#such a late night muncher

[ofstarsandvibranium]

A Day in the Life...

Fandom: Marvel (Actor AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader

Summary: You're hired to be famous actor, Bucky Barnes' social media manager. This is probably the best and worst job you've ever gotten because Bucky gives you free reign of his social media but also...you may or may not be crushing on Bucky aka your boss. Based off my imagine here.

A/N: this is 3,180 words because i refused to break it up into parts. anyway, ENJOY!

You press record and begin to narrate, "A Day in the Life of a Social Media Manager for a Super Big and Popular Actor *Working Title*"

You face the camera to you and continue to speak, "Bucky had some morning meetings but I wasn't allowed to film. So now here he is doing his daily workout."

You pan the camera to him and he says, "Hi," with a shy smile.

You snort, stopping the recording, "What?"

"This is..." he gestures to you and your work phone, "awkward."

"Then don't make it awkward! And hey, you said I had free reign! I asked your followers what they'd like to see and they say they want a glimpse of your daily life."

His brows furrow, "Didn't you just say this is a day in the life of a social media manager?"

You shrug, "The poll was tied to seeing your daily life and my daily life working for you. So I just decided to put the two together. Anyway, the title is a work in progress. We'll see how this does and go from there. Anyway, just ignore me. I'm not even here."

Bucky gets back to his work out. He has an outdoor and indoor set up. Because the weather was nice, he decided to do his workout outside...shirtless.

He goes to the lifting station, picking up some weights. You begin to narrate again, but this time in a Steve Irwin impression, "Right. Now watch as the esteemed actor gets ready to work out his arms in preparation for an awesome movie that I'm not allowed to mention."

Bucky lets out a chuckle, dropping the weights and looking back at you, "You filming a nature documentary now?" he rests his hands on his hips and smirks at you in a way that makes you want to melt.

You give a playful yet dramatic sigh, dropping your filming arm down, "Are you this difficult with your directors, Barnes?"

He shakes his head, "Nah. None of my directors have been as dorky as you."

You stick your tongue out at him, "Fine. I'll leave you to your workout."

"No, hey, I was joking! Don't leave me!"

You shake your head, "It's fine, Bucky. I'll leave you to it. I'll chalk up some other videos we could do. Also, the getty images from last night's premiere are up. Did you want to look through them before I post?"

He shakes his head, "I trust your judgement." he turns around, his bare back facing you. You stay and watch as he do a few arm curls and immediately rush back into his home.

"Get it together, Y/N," you mumble to yourself, leaving your boss to his workout.

________________________

During Bucky's fitting for New York's Fashion Week, you were allowed to take some behind the scenes pictures. You have a few candid ones of Bucky standing in front of a mirror, his stylist fixing his collar, and him looking at the different shoe options.

Then you included some goofy ones where he copies a pose of a mannequin, a selfie of you two showing of your shoe choices (his being very fancy and yours being your regular sneakers), and then a selfie of him wearing a pair of sunglasses without a lens.

You posted all of them after fashion week was over and his Instagram followers were LOVING it.

bbarnesfan: STAHP. he's so adorable.

xbucky-muncher: he went from serious to dork. get you a man who can do both.

notyouraveragebuckyfan: ok but him and his social media manager are so cute together???

bbarnesfan replies: they're literally bucky's employee. don't be weird.

notyouraveragebuckyfan replies: i'm just saying! they seem like they have great chemistry! have you seen the tiktoks and reels of them together?

"How come you put the candids and the selfies all in one post?" Bucky asks as he looks through the latest post you made.

You're scrolling through the analytics of the last tiktok you two made, one where he guesses if one of his characters said a specific line or it's made up.

You take note of the demographics, the comments, etc. to be mindful of for the next posts you make.

Without looking up from your laptop, you answer, "It shows people the different sides of you. How you take things seriously but you can also have fun with it."

He hums, "Lots of people think we look cute together." He says this in hopes of getting some sort of reaction from you.

You continue to work, not looking back at them, "Don't pay attention to those comments. The internet will make up all kinds of stuff."

Bucky's shoulders sag a bit as he replies, "Yeah. You're right."

You'd been working for him for almost a year now. He doesn't see you every day like he did when you first were hired on. Now you only come over twice a week to go over analytics with his team and to shoot some content. Most of the time, you work from your place and Bucky's been feeling more lonely ever since.

Your presence brightened his day and you provided a breath of fresh air on his busier days. He genuinely enjoyed your company and liked making content with you. He liked learning more about you, having meals together, and just being with you. He thought that maybe there was something there between you, but then he'd be reminded that you're his employee and he's your boss. It can't work out.

But there were some glimpsed of hope. You'd look at Bucky a certain way or make a comment that seemed a little more flirty. It had to mean something, right? But whenever Bucky tried to push a little more, you'd pull away and he hated it. It was so complicated.

He wanted you as more than an employee but his team clocked him on his feelings and told him not to fuck it up because you've helped Bucky's image immensely.

He can't fuck this up, not matter how much his heart yearns for more.

___________________________

"Hello, hello!" you greet Bucky, handing him his coffee as he lets you into his home. You've been working for him for over a year. It's one out of the two days you come over to do work with him.

His stylist, Michael, was nice enough to bring some clothes over for a TikTok video that you had which was "My Social Media Manager Picks Out My Next Event Outfit".

The next event that Bucky needs to make an appearance in is his friend, Nat's, movie premiere. The dress code is very formal so it's no surprise to see various kinds of formal wear.

What does surprise you is that you see a rack of clothes that you know wouldn't be for Bucky.

"Um...what's this?"

He grins widely at you, "Clothes for you to choose from."

Your brows shoot up in surprise, "Excuse me?"

"You said you've always wanted to go to one right? You're coming with me."

"As your social media manager?"

"You're not working the event. You're going as my plus one."

"Uuuuhhh..."

"You don't have to, but I was hoping to bring you as, ya know, a thank you for all the amazing work you've done for me this past year."

You can't help but snort, "Bucky, c'mon, did all of your usuals reject you or something?"

"You're the only person I've asked right now. Come on, Y/N, please?"

You want to. You really, really want to. But these past few months, you and Bucky have been toeing the line between a work relationship and something more. You're not sure if going as his plus one to the premiere is a good idea, especially since even more people have been commenting on your chemistry.

But Bucky's looking at you with those gorgeous blue eyes and he's pouting and he looks so cute, so how could you say no?

"I'll think about it," you reply and it seems to appease Bucky because he smiles again and says, "Okay. But I really do hope you'll go. It'll be fun, plus you've met Nat. She thinks you're cool."

You scoff, "There's no way Natasha Romanoff, the hottest and most popular actress right now, thinks I'm cool."

He shrugs, "Everyone thinks you're cool. It's hard to not like you, Y/N, trust me," he gives you a wink and it makes your cheeks warm up, "Anyway, so let's see what we got."

You wordlessly nod, going over to set up your work phone to begin filming.

________________________

You think you did really well with picking out Bucky's outfit. It was a royal blue velvet jacket with a black bow tie, and black slacks. Even Michael was impressed with your choice.

Even though you weren't working tonight, you still took some pictures and clips just in case. You took a video of the reveal of your look tonight and can't help but feel bubbly inside when Bucky wouldn't stop looking at you.

To distract yourself, you decided to take candids of Bucky getting his hair done after you were finished getting ready. He kept making funny faces at you, making you laugh.

After you both were ready, you took some mirror selfies, obviously, and sent them to Bucky afterwards.

You're in the car on the way to the premiere when you get a bunch of texts and notifications from people:

Wanda: I KNOW YOU SAID YOU WERE GOING TO THE PREMIERE BUT YOU DIDN'T SAY AS BUCKY'S DATE!

Pietro: good luck tonight! use protection! ;D

Carol: since when are you dating bucky barnes???

You unlock your phone but see a notification that Bucky tagged you in a post you didn't know he was going to make.

It was the mirror selfies you two took, with the caption: got the most gorgeous date on my arm tonight.

You immediately turn to Bucky, eyes narrowing, "James Buchanan Barnes."

"...I don't like how you just used my government name like that."

"Why would you post those selfies of us?!"

He shrugs, "Because we look great."

"And the caption?"

"It's true. You're gorgeous."

You groan and pinch the bridge of your nose, "Your publicist and manager are gonna kill me."

"No, they won't."

"They hired me to make sure your online presence is good and won't jeopardize your career."

"Nothing's gonna happen, Y/N."

"People already assume we're together because of how well we work together. It was fine to let them speculate because but that post will make things even worse."

"How?"

"People will think I'm a gold digger? That I got this job because we're sleeping together? I don't know! The internet makes up all kinds of fucked up reasons and I won't be able to get work ever again!"

"But is it so bad that people think we're together?"

"For you, it won't be bad. For me, it could be. So, please, Bucky, delete those photos before even more people see it."

Bucky's jaw clenches and mumbles out, "Fine. I'm sorry," he takes out his phone and you watch as he deletes the photos off his instagram. Tonight was supposed to be fun, but you're sure you just ruined it.

____________________

The entire night was awkward. Bucky did his best to still include you in conversations he had with friends and colleagues, but you felt the tension between you two. You did your best to enjoy it as much as you can. You saw Nat for a brief moment where you hugged her and congratulate her. She said she wanted to chat later but you didn't really expect much. This is her premiere and she has other priorities.

She proved you wrong, however, during the after party where she pulled you to an area for more privacy.

"Hey, how are you?"

"Um, good. A little overwhelmed, but, uh, tonight's been...fun."

She tilts her head and narrows her eyes at you, just like her character did in the movie, and you can't help but let the truth spill, "I freaked out on Bucky on the way here. He posted pictures of us that insinuate we're together and I don't want it to result in me getting fired and potentially never getting a job like this ever again."

"Yeah, I saw that before he deleted it. You guys looked cute. Also, are you two not dating?"

"What? No! He's literally my boss!"

She shrugs, "Could've fooled me. Anyway, there's something clearly going on between you two, right?"

"I, uh, I don't know what to say. Do I have feelings for him? Yes. But will I act on them? No. Again, he's my boss, I'm his employee. I really like this job too, so I can't risk anything."

"I feel like there's a 'but' coming."

"...but he's so amazingly funny, smart, hot, understanding, compassionate, and I just love spending time with him. It's so fucked, Nat.

She nods in understanding, "I know, hon. I'm gonna say the most cliche thing ever, but listen to your heart. I'm sure you'll find another job just as fun as this one, but to be with someone you click so well with? That doesn't come often."

"Hey, you okay?" Bucky comes up from behind, placing a hand on your hip and looking at you with concern.

Nat flashes him a smile, "Just wanted to catch up with them, but I've hogged up your date long enough, Barnes." she turns back to you, "Think about what I said, okay? Enjoy the rest of your night and thanks for coming," she hugs you and heads back out to the party.

Bucky nods to her and stands in front of you, "Did you want to stay longer or are you ready to go?"

"I think I'm ready to go for the night."

"Alright." you follow him out to the front where you wait for the driver to pick you guys up. He stands beside you with his hands in his pockets, wearing that gorgeous outfit you chose.

"I'm sorry again about the pictures."

"Thank you, I'm sorry I attacked you like that."

He shakes his head, "Don't be. I get why you did. But, um, we're good?"

You nod, "Yeah, Bucky, we're good."

"Good," he gives you a shy smile and then points at the upcoming car, "Our ride's here." As soon as the SUV pulls up, he opens the door for you and lets you go in first. He follows and the drive home is in silence.

_________________________

You're working in your little alcove at Bucky's when he approaches you, "Hey, I need to talk to you about something."

You turn in your chair and look up at him, "This doesn't sound good."

"It's good and bad."

"Um, okay?" you clasp your hands together in your lap in anxiousness.

"So...I'm hiring a different social media manager."

Your heart drops, "Wh-What? But-But I thought I was doing well. Your team said I was doing a good job. What happened?"

"You are, but lemme also add that there's another job already waiting for you."

"Bucky, I'm so confused right now. Are you firing me? Or contracting me to someone else?"

"I'm firing you because I can't date an employee."

You straighten up at his statement, "Excuse me?"

Bucky steps closer to you, reaching out and grabbing your hand, "It's just...shit, Y/N, you gotta know how I feel about you right?"

You bite your lip in nervousness, "Maybe."

He lets out a long sigh and run a hand through his cropped hair, "Listen, I like you. A lot. That's the real reason I wanted you to come with me to the premiere. I love spending time with you and I've been so much happier since you've started working for me. To be honest, I didn't know how much longer I could keep myself from wanting to be with you. So to still make sure your professionalism was in tact, I reached out to Nat to see if she was in need of an amazing social media manager and, luckily, she was."

"I'm gonna work for Nat? Nat wants me to work for her?"

Bucky nods, "She does. So you'll be working for her which means I'm not longer your boss. Which means...will you go on a date with me?"

Fuck it. Fuck it all. You held in your feelings for Bucky for so long and now you've been given a loophole to be with him.

"I like you too, Bucky. So much, I didn't say anything, obviously, because I wanted to remain professional, but fuck did you make it hard to not fall for you."

Bucky snickers with a smirk, "I can say the same thing about you." His thumb caresses the back of your hand and it feels so right.

"Have you actually hired someone to take over for me?"

"Not officially, but I have some applicants already. Why? Do you know someone?"

You nod, "I do. She just graduated college with a degree in communications with a concentration in social media. I can have her send in an application, but I one hundred percent vouch for her. She's done great work."

"Alright. I trust you, but I don't think I can find anyone who works as well as you do."

"I fucking hope not. Or else you might leave me for them!"

"Never," Bucky replies confidently with a softness in his voice and adoration in his eyes.

"So...about that date..."

_______________________

"Come with me to work for a popular actor!" Kamala narrates her latest TikTok.

"So Bucky is working on a new movie with Natasha Romanoff so for promo we're filming a bunch of different content!" Nat and Bucky wave at the camera.

"After filming all of that, they're off to a photoshoot. Here are some of the potential outfits they can wear." the camera pans to several racks of clothing.

"There's a lunch break and here's my lunch versus Bucky's lunch," Kamala's plate is pasta while Bucky's roast chicken, "The boss needs to bulk up for another role so he needs a lot of protein."

"And that's all that I can show you for today. Until next time, bye!"

You scroll to the comments and they're immediately flooded with"

you're not y/n???

wait, did y/n quit?! did bucky fire them?! no!

what happened to y/n?!

and so on.

You snort and show Bucky, who was cuddling you from behind, "I told you people would notice."

He peers over your shoulder to look at your phone, "Kamala actually had an idea for that."

_________________

"A Day in the Life of an Actor's Social Media Manager. Part...whatever. So we're doing more promo stuff for Bucky and Nat's new movie. But this time I'm also working with Nat's social media manager, Y/N! We're doing a What's in the Box Challenge and here's a clip of Bucky freaking out."

"IT'S MOVING! WHY IS IT MOVING?!"

"Also look at Bucky and Y/N. They're so cute together. And yes, guys, they're totally dating now which is why Y/N no longer works for Bucky. ANYWAY..."

