#pearlies meatball

[kokorozasumono]

[maximumkingdomstarlight]

Arrogant hearts

Chapter 11

this white-haired man sitting next to you with a grin as he looked around at the table made your lips part in guilt, you used his card to buy everything and still forgot him for the whole day. biting the inside of your cheek, you squeezed your eyes shut, cocking your head to the side.

"I... was just about to remind you" You mumbled while taking your purse, which was lying next to your thigh. you held out his card to him. "sorry" you muttered. 

Gojo took the card with a small nod and a smile "it's fine, but as I said before... my presence is too much to forget, Y/N" 

you rolled your eyes, forcing a sarcastic smile as you looked back at him "yeah, but I keep forgetting, maybe it isn't actually unforgettable as you think so" 

"ouch, that hurt, I didn't know you could be this mean" he grinned, his pearly white teeth shining from the light on the ceiling of the dining room. not only his teeth, but his skin was also glowing, just how perfect was this man?

"you don't seem hurt" you said while looking back at the Nanami and the others, before Gojo could reply, Nanami spoke.

"you don't even drink, why did you buy all this Sake, Gojo-san?" the blond haired man asked, his deep voice resonating through the shoji blinds.

"oh, that's for you guys... and my dear assistant" Gojo replied, twisting his hand to indicate you, raising an eyebrow as he looked at you, from above his dark blue sunglasses and below his snow-white hair.

"I don't drink much too" you said while shaking your head a little.

"eh?" Gojo looked at you, he blinked twice in surprise, his blinks were showing from the small movement of his bangs

"why?" you asked blankly.

"I brought it for you, you have to drink..." he said with his usual pout, turning his whole body towards you. "you didn't drink after coming back to Japan, right? no, no, you should taste this Sake, it's tasty" he added, his arms crossed. what a child?

"Sensei, aren't you being childish right now? you don't drink, so what's wrong with L/N-sensei not wanting to drink?" the raven haired boy asked with a sigh, hid eyebrows knotted together as he watched his teacher acting more childlike than any other students in the room.

"don't be jealous just because you are too young to drink" Gojo said, arguing with a teenager, and when asked for his age, he shamelessly say he is 27 years old.

"I'll drink when I want" Fushiguro said, looking at the 27 year old like an adult looking at their stubborn 5 year old.

"then wh-" Gojo was about to complain, his pout being more visible than before. but he was interrupted by you.

"I said I don't drink much, it counts as long as I taste, right?" you asked with a sigh. Itadori and Kugisaki were already digging in after a while of watching the banter.

you took your chopsticks with a small smile "you guys should start eating too, don't waste time on trivial things" you said while taking a bite, you hummed in satisfaction as your eyes closed, your taste buds filling with the spicy meat flavor "mhm! it's tasty... Itadori-kun, you are a genius" you said while looking at the pink-haired teenager.

"I chold you, right? but 'shh not me, you guysh helped me a lot choo" he said, putting his kind heart on display while his appetite was showing as well with his mouth full of a meatball. 

Everyone laughed while Nanami silently took a sip from the sake he poured himself after excusing himself. Fushiguro, who was next to Itadori, hit the pink haired head with his fist "eat or talk, choose one" 

"hearing you say Itadori is a genius must hurt real geniuses, L/N-sensei" Kugisaki joked with a scoff. making Itadori huff.

"you are just jealous" Itadori replied.

after a while, one bottle was finished, only being drunk by you and Nanami drinking, since you two were the adults. No, Satoru isn't an adult, he just keeps joking and making the cola Inumaki and Itadori drink come out of their mouths as mist. can't call an adult to someone like him.

and the thing was, the Sake was tasty, just as Gojo said, and Nanami was so good at drinking too. even though he was tipsy, it couldn't be seen by his face, like yours. your eyes were drooping, closing by themselves as you giggled quietly to yourself.

"Nanamin~" you said while leaning to his ear, the name Nanamin was intriguing to you.

"please don't call me that, Y/N" he said blankly, glancing at your flushed face, rosy cheeks and lips as you kept smiling to yourself. his gaze softening just a tad bit.

"why~? that name is cute... Itadori is a genius, I told you" you said while rocking your head from side to side. "I'm gonna call you that name forever" you said in a sing-song tone.

Kugisaki and Maki were singing with the portable karaoke machine. the booming sound, plates clattering and chitter chatter between everyone were all mixed together.

"I think you should get some rest now, Y/N... shall I take you to your room?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowing again.

"hah? you want to come to my room?" you asked, lending your ear towards his lips.

"n-no" he looked away, his eyes shut as he cleared his throat. a soft shade of pink covering his ears "I'll drop you off of your room, you are drunk"

"you are drunk too" you mumbled, a pout on your lips.

"I am not that drunk" he replied with a sigh.

"you are" you replied

"I am not"

"you are" 

"I am not going to do this with you" he said while standing up with another sigh before bending down to help you up. one of his strong forearms under your armpit, pulling you up, as his free hand rested on your other elbow. after successfully standing up, you leaned to his shoulder with a soft sigh, noticing you couldn't even stand properly, you giggled again.

"I am flying" you said between your giggles

"no, you are not" he replied. 

when you felt another hand on your shoulder, you looked up at Nanami with furrowed eyebrows, wondering if he had more arms than two.

"I'll take her"  you heard the familiar voice, more deeper than usual, or was it your imagination?

"Gojo-san, I can take her to her room" Nanami replied.

"you are drunk too, I'll take her" the white haired man said again.

"but I am more responsible even though I am drunk" Nanami said with his eyes squeezing shut in annoyance. his jaw clenching.

Seeing that only made Gojo smirk, even though he felt irritated by the blonde's words  "do you think I will take advantage of her while she's in this state?" Gojo said while pulling you to his chest "and you can hold on to much of my annoying behavior more than that if you were sober"

Gojo's scent was... good. you took a deep breath, taking in his scent more.

Nanami sighed "please, take good care of her" admitting defeat since he felt he was not in his right mind, seeing you like that only made his face grow hotter.

"ah, that's what I am saying" Gojo gave his signature smirk before taking out his phone and doing a quick call to Ijichi-san before turning back to Nanami, who was slowly but hesitantly taking his hands off you. yes, he didn't trust any drunk or sober woman near Gojo Satoru. and especially a drunk, you. but this feeling in his chest was too strong, the feeling to keep you close, hold you close. he was scared he might do something he would regret, he didn't want to take advantage of a drunk friend.

"Ijichi-san will be here to take you, be careful, Nanami" Gojo said, his hand snaking around your back, and his other hand taking your purse and phone. "bye guys~ my assistant is just a fingertip away before embarrassing herself... so I'm gonna be her knight in shining armour" Gojo said while turning around with you. "don't even think about touching that other bottle, and... uh... I think you should also go get some sleep now" he added.

and after what felt like for an hour, of giggling, and blabbering of you and some comments from Gojo, you guys came infront of your room. Gojo smiled while looking down at you clinging on to him like a koala. he pushed the door handle down only to notice the door was locked.

"huh? why is this locked? did you lock it?" he asked while looking at you, playing with the hem of his shirt, making him feel more than just one thing at the same time.

"stuff... so I locked" you mumbled, he had to clench his jaw to compose himself. he used two of his fingers to pull away the shirt from your hands.

you looked up at him "are you angry? did I do something wrong?" you asked, your eyes looking up at him, filled with sadness.

"no, just... it's killing me" he mumbled, gulping down.

"what is?" you asked.

"you are"

His sunglasses were on his shirt, making his ocean blue eyes visible to you. those oceans were filled with desire and need. he looked at you, vulnerably pleading you to do something to him first.

"I am controlling my cursed energy though" you said, feeling confused 

He chuckled, his eyebrows furrowed "not that, it can kill me" he said and sighed "where's the key?" he asked and tapped the door.

"purse"

his hand dived into your purse before another thought. but it was empty, only some cash, and cards.

"nothing here" he said and rubbed the top of his eyebrow with a finger "is there any other pla-" he sighed while looking at the closed door "it's inside" his six eyes working.

"hm?" you asked, your glossy lower lip jutting out.

"the keys are inside, why..." he sighed. suddenly remembering you wanted to get an apartment for yourself made him think of an amazing idea. "let's go to my place" he smiled.

[thaoilations]

Mimi didn’t have many friends in her building. She wanted to feel grateful, she really did. Being hired for a top newspaper in New York was something of her wildest dreams, even if it was just for a tiny fashion column that often got shoved to one of the very last pages. Seeing her work in print and doing what she was passionate about was enough for her, but sometimes it was hard to stay positive — being the only girl on her floor. The men here didn’t really respect her, often mistaking her for the coffee girl or making comments under their breath about how she was in the way (Mind you, she was sat at her desk.)

So everyday at 12, when all the men on her floor — whether they wrote for the sports column or the news column — would come together and head out for lunch at the local bistro, Mimi would escape to the roof and eat her sandwich she’d packed from home. Cheese and cucumber, everyday. Sometimes a chicken sandwich, sometimes a left over half of her meatball marinara sandwich from the night before (If she was running late in the morning of course.) It was a moment of peace for her, no loud obnoxious voices barking orders, no sniggering man in a tie leering over her shoulder, no boss telling her that her language was too ‘frou frou’ and ‘girly’ the way he had so kindly put it. Just peace. The building was tall, so the sound of the chaotic city below was dimmed to simply being a pretty view with less noise, the occasional airplane droning up above and —

A crash and a thud sounded from the other side of the roof followed by a yelp and Mimi jumped, sandwich nearly falling out of her hand as she stood up and turned around. Whatever had fallen was obstructed by the machinery and pipes that sat in the centre of the rooftop and Mimi placed her sandwich back in its foil and dusted her skirt free of crumbs, preparing to apologise to whoever had come looking for her for being up here. She pat her sides for pockets on instinct, looking for her phone to check the time. Had she been late back from her lunch break? She was only three bites into her sandwich, how had she let time pass her by?

Her suspicions were rejected when her girlfriend Thao, donning her infamous Spider costume stepped out from behind the obstruction sheepishly, rubbing her side where she’d clearly fallen on with her mask in her hand. “Not the easiest land.” She complained and Mimi smiled.

“Thao!” She clasped her hands together coming closer.

“Yeah, yell my true identity for the entirety of New York to hear why don’t you?” She quipped in a deadpan, not really caring too much as she knew there was no one around to hear.

“Says the girl with her mask off.” Mimis voice was now muffled as Thao had let her throw her arms around her and she pat her back, looking her over when she stepped back. “Cute work outfit.” She teased at the blouse and pencil skirt— knowing it was not what she’d rather be wearing. Mimi rolled her eyes, cheeks darkening to a light pink as her hands folded over her stomach, a subconscious attempt to cover herself.

“What are you doing here? I missed you.” Mimi fiddled with her manicure.

“Missed you too, that’s actually why I’m here. I’ve decided it’s take your girlfriend to work day.” She smiled, as if trying to sell her point by dazzling her with pearly whites. Mimi raised a well kept eyebrow.

“I think my boss would have a heart attack AND a stroke if I brought a superhero into the office. I’m not sure I want that kind of attention.” She crossed her arms.

“Not your work, dummy. My work. Come on, let’s go.” Thao nodded in gesture before walking around the brunette, headed towards the ledge of the roof and Mimi laughed.

“Erm, excuse me. I can’t just up and leave my job in the middle of the day.”

Thao sighed as if it pained her whole body that she was having to wait a second longer for Mimi to follow her and turned around. “So leave a note, tell them you ate something bad and fucked up the girls bathroom and you need to take the rest of the day off.” She shrugged. Mimi contemplated, staring off anxiously as she nibbled on her bottom lip. Thao watched her for a second before walking back over to her, tilting her head a little to be more eye level and resting a hand on her lower cheek. “Hey. You’ve worked at that place how long now? 5 months? You haven’t taken a single sick day since you’ve started. You will be okay.”

Mimi sighed, shaking off the nerves of stepping out of line and glanced down at her sandwich sat in its foil in the sunlight. “What about my lunch. I’m hungry.” She convinced weakly, knowing her heart was now set on leaving for the day.

“I know a place, we’ll get you some food.” Thao stepped back from her girlfriend before heading to the ledge again, pulling her mask back over her face. “Go write that note and then wait for me outside by the back entrance. I’ll meet you there.” She jumped up onto the ledge of the roof and Mimi exhaled with a smile.

“Okay.” She confirmed before blowing her girlfriend a kiss. Thao caught it and the mechanics of the face mask showed her to squint or roll her eyes— something of the sort, but she smiled secretly beneath it, knowing she didn’t really hate the small habit of affection. She stepped off the ledge, falling out of sight.

Mimi was quick to throw away her sandwich and bound down the stairwell back to her empty office where she quickly but neatly wrote an explanation note and signed it off before leaving it on her bosses desk, crossing her fingers that he’d be understanding. She didn’t bother bringing her work bag, as she knew there wasn’t anything in there that she needed to do at home for tomorrow and headed out, pushing the fire escape doors open to the back alley behind the grand tall building.

Mimi looked left, and then looked right— Thao not in sight. She frowned with a small confused pout, and just as she reached for her phone to text her girlfriend and ask for her whereabouts, an arm was suddenly wrapped around her and in the speed of light she was being flung high up amongst the sky scrapers with a scream. She clamped her eyes shut and turned her body to wrap her legs and arms tightly around her girlfriend, who couldn’t control her laugh as she landed the two of them on the ledge of another taller building for a moment.

Thao adjusted Mimi on her hip with an eyeroll at her girlfriends dramatics as she wailed into her shoulder, gripping her incredibly tight. “You’re fine. Let’s go get you some food.”

“I don’t think I can stomach food anymo—” Her response was cut off by a scream as Thao jumped once more off the building, her web flinging the two of them place to place until they arrived on the roof of a building in Queens. She let Mimi down, who wobbled on her shaky legs, fixing her skirt as she caught her breath. “Idiot.” She panted. Thao chuckled, shaking her head before leading Mimi down off the roof.

The two of them sat, now at another view with fresh sandwiches on sourdough bread — still warm from the oven as they basked in the April sun. Thao had called in a favour from the owner of a sandwich place, having saved his son recently from getting in the way of a crazy car wreck.

“I just want them to respect me, you know? I don’t wanna be their friend— but I’d like to be treated like a grown up.” Mimi pouted as she ranted about her workplace, face totally negating her point.

“How about I let you take some pictures of me in the suit on the job, and you can hand it in and say you got an inside scoop or something?” Thao leaned back having finished her sandwich, staring out over the skyline.

“I work the fashion column. Would be kind of random and like… not my area to cover.” Mimi shrugged, picking a stray spinach leaf off the side of her bread.

“So? News is news. You can start a rumour that I’m racist or something I dunno.” Thao flicked a fly off her used sandwich foil.

“What? No!” Mimi laughed and Thao joined in, the two of them discussing what they could do to improve her work situation until their food went down, before Thao got a signal in her suit of a crime nearby. She took Mimi, swinging her out of harms way and yet still giving her a front row seat and she got to watch her girlfriend effortlessly disarm a group of men harassing a teenage boy. She worried watching her fight, but she was skilled — and managed to put the fear of God into grown men so Mimi wasn’t too concerned. They swung out of there before the cops even turned up and continued this routine until it was dark outside, the city lit up by the nightlife.

Rain began to pitter patter against the cool concrete during the humid evening, the two of them jumping along roof tops together and laughing — sharing private jokes and stories until the rain turned into a shower, soaking the two of them through. Mimi groaned, remembering she’d left her keys back at the office — so through the pouring rain Thao swung Mimi back to where she took her from, the alley by the back entrance of her building.

Mimi dropped a metre off the ground where her girlfriend let go of her and she bounced elegantly, looking down at herself and laughed in embarrassment and how her white work blouse was completely soaked through, pink lacy bra clear as day. She shivered at the cold droplets sneaking beneath it, having it buttoned down lower than she remembered it being in the morning when she got ready. She spun around and laughed more when she saw Thaos mask upside down adjacent to her, whole body upside down infact as she hung from a web.

