who gave me an occasional side eye in the back. We drove for close to twenty five minutes at a good speed and I realized why he made such a fuss about giving me a ride.

“I’m still hungry,” said Austin from the front.

“Mac’s is open,” said Sam. He drove down a quiet little main street and turned to the right, an all night diner with bright lights filling up the dark night. He parked and they all got out, Sam nodding for me to follow. I stretched my arm as I shut the door behind me, still trying to figure out where the hell I was. “Dean, come on. S’on me.”

“I should really get going,” I said.

“Come on. Least you can do for getting my backseat soaked,” he said. I rolled my eyes but followed him over to the door, the other two already in a booth. I sat down beside Austin, Sam taking the spot across. A waitress came over, all of the men rattling off dishes without even looking at a menu.

“Who’s your friend boys? Better looking than you three put together,” she said with a soft little smile.

“This is Dean. He’ll take a burger with tomato soup and grilled cheese. Extra hot,” said Sam.

“I’ll grab you a dish towel from the back. Your hair is dripping,” she said to me. I nodded and tried to wipe the water away that was soaking down my neck and into my damp shirt. She was back quickly with a few beers and a towel for me, the other three chatting about some basketball game or something.

“So how’d the hell you get all the way out there?” asked Austin. I set the towel down on the booth behind us, swallowing as I sipped from my glass of water. “You didn’t walk all the way from Jefferson did you?”

“Guys. Dean’s having a rough night. Let’s not play twenty questions with him,” said Sam. He gave me a smile and it reminded me of Sammy for a split second. I closed my eyes, an overwhelming urge to start freaking out hitting me. It wasn’t later yet. I’d learned nothing and there wasn’t any time to be wasted getting upset.

“Your girl break up with ya and leave you on the side of the road? I bet that’s it,” said Jake.

“Dude. What’d I just say?” asked Sam.

“Well he’s upset and pretending not to be,” said Jake.

“She was in an accident. She and my brother, my family. I just needed to walk,” I said. They all stared at me and I was tapping my wet boot on the ground, wanting to get some food in me and get the hell out of there.

“I’m sorry man,” said Austin. “You okay?”

“Need to get home is all,” I said, taking another sip of water.

“Where’s that for you?” asked Sam.

“Lebanon,” I said.

“Where’s that?”

“Kansas.”

“You’re in Colorado right now you realize,” said Jake.

“Lay off,” said Sam, bumping his elbow into Jake’s ribs. “Hey. I uh, I got a spare cot in the garage if you want to crash there tonight. It’s not pretty but it’s warm.”

“I gotta go home,” I said.

“Well you’re not gonna get far in an ice storm on foot in the middle of the night.”

I shook my head and was silent the rest of the time we waited for the food to arrive. Sam looked at me every so often but the three of them left me out of the conversation which I was grateful for.

Forty five minutes later Sam had dropped Austin off at home and it was just the two of us in the car. He looked in the rearview and I sighed.

“My place is just around the corner,” he said.

“Why are you so-”

“Cause my fiance died last year and my family’s been through hell long before that. I get it. You don’t want to talk, that’s fine. But you need food and a roof over your head at the very least. I was way worse than you pal. Without those two, I wouldn’t be here anymore. So do you really want out of this car or do you want a warm bed for the night?”

“I’ll be gone before you get up,” I said. He shrugged and drove down the street for a ways, making a few twists and turns, eventually stopping at a modest little cottage style home. I got out after him, following him into the dark house. He flipped on a light and cut through a hallway, opening a door to reveal a semi-full garage.

“Cot is on the shelf. You can take the couch in the living room if you want but you seem to bite my head off at every little thing so you can decide,” he said. He started to leave and I shut my eyes.

“Sam,” I said. I turned around and he gave me a careful smile. “Why would you let a stranger stay in your house?”

“Cause I remember Dean Winchester. Rugaroo. Kansas City. House with the blue front door,” he said. “Saved my parents lives. The ride and meal was cause I’m a nice guy. You can stay in my house for saving my parents.”

“Losing your fiance, that really happen?” I asked.

“Yeah. Really fucking sucks,” he said. He pulled the garage door shut and showed me where to put my boots and jacket. He left for a minute and returned with some dry clothes. “Bathroom is right there.”

“Thanks. Samson,” I said as he tossed a blanket on the couch for me to use. He stood up and his eyes looked sad when they caught mine. “Sorry for being a dick.”

“You’re grieving. You have a right to be a dick,” he said. “Stick around in the morning and I can help you get home. You don’t got much for cash from the looks of it.”

I nodded and he left, pattering around in a room down the hall for a few minutes before it got quiet. I went to the bathroom and put on the dry clothes, hanging mine in the shower and hoping they’d be better in the morning. I washed off my face and found some pain medicine in the drawer for my shoulder, throwing it back before I planted my hands on the counter and took a shaky breath.

“Later,” I said, running my hand over my face and leaving, going back to the couch. I laid down and pulled the blanket over myself. It was warm and smelled nice, something Y/N would like probably. “Jack. If you brought me back, I could do with a talk right now buddy. I’m not mad, I promise.”

The house remained silent and I rolled over to my side, face jammed against the cushions. I wasn’t sure what was going to be waiting at home but I was starting to doubt whether ‘later’ could last until then.

_________

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

#dean winchester #supernatural #spn #dean x reader #spn reader insert #supernatural reader insert #dean x #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean series

278 notes · View notes

bopbopstyles · 4 years ago

Text

Endlessly

RATING: R/smut, maximum angst levels unlocked

WORD COUNT: 7.2k

CATEGORIES: friends to lovers

a/n: this is part two to Residue, the camping!harry fic to which i owe so much. thank you for loving my little one shot, here’s what happens next! massive s/o to @havethetimeofyourstyles for beta reading, @bfharry for helping with concepts, and @meetmeinfleetwood for encouragement. much love xoxo

also i’m currently uploading a series called The Only Exception - i’d love for you to give it a read!

READ PART ONE HERE

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

He was gone so fast that when the door shut it was quiet, the sound defeaning in your ears. You slid down, back hitting the wood of the cabinets and the metal knobs, but you didn’t care. Your arms collapsed around your knees, tucking them into your chest, and the tears threatening to break free fell, coating your cheeks in your regret. More than anything you wished none of this had happened, that you hadn’t ever asked him who the song was about, that he had never told you it was you, they’re all about you, the words echoing in your brain. You wanted it to be like it was before, unrequited feelings that might have been confusing but never caused you to question your ability to be around Harry. They never got blurred, never reached into the category of dangerous to your heart.

And here you were, crying on your kitchen floor over the last boy you thought would ever hurt you.

Y/N and Harry are really good at being friends, but the something more? Not so much.

Waking up in Harry’s bed never quite got normal to you. You had slept together before the camping trip that changed everything, but not like this. Before, you never woke up naked between his sheets, his arm curled around you in a vice grip that you didn’t understand how he maintained overnight, and him, fully naked, lightly snoring on the pillow next to you. Last night he had called you at midnight on the way back from a bar with some friends you didn’t know, smashed and begging for you to come over. You made him add a stop to his Uber ride to pick you up from your apartment and the minute you’d entered the car he had his hands all over you. He had ended up with his head in your lap, your fingers running through his hair, in an attempt to get him to calm down. By the time you were at his house, he was asleep and you roused him.

You had had sex last night, albeit nothing crazy since Harry practically passed out the minute he came, sweaty chest on yours, but you let it slide. He was drunk and tired and you knew he’d make up for it in the morning. A month and a half had passed since the camping trip, and the nights when Harry called you had numbered more than the nights when he hadn’t. You called him just as much, though, so it wasn’t a one-way street. But the difference was that you knew what you were feeling.

Harry was a fucking brick wall, though.

Usually you were good at reading him—you’d known him for long enough, seen him at his most vulnerable, done just about everything together. But in the weeks since your relationship had changed, you couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Because something definitely was wrong, and you weren’t sure if it was your fault or not.

The morning after no one mentioned anything, and neither did you and Harry. Not sure what was going on, or how you wanted to handle it, you kept your distance. You didn’t touch him in any way other than as friends, no PDA, no obvious signs anything had changed. And unfortunately, it had set the tone for the weeks since then.

He had insisted that he didn’t want to tell your friends yet. At first, you were okay with it—you got to have Harry in the privacy of your homes, your moments together fully yours without any peering eyes. But then you’d go out together and you desperately wanted to dance with him, like really dance with him, and you couldn’t. You couldn’t give him a kiss outside a bar or cuddle in the taxi with your friends. And more than anything, it severely limited who you could talk to about what was going on, which meant you had all of these thoughts and fears swirling in your head and no one to talk to about.

And it wasn’t like you were unhappy. Harry was one of your best friends and the sex was fucking insane; you had never had someone touch you like he did. But you also knew that you weren’t your happiest. You wanted more and you didn’t know how to ask for it without ruining the shreds you did have with him. You didn’t know if you could go back to what it was before, the friendship and none of the intimacy you now shared. The thought of him being with someone else made you want to vomit, the idea of someone else’s hands on his skin made your blood boil.

But he was a brick wall and you didn’t know what he wanted. So you stayed in the dark, knowing that at some point things would probably end but you tried not to think about that time.

“Y/N?” You turned your head from where you had been staring at the ceiling, your thoughts moving a mile a minute. “Fuck, my head. I think I drank too much last night.”

“No shit Sherlock.” You sat up when he pulled his arm from your side, his hands running down his face to try and wake himself up.

“Wait--come back, missy.” He pressed a line of kisses up your spine, his favorite thing to do to get you back into bed with him for some shenanigans.

You looked at him. “Do you remember what happened last night?”

He furrowed his brow at you. “Called ya. Picked you up. We came back here, had sex.”

You rolled your eyes at him. Of course he didn’t. “You fell asleep on me literally the second after you came.”

“What?”

“I’m serious.” You pull away, pushing off the mattress. After that you just wanted to start the day, you didn’t have the energy for this.

He grabs your hand though, forcing you to turn and look at him. “I’m sorry I was too drunk to make you come, baby. Can we have a re-do?”

It would be so easy to say yes to him--he was damn hard to refuse when he gave you his puppy eyes. But you really didn’t want to give into him that easy. He should be forced to wait after last night. “Not really in the mood,” you tell him, holding fast. “And you smell like beer.”

“Y/N….” He said, drawing out your name, but you just shook your head.

“I’ll start some coffee, you go shower.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, nodding at you. “Kissy?”

It was moments like these that him not being all the way yours hurt the most. When he acted like he was yours, that you were his. Because you were his, much to your disappointment. You pecked a kiss to his lips, giggling against your will when he tugged you back for another. “Harry…”

“Fine!” Finally he released your neck from his hand and you got out of bed, pulling on a shirt of his from his drawers. He grabbed at your ass, barely visible under the edge of his shirt, and you swatted at him. He was so fucking cheeky in the morning.

In the kitchen, you started a pot of coffee, playing BBC1 on your phone as you watched the coffee drop into the pot. You could hear Harry’s shower upstairs, the subtle humming of a Top 40s song he’d been obsessed with lately. It was moments like this where the line between what you were doing (what were you even doing?) and dating blurred, and you didn’t really know how to clarify it.

You leaned against the counter, your cup in your hands, and stared at the countertop across from you. Last week he had fucked you on it, both tipsy after a night out, your clothes littered on the ground. You had always had memories in his house, but now they were a different sort. Somehow, in the past month and a half, the memories of his house were associated with places you’d had sex, places you had cuddled and kissed, places your clothes had laid. And the prospect of coming into his house and still having to see them but not being able to act on your feelings was one you didn’t like considering.

“Where’s mine?” You looked up and Harry stood in the doorway, shirtless except for his sweats. You nodded to the cup next to you and he smiled. His arms boxed around your body as he reached for it, leaning against the counter with his hip to look at you. “You okay?”

No. “Yeah, fine. I should go—got some errands to run today.”

“Oh. Uh, okay. Want a ride?”

You shook your head. Any more time with Harry would have you further in your head than you really wanted. “I’ll Uber. We’re going to that party at Nick’s tonight, right?”

He blew on his coffee, always scared of it singing his tongue. “Yeah. I can come grab you if you want.”

“No, I’ll take the tube. Thanks though.”

You knew he could tell something was wrong, but he didn’t push it thankfully. He just nodded and let you gather your belongings, waiting for you in the hall to let you out. He kissed your cheek and you reciprocated, stepping out into the warm summer air without a second glance.

The party was in full swing when you arrived, eyes panning immediately for Harry. Most of the other people coming were Nick’s coworkers, people you had met but didn’t exactly know, but Harry was your safety blanket. He was also always painfully on time, hating the idea of someone waiting for him and didn’t mind being the first to arrive. Knowing him, he was probably 15 minutes early.

You found him in the kitchen making a gin and tonic, speaking to who you thought was another DJ at Radio 1, Nick nowhere to be found but you weren’t surprised. He looked good, as usual, a white button up tucked into flared black pants, a pair of sunnies pushed up on his head and his rings glinting in the kitchen light. You painted his fingernails a few days ago a rosy pink and the color was still on, albeit a bit chipped from playing guitar and cooking, knowing him.

His eyes lit up at the sight of you, the reaction turning your gut. You were still feeling weird after this morning, a sense of uneasiness lingering despite all you had tried (a bath, a cry with your friend Jordan, a bowl of pasta). “Y/N!” You made your way over, accepting the arm he offered around your shoulders, and the drink he shoved into your hand. The gin and tonic he had just made—your favorite, something he knew well. “Y/N, this is Miles. Works with Nick. This is Nick and I’s friend Y/N.”

The word friend jolted you for a second, although it wasn’t anything new. He’d been introducing you like this for years, and had continued in the past month. There wasn’t ever a discussion about it—the consistency in what he called you. It just…never changed, and you didn’t bring it up. “Nice to meet you.”

You sat in the conversation for a bit longer, engaging where required to seem like an attentive member of the chat, but in reality your mind was focused on where Harry was brushing his fingers up and down your back, his hand having drifted from your shoulder. He did this sometimes—touched you when he knew no one could see, the two of your backs facing a wall. Usually it had your skin on fire, but tonight you didn’t want him touching you after calling you his friend. “Have you seen Nick?” You asked him, pulling away just enough so his hand dropped away.

“Uh, yeah, out in the back.” His gaze drifted over your face, trying to understand the change in pace, but you didn’t give him the time to analyze it.

You said goodbye to Miles and walk towards the back, pulling open the sliding door leading to the back patio. Nick was holding court, as usual, to a circle of people who were all laughing hysterically. Yet again, as usual. It was exactly what you wanted—something to entertain your mind, maybe even pick up your night. You had been thinking over last night constantly and you couldn’t put your finger on what it was that pissed you off so much, but it had and you couldn’t shake it. Slipping in between Annie Mac and another one of Nick’s friends who you didn’t know, Nick’s eyes caught yours and smiled, not pausing in his story he was telling about interviewing some celebrity.

Annie turned to you and asked about work, which you happily answered, enjoying having something to chat about. Eventually, Nick finished his story and the group dispersed, him making his way over to you and Annie.

“Did you find Haz?” He asked, giving you a peck on the temple like he always did. “He was lookin’ for you earlier.”

You nodded, lifting your glass. “Present from the bartender. He was talking to your coworker—Miles?”

“I’m going to go say hi,” Annie said, squeezing your elbow. “Talk later?”

“Love to,” you replied before she walked away, leaving you and Nick alone.

Nick gave you a hard look, one you knew well—it meant he was about to give you some truth, free of cost. “What’s wrong, Y/N? Look pissed off at someone.”

And he was correct, unsurprisingly. “I’m fine. Thanks though.” It’s not like you could tell Nick—he was specifically one of the people Harry and you hadn’t told.

“Bullshit. What’d Harry do?”

You twirled the cup in your palm. He always saw through your shit, every single time. “How’d you know it was Harry?”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “The first thing he asked when he got here was where you were and then watched the door like a hawk. Could tell somethin’ was up.”

“He was a dick,” you said, hoping that would cover the bases. It was the general idea, without specifics.

“Not surprised. What happened, love?”

Well you couldn’t exactly tell him that the two of you had sex and then Harry fell asleep before you came, forgot about it in the morning, and made you feel like shit without even realizing it, could you? “It’s nothing. Just need some time to stew in it.”

Nick eyed you, probably deciding whether to push or not. “Well, I’m always here to talk, you know that. Love you both to pieces but sometimes the two of you can be so thick.”

This time it was you who was confused. “What?”

“Fuck,” he mumbled, eyes falling to the ground. “I—nothing. Forget I said anything.”

Usually Nick was one for some gossip, but it seemed this wasn’t something he wanted to dig into, even though you were intrigued by his meaning. Had Harry said something to him? Or did he actually know what was going on, but chose not to say anything. “Ok. Well I’m going to go get another—want a refill?”

“Love one,” he told you, hand to your back. “Lead the way, mi’lady.”

You stood in the hall, pressing Confirm on your Uber ride, when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You knew who it was before you even turned around, Harry’s cologne permanently imprinted on your brain. The entire night you had tried to avoid him, not wanting to have to hear him introduce you as his friend all over again, but it seemed he had found you anyways.

“Heading out?”

You nodded and eyes fell to his lip, which he had bit slightly. “You too?”

“Was about to call a car. Want to share?”

Your was heading to your apartment, where you had a bottle of wine and a warm bath waiting for you. “I’m heading home.”

He ran a hand through his hair absentmindedly. “I—could I come over?”

The correct answer would’ve been no. Keep the distance you’d established, let your thoughts collect and calm before you put yourself in a situation you knew wouldn’t be good. But unfortunately, you had never been good at saying no to him. “Okay,” you told him, and changed the number of seats in the car from one to two.

He fiddled with his phone as you waited, trying to talk to you but your brain was working a mile a minute, trying to figure out what you wanted to do tonight. Did you want to do anything? You supposed you could just let him sleep on the couch. But would he be offended? Was this the path to the end of your friendship? The icy distance between you was so cold you tensed when he placed his hand to your back when the car pulled up, something you knew probably bothered him. You couldn’t help your body’s reaction, though.

At least you didn’t have to keep him busy in the car ride. The Uber driver recognized Harry immediately and asked him a slew of questions, all sweet ones, and asked for an autograph for his daughter who was eight and a huge fan. You just watched in silence, the interaction one you had seen time and time again, but this time it made you annoyed—you wanted to stay mad at Harry, but he made it so hard when he did shit like this.

The lock slid shut on your door and you toed off your sandals, your bag lying on the hall table and keys in the dish, letting Harry follow behind you to the kitchen. A neutral space, one without obvious seats that would require close proximity.

“Water?” You asked him pulling down a glass for yourself before grabbing the bottle of filtered water from your fridge.

“Yeah, thanks.” He rested against the counter opposite you, shirt unbuttoned one more button than it had been at the party. You didn’t know when he had done that, but the sight of chest, the tips of the swallows, made you turn away and pay attention to the task at hand.

Suddenly, his body was behind yours, breathing in your ear, inches away from you. It was consuming, the feeling of him close to you. Usually, you would twirl around and smash your lips together, probably happily let him have his way with you on the floor of your kitchen. This time, though, it made you falter, water jug hitting the countertop.

It was silent in your flat besides the faint sound of honks and sirens from the streets below, so Harry’s breath in your ear was all you heard. That and the sound of your own heartbeat, clattering in your chest. “Y/N.” Your name on his lips was a question, an obvious beg. “Talk to me, please.”

“Nothin’s wrong,” you said. You didn’t want to have this conversation, because you feared it would mean the end. The end of everything between you, and you didn’t want that.

“Bullshit. You’ve barely looked at me since this morning, ignored me at Nick’s, and I can see the wheels turning in your head. I did something, but I don’t know what, and I need you to talk to me.”

He needed you to talk to him? That set you off, the anger boiling inside of your chest, body whirling around to face him. “You want to know what’s up? Fine. You begged me to come over last night—begged—and then when I did, you fucked me and fell asleep, not a second thought as to me and what I needed. This morning you had no memory of it, acted like it was normal and completely fine. But me? Harry, I felt fucking used last night.” The word slapped him in the face, body flinching at its intention. But the minute it was out, it felt right. That’s how you felt.

“Fuck, Y/N, I didn’t know—“

You held up your hand, cutting him off. “But that’s not even it. And I know this might spell the end of us, but I cannot take the song and dance anymore, Harry. You introduced me tonight as your friend, meanwhile I’ve been in your bed nearly every night for the past month and a half.” He was staring at you, his words like whiplash, but you didn’t slow. You needed to get it out before you lost your nerve. “And I’m fucking done. If that’s all this is going to be—me warming your bed and making you coffee in the morning and pretending like nothing’s happening when we’re around our best friends, I’m done.”

Harry was quiet, eyes flickering between yours as your chest rose and fell, adrenaline pouring through your veins at your confession. When he finally broke the silence, his words were a broken record in your ears. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to make you feel like that, I thought we were fine—“

“Get out.” The words punched him in the gut and you didn’t care. It was past apologies and he knew it. You knew it and you weren’t going to stand for it anymore. “Get out, Harry. Get out of my apartment.” He didn’t move though, and the anger was coiling in your belly, the tears searing behind your eyes. “Get out!” You screamed at him, finally forcing him into action.

He was scrambling to grab his things, one last look at you before he was out of your place, the door slamming shut behind him.

And here you were, crying on your kitchen floor over the last boy you thought would ever hurt you.

Harry knew he was an idiot, but that wasn’t news. In most of his relationships he had been an idiot in some way or an another, but this? This was the worst it had ever been. It had taken every ounce of his soul for him to tell you the truth of how he felt, and not he had dug himself into a hole of avoidance with the girl he loved.

It was true.

He loved you.

He had told you before, but not since that first time. The words had been caught in his throat and he hated that. Because his feelings hadn’t changed, only grown. It drove him crazy that it had taken you yelling at him to get out of your apartment, him hurting you (and himself) tor realize it, but at least he finally had.

It had settled for him when Camille texted him a few days after your fight. He was pissed off and sad, alternating between running miles on his treadmill, trying to outrun his own thoughts, and lying in bed watching Love Island re-runs because you loved watching it and it made him think of you. It was unhealthy and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop. And then Camille texted him that she was in town and thought of him, and the part of him that still wondered if they would ever get back together overpowered the part of him that was smart, and he replied.

They ended up talking that night over a glass of wine in a tiny bar they used to frequent when they were together and in London, and when he looked at her, he didn’t feel anything. The only thing he could think about was you, about how you had held him when he cried and helped him piece himself back together, and here he was in front of Camille and felt nothing. You would probably be proud of him in a way, but at the same time, the reason he wasn’t feeling anything for Camille was because his emotions were yours. His heart belonged to you. And he told Camille because he had to tell someone, and she listened, surprisingly. Told he was an asshole, which was something he frequently had told himself over the past few days, and to get over himself and talk to you.

And he had every intention to. He kept picking up the phone to call you, opening your contact and hovering over the message button, but then he realized he didn’t know what to say. Not because he didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know what not to say. He had so many things he wanted to say there was no way to write you a text or call you and most likely leave a voicemail. He had enough to fill an entire notebook with, write an album of songs, a symphony even, of his feelings and thoughts about you.

Because he was in love with you. Hopelessly, endlessly, in love with you.

He felt it in the very depths of his soul and he never wanted to forget it. He didn’t want to get over you. He didn’t want to have to stop talking to you, to scrub the memories of you from his home, which were everywhere he looked. To wash his clothes that you wore so many times that the scent of you finally left them, to return your belongings that had ended up in his closets and counters. To put the photos of the two of you in a box and hide them, to stop buying your favorite wine at Tesco, to avoid your favorite bars and restaurants so he didn’t have to see you. To wonder if you’d be at a party and if he should go, because he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

He didn’t want to do any of that. He wanted to love you, to bask in the feeling that came over him when he saw you, to linger there and let himself burn in the sunlight that was you. Anne told him he was a hopeless romantic, but for you, he had all the hope in the world because he could see you being together forever. And to lose you…the thought was too much for him to bear.