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #gn!reader #gender neutral!reader #actor au #social media manager au #marvel au #marvel imagine

[tashacee]

Ok, hear me out. I'm replaying AoC and got to the part where age is monching rocks with Daruk. Which got me thing. How many boys are rock munchers? Age and wild confirmed rockers, Time has enough fae grimlin energy to monch. Hyrule? Probably not. His poor teeth couldn't stand it. So I offer the idea oh great master. Aspect of a Rock

Wild takes Age under his metaphorical wings. THIS is his second child. Wind has another brother to add to the smother pileat night. He's just so happy to have another brother. Wilds off humming as he cooks, keeping an eye on Hyrule who tries to help, but is gently moved away. Hyrule moves off to talk to Legend as Age meanders over to help with dinner, but freezes at a horrible bringing MONCH/CRUNCH behind him. Spins around so fast his hat lightly slaps Legend. Eyes enormous, Wild freezes, rock in hand as he offers one to Age. Hyrule begins to sign with a terrifying ferocity only to stare in horror as Age just.. MONCH. Now completely distressed for their health, he turns to Time to get them to. Just. STOP and his brain freezes. Time, confidant, Master of the Ocarina, Stong, wise mysterious leader is holding a rock. A grin full of pure gremlin and teasing, he cronches. Nope, Poor Hyrule begins to sign with vengeance. 'SPIT THEM OUT ALL OF YOU YOUR TEETH WILL BREAK.' Delighted grins form on Wild, Age and Time as they in scary harmony bite. Wind and Spirit, absolutely delighted runs to grab a rock, only to be halted by a Frantic Wars. Twilight stared at his mentor with baleful eyes. Four collectively, begins quietly debating if those three have Goron in them (Is it even poasible? Debates begin in full, Four has officially checked out). Sky is just confused as Fi chiming in laughter. Dinner was late, but oh, so worth it.

(Spoilers, it was just rock candy, but the possibility to prank them was too tempting)

Anyways, that's all. Have a great day and drink some water😶‍🌫️ You can ignore this if you want

honestly I have nothing more to add this is wonderful and I love it. Also: one of them was eating real rocks and not candy but they will NEVER say who!

#it me #hero’s aspect au #replies #hero's aspect

[wandussyfantasy]

Hey :) could you write Kate Bishop x reader where they can barely stand each other but secretly like the other? R gets jealous when someone makes a move on Kate and they end up having sex in the backseat of R's car👀

Oh and gip R pls!

Jealous

Summary: Kate Bishop annoys you at a frat party.

Pairing: Kate Bishop x g!p Reader

WARNINGS:

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT READ & DO NOT INTERACT!!!

smut, name calling, g!preader, praising, creampie, mentions of alcohol.

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

It's late on a Saturday night. University students all over campus are celebrating the end of another brutal semester. There are parties happening all over the school. You happened to be at the best party at the biggest house on campus. You weren't big on the whole Greek row scene but your brother, Peter, is which had its advantages. Getting into frat parties without a problem was the best one. 

The disadvantage being that the one person you couldn't stand the most in this world was in the sister sorority to this fraternity. Which means that you were often in the same vicinity as Kate Bishop. Not something that you were fond of. 

“Hey, watch where you're going, cocksucker!” You say as Kate knocks into you in the hallway where you had been chatting up a girl that caught your attention. 

“Whatever carpet muncher,” she rolls her eyes as she continues down the hall where her friends are. You finish the drink in your hand and ask the girl you were talking to if she wanted a refill. 

“No, I'm okay,” she says as she drops the plastic cup on the ground. “I’ll have you instead,” she grabs you by the shirt and pulls you into a kiss. You happily reciprocate the action and push her against the wall. You step closer between the girls legs to rub against her when someone bumps into you again. 

“Get a room,” Kate calls over her shoulder and you can no longer focus on the girl in your arms. All you can think about is Kate fucking Bishop. 

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” you say as you step away. You follow Kate into the backyard where barely anyone is, “What the hell was that for?” 

“It’s a party, not an orgy. No one wants to watch you dry humping Malibu barbie in the hallway,” Kate defends her actions. 

You shake your head and scoff, “Unbelievable, this coming from the girl with an OnlyFans account!” 

Kate isn't phased that you have this information. More like intrigued, “How’d you know about that? Do you subscribe?”

“What?” You look at everything but her as you stammer out, “No, of course not. It got around campus.”

Kate laughs, she would have known if something like that happened. She ran her account in a way that made it difficult to tell it was her unless someone noticed certain details about her. “Yeah, okay,” she drinks from her cup. “I’ll see you around, pervert.” She walks back into the party, shoving you with her shoulder. 

You crush the empty cup once she has disappeared. Oh she knew how to push your buttons. Once you've cooled off, you walk back inside and make a beeline for the kitchen. There you find Peter and his best friend Henry doing shots. They invite you to join them and you do so happily. Then you grab a new cup and fill it with water. 

As you make your way through the house, you catch yourself constantly looking for Kate. You find her laughing with friends on a couch. Then spot her over by the pool table. Then you notice her talking to a guy. You get closer when he puts his hand on her waist. And finally when you see him grope her ass, you can't help yourself and you dump your water on him. You grab Kate by the wrist and you pull her out of the house. 

“What the fuck is your problem?! You can't just kick me out for having fun!” Kate tries to break from your grip. 

You stop in the front lawn and spin to face her. This action pulls her close so the two of you are chest to chest. “I’m not kicking you out, I'm…” you fail to form a verbal explanation. You aren't sure what you're doing. Everything so far has been action with no thought. So you continue that way. You plant your mouth on her, surprising the both of you with a kiss. 

Even more shocking, Kate doesn't pull away, she doesn't slap you. No, she pulls you closer. “Gosh you're so fucking unbelievable,” she says. Then she goes in for another aggressive kiss. You stumble backwards with her attached to you. “Where are you taking me?” She asks between harsh breaths. 

“My car,” you answer. 

“Okay,” she nods, “Let’s go.”

And you guide her all the way down to where you had parked your car. It was in a very private and secluded area. You open the door for her and she pushes you in as she lands on top of you. “A little eager, are we?”

“Shut up,” she pulls her shirt off, “before I change my mind.” Staring at her round breasts that are covered by a lacy bra, you are more than happy to comply. Not wanting to risk this experience ending. You pull your shirt off and it makes Kate giggle as you struggle in your position. She helps you remove the item and the two of you continue. She takes off her bra and you lick your lips as you try to put one of her breasts into your mouth. “Uh-uh-uhh, I've shown you mine, now let me see yours.” She says and you fall back onto the seat with a sigh. “Come on, don't be shy,” she traces her finger across your chest, outlining the top of your bra on your skin. 

You laugh lightly, “I’m not shy, I have great boobs. I just need help because I can't exactly reach in this position.”

“Right, sorry,” Kate helps you remove the garment and she has to agree with your statement. “Oh yeah, these are gorgeous,” she grabs your boobs and smiles. “They fit perfectly.”

You grab her boobs and play with her nipples and she does the same for you as she rocks her hips into you. That's when she discovers a part of you she didn't think you had. She stops moving to confirm that she is rubbing against a penis. “Is this going to be a problem for you?” You ask as you sit up on your elbows. 

Kate shakes her head as she moves her hands from massaging your breasts down to your belt. She undoes the buckle and frees the button, carefully dragging the zipper down, and delicately reaches into your pants to feel the thickest cock she has ever experienced. You moan at the contact and she carefully pulls you out of your pants. “Oh my,” she says, not sure where she wants to start with this thing. She strokes your cock so that you're hard, she couldn't be gone from her friends too long before they would start looking for her. She quickly pulls her shorts down, enough to uncover her hole and aims your cock at it. 

With an involuntary thrust you enter her fully with ease. “Ohhhh you're so tight, so wet, oh fuck Kate,” you groan as she starts to ride you. She has her hands on your chest to keep her steady in the awkward position in the car. You don't care about the back pain it's causing because her warm walls squeezing your cock was enough pleasure to distract you. 

“Fuck, we should have done this sooner,” Kate says as she is bouncing on your lap. “You’re so big, ohh fuuuck,” she takes your hand and puts it on her clit as she lazily shows you what she likes in order to bring her closer to her climax. “I’m almost there,” she gasps. 

You sit up and adjust the position so you have more control over thrusting into her. You start to fuck Kate faster so you can bring her to her orgasm. She starts moaning loudly and you don't care if someone passing by hears. In fact, you want someone to hear so they know you're the one pleasuring the most difficult person on campus to please. Plenty of people have slept with her and had their reputations tarnished because of her. Kate is practically screaming your name at this point. 

All too soon, she slams down on your lap as her whole body tremors from her orgasm and her walls clamp on your cock, drawing out your orgasm without warning. “Shit, fuck, ooohhh,” you say against her chest as your cock pulses inside of her, your cum filling her pussy. It takes you a few seconds to realize that you weren't wearing a condom. “Oh fuck,” you say with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry, I didn't put a condom on.”

Kate giggles as she kisses you on the lips, “It’s okay. I'm clean and on the pill. We don't have anything to worry about.” 

“Okay,” you kiss her again in relief. You pull out of her and quickly pull her shorts back up before your cum can leak out of her. “I was going to offer to clean you out. But the idea of watching you flirt with people, knowing you're filled up with my cum. That's too good to pass up.” She hums and your cock twitches at the idea. 

“Mmm, and what if I find someone else to do the job? You want to watch?” Kate challenges you with a quirked eyebrow and adorable smirk.

You kiss her again, this one slow and deep unlike the hurried passionate ones you've exchanged up until now. “I won't say no to that.” The two of you dress and rejoin the party and you keep an eye on her the rest of the night while you act like you didn't just have the best sex of your life. 

The End.

#smut #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop smut #18+

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

Held Up: Steak Dinner

Part 2.

Warning: This one does has some adult content. Guns, smut, fraud.

I'd offer to skip dinner and go to wherever she stays, but I'm building trust. The foundation is there. I'm also in no rush. I wasn't lying about craving a steak. It comes to the table and I immediately cut it to make sure it's medium-well. It's juicy and tender, easy to chew and buttery. "Mm.. mhm.. mm..," I point with my fork, cutting a small peice and holding my fork in the air as she smirks. "Try it."

She eats it from the fork with eye contact which tells me she ready. "Surprised you're up and about right now or am I keeping you up," she twirls her pasta on her fork. I let her seduce me, giving her the reigns.

"Wouldn't be Graveyard without the late nights."

She smiles. "You look tired. All the time."

"Yikes, you think so?"

She nods. "But there's something mysterious about your eyes as well especially when you stare like that.. I wonder."

"I'm an open book.. Just.. Ask."

"Where you originally from," she squints.

I put down my utensils and fold my hands on the diner table to watch her black-brown eyes twinkle with growing attraction to me.

"Small rural town in Cali. You heard of Nevada City? Population 3,000?"

"Can't say I have."

She wants to fuck me. We shared a trauma. So naturally, she's eye-fucking me.

"Well..," I return to what's left of my steak. "It's a po-dunk town worse than Lexington. Beautiful.. city slicker like yourself.. would do better in LA."

She grins. "You're not what I expected. I thought you'd be rougher around the edges."

"You thought," I tease with a deep sigh. "I'm a simple guy Janine. I go to work, I go to school.. I eat steak."

"Well I got something that's better than steak, you should come over," she leans in closer taking the fork and knife from my hands and replacing them with her hands. I fight the urge to take control. It's always better for me when the female leads. I let her take me from the restaurant to our cars. We just dined and ditched. "You gone protect me?" She pulls my hands around her waist looking up at me. I grip her ass and she seems pleasantly surprised.

"I'll follow you." I open her door closing her in. "Lock em immediately," I warn her. "Look at me. I don't want anything to happen to you. We done already been through something. Always lock your doors immediately." She does it with a wave.

I follow her through town to her apartment that she says she's been renting from a man subletting. It's a 3-story walk up and very old. The wood creaks as we walk up. In her apartment, I take my shoes off and look through at the items and decor that mostly aren't hers. The things that are, are obvious. She's made the place into her own temporarily. "Why so much blue?"

"It's my favorite color. I brought all this from home, but the stuff in the bathroom and kitchen I bought when I moved in."

"Hm. It's nice. You must got a lil chunk of money saved?"

"A little. Not enough..," she eyes.

I feel a small spike of suspicion in her that needs to be crushed.

"Any vacancies at the prison?" She walks back to her room while I wait in the open living space giving her polite distance.

"The prison? I don't think you want that. But I'll put in a word for you."

"Thank you. I need to find another job." She comes out with her bra and panties on walking back and forth, pretending to do shit.

I watch her. The moment she bends in front of me, I grab her hips and sweeping her carrying her to her room and dropping her on her bed. She squeels. She wanted to seduce me in hopes I'd lose control and fuck her, so I give her exactly that impression. I push her down when she tries to sit up. I pull her ankles and drag her ass to the edge of the bed. I take my clothes off and pull her lace panties off slowly with my teeth. She wore them for me. One thing about Janine? That dark meat on her bones is meant for a nigga. Body bad. Face bad. Judgment bad. Just my type. I do my job as a certified pussy muncher and go down, making out with the pussy and then sucking and licking it. It's something I can do all night. I keep her thighs pressed against the bed and out my way, consuming until she's wiggled and moaned herself limp. When she stops reacting that's when I stop eating and just rub it.

"Your pussy is about as pretty as your face. You mind if I take a picture, for myself? Of me eating it? Just from here to here," I touch her hips. She clears it and I spread the lips and put my tongue on her pearl snapping the photo. "For my eyes only," I assure flipping her over by her ankles. I snap another photo quickly and hide my phone while positioning her for backshots. I get a quick 5 second video of her with her face in the pillow while I dig in the cooter, stirring in lil swirls. "You like that shit, Janine?"

"Yess," she moans in a falsetto. Her voice when she's on the verge of cumming is high pitched. I run my fingers up her spine and coach her to let it go, then we lay in her bed talking.

"How have you been.. since last night? Right about now you'd be getting off your shift," I remind her.

"I've been talking about last night all day today, I kinda wanna move past it.."

I switch tracks and ask her about her classes and her friends. She needs comfort tonight and security so I put an arm around her inviting her to snuggle up on my stomach. We pillow talk and I leave about a half hour after that.

"Text me when you get home." She reaches for my face and Iet her kiss me on my way out.

I get in my car and instantly pull up the group chat. They all had their wages of whether or not I'd smash tonight and get the pictures. I let them know exactly how I fucked her from start to finish and demand payment laughing to myself when they demand the evidence. They know I'm not lying they just wanna see this fine ass big booty ebony in the act.. possibly on a big black dick. I demand my payment waiting for it all to post. I'm $160 richer. Now I drop the pictures and the video. Fap material for you bitches, I type. Now I can drive off.

I see Janine constantly in the days following. She's cool. We hang out and do shit like eat and fuck. I like her. I check around for her to see where she can work, getting her an interview at a JigglyPiggly. I introduce her as my girlfriend which earns me a kiss on the lips. They tell her she can start now. It should get her by until she finds something else.

"Damn," I stare watching her walk off for me, an extra sway in her hips. Looks like she forgot about trying to bag a Dylan or Brock. She drunk off BBC. "I work the prison tonight, I won't see you tomorrow."

"So call me," she waves. "See ya Graveyard."

I wait until she doesn't come back out for a few minutes, then I drive off. I ain't gotta work at the prison. I don't work at the prison, that's just what I tell people around here. I don't work at all. I don't even go to school. Anyone can walk on campus, it's not private.