Mimi let her laugh die down and she stepped towards her, faces level with eachother despite one being the wrong way up. “Excuse me spidey.” Mimi spoke quietly, not really sure where it was going as she reached forward and gently folded the bottom of Thaos mask up above her mouth. She leant in and placed a kiss to it, which Thao chased — and perhaps it was the element of rain soaking through every article of clothing on them, and the fact Thao had definitely been enjoying Mimi’s shirt being see through that made them kiss so deeply but they didn’t wait long to include tongue. Breathlessly, they pulled back when Thao begrudgingly received radio input detailing a nearby crime. She pursed her lips in disappointment and Mimi mirrored this as she stepped back a little shameful at how into it she’d gotten. “Dinner tomorrow?” Thao asked as she pulled her mask back down and Mimi smiled, smitten.

“Definitely.”

Just like that, she had disappeared into the night once more.

[holidaywithahobbyist]

for the ask thing!! gin ibushi or miss reko <333

HGGHAGSHWHHW HAVING TO PICK BETWEEN THESE TWO,,,,, I think I will go with gin my little friend tho,,,

First impression: this child keeps barking at me. I would die for him

Impression now: LOVE FAV CHERISH I'D STILL DIE FOR HIM,,, GIN MY BELOVED he is just. So fucking good the best little brother ever,,,, if he dies I'm going to go apeshit

Favorite moment: when he like. Sneaks back onto floor one that was really goddamn cool of him even if it scared the shit out of me. AND WHEN HE GOT THE LITTLE DOGGIE KEYCHAIN AND GAVE IT BACK TO SARA. and I think he gave her a big hug after the whole hallucination thing AND THAT WAS EXCELLENT TOO I CRIED A LOT.

Ideas for a story: him sara and kanna all hanging out. Siblings :]

Unpopular opinion: I don't really have any I don't think

Favorite relationship: HIM AND SARA. SIBLINGS. also him and qtaro are pretty good,,, honestly his relationships with all of the characters are very cute bc everyone unanimously is like "protect cherish" except like. Shin I think. And his friendship w/ kanna is nice too from what I remember

Favorite headcanon: genderfluid,,, and him and sara and kanna being siblings is very very goode

[browniefox]

Color Theory

@wrightfamilyweek Day 2 - Investigation/Hijinks

In which an anniversary is coming up, so Trucy makes some plans.

You can also find this on AO3 right here :)

“Have fun at work, Daddy!”

Trucy runs up to Daddy and hugs him around the stomach. He kisses the top of his head.

“Mmhm, I expect your homework to be done and you to be in bed by the time I get home, alright? No exceptions!"

“Of course!”

“And no trips to Germany, alright? I’m sure you can hold off for another few months.” Daddy teases. Trucy sticks his tongue out at him and he ruffles her hair before going out the door. In a few months, she is going to actually get to go with Daddy on one of his trips to see Miles, a reconnection between the two of them since Trucy's own little trip a year ago.

As the door closes, Trucy runs over to the window and waits until she sees Daddy riding down the street on his bike, officially out of the building. Her homework is already done, most of it finished during class time and the rest of it finished up during recess and on her way home from school. Walking while writing had made her numbers come out a little odd, but it didn’t matter, because now she had hours and hours of time to work.

She stops by the fridge, staring up at the calendar. It’s four weeks away from the date circled in red, and two weeks from the date that sits ominously empty. It’s plenty of time, though.

Trucy makes a lap around the office, double-checking that the windows are locked just like Daddy does every time before leaving. Everything seems safe and sound, so she grabs her backpack and leaves, making sure she has the spare key and locking the door behind her. Daddy won’t be home until late, but she’s still going to make care to be home with plenty of time to spare. The meer idea of putting him through the same fear of last year sits in her chest like a promise.

It’s a few bus-stops to get to Gummy and Maggey’s house. They’re both out at the moment, so Trucy finds the spare key in the fake rock and lets herself in. She’s spent a lot of time over here by now, and the couple has spent alot of time over at the office, the big and towering man she’d met at the airport transforming into a familiar and lovable family friend.

She skips over to the closet, pulling out the supplies stuck in there. Streamers and confetti, magic wands and fake flowers, tumbling out from where Gummy had helped her shove them in last time. She looks down at the supplies and begins organizing it into the different acts that they’re associated with. There’s a lot of pieces, a lot to get over to the Wonder Bar eventually. Keeping so much of it over here makes it harder to practice back at home, but that’s kind of the point, even if it’s really annoying.

Gummy and Maggie came home after an hour, setting their things down and chatting about their day while Gummy starts dinner. The smell fills the house, warm and comforting. Trucy likes the Gumshoe house. It’s not too big, but not too small either. Gummy and Maggey used to clean it up before she came over, but they’ve stopped making that special little change for her, and so she gets to see it all lived in, a sock strewn here, a few dishes left out, pillows lying wherever they were last placed. Small things that make the place not a house but a home. She’s never had a home like this one, and oh there are sometimes where she’ll be lying on the couch and imagine what it would be like to stay here.

She knows she could.

Daddy has made it clear that if she ever felt dissatisfied with the cramped office, with him, all she has to do was say something. Gummy and Maggey have mentioned, before, that they’d be willing to take her in if anything ever happened to Daddy. Gummy had laughed about all the sorts of injuries Daddy tended to accrue, recounting a story about Daddy getting amnesia before a case - Trucy knew that one, she’d read it a bit ago.

Trucy doesn’t want to leave the cramped little office.

After dinner, Trucy uses Gummy’s phone. Gummy and Maggey know how to set up her stuff for a performance by now - they’ve already agreed to be her stage crew for the performance. While they’re doing that, Trucy calls up Aunty Maya.

“How’s my favorite magician doing?” Maya answers, and Trucy can hear the smile in her voice.

“Working on her next trick.” Trucy replies. Maya makes a humming sound.

“Well, things are going well on our end over here. Are you sure about the color? You don’t want to go darker?” Maya asked.

“Nope! It’s, well, there’s a reason for the shade.” Trucy says. She can hear Maya hum in understanding over the receiver.

“Well, I’m almost finished with it, although I’ll probably come up soon just to make sure everything is right. Pearly says hi, by the way.”

“Oh! Is she there?! Is she there?! Hi Pearls!” Trucy shouts over the phone and gets a distant and soft ‘hi Trucy!’.

“When I come down I’ll bring Pearly with me, don’t worry. If I didn’t,she might just run the whole way over there anyway!” Maya laughs and Trucy laughs along.

“If everything’s working out, then I’m gonna have to go. I need to make sure the rest of the show is ready to go!” Trucy says.

“Alright, alright, just say you’re afraid I’m going to start prattling on about the new season of Rubber Samurai. But you know there-”

“Love you Aunty Maya bye!” Trucy hits the end call button still chuckling to herself. She hopes that Aunty Maya makes true on her promise to come back down and to bring Pearls before the big day, but if she doesn’t then Trucy guesses she can wait that long, even if it’ll be agonizing.

She stares at the next number for a long long while before finally hitting the call button.

The phone rings once, twice, three times before he picks up.

“Gumshoe, this had better be fucking import-”

“Hi, Miles!” Trucy chirps. There’s silence on the other end.

“... who is this?” Miles grumbles.

“Trucy Wright!”

“Trucy?!” Miles sounds a little more awake now.

“Yup!”

“Ms. Trucy… why are you calling me at… three in the morning?” Miles groans.

“Th… three in the… OH!” Trucy gasps, feeling her face flush in embarrassment. She’d completely forgotten to take into account time differences. “Oh my god, Miles, I’m so sorry, it’s pretty late here and-”

“It’s, it’s fine Ms. Trucy. Just tell me what you were calling about… from Gumshoe’s phone? Is your father alright?” Worry creeps into Miles voice.

“Oh, yes, Daddy’s fine! Daddy’s just at work right now, and I went over to Gummy and Maggey’s! We had spaghetti and meatballs for dinner, and then we’re gonna play a card game, and then Gummy is gonna drive me back to the office ‘cause it’s all dark now!” Trucy says.

“Ms. Trucy, I don’t mean to sound rude, but again, it is three a.m. here…” Miles sighs.

“Right! Right, um… Mr. Edgeworth, do you think you could help me with a little something.”

“I’m going to need a bit more information than that.”

Trucy rattles off her little plan into the phone. Miles stays silent for the entire explanation, only grunting here and there to assure her that he is still awake and listening on the other end.

“... this is very short notice.” Miles says.

“Oh,” Says Trucy, looking down at her feet, “Well, that’s okay, I’m sure together, the rest of us-”

“I never said I wouldn’t do it, just that next time you’re planning something like This, please, tell me about it a little more ahead of time.”

“Okay! Yeah! Next time! And this time… you can do it?” She double checks.

“Yes, you can count on me, Ms. Trucy.”

“Thank you! Um, I’ll let you get back to sleep, thank you!”

Trucy skips back into the kitchen, where Gummy and Maggey have set up a board game. She still has her show to practice a bit more, and even now thinking about it she’s a little nervous, but she’s found she’s more excited. It’s coming together.

oOo

“Please, Daddy, please, come and see my show tonight? Pleaseeeee?”

Phoenix lets out a long sigh. Trucy is bouncing around in excitement in front of him. She’s already done her stage makeup, and he’d helped her put little weaving braids into her hair. Most of it will be covered up by her hat, but there are usually moments during the performance where the hat comes off, and so she needs to look amazing no matter what’s going on. Phoenix is fine to help her with this, but on today of all days, all he wants to do is sit in his office, read through old case files, and mourn what he has lost.

He was disbarred two years ago. That both feels like too much and not enough time. For the most part, he likes to think that he’s been coping with it well. He’s been working, and raising Trucy, and he’s had some other little things in the works, but on today of all days, it’s so hard to focus and not feel the ache of what was taken from him, of what he’s lost, of those who have come to his door in the past couple years looking for help and having to be turned away.

“Trucy, baby,” Phoenix starts, trying to let her down easy, but Trucy stomps her foot.

“No, Daddy, please, just, just come? To the show? Please?” She begs.

She’s been 'off' all week, too quiet and then too talkative in bursts that serve to confuse Phoenix. Now, there’s something almost akin to fear in her eyes, and it tugs at Phoenix’s heartstrings.

“Alright, sweetie, let me just,” He looks down at himself, still in sweatpants and a hoodie. He’d meant to get dressed today, but even now he’s struggling to find the energy to get into something better, and eventually he just says lamely, “Put some shoes on.”

He gets a pair of beat-up sneakers on and walks outside with Trucy, who is still vibrating with energy. He considers for a moment that perhaps he should buy a new pair of shoes, but then he sees Trucy’s cape, starting to look thread-bare in places and sitting so much shorter on her than it did two years ago. It used to fall to cover her almost completely in a mysterious sort of way, but now you can see her entire hands. Trucy has told him before it’d be fine, her cape had been too long anyway, but maybe he should start to consider how to get her something new and nice. Things for himself could be put off as long as they needed to be.

The ride down to the Wonder Bar is quiet between them, Trucy sitting on his handlebars with careful balance. The first five times they did it, Phoenix had been worried about her falling off or something, but now it was routine if they had anywhere they both had to be and didn’t have the time to puzzle through bus schedules or the budget for a taxi.

Phoenix recognizes some of the people in the Wonder Bar, and Mr. Wunderbar himself comes over and greets.

“Ah, Ms. Wright, so glad to see you! Your assistants are already backstage.” Mr. Wunderbar says. Phoenix’s brow furrows.

“Assistants? You mean the your staff?” Phoenix asks.

“Alright thanks Mr. Wunderbar Daddy find a seat love you bye!” Trucy says in one breath and runs over to the stage.

“This way, Mr. Wright. Trucy asked that we have a table upfront reserved just for you.” Mr. Wunderbar leads the way to one of the tables close to the stage, which does indeed have a a ‘Reserved’ marker on it. Phoenix feels suddenly self conscious in his outfit. He’d been planning to sit in the back, where nobody could see him, and he feels like everybody in the bar, waiting for Trucy to perform, are staring at him.

Mr. Wunderbar took his order and then slipped away. Phoenix drumms his fingers on the table, a cowardice sweeping through him with such force that he almost gets up and walks away. Something odd is going on, and it's making him even more nervous.

“Oh good, Trucy was really worried you wouldn’t show up.”

Phoenix jumps at the familiar voice, and spins around to see Maya and Pearls.

“Wh- hey, what are you two doing here?!” Phoenix jumps up and hugs both of them, “And especially what’s Pearls doing in here?”

“Mr. Wunderbar says that so long as nobody at our table orders drinks, he’ll allow it this once.” Maya says, sitting down, and Pearls sits on the other side of Phoenix, sandwiching him between the Fey’s.

“But why are you two-”

“Now Nick, do you really think we’d let you spend today on your own to mope?” Maya sets her hands on her hips. Phoenix looks away. He doesn’t point out that they didn’t last year, because it’s not their responsibility to look after him. Maya has her own life she’s living. She had texted and called him, though, regularly, throughout the day, at random intervals. She threatened that if he didn’t pick up any of the times, she’d be coming over right way, “I’ll admit, though, clearly we came mostly to see Trucy perform. Right Pearls?”

“Yeah! She’s so amazing, Mr. Nick! And we also had to bring the-” Pearls starts to say, but Maya puts a finger to her lips and shushes Pearls, who’s mouth slams shut.

“... alright, enough of this, what’s going on?” Phoenix asks more plainly.

“So she still hasn’t seen fit to tell you yet?”

And then, slipping into the fourth seat at the table, is Miles. Miles, in California, in the flesh, in the Wonderbar.

“M-Miles! What are you doing here?”

“Your daughter had a simple request, and I obliged.” Miles sniffs, “You look,” Miles regards Phoenix and Phoenix looks away, wishing he’d brought something to cover his head as well, “Alright, all things considered.” He ends.

“No need to sugar coat it, Miles.” Phoenix laughs bitterly.

“I’m not. You seem to forget you’re not the only one who has gone through some trying times.”

Before Phoenix can formulate anything to say to that, the lights in the bar dim. The curtain lifts, but there’s a sheet behind it, so that all once can see of Trucy is her silhouette.

“Now introducing… Trucy Gramraye!” The announcer booms, and there’s some applause, even though nothing’s happened yet, Trucy still not seen.

“There are times that we, in life, come to a crossroads,” Trucy’s voice booms through the speakers over a mystical sounding soundtrack, “ Where we our lives take sudden changes.”

Oh, Phoenix thinks, heart plummeting to the bottom of his stomach, a theory forming in his mind, She wanted me here for her Last Show. Did something happen that made her want to stop being a magician? He’s tried to be supportive, even though he’s had some trouble keeping track of the supplies she needs, and how to help her out, with her teaching him far more than he can possibly teach her about this stuff. He’s offered to get in touch with Max Galactica, but Trucy had made it plain her opinion of that magician.

“Sometimes, you need to say things. And sometimes actions - and appreances - speak louder than words.”

Phoenix almost wants to stand up, to shout at her that no, he doesn’t want her to give up her magic just because she thinks it’s going to make him happy, but he’s frozen in his seat as the sheet of paper hiding his daughter from view is torn through and fog comes rolling out… but she’s not there.

In a puff of smoke, Trucy appears on top of his table. She winks down at him, the spot light finding her.

Her red hat and cape and bag are all gone, replaced by pale blue versions. New, lovingly crafted, and Trucy puts her hands above her head in a pose.

“I am Trucy Gramarye, but your little witch in red is now a magician in blue. Sorry if I startled anybody by coming… out of the blue like that?” Trucy says. She smiles, twirls around, and in another puff of smoke she’s gone. The room goes dark.

The spotlight finds her back on the stage, still in the strange blue uniform.

“Wh-what- when did she-”

“You know, in Kurain, we have to make all our own clothes.” Maya says with a mischievous little smirk.

“You mean you-”

“She wanted to put together something to make sure you weren’t too sad today.” Maya explains, smiling.

Phoenix does his best not to cry so that he doesn’t miss any bit of the show.

When it’s done, Mr. Wunderbar brings over another chair and Trucy sits with them. Phoenix spends the evening surrounded by his friends, by his family, and staring at Trucy’s new outfit. Blue, just like his old suit, he thinks.

“Do you like it?” She asks, surprisingly shyly, right before bed. Phoenix grins, picks her up, and twirls her around.

“You look amazing sweetie. You know, you didn’t have to go through all that just for me.”

“I didn’t do it just for you.” Trucy defends, “I did it because I wanted to! And because I love you!”

“I love you too Truce.”