All of that brought him to your door, the rain coming down in sheets around him, his shirt and pants soaked through, shoes squeaking on the stairs as he climbed to your apartment. He knew the building code by heart, not even having to ring your apartment to get inside, which he was happy for. He wanted one less place for you to refuse him entry. He pushed his hair back, the droplets flickering over his skin, and wondered what he looked like right now. Probably a bit on the crazy side.

But that was okay with him, because he was. Crazy for you.

He stopped in front of your door, 2A and the knocker staring back at him, mocking him, wondering if he’d have the guts to do it. Your face popped into his brain, and he wondered what you were going to say. He had a speech prepared—one he had figured out as he drove here, mulling over the words and their meaning, over analyzing it all to make sure he said exactly what he wanted because if he got in the door he couldn’t risk fucking it up again. Before he could stop himself, he rapped the knocker on your door, stepping back and taking a deep breath.

The wait was the worst part. The wondering if you would open the door at all. He knew you were home—saw your lights on from the street and your bike locked up outside. He played with the hem of his tour tank top, trying to squeeze out the water in the material.

And then all of a sudden he heard the hinges of the door squeak and you were standing there in shorts and an oversized shirt, glasses on your nose and hair up in a ponytail. It made his heart ache to see you after so many days apart, especially days spent thinking of nothing but you.

“You’re wet,” you said bluntly, taking in his appearance.

“Raining out,” he replied, eyes fluttering over your face, trying to take in your demeanor. You seemed on edge, which was understandable, but not angry. Exhausted, maybe, judging from the look in your eyes. “Can I come in? I—I need to tell you something.”

He didn’t you wanted to talk, so he just said tell you something. Because if that’s all it was, that’s all it was, but at least then he’d have been open and honest with you. Laid it all out there, bare and vulnerable. “Yeah,” you said after a beat, opening the door wide enough for him to slip through before shutting it behind him, sliding the chain in the lock.

Standing in your apartment was surreal to him, the rugs and warm lights and books scattered on every surface possible, a big piece of art he’d given you for your birthday last year over the sofa, the faint smell of cinnamon. You stress baked, just like him. He wondered it you did cinnamon rolls, one of your favorite things. His eyes flickered back to you, leaning against the back of your couch and staring at him, waiting for him to speak. He took one step forward so he was farther into your place, and then opened his mouth, the speech he had prepared flowing easily from his throat.

“I love you,” he started, the catch in your breath making his heart skip a beat. “I know I told you on the trip, but I haven’t said it since, and I think for the same reason as why I didn’t call you my girlfriend. I think my brain had built up for so long what it would be like to be with you that when it actually happened I didn’t know what to do. How to be your boyfriend, how to date you, how to be with you like I’d always thought. So I just reverted to what I knew, but with the added sex.

“And that wasn’t fair to either of us. It eroded all the things I love about our relationship—how we talk about everything, how honest we are. Made me feel like we were pretending in front of each other, but I didn’t know how to stop it after it had been happening for so long, you know? And the prospect of fucking it all up and losing you was worse than letting the in-between thing just stretch out. So I just didn’t say anything, even though it was eating away at me.

“I thought you were fine with it, actually. You never said anything, so I thought we were fine, generally speaking. But I know now that was bullshit not only because you told me, but because how could you have been fine with it? I had told you I loved you, confessed all these feelings, and then told you I wanted to keep it all a secret because I couldn’t get my own brain in order. I think that I thought if we told people it would be real, and it being real frightened me to bits.”

He ran a hand through his hair, the droplets coating his rings. “I know that all probably makes no sense to you, but what I’m trying to say, Y/N, is that I love you. I haven’t stopped loving you.” He laughed nervously, his heart seizing. “I don’t know how to not love you. And I don’t want to stop—I can’t lose you, not again. I need you, even though I know I’ve been shit to you these past weeks. So I’m here and I’m begging you to forgive me, to let us try this out properly. To be my girlfriend, tell all of our friends and family, do it for real this time.”

The silence stretched between them for a second, then two. His eyes stayed on yours, gaze locked as you processed his words. And just when he was about to open his mouth again, to tell you he would leave, you were crossing the distance between them and your lips were on his, an answer to his question.

Kissing you was like returning to an old friend. It felt right in every part of his body, the way you leaned into him, the way you curled your fingers through his hair and touched him, hands on his chest. His lips chased yours, desperate for anything you would give him, a stray dog begging for scraps. His hands wrapped around your waist, holding you close, sighing at the feeling of your warm skin on his.

Your lips parted and returned, lovers in a well-rehearsed dance. A song they knew all the words to.

Your hands pulled his wet t-shirt over his head and he tugged at your now damp one, kisses to the rise of your breasts that made you arch into him and gasp. Your sounds were music to his ears, a chorus he had been dying to hear again. You stumbled over one another’s feet as he moved you to your bedroom, desperate to see all of you. He knew you felt the same from how you pulled at his hands, tugging him into your room and flipping on the light by your bedside, the soft glow allowing him to see shadows of your bodies on the walls.

“Y/N,” he breathed against your neck, “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you replied, tugging hips to yours and rolling against them sinfully. “Need you.”

That had him moving faster than he thought possible. He shucked off his pants, then yours, leaving you in a pair of blue cotton underwear that he ripped without a second thought. You yelped but he didn’t care, he’d buy you another he whispered to you, a promise he had no intention of breaking. He’d buy you the world, no matter the price.

Your hands pressed against his chest, forcing him onto the bed, body bouncing. Quickly he clamored back, gaining more space for the two of you and you followed, a lion on the hunt. You knees pressed to either side of his hips and rolled softly, a groan flying from both of your mouths before they met again.

He pulled at the clasp of your bra, needing to see you bare for him and it was a sight he had missed desperately. Leaning up, hands holding your chest in place, he rolled your nipple into his mouth, a cry falling from your lips that spelled his name. “Fuck,” he murmured into your skin as you rocked over him, bare clit on his dick. “Can feel how wet you are, baby.”

“All for you,” you said, your words a whimper that had him groaning and suckling on your nipple immediately. He loved every moment with you, but these ones were near the top. When he had the raw, unfiltered you, witnessing your body respond to every thing he offered you, taking and taking and taking. And he didn’t mind. You had given him the opportunity to love you and that was enough for him.

His hand found its way down your body, a torturing path that had your squirming in his arms, before his fingers brushed your clit. You arched into him, breasts flushed with his chest, head lolling into the crook of his neck. He played you like an instrument he knew by heart, knowing exactly what you needed. A slow circle, then fast swipes clockwise, a pinch to your clit. A teasing brush to your slit, his name on your lips before he pulled you into him again. He got distracted with your lips, but you didn’t seem to mind. You found your own pleasure, rolling your hips over him repeatedly, the wetness of you driving him insane.

The feeling of you over him, completely bare, was enough for him to come right there and then.

“Love,” he said, throat gravelly as he spoke. “I—I’m going to come if you keep that up and I want you to come before I fuck you.”

But you shook your head, lips pressing into his jaw, where a brush of stubble had grown over the past few days. He knew you liked it, how it felt against your skin, something to remember him by. “I just want you,” you told him, eyes meeting his. “Want to come with you.”

His head dropped back because those words brought him to the brink. “You’re a dream,” he whispered, pulling you down with him before rolling you over. “This okay—like this?”

You nodded, pushing his wet hair back so he could see you better. “I like it like this. Know it’s simple, but I can see you.”

He knew exactly what you meant. “Me too.” Without meaning to, he shifted his hips and his tip brushed against your clit, a wanton moan exploding from your chest into your bedroom. “Ready, baby? Ready for me to show me how much I love you?”

Your arms locked around his neck and you nodded, capturing his lips in yours again. “Show me everything,” you whimpered when he brushed against you again, teasing both of you. “Everything, Harry.”

His name on your lips did it. Reaching a hand down, he found his dick and he moved so he could brush your slit, your head tipping back. “Look at me,” he said, and you looked back at him, chest rising and falling. And with that, he pushed in slowly, letting your walls capture every inch of him.

Watching you when he pushed into you was one of his favorite things. Could take photos of your face like that for hours, put them in an art gallery because it was art in its finest form. “Oh my god,” you panted, hands scrambling at his back, his shoulder blades, searching for purchase. When you found it, your fingernails dug into his skin and he hissed, loving that he would have marks of you on him tomorrow.

With that, he pulled out and then back in, watching you as your jaw dropped open. “Feel me, baby? Am I deep for you?” The words tumbled from him without a thought. Somehow having sex with you just made his brain melt away—he wasn’t like this with other people, but with you, he wanted to tell you everything. Wanted you to know every thought on his brain.

He rested his head on your chest, your hands drifting from his back to his scalp, tugging on the hair and a moan ripping through his body. His hands rested next to your shoulders, helping him find strength to push in and out of you at a rhythm that was both not enough and everything all at once. “Need more,” you moaned. “Please, H.”

Your wish was his command. He drew back before slamming into you, hips meeting yours with a smack that had your legs coming up around his waist for better access. Hands met skin as you held on, your body moving up and down on the duvet as he pushed into you. His lips missed your skin, so he rectified it with a nip at your collarbone, sucking into your skin harshly, leaving a mark for tomorrow that he would top up in the morning. It would be like a tattoo on your skin, reminding the world that you were his. Finally.

“So deep.” Your words made him see stars. He was close already, he was close before even entered you, but the feeling of being so deep inside of you was making him teeter dangerously on the edge.

You yelped when he pressed deeper, brushing against the spot he knew you loved. “Never gonna make you made ever again,” he said, words a jumbled mess in his brain. He could feel the sweat between your bodies and he loved how your skin stuck to each other, not wanting to part. “Promise, Y/N. You don’t deserve that.”

“Then keep fucking me and make me cum, maybe I won’t be mad anymore,” you said and your words made him slam into you.

“Yeah? Want me to make you come?” He wanted to you see you finish. He knew you were taunting him but he didn’t care, it made him work harder for your orgasm, it a prize he desperately needed tonight. “Gonna make you come baby, promise. Need it. Need to feel you squeeze around me, fuck you’re so good, need to feel you come for me. That’s all I want, love. All I want is you.”

You pulled his head, lips meeting and he rocked into you, teeth gnashing as he brought you closer to your release. He caught your moans in his mouth and sent them right back, a tinge of his own mixed in. Lips fought for dominance as he cradled your head in his arms, holding you tight to his body. He wanted to have you close when you came, wanted to feel you shake against him.

When you did, it was tidal wave that he felt before he heard it. He felt you clamp down around him, your spine arch. Then, he heard the shrieks from your mouth, the ones made up of purely his name, Harry a chant on your lips. It had him coming to his own release immediately, the feeling and sight of you finishing around him, eyes wide and staring into his, knowing he loved watching you. He slammed into you, hips stuttering as he shot into you, ropes of come painting your walls that had goosebumps covering his skin as he shivered.

It took him a few beats to regain his breath and when he did, you were running your fingers down his spine. He loved it when you did it, the feeling of you impossibly close in more ways than one.

“I love you,” you said, voice hoarse in his ears before pressing a kiss to his nose. “Endlessly.” You pulled him flush on your skin, forcing him to let go and let you shoulder his weight which he knew you didn’t mind. Quite liked it actually.

His fingers wove through the strands of your hair scattered on the bed that had broken from of your ponytail. “I love you too.”

“We’re going to do this, huh?” You asked him and he chuckled.

“Yeah,” he told you and you giggled in his ear. Giggled. He loved that sound, the childish glee in your voice. “Want to show you off, show everyone you’re mine.”

He went to pull out of you, but you held him fast. “Can you just, stay here for a second?”

His gaze shifted to your eyes and he nodded. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.” He rolled slowly, taking you with him and keeping himself sheathed inside of you. It felt impossibly close, like he was inside of your skin, and it was everything he needed. After being apart from you for days, and even before that not having you like this—your heart, mind, soul—it was a euphoric feeling.

“I’ve got cinnamon rolls for the morning,” you said out of nowhere.

He brushed a kiss to your shoulder and felt you smile against his skin. “One of the many reasons that I love you.” You nuzzled into his neck and he sighed.

He was home.

talk to me about Residue here | masterlist here

#Harry Styles Fan Fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles drabble #harry styles smut #1dff #one direction smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #mine

602 notes · View notes

bitchassbucky · 4 years ago

Text

Ｔｗｉｎｅｄ: ＡＳｏｕｌｍａｔｅＡＵ

📎Word count: 1.5k

📎Warning/s: Mentions of death, f-bombs galore. MINORS DNI.

📎A/N: Hey lovelies <3 @honeyvbarnes and I worked on this Soulmate AU and we hope that y’all like it! I loved working with my bff and we’ll do it again hopefully <3 enjoy!

📎Honeyvbarnes’s Masterlist

📎Masterlist || Ask || AFTERDARK

When Bucky Barnes died back in 1943, he died knowing that he lived his life without a soulmate.

When he turned eighteen, he waited for a flash of annoyance, stress, or anything emotionally malicious that came from his soulmate since emotional pain is supposedly said to connect two wandering souls no matter how far they are from each other.

A bit sadistic, Steve Rogers would say. But Bucky would always counter his friend’s point with, “you see, Stevie when your soulmate gets hurt, you’re the only one who can hear them-- at least in your head-- and you can help them, you can help them find you,”

“Still, I don’t want someone to suffer just to make a connection with me,” Steve said, ever a gentle-hearted (but strong-headed) person.

“They’re not gon’a. Annoyance is enough for them to create a short connection,”

“What I’m hearing is that I get a pass for annoying you more,”

It’s hot. Searing. Humid. The air is so thick, you can almost choke on it.

The beach is filled with people-- couples and families mostly and your mind wanders to soulmates.

You never had one and as far as you’re concerned, you’re better off without one.

Since your eighteenth birthday, you felt a great deal of stress coming off from your soulmate. You had to go through various therapy sessions, evaluations, and couple’s counseling since the supposed love of your life won’t answer to your pleas and calls as to what the fuck is going on inside their head.

They never let you in and it seems like they will never let you in.

Not now and not ever especially since the torment of nightmarish inner turmoil had subsided; granted, there are still some night terrors but it doesn’t compare to the pain you felt back then.

You started thinking maybe they were in the army or something of that sort.

Maybe, maybe. What if, what if

That’s your inner turmoil; the boiling water inside the pot.

You weren’t sure where to start looking for them-- you spent years trying to get through but you never get as much as a word.

So you gave up.

And not a lot of people give up on their soulmates, at least not the ones who never had to spend literal years of their lives trying to coax out a word out of their loved one.

You still get worried and anxious about them. You still try to comfort them after a particularly bad nightmare even though you know they won’t answer back to you. You still tell them that you’re always there, ready to give the comfort only a true soulmate can give.

You wanted to give them warmth not knowing that they dislike the heat.

Bucky had always hated the summer. He hated how everything is so warm and dry and humid. He hated how he can’t stay bundled up in dark sweaters and jackets, he hated the way that the glow of the scorching sun brings out the best in people.

He prefers the cold. The harsh winters remind him of his past, and he likes to suffer, he allows the despair and loneliness to settle deep in his bones. The heat of the summer makes it more difficult for him to keep his mind separated from yours.

Bucky Barnes died back in 1943 without a soulmate, but after his resurrection in Wakanda, he knew you were there. The dull feeling of annoyance would come in waves and he knew you hadn’t felt him yet.

Oh, but you did, he came to realize. Over the years, Hydra had control over him, his mind, and his soul. The constant wipe of his memories not even sparing a chance for him to feel emotion, to feel you. The harsh realization that you had to feel the same pain he had, makes him sick.

Thinking of the years of abuse and torture makes him want to apologize profusely, but would you even understand? Would you ever love the person that’s caused you so much pain? He doesn’t know who you are or your age, and the fact that his soulmate lives in an era where he was never meant to live in, still confuses him to this day.

So he’s built up walls, a mind blockade in hopes that you’d move on without him. He doesn’t deserve love after all that he’s done. Mostly, you don’t deserve him as a soulmate. You deserve better, he thinks.

He feels guilty shutting you out, but he forces the guilt away because he knows you can feel that too. On his bad days, you still assure him that he’s not alone in this world. You give him warmth to soothe his ice-cold heart, but he rejects it, doesn’t want it, doesn’t deserve it, he’ll tell himself.

One fateful summer day changed that though.

As Sam Wilson finished packing the car with what he calls ‘beach essentials’, Bucky Barnes had his mind a thousand miles away.

“You okay, tin man? Got your sunscreen?” His dark-haired friend chides soothingly. Sam was wearing a red Hawaiian shirt, his Raybans clipped onto his lapel, and his skin smelled of berries and shea butter; he smelled and looked like the personification of summer himself.

“Let’s go, Wilson; I don’t have the patience of getting stuck in traffic with the both of ya,” Bucky rolled his eyes behind his dark sunglasses, his hair tied in a low bun, he was wearing a baseball shirt and a summer-themed beach short with seagulls on it, as per Sam’s request. His skin glistened with the newly applied sunscreen he snatched from his go-bag.

“And what’s so bad about it?” Steve wore a flannel and dark jeans combo, his baseball cap was on backwards, because ‘I wanted to try something new,’ he said, and he opted for a pine-scented suntan lotion instead, deciding to get a slight tan.

Bucky decided not to answer the question.

The ocean mist filled your senses as your book chapter hits its end. Putting down the easy-reading material, you stretched out and propped up yourself, thinking if you should join the other beachgoers in the water.

Giving it a quick thought and then glancing at the beach’s showering station, you decided against splashing around. This is more of a reading day for you.

You picked up your dog-eared book again and started to read when a good gust of wind kicked up the sand, sending a few grains your way, you quickly closed your eyes and yet, just as fate intended, you ended up with sand particles in your left eye.

“Ow, what the--” Bucky instinctively put up his arm to protect his eyes when a breeze flew past them, “something’s in my eye.”

Fuck.

Fuckity-fuck.

Your eye has been invaded by sand and it feels like it’s scratching your cornea raw. You can think straight, you’re in pain albeit minimal, it’s still pain.

You try to scramble for the bottle of water you kept close for hydration, hoping it will be enough to put you out of your misery, washing out the sand.

“Something’s definitely in my eye, Sam, I feel it,” Bucky tries not to squirm so much under Sam’s touch, but the pain feels almost invisible, like it’s not his.

“Stop moving so much, I can’t see anything,” Sam said, reaching into his bag to get his eye drop he was saving especially for this occasion, “I got your back. Don’t tell me that I overpack ever again,”

Drenching yourself in water was better than the agonizing pain you felt not five minutes ago. Your left eye was red, pulsating, and tearing up like a mad dog in a shed; perhaps this was your cue to pack up and go home.

Then you feel that magnetic pull again. Stronger this time.

You suddenly remembered the lore and the tall tales of the universe pulling soulmates together, literally, if they were close enough to each other. You try your best not to walk to your left side as the pull dictates.

“Where are you going, Buck? Our spot’s right here.” Steve said, unpacking the food he prepared for their beach day. Sandwiches, chips, fresh fruits, and beer are already in place when Bucky felt a strong pull to his left side.

“I just- I gotta check something out,” He said, not knowing where his feet are taking him.

The lore said when you meet your soulmate, the gravity will shift around you. The magnets of your souls will push you towards each other even if you try to pry yourself away. Your bodies were from the same asteroid before and now the universe wants you together again.

You feel your skin prickle as you try not to look behind you. You’re familiar with the tales, the personal anecdotes, how it feels to be pulled towards your literal soulmate.

Bucky just stands in the sand, his eyes not wandering too far from where you’re standing, your back behind him.

Is this it? Is this his soulmate?

What if you hate him? What if you don’t want to be with him?

Bucky’s heart quickens with the thoughts, his anxiety riddles his brain as he tries to come up with something to call you.

When the pull is strong and the bond is unbreakable, rare cases of soulmates knowing each other’s names before they met is attainable.

A single name popped up into Bucky’s head, “Y/N.”

237 notes · View notes

lockefanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Callsign

War never changes.

There were times, though, when you found it difficult to believe the pilot of this particular plane could live up to such a fearsome lineage. You glance up at the closed canopy, and the name emblazoned there in gold paint, along with her infamous callsign: LT. E. JUNG - “KAR-”

“You want to tell my why the fuck the starboard nacelle is still acting up on shallow banks, Chief?”

Even before you turn to face the speaker, you knew who it would be - her voice was one you’d grown to know well over your past few years aboard the UNS Busan. It was a wonderful, musical voice with a hint of a countryside accent, and you knew personally from more than one drunken karaoke session in the pilots’ lounge that she had a great singing voice - unfortunately for you, she usually used that voice to whine about something on her plane.

You sigh once more before you turn and face her, steeling yourself for yet another confrontation.

“I’ve already told you, Lieutenant Jung - the readouts don’t display anything out of the ordinary. I’ve taken that thing apart and put it back together twice, and couldn’t find any issues in the parts or the way they go together. It’s all in your head.”

You turn away from her and continue to walk down the sleek fuselage of the fighter, your fingertips once again tracing its outer shell the same way an owner would touch a close pet. Your fingertips lightly graze its anti-radar, anti-cyberwarfare, anti-everything skin, as though apologizing for the way its pilot treated it.

“It’s all in your head, Lieutenant!” she corrects, following closely behind you, anger still prevalent in her tone. “All I’m asking for is for my goddamn bird to be able to bank without sounding like it’s got fucking spacelung.”

“I’ll get someone to give it another look, but I’m telling ya, there’s nothing wrong with it.”

Another glare. If she weren’t so intensely beautiful at the same time, you’d think she was about to explode.

---

The F-121 Raptor III was a thing of beauty.

Its sleek lines and curves gave it the impression of a hawk or eagle, always crouched, muscles tensed, ready to leap into the sky at a moment’s notice to swoop in on its unsuspecting prey and snatch it up with its talons before flying off somewhere to feast. In years gone by, the previous versions of this warplane did just that, dancing in the endless blue of Earth’s sky, swooping in with guided missiles and rotary cannons instead of talons - every bit as dangerous as the birds of prey that were its namesake.

The Raptor III carried on the legacy of its forefathers - but the vast darkness of space was its playground now, and it did its hunting not with talons or missiles, but with focused energy weapons and kinetic projectile accelerators. Laser beams and gatling guns, in other words.

The theatre and weapons of war have changed, but some things never do. In some long forgotten text someone wiser than you once put perfect words to that sentiment: war; war never changes.

In the early 21st century it was long thought that fighter pilots were on their last legs. Drones and AI were the future, they all said, and soon pilots would be reduced to sitting on their asses thousands of miles away from the battlefield, controlling their planes with joysticks and keyboards, looking for all intents and purposes like they were playing the fanciest (and most expensive) video game on Earth instead of remote piloting multibillion dollar aircraft and dropping very real, very destructive bombs on the other side of the planet.

But networked drones, it turned out, could be hacked.

And so despite the thousands of years of collective human technology and the billions of credits that each of these modern day hawks took to make - they still needed pilots.

Gradually, as hackers and anti-drone cyberwarfare became more and more prevalent, pilots found themselves taking back to the skies. The human brain, afterall, couldn’t be hacked; at least, not yet. And so, a full two centuries after the first F-22 Raptor fired its weapons in anger, the newest version of it still needed a pilot. Without it, this magnificent creation, the very pinnacle of human technology and advancement, was only so much useless metal trash. Just as the knights of old turned domestic farm horses into fearsome weapons of war, so the knights of today turned these magnificent machines into instruments of destruction.

War never changes.

“You want to tell my why the fuck the starboard nacelle is still acting up on shallow banks, Chief?”

You sigh once more before you turn and face her, steeling yourself for yet another confrontation.

“I’ll get someone to give it another look, but I’m telling ya, there’s nothing wrong with it.”

Another glare. If she weren’t so intensely beautiful at the same time, you’d think she was about to explode.

“...Lieutenant,” you finish, turning away once more to follow the fuselage of the plane towards its rear. When you reach the rear of it you give it one last pat on its vectored thrust outtake.

“I swear to god, all you grease monkies do around here is dick around on your PlayStation 22s while I’m up there flying in a bucket of bolts-”

You turn immediately on your heel and face her.

“Don’t you dare call her a bucket of bolts… Lieutenant.”

