#look at em handsome fellas

[auroramoon-draws16]

More doodles! With the ancestors this time!!

[ornithological]

a great cormorant (phalacrocorax carbo) in breeding plumage, ireland

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

He’s mine || Billy the kid x oc!reader

Summary: Mrs Riley’s affection for Billy does not go unnoticed by you, or anyone for that matter. There was hardly competition because unlike her, you weren’t married and sworn to another man, but Mrs. Riley just needed a little push over the edge and she would be done for. What you didn't expect however, was that you would be there at the scene of her downfall.

Warnings: slightly dark oc! mention of blood, shooting, oc sorta manipulates Billy, possessiveness, guilt trapping, violence, mention of dead body

Wc: 4,712 this is a loooong one, longest one ive ever written lol.

A/n: Sofía does not back down when it comes to getting what she wants is all I gotta say 😃 also it's sorta long because I'm basically retelling some of the scenes from the btk episode but with sofia in it so..

Divider by @pommecita

In Mr. Murphy's sprawling house, the air buzzed with animated conversations, and the linger familiar scent of alcohol and smoke added to the vibrant atmosphere. You and Billy navigated the lively gathering, your hand on Billy's arm.

"There he is," A voice murmurs softy, pulling your attention away from Billy. "Billy! Come here." John Riley, Murphy's right hand man, beckoned him over for a chat. You could sense the hesitation within Billy but Mr. Riley persists. "I would like to introduce you to my wife," He rests his hand on the woman's waist. She looked no more than 3 years older than you, her hair elegantly arranged in a bun as she showcases her pearly white smile.

"Honey, this is the fella I was telling you about, this is Billy the Kid," Because of how tall Billy was compared to majority of the people here, Both Mr. and Mrs. Riley had to gaze up at him. "Billy belongs to The House now. This is Irene," John gestures to his wife.

Watching the entire ordeal by his side, you saw a glint of desire in Irene's eyes. "Howdy," Billy tips his hat nonchalantly, sporting a bored expression as Irene extends her hand out for a shake. Your gaze drifts around the room, noticing eyes already fixed on you as your hands delicately squeeze Billy's arm.

"So, you're a cowboy, are you?" She grins broadly, the smile stretching from ear to ear, her hand lingering on Billy's just a beat longer than deemed necessary for a married woman with high status like her. "Oh, he's an outlaw, baby," Mr. Riley corrects his wife with a sly smile. Leaning in, he murmurs into her ear, "This man's wanted for murder."

Irene subtly inches closer to Billy, her voice gentle and soft, "Well, it sure is nice to meet such a handsome outlaw." Her eyes carefully trace his features as Billy, feeing a tad bit awkward, manages a brief, but tentative smile, then glances towards Mr. Riley. "Billy," He bids him goodbye, tension already simmering, and he draws Irene along with him, her gaze remaining fixed on him.

"I don't like her," You assert boldly as Billy smiles, he loved it when you were up front with him. He turns to face you, his hand gently on your waist while the other finds its place at the base of your neck. "Me neither, sweetheart. She looks like trouble, and I don't want that," He reassures you, affirming his unwavering loyalty.

"Hey Billy," James Dolan interrupts his conversation with Jesse. "Uh, we've, uh, set up a little fun thing for you to do," he says, fixing an intense gaze on Billy. You set your glass down, and Jesse glances at you. "See, everyone here, they want to see what you can do with a gun, hmm?"

At the mere mention of guns, Billy's gaze shifts to the floor, and he leans back on the table behind him. "They've all heard the stories." Jesse uncomfortable shifts as you observe Dolan, "Murphy thinks it would be a great idea for you to give 'em all a little- you know- demonstration." He playfully slaps Billy's chest.

"Yeah? No." Billy says flatly, turning to leave before James firmly grips his arm "Okay, okay, Billy." He shakes head, his hands resting on his hips. You narrow your eyes at him, not liking him already. "I see you don't understand how the wicks. We're paying you a whole lot of money, so if we ask you to do something small for us in return," Billy's head drops, "we expect you to do it."

"Now, come this way," He gestures, anticipating Billy's compliance. Instead, Billy stands his ground, "I don't feel like doing that," You glance between Billy and James who kisses his teeth and beckons for a man named Jimmy.

Jesse turns around to face the table, pouring himself a glass of alcohol before extending the offer to you. A subtle shake of your head declines the offer, but Billy eagerly accepts, tossing his head back with a satisfied expression. James whispers into another man's ear, Jimmy you assume as he then continues to tell Billy how he should do this little, to show everyone how good he was.

"You can do that for us, yes?" Jimmy holds Billy's shoulder, his gaze on the floor once again. "And if you agree there, Billy, we got you a little gift, hmm?" James adds as he opens a wooden box revealing a gleaming double action revolver.

You weren't an expert on firearms but the subtle widening of Jesse's eyes before he averts his gaze signifies the weapon's quality "It's brand new. Very expensive. We think you're gonna like it," Jimmy adds as he and James stare at Billy.

Billy's gaze shifts from the gun to the two men standing before him. A momentary hush envelops the room before his eyes meet yours and Jesse's. A sigh escapes him as he sets his glass down.

Billy picks up the gun, inspecting it, before toying with it, eliciting gasps from those around the room. He then tucks it in his gun belt, pouring himself a reasonable amount of whiskey and downing it in one determined gulp. You approach Billy, placing a reassuring hand on his forearm as he wipes the corner of his lips.

"You sure you wanna do this?" You gently ask him, already knowing his reluctance. "What choice do I have, Sof?" He mutters before he's urged to move on.

"Ladies and gentleman, our friend Billy here's gonna demonstrate his gifts as a gunslinger and the reason why we hired him to protect all of our interest. Yeah?" Major Murphy's voice resonates with authority as Billy loads the gun barrel.

You stand alongside Jesse, a tantalizing sip of alcohol hovering at the edge of your lips as you observe the unfolding spectacle. Just a few feet away, Irene grips her satchel, her eyes wide with anticipation. "Come on, Billy!" Murphy exclaims, his applause echoed by the enthusiastic claps of those surrounding you.

Billy wipes his mouth, clearing his throat before fixing his gaze on the targets ahead. The initial shots are a breeze, a mere warm-up for someone of Billy's caliber. In a lightning-fast span of three seconds, all five glass bottles shatter, eliciting an eruption of applause from the captivated crowd.

You smile to yourself, you knew Billy was very skilled, this ordeal demonstrating it even further. He returns to the table where a range of guns were displayed. There's a palpable tension—anger, annoyance, perhaps both—etched across his features.

The stress of the last couple of days working for Murphy, threatening people out of their own homes, has left its mark on him. Night after night, Billy sought solace in you, pouring out his emotions as you offered him nothing but a listening ear and a comforting embrace.

In a swift motion, he removes his tie, choosing another revolver with a sense of purpose. The murmuring crowd hushes as Billy cocks the firearm, once again targeting cans on the ground—now more challenging to spot and precisely aim at, but not for Billy.

With each bullet making contact with the tin, a collective flinch ripples through the crowd, including Mrs. Riley. Unfazed, Billy seamlessly transitions to a rifle. He fires a few shots at a measured pace before seamlessly shifting into a rapid sequence of shooting, cocking, and repeating.

The tension in the crowd palpably escalated as Billy's anger became increasingly evident. The wooden backdrop itself caught fire amid his repeated shots, casting a fearful hush over the onlookers, the only audible sound being the ominous crackling of the flames.

You maintained a composed stance, your gaze unwaveringly fixed on Billy. He, too, remained motionless, likely processing the chaotic scene unfolding. A swift glance at Mrs. Riley revealed her frightened demeanor. Billy wiped his mouth, setting the rifle down, and approached you. Without a word, he took your hand, pulling you along as your eyes briefly connected with Irene, navigating through the subdued crowd.

"You okay, Billy?" You gently ask him knowing he was still fired up from before. He was sat on the bed, arms resting on his thighs with his legs open. You slot yourself in between them as your hands run through his hair, a tender attempt to soothe him.

He tilts his head back, his hands roaming around your back and down your . "You still seem stressed," You frown as he stares at you quietly, though the glint of mischief was still evident in his eyes. "I can fix that," You whisper against his lips before he kisses you aggressively, hungry, starving for more.

~

The saloon buzzed with the clinking of glasses and the shuffling of cards as Mrs. Riley sauntered in. Her eyes, keen with mischief, spotted Billy at the table, surrounded by others as he was deeply engrossed in the poker game, his attention fixed on the cards in his hands.

"Hey there Irene. Come to join in?" Sam says as Mrs. Riley smiles, "If you'll have me, Sam," As she approached, she ignored the way your hand rested on Billy's thigh as your eyes stay focused on the cards in his hands. Mrs. Riley couldn't help but cast a flirtatious glance his way, something that Billy doesn't catch on, but you do, and Charlie, who was seated on your other side.

"Good evening, gentleman," Her high pitched voice greets as you supress a subtle eye roll. True to their gentlemanly nature, they all reciprocated with polite greetings, Billy even taking his hat off as you remained silent. You silently threw daggers her way.

Your dislike towards the woman started from the second you caught her eyeing Billy when she sat beside her husband in the carriage. Even with Billy’s hands on your waist and the close proximity between the two of you that was more than platonic, it didn't seem to deter her away—drew her more in perhaps.

Undeterred, Mrs. Riley leaned in closer to Billy, her words tinged with flirtation. "My! It's Billy the Kid, isn't it?" She purred, a blatant expression of infatuation adorning her face, her smile captivating display aimed directly at him.

Billy's gaze finally shifts toward her for the first time since she stepped into the saloon. "Yes, ma'am," he responds politely, offering no more than a slight smile before his attention returns to the worn wooden table before him. You gently squeeze his thigh, and as his eyes meet yours, a silent understanding passes between you.

"Do not call me that," Irene interjects abruptbly. "It makes me feel old, and I am not old." She states, exhaling through her nose."I didn't mean to suggest you were," Billy quickly backs himself up.

Your gaze shifts to Charlie, and a subtle exchange of glances circulates the table. "I'm really so happy to see you, Billy," she utters, a faint smile playing on her lips, her voice lowering ever so slightly. The weight of her words hangs in the air, and Billy, in response, squirms uncomfortably in his seat.

You extend your hand gracefully above the space between you and Billy, a subtle bridge in the air. "Sofía Del Tobosco," you introduce yourself, your voice carrying the weight of confidence. Yet, she meets your greeting with a blank, unwavering stare, leaving the air between you tinged with an intriguing tension as the others on the table watch on.

"We haven't properly met, I'm Billy's-" "Aren't you Dulcinea's little sister?" With narrowed eyes, you retract your hand, an awkward silence settling over the table, "I'm good friends with her ya know," Mrs. Riley giggles, leaving you to decipher her intentions at the mention of your sister. A simple hum escapes your lips as you inhale sharply, shooting an annoyed look to Charlie, who quietly chuckles.

"Wanna start a new game?" Sam cuts through the silence. Irene gracefully declines the offer, "Oh, no. You go on. I'll watch," she smiles. "Good," you mutter under your breath, a quiet comment that only Billy and Charlie seem to catch.

Mrs. Riley gracefully raises a wine glass, "Here's to you, Billy," she toasts, her gaze unwavering as she lifts it to her lips. Billy's expression remains inscrutable as he watches. The corners of his lips hint at a subtle upward twitch before he speaks, "Well, we should get going."

You gladly agree with Billy as you get ready to leave, "Gentleman-" "Oh, no. Don't go," Irene cuts him off as Billy freezes, "Stay." Despite being on your feet, you cross your arms, fixing her with an irked expression. "Walk me home later?" She nervously proposes, her hands fidgeting in her lap.

Your lips part in astonishment at her words. There was no way she asking that from Billy when clearly, he has a girl by his side. Billy's eyes flicker towards you, a subtly nod indicating his loyalty. Mrs. Riley persisted, "Please, Billy?" Just as you open your mouth to respond, Sam beats you to it.

"I'll walk you home, Irene," Sam says, diffusing the tension in the air. The relief on Billy's face is palpable as you gently touch his bicep and he glances at you. He bids farewell to the table, and you follow suit, exiting the saloon with Billy. His hand extends behind him, finding yours as he pulls you along with a certain urgency, knowing what the rest of the night would entail.

~

Amidst the haze of smoke and the lingering scent of alcohol, Jesse and his gang sprawled across the room, resting a chaotic atmosphere. You were making small talk with the people around like the mannered young woman you were.

Your keen eyes wandered around the room before landing on Mrs. Riley, who was making her way to Billy. You narrow your eyes, “Has she learnt absolutely nothing?” Your words spat out with an unmistakable tone of annoyance. Charlie lets out a subdued chuckle, shaking his head as he swirled the glass of alcohol in his hand, a wry smile playing on his lips as he watches Billy and Irene.

"Hello there, Billy," Irene came up behind him, a huge grin plastered on her face. "Mrs. Riley," he politely greeted her, a trace of urgency in his tone, "I wanted to see you. I really—I want to talk to you. I need to." Her words were slurred. Sensing trouble, Billy discreetly scanned the surroundings, his eyes discreetly seeking you.

"Uh- maybe now is not a good time," He made a move once his gaze fixated on your silhouette. "Oh no, definitely now. I have something to say," Irene interjected, pulling Billy back with a subtle sigh escaping him. "Get me another drink, will ya?" Her request carried an undertone of desperation, a silent plea to retain his focus.

Billy surveyed her, noticing the telltale signs that she had indulged in one too many drinks. "Sure," he bobbed his head before moving to find a servant holding glasses full of alcohol. "Gracias,' Billy thanked the woman with a smile before he redirecting his attention back to Mrs. Riley.

She gracefully retrieved the glass from his hand, her fingers delicately lingering on his before she flashed a captivating grin, taking a sip. "What did you want to say?" Billy, with a subtle furrow of his eyebrows, gently steered her back to the purpose of their conversation.

Mrs. Riley gulped. "I want to tell you about my husband," she began, and Billy couldn't help but notice a subtle shimmer in her eyes, dulled by the influence of whiskey. "What about your husband?" Billy questioned, a hint of confusion coloring his expression, uncertain where the conversation was headed.

"I- I hate him," she confessed, punctuating her words with another gulp of whiskey. At the abrupt confession, Billy's gaze eagerly sought yours once again. "You can't even imagine," She shook her head, her voice trembling. "Maybe this isn't the place to talk about this," Billy pointed out as he nervously looked at the people around who could possibly be listening.

There was silence in the air as Billy's words manage to sink into Irene's head. "No," she utters softly, delicately placing her glass on a nearby table. "Light my cigarette, will ya?" She gazed up at Billy, who sighed but complies, retrieving a packet of matchsticks from his pocket and igniting the end of her cigarette.

From afar, you were silently raging inside as you watch the two interact. You knew Mrs. Riley's affection was more than friendly, oh it was more than that. "I feel like I'm going to be sick," You mutter with an eye roll, fishing out a cigarette from your purse.

You move the end of the joint to a nearby candle letting it ignite as you take a few deep drags, eyes glued on Billy and Irene. "Thank you," Irene said lowly, her eyes looking off to the side before she directs her gaze back at Billy. "You know, you're very good-looking, Billy,"

Billy wets his lips, casting his gaze downward, an air of discomfort lingering in the unusual tension between them. "Can we go somewhere? I like you," she murmured, drawing nearer with a drop in her voice.

Billy knew what she was trying to do and he wanted nothing of it. He locks eyes with you for a fleeting moment, your silhouette veiled in smoke, a clear sign of your annoyance. "I don't think that's a good idea," He firmly says as Irene's hopeful expression drops. "Please. Please, Billy," She pleaded. There was something uneasy about how she was begging him.

"I told you I hate him. I have to get away." Mrs. Riley persisted as Billy's eyes search hers. He ignored the unsettling feeling in his stomach, "No. I'm sorry, Mrs. Riley." She pursed her lips before she lightly shook her head, her eyes closing for a brief moment, an acknowledgement of his rejection.

"Never mind," She giggled softly to herself, "It's not your fault," Irene gave Billy a smile before it drops slowly as if something inside of her was sinking. The two of them stood there for a couple of seconds before Billy felt her lips on his.

"What is she doing-" You stub your cigarette on the table, ready to storm off in Billy and Irene's direction before Charlie subtly interjects, his arm forming a barrier in front of you. Your eyes were wide in shock after witnessing the unexpected kiss. "Did you see that? Tell me you saw that, Charlie," you exclaimed, shooting him a pleading look.

"Yes, yes I did. But causing a scene won't help, besides, I think someone else could do that," Charlie whispered in your ear, prompting you to give him a puzzled look as your nails dig into his arm.

Charlie cocks his head to where Mr. Riley was, a few feet away from the two, standing with a few other men. You smirk to yourself, imagining the havoc you would create when you redirect Mr. Riley's eyes to Billy and Irene kissing. Charlie removes his arm from in front of you as you straighten up.

Seizing the moment, you deliberately raised your voice, "Is that Mrs. Riley with Billy?" The words echoed through the room, catching the attention of those nearby.

Mrs. Riley's husband, mere feet away, overheard the commotion. Anger flashed in his eyes as he turned to witness the scene, realizing his wife's inappropriate proximity to Billy. Without a word, he stormed out, following Mrs. Riley into the night.

You push your purse into Charlie's chest, "Watch this for me, will ya?" You gave him no time to answer before you were already moving away from him. You made purposeful strides to follow Mr. and Mrs. Riley, leading you outside.

"Hey!" You hear John's voice yell loudly as you hastily conceal yourself around the corner. You peeped from the corner as your eyes widen; John had a firm grip on Irene who was whimpering. "You fucking, lousy fucking bitch." He seethed, his hold on his wife unwavering.

"What do you mean?" Irene fired back, "I saw you in there, with Billy," John lowered his head as Irene shut her eyes. "I know what you were doing, You was trying to get him to fuck you, because you're a little fucking whore!" He taunted her, violently shaking her slender frame.

Both Mr. and Mrs. Riley seemed the slightest bit drunk. Sensing the intensity, you quietly moved to another spot to hear them better, "I'm tired. I want to sleep," Irene pleaded helplessly, pulling away. Her once-neat bun now betrayed signs of disarray.

"I've had enough of you. Do you understand?" John forcefully pulled her back towards him, and Irene released a pained groan. "You're a fucking embarrassment. You're always out there in heat. It's fucking disgusting and I've had e-fucking-nough!" He yelled in her face.

Part of you wanted to go out there and confront him, but what would that do? Your gaze involuntarily fell on the revolver snug in his gun belt—John Riley, a man not hesitant to use it, especially if he discovered you eavesdropping on their private dispute.

"So have I!" Mrs. Riley yelled back, making you slightly jump at the suddenness of it. "I've had enough of you; I hate you!" She roughly shoved him off of her, stumbling as she walked away.

From where you were hiding, you could see what she was doing. What she was reaching for in her garter. A revolver. Swiftly turning, she cocked it and fired, the shot lacking precision. Her lack of aim resulted in wounding John's upper right arm, and you instinctively covered your mouth to stifle a gasp, your eyes widening in shock.

Meanwhile, Billy had been searching everywhere for you. His search for you led him out front of the house where the unmistakable sound of a gunshot pierced the air, prompting his head to whip in the direction of the noise.

Against the wall, you pressed yourself further, a silent witness to the unfolding chaos. In a single, fluid motion, Mr. Riley drew his gun, the metallic click resonating in the tense atmosphere before a decisive shot rang out. Her body dropped to the floor where you saw a clear view of the blood pooling around her body.

Your hands covered your mouth in both shock and horror. Trembling with fear, you couldn't tear your eyes away. At the echo of a second gunshot, Billy sprinted to the side of the house. The urgency became palpable – you needed to leave, immediately. Peeking cautiously around the corner, you saw John's back, hunched and vulnerable, as he clutched his wound.

You quickly slip out before you bump into a hard surface. Your eyes widen in shock as Billy stares down at you, his eyebrows knit in confusion yet his gaze reflecting genuine concern. Before he can question about your unexpected presence, his attention shifts behind you to where Irene's lifeless form lies sprawled on the ground.

His gaze then locks onto John, who winces in pain. "She's dead!" Billy instinctively pushes you to safety behind him; your breathing is quick and shallow, your chest heaving with rapid breaths. Billy's gaze remains fixed on Mrs. Riley.

"What did you do?" His voice turns cold, and the unmistakable sound of him cocking his gun follows. "Billy!" you whisper-yell, hand urgently tugging on his shirt. "She shot me! She tried to kill me!" John points to his bleeding wound, your fear lingering despite Billy's protective stance. "Now, get me some fucking help!"

"Hey, hey, hey, hey!" James Dolan rushes in between the two, "what the hell is happening?" Billy's aim at John doesn't falter. "You're friend killed his wife." You flinch when John's yell rang through your ears, "She shot me! Look at me!"

"Okay, okay, just.... Billy," Dolan puts his hand on Billy's arm, lowering the gun, "Billy, put it down, all right?" Billy complies but hesitates when he puts his gun back in the safety of his belt. You clutch onto Billy's arm as pulls you into his chest, relief flooding through you as he holds you tightly.

"Hey, go fetch the doctor, huh?" You hear James yell. Unbeknownst to you, Billy's eyes stayed glued on Irene. His lip quivering slightly. There had been so much life in her just a couple minutes before, and now, he stared at her lifeless body, blood soaking into her dress.

As his hand moved to caress your hair, his eyes snap to James and John. James was ushering John to go back inside so that he could help him until Billy interjects. "We need a fucking sheriff!" He yelled, as you felt the vibration of his chest in your entire body as you clung to him even more.

"Billy, Billy please, take me out of here," You pull his face down in between your hands as he gazes at your desperate eyes. "Just, just get out of here!" James instructs the onlookers. Billy brushes the sweaty strands that framed your face back. "Sh, it's okay, 'm right here, sweetheart," He pulls you back into the warmth of his chest as you let out a choked sob.

~

“What were you doin' there?” The question, anticipated and inevitable, lingered in the air. Placing your cup on the kitchen counter, you turned to face Billy, his eyes fixed on you, awaiting your response. His expression, an enigma.

Exhaling through your nose, you crossed your arms, eyes drifting to the plant in the corner of the room. "I just wanted to check if she was okay, stumbling around the house drunk, Billy," you lied, leaving the part out where you saw them kissing and discreetly letting Mr. Riley know of the inappropriate behaviour his wife was partaking in.

Pushing off the counter, you approached Billy, your feet closing the distance. His legs, too long for the table, faced you, stretching out.

"Then Mr. Riley came, so I hid... And then it happened," you explained, shrugging. A sigh escaped your lips as you settled beside him, your hand offering a comforting squeeze to his thigh.

Billy scrutinized your features, finding sincerity in your eyes, yet sensing an underlying truth—you didn't truly care about Mrs. Riley's death. Your behaviour around her proved it.