Tomorrow morning, reality will set in again. He’ll have work, and maybe all the grief he was able to put off today will make a forceful comeback, but tonight he knows he’s loved, and that Trucy wants to be a part of his world, wants to be a part of his broken little family, and maybe that’s all that really matters in the end.

[indefiniteimagines]

Not Even For A Minute || Poussey Washington Imagine *Requested*

Summary: Poussey has a crush on the reader and thinks she doesn’t like her back, but she does.

Pairing: Poussey Washington x Reader

Warnings: Fem!reader, lewd language/comments, language, reader doesn’t have a preferred sexual orientation, use of R slur, angst, fluff

A/N: Holy shit! This is my first piece of writing in actually only a couple of months, but I’m claiming years because I am officially back like I was in high school. I’m so sorry if this is not my best, I am EXTREMELY rusty, so take it easy on me for now :) 

It was dinner time at Lichfield and it was only my second meal in my new home. My new home filled with almost 200 other women. For the next 5 years, I will see the inside of this cafeteria 3 times a day, 21 times a week, 1,095 times a year and a whopping 5,473 times in total. You’re probably wondering why that matters, but it matters.

I take my tray and do a quick search for a place to sit. I find a spot at the very end of one of the middle tables. It was the only seat with no one in a two foot radius of me. I sit down and look at the food in front of me. My first dinner includes spaghetti, two mini oranges, a salad, and a brownie. It’s not horrible when you think about it. It’s a pretty standard meal. Well it would be without the questionable odor coming from the meatballs. I close my eyes and sigh. 

“Maybe she’s deaf.”

“She ain’t deaf.”

“HELLO!”

“She can’t hear you if she’s deaf, dummy.”

“Fine, then you try, Angie.”

I was so deep in my own world that I almost didn’t notice the cherry tomato that hit me in my head. 

“Hey, girl!”

I opened my eyes and looked to my left.

“Are you talking to me?” I asked with a hint of a nervous tone.

“Uh yeah, have been for the last 5 hours. You retarded or something?”

“5 hours ago? No that can’t be right. Remember, we was in the laundry room 5 hours ago, Tucky.”

“Jesus, Angie! I was being snide.”

“You mean sarcastic?”

“Snide means sarcastic.”

“Then why not just say sarcastic?”

I watched as “Tucky” closed her eyes and tilted her head in annoyance.

“I’m sorry, but did you guys need something?”

Tucky’s eyes snapped open, “Uh, yeah. Why’re you sitting here?” She took her bottom lip into her mouth as she waited for my response.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone was sitting here.”

“She never said that,” Angie said while flashing her pearly browns.

“I’m confused.”

“Wow maybe she really is retarded,” Angie said.

“Tucky” nodded at Angie, “I think you’re right, Ang. Here, I’ll break it down real slow like for you: You don’t belong here.”

“Look, I don’t want any trouble. Just let me finish my dinner and I’ll never sit with you again.” I tried to reason with the little troll, but she just wasn’t having it. 

She nodded her head while picking up her milk carton. She then poured it all over my food. “Seems to me like you’re done.”

All I could do was stare with my mouth open. 

“Why did you do that?!”

“BECAUSE YOU DON’T BELONG HERE!” She screamed as she stood up and let one of her fist hit the metal table.

“Dogget! You’re done! Empty your tray.” A CO finally intervened from the next row over. Dogget and her Meth Mates got up from the table and walked out. 

All I could do was sit there with my head hanging low as I let a few tears escape. I’m not usually this weepy, but in my defense, all I wanted was that little brownie...which was now swimming in a pool of used milk. 

*A few tables over*

“Fuck was that about?” Poussey asked her family as she nodded her head over to the other table; finally arriving with her tray. 

“Mmmm, Meth Mouth and her cult were fuckin’ with one of the newbies,” Janae replied in the middle of finishing her bite.

Poussey hovered over her chair to get a good look at the bothered inmate and sat back down while shaking her head. 

After having a mini pity party for myself, I got up and dumped my spoiled tray before leaving the cafeteria. I go back to my temporary bunk and buried myself under my blanket. 

“Cheer up, Kid. You’ll be out of here sooner than you know.”

I gave a pitiful grin to the nice older woman.

“I like your eyeshadow.”

“Duh,” she said as she threw me a wink.  

I let out a sigh, got comfortable and laid in my bed until morning.

I finally fell asleep, but only for 2 hours. At the ass crack of dawn, I was woken up by the morning announcement, which had absolutely no enthusiasm. “Good morning, ladies. Try to seize the day. The world is your oyster.”

“You’d think she’d quit if she hates her job so much.” That was the first time I heard the redhead with the horrible bed head speak.

“Bell is about as enthusiastic as a wet bag of hair, but she’s one of the good ones.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said groggily.  

“You joining us for breakfast?”

I drifted back to sleep before I could hear her response. I woke up in what seemed like an hour, but was only 30 minutes. For the slightest second I forgot where I was. I opened my eyes and was met with DeMarco standing right in front of me.

“Well good morning sleepyhead! Nice of you to join the living.”

“What? What time is it?”

“You see a clock in here? What I do know is that you got 10 minutes left for breakfast. You better hurry.”

I hop down off my bunk and start to change.

“Thanks.” 

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

I gave her a shrug as I zipped up my jacket and headed for breakfast. I arrived in the cafeteria and was able to get my food right away since there was no line. Some tables are still filled, but some are also empty. I scan the room and pick the table farthest away from Doggett and her followers. I was in the middle of eating my eggs when Angie walked by and sneezed on my tray. 

“Oops, ‘scuse me,” she said with a shit eating grin.

“God damnit,” I whisper to myself while trying not to deck this bitch.

“You shouldn’t say the Lord’s name in vain like that.”

I look up at her through hooded eyes, “Walk the fuck away.” My voice was low and I kind of scared myself.

“Oooo, devil eyes. Hey! She’s got devil eyes,” she says louder than the first time, except now she’s giggling and pointing at me while backing away. Doggett sucks her bottom lip at me while flipping her hood and getting up to walk out. I can feel people starring so I do a very quick observation and then stand up to leave. 

“Empty your tray,” the guard at the door told me. “Get some coffee while you’re at it. It’ll help you stay full until lunch.”

 I look up at his name that’s stitched into his shirt. Ohhhh, so this is O’Neil. I heard some of the girls talking about his scandalous relationship with CO Bell. Good for them. I turned around and went to dump my tray before following the advice and going for the coffee. 

“Yo, why they always fucking with her?” Poussey asked the table as she watched in disapproval as Y/N dumped her tray.

“Why do you care?” Taystee asked while rolling her eyes.

“For real? You ain’t notice that ever since China got out, Prince Charming over here been lookin’ for a new helpless, basket case? I mean, shit.”

“Aye don’t talk about Brook like that. Not cool, Cindy.”

“ “Cindy”? Bitch, fuck you think you is? My mama? Ugh, check ya tone.”

“Whatever man. I’m just tired of seeing Meth Madness fuck with people like they run the place.”

“Again, why do you care?”

“Shit just ain’t right, is all.”

“Mmmhmm,” Taystee replied as they got up from the table.

I turn around after filling my mug and notice that it’s just me, the inmates that clean up and the CO’s supervising them. I carry my warm mug through the halls and I notice there’s not as many people crowding them as there were last night. 

“Inmate! Where you are supposed to be?”

“Uhm, I’m not really sure.”

“Wrong answer!”

“Wrong?”

“Don’t get smart with me. Jefferson! Tell inmate...Y/L/N where she’s supposed to be.”

“Well, since it’s after lunch, we’re supposed to be headed to our work detail. Not whatever you was doing, apparently.”

The tall guard with the creepy mustache looked down at me and raised his eyebrows.

“Thank you, Jefferson.”

“I don’t have a work detail yet.”

He closed his eyes and sighed. When he opens them he looked back at Jefferson, “you work in the library, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Take her with you.”

She sucked her teeth, “Man, what do I say when someone asks why she’s there? No offense, but I ain’t taking no shots just because she’s somewhere she’s not supposed to be.”

“What’s a shot?”

“Jesus fuck. Will you both get out of my goddamn sight?” 

He snatched my mug; Jefferson and I gave each other a look and started towards the library. When we got there it was almost empty.

“You know, the labels are there to help the books be put back in their respectful place, not to look cute. I mean, damn.” I notice Jefferson chuckle at the girl we hear before seeing. She’s talking to a pair of inmates who are whispering to each other before tossing another book down and scurrying off. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” she calls after them, but to no avail. She sighs to herself before returning back to work. 

“Hey, P! Whatchu up to?”

“Practically cleaning up behind bitches. I mean, why is it so hard to put a book back in its original spot? Jane Eyre belongs in literature, not SAT Prep,” she called back.

“Truly first world problems,” Jefferson said unamused.

“Yooo, you ever heard of “Oedipus”? It’s mad crazy. Like this one part where the main dude...” she kept talking as she rounded the corner to finally come face to face with us.

“...who’s this?”

“Our puppy dog for the day,” Jefferson said as she rolled her eyes.

“Oh alright then. Well I’m working over here in history. Y’all can start in fiction. It’s a fuckin mess over there.”

“Um, then why don’t we all work in fiction?”

“Did you not hear me say it’s a fuckin mess? Have fun.”

I walked away, smiling to myself. I didn’t think anyone here would care for books like I did.

After the work day was over, I separated from the two friends and went back to my temporary bunk until dinner. The next day I followed Jefferson back into the library.

“Oh, puppy dog is back.”

Jefferson turned her head to me, “Don’t you know when you gettin your work detail yet?“

“Sorry, still no.”

“As much as I’m sure you love the view you get, I’m gettin tired of you following me.”

“I can ask someone if I can work somewhere else.”

“T-ha! And make me look like a problem? I think not.”

“Nah, we could use the extra help in here since bitches can’t put shit back where it’s supposed to go. Hate to break it to y’all, but foreign language is even worse than fiction was.”

“My god. Can’t you help us over here instead of doing whatever it is the fuck you doin?”

“Uh no.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m President of the Library.”

“Says who!?”

“Suzanne,” she said as a matter of fact while leaning forward to show us her ID that read “President Washington: Library”.

“Aw damn. It’s official and everything. Man, that’s some bull shit,” Jefferson said as she walked away.

All I did was look at the Presidential badge and smile.

“Since you don’t complain like some people, just know you’re first in line for Vice President. Just don’t tell Taystee,” she told me on the sly.

“Taystee?”

“Jefferson.”

“Ohh, got it.”

“I’m Poussey, by the way,” she said extending her hand.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah you too.”

She has a beautiful smile.

Towards the end of the work day, I found myself near Poussey’s section. Since our work for the time being is pretty much done, I start to browse the shelves when I spot a book dear to my heart, “Alice in Wonderland”. I get a mini rush of serotonin and pop a squat up against one of the shelves. I lose track of time, until I realize I no longer see anyone. “Imagination is the only weapon in the war against reality”. You are right about that, Mr. Carroll.

“Hello?” I’m immediately startled. I start to shuffle to my feet and by the time I stand, I’m met with someone else.

“Whoa, shit. My bad. I didn’t think anyone else was in here.” Shit, I must’ve I said that out loud.

“Sorry, I guess I lost track of time.”

“It’s cool. So you haven’t been assigned a work duty yet, huh?”

I shook my head.

“I, uh, I must admit that this is the best job. Call me bias, but it’s the truth.”

“Thanks,” I say with a slight smile.

“You’re the one Pennsatucky and her crew keep messing with.”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Y’all got beef on the outside or something?”

“No, but I found it’s better to not provoke a methed out mental case.”

“Not wrong there. Well, I’ll see you around. Oh and be careful with Alice, she’s my favorite.”

The next few days were the same. I would follow Taystee into the library and listen to her and Poussey be absolute clowns. Poussey and I got to be closer since we were usually the last two to leave. We talked about how much time we have, our family, and she even told me about the Vee drama. During my stint of unpaid work in the library, I was finally able to change out of the highlighter jumpsuit and into a khaki set.

After an hour or so into a shift, I found myself distracted with my favorite book, “In Five Years”.

“Oh uh, that goes on the second to last shelf right behind you.”

“Huh? Oh yeah. It was actually already in the right spot, but it’s one of my favorites,” I tell her as I put the book back.

“What’s it about?”

“This woman named Dannie-“

“Y/L/N!”

We both looked towards the door and saw and the same pasty CO that sent me here.

“With me.”

I gave Poussey a grin and walked towards the CO,

“Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer me and just kept walking. I followed him to a warehouse that smelled of Clorox and musty water.

“Janitorial. Your job assignment. Morello will fill you in on what to do.”

“Oh yeah I can do that. No problem.”

The first couple of hours involved cleaning the halls, but I moved on to the Spanish bathrooms. Poussey was right, the library was the best job to have.

*A few weeks later at dinner

“I don’t know why you’d let Edward Scissorhands cut your hair and not me.”

“Because Danita only charges me a bag of Doritos. Not two cokes. Plus, she don’t even ask for the Cool Ranch flavor!”

“Beggars can’t be choosers. I do two cokes worth of work, Child.”

I laughed at Taystee and Sophia having their little banter in the food line. I walked with them to the table and sat down.

“...but then the dragon realized the little ghost girl was friendly, even though she was cold as ice. Fire and ice, that would never work!”

“Why not? What happened to opposites attract?” I ask sort of challengingly. 

“Mommy said ice is used to put out fires. Well, technically water is used to put out fires but ice is just water in solid form. So the fire would go out!”

“But do you know what happens when fire and ice mix?”

“The world goes dark?”

“No. They make steam,” I gave Poussey a “subtle” smirk.

“Mommy says steam is for showers, crab legs and “fun times”.

“I miss making steam with a fine gentleman with a curve on that dick.”

We all laughed along at what Cindy said and I agreed with her.

“There are just some things your fingers can’t accomplish,” I said jokingly while being serious. She pointed her fork at me, “I like her.”

Poussey was noticeably quiet throughout the rest of dinner. Only chiming in to seem interested. She didn’t even finish her tray before she was dipping out.

“Wait I’ll come with you.”

“Nah, stay and eat. I’ll catch you later.”

“Uh oh. Trouble is Lezzy Paradise?”

I almost didn’t hear Cindy as I kept watching Poussey leave the cafeteria.

“Stop it.”

Taystee rolled her eyes and shook her head.

For the next few days, it was hard to get ahold of Poussey. Since we knew each other’s schedules, it was easy for her to avoid me.

Meals were no better. She made sure to get there early so by the time I was sitting down, she was done.

“Aye, you need to fix that,” Janae told me with her eyebrow raised.

“I don’t know what the problem is.”

“I know you are not that dumb,” Boo said as she sat across from me.

“She’s kicking her own ass because she broke the #1 rule of being interested in pussy...” she continued.

I looked at her as I was waiting for her to continue.

“Never fall in love with a straight girl!”

“Love? What-When did I say I was straight-”

“The other night when that one was talkin bout curved dick and you chimed in basically foamin at the mouth at the thought,” Taystee said.

“Noooo, I was joking.”

“Yeah well, apparently she don’t know that.” I looked at Janae and sighed.

I had to wait until the weekend to see her. It was pouring rain and there was a leak in the library and the cleaning warehouse had a slight flood, so neither of us had work.

I snuck my way to her bunk only to discover her to not be there.

“There’s only one place she’d go...” Janae told me.

I made my way down and opened the door.

She was right.

“...there was another before you, but she got out. There’s a time machine in the laundry room. That was their place. That’s where she goes to think.”

“How’d you find me?”

“Your bunkie.”

“What do you want?”

“What’s going on? Why are you being so weird?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said standing up.

“Are we not friends anymore?”

“Friends,” she said with a sarcastic chuckle.

“Can we please sit?” I gestured to the inside of her hiding spot. She backed up slightly to let me further in to the time machine and we both sat down. Neither of us said anything for a while until I did,

“I’m not gay...”

She nodded her head with a sad smile on her face.

“...but I’m not straight either. I’m just me. I’ve dated guys, I’ve had experiences with girls-”

“Experiences? But you’ve never dated a girl?”

“No, but for the past few weeks, I’ve really wanted to,” I said with a slight smile.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because of this. I didn’t want to say something stupid and mess this up. And because I’ve never dated a girl before, but I have dated guys, I didn’t want you to think I was using you. I thought that because I don’t identify as anything, you wouldn’t like me back.”

“I thought you didn’t like me.”