Lieutenant Jung seethes - her nostrils flare, her eyes widen, and her cheeks puff up; but she still looked intensely adorable, like some anime girl from the ‘flix come to life. If she were trying to look intimidating or angry, she was failing. Either way, you’d had enough with her demands, and you begin to walk away towards the crew offices adjacent to the hangar.

“We’re not done here, Chief!” Lieutenant Jung shouts after you, the loud clang of her flight boots on the hangar deck telling you she was stomping her way behind you, “You’re gonna tell me what the fuck it’ll take to get my bird flying smoothly, or I swear to god I’ll take this straight to the CAG!”

“Go ahead,” you say with a dismissive wave behind you, “the CAG owes me from poker last week. I wonder what side he’ll take?”

Lieutenant Jung lets out a wordless, frustrated sound leave her throat as you push open the door to your office. She stomps in after you and shuts the door.

Then she turns, drops her flight helmet on the floor and grabs you by the face with both hands before crushing her lips to yours in a deep, passionate kiss.

It was wrong on so many levels - she was a pilot and you a crew chief, she was an officer and you were enlisted, she was a spacer and you were born on Earth - but there was no denying the passion that existed between you. The intensity of it only flared up immediately after she flew CAP or went out on sortie, returning to the Busan all hopped up on pilot stimms and adrenaline. All she wanted after each flight was a shower, a beer, and your cock between her legs - and not necessarily in that order, and sometimes even at the same time.

Both of your pairs of hands work with a frenzied pace at each others’ clothes - her long, dainty fingers working the buttons of your overalls while your paws, still greasy with engine oil, work on the straps and buckles of her flight suit. It was a race she won more often than not; pilots obviously wore a ton more equipment on their persons than deck chiefs. And so while she had succeeded in getting the top half of your overalls off, you had just finished getting her flight rig undone.

She shakes off the heavy webbing from her shoulders, and she takes it upon herself to start to unzip the flightsuit zipper at her collarbone.

“You need to get faster at that, Chief.”

“You need to wear less, Eunji.”

The response is a smile at your use of her first name - a smile that is so dazzling it made the stars you’d spent so many hours staring at on the observation deck look pale by comparison. In your quieter moments, alone in bed together on those rare occasions when your off-duty hours matched, you’d mentioned once that you thought her callsign should be “Sunshine”; to match that thousand watt smile of hers. She’d giggled it off and said that pilots didn’t choose their callsign; it was given to them by other pilots. She’d said “Sunshine” sounded stupid, and not threatening or deadly the way pilot callsigns were supposed to be.

Nonetheless, when you gave her a small necklace with a small golden sun on it for her birthday, she wore it every day since, right next to her dog tags.

The necklace shone now in the artificial light of your office as she strips out of her flight suit, revealing a sweat soaked white tank top beneath that clung to her form like a second skin, and the delightful absence of a bra beneath it. Her skin, her perfect, vanilla skin, shines faintly with a sheen of her sweat, making her glisten. Her nipples poke invitingly from her chest, plain to see beneath the thin material of her tank top.

You can’t wait a moment later, and you give her a brief but passionate kiss before diving into her neck, planting kisses on the softness there, enjoying the taste of her sweat on your lips and tongue. She lets a soft, musical sound escape her lips - she had a great singing voice, but now, when the sounds escaping her are wordless gasps of lust and need, her voice sounded utterly sublime.

You reach a hand to her side, enjoying the feel of her tight, toned midsection before quickly reaching up her torso to fondle her left breast. You enjoy the feel of her soft mound in your hand and the rapidly hardening nipple poking through her tank top, and you smile against her neck even as her voice fills your ears with yet another wordless sound of pleasure.

You are content to spend a few more minutes playing with her body, enjoying the feel of her melting into your hands and mouth, but she is impatient, needy, still high from the adrenaline of her recent flight; she needed more, and needed it now.

She grasps the bottom of her tank top before pulling it over her head, leaving her naked from the waist up aside from the shiny metal of her dog tags and the gold of her sun pendant. The sun hangs a little lower than the dog tags, resting between her small, round breasts, and you smile at the symmetry of it.

“Stop staring and suck on them, Chief,” she says, with the same tone as if she were giving you an order.

“Right away, Lieutenant,” you answer with a mocking tone. She opens her mouth to answer, but the breath is stolen from her lungs when you bring both hands up to her naked breasts, squeezing both before capturing her left nipple in your lips. You involuntarily take a few steps forward, and soon you are pressing her against the closed door to your office. She sighs softly, wrapping her arms around your neck and pushing her chest out, standing on her tiptoes to make it easier on your bent back - all in an effort to give you better access to her wanton, needy body.

She loved it when you sucked on her breasts; nothing got her off quicker, got her more in the mood. She loved it when you drifted a hand between her legs, loved when you ate her out; but nothing got her as hot and bothered as when you played with those small, round, perfectly shaped mounds, and the perfect, tight little nipples atop each one.

“Smaller tits are more sensitive,” she’d told you once, and from the way she gasped and writhed and quivered with each lick and suck and nibble you placed on her breasts, you were inclined to believe her.

But you wanted more, wanted to put her in her place for the way she told you off in the hangar in front of your entire deck crew - even if you thought you did a pretty good job of standing up for yourself. She was so bratty sometimes, so needy, that it satisfied you to no end whenever you had your way with her behind closed doors. She couldn’t behind her rank when it came to sex.

You tear your mouth away from her chest, eliciting a groan of disappointment from the pilot. Her eyes glazed over and half-lidded with pleasure, she grasps you by the shoulder before turning you around and pushing you against the door to your office, resulting in a louder crash than you were expecting. A small part of you hoped no one happened to hear it, but a larger part of you couldn’t care less, not when Lieutenant Jung drops to her knees, peels your dirty overalls off your body, and gives your hard, stiff shaft a lick from base to tip.

It was such an erotic sight - the haughty, proud, cocky pilot on her knees with a cock on her lips - that it drove you insane each and every time you saw it. You reach down and run a hand through her hair, grazing her cheek. Her lips are busy planting soft kisses on your hard shaft, but her eyes tell you need to know about what she wanted.

“Fuck my face, Chief.”

Another soft kiss, another long, slow lick of your cock.

“...that’s an order.”

You were never one to defy orders - especially not ones like this. And so when the lieutenant takes the head of your aching, stiff shaft inbetween her lips and braces herself against you with her palms flat against your thighs, you prepare yourself to execute the order you are given.

Slowly at first, but soon building to a quick pace, you slide your shaft in and out of Lieutenant Jung’s needy mouth. Your hands grasp the back and side of the pilot’s head as you fuck her mouth, her tongue swirling devilishly all over your shaft with each entry and exit.

“Mmmmffmfm,” she mumbles, the sound sending wonderful vibrations onto your cock as is slides in and out of her slick, hot mouth.

You gasp, involuntarily, at the pleasure that is quickly building at your core, and you tear your eyes away from the delicious sight in front of you and try to focus on something, anything else to keep from cumming too soon. But the desire to retrieve some measure of revenge for the way she treated you outside closed doors, the way she was so bratty and demanding out in public - it drove you to fuck that mouth of hers a little harder, a litte rougher than you were expecting. There was some perverse satisfaction to be found in taking a mouth that was usually filled with complaints and filling it with cock.

Eunji got off on it too - on the roughness and disregard for her general needs that you showed during sex. Perhaps she got off on the reversal of power and her newfound helplessness. Maybe she just loved rough sex. Either way, you weren’t one to complain.

For long, beautiful minutes you stand there, thrusting your hard cock in and out of Lieutenant Jung Eunji’s mouth. After awhile she looks up at you with those large, round eyes of hers that were somehow so innocent and so mischievous all at the same time - and for you that was it, that was the end of your patience. You had to have her, had to have all of her.

You practically tear the girl’s needy mouth from your shaft, her lips still sucking tightly on your cock as she lets out a little whimper of disappointment. Her whimper soon turns into a wanton gasp, however, when you pull the previously haughty pilot from her knees on the floor and push her towards your desk.

Eunji knows what this is, knows what you intend to do, and the pilot quickly pulls down her flightsuit until it is past her round, full ass of hers and halfway down her thighs.

Lieutenant Jung Eunji’s ass was on another level - round and full and tight, it was perhaps her most attractive feature, aside from that blindingly bright smile, of course. Her thick pilot’s flightsuit did little to hide her assets, and you caught yourself more than once watching, dumbfounded, as her wide-set hips swayed and swung when she walked away from you, those round cheeks so full, so inviting, so perfectly shaped it all too often made slack-jawed fools out of you and every other man on the hangar deck.

She didn’t wear panties, either. Too hot and sweaty in the cockpit, she told you once, and they had a tendency to ride up into her nether regions every time she twisted and turned in her seat. The sight of that perfect little ass and wide hips of hers, naked now, uncovered by some flimsy piece of underwear, all sweaty and tight…

You want to be inside her, want to fill the needy little girl with all of you, but you manage to gather enough self control to tease her, make her beg for it. Her display of arrogance out in the hangar, the gall she had to call you out for her plane’s perceived problems - it made you want to retaliate.

You press yourself against her, your stiff shaft, still moist with her spit, pressing between the two large, full cheeks of her ass, your hands reaching out to caress those wide hips of hers. You give her a few small strokes, enjoying the feel of her perfect butt cradling each side of your cock.

“Do you want this, Lieutenant?” you ask, mockingly.

“Fuck yes, Chief.”

“I don’t know if I want to fuck you, given how much of an annoying little brat you’ve been.”

Eunji lets out a gasp of equal parts frustration and need.

“I.. fuck, Chief! Just put it in me.”

“No. Beg for it.”

“What?”

“Fucking beg for this cock, Lieutenant.”

Eunji moans, a sound that would have been soft and musical were it not loaded with lust and need.

“Mmmm fucking stick your cock in me, Chief. Fuck me with that cock. Fuck me and make me moan and make me cum all over your dick. Fuck me until you fill me with cum and-”

Eunji’s words are cut off as you thrust yourself inside her, her small body pressed forward against the desk. When she regains her breath she lets a long, drawn out moan of pleasure hiss from her lips as she adjusts to the full, stiff shaft that she has suddenly been filled with. Her pussy is soft and warm and slick and you want to let out a gasp of your own, but you hold back - you didn’t want to give her that satisfaction.

You start fucking her, with hard, smooth strokes, her drenched pussy having no problem accepting each thrust into her tight little body. Normally you would have slipped inside her slowly, given her time to adjust to you before slowly ramping up the speed and depth of your thrusts - but not today, not when she was acting the way she was. Not when she needed to be put into her place.

“Oh, fuck, fuck that feels good…. Oh fuck, you’re so fucking big inside me,” Eunji gasps, having found the breath to vocalise her pleasure now. Her hands search for something on the desk to grasp as an outlet for her pleasure, but she fails to find anything, and she settles for digging her fingernails as deeply as she could into the wooden surface.

Fucking the cocky pilot from behind on your desk would have been enough, and you would have gladly continued doing so until you filled her with the cum she so desperately wanted - but you wanted more, wanted to truly put her into her place.

You push on her sweaty back with an open palm until her torso is flat on the desk, and taking her right arm, you bend it behind her and hold it against her back by the wrist. You take her left arm with your own and, grasping it by the wrist, use it to pull the rest of her body back as you thrust forward with your cock.

It is a position of pure power and dominance, and you watch delightfully as Eunji squirms and writhes beneath you on the desk, helpless to do anything but take your cock as you fuck her hard over your desk. You worry slightly about hurting her, but the gasps and moans and filthy words that soon escape her mouth convince you she’s more than okay with the way she is being treated.

“Fuck yes, Chief… ohh, unggh! Fuck me, fuck me just like that… fuck me!”

“Do you like it, Lieutenant? You like being bent over a desk and fucked like this?” you spit, your words punctuated by the sound of your hips slapping against hers.

“Fuck… fuck yes! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me… Fuck me however you want. Fuck me like your personal slut!”

The sight of the haughty young lieutenant, so proud and cocky out on the deck, reduced to a writhing, hot, wet mess as she is bent over and fucked roughly - it is enough to drive you insane. The pleasure quickly building in your loins as you fuck the mewling woman worries you with the speed of its build up.

“Fuck… you’re so fucking… tight, Lieutenant. Fuck… you’re gonna make me fucking cum soon.”

“No!” Eunji hisses, surprising you. She squirms roughly, her strength taking you by surprise as she wriggles out of the hold you have on her body. She pushes back against you, and your shaft slips out of her, glistening and dripping with her juices.

Eunji practically rips her flightsuit off, tearing the one piece suit off her long, sweat-drenched legs, leaving her only in her white tank top, which she peels from her torso. She hops quickly onto the desk, spreading her legs and grasping your slick cock with her right hand and quite literally using it as a handle to pull you between her thighs.

“You’re going to fuck me, Chief, and you’re going to fuck me until I cum first,” she hisses, the intensity on her face hard to deny - her eyes are tense and filled with intent and need. There is an anger in those dark brown pools as well, as though she is upset with the possibility that she could be denied the release she so desperately craved.

She points the head of your shaft at her splayed, pink lips of her pussy, and with her hands on your hips she pulls you towards her until you fill her once more with your cock.

You find yourself almost immediately fighting a battle you weren’t sure you could win, thrusting in and out of Eunji’s slick, wet pussy as she lies back on the desk, her perfect, sweaty, almost naked form laid out for you, each thrust of your cock resulting in a delightful shock to her body, giving her round breasts and full thighs a soft bounce each time.

She has so quickly reversed who held the power - mere seconds before you were the one in control, fucking her submissive little body from behind as she begged and pleaded for it; now you were the one trying your best to hold on as she took what she needed from you.

Eunji reaches down between your bodies to quickly find her clit. She swiftly begins to swirl a fingertip around the sensitive bud - even as your cock slips and in and out of her body not so far away. You spend a few wonderful seconds watching as your slick, glistening cock fucks her needy, hot pussy - and her fingers, so close to her splayed pink lips, rubbing her tight bud.

You raise your head from the wonderful sight to find that her eyes have been locked on yours the whole time. There is need and lust in those eyes, nothing more, nothing less.

Her mouth is frozen in an open “o” as she lets breathless gasps and moans escape her lips, her brow furrowed, her eyes pleading for more and more and more. Her fingertips increase their pace between her spread thighs, and her free hand claws at your wrist, her nails digging almost painfully into your skin. Inside her, she is tightening and pulsating around you, her slick walls wrapping themselves even tighter around your thrusting cock…

“Oh… oh fuck, I’m gonna... fucking cum,” she spits, her tone almost afraid, almost fearful of the amount of pleasure that was about to come. And you are thankful, because you were so deliciously close to that same peak yourself. Her fingers work quicker and quicker against her clit, swirling her slick juices around her sensitive bud as she comes closer and closer to the edge.

“Cum for me, Eunji,” you reply, all thought of rank cast aside - this was just two people pursuing pleasure, and nothing else mattered.

“I… Oh, I...oh!” Eunji gasps, and suddenly her body stiffens and quivers and shakes atop the table as her orgasm overtakes every inch of her being. The sight of her as she cums is the last straw for you - her pulsating, tightening pussy overcomes the last of your resistance and you follow Jung Eunji into the bliss of orgasm, driving yourself as deep as you can inside her before you release stream after thick stream of your thick, hot cum into her needy pussy.

Eunji draws you close as you cum, letting a soft, almost vulnerable moan escape her open mouth with each stream of semen that leaves your cock and splashes against her walls. She had a filthy mouth during sex, loved to tell you in vulgar detail what she wanted to do or wanted done to her. You’d heard her moan and gasp of lust and need plenty of times, but it is the soft, vulnerable little whimpers when you cum inside her that you treasure the most.

For long seconds you stay inside her as your respective orgasms wind down, both of your bodies recovering from the exertion with heavy breaths and gasps. Eventually you slip out of her, and a not insignificant stream of white semen drips from the splayed lips of her pussy.

Eunji watches the cum drip out of her with interest, biting her lip. She always loved it, always wanted you to cum inside her for this reason. And you loved watching her watch.

“Job well done, Chief,” she says, eyes still glued to the mess you made inside her as it drips onto your desk.

A few minutes pass as you both clean up after yourselves. You retrieve a few tissues from your desk which Eunji uses to clean up the mess between her thighs as you both slowly put your uniforms back on. It was awkward sometimes, immediately after sex, as you both come back, reluctantly, to reality - but when she gives you a sheepish smile after zipping up her flight suit, you couldn’t help but smile back.

She steps out into the hallway, back towards the deck, and as you close the door to your office you couldn’t help but notice how it looked a little darker, a little more dim without Jung Eunji’s presence. She was light, she was sunshine, and when she left the room she took her light with her.

You accompany her back to the hangar deck - her bunk was on the other side of the ship, and you needed to get back to work on her bird, anyway.

When you both reach her Raptor, your fingers reach out and graze its fuselage once more, like an owner returning to its pet after a day’s work. You could almost imagine it being happy to see you again.

“I’ll be back early tomorrow to check up on your work,” Lieutenant Jung says, with just a hint of that thousand watt smile on her lips. “Good work today, Chief.”

“Thanks. Have a good night, Sunshine.”

Her smile widens briefly, and while you hadn’t ever in your life had the pleasure of setting foot on Earth, you imagine that that was what it must have felt like to have a ray of sun set upon you. You let her walk away, cradling her pilot helmet under one arm.

Her hips, and the perfectly sculpted cheeks of that ass of hers, sway alluringly with each step she takes. You knew for a fact your eyes weren’t the only ones glued onto the young pilot’s swaying butt as she walks the width of the hangar and disappears into one of the adjoining corridors.

With a smile, you glance back up at her plane, and the gold lettering near the canopy where her name and callsign are emblazoned. She never told you how or when she got her callsign - only that it was the name of some well endowed celebrity from old Earth.

LT. E. JUNG - “KARDASHIAN.”

---

Author’s Note: Trying something new here with the sci-fi backstory. I think any fans of Battlestar Galactica (the remake) would know where I got the inspiration. I had the biggest crush on Boomer... ;)

#kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #apink eunji #jung eunji #male reader #pov smut

135 notes · View notes

inanimatetffantasies · 4 years ago

Note

Can you turn me into the cigar of a big beefy daddy bear?

Travis sat in his truck as he drove down the straight, dull road, staring down the asphalt landscape. He didn't mind the long drive if he a beer or cigar to ease the edge off of the boredom, but of course, he had used up his last cigar and drank all his beer. Now, these went any normal supplies, his beer of choice was a special mix called Rebel Brew that his southern buddy Logan showed him how to...transform. The cigars, Eastwood Mae Classics, were his favorite...a special kind of cigar of his own design. It’s special ingrediant...the soul of a foolish boy.

Travis smirked and adjusted his ass as he saw the unmistakable welcoming glow of a Rest Stop sign not too far in the distance. He knew there would be a hopeless boy just begging to burn up and be puffed out wandering there. The thought made him crack a smile as he turned into the rest stop and park his truck.

He stepped out and walked into the store, picking up some supplies like snacks and such, before walking out to the rest area. Sure enough, there was a boy sitting there, ready for the taking. Travis walked up and greeted the younger man. “Well, Howdy, kid, what brings ya down ‘ere?”. The younger man smiled, caught off-guard, and blushing. ‘Perfect Prey!’ Travis thought to himself, as he lured in the hook.

“You seem like a nice kid, ‘ow’s about ya travel a few miles with me, It’d be no trouble, honest”. Years of hunting these feeble young men thought Travis the perfect tone, way to act and words to say to reel his boy in. His words were soft and warm, inviting even. The poor bastard never stood a chance...

Travis guided his prey into his truck and drove off with the young man. When he was far away from the rest stop, Travis let that smirk spread across his bearded face again “Thank god, I found ya, ya dumb fuck! I just ran outta smokes”. He then quickly snapped his fingers and watched the poor boy shrink and smooth into a cylinder shape before thudding onto the car seat.

Travis pulled over on the side of the road and inspected his magical handiwork. “Mmmmmm not bad... Sorry kid...I was outta smokes, and ya were just in the wrong place, at the wrong time...at least it won't hurt ya...” Travis said though deep and hearty chuckles as he cut and lit his prise. He inhaled, sending a wave of burning, itchy orgasm throughout the boy’s body. “God damn, ya living cigars never fuckin disappoint, ya taste so good, that hint of a dumb bitch hits the spot real fuckin nice!”

The boy could feel himself slowly turn to ash and smoke but didn't care, or maybe he couldn't care anymore, just being a dumb lusty cigar who could only feel his owner's lips on his dick as he was inhaled and blown out as smoke that dissipated into the air. It felt so good, the boy was in a burning sense of lust and libido, he loved it, every inch of him as it was incinerated, it felt so fucking go-...

Travis laughed as he finished his prise, the stupid fucks soul was completely burned up, made into ash and smoke, and was too lost in the feeling to even realize he was about to burn away... That last part always got the old hairy trucker. Travis threw the last remaining piece of hos boy out the window and watched the road. Travis cracked his smile yet again, as another rest stop in the distance came into to view. “Today must be my lucky day! I could go for a pack of Rebel Brew!” Travis laughed as he drove down to the new rest stop, where a group of young spring breakers was looking to hitch a ride...

#inanimate transformation #cigar tf

120 notes · View notes

lacrow · 4 years ago

Text

Work-in-Progress Wednesday

Didn’t know this was a thing, but I’m so glad it is cuz I’ve been looking for an excuse to share a little of my next fic on AO3. Most because I’m not posting it until all the chapters are finished, I’ve got too many ongoing projects as it is. This is the beginning of the first chapter. Let me know if you’re interested in reading!

Title: Long Rider

Fandom: Spy x Family

Genre: Western/Outlaw AU

Rating: M

Floorboards creaked as patrons walked in and out. The usual crowd, a group of local ranch hands, held up in the corner of the room nearest the piano. It was the most contested seat in the whole bar; secluded and quiet, seeing as how no one in town knew how to play the thing. The boys sauntered in from a long day out in the heat and stuck their fingers up in the air as both a greeting and request for booze. Luckily for them, Yor had served them enough times to not take offense at the gesture. She smiled and went to work fetching their beer.

Such was how things usually played out in Berlint, at least for Yor. The frontier town itself was young, probably no older than she was, and it still had that nice veneer of a place yet unsoiled by the ravages of the west. That wasn't to say it was perfect; no, far from it, but everyone had their place and filled it dutifully with few complaints. Yor's was behind the bar, serving local ranchers and travelers making their way through to the open plains. Berlint was the last threshold of civilization. Beyond its boundaries, there wasn't nothing but sun and buzzards.

Some of the rowdier hands snapped their fingers and told Yor to pick up the pace. They were the new ones; the more experienced men quickly smacked them outside the head and told them hush, and not just because they were being rude as hell. Yor overheard their exchange. She paused and shook her head, knowing exactly what they were talking about. With a sigh, she gathered up all the bottles and put them on a serving tray. A moment later and she dropped them off at their table with a pleasant smile before turning to walk away.

It didn't take long for newcomers to figure out she was the sheriff's sister.

People always treated her funny after that. She couldn't hardly blame them, though; Yuri had a bit of a reputation as a...firm hand when it came to dispensing frontier justice. His was a difficult job and Yor understood that, but she couldn't help but feel that he took things a bit too far sometimes. And if she as his sister could come to that conclusion, then she could only imagine what the average person thought of him. It was no wonder everyone treated her with kid gloves. God forbid they upset her and incite her brother's wrath.

Never mind the fact that she was a barmaid. Part of her job was to take things on the chin and keep a firm upper lip, especially with some of the people that strolled through her establishment. Yor had seen her fair share of fights, both armed and unarmed, and not a day didn't go by that one of her patrons didn't try to peek up her skirt for a cheap thrill. Yuri never had to intervene for any of that, because she was more than capable in handling herself and her bar. Only time she ever called him is when the dangerous sort walked in. Outlaws and the bunch. Course, they were few and far between. Even then, Yor usually kept things to herself; so long as everyone behaved, there was no point in ratting someone out to her brother.

Yor dropped the tray off behind the counter and started to wipe things down. It was slow that day. Yor wanted to keep busy though, so she went about cleaning musty bottles and rearranging them to make them look more appealing to the discerning customer. Not that anyone around here drank anything other than draft beer and whisky, but she could keep herself occupied till someone else walked in. Besides, she liked to clean. It was about the only thing she was good at besides pouring drinks (and that last one was still debatable to some).