"I just can’t stop thinking ‘bout it," Billy admitted, fingers toying with the mug handle before him. "Of course you can't, Billy-" You were cut off as Billy spoke, "She was even begging me! Fucking begged me to take her somewhere, away from him."

You bit your lip, containing your reaction to this new revelation. Irene begging him to take her away? Mr. Riley's accusatory words echoed in your mind, You were trying to get him to fuck you

"I-I should’ve done something. If I had taken her somewhere, she'd probably be alive right now," Billy stammered, and you moved to cradle his head, ushering him to stop. "Billy. Billy, stop." You spoke calmly, though turmoil brewed within.

He blamed himself for Irene's death, carrying the weight of responsibility for her demise, a fate she brought upon herself by flaunting more than friendliness—brazenly, in front of her husband.

"It is not your fault that Irene was murdered, okay?" you reassured him as he fell into silence. "Still, takin’ her somewhere could’ve helped-" "Stop!" You abruptly shouted, making Billy flinch in your grasp.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath before releasing your hold on him, and Billy stared at you in shock. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. I just-" You halted, inhaling again to gain your composure.

“Do you really think nothing bad would’ve happened to either you or Irene if you did take her somewhere? Billy, Mr. Riley would not have taken it lightly if he found out you did take his wife somewhere,” you reason with him.

Billy nodded slowly. "Yeah, you’re right." You gave him a tight smile, patting his thigh. "I should probably get going, Jesse wants to meet up with me." Billy stood, adjusting his hat, and you rose from the seat.

"Okay, be safe." Approaching him, you smiled up, and he slipped his arm around your waist. "I love you." Leaning in, you replied, "I love you too," your lips meeting in a tender connection.

[sentientcave]

Fuck-ass Mohawk

Contains: Alcohol, smoking (cigarettes and cannabis), Soap being Soap, Ghost being Ghost, uninvited touching, tall fem reader

Short little thing about Johnny liking it a bit when you're a bitch to him (And Ghost likes it too)

868 Words ~ MDNI

You’d rather stay home and play board games, but Laurie had convinced everyone that it was a good night for clubbing. You hated clubs— The noise, the crowds, the smell of sweat and alcohol and hormones— and spent the better part of club nights standing outside chain-smoking, or crammed into a dirty bathroom stall holding back a friend’s hair as she threw up blue curacao because she didn’t listen to you when you told her to eat dinner before going out. Tonight didn’t look like it was going to end up with anyone puking their guts up, at least. Laurie’s flirting with a gorgeous hunk with a devastating smile, and Alex and Hannah are dancing, so you go out the side door into the alley for some fresh air. Or air, anyway, since the alley’s where folks go to smoke. You light a joint, because at least that will dull the effect that the sound is having on your head. It’s getting close to midnight, which at least means the night is almost over, so long as someone doesn’t drag you along to some weirdo’s house. “Hey, wha’s a bonnie thing like ye doin’ out here all alone?” A voice purrs in your ear. You jump, surprised that he could get so close with out you noticing him, especially once you turn and really look at him. He’s huge, not that tall, probably your height when you’re not wearing boots (You have about an inch and a half on him in your shit-kickers), but broad and way more muscled than anyone has any reason to be, wrapped in a too-tight shirt, and smiling at you, bright blue eyes fixed on yours with unnerving intensity. He pats your shoulder. “Didnae mean to scare ye, lass, just wanted to say hello.” You take a big step to the side, establishing a new bubble of personal space without him in it. “Well, hello,” you say dismissively. “Goodbye.” There’s a snort from a few meters away, a big fellow with a kn95 mask dangling on one ear, his hand up in front of his face, a cigarette clamped between his fingers. “Och, dinnae be like tha’, hen.” “Don’t like it?” you ask, glaring at him. “Go away. Plenty of girls in there’ll go for whatever all this is.” A sweeping, unimpressed glance from his boots and ripped jeans up to his stupid mohawk would usually do the trick, but it only made this fellow smile wider. “No’ enough fer ya? I can sweeten tha deal some. The big fella doesnae mind sharin’ a sweet lass with me noo and again. There’s plenty of ye ta go around.” “Johnny,” the big fellow in question says sternly. His mask is back in place, covering the lower half of his face. “Dun’t look like she’s interested.”

“Tha’s where you’re wrong, LT. She just doesna want to admit it. Hen’s got pride. Wants to make me work for it, right lass?” He winks at you. “No. Don’t like your fuck-ass mohawk.” You puff on your joint, keeping your face still while he splutters, indignant. “Fuck-ass mohawk?” he asks. “What do ye mean by tha’?” “I mean it looks like you have a contentious relationship with your father,” you say. Maybe you’re being a bit mean, but it’s always fun to take a cocky fucker down a peg or two. “I don’t fuck with men with daddy issues. Most of ‘em are cops or military lads.” The big guy— LT?— laughs aloud at that while Johnny’s still looking at you with his mouth hanging open. The side door opens, and your friends pile out, Laurie arm in arm with her hunk, and Hannah and Alex clinging to handsome fellows of their own. “There you are,” Laurie says. “We’re going back to Hannah’s. Are you coming?” “Uh. I guess.” Laurie beams at you, and looks up at her hunk. “Kyle, do you need to find your friends?” “Nah. These lads right here.” He gestures at Johnny and LT. with a grin. “Knew Ghost would be out here, and Soap’s always followin’ him around like the big puppy he is.” “Ah’m no’!” You fall into step at the rear of the group. You’ll probably head home rather than join them, but Hannah’s flat is on the way to your own. Johnny and his handler flank you, matching your stride when you slow down or speed up. Annoying. “So what, is the big guy your replacement daddy?” you ask. “Wha— No!” Johnny says hotly. “He’s just my lieutenant.” “Could be your daddy, if you like,” Ghost says, putting a heavy hand on the back of your neck. “Got a thing for caustic little cunts.” “Oh fuck off,” you say, trying to shove his hand off. His grip squeezes a little tighter, and you try to ignore the way that core clenches around nothing. You channel the heat into anger, and dig your nails into his wrist hard. “Don’t fucking touch me.” He grunts, but doesn’t seem all that affected by your claws. “Look at you, ‘issin’ and spittin’ like a puffed up alley cat. S’cute. But save it for later, eh? Don’t want you to tire yourself out too early.”

[desswright29]

Soldier Girl

Warnings: (Smut 18+), Mentions of blood, Inexperience

Pairing: Mo WashingtonX Black Fem reader

word count: Baby ion know. Let it ride

A/N: Enjoy!!

I stepped out onto my porch couple hours ‘fo sundown. Going out to collect a bit mo’ wood for my oven and fire pit. I grab my axe throwing it over my shoulder, hiked up my dress and set out on my usual path, intendin’ to make quick work of me one of them dead tree’s in them woods near by. Don’t much happen ‘round these parts for me. No neighbors for miles and I grow all I need right chea on my land, only gotta make a trip to town ‘bout once a month. Built me a good size house and barn fo’ my animals, got a few chickens as well. I do damn well on my own and that’s how I likes it. 

  As I walk, gettin’ further down on my trail I noticed a horse tied to a tree a lil up yonder. As I got a bit closer, I found a man laying ‘gainst that same tree, hat covering his face, restin’ I reckon. But, I don’t take to kindly to folk trespassing on my land. So, I silently make my way cross the brush up to the restin’ fella. Fast as lightenin’ I brought my axe down to meet the side of his neck stopping short from cutting’ ‘em. Just as fast, I was met with the barrel of his Remington six-shooter. 

 “Who’s you and why is you in my woods.” I say real calm like. His other hand come up grabbing his hat placing it back on his head directly. He slowly turned his head toward me careful not to meet his neck with my blade. That’s when I got a view of his sharp jawline, perfect lips (not too full, not too thin), and the tip of his nose. Hm, look like he a handsome fella.

“I ain’t know’d nobody owned these here woods Ma’am I’s just passing through. Needed a rest thas all. I can be on my way.” That’s when he looked all the way up, I got a peak under that there hat, and I’ll be damned….

“You’s a lady!” I say. I wasn’t asking. I know a woman when I see one, and this one here  was one of the handsomest women I’d ever laid eyes on, it could take ya’ breath away. She looked at me, expression not changing. 

“Ma’am, I promise ion’t want no trouble. If you would lower ya blade, I could be on my way.”

“How ‘bout you lower dat gun first.”

“How ‘bout we do it together.”

“Fine by me.”

“A’right on three.” She say, gettin’ up real turtle like from her spot on the ground. “One.. two.. three”

We both put down our weapons and then fast brought ‘em back up. She looked at me and smirked. My stomach felt all fluttery. She put her gun down and I followed along wit my axe.

“What’chu doin’ out chea lookin’ like this gal” I say. Curious to know why she was out here masqueradin’ in men’s clothes.

“Just passin’ through ma’am. I’ll be on my way now.” I looked her up and down as she gathered her things to head out. Her clothes was covered in blood, she looked like she hadn’t rested in days. 

“Naw nie, you look like ya’ need some rest. That yo’ blood?”

“That ain’t yo’ bidness”

“Gon’ be my business if you want me to let ya’ rest here. It’s almost sundown and all this here my land. Where else ya gon’ go gal.”

She turned her head left and that’s when I saw the gash in her neck. I gasped.

“Somebody hurt you!”

“Don’t matter. They gone now” She say, mystery lying’ in her tone. Dat’ll be a story fo’ another time.

“Let me help ya.” I offer. “The sun gon go down in a few. I’s just gathering some wood so I can cook some dinner and light a fire to keep warm. My house just up yonder. You know these nights get freezing, and you look like you could use a hot meal. I got some water, apples, and some shelter for your horse too.”

She looked up into the sky and then back down at me with those eyes that was as deep as pools. Filled with stories. She nodded. 

“Well, lady I reckon I should know your name if you gon’ be my guest” I say.

“Mo. Mo Washington.” She say, with a tilt of her hat.

“Mo. I’m Y/n” I say with a nod.

“Nice to meet you Miss Y/n” She looked at me, sizing me up cautiously. 

“You ain’t gotta worry bout me lest you here to cause harm. You safe round here. Why don’t you help me gather up me some of this here wood and we can head on back.”

“Dat sound just fine Miss Y/n” Mo’ took off her jacket and threw it over her horses back, she rolls up her bloodied sleeves and takes the axe from my hands. 

“I’ll cut. You can load it on ol’ Blondie over there.” She pointed at her horse, and went to work. 

I watched her work. The veins protruding from her forearms as she gripped the axe and swung hitting the the stump she found with 

precision, easily breakin’ it down. She was strong, and I was intrigued. 

“What’s yo’ story? If you don’t mind me asking. How you end up here?” She brought the axe up and back down with a grunt, breaking the stump into another halve. I bit into my lip. My God.

“Once, I was set free, I decided to join the war. I watched them boys for awhile, and then I cut my hair bought a suit, walked on the base and picked up a uniform.” Grunt, slam. “Made enough money to get out and buy me a gold claim, so I can buy me and my people some land out this way. Ran into Tommy Walsh and his boys on the way to cash the claim, the coach crashed, ruined the claim.” Grunt, slam. “Long story short everybody dead and the good Lord saw fit to get me out alive, nie I’m tryna get far way from that place as possible.”

“You killed Tommy Walsh and his boys!?” My eyes wide as saucers. As a walked over gathering the wood she cut to stack on her horse back. She glanced over her shoulder at me. 

“Only cause I had to.” There them damn flutters again. 

“ Hm, So you’s a soldier. I ain’t never met no soldier gal befo’ “

“ We’ll I’m the only one I know of” she say walking up to me hand reachin’ out for a shake axe thrown over her shoulder. I reach and grab it, admiring how veiny and strong her hands are “So nice to meet ya.” She say, with a small smile. Our eyes met as we shook hands. The touch sent ‘lectricity through my body. Was it possible that I fancied this woman? The touch lingered a bit longer than normal. 

“Uh I-I reckon we got enough here. We should head back fo’ dark catch us.” I said letting go of her hand. She stepped back eyes still on me, she smirked a little before tying the wood to the horse and guiding Blondie towards my home as I led the way. 

The walk was silent as I walked beside her. I couldn’t help but to keep glancing’ her way. Lookin at the stride of her walk. All them cuts ‘n bruises and she still walked real smooth. This Mo smoother than any man I ever met. “You smell real pretty” I hear her soft voice break our silence. I smile. 

“I make my own soaps and butters out of some of the stuff I grow in my garden. I’ll let you choose some to wash with tonight. I know you’re dying for a good soak.”

Mo’ smiled and nodded, as we walk up to my home. I led her round back to the stables and gardens and got Blondie some apples, then led her over to the trough to tie her up so she could drink. Filling my witches pot with water to boil, I couldn’t help but feel a pair of eyes borin’ a hole into my back.

“How a lil lady like you get all dis here? You got a husband?” Mo’ say walking up on my porch with me. I scoff a bit. 

“I’m surprised a strong woman like yo’self would aks a question like that. Another woman can’t be jus’ as strong as you?”

Mo’ smiled using one side of her mouth. Tilting her head to the side a bit, her hat adding that mystery to her. It was almost seductive. 

“I ain’t said all that gal, I’m sure you plenty strong. You sho’ll stacked up to be.” A hint of what I believed to be flirtatiousness in her voice. Couldn’t be. 

Thank the Lord fo’ my chocolate skin though, cause I’d be red as a tomato from blushin’. I turn ‘round and head in the house with her following behind me. I can hear her chuckle. 

“To answer yo’ question Soldier gal, I built all this here m’self. I sell my soaps and things, milk from my cow, vegetables from my garden, and I do a bit of sewin’, to pay for supplies, and I do pretty damn good.”

“You out here all by yo’ lonesome?” Her eyebrow raised. 

“Yup, I do a good job handlin’ m’self too” 

Mo laughed, I knew then I’d do anything to hear that sound come from her again. 

“Yea, I got a piece of that when you had yo’ axe up ‘gainst my neck.”

I raised a confident brow and headed to the kitchen. 

“Got yo’self a nice place here Miss”

“Thank ya’ very much.” I smile big with pride. We should get you cleaned up fo’ dinner. Come on here, I’ll show you to the Wash room. First let me let you pick something to wash with. And get you some clean clothes.” I take her to my room pullin’ out my collection of soaps, oils, and butters.

“Whatever you wanna use just take it”

“You say you sell these?”

“Yea”

“How much?”

“Don���t worry about that I’m giving it to ya’”

“I can’t take from yo’ livelihood” 

“ Chile! It’s only a few lil thangs I got plenty just take it!”

“Awright, awright gal, Shucks!”She went through smelling the soap, until she got to one I could see she took a liken’ to. “That one right there I make out of bergamot and lemon, it would suit you well.”

There goes that smile again. I could just die. 

“I’m sure your waters done. I’ll go get it.” I say.

“Naw, I’ll take care of it. You can gon’ get started on that dinner.” 

“All right. I’ll leave you be. I layed out something comfortable for you to wear for dinner.” 

I decided to change into my thin white house dress to be a bit mo’ comfortable. I head back to the kitchen. And put on my apron, and pull out my chicken from the icebox, I’d  got it all seasoned and let it marinade through out the day. Figured I’d make chicken, peas, and cornbread. I got my oven all started up and got the food going. Once I got my cornbread in the oven, I decided to go and check on my guest. I walked to the wash room and knocked. 

“You doin’ aight in there?”

“I’m fine.. actually I was wondering if you had shampoo.”

“It’s in there in that lil cabinet. I could get it for you if you don’t mind me bein’ in there.”

“It’s fine.”

Slowly opening the door and making my way in, I see her in all her glor, soakin’ in the tub eyes shut head lying back relaxed. I walk to the cabinet and grab the shampoo. 

“ You know uh, I-I could wash it fa’ ya. You been through a lot gettin’ this far. I’m sure you could use a lil pamperin’. ” 

Mo opened her eyes, turning’ towards me lookin’ me directly in the eyes, she nods slowly. I move toward her, nealing at the side of the tub, grabbing my water cup to dip into the water and pour into her hair. I add the shampoo and began to massage it into her scalp. A deep groan come from Mo’s throat, she closed her eyes and sank deeper into the water. I smile and continue to lather rinse and repeat as I hum her a song. 

“Ain’t nobody handled me this gently since I’s a baby I reckon”

I smiled. And reached out a hand in front of her as I finished washing her hair. 

“ Here, let me get that sponge imma get ya back fa’ ya’”

Mo handed me the sponge and sat up. Surprisingly, she had a beautifully smooth back. I started washin’ her and she moaned meltin’ into my touch. The more sounds of approval I got the more it felt like an honor to cater to this here soldier gal. And I knew then, I did indeed fancy her. I wanted her more than I wanted to breathe right now.  

  I brought the sponge up from her back round her shoulders allowing her to sit back in the tub again. She leaned back and our heads were so close that I know she could feel my breath ticklin’ her ear. I held the sponge ‘gainst her upper chest and began to scrub. She brought her hand up to stop me and we locked eyes. Her eyes were filled with a confused type of desire, as our faces grew closer. I had to admit I was feeling the same. My head was confused but the throbbin at my core felt very sure. Our lips grew closer touching in the most gentle of kisses. Sendin my head swirling. I pulled back breakin’ away from those lips that were slightly rough, but in the most beautiful way.

“I’m sorry… I should go f-finish cookin” I say rushin out the do’.  What in the world was that?  I think as I start to fry my chicken.

A little later she come in the kitchen, dressed in  a fresh button up and some more twead slacks that I’d sewn to sell, smelling like fresh bergamot and her Afro damp and picked out, parted in the right side. My heart stuttered, as she sat down at the table, chair turned to face me. I pulled the cornbread from the oven. And feeling eyes on my backside I had to break the tension. 

“You like what you see soldier gal?” 

I turned to look at her, and she looked caught. Sitting man spread, leaned back in the chair hands restin cooly on her stomach, bottom lip trapped inbetween her teeth. Her eyes shot up to meet mine. 

“I I I’m uh sorry.”

“That’s not what I asked” I say, wiping my hands on my apron and walking towards her. A sudden burst of bravery hit me, I stopped right in front of her, her knees touching my shins. 

She shook her head to both sides absentmindedly. 

“I-it ain’t natural.” She says

“That ain’t what I asked neither. It ain’t nobody but me and you here, and I’m askin you, Do you. Like. What you see?” I ask bending over the chair holdin on to the seat of chair next to her thighs so I could be face to face with her. Her eyes locked on mine, and she nodded.

“Y-yea yea I reckon I do.”

“Is it comin’ natural to ya’? To like lookin’ at me?”

“I reckon so” she say breathin’ pickin’ up.

“Well that right there sound natural to me” I stood, leaving’ her breathless wantin’ mo’. I turned to go fix her plate. Putting a little extra somethin’ in my walk to give her a show. I could hear her let out a long sigh behind me. I fixed our plates and sat them down at the table, sitting next to her. 

“Eat up” 

“Look good” She say’s, but when I look up I see she’s looking at me. I bit my lip and  turned toward her. Reckoning’ she wasn’t hungry fo’ no food at the moment.

“When you lookin’ at me like that. What you thinkin?”

“I ain’t thinkin’ as much as I’m feelin’. “

“Well what you feelin’?” Her eyes lower in an undeniable lust, and her voice is lower than i remember when she speaks next. 

“Like I wanna kiss you, and I wanna feel you pretty lady. You gon’ let me do that?” She ask, leanin’ forward elbow on the table. 

I stand again. This time making my way over to her, I push her back in her seat, hiking up my dress I make myself comfortable with both legs on either side of her lap. 

“Do it please, kiss me, touch me. You can do whatever you want with me soldier gal”

She hungrily leaned in and connected our lips. Her hands gripped my waist as my arms snaked around her neck and I started to roll my body into her lap. Her hands lowered from my waist down to my backside givin’ it rough squeeze. She pulled away from the kiss, shocked. 

“You ain’t got on no drawers!?” She whisper yelled. I laughed heartily.

“I’on like wearing’ em round the house.” 

She growled low in her throat, and next thing I know I was being picked up and placed onto the table. Plates pushed to the side. Mo’ crawled on top of the table between my legs wrestlin’ with her shirt. I reached down helpin her untuck her shirt and I clumsily unbuttoned her pants as she got her shirt unbuttoned, and tossed to the side. Our lips connected again with her pressing her body into mine slowly grinding into me. I moan into her mouth reaching under her form fitting tank she still had on, touching the smooth skin of her firm stomach. 

“I ain’t never done this befo’” she manages to say between kisses. I pulled away and looked into her eyes. 

“Me neither, but it’s natural right. So we’ll just listen to our bodies. Do what they tell us to right?”

“Right.”

She leaned in, kissing my forehead, the tip of my nose, my lips, my chin, down to my neck. She took her time there. Sliding the straps of my gown down my arms revealing my breast. She looked down at them licking her lips. She went down further attaching her lips to my left breast while palming the other. 

“Ah! Mo” her name comes out as a sigh on my lips. She moans at my taste, bringing her tounge out flicking it over my nipple before reattachin herself suckin a bit harder. She moves on from that one showin the other some attention too. Then she squeezes them together burying her face into my breast. Kissing, licking, sucking, moaning like it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted. I could feel my core leaking, waiting for her touch as she gave my body some much needed attention. She made her way down my body until she pulled my dress up making it bunch up at my center. 

She opened my legs groaning at the sight of my flower. She began to kiss her way down my thighs. I threw my head back eyes clenched shut in anticipation. Then I felt her hand touch where I craved her most. My breath hitched.

“ My God… it’s so wet” she placed her thumb on my pearl, Stroking up, down, circle, circle. Up, down, circle, circle. She repeated the pattern. 

“Ooooh Mo Babyyy! Y-you makin my body feel so goood!

“You smell so good Miss Y/n, I wanna taste you, can I put my mouth on you?”

“YES! Oh God please yes!” My breathing picked up, as she lowered herself down on me. I moaned softly as she placed a gentle kiss on my lady parts. Then another, and another. Slowly she stuck out her tongue and began licking long slow strips through my folds. It felt like my soul had left my body and was somewhere in another universe. I thought that was as good as it could get until Mo’ wrapped her lips around my pearl and began to suck. My eyes snapped open, my body lurched forward, mouth droppin open into the shape of in O, and my arms came down behind me to hold my body steady. 

I watched her work. Strong hands gripping my thighs, face buried between them, eating me like I’s the best meal she ever had. “Mo’ I-I Oooooo”. Words betrayed me as my body shook from the pleasure I was recieving. I began to roll my hips into her face, head dropping back as I brought my hand up to grip her freshly washed hair. Apparently, this drove her crazy, because both of her arms wrapped themselves tightly around my thighs and before I knew it I was being lifted into the air and carried to the nearest wall. She pressed me up against the wall as I sat on her shoulders as she devoured me from what felt like the inside out. I was going crazy. She brought a finger to my entrance and started to thrust it inside me. 