“I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Look, I got my heart broken not too long ago by a girl that promised me forever. She didn’t identify as anything either and she ended up falling in love with a dude when she got out. We were both in a dark place when we met and getting to know each other and eventually falling in love helped. I could’ve given up on love and fate, but I haven’t yet. Look, maybe this-..this connection that we have, challenges what you thought you were. And maybe I'm gonna get my heart broken in a thousand different pieces again. But those are maybes. You can't live your life according to maybes.”

The next few months were bliss. Poussey and I have connected on a level I didn’t know was attainable. 

Today is Valentine’s Day and right now we’re back in the time machine. We’re both laying down, holding each other and looking up at the ceiling. 

“It’s about a woman named Dannie who’s this a high-powered corporate lawyer. She’s one of those types who has everything planned out. The story has a lot of twists and turns because her five year plan goes differently than she thought.”

“So why is it your favorite if it’s so inconsistent? For a woman who knows what she wants “Dannie” sure seems okay with settling.”

“It’s my favorite because it mirrors me. It mirrors us. In five years I saw myself at some job a teenager would have with my only responsibility being my phone bill.”

“What do you see now?”

“I see me with our dog, Keith, holding signs with your dad on your release day. Then I see us heading to our apartment where you can see it for the first time in person. Then we’ll go to our jobs, pay rent, and hound our parents for travel money.”

“I’m in your future?”

“You are my future.”

She gave me a kiss when there was a bang on the cardboard door, “Hey kids! They’re doing interviews in the bunks,” Boo informed us.

When we got to her dorm, there were a few guards asking ladies questions about love.

“Does anyone else want to be asked questions?”

“Yeah, I do,” Poussey said while raising her hand.

I feel Taystee put her elbow on my shoulder, “What the hell?” The rest of the family comes around.

“Okay Washington, what is love?”

“Love. It’s just chilling, you know? Kicking it with somebody, talking, making mad stupid jokes. And, like, not even wanting to go to sleep, ‘cause then you might be without ‘em for a minute,” she looked at me, “And you don’t want that.”

•taglist: @mina672

[solarsyrup]

meatball subs are so fucking good frfr

you get to the pearly gates and st peter IMMEDIATELY hands you one of these bad boys

[atvbs]

very predictable but. pearlie pksp for the ask thing,,,,, <3

PEARLIE MEATBALLS MY BELOVED

first impression - his legs do the funny walk,,

impression now - when removing the jrs from the equation hes one of my faves i loved his writing a lot and hes just such a funny and good character i hope hes having an amazing day whereever he is,,,

favorite moment - oh god oh fuck theres a lot but i also havent read the chap since 2018 ummm hmm  from the top of my head that fight he had with dia while it was painful to see it def was a turning point for his chara, or that moment where the trio gave up their pokedexes bc their friendships transcended just a little machine beeping THAT MADE ME CRY SO MUCH 

idea for a story - TBH thinking about his dynamic with rpg is really funny to me like him and black vs four 11/12 year olds who probably play fortnite IS SUCH A FUNNY DYNAMIC TO ME LISTEN THE CHUCK E CHEESE FIC STILL LIVES IN MY HEAD RENT FREE 

unpopular opinion - hmm im not sure whats considered an unpopular opinion in regards to him but some people give him flack for his character but i personally really love his chara??

favorite relationship - SINNOH TRIO,,, THEY CANNOT BE SEPARATED,,

favorite headcanon - i dont have many headcanons for him but pearl with freckles... its such a good headcanon even if its just a little one,,

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part 11) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Ash Miller, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±6400 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part 11: The company of wranglers sets up camp for the night. After spending the evening sharing stories and music around the fire, Dean has another shot to win Y/N over. Will he take it? Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: The Weight - Jason Manns & the cast, Desire - Ryan Adams, Ada Plays - Gabriel Yared (final scene). Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettishfor helping me. You girls are awesome betas. Thank you for your endless patience! Author’s note 2: In a paragraph of this chapter, Apache Indians are mentioned. This does not reflect my (or my beta’s) opinion on them.

Ride With Me Masterlist

    It takes the six riders another seven hours to reach Willow Spring. The rough terrain forces them to move cautiously, especially since some members of the fellowship have little experience with these kinds of circumstances. Another reason for the slow time could very well be that Y/N halts every once every so often, simply gaping at the amazing panorama. The views are absolutely breathtaking, the young woman from Freeport has never seen anything like it.      Drops that would give fear of heights a new definition, wide-open spaces that make her feel so small in this incredible world. Old volcanic remnants emerged from the depths of the earth more than a hundred thousand years ago and still stand tall today. African daisies and brittlebush decorate the grounds for miles, blossoming after last month’s rain. Copper-colored mountains surround them for as far as the eye can see, separated from each other by deep canyons. The epic proportions of the Superstition Mountains are difficult to grasp. It’s quite liberating, to move through an area so remote and untouched, with a horse the only possible type of transportation. She feels like an explorer, a conqueror from the old times. No car could take her here, not even a tank or a helicopter would be able to get Y/N over these boulders and through the narrow canyons. Only Joplin can. 

    The cowgirl rests her wrist on the horn of the saddle, the reins loosely in between the fingers of her left hand. Joplin still speedwalks under her rider, who stopped attempting to slow her down hours ago. Apparently, the dark mare does not wish to adapt her speed, even though she asked nicely a couple of times. Of course, Y/N could have made her point, but the argument that would probably carry on for days is not worth it. Where the little horse gets the energy to keep this up, she has no idea, but Y/N is glad she’s a forward-thinker. Dragging a horse up this God-forsaken mountain wouldn’t actually be a pleasure either.

    Dean reaches the final hill first, looking down at the small stream that gurgles and splashes through the worn stone several hundred feet below. A lone willow tree grows on the bank, surrounded by cattails, marking the year-round water source. It’s a heavenly sight, because the horses are thirsty, and finding Willow Spring means that today’s time in the saddle is over. Make no mistake, he loves to ride, but after ten or so hours in the saddle, his ass is starting to get sore.     “We’ll set up camp here,” he decides, glancing over his shoulder at the others before he gives Ted the aid to descend the steep slope.    

    Dropped back on his hocks with his hooves out in front of him, the gelding makes his way down the hillside, trying to find the easiest path as he snakes down the mountain. Dean sits back, maintaining the balance as he lets his horse figure it out. When Ted reaches even ground again, Dean gives his companion space to drop his head completely. Alert, Ted drags his feet through the cold water, his lips on the surface of the crystal clear spring as he starts to drink, rhythmic gulps moving up his throat every time he swallows. Gently, the wrangler rustles his fingers through the bay’s mane, then he swings his right leg over the back of the saddle and lowers himself into the shallow spring. The water is pleasantly cold after a long day out in the desert and he can almost feel it sizzle when he splashes the water in his face and on the back of his neck. He rarely gets a sunburn anymore, but his skin feels tense and dry today. As the droplets run down his chin and neck, he puts his cowboy hat back on and rises up to find Y/N next to him, copying his actions. While Joplin gulps down at least a gallon, the female rider cups her hands to capture the refreshing water and wash her face clean, after which she lets the air flow from her lips in delight.

    “Long ride, huh?” Dean sighs.     “Sleeping is not going to be a problem, not even if I have to spend the night on a rock,” she admits.     “We’ll rest up here, Benny will get dinner going soon,” he assures her.       “Better be good, Benny,” she warns as she leads Joplin away from the riverbed, trading places with the Southerner. “I’m starving.”     “The things I can do with canned food above a fireplace, darlin’. Those Michelin star joints can kiss my fine behind,” he returns, a bright smile and even brighter eyes adorning his face.

    Dean grins at the claim and walks with Ted to follow Joplin. All fun aside, they cannot sit down and kick their feet up just yet. They have a camp to build.     “Brad, Jon, you can set up camp on that plateau up the hill. Benny and I will take care of the horses. Y/N and Macy? Can find us some firewood?” He looks in the intern’s direction and she nods in confirmation. He takes over the reins of her horse so that she can get to the task at hand.     “Watch out for snakes,” he presses.     “I know. And kick over the wood before you pick it up,” she adds before her supervisor does.     “Jo already gave you the lecture, huh?” Dean assumes, grinning.     “And Ellen, and Bobby.” She giggles, looking over her shoulder as she joins Macy to find some dry wood.

    The women hit the jackpot after searching the dry terrain a little higher up the stream. What once was a sheep shed is now a heap of wood and nails, nothing left standing but one corner strut. With the rotten planks stacked up in her arms, Y/N and Macy return to camp on the plateau, about a hundred feet from Willow Spring. Two out of the three tents are set up and ready to be inhabited, while the horses are tacked down and resting. Dean and Benny created a small paddock with rope, using two large boulders and a large cactus as anchor points.     Within half an hour there’s a fire going and soup is bubbling in a pot above the flames. The sun is setting fast, still reflecting its orange rays on the few clouds above, drawing shadows larger than the mountains that create them. Tired from the long day, the six riders sit around their improvised stove, easy conversation and joyful laughs rising up from the valley. It doesn’t take long before the night darkens the sky, the stars and the moon shining bright. Suddenly the desert that seemed enormous and wide-open during the day, feels cozy. Almost as if the company of six are in a room as big as the light of the fire can reach. The soup, rich with meatballs and vegetables, together with the bread Ellen baked this morning, fills their stomachs. Y/N stretches her legs out in front of her, crossing them at her ankles while she sits down on a boulder, stretching her back to fight the dull ache.

    “Who wants a beer?”     The intern looks up surprised while Benny gets up and looks from one to the other.     “We’ve got beer?” Brad, apparently as astonished as she is, wonders.     Benny shows his set of pearly whites and descends down the hill towards the cold spring.     “Even better,” he corrects, as he pulls the six-pack from between four stones, the cold water dripping from the bottles. “We’ve got cold  beer.”     The wranglers cheer as the Southerner makes his way up the slope again, after which he rummages in one of the saddlebags, probably to find an opener. Casually Y/N glances over, but then she furrows her brow as something catches her eye before Benny closes the straps again. Was that the handle of a pistol she spotted? The gears in her head start turning. Why would they bring a gun on a trail ride? Y/N isn’t a stranger to guns. Her brothers and father have a hunting cabin up north at White Mountain and her oldest sibling, Jake, is a police officer in Los Angeles. At home, she knows where they keep the guns, and in case of an emergency, she knows how to use them. Still, she wonders; why bring one here into the desert, miles from a living soul? Wild animals, maybe?

    “Here ya go, darlin’.”     Benny hands Y/N a bottle of Corona, which she takes gladly. Then he hops up on the large rock the intern is leaning against. Dean walks around the fire after pushing in a new log, then settles down on a small boulder on the other side of her. He props up one leg, the other stretched in front of him, resting his wrist on his knee while he begins to play with the silver band on his ring finger.     “Cheers, y’all,” he says, raising his bottle.     The others respond with a mutual ‘cheers’ and he takes a swig of the welcome refreshment. Y/N does the same, but can’t help to glance at the saddlebag again. Eventually, curiosity gets the best of her and she leans into Dean.     “Can I ask you something?”     He looks aside, attracted by her whisper, a little bit nervous all of a sudden now that she’s so close to him. Apparently, whatever she is going to require from him is not suitable for the tourists to hear.     “Shoot,” he replies.     “Why do you guys carry a gun with you?” Y/N wonders with a soft voice.     Dean cocks his eyebrow and can’t help but to lift up the corner of his mouth a little. Someone is being observant. He huffs before he answers, but Benny, who apparently was eavesdropping, beats him to it.     “Seems like we’ve got a detective amongst us, Chief,” the Southerner comments.     A little embarrassed, Y/N stammers as she looks up at him and back at Dean, his slightly amused and soft smile taking away some of her insecurities. “I - I didn’t mean to sniff around,” she half apologizes, but Dean brushes it off.     “It’s fine,” he assures, then checks on the other three to make sure they aren’t listening in. The tourists are entwined in a conversation of their own, however. “And that gun is a safety precaution.”     “For what?” she asks, not settling for an answer that vague.

    Dean glances at his friend, shielding his face from her for a second. It seems like he is discussing silently if he should share this matter with the intern, but in fact, he’s telling Benny something completely different. The slight nudge of his eyebrow and the suppressed little smile says one thing only: play along.     “We’re not the only ones out here, darlin’. Apache Indians still roam these mountains,” the farrier from the South elaborates.     Y/N’s eyes widen, as her gaze darts from Benny to Dean, but both keep a straight face. They aren’t serious, right?     “Apache Indians?” she repeats, a little skeptical.     Dean nods, carrying a blank expression and she could swear they are telling God’s honest truth.     “Yep. You better watch out for the natives. Us white folks came here and stole their land long ago in a brutal manner,” Benny adds, taking a sip of his beer to prevent himself from breaking character. “You’re a smart Belle, you can guess what they’d wanna do to us, might we cross paths with them, out here in No Man’s Land.”    Stunned, Y/N stares at him. It sounds hideous, but the way he delivers the story is disturbingly convincing. Plus, she looked into the history of the true Native Americans for a project back when she was a sophomore and remembers that there used to be a large colony at Apache Junction, not far from here. She didn’t realize that besides dangerous five hundred feet drops, unbearable heat, venomous spiders, snakes and scorpions, there is more to fear out here in these wastelands. But then she notices how Dean presses his lips together, so tight that his jaw clenches for just a second as he fights a laugh. On to them, Y/N tilts her head and throws the two boys a glare, causing them to crack.     “Idiots,” she mutters as they laugh loudly.     Sniggering, the friends toast their beer bottles, celebrating their successful prank. Sometimes Y/N wishes she wasn’t the easily fooled city girl.     “All jokes aside,” Dean recovers, his tone serious again. “We always bring that gun on trails in case a horse injures itself lethally. We’re miles out from the road, let alone a veterinarian, so if it would ever come to a worst-case scenario, at least we can put the horse out of its misery.”     Y/N didn’t expect that answer and is silenced by the reason for the weapon. She only now realizes how far from civilization they are. Slippery slopes and narrow paths over high ridges are a recipe for accidents, but that a misstep could have such consequences somehow didn’t dawn on her until now. When things go south out here, they are truly on their own.

    “Did you ever have to use it?” she wonders.     Dean shakes his head gladly. “No, but Bobby did once,” he tells her. “That’s why he insists on us bringing the Colt every time we go out.”     “The Colt?” the intern responds. “The gun has a name?”     “It’s not just some gun. It was specially made for a hunter on horseback at the beginning of the 19th century. It has been in the family for a long time,” Dean explains as he takes another swig from his bottle.     “Well, I hope you will never have to fire that gun,” Y/N says solemnly.     He looks at her and agrees to that statement with a small nod, because he surely hopes he doesn’t have to either.     “How about some tunes, Chief?” Benny suggests.     The night is still young and he is looking for ways to fill the evening; musical entertainment will do just that. Dean throws him a displeased look, though, but his friend already pulled his harmonica from the chest pocket of his jacket. He holds the instrument in front of his mouth with one hand and partly covers the exhale holes to give the extra effect as he blows on it, playing a little riff that captures the attention of the others. Dean sighs; there's no way out of it now.     “What are you gonna sing?” Y/N asks the handsome man next to her.     The giddiness in her voice melts away Dean’s discomfort for being put in the limelight by Benny once again. He remembers her first day on the job when he sang a couple of songs. Her beautiful eyes sparkle just as bright as they did that night and he smiles.     “How about a duet?” he suggests.     She snorts, almost choking on her beer. “What? With me ?! God, no. Clearly, you’ve never heard my singing voice.”     “I have, actually,” he begs to differ. “You hum quite a lot when you’re working. And I heard you sing ‘American Pie’ the other day when you were cleaning tack.”     “Were you spying on me?” Y/N eyes him, jumping subjects to get out of a potentially embarrassing situation.     He averts his gaze, a nervous chuckle under his breath. His eyes have lingered on the new wrangler apprentice more than once. There is no denying that.     “I wouldn’t call it spying,” he corrects shyly.     “What would you call it then?”     She pulls up her legs and folds her arms around them, resting her cheek on the flat surface of her knee as she studies him. It amuses her how flustered he gets whenever she catches him taking an interest. He can be so cocky at times, so full of it, but when she corners him only slightly, he seems self-conscious all of a sudden. Now is no different, but he gathers enough courage to look back at her again.     “I’d call it admiring.”