As she went about her business, a floorboard creak alerted her to another visitor. Yor didn't turn around right away though, and instead politely told whoever it was she'd be with them in a moment. A stubborn smudge just wouldn't wipe out. Yor attacked it as best she could; her eyes twisted as she focused and she stuck her tongue out, leading to a less than flattering face. It was a good thing she was turned around...or at least it would have been, were it not for the fact that mirrors lined the wall. Everyone behind her could see everything.

"Papa, she looks funny!" a little voice giggled out from behind her.

Immediately Yor froze. That...sounded like a child? She quickly turned around and found two strangers standing there in front of the counter. One of them was a little girl who looked sweet as honey. Her face was dirty, as was the rest of her, but she stood tall and proud for such a little thing. Her pink hair was as bright as the beam in her face, and the green of her eyes rivaled any shade Yor had seen outside of pure emerald. The little girl walked out from the shadow of a much taller figure.

Papa, Yor assumed. He stood several heads taller than she (even without the boots) and wore an old, shabby duster coat like so many others. He was in the process of removing his hat as she turned around, and revealed to Yor a head of blonde hair softened by heat and sweat. Stubble textured his face after not having shaved in a few days, and streaks of dirt clung heavier to him than it did his daughter. Even with all that though, Yor still paused under the gaze of his eyes. The prettiest blue she'd ever seen. Sky blue. Just like the open air outside.

"Anya, what did I tell you about making fun of people?" the man growled as he flashed a warning look to the little girl.

"N-no! That's alright, she was just playin'!" Yor piped up, caught off-guard. "Although, um...I can't have children in here, sorry."

The man nodded. "I figured as much. It's just we've been rolling through for a while now and this is the first place we came across."

"Is that right?" Yor smiled pleasantly. "Where ya'll coming in from?"

Anya's papa shrugged. "Other side of the valley. If it's got a name, I don't know it."

"...Wait, you mean the two of you came from the west?" Yor's eyes widened when the man nodded. "Both of you?"

"Well, she's my daughter so, yes," the man replied, this time with a faint chuckle. He smiled at Yor, and she pinked a little.

Everything out past the valley was no man's land. There was enough to eat and drink of course, assuming you could hunt, but there wasn't anything else out there besides the elements. That's where bandits, natives, and travelers on their way west could be found...certainly not the place for a little girl to be out and about, even if she did have her father with her. Stranger still, why would they be making their way east? Most people would be trying to reach the far shore for a chance at hitting it rich in the gold mines. There wasn't nothing out back east.

"Well, we'll be heading out then," the man spoke up, bringing Yor back to reality. "Sorry to bother you."

He went to put his hat back on, but was immediately stopped when Yor jumped in place. "No, wait! I can, uh...make an exception. Just this once!"

Anya's papa blinked. Genuinely surprised, he eased into a smile. "Much appreciated, ma'am. Thank you."

"I want whiskey!" Anya grinned as she pointed at the bottles behind Yor. The barmaid gasped.

"When I'm dead and buried!" The man grabbed his daughter by the scruff of her dirty dress and walked her to the counter. "Sit!"

Anya's papa collapsed onto a bar chair. He quickly picked her up and dropped her into his lap, and she huffed in disappointment. Yor tilted her head at the strange pair, but couldn't stop a smile from forming at their antics. It was a refreshing sight to see, what with most of her days spent babysitting grown men before sending them off to do god-knows-what.

"Would you like a cold glass of milk, Anya?" Yor asked sweetly, which earned her an incredulous look from the little girl.

"Cold milk!?" Anya slammed her hand on the counter in amazement before looking up at her papa. He seemed just as surprised as her.

"Mhm," Yor nodded. She motioned to a door on the far side of the bar behind her. "We've got the only ice house for thirty miles, and I milked the goat this morning myself!"

"How 'bout that," the man nodded, impressed. Anya continued to stare at him pleadingly, and he smirked. "Sure. What do I owe ya?"

"First round's on the house!" Yor smiled. "And what'll it be for you, mister...?"

"Forger, ma'am." Anya's papa bowed his head. "Loid Forger."

Yor's smile grew wider. "What'll it be, Mr. Forger?"

"I'll take a scotch, missus...?"

"Miss Briar," she corrected. "But you can call me Yor!"

#work in progress #loid forger #yor forger #anya forger #spy x family #sxf

29 notes · View notes

techmomma · 4 years ago

Note

Very well. Can you please delete the so called 'reply' to the discussion me & Merri were having about the Jedi? Regardless of whenever or not Merri wishes to continue the discussion. There was no need for you to add on that long, rambly & non-sensesical post that does not add or contribute to the discussion in any meaningful way. And while it might not have been your intention, it came across as implying that post was as meaningful as my statements, which is incredibly insulting & unnecessary.

I was gonna take it down but then I was like nah

look, ya want an explanation why I did that? ya want me to pick apart your statements the way you have been with Merri ad nauseum with fallacy after fallacy? here’s why. so that i do not subject my poor readers to this mess.