I meet another girl I've been talking to lately, a white girl at the college named Tinsley. She's never been with a black guy and she wants me bad. I've been stringing her along to see what I can get. So far, she's bought me lunch. I didn't ask her too, but something I've learned is that the more you make a woman desire you the more she'll do on her own.

"So you ain't learned yet," I smile meeting her at her job.

"I never will, you're just gonna have to adopt," she touches my nose. She's an animal groomer in a business of all women. It's a treasure trove but I keep my eyes on Tinsley making her feel special as she shows me off like a new car she's taking for a spin. I whisper in her ear.

"Stop tempting me with these puppies." They have a kennel of dogs. This is how I get close to her. She loves that I love dogs as much as her, only I don't. I don't like animals. She takes me to the bathroom and closes the door pulling at my pants. "Woah," I pretend to slow her as she's ripping down my briefs.

She has intense blue devilish eyes laughing up at me, lowkey scaring the hell out of me. She takes the dick, sucking it like she's possessed. "I've got you now," she growls giggling evilly. I watch her suck me off and despite how crazy she is I still cum. But on my way out I see someone's bag.

"You sucked this big black dick so hard I gotta pee. I'll be a minute," I tell her watching her shake her head with a smile and walk away giving me time to take the credit card from the bag. It belongs to one of the women. I kiss Tinsley and say goodbye to the women. I take the card to the next city with my boys and we ball out, staying in a hotel for the night. I leave the card with them the next day. They got money for me as well, I count out $3,400. The hustle goes both ways and this my cut.

I ride back to Lexington to see Janine and she kisses me at the door of her apartment. She missed me though I haven't been gone. She's also in need of more money.

"Mhm. What investments do you have?"

She sits down rolling her eyes and I smile. I'm not coming off my money no matter how much she hints. I haven't spent a dime and I don't plan to.

"Like stock?"

"Stock. Cryptocurrency.."

"None?"

"Well," I laugh. "That's why you're broke, respectfully. You're spending dollar for dollar everything you make. Look at this," I cover my information and flash the number in one of my accounts showing her $52,000 in savings and $13,000 in checking. Her eyes widen. "I invest. I don't just spend."

"What do you invest in? How do you get started?"

"It's easier if I show you. I can get you started."

I download a bitcoin app on her phone and tell her to put in her banking information while I look away but I have a photographic memory. I only need a glance to remember information. I walk her through buying bitcoin and actually show her some of what I know about trading. Then I fuck her brains out and leave to work on getting her money from her bank account.

I take $1,000 considering how she needed her money. I do like her. It's why I don't take more. I leave her enough for her rent and to eat and dip deciding to move onto another girl to milk. Unfortunately, I realize after the fact of me stealing from her that I like her more than I thought. I didn't mean to like her at all. I know I shouldn't go back to her because she'll probably call the country ass cops on my black ass or get me caught up, but for love.. I still risk it. I'm an idiot, I know.

I pull up to her apartment and get her to open the door though she acts like she won't. I accept the slap to the face when she does open it and I beg for her forgiveness. On my knees, I beg her. But she wants her money back. I'm not giving her her money back, she can have this dick..

"Baby, don't be like that. It's just a lil cash, don't let that get in the way of the fact that I love you. You see I didn't take it all. I got you a job. I taught you how to make it back."

"You saying I owe you?!"

I hear the creaking of the stairs and see police downstairs. The smug look on her face says she called them before opening the door. I overpower her easily and push her into her apartment closing us in. "You fuckin bitch, you ratted me out? Tryna get me arrested? Over a stack?" I back her up from the door and pull my tool that I keep on me. Usually it's in the car but I brought it up for this reason. In case she got the bright idea to call the cops. "Sit yo ass down," I point it at her. "Can't be nice to you bitches. I loved you and this what the fuck you do? One stack. I ain't even take it all. Now when the police knock, you open the door and say verbatim: You missed him. He left when I called. And don't do no lil extra signals or you die and i go to jail. You want that? Bitch you better answer a nigga wit a gun."

"You turned out to be exactly what I thought you were," she glares.

I lower the gun briefly. "Still love you."

When the police knock, I wave her to the door with the gun and she opens the door a little. "You just missed him! He left right when I called." She tries to look my way to communicate that I'm behind the door but I line the gun up with her ear and she stops. The police ain't trying to stick around. They don't care. They leave and it's just Janine and me.

I point my gun at her one more time with a sigh before putting it back in my waistband. "You gone make me do some shit I ain't wanna do. Stop being reckless. I told you. I like you. I ain't take your money to hurt you. I ain't even take it all, you can make that back."

"Fuck you, you probably set that whole thing up at the gas station."

I smirk.

"Fuck! Why didn't I-"

"Don't be hard on yourself no one ever sees it coming. If you did it'd make you paranoid."

"This is fucked up... You're a psychopath."

"Maybe. I still like you. Still wanna eat your pussy."

"And you won't give me my money back.."

"No."

"Get out."

"Ok, but I still wanna be with you.. and eat your pussy. I like you. I didn't lie, I just.. took a stack. I take shit."

"You did lie! You lied this whole time!"

"When I lie? The gas station? Okay I lied one time," I shrug. "My bad girl.. I'm sorry. Like I said, I do care about you. If you didn't think so on some level you wouldn't still be going back and forth with me. Stop being stubborn, ain't nobody here but us. I just wanna eat your pussy and I'll leave you alone. I swear. I'll leave right after."

She hesitates. "...Right after?"

I nod and she relents letting me eat it right there on the couch. She lets me put her legs over her head and she holds my head down in it as she moans and gasps. I moan along with her and let her cum on my tongue twice while I sweep her entrance and then I come up with my gun flush against her temple.

"I'm a leave now," I whisper as she freezes staring in my eyes. I kiss her forehead. She's scared, but it’s for the best. I know she hears me with her brain, not just her ears. "If you call the cops.. or try to find me.. I will blow your head clean off your body." I nudge her head with it so she gets the point. She doesn't move or say a word.

I back out from the apartment watching her. She still hasn't moved but she's watching me fearfully.

"Shame you had to trip. Could've been up in them guts," I tell her. It seems like a waste, but I still got the money and the panties. I got other girls now waiting to give me theirs too. I win.

Shaking my head still, I close the door and walk away.

@dashhoney25 @lettidarawest @soufcakmistress @ljstraightnochaser @princessstevens @eye-raq @thiccdaddy-mbaku @destinio1 @iamrheaspeaks @hidden-treasures21 @bidibidibombaclaat @forbeautyandlife @blowmymbackout @misspooh @thotyana-in-this-hoe @localtrapgod @purplehairgawdess @thegucciwaffle @miyuhpapayuh @harleycativy @goddessofthundathighs @theegoldenchild @nobodybaby93

#original #erik killmonger #killmonger #erik stevens #erik killmonger fanfiction #erik stevens au #erik killmonger imagine #black panther killmonger #black panther fanfiction

[freakingoutthesquares]

Pulp Diction - Part One Words: Paul Lester, Photographer: Pat Pope Melody Maker, 27 May 1995 Transcription: Acrylic Afternoons

Starring: JARVIS COCKER as THE JUNKSHOP ROMANTIC STEVE MACKEY as THE PLAYBOY RUSSELL SENIOR as THE ALIEN CANDIDA DOYLE as THE CARE BEAR KID NICK BANKS as THE PIE-MUNCHER

From the late Seventies right up to the early Nineties, Sheffield's Pulp were critical faves whose bizarre sex-obsessed space-pop eluded commercial success. Then in 1994, their His 'n' Hers LP sold 100,000 copies, went Top 10 and almost won the Mercury Prize. Meanwhile, frontman Jarvis Cocker became Britain's unlikeliest sex symbol and all-round multi-media pundit. With their fantastic new single 'Common People' released this week, we meet the brilliant Pulp as they prepare to ascend to the next level of fame and acclaim.

PULPINTRO

He's Chris Evans' favourite artist. Greater London Radio has called him "the first pop star of the 21st century". This writer reckons he's Eric Morecambe meets James Bond. And he's described himself as "Woody Alien in platform heels". Ladies and Gentlemen, Jarvis Branson Cocker, the human stick insect in Oxfam gladrags rechristened "Pop's Mr Sex" by The Observer's "Life" magazine, has just entered the building. And tripped over some camera cable.

As stumbles go, it's pretty clumsy. Although Jarvis doesn't exactly tumble arse over tit onto the Maker photographer's studio floor, it's a trip nonetheless, a full-scale fumble of the feet, a semi-somersault. Not that Cocker seems to care. He doesn't bother to check whether the nosy bastard journalist has witnessed his miniature fall from grace, he just regains his balance and heads towards the studio table where several platefuls of sweets and sandwiches await.

The trip is all. In it, we can locate the sublime/corblimey essence of Pulp, the most modern of modern pop bands, fronted by Jarvis Cocker, the ordinary man with the extraordinary talent, the sex god with the sex problems, the klutz-icon whose Cool Quotient is raised precisely because he doesn't mind looking uncool. Thought: Jarvis Cocker has the same initials as Jesus Christ and Jimmy Corkhill.

Fact: on the night of this interview, he is spied in a quiet corner of a Menswear after-show party with a gorgeous young girl, legs akimbo, facing him on his lap, her skirt around her waist, his crotch against hers, the pair, oblivious to the drinking/drugging hordes (basically the entire population of The Good Mixer relocated to London W1), thrusting and grunting like extras from "Confessions Of A Britpop Idol".

Theory: the British public is obsessed with sex, especially public sex, at which Jarvis Cocker is (becoming) an expert. Ergo, the British public is (becoming) obsessed with Jarvis Cocker, who, after 15 years in the shadows, is Going Public with Pulp's synthetically treated, dramatically arranged, indecently graphic pop songs about public - and private and magical and mundane - sex.

PULPSEX (FOREPLAY)

A Pulp feature without sex would be like a Barry White feature without sex or a Spiritualized feature without drugs or a Snoop Doggy Dogg feature without guns or a Shaun Ryder feature without sex and drugs and guns, or a Paul Weller feature without loads of tedious meandering bollocks about old blues and soul records. But a Pulp feature - or, for that matter, a Pulp song - doesn't have to be solely about sex. It's just that, for Pulp, as it is for Jarvis Cocker, as it is (let's be honest) for us, sex is the axis around which all their/his/our other obsessions orbit.

So, yes, a Pulp feature or a Pulp song could be about knitting, just as it could be about fairgrounds or babies or joyriders or pink gloves or lipgloss or underwear. But really, once you've rubbed at the surface and scrubbed away the details of Pulp's beautiful tales of banal lives, you're left with sex, in all its gory glory. I'm not sorry about this. Neither's Jarvis Cocker.

"Is there anything in the world more interesting than sex?" the thinking woman's crumpet with the thick-rimmed spectacles repeats my loaded/"Loaded" question in his inimitably rich, deep South Yorkshire voice. "No, I don't suppose there is. Eating and reproducing are the two major motives that make animals want to do things. And I don't think it's that different with people, except that people have the ability to think about it, and have morals about it. I always thought of sex as something quite transcendental," he continues, leaning forward now. "Not that l'm into tantric sex, or whatever, but in the way that it transcends... In a world where religion isn't such a massive guiding force, sex is, along with drugs, the closest we ever get to a transcendental feeling. Especially the moment of orgasm." Oo-er, Jarvis Cock-er.

Think of the seedy voyeurism of "Babies" (from "His 'n' Hers") where the kid watches his friend's sister going at it hammer-and-tongs through a gap in a wardrobe door; of the tawdry perversions of "Sheffield: Sex City" from "Pulpintro" ("I just had to make love to all the cracks in the pavement and the shop doorways"); or the smutty ambiguity of "Little Girl (With Blue Eyes)" from "Masters Of The Universe" ("There's a hole in your heart / And one between your legs / You've never had to wonder which one he's going to fill"): Pulpsex is never the hygienic coupling you see in films, the seamless, juiceless, sexless, unproblematic sex we're all supposed to have as adults.

Jarvis Cocker is the only white pop artist currently addressing the subject of sex in an explicit manner. Historically, white pop sex has either been good clean fun (The Beatles, The Beach Boys) or its darker side has just been hinted at (The Who, The Rolling Stones) or it has been the course of much angst (New Order, The Smiths).

Today, of course, sex is dealt with in numerous black genres such as rap, house and swingbeat, only there the sex is the mechanically precise variety, all domineering men and submissive women, gleaming musculature and cool biological fusion and fission. Pulpsex is rather more fumbling and fallible than that. It takes place between streets, not between the sheets.

"I like that sort of thing," admits Jarvis. "It's good for sex to be an event, not always taking place in the same venue. It's better to go on tour, as it were. It's more exciting. Not that I'm one of those people who has to think that they're going to be discovered at any moment shagging in an alleyway, or whatever."

"Anyway," he refers back to the bump 'n' grind style of contemporary sensual poetry, "that's where most pop writing about sex falls down. It becomes like a parody of a man trying to portray himself as God's gift to women, as the greatest stud alive."

Could a white man ever get away with a line like Barry White's "Take off your brassiere, my dear"?

"No, they'd get the piss taken out of them, and rightly so."

As Pulp's popularity increases, so too does Jarvis Cocker's ability to reduce female admirers to paroxysms of pleasure at the sight of his beanpole academic frame or the sound of his lugubrious, deadpan, baritone. Thing is, they're half surrendering to Jarvis, the post-modern Englebert Humperdink (he sends them), and half laughing at themselves for doing so (is he sending himself up?). There is a similarly narrow line in Pulp's songs between the silly and the serious. Could Jarv sing a song about sex with a straight face, or does he usually feel the need to be self-deprecating about it?

"Well," he smiles, "there is always that temptation where sex is concerned to hide the IQ, to pretend you didn't really mean what you said, which is a cop-out. You have to risk looking a bit daft."

Jarvis didn't lose his virginity until he was 19, and he was apparently celibate for several years when he moved down to London from Sheffield at the age of 25 to study film at St Martin's College Of Art. For years, his frustrated lust for lust fuelled his muse. Now he's got a live-in lover, Sarah, who may or may not be the saucy girl from the Menswear party and works in a mental health centre. ("I DJ'ed there once," Jarvis tells me. "I played them lots of Madness records".) Although like all of us he's struggling to keep his coitus explosively interesting while in a steady relationship ("I don't think you can have both at once. Do you know what I mean?" Oh, but I do), he is surely having at least more regular, if not more successful, sex. Is there a direct correlation between Jarvis Having Successful Sex and Jarvis No Longer Being Able To Write Successfully About Sex?

"It depends how you measure success at sex," he says. "There isn't a score card in operation, or anything." I dunno, I got a standing ovation from my girlfriend the other night. "I wouldn't say I was having more successful sex now," Jarvis ignores me. "I might be having more sex but I don't know if it's more successful." But if it was? "Then I'd probably stop writing altogether and concentrate on shagging! If it was that good. I mean," expands Jarvis, grandly, "there is a theory that states that people create Art because they're sublimating their sexual desires in some way, or they have certain feelings of dissatisfaction which drive them to achieve certain things. So if you were really satisfied with sex and life in general, you'd probably just give up creating and concentrate on enjoying yourself."