    Dean holds her gaze for a few seconds after he speaks, fire dancing in his beautiful eyes that seem to have a shade of amber now that the flames reflect in them. Unable to look away, Y/N’s cheeky grin tones down into a small smile, the words warming her more than the desert ever could.     “C’mon, brother. This audience ain’t gonna wait all night.” Benny pauses his harmonica solo to rush the head wrangler, missing the conversation that was going on between the two.     “I’ll handle the main vocals. Will you back me up?” Dean asks the cowgirl, not letting his pal interrupt the moment.     “I-I don’t even know what you’re gonna sing,” she returns nervously.     “You’re into classics; you’ll know this song,” he assures, winking at her before he turns to Benny and mouths the title of the track.     Benny nods his head and then starts the melody to ‘The Weight.’ Dean looks over at Y/N as he taps his foot to the rhythm, waiting for her to identify the track just by the cords that Benny plays. Then her face lights up and he grins, knowing that she’s got it now.     “I pulled into Nazareth, was feeling ‘bout half past dead.     I just need some place where I can lay my head.     Hey mister, can you tell me where a man can find a bed?     He just grinned and shook my hand. “No” was all he said.”

    Nervous for her debut as a background singer and yet delighted by his warm voice, Y/N waits for her cue. She has never sung for other people before. In her own head, it sounds quite alright when she joins in with the vocalists of her favorite songs, either while mucking out or under the shower. But to claim she can sing? Absolutely not. God, you’re gonna make a fool of yourself. Are you truly so desperate to get his approval that you signed up for this? Then Dean nudges her softly, calm eyes telling her that she’s going to be fine.

    “Take a load off Fanny. Take a load for free.     Take a load off Fanny…”

    “- and you put the load right on me.”

    Y/N joins him on the last line, hitting a higher note simultaneously with Dean, creating a vocal harmony. The cowboy smiles widely at her, impressed with her voice. Relieved, she beams when Jonathan whistles and Macy and Jon cheer. Maybe she doesn’t sound so bad after all.

    “I picked up my bags, I went looking for a place to hide.     When I saw old Carmen and the Devil, walkin’ side by side.     I said, ‘Hey Carmen! C’mon, let’s go downtown.’     She said, “I gotta go, but my friend can stick around.     Take a load off Fanny, take a load for free.     Take a load off Fanny, and you put the load right on me.”

    They sing the chorus together and Y/N can feel herself loosening up, swaying to the music as she closes her eyes. The classics enthusiast knows most of the lyrics by heart and dares to play with the melody a little bit when there’s room, all the time carrying a smile on her lips. A smile that is pure bliss to Dean, and watching the woman he is losing his heart to express herself has him lost for words. This is what happiness looks like and he can’t get enough of seeing her in this state of mind.

    Benny finished the song with a little solo of his own, knocking his head back with the last notes and drawing applause from the others. Y/N exchanges a look with the two wranglers, thrilled with how that little collaboration worked out. As the clapping dies down, Dean becomes quiet, pondering on his next song. Curious of what he will pick next, Y/N watches him. She doesn’t know, however, that she is the one person occupying his mind.      Again Dean turns to his best mate. “You know the chords to ‘Desire’, Ryan Adams?”     “Sure do.”     He brings the harmonica to his mouth and lets the air flow through the instrument as he moves the intakes on his lips, testing the notes. Dean listens, staring into the fire for a moment as he gets the feel of it. Then Benny starts on the verse and the cowboy begins to sing.

    “Two hearts fading, like a flower.     All this waiting, for the power.     For some answers, to this fire.     Sinking slowly, the water’s higher.     Desire… Desire…”

    Quietly Y/N watches as he moves his upper body back and forth slowly, like waves rolling onto the beach and pulling back again. His voice overwhelms her with every note, so raw and pure and sincere that it gives her goosebumps. Sometimes his eyes close as he enjoys the flow of the song, but throughout most of his performance, they are open, looking up at either the sky or into the flickering flames. But ever so often he glances over, honest eyes strengthening the message. Is he…? Is he singing this song for her?

    “With no secrets, no obsession.     This time I’m speeding. With no direction.     Without reason. What is this fire?     Burning slowly, my one and only…hmmm.”

    Desire… Desire…”

    There’s a calmness that washes over her and for that moment, it feels like it’s just the two of them. While listening to the words, she brings her hand up to cover her mouth, afraid to make a sound and disturb the magic. Folded fingers press against her lips as she swallows apprehensively, feeling her throat is closing up. She is so moved, that tears shimmer in her eyes. Her eyes which never leave him, not once.

    “You know me. You know my way.     You just can’t show me, but God, I’m praying.     That you’ll find me, and that you’ll see me.     That you run and never tire.”

    Desire… Desire…”

    The harmonica echoes through the valley as Benny takes on the last part of the song, but the sound of the instrument fades out in Y/N’s mind. Dean watches his friend for a short moment, but then glances at her. Instantly his expression changes and she realizes he is able to see that her eyes are glazed over in emotion.     “Hey…” he whispers concerned, moving his hand to lay it over hers.     “I’m okay,” she assures, smiling, blinking away the tears. “In fact, I don’t think I ever felt this happy.”     Dean settles, the worry leaving room for his own happiness. Supporting, he gently squeezes before he retreats his hand, holding onto her gaze just a bit longer. Then he averts his eyes to watch the harmonica player’s grand finale.     Several other rock and country songs are covered and the evening flies by in record time. Adoring glances and little touches are exchanged between Y/N and Dean, without the others noticing. If it wasn’t for the company, who knows how the night might end, and she silently wishes it was just them, sitting here by the fire. It’s ten to midnight when she fails to suppress a yawn.     “You and me both,” Macy comments as she gets up, covering her mouth as she yawns as well. “I’m gonna get some sleep.”     It’s anything but a bad idea, because their bodies are drained. Macy’s friend and her brother get up as well, gathering their things before they go to their tent, thanking the crew for the good night.

    “You take first watch, brother?” Benny checks before he hops off the boulder.     Dean nods. “I’ll wake you up at three.”     “Already lookin’ forward to it,” the farrier grunts.     He shuffles to the tent closest to the paddock and unzips the canvas, crawling in on hands and knees, before closing the opening again. And there she has it, her wish granted; it’s just her and Dean now.

    The wrangler realizes it too, because a nervousness overcomes him. He adjusts himself a little, crossing his stretched legs at his ankles as he observes her for a short minute. Poor thing, she can barely keep her eyes open. Ten hours in the saddle and traveling across the desert under the ruthless sun are taking their toll.     “You should get some rest,” he suggests softly. “Tomorrow’s another day.”     Almost pleading, Y/N looks up at him, because even though her body begs to differ, she wants to stay. But when a yawn escapes her again, she has to admit her loss; she is so tired, she’s not even worth a dime. With at least two more days to go, the cowgirl needs to keep her strength up.     “You’re right.” She sighs as she gets up. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning. Good night, Dean.”     “G’night,” he returns, an ache developing in his chest as she moves away.     He watches her struggle with the tent and chuckles, but then she disappears inside, leaving a saddening silence. Within a couple of seconds he regrets his decision of letting her go, but remains seated on the rock, facing the fire. Pondering, he goes over the night, over every single moment, no matter how small.     “Chief?”     Dean looks over at the tent he shares with Benny, noticing how the Southerner has popped his head through the opening again.     “If you were waitin’ for the perfect opportunity,” his friend carefully starts, “that was it.”     The head wrangler glares at his friend, telling him that now is not a good time to judge his actions. Benny has a point, though; he missed his third shot. Let’s hope the rules of baseball don’t apply in this game of love.

    Wide awake, Y/N stares at the ceiling of her tent while listening to the wildlife outside. Crickets chirp loud enough to annoy the restless woman, but she can blame the insects all she wants, they are not the reason for her insomnia. She slept for about thirty minutes, unconscious before her head hit the pillow, but without significant reason, she woke up and hasn’t been able to sleep since. A sigh slips from her lips as she shuts her eyes stubbornly, forcing herself to get some sleep, but after a minute she opens them again and turns on her flashlight to check the time. For God’s sake, it’s almost 2 AM.

    Y/N switches off the torch again and tosses and turns, trying to get comfortable on the thin air mattress without waking Macy. But whatever she does, her brain continues its attempt to process and analyze every emotion that short-circuited her body last night. Every bit of hope, happiness, but most of all, the love that filled her. There’s no doubt in her mind; she knows she has fallen head over boots for Dean. The difference is that she strongly believes she witnessed his love for her as well tonight. She knew he was interested, he made that clear early on. But this… this is different. This is deeper.     Inhaling slowly, Y/N tries to lower her heart rate and calm herself, but it’s a hopeless case. Defeated, she gives up and rises from the bed, slipping back into her jeans. Somewhat angry with herself, she pulls a clean tank top over her head and squirms into her denim jacket, after which she crawls to the opening to unzip the tent.

    Apart from the crickets, it’s quiet outside. The campfire has decreased in size, only half a log fueling the flames. The faint light fans out and only reaches so far, drawing dark shapes past the rocks and tents. Beyond its range, the world is pitch black. A little uneasy, Y/N crosses her arms in front of her chest and tries to chase away the chill. It’s the beginning of October and the difference between day and night is growing larger. In contrast to the heat about twelve hours ago, the air seems brisk now, as it would be on an autumn night at home.

    She sits down on the boulder facing the fire, hunched over as she looks around for Dean. Every sound seems magnified, sounds that she does not want to know the origin of. Didn’t Benny mention that there are mountain lions in this area? One of the horses sighs a little further up and although Y/N can barely make out their shadows, she tries to ease herself with the fact that they are calm. Their instincts would make them the first to sense danger, so if they are comfortable, why shouldn’t she be?     Something rummages in the dark and slow footsteps follow. Her eyes dart in the direction where the sound comes from, but then Y/N lets out a breath of air when it is in fact the person she hoped to find.     Dean steps into the light and notices the intern, clearly surprised. “Hey… What are you doing up?”     “Couldn’t sleep,” she excuses simply.     For a second he wonders what caused her to lie awake, but decides to leave the reason for what it is and instead makes a joke. “Scared that the Apache Indians will invade the camp?”     “Shut up,” she mutters, embarrassed.

    Smirking amused, he shoves some dry branches into the fire, trying to spike it up a little. He then settles down next to her on the boulder that serves fine as a bench, careful to leave enough space between them. At ease, he watches Y/N from aside, who in turn stares at the fire, intrigued. How the flames lick at the wood, slowly swallowing the twigs. How little fireflies of hot amber twirl up into the night sky.

  The weariness that he felt when she left a couple of hours ago is gone instantly, her presence soothing him. She has her arms crossed in front of her chest, hugging herself to stay warm. It makes her seem so small. Without missing a beat, he reaches for the plaid blanket that he used himself earlier before he went to check the horses, and hangs it over her shoulders.     Grateful, Y/N pulls the wool fabric around her body a little tighter. “Thank you.”

    For a couple of minutes, the two of them just sit there, listening to the crackle and pop of the fire as they simply enjoy each other’s company. Reluctant to break the silence, Y/N steals a glance at the handsome man next to her. The radiance of the flames caresses his hair, highlighting it with gold and adding a soft glow to his freckled skin. Dark shadows bring out his strong jaw, his profile illuminated by the frantic light. There’s a softness in his eyes, his pupils slightly dilated due to the darkness that surrounds them, but they still leave enough for the beautiful shade of forest green to mesmerize her. Feeling his company’s lingering gaze, he turns his head to meet it. He smiles, the smallest chuckle rumbling deep down in his throat as he takes her in.

    “What?” she wonders.     “When you first arrived at the ranch, you seemed a little… out of place. We just brought the cattle in and we all looked ragged and dirty, probably smelled even worse. We had a few drinks, were loud. A proper bunch of country folks,” he starts. “And then you walked in, the complete opposite. Your hair all done, nice clothes, shiny boots.”     She grins. “I stood out, huh?”     “You did.” He smirks at the memory, but he’s not just reminiscing over the first time they met.     “Are you telling me that I look ragged and dirty now too? Or that I smell bad?” She side-eyes him, noticing the slight horror on his face when he realizes how his words are coming across.     “No! N-no, that’s not at all what I’m… Y-you smell great,” he stutters, and Y/N can’t contain a giggle.      Dean scoffs and shakes his head; she got him there. Slowly the heat fades from his cheeks. “What I’m tryin’ to say is… I mean, look at you now,” Dean says, letting his eyes roam over her for a second. “You’re achieving your goals, proving the judgemental ones wrong. And I know it ain’t easy. It’s hard work. I’ve seen plenty of people cave in their first week. But not you. You became a part of the ranch… a part of this family.”

    The corners of her mouth lift when the last word sets in. Family. She is a part of this family. Of course, she isn’t from here and she will always call Freeport home, and yet Y/N has never felt like she truly belonged somewhere. Not until now.     “Were you one of the judgemental ones?” she asks him.     “I would be lyin’ to you if I said I wasn’t,” he admits, shame evident when he lowers his head. “I’ve never been more glad to be wrong, though.”     Her smile grows, much like her heart. She looks down at her feet, dragging marks with her heels in the sand. Why is she so nervous to sit here next to him, when at the same time she has never felt more comfortable?

    “Dean?” She turns to him a little bit more, her knee brushing against his. The touch is so light it shouldn’t leave her skin so sensitive, but it does. “That song you sang,” she continues, daring to restore eye contact. “Was that dedicated to someone?”     The wrangler’s heartbeat fastens and he’s doing his best not to heave his chest noticeably. He knows she’s not asking if he sang her a pretty song. No, she’s asking if he meant it. If every word that rolled from his tongue was the truth. If every raw edge in his voice was shaped by the rush of emotions that plows through him whenever he thinks of her. If every time he closed his eyes as he got lost in the music, it was her who he pictured.     “It was,” he admits.     “Does she know?” she counters, her eyes playfully taunting him.     He grins, dipping his chin slightly, but his expression changes the moment she moves her hand to his face and lets her delicate fingers run through his hair, her thumb softly rubbing his temple. Under hypnosis he stares into her soul, his eyes bouncing over her features.

      He’s not sure if he can speak, now that he’s completely under her spell, but he can try.     “I sure as hell hope she does,” he says, his voice so soft that it is no more than a whisper. “But you tell me.”

    If there was any doubt left about the attraction being mutual, it is gone now. Dean just laid it out in front of her, and as a pair of hopeful greens wait for her to respond to his words, Y/N doesn’t waste another second. She closes the few inches between them, shuts her eyes and meets the cowboy halfway. She kisses him first, the action igniting a similar sensation as diving off a cliff into unknown water: thrilling, scary, but addictively exciting at the same time. Thankfully Dean instantly responds, welding his lips against hers and taking away her insecurity. Y/N half registers him cupping her face, careful not to break the moment, but the rush of blood to the head soon has her so dizzy that she has trouble focusing.

    He lingers in the kiss, drawing out the moment for as long as he can. Then they part, pausing for a second as both wranglers open their eyes. Stunned, they stare at each other. Her hand has slid down to his chest, and he knows she can feel it rising and falling under her touch, his heart beating against her palm like a drum. Trying to get a hold of himself, he takes a breath, a small smile forming on his parted lips as he swipes a frizzy strand of hair from her face. He always thought she was beautiful, but in this light, looking at him like she does now… My God, beauty doesn’t even begin to define her.     Now he moves in, less hesitant, drowning in another kiss before he can help himself. His lips graze over hers eagerly, deepening the connection when she allows him to. Giving the cowboy permission, even chasing him in the touch, sets him free completely. Finally, he is able to push past the self-consciousness. Finally, he can dismiss the voice within that tells him that she deserves so much better. The woman he’s in love with wants to be with him and nothing has ever felt so liberating. He lets her know, by tracing the soft skin of her cheek with his thumb. By resting his forehead against hers for a brief moment when he needs to come up for air. By putting every bit of want and adoration into their first kiss.     Every one of Y/N's senses is set in overdrive. As she breathes him in, she smells the aroma of aftershave from this morning’s trim, mixed with the scent of leather, horses and dust. She tastes the salt on his slightly chapped lips and El Corona on his tongue. She hears his respiration, the sound of him pulling in oxygen whenever his mouth parts from her for a short second, blend with the noise of her own breaths. But it’s how he touches her that blows her mind. He cradles her head, curled fingertips pressing in her skin as if he’s afraid he will lose what he just gained. Moved, she cards her fingers through his short hair and pulls him even closer, letting him know that she isn’t going anywhere. And all this time, her palm covers his heart, the steady rhythm that beats under her touch intensifying the intimacy. Wanting to stay here with her as long as possible, he lets his free hand slip over hers.     After an entire month of fighting this feeling, contemplating whether this is a good idea or not, they broke through the restraints. For now, the self-doubt is gone, the fear of commitment with it. Neither of them worries about the consequences of their actions, nor about the fact that Y/N will leave in five months. At this very moment, all that matters is that they allowed each other in. Here at Willow Spring in the Superstition Mountains, Arizona. The center of the universe.