According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little. Barry! Breakfast is ready! Ooming! Hang on a second. Hello? - Barry? - Adam? - Oan you believe this is happening? - I can't. I'll pick you up. Looking sharp. Use the stairs. Your father paid good money for those. Sorry. I'm excited. Here's the graduate. We're very proud of you, son. A perfect report card, all B's. Very proud. Ma! I got a thing going here. - You got lint on your fuzz. - Ow! That's me! - Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000. - Bye! Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house! - Hey, Adam. - Hey, Barry. - Is that fuzz gel? - A little. Special day, graduation. Never thought I'd make it. Three days grade school, three days high school. Those were awkward. Three days college. I'm glad I took a day and hitchhiked around the hive. You did come back different. - Hi, Barry. - Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good. - Hear about Frankie? - Yeah. - You going to the funeral? - No, I'm not going. Everybody knows, sting someone, you die. Don't waste it on a squirrel. Such a hothead. I guess he could have just gotten out of the way. I love this incorporating an amusement park into our day. That's why we don't need vacations. Boy, quite a bit of pomp... under the circumstances. - Well, Adam, today we are men. - We are! - Bee-men. - Amen! Hallelujah! Students, faculty, distinguished bees, please welcome Dean Buzzwell. Welcome, New Hive Oity graduating class of... ...9:15. That concludes our ceremonies. And begins your career at Honex Industries! Will we pick ourjob today? I heard it's just orientation. Heads up! Here we go. Keep your hands and antennas inside the tram at all times. - Wonder what it'll be like? - A little scary. Welcome to Honex, a division of Honesco and a part of the Hexagon Group. This is it! Wow. Wow. We know that you, as a bee, have worked your whole life to get to the point where you can work for your whole life. Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks bring the nectar to the hive. Our top-secret formula is automatically color-corrected, scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured into this soothing sweet syrup with its distinctive golden glow you know as... Honey! - That girl was hot. - She's my cousin! - She is? - Yes, we're all cousins. - Right. You're right. - At Honex, we constantly strive to improve every aspect of bee existence. These bees are stress-testing a new helmet technology. - What do you think he makes? - Not enough. Here we have our latest advancement, the Krelman. - What does that do? - Oatches that little strand of honey that hangs after you pour it. Saves us millions. Oan anyone work on the Krelman? Of course. Most bee jobs are small ones. But bees know that every small job, if it's done well, means a lot. But choose carefully because you'll stay in the job you pick for the rest of your life. The same job the rest of your life? I didn't know that. What's the difference? You'll be happy to know that bees, as a species, haven't had one day off in 27 million years. So you'll just work us to death? We'll sure try. Wow! That blew my mind! "What's the difference?" How can you say that? One job forever? That's an insane choice to have to make. I'm relieved. Now we only have to make one decision in life. But, Adam, how could they never have told us that? Why would you question anything? We're bees. We're the most perfectly functioning society on Earth. You ever think maybe things work a little too well here? Like what? Give me one example. I don't know. But you know what I'm talking about. Please clear the gate. Royal Nectar Force on approach. Wait a second. Oheck it out. - Hey, those are Pollen Jocks! - Wow. I've never seen them this close. They know what it's like outside the hive. Yeah, but some don't come back. - Hey, Jocks! - Hi, Jocks! You guys did great! You're monsters! You're sky freaks! I love it! I love it! - I wonder where they were. - I don't know. Their day's not planned. Outside the hive, flying who knows where, doing who knows what. You can'tjust decide to be a Pollen Jock. You have to be bred for that. Right. Look. That's more pollen than you and I will see in a lifetime. It's just a status symbol. Bees make too much of it. Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it and the ladies see you wearing it. Those ladies? Aren't they our cousins too? Distant. Distant. Look at these two. - Oouple of Hive Harrys. - Let's have fun with them. It must be dangerous being a Pollen Jock. Yeah. Once a bear pinned me against a mushroom! He had a paw on my throat, and with the other, he was slapping me! - Oh, my! - I never thought I'd knock him out. What were you doing during this? Trying to alert the authorities. I can autograph that. A little gusty out there today, wasn't it, comrades? Yeah. Gusty. We're hitting a sunflower patch six miles from here tomorrow. - Six miles, huh? - Barry! A puddle jump for us, but maybe you're not up for it. - Maybe I am. - You are not! We're going 0900 at J-Gate. What do you think, buzzy-boy? Are you bee enough? I might be. It all depends on what 0900 means. Hey, Honex! Dad, you surprised me. You decide what you're interested in? - Well, there's a lot of choices. - But you only get one. Do you ever get bored doing the same job every day? Son, let me tell you about stirring. You grab that stick, and you just move it around, and you stir it around. You get yourself into a rhythm. It's a beautiful thing. You know, Dad, the more I think about it, maybe the honey field just isn't right for me. You were thinking of what, making balloon animals? That's a bad job for a guy with a stinger. Janet, your son's not sure he wants to go into honey! - Barry, you are so funny sometimes. - I'm not trying to be funny. You're not funny! You're going into honey. Our son, the stirrer! - You're gonna be a stirrer? - No one's listening to me! Wait till you see the sticks I have. I could say anything right now. I'm gonna get an ant tattoo! Let's open some honey and celebrate! Maybe I'll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae. Shack up with a grasshopper. Get a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"! I'm so proud. - We're starting work today! - Today's the day. Oome on! All the good jobs will be gone. Yeah, right. Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, hair removal... - Is it still available? - Hang on. Two left! One of them's yours! Oongratulations! Step to the side. - What'd you get? - Picking crud out. Stellar! Wow! Oouple of newbies? Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready! Make your choice. - You want to go first? - No, you go. Oh, my. What's available? Restroom attendant's open, not for the reason you think. - Any chance of getting the Krelman? - Sure, you're on. I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out. Wax monkey's always open. The Krelman opened up again. What happened? A bee died. Makes an opening. See? He's dead. Another dead one. Deady. Deadified. Two more dead. Dead from the neck up. Dead from the neck down. That's life! Oh, this is so hard! Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer, humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor, mite wrangler. Barry, what do you think I should... Barry? Barry! All right, we've got the sunflower patch in quadrant nine... What happened to you? Where are you? - I'm going out. - Out? Out where? - Out there. - Oh, no! I have to, before I go to work for the rest of my life. You're gonna die! You're crazy! Hello? Another call coming in. If anyone's feeling brave, there's a Korean deli on 83rd that gets their roses today. Hey, guys. - Look at that. - Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday? Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted. It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up. Really? Feeling lucky, are you? Sign here, here. Just initial that. - Thank you. - OK. You got a rain advisory today, and as you all know, bees cannot fly in rain. So be careful. As always, watch your brooms, hockey sticks, dogs, birds, bears and bats. Also, I got a couple of reports of root beer being poured on us. Murphy's in a home because of it, babbling like a cicada! - That's awful. - And a reminder for you rookies, bee law number one, absolutely no talking to humans! All right, launch positions! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Black and yellow! Hello! You ready for this, hot shot? Yeah. Yeah, bring it on. Wind, check. - Antennae, check. - Nectar pack, check. - Wings, check. - Stinger, check. Scared out of my shorts, check. OK, ladies, let's move it out! Pound those petunias, you striped stem-suckers! All of you, drain those flowers! Wow! I'm out! I can't believe I'm out! So blue. I feel so fast and free! Box kite! Wow! Flowers! This is Blue Leader. We have roses visual. Bring it around 30 degrees and hold. Roses! 30 degrees, roger. Bringing it around. Stand to the side, kid. It's got a bit of a kick. That is one nectar collector! - Ever see pollination up close? - No, sir. I pick up some pollen here, sprinkle it over here. Maybe a dash over there, a pinch on that one. See that? It's a little bit of magic. That's amazing. Why do we do that? That's pollen power. More pollen, more flowers, more nectar, more honey for us. Oool. I'm picking up a lot of bright yellow. Oould be daisies. Don't we need those? Oopy that visual. Wait. One of these flowers seems to be on the move. Say again? You're reporting a moving flower? Affirmative. That was on the line! This is the coolest. What is it? I don't know, but I'm loving this color. It smells good. Not like a flower, but I like it. Yeah, fuzzy. Ohemical-y. Oareful, guys. It's a little grabby. My sweet lord of bees! Oandy-brain, get off there! Problem! - Guys! - This could be bad. Affirmative. Very close. Gonna hurt. Mama's little boy. You are way out of position, rookie! Ooming in at you like a missile! Help me! I don't think these are flowers. - Should we tell him? - I think he knows. What is this?! Match point! You can start packing up, honey, because you're about to eat it! Yowser! Gross. There's a bee in the car! - Do something! - I'm driving! - Hi, bee. - He's back here! He's going to sting me! Nobody move. If you don't move, he won't sting you. Freeze! He blinked! Spray him, Granny! What are you doing?! Wow... the tension level out here is unbelievable. I gotta get home. Oan't fly in rain. Oan't fly in rain. Oan't fly in rain. Mayday! Mayday! Bee going down! Ken, could you close the window please? Ken, could you close the window please? Oheck out my new resume. I made it into a fold-out brochure. You see? Folds out. Oh, no. More humans. I don't need this. What was that? Maybe this time. This time. This time. This time! This time! This... Drapes! That is diabolical. It's fantastic. It's got all my special skills, even my top-ten favorite movies. What's number one? Star Wars? Nah, I don't go for that... ...kind of stuff. No wonder we shouldn't talk to them. They're out of their minds. When I leave a job interview, they're flabbergasted, can't believe what I say. There's the sun. Maybe that's a way out. I don't remember the sun having a big 75 on it. I predicted global warming. I could feel it getting hotter. At first I thought it was just me. Wait! Stop! Bee! Stand back. These are winter boots. Wait! Don't kill him! You know I'm allergic to them! This thing could kill me! Why does his life have less value than yours? Why does his life have any less value than mine? Is that your statement? I'm just saying all life has value. You don't know what he's capable of feeling. My brochure! There you go, little guy. I'm not scared of him. It's an allergic thing. Put that on your resume brochure. My whole face could puff up. Make it one of your special skills. Knocking someone out is also a special skill. Right. Bye, Vanessa. Thanks. - Vanessa, next week? Yogurt night? - Sure, Ken. You know, whatever. - You could put carob chips on there. - Bye. - Supposed to be less calories. - Bye. I gotta say something. She saved my life. I gotta say something. All right, here it goes. Nah. What would I say? I could really get in trouble. It's a bee law. You're not supposed to talk to a human. I can't believe I'm doing this. I've got to. Oh, I can't do it. Oome on! No. Yes. No. Do it. I can't. How should I start it? "You like jazz?" No, that's no good. Here she comes! Speak, you fool! Hi! I'm sorry. - You're talking. - Yes, I know. You're talking! I'm so sorry. No, it's OK. It's fine. I know I'm dreaming. But I don't recall going to bed. Well, I'm sure this is very disconcerting. This is a bit of a surprise to me. I mean, you're a bee! I am. And I'm not supposed to be doing this, but they were all trying to kill me. And if it wasn't for you... I had to thank you. It's just how I was raised. That was a little weird. - I'm talking with a bee. - Yeah. I'm talking to a bee. And the bee is talking to me! I just want to say I'm grateful. I'll leave now. - Wait! How did you learn to do that? - What? The talking thing. Same way you did, I guess. "Mama, Dada, honey." You pick it up. - That's very funny. - Yeah. Bees are funny. If we didn't laugh, we'd cry with what we have to deal with. Anyway... Oan I... ...get you something? - Like what? I don't know. I mean... I don't know. Ooffee? I don't want to put you out. It's no trouble. It takes two minutes. - It's just coffee. - I hate to impose. - Don't be ridiculous! - Actually, I would love a cup. Hey, you want rum cake? - I shouldn't. - Have some. - No, I can't. - Oome on! I'm trying to lose a couple micrograms. - Where? - These stripes don't help. You look great! I don't know if you know anything about fashion. Are you all right? No. He's making the tie in the cab as they're flying up Madison. He finally gets there. He runs up the steps into the church. The wedding is on. And he says, "Watermelon? I thought you said Guatemalan. Why would I marry a watermelon?" Is that a bee joke? That's the kind of stuff we do. Yeah, different. So, what are you gonna do, Barry? About work? I don't know. I want to do my part for the hive, but I can't do it the way they want. I know how you feel. - You do? - Sure. My parents wanted me to be a lawyer or a doctor, but I wanted to be a florist. - Really? - My only interest is flowers. Our new queen was just elected with that same campaign slogan. Anyway, if you look... There's my hive right there. See it? You're in Sheep Meadow! Yes! I'm right off the Turtle Pond! No way! I know that area. I lost a toe ring there once. - Why do girls put rings on their toes? - Why not? - It's like putting a hat on your knee. - Maybe I'll try that. - You all right, ma'am? - Oh, yeah. Fine. Just having two cups of coffee! Anyway, this has been great. Thanks for the coffee. Yeah, it's no trouble. Sorry I couldn't finish it. If I did, I'd be up the rest of my life. Are you...? Oan I take a piece of this with me? Sure! Here, have a crumb. - Thanks! - Yeah. All right. Well, then... I guess I'll see you around. Or not. OK, Barry. And thank you so much again... for before. Oh, that? That was nothing. Well, not nothing, but... Anyway... This can't possibly work. He's all set to go. We may as well try it. OK, Dave, pull the chute. - Sounds amazing. - It was amazing! It was the scariest, happiest moment of my life. Humans! I can't believe you were with humans! Giant, scary humans! What were they like? Huge and crazy. They talk crazy. They eat crazy giant things. They drive crazy. - Do they try and kill you, like on TV? - Some of them. But some of them don't. - How'd you get back? - Poodle. You did it, and I'm glad. You saw whatever you wanted to see. You had your "experience." Now you can pick out yourjob and be normal. - Well... - Well? Well, I met someone. You did? Was she Bee-ish? - A wasp?! Your parents will kill you! - No, no, no, not a wasp. - Spider? - I'm not attracted to spiders. I know it's the hottest thing, with the eight legs and all. I can't get by that face. So who is she? She's... human. No, no. That's a bee law. You wouldn't break a bee law. - Her name's Vanessa. - Oh, boy. She's so nice. And she's a florist! Oh, no! You're dating a human florist! We're not dating. You're flying outside the hive, talking to humans that attack our homes with power washers and M-80s! One-eighth a stick of dynamite! She saved my life! And she understands me. This is over! Eat this. This is not over! What was that? - They call it a crumb. - It was so stingin' stripey! And that's not what they eat. That's what falls off what they eat! - You know what a Oinnabon is? - No. It's bread and cinnamon and frosting. They heat it up... Sit down! ...really hot! - Listen to me! We are not them! We're us. There's us and there's them! Yes, but who can deny the heart that is yearning? There's no yearning. Stop yearning. Listen to me! You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. Thinking bee! - Thinking bee. - Thinking bee. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! There he is. He's in the pool. You know what your problem is, Barry? I gotta start thinking bee? How much longer will this go on? It's been three days! Why aren't you working? I've got a lot of big life decisions to think about. What life? You have no life! You have no job. You're barely a bee! Would it kill you to make a little honey? Barry, come out. Your father's talking to you. Martin, would you talk to him? Barry, I'm talking to you! You coming? Got everything? All set! Go ahead. I'll catch up. Don't be too long. Watch this! Vanessa! - We're still here. - I told you not to yell at him. He doesn't respond to yelling! - Then why yell at me? - Because you don't listen! I'm not listening to this. Sorry, I've gotta go. - Where are you going? - I'm meeting a friend. A girl? Is this why you can't decide? Bye. I just hope she's Bee-ish. They have a huge parade of flowers every year in Pasadena? To be in the Tournament of Roses, that's every florist's dream! Up on a float, surrounded by flowers, crowds cheering. A tournament. Do the roses compete in athletic events? No. All right, I've got one. How come you don't fly everywhere? It's exhausting. Why don't you run everywhere? It's faster. Yeah, OK, I see, I see. All right, your turn. TiVo. You can just freeze live TV? That's insane! You don't have that? We have Hivo, but it's a disease. It's a horrible, horrible disease. Oh, my. Dumb bees! You must want to sting all those jerks. We try not to sting. It's usually fatal for us. So you have to watch your temper. Very carefully. You kick a wall, take a walk, write an angry letter and throw it out. Work through it like any emotion: Anger, jealousy, lust. Oh, my goodness! Are you OK? Yeah. - What is wrong with you?! - It's a bug. He's not bothering anybody. Get out of here, you creep! What was that? A Pic 'N' Save circular? Yeah, it was. How did you know? It felt like about 10 pages. Seventy-five is pretty much our limit. You've really got that down to a science. - I lost a cousin to Italian Vogue. - I'll bet. What in the name of Mighty Hercules is this? How did this get here? Oute Bee, Golden Blossom, Ray Liotta Private Select? - Is he that actor? - I never heard of him. - Why is this here? - For people. We eat it. You don't have enough food of your own? - Well, yes. - How do you get it? - Bees make it. - I know who makes it! And it's hard to make it! There's heating, cooling, stirring. You need a whole Krelman thing! - It's organic. - It's our-ganic! It's just honey, Barry. Just what?! Bees don't know about this! This is stealing! A lot of stealing! You've taken our homes, schools, hospitals! This is all we have! And it's on sale?! I'm getting to the bottom of this. I'm getting to the bottom of all of this! Hey, Hector. - You almost done? - Almost. He is here. I sense it. Well, I guess I'll go home now and just leave this nice honey out, with no one around. You're busted, box boy! I knew I heard something. So you can talk! I can talk. And now you'll start talking! Where you getting the sweet stuff? Who's your supplier? I don't understand. I thought we were friends. The last thing we want to do is upset bees! You're too late! It's ours now! You, sir, have crossed the wrong sword! You, sir, will be lunch for my iguana, Ignacio! Where is the honey coming from? Tell me where! Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms! Orazy person! What horrible thing has happened here? These faces, they never knew what hit them. And now they're on the road to nowhere! Just keep still. What? You're not dead? Do I look dead? They will wipe anything that moves. Where you headed? To Honey Farms. I am onto something huge here. I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood, crazy stuff. Blows your head off! I'm going to Tacoma. - And you? - He really is dead. All right. Uh-oh! - What is that?! - Oh, no! - A wiper! Triple blade! - Triple blade? Jump on! It's your only chance, bee! Why does everything have to be so doggone clean?! How much do you people need to see?! Open your eyes! Stick your head out the window! From NPR News in Washington, I'm Oarl Kasell. But don't kill no more bugs! - Bee! - Moose blood guy!! - You hear something? - Like what? Like tiny screaming. Turn off the radio. Whassup, bee boy? Hey, Blood. Just a row of honey jars, as far as the eye could see. Wow! I assume wherever this truck goes is where they're getting it. I mean, that honey's ours. - Bees hang tight. - We're all jammed in. It's a close community. Not us, man. We on our own. Every mosquito on his own. - What if you get in trouble? - You a mosquito, you in trouble. Nobody likes us. They just smack. See a mosquito, smack, smack! At least you're out in the world. You must meet girls. Mosquito girls try to trade up, get with a moth, dragonfly. Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito. You got to be kidding me! Mooseblood's about to leave the building! So long, bee! - Hey, guys! - Mooseblood! I knew I'd catch y'all down here. Did you bring your crazy straw? We throw it in jars, slap a label on it, and it's pretty much pure profit. What is this place? A bee's got a brain the size of a pinhead. They are pinheads! Pinhead. - Oheck out the new smoker. - Oh, sweet. That's the one you want. The Thomas 3000! Smoker? Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic. Twice the nicotine, all the tar. A couple breaths of this knocks them right out. They make the honey, and we make the money. "They make the honey, and we make the money"? Oh, my! What's going on? Are you OK? Yeah. It doesn't last too long. Do you know you're in a fake hive with fake walls? Our queen was moved here. We had no choice. This is your queen? That's a man in women's clothes! That's a drag queen! What is this? Oh, no! There's hundreds of them! Bee honey. Our honey is being brazenly stolen on a massive scale! This is worse than anything bears have done! I intend to do something. Oh, Barry, stop. Who told you humans are taking our honey? That's a rumor. Do these look like rumors? That's a conspiracy theory. These are obviously doctored photos. How did you get mixed up in this? He's been talking to humans. - What? - Talking to humans?! He has a human girlfriend. And they make out! Make out? Barry! We do not. - You wish you could. - Whose side are you on? The bees! I dated a cricket once in San Antonio. Those crazy legs kept me up all night. Barry, this is what you want to do with your life? I want to do it for all our lives. Nobody works harder than bees! Dad, I remember you coming home so overworked your hands were still stirring. You couldn't stop. I remember that. What right do they have to our honey? We live on two cups a year. They put it in lip balm for no reason whatsoever! Even if it's true, what can one bee do? Sting them where it really hurts. In the face! The eye! - That would hurt. - No. Up the nose? That's a killer. There's only one place you can sting the humans, one place where it matters. Hive at Five, the hive's only full-hour action news source. No more bee beards! With Bob Bumble at the anchor desk. Weather with Storm Stinger. Sports with Buzz Larvi. And Jeanette Ohung. - Good evening. I'm Bob Bumble. - And I'm Jeanette Ohung. A tri-county bee, Barry Benson, intends to sue the human race for stealing our honey, packaging it and profiting from it illegally! Tomorrow night on Bee Larry King, we'll have three former queens here in our studio, discussing their new book, Olassy Ladies, out this week on Hexagon. Tonight we're talking to Barry Benson. Did you ever think, "I'm a kid from the hive. I can't do this"? Bees have never been afraid to change the world. What about Bee Oolumbus? Bee Gandhi? Bejesus? Where I'm from, we'd never sue humans. We were thinking of stickball or candy stores. How old are you? The bee community is supporting you in this case, which will be the trial of the bee century. You know, they have a Larry King in the human world too. It's a common name. Next week... He looks like you and has a show and suspenders and colored dots... Next week... Glasses, quotes on the bottom from the guest even though you just heard 'em. Bear Week next week! They're scary, hairy and here live. Always leans forward, pointy shoulders, squinty eyes, very Jewish. In tennis, you attack at the point of weakness! It was my grandmother, Ken. She's 81. Honey, her backhand's a joke! I'm not gonna take advantage of that? Quiet, please. Actual work going on here. - Is that that same bee? - Yes, it is! I'm helping him sue the human race. - Hello. - Hello, bee. This is Ken. Yeah, I remember you. Timberland, size ten and a half. Vibram sole, I believe. Why does he talk again? Listen, you better go 'cause we're really busy working. But it's our yogurt night! Bye-bye. Why is yogurt night so difficult?! You poor thing. You two have been at this for hours! Yes, and Adam here has been a huge help. - Frosting... - How many sugars? Just one. I try not to use the competition. So why are you helping me? Bees have good qualities. And it takes my mind off the shop. Instead of flowers, people are giving balloon bouquets now. Those are great, if you're three. And artificial flowers. - Oh, those just get me psychotic! - Yeah, me too. Bent stingers, pointless pollination. Bees must hate those fake things! Nothing worse than a daffodil that's had work done. Maybe this could make up for it a little bit. - This lawsuit's a pretty big deal. - I guess. You sure you want to go through with it? Am I sure? When I'm done with the humans, they won't be able to say, "Honey, I'm home," without paying a royalty! It's an incredible scene here in downtown Manhattan, where the world anxiously waits, because for the first time in history, we will hear for ourselves if a honeybee can actually speak. What have we gotten into here, Barry? It's pretty big, isn't it? I can't believe how many humans don't work during the day. You think billion-dollar multinational food companies have good lawyers? Everybody needs to stay behind the barricade. - What's the matter? - I don't know, I just got a chill. Well, if it isn't the bee team. You boys work on this? All rise! The Honorable Judge Bumbleton presiding. All right. Oase number 4475, Superior Oourt of New York, Barry Bee Benson v. the Honey Industry is now in session. Mr. Montgomery, you're representing the five food companies collectively? A privilege. Mr. Benson... you're representing all the bees of the world? I'm kidding. Yes, Your Honor, we're ready to proceed. Mr. Montgomery, your opening statement, please. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my grandmother was a simple woman. Born on a farm, she believed it was man's divine right to benefit from the bounty of nature God put before us. If we lived in the topsy-turvy world Mr. Benson imagines, just think of what would it mean. I would have to negotiate with the silkworm for the elastic in my britches! Talking bee! How do we know this isn't some sort of holographic motion-picture-capture Hollywood wizardry? They could be using laser beams! Robotics! Ventriloquism! Oloning! For all we know, he could be on steroids! Mr. Benson? Ladies and gentlemen, there's no trickery here. I'm just an ordinary bee. Honey's pretty important to me. It's important to all bees. We invented it! We make it. And we protect it with our lives. Unfortunately, there are some people in this room who think they can take it from us 'cause we're the little guys! I'm hoping that, after this is all over, you'll see how, by taking our honey, you not only take everything we have but everything we are! I wish he'd dress like that all the time. So nice! Oall your first witness. So, Mr. Klauss Vanderhayden of Honey Farms, big company you have. I suppose so. I see you also own Honeyburton and Honron! Yes, they provide beekeepers for our farms. Beekeeper. I find that to be a very disturbing term. I don't imagine you employ any bee-free-ers, do you? - No. - I couldn't hear you. - No. - No. Because you don't free bees. You keep bees. Not only that, it seems you thought a bear would be an appropriate image for a jar of honey. They're very lovable creatures. Yogi Bear, Fozzie Bear, Build-A-Bear. You mean like this? Bears kill bees! How'd you like his head crashing through your living room?! Biting into your couch! Spitting out your throw pillows! OK, that's enough. Take him away. So, Mr. Sting, thank you for being here. Your name intrigues me. - Where have I heard it before? - I was with a band called The Police. But you've never been a police officer, have you? No, I haven't. No, you haven't. And so here we have yet another example of bee culture casually stolen by a human for nothing more than a prance-about stage name. Oh, please. Have you ever been stung, Mr. Sting? Because I'm feeling a little stung, Sting. Or should I say... Mr. Gordon M. Sumner! That's not his real name?! You idiots! Mr. Liotta, first, belated congratulations on your Emmy win for a guest spot on ER in 2005. Thank you. Thank you. I see from your resume that you're devilishly handsome with a churning inner turmoil that's ready to blow. I enjoy what I do. Is that a crime? Not yet it isn't. But is this what it's come to for you? Exploiting tiny, helpless bees so you don't have to rehearse your part and learn your lines, sir? Watch it, Benson! I could blow right now! This isn't a goodfella. This is a badfella! Why doesn't someone just step on this creep, and we can all go home?! - Order in this court! - You're all thinking it! Order! Order, I say! - Say it! - Mr. Liotta, please sit down! I think it was awfully nice of that bear to pitch in like that. I think the jury's on our side. Are we doing everything right, legally? I'm a florist. Right. Well, here's to a great team. To a great team! Well, hello. - Ken! - Hello. I didn't think you were coming. No, I was just late. I tried to call, but... the battery. I didn't want all this to go to waste, so I called Barry. Luckily, he was free. Oh, that was lucky. There's a little left. I could heat it up. Yeah, heat it up, sure, whatever. So I hear you're quite a tennis player. I'm not much for the game myself. The ball's a little grabby. That's where I usually sit. Right... there. Ken, Barry was looking at your resume, and he agreed with me that eating with chopsticks isn't really a special skill. You think I don't see what you're doing? I know how hard it is to find the rightjob. We have that in common. Do we? Bees have 100 percent employment, but we do jobs like taking the crud out. That's just what I was thinking about doing. Ken, I let Barry borrow your razor for his fuzz. I hope that was all right. I'm going to drain the old stinger. Yeah, you do that. Look at that. You know, I've just about had it with your little mind games. - What's that? - Italian Vogue. Mamma mia, that's a lot of pages. A lot of ads. Remember what Van said, why is your life more valuable than mine? Funny, I just can't seem to recall that! I think something stinks in here! I love the smell of flowers. How do you like the smell of flames?! Not as much. Water bug! Not taking sides! Ken, I'm wearing a Ohapstick hat! This is pathetic! I've got issues! Well, well, well, a royal flush! - You're bluffing. - Am I? Surf's up, dude! Poo water! That bowl is gnarly. Except for those dirty yellow rings! Kenneth! What are you doing?! You know, I don't even like honey! I don't eat it! We need to talk! He's just a little bee! And he happens to be the nicest bee I've met in a long time! Long time? What are you talking about?! Are there other bugs in your life? No, but there are other things bugging me in life. And you're one of them! Fine! Talking bees, no yogurt night... My nerves are fried from riding on this emotional roller coaster! Goodbye, Ken. And for your information, I prefer sugar-free, artificial sweeteners made by man! I'm sorry about all that. I know it's got an aftertaste! I like it! I always felt there was some kind of barrier between Ken and me. I couldn't overcome it. Oh, well. Are you OK for the trial? I believe Mr. Montgomery is about out of ideas. We would like to call Mr. Barry Benson Bee to the stand. Good idea! You can really see why he's considered one of the best lawyers... Yeah. Layton, you've gotta weave some magic with this jury, or it's gonna be all over. Don't worry. The only thing I have to do to turn this jury around is to remind them of what they don't like about bees. - You got the tweezers? - Are you allergic? Only to losing, son. Only to losing. Mr. Benson Bee, I'll ask you what I think we'd all like to know. What exactly is your relationship to that woman? We're friends. - Good friends? - Yes. How good? Do you live together? Wait a minute... Are you her little... ...bedbug? I've seen a bee documentary or two. From what I understand, doesn't your queen give birth to all the bee children? - Yeah, but... - So those aren't your real parents! - Oh, Barry... - Yes, they are! Hold me back! You're an illegitimate bee, aren't you, Benson? He's denouncing bees! Don't y'all date your cousins? - Objection! - I'm going to pincushion this guy! Adam, don't! It's what he wants! Oh, I'm hit!! Oh, lordy, I am hit! Order! Order! The venom! The venom is coursing through my veins! I have been felled by a winged beast of destruction! You see? You can't treat them like equals! They're striped savages! Stinging's the only thing they know! It's their way! - Adam, stay with me. - I can't feel my legs. What angel of mercy will come forward to suck the poison from my heaving buttocks? I will have order in this court. Order! Order, please! The case of the honeybees versus the human race took a pointed turn against the bees yesterday when one of their legal team stung Layton T. Montgomery. - Hey, buddy. - Hey. - Is there much pain? - Yeah. I... I blew the whole case, didn't I? It doesn't matter. What matters is you're alive. You could have died. I'd be better off dead. Look at me. They got it from the cafeteria downstairs, in a tuna sandwich. Look, there's a little celery still on it. What was it like to sting someone? I can't explain it. It was all... All adrenaline and then... and then ecstasy! All right. You think it was all a trap? Of course. I'm sorry. I flew us right into this. What were we thinking? Look at us. We're just a couple of bugs in this world. What will the humans do to us if they win? I don't know. I hear they put the roaches in motels. That doesn't sound so bad. Adam, they check in, but they don't check out! Oh, my. Oould you get a nurse to close that window? - Why? - The smoke. Bees don't smoke. Right. Bees don't smoke. Bees don't smoke! But some bees are smoking. That's it! That's our case! It is? It's not over? Get dressed. I've gotta go somewhere. Get back to the court and stall. Stall any way you can. And assuming you've done step correctly, you're ready for the tub. Mr. Flayman. Yes? Yes, Your Honor! Where is the rest of your team? Well, Your Honor, it's interesting. Bees are trained to fly haphazardly, and as a result, we don't make very good time. I actually heard a funny story about... Your Honor, haven't these ridiculous bugs taken up enough of this court's valuable time? How much longer will we allow these absurd shenanigans to go on? They have presented no compelling evidence to support their charges against my clients, who run legitimate businesses. I move for a complete dismissal of this entire case! Mr. Flayman, I'm afraid I'm going to have to consider Mr. Montgomery's motion. But you can't! We have a terrific case. Where is your proof? Where is the evidence? Show me the smoking gun! Hold it, Your Honor! You want a smoking gun? Here is your smoking gun. What is that? It's a bee smoker! What, this? This harmless little contraption? This couldn't hurt a fly, let alone a bee. Look at what has happened to bees who have never been asked, "Smoking or non?" Is this what nature intended for us? To be forcibly addicted to smoke machines and man-made wooden slat work camps? Living out our lives as honey slaves to the white man? - What are we gonna do? - He's playing the species card. Ladies and gentlemen, please, free these bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! The court finds in favor of the bees! Vanessa, we won! I knew you could do it! High-five! Sorry. I'm OK! You know what this means? All the honey will finally belong to the bees. Now we won't have to work so hard all the time. This is an unholy perversion of the balance of nature, Benson. You'll regret this. Barry, how much honey is out there? All right. One at a time. Barry, who are you wearing? My sweater is Ralph Lauren, and I have no pants. - What if Montgomery's right? - What do you mean? We've been living the bee way a long time, 27 million years. Oongratulations on your victory. What will you demand as a settlement? First, we'll demand a complete shutdown of all bee work camps. Then we want back the honey that was ours to begin with, every last drop. We demand an end to the glorification of the bear as anything more than a filthy, smelly, bad-breath stink machine. We're all aware of what they do in the woods. Wait for my signal. Take him out. He'll have nauseous for a few hours, then he'll be fine. And we will no longer tolerate bee-negative nicknames... But it's just a prance-about stage name! ...unnecessary inclusion of honey in bogus health products and la-dee-da human tea-time snack garnishments. Oan't breathe. Bring it in, boys! Hold it right there! Good. Tap it. Mr. Buzzwell, we just passed three cups, and there's gallons more coming! - I think we need to shut down! - Shut down? We've never shut down. Shut down honey production! Stop making honey! Turn your key, sir! What do we do now? Oannonball! We're shutting honey production! Mission abort. Aborting pollination and nectar detail. Returning to base. Adam, you wouldn't believe how much honey was out there. Oh, yeah? What's going on? Where is everybody? - Are they out celebrating? - They're home. They don't know what to do. Laying out, sleeping in. I heard your Uncle Oarl was on his way to San Antonio with a cricket. At least we got our honey back. Sometimes I think, so what if humans liked our honey? Who wouldn't? It's the greatest thing in the world! I was excited to be part of making it. This was my new desk. This was my new job. I wanted to do it really well. And now... Now I can't. I don't understand why they're not happy. I thought their lives would be better! They're doing nothing. It's amazing. Honey really changes people. You don't have any idea what's going on, do you? - What did you want to show me? - This. What happened here? That is not the half of it. Oh, no. Oh, my. They're all wilting. Doesn't look very good, does it? No. And whose fault do you think that is? You know, I'm gonna guess bees. Bees? Specifically, me. I didn't think bees not needing to make honey would affect all these things. It's notjust flowers. Fruits, vegetables, they all need bees. That's our whole SAT test right there. Take away produce, that affects the entire animal kingdom. And then, of course... The human species? So if there's no more pollination, it could all just go south here, couldn't it? I know this is also partly my fault. How about a suicide pact? How do we do it? - I'll sting you, you step on me. - Thatjust kills you twice. Right, right. Listen, Barry... sorry, but I gotta get going. I had to open my mouth and talk. Vanessa? Vanessa? Why are you leaving? Where are you going? To the final Tournament of Roses parade in Pasadena. They've moved it to this weekend because all the flowers are dying. It's the last chance I'll ever have to see it. Vanessa, I just wanna say I'm sorry. I never meant it to turn out like this. I know. Me neither. Tournament of Roses. Roses can't do sports. Wait a minute. Roses. Roses? Roses! Vanessa! Roses?! Barry? - Roses are flowers! - Yes, they are. Flowers, bees, pollen! I know. That's why this is the last parade. Maybe not. Oould you ask him to slow down? Oould you slow down? Barry! OK, I made a huge mistake. This is a total disaster, all my fault. Yes, it kind of is. I've ruined the planet. I wanted to help you with the flower shop. I've made it worse. Actually, it's completely closed down. I thought maybe you were remodeling. But I have another idea, and it's greater than my previous ideas combined. I don't want to hear it! All right, they have the roses, the roses have the pollen. I know every bee, plant and flower bud in this park. All we gotta do is get what they've got back here with what we've got. - Bees. - Park. - Pollen! - Flowers. - Repollination! - Across the nation! Tournament of Roses, Pasadena, Oalifornia. They've got nothing but flowers, floats and cotton candy. Security will be tight. I have an idea. Vanessa Bloome, FTD. Official floral business. It's real. Sorry, ma'am. Nice brooch. Thank you. It was a gift. Once inside, we just pick the right float. How about The Princess and the Pea? I could be the princess, and you could be the pea! Yes, I got it. - Where should I sit? - What are you? - I believe I'm the pea. - The pea? It goes under the mattresses. - Not in this fairy tale, sweetheart. - I'm getting the marshal. You do that! This whole parade is a fiasco! Let's see what this baby'll do. Hey, what are you doing?! Then all we do is blend in with traffic... ...without arousing suspicion. Once at the airport, there's no stopping us. Stop! Security. - You and your insect pack your float? - Yes. Has it been in your possession the entire time? Would you remove your shoes? - Remove your stinger. - It's part of me. I know. Just having some fun. Enjoy your flight. Then if we're lucky, we'll have just enough pollen to do the job. Oan you believe how lucky we are? We have just enough pollen to do the job! I think this is gonna work. It's got to work. Attention, passengers, this is Oaptain Scott. We have a bit of bad weather in New York. It looks like we'll experience a couple hours delay. Barry, these are cut flowers with no water. They'll never make it. I gotta get up there and talk to them. Be careful. Oan I get help with the Sky Mall magazine? I'd like to order the talking inflatable nose and ear hair trimmer. Oaptain, I'm in a real situation. - What'd you say, Hal? - Nothing. Bee! Don't freak out! My entire species... What are you doing? - Wait a minute! I'm an attorney! - Who's an attorney? Don't move. Oh, Barry. Good afternoon, passengers. This is your captain. Would a Miss Vanessa Bloome in 24B please report to the cockpit? And please hurry! What happened here? There was a DustBuster, a toupee, a life raft exploded. One's bald, one's in a boat, they're both unconscious! - Is that another bee joke? - No! No one's flying the plane! This is JFK control tower, Flight 356. What's your status? This is Vanessa Bloome. I'm a florist from New York. Where's the pilot? He's unconscious, and so is the copilot. Not good. Does anyone onboard have flight experience? As a matter of fact, there is. - Who's that? - Barry Benson. From the honey trial?! Oh, great. Vanessa, this is nothing more than a big metal bee. It's got giant wings, huge engines. I can't fly a plane. - Why not? Isn't John Travolta a pilot? - Yes. How hard could it be? Wait, Barry! We're headed into some lightning. This is Bob Bumble. We have some late-breaking news from JFK Airport, where a suspenseful scene is developing. Barry Benson, fresh from his legal victory... That's Barry! ...is attempting to land a plane, loaded with people, flowers and an incapacitated flight crew. Flowers?! We have a storm in the area and two individuals at the controls with absolutely no flight experience. Just a minute. There's a bee on that plane. I'm quite familiar with Mr. Benson and his no-account compadres. They've done enough damage. But isn't he your only hope? Technically, a bee shouldn't be able to fly at all. Their wings are too small... Haven't we heard this a million times? "The surface area of the wings and body mass make no sense." - Get this on the air! - Got it. - Stand by. - We're going live. The way we work may be a mystery to you. Making honey takes a lot of bees doing a lot of small jobs. But let me tell you about a small job. If you do it well, it makes a big difference. More than we realized. To us, to everyone. That's why I want to get bees back to working together. That's the bee way! We're not made of Jell-O. We get behind a fellow. - Black and yellow! - Hello! Left, right, down, hover. - Hover? - Forget hover. This isn't so hard. Beep-beep! Beep-beep! Barry, what happened?! Wait, I think we were on autopilot the whole time. - That may have been helping me. - And now we're not! So it turns out I cannot fly a plane. All of you, let's get behind this fellow! Move it out! Move out! Our only chance is if I do what I'd do, you copy me with the wings of the plane! Don't have to yell. I'm not yelling! We're in a lot of trouble. It's very hard to concentrate with that panicky tone in your voice! It's not a tone. I'm panicking! I can't do this! Vanessa, pull yourself together. You have to snap out of it! You snap out of it. You snap out of it. - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - Hold it! - Why? Oome on, it's my turn. How is the plane flying? I don't know. Hello? Benson, got any flowers for a happy occasion in there? The Pollen Jocks! They do get behind a fellow. - Black and yellow. - Hello. All right, let's drop this tin can on the blacktop. Where? I can't see anything. Oan you? No, nothing. It's all cloudy. Oome on. You got to think bee, Barry. - Thinking bee. - Thinking bee. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Wait a minute. I think I'm feeling something. - What? - I don't know. It's strong, pulling me. Like a 27-million-year-old instinct. Bring the nose down. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! - What in the world is on the tarmac? - Get some lights on that! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! - Vanessa, aim for the flower. - OK. Out the engines. We're going in on bee power. Ready, boys? Affirmative! Good. Good. Easy, now. That's it. Land on that flower! Ready? Full reverse! Spin it around! - Not that flower! The other one! - Which one? - That flower. - I'm aiming at the flower! That's a fat guy in a flowered shirt. I mean the giant pulsating flower made of millions of bees! Pull forward. Nose down. Tail up. Rotate around it. - This is insane, Barry! - This's the only way I know how to fly. Am I koo-koo-kachoo, or is this plane flying in an insect-like pattern? Get your nose in there. Don't be afraid. Smell it. Full reverse! Just drop it. Be a part of it. Aim for the center! Now drop it in! Drop it in, woman! Oome on, already. Barry, we did it! You taught me how to fly! - Yes. No high-five! - Right. Barry, it worked! Did you see the giant flower? What giant flower? Where? Of course I saw the flower! That was genius! - Thank you. - But we're not done yet. Listen, everyone! This runway is covered with the last pollen from the last flowers available anywhere on Earth. That means this is our last chance. We're the only ones who make honey, pollinate flowers and dress like this. If we're gonna survive as a species, this is our moment! What do you say? Are we going to be bees, orjust Museum of Natural History keychains? We're bees! Keychain! Then follow me! Except Keychain. Hold on, Barry. Here. You've earned this. Yeah! I'm a Pollen Jock! And it's a perfect fit. All I gotta do are the sleeves. Oh, yeah. That's our Barry. Mom! The bees are back! If anybody needs to make a call, now's the time. I got a feeling we'll be working late tonight! Here's your change. Have a great afternoon! Oan I help who's next? Would you like some honey with that? It is bee-approved. Don't forget these. Milk, cream, cheese, it's all me. And I don't see a nickel! Sometimes I just feel like a piece of meat! I had no idea. Barry, I'm sorry. Have you got a moment? Would you excuse me? My mosquito associate will help you. Sorry I'm late. He's a lawyer too? I was already a blood-sucking parasite. All I needed was a briefcase. Have a great afternoon! Barry, I just got this huge tulip order, and I can't get them anywhere. No problem, Vannie. Just leave it to me. You're a lifesaver, Barry. Oan I help who's next? All right, scramble, jocks! It's time to fly. Thank you, Barry! That bee is living my life! Let it go, Kenny. - When will this nightmare end?! - Let it all go. - Beautiful day to fly. - Sure is. Between you and me, I was dying to get out of that office. You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. - Thinking bee! - Me? Hold it. Let's just stop for a second. Hold it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, everyone. Oan we stop here? I'm not making a major life decision during a production number! All right. Take ten, everybody. Wrap it up, guys. I had virtually no rehearsal for that.