There are few signs of a satisfied Jarvis Cocker on "Common People", Pulp's anthemic, gigantic new single whose relentlessly intense rhythm and motorik pace recall the demonic, supersonic, electronic mo-mo-momentum of Eno-era Roxy Music, and whose juggernaut keyboard riff and vitriolic sex-geek lyric smack of Elvis Costello at his most deliciously malicious (circa "Lipstick Vogue"). The narrator of this staggering piece of synthesised pop invective relates the story of a girl who wants to slum it for a while by moving into a scuzzy neighbourhood, shopping in scummy grocers and sleeping with common people like...

...Jarvis?

"Sex was never really on the cards, to be honest," says the working-class boy from Intake, Sheffield of the real life incident recalled in "Common People", in which a student from a wealthy Greek family who Jarvis met at St Martin's College outlined her plans to take a brief, vicarious holiday in other people's misery, via El Jarvo himself.

"That was just a bit of poetic license. I only knew her for a matter of weeks, and I only spoke to her a few times, but it stuck in my mind what she was saying, that she wanted to sleep with 'common people like me'."

Did she actually use that line?

"Oh no. She never actually said that to me. It was one of the things that I found quite strange when I moved to London," digresses Jarvis, reminiscing about his formative years as a fully paid-up member of the Weird Teen Club, about his days wearing lederhosen and looking like a bit-part from "The Sound Of Music".

"Because when I lived in Sheffield I was always getting flack off football fans, stuff like, 'F***ing poof'. I was always considered a bit effete. Then suddenly I came down here and, because I spoke with this northern accent, I had this air of slight earthliness. I liked that, because I'd never had it before."

"So yeah," Jarvis returns to the inverted snob-protagonist of "Common People", "maybe she did consider me a bit common." Isn't that Pulp in a nutshell: a blend of the earthly and the effete, the coarse and the camp?

"Maybe, I don't know. That's your job to say that." So you were a bit posh up in Sheffield, and you're a bit rough in London? "Yeah, maybe. Yeah."

Does Jarvis, the alienated wunderkind who has been in Pulp for over half his life, feel more comfortable back home or down here?

"I was thinking about that when we played with Oasis at the Sheffield Arena show, actually," he says, fiddling with a loose fingernail. "At the do afterwards there were loads of people from Manchester and I really enjoyed being there, because I've not socialised in the north for a long time. I've found I get on easier with northerners that I do with people that I meet down here."

Can we extrapolate from this that, perusing a list of his peers, Jarvis would be more at ease with, for example, Oasis that he would, say, Blur?

"I've got more in common with Oasis, yeah. When it comes to something like civilised conversation."

Civilised conversation? Oasis?

"Why not? In fact, the first time I ever spoke to them was when we were all in America and we were trying to get into their show in San Francisco. And we got a message saying, 'You can all come in as long as Jarvis comes onto the bus and talks to us.' So I went on and talked. They were really friendly. Unfortunately, I was in a really depressed state - it was my birthday and I was feeling a bit maudlin - and they probably thought I was a right moron."

Jarvis Cocker meets the brothers Gallagher. The mind truly boggles at this summit encounter between such diametrically opposed aesthetic schools of consciousness. I suppose Noel and Liam were busy swapping lurid tales of birds and booze while poor Jarv was left to ruminate on the shabby nature of existence, or something.

Am I right?

"Not really, no," Jarv casually leaps out of his seat to deposit a bit of nail in the studio bin. "The only real difference," he says, plonking himself back down on his swivel chair, "was that they were talking about shagging birds and I was thinking about shagging birds."

Part Two: Here

#russell senior #jarvis cocker #steve mackey #candida doyle #nick banks #pulp #britpop #melody maker #interview

[omegawizardposting]

Fast food workers and DoorDashers who work the graveyard shift, y'all are fucking legends. Y'all are life-savers. I need chicken so bad right now I'm salivating and y'all are showing up for the late-night munchers. This country would be fucking nothing without y'all.

[just-osgood]

Where's somewhere you'd like to go back to again?

I'm sure you meant place, but I was thinking about time. Some days I kinda wanna go back in time and just do it all over again. Make different choices. Came out sooner and experienced things muncher earlier than later.

Too deep, I know. Late night thoughts.

Thank you for the ask.

#Dem asks yo #Asks #Anon

[lapeaudelamemoire]

Very tired. I should sleep, but I don't want to - the nights are like a rare gem disc of time that never last long enough these days of the year. There really is no quiet like this quiet; and it's the most familiar home I've known in my life.

Sleeping in the living room tonight, on the sofa - lately I've not been sleeping well in the bedroom. Not to sound too much like a new age crystal muncher, but I think it's time to do a cleanse. It's near time to anyhow, almost lunar new year. It would be good sweeping.

I think I'll buy a wireless keyboard to type on, even if it's just on my phone - and maybe also see about using the telly I've bought as a monitor if I ever get around to getting a CPU/PC set up one day. I'm thinking it'd be great to sit on the sofa and play FFXIV.

#lmao #personal #log

[jamboreeofsurprises]

i forgot to document the dream i had last night to here. i may as well now.

I walked into a cool vintage clothing store. There were a bunch of mannequin heads up on the shelves in different vibrant colors, very 60s. I commented on that and the store owner told me I could have one if I wanted for half a dollar. There was a robin's egg blue mannequin head with a really nice hair scarf tied to it. I went to go try that on and it was too big for my head truth be told which was disappointing.

She also had a case full of vintage Barbies for very fair prices given their condition (one was inexplicably dressed as Maetel from galaxy express 999), but I kind of got choice paralysis and didn't end up buying anything. So I got ready to take my leave and thanked the store owner saying I'd give her $5 for the mannequin head as a tip, but she was getting up from the register. All the money was just haphazardly stacked there so I stuck the $5 in the $5 pile. Another girl who was working there actually asked me if I could take the huge stack of $1s to the money muncher machine in the corner which converts twenty $1s to a $20. (rather a lot of trust to put in a random customer) So I was going to and then noticed Ron Mael already using it and dancing feverishly while receiving his money. I pointed it out like LOOK AT THAT!! but the employee looked too late and he stopped. I went THERE HE GOES AGAIN!! as he violently twerked. She still missed it.

#dreams by fleetwood mac

[coolclark83]

[ickymichi]

TOKYO REV CHARACTERS WHO SMOKE!!

-by a stoner

warnings: drug use obvs.

things to know: all of age to do this blah blah no illegal shit, well. be quiet. 1 suggestive sentence in hakkai’s. this is all 4 fun

note: first thing i post in ages and it’s this lol. i thought of this in depth while smoking so i had to let it be known cause it’s all true.

mymattsun 2022. don’t repost or modify on this or any other platform. reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated.

DRAKEN. he’s that calm and collected while dealing with mikey 24/7? and you think he’s sober doing it. no chance. he probably smokes every other day. like 3 times a week. but would probably smoke 2 or 3 on a good day. he prefers blunts just bc, he’s unfairly good at rolling. like if he rolls for u, it’s gonna go down like heaven. is already more calm then he normally is and gets really giddy. like kinda just sits with a smile and lidded eyes the whole time.

BAJI he has allll that energy and attitude and listens to “baji-san! baji-san! baji- san!! all day, but doesn’t smoke? yeah okay bozo. mf does it literally every day, like shit lemme join. also would light up while in public walking around like it isn’t illegal. he sets cars on fire mf doesn’t care. definitely another blunt r joint guy. did a bong with chifuyu and got sent straight to sleep. convinced fuyu he now has asthma after that time. we got ourselves a muncher here ppl. will eat anything in sight. also gets sleepy sometimes. also questions everything. including how tf draken survived getting stabbed. also laughs too much. like calm down.

MITSUYA takes care of two ankle biters and hakkai for a living. and you gonna try?- just shhh. doesn’t like to do it alone tho, he gets paranoid asf. draken is his favourite smoke bud. he got sewing fingers so he’s ofc gonna be good at rolling, but prefers bongs or pipes. weirdo. gets a burst of energy most times and gets the giggles. he’s the complete opposite of sober him. doesn’t do it too often maybe 2 times a week 3 max. one of those that doesn’t eat all that much just gets cotton mouth.

HAKKAI does it cause taka-chan does. he did at the start now probably does it more than him. but he also only does it with people, unless he wants a late night one then will do it himself. probably like 4 times a week. prefers joints but can’t roll for the sake of his life so gets someone else to for him. loves doing it with baji r fuyu jc they’re so funny to be around. eats his whole body weight in chocolate or ramen. HE TURNS INTO A WHORE!!!! thinks about all that shit sm when he’s high.

MIKEY found shinichiro’s stash and proceeds to investigate it with draken. that’s how they got introduced to it. doesn’t do it that often but only does it with kenchin. blunt r bong kinda guy. questions life then cries laughing in the same minute. feasts on snacks only. FEASTS!!!!

NAHOYA you.. you’re going to tell me. HE. HIMMM. isn’t a fucking POTHEAD??!!! will light it up before a fight or meeting. another daily inhaler. also does it inside if he’s too lazy to go outside?? pisses off souya smmm. another fucking animal who will order a whole apocalypse worth of food. either sits around and play loud ass music or movies or gets up and runs the world. no in between. does it with draken if he wants to chill, baji if he wants to laugh and hakkai if he wants to fuck with someone(hakkai gets so fcking paranoid)

HONOURABLE MENTIONS:

HANMA. he’s a crazy mf and probably does coke too c’mon.

CHIFUYU baji-san does it. fuyu follows.

HAITANI BROS they from ropongi ain’t that like party city ?

YUZUHA she deals with hakkai. c’mon now

SANZU hate this mf but he a purple pilly popper

OG BLACK DRAGONS seem like a chill group of guys so they definitely did in some abandoned building. grandpa sano deffo found shins shit but didn’t care.

ROTATION.

1. DRAKEN. always. he will always start.

2. MITSUYA. a good second. puff puff and pass religiously

3. NAHOYA. would be lower but look at the lineup.. tends to ramble and tell bullshit stories n forgets it’s his turn.

4. BAJI. inhales half the fucking joint like calm down it’s not going any where bro..

5. HAKKAI purely cause he coughs till he red n is a wet smoker.

6. MIKEY. you thot he gonna be up there? mf SATURATES THE TIP!!!

#!!.tokyo rev works #tokyo revengers x reader #baji x reader #draken x reader #ran x reader #chifuyu x reader #hanma x reader #mitsuya x reader #hakkai x reader #smiley x reader #mikey x reader #wakasa x you #shinichiro x reader

[safarigirlsp]

Belle Avocate

Belle Avocate

Vampire Jacques Le Gris x Lawyer Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: None. Yet.

AO3 Link

Author’s Note: This is the opening to one of my big Halloween special fics with Vampire Jacques Le Gris!

This week’s picture for Writer Wednesday was too good to resist! Thank you @autumnleaves1991-blog and @clydesducktape as always!

When your phone rings, you answer. That was one of the non-negotiable terms of your employment with one of the most prestigious law firms in the state. An enviable position for a young attorney such as yourself, despite the fact that your job description included being worked to the bone.

Finally heading home from your office at ten pm on a Friday night was not unusual for you anymore. It was, however, highly unusual for the managing partner to call you on a Friday night after you arrived home from working so late. In fact, it was unusual for the managing partner to call you at all. You worked hard so the partners didn’t have to.

When your phone lit up with his personal number at ten-thirty in the evening, you eyed it suspiciously, wondering if this was the beginning of some illicit proposition.

It was, indeed. Just not in the way you had imagined.

One of the firm’s oldest and biggest clients needed a lawyer. Now. When this client called, the firm responded, no matter the time of day or night. And night tended to be the whim of this particular client.

You had heard of a few of the firm’s top clients, revered names whispered like legends in the halls. It was considered an honor to work on their illustrious cases.

The lateness of the hour on a Friday was the only reason you were sent in the partner’s stead. The managing partner always saw to this client personally. Tonight, he was no doubt too deep in a bottle or a brothel to make the drive himself.

As such, you quickly freshened up and donned your finest, most man-eating suit. You needed to look good and be on your A-game when the police questioned this client in the course of a murder investigation.

Despite the fatigue in your bones, you felt a rush of excitement when you stepped back out into the cool night air. Your destination was the mansion belonging to Jacques Le Gris.

*******************************************************************************************

The Victorian mansion loomed large and foreboding, it’s soaring turrets and gables demarcated against the starry sky. Emerald green ivy crept up its expansive stone walls. Of the many windows you could see, only a few had light glowing within.

One large set of tall arched windows on the third of five stories revealed the dark silhouette of a towering man, backlit by golden light. He looked down at you from above when you excited your car.

A cop car was already parked at the estate, its officers already inside.

As you walked to the door, it opened before you. An exotically beautiful brunette woman wearing a high-end cocktail dress held the door, welcoming you wordlessly inside.

Following her up two flights of stairs and through the halls of the mansion, you lost count of the number of marble sculptures and oil paintings you passed.

At the end of a long hallway, you arrived at a pair of ornate wooden doors, already set ajar.

You entered into a cavernous two-story office. Walls lined with shelves containing books and oddities flanked the room, running its length. A grand walnut desk sat in the room’s center, two velvet tufted chairs placed before it.

Each chair already contained a corpulent detective, complete with handlebar mustaches and coffee stains on their pants. A couple of real doughnut munchers.

The man who drew your attention immediately could only be your client.

Standing at the window, the gleaming maple eyes of Jacques Le Gris locked upon your figure as you entered the room. He was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. Broad shouldered and athletic with luxurious waves of black hair falling over his shoulders. A black goatee framed berry lips, turned into a bemused grin, softening his sharp predatory features. He wore a charcoal waistcoat and slacks, impeccably tailored to his impressive body, offset by a crisp white shirt whose sleeves were rolled up his muscled forearms.

Motionless, his presence carried to you like the heady smoke of a cigar, beckoning you closer to his imposing countenance.

The exotic brunette crossed the room to your client, trailing her hand possessively over his chest. Le Gris didn’t watch her, however, or even spare her so much as a glance. His eyes remained fixed solely and unwaveringly on you.

Pushing the brunette’s arm away from his body with two fingers, he walked past her toward you.

“You must be my new lawyer,” Le Gris said to you in a tone as rich and alluring as honey. “My deepest apologies for the lateness of the hour. I have only just returned from overseas and these gentlemen,” he paused to gesture vaguely at the officers, “Could not be persuaded to wait until Monday. Or even until the morning.”

Closing the distance between you, he extended his right hand palm up. He looked as though he was asking you to dance rather than greeting you.

Giving him your name, you reached to his hand, attempting to shake it. He did not allow you. Instead, he raised your hand slowly to his lips. Lowering his head, he placed the barest of kisses to your skin, while his eyes held yours steadily.

Such a simple gesture should not have made your pulse quicken as it did nor raise the hairs on the back of your neck. You didn’t know what you were expecting in regard to the man, but the firm’s ‘oldest client’ certainly did not invoke an image like the robustly masculine man before you who appeared to be around forty.

“Call me Jacques, ma belle avocate,” he told you before releasing your hand and returning to his full height. “May I offer you some wine?”

“I’m on the clock, so I’m afraid I’ll have to stick with water,” you declined with a smile. “Or coffee, if you have it.”

“Coffee it is. Water is far too bourgeois for me to offer a guest on a Friday evening.” At his words, he gestured you forward to his desk and the detectives seated before it.