“Gyat Damnit Soldier Gal! I-I f-feel like I’m gonna explode! I can’t take nomore! Please!”

She took her mouth off only for a moment.

“ Yes you can. You can do it You strong pretty lady. Take it. I’m not done tasting you.”

“ AHHHH! Mo somethings happenin’ Don’t Stop!!! ” I scream as a warmth radiated throughout my entire body. I felt something snap inside my belly and then I was gripping the back of her head with one hand and the other shot to the ceiling. My hips bucked into her face and my back arched. My body was trembling overwhelmed by this new sensation, tears began to stream down my face. I had never felt anything like that befo’. 

Mo, stayed down there and licked up every drop, then gently lowered me down, wrapping my legs around her waist.

“You alright pretty lady?” I looked at Mo with stars in my eyes, speechless. Still slightly jerking coming down from my high, causing Mo  to chuckle a bit. “Talk to me little lady”. 

I grabbed both sides of her face kissing her passionately. “I wanna make you feel good too, you been doing all that fightin’ and killin’, you deserve to somethin’ pleasurable.”

“You gon’ do that for me?” She bit her lip and raised a brow.

“Take me to the room and I’ll show you.”

Mo’ smiled and ran to the room with me in her arms. Once we reached the room, I wiggle out of her arms and push her backward until we reached the bed. I push her back onto the bed and pull off her tank, allowin her to pull down her pants and underwear. She now lay underneath me completely naked and all I wanted to do was take care of her. 

I hover over her looking her deep in the eyes. Takin in all her scars. They somehow made her more beautiful. Knowin all she had been through and here she was trustin’ me with her body, Layin bare. I couldn’t possibly let her down. I kissed her neck right above the healin scar, and the other side against the one already healed. I moved down to her breast takin my time there. Her back arched as she brought her hands up to the back of my neck holding me up against her breast as though she was feeding me, and I sucked her slight but pretty breast like I’d been starving’ for years. 

I left a trail of kisses down her belly making my way to her pretty little womanhood. In between strong toned chocalate thighs that glistened with her need for me. I placed two fingers against her folds. Swiping up, seeing her wetness coat my fingers. I hummed, looking up I met the eyes of the Soldier Gal, and proceeded to press a kiss against her bud. She let out a hissing sound, the arch in her back getting deeper as she threw her head back. I followed her lead doing what I’d felt her do to me. 

“My my pretty lady” She moaned with that enchanting voice of hers, as I stuck my tongue inside her entrance moving it in and out. I brought my hand to her pearl and rubbed circles as I continued to bask in her taste. 

“Oh right there! Please make me feel good!” She screamed grounding her heat into my face , that’s when something came to me. I pulled away suddenly earning a disappointed huff from Mo.

“It was feeling so good! Why’d you stop?”

“I w-want to try something. Uh, I want to feel you up against me”

“Huh? I ain’t no man I don’t think we gon feel nothing.”

“Let’s just try it hm?” She nods her head. I began to position myself over top of her. Throwing a leg over hers, then reaching down to spread open her lips, I lowered myself down onto her and both of us moaned out. Our eyes connected and we both smiled as I began to move my hips ‘gainst her. Her hands shot up to my hips holding me as she moved under me. We let out a simultaneous “Ooohhh!”. 

“Oh goodness, Pretty lady t-this here feel too good!”

“Mhm!” Is all I could manage in response as I speed up the pace reaching down to pinch and play with her nipples. She groaned as her eyes closed and her breathing picked up and her head began to thrash side to side. 

“Uuuhhhnnn!! I think I’m bout to explode!”

“Yes soldier gal that’s it! Let it take over you! We gon’ explode together! “

“Y-you feel s-so good ‘gainst me p-pretty lady!”

She say in a blissed out whimper. I bend down, our bodies still moving together, and took hold of her lips again. 

“ Let it go fo’ me Mo, I’m goin’ with ya’” I moan before grabbing’ her breast and placing my lips against hers again. That’s when I felt the damn break. Mo’ started to tremble underneath me her mouth opened against mine, as she let out the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard, followed by “Shhiiitt! shit, shit, shit!” 

I felt her liquid gushing from her womanhood and that quickly brought me over the edge as well. My hips stuttered against hers. She wrapped her arms around my waist and held me real tight. Our mouths sitting open against eachothers swallowing the moans, my hands tangled in her Afro. Our bodies still moved against eachothers, in a trembling slow whine as we road out our highs together until we came down.

We both lay tangled together, quietly collectin’ our breath. She broke the silence.

“Miss y/n,… I wanna do that again.”

I looked up at her and couldn’t help but giggle at the smirk against her face. I kissed her lips. 

“That was a hell of a welcome home huh Soldier Gal.”

—————————————————————————-

A/N: Y’all saw Mo dragging them big ass men y’all know she can scoop you up. Lol I hope y’all enjoyed, and don’t worry Shame pt. 5 is coming!

[melanieathene]

Mr. Wonderful

This is a love story.

I'd like to say it was a classic case of love at first sight, but I don't know if that's true.

All I know for certain is that it's a love that was meant to be.

We don't get many quality folk in this dump that calls itself a diner. Truckers who haven't seen a washcloth in days – weeks maybe. Bums who stumble in to get out of the cold, taking up table space long after they've drained the last drop of coffee in their cup. Old folks on a tight budget looking for a cheap meal. Cheaters looking to score, streetwalkers looking to oblige them. Impatient, forlorn, pitiful people. Losers, every one.

He stood out like a sunbeam slicing through a cloudy sky. Clean, well-dressed, and handsome – god, he took my breath away with his movie star good looks. He was way prettier than the models you see in those fancy magazines – the ones I leaf through in the grocery line, but can never afford to buy.

“I'm gonna to marry that man,” I murmured.

Rhonda snapped her gum as she turned her head to follow my gaze. “Him?” She snorted. “Honey, he's out of your league. Married. Or gay. My money is on gay. Look at the long-haired fella he's with. There's something going on between them.”

“I don't care. I want that table. I'll trade you for the party of six.” I hitched my thumb towards table three.

The cackling old biddies sitting there were fussy, but they were surprisingly good tippers. Regulars who liked to meet up after church, or their book club, or whatever. Normally, Rhonda and I butted heads over who got to serve 'em.

“Your loss.” Rhonda shrugged and sauntered away. I saw the good-looking guy shoot a glance at her ample bosom as she walked by.

Gay, my ass.

I popped a couple of buttons on my blouse, the better to display my cleavage. If he liked boobs, mine were an even bigger eyeful than Rhonda's. The rest of the package wasn't bad either.

The green eyes that turned my way as I approached the back-corner booth set me in mind of an emerald I once saw in a store window. Dazzling. No other word for it.

“What can I offer you, gentlemen?” I asked in as sultry a voice as I could muster.

“Well, I don't know,” Mr. Wonderful drawled – and damned if he didn't sound just as good as he looked. “What do you have to offer?” The suggestive smile that accompanied the question set my pulse racing and my cheeks ablaze.

“Dean!” the tall one barked.

Oh-oh. I quickly suppressed a sigh. Jealous boyfriend alert. Abort! Abort!

But it would appear luck was on my side, because the next words out of his mouth were:

“You'll have to excuse my brother. He... He's...” Mr. Tall flung up his hands, as if giving up on trying to explain the unexplainable.

His (hallelujah!) brother grinned unrepentantly.

“I'll have a salad – the house dressing is fine,” Mr. Tall continued, obviously deeming it better for all concerned if he changed the subject. “He'll have the double cheeseburger with fries. And, uh... two coffees, please. Make mine decaf.”

“And pie,” Dean added. His eyes caressed my name tag, before straying over to the curve of my breast. “Apple if you've got it, Sherri with an 'i'. With whipped cream –”

“And a cherry on top?”

“Ahh, a woman after my own heart. Thank you, darlin'.”

I could feel the weight of his stare as I walked away. Who could blame me if I put a little extra wiggle in my walk?

“Not gay,” I whispered as Rhonda and I crossed paths. “With his brother. And he's a first class flirt.”

“Hrmph,” she muttered. “That don't mean nothing. I might bump him from gay to bi, but that's the best I can do for you. My gaydar's never wrong.”

Have I ever mentioned how much I hate Rhonda? She's my best friend and I love her to bits, but she can be an insufferable pain in the ass when she thinks she's right. Which is all the time.

I wasn't going to let her be right this time. Mr. Wonderful – Dean! – was the kind of man I'd been dreaming of for far too many years. I was through with settling for Cracker Jack toys! I wanted a real prize. And there he was... not ten feet away.

A glance over my shoulder at the booth showed Dean frowning as Mr. Tall shoved his laptop towards him. They both seemed pretty engrossed by whatever was on that screen. Real serious, like. So it would appear that I had a little competition after all. Digital competition. Pfftt! I wasn't worried about that. With my looks and bubbly personality, most men easily sway the way I want them to go. I fluffed my hair and unfastened yet another button. Hey, when you're going for the gold, you gotta give it all you've got.

I picked up the tray containing their order and called up my best smile. The megawatt one that best shows off my dimples and pearly whites.

That smile dimmed considerably as I turned to face them.

There was a third person in the booth. Another man. Another looker, with dark, wind-swept hair and heavy five o'clock shadow on his chiseled jaw. Dean had scooched over to make room for Mr. Trench Coat, but they were sitting close. Really close. In fact, they were pressed together from shoulder to hip to knee.

Dean caught my eye as I approached and hissed, “Personal space!”

“My apologies,” Mr. Trench Coat replied in a low rumble that rivalled Dean's for the honour of sexiest voice ever. Though why he was apologizing wasn't clear to me. Dean was the one who hadn't moved over far enough in the first place. The bigger question was where he had come from, though. I hadn't heard the bell ring to announce his arrival. It was a mystery that didn't sit well with me.

“Would you like to place an order, sir?” I said, polite and frosty in the same breath, as I set plates in front of the two brothers.

“No.”

No, thank you. Lovely manners you have, there.

Blue eyes lifted to meet my gaze, staring at me – through me – as if they could see into my very soul.

“No, thank you,” he intoned.

And just like that, I was dismissed. I mattered less to him than the cockroaches in the kitchen.

His eyes turned back to Dean. Dean's gaze fell to his plate. Mr. Tall choked back what could have been a chuckle – or maybe he just swallowed funny.

I beat a hasty retreat. But I wasn't done with table nine yet. Dean was clearly a dessert man. And I had pie as my secret weapon. Homemade pie, too. None of that pasty store-bought stuff most dives like ours serve. I baked it myself twice a week to squeeze a few extra bucks from our skinflint boss, and I wasn't beyond letting that little fact slip when I brought a slice over to Dean. So, take that, Blue Eyes.

Confidence restored, I felt almost generous towards the poor guy. I even brought him a glass of ice water – which he didn't touch. Nor did he thank me for it.

It was a fairly busy night, but I kept glancing over to that corner as I hurried about my tasks. Dean had once again inched closer to Blue Eyes – or maybe Blue Eyes was crowding him? Either way, their knees and elbows were knocking. Mr. Tall noticed this too. Judging from the knowing little smirk he wore, it wasn't the first time he'd seen it happen. But even his eyebrows rose when Blue Eyes casually swiped a fry from Dean's plate, and Dean didn't so much as blink. He'd slapped Mr. Tall's hand when he'd tried that trick not five minutes before, hard, growling something along the lines of, “if you insist on eating rabbit food, don't expect me to share the good stuff.”

Blue Eyes dove in for another fry. And then a third. And then he snagged Dean's coffee and took a tentative sip.

Apparently, that wasn't much to his liking. I had to turn away from the sourpuss face he pulled, just so I didn't laugh out loud. When I turned back, Dean was doctoring his coffee – pouring in creamer and adding tons of sugar – all without taking his eyes off the computer screen or his mind off his ongoing conversation with Mr. Tall. He removed the stir stick from the mug and licked it. Blue Eyes took advantage of his distracted state to grab the coffee and cautiously sample the results. He smiled and took a second, deeper drink. And a fourth fry.

It was with considerably less enthusiasm than I had originally planned that I delivered the pie and declared it was made by yours truly.

Oh, I hovered in the vicinity, ready and eager to reap the rewards of my labour, but I had a sinking feeling that Rhonda – once again – was going to be proven right.

Sure enough, I wasn't the one Dean sought out after the first bite. The look of bliss that crossed his face was all I'd wished for – and more – but it was Blue Eyes he turned to. Blue Eyes on the receiving end of an ecstatic smile. Blue Eyes who obligingly opened his mouth when so prompted, and thus received the second forkful of my pie.

What Blue Eyes thought of it, I'll never know. For at that very moment, the bell that had been faithfully announcing arrivals and departures (except for Blue Eyes', of course) blasted from its place above the door, followed by the door itself. Shattered glass flew in all directions, and the metal frame embedded itself in table five. I heard Rhonda scream, saw her limping for the kitchen with blood seeping from a gash on her left leg. Customers who jumped up, preparing to follow her example and flee, were trampled as a horde of people poured into the diner – fifteen – twenty – maybe more. They looked like a biker gang, all dressed in black leather with dangling chains, all tattoos and piercings and unkempt beards. We've had a lot of bikers pass through. Most of 'em never cause a spot of trouble, though a couple of times we've had rival gangs rumbling in our parking lot. But I'd never, ever before seen black eyes like this lot had. Black. So very black. Like the gates of hell must be...

I'm a little hazy on what happened next. There was a lot of hollering and pushing and crashing. Things flew through the air – tables, chairs, even people.

I slipped in a puddle of what I sincerely hoped was ketchup, and felt myself falling... but, somehow, Dean was there to catch me. He scooped me up in his arms like the hero in one of those stupid romance novels Rhonda likes to read. He carried me through the mêlée, shoved me into the restroom, and told me to lock the door and keep it locked.

He didn't have to tell me twice. I didn't have to see any more to know that whatever was happening out there, it was bad. Really bad.

I just prayed the bathroom door was strong enough to keep it from happening to me.

If there had been a window, I would have climbed out of it and run away.

But there wasn't a window. And I would never have known the end of the story if I had skipped out at the middle.

Two clear voices rang out, rising above the continuous chorus of furious shouts and frantic cries. A sudden wash of light crept under the door, almost blinding me with its intensity. The silence that followed was almost worse than the horrible noise that preceded it.

I'm not ashamed to admit I screamed like a little girl when a quiet knock sounded on the door. I was bawling like one too, I was that scared: snot and mascara smearing my face, breath hitching and heart hammering fit to burst.

“Sherri? Sherri, it's Sam. It's over. It's okay to come out.”

“I don't know you, Sam.” I sniffled and drew closer to the door, but I wasn't about to open it. “Why should I trust you?”

“I'm Dean's brother.”

“Where's Dean?”

“He was injured in the attack. Cas is... uh... patching him up. Don't worry, Dean's in good hands.”

“Is Cas a doctor?”

“No... not exactly. He's... It's hard to explain. Sherri, will you open the door? We have to get you out of here.”

“Dean told me to stay put.”

“Oh, for Christ's sake,” I heard Sam mutter. And then, louder, “Cas! Can you help Dean over here? I need him to convince Sherri that it's safe.”

Slow, shuffling footsteps made their way across the floor. It felt like an eternity before the voice I wanted to hear finally spoke my name.

“Sherri,” he said wearily. “It's Dean. Open the door.”

Blue Eyes was standing there scowling at me when I cracked the door open. His arm was snugly draped around Dean's waist, clearly supporting most of his weight. Dean's arm was slung around Blue Eyes' shoulders, further steading himself. I suppose I should have felt guilty for making Dean come to me in his condition, but I didn't. I flung myself against his chest and hugged him tight. But not too tight, and not for as long as I really wanted to hold him. His quick gasp let me know how much his ribs were hurting him.

“Thank you,” I said, reluctantly stepping back. “Thank you for saving my life.”

“It's what we do. Besides, how could I deprive the world of a five star pie maker like you?” The cocky grin was back and (damn!) it looked good on his face. Even bruised and bleeding, he was one fine looking man.

Blue Eyes' fingers twitched, knotting into the fabric of Dean's shirt. His little finger brushed against bare flesh where the shirt had rucked up. Dean shivered and turned a questioning gaze his way. “Sam will take you home,” he said absentmindedly, as if he'd already forgotten I was still standing there. It was obvious he was trying real hard to fit a puzzle together, as if he'd just found a missing piece and the picture was finally making sense.

Sam ushered me away, his giant hand hovering near my face, ready to shield me from the worst of the carnage, or so I believed at that moment. We were almost to the door when a thought struck me.

“Rhonda!” I exclaimed, suddenly stopping dead in my tracks. “She went into the kitchen. She was hurt.”

“Wait here.” Sam righted a toppled chair and gently but firmly insisted I sit down. I bit my lip as I looked around. Carnage? Where was the carnage? There should have been bodies. Lots of bodies. But there were none, just a strange, dark ash that coated every surface. As if the people had been burned away.

I remembered the blazing light.

Just before it flared, I remembered a voice calling, “Dean! Dean!” Desperation filled the cry. The anguish of a man about to lose all that he held dear. The voice of a blue-eyed man who liked his coffee overly sweet.

And I remembered Dean's voice crying out in reply. One single word: “Cas!” As if the name carried with it a thousand conversations they'd never had – should have had – might now have.

The kitchen door swung on its rusty hinges, and Sam came towards me carrying Rhonda as if she weighed no more than a kitten. She was unconscious, but alive. I felt my heart blossom in relief as I rose from the chair and rested a hand on her arm. Sam led us out the door. Out to the blessed smell of fresh air, where a hint of rain lingered like a promise on the breeze.

I don't know why I turned around for one final look at Mr. Wonderful.

He didn't look back at me.

He and Blue Eyes were too busy staring into each other's eyes.

Slowly, Dean leaned forward. Just as slowly, Blue Eyes tilted his head and leaned in to meet him halfway.

All love stories should end with such a tender, yearning kiss.

And, like I said at the beginning, this is a love story.

It just isn't mine.

Originally posted 2015-03-03. Just thought it might be fun to post some old stories here. :)

[castillon02]

Fried Pie at the Flying J

Angela put her phone down and looked alive behind the counter. The suits who had just come in were different than her usual run of weathered old Texans, although they had the familiar road-stunned look of long driving in the past and long driving ahead, same as most people who came into the Flying J. People liked to stop here in this place so deep on the highway. The gas was reasonable and the food was good. If you had time to stop and eat, the attached Denny’s had the cleanest bathrooms for fifty miles, but she figured that wasn’t what these guys were after.

Sunglasses Suit---he hadn’t bothered to take off his designer shades when he came in---made a beeline for the door that wasn’t to the Denny’s, and he put his hand on the other suit’s arm when the man made to follow him. “Hang on. You won’t want to go in there.”

“Hmm? Why?” Ooh, a British accent!

Sunglasses Suit jerked his head at the sign on the door: The Original Fried Pie Shop.

“Oh.” British Suit made a face. Rude. Don’t knock ’em till you try ’em, bud. Especially if you’re from England. Even Angela had seen enough TV to know about bangers and mash. (Her opinion? Needs more barbecue sauce.)

“They’re basically empanadas,” Sunglasses Suit said, sounding defensive. 

“I dare you to tell Camille that,” British Suit replied, arching his eyebrows. The hint of playfulness lightened his old boot of a face, made him look suddenly handsome.

“No deal,” Sunglasses said, maybe ruefully. “Anyway, Mama liked them, so---” He swallowed. The past tense hung heavy in the air. Poor fella. He had a black shirt on beneath his black suit jacket, and now that looked more like funeral-wear than Johnny-Cash-wannabe.

British Suit briefly put his hand on Sunglasses’s shoulder.

Sunglasses cleared his throat. “Anyway, just stay out here and find something that will suit your picky palate.” He went in to buy some pies---which, yeah, were basically empanadas, but with fruit in them. Or meat. Or cheese and pizza sauce. The Original Fried Pie Shop didn’t discriminate when it came to fillings.

British Suit perused the aisles---something military in his walk, hard to peg what. He ignored the candy and the Hostess stuff, stopped in front of the nuts and jerky, and stared with what might have been horror at the hot food station.

Angela pursed her lips. Sure, their jumbo breakfast burritos weren’t exactly gourmet, but she had made them fresh only two hours ago! And there was always the breakfast croissant if the guy missed Europe so bad. Jeez, wait until he got a load of what they had at the Exxon. “Can I help you, sir?” she asked with her most professional cheerfulness.

British Suit turned and approached her. “Angela,” he said, his eyes glancing off her name tag, “I’m afraid I don’t know what a ‘tater tot’ is and why it should be in a burrito.”

Angela eyed him. Bless his heart. Was he serious? “Fried grated potatoes. They add crunch,” she said, and added with sweet vengeance, “Would you like a free sample?” She wanted to see his judgy British face when he found out they were good. 

Sunglasses Suit chose that moment to exit with his bag of pies. “Come on, Bond,” he said. “I got you beef and vegetable. Don’t pretend you don’t eat beef pies in the motherland.”

British Suit, Bond, smirked at her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get that sample,” he said, flashing his eyes up and down at her.

Jesus Christ. Had he somehow turned a tater tot into an innuendo? And was she really thinking that it was a shame she’d missed out?

Bond turned away from her. “Got what you needed, Felix?”

Sunglasses Suit, Felix, nodded. “Yeah. It’ll be good to---you know, the family will appreciate it,” he said. “Anyway---come on. Burnin’ daylight,” he added, his accent heavier than it had been. More familiar than it had been.

A small-town boy, Angela realized, who’d grown up and left for the big wide world like so many kids around here did. Had his mama driven him to DFW to send him off to college, and they’d stopped for pies on the way? How often had he come home after that, in between traveling the world and making friends with British folk? 

Well, Felix was here now, and he’d remembered the pie. There was probably a good son under that suit, buried deep, in the same place he kept the accent. She worked in a gas station in the middle of nowhere---she saw every day that some things buried deep were worth coming back to, even if it was an effort to get there.

Less of an effort when you had company, at least. She was glad this Felix had someone with him---even if it was that weird Bond guy.

[mrchaosman]

Hahahahaahahaahahahaahaaaaaaaaaaa.

????: Sup, fools.

Susie: Who the hell are you?.

????: Well, I'm known as Creative Evil Empirical Prideful Amazing Brand overall Tyrant.

But........

You babies can call me.....

(Take a bite of the apple).

Creepa-bot (or creepa for short).

Susie: Like Hell we Gonna you that, Creative.......Empirical........

(More monitors with "Creepa" written on it).

Creepa: Creepa, remember that name well.

Susie: well, look "Creepa"

We are not babies.

Creepa: Teenagers are technically a babies but a bit intelligent (and Adults are even more intelligent Babies)

(Two monitors appears, one has "IDIOT" written in the screen and other has "LARGE IDIOT" written in the screen).