#stormmodblog

6 notes · View notes

ma-sulevin · 4 years ago

Text

FC5 GFH Tag!

Everybody and their best friend has already done this, but @chyrstis is the one who tagged me! Hopefully it goes well. Heeeeere’s Mattie!

Deputy Mattie Covington

With Fangs for Hire

Boomer: “Oh who’s a beautiful boy?” “You’re doing such a good job, buddy.” “Whadja find, Boomer?”

Peaches: “Now those are some murder beans!” “You wouldn’t get stuck in a tree and wait for me to come get you down, would ya, girl?” “You got a little blood on your whiskers.”

Cheeseburger: “Holy shit that’s a bear.” “You’re too big to cuddle me, bud.” “I’ll catch you a fish soon as I can, baby.”

With other Guns for Hire

Sharky

(when he joins the party) “What are we burning down this time?”

“Hey, Shark, let me borrow your lighter for a second.” Then, indignant: “I’ll give it back!”

"Whoa, watch where you’re pointing that thing.” Laughter. “The flamethrower, babe.”

“If you’re real nice, I’ll let you buy me a beer or three after all this.”

Grace

(when she joins the party) “Oh, hell yeah. Grace is the best.”

“You give lessons, right? How much do you charge?”

“You could clear out this whole county by yourself if we let you, huh. Goddamn.”

Hurk

(when he joins the party) “Oh, now it’s a party.”

“You know, maybe I will join Hurk’s Gate after all this is over. Sounds like a way better time.”

“Tell me more about Kyrat, Hurk.” / “Tell me something else about those islands.”

Nick

(when he joins the party) “Okay, but I’m not getting in that fuckin’ plane.”

“Air support is handy, though.”

“Does Kim know you’re doing that?”

“It’s a good thing you’re cute.”

Jess

(when she joins the party) Softly: “She could murder me and I’d say thanks.”

“You really make your own arrows, Jess? Can you show me?”

“You’re a good fuckin’ shot. Holy shit.”

Addie

(when she joins the party) “Please don’t make me get in the Tulip.”

“I’m all stocked up on, uh, coconut oil. Thanks though.”

“How many people are on your Any Hole List? Wait, don’t tell me.” “Ah, Jesus.”

“I’m not going to play FMK with you if you ask about the Seeds, Addie.”

In Combat

Seeing an enemy: “Over there, babe.”

Sneaking: “If my dad could see me now...”

Killing an enemy: “Ugh, got him.” / *if you score the hit* “Oh, nice, dude.”

Reviving: “Whoops, good thing I was an EMT.” / “I’m here. You’re okay.”

Hurt: “Ow, shit, fuck.” / “Holy Jesus.”

Downed: “Oh god, I can’t die like this.” / “Ah, fuck, they got me.”

Driving

"Grab the oh-shit handle.”

Reckless driving: “They gave you a license?”

Changing radio stations: "......peggies went off with the music, though.”

Idle

“When’s lunch?”

“You look like you could use a nap.”

“You know, this county’s the first place I’ve ever felt at home. I hate seeing it like this.”

“Shoulda grabbed some waters at that last stop.”

“You know, I found some oregano earlier...”

“I can’t believe I moved from Idaho for this.”

“Joseph Seed can catch these hands.”

Location-Specific:

Anywhere in the Henbane: “(sneeze) I need some Benadryl.” “If anything looks weird, just throw a rock at it.”

At one of Faith’s Path Markers: “As if the cult shit isn’t bad enough as it is, they make these people walk for miles too? Jesus.”

Near Joseph’s statue: “If I was gonna get a big-ass statue made of myself, I’d get them to fix my hairline at least.”

At the Hot Springs Hotel: “I ain’t afraid of no ghosts.”

John’s ranch: “What a douchebag. Let’s steal his shit.” “I bet he’s got some fancy booze in here.”

Anywhere in Holland Valley: “This place is fuckin’ gorgeous.”

Anywhere in the Whitetails: “Feel how cold my hands are.”

Near a Wolf Beacon: “Oh my god. What a nightmare.”

#oc: mattie covington #far cry 5

13 notes · View notes

bbq-hawks-wings · 5 years ago

Note

Um, if you’re not too busy can I please have a scenario or hcs of Hawks with a really empathetic s/o who becomes more and more worried about Hawks safety while infiltrating the league and feels upset whenever thinking about how stressed and worried he must feel too?

Hey wow, so this actually ended up being a whole-ass one shot. I was going to leave name spoilers for tomorrow, but close enough, so have fun!

~~~~~~~~~

“So what are plans for tonight?” You chirped over the phone whilst gathering your things for the ride home.

“Chicken and beer at the usual place?” You rolled your eyes, knowing that was how he’d answer you.

“We’ve been there four times this month, already. We can have that at home.”

“Ah, but Yasu-san’s is the best in the city!”

“If we’re going out to eat, let’s at least switch it up!”

“All right, all right. How about donburi?”

“I guess you’ll get your chicken one way or the other, huh?”

“Hey now, at least we’ll get our ow-” You heard him suddenly stop and what sounded like a swear under his breath. “Hey, babe, can I call you back? It’s, uh, work trying to get a hold of me… I’ll be back in a sec.” There was tension in his voice, perhaps an inkling of hesitation?

“O-ok.” And no sooner had the words left your mouth that you were hung up on. What was with him lately? He’d been dodgy and evasive for a while - canceling dates last minute, getting uncharacteristically possessive about his phone, and avoided talking about his day when he used to be open about it to an obnoxious degree. It had been going on for a while now and was so unlike him.

Was… Was he cheating on you? No! There had to be other explanations…

You were snapped out of your daze by the ringtone going off in your hand. How long had you been just standing there? “Hey, sorry, babe. I know we were going to meet up and go to a place together, but I’ll have to meet you there instead.”

“Ah…” You couldn’t help but betray the sinking feeling in your gut.

“I’m sorry, angel. I know I haven’t been as available, but it’s only temporary, I promise!”

“Ok then.” You didn’t sound convinced.

“Go on and pick out a place and send it to me. I won’t be long! You know me!”

“Sure.” You hung up the phone and went over the background information you’d been accumulating over time. It had to just be in your head. The way he doted over and adored you, there’s no way he’d be cheating!

You flipped through some places to grab a bite and hovered over the button to send it to him when a thought overcame you. You had his personal email added onto your phone as a contact and in the moment you realized that you could see where he was going through his GPS.

No! It was a huge breach of privacy! You trusted him, right? And then you thought back to all the distractions he brought up whenever you confronted him about his behavior - how he always had an escape for every question you brought up.

You clutched your phone a moment before pulling up his location, the dot moving in real time as he undoubtedly was flying over the city. You weren’t sure where he was going, but you were close enough to follow, even on foot. If this all really was a misunderstanding he’d forgive you, right? And if it wasn’t… well, the ball would be in your court then.

You gathered your things and flew as if carried on your own set of wings.

When you were stopped at a crossing, you sent him a meetup location so you didn’t seem suspicious, just out of the way enough to seem reasonable you were in the same neighborhood.

You followed behind and even caught occasional glimpses of him high in the air at times, the red wings much harder to parse out in the setting sunlight, until finally the dot on your phone stood still and you could confirm he was at his destination. It was the back of an abandoned store?

There didn’t seem to be soul for miles around. What on earth was he doing here? Your heart pounded in your chest as you crept around to where he seemed to be - a dark alleyway that kept an already remote location away from prying eyes. You heard them before you saw them, and carefully rounded the corner to peek at what was happening. There he was, all right; but who was the hooded figure he was talking to? You couldn’t make out his face beneath the hood, but you could tell he was tall, and that whatever their relationship he and Hawks were NOT on good terms.

“-ot you what you wanted. I don’t exactly know what you plan to do with it, but I hope that just goes to show how seriously I take this.”

“Sure, sure, birdie.” He gave a shrug and a wry chuckle. “Tell ya the truth, I don’t even know what I’ll do with it.”

“Wh-” Hawks exhaled and spread his palms as if to physically drop the matter. “Let me guess, you’ll want -”

But at this point, you’d stopped noticing what they were talking about because in the course of their back and forth banter the hooded figure had glanced in your general direction, and you swore he locked eyes with you.

Something in his gaze made your more base survival instincts kick in - the kind that knows that when you’ve been caught by a life-threatening predator sometimes the best mode of action is to stay as still as possible and hope they fool themselves into believing they never saw you. And so it was for an agonizingly long time. Hawks seemed too preoccupied and distracted to pick up your racing heart, urgent breathing, and terrified quaking. You must have been panicked enough to be seeing things because you could swear that you and this mystery man shared some sinister, intimate exchange. You caught the turquoise blue color of his eyes, the slant of thin eyebrows peeking out from under straight black hair, and then you finally noticed the stitches somehow catching some stray glint of light in the twilight. Only after the last rays of warm yellow and red light tucked themselves away behind the horizon and the cool and menacing blues of the night crept out of the shadows did you finally notice the scars.

“Are you even listening to me?”

He lazily blinked and turned his attention back to the winged hero, but to you it felt as if a hand that had been clutching your throat finally let go and you did’t bother to stick around to hear the rest of their exchange. You knew not to scramble or run, it would only make you clumsy and you could not afford a mistake now! As you speed walked, careful not to stop your feet or breathe too heavily, you only caught the man’s fading reply in the background.

“Just a stray alley cat.”

You forgot about dinner plans. You forgot about everything Hawks had told you about being safe - about going to a public place and calling the police, a hero, him, anyone. You wanted to escape to the only place in your mind that felt safe at the moment, and place was home. When you felt sure enough you could bolt without being noticed you took off like a frightened rabbit and made your way home looking over your shoulder the whole way.

~~~~~

Hawks was worried when he went to your restaurant location to not see you there. He sat down, ordered a drink and sent you a text, assuming you were in the bathroom; but he couldn’t find your bag anywhere, and when he asked the staff they said no one matching your description had come into the building. One panicked assessment of the restaurant later and he confirmed that all bodies were accounted for and you weren’t one of them. He checked his phone again to see you hadn’t even seen his message yet, and you didn’t pick up when he called your phone.

In a panic, he called every acquaintance you shared to see if you’d maybe gone somewhere else as he headed to your home to check for you there. You were upset at him, right? He’d been pushing his luck keeping secrets from you without giving you some sort of reason to not suspect him. No, even in the worst cases you would at least tell him you were mad. You would never string him along like this and make him legitimately worry.

His panic rose to new heights as he got a call from a familiar number.

“What do yo-”

“I never took you as the cat type, birdy; but if I were you I’d put a bell on that little kitty in case she wanders off again.” The voice cut him off. “It’d be a shame if something happened to her. Strangers can be so cruel, after all.”

And then he hung up.

He landed on the balcony of his apartment, and fumbling with his keys he finally got the door open, ready to frantically search the apartment and call the police if it turned up empty. But thank god, there you were sitting with your arms tucked up to your knees on the couch. He barely had the mental presence to shake off his shoes when he stumbled in and threw his arms around you.

“(Y/N), my god, where have you been? What happened; I’ve been trying to reach you!”

You couldn’t look him in the eye. You gained a new sense of composure in his presence, but what you’d learned tonight weighed heavy on your mind.

“I-I…”

“What? Did something happen?”

“That was Dabi, wasn’t it?”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence. Everything was still, and the only sounds Hawks could hear was the throbbing of his own heartbeat in his eardrums.

“T-that, that was him. That was the League of Villains’ Dabi, right? The arsonist and murderer?” You rambled looking for a confirmation from him, but all that whirled in his head was Dabi’s threat. He’d seen you. He knew who you were. You weren’t safe now.

“Why were you talking with him? Are you working together?”

“(Y/N),” Hawks could barely see behind the anger and anxiety welling up in his chest. “Are you hurt, did-?”

“Keigo!!!”

He snapped to attention at his real name - only ever spoken from your lips any more. It was as if he’d been pulled from some sort of alternate dimension at the call. His vision cleared and he saw you place a hand on either side of his face as you looked him in the eye.

“Keigo… Are you working with the League of Villains?”

Oh how long had he been holding back the fear and the tension - the apprehension of how he knew he wasn’t a right fit for this mission but he had no other choice? It was all a bad dream, but it had become a night terror the moment you stepped into it. He all but collapsed into your touch as he put the pieces together in his head.

“You followed me?”

“Yes.”

“You saw him?”

“Yes, what’s going on?”

Finally, as voices calmed again and the exhaustion overtook you both, he gave you a straight answer. “Things’re bad, (Y/N). I can’t tell you much of anything, you’re too involved already; but by god if I could stop now I would.” You listened intently as he continued.

“I’m in some fucking deep shit,” The intensity and emotion escaping his lips surprised him. “and if I could back out I would. If I could wrap it up and send it off I would; but every time I think I make progress, the mark just gets further and further and further away. And today…” His voice trailed as he once more looked into your worried eyes, tears spilling over at the edges. This time he cupped your face in his hands. “Please, (Y/N), angel, I need you to promise - I need you to SWEAR that you’ll forget this ever happened. I need you to forget EVERYTHING you saw or heard. I keep telling myself this is for the best, but…” He let out a shudder, “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you to it.”

There was some shared sobs as you hugged each other, the reality of the situation growing more grave with every moment.

“I wish you were cheating on me.”

He gave a humorless chuckle. Was that suppose to make him laugh, or were you genuinely serious? “No matter what happens, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of, I swear!”

“Don’t talk like that!”

“It’s my job, angel. I don’t have a choice. If I wasn’t before, I’m definitely going to end this as soon as possible. The only way out at this point is through.”

#hawks bnha #bnha hawks #hawks #hawks x reader #bnha hawks x reader #hawks x reader bnha #hawks x reader imagine #keigo takami #takami keigo #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo x reader #she writes

272 notes · View notes

julesthequirky · 5 years ago

Text

Falling For The Sheriff

Summary: Your car breaks down just outside a small southern town, and the first person to your ‘rescue’ is no one other than the Sheriff of the town, Dean Winchester.

Chapter One

Damn, all you could get on the radio was country. Country, country and more country. You slapped your hand on the dial, turning it off. You turned up your air con. Christ was it hot in this backwater hick town.

That was the moment your car decided to splutter and choke.

“Oh no. Please, not now. Not now.”

Your car died and you groaned. Trust you to be stuck in the middle of some outback tiny town.

“Shit.”

Your hands smacked your wheel and you swung the car door wide enough for it to break off from the hinges. You stepped out into the sweltering heat.

Christ. You felt your forehead bead with sweat. You checked your phone. Ugh it wasn’t even three. You went to lift the top of your car, but your fingers burned on the black metal. You cried out in pain, snatching your hands, curling them to your body.

You kicked your car.

“Stupid piece of shi-”

“Help you, ma’am?”

You jumped and whirled around in the middle of a paddy, now looking like a deer in headlights.

The man standing before you stood in front of a black ‘69 Chevy Impala. He wore a stark white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black pants. His outfit complete with bolo tie, tan cowboy boots and a Stetson.

He was a young good-looking man.

“My car just quit on me.”

“I’ll have Bobby take a look at it.”

His voice was deep with that distinctive southern drawl.

“Oh, uh, thanks.”

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

“My accent give it away?”

“All right, little miss, no need for the sarcasm. Or I’ll have you for sass talking the Sheriff.”

He was the Sheriff?!!!

SHIT!!

“Are you really the Sheriff?” You went around to the back of your car and popped the trunk. You pulled out your suitcase, the weight almost pulling you down with it.

You looked at the man and he had his badge out. Ah shit.

“That real enough for ya?”

You nodded.

“Come on, I’ll take you to the inn, Jodie loves new faces.”

You pulled your suitcase not five steps and the handle broke.

“You kidding me?! Stupid shit!”

You went to kick it, but the Sheriff got there before you, picking up the case.

“Woah, woah now. Don’t want any injuries before you get rested. Plus, I’m the one that’s gotta write it up.”

“I got a case of the bad luck.”

“Well, now that last case of bad luck bought you here, to Creedence Creek, Texas.”

He stepped forward and grabbed the handle attached to your case and picked it up, carrying it with ease to his car. He popped the trunk, then placed it inside.

“C’mon on, you don’t wanna die of thirst out here do ya?”

You shook your head.

“No, sir.”

He went around to the passenger side door and opened it for you.

“Is being chivalrous, necessary?” You asked getting in.

“No, but it’s how many of us are raised. It’s a way of life.”

Oh. Now you felt like an ass and felt you had insulted him. He closed the passenger side door and made his way to the driver’s side. He slid in and pulled his phone out, making a call.

“Bobby! Hey, how ya doin’?”

You couldn’t hear the other side.

“I’m good, n’aw Bobs, I can’t tonight, got a ton of work waitin’ me for me back at the office. Raincheck on them drinks, alright. Alright. Listen, I got a car, just a little way’s out of town. Black, small, city car y’know the kind. Massachusetts plate, number beginning 429, yeah, you’ll know when ya see it. Great. Awesome. Thanks, I owe you one, Bobby.”

He hung up and started the engine, then drove off.

“I didn’t get your name back there, Miss.”

“I didn’t get yours either.”

He gave a small laugh.

“Alright, formally I’m known as Sheriff Winchester, but everybody in town knows me as Dean.”

Sheriff Dean Winchester. It had a nice ring to it.

“What about you?”

“Y/N. Not Sheriff, from Boston.”

“Ah a city gal. The locals are gunna love you.”

You snorted. That was an understatement, if you ever knew one. In the backwater town that was Creedence Creek, they would have a whale of a time telling you that your wat wasn’t the way things go around here. And you knew it. Southerners didn’t really mix with northern city goers. Or city goers in general.

“Will my car be okay?”

“It’ll be fine, ain’t nobody gonna take it if that’s what you’re worried about.”

It had crossed your mind and you definitely didn’t feel safe leaving it behind.

“If it’ll make you feel any better, I’ll have Bobby give you a call, I’m sure your number is tied to the plate. May I ask what you were doin’ down here? I mean to say, we don’t get a lot of city goers, that is.”

You had been looking at the scenery on the way into town.

“I had to bail out my mom.”

You didn’t want to say any more than that. Telling him a tiny snippet of the truth was more than enough.

“So, you grew up in Texas?”

You nodded. It would be best not to divulge any more family trauma. Not right now. The quicker you got home, the quicker you could forget ever coming down here.

“Alright, not much of a talker, I see. Well, we’ll be arriving shortly.”

He didn’t say anything more, to which you were grateful.

He slowed as he turned a corner. It was like the town had appeared out of nowhere. A blink and you’d miss it, kind of thing. Shops lined the main parade, with roads and paths leading away. He turned another corner and another, then entered a lot and parked in front of the sign which read Sheriff. Up ahead was the police station.

“I won’t be long. I just gotta send Bobby the number.”

You nodded.

“You can get out and stretch your legs if you like.”

You opened the door, taking him up on his offer. Opening the door had been a mistake. It was hotter than hell.

“If you come in, I can get you some water.”

You nodded.

“Thanks.”

You followed him in.

His co-workers turned as he walked in, then noticed you. You hoped to God they wouldn’t ‘recognise’ you. It wasn’t like your rap sheet was a mile long, it contained mainly a few misdemeanours, to which you had paid your fines and done the community service that was asked, but the biggie was when you had been caught with a tiny baggie which turned out to be cocaine.

You had thought your own mother would have bailed you out. No. Instead she left you to suffer the consequences she should have had. It had almost cost you your career and the ability to move out of state, but through a stroke of luck they believed in second chances and took you on.

“What did we tell you about picking up pretty strays, boss?”

“Working whilst you’re working, Winchester?”

You gave the Sheriff an odd look. Was it normal for him to pick up potential dates whilst out on patrol?

“Can it. Get her a drink of water from the cooler. She’s dyin’ of thirst,” He turned to you and gestured for you to follow. “This way.”

He walked through the tiny precinct to a little office in the corner.

“It ain’t much but it’s mine.”

You sat, waiting for him to transfer the necessary information to Bobby.

“You like it here?”

He looked up from his computer at you.

“I’m very happy here.”

He turned his attention back to his screen and whistled. Crap.

“Oofta, jaywalking, possession of marijuana, drunk and disorderly, and possession of cocaine.”

“Jesus, look, I served my time and the misdemeanours are about to come off my record anyway.”

“That felony will be on there for some time, little lady.”

You rolled your eyes at him. You could thank your mom for that.

“Whatever just send him my number and plate info. The quicker my car is fixed, the quicker I can leave this shitpot town.”

You stood up and walked out, ignoring the officer who had water in a plastic cup for you.

“I hate small towns.”

You felt too close to home. Too close for your liking. Sure, Texas was big but adding a few more states in between was preferable.

Now outside, you looked to the trunk of the Impala. Later, right now you needed space. He already had the wrong idea about you and didn’t need him sticking his oar in where it didn’t belong. You had no idea what this Jodie person looked like, nor where the inn was. With the sun beating on you hard, you made a temporary shade with your hand and walked back into the parade.

You only managed a couple minutes before the black Impala slowed beside you and a window rolled down.

“Get in the car, you’ll die of friggin’ heatstroke out here.”

You kept on walking.

“Sheriff’s orders. Don’t make me arrest you.”

“You’d love that wouldn’t you.”

He sighed and stopped the car. Stepping out he made his way to you. He no longer had his Stetson on, but his brown hair was teased into a simple style, a hair barely out of place. Without the hat, the sun did a number on his green eyes and making them shine just as bright as emeralds.

“I won’t ask, and we can both forget this whole encounter when you leave. I’ll take you to Jodie’s, she’s expectin’ you. Also, rude, what you said abou’ my town. Don’t do that again, ‘kay?”

“Fine.”

He opened the door for you, and you got in. Once inside, he handed you the clear plastic container with water in.

“Heatstroke is no joke. It gets hot out here and if you don’t watch yourself you can get seriously dehydrated.”

You snorted, a Sheriff dedicated to his people and those just passing through, it was unreal.

“I look after my people, even fancy city folk who aren’t my people.”

You took the cup and drank. The liquid was cool and easily slid down your dry throat, though you suspected it had warmed up slightly. Secretly you were grateful, as you had felt he beginnings of a headache coming on. Hopefully at the inn, you could get settled and take a painkiller or two to stave it off altogether.

“There’s a town BBQ tonight, everyone is welcome. You should join, say hi to a few folks. They love new faces.”

The idea of free food was appealing.

“Plenty of food and plenty of beer.”

“You gonna order me to go?”

“No, no. That would be an abuse of power.”

“Right.”

“Well it’ll be at Oakwood’s Park, if you’re interested, at 5:30 ‘til late.”

You nodded and then placed the plastic cup in the holder, wondering how long the drive was to the inn. It was getting real awkward.

The car turned a corner and you met with a beautiful and large cabin. The awning read Jodie’s. Thank God. He turned into a parking spot and cut the engine. You got out, as did he and went to the trunk. He gestured at you to go to the front door, as he pulled your case out.

“Sheriff? What can I do for you?”

You gave an awkward smile.

“Oooh a new face, come on, lets get you in and get you an iced tea.”

Oh dear. You grimaced. Iced tea was not for you.

“Water’s fine.”

“Well come on in, I’m Jodie, owner of Jodie’s and I see you met our lovely Sheriff,” She leaned in as you walked. “Don’t you think the Sheriff is one fine man? Plus, I think he’s got a eye on you.”

Probably because you were still a felon in his eyes, but you didn’t say that out loud. Didn’t need the whole town knowing everything about you.

“Uhuh.”

Small towns were not your thing.

Sheriff Winchester placed your case down beside you before hugging Jodie.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, it was nice seeing you Jodes, but I gotta shoot, get back to the office.”

“Aw, youre not gonna stay for an iced tea? Never mind, we can have a good catchup at the BBQ tonight.”