Well, you waited almost 60K for this moment. I hope it met the expectations!

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read part twelve here

[bravebatgirl]

NEW CHAPTER UP. GAYS ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT

summary:  Victor gets back into working with Benji, slowly easing his way into going public with his identity. Their shifts provide a welcome reprieve from the constant anxiety at school and turmoil at home. But not everything is smooth sailing... because of course it's not. Is it ever?

!preview below!

In the present, Victor sighs, cupping a lid onto the cardboard mug, and carries it toward the counter with his most hospitable smile in place. “Charlotte? Mocha with hazelnut for Charlotte?”

An Asian girl looks up from her phone and says “Oh, that’s mine!” She steps quickly to meet him, taking it from his hands with a pearly grin. “Thanks for that; needed this after today. I’m like fully dead on my feet. Really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Victor chuckles. “Hope the rest of your day is better.”

Her eyes flick over him and she smiles. “I’m sure it will be… Thanks again.”

As Victor steps to empty the portafilter, Benji snorts behind him. He glances over his shoulder, fixing him a mildly amused look. “What?”

He just shakes his head, wiping the bench in a way that has the afternoon sun catching in the shadows of his defined arms. “You’re so oblivious, it’s adorable.”

“What?”

“She was flirting with you.”

Victor blinks. “Are you sure? Maybe she was… being friendly, I don’t know.”

Benji cocks his head in a ‘are you serious’ gesture. “She literally checked you out in plain sight. Did the whole up-and-down thing. She could not have been more obvious if she tried.”

“Oh.” A sudden smirk crosses his lips, and he glances at him out the corner of his eye. “Are you jealous?”

Benji lets out a bark of laughter at that, grinning lopsidedly at him. “Boy, you’re so gay, all I am is sorry for her. She’ll probably be back tomorrow trying to slip you her number.”

“Bet.”

“Twenty bucks.”

“Ten bucks and a free meatball art coffee.”

“You’re on, handsome.”

Victor winks at him, turning back to cleaning in attempt to hide the way his heart is screaming ‘HE CALLED ME HANDSOME ASDFGHJKL’ as Benji tends to the till.

That’s when it happens.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Forty-Seven G [Part 1 of 3]

"U r flying aboard the Seduction 747 And this plane is fully equipped with anything your body desires

If 4 any reason there is a loss in cabin pressure I will automatically drop down 2 apply more

2 activate the flow of excitement Extinguish all clothing materials and pull my body close 2 yours Place my lips over your mouth and kiss, kiss

Normally, in the event there is overexcitement Your seat cushion may be used as a flotation device…"

Prince – "International Lover"

Summary:  Erik Killmonger takes a break from M.I.T. to fly to a friend's wedding and gives a flight attendant working on her birthday a lovely gift. Mature Content. Basically, smut y’all. Enjoy.  

Fa'aana Brown greeted each passenger on board the Boeing 777 with a practiced charm and a wide smile of her pearly whites. She had stepped in for the lead flight attendant, Lucy, who had to take care of a surly passenger who insisted that his first-class accommodations were not to his liking because he wanted a window seat instead of the aisle seat he had already paid for.

Thankfully their international flight to the Leonardo da Vinci–Fiumicino Airport wasn't crowded. It was the offseason in Rome, so many of the flight attendants would be able to rest on this leg of their trip. Fa'aana would be in charge of the galley in the rear section of the plane, and when she glanced at her watch, she saw they would actually leave the gate relatively early by the looks of the dwindling number of passengers coming down the ramp.

"Whew, problem solved, our Mr. Clayton has been satisfied," Lucy said, tucking a loose strand of her chemically-treated blonde hair behind her ear.

"Did you move him?"

"No, just set him up with some bourbon and cookies. He just wanted to be catered to." "I bet it was that southern accent of yours too."

Lucy smirked.

"A Charleston, South Carolina belle here at your service Mr. Clayton," Lucy said in a breathy voice and batting her false eye-lashes.

"Work it, honey," Fa'aana said handing the speakerphone to Lucy so she could make final announcements before take-off.

"See ya later," Lucy said as Fa'aana made her final cabin check from the mid-section to the back, closing overhead bins and assisting passengers with bags that didn't fit under their seats.

Her temporary work husband Mark, a soft-spoken flight attendant from Spain, was in the galley filling up their snack carts and checking supplies for the ten-hour flight.

"Looks like a cake-walk," Mark said glancing out and peeping the less than full cabin.

Fa'aana checked the pre-heat timer of the convection oven as it waited to be used for the in-flight meal of penne pasta and meatballs.

"Let's hope so. Lucy put out a little fire with a man in first class. Other than that, we are looking good," she said.

Fa'aana did a final check to make sure things were secure before take-off in the galley when she noticed a last-minute passenger making his way toward the back.

Something about his swagger down the left side of the aisle made her know he was American. He was Black and a part of her always got excited when she saw Black people on international flights. So many of her friends back in Atlanta complained about working so hard and not being able to afford overseas travel. Staycations were the theme in her clique, so seeing another Black person going out of the country was exciting for her. It was part of the reason why she became a flight attendant, even though her workload didn't really allow that dream of fun/leisure world travel to come to fruition as much over the past two years. She did her best to encourage others to get out of America. She even wrote a little travel blog that got quite a few hits. She aimed her tips toward single Black women trying to make the globe-trotting lifestyle worth their time and coins.

Round black sunglasses, form-fitting black woven Nike tracksuit, and expensive track kicks. Nice dark mustache, a soul patch, and a light scruffy beard. Fresh cornrows with intricate braid patterns decorated the top of his head, with the sides shaved low. His head bent down to check his ticket and when he found his seat, he opened the overhead bin to toss in a small duffle bag. He pulled a small black computer bag from his back and sat down, tucking the bag under the seat in front of him.

Fa'aana walked down to his seat when she noticed that the straps to his duffle bag were sticking out from under the overhead bin. She opened the bin and tucked in his straps. When she glanced down, his dark lenses were looking up at her and she saw his lips. Up close.

Lord have mercy.

His lips were so lush and full. And his braids smelled so good, fresh coconut oil…

"Thanks, Ma," he said.

"Welcome aboard," she said.

He took off his dark glasses and stared at her chest. She was about to feel offended but then he glanced back up at her face.

"Is that a Polynesian name?" he asked. She realized he was looking at her name tag.

He had a regional accent she was trying to place.

"Yes, it is. Samoan."

"You Samoan?"

"My father is half. Other half Black. Mother Black too."

She thought she looked obviously Black. She was darker than he was by a shade and her hair texture was thick like her Mama's and shrunk up tight when she washed it. Her shoulder-length curls were slicked up with aloe gel and knotted on top of her head for work. He nodded staring at her face. His eyes were kind of intense. She felt like he was studying her.

He tried pronouncing her name and she laughed. So did the passenger sitting at the window seat. The middle seat was empty.

"I sound like a dolphin saying it, huh?" His smile revealed dimples in his cheeks.

Her fingers went to her lips to keep herself from laughing at him again.

"How do you say it?" he asked.

"We pronounce all the vowels like this…"

She said it for him and his eyes watched her lips. She felt her stomach flutter and she was beginning to feel warm.

"Pretty," he said, "Fuh-ah-nuh…"

"Close enough," she said as he tried several passes to catch the right way.

In her periphery, she saw Mark waving to her from the back.

"Enjoy your flight," she said heading toward the galley once again.

Mark pulled her to the side.

"Is he famous?" he asked.

"What?"

"Is he a singer? Rapper? Actor?"

"I don't know—"

"He has that look. He carries himself like a celebrity. Dark glasses and all…"

"Lots of people wear dark glasses on long flights, Mark. Red eyes from being tired."

Mavis, an older Black flight attendant who could run circles around the entire crew burst into the back carrying a small plastic bag of trash.

"Ooh, y'all see that cutie in forty-seven G?" she said putting the trash away.

"Does he look like someone famous?" Mark asked.

Mavis patted her short cut wig and looked at them both.

"Not really, but man, he got it going on. Body all tight…lips all—"

"Okay, okay, let's focus on the job at hand you guys," Fa'aana said.

The pre-flight video played on every individual passenger screen and Fa'aana was happy to feel the plane backing away from the gate. Once they had reached cruising altitude, she could start the drink and snack cart run and then relax for a bit before the dinner run.

Buckled up into her galley seat she could see down the aisle and saw the arm of the man in forty-seven G lying on the outer armrest.

A young white woman sitting across from him in the middle row was talking to him with animated energy, and he was holding an earbud in his hand while listening to her. The woman leaned across her armrest and Forty-Seven G stuck his earbud back in and turned away from her. The woman looked shocked and eased back into her seat.

Fa'aana chuckled wondering what transpired to make him ignore the woman so abruptly.

She thought of him trying to say her name. Most people would slaughter it and then try to pronounce it the way they wanted to say it, making it easy for them. Or, they just nicknamed her "Ana". But as her Daddy used to tell her, if people can pronounce fucking Schwarzenegger or Tchaikovsky, they could pronounce her name correctly too. And Mr. Forty-Seven G did his best to get it right. God bless him.

Cruising Altitude.

She unfastened her seat in the galley and began the careful push of the metal snack/drink cart down the aisle. Mark worked the left side of the plane and part of the middle and she worked the right and the other half of the middle. Most of the passengers wanted the free wine and peanuts, and because their section wasn't completely full, they were moving right along.

When Fa'aana made it to forty-seven F, she was able to see the tight-lipped white woman who tried to holler at forty-seven G. The woman looked to be in her early twenties with overly caked make-up, and hair teased to look like a wavy cascade of light brown curls.

"Cookies, peanuts?" Fa'aana asked giving the woman a pleasant look.

"Peanuts, and can I have a white wine?"

Fa'aana handed the woman two bags of salted peanuts and poured wine into a plastic white cup.

When she turned toward forty-seven G, she asked the window seat passenger what he wanted first and the older white man sitting there dismissed her with a smile and a wave of his hand. He was focused on his movie.

"And you?" she said.

"Kentucky Straight on the rocks," he said holding his earbud from his left ear.

She smirked.

"What?" he said smiling at her flashing those dimples again.

"Nothing. I'll have to get that from the back, so give me a minute to finish and I'll bring it right back. Snack?"

His eyes felt like they raked across her whole body even though they just stayed glued to her face. She felt a shiver ghost her neck as she glanced at his lips again.

"Lemme get summa them cookies."

She reached into her cart and pulled out two packages of cinnamon cookies and handed it to him with a couple of napkins. His fingers brushed against hers and then he let down his service tray in front of him.

"Where are you from?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Oakland," he said.

"I was trying to place your accent." "Erik," he said holding out his hand. She shook it.

"Nice to meet you, Erik. Be right back."

She moved down the aisle and completed her run, and as she moved back to the galley, she had the sensation that he was watching her. She didn't look behind her.

She checked the liquor cabinet and pulled out the whiskey he wanted. She poured him an extra serving over the ice and tried to figure out why she was feeling a certain way about this dude. He looked young, but his demeanor seemed older to her. In seven hours, she would be turning twenty-six years old. She planned on celebrating when she returned to Atlanta. She felt like she looked her age, but forty-seven G…no Erik, his name was Erik,…he could be early twenties or maybe younger.

She wasn't into younger dudes. She also wasn't really into guys her own age because they were so un-focused to her. She liked older men, at least six to seven years older. In fact, a nice thirty-year-old city planner was waiting to take her out for her birthday when she returned home from the Italy turn-around.

She walked carefully back to Erik's seat and handed him his drink with more napkins.

He took a sip right away.

"Hmmm, not bad. Thank you, Fa'aana," he said.

Whew, chile. She felt her clit thump when he said her name the right way in a seductive tone. It shocked her and she just stood there feeling like he knew what happened inside her panties.

"Enjoy," she said scurrying away from him.

What the hell?

She stood in the back of the galley and wiped her forehead.

"You alright?" Mark asked turning on the convection oven.

"Yes. Just feeling a little warm."

"Really, it's a bit chilly out there. I passed out a few extra blankets."

"It's just me."

"You're not getting sick are you?"

"No."

"Drink plenty of water."

"I will."

The dinner run was smooth and when she served Erik his in-flight meal, he was gracious but focused on a movie he was watching. Clean-up was a breeze and once several rounds of free wine went out along with some black coffee, passengers began to batten down the hatches for sleep. Lights were lowered and Fa'aana snacked a bit before snagging a row of seats to herself in the last middle back row. She sat on the right aisle side so she could keep an eye on the floor. Mark stayed watch hidden in the galley seat and Mavis took no shame finding a row for herself on the far-left side a few rows up from Fa'aana.

Killing time, she started playing a trivia game on the video screen. She was kicking ass playing with seven other passengers. Passenger forty-seven G was hanging neck and neck with her.

Wait. That was Erik.

She stuck her head out and leaned over to look up his way and she could see him pressing buttons on his screen fast. He turned his head to look back, and she ducked back in her seat so he couldn't see her.

After thirty minutes when she won three games out of five, she switched over to a card game of solitaire.

"Nah, go back to the trivia screen."

She was startled to see Erik standing next to her row.

"I was wondering who was sitting back here in fifty-seven F messing up my scores," he said, a sly smile on his lips.

"Busted," she said.

"You're good."

"I've been known to keep a ton of useless trivia in my head. It just comes out in my favor on here."

His eyes were relaxed and he seemed to hold his liquor well after two glasses of wine after his dinner.

"You mind if I sit back here with you and play another round? I want to see if you're cheating or not."

"Cheating? Brain power, Sir."

"Alright, Ma. Let's see then. Scoot over."

She thought about it for a moment.

"You still on the clock?" he asked.

"Yes—"

"Most people are sleep. Just a quick game. Your boss comes through I'll say you were helping me with my screen."

It was tempting.

"One quick game," she said scooting her petite frame over in order to allow his much taller and well-built one to squeeze in next to her.

They both went to the trivia game screen. There was only one other person playing with them.

"Oh, so that's how you pick your answers so fast, you keep your finger on the screen the whole time," he said.

He followed suit, and soon they were matching scores. He beat her for two rounds, but she cleaned up on the last one.

"You want another drink or anything?" she asked.

"Another whiskey would be nice, thanks," he said.

She stood up and scooted past him, straightening her skirt when she reached the aisle. He watched her hand smooth the back. She had a little booty that poked out a bit, but she didn't think it was that obvious, but the way he was looking at her made her self-aware.

She stepped into the galley and poured him another big drink. Mark was asleep. She had to keep her eyes open just in case a passenger needed anything.

"Here," she said handing him the drink along with another packet of cookies.

"Look at you taking care of me," he said winking at her.

It felt odd to be sitting next to him while he drank.

He must've read her mind.

"Here, have a sip," he said handing his cup to her.

"Umm…"

"You can use the straw, I didn't. I'm healthy as hell, just so you know," he said.

"That would not be a good look for me while I'm working. Plus, that drink is really strong."

"It is. You hooked me up though. Not even one sip?"

His eyes had a puppy dog look to them and he tilted his head staring at her.

What could it hurt? It would be her birthday soon enough.

She took his cup and had a tiny sip.

"Stop playing, girl," he said.

His voice sounded raspy. His scruffy beard and mustache really started to look sexy to her. She normally liked men to have neat facial hair, but Erik's looked free and easy- Black hipster chic. She wanted to rub her cheek against it…

Her face felt warm again and she took a bigger sip of his drink.

"There you go. Good, huh?"

The heat hit her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut and gasped. He laughed.

"Amateur," he teased. She started coughing and he reached over and rubbed her back, "My bad, you okay, Ma?"

She held a hand up to her chest and he kept rubbing his hand up and down her back until he was touching her neck.

