Cat Got Your Tongue?

“Cat Got Your Tongue?”

“Vanilla”

Vanilla… the scent strong as ever filling the room, even if it truly only lingered on the pillows and sheets. The sun peaked in through the curtains waiting for the Swamy toned woman to arise from her slumber. Her lips frozen in a soft pout as her tendrils and locks fell into a beautiful mess on the satin pillow case. Her auburn eyes fluttered open peaking out through her long eyelashes, confusion painting her face. This wasn’t her room, hell this wasn’t even her hotel.. vanilla mixed with cocoa butter. The mixture filled her nose hugging her like blanket fresh out of the dryer. She turned her head finding a neatly folded piece of paper laying on top of a yellow rose on the opposite pillow. Her manicured hands retrieved it opening it up reading what it contained. A blush barely visible painted her cheeks as she tugged a plump lip between her teeth.

“I’ll be seeing ya in tha lobby won’t I? You tasted better than honey suga and I’m dying for another taste beautiful, meet me in the cafe across the street”

She smiled to herself shaking her head before rising to put on her clothes. A soft laugh escaping her lips as she did so, “Rosalie Otterbourne, what am I gonna do with you?”

Imma definitely need more bc Mo Washington has my ass going feralllll, I need her so bad

Middle of Nowhere

Mo Washington X Black!FreedWoman!Reader

A/N: I know I have other things to write chile, but Surrounded was so good, I had to show Mo some love. I hope y'all enjoy. Let me know how yall feel about it! Thanks for reading - Ro <3 Here we goooooo

P.S: Mo’s character is religious which is why I decided to use that in the story! Just forewarning youuuuuuuuhopeyouenjoywhetheryourereligiousornotuuuuuuuuu!

Oh, there she stood…pride being the only thing she can count on at this very moment. Covered in blood and sweat, defeat doing a dance across her brow. Dust covering her slacks and a mud stained face. Her chest rose and fell with caution, aggressively taunting her knees to give in but she wouldn’t let them budge. “Can I help ya, sir?” you call out, keeping your distance. You had absolutely no idea what she was capable of. Her eyes slowly come out of hiding from beneath her hat, and your breath catches itself into the air and holds. “A woman?” You whisper to yourself. You weren’t simple minded, knowing that a woman that has disguised herself in such a way had a good reason. “What’s ya name, baby?” Your words made her feel an ease that she has yet to feel, well…ever. Her silence was cold, the heat of the sun outside battling with her glare at you but you kindly smile in hopes of earning a response. 

“I have some shelter for you. You wanna come with me?” You almost whisper the question, slowly easing toward her. “Please, I won’t hurt ya.” You jump back slightly, her flinching being the reason. This poor chile was terrified, but you were determined to help her. 

“...I can walk on my own.” She rasps out, stumbling a bit toward you. You step back with caution, but your face never showed any signs of fear or intimidation. “Alright, come on now.” You guide her to your small home out in the middle of nowhere, she carried nothing but a gun on her hip and a furrowed brow that seemed as though it was permanently etched into her face. Those eyes said something different though. 

“Here we are, this my home.” You tell her proudly. She whispers a soft “thank you” sitting down in the wooden chair next to your dining table. “What’s a woman like you, doin’ out here all by herself.” She asked, a smirk daring to appear. “I could ask you the same thing.” You chuckle and she lifts an eyebrow at you. “Was I supposed to pretend not to know, miss?” She huffs through her nose, mimicking a subtle snarl at your question. You kneel down next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “May I?” Your polite smile brought a comfort into her that she couldn’t quite comprehend. God must want me to be here, so here I’ll be. She thinks, her eyes never leaving yours. She read many things about angels in the bible, but Lord forgive her if she was a bit skeptical of seeing one face to face. God always had a way of making a believer out of her. 