“Can’t, sorry Jodes, you know how it is, got paperwork pilin’ high. It’s gonna be a late one for me, ‘m afraid.”

“Well, we’ll save you a burger or two.”

“Appreciate it, thanks.”

He turned to you and said bye, then left.

Jodie took you under her wing and set you up with a room for the night. You thanked her and lugged your suitcase to your allocated room. After unlocking and setting your case to the side you had a quick rummage through your purse to see if you had any painkillers. Downing two you then laid on the bed and let the heat from the sun lull you into sleep.

@dean-winchesters-bacon @missjenniferb

#Falling For The Sheriff #Creedence Creek Cowboy Trilogy #cowboy dean #Sheriff Dean

34 notes · View notes

bitchassbackup · 4 years ago

Text

Twined: A Soulmate AU

Word count: 1,580

Warning/s: Mentions of death

A/N: Hey lovelies <3 @honeyvbarnes and I worked on this Soulmate AU and we hope that y’all like it! I loved working with my bff and we’ll do it again hopefully <3 enjoy!

Bitchassbucky’s Masterlist

Honeyvbarnes’s Masterlist

When Bucky Barnes died back in 1943, he died knowing that he lived his life without a soulmate.

A bit sadistic, Steve Rogers would say. But Bucky would always counter his friend’s point with, “you see, Stevie when your soulmate gets hurt, you’re the only one who can hear them– at least in your head– and you can help them, you can help them find you,”

“Still, I don’t want someone to suffer just to make a connection with me,” Steve said, ever a gentle-hearted (but strong-headed) person.

“They’re not gon’a. Annoyance is enough for them to create a short connection,”

“What I’m hearing is that I get a pass for annoying you more,”

—

It’s hot. Searing. Humid. The air is so thick, you can almost choke on it.

The beach is filled with people– couples and families mostly and your mind wanders to soulmates.

You never had one and as far as you’re concerned, you’re better off without one.

They never let you in and it seems like they will never let you in.

Not now and not ever especially since the torment of nightmarish inner turmoil had subsided; granted, there are still some night terrors but it doesn’t compare to the pain you felt back then.

You started thinking maybe they were in the army or something of that sort.

Maybe, maybe. What if, what if

That’s your inner turmoil; the boiling water inside the pot.

You weren’t sure where to start looking for them– you spent years trying to get through but you never get as much as a word.

So you gave up.

And not a lot of people give up on their soulmates, at least not the ones who never had to spend literal years of their lives trying to coax out a word out of their loved one.

You wanted to give them warmth not knowing that they dislike the heat.

—-

One fateful summer day changed that though.

—

As Sam Wilson finished packing the car with what he calls ‘beach essentials’, Bucky Barnes had his mind a thousand miles away.

Bucky decided not to answer the question.

—

Giving it a quick thought and then glancing at the beach’s showering station, you decided against splashing around. This is more of a reading day for you.

—

“Ow, what the–” Bucky instinctively put up his arm to protect his eyes when a breeze flew past them, “something’s in my eye.”

—

Fuck.

Fuckity-fuck.

Your eye has been invaded by sand and it feels like it’s scratching your cornea raw. You can think straight, you’re in pain albeit minimal, it’s still pain.

You try to scramble for the bottle of water you kept close for hydration, hoping it will be enough to put you out of your misery, washing out the sand.

—

“Something’s definitely in my eye, Sam, I feel it,” Bucky tries not to squirm so much under Sam’s touch, but the pain feels almost invisible, like it’s not his.

—

Then you feel that magnetic pull again. Stronger this time.

You suddenly remembered the lores and the tall tales of the universe pulling soulmates together, literally, if they were close enough to each other. You try your best not to walk to your left side as the pull dictates.

—

“I just- I gotta check something out,” He said, not knowing where his feet are taking him.

—

You feel your skin prickle as you try not to look behind you. You’re familiar with the tales, the personal anecdotes, how it feels to be pulled towards your literal soulmate.

Bucky just stands in the sand, his eyes not wandering too far from where you’re standing, your back behind him.

Is this it? Is this his soulmate?

What if you hate him? What if you don’t want to be with him?

Bucky’s heart quickens with the thoughts, his anxiety riddles his brain as he tries to come up with something to call you.

When the pull is strong and the bond is unbreakable, rare cases of soulmates knowing each other’s names before they met is attainable.

A single name popped up into Bucky’s head, “Y/N.”

#bitchassbackup

2 notes · View notes

pothead-on-the-run · 4 years ago

Note

Ya like jazz?