Walking casually behind his desk, Jacques pulled his own large leather wingback chair out for you.

“I prefer to stand, thank you,” you said as you moved to stand beside him opposite the detectives. “Besides, I think these men will want you in the hot seat, as it were.”

Grinning at you, Jacques lowered himself into the chair, crossing his long legs in front of him and lacing his fingers together in his lap.

The more corpulent detective leaned back in his chair, his eyes settling on your bust. “I’ve heard about you,” he said to you, displaying a greasy smile. “The new hotshot defense lawyer. Making a name for yourself defending the bad guys.”

“Are they bad simply because you say so?” You returned, unruffled. “Because you damn sure haven’t been able to prove it in court against me.”

The door to the study opened again, silencing the detective. A tall model-esque blonde woman entered the room carrying a silver tray with a coffee pot, saucer of milk, and two cups. She walked gracefully to the desk in her slinky dress, setting the tray down on its surface.

Strange. Jacques had not made any summons for your coffee that you were aware.

The blonde reached a hand to Jacques’s cheek, caressing him with her fingertips. Her greeting was met with an annoyed shake of his head, as if he was bothered by a pesky bee.

Shooting Jacques a pouting glare, the blonde retreated petulantly from the room. The brunette followed behind her.

Both detectives craned their necks to watch the two women take their leave.

“We’re here to investigate some missing persons,” the fat detective said, turning back in his chair to face Jacques across the desk. “Several women. Well, they were missing. Last night one of them turned up in the morgue.”

“Terrible business, indeed.” Jacques adopted a look of concern that you could see was affected.

“Here’s the thing, pal,” the other detective intoned. The ‘bad cop.’ “She was last seen at a club with a man who looked just like you. Last Saturday.”

“I have little use for clubs, detective,” Jacques said coolly, smirking before continuing. “And less use still for women I may find in them.”

As he finished his statement, a third woman walked through the doors of the study. A gorgeous redhead with curves that Jessica Rabbit would envy, wearing a similarly styled dress that clung to her figure, strode forward until she stood behind the detectives.

Clearing her throat with an annoyed huff, she extended her hand between them, placing a dossier of documents on the desk.

“Do you require anything else from me?” She asked seductively, leaning forward to accentuate the swell of her breasts.

Jacques shooed her away with a dismissive flick of his enormous hand, his eyes flitting to you for a moment as if gauging your reaction.

“My travel itinerary, gentlemen,” Jacques offered, indicating the documents.

The bad cop took the dossier, unfolding the papers within. They showed that Jacques had been out of the country for over two weeks.

“I’ll let the higher ups see what they make of these,” the detective said, folding the papers and moving to put them inside his breast pocket.

“You’ll do no such thing,” you said sternly, reaching quickly to pluck the papers out of the detective’s hands. “If you want fingerprints or DNA, you can ask for them with a warrant.”

Beside you, Jacques grinned up at you from his seat.

Angered by your intrusion, the bad cop leaned forward toward Jacques aggressively. “We know you’re behind these missing women. I’ve heard the same description that matches you from several sources. Funny enough, none of them can remember much else. Do you dope them? Is that it?”

Putting a hand on Jacques’s shoulder, you halted any potential answer before he offered one.

“No, no, detectives,” you said with a sarcastically broad smile. “That’s not how we’re going to play this little game tonight.”

“What are you talking-“ the bad cop started, but you cut across him like a whip.

“The way we’re going to do this is you’re going to tell me what exactly you have on my client that might make me feel the need for him to explain anything at all to you. Or you’re going to leave,” you said sharply, looking the bad cop right in his squinted eyes. “My Friday night plans do not include a fishing expedition with the likes of either of you.”

“Look, lady, we just have some questions we want answered,” the fat detective attempted.

“Funny. So do I,” you said as you took a step closer to the edge of the desk. “I’ll go first.”

The cops exchanged a look between themselves before both trying to intimidate you with their unimpressive stares.

“Do you boys have anything linking my client to any alleged crime?” You asked rhetorically, with a smirk. “Fingerprints? DNA? Footage? Witnesses?”

Met with only an angry silence, you leaned slightly forward toward the men.

“No? Do you have a warrant, then?” You asked, raising your eyebrows and pausing for the answer you already knew. “Also, no? Then kindly get the fuck out of here.”

“Give us a minute,” the fat cop grunted, prying himself up from his chair and walking outside the study with his partner to plan their next move.

Reaching for the pitcher, you finally poured yourself a cup of coffee and took a long sip.

“Your firm sent the right person. I’m impressed,” Jacques said in a low baritone, again grinning up at you. “Which is a rare condition for me.”

“Now would be a good time for you to tell me if you did have anything to do with those missing women,” you said, little above a whisper.

“What do you think the detectives are discussing?” Jacques asked, ignoring your question.

“Either they’re talking about whether or not they have enough on you to get a warrant,” you said as you took another sip. “They don’t.”

“Perhaps you’ll represent me if they do,” he said, his voice was playful, almost hopeful, at the grim prospect.

“Or maybe, they’re just trying to figure out where the third woman goes.” You smiled as you sat your coffee back down on the desktop.

Jacques’s grin widened wolfishly, amused by your words.

The detectives reentered the room, red-faced and sullen.

“Gentlemen, I am pleased to offer any-“ Jacques began, smugly confident, before you cut him off brusquely.

“Stop talking,” you commanded Jacques quickly before turning to the cops. “He does not need to offer you boys anything at all. Nor shall he. If a judge agrees that he should, a warrant will be issued.”

“We’re not done with you by a long shot,” the bad cop threatened.

“Oh, but you are,” you told him the same way you would chastise a disobedient brat. “Goodnight, boys.”

Glaring at you heatedly, the men took their leave, no doubt escorted by one of the trio of women.

“Please, finish your coffee,” Jacques implored, standing from his chair when he saw you preparing to make your own exit.

Smiling at him, you conceded by accepting the cup when he held it out to you.

“I was not making idle conversation when I said that should anything come of this, I want you to represent me,” he told you, meeting your eyes with his penetrating gaze.

“I’m sure that could be arranged,” you agreed, tipping your coffee cup toward him in a salutation.

“Might I retain your services further?” Jacques chewed his lip with his question, never taking his eyes from yours. “On some personal matters.”

“You already have my firm on retainer,” you said, raising a confused eyebrow.

“Not your firm,” Jacques told you as he took a step closer. “You.”

“That’s against protocol for me to take private clients,” you declined, shaking your head. “Especially, prestigious clients who already belong to the firm.”

“If I express my interest in you to the partners, I assure you that it will be no difficulty whatsoever,” he said confidently.

You knew he was right. A client as big as Jacques Le Gris had the privilege of making his own rules.

“I do not even need your assent to do so,” he continued, watching you closely. “But I would like it.”

“You have my assent,” you said, smiling as you sipped your coffee, unnaturally excited by the idea.

“Good,” he replied simply, choosing not to reveal more of his purpose to you yet.

“As your lawyer, I should know,” you pressed as you fixed your eyes on his directly, setting your now empty coffee cup down on the desk. “Are you guilty?”

“It has been said that sex and murder are the most luxurious of all pleasures, ma belle avocate,” Jacques returned, flashing a wickedly handsome smile, his eyes gleaming with a fire that threatened to burn you from the inside out. “Eternally so.”

*******************************************************************************************

© safarigirlsp 2021

Tagging some belles: @babbushka @in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather @mrs-gucci @mrs-zimmerman @iamburdened @celiholland @gabesprincess @maybe-your-left @kirah36 @icarusinthesea @mythrielofsolitude @cas-backwards-tie @caillea @fizzywoohoo @heartlight-starlight @tashastrange89 @candycanes19 @darkhairedmenrule @reyloaddict55 @queeniebee @thepalaceofmelanie

#my stuff! #my writing #writer wednesday #vampire!jacques le gris #jacques le gris x you #jacques le gris x reader #best #fic #le gris #halloween #vampire!kylo #vampire #the last duel

[artificialqueens]

I Choose You, 2/2 (Vanique) - Ortega

a/n: oh my god HELLO!!!! i thought i’d never finish this in time but the lord loves a trier so here we have the second half of my Vanique behemoth (the first being 2003!). this might be the most self-indulgent and pretentious thing i’ve ever written. who knows if it’s good! certainly not me. i very much hope u all enjoy it anyway.

(p.s. the title is from I Choose You by Kiana Ledé. listen to it it’s very good. the acoustic version, not the one with the rapper feature. that one sucks ass.)

trigger warning: there’s some homophobia in this, both internalised and…externalised (is that a word?), including use of the d slur, so please read at your own risk. there’s also mentions of bereavement but not of any of the main characters. I promise u this fic is not as depressing as i’m making it out to be xo

fic summary: Vanessa Mateo and Monique Heart start Year 9 as entirely different people. At least, that’s what Monique firmly believes. Vanessa suspects they’re not as different as Monique would like to think.

***

High school is high school, and nothing is ever simple. The idea that Vanessa had had about hanging out in Summer was soon pushed to the side. Monique was dropped in favour of hanging out with Akeria and Silky. In all fairness, Monique was too busy riding the carousel of shopping trips and sleepovers at her new friend’s houses. Monét’s house is her favourite though because it feels like a castle- it’s surrounded by a gate with a combination instead of a key and in the lobby there’s a sweeping marble staircase and an actual pillar and an expensive-looking sculpture in the corner. Monét’s parents are kind and caring and they supply the girls with endless snacks and fizzy juice and face masks. Monique imagines it’s like what staying at a hotel is like. She wouldn’t know, she’s never stayed anywhere other than her old house with her Mum, the high flats, or Vanessa’s house.

She feels guilty about not hanging out with Vanessa. They text, but it’s not quite the same; she knows Vanessa hates writing in any format so it’s a little harder. They could phone, but they just…don’t. Still, despite their distance that night at Vanessa’s in the tent still plays on Monique’s mind. The whole thing was weird. Vanessa had wanted to kiss her, and in Monique’s mind that was only something you wanted to do with a person if you had a crush on them. Monique knows what a lesbian is, and she’s sure Vanessa isn’t one. She’s damn sure she isn’t one either. Aside from liking girls, lesbians dress like boys and they have short hair and they’re definitely not as beautiful as Vanessa. They’re different, and Monique is different enough. She isn’t a lesbian. She doesn’t fill any of the criteria.

So when Vanessa comes back after the summer holidays and begins Year 9 with hair that stops at her jaw and an undercut as well as a set of pink traintrack braces, the whispers start right away. Monique hears two boys talking about her at first, as she’s putting her books from second period away in her locker. She hears brash laughter, Vanessa’s name, the words “dyke” and “rug muncher” and “lesbian” all spat out venomously, and Monique’s heart hurts. She wants to tell them to shut up, wants to tell them they’re wrong and that Vanessa is pretty and soft and none of those things. Vanessa is just a normal girl. Hell, the only reason she’d wanted to practise kissing with her was so that she could be good for boys.

It’s lunchtime when it gets brought up again, and by that point it’s all round the school. Brianna starts the conversation mid-chip, speculating between chews.

“Have you guys heard that rumour going around that Vanessa Mateo is a lesbian?” she almost whispers, and Monique rolls her eyes. Not this.

“Oh my God, no! Tell us!” Asia says excitedly, pushing away her plate of suspicious-looking penne bolognese made up of too-soft pasta and too-watery mince.

“What’s there to tell, sis? That’s all there is.”

“She’s in my Spanish class. She definitely looks like a lesbian,” Antonia widens her eyes in disbelief, and Bob cackles a laugh.

“What the fuck does that even mean? Looks like a lesbian. They’re just girls who like girls, lesbian isn’t a fucking…skin tone.”

Brianna casts a glare at her from the other end of the table. “Oh, come on, Bob, you know what we mean. She’s got that haircut and the shaved bit at the bottom. And have you ever seen her wear skirts to school?”

“Gee, short hair and trousers make you a lesbian. By that logic half the fucking boys are lesbians.”

The girls splutter a laugh, which Monique joins in with half-heartedly.

“It’s not just that, though. You know she’s friends with that Akeria Davenport…Silky Ganache. You ever see her with any boys? I wouldn’t be surprised, you know,” Monét shrugs, having seemingly thought it through enough to pass judgement. Asia laughs.

“You never see us hanging out with boys.”

“Yeah, but there’s six of us! There’s only three of them. Maybe they have like…threesomes,” Antonia gasps, her eyes sparkling wickedly. The girls all follow suit, gasping and widening their eyes and clucking like hens. Monique feels sick. The whole conversation feels wrong. She doesn’t want to be part of it any more.

As if she’s read her mind, Monét cocks her head at her. “Monique, didn’t you used to be friends with her? You ever get lesbian vibes from her?”

“Oh my God, yeah? She ever try and kiss you?” Brianna asks, open-mouthed. Monique feels the colour drain from her face. Luckily there’s a shout from the other end of the canteen that cuts the girls off from the conversation they’ve been having.

“Bob!”

The girls stop talking, turn around to see Tomi and Katie standing smiling in that fake as fuck way that Monique loathes. She knows they’re probably behind most of the rumours about Vanessa and that puts her back up even more. Bob seems unbothered, and she’s regarding them in a lazy sort of way. Monique swears she’s seen a lion watch a gazelle with the same expression.

“Yeah?” Bob asks simply, humouring them. The two girls giggle behind their hands.

“We just think your hair is so gorgeous. Can we touch it?” Katie simpers, tucks her blonde hair behind her ears unflatteringly. Bob turns briefly to Asia and gives an earth-shattering roll of her eyes. Monique can feel Monét bristle beside her defensively and she puts a hand on her shoulder in reassurance.

Bob smiles indulgently at the rejected extras from White Chicks standing in front of her. “You can try, see what happens.”

Tomi has her hand out and then falters, clearly noticing Antonia glaring at her like she’s daring her. Monique’s never actually witnessed her throwing hands but she knows that’s how she got her detention last year, after a boy in the corridor made monkey noises at her. Tomi clearly decides against it and the two girls curl their top lip at them all instead, slinking away. Bob turns around to shout after them.

“Wait! Tomi! Can I touch your hair? I’ve always wanted to know how it feels to be a weak, limp, lifeless, greasy Rapunzel!"

The girls erupt in hysterical laughter, and the rumour is forgotten for now.

Or at least it is until two o’clock in the afternoon. Monique’s not been thinking straight all day and it shows when she turns up to Chemistry when she’s meant to be in English, the lower sixth formers all looking at her as if she had two heads when she opened the door to the lab and had to slink back out again. So she’s running down the back stairwell panicking, knowing she’s going to have to explain why she’s late. The stairwell is empty with everyone already in class, but aside from the noise she’s making as she thunders down the stairs Monique can hear two other voices at the bottom. Two boys’ voices, and they don’t sound kind. They’re spitting out insults, and Monique heard the crash of something heavy against the floor- a book, a folder. It’s against Monique’s better judgement to investigate- she should really get a teacher- but she can’t stand bullies, so she gets to the last set of stairs and peers over the bannister to see what’s happening.

The sight makes her heart drop, because it’s Vanessa. The two boys are yelling at her, blocking her path every time she tries to move past them. She’s not crying but she’s all hunched in on herself, almost concave with her arms hugging herself and her head positioned towards the ground. The boys are relentless with their taunts and Monique can’t bear to hear any more.