Susie: ......... isn't that make a baby too?.

Creepa: Hell Nah, I'm a computer (VERY SMART AND HANDSOME).

Susie:....Wait, WHAT?.

Creepa (flies away): Well, That's Cool and All but I have to go now (goodnight kids).

Susie: Wait, WAIT, Why'd You Captured Noelle?.

Creepa (returns to where he appeared): I also planned to capture you too but I ran out of cages (damn, that's sucks).

Susie: Angry, Why the CAPTURING-.

Creepa: so she become my loyal peon.

For my Plan to Taking Over The World.

Also, I might make her a "Creepafied".

Susie: WHAT, WHY???.

Creepa: Sounds cool.

Susie: well, Forgot it, Man.

No one is gonna turn anyone into a weird-looking robot.

Creepa: That Sound like a good peaceful way.

Susie: HUH??..

Creepa: Wanna a battle, Fatass?.

Susie: YES, YES DAMMIT, YES.

Creepa (flies away once again): ok, Goodbye.

Susie: WAIT, WAIT A FREAKING MINUTE YOU-

Creepa: Sorry, I don't have time for that (I was about to kick Your Ass).

But maybe I have some guys who can play with you.

(The mind-control devices floating above two NPCs before taking over them).

(Battle begins).

Creepa: Have fun (Bye).

Creepa: alright, Noelle, do you accept to be my faithful loyal peon?.

If you do, I'll free you.

Just press the correct answer button.

Noelle: I... I'm Scared.

Creepa: Did You even log in a form like this before (OMG XD).

Noelle: No, it's everything else that's scary.

Creepa: Please fill this list out of the following emotions.

I already told you that being a Peon is really AWSAOME.

Susie: Noelle.

Noelle: S... Susie!?.... Kris!?.

Susie: Don't Worry, We won't let you become robotfied.

Noelle: THAT'S... SOMETHING THEY GOING TO DO?!?!.

Susie: Whoops, though. Uh, You Already know that.

Creepa: Well look at this, You Just Ruined the surprise.

Well Then.

(A rotor appears above the cage and flies away, taking Noelle with it).

Susie: W-Wait---!!.

Creepa: What a mess.

The peon must be "willing" to guide in the World Domination.

If only she had a fellow Peons to encourage her.

Susie:.........So?.

Creepa: So, You "fellas"

Hey.

Are you like.

...

Doing anything now?.

Ralsei: We aren't going to help you.

Creepa: Understood (activating mind-changing protocols).

(A butler falls from the sky with a plate in his hand, he pulls the cover and reveals a giant game console and then leaves).

Susie: a giant game console.

Creepa: I decided to humiliating you in a simple Children's way.

With some striking to your ego.

And then, there will be no way but to Serve me (and only me).

Susie: The Hell?!?!, I never played one of these before.

Ralsei: But Kris is quite good at games.

Susie: oh yeah, Kris, Forgot you were a Nerd, show him.

(You tried to use the console, but you are not tall or strong enough to use the controller).

Creepa: Ego Striking complete.

Activating Laughing mode.

Hahahaahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

Ralsei: Uh... ummm... it's ok, kris... err... I'm short, too.

K... kris...!! Wait, I have an idea!.

Kris, if we combine our powers, then...

Look, I'll show what I've been participating.

(A light)

Ralsei: Magical Stool forme R.

Susie: now we're talking.

Alright Kris, Leave it to me.

Put your arms out.

Power Beast Forme S.

Move your arms and I'll move 'Em with You.

Let's go.

(Susie jumps at Ralsei).

Creepa: amazing, your transformation is only left your Weak Points out.

Ego Striking Efficiency 600% and rising.

Activating Virtual Battle.

(After the virtual battle, the game console got destroyed).

Sueie: heh, though you could defeat us?.

Creepa: [robotic evil laugh].

Oh boy that was totally... amazing.

You Earthling(s) are powerful than I expected.

And for this, I'll offer you with a new good and easy-for-babies contract.

Sign in to my Digital-Army.

And there is only a fifty percent chance that I'll resprite you up.

Please pick your answer:

Perish in the pixel doomsday.

Or...........

Accept me as the new leader (sexyman) to your world as well as Accepting the new regin.

(Perish accept).

(Perish❤️ accept).

Susie: (... The Hell did you say that so enthusiastically).

Ralsei: err. Creepa... aren't there any other options?.

Creepa: OF course, there is: Super-Perish.

Susie: yeah. Um, no perishing... bites.

Creepa: You can say it: Super-Bytes.

Susie: Would You get out of here already!?!?!?.

Creepa: got jt: set all settings to "Perish".

(Creepa leaves).

Susie: c'mon, let's go after him.

(After completing the "Accept2All" puzzle).

Creepa: You Just Typed: Accept 2 All.

And Thanks for agreeing 2 this peon release form.

With that being said: are three are officially my minions.

And I can use your likeness for cool sprites.

Susie: and what if we just...don't do what do you say?.

Creepa: in that situation, I'll have no choice but....

Use another guy I guess.

Susie: Uh. Better get started on that then.

Creepa: ok but I'll still going to use your Likeness.

(The water roller thing idk).

Creepa: That’s end of the line, funny babies.

I been acting very nice that far but now it it time for:

Your awful impression (capture).

Drop the cages.

Ralsei: ...err. you missed.

Creepa: That isn't a miss it was a cyber calibration.

Susie:.. so, Uh, are you gonna try it again?.

Creepa: Nah I only have like 4 cages.

OK wait.

For I have a this little plot twist for you.

BEHOLD, MY...PEON.

(Noelle came).

Noelle: u... um... s-sorry, I just couldn't say no.

Susie: Noelle!?!?.

Noelle: H... Hi, Susie. Umm, how are you?.

Susie: umm, okay, I guess?.

Noelle: your... um... roller coaster is, um... I like it.

Susie: uhh... Yours too?

Noelle: Th... Thanks.

Susie:...

Creepa: Welp that's useless, bring in the other one.

(Berdly comes in).

Berdly: Fear not, My Beloved Noelle.

This valiant warrior of brave intelligence.

Will be your knight in the glow in the dark armor.

Susie: Berdly, You Asked BERDLY to be in your team!?!?.

Creepa: nope i didn't.

Berdly: That’s LORD Berdly to you simpletons.

And soon... SUPER Lord Berdly.

Susie:... the hell does that mean?.

Creepa: I have no idea just play along y'all.

Berdly: You See, thanks to our POWERFUL King...

We... Will soon rule the WORLD.

and Turn this land of fools... into smartopia.

A true scientocracy, where the geniuses of the world, can bathe freely in pools of fresh fruit and ambrosia.

No Longer held back by Protozoans like YOU.

And the key to that? Is US. Noelle and I.

Our Power... the "Light Nerd's" power...

Ralsei: You mean... "Lightners?"

Berdly: Um No. Creepa said "Light Nerds"

Creepa (laugh): Sure I did.

Ralsei: Berdly, Creepa's just manipulating you.

Berdly: Heh... that's what he SAID you'd say to me

Creepa (laugh): Sure I did.

Berdly: Now kris.

I must admit l, I feel pity for you.

Unlike Susie, I always saw some potential in you.

Join our side, and I might let you scrub our royal toilet.

(Do Not join).

Berdly: ah, kris. I suppose I knew you would never amount to much.

Well, if You're dead-set on proving your inferiority...

(Pulls his weapon).

Berdly: Allow me to assist you.

(Fight begins).

(After the fight).

Berdly: w-what...?

My coaster, it's...!

Wh... what!? That's not fair.

M... my king... save me...!!!

(Explosion).

Creepa: just in a second, bud.

Hello guys, I have a massive update.

You see.

This roller coaster you in it Right now.

It's not totally.

"Completed" yet.

Susie: WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!?!.

Creepa: "Suffering"

(Creepa laugh and flies away as the roller coaster are about to fall).

Noelle: K-Kris!! What are you---

Creepa: ohhh Nooeeeeeeeellle.

Noelle: (Don't let him find me...).

Creepa: Noelle, Where are you (kiddo).

Did ya forget that we are (officially) are team?.

And still have to be my willing and (official) minion.

(Notice Kris).

Creepa:... kris.

Been spotted.

It seems to me that our teammates have dodged on us

... so I see that it has came into this...

In order to find our team(inions)...

...

...

We have to form (unofficial) truce...

(Suddenly, Berdly comes in).

Berdly: Creepa, my greatest king, where are you??.

Creepa: oh crap don't let him find me

(Turns himself into a box near to Noelle).

Berdly: ah. Kris... not the being I was looking for.

... hmm? Where's the rest of the C+ Squad?

Don't yell me you got abandoned!?, HA.

HAHA!! That's what you get for trusting Susie, HA.

H... huh?, Noelle? Creepa?.

They're just... busy retro gaming somewhere!!.

I bet they're waiting for me on the player select screen.

Listening to strangely groovy music!! HAHA, HA, HA.

...

Sigh.

So it come to this.

In order to find our respective teams...

It APPEARS...

we must form an uneasy truce...

Creepa What... The

Who the (Whoops) said you could double trucies?

Berdly: HUH?, did you hear something?.

Creepa: No No don't worry, that's just aahhhhhh...

The sounds from the city.

Berdly: oh okay.

Hmph. Well I'll be ahead. Don't be LATE.

(Berdly leaves).

(Creepa returns to his original appearance).

Creepa: Kris as a part of our truce (you and I just).

Keep Berdly out of our sight and find Noelle.

For you see...

Berdly... He's...

Alright there's no problems with him other than he just annoying as hell.

Toodles.

(Creepa leaves).

(Later).

Creepa (drunk): oh.

Boy.

You arrived.

(Laughing).

I'm sorry kris while I've been looking for Noelle.

I eat like 4 of those weird funny apples.

They are made out of JPNG.

(Laughing and throw the apple).

Don't worry about that, it was safe-to-throw apple.

Look kris.

(The entity spotted got applesauce).

And now, that we are trucies, I start feeling that we both are quite the same.

(Crazy mode activating).

(Creepa held Kris from their head and they are upside down).

Creepa: You got that kris.

You don't have something so ridiculous as "having an opinions".

Or yelling while I kick Your Ass.

Or telling me some stupid-Ass plans for a "smartboys"-themed city and reality.

I CAN'T TAKE THIS GODDAMMIT.

why everyone else is so... Sad.

(Throws another, however this explodes).

Creepa: Sorry, I forgot this one is my BLOWING APPLE.

kris.

All I want is to make everyone happy.

Even if that means i have to destroy everything in my way to accomplish it.

Isn't that bad?.

It's fine.

No Need to Answer.

(Laughing).

You'll answer incorrectly anyway.

But hey Kris... while we're still trucies.

Probably we can sort it out?.

(Another game console fall appears, this one is smaller).

By PLAYING it Out.

Isn't that... cool, Kris?.

Just You and me.

Playing just like brothers (in a neutral way for you).

And best of it: No one can interrupt this (...hopefully).

(Suddenly, a golden statue of Berdly and Creepa's statue looks so small next to it).

(Berdly falls from the sky).

Berdly: King Creepa, I've been looking everywhere to show you this.

A monument to our greatness... together.

Creepa (confused): Wow.

Um, that, wow, ah, what, hahah, ohh, hehe, mhh..

How I can put it straight.

It looks very...

...

Amazing.

So amazing and great you are.

I love it so much.

Berdly; HAHA, I KNEW you'd be enamored. Such perfect taste.

Creepa: Yeah, they are cool.

As I know, specie(s) like don't have... nipples.

Berdly: haha... I will SOON...

in our IDEAL WORLD.

Kris, Feel free to admire our artisanship.

Creepa and I have plans to consider.

Creepa: Yup, that so awesome, I can't wait for it (what the hell am I doing with my life now, bro?).

Mmhahahahahahah.

It's Time go, Buttly.

(Berdly leaves).

Creepa: Keep moving I have to do something... alone (without you you little stinkass).

(Creepa backs to kris).

Creepa: I'm sorry about that, I must plan the hell out of here.

(Creepa leaves, as there is someone wearing a bucket on their head with a funny drawing on it).

Creepa: Cool face.

(Later)

Creepa: Noelle, Where are you (kiddo).

Noelle: (Oh No, Here he comes...)

Creepa: Noelle, please come back home, I have made a delicious PNG Cake.

(Notice Kris).

Creepa: OH, Kris, nice.

(Throw the cake to the ground).

Now kris, did you seen--.

Berdly: My great Crrrreeeeeeeeeeppaa.

Creepa: OH hell no.

Everyone, get into the Creepamobile.

(They got into the car).

Berdly: King Creepa, where did you go??.

I have baked you a gamer's delight.

Hmm... he's not here...

(Berdly leaves)

(Everyone get outside of the car).

Creepa: phew, that one was close.

Hey kris.

Who is the fella behind you?.

My identifying systems dose not able to identify them.

...and yet.

There is something about them that fells

Awesome.

Creepatic Even.

Noelle: (...).

Creepa: Kris, we have to drive find Noelle.

Everyone, get in the Creepamobile.

Creepa: ok, kris, press directions to steer.

But watch out, we don't want hit any cars, don't we?.

(You hit a car).

Creepa: Y'know what?, suck it, hit 'Em all.

So much fun, right kris.

You lightners love traffic, don't you.

You look it up all the time.

Unfortunately for Noelle, She'll love hitting all these cars.

Noelle (in Disguise): umm, Actually, I... she, um, might not, um...

Creepa: NOW YOU BUFFOONS, STOP EVERYTHING.

Kris, catch the apple.

(You catched the apple).

Creepa: Vitamin.

Wait, what, stop the car.

Holy (Whoops) it's so much traffic for today.

It's seems that Dog/cat thing has back selling the flakes on road again.

Kris, be a good child and go press the walk button.

It's over the the other side of the road.

Noelle (in Disguise): umm... I'll go, too...

Creepa: No, You gonna stay here...

Noelle (in Disguise): !?.

Creepa: So we can listen to all my CDs.

Noelle: o-okay.

(Kris... hurry up, please...).

(Here is the part where we met everyone's most wasted [[silly dude who makes fantracks and Arts since 1998]]

I'll link it here, so you guys can read both of Creepa's Saga and Scamcair's Saga).

(Anyway, after Scamcair's first encounter and Fight).

Creepa: Come in.

(You got into the car).

Creepa: Kris, Remember, we HAVE to find Noelle.

(Creepa's signal activating).

(A signal that looks like Creepa's face appeared on the sky).

Creepa: When she see THE CREEPA SIGNAL, She'll came here, sooner or later.

Noelle (in Disguise): W... why do you... need to find Noelle so badly?.

Creepa: What are you even talking about?, this city is dangerous.

Poor, alone in the dark, and very scared and confused.

And suffering from the lack of vitamin.

Noelle (in Disguise): y... you're actually worried about her?.

Creepa: why do you think I'm wasting my time to find her.

Noelle (in Disguise):...

B... but why her?.

Wait, let me guess... is it because...

She's weak enough to make into your peon?.

Creepa: (audience laughs) Nah.

It's completely the opposite.

Because she's damn strong.

Noelle (in Disguise): h... huh? What do you--

Creepa: kris, can you please stop the car?.

Noelle (in Disguise): what's... wrong with it?.

Creepa: Phew.

One more minute and we three will be a dead-bytes (ohhhhhh spooky).

It seems that we have we have to split again...

On foot...

No more cool Creepamobile (crying).

...

Kris, just for reminder, if you saw Noelle

Tell her my ratings of her dancing in ballet is total.

Ohh, and if she asked for evidence.

Use this.

(Creepa's CDplayer was thrown to your KEY ITEMS).

Creepa: See ya.

(Creepa leaves)

(Later, in the carnival).

Noelle: O-oh no, he's coming back this way.

I'll hide in that stall.

Creepa hey you.

Yeah you.

Look at this.

(Throws the ball at the pens, causing them to explodes).

Creepa: Epic, right?.

And now, where is my hard-earned prize.

Noelle (in Disguise): oh! Um...

(Giving Creepa a prize).

H-here.

Creepa: Nice (hopefully it's a pony).

(Before he leaves).

Wait a sac, I actually don't it.

(Creepa give it to kris and then leaves).

(After the gang goes to Creepa's Mansion).

Creepa: Kris, I can't believe it, you brought Noelle right in front of me.

I knew that our trucies was good.

But I'm sorry kris, you found your teammates and mine, that means that our truce is over.

Noelle, come over here, NOW.

Noelle: but I... I...

Creepa: Noelle, I'll say this one time (for infinity)

Get back here Get back here Get back here

Get back here

Get back here

Get back here

Get back here.

Noelle: I... I...

Creepa: are you for real?.

I guess I have no other choice.

How about if you didn't listen to me.

A little lonely bird will take a shower in the lava.

Noelle: b... Berdly.

(That’s right, he was just with us...).

(Creepa must have Captured him while are not looking...).

(...)

(I... I'm sorry kris, Susie... I...).

(I wish I could have stayed with you but...)

(I... I can't let Berdly gets hurt, Y'know?).

Susie:...

Creepa: aww, don't be sad, Noelle

For the remaining parts is the final step.

(Suddenly, Berdly comes in).

Berdly: the amazing Creepa, there you are.

Sorry, I thought I saw in a used game store.

Oh, Noelle, Are you okay?, you look a little funny.

Creepa: Plan B activate.

(A cage appears and captures Noelle and Flies away).

Berdly: h-huh?.

What are you doing!?.

Creepa: I saw how her will must be released by force.

Maybe by making her a Creepafied...?.

Berdly: B-but... you said you wouldn't do that if I...

Creepa: Lie detection is off.

Berdly: We were going to be smart together!!! That's not fair!!!.

Creepa: you want something fair?

Then have it your way.

(Three cages appears and captures Berdly, Susie and Kris).

Susie: H-HEY.

Creepa: Good thing that I have fully updated these cages.

Berdly: You... you said I could trust you.

You said that you were a gamer.

Creepa: Berdly.

Did You know that I hates games?.

Berdly: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

Creepa: one of you buffoons is gonna help me in my Plan and it's gonna be Noelle.

And the rest of you.

Go to your rooms.

Hahahahahahaha.

(The camera then points at Ralsei as Creepa victoriously laugh).

Ralsei: wh... what are you going to do with me?.

(Creepa realise that he didn't capture Ralsei).

Creepa: ohh (Whoops)

And you are here... still.

I only have like 4 cages bro.

I totally didn't know that.

(In the top).

Susie: Here he is.

Creepa, STOP right there.

Creepa: Cool, my not-too-much-favourite babies.

Just in time to witness my new regin.

And with Noelle under my control.

This is only a matter of time before Turns this world

And release her true power.

Covering the whole world with darkness.

Susie: Too late dumbass.

Noelle's with Berdly.

Creepa: Ohh really?.

Then who is that?.

(Berdly falls from the sky, this time with a bucket on his head).

Ralsei: b... Berdly?! But he's been...

Creepa: With Noelle.

After I discovered about the bucket mask thing, I decided to "update" it a bit to my advantage.

Making them from just a Disguise to a mind-controlling devices.

Now everyone can enjoy watching this.

(Evil laugh mode activating).

Susie: Wait, then... where is Noelle?!.

(Evil laugh mode overdrive).

I don't know (I know everything).

(The fun gang pulls their weapons)

Susie: enough already.

Creepa: Ohh boy.

To be honest, I liked you three.

It's gonna be a shame to force you to Serve me.

I'll enjoy it to the last.

(Creepa laugh).

(Battle starts).

[callisto-writes]

Handsome Jack x Male!Reader

trigger warnings: a little spicy at the end

notes: short, pre-handsome, jack is bisexual, reader is bisexual, and he's the same height as jack, jack is a bit of a sweetheart because the world needs more soft handsome jack

You had been Jack's childhood friend. The one part of his childhood he actually wanted to remember. He tried his hardest to forget everything else. He actually cared about you, valued your presence. You were the one support system he had, and he was grateful you still cared about him.

It had been another boring day on Helios, you were there to visit. Mainly, you just wanted to hang out in Jack's office and hear how pissed Tassiter got when he discovered Jack wasn't doing any work. Tassiter always hated when you came to Helios, it meant his least favorite subordinate wouldn't do a thing for the entire day.

Jack was telling another story, one about some poor fella in accounting that tripped and broke a computer. You were barely listening, too busy thinking about how much you had fallen in love with him. You had realized your feelings for Jack a long time ago, but had always been too nervous to confess. You figured he was straight, that was most of Hyperion anyway, straight people. Jack knew you were bisexual, you had come out to him first. He was very accepting, something you hadn't expected from him.

"...And then I told him- Hey cupcake, you listening?" He snapped in front of your face, bringing you out of your little trance. "Y-yeah, Jack. Just a little distracted is all." He eyed you suspiciously. "Well... What's on your mind?" He asked, putting his feet up on his desk. "I have... feelings for someone... but I don't know how to tell them I like them." Jack's relaxed expression turned curious. "Well, pumpkin, I'd just go for it. Tell 'em you like 'em. If it goes south, I can always hire someone to kill them for ya." Jack chucked, closing his eyes.

"Jack?" "Yeah?" "...I like you. More than a friend, like you." You squeezed your eyes shut, ready for his rejection. When you didn't hear a response, you opened your eyes, to see Jack sitting there staring at you. "...You like me?" He looked surprised. You slowly stood up, ready to leave and lose your best friend. "I-I can leave if you want me to. You don't have to-" "Hold on, pumpkin." He stood from his chair and walked over to you. He cupped your cheek gently, before smiling and pulling you into a kiss.

You completely froze, unable to believe what was happening. Jack was kissing you. Your best friend Jack, was kissing you. You were interrupted from your thoughts when he pulled away. "You gonna kiss me back or what?" You laughed and pulled him back, connecting your lips once more. Jack wrapped his arms around your neck, deepening the kiss. You slowly started to push him backwards, pinning him to his desk. Your lips moved from his lips to his neck, kissing gently. "P-pumpkin if you're gonna get freaky you gotta at least lock the door..."

You pulled away from Jack, smiling nervously at him. "Does... this mean we're a couple?" You asked, rubbing your arm. "If that's what you want, yeah." He responded, grabbing one of your hands. You pulled him into a hug, wrapping your arms around his torso. Jack chuckled, pressing a single kiss to your neck. "I love you, Jack."

"I love you too, cupcake."

[ill-say-anything-i-hafta]

Eyoooooo it's my first fic ever on tumblr! This is sort of inspired by this answer from @riding-palomionos-every-day and my ongoing frustration with Jack acting like an asshole in Santa Fe (Prologue).

Run

Crutchie has never been in the Refuge.

He is Jack’s second and he takes that job seriously. He burnishes Jack’s legend whenever he gets the chance, and keeps all of his secrets – the ones Jack chooses to confide, at least.