oh h o n e y

According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little. Barry! Breakfast is ready! Ooming! Hang on a second. Hello? - Barry? - Adam? - Oan you believe this is happening? - I can't. I'll pick you up. Looking sharp. Use the stairs. Your father paid good money for those. Sorry. I'm excited. Here's the graduate. We're very proud of you, son. A perfect report card, all B's. Very proud. Ma! I got a thing going here. - You got lint on your fuzz. - Ow! That's me! - Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000. - Bye! Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house! - Hey, Adam. - Hey, Barry. - Is that fuzz gel? - A little. Special day, graduation. Never thought I'd make it. Three days grade school, three days high school. Those were awkward. Three days college. I'm glad I took a day and hitchhiked around the hive. You did come back different. - Hi, Barry. - Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good. - Hear about Frankie? - Yeah. - You going to the funeral? - No, I'm not going. Everybody knows, sting someone, you die. Don't waste it on a squirrel. Such a hothead. I guess he could have just gotten out of the way. I love this incorporating an amusement park into our day. That's why we don't need vacations. Boy, quite a bit of pomp... under the circumstances. - Well, Adam, today we are men. - We are! - Bee-men. - Amen! Hallelujah! Students, faculty, distinguished bees, please welcome Dean Buzzwell. Welcome, New Hive Oity graduating class of... ...9:15. That concludes our ceremonies. And begins your career at Honex Industries! Will we pick ourjob today? I heard it's just orientation. Heads up! Here we go. Keep your hands and antennas inside the tram at all times. - Wonder what it'll be like? - A little scary. Welcome to Honex, a division of Honesco and a part of the Hexagon Group. This is it! Wow. Wow. We know that you, as a bee, have worked your whole life to get to the point where you can work for your whole life. Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks bring the nectar to the hive. Our top-secret formula is automatically color-corrected, scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured into this soothing sweet syrup with its distinctive golden glow you know as... Honey! - That girl was hot. - She's my cousin! - She is? - Yes, we're all cousins. - Right. You're right. - At Honex, we constantly strive to improve every aspect of bee existence. These bees are stress-testing a new helmet technology. - What do you think he makes? - Not enough. Here we have our latest advancement, the Krelman. - What does that do? - Oatches that little strand of honey that hangs after you pour it. Saves us millions. Oan anyone work on the Krelman? Of course. Most bee jobs are small ones. But bees know that every small job, if it's done well, means a lot. But choose carefully because you'll stay in the job you pick for the rest of your life. The same job the rest of your life? I didn't know that. What's the difference? You'll be happy to know that bees, as a species, haven't had one day off in 27 million years. So you'll just work us to death? We'll sure try. Wow! That blew my mind! "What's the difference?" How can you say that? One job forever? That's an insane choice to have to make. I'm relieved. Now we only have to make one decision in life. But, Adam, how could they never have told us that? Why would you question anything? We're bees. We're the most perfectly functioning society on Earth. You ever think maybe things work a little too well here? Like what? Give me one example. I don't know. But you know what I'm talking about. Please clear the gate. Royal Nectar Force on approach. Wait a second. Oheck it out. - Hey, those are Pollen Jocks! - Wow. I've never seen them this close. They know what it's like outside the hive. Yeah, but some don't come back. - Hey, Jocks! - Hi, Jocks! You guys did great! You're monsters! You're sky freaks! I love it! I love it! - I wonder where they were. - I don't know. Their day's not planned. Outside the hive, flying who knows where, doing who knows what. You can'tjust decide to be a Pollen Jock. You have to be bred for that. Right. Look. That's more pollen than you and I will see in a lifetime. It's just a status symbol. Bees make too much of it. Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it and the ladies see you wearing it. Those ladies? Aren't they our cousins too? Distant. Distant. Look at these two. - Oouple of Hive Harrys. - Let's have fun with them. It must be dangerous being a Pollen Jock. Yeah. Once a bear pinned me against a mushroom! He had a paw on my throat, and with the other, he was slapping me! - Oh, my! - I never thought I'd knock him out. What were you doing during this? Trying to alert the authorities. I can autograph that. A little gusty out there today, wasn't it, comrades? Yeah. Gusty. We're hitting a sunflower patch six miles from here tomorrow. - Six miles, huh? - Barry! A puddle jump for us, but maybe you're not up for it. - Maybe I am. - You are not! We're going 0900 at J-Gate. What do you think, buzzy-boy? Are you bee enough? I might be. It all depends on what 0900 means. Hey, Honex! Dad, you surprised me. You decide what you're interested in? - Well, there's a lot of choices. - But you only get one. Do you ever get bored doing the same job every day? Son, let me tell you about stirring. You grab that stick, and you just move it around, and you stir it around. You get yourself into a rhythm. It's a beautiful thing. You know, Dad, the more I think about it, maybe the honey field just isn't right for me. You were thinking of what, making balloon animals? That's a bad job for a guy with a stinger. Janet, your son's not sure he wants to go into honey! - Barry, you are so funny sometimes. - I'm not trying to be funny. You're not funny! You're going into honey. Our son, the stirrer! - You're gonna be a stirrer? - No one's listening to me! Wait till you see the sticks I have. I could say anything right now. I'm gonna get an ant tattoo! Let's open some honey and celebrate! Maybe I'll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae. Shack up with a grasshopper. Get a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"! I'm so proud. - We're starting work today! - Today's the day. Oome on! All the good jobs will be gone. Yeah, right. Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, hair removal... - Is it still available? - Hang on. Two left! One of them's yours! Oongratulations! Step to the side. - What'd you get? - Picking crud out. Stellar! Wow! Oouple of newbies? Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready! Make your choice. - You want to go first? - No, you go. Oh, my. What's available? Restroom attendant's open, not for the reason you think. - Any chance of getting the Krelman? - Sure, you're on. I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out. Wax monkey's always open. The Krelman opened up again. What happened? A bee died. Makes an opening. See? He's dead. Another dead one. Deady. Deadified. Two more dead. Dead from the neck up. Dead from the neck down. That's life! Oh, this is so hard! Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer, humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor, mite wrangler. Barry, what do you think I should... Barry? Barry! All right, we've got the sunflower patch in quadrant nine... What happened to you? Where are you? - I'm going out. - Out? Out where? - Out there. - Oh, no! I have to, before I go to work for the rest of my life. You're gonna die! You're crazy! Hello? Another call coming in. If anyone's feeling brave, there's a Korean deli on 83rd that gets their roses today. Hey, guys. - Look at that. - Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday? Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted. It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up. Really? Feeling lucky, are you? Sign here, here. Just initial that. - Thank you. - OK. You got a rain advisory today, and as you all know, bees cannot fly in rain. So be careful. As always, watch your brooms, hockey sticks, dogs, birds, bears and bats. Also, I got a couple of reports of root beer being poured on us. Murphy's in a home because of it, babbling like a cicada! - That's awful. - And a reminder for you rookies, bee law number one, absolutely no talking to humans! All right, launch positions! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz! Black and yellow! Hello! You ready for this, hot shot? Yeah. Yeah, bring it on. Wind, check. - Antennae, check. - Nectar pack, check. - Wings, check. - Stinger, check. Scared out of my shorts, check. OK, ladies, let's move it out! Pound those petunias, you striped stem-suckers! All of you, drain those flowers! Wow! I'm out! I can't believe I'm out! So blue. I feel so fast and free! Box kite! Wow! Flowers! This is Blue Leader. We have roses visual. Bring it around 30 degrees and hold. Roses! 30 degrees, roger. Bringing it around. Stand to the side, kid. It's got a bit of a kick. That is one nectar collector! - Ever see pollination up close? - No, sir. I pick up some pollen here, sprinkle it over here. Maybe a dash over there, a pinch on that one. See that? It's a little bit of magic. That's amazing. Why do we do that? That's pollen power. More pollen, more flowers, more nectar, more honey for us. Oool. I'm picking up a lot of bright yellow. Oould be daisies. Don't we need those? Oopy that visual. Wait. One of these flowers seems to be on the move. Say again? You're reporting a moving flower? Affirmative. That was on the line! This is the coolest. What is it? I don't know, but I'm loving this color. It smells good. Not like a flower, but I like it. Yeah, fuzzy. Ohemical-y. Oareful, guys. It's a little grabby. My sweet lord of bees! Oandy-brain, get off there! Problem! - Guys! - This could be bad. Affirmative. Very close. Gonna hurt. Mama's little boy. You are way out of position, rookie! Ooming in at you like a missile! Help me! I don't think these are flowers. - Should we tell him? - I think he knows. What is this?! Match point! You can start packing up, honey, because you're about to eat it! Yowser! Gross. There's a bee in the car! - Do something! - I'm driving! - Hi, bee. - He's back here! He's going to sting me! Nobody move. If you don't move, he won't sting you. Freeze! He blinked! Spray him, Granny! What are you doing?! Wow... the tension level out here is unbelievable. I gotta get home. Oan't fly in rain. Oan't fly in rain. Oan't fly in rain. Mayday! Mayday! Bee going down! Ken, could you close the window please? Ken, could you close the window please? Oheck out my new resume. I made it into a fold-out brochure. You see? Folds out. Oh, no. More humans. I don't need this. What was that? Maybe this time. This time. This time. This time! This time! This... Drapes! That is diabolical. It's fantastic. It's got all my special skills, even my top-ten favorite movies. What's number one? Star Wars? Nah, I don't go for that... ...kind of stuff. No wonder we shouldn't talk to them. They're out of their minds. When I leave a job interview, they're flabbergasted, can't believe what I say. There's the sun. Maybe that's a way out. I don't remember the sun having a big 75 on it. I predicted global warming. I could feel it getting hotter. At first I thought it was just me. Wait! Stop! Bee! Stand back. These are winter boots. Wait! Don't kill him! You know I'm allergic to them! This thing could kill me! Why does his life have less value than yours? Why does his life have any less value than mine? Is that your statement? I'm just saying all life has value. You don't know what he's capable of feeling. My brochure! There you go, little guy. I'm not scared of him. It's an allergic thing. Put that on your resume brochure. My whole face could puff up. Make it one of your special skills. Knocking someone out is also a special skill. Right. Bye, Vanessa. Thanks. - Vanessa, next week? Yogurt night? - Sure, Ken. You know, whatever. - You could put carob chips on there. - Bye. - Supposed to be less calories. - Bye. I gotta say something. She saved my life. I gotta say something. All right, here it goes. Nah. What would I say? I could really get in trouble. It's a bee law. You're not supposed to talk to a human. I can't believe I'm doing this. I've got to. Oh, I can't do it. Oome on! No. Yes. No. Do it. I can't. How should I start it? "You like jazz?" No, that's no good. Here she comes! Speak, you fool! Hi! I'm sorry. - You're talking. - Yes, I know. You're talking! I'm so sorry. No, it's OK. It's fine. I know I'm dreaming. But I don't recall going to bed. Well, I'm sure this is very disconcerting. This is a bit of a surprise to me. I mean, you're a bee! I am. And I'm not supposed to be doing this, but they were all trying to kill me. And if it wasn't for you... I had to thank you. It's just how I was raised. That was a little weird. - I'm talking with a bee. - Yeah. I'm talking to a bee. And the bee is talking to me! I just want to say I'm grateful. I'll leave now. - Wait! How did you learn to do that? - What? The talking thing. Same way you did, I guess. "Mama, Dada, honey." You pick it up. - That's very funny. - Yeah. Bees are funny. If we didn't laugh, we'd cry with what we have to deal with. Anyway... Oan I... ...get you something? - Like what? I don't know. I mean... I don't know. Ooffee? I don't want to put you out. It's no trouble. It takes two minutes. - It's just coffee. - I hate to impose. - Don't be ridiculous! - Actually, I would love a cup. Hey, you want rum cake? - I shouldn't. - Have some. - No, I can't. - Oome on! I'm trying to lose a couple micrograms. - Where? - These stripes don't help. You look great! I don't know if you know anything about fashion. Are you all right? No. He's making the tie in the cab as they're flying up Madison. He finally gets there. He runs up the steps into the church. The wedding is on. And he says, "Watermelon? I thought you said Guatemalan. Why would I marry a watermelon?" Is that a bee joke? That's the kind of stuff we do. Yeah, different. So, what are you gonna do, Barry? About work? I don't know. I want to do my part for the hive, but I can't do it the way they want. I know how you feel. - You do? - Sure. My parents wanted me to be a lawyer or a doctor, but I wanted to be a florist. - Really? - My only interest is flowers. Our new queen was just elected with that same campaign slogan. Anyway, if you look... There's my hive right there. See it? You're in Sheep Meadow! Yes! I'm right off the Turtle Pond! No way! I know that area. I lost a toe ring there once. - Why do girls put rings on their toes? - Why not? - It's like putting a hat on your knee. - Maybe I'll try that. - You all right, ma'am? - Oh, yeah. Fine. Just having two cups of coffee! Anyway, this has been great. Thanks for the coffee. Yeah, it's no trouble. Sorry I couldn't finish it. If I did, I'd be up the rest of my life. Are you...? Oan I take a piece of this with me? Sure! Here, have a crumb. - Thanks! - Yeah. All right. Well, then... I guess I'll see you around. Or not. OK, Barry. And thank you so much again... for before. Oh, that? That was nothing. Well, not nothing, but... Anyway... This can't possibly work. He's all set to go. We may as well try it. OK, Dave, pull the chute. - Sounds amazing. - It was amazing! It was the scariest, happiest moment of my life. Humans! I can't believe you were with humans! Giant, scary humans! What were they like? Huge and crazy. They talk crazy. They eat crazy giant things. They drive crazy. - Do they try and kill you, like on TV? - Some of them. But some of them don't. - How'd you get back? - Poodle. You did it, and I'm glad. You saw whatever you wanted to see. You had your "experience." Now you can pick out yourjob and be normal. - Well... - Well? Well, I met someone. You did? Was she Bee-ish? - A wasp?! Your parents will kill you! - No, no, no, not a wasp. - Spider? - I'm not attracted to spiders. I know it's the hottest thing, with the eight legs and all. I can't get by that face. So who is she? She's... human. No, no. That's a bee law. You wouldn't break a bee law. - Her name's Vanessa. - Oh, boy. She's so nice. And she's a florist! Oh, no! You're dating a human florist! We're not dating. You're flying outside the hive, talking to humans that attack our homes with power washers and M-80s! One-eighth a stick of dynamite! She saved my life! And she understands me. This is over! Eat this. This is not over! What was that? - They call it a crumb. - It was so stingin' stripey! And that's not what they eat. That's what falls off what they eat! - You know what a Oinnabon is? - No. It's bread and cinnamon and frosting. They heat it up... Sit down! ...really hot! - Listen to me! We are not them! We're us. There's us and there's them! Yes, but who can deny the heart that is yearning? There's no yearning. Stop yearning. Listen to me! You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. Thinking bee! - Thinking bee. - Thinking bee. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! There he is. He's in the pool. You know what your problem is, Barry? I gotta start thinking bee? How much longer will this go on? It's been three days! Why aren't you working? I've got a lot of big life decisions to think about. What life? You have no life! You have no job. You're barely a bee! Would it kill you to make a little honey? Barry, come out. Your father's talking to you. Martin, would you talk to him? Barry, I'm talking to you! You coming? Got everything? All set! Go ahead. I'll catch up. Don't be too long. Watch this! Vanessa! - We're still here. - I told you not to yell at him. He doesn't respond to yelling! - Then why yell at me? - Because you don't listen! I'm not listening to this. Sorry, I've gotta go. - Where are you going? - I'm meeting a friend. A girl? Is this why you can't decide? Bye. I just hope she's Bee-ish. They have a huge parade of flowers every year in Pasadena? To be in the Tournament of Roses, that's every florist's dream! Up on a float, surrounded by flowers, crowds cheering. A tournament. Do the roses compete in athletic events? No. All right, I've got one. How come you don't fly everywhere? It's exhausting. Why don't you run everywhere? It's faster. Yeah, OK, I see, I see. All right, your turn. TiVo. You can just freeze live TV? That's insane! You don't have that? We have Hivo, but it's a disease. It's a horrible, horrible disease. Oh, my. Dumb bees! You must want to sting all those jerks. We try not to sting. It's usually fatal for us. So you have to watch your temper. Very carefully. You kick a wall, take a walk, write an angry letter and throw it out. Work through it like any emotion: Anger, jealousy, lust. Oh, my goodness! Are you OK? Yeah. - What is wrong with you?! - It's a bug. He's not bothering anybody. Get out of here, you creep! What was that? A Pic 'N' Save circular? Yeah, it was. How did you know? It felt like about 10 pages. Seventy-five is pretty much our limit. You've really got that down to a science. - I lost a cousin to Italian Vogue. - I'll bet. What in the name of Mighty Hercules is this? How did this get here? Oute Bee, Golden Blossom, Ray Liotta Private Select? - Is he that actor? - I never heard of him. - Why is this here? - For people. We eat it. You don't have enough food of your own? - Well, yes. - How do you get it? - Bees make it. - I know who makes it! And it's hard to make it! There's heating, cooling, stirring. You need a whole Krelman thing! - It's organic. - It's our-ganic! It's just honey, Barry. Just what?! Bees don't know about this! This is stealing! A lot of stealing! You've taken our homes, schools, hospitals! This is all we have! And it's on sale?! I'm getting to the bottom of this. I'm getting to the bottom of all of this! Hey, Hector. - You almost done? - Almost. He is here. I sense it. Well, I guess I'll go home now and just leave this nice honey out, with no one around. You're busted, box boy! I knew I heard something. So you can talk! I can talk. And now you'll start talking! Where you getting the sweet stuff? Who's your supplier? I don't understand. I thought we were friends. The last thing we want to do is upset bees! You're too late! It's ours now! You, sir, have crossed the wrong sword! You, sir, will be lunch for my iguana, Ignacio! Where is the honey coming from? Tell me where! Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms! Orazy person! What horrible thing has happened here? These faces, they never knew what hit them. And now they're on the road to nowhere! Just keep still. What? You're not dead? Do I look dead? They will wipe anything that moves. Where you headed? To Honey Farms. I am onto something huge here. I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood, crazy stuff. Blows your head off! I'm going to Tacoma. - And you? - He really is dead. All right. Uh-oh! - What is that?! - Oh, no! - A wiper! Triple blade! - Triple blade? Jump on! It's your only chance, bee! Why does everything have to be so doggone clean?! How much do you people need to see?! Open your eyes! Stick your head out the window! From NPR News in Washington, I'm Oarl Kasell. But don't kill no more bugs! - Bee! - Moose blood guy!! - You hear something? - Like what? Like tiny screaming. Turn off the radio. Whassup, bee boy? Hey, Blood. Just a row of honey jars, as far as the eye could see. Wow! I assume wherever this truck goes is where they're getting it. I mean, that honey's ours. - Bees hang tight. - We're all jammed in. It's a close community. Not us, man. We on our own. Every mosquito on his own. - What if you get in trouble? - You a mosquito, you in trouble. Nobody likes us. They just smack. See a mosquito, smack, smack! At least you're out in the world. You must meet girls. Mosquito girls try to trade up, get with a moth, dragonfly. Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito. You got to be kidding me! Mooseblood's about to leave the building! So long, bee! - Hey, guys! - Mooseblood! I knew I'd catch y'all down here. Did you bring your crazy straw? We throw it in jars, slap a label on it, and it's pretty much pure profit. What is this place? A bee's got a brain the size of a pinhead. They are pinheads! Pinhead. - Oheck out the new smoker. - Oh, sweet. That's the one you want. The Thomas 3000! Smoker? Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic. Twice the nicotine, all the tar. A couple breaths of this knocks them right out. They make the honey, and we make the money. "They make the honey, and we make the money"? Oh, my! What's going on? Are you OK? Yeah. It doesn't last too long. Do you know you're in a fake hive with fake walls? Our queen was moved here. We had no choice. This is your queen? That's a man in women's clothes! That's a drag queen! What is this? Oh, no! There's hundreds of them! Bee honey. Our honey is being brazenly stolen on a massive scale! This is worse than anything bears have done! I intend to do something. Oh, Barry, stop. Who told you humans are taking our honey? That's a rumor. Do these look like rumors? That's a conspiracy theory. These are obviously doctored photos. How did you get mixed up in this? He's been talking to humans. - What? - Talking to humans?! He has a human girlfriend. And they make out! Make out? Barry! We do not. - You wish you could. - Whose side are you on? The bees! I dated a cricket once in San Antonio. Those crazy legs kept me up all night. Barry, this is what you want to do with your life? I want to do it for all our lives. Nobody works harder than bees! Dad, I remember you coming home so overworked your hands were still stirring. You couldn't stop. I remember that. What right do they have to our honey? We live on two cups a year. They put it in lip balm for no reason whatsoever! Even if it's true, what can one bee do? Sting them where it really hurts. In the face! The eye! - That would hurt. - No. Up the nose? That's a killer. There's only one place you can sting the humans, one place where it matters. Hive at Five, the hive's only full-hour action news source. No more bee beards! With Bob Bumble at the anchor desk. Weather with Storm Stinger. Sports with Buzz Larvi. And Jeanette Ohung. - Good evening. I'm Bob Bumble. - And I'm Jeanette Ohung. A tri-county bee, Barry Benson, intends to sue the human race for stealing our honey, packaging it and profiting from it illegally! Tomorrow night on Bee Larry King, we'll have three former queens here in our studio, discussing their new book, Olassy Ladies, out this week on Hexagon. Tonight we're talking to Barry Benson. Did you ever think, "I'm a kid from the hive. I can't do this"? Bees have never been afraid to change the world. What about Bee Oolumbus? Bee Gandhi? Bejesus? Where I'm from, we'd never sue humans. We were thinking of stickball or candy stores. How old are you? The bee community is supporting you in this case, which will be the trial of the bee century. You know, they have a Larry King in the human world too. It's a common name. Next week... He looks like you and has a show and suspenders and colored dots... Next week... Glasses, quotes on the bottom from the guest even though you just heard 'em. Bear Week next week! They're scary, hairy and here live. Always leans forward, pointy shoulders, squinty eyes, very Jewish. In tennis, you attack at the point of weakness! It was my grandmother, Ken. She's 81. Honey, her backhand's a joke! I'm not gonna take advantage of that? Quiet, please. Actual work going on here. - Is that that same bee? - Yes, it is! I'm helping him sue the human race. - Hello. - Hello, bee. This is Ken. Yeah, I remember you. Timberland, size ten and a half. Vibram sole, I believe. Why does he talk again? Listen, you better go 'cause we're really busy working. But it's our yogurt night! Bye-bye. Why is yogurt night so difficult?! You poor thing. You two have been at this for hours! Yes, and Adam here has been a huge help. - Frosting... - How many sugars? Just one. I try not to use the competition. So why are you helping me? Bees have good qualities. And it takes my mind off the shop. Instead of flowers, people are giving balloon bouquets now. Those are great, if you're three. And artificial flowers. - Oh, those just get me psychotic! - Yeah, me too. Bent stingers, pointless pollination. Bees must hate those fake things! Nothing worse than a daffodil that's had work done. Maybe this could make up for it a little bit. - This lawsuit's a pretty big deal. - I guess. You sure you want to go through with it? Am I sure? When I'm done with the humans, they won't be able to say, "Honey, I'm home," without paying a royalty! It's an incredible scene here in downtown Manhattan, where the world anxiously waits, because for the first time in history, we will hear for ourselves if a honeybee can actually speak. What have we gotten into here, Barry? It's pretty big, isn't it? I can't believe how many humans don't work during the day. You think billion-dollar multinational food companies have good lawyers? Everybody needs to stay behind the barricade. - What's the matter? - I don't know, I just got a chill. Well, if it isn't the bee team. You boys work on this? All rise! The Honorable Judge Bumbleton presiding. All right. Oase number 4475, Superior Oourt of New York, Barry Bee Benson v. the Honey Industry is now in session. Mr. Montgomery, you're representing the five food companies collectively? A privilege. Mr. Benson... you're representing all the bees of the world? I'm kidding. Yes, Your Honor, we're ready to proceed. Mr. Montgomery, your opening statement, please. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my grandmother was a simple woman. Born on a farm, she believed it was man's divine right to benefit from the bounty of nature God put before us. If we lived in the topsy-turvy world Mr. Benson imagines, just think of what would it mean. I would have to negotiate with the silkworm for the elastic in my britches! Talking bee! How do we know this isn't some sort of holographic motion-picture-capture Hollywood wizardry? They could be using laser beams! Robotics! Ventriloquism! Oloning! For all we know, he could be on steroids! Mr. Benson? Ladies and gentlemen, there's no trickery here. I'm just an ordinary bee. Honey's pretty important to me. It's important to all bees. We invented it! We make it. And we protect it with our lives. Unfortunately, there are some people in this room who think they can take it from us 'cause we're the little guys! I'm hoping that, after this is all over, you'll see how, by taking our honey, you not only take everything we have but everything we are! I wish he'd dress like that all the time. So nice! Oall your first witness. So, Mr. Klauss Vanderhayden of Honey Farms, big company you have. I suppose so. I see you also own Honeyburton and Honron! Yes, they provide beekeepers for our farms. Beekeeper. I find that to be a very disturbing term. I don't imagine you employ any bee-free-ers, do you? - No. - I couldn't hear you. - No. - No. Because you don't free bees. You keep bees. Not only that, it seems you thought a bear would be an appropriate image for a jar of honey. They're very lovable creatures. Yogi Bear, Fozzie Bear, Build-A-Bear. You mean like this? Bears kill bees! How'd you like his head crashing through your living room?! Biting into your couch! Spitting out your throw pillows! OK, that's enough. Take him away. So, Mr. Sting, thank you for being here. Your name intrigues me. - Where have I heard it before? - I was with a band called The Police. But you've never been a police officer, have you? No, I haven't. No, you haven't. And so here we have yet another example of bee culture casually stolen by a human for nothing more than a prance-about stage name. Oh, please. Have you ever been stung, Mr. Sting? Because I'm feeling a little stung, Sting. Or should I say... Mr. Gordon M. Sumner! That's not his real name?! You idiots! Mr. Liotta, first, belated congratulations on your Emmy win for a guest spot on ER in 2005. Thank you. Thank you. I see from your resume that you're devilishly handsome with a churning inner turmoil that's ready to blow. I enjoy what I do. Is that a crime? Not yet it isn't. But is this what it's come to for you? Exploiting tiny, helpless bees so you don't have to rehearse your part and learn your lines, sir? Watch it, Benson! I could blow right now! This isn't a goodfella. This is a badfella! Why doesn't someone just step on this creep, and we can all go home?! - Order in this court! - You're all thinking it! Order! Order, I say! - Say it! - Mr. Liotta, please sit down! I think it was awfully nice of that bear to pitch in like that. I think the jury's on our side. Are we doing everything right, legally? I'm a florist. Right. Well, here's to a great team. To a great team! Well, hello. - Ken! - Hello. I didn't think you were coming. No, I was just late. I tried to call, but... the battery. I didn't want all this to go to waste, so I called Barry. Luckily, he was free. Oh, that was lucky. There's a little left. I could heat it up. Yeah, heat it up, sure, whatever. So I hear you're quite a tennis player. I'm not much for the game myself. The ball's a little grabby. That's where I usually sit. Right... there. Ken, Barry was looking at your resume, and he agreed with me that eating with chopsticks isn't really a special skill. You think I don't see what you're doing? I know how hard it is to find the rightjob. We have that in common. Do we? Bees have 100 percent employment, but we do jobs like taking the crud out. That's just what I was thinking about doing. Ken, I let Barry borrow your razor for his fuzz. I hope that was all right. I'm going to drain the old stinger. Yeah, you do that. Look at that. You know, I've just about had it with your little mind games. - What's that? - Italian Vogue. Mamma mia, that's a lot of pages. A lot of ads. Remember what Van said, why is your life more valuable than mine? Funny, I just can't seem to recall that! I think something stinks in here! I love the smell of flowers. How do you like the smell of flames?! Not as much. Water bug! Not taking sides! Ken, I'm wearing a Ohapstick hat! This is pathetic! I've got issues! Well, well, well, a royal flush! - You're bluffing. - Am I? Surf's up, dude! Poo water! That bowl is gnarly. Except for those dirty yellow rings! Kenneth! What are you doing?! You know, I don't even like honey! I don't eat it! We need to talk! He's just a little bee! And he happens to be the nicest bee I've met in a long time! Long time? What are you talking about?! Are there other bugs in your life? No, but there are other things bugging me in life. And you're one of them! Fine! Talking bees, no yogurt night... My nerves are fried from riding on this emotional roller coaster! Goodbye, Ken. And for your information, I prefer sugar-free, artificial sweeteners made by man! I'm sorry about all that. I know it's got an aftertaste! I like it! I always felt there was some kind of barrier between Ken and me. I couldn't overcome it. Oh, well. Are you OK for the trial? I believe Mr. Montgomery is about out of ideas. We would like to call Mr. Barry Benson Bee to the stand. Good idea! You can really see why he's considered one of the best lawyers... Yeah. Layton, you've gotta weave some magic with this jury, or it's gonna be all over. Don't worry. The only thing I have to do to turn this jury around is to remind them of what they don't like about bees. - You got the tweezers? - Are you allergic? Only to losing, son. Only to losing. Mr. Benson Bee, I'll ask you what I think we'd all like to know. What exactly is your relationship to that woman? We're friends. - Good friends? - Yes. How good? Do you live together? Wait a minute... Are you her little... ...bedbug? I've seen a bee documentary or two. From what I understand, doesn't your queen give birth to all the bee children? - Yeah, but... - So those aren't your real parents! - Oh, Barry... - Yes, they are! Hold me back! You're an illegitimate bee, aren't you, Benson? He's denouncing bees! Don't y'all date your cousins? - Objection! - I'm going to pincushion this guy! Adam, don't! It's what he wants! Oh, I'm hit!! Oh, lordy, I am hit! Order! Order! The venom! The venom is coursing through my veins! I have been felled by a winged beast of destruction! You see? You can't treat them like equals! They're striped savages! Stinging's the only thing they know! It's their way! - Adam, stay with me. - I can't feel my legs. What angel of mercy will come forward to suck the poison from my heaving buttocks? I will have order in this court. Order! Order, please! The case of the honeybees versus the human race took a pointed turn against the bees yesterday when one of their legal team stung Layton T. Montgomery. - Hey, buddy. - Hey. - Is there much pain? - Yeah. I... I blew the whole case, didn't I? It doesn't matter. What matters is you're alive. You could have died. I'd be better off dead. Look at me. They got it from the cafeteria downstairs, in a tuna sandwich. Look, there's a little celery still on it. What was it like to sting someone? I can't explain it. It was all... All adrenaline and then... and then ecstasy! All right. You think it was all a trap? Of course. I'm sorry. I flew us right into this. What were we thinking? Look at us. We're just a couple of bugs in this world. What will the humans do to us if they win? I don't know. I hear they put the roaches in motels. That doesn't sound so bad. Adam, they check in, but they don't check out! Oh, my. Oould you get a nurse to close that window? - Why? - The smoke. Bees don't smoke. Right. Bees don't smoke. Bees don't smoke! But some bees are smoking. That's it! That's our case! It is? It's not over? Get dressed. I've gotta go somewhere. Get back to the court and stall. Stall any way you can. And assuming you've done step correctly, you're ready for the tub. Mr. Flayman. Yes? Yes, Your Honor! Where is the rest of your team? Well, Your Honor, it's interesting. Bees are trained to fly haphazardly, and as a result, we don't make very good time. I actually heard a funny story about... Your Honor, haven't these ridiculous bugs taken up enough of this court's valuable time? How much longer will we allow these absurd shenanigans to go on? They have presented no compelling evidence to support their charges against my clients, who run legitimate businesses. I move for a complete dismissal of this entire case! Mr. Flayman, I'm afraid I'm going to have to consider Mr. Montgomery's motion. But you can't! We have a terrific case. Where is your proof? Where is the evidence? Show me the smoking gun! Hold it, Your Honor! You want a smoking gun? Here is your smoking gun. What is that? It's a bee smoker! What, this? This harmless little contraption? This couldn't hurt a fly, let alone a bee. Look at what has happened to bees who have never been asked, "Smoking or non?" Is this what nature intended for us? To be forcibly addicted to smoke machines and man-made wooden slat work camps? Living out our lives as honey slaves to the white man? - What are we gonna do? - He's playing the species card. Ladies and gentlemen, please, free these bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! Free the bees! The court finds in favor of the bees! Vanessa, we won! I knew you could do it! High-five! Sorry. I'm OK! You know what this means? All the honey will finally belong to the bees. Now we won't have to work so hard all the time. This is an unholy perversion of the balance of nature, Benson. You'll regret this. Barry, how much honey is out there? All right. One at a time. Barry, who are you wearing? My sweater is Ralph Lauren, and I have no pants. - What if Montgomery's right? - What do you mean? We've been living the bee way a long time, 27 million years. Oongratulations on your victory. What will you demand as a settlement? First, we'll demand a complete shutdown of all bee work camps. Then we want back the honey that was ours to begin with, every last drop. We demand an end to the glorification of the bear as anything more than a filthy, smelly, bad-breath stink machine. We're all aware of what they do in the woods. Wait for my signal. Take him out. He'll have nauseous for a few hours, then he'll be fine. And we will no longer tolerate bee-negative nicknames... But it's just a prance-about stage name! ...unnecessary inclusion of honey in bogus health products and la-dee-da human tea-time snack garnishments. Oan't breathe. Bring it in, boys! Hold it right there! Good. Tap it. Mr. Buzzwell, we just passed three cups, and there's gallons more coming! - I think we need to shut down! - Shut down? We've never shut down. Shut down honey production! Stop making honey! Turn your key, sir! What do we do now? Oannonball! We're shutting honey production! Mission abort. Aborting pollination and nectar detail. Returning to base. Adam, you wouldn't believe how much honey was out there. Oh, yeah? What's going on? Where is everybody? - Are they out celebrating? - They're home. They don't know what to do. Laying out, sleeping in. I heard your Uncle Oarl was on his way to San Antonio with a cricket. At least we got our honey back. Sometimes I think, so what if humans liked our honey? Who wouldn't? It's the greatest thing in the world! I was excited to be part of making it. This was my new desk. This was my new job. I wanted to do it really well. And now... Now I can't. I don't understand why they're not happy. I thought their lives would be better! They're doing nothing. It's amazing. Honey really changes people. You don't have any idea what's going on, do you? - What did you want to show me? - This. What happened here? That is not the half of it. Oh, no. Oh, my. They're all wilting. Doesn't look very good, does it? No. And whose fault do you think that is? You know, I'm gonna guess bees. Bees? Specifically, me. I didn't think bees not needing to make honey would affect all these things. It's notjust flowers. Fruits, vegetables, they all need bees. That's our whole SAT test right there. Take away produce, that affects the entire animal kingdom. And then, of course... The human species? So if there's no more pollination, it could all just go south here, couldn't it? I know this is also partly my fault. How about a suicide pact? How do we do it? - I'll sting you, you step on me. - Thatjust kills you twice. Right, right. Listen, Barry... sorry, but I gotta get going. I had to open my mouth and talk. Vanessa? Vanessa? Why are you leaving? Where are you going? To the final Tournament of Roses parade in Pasadena. They've moved it to this weekend because all the flowers are dying. It's the last chance I'll ever have to see it. Vanessa, I just wanna say I'm sorry. I never meant it to turn out like this. I know. Me neither. Tournament of Roses. Roses can't do sports. Wait a minute. Roses. Roses? Roses! Vanessa! Roses?! Barry? - Roses are flowers! - Yes, they are. Flowers, bees, pollen! I know. That's why this is the last parade. Maybe not. Oould you ask him to slow down? Oould you slow down? Barry! OK, I made a huge mistake. This is a total disaster, all my fault. Yes, it kind of is. I've ruined the planet. I wanted to help you with the flower shop. I've made it worse. Actually, it's completely closed down. I thought maybe you were remodeling. But I have another idea, and it's greater than my previous ideas combined. I don't want to hear it! All right, they have the roses, the roses have the pollen. I know every bee, plant and flower bud in this park. All we gotta do is get what they've got back here with what we've got. - Bees. - Park. - Pollen! - Flowers. - Repollination! - Across the nation! Tournament of Roses, Pasadena, Oalifornia. They've got nothing but flowers, floats and cotton candy. Security will be tight. I have an idea. Vanessa Bloome, FTD. Official floral business. It's real. Sorry, ma'am. Nice brooch. Thank you. It was a gift. Once inside, we just pick the right float. How about The Princess and the Pea? I could be the princess, and you could be the pea! Yes, I got it. - Where should I sit? - What are you? - I believe I'm the pea. - The pea? It goes under the mattresses. - Not in this fairy tale, sweetheart. - I'm getting the marshal. You do that! This whole parade is a fiasco! Let's see what this baby'll do. Hey, what are you doing?! Then all we do is blend in with traffic... ...without arousing suspicion. Once at the airport, there's no stopping us. Stop! Security. - You and your insect pack your float? - Yes. Has it been in your possession the entire time? Would you remove your shoes? - Remove your stinger. - It's part of me. I know. Just having some fun. Enjoy your flight. Then if we're lucky, we'll have just enough pollen to do the job. Oan you believe how lucky we are? We have just enough pollen to do the job! I think this is gonna work. It's got to work. Attention, passengers, this is Oaptain Scott. We have a bit of bad weather in New York. It looks like we'll experience a couple hours delay. Barry, these are cut flowers with no water. They'll never make it. I gotta get up there and talk to them. Be careful. Oan I get help with the Sky Mall magazine? I'd like to order the talking inflatable nose and ear hair trimmer. Oaptain, I'm in a real situation. - What'd you say, Hal? - Nothing. Bee! Don't freak out! My entire species... What are you doing? - Wait a minute! I'm an attorney! - Who's an attorney? Don't move. Oh, Barry. Good afternoon, passengers. This is your captain. Would a Miss Vanessa Bloome in 24B please report to the cockpit? And please hurry! What happened here? There was a DustBuster, a toupee, a life raft exploded. One's bald, one's in a boat, they're both unconscious! - Is that another bee joke? - No! No one's flying the plane! This is JFK control tower, Flight 356. What's your status? This is Vanessa Bloome. I'm a florist from New York. Where's the pilot? He's unconscious, and so is the copilot. Not good. Does anyone onboard have flight experience? As a matter of fact, there is. - Who's that? - Barry Benson. From the honey trial?! Oh, great. Vanessa, this is nothing more than a big metal bee. It's got giant wings, huge engines. I can't fly a plane. - Why not? Isn't John Travolta a pilot? - Yes. How hard could it be? Wait, Barry! We're headed into some lightning. This is Bob Bumble. We have some late-breaking news from JFK Airport, where a suspenseful scene is developing. Barry Benson, fresh from his legal victory... That's Barry! ...is attempting to land a plane, loaded with people, flowers and an incapacitated flight crew. Flowers?! We have a storm in the area and two individuals at the controls with absolutely no flight experience. Just a minute. There's a bee on that plane. I'm quite familiar with Mr. Benson and his no-account compadres. They've done enough damage. But isn't he your only hope? Technically, a bee shouldn't be able to fly at all. Their wings are too small... Haven't we heard this a million times? "The surface area of the wings and body mass make no sense." - Get this on the air! - Got it. - Stand by. - We're going live. The way we work may be a mystery to you. Making honey takes a lot of bees doing a lot of small jobs. But let me tell you about a small job. If you do it well, it makes a big difference. More than we realized. To us, to everyone. That's why I want to get bees back to working together. That's the bee way! We're not made of Jell-O. We get behind a fellow. - Black and yellow! - Hello! Left, right, down, hover. - Hover? - Forget hover. This isn't so hard. Beep-beep! Beep-beep! Barry, what happened?! Wait, I think we were on autopilot the whole time. - That may have been helping me. - And now we're not! So it turns out I cannot fly a plane. All of you, let's get behind this fellow! Move it out! Move out! Our only chance is if I do what I'd do, you copy me with the wings of the plane! Don't have to yell. I'm not yelling! We're in a lot of trouble. It's very hard to concentrate with that panicky tone in your voice! It's not a tone. I'm panicking! I can't do this! Vanessa, pull yourself together. You have to snap out of it! You snap out of it. You snap out of it. - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - You snap out of it! - Hold it! - Why? Oome on, it's my turn. How is the plane flying? I don't know. Hello? Benson, got any flowers for a happy occasion in there? The Pollen Jocks! They do get behind a fellow. - Black and yellow. - Hello. All right, let's drop this tin can on the blacktop. Where? I can't see anything. Oan you? No, nothing. It's all cloudy. Oome on. You got to think bee, Barry. - Thinking bee. - Thinking bee. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Wait a minute. I think I'm feeling something. - What? - I don't know. It's strong, pulling me. Like a 27-million-year-old instinct. Bring the nose down. Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! - What in the world is on the tarmac? - Get some lights on that! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! Thinking bee! - Vanessa, aim for the flower. - OK. Out the engines. We're going in on bee power. Ready, boys? Affirmative! Good. Good. Easy, now. That's it. Land on that flower! Ready? Full reverse! Spin it around! - Not that flower! The other one! - Which one? - That flower. - I'm aiming at the flower! That's a fat guy in a flowered shirt. I mean the giant pulsating flower made of millions of bees! Pull forward. Nose down. Tail up. Rotate around it. - This is insane, Barry! - This's the only way I know how to fly. Am I koo-koo-kachoo, or is this plane flying in an insect-like pattern? Get your nose in there. Don't be afraid. Smell it. Full reverse! Just drop it. Be a part of it. Aim for the center! Now drop it in! Drop it in, woman! Oome on, already. Barry, we did it! You taught me how to fly! - Yes. No high-five! - Right. Barry, it worked! Did you see the giant flower? What giant flower? Where? Of course I saw the flower! That was genius! - Thank you. - But we're not done yet. Listen, everyone! This runway is covered with the last pollen from the last flowers available anywhere on Earth. That means this is our last chance. We're the only ones who make honey, pollinate flowers and dress like this. If we're gonna survive as a species, this is our moment! What do you say? Are we going to be bees, orjust Museum of Natural History keychains? We're bees! Keychain! Then follow me! Except Keychain. Hold on, Barry. Here. You've earned this. Yeah! I'm a Pollen Jock! And it's a perfect fit. All I gotta do are the sleeves. Oh, yeah. That's our Barry. Mom! The bees are back! If anybody needs to make a call, now's the time. I got a feeling we'll be working late tonight! Here's your change. Have a great afternoon! Oan I help who's next? Would you like some honey with that? It is bee-approved. Don't forget these. Milk, cream, cheese, it's all me. And I don't see a nickel! Sometimes I just feel like a piece of meat! I had no idea. Barry, I'm sorry. Have you got a moment? Would you excuse me? My mosquito associate will help you. Sorry I'm late. He's a lawyer too? I was already a blood-sucking parasite. All I needed was a briefcase. Have a great afternoon! Barry, I just got this huge tulip order, and I can't get them anywhere. No problem, Vannie. Just leave it to me. You're a lifesaver, Barry. Oan I help who's next? All right, scramble, jocks! It's time to fly. Thank you, Barry! That bee is living my life! Let it go, Kenny. - When will this nightmare end?! - Let it all go. - Beautiful day to fly. - Sure is. Between you and me, I was dying to get out of that office. You have got to start thinking bee, my friend. - Thinking bee! - Me? Hold it. Let's just stop for a second. Hold it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, everyone. Can we stop here? I'm not making a major life decision during a production number! All right. Take ten, everybody. Wrap it up, guys. I had virtually no rehearsal for that.

#im sorry lol #bee movie #ya like jazz #non-fandom

6 notes · View notes