"Hey!” she shouts, her voice all too loud in the silence of the stairwell. It echoes and ricochets off the walls, and the boys narrow their eyes as they look up at her. She meets Vanessa’s eyes. She seems just as shocked as the perpetrators. Monique’s started, so she follows it up with, “Leave her the fuck alone.”

The boys laugh, begin to mock Monique amongst themselves. She doesn’t want to play her ace, but as their words bury themselves deeper and deeper under her skin, Monique’s face turns into a snarl. “Or am I gonna have to call my brother?”

The boys seem to make the connection between who they’re talking to and the implication Monique has just made, and she’s happy when a glimpse of fear passes on their face. One of them has the bravery to speak up again. “Your brother won’t do shit, soon as he steps in our ends he’s dead."

"Well, I can always call him and you can tell him that for real. Or, even better…” Monique shrugs, pulling her phone out of her blazer pocket and scrolling it lazily. “…I can have him here by lunchtime and you can say it to his face?”

The boys frown at her and seem to make the mutual decision to let the situation drop, but not before one of them spits on the floor at the bottom of the stairs Monique is standing on. She lets out a sigh. She knows her brother’s reputation precedes him and it’s not a pretty one. She knows he’s infamous and that the teachers were all happy when he finally left, saw the look on all their faces when they reached her name in the register on that first day and could practically hear what they were thinking. Oh shit, that’s his sister. She’s not proud of having used her brother as a threat but as she looks down and sees Vanessa’s kind, grateful smile, she knows it was worth it. Monique wants to hug her, wants to pat her back and tell her that she’s not in any danger anymore and that it’s all okay but she doesn’t because things aren’t the way they used to be. She descends the steps and lets Vanessa pick up her folder, waiting until she’s back up standing with her arms hugged around it and the tiny smile still on her face.

“Thanks.”

Monique wants to blush. She’s maybe already doing so. “It’s okay.”

There’s a pause. Vanessa’s smile wavers and she pulls her lips in on themselves, holds them between her teeth for a moment before letting them go. She looks to the ground awkwardly. Monique wants to say more, she wants to say everything, whatever the hell everything is. Instead she says nothing.

Vanessa rubs the back of her neck awkwardly. It’s just the two of them at the bottom of the stairwell now, and it looks like she’s about to release something she’s holding back. “Uh, hey. You ain’t tell anyone about…you know-”

“No, I didn’t,” Monique replies instantly, firmly. They both know what she means. Vanessa nods curtly. They’re standing alone, nobody else around to pass judgement or start a rumour or look at them funny. Monique wants to just…talk to her. She doesn’t open her mouth again, but she wants to. She can feel her speech rising in her throat, and she’s about to say something. She still doesn’t know what.

“I should get going, I’m late to English,” Vanessa suddenly makes the decision for her, nods at Monique in thanks again before turning on her heel and pushing open the double doors at the bottom of the stairs.

Monique is left standing there and the silence seems to echo around her.

She goes back home instead of class.

***

Year 10 starts and the unthinkable happens.

Vanessa’s sitting in P.E. at the time. She’s not at all academic- she knows this, it’s evident from all the extra help she gets and how she’s in the bottom set for everything- so she likes P.E. because she just plays sports, tries to win. All the girls and boys in the year have it at the same time and they split off- boys get taken out onto the astroturf in the pissing rain to kick a ball about for an hour and the girls stay inside and do basketball or volleyball, dainty ladies’ sports that make Vanessa mad because she knows she could whoop any boys’ ass at football. Anyway, Monique’s in her set and so are all her friends. Vanessa doesn’t like the girls she’s friends with- they’re too stuck-up for her taste, and she likes the fact that Silky and Akeria are down to earth and don’t have any airs or graces. But she still casts an eye over to Monique every so often, just to look at her. She thinks about the fact they used to be best friends, used to share everything with each other. Her cheeks burn when she thinks about the time she asked Monique if they wanted to kiss. She still hasn’t made herself confront that properly yet, still hasn’t addressed the very obvious elephant in the room of her brain. That can wait for another day, though. Everybody already says she’s a lesbian anyway, she’s been getting flack for it for a solid year now, so she supposes when (if) she comes out she can’t get bullied more than she already is.

Monique’s dark eyes are framed with eyeliner and mascara, and her perfect cheekbones are highlighted with a dust of gold. Vanessa’s jealous. She runs her hands over the spots that’ve bubbled up on her forehead self-consciously, reminding herself to spread more concealer over them when class is over. Monique’s so beautiful and it isn’t fair. Vanessa is so busy thinking and so lost in her own head that she doesn’t even notice their guidance teacher’s arrived at the door.

“Can I speak to Monique, please?”

Vanessa watches Monique’s eyes grow wide as her friends all wind her up and make ominous noises at her as she leaves. Vanessa wonders if Monique’s in trouble. She was always the biggest goody two-shoes in Primary, and she’d always get so nervous whenever Vanessa did something mischievous. Vanessa smiles at the memory but it’s quickly forgotten when their teacher tells them to get into partners and she immediately grabs Silky, leaving Akeria to pair with Mercedes, a shy girl who’s terrible at everything P.E. related and would truly be the booby prize if there was ever a partner-related game show.  

Vanessa forgets about Monique until lunchtime when she’s sitting with the girls in the cafeteria and scanning the hall judgmentally. Her eyes fall on the table Monique and her friends usually sit at, and they’re all eerily quiet. They sit with their heads in their hands, stare into their plates of food and pick at them, and nobody says a word. Monique isn’t there. Come to think of it, she didn’t return for P.E.

“Sheesh,” Vanessa scoffs, gesturing over to them. “Who died?”

It’s a joke she’ll regret making, because all over Monique’s facebook wall that night when she gets home from school is post after post after post of sympathies and apologies and heart emojis and kisses.

Because Monique’s Gran has died.

When Vanessa realises she pushes her phone away, turns over in bed and brings her knees up to her chest. Her head is spinning. All Monique has is her Gran- well, her and her brother, but she’s known so much pain and heartache in her life and all she has ever wanted is a happy family. Vanessa knows this. She wonders what will happen to her. Her brother must be around 19 now, so he could get granted guardianship but God knows he’s never been the most ideal role model. He loves Monique though, deeply cherishes his sister. Everything Monique’s been through, so has he. Maybe Monique will be put in foster care? Vanessa doesn’t know. Everything about the situation makes her feel sick to her stomach. Apart from all of that Monique has to deal with the grief of losing the woman who raised her, who was a mother and father rolled into one.  

Vanessa makes a decision, turns over in bed and snatches her phone back up. Her stomach is churning as she types out what she wants to say. Everything feels wrong and absolutely zero consolation, but she sends it anyway. She has to send something.

V: hey

V: i’m so sorry to hear about your Gran

V: i hope your doing okay

Vanessa stares at her phone for the full five minutes until it vibrates again, lights up with a message from Monique.

M: Thanks

Vanessa’s previously-rising heart suddenly drops. The reply is disappointing, but she doesn’t know what she expected. Monique has lost the closest thing to a parent she’s ever had. It’s not exactly the right time for a cosy reunion. Still, Vanessa misses her. She knows she could help Monique feel better, she was always able to make her laugh when she was sad.

V: i’m always here if you need someone to talk to

V: i know we don’t talk as much as we used to but your still my friend

Vanessa stares at her phone until her retinas start to burn. Is she even Monique’s friend any more? She wonders what they would talk about if they got to talk again, wonders if they ever had anything in common at all. The thought isn’t a nice one, and Vanessa goes to sleep that night with tears stinging her eyes and a terrible dull ache in her heart.

***

Monique doesn’t remember Year 10.

That sounds silly, as day 1 of it was only 365 days ago, but she doesn’t. She’s blocked it all out, bad memories of grief and pain that she’d rather forget. Even though her life has been full of struggles, the last year has truly taken the biscuit and she doesn’t ever want to think about it again.

There are always silver linings, though, no matter how awful the situation is. Monique’s brother is granted parental responsibility and he makes the effort to turn their lives around in whatever ways he can. They apply for a new council house, one in a slightly nicer area, and it has a garden and a number on the door and lots of windows to let in light. It’s the nicest place Monique has ever lived, and the summer before Year 11 the pair of them decorate it with furniture they find at the recycling centre and fix at home, and free stuff they pick up from Facebook Marketplace, and they paint the walls bright colours to keep their spirits up. Money is still a problem, though, but Monique is thrifty. She’s timed when the supermarkets put their yellow reduced labels on food, she can make her one free school sandwich last for lunch and dinner if she needs to. She charges her phone in class so she doesn’t have to use the electricity at home and she knows that if you put rocks in the pockets of the clothes you donate to Cash4Clothes then you get more money for them. They’re getting by- not easily, but they’re surviving.

Monique’s friends look after her, making sure she’s okay on those days when school is just beyond her and the only thing she can do is lie in bed. On the days she does manage into school the girls flank her, surround her like a shield against the staring eyes and whispers of the other kids. She still hears the odd murmurs of “her gran died” and “she doesn’t have any parents” and “her brother looks after her”. She knows they’re not malicious, but they still sting. So she’s glad when it gets to around October and people stop whispering about her and go back to whispering about Vanessa instead.

Because she’s got a girlfriend.

Brooke Lynn’s in lower sixth. God knows how she met Vanessa- probably at a house party or drinking in the park at some point, Monique supposes. She’s tall and statuesque and everyone is afraid of her, partly as a result of her resting bitch face and partly as a result of her intimidating good looks. Brooke is a living Barbie doll- pale skin, blonde hair, long lashes, full pink lips. Everything Monique’s not.

She’s sickeningly PDA with Vanessa. Monique sees them together at lunchtimes; the pair of them holding hands or with their arms around each other as they sit with their two friendship groups merged together- Monique didn’t think Silky and Akeria would have anything in common with straight A students Nina and Scarlet but she supposes that Scarlet’s girlfriend Yvie’s been put in isolation a similar amount of times to Silky so they’ve at least got that to bond over if nothing else. They laugh uproariously and chatter loudly and Brooke Lynn and Yvie eye girls like Tomi and Katie with suspicion and dislike, the two girls not even daring to make a comment about the two same-sex relationships at the table.

Monique hates Brooke Lynn. She doesn’t know why. She’s weird because she’s a lesbian but she doesn’t even fit in with what a lesbian should be with her long, blonde hair, makeup, short skirts. But then again, Monique reminds herself, neither does Vanessa really. They both just look like…normal girls. She wonders how that can be. Vanessa looks so happy all the time even though most of their year group hates her, or at least makes snide comments about her behind her back. How the hell is she so damn cheerful? Maybe Monique is just jealous. Jealous of the way Vanessa has an accepting group of friends and an accepting Mum and is comfortable being out even in school, unlike Monique who has to banish those thoughts to the dark of her mind because of course she’s not gay; she joins in with her friends when they talk about cute boys and talks about the celebrities she has a crush on. But she doesn’t really mean any of it. When she looks at the boys her friends all drool over, she just feels…nothing. She’s wondered to herself about her own feelings, even got as far as typing “girls kissing” into Youtube but closed the app before she could click on a single video, too embarrassed to go any further.

Nothing’s wrong with her. She’s fine, and her Gran always told her that God didn’t make mistakes. So she pushes and pushes the feelings down as Autumn turns to Winter and Spring turns to Summer, and before she knows it she’s finished her exams and is starting Sixth Form. Her brother’s proud of her- he hadn’t stayed in school that long, of course- and her Gran would be proud too. Monique’s sure her Mum would be as well, wherever she is. And her Dad. Whoever he is. Her exam results are decent, and she takes solace in the belief that maybe she’s clever, maybe she can forge a different path for her and her brother than the one she was born into. She’d like to be a nurse- nurses help people, and her Gran was looked after by one before she passed, so she decides that Sixth Form is going to be spent getting the grades she needs to get to university. Imagine. Her at uni. The first in her family and maybe even the first in her neighbourhood.

Still, it’s Sixth Form and she can at least have a little fun. She’s invited to her first house party along with the girls- Connor from Upper Sixth is hosting because his parents are out of town and Bob’s managed to blag them all an invite, so they get ready together and get Antonia’s cousin Shea to get them all alcohol from the off license, the six of them all giggling as they drink bottles of Lambrini in the street on the walk over to the party. When they arrive the house is packed, the music is loud, and everything is dark inside. Everyone already seems to be drunk and Monique finds herself guzzling the cider almost sickeningly quickly as she attempts to play catch-up. She’s surprised that some of the boys start talking to her and her friends. She’s never really received male attention before. She’s still not even kissed anyone; nothing’s changed since she was thirteen years old. Connor is showering her with attention and he’s maybe even flirting and all Monique’s friends say he’s attractive and Monique’s hoping she’ll feel something for him over the course of the conversation she’s having with him in the kitchen, her head all light and the alcohol coating her mouth. Eventually she sees that he’s moving to kiss her and she’s going to say no, turn him down gently but-

Vanessa’s here. She’s in the hallway looking at her, and Monique feels her eyes almost burn a hole in her heart. Her and Brooke broke up in the Summer- it was messy and all over Facebook, and Vanessa took it badly. There’s something to her gaze that Monique doesn’t recognise and she’s not sure she wants to. All she knows is the way she’s looking at her makes Monique focus her attentions on the boy in front of her, pulls him in for a kiss that’s sloppy and way too much and Monique feels nothing, beyond fucking empty inside, but the rush she gets when she opens her eyes mid-kiss to find Vanessa still looking at her is inexplicably exhilarating.

Except when she goes to bed that night she lies on her back and cries silently until she feels the tears stream into her ears. Why couldn’t she feel something for Connor? Why can’t she feel anything for any boy? Why can’t she shake this nagging feeling that something about her isn’t right, made differently to everyone else? She wishes she had Vanessa to talk to. She would know what to say. She’s been through all this already, Monique supposes. But Monique doesn’t want this. She doesn’t want to be happy like Vanessa is, she wants to fit in, she wants to keep her head down and not attract any attention and just be fucking normal, normal, normal.

Monique goes to sleep with a damp face and a stuffy nose and a feeling of self-loathing she can’t shake.

This feeling isn’t helped by what she finds when she wakes up on Monday morning. She’s checking all her socials as she’s walking to meet Monét and she’s got three new CuriousCats. The first reads,

Opinions on Asia O’Hara hehehehe

Monique laughs at Asia’s obvious fishing for compliments. She types,

the best friend EVERR and so pretty, ilysm!!!!!

The second one makes her stomach flip over.

did u get with Connor Monaghan on Saturday lmao

She thinks about it before typing and sending her response.

yea lol

She scrolls to the next one and her heart stands still.

Do you like girls

Monique is aware she’s stopped walking; she’s standing in the street like an idiot with every muscle and bone frozen in her body as her eyes dart across the screen again and again, reading it over and over. Why did somebody even send her this? Are there rumours going around about her too?

Quickly, she types out an ew no and publishes it. That should be the end of it. That’s it. She’s said she’s not, and that’s that. But there’s a concrete mixer of emotions and thoughts that swirl around in her mind and in turn churn up her stomach. She thinks about her kiss with Connor at the party, how she’d watched Vanessa instead of closing her eyes. The look on her face when they’d made eye contact. The way Monique feels as if something inside her is broken and can’t be fixed despite the fact she’s so normal on the outside contrasting with the way Vanessa is living happy and carefree despite constantly being made fun of and getting weird looks.