But when the Refuge comes up, Jack don’t act like himself. He says stuff that don’t make sense. Crutchie knows better than to ask for details about his time there.

Still, there is some facts he needs to know. To be prepared.

There used to be a boy called Walter the Crip who hung around St. Paul’s Chapel on Fulton Street where Crutchie would sell the afternoon edition. Walter was a bum, not a newsie; both of his legs was stiff and he used two crutches to get around. But he was nice enough to talk to. Then one day, Crutchie didn’t see him no more.

Folks said the bulls got him for begging. Crutchie knows where they must’ve sent him. Now, he might as well be a ghost.

Racetrack was in the Refuge for the first time last year, a three-month sentence for loitering and smoking on a public thoroughfare. When he got out, Crutchie asked him what it was like. “They takes away your shoes,” Racer said darkly. “So’s you can’t run.” He wouldn’t say much more.

When Crutchie was little, he used to have two crutches, like Walter. That made it easier to get around, for sure, and he don’t remember his back hurting him back then. But you can’t hold up a pape with the headline showing if you ain’t got no free hand. You can’t count back change. You can’t pop a fella hard in the mouth if he tries to roll you.

Crutchie takes pride in being a good seller. He’s gotta eat, and he’d gotta be able to defend himself, too. He’s got a rep of his own to maintain. And it’s hard to explain, but to him, two crutches just looks worse. Makes him look like a fella he don’t wanna be.

But there ain’t no denying in – he is not as steady with just one.

Specs has done several stints in the Refuge – more than anyone else Crutchie knows. He’s been picked up for skipping out on trolley fare. For fighting, when bigger kids jumped him. For other minor crimes he didn’t even do. “It ain’t so bad in there,” Specs said, when Crutchie asked him. “The boys is rough, but they’se OK. You just gotta make friends with the right ones, and it’s fine there. So long as you ain’t on the Spider’s bad side.”

Specs is tall for his age, with straight, strong limbs and a handsome mug. People usually take to him, ‘cept for the folks who hate him on sight for who he is and what he can’t change. He’s a good scrapper, a good seller, an all-around good fella. He sticks out, but he’s used to getting along, like Crutchie is.

“You knowed any crips in there?” Crutchie asked him.

“A few.”

“How’d they treat 'em?”

Specs takes off his glasses and rubs his nose. He never likes to say things people don’t want to hear. “Just fine,” he says. Crutchie is embarrassed that he even asked such a stupid question.

They have all slept in shared rooms for years. Jack don’t flinch when he catches sight of Crutchie’s leg, like some of the other fellas do. He understands that it never growed right. He’s sketched the muscles that ain’t there and the way the foot twists inward, considering the leg like it is something interesting and not a tragedy. Jack don’t even mind touching it, on days when the pain is so rotten that Crutchie needs a little extra help.

He knows perfectly well that it ain’t gonna get no better. When he says that, he don’t mean it to hurt. It’s another stupid yarn, a pretty story that makes Jack feel safe.

There are boys’ names carved into the walls of the Refuge dormitories. Ractrack told Crutchie that one day, out of the blue. “I spotted Jack’s name there,” Ractrack said. “From a long time back.”

Is Walter the Crip’s name somewhere? Maybe. Racer don’t remember seeing it. And Crutchie ain’t gonna ask Specs nothing else.

It’s all a waste of time to think on it too much, and for a newsie, there’s already too few selling hours in a day. Crutchie ain’t a dreamer, and he don’t need to run nowhere. His real life is here. It’s better for him to concentrate on the here and now, on being out, on staying out. On watching for Mr. Snyder and taking care of the littler bkids. On which headline is better today, the World's or the Journ's. On what Kloppman’s missus is gonna make for dinner.

FIN.

He can make it on his own just fine. He’s been doing it for years. And he’s got friends. No need to be fast when you’ve got friends.

MORE NOTES: I feel like I should also point to this fantastic post from @newsiesquare, which very much informed my thinking about what the hell Jack and Crutchie are even talking about on the roof.

[ageless-aislynn]

I didn’t get a chance to tell y’all last night, frens, but I did manage to finish my Mass Effect: Andromeda playthrough before Camp NaNo began! My first playthrough with Jaal took 120 hours because that Sara would be happy to help you, citizen, to get your cat out of the tree along with any and all other side quests, lol!

For Reyes 😍 I just backed the Jaal playthrough up to Kadara, gave Sara a makeover and romanced the heck out of that scoundrel, lol! So, don’t know how many hours that took. 🤷‍♀️

For Peebee, I didn’t go all of the way back to when we first met her but just grabbed another makeover, then jumped in right before the Zero-G scene 🥳 and finished the game from there in about 60 hours total.

Annnnnd now I’ve found a couple of shortcuts that let me go back to where we’d just landed on Eos (geez, I’d forgotten what a pain that was with all the radiation and no outpost or forward stations yet 😬), took yet another makeover, then played all the way through to the movie night scene and to where we’d defeated the Archon and settled Meridian... in 30 hours total. *fistpump*

Of course, to do that I ended up skipping all of the Architect fights, didn’t do the Turian pathfinder mission so Captain Dunn died because there was only the Salarian and Asari pathfinders and they couldn’t save her without a third, 😥 (I actually feel bad about that, that would be the only thing I’d change in the future in a “fast playthrough” is to make room for saving Cpt Dunn), I opened all of the vaults but didn’t put outposts on Kadara (left all of Reyes’ missions undone, only met with him once or twice so I wouldn’t be tempted by that handsome fella 😳😛) or Elaaden (didn’t even meet with Overlord Morda at all, oops 👀) and didn’t do Peebee or Liam’s loyalty missions because they had no outcome on the ending.

But, I did have plenty of time for my best Turian girl! 💖

Look at how cute we are! Tol and smol, FTW!

Spikey gf movie night sofa snuggles, d’aww...

Vetra is precious and needs to be protected at all costs! *fist thump* 🤗😉

And look at the emails she sent me! (For those who don’t know, Sid is her younger sister who we meet and help along the way. 😉)

But I really want to what sort of MONSTER would choose the second option in the scene where she’s taken you up to look at the view on Kadara. You’re laying there, looking up at the sky and she’s hesitantly confessed that you were kinda acting like maybe you liked her... as more than a friend?

WHO WOULD PICK “SORRY, JUST PLAYING”??? ZOMG, YOU’LL BREAK HER HEART, WHAT’S THE MATTER WITH YOUUUUUUUU???? You’ve had to flirt with her a bunch of times to get this dialogue, so it’s not like you accidentally romanced her. THEN YOU’D CUT HER DOWN LIKE THAT?

Eobard Thawne will cross over from the Flash multiverse just to SIDE-EYE THE HECK OUT OF YOU if you pick that option. Tell ‘em, Eo!

*gigglesnort* Anyway! I share because I care or, more accurately, I’m still just loving the game so much, I have to tell somebody or 🌈💖 rainbows and hearts 💖🌈 will come bursting out of my fangirl heart like, um, a super cute and decorative Alien chestburster? Wow, that analogy went REALLY wrong, sorry, lol! 🤷‍♀️😬😉

Next, I think I’ll do a full restart and play as Scott but my priority for this month is focusing on my Camp NaNo wordcount, so won’t be spending every free second gaming.

Notice I didn’t say I’d be giving up gaming for the month? Because, yeah, not gonna happen. I enjoy my Halo and Andromeda waaaaay too much for that! 😛

All righty, I’mma get back to writing now. If you read all of this, then just know I consider you a superstar and think you deserve a basket of cookies or other goodies of your choice!

Love you, frens! Take care and see you next time! 💖💖💖

[writtenbyjos]

Spellbound, A Ghostly Tale: Chapter 1

God, there is so much I would add just by re-reading over the first chapter vs. how far I've come with myself, this story and these characters. I promise more is coming ┊ ˚➶ ｡˚

But for now, here's the first chapter of Spellbound. My baby, my child. don't hold the applause! jk. there is no applause

CHAPTER 1: AND OLD PHOTO

"Fellas, I can't tell you how much this has helped me out," Dr. James Harvey said setting a large box down on his desk with a large thump. "I've been meaning to clean out my cabinet's for months now." He said cheerfully. "Ever since you boys got the word out, my office hasn't been vacant since!" He clapped his hands together cheerfully.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," a tall, violet eyed apparition said with a wave of his hand, looking through a large book. "Boys look at 'dis one," he said with a large grin pointing to a picture of a girl with full lips, and dark eyes. "Jeannie Ann Hefner…" Stretch said, his eyes wide. The largest ghost howled at the top of his lungs. "Let me get a piece of that," he hollered.

"She looks like a hot dog kind o' gal to me," the middle one with large buck teeth mused dreamily. James stacked his arms on top of the box and gazed into space.

"Jeannie Ann Hefner," he laughed and shook his head. "We went on a date back in the summer of, what was it…'71?" He smiled.

"Bow-chika-bow-wow, Doc! 'Atta boy, 'atta boy!" Stretch whooped. "Tell me you got to 'da, whata the kids call it," he formed his hand into a bat and Stinkie threw a baseball at him. "Third base?" He and the other two cackled loudly. He swung and the baseball flew out the window making a glass shattering sound. Dr. Harvey blushed furiously and waved his hands.

"No, no, no. Nothing like that." he said. "She lost a bet…" he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly

Stretch, Stinkie and Fatso lost their heads, raging with laughter, Stinkie melting into a puddle of his own tears. Literally.

"'Dem fleshie dames ain't no good anyways, Doc. Too lively for my taste." He looked at his fingernails. "Don't waste ya time on 'em."

"Am I detecting some resentment, there Stretch?" James asked, his voice getting a little serious.

"What da hell is that supposed to mean? I ain't had the least bit of trouble with the ladies," he said, smirking. "Can't say the same for these bozos," He said, elbowing Fatso and punching Stinkie on the shoulder. Stinkie shrugged and smiled innocently.

"One dame get's too close to Stink ova here and she goes a' runnin' for da hills." Stretch laughed.

"For the hills! Screamin'!" Fatso said laughing loudly.

"Who me?" He said putting a finger to his mouth and one behind his back. "Them dames just didn't know a good belch or fart when they hear one," He said putting one finger in the air.

"Now Fatso," Stretch said patting is brother's head, "Fatso ova' 'ere will swallow his goddamn date whole," he laughed, while Stinky pointed and rolled over in the air. Stretch turned a few more pages before gasping and slamming his finger onto one of the pages titled, 'Senior Year Graduates'.

"Oh shit!" Stretch yelled. "I found da mothaload," he ran his finger through the many names, turning a few more pages and laughing at the dramatic pictures of the seniors.

"And look who we got 'ere…" He said holding up the book with a picture of Dr. Harvey in his senior school year. He saw the picture and rushed to get it from Stretch. "Nope, nuh uh." Stretch, Stinkie and Fatso gathered around the picture as James tried to retrieve it from below their tails.

"Oh come on, let us get a good look," Fatso said laughing.

"Yeah, yeah. You was one handsome devil der, Doc." Stretch laughed.

"Wait a minute." Stinkie scrunched up his face in confusion. "Doc, you don't got no red freckles!" Stinkie said.

"Thoze, a' pimples ya dipshit," Stretch banged his brother on the back of the head with one whack with the year book.

"Oh for the love of," James said throwing his hands in the air. "I need to get more boxes anyways," he said. While the ghostly trio snickered at his old, embarrassing high school and college photos, James surveyed the area and eyed the mysterious cubed in the corner of the room covered with cobwebs.

"Perhaps I could store patient files in here," He said wiping away the dust and webs. He opened the two large doors and waved away the mildew smell.

"Good lord," He said holding his nose. "So who's up for a little teamwork building activities?" James said rubbing his hands together.

"Damn!" He heard Stretch yell. "Where can I get my hands on a blossom blossom like that?" The ghosts laughed and high fived. James rolled his eyes and reached for a box on the top shelf. He stood on his tip toes and eventually lost his balance finding him self on the floor papers, books and pictures everywhere.

"And he sticks the landing!"

"Whoop, whoop, whoop!" They all sang in unison.

"Cabinet one, Doc, zero!" Stinkie cried out with fists in the all said in unison with their hands in the air.

"A little help?" James said from under the heap. The trio lifted him up from under and set him on the ground. James dusted himself off and bent down to collect the pictures scattered across the floor.

He lifted the box and blew a thick layer of dust off the top. The side read, 'Photographs' in a thin black hand.

"I wonder," He slowly lifted the top and pulled out a large, faded photo. He held it up and squinted, adjusting his glasses. It was brown, old and almost whitened, but he could make out three young men arm in arm smiling stupidly. James's eyes widened and he held the picture up to the three brothers that stood in front of him. In the photo, the largest of the three brothers resting his eight on one foot, was wearing a white button down with slacks and his hair was short but very disheveled. His eyes were large and happy, and his smile genuine.

"Whatcha lookin' at der, Doc?" Stinkie asked tilting his head. James was standing in an odd position examining a photo in awe. He didn't answer Stinkie.

"Amazing…" He said breathlessly. He examined the other two.

On the right was a thinner looking figure with spiky, light brown hair and light brown eyes. His figure was slumped over but his face was bright and young. The one in the middle though, was the most familiar. He had striking violet eyes, contrasting with jet black, messy hair. They seemed to sparkle, with years of mischief behind them almost daring the photographer to move closer. His smile was charming, cunning if you will. He was almost six feet high from the looks of the photograph and a nearby fire hydrant that looked like a measly mouse compared to his long figure.

"What the hell, Doc." Stretch spoke interrupting James's deep thought almost making him drop the picture. "You's givin' me da creeps…" he said eyeing him with a squint.

"Fellas…" James said. "Do you know who these young men are?" He asked. They all swopped over and squinted pushing each other out of the way here and there.

"Damn!" Stinkie exclaimed. "Who ah 'dose handsome devils?" He said.

"I don't know, but the one on the left looks like he could eat a horse." Fatso said. Stretch took the photo and looked more closely. His eyes widened as he realized who just was standing arm in arm and just where they were.

"Holy Mother Teresa. Boys," he said with an unreadable look plastered on his face. "Dis was us, when we was fleshies, air breathers, bone bags. Look der —" Stretch pointed. "It's Wipstaff for god's sake!"

"Move it, Stink," Fatso butt bumped Stinkie out of the way and snatched the picture form Stretch's hands. He took one look at the other "fatso" in the photo and looked at his brothers. "Holy shit, you're right." Fatso said. "I remember,"

"I'm as handsome as I remember," Stretch said smoothing his bald head.

"I'm as fat as I remember," Fatso said.

"Look what's done been written on da back," Stinkie said. Stretch cocked his head back and shook his head.

"'June 1st, 1893 — Joseph "Joey", Theodore "Theo" and Vincent "Vinnie…"

"Gosh," Stinkie said. "Fellas, it's slowly comin' back." He said. Stinkie ran his slim fingers across the faded cursive writing.

"Dat day was our Auntie Julia's wedding, see," Stinkie said to James, who was still completely bewildered.

"That crazy old hag, I'd never guessed she'd hitch the wagon in a million years!" Fatso said making them all laugh.

"Member how she used to make us shine all her damn silverware?" Stretch said. He shaped into a very disturbing version of what they had seen their Auntie Julia like. White bun, bright red lipstick and a corset. Stretch spoke in a high pitched tone. "Now boys," He said mockingly. "If I see one more spot on those spoons I'll throw myself out the kitchen window!" They all laughed and huddled together over this shared memory.

James had never seen them be so genuinely happy…Then again, he didn't even know they could remember their past life, let alone a memory so vivid.

"Fellas do you realize what this means?" James cried out his hands in the air.

"No more spoon shinin'?" Stinkie's head popped into vision.

"Uncle Fred threw himself out the kitchen window?" Fatso appeared next to Stinkie. Stretch shot up between them.

"Our Auntie Julia was a bitch?" Stretch asked shrugging.

James furrowed his brow and lowered his arms when he realized they didn't share the same excitement.

"It means," He said exasperated. "If we can get you to remember your past lives, maybe we can figure out why you have yet to cross over to the other side!" He said, smiling widely. "Your unfinished business!" He said hands on his hips. The trio just looked at each other in awe.

Now they really wished Doc hadn't found that old photo.

[all-things-fic]

Somewhere Only We Know

A/N - Hello, you lovely lot! Hope you are all keeping well in these utterly shit Covid times. Who would’ve thought that we would still be here in December?! Please see my offering for @goldenbluesuit​‘s Christmas Fic Challenge. Hope I’ve done a bit of justice with this piece.

I can remember Katie texting me telling me about the challenge, and I’ll admit I was given first dibs and now I’m absolutely shitting myself because I’ve seen all the brillaint entries so far and I’m not sure I really cut the mustard with this piece but I’m proud of myself for being able to put a solid 70% of this together in just one day (that one day being today).

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Katie has done a brilliant job and I know how grateful she is towards anyone who has joined the challenge or supported by reading/sharing etc.... I need to stop rambling... Okay, thank you for sticking with me as always and happy reading! .x

***

The last thing you remembered actually reading in the group chat was “make sure you have your wellies”. You were glad that you remembered that part at the very least.

Winds whipped around you as you buried your face further into your cream roll neck cable knit jumper, all but hidden underneath your tobacco borg teddy coat that someone had already likened to Macklemore.

Nothing like being back home with your closest and oldest friends.

Mud squelched under your feet as you walked in line with two of your oldest girl friends, eyes looking over the four males in front of you as they led the way over the grassy hills.

There had been zero planning on what today’s events would bring. It was quite clear that the seven of you just wanted to be reunited with the country air and wind bitten cheeks.

It was nice. How simple it was. On the surface at the very least. That was until you zoned in on the little things. 

Like his laugh. The same laugh that always carried somehow and it seemed like the wind was making it that much more prominent than usual today.

There was no denying, he had this glow about him. Even from the back of him. You felt silly for thinking it, but it was true. It was in the way he held himself as he attacked the grassy hills with his feet clad wellies and brown trousers.

Life had changed a lot in over a decade. Christ, had it been that long? You’d all gone from baby teenagers to fully fledged adults. The age range of your friendship differing slightly, the odd person here and there slightly older than a couple of people in the group.

Nonetheless, many of the experiences had been the same. The big job offers, and the even bigger promotions. The heartbreaks, regardless of their prominence or lack of, had been the felt the same. The flirtation between some of you sparked probably a bit more so now with a finesse that didn’t have you rolling your eyes but rather leaning into it. 

Four out of seven of you were single. Jack and Jonny were virtually married off, however neither of them were with their partners this year with both deciding to spend Christmas at home and New Years with their significant others. Alice was still loved up and going strong with her fella, as was Grace who you hadn’t heard a peep from as she constantly checked her phone to see when the person she was besotted with finally arrived up North thanks to West Midlands Trains pulling into Crewe. 

So that left Will, you and Harry. Harry who had  quite publicly made it known that he was single. Well, according to your Mum he had, in several interviews. Including the one that she had described as an ‘incredibly relaxing watch and nice background noise to my Sunday evening brew and ironing session’. 

That was a strange one for you, his honesty. In earlier years of friendship, he always seemed quite aloof. Like he was keeping his options open. Guarded in a way that frustrated at least 75% of the friendship group, in the nicest way possible. You knew that was a contradiction but any annoyance came from a good place. 

You remembered one night in 2014 when he wouldn’t quite give you a straight answer over tequila shots whether he was shagging someone or not. You also remember the way he’d been pulled away from you tactfully by Alice that night when she sensed how you were about to blow up at his lackadaisical attitude. 

The same had been felt in 2016. Not so much in 2018, but you weren’t single then so maybe you just didn’t care. 

2019 was significantly different though.

See the thing was, you knew him now. Like, knew knew him. 

Some would think it was a lapse of judgment, a reading that you would agree upon given what had happened two days prior if ever prodded about it publicly.

Others would vehemently disagree. Stating how long any sort of energy between the two of you had been bubbling for a number of years. 

Looking back you couldn’t even understand why you’d attended his show. You lived in Camden and it made sense, but that’s where the sense stopped. Even the ways he had reached out had been one of the most random messages you’d received from him

There was no context, just a simple ‘I’m playing the Electric Ballroom and there’s tickets waiting for you if you want ‘em.’

And the thing was, you loved that venue. The grungy-ness of it all. The way you had stuck to the floor while trying to dance along to the likes of The Hives and Kings of Leon when seeing them playing there, basking in your sweaty happiness. 

But the stickiness of the floor and sweatiness of the room didn’t compare to the stickiness and sweatiness you later found yourself partaking in as Harry took you from behind over the side of his couch. 

A shiver rolled through you at the thought, one that you would blame on the December bitter chill because it was a secret. One that neither of you had mentioned since it happened on Thursday night, or to be technically correct the early hours of Friday morning. 

He’d been good. Of course he had been.

He had that way about him that night that pulled you under a false sense of endeared security. From his dimpled smile to gleaming eyes. He was happy. 

And the way he had shone as he found you on the balcony had warmed you like nothing you had known in the longest time.

It caused you to forget about the worry that had laden you limbs as you turned up at 9.13pm to the wooden doors of the building, wondering how many songs he was in to the set as you convinced yourself he would start at 9.00pm.

As you’d been ushered over to a clear box window and uttered your name to a dorky looking man wearing a tracksuit pull over and watched him handover a white envelope through the circle hatch. 

You stood in the dark, next to two much younger girls who enjoyed the way his glances lingered over at their side. Eyes had found Gemma in the opposite corner of the balcony, her dancing and singing with some recognisable faces mainly more so because you had seen them on social media.

You, however, kept yourself to yourself. Until you were anchored in the tightest hug from Gemma that you had ever felt from her and swayed from side to side as she made it known how pleased she was to see you once the concert was over. 

That familiarity had been nice. The vibrancy of nostalgia consuming you in your entirety. 

Watching him work a room when he finally entered the after party was a sight to behold, in his navy blue pinstripe suit and yellow ‘I’m gonna die lonely’ t-shirt. 

He wasn’t. Gonna die lonely, that is. 

He glided so smoothly from one person to the next, spilling a drink down himself in the process you’d seen (and later felt when your hand clung to the fabric of his t-shirt as you kissed), making time for everyone in his own unique way.

Big eyes followed you over Gemma’s shoulder when he had finally found himself within your circle and hugged his sister once more that evening. They were hard to read but also openly filled with a glimmer of hope as he dropped his gaze to see what you were wearing.

And when he approached you, he hugged you in a way that managed to pull you into the darkened corner of the dingy space. Spinning your body to keep your face concealed from any prying eyes. 

He revealed to you how he didn’t think you were going to turn up, scanning you with his gaze as he spoke. You did the same, a bit taken aback by just how attractive you were finding him. He had always been handsome but the aura he gave off, made your fingers itch to have him closer to you. 