"You can finish that all by yourself," she said.

He removed his hand from her neck and sipped down his drink.

They talked for a bit and she found herself warming up to him. He was easy to talk to. He was going to a friend's wedding in Rome and would be flying back to Massachusetts afterward. He was in his second year of grad school at M.I.T. and damn it to hell, he was only twenty-one.

"Don't think I'm rude for thinking this…I know you're part Samoan, but they some big ass people. But you, you're so petite—"

"I'm supposed to be buff like Dwayne Johnson or something?" she said rolling her eyes.

"I mean, I've met a lot of Polynesian folks in Cali, and they ain't tiny like you—"

"Tiny?"

"Petite, petite! Short?"

She gave him side eye. And then took his cup of whiskey and took another big sip.

"I'm five foot four."

"I'm six one. You little."

"Pfftt."

She eyed him a bit.

"You want to hear a terrible joke?" she asked feeling a bit loose with him.

"Go 'head."

"I hope you're not easily offended."

"I'm not."

"What do get when you mix Samoans with…."

She trailed off.

"What?"

"Does the N-word bother you?"

"Nah, I use it from time to time. Not in mixed white company usually. But we good."

"Okay. Because if I try to tell this another way, it won't come out right."

"Tell it straight."

"Okay, what do you get when you mix Samoans with….okay why are you looking at me like that?" she said and started laughing.

He had his index finger up against his face like he was judging her. He laughed with her.

"Tell your joke, girl. C'mon…"

"What—"

She started snorting and laughing, the whiskey hitting her and making her goofy.

"Forget it," he said smiling at her and taking his cup from her hand, "You can't handle this Miss Lightweight."

He started up another trivia game and she leaned in toward him.

"What do you get when you mix Samoans and niggas?"

"What?" His eyes had a twinkle in them.

"Some more niggas."

"Your parents hear you tell that joke?"

"My Mama was the one who told my Daddy."

"I'm offended."

His eyes became real serious looking. She stopped laughing.

"I'm sorry. That was unprofessional-"

He burst out laughing.

"I'm just fuckin' witchu!"

"Oh my God. I thought you were really upset."

"You had the look of unemployment on your face!"

They both cracked up.

"You're really pretty when you laugh. Your whole body gets into it."

"Thanks—"

"But that snortin' has got to go!"

"Shut up!" She slapped his shoulder and found herself intrigued by him. He was twenty-one, totally not her age bracket at all, but somehow, he acted…grown? Mature? Acted like someone she could be interested in?

"I was going to watch this foreign flick. Would you like to watch it with me?" he asked.

"Let me go do a quick round first?" she asked. He nodded and finished off his whiskey.

She went to the lavatory to relieve herself of the liquor and then she checked in with Mark who was still snoozing in the galley. Several rows from their seats were empty or only had one occupant, and most were asleep. Nice.

She returned to their row. Erik's hand reached up and turned on one of the reading lights above him.

"This will help keep you awake in case someone calls for you," he said.

He pulled out one of the free earphones that they passed out to passengers earlier.

"We can share this. One ear for the movie, the other free to hear a call for whatever."

"You think of everything," she said.

He was so easy.

A complete stranger, but in less than four hours they had shared a drink together, a crude joke, and now she was kicking off her work heels and curling up on a seat to watch a Korean gangster drama.

The movie was fucking intense.

Even though it was edited for public consumption, Fa'aana found it to be filled with graphic violence and so much…sex. Implied sex really. She was glad they were in the last back rows alone; she would feel embarrassed if other people saw what was on the screen.

Erik took up a lot of space in the middle seat.

"You mind if I lift this up?" he asked.

She looked down at his hand. He wanted to pull up the middle armrest.

"Go ahead," she said without thinking, and he lifted it up opening up the only barrier between them. He stretched his legs and widened his thighs. His right thigh brushed against hers.

"Sorry," he said.

"S'okay," she answered.

She glanced at her watch.

"W'sup?" he asked. "Huh?"

"You keep looking at your watch. You gotta be somewhere?"

"Funny. Um, my birthday is about to drop in…oh, snap, my birthday is here already."

"For real? You're working on your birthday?"

"I'll celebrate it when I get back to Atlanta. I have a birthday dinner date at a fancy restaurant."

"With your boyfriend?"

Erik's eyes looked playful.

"Sort of-"

"Sort of?"

He smiled at her.

"We've been dating for a minute."

"Is he your man though?"

Her lips got tight. No, Hugh was not her man. She was hoping he would be, but thus far they just ate out for meals and had sex at her apartment when she was in town.

Erik's eyes grew soft-looking.

"Happy Birthday, Fa'aana.., hold up—"

He reached into his left pocket.

"I couldn't finish this at dinner, but it can come in handy now."

It was a Godiva chocolate brownie still wrapped inside the plastic. The dinner dessert.

"Hold on," he said.

He pulled out some pocket wetnaps, opened them and cleaned his hands. A rich lemony smell filled her nostrils. Unwrapping the brownie, he placed it on one of the drink napkins she gave him.

"I don't have a candle, but you can pretend to blow one out," he said.

"That's really sweet, Erik."

"Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you…."

He sang quietly to her and when he finished, he held the brownie up to her mouth. She puckered up her lips and pretended to blow out a candle. When she did, he turned off the overhead reading light.

She could still see him in the glow of their video screens. She took a bite of the brownie and he took a piece too. He broke the remainder in half and fed her a piece then popped the rest in his mouth. She felt a few crumbs tumble from her lips and he reached over and wiped the rest away.

His thumb touched her bottom lip and she felt a tingle from his touch. He traced her lips with the tip of his thumb and she felt her jaw go lax, her mouth parting. Erik inserted part of his thumb in her mouth and she wrapped her lips around it, her tongue licking him. She heard him groan and he pulled her face toward him removing his thumb from between her lips.

"Can I kiss you, Fa'aana?"

"Please," she panted.

No armrest between them he pulled her in tight and his juicy lips took hers. When his tongue licked the seam of her lips, she opened up to him and took him in her mouth.

What are you doing?

She was on the job. She was supposed to be on post waiting to serve passengers who may wake up and want water, or coffee. Here she was with this fine young thing making out like she was trying to be a mile-high club patron.

Her hands went up to touch his hair and his left hand rested on her thigh inching its way up her uniform skirt…

"Hey, wait," she said breaking away from him. She rubbed her cheeks against his facial hair.

She heard a rumble in his chest and an irritated groan escape his lips.

"Too fast?" he asked staring at her eyes with a dreamy look on his sexy ass face.

"Let's just watch the movie."

"You sure?" he said, licking his lips and staring at her.

"That would be best. Safe."

"Okay, Birthday Girl."

He sat back in his seat and he rewound the movie to the last part they watched. Of course, it was a sex scene. A long one too. They stuck the earbuds on.

She folded her arms across her waist.

"You cold?" he asked.

He handed her one of the flimsy blankets and turned down the air above them. She spread the blanket over her legs.

"Lay on me if you want. I stay hot," he said.

She gave him a smirk.

"No, for real. My ex said I'm like a furnace sometimes," he said.

She allowed her left arm and leg to lean against him, and goodness, he was really warm. A nice cozy warm.

They continued watching the movie, and in the scene, a beautiful woman beckoned to her lover, a gangster she had betrayed throughout the movie, and they were lying in bed having passionate sex. The man was squirming in the scene like he was having convulsions.

"Shit that good, homie?" Erik said.

She giggled.

"He actin' like that thang yanks," he said.

"Oh my God, Erik—"

"What? Look at him. Damn…let me find pussy that good."

She found the crude talk exciting. She pressed into his arm a little more.

"You comfortable?" he asked looking down at her.

He lifted his arm and put it around her shoulder. She wanted to curl up and fall asleep on him. He smelled so good, a mixture of coconut oil and some subtle scent like a smoky clove scent. She rested her head against his chest and shifted the earplug to her other ear.

The movie turned into a chase scene and actually kept them both riveted despite having to read the subtitles. It was hard to concentrate because Erik was rubbing on her arm.

There was movement a few rows up and Erik removed his arm from her and she felt a grimace paint her face. God forbid a passenger would want her to work right now. She felt wrong for thinking that because of course she was on the clock, but it felt so nice…so right lying up against him.

She stuck her head out to look for anyone needing assistance, but it was just a passenger about five rows up shifting in their sleep. She opted to stay alert and not lay on Erik. She pressed up into her seat but kept her thigh next to Erik's. He rested his arm and hand on his thigh and part of hers. When she didn't move away from his touch, his hand crept over and rested totally on her thigh. Her breathing became a little heavier even though his hand was on top of the blanket.

"Here comes ole girl again…oh snap. Now she's with the head dude? Nah, she's triflin'…" he said.

She could only focus on Erik's warm hand stroking her thigh in small movements.

"This woman is putting it on these niggas and yoking them up," he said. He started chuckling. His eyes glanced over at her. "Damn, Ma."

"What?" she whispered.

His eyes trapped hers in his.

"You look sexy as hell right now. This movie got you excited?"

She shook her head.

"What got you lookin' like that?"

He already knew it was him. She could tell. He was toying with her. His touch hypnotizing her body. He pulled his earplug from his ear and hers.

"Let me give you a little Birthday present," he said.

"What kind of present?"

"Take your stockings off."

"Why?"

"You know why."

She hesitated. They had reached the point of no return.

"You don't have to if you don't want to. We can still just chill, or I can go back to my seat…"

She didn't want that.

Shit. Why not? It was her birthday. She would never see this man again. Enjoy him. Take whatever he wanted to give. She reached between her legs and pulled down her stockings and shimmied out of them. She balled them up and stuck them inside the pocket of the seat in front of her.

"You have to keep quiet," he said lifting up the blanket and placing part of it over his lap, "Pull your skirt up."

She gave thanks and praise that she had shaved her legs and trimmed up her chocha before she came to work. She wiggled a bit under the blanket fixing her skirt for him. Her eyes fell to his right hand and his thick fingers. The veins in his hand were up and she felt a whimper leave her parted lips.

His hand moved under the blanket and she felt the heat from his skin as his fingers found her damp panties.

"Damn, you're wet already. You been waiting for this, huh?" he whispered. He slid her panties to the side and her vulva slickened his fingers. She could hear his breathing become heavy. Three of his fingers pressed into her mound, easily finding her swollen clit and gifting it with tight slow circles. She widened her legs for him.

"Look at you being a wet slut for me," he said.

She slammed her right hand into her mouth to help herself keep quiet.

"Don't let your boss hear you," he said.

She could hear him panting.

"Can I play in your pussy?" he asked.

"Yes."

He moved his hand from under the blanket and lifted her up easily, placing her sideways on his lap.

"Hold your legs open," he said.

His left arm supported her back and she without a shameless bone in her body let her knees bend and her legs spread for him.

He dragged his fingers up and down her dripping slit, her panties twisted to the side.

"I bet you got a tight pussy," he hummed into her ear.

She whimpered and squirmed a bit in his lap.

"Shhh, be quiet, take these fingers," he said.

She felt him at her entrance, spreading her folds wide open, and then the sudden pressure of three fingers sinking into her slowly.

"Tight as fuck…damn," he gasped keeping his voice low and close to her ear.

She could feel the hard bulge of his erection under her ass, but she could barely focus on that when her walls were being tapped by his thick digits with expert precision. He pulled his fingers out and licked them, then placed them back inside of her.

"You a tasty bitch—"

"Fuck—" she hissed trying to swallow the word. Jesus, what if Mark or Mavis came looking for her? And God forbid one of the other passengers woke up and walked to the rear lavatories to take a piss.

His fingers found her swollen clit again and the mewling coming from her made him rotate his hips so that she could feel the girth of his shaft. He was a big boy for sure. He reached over into the seat and picked up the blanket that was once on her lap. He balled up a small part of it and shoved it in her mouth. She bit onto it as he slipped his fingers back inside of her, the in and out movement simulating a righteous birthday fucking.

"Shit, Ma. I wish I had a condom with me right now. I'd fuck you outta this plane."

She was breathing in hard through her nose and exhaling into the cloth shoved in her mouth. The sound of his fingers working her pussy was loud and obscene to her ears. People had to be able to hear all the squelching noises his fingers were causing her sopping folds to make. Her face felt tight and her eyes were rolling back. How could this be happening? A fine man walks onto a plane and hours later he's fingering her like he loves her?

Most men she had been with took a while to know her body well enough to make her pussy fall apart like that. Erik made her pussy jump the moment he said her name right, and now he had her ready to follow him anywhere. If this is what his fingers could do, what the fuck could his tongue and dick do to her?

Goddamn, he was hitting her clit with his fingers.

"My big dick would fuck this pussy up. Your boyfriend in Atlanta wouldn't be able to feel your pussy when I was done with it," he said.

She squeezed her eyes shut. He was slapping her vulva now and pinching her labia. She arched her back and it was like he could read her mind again. He spit on his fingers and rubbed them around her clit once more, pressing down as he rubbed so that he was covering part of her mound. His timing was impeccable because she came hard and fast and he watched her face as she did.

"Happy Birthday, Baby," he said as she collapsed on his lap, sweaty, wet between the legs, and feeling beyond satisfied.

[Part 2]  [Part 3]

Author’s Note:

Thank you for reading/sharing/spending your time here.

Be sure to check out “Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Vol 1 & 2. Book series details Erik’s Mom & Daddy N’Jobu meeting, hooking up, fucking (a lot), having Erik, raising his lil ass in Oakland, and creating the man you see in this story and others you can find HERE.

[meanlizard]

How Many Walls Can You Demolish

Summary: Roman and Virgil get into a bit of a situation...

Pairings: platonic prinixety? i suppose?

Words: 1,443

Warnings: light-hearted fluff, comedy, um. lots of fourth wall breaks.

When Virgil walked into the kitchen that morning, it was to find Patton staring blearily upward. He paused, watching the unusually still man, before shrugging and going to the fridge. “Morning, Pat’n,” he muttered, still sluggish as the last dredges of sleep fell away. 

Patton did not reply. Now, Virgil was worried. 

Closing the refrigerator, Virgil squinted at him, eyes gleaming suspiciously. He hadn’t moved whatsoever from his staring contest with the ceiling. “Dad?” he prompted, and when no movement followed, he traced the other’s gaze. 

A dusty spiderweb, bereft of any actual spider. A barely perceptible crack. Bland, off-white paint peeling at the edges. 

So, nothing, then. 

Virgil was now thoroughly concerned. “Patton? Are you okay, man?” as he spoke, he moved to nudge him- only to be rudely interrupted by the unfortunately familiar sound of Roman stretching out an E note with his vocal chords. 

Virgil sighed, and Roman swung into the kitchen, the brightness of his entire existence being almost unholy. His hair was brushed and pushed to the side impeccably; there was nary a wrinkle in his pristine white-and-gold garb. His sash downright shone with cleanliness. As always, the sight of him made Virgil feel suddenly very aware of himself, and he hunched further into the comfort of his hoodie. 

“Good morning, darling citizens!” Roman called flamboyantly, gracing the room with a blinding flash of pearly-white teeth. 

Virgil didn’t bother to return the greeting. 

“Roman, Patton’s acting weird.” 

And say what you would about the obnoxious, annoying, loud-mouthed, insulting, pristine, ridiculous, quick-to-judge, far-too-handsome-despite-having-the-exact-same-face, petty, and entirely empty-headed prince, but he was certainly diligent when it came to any perceived danger that Virgil brought to his attention. Immediately, his attention was on the man in question, red-brown eyes looking him up-and-down for any sign of injury. 

Finding none, he shot Virgil a strange look. The latter indicated Patton’s staring with a nod, and Roman went back to inspect him. 

Then, as if the seriousness had suddenly worn off, he made a small ah sound and relaxed. His lips turned back into that ever-annoying smirksmile (smirkle? smirle?) and he waved a flippant hand that Virgil ducked to avoid. 

“Oh, come off it, Mr. Frowny With a Chance of Meatballs,” he laughed unconcernedly, “he’s just discovered the fourth wall, is all.” 

Virgil stared. He glanced back at Patton, still entranced in whatever it was he was seeing, and then back to Roman. “The... the fourth wall,” he didn’t so much ask as he did state, voice dry and flat. It was as if someone had murdered all the inflection that could be indicative of any emotion what-so-ever, thus leaving it as nothing more than a hollow shell of it’s former sarcastic glory. 