She nods, and you pull her jacket from her small frame revealing a blood spattered vest. Your breath hitches at the sight and you refrain from asking if it was hers. “What’s ya name?” You ask her, that furrowed brow still present on her face. “Mo… Mo Washington.” She says, you smile at her in gratitude for her sliver of trust that developed out of thin air. “Mo…Washington.” You repeat slowly. Somehow, Mo’s brow relaxed at the sound of your voice saying her name. “Well Mo Washington, let's get you out of these filthy clothes.” You say, reaching for her vest buttons. She quickly grabs you by the hand, the cold glare returning with a hint of fear in her eyes. She releases your hand, removing the vest herself along with the shirt underneath it. The shirt rests on her shoulders, hesitating to remove it, Mo stares back at you. 

“I-I’ll get ya some towels, I see the wound on ya shoulder.” You mumble, scrambling to your feet. You grab your towels and head back to where Mo sat, slouched over, holding her hands together in silent prayer. You wait patiently and quietly for her to finish her talk with God. You began to talk with him on your own. Lord, why you send this woman to me? Out of all the places you could’ve put her, you placed her in front of me. Your eyes never closed, you watched her as you both held two separate conversations with the only deity believed to set the both of you free. “You know it ain’ nice to stare while I’m praying, Miss…” She lifts her head, shifting her gaze from the floor to you. “Y/N…just Y/N.” you say, finally walking over to her and handing her the towels. It felt good to see another free woman such as yourself. It didn’t feel as good to see said freed woman so battered and worn. You find yourself taking in her features and she lets you while she tends to her wounds. “C-can I get you something to eat, Miss Washington?” You ask, she nods and you shuffle nervously over to retrieve some food for her. You sit it in front of her, taking a seat across from her. “You can sleep in the bed with me. You won’t mind will ya?” Your soft tone raises the heat in Mo’s cheeks. “It’s better than the col’ ground.” She chuckles shyly, taking a bite of her food. 

“How you get this place? You kill somebody, run away?” She asks, you stare back at her in silence. “I built it. My own bare hands. It ain’t much, but it’s mine. Bought the wood with what I had from sharecropping and built this way out here.” You explained, it took you what felt like centuries to build this home, in the middle of nowhere where no one could disturb nor take away your freedom. Now in walks Mo, right into your territory, wandering angrily with a vendetta against herself. What you didn’t know is that your voice made her forgive herself instantly, because everything she had done to survive led her to this very moment with you. An ease in her body and mind personified, taking the shape of you. “Miss Washington, whatchu doin’ out here?  There’s no town for miles, how you end up here?” Your question made Mo shift her posture. 

“Had to defend myself, white boys thought they could pull a fast one on me. Took off as fast as I could in any direction, hopin’ the good Lord would let me get from there to anywhere safe.” Her answer has you in awe, your eyes go to the gun that rested on the table and back to her. “And that he did…” Mo sighs in relief and it compels you to stand, walking toward her, you kneel in front of her, helping her re-button her shirt. She allows you into her space and you take a mental note of her newly found gentleness. You peer up at her and lean closer to her face. She meets you halfway, your lips joining together and closing the gap between you two. When the two of you disconnect, your gazes at each other falters a bit. Your sweet smile makes an appearance yet again, and she grins back at you. 

“Come on, Miss Washington. You look like you could use some rest.” you whisper. You guide her to your bed and let her get comfortable as you stand , watching her get accustomed to her new space. “I’ll be out front, watchin’ the stars. You need anything, I’m a holler away.” You say, heading out the door. “Thank you, Miss Y/N.” Mo says silently. You nod back at her and head out the door. The stars accompany you for hours as you think about the kiss that you and Mo shared. Mo fell asleep thinking about the same thing. She slept more peacefully than she ever had that night, the thought of your soft lips soothing her like a lullaby. 

SHE LOOKED SO GOOD 🤭🤭

Letitia Wright as Rosalie Otterbourne

Death on the Nile (2022) dir. Kenneth Branagh

I would just like to take the time to explain to y'all that my love for Rosalie Otterbourne is unmatched because that woman God she's amazing in every way possible. I am weak for that woman like her look I just know she'd stare me down good gracious and come on the confidence and independence she has is unmatched.

you DON’T need to know where your favorite celebrity/artist/athlete lives, who they’re dating, where they go grocery shopping, what they are doing at any given moment when they are off camera actually. just an fyi