Words ran away from you that night as he begged and pleaded with you to tell him what your favourite song had been. Based on first impressions, which the show has been, then Canyon Moon and Watermelon Sugar had smothered you and given you no other option but to pick them.

If he were to ask you now you’d probably say To Be So Lonely, thanks to the drive home being longer than originally thought and said album being your choice of road trip music. 

Forget Driving Home For Christmas, nothing slapped more than one of your closest friends admitting to being an arrogant son of a bitch. 

After your chat, he mingled some more but Harry was always tactile and that night had been no different. He veered conversations with people you had never seen before to take place by the zone that you all occupied.

He actively kept his back against yours, allowing the faintest of touches and brushing of arms - sometimes hands too if he dropped them down heavily enough with his arms as he spoke - to entice and create a spark. 

You were kept late enough to miss the last tube. Battery dangerously low on your phone that you didn’t know if a transaction with Uber would be worth a try. 

Jumping into the same car as him had been easy. His soft and tired eyes findings yours in the cab as he leant his head back against the headrest in the back seat and let his lips tip upwards in an expression of tenderness that had you melting in your seat. 

“‘S been a while since we’ve both been a bit pissed in the back of a taxi,” he mused, pushing his fallen locks out of his eyes to ensure his view of you wasn’t obscured. “Come an’ cuddle me like you used to do when we went out a’ home and were worse for wear.”

Falling into his side was almost second nature, eyes closing as you let your forehead rest against his jawline and let his worn in cologne fill you senses and scatter your judgment.

You don’t even remember how you ended up kissing that night. A mixture of confessions about missing each other and praise of how good you both were in your own ways. The sound of his whispered, “are you coming home wi’me?” against your lips an offer too good for you to refuse as you sat pressed into his side and half in his lap. 

The giggles that night, around dramatic shushes as you tripped and shuffled from the car to his front door were almost haunting in your memory as he tried to chastise you around spluttered laughter about being respectful of his neighbours. 

Getting the key in the lock proved unchallenging -  one of the better analogies aligned to your memories and latter sexual endeavours - as you slipped into the house. He enjoyed watching the way you walked ahead of him into his home, not realising how much he needed that visual of seeing how well you fit in. 

While time seemed to slow in that moment, movements desperately sought the opposite. Hands gripped and clawed like their lives depended upon it. 

Looking back now, both he and you wished it hadn’t happened the way it did. Skirt lifted and over the side of his couch. Teeth clashing and hips knocking.

It had been every inch a drunken fumble. A first meeting slightly cheapened but wanted nonetheless. Only made even cheaper by the hush-hush concealing of it ever occurring. 

But a secret it was and a secret it would remain. 

And oh how you wished you had a pillow you could press you face into right now and scream, this time for an entirely different reason. Unlike that night. 

“Not seen a sign of any deer yet, mate,” you heard a voice break you out of your indulgence of recollecting past events. Harry was the worst at wanting to get a reaction. 

“Christ, have a bit of patience would yer?”

You smiled at the bickering, just like it always was as the River Dane could be heard in the distance somewhere as you walked. If you listened really close, that is. 

Lifting your eyes, your smile lingered as you watched Harry spin his body around and let his hands get lost in the massive pockets of his parka. He walked backwards holding your gaze softly with his eyes twinkling before he gently rolled them at the overreaction and impatience of your friends.

He seemed pleased that you’d enjoyed his teasing as you once again hid you smile into your jumper. 

You’d be alright.

***

You heard giggles and screams ahead of you as your friends stumbled in the dark and messed about as you got closer to the viaduct. This place or the people didn’t change, and at times while it filled you with a warm nostalgia, it could be heavily jarring.

A soft and lazy smile pulled at your lips as you felt his heavy forearm lightly tug you closer to him, his lips finding your hair. And then there was Harry. 

“Think we should go this way m’self,” Harry mumbled, the nudge of his hips against yours had you stumbling slightly in your heels away from the direction of your friends and somewhere completely different. 

“And why’s that?” You turned your face slightly, cheeks warm and flushed thanks to the mixture of alcoholic beverages; eyes glazed as they lifted up to look at him. 

“Cause you never would’ve let me when I was sixteen,” he admitted. 

“You didn’t ask.”

“‘M askin’ now.” 

With slow blinking eyes, you looked at his own unfocused vision. A soft shine to his skin, hair blowing gently against his forehead. The softest of smiles tilted at your lips.  

“On yer go,” he nudged you forward, this time more so with his crotch and his hands, which wrapped around your hips to help steer you. Harry was met with only a small amount of resistance from you as you split off from your friends and turned in the different direction. 

You bit back your laugh, dropping your head slightly as you felt your heels started to sink into the grass as you walked. Harry was level with you when you sunk down noticing the way you legs slightly gave way, a soft chuckle omitting from his throat as he asked, “You alrigh’?”

“I’m sinking in these bloody things,” you grumbled, pulling your heel from the grass and trying to place the sole of your shoe onto the ground beneath you first. 

“So much for no’ being able to take the country out o’ the girl. London’s changed yer, swear it.”

Shaking your head, you cut your eyes to give him a harsh stare for his wind up. His amused expression lit a fire in you like no other. He really wasn’t one to talk though, was he? 

“Gi’me your hand ‘ere,” he held his out to you, quickly cupping it when you handed it over and pulled it under his bent elbow. “Remind me again who’s idea this was, eh?”

He didn’t need reminding, he had been one of the keen instigators for the whole jaunt down Twemlow Viaduct. It usually was him, or Jack. The two of them often reminiscing on times they had both raided their parents' alcohol cupboards and managed to sneak out with some dusty bottle that held a liquor that tasted out of date and stale, and if not that then, cheap. 

“‘S still fucking freezing down ‘ere, in’it?” He asked, lifting his left hand up to his mouth and blowing against it to try and get some feeling back into his fingers.

“We’re so close to the river, I don’t know why you’d expect anything different?”

“Is this why everyone was always so insistent on necking anything with over 11% alcohol in it when we came down ‘ere as kids?”

“Probably,” you softly laughed. 

“‘S a bit different now though innit?”

“Oh, I’m not so sure,” you started to correct him, shrugging your hand out from under his elbow and reaching for your bag. Quickly fumbling with the clasp, you lifted up the quilted flap and managed to pull out the stainless steel hip flask.

Harry cackled a harsh laugh, his eyes crinkling as he slowly let his laughter die down and softly let his joy wash over his features. “Impressive. Gone all proper on me.”

“You know I haven’t,” you held his eyes watching as he nervously cupped at the back of his neck for a short while, a gentle bite down of his bottom lip, as you quickly uncapped the item and held it out to him. He looked like he needed the courage.  You continued, “We’re just a bit more refined, that and we earn a good living. Some more than others, and by some I mean you.” 

He held his hand up towards you with an amused grin at your comment. “You first, ‘s yours after all.” 

Lifting the item and knocking back your head, you swallowed the whiskey with a small grimace, before offering it to Harry once more. This time he accepted, his right hand making light work of taking the item from your hands and sipping at the contents.

His face wasn’t as contorted as your’s when he swallowed, a fan of the chosen beverage if needs must. “‘S the proper stuff, tha’ is,” he commented with a quick lick of his lips before continuing, “Come a long way from sneaking the bottles of dusty Blossom Hill from the back of the cupboard.”

“Don’t know about that,” you smiled, taking the item and pushing it back into your bag. “I’d still drink if, if it were on offer.”

“‘M sure Mum’s got a bottle or two going at home?”

“Is that your way of asking me to go home with you?” You paused. “Again.”

Harry remained silent at your words. Both you and he knew it was going to happen. A mixture of sparks and lovelorn, lingering glances was enough to make anyone both want to give up, while also giving a burning confidence usually unknown. 

Neither of you expected it would be you who started the conversation, however. 

“It is, ‘f it’s gonna work. ‘M not sure I could wait any longer t’be’onest wi’yer.“

Laughing, you reached up to push at his shoulder. He always knew exactly what to say, but no way was he going to make a laughing stock of the whole thing. “Oh, give over,” you spoke, harshly swallowing when he kept your hand against the thick cable knit black jumper he had on. “You’ve made it this far, thus far just fine.” 

“‘M not playin’,” he whispered, hand gently curling around your own and lifting it up to press against his face. His cheeks were warm underneath the cooler hands, despite the cold night whipping around you both and your mind quickly wondered if he was just as embarrassed for his lack of acknowledgment as you had been. “Homes nice, you’re nicer.”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about it,” you let your soft voice get taken by the wind.

“An’ what gave you tha’ impression?”

He did. He gave you that impression. By not mentioning it. By treating you how he always did.

“You.”

“Me?” Harry responded, indignantly, blowing out a sigh that had his cheeks puffing out underneath your hand. “‘M not doing a very good job then am I? I can’t keep m’eyes off o’you. ‘S not my fault you don’t bloody notice ‘em.”

But you had noticed them. 

His eyes, gaze following your every move, near enough. Stupid little touches. Glances of approval. Not just now, but from years before. 

Treating you how he always did.

Oh, treating you how he always did.

Bringing your eyes back to his figure, you saw the way his gaze darted and nervousness dragged at his features. A frown began to set itself between his eyebrows from worry. 

“Changes everything.”

Running his tongue along his teeth, Harry pursed his lips. “Everythin’ has changed, changed a long time ago an’all.” 

You dropped your hand down, it now massaging against the back of his neck and shoulder as you felt the tension of his body radiating through his clothes. Under the dim moonlight and the odd spotlight that had been added to the viaduct with each passing year for safety, Harry exhumed everything anyone would want in a boyfriend. He was soft, and so bloody gorgeous. Not just because he was personification of an almost six foot tall string of handsomeness, but his character did the talking for him.

He knocked the door before he walked into a room, for example. Who really did that kind of thing anymore? 

But you could also still see the heartbreak that lingered, albeit not as strong as it once was, it was still there. And that was problematic and scary. To be on the receiving end of it. Not that you would hold it against him, because you had been him at one point too. At many points in fact. 

When the two of you had shagged, because let’s face it that is exactly what it had been, while a sense of familiarity in the person was prevalent it was definitely overruled by the desire to just hit a euphoric high that if hit right could not be topped. 

Familiar overruled in other aspects, and it wasn’t to be brushed away. But was familiarity a mask that would slip sooner rather than later? Was it the start and the end?

The both of you experienced similarities in your life that could not be matched by the friends in your friendship group. London had chewed you up and spat you out, ruthlessly so. While rewarding you with long hours but fat pay cheques, careers that catapulted you to new heights and enabled you to see parts of the world that two country kids (which in one way you were) could never have imagined. 

Sure Harry’s had been on a much, much larger scale - you would not ever deny that - but you no longer fit in. 

And neither did he. 

This was a place that only the two of you knew. A place where you watched those around you fall in love and have the time to do so. A place where your friend's happiness was created a lot easier than it wasn’t and allowed a sense of success to weave its way in, through the most unexpected of happenings.

Not a place where you found happiness in your work because there was less of a space for happiness to blossom elsewhere. Not really. Not like you; both of you. 

Understanding was vital. 

This had been a place you knew like the back of your hand. A place that had you feeling the earth beneath your feet, fresh air in your lungs and had at times made it so you found yourself sitting by a river and finding yourself feeling complete. 

Yet looking over at the almost 26 year old, that just wasn’t the case anymore. 

And for once you didn’t feel alone. 

The sound of the odd piece of cobbled pavement underneath Harry shoes, buried beneath overgrown grass and plants, broke you from your thoughts, as you watched him kick at the ground and scuff his shoes.

He sighed, head tilted back before he knocked it to the side and caught your eyes. A small scoffed laugh left his lips as he shook his head and dropped his gaze to his feet.

“‘S it fucked?”

You hummed, a small frown lacing your features.

“Fucked it, haven’t I? Fuckin’- idiot-“ he breathed out a noise as he clenched his teeth, one that wasn’t quite a growl but enough to let you know he was agitated. Only strengthened by how tight his jaw became. 

Before you could even think, the back of your hand gently brushed against the pulsing hinge of his jaw. Muscles taut as you tried to soothe him in a way that your mind was screaming was far too intimate.

You didn’t want him having any internal battle about right and wrong. Not when you had both taken the same steps to get here. 

“Thought it was just meant as a one time thing,” you admitted. “Like you needed it, and I needed it. Was what it needed to be at the time. Bit rough, bit sloppy-“

You cringed are the use of the word. Wanting the ground to swallow you in a weird fashion. You should be able to talk open and honestly with someone who you had known longer than hadn’t. 

“Rough?“ Harry swallowed audibly, his face fallen. “That’s not-“ 

His eyes held an emotion similar to sorrow at the mention of the word. “That’s not the impression I wanted to give you.” 

“We were both drunk, it happens.” 

“Not with me it doesn’t. Not when it’s me, wanting to be wi’you.”

“I mean I was into it if that helps anything?” 

“Were yer?”

You looked at him from the corner of your vision, watching his lips try to fight a smile as you rolled yours into your mouth to not give yourself away. You knew what you were trying to do by speaking those words aloud but you wished you hadn’t. Awkward breathy laughs were shared by the two of you as you held his eyes. 

“Was I?”

You hummed in agreement to answer his question, letting your smile dance along your lips now and watching as Harry’s dimples started to show. His expression was youthful, slightly smug. 

“Good t’know.”

***

Finishing saying your goodbyes to your friends and ignoring their suggestive expression because ‘Harry was stopping as an extra pair of hands’, you shut the heavy wooden door and reached up to close the deadbolt lock at the top. Shortly after, you let your feet drop as you stopped standing on your tiptoes and pressed your forehead against the door. 

The silence of the pub was always a strange one to you. A place that was usually thriving, whether it was just your friends, or your parents friends. When the lights were turned out, it was actually quite a lonely place. Regardless of growing up around this sort of industry your entire life and having parents as publicans nothing was more depressing than an empty bar, lifeless and nothing like it was intended.

A suggested lock-in from Jack, who managed to interrupt both yours and Harry’s conversation earlier had not been a bad shout after all. You knew it meant that you would have to deal with the fallout with it being Christmas Eve, but it wasn’t very often that you found yourself in the setting. 

Turning to move from the door, you almost jumped out of your skin when you heard the opening of a familiar Lily Allen song start to play over the speakers. 

Harry emerged from the corner of the pub that housed the jukebox, slowly rubbing his hands together before he wordlessly picked up the scattered pint glasses that had remained on one of the tables that had been missed by the staff on the evening shift. His eyes glanced over at you, as you stood with a hand to your chest.

This wicked smile and gleam washed over his face as he paused his movement. “Did I scare yer?”

“Do you not think it’s a bit loud?”

He wrinkled his nose at you, a soft shake of his head no, to answer your question. 

“‘S your fave innit?” He asked, head nudging to where the jukebox was now hidden.

With a small smile you nodded, “Prefer the Keane version in all honesty.”

“Don’t have it in the bloody jukebox though, d’yer? Can’t like it that much.”

Your smile deepened at his exclaim and how prominent his accent sounded as he spoke, the small clink of the glasses he was holding only heard if you really zoned in. 

“Where d’yer want these?” He asked, holding up the five pint glasses he had collected. “Behind t’bar?”

Humming, you nodded and watched as he weaved his way through the tables to you. You frowned as he got closer, not understanding why he hadn’t bypassed you completely.

Once he was close enough to you, you watched as he reached for what you knew to be your own glass of wine that was almost finished. 

“Fancy the rest of this or can it go too?”

Looking at him and down to the glass, you gently wrapped your hand around it and brought the lip to your mouth. You knocked the item back quickly, swallowing the rest of your wine, before handing over the now empty glass back to Harry.

“Good girl,” he joked, light laughter lacing each word. “Sit yourself down.”

Wearing an amused and quizzical expression, you let yourself sink down into the wooden chair. Resting your chin on your hand, you spun slightly in your seat to keep your eyes on Harry as he placed the glasses down and lifted the hatch so he could step behind the bar. 

With your free hand, you started to tap the worn beer coaster labelled with the Cheshire Brewhouse logo against the table. Part of you hated how Harry had a knack for anything, including knowing his way around a bar. 

He busied himself with collating the glasses once more as you let your eyes take in the surroundings you had known, loved and even grown out of. 

Your parent’s pub was cosy and friendly. A truly 

classic and quintessential British village pub, featuring open fires, bookcases found in the very far corner or the jukebox in the other, lots of old oak and a really pleasant garden with benches for the summat and heaters for the winter. You know the kind that had its regulars that had kids who had seen each other grow up.

The bar was the centre of the pubs house, with an extensive array of whiskies amongst many other delights. A nice range of local ales and a well-balanced, great quality list of wines on offer designed (which you would be taste testing if the service hadn’t decided to take a break) to complement the food menus designed daily by a team of chefs who all have a passion for great cooking using fresh, seasonal and local ingredients.

It looked as Christmassy as Christmas could get, with a real tree which was locally sourced from one of the many surrounding farms and traditionally decorated with golds and reds. Twinkly lights shone, not only on the trees but as part of the garland that was hung above the bar each year, much to the annoyance of your Dad and the delight of your Mum.

Slowly dragging your eyes back to the bar, you watched Harry as he poured you another glass of white wine and started to recap the bottle. He must’ve felt your eyes on him, his gaze meeting yours almost immediately. 

“Service is a bit slow,” you jibed, once you knew he was with you. “Going to ruin the reputation of a fine establishment.”

His chuckle was breathy in response, but warmed you through as he turned his back and pushed his tumbler glass up against the device at the bottom of the Glenfiddich distilled malt whiskey, not once but twice going for a double. 

“Helping yourself to the stock now, as well.” 

“‘M sure your Dad won’t mind,” he responded, twisting his body back around to reach for your own glass and place it onto a tray that sat along the bar top. “In fact he’d probably make a comment about how it’d put hairs on m’chest.”

You laughed, unrestrained, knowing just how right he had been with that comment. 

Over the otherside of the room, Harry smiled and shushed you as he walked closer, easily holding the tray with your drinks upon it. “Being a bit loud,” he taunted as he slid the tray down to the oak table.

“Oh, now you’re concerned about the noise.”

With his hand against the back of the chair which was currently housing your outstretched legs, you felt him start to wobble the seat to give you a warning. 

“Hang on,” you said, “Plenty of other chairs.”

“This one’s mine,” he responded.

Wanting to roll your eyes but deciding not to, you let your legs drop down and gave the seat back to Harry. Once he was comfortable and he’d taken your drink off the tray, he gestured with his right hand.

Not entirely focused, he had to do the ‘come hither’ motion a couple of times before you finally cottoned on. He was willing to let you put your legs on his lap instead, while he may have taken the seat it didn’t mean he wanted to take away your comfort.

No sooner had your legs been raised to rest against his tan washed velvet corduroy trousers, was he fiddling with the buckle of your stiletto sandals.

“Got mud everywhere,” you commented, wiggling your toes that were painted a festive red and inspecting the little dots of dirt that were splattered against your skin, as Harry dropped the first shoe to the floor and quickly worked on the second. “Dread to think what they smell like.”

“Smell alrigh’ from ‘ere,” he mused, smirk faint but glaring obvious in his tone of voice as he threw a quick and mischievous glance at you. As you elongated your foot against his thighs, the tips of your toes were just about able to press into his thick jumper to try and jab at him for his comment. 

Before you were able to put any sort of force behind your action, Harry’s hand clamped down around the top of your foot causing your eyes to snap up away from his hand and up to his eyes.

There he sat watching you, top two teeth pressed into his bottom lip keep his smile at bay. Releasing his lips slowly, his whispered threat left his throat, “I will tickle.”

You tried to fidget away but to no avail. With a whined laugh, you frowned as Harry goaded you by slowly raising his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

You had tried him. 

Truth be told you wanted to again.

If he wanted to.

Reaching for your wine, you took a hefty sip and let the silence swallow you both. Harry, who kept his hand on your foot and his fingers dancing gently against the top, let his head fall back awkwardly against the hardwood. His head dropped to the side taking in his surroundings and their familiarity. 

“Do you ever get tired of coming back?” 

You hummed, sure you had misheard due to the way the blood was rushing around your ears. He turned to look at you, all double chin and puffy cheeks.

“Of everything being the same, but different?”

His whispers captivated you, hushed confessions not quite meant for anyone else but his own mind yet spilling from him with such an ease that he did nothing to fight them. 

“I’ll admit, I come home for other people. Not for me.”

“People?”

“Mum, Dad,” you paused. “You.”

His smile deepened. His chin knocking down to his chest, his eyes looking up at you from underneath his curling hair from being caught in the moist winter evening just hours before.

“You can stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you did three nights ago.”

Harry breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring and his chest expanding. A lick of his lips, before his mouth dropped to sit slightly agape. 

“What if I don’t wan’to? What if I want t’look at yer like this all the time?”

You found yourself unable to respond, nose burying itself into your wine glass as you pressed your lips against the cool outside to try and hide your burning smile. 

His lips curled lightly, before he breathed a laugh once and gently shook your foot with his hand. “Eh? Come ‘ere-“

“Harry,” you breathed.

“C’mon, c’mere. ‘S room for more than just your feet.”

If it wasn’t for the creak of your chair as you slowly started to push yourself out of it, you wouldn’t have consciously been aware of how you were making your way to him. 

His body relaxed, somehow managing to become closer to horizontal than sitting upright in his seat, as he peered as you walking the short distance over to him. 

With his legs widened, he pressed his face into your side now that you were close enough. His nose inhaled the familiar scent of your perfume which was only faint now due to the other senses and scents it had mixed with throughout the evening.

Rolling his face out of your body, he knocked his head back and pressed his chin where his face had been. The face you showed him was worn with worry, an expression he did not want to meet.

“‘S wrong?”

His ask was lazy. Not wanting to dig deep and know. What if he didn’t like what he found? 

“We know how this is going to end.”

“Do we?” He prodded. His eyes moved over your features quickly before they partly disappeared to him, thanks to your curtain of hair which slowly fell down.

His hand reached up, desperately brushing it away and cupping at the back of your head as best as he could while he remained seated. 

“How’s that? Tell me.”

“Same, but different.” 

You knew you shouldn’t use his words, not in a way that could be considered against him, but they - in the most ambiguous of ways - described everything perfectly. 

“Not if I have my way.” 

His words were almost lost against your stomach as he pressed his face against you once more and wrapped his hands around you; sweaty, nervous palms pressing to the backs of your thighs. 

“Same, but better.”

Harry guided you down to his lap, his lips somehow managing to remain pressed into stomach, or your chest, or your clavicle, as your face became level with his. 

“Different, but better.” 

He kissed against your cheek slowly, nose nudging at your skin as he willed for you to relax against him. “I don’t know how you like it, like this,” he whispered in confession. “Show me?”

A puff of air left your lips as you turned to look at him with hooded eyes. His mouth was closer to yours than you originally thought, corners of lips brushing as you slightly pulled away. 