God, why does she even keep thinking about Vanessa all the time? They’ve not had a proper conversation in years, but Monique still remembers the way she’d texted her when her Gran died, the way she cared, the way she still called her her friend. Monique wonders if she’d still say the same thing. After all, she’s never said a bad word about Vanessa, never bitched about her or laughed about her behind her back.

Vanessa had said she still cared about her. Monique still cares about her too.

Monique is so in her own head that she doesn’t notice Monét standing waiting on her at the corner of the street until she almost walks past her. Monét grabs her arm to stop her and Monique very nearly swings for her until she realises who she is.

“Hey, bitch, slow down! It’s just me,” she laughs, and Monique gives a nervous laugh, still rattled by the anonymous question. “God, your head’s buried in that thing.”

“You sound like my Gran. Hey, Gran, I’m cold! Cause you always on that damn phone,” Monique impersonates, making Monét laugh. It coaxes a smile out of Monique too to remember how funny her Gran could be.

“What’re you lookin’ at anyway?”

Monique frowns, tells Monét about the message she got. Monét rolls her eyes and shakes her head in response.

“God, it’ll be fuckin’ Katie or Tomi pissing about and starting rumours. Just ignore them. Everyone knows you’re not gay anyway after Saturday night,” she waggles her eyebrows and tries to make a joke, but Monique’s still worried about the start of her sentence.

“But I don’t wanna be a rumour! I don’t want people talking about me!” she clamours, feeling ever-so-slightly helpless. Scratch that, hugely helpless. Monét pokes her in the arm just as school comes into view.

“Hey, Mo, chill! Nobody is gonna talk about you, everyone knows it’s a crock of shit! Just relax, alright? Ignore it, don’t let it ruin your day.”

That’s easier said than done, though. Monique’s mind is a mess and she can’t tell what’s real and what she’s making up. She walks past Tomi and Katie on her way to her locker and she thinks she hears them say her name but when she looks back at them they’re totally disinterested. In English, she’s sure everyone is staring at her when she walks into class. At breaktime she’s convinced the whole school knows. So when it gets to Biology and she’s sure, she’s positive, that she hears her name being whispered by someone in the row behind her followed by the word gay she thinks she’s going to be sick. The whole school knows, everyone is talking about it. Monique feels her chest tight, her mouth completely dry. She tries to take a deep breath but it feels as if she physically can’t do it. She doesn’t know how, but she manages to ask out of class and the moment she’s allowed she runs out of the door, hurtles down the stairs and into the girls’ bathroom, hyperventilating and clinging to one of the white porcelain sinks so hard she feels as if her knuckles are going to break. Her breathing makes her feel as if she’s a chew toy that someone is squeezing and squeezing over and over again, coming too quick and too shallow but she can’t stop; she’s stuck in the worst kind of cycle and she doesn’t know how to break it. She’s aware of the door creaking open, somebody saying her name in surprise but Monique can’t tear her gaze away from the crack beside the plughole to even see who it is. She feels the person take her hand off of the sink, squeeze it gently, and this forces her to look around and see who it is.

And of course it’s the one person who she doesn’t want to see right now.

Vanessa’s dark eyes are full of concern and care, and there’s furrows in her brow around the cracks and blemishes on her skin. Her bottom lip is worried between her teeth which are caged in by her pink traintracks, even though Monique knows they’d be beautiful and straight if she got them off.

Vanessa’s gaze is trained on Monique’s shaking hand now, and she’s holding it open with Monique’s palm outstretched towards her. It’s weird that Monique feels so exposed by that action alone. Vanessa’s got one of the fingers of her other hand positioned beside her thumb, a raggedy painted red nail standing out bright against her skin. “Focus on my finger. You’re gonna breathe in when it’s goin’ up one of your fingers and you’re gonna breathe out when it’s goin’ down.”

In the absence of anyone else to lean on, or indeed any rational thought, Monique simply obeys. Vanessa traces around her hand with her finger, slowly and gently, and it allows Monique time to calm down and breathe. Vanessa’s touch is grounding and soothing and eventually, when it’s clear Monique has calmed down, she watches as Vanessa wordlessly laces their fingers together, strokes her palm with her thumb. Monique’s heart is ricocheting off her ribcage, but not in the same way it was before. Now it’s as if her heart feels too big, like she’s been left out in the sun to melt, and Monique finally gets it.

This is how the other girls feel about boys.

“You okay now?” Vanessa asks her quietly, her voice hesitant and quiet and gentle and so out of character. Monique listens to the silence of the room. There’s nobody else there, nobody hiding in any cubicles. There’s only the drip of the tap and the hum of the air conditioner and Vanessa’s kind eyes and her long eyelashes.

If everything is as simple as an empty room and a silence like purgatory and a beautiful girl’s eyes, then maybe kissing Vanessa can be as simple as all that too.

So Monique does. She leans forward, closes her eyes before their lips meet softly, and neither of them do anything for a moment until Vanessa sort of pushes her lips against Monique’s own so then Monique pushes back with hers and then they’re kissing each other, Monique’s lip balm against Vanessa’s sticky gloss. They’ve still got their hands entwined and even though they’ve been so distant for the past few years she still ends up feeling so close to her because Monique knows Vanessa, but even though she’s got Vanessa’s soft lips on hers and her fingers curled around her own the magic starts to dissolve away and Monique remembers where they both are, who they both are, and how serious and completely not simple any of this is at all.

She pulls away, frantic and panicked, ripping her hand out of Vanessa’s like she’s touching fire. Her heart is going too fast again but it’s not a nice feeling like before; she knows she’s been away from class for too long, knows she needs to get back. She doesn’t want to look at Vanessa as she leaves, doesn’t want to be reminded of the last five minutes, doesn’t want to be reminded of what she is, of who she is. Vanessa takes her by the elbow gently, tries to turn her around.

“M’nique, hey-”

Everything collides together in Monique’s already crowded mind and the result is a crash of Big Bang-style proportions, one that makes her shove Vanessa away with both hands on her shoulders. Monique regrets it instantly, knows she’ll have to deal with the shock and hurt and betrayal on Vanessa’s face etched into her mind for as long as she’ll be able to remember it.

“Go away, Vanessa!” she cries, squeezing her eyes shut and curling her hand around the doorhandle. “Just stay the hell away from me!”

“Hey, you were the one that kissed me!” Vanessa bites back, her fists clenched by her sides in anger. If Monique looks at Vanessa long enough she can see tears beginning to form in her eyes but she’s trying her hardest to look at the floor, to not keep eye contact for long.

“No. I’m not like you, I’m not a fuckin’ weirdo, I don’t kiss girls, I’m not a dy…” Monique starts off insistent and strong but she has to hear herself tail off as she falters, the word she was about to say feeling barbed and sharp in her mouth, not right, a razor blade held on her tongue that she wants to spit out but now has to swallow.

Vanessa’s face has twisted in hurt and it’s impossible to ignore the tears trailing down her face. “You’re not a what, bitch? A dyke? Fucking say it, it don’t hurt me any more. Can’t hurt me any more than what you just did.”

Monique stands frozen and silent. She’s not sure what to say or do. Vanessa walks towards her and Monique flinches back against the wall as Vanessa reaches for the door. She gives Monique one last withering look up and down, the hurt in her eyes betraying the anger in her body.

“I really hoped that one day…you know what, forget it.”

Monique tries to forget it. But, almost as if it’s trying to make up for the fact she lost all of Year 10, her mind replays and replays the whole situation every day, until it’s the last day before the holidays and she knows she won’t have to see Vanessa around school for another six weeks, won’t have to face up to what she’s put in a double-locked safe in the back of her mind with a combination she’s so dangerously close to remembering.

***

Vanessa can’t quite believe she’s halfway through her final year at school.

In fact it’s a miracle she’s still even going to school. She’s got three GCSEs to her name (five No Awards, one D, a C in English which she has no idea how she managed and a C* in Maths, her proudest achievement to date). She’s been working away at an A-Level in Health and Social Care over both of her two years at Sixth Form now, and re-sitting the GCSEs she’s failed. Vanessa has no interest in either health nor social care, but it’s allegedly the easiest A-Level there is so she’s signed up for it regardless. What she’s really going to do after school ends is go to college, get her HNC and HND in beauty therapy with Silky while Akeria studies business management and then they’re going to open a beauty salon together, ’Dreamgirls Beauty’. It’s a plan they’ve had since Year 11, and it’s amused Vanessa to see Akeria and Silky begrudgingly calm down, to stop wreaking havoc around school and actually have to study and work hard so the three of them can achieve their dreams.

She’s actually enjoying her last year of school too. She knows part of the reason she’s stopped getting so much hassle from the others in her year group is because of her transformation after Summer. Her Mama finally saved up enough for flights back to Puerto Rico so they’d spent the Summer there with her family and Vanessa returned full of happiness, love, and fried plantains. All the home cooking and enormous meals have filled her out a bit and she doesn’t know exactly when she’d developed curves but she’s not exactly complaining about them. The sunshine has done wonders for her hair and skin too, the latter becoming clearer and darker and the former becoming longer and shinier. Adding to all this that she got her braces off and learned how to properly do makeup by averaging one NikkieTutorials video a day and she’s suddenly not just some small, spotty girl who fades into the background anymore. She’s confident, she loves herself, she’s genuinely happy.

And that’s more than can be said for Monique.

Vanessa doesn’t care. She doesn’t give a rat’s ass about Monique Heart, doesn’t give the girl a second thought. Certainly doesn’t think about the kiss they shared last year in the bathrooms which was so very obviously such a huge mistake. Doesn’t think about her long locks of hair she got dyed bright fiery orange over the Summer which compliments her eyes so well, doesn’t think about her huge bright smile and screech of a laugh that gets flashed at her friends whenever they say something hilarious. Doesn’t think about her lips even though she knows what they feel like, doesn’t think about how perfect it felt to kiss her after hiding a crush for so many years.

All of this is a lie of course.

Monique seems happy, any outsider would say that, but Vanessa knows different. If Vanessa looks at her long enough she can see the way her shoulders slump when she doesn’t have her friends around her and she’s left alone with her thoughts. She can see the small frown that appears on her face, lost in her own head and drowning in overthinking. She can see the way her smile falters after she laughs before it drops off her face completely. Sometimes Monique meets her gaze and gives Vanessa a look that communicates words in a language she cannot understand.

Still, Monique is hiding a secret that Vanessa already knows even without being told.

Vanessa had always naively and childishly imagined that she and Monique might get together one day. She’d almost confessed that to Monique that day when they’d kissed, before she decided to hang onto the last shred of her dignity. She’d loved Brooke so deeply but she knew that heartbreaks were a rite of passage, a part of life that some people had to bear the burden of. She’d always thought that if she and Brooke weren’t meant to be then her and Monique surely were (and how ridiculous a thought is that, given the fact they barely speak?).

But Vanessa likes to think she still knows Monique. Her biggest fear is needles, her favourite food is anything cooked on a barbecue. She’s always loved girlbands and near the end of their friendship Monique had told Vanessa her Gran had got her into trouble because she’d made twenty-five phone calls in one night to vote for Little Mix in the X Factor final, so Vanessa can safely assume she still listens to them and probably Fifth Harmony as well. She knows that Monique is caring and kind, even despite that day in the girls’ bathrooms. Still, though…Vanessa doesn’t know. A person can change and grow so much over a few short years, and Monique’s been through a lot.

It’s dark and cold outside but Vanessa is warm in bed as she scrolls her phone, absent-mindedly returns to her messages with Monique like she’s done many times since the day she kissed her- Vanessa always reminds herself that no matter what Monique had said, it was her that kissed Vanessa, not the other way round. She re-reads her words over and over like the prayers she chants at Mass on Sundays:

M: Vanessa I’m so sorry

M: I didn’t mean to hurt you I’m just going through so much right now

M: I’m trying to figure myself out but it’s so hard

M: I really miss you

She hadn’t replied to any of them, a fact she deeply deeply regrets because perhaps if she had then they could’ve been something, she could’ve helped Monique with whatever feelings she’d been dealing with, is maybe still dealing with. But it’s been months and months and months now, and Vanessa feels the moment has passed.

That is, until she gets a message on CuriousCat.

Opinions on Monique Heart

When she sees it, Vanessa’s breathing catches in her throat. She feels as if Monique’s eyes are on her and watching her, because really, who else would’ve sent that ask in? Okay, it could’ve been one of her friends trying to stir shit up, but Vanessa knows how it works on CuriousCat and usually the anons are quite easy to work out (which is why she’s still so amazed that Monique never seemed to know it was her that had asked her if she liked girls). Her fingers hover over the screen as she tries to figure out what to type. Unlike the other girls in her year, Vanessa doesn’t bullshit over CuriousCat- if she’s asked an opinion on somebody she calls a spade a spade, and she’ll never forget the hassle she got when somebody asked her her opinion on Tomi and Vanessa had outright labelled her a racist cunt. She wants to say that she’s gorgeous and beautiful, and that she misses being her friend, and that she’s been crushing on her for a while but never had the courage to speak to her because they both move in different circles now and nothing could ever happen.

But obviously, she doesn’t.

Instead she thinks up a white lie, tries to tell the truth without telling the truth, and instead replies:

dont want to say something ill regret

She yells goodnight to her Mama and switches off the lamp beside her bed, turns over and pulls the covers up to her chin. Just as she’s drifting off, a repetitive sound drifts into her consciousness. It sounds like hailstones that are falling from the sky just one at a time. She can hear somebody shouting in the street- probably just somebody drunk stumbling through the estate, it happens a lot- until she makes out who the voice belongs to. Opening her eyes, she sees tiny pebble after tiny pebble hitting her window, and all at once she’s shooting out of bed to look out of it.

The yellow glow of the streetlamp is a spotlight and Monique is taking centre stage on the pavement outside Vanessa’s house. She’s dressed in a huge black hoodie which is paired with blue tartan pyjama bottoms and she’s wearing her black Nike trainers, the same ones she wears to school with the scuffs and the holes and the laces that look like a dog has chewed on them. She’s hurling pebbles and her face is twisted into an upset and mournful frown. Vanessa doesn’t realise she’s crying until she hears her yell again, hears the crack in her voice and her words thick with emotion.

“Open the fuckin’ window, Vanessa!”  

Vanessa does as she’s told, feels her own face scrunch up into a frown. She hisses down to Monique. “Stop fuckin’ yelling, my Mama’s asleep!”

Monique looks up at her, face illuminated in the artificial light. Vanessa sees the tears streaming down her face and her heart feels as if it’s breaking. She grabs her dressing gown and shoves her feet into her slippers, tiptoes as quickly as she can down the stairs and out into the street. She shoves one of her school shoes that’s beside the door into the doorframe so it won’t slam closed behind her, and then she feels the cold night air envelop her as she steps outside. There’s already frost forming on the ground, a tiny layer of wet cold over everything. It’s so dark that the only thing she can properly see is Monique as she walks up to her iron fence, absent-mindedly sticks her feet through the bars and curls her fingers around the rust.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?”

Monique’s face is angry as she addresses her. “What’s the something you’ll regret? Huh? What’s so bad that you can’t fuckin’ say it? You’ve always got something to say, you’re always calling people out. So what the fuck is it?”