Roman nodded. “Yes. The fourth wall.” 

Virgil took a deep breath. He pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbed it, and then let his hand drop to the side. “No. Just-” he held a hand out to stop Roman’s incoming protest, and shook his head. “Just. Just no. Why are we even doing a fourth-wall breaking fic right now? It’s, like-” he turned his dead glare toward the corner of the writer’s computer screen, and shot them a quick, judgmental look before returning his attention to Roman.

“It’s 1:19 am. This came out of nowhere. And where’s Logan? We need a straight man.” 

Roman laughed. 

“Ha! Don’t you mean a-” 

Yes. Yes, Roman, I meant a gay man. Because you are all gay. 

Roman pouted, joke thoroughly ruined. Virgil smiled a little. Patton stared at the ceiling. Where was Logan? Working, probably. Or, rather, simply not there because the stress of adding yet another character to this catastrophe was simply too difficult for the writer to handle. 

“Would you stop that?” Virgil asked, exasperated. “I was willing to go along with this because you writers have no sense of time-” he stared, accusingly, at the various other writers in the fandom (some of which may be named Marin, Taylor, Vanna and Kat, but who’s to say), “but this is ridiculous. Too much of a good thing can be sh*t, you know!”

“Woah, slow your roll Paint Tool Sigh of Despair! This is a PG show!” 

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Is that why all of your nicknames suck today?” 

Roman recoiled as if physically stricken. “How dare you,” he gasped. “You know that’s not my fault. If anyone, we should blame the author’s creativity.”

Both sides turned, in unison, toward the dining table set up in the middle of the kitchen. The author’s Creativity was munching on a bagel, muttering in between bites as darkened glasses slipped down their round nose. Their hands, trembling, translucent things so clear you could see the very details of their veins, were thoroughly occupied; one was shakily rewriting a scene for the thousandth time with one, while the other crumpled up yet another drawing to start anew, and a third- a third? no- a fourth??? - shakily fidgeted with the rim of a mug full of a sludgy black liquid that could almost pass for coffee. 

As if sensing their stares, one dead, sleep-lined blue eye peered up at them, and they immediately turned away. 

There was silence. Then, Virgil released a shaky breath. “Roman,” he said, very quietly. 

“Yes, Virgil?” the uncharacteristically solemn Roman prompted. 

“I never thought I’d say this, but... I am so glad that you exist.”

“Dit-to my good sir. Dit-to.” 

Unsure why Roman said ditto in such an odd way, but still reeling from the creature that continued to scribble ominously on their kitchen table, Virgil decided to let it go and turn back to the problem at hand. Which, if you would kindly consult the paragraph far, far above this one, was Patton’s worrying stillness. 

“I thought he already knew about the fourth wall,” Virgil mentioned contemplatively, turning back to his (admittedly) favorite blue-clad side. Roman shrugged, clearly unconcerned, and moved to the fridge to take a carton of milk from it.

“Guess not. It doesn't really matter, though- he just needs some time," he reassured. "I mean, all we can do is just sit around and wait for him to process... well. Everything.”

Virgil was still largely unconvinced. 

Roman, glancing over at him as he poured some milk in some nondescript glass, noticed and let out a breath of slight exasperation. 

“Look,” he started in his best mollifying voice as he screwed the cap back on, “We’ve all been there. It took me five hours, and Mr. Roboto spent an entire three days completely out of it. It’s lucky that we’re just figments of a personality, and that food is just a thing authors use to humanize us further even in non-AU’s, or else he’d be in pretty big trouble.”

Virgil raised a brow, and Roman nodded. “Right, right. Off track, I know. But I'm just saying- don’t you remember going through this?” 

Virgil’s face, which had previously been rathee blank and slightly irritated (as was it’s usual state), suddenly became impossibly blanker. His eyes lost any gleam of life, expression falling into nothing but a wooden ghost of its previous humanity.

“I have always been aware of our entirely superficial existence since the day I was made. The continuous existential horror has made it hard to form any real relationship with any of you until now. Even then, a lot of our deep bond comes from the various universes and situations that fans throw us in. Roman, right now we are making out on a rooftop in New York. I have super powers. Logan is an empath, and he’s a royal tutor. We are having this conversation right now. There is no reality for us. We just do as we’re written to do. It is an ever continual source of anxiety for me, but one that I am used to, have always been used to, and will continue to be used to. So, I suppose the answer to your question is ‘no’. I do not.”

Roman stared. Virgil stared back. Roman looked up to re-read the paragraph, and, having finally processed it, turned back to Virgil. Wordlessly, he handed him the glass of milk. 

No words could be said, and a hug simply felt too awkward for them at this point in time and at this moment in this particular universe, so it was all he could offer. Virgil understood, because he could read just as well as you, and agreed with Roman’s emotions on the matter. 

As he took a sip, he felt indescribably touched. 

Patton, as if roused by the emotional scene, suddenly shifted. Both Roman and Virgil turned to look at him, eyes wide as if they’d been caught doing something they shouldn’t have, but Patton was just grinning, bright and unconcerned and... normal. Not at all the expression of someone who had just discovered that they weren't real and that choice was a neverending illusion.

“It’s as I thought,” he said, and his voice sounded relieved. “There aren’t any spiders there after all.” 

Virgil breathed. He thought, very seriously, about screaming. He carefully did not, instead bringing the cool glass of milk to his lips and taking a long, long drink of it.

He took a deep breath. Smiled.

"That's good, Patton."

general tag list: 

@princelogical

@smokeyrutilequartz

@kickthecel

@fangirlfiles1

@do-rey-me

@peanut0303

@cyndaquil17

@lady-literature

@anastasialestina

@i-will-physically-fight-you

@ironwoman359

[holidaywithahobbyist]

🌻 hiii

OMG PEARLIE MEATBALLS 🤩🤩🤩.... OMG 🤩🤩...... anyways I've been thinking very much about my ocs and once I finish the wilzel fic and maybe another wh fic of some sort I think I will write some more for them .... Perhaps make more characters or maybe a comic ... I'm love then

[bendy-and-buddies]

((And imp and cherub have a little heart-to-heart.

script under the cut if you wanna read along))

Bendy and Angie are perusing around Incwell City as per their usually friendly hangouts/ kind-of-dates. They stop at a bridge above a lake with remarkable enough a view to catch the best look at the sunset off at the horizon. Though Angie sports her usual cheerful smile observing the sky, Bendy looks more melancholy and occupied with thought.

Though not with his signature self-assurance, he attempts conversation. His attempt at casual aloof charm is in stark contrast to Angie’s genuine chipperness.

Bendy: “So… I think this is honestly the first time I’ve really been way out here just to watch a sunset.”  

Angie: “Hm?”

Bendy: “I mean, especially with company. Gotta admit, never thought I’d be the kind of guy just trottin’ around with friends with no real idea of what to do aside from just, well… seeing things.”

Angie: “Oh… have you had plans for something different before? I am sorry..”

Angie’s response surprises him a bit. Bendy tries to reassure her with a forced chuckle and smile.

Bendy: “No, no, I wasn’t meaning it like that! I really had nothing else for the day-  I mean, what else would I do at this time? Grab a meatball sub the last five seconds before the shop closes?”

Angie: “Is… is something the matter?”

Angie tilts her head at him, expression with easy-to-read concern. He lets out a light sigh upon understanding he’s implied something was stuck on his chest. A part of him wished he had a cig or shot nearby just to avoid the tension.

Bendy: “... It’s probably unimportant, I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Angie: “But you are worrying about it… You will receive no judgment from me, please allow me to listen?”

Bendy takes a moment before finally relenting

Bendy: “Alright then.”

Angie’s eyes visibly light up, making it hard for Bendy not to grin for a little bit before continuing.

Bendy: “I should quickly say; it’s not necessarily anything bad happening now, I’ve just, uh… been thinking about things. A lot of things, honestly.”

Angie: “Understood.”

Bendy: “Angie… the both of us have our own fair share of goals we’re both planning to reach, I myself wanna make it big in entertainment and maybe even get a star plaque in Hollywood if I’m lucky enough… and.. You’ve dreamt of becoming an archangel ever since you’ve known you were inspired by your dad, right?”

Angie nods her head, obviously joyed by the visuals of the both of them succeeding these dreams.

Bendy: “Well… considering how the both of us are immortal… it’s made me think about how long we’ll still have… all of this. People like Boris, Rodney, Maria… all of them are mortal. There’s no way around it - they’re gonna be gone eventually-”

Angie: “They will not be forever lost, however! Bendy, all of our friends are very good and I treasure them each dearly… I’d never allow them an afterlife that’d hinder their links with us, I believe friendship is an immortal force like you and I or any higher power. All of our friends will always be with us.”

Bendy: “That’s not… entirely what I mean.. Uh, thanks, though.”

Angie: “Ah! Forgive me”

Bendy: “S’all good.”

Angie: “Continue?”

Bendy: “Where was I… ah yeah. Angie, as much as we’re attached to what we have on Earth right now… change is always going to happen, and hey, change ain’t always bad or anything! I mean… with both of our aspirations in mind… I’ve been asking myself, how long are we still going to have moments like these? Moments of watching sunsets or going to parks, or just any casual kinda days like this? Where we can just have fun, confide in each other  and not worry about what comes next?... Not have to worry about how friggin��� different we are?

Angie: “Bendy… what do you mean? You’re speaking as though… our dreams will be what would ultimately separate us?”

Bendy: “...Something like that?”

Angie: “Why would it work that way? Who has said that’s simply the way it’d have to be? Bendy, I would never abandon you for-”

Bendy: “Angie! Angie… think about this for a moment; how often do you hear of any archangel also saying “oh yes, one of my best and most goody-good friends is also a demon so bad even Hell booted his rump out!” … I’d imagine not a lot.”

Angie: “Then I will be the first.”

Bendy: “Anj! Look, I understand where you’re coming from and your dedication and compassion are really darn great … but, are you sure you’ve really thought about what could possibly happen? About all of the different reactions others could have to what ya think of… How my name even bein’ associated with yours… might possibly make your goal even harder to achieve? Or make you… make you look ba-?”

Angie cuts him off with an immediate hug. Angie is holding his hands, pearly eyes honest and determined.

Angie: “Bendy. Such a thing cannot happen, that is ridiculous! Among many things I have found and learned of on Earth away from Heaven, I value you more than the opinions of naysayers you have anxious visions of. I have made up my mind for a very long time; I will ascend to arch-angel no matter how long the journey may be. You are not a hindrance on my path, but a treasured friend who has further inspired and accompanied me along the way.”

Bendy: “... paths can still have a fork in the road after meeting.”

Angie: “No. There will not be.”

Bendy: “w-what!? I, .. How-?”

Angie: “Because it will not happen. These “paths” are not the same thing as physical roads. Has my position of being an angel been hindrance with pursuit of your own dream?”

Bendy: “No, no no! Of course not, never! That’s-!”

Angie: “Then for me, it is the same. We will always have the days we’ve shared together with everyone. Nothing can take away our bonds or memories. Just as you will be “making big” and spreading joy across the world, as will I watch over and protect it. AND we will have all else, because they are not obstacles to begin with. Our dreams will come true, and nothing will be lost.”

Bendy looks to Angie, his anxiety subsiding

Bendy: “...Aw, Anj. Yer too good, ya know that?”

They exit the scene, contented.

[harryfeatgaga]

PAIGE I THINK HARRY IS WEARING HIS VANS WE SUMMONDDD THE VANS BACK

HE IS MY BABYYYYY HES SO CUTE

Anonymous said: PAIGE LOOK LOOK LOOK HARRY HAND PICS AND LIKE HIGH DEF ONES OMG THE RINGS THE TATTOOS THE NAIL POLISH BITCH AHHHHHH

IM SOOOOIJIJHJK

Anonymous said: PAIGE HARRYS NAILS ON THE NEW PICTURE OMG THE GREEN AND LIKE LIGHT PEARLY SILVER OR WHITE LOVE THAT MAN 😍😍😍

IM SO IN LOVE

Anonymous said: Omg he paints so well he doesn’t get anywhere near the cuticles FUCKSAKE HE REALLY CAN DO EVERYTHING

I KNOW

Anonymous said: He really is the palest bitch

FUIKJFKV

Anonymous said: ANOTHER ONE! Harry has successfully been adopted and welcomed into his family in Japan!

LOVE THAT FOR HIM

Anonymous said: I love wherever he goes in the world he creates his own fam. The winstons, The azoffs, the gerbers and now Japan 😭😭😭

ITS SO CUTE

Anonymous said: WHERE U AT WE ARE FREAKING THE FUCK OUT ABOUT HIS HANDS YOURE MISSING IT

oH DONT WORRY I WAS FREAKING OUT

Anonymous said: I love how dainty his hands are and soft and like vein-y OMG

I KNOWWOKJDHJKL

Anonymous said: "hands of my son from england and from japan" awwwwww i'm so fucking soft right now

ME TOOOO

Anonymous said: i watched kunichi's insta story and he was also playing flowers in the window by travis AHHH

OMFG

Anonymous said: That meatball guy is super annoying on his IG story posting that two second clip of Harry is his only redeeming moment lol

WELL IDEK WHO HE IS SO

[authornathanielryan]

Images above are from a short film I made a few years ago called Dead End. I do love me some zombies!

I only tell you that so the photos have context. The short story I’m posting is zombie related, but has nothing to do with these photos. I tell you that because I don’t have any other zombie related photos of my own to post along with the story... yet.

I’m considering submitting this one. Got some good feedback from readers and even had someone do a notes/edit for me. Thankfully they barely touched it which made me feel pretty good about myself. 

This is the first short story--not to mention the first non-screenplay story--I’ve written in over fifteen years. I hope you all like it!

(WARNING) This is an R-rated story so bare that in mind before diving in.

I, EAT

Carl the zombie bit down on a handful of squishy flesh. Thick crimson blooming from between his teeth—or what was left of his teeth anyway. Where once pearly whites filled his mouth were now several black voids.

         Carl the zombie’s jagged nails thrashed at a pile of guts. Sausage like strings of innards wrapped around one hand while the other shoved tasty morsels down his rotting gullet.

         Barely twenty-four hours earlier Carl was just an average blackjack dealer, pissing and moaning his way through life at the second best (okay third best) casino in town. One bite from a disgruntled player and thirty minutes later Carl found himself chomping down on Lisa Farrow’s left tit in the breakroom. She screamed. He bit harder. It was almost as if her terror gave his bite strength and within a manner of seconds her nipple popped between his teeth like a little red gusher.

         Lisa was only the first.

         Carl the zombie didn’t know how many people he’d eaten nor how many he’d bitten that got away. He was unsure how far he’d stumbled. Upstairs. Down stairs. A winding hallway here, a VIP poker room there. One cocktail waitress. Two cocktail waitresses. The list of meals grew larger by the minute. But he couldn’t remember any of it. Hell, Carl the zombie wasn’t sure he still had a memory. All Carl the zombie knew was that he had to eat. And that is indeed what Carl the zombie was doing.

         His current meal was laid out on the floor in front of the grand buffet, contorted like a drugged-up porn star just trying to make it through the next crotch pounding. It was unfortunate that Carl’s zombie brain was incapable of noting the irony of feasting on one of the casino’s top players in front of a profusion of day-old re-fried chicken, stale mashed potatoes, and dry buns. The humor was lost on him as he munched on a man’s stomach when a perfectly disgusting, re-used batch of shitty spaghetti and probably-not-real-beef meatballs sat in a chafing dish just feet above his head. No. Carl the zombie’s brain was useless now. Just a ball of mush sending random messages to a body that was no longer capable of speaking the language. The only command he knew was—Eat!

         The large double doors to the buffet hall swung open with force, knocking over a table in the process. The crash was loud enough to summon Carl the zombie from his feast. As he looked up from the mangled remains of Mr. I-Got-A-Club Card-And-Want-A-Free-Meal, he spied a group of heavily armed men entering the room. If he could still count, he would have estimated five men in total.

          From head to toe they were dressed in camouflage and armed with automatic rifles. They moved in formations, gun barrels scanning the room in tandem. One of them -- a leader most likely -- barked orders from beneath a gas mask and the other men followed them without question. These guys meant business.

         Carl the zombie dropped his handful of entrails, rose from his din-din, adjusted his bow-tie, and prepared himself for dessert.