When your lips met, it was in the softest of pecks that trembled under your nerves. Both sets of eyes looking back at each other as you innocently engaged. 

If you were to take your eyes away from him in any way, you would notice those fluffy curls of his falling over his forehead and the lightest dusting of red blush making itself known against his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

He felt like a school boy, lost and clumsy. The kid who was once again flicking paper at you in science class just so he could pull a face at you over something your teacher was saying to get you to laugh. 

Mouths hovering over each other, your breathing mixed, as Harry nodded to you slightly. You pressed your lips to his once more, feeling the way he gradually opened up to you, warmed and softened underneath the puckering of your mouth against his. 

His hands, that slightly trembled, smoothed over your hips trying to pull your body so that it was more so flush against his. You moaned softly, your hands running over his jumper covered shoulders, fingers digging and pulling at the material just below the nape of his neck. 

The chair beneath you moved lightly against the floor, not quite a scrape but a dull drag. Neither of you broke the kiss, but his hands against you allowed fingers to dig in to hold you steady to him so if you were to fall from where you were sitting, he still had you. 

His lips slowed, moving to press against your cheeks again as he panted and his warmth breath bounced off your skin. “Think I got it,” he heaved. 

“Do you?”

Harry hummed his ‘yea’, before pressing his lips so tenderly to your chin and the underside of your jaw. He felt how you swallowed heavily, throat dry from the way your mouth hung open and your neck further exposed itself as you lolled your head back. 

You were falling further and further back, finding it hard to stay upright as he devoured you and made you weaker with each pulling kiss. His groans were needy, muffled and making your ache. While yours were silent and making his desperate to pull something from you. To build is confidence in that he was doing something right, you liked it this way too. 

Hands fumbled and dragged upwards at your skirt, faintly aware now how it was similar - if not the same one - to the garment you wore to his show. 

“Gonna take this off properly,” he mumbled, feeling the way your hips moved slightly from his hands to roll over him. 

“You don’t have to-“

“No?” 

Your voices were rushed as you spoke to each other, barely audible but loud enough all the same. His head was knocked back slightly as you hovered over him and you found yourself admiring his blissed out face even only in the lead up.

This was a sight that you hadn’t received last time, and if you had your way it was one you were going to greedily enjoy in all its glory.

Like watching the way his eyes closed and he softly grinned, the left side of his teeth started to show as the one side of his face reacted first while your hands blindly moved to lift up his jumper and the white tee he had on underneath, to allow you to find the button of his corduroys.

“What ya doing?”

“Nothing,” you mused. 

He pulled a face, the kind that down turned his lips, eyebrows raised and head slightly tilted to the side. The kind that had you smiling. 

“Not trying to get m’trousers around m’ankles for a second time within a week then?”

You giggled. “No.”

“Please do.”

A low moan left you as you pressed your forehead to his jaw and dropped your eyes. Your hands slowly started to pull at the brass button and pop it open before seeking out the zip thanks to his desperate plea, encouraging you to continue. 

Hands quickly sought out the waistband of the trousers and gently pulled at the item. From the way that you were sat, you knew there was no way you were doing to make them budge.

“Stand up fo’ me,” he mumbled, quickly helping you get off his lap so that he could make light work of his clothing and pull down his trousers and underwear. 

His bare bum made easy contact with the cushion leather beneath him, eyes carefully watching you as your hands moved to underneath your skirt. 

The fabric of your underwear slipped so easily down your legs, his eyes just about caught the sight of them as they pooled against your ankles and you kicked them away. 

Legs pressed together, you slowly untucked the v-necked blouse you had chosen and pulled it over your head. Wearing nothing but a fancy black bra, and a tight little skirt you hastily snatched for your wine and took a hefty gulp.

You could feel his eyes on you, a gruff groan catching in the back of his throat and when you finally turned your eyes from where they had been looking down at your heaving chest and how great this bra made your boobs look, causing him to move his hand down to start playing with himself. 

His name left your lips in a breathy gasp, causing you to look up quite surprised at the find of his right hand gently tugging at his hard length.

“Keepin’ me waitin’,” he groaned, his left hand sloppily reached for the back of the collar of his jumper and tee, pulling the item roughly over his head.

“Fuck sake,” he mumbled under his breath, agitated that he was unable to get both items of in one go.

“Smooth.”

Harry stared up at you with a playful squint, before he gently fell back and moved the chair as he did so, the dull scrape heard once more. 

And if you didn’t know he was flushed before, when you first kissed, you were definitely aware now. His eyes were blown out and hungry as they devoured you. Hair wildly haphazard before he let go of himself with a soft slap of his skin and harshly pushed his fingers through it.

“‘S it still a couple of quid for a strip of three,” his words brought you back to him. This smugness radiated off of him as he groaned and leaned forward to push his trousers down all of the way. Over his vans and socked feet, before he toed them off as well be harshly pulled at his white sport socks. 

You didn’t even need for him to explain what he meant, staying silent as you watched his hands tug at his corduroys from the floor and retrieve his wallet. As his fingers moved around to find a couple of quid, the jangle of the coins was taunting. 

One leg crossed over the other, you swayed and found yourself blushing when he looked up at you once he’d managed to find enough money and then some. With his wallet thrown on the table, he stood proudly from the seat and closed the short gap between your both.

Leaning forward he easily took your lips with his own before pulling away. With his face still close to yours he whispered, “Promise not to look at my arse.”

He didn’t hang around long enough for your reply, instead turning away and brazenly giving you all the time you would ever need to admire him, his fantastic bum and his hairy legs before he opted for a jog-walk type of thing, suddenly conscious that he was absolutely walking around naked from the waist down in a pub owned by your parents. 

While you waited you took a quick pull from his whiskey, needing the heftier burn for Dutch courage. Nervousness returned when you heard the endings of what you believed to be Harry whistling. 

“Machine ate all m’fuckin’ change,” he grumbled, regardless of the twinkle in his eye at the strip of overpriced condoms he had managed to score from the men’s bathroom. “‘S Durex. Business must be booming, your Dad’s definitely gone up in the world.” 

“Please don’t talk about my Dad.”

He smiled brightly before he reached for your face with one hand and pulled you towards him mumbling his ‘sorry’s’ against your lips as he gave you several kisses in quick succession. 

His other arm loosely wrapped around your back and pulled you with him as he walked backwards and slowly lowered himself back onto his previous seat. The chair creaked as you joined him, slipping into his lap and feeling the way he was smiling now.

Pulling away from your kiss, he quickly tore away one of the condoms allowing the others to fall without much care to the floor. Teeth took a hold of the foil-like packaging and he tore it not so elegantly with his eagerness.

With his cock nestled in the crease of his own thigh now, the heat radiating from it matched your own agonising yearning. Scooting back to give him space, you heard him groan as he gently rolled the condom down onto himself. Eyes looking up just in time to see him knocking his head back and breathing deeply through nose. The foil-like packaging was back in between his teeth once more as his hands were otherwise preoccupied.

Slowly your hand reached up to take it from his mouth, feeling some playful resistance as Harry continued to hold it in his teeth. His eyes were open and boyishly sincere, as you tugged at the item and he finally released it when you lightly laughed. 

“Gi’me a kiss.”

Obliging him, you leant forward and slotted your mouths together a lot easier than you had done at the start of the night. A heat built easily between the two of you, as Harry gave you his tongue and you felt the flex of his jaw under your hand as he worked your mouths together.

He was eager, his hands tightening on your waist before he growled when he understood he had to grab handfuls of skirt before he could cup your backside. But when his skin met yours and you ground down onto his lap, the groan that left him was the most animalistic sound imaginable. 

The frown your face fell into showed your desire to whimper, as he kept you atop him and marvelled in the way you writhed, both from satisfaction and keenness at the pressure of his cock against you. 

“Can I have you again?” He asked, the startings of sweaty hair being pushed off your face. His eyes peered at you, searching for his answer as you seemed to be able to do nothing but pant and look back at him yearningly. “Are you letting me?”

You dragged your fingers down his t-shirt covered torso and lifted it slightly just to see the quiver of his stomach as pulled you onto him once more. 

“Like this?” you voiced, meekly.

“‘F this is what you like then, yea’”, he breathed into your mouth, hands shifting your pliant body. “Is this what you want?”

You wordlessly nod, mouth falling open in a breathy gasp when he managed to move you so he sat so enticingly at your entrance. He was teasing both yourself and him, wanting to keep you both on the edge. 

Harry blinked a few times as he looked at you, and you revelled in the way he couldn’t seem to concentrate. His hands held your flesh tightly, fingertips dipping into the skin of your bum cheeks as he gently guided you down.

An unattractive and dull, quite strangled noise, left your throat as you let your forehead fall against his temple. Eyes falling down you see the cups of your bra fall slack, you felt his hands softly gliding over your shoulder blades and shoulders. 

He rid you of your bra, hands moving to your chest to squeeze your breasts. His jaw fell slack when you found yourself sitting snugly on his lap - on him - settled and already feeling spent.

This was so different compared to the last time; if not overwhelming so because of the way you both appeared to be so present. Each movement of your hips, and the way they rolled and grinded and dragged felt too much. So much so that you had become nothing more than a mess of short, quick breathing and blushing, sweaty cheeks. 

Slack-jaw, you were unable to find it in you to return Harry’s kisses, and his joyful, breathy chuckle seemed to lead you to believe he was fine with it. In fact he was happy to keep going as you were. 

Your movements were frantic, and despite the build up, not entirely driven by lust either. Harry continued to encourage you to move as you were; slow, grinding motions on his lap that caused the filthiest of groans and dirtiest of laughs from the two of you. Laughter that was only made stronger as the chair that held you both started to creak too. 

You couldn’t do much about it though other than to breathe into each other’s mouth, and rock your hips together with more fervour each time. 

“Yea’,” he breathed against your lips, left hand at the back of your head holding you to him, while his right rested just above your bum. “‘S better. That’s better.”

It was better. Better than last time. Better than anything before. 

And while it hadn’t been frantic before, it was now as your legs that were hanging down either side of the chair started to tremble and your toes started to dig into the worn carpet beneath them. Hips knocking and your clit dragging heavenly against his public bone, you grasped his name as you buried your face into his neck and dug your nails into his nape.

Harry hissed his approval which fell to a groan as your nails pushed up into his hair and lightly pulled as you sought leverage. There were so many things you were learning this time around and his penchant for liking his hair pulled from time to time, was one of those things. 

“God, ‘m gonna come soon,” he admitted, gruntly as he forced your hips down as he anchored his legs and widened his seating position. “Are you close?”

“Yeah,” you whined. “Yes. Like this-“

And as you pressed your face to his once more, he was everywhere. Soft but hard, loving but commanding. Smelled like clean washing detergent but of country air. Inviting and alluring, allowing you your lingering kisses between grounding breaths that became staccato in unison with the movement of your hips. 

You aren’t ashamed of the whines that escaped your throat as you squeezed down on his cock, praised by indecipherable works that left Harry but were nothing more to you than lips moving against your rough and dry ones. Word that made the burning feeling of your pending orgasm spread through your entire body, warming you and setting you alight.

It was long and deep, with your toes curling into the carpet they were pressed against now. Barely able to catch your breath, sucking in harshly and shaking. 

And when you came to, thoroughly exhausted, you noticed that he was waiting for your say so. That he could let go and enjoy the pleasure brought about by your shared labour. 

“Coming-“ was all the warning that you got and was enough to encourage you to watch him as he came, his face completely void of anything other than pure pleasure. Wrinkles and frowns fade, his mouth falling open with his pink lips glinting prettily under the dim Christmas lights around you.

His forehead gleamed with sweat as he wrapped his arms around you tightly and his hips bucked up one, two and three times for good measure. “Fuck me,” he heaved gruffly.

You were suddenly desperate to feel his lips on yours despite the way you both continued to fight to get your breath back, but settled for resting them against the skin of his cheek, which was hot to the touch. 

When you felt Harry start to go soft, you reluctantly pulled away and let him slip out of you. He wasn’t so keen to let you get too far, holding you just that bit higher than before with his hand cupping gently but firmly at your hip. “Where’d you think you’re going,” he hummed, eyes still closed as he continued to heavily inhale and exhale. 

You softly smiled, taking in his soft face and responded by nuzzling close to him again. 

Nowhere. Somewhere. Anywhere with him.

A place where only the two of you knew, like the back of your hand. The same way you knew each other. Now and possibly forever.

[anneimaginesundertale]

Wild West AU

Welcome to Littleton, a tiny little town on the frontier. Our biggest draw here is all the skeletons! We've got skeletons out the wazoo, and they're all too handsome for their own good! Come on along, stranger, and I'll introduce ya!

Sans and Papyrus -- they run a local cattle ranch. Well, Papyrus runs it. Sans mostly hangs around at Grillby's. Everybody knows Pap can't get him to do a lick of work around the place. Lazy bones! Papyrus is a real fine fella, though. He's got a way with his animals, and he's real friendly. He'd love to help out the sheriff, but we only need one deputy in town.

Blue and Stretch - Blue is our beloved school teacher! Mister Blue is a real gentleman, and he loves all the kids in town. He can ride real well, even if he is from back east, and there's rumors that he's a crack shot with a pistol, but ain't nobody ever seen him even touch a gun! His brother is still a working cowboy and he tends to come and go with the cattle drives. He's got a real way with words when he is around. Everybody loves to hear him spin a tale.

Red and Boss - These two drifted into town a while back. Red works in the local mine and Boss is the new deputy. Boss takes his job real serious, but there are rumors that they used to be bandits before they came here, and that the real reason Red is a miner is because he's looking for a spot to hide their big score.

Black and Rus - Black is the local sheriff. Rus was his deputy, but somethin' happened with some outlaws on the edge of town and now Rus mostly just does odd jobs around town. His brother's real protective of him.

Sansy and Sweets - No one knows much about these two loners. They live up the mountain all on their own. They come down every few months to buy and sell things, and they always have a good harvest in the fall, but no one knows what all they do up there. Must get mighty lonely...Sweets is always the one to come down and deal things. Sansy sometimes comes with him to help lift stuff, but he's awful quiet...

Bones and Lucky - Bones runs the general store and his brother is the local banker. They're two of the richest men in town. Lucky plays piano down at the casino some nights.

Smiley and Grim - They own the town casino. Grillby's might be the best place in town to go and get a drink, but if you want to play poker for more than dog treats, you go to the casino. Some people were real upset when these two came into town, but it seems a bit of money crossed the right palms and Smiley turned on that charm of his, and now nobody pays 'em no mind.

G and Aster - G is another one who doesn't seem to actually do anything around here! He's always in Grillby's, crackin' jokes and drinkin' and playin' poker with the dogs, but when anybody asks him what his job is, he don't answer! His brother is the local doctor and he takes real good care of everybody.

Comet and Captain - Our local blacksmiths! They're also inventors (so they say) but nobody knows what they're inventing. We just hear loud bangs and clangs from their workshop...Comet's also got the nicest garden in town. We keep askin' for his secret but he just gets all embarrassed and won't tell.

Break and Tango - They run the stagecoach! They've got all kinds of stories about their travels around the territory, and Tango sure knows how to dance! There's always a party when they come back into town. Break is a shy fella, but if you believe his brother's stories, he's the one who does most of the defendin' when the coach gets in trouble! Another one who's said to be a real good shot, though we ain't seen him do it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was so fun to come up with!! I actually got all of this done in August, in one sitting, in one glorious rush of inspiration! I hope you like it as much as I do. Feel free to send questions!

[queenxxxsupreme]

Hi!! Could you do a rdr2 oneshot and Arthur is a chubby boi and insecure about it?? I'm a hoe for chubby Arthur 🧍‍♀️many thanks!!

A/N: Omg I haven’t been able to find enough chubby!Arthur on here but I love him!!! My masterlist is here and here is the link to go to if you want to be on any of my taglists!

Warnings: poor self image and Arthur hating on himself

***

“Thank you for giving me a hand with dinner tonight, Y/N.” 

You looked over your shoulder to Pearson, offering him a little smile. 

“I wasn’t busy and I don’t mind lending a hand.”

“I’m glad someone helps out around here.” He muttered, sending Molly a brief glare. She sat at the table across from you, touching up on her lipstick. You had been chatting with her while you cut up vegetables for Pearson. 

“Would you want her cuttin’ up vegetables for dinner?” You asked him, keeping your voice low enough so she wouldn’t hear you. “Might end up losing a finger in the stew.”

“That would be somethin’.” He chuckled. 

As Pearson moved towards his wagon to retrieve something, you picked up your conversation with Molly. She was as worried as could be about Dutch.

“Dutch is…. He’s got a lot on his shoulders right now, Molly.”

“But you see that he’s different too, don’t you?” She put her compact mirror down and looked at you. “I’m-I’m not just goin’ crazy, am I?”

“No, Molly. You aren’t.” You shook your head. “If you’d like, I can see if Arthur would be willing to talk to him.”

She was quiet, her eyes finding Dutch. He was standing at the fire not too far away with Hosea, John, Micah, and Ms. Grimshaw.

You put the chopped carrots into a bowl and wiped off the blade of your knife. As you moved on to the potatoes, you looked up to find Arthur. A few minutes ago when you had last checked on him, he was sitting at another table across from camp with Sadie. He was still there, but Sadie was gone. 

He still appeared to be tense and to have something on his mind. All day, he had been grumpy and distant. After he insisted that nothing was wrong, you were somewhat convinced that he had just woken up on the wrong side of the bed.

“There she is. Mi amor.” 

You turned your head to see Javier move around the table you were at. You smiled at him.

You had met Javier long before you ever joined the Van der Linde gang. You were close friends with the outlaw and had a rather flirtatious relationship with him, though it never went further than flirty comments.

“When are we going to go on that fishing trip, cariño?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” You picked up a potato and began to peel it. “I reckon when you can buy me one of them fancy boats.” 

“A fancy boat? What do you need a fancy boat to go fishing for?” Javier eyed what you were doing, paying attention to your knife work. “You handle that knife well, amor. Who taught you so well?”

You rolled your eyes, knowing very well he was teasing you. He was the one who taught you how to use a knife. 

“Some fella I met a while ago.” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Arthur move. You turned your head to watch him walk away, taking note of how fast he moved and how tense he appeared. You wanted to follow him and make sure he was okay, but you had to finish helping Pearson with dinner. 

***

A while later, Pearson called for everyone to come get dinner. You excused yourself from the table with Hosea, John, and Lenny to go find Arthur. The grump was upstairs in his room. He was laying on his bed with one knee bent slightly and his eyes focused on the ceiling. Upon hearing the bedroom door creak open, Arthur sat up. His broad shoulders were hunched and he didn’t meet your gaze.

“Supper’s ready, darlin’.” You held the door open for him.

“Not hungry.” He muttered, rubbing the back of his head. 

“Are you sure? You haven’t eaten much all day.”

“Yeah, m’sure.” 

You watched him for a few moments. Your stomach twisted up into knots at the sound of his voice, small and weak. Something was wrong. He just was being stubborn and keeping it from you. 

You looked out into the hall, listening for a few moments to see if anyone else was in the house. Luckily, everyone was outside having dinner. You stepped back into Arthur’s room and closed the door behind yourself. Your footsteps were quiet as you crossed the room to sit down on the bed next to him.

He kept his eyes on the wooden floorboards between his boots, unable to bring himself to look at you. He knew the second he looked at you, the second he gazed into those Y/E/C eyes, he’d be done for. He’d pour his heart out and bare his soul to you. It happened far too often when he felt like this. 

You placed your hand on the back of his head, fingers gently combing through the dirty blond hair at his nape. You leaned over to kiss his shoulder, not minding that you were kissing the material of his dark blue button down. 

“I know you better than you think, Arthur Morgan.” You murmured against his shoulder. “You don’t gotta tell me if you don’t want to…. But I am here for you always.”

“Ain’t nothin’ you can do, pumpkin.” He whispered. 

“I’m sure there’s something I could do.” You studied his profile, admiring everything from his lashes to the curve of his chin. You reached over to place your hand on the side of his face and gently turned his head towards you.

Blue eyes met yours. You smiled. He tried to but it didn’t reach his eyes. It was forced. It didn’t belong on his lips. 

“I-I just….” He trailed off, pulling your hand from his face. He kept ahold of your hand, dropping his gaze to where he now held your hand in his lap. “You know there’s always gonna be…. There’s gonna be better for you out there, pumpkin. Someone better for you than me.”

Your heart sunk at the realization that this was what had been on his mind all day.

“Arthur Morgan, there is no one better for me than the man sittin’ right here next to me.” You squeezed his hand. 

“That ain’t true.” He murmured. “Why didn’t you and Javier ever get together?”

“Arthur.” You said his name gently. “We’ve been over this. Javier and I are just friends. Nothing more. I don’t see him that way and he surely doesn’t see me that way. I’m a flirt, you know that. All sweet talk.”

“I know. Just…. I ain’t nothin’ like Javier or Charles or even Sean or Lenny. I’m more like Bill or Pearson.”

“And what in the world makes you say that?” You furrowed your brows together. “Arthur, you’re nothing like Bill or Pearson.” 

“Startin’ to look like ‘em.” He muttered. 

“Oh, Arthur.” You placed your hand on his thigh. “No you don’t–,”

“Don’t say that, Y/N.” Arthur stood up suddenly, taking a few steps away from the bed, turning to face you. He ran his hands over his face then back through his hair. “It ain’t so subtle, Y/N. Shirts ain’t fittin’ like they used to. And my belts, they’re needin’ to be put on a different loop than they used to be. Soon I’ll have a gut like Pearson or Williamson!”

“Arthur.” You said his name calmly, but he wasn’t finished yet. 

“And you! My god, Y/N! You don’t deserve an old ugly bastard like me! You don’t deserve the kind of life I can give you! You-You deserve a house and somewhere to call home. You deserve to have a family and somewhere stable to be. You don’t deserve this life. You deserve better.” His voice lowered to a broken whisper as he looked at you with teary blue eyes. “So much better than I could ever give you.”

You couldn’t hold his gaze any longer. You looked down as tears welled in your eyes. 

He had stopped yelling his frustrations but now his tone had shifted to something more hoarse and broken. 

“I-I just…. When I look in the mirror, Y/N, I can’t find a single damn thing worth shit. And that just ain’t fair to you.” 

You brushed the tears from your cheeks, biting down on your trembling bottom lip. 

As Arthur stood there a few feet away from the bed looking at you, guilt began to form a nasty ball in the pit of his stomach while he watched you cry.

“I didn’t mean to make you upset, pumpkin.” He wanted to move to your side to comfort you, but his boots were stuck to the wooden floorboards beneath him.

You shook your head softly, not yet trusting your voice. You patted the space on the bed next to you, silently telling him to return to where he had been just a few minutes earlier. 