Vanessa’s back is instantly put up. “An’ what if I don’t tell you, you gonna throw names at me again? You gonna kiss me then pretend like I kissed you? Nah you won’t, because that would mean havin’ to address your problems an’ act your fuckin’ age for a change instead of caring so much about what other people think of you that you won’t let yourself be who you are!”

Monique is staring at her wide-eyed and Vanessa thinks it would’ve been easier if she’d just slapped her across the face. She is thinking rapidly about what she could say to save the situation and her heart drops like a rollercoaster when Monique gives a sob.

“I’m so fuckin’ scared, ‘Ness,” she says through a shudder of a breath, and Vanessa wants to reach out to her but she’s frozen onto the fence, an ice sculpture in the freezing air. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and…you’re so happy, and you’re different, and I just…I don’t want to be talked about, I don’t want any of the whispers or the mean words or anybody judging me but I’m so fucking…sad and empty and the last time I remember feeling really, properly alive again was when I kissed you that day and…fuck-”

Monique dissolves into sobs which she muffles with hands wrapped in hoodie sleeves. Vanessa has been through all of this already. She has been through the denial, the Catholic guilt, the repression, letting the thoughts drip, drip, drip into her consciousness then locking them away and ignoring them but the thing about a drip is that there’s always the threat of the dam breaking and when it does, a tsunami of repressed feelings creates a flood and the tears are streaming uncontrollably from Monique’s eyes. Vanessa thaws, reaches forward to take one of Monique’s hands away from her face, and when their eyes meet she can see a speck of hope in Monique’s gaze like Vanessa has a life belt and a raft.  

“M’nique,” she says softly, and the girl’s sobs quieten. “Sometimes you just need to ignore the thoughts that make up the what-ifs. You need to stop imagining fiction and just focus on the facts. At some point…you need to allow yourself to be happy.”

Monique snuffles. “But what if I try that and I’m still not?”

“What if you try and you are? Monique,” Vanessa sighs in exasperation, trying to word it better but being unable to find anything more.

And then the thought strikes her.

Actions speak louder than words so she leans over the gate and pulls Monique close. This time there’s no lipgloss, no chapstick and no overthinking; there’s her lips on Monique’s, and she’s been here before so she kisses her just like she kissed back last time but now she’s less hesitant and nervous. She’s sure. She’s never been more sure of anything in her life. Monique is kissing her back and their hands are entwined just as they’d been the first time. Everything is the same, and yet at once all so different.

When she pulls away (because the fence is digging into her stomach and it’s making her a little too breathless), Monique doesn’t let go of her hand. There’s a hint of a smile on her face, one that makes Vanessa feel as if they’re both going to be okay.

“I never thought we’d get here,” Vanessa laughs a little. She’s emotional, and if she doesn’t check herself then she’s going to start crying but the tears are out before she knows it along with her words. “I know that we ain’t properly spoken in years. But I also know that I love you. I care about you so fuckin’ much, M’nique, I never stopped carin’.”

The pair of them are crying now, and Monique pulls Vanessa in to kiss her again. Vanessa feels her murmur it back against her lips- I love you, I love you so much. I missed you.

It’s still dark, and the streetlamp is still the only light outside Vanessa’s house, but everything seems a little brighter.

“It ain’t safe to walk back to your ends now. C’mon.”

Vanessa takes her friend’s hand, leads her back inside where it’s warm and safe. Her bed is tiny and there’s only really room for one person but they make it work, Monique pressed against the wall and curled up with her arms around Vanessa, Vanessa with her head resting against Monique’s chest and her arm slung protectively over her. She feels Monique give her a little squeeze, press a kiss to the top of her head.

Monique gives the relieved and heavy sigh of someone who’s been rescued from deep water. She wriggles a little in bed to get comfortable and, seemingly satisfied, she whispers into the dark. “G’night, Vanessa.”

Monique’s arms feel comforting around her, and she chooses to settle in them. “Night, M’nique.”

#rpdr fanfiction #2003 #ortega #vanique #vanessa vanjie mateo #monique heart #best friends to girlfriends #s10 #lesbian au #high school au #fic challenge #black girl magic fic #diversity fic #tw homophobia #tw d slur #tw bereavement

[cultgambles]

Nature’s Alfredo Sauce

I saw @wtffanfiction ‘s post on weird words to describe genitals...

and my friend dared me to write something with 100 of the words haha. there’s 108 in here i think.

i dont even know.

Word Count: 1317

It was 10:30 at night, the angel lay in her bed without a care in the world. Well, she did have one care: the human that she called with such sweet words earlier that day had not shown up at the time they agreed upon. They were supposed to be boinking about now. A little bit of horizontal monster mash, one could say. 30 minutes past ten, she was quite bored. There was nothing interesting on TV to sate her being, and nothing worth listening to or reading. She couldn’t even muster up any dirty thoughts to swipe at her tainted jewel.

Ugh.

Until...a knock at her door.

Begrudgingly, she got up, using her wings to carry her the short distance to the door. Lazy. Peeking through the peephole, she saw her human standing there, a bouquet of yellow and red roses gripped tightly in his hands. She opened the door slowly, and he gave a sheepish smile.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, “the dinner party ran super late.”

“It’s fine. As long as you do what you intended to do before.”

“I do!” he beamed, suddenly his pocket rocket becoming throbbing manliness tenting in the cotton prison of his pants. “I brought it just for you, my lance of love, for my love!”

“Ohhhh!” She crooned, her velvet underground becoming moist as he advanced toward her. Her pleasure pearl throbbed with need, as their mouths were on each other in an instant, tongues battling for dominance. He kicked the door behind him, scooping his angel into his arms and carrying her towards the bedroom. Her legs gripped his hips, and she could feel his coke bottle cock poking her hershey highway. He THREW her on the bed, shoving his shirt off, marveling at the way her eyes drank up his well defined chest. She crawled towards him on all fours, pressing her slender fingers around his MIGHTY MAN NOODLE, feeling its rigidness stiffen even more, massaging the orbs. “Do you like when I touch your organ? Your fuck stem, organic crotch gun, diego the explorer--”

“I know you’re trying to hit 100 words but that’s a little overkill,” the man frowned. “You can just say sperminator and go.”

“It’s hard, just like your engorged staff. It’s gotten so big and thicc I don’t know if it will fit in my haynannernanners at all…” She opened her mouth, licking the veins along the underside of his doggy lipstick. 

“Oh that feels so good on my pulsing manmeat. This bulging soldier boy is gonna wreck your triangular area so gud beby.”

“I can’t wait,” she moaned, the DNA rifle still in her mouth, sending pleasures of vibration to the man’s brain. She swirled the tip of the holy wand, and the man groaned, digging his fingers in her long long hair. After a few more languid licks and sucks, his horrible wet mushroom was SQUIZRTING SOME BABY BATTER RIGHT INTO HER MOUTH.

“Urg,” he moaned. 

“Aaaa,” she moaned back, milking the last few drops from his peenie weenie. His fuckfluid was very salty, like he had a bad diet. As soon as she popped off of him, iT (God’s pinky finger) WAS ROCK HARD AGAIN. She couldnt wait to get that cherry assassin deep in her damp canal of lust. 

“Lay back,” the man said gruffly, kneeling to his knees. His tongue found purchase on her love nubbin, his fish pole fingers making their way to her weeping folds.

“Ur so wet for me beby...just for me and my giant sausage,” he groaned into her love pocket. 

“Yes! Only for u, my man with the love tool! I never met anyone with a better male organism than u.”

“Really? You mean that? No one’s got a better you-know-what than me?”

“I mean it b. Hurry up now, my letter o be gettin dry over here,” the angel rolled her eyes. 

“Oh yeah,” he said, returning to the attack on her valve. Suddenly, he detached from her clam cavern, his man-carrot spewing thick, hot princely milk all over the bed. “Your slit of ecstasy tastes so good.”

Damn, she thought to herself, I wasn’t even close. If his mauve avenger didn’t do the job, she would play with her kitty later after he fell asleep.

He snaked up to her, pressing hot fingers to her love pillows, pinching the rosebuds. “Was that good?”

“Yes,” she lied.

“Now it’s time for my pink stiff flobberworm. In your jewelry box.” (His crimson bird was hard for like the 3rd time). 

“Yeah, I think my vagoo would love that.”

The man sat up, pulling the angel above his lap, over the one-eyed snake so her mayonnaise drain was directly in place to slide in easily. She sank down on the mayonnaise cannon, filling her up deliciously. 

“Oh, babe, your communism stick is in my chamber of secrets so deep and good.” The angel readjusted herself, bracing her hands against his shoulders as she started to move her hips up and down his beef bazooka. His burrito, in fact, was so big she couldn’t even fit all of him in her moist core. COo.

She gave a sudden moan as the hungry dragon hit that sweet sweet geronimo spot deep inside her. 

“Oh, ur tube flute game is so much better than your mouth frickle frackle. Yesssss daddy just like that,” she whined at the end. “SO good in my pleasure casino.”

“Baby, u feel so good on my kryptonian meat.” he gripped her anal fortress with such vigor, it was sure to leave small crecrents. He took a mythical berry in his mouth, teeth grazing the sensitive spot of her fun bags as his hips rose up to meet hers. He POUNDED into her at inhuman speeds, the angel groaning with every pump of his muatra. 

He liked watching his dark spire go in and out from her forbidden fruit, the way his crown jewels slapped her poop cavern harshly every time.

“Do you like your formerly caged viper meeting my downstairs mouth?!” she purred.

“Yeah looks great. Feels great. Must be mine.” (why did i think of p!atd emperor's new clothes??)

Soon, but not soon enough, the angel felt a tight knot in her belly. 

The tell tale signs of an orgasm (surprised they didn't have another word for it). It hit her like a tonne of bricks as she threw her head back in ecstasy, her chest balls bouncing from the force. Each in a different direction, just like anime girl tiddies. She was wrecked.

The man felt her penis trap tighten as her walls squeezed his hairy wolf dingaling. A few more thrusts of his hips had his hardened arousal squirt his liquid love deep in her man muncher, quickly turning it into a cave with honey.

They both moaned wantonly, so loudly that the neighbors were probably also getting off from their wonderful time of bumbin uglies.

He pulled out of her cum dumpster, his love muscle flopping against his belly, still leaking spaff a bit. 

The angel flopped over next to him, feeling warm pale liquid seep out of her egg chamber onto the bed.

“Your midnight meat train never ceases to amaze me. Like why is it so big and so good?”

“Good genes I guess,” he laughed, “but your woman-tomato is givin me a run for my money.”

“That was fun, you can come use your mighty sword of eros in my cock garage again.”

“Can I use my sugar quill in your fart factory next time?” He asked, batting his eyelashes. 

“Sure, why not. Only if I get to peg your man pussy too. So it’s even.”

She laughed, pressing rumblr spheres (and subsequently naked body) on his person, hugging him close. Of course, his thingy became restless manmeat ready for action in 5 seconds flat.

“Another round of belly magic?”

#smut #writing #parody #funny #writer #lemon

[mimymomo]

Hadestown late night stream of consciousness thoughts with Mo:

Do you think Hades turns into a walking, talking “when will my husband return from the war?” meme as soon as Persephone goes up top?

Orpheus looks like the type of person who would bake banana bread (and only banana bread) and pose with it then proceeded to parade it around

Do the Fates enjoy being butt munchers who spit in your cereal or are they mostly apathetic to everything by this point? On the scale of “shitty prank YouTuber” to “tired and cranky adult who your can’t tell is a millennial or boomer” where do you think each fate falls?

Which person would call fish in vertical form fish sticks or fish fingers? Would they fight over the supposedly correct name?

Would Seph have an obsession with eati green goods or despise them? Because I could totally see her squeezing this shit on stuff and Hermes and Hades being absolutely disgusted and appalled

#hadestown #im tired #this is What my brain does

[rawmeknockout]

Where’s my payment ass muncher

Yandere merman sunder but i have no idea how to write him and this is powered by raw thirst only.

It wasn’t too late to turn around. Slowly paddle back to the shore. Away from the ice cold water, to the safety of the land. Place where he (it) couldn’t reach. But no matter how much you tried to turn away, you continue to row your tiny boat closer to him (it!). Closer and closer to those eerie pair of bright blue eyes.

What were you doing? What did you do for it to become like this? You hated the sea and yet here you are in the middle of the night. Following those shining blood red scales.

You remember the time when you love the sea as a child. Helping your grandfather catching fishes with his net. And you remember playing by the beach when you saw it. The beautiful red tail beneath the blazing sun. A fish bigger than anything you’ve ever seen stuck on a net, slowly dying of dehydration.

You should have left it to die. Should have mind your own business and leave. But you were a naive child, so you grabbed a sharp rock nearby and cut the rope digging into it’s drying skin. You pushed it back to the sea with your tiny arms. It was hard but you managed to get it to the water and it found the strength to crawl deeper to the sea. It poked it’s head and you notice it doesn’t have a pair of eyes. Only empty sockets but it seemed to know you were there and continue to deeply look at you.

You were supposed to be creeped out by it but you think nothing of it and just waved at it before running back to your grandfather to tell him about what happened. You thought it didn’t stopped looking at your retreating form.

When you describe it to your grandfather. He was distressed. He called your parents and desperately ask them to cut your summer vacation with him short. He ask them to never bring you back here again.

You didn’t know why he did that. But your parents agreed with him and they never take you near the sea again. They told you stories of the horrible, creepy creatures of the deep. And you soon found yourself afraid of the sea and hate it.

Now you’re an adult. You grandfather have died and you were supposed to take his belongings. His cabin had windows facing the sea. It was supposed to be beautiful but you feel like someone is watching you and you decided to close the blinds and continue to mind your own business.

It’s late. You were done packing. You walk back to your car. Glancing at the sea one last time. And you saw a pair bright blue eyes looking at you from afar.

You didn’t know why you stopped moving. You didn’t understand why you grabbed a paddle and walk to a small boat. You wanted to turn back. But you find yourself captivated by it and row the boat into the cold darkness.

The salty smell of the seawater made you sick. But you were getting closer. You can hear it purr in content. It swim closer to you and finally you were right in front of it. The slippery feeling of its claws grabbing your hands made you want to throw up. But it continue to stare at you unblinking. And you couldn’t look away. It smiled at you. Rows of sharp fangs glinting from the moonlight. There’s no turning back.

It dragged you to the water. Slowly and gently as if not to scare you away. But you’re already afraid. You can’t swim. Your heartbeat quickened. You can’t breathe. It won’t let you go. You didn’t struggle anyway.

You’re underwater now. You think you’re going to die and this nightmare would end soon. But it crashed it lips on to yours. It felt wrongwrongwrong.

It lapped at your lips with it’s tongue, asking you to open them. But you stubbornly remain closed. It growls and gripped you hand painfully hard. You gasp and it took the opportunity to dive into your mouth. You felt your lungs filled with oxygen again. It held you close as it swims deeper and deeper into the ocean until you can’t see the light again. Giving you air with it’s mouth once in a while. Now that it finally has you, it won’t let you go.

Vinny continues to ruin a character because she’s a thirsty thot

#Sunder #Yandere #submission #this is beautiful thank u for the backstory and the merman and now i can wnjoy my feast #DELICIOUS FUCKING FOOD #asks