He shuffled over to sit down next to you, allowing you to wrap one of your arms around his that was closest to you. You tucked your nose into his shoulder, inhaling his scent for a few minutes. 

“Arthur Morgan. Where to begin?”

“That’s the million dollar question.” He chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood. You smiled a little, but it was hidden since you were still nose deep in his shoulder.

“I think you’re still as handsome as ever, no matter what weight you gain. And if I’m being honest with you, I don’t mind it at all. You always tell me you like to put you head on my thighs/”

“‘Cause they’re soft and comfortable. Perfect for naps.” He placed his hand on your thigh and as if to prove a point, he gave you a soft squeeze. 

“Exactly. There ain’t nothing wrong with being soft and comfortable, Arthur. And just because you’ve gained weight doesn’t mean you don’t deserve me. The two have no correlation.” You lifted your head from his shoulder and reached over to take hold of his chin. You turned his head so that he had no choice but to face you. “I love you, Arthur Morgan. You’re a good man with a heart of gold. If there’s better out there, I don’t want it. I only want you, ya hear?”

He nodded softly, leaning over to kiss your forehead.

“Hearin’ you talk so badly about yourself breaks my heart. You’re so much more than you think.” You kissed his cheek, your thumb gently tracing the stubble along his jaw.

“M’sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for it. We can fix it. It’ll just take some time and a lot of effort from you, you stubborn man.” You let his chin go and placed your hand on his knee, rubbing gently. “Do you want to go downstairs and have dinner with everyone else? Or do you want me to bring our bowls up here?”

He thought about it for a moment, his hand on the small of your back racing circles into your shirt.

“Let’s go down there. I could use some fresh air.”

You nodded, giving him a smile and a kiss on the cheek. 

Taglist:  @doggone-cowgirl @winterwolf @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @krenee1drful @zodiacaldust @nonodino @gabstaroc @cal-lifornication @thefirelordm @sargeantsea

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[angryhausfrau-writes]

Your Friends Were All Standing Around Looking At Your Cock The Other Dayee...

Interior of the farm house. WAYNE, KATY, and SQUIRRELLY DAN stand around the table, looking at something.

KATY: It's a beautiful cock.

WAYNE: Oh, it's a gorgeous cock.

DAN, shifting from foot to foot, uncomfortably: Now I'ms nots denyings that it's a mightys fines cocks. I just thinks its mights not bes appropriates to have sets outs on the supper tables is all.

KATY: Oh Dan, there's been far worse things than a cock on this table.

WAYNE growls: Better not have been them hockey nutsacks.

KATY: I'm a big girl, Wayne. None of your business what nutsacks I'm spending time with.

WAYNE, begrudgingly: True.

DAN: You knows whats you're afters, miss Katys, and that's what I appreciates about you.

KATY, flirtatiously: Oh, is that what you appreciate about me?

WAYNE: Take about ten, twenty percent off her over there Squirrelly Dan.

DAN, looking at the table: Oh hey look. A cock. What is sets most unhygenicallys on the table we eats off ofs.

KATY: Jesus Dan. Hop off our cocks.

WAYNE: Besides, you're a bigger degen than Dary if you eat directly off the table.

DAN: Where is Darys anyways? Ain't like him to miss such a magnificents cocks.

DARY enters the KITCHEN: Sorry I'm late. Spent all morning wrangling my cock into its cage.

DAN, sympathetically: Its was giving yous some troubles thens?

DARY: Kept making itself all big and plumped up. Couldn't get it to fit in the cage. Ended up having to really wrassle with it for a good long while.

KATY: Could say you had to take your cock firmly in hand there, Dary?

WAYNE: Pert near had to choke that chicken, I'd imagine.

DARY: Pert near.

DAN: But yous gots it settled downs and ins its cage?

DARY nods and hefts a rooster in a wire cage into frame: Yup. Tuckered it out eventually. Now it's placid as anything.

WAYNE: Now that's a handsome cock, Dary. A right handsome cock.

DARY, bashful: Aw, it ain't nothing special. Not like yours, Wayne.

WAYNE SHIFTS OUT OF THE WAY. PAN TO ROOSTER ON THE TABLE.

DARY:  Now that's a real handsome cock, and well behaved to boot.

WAYNE: Ok, Dary. Dary, ok. Ok, Dary. Dary, ok. Youwannaknowwhat? Here's the scoop and I'm gonna tell ya. I look at your cock and I think, well, I think: good for you buddy. Just like, good for you bud. Like I'm real proud of ya, Dary.

DAN: It's a mightys fines cocks, Dary. Yous gots every rights to be prouds.

KATY: Nothing wrong with a spirited cock, anyways.

DARY, bashful: Still reckon yours'll be the cock to beat down the Ag Festival, Wayne.

WAYNE: Oh it's a handsome cock all right.

KATY: A beautiful cock.

WAYNE: Oh it's a gorgeous cock.

DARY: Not to be pulling your own horn over there.

DAN: Oh yous shoulds nevers do thats. Leastwise nots ins mixed companies.

KATY: Says you.

WAYNE, abrupt: No hard feelings Dary. Regardless of who beats whose cock.

DARY: No hard feelings.

WAYNE holds his hand straight out for DARY to shake: Then may the man with the best cock win.

LETTERKENNY TITLE BUT THERE IS A ROOSTER INSTEAD OF A DOG.

ESTABLISHING SHOTS OF A FAIRGROUD.

EXTERIOR SHOT OF THE AG BUILDING.

INTERIOR SHOT OF THE AG BUILDING. WAYNE, KATY, DARY, and SQUIRRELLY DAN are standing around a table with ROOSTERS in cages on it. The DYCKS and the HOCKEY PLAYERS are also there, standing further down the room.

GLEN enters with a clipboard, officiators badge: Wayne! How're you now?

WAYNE: Good'nyou?

GLEN: Oh, I'm just dripping with excitement to be judging all y'alls cocks. Especially yours Wayne.

WAYNE squints into the distance.

DAN: You're judgings the competitions?

GLEN: Indeed I am, Daniel. Although admittedly I misunderstood the nature of the event when I first volunteered to judge. But! I have plenty of experience judging cocks from my years on the family poultry farm. The cocks I raised as a youth...

WAYNE: Pitter patter.

GLEN: Well, fine. If you don't appreciate hearing about my cock judging credentials.

DARY, snickering: Pretty sure pert near everyone in town knows 'bout those.

GLEN: True but uncalled for, Daryl!

NOAH DYCK, joining the hicks: I for one think it is admirable that Preacher Glen has experience handling and judging cocks. And from his boyhood, once.

WAYNE: Noah.

NOAH: Wayne.

DARY: Mr. Dyck.

NOAH: Daryl.

DAN: Noahs Dycks.

NOAH: Daniel. A pity Lovina Dyck could not make it to the cock judging. I'm certain she would have had she known you were showing your cock. For is it not true, mine wife, that the love tree often bears fruit when a young man parades his cock before his sweetheart, once?

ANITA approaches: What nonsense are you speaking now, Noah?

NOAH: Simply that a Dyck chooses a lifemate in part by how well she-

KATY: Or he.

DAN: Ors theys.

NOAH: -raises a cock. Did not you impress me with your cock raising skills when first we were courting?

ANITA, blushing: You say too much, husband.

NOAH: And did not you help raise this cock which I am showing proudly this day, once? Why without mine Anita Dyck's loving and tender hand, this cock would be but small and limp and lifeless.

ANITA: Us Snatches have always had a way with cocks, as well you know.

NOAH: A good thing too. Us Dycks require a skilled hand with raising our cocks. Lovina will be delighted to know you've raised such a magnificent cock as are being shown here this day. Perhaps I shall send one of my young sons to go fetch her, once. So that she might see your cock.

DAN, hurriedly: Oh nos, I'm nots showings anybodys anythings. That's all Waynes and Darys.

GLEN: Daryl! I didn't realize you were showing your cock today too. Oh, this is so exciting! Me, in the middle of a Daryl/Wayne cock sandwich.

WAYNE growls.

GLEN: Although I don't know how I'm supposed to choose between the two of your cocks. I think it will take some lengthy deliberation.

KATY: This is already taking fucking forever, I'm going to go sit down.

DAN: I'll join yous, miss Katys.

KATY as they leave: Still not over Lovina Dyck, eh?

DAN: I don'ts knows that I'll evers stop thinkings abouts Lovinas Dycks, miss Katys. Ands that's a facts.

KATY and SQUIRRELLY DAN exit.

DARY (aside): Katy's right. This is taking fucking forever.

WAYNE to GLEN: I say again. Pitter. Patter.

GLEN whines.

WAYNE: If a man should be one thing, he should be efficient.

GLEN: Fine. Everyone here? Then lets get y'all registered. What's your cocks' names? I'm sure you've come up with some good ones.

WAYNE: Plenty of good names for cocks.

DARY: Oh, you can have a lot of fun naming cocks.

WAYNE: I'm surprised we're not naming cocks right now.

DARY: Could name one after the fictional prizefighter Cocky Balboa.

WAYNE: Or the legendary real life comedian Chris Cock.

DARY: There's always actor and former wrassler Dwayne the Cock Johnson.

GLEN: Ooh, that's a two-for-one special right there.

WAYNE: Or jazz musician John Cocktrain.

DARY: I like that one.

WAYNE: Not too obscure?

DARY: Nah, it's a gooder. Cultured - but not trying too hard.

GLEN: All right, all right. So what are your cocks' names?

DARY: Cock.

GLEN: Come again? And please note, I'm saying that in a completely different context to the one I usually use.

DARY: My cock's called cock. I din't name the damn thing. I know what it looks like.

WAYNE: Well I should hope so.

DARY: And I only got the one. Not liable to mix it up with someone else's cock.

GLEN: Ok. Fine, Dary. Ruin all my fun. TURNS TO WAYNE. What about you, Wayne? What's the big fella called?

WAYNE: Only nutsacks name their cocks.

RILEY breaking into the group around GLEN: We're all saying our cock's names, boys?

JONESY: Just naming silly cock over here, boys?

RILEY: Just christening silly amounts of cock over here, boys?

WAYNE: Again, only nutsacks name their cocks.

GLEN: Yes, boys. Everyone who's entering the cock judging needs to tell me their cock's name so I can make sure to call out the right name during the handling. It's just so embarrassing to call the cock in your hands by the wrong name...

RILEY: We've got a cock to register for judging, boys.

JONESY: Well, really it's Riley's cock we're entering. And it's a real beauty, buddy.

RILEY: Hey, buddy. It's as much your cock as mine. It is a real beauty though buddy.

JONESY: Just a real beauty of a cock here, boys.

RILEY: Half clapper top cheddar.

JONESY: Guaranteed W. Ferda!

RILEY: Ferda!

GLEN: Now boys, we're talking about roosters here, not actual cocks. Don't feel bad - I too was confused at first. So, while I'm sure Riley's cock is just delightful...

JONESY: It is. He's a registered beautician, buddy.

RILEY: Thanks buddy.

GLEN: Yes. But I just want to stress again – this is the animal we're talking about here.

RILEY: Yeah, boys. Cocks.

JONESY holds up a rooster in a cage: And this is our cock:

RILEY: Four time Stanley Cup winner.

JONESY: Four time Vezina Trophy winner.

RILEY: Hockey hall-of-famer.

JONESY: Goaltender extraordinaire.

RILEY: Terry Sawcock. Ferda!

JONESY: Ferda!

DARY (aside): Kinda surprised they have a whole cock between 'em.

WAYNE: Ain't surprised they share it though, fuck.

DARY: Same way they share a set of testicles. And maybe a tongue.

GLEN: Ooh, don't tempt me Daryl.

WAYNE (turns to RILEY and JONESY): Now where in the hell did yous two nutsacks get a cock from anyways? You better not've stolen it right out from under some poor unsuspecting farmer's nose.

RILEY: We bought it down at the feed store boys.

JONESY: Heard about people keeping chickens as pets boys.

RILEY: How they're so cute and cuddly. Plus free eggs boys.

JONESY: Need plenty of protein to keep up with the gains boys.

RILEY and JONESY flex. GLEN watches avidly. WAYNE is unimpressed.

RILEY: Accidentally bought a rooster though buddy.

JONESY (sadly): Can't get eggs from a rooster buddy.

RILEY: Still a good pet though buddy.

JONESY: Yeah, just really loves to cuddle with us buddy.

RILEY: Yeah, just really loves to cuddle with us on the sofa buddy.

WAYNE: Shouldn't keep farm animals as pets. Fuck.

DARY: Farm animals belong on a farm. S'why they're called farm animals.

WAYNE: Like. You wouldn't let a sow into you're living room. And you wouldn't let a cow into your living room. So why the fuck are you cuddling up on the couch with a cock?

JONESY: Shouldn't knock it till you've tried it.

DARY: I'll knock you.

GLEN: Boys please. Lets not fight. Not when we're all gathered here today for such a noble purpose as comparing cocks.

ALL: Fine.

GLEN: All righty now, let's see. We've got Daryl's cock: cock. We've got Wayne's cock: only nutsacks name their cocks. Riley and Jonesy's collective cock: Terry Sawcock. What do you call your cock, Noah?

NOAH: While there are a great quantity of cocks at the Dyck farm, this is our most quality.

WAYNE: Quality Dyck if you will.

GLEN: Quality Dyck it is.

DARY: Sure 'nough.

WAYNE: Like you see that cock and you say, that's Quality Dyck all right. And no mistake.

GLEN: Mhm! And I know from Quality Dyck. Now, if that's everyone, we can get on with the judging...

MCMURRY barges in: Wait! (Approaching WAYNE) Wayne. How're'you'now? Good'n'you. Ohnotsobad. Okay! (Turns to the GROUP) I, McMurry, am entering my cock in this little competition. So all you sumbitches can make a hole.

GLEN: Well someone's all riled up! You can go ahead and enter your cock right here, McMurry. No need to shout.

DARY (angry): Yeah, no need to bust our balls.

WAYNE (placating): Go have a dart.

DARY (begrudgingly): Yeah, I'll have a dart.

WAYNE and DARY exit.

FADE TO BLACK.

ESTABLISHING SHOT OF THE AGRICULTURAL FESTIVAL.

ZOOM ON TWO COCK SHAKUR PLAYING FOR A CROWD IN FRONT OF THE AG BUILDING.

PAN OVER KATY AND DAN IN THE AUDIENCE.

ZOOM ON GLEN AS HE ENTERS THE STAGE AT THE FRONT OF THE CROWD.

GLEN: How'reyounow?

AUDIENCE: Good'n'you?

GAIL: All this cock talk's got me wetter than a lighthouse keeper's slicker in a Noreaster, I can tell you that much.

DAN: Gailer!

KATY: First Glen is here judging and now Gail's here.

GAIL approaches KATY and DAN.

DAN: Yeah, Gail. I didn'ts know you were so interesteds in the agriculturals.

GAIL: Less interested in the agriculturals than in seeing some. Good. Hand. Raised. Cock. Specially when I heard Wayne's entered in the cock judging.

DAN to KATY: She knows it's nots actual cocks, rights?

KATY to GAIL: More importantly, is Modean's actually closed?

DAN: Tells me it didn't burns down agains.

KATY: This town needs a fucking bar.

GAIL: Nah, Modean's 3 is still alive and kicking sure as this old goat. But when Glen told me he'd be judging cocks at the agricultural festival I figured the whole fucking town'd be here rather than down Modean's.

DAN: Nots a bad turnsout for Letterkenny's first evers ag festival.

KATY: A great fucking turnout.

GAIL: Plus, I get a chance to see Wayne's cock today – and that's worth a day's profits right there.

KATY: Gross.

GAIL: Not that I've actually lost a day's profits. Bonny's been making the rounds at the Ag festival and apparently, business. Is. Banging.

CUT TO BONNY WEAVING HER WAY THROUGH THE CROWD WITH A TRAY OF SHOT GLASSES AND BEER BOTTLES.

KATY and DAN whistfully, along with CROWD: Bonny McMurry?

GLEN (impatient): Can I have your attention please!

PAN BACK TO GLEN.

GLEN: The event we've all been waiting for – I know I have – the cock judging. Lets meet our contestants!

GLEN gestures to the stage like a game show host: First up is Wayne!

AUDIENCE applauds.

WAYNE enters with his rooster and stands stoically, hands in belt loops.

GLEN examining the rooster: An impressive cock. Sturdy. Well built. And a real big fella. Nearly eight pounds, and pure muscle. Wayne, I think you've got a real champion cock here.

WAYNE nods stoically.

GAIL: And that's not the only cock of his I hear is impressive.

GLEN: Oooh, tell me more.

WAYNE: Glen.

GAIL: That rooster's not the only cock almost eight somethings.

MCMURRY (from backstage): Wait, is that measured over or under the balls.

GAIL: And plenty of stamina to make it through those cold Canadian winter nights. If. You. Know. What. I. Mean.

GLEN: No, please continue in explicit detail.

WAYNE: Glen!

GLEN: Ok, fine. (Gestures WAYNE to move to the rear of the stage.) Moving along, next up is Dary!

AUDIENCE applauds.

GLEN examining the rooster: Oh, you've got a feisty one here, Dary. Plenty of personality! A little smaller than Wayne's but still an excellent cock. And those freckles are just too cute!

DARY: Aw, thanks Glen.

GLEN: And I'd happily take a look at your other cock if you want, Daryl.

DARY: Thanks for the offer Glen, but like I said, I only got the one.

GLEN: Oh never mind.

GLEN waves DARY off the stage.

DARY moves to stand next to WAYNE.

GLEN: Here's our next contestant, Noah Dyck!

AUDIENCE applauds.

GLEN: Now this is something special, y'all. An excellent example of a Canadian heritage breed, known for being an excellent layer and quite robust as well. Yes, I think we can all agree that this is certainly Quality Dyck right here.

NOAH: Thank you Preacher Glen. Such comments mean much coming from such an experienced judge of cocks as yourself.

GLEN: Oh, Noah. You'll make me blush. (GLEN rapidly ushers NOAH to stand next to DARY and WAYNE)  Anywho, our next contestant is Riley and Jonesy!

AUDIENCE applauds with some confusion.

DAN: What, both of thems? Collectivelys?

KATY: It makes sense. They do everything else together.

DAN: Everythings?

GAIL: Ev. Ry. Thing.

DAN: Katy?

KATY: Can confirm.

DAN: Wow. Didn'ts needs to knows thats.

KATY: You did ask.

GAIL: It's not like we gave you a blow. By. Blow account. But if you really want to know...

GLEN: This cock's a little smaller than the ones we've seen previously. Not as much muscle – might want to exercise it a little more, boys. Just really put it through it's paces.

SHORESY: Yeah! Give your balls a tug titfuckers!

RILEY: Fuck you, Shoresy! Where's your cock, if you think you're so good!

SHORESY: Fuck you Riley! If you want to know about my cock, just ask your mom. She saw plenty of it last night. Rode me so hard reverse cowgirl style I thought she was going to snap it off.

JONESY: Fuck you Shoresy!

SHORESY: Don't worry, Jonesy. Your mom was there to kiss it all better.

RILEY and JONESY: Fuck you Shoresy!

GLEN: Well! All audience commentary aside, I think you've got a very shapely cock, Riley. And I think if you put in the time, worked hard and raised it properly, you could have a real champion cock on your hands.

RILEY: Thanks, boys!

JONESY: Yeah, thanks boys!

GLEN: You're welcome. Now go sit down so we can get to our next contestant!

RILEY and JONESY fistbump and move to join the others.

McMURRY pushes forward through the other contestants: Yes, I McMurry am here to have my cock judged in front of all of you. And I'm gonna win this cocksucking cock competition, just you watch.

MRS McMURRY: Knock 'em dead, baby. Love you.

McMURRY: Love you too baby.

GLEN (awkward): Well, this cock's a little on the small side...

KATY: And that's a little bit of an understatement.

JARED KEESO CHARACTER #1: It's fucking tiny, McMurry. I've got a bigger cock hatched out an egg yesterday.

JARED KEESO CHARACTER #2: How'd you get a woman like Mrs. McMurry with a tiny cock like that?

JARED KEESO CHARACTER #1: You're a piece of shit, McMurry.

MRS McMURRY: Don't listen to him. Your cock's perfect, baby.

GLEN: Yes, well. They say it's not size that counts, but in this case – and a few others – that's just not true. Sorry, McMurry. You're out of the competition.

McMURRY: Goldangit all! (Exits STAGE mumbling profanities)

MRS McMURRY rushes after him.

GLEN: Now on to our last competitor! Modean Three's own Bonny McMurry!

AUDIENCE applauds.

DAN: I's hads no ideas she raised cocks.

KATY: I seem to remember her raising your cock pretty frequently there Dan.

DAN: I seems to remembers yous were plentys affected as well, Miss Katy.

KATY: What can I say? I like a woman with a championship cock.

GLEN: And what an excellent cock it is! A little on the slender side, but shapely! And what a lovely temperament. Outgoing without being pushy! Oh, it's just gorgeous!

WAYNE (aside to Dary): Now that's a lovely cock.

DARY: It's a beautiful cock for sure.

WAYNE: Oh it's a gorgeous cock.

GLEN: I think we have a winner folks! Let's hear it for Bonny McMurry's excellent cock!

FADE OUT TO AUDIENCE APPLAUSE AS BONNY McMURRY ACCEPTS A TROPHY.

SHOT OPENS ON THE PRODUCE STAND. WAYNE, DAN, AND DARY ARE SITTING IN THEIR USUAL SEATS WITH THEIR USUAL PUPPERS. KATYS CHAIR IS TAKEN BY WAYNE AND DARY'S ROOSTERS.

DAN: Recon Miss Katies is going to wants her seats back anytimes soons?

WAYNE: I imagine she's occupied for the evening.

DARY: Can't really blame her. I mean, who knew Bonny McMurry had such a championship cock?WAYNE: Hell, anybody'd want to go celebrate down MoDean's after a win like that. She's more than earned it, showing up all our cocks like that.

DARY: Still, there's no shame in coming second, good buddy.

DAN: Especiallys nots against such stiffs competitions.

WAYNE: I reckon you're right there, Dary. Andyouwannaknowwhat? Ain't no shame in coming third neither.

DAN: Especiallys nots against such stiffs competitions.

WAYNE stands and holds his hand out for DARY to shake: Congratulations Dary. That's a mighty fine cock you've got there.

DARY stands and shakes WAYNE's hand: Not as nice as yours, Wayne. Congratulations on the cock.

WAYNE and DARY sit.

WAYNE looks at where the roosters are sitting next to each other: Well, I'll give those hockey nutsacks this. They are cuddly little fuckers, aren't they?

DARY hawks a loogie in agreement.

WAYNE: Still not letting 'em in the fucking house though.

WAYNE, DARY, and DAN take a drink of PUPPERS.

CREDITS ROLL.