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seattlesellie · 11 months

Text

don’t cross the line

pairing: ellie williams x reader

warnings: smut (mdni), cheating, angst, mutual masturbation, just morally wrong, mentions of alcohol

Parties in Jackson fucking suck.

It’s not like youve ever been at a different party, but still. You’ve read about them in the little magazines from the old days you found on patrols. Small blurbs about meaningless celebrities, a concept you barely even understood, drinking themselves to oblivion. Paparazzi pictures of young starlets in black limousines, rappers getting coked up in dark bathrooms. You never really got it. Parties in Jackson were like a parallel universe.

“They must have made that up” you told Dina, your best friend and trusty patrol partner. “Nope” she shrugged. “Heard that Paris Hilton girl was really like that.”

Paris hilton would have hated Jackson parties. A bunch of old people, and a handful of young ones, dancing around to the beat of an old country song, if you could even call that a beat.

You could have responded with a simple “No thanks” when Jesse had invited you to tonights party. You could have told him you were tired, busy, sick, he would have left you alone - But you didn’t, alas, this is how you found yourself here. Alone, in an old barn, listening to the batshit insane, drunk ramblings of an old fart named Seth.

“Ripped that fella’s throat with just one move” Seth mumbled, laughing stupidly at his own words.

“Go — got him real good n’dirty, I tell ya”

Whoever said “respect the elderly” clearly never met Seth. His breath reeked of whiskey and cigarettes that he traded for food and supplies, and my god, he was standing so close you could see the veins in his yellow tinted eyeballs. You really were too polite for your own good, you thought to yourself, because Ellie would have shoved him away already.

Ellie.

You felt like slapping yourself in the face. What the hell does she have to do with this? Why can’t you just let it fucking go already? It truly was desperate, and pathetic, and borderline immoral, the amount you spent thinking about that girl.

So what if she used to be your best friend. So what if she was the first girl who ever made you feel something, even if it was too late. She has a girlfriend, and she’s not thinking about you, she doesn’t care, maybe never has, probably never will. She left you for her, with that useless excuse of “Cat doesn’t like it when we hang out” followed by a pathetic “We can do it in secret, though.”, when she saw your eyes turn glossy and your breath hitch up. Fuck her, and fuck those memories. Fuck all the nights you spent together telling each other your deepest and darkest desires, and especially fuck that time you almost-

“Hey”

You'd recognize that voice anywhere.

A royal blue flannel button up shirt appeared at the corner of your eye.

“Mind if I steal her for a sec, Seth?”

She sounded raspy, laced with that velvety layer her voice had adorned whenever she had a sip or more of Whiskey. When you drank together for the first time, at the ripe age of sixteen, next to a big bonfire and the ever so familiar scent of pine lacing your sense of smell, you told her that she sounds different when she’s drunk. More mature, somehow. Less fidgety, slower, sultrier. She replayed that sentence over and over again in her head. “Sultry”, she whispered to herself. “I sound sultry.”

Seth cleared his throat, a deep cough escaping his lungs.

“Of course, pretty girl like her shouldn’t be around me for too long, might start acting all wild!” The old man threw his hands in the air, and disappeared somewhere in the scarce crowd.

Your heartbeat was faster than normal, but that’s not new. Not when she was around, anyways.

Ellie stood by your side, hands crossed over her chest. She had a glass of Rum in her hand, not Whiskey. Funny.

“You’re a Rum type of girl now?” you questioned, never meeting her gaze. If you bothered to look to your side, you would have noticed she was staring.

“Fame’s changed me, I guess” She responded, mixing the fluid in her glass.

One week ago, Ellie went on patrol. One week ago, Ellie killed more infected in one go than anyone else had in years. She was the town’s hero, the infected slayer. Cat even made her a badge. She wasn’t wearing it now.

“Cat or fame?” you quietly mumbled under your breath.

You weren’t spectacularly brave with your words, but one glass of presumably expired white wine made a simple girl go very far.

“Hah. Funny” she scoffed dryly, earning her Rum another pointless swirl.

“You’re the towns hero, I’m the towns comedian, we’re both pretty famous, i’d say.”

Ellie’s gaze was fixed on the wall. She squinted her eyebrows slightly, humming in response. You looked over at her, for just a second, noticing the dim light reflecting in her eyes. She was a sight to behold, the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen. You wish she knew that. You wish you could be the one to tell her.

You inhaled deeply, and it came out so shaky that when you exhaled you were terrified she heard the tremor in your body.

“Thank’s for the save, by the way” you said quietly, apologetic. You even smiled politely, which was absolutely for nothing, because she wasn’t looking at you, avoiding your gaze like the plague.

It’s not like Ellie and you didn’t talk since that night she told you she couldn’t see you anymore. It’s been two whole years. You had to talk, you had to communicate somehow, even if it was through polite smiles and dry conversations during shared patrols. Hell, you even went to Cat’s birthday party you somehow were invited to. Dina was practically on her knees begging you to come with her, and who could say no to Dina when she looked at them with those puppy eyes that could tug at a monsters heartstrings?

“Yeah, no problem. That man’s a fucking dickhead” Ellie scoffed, leaned against the bar and crossed her legs.

“Where’s Cat?” you questioned. Are you sure you only had one glass of wine?

“She’s not here” Ellie responded dryly, seemingly annoyed at your question. She almost tsk’d when you asked. She didn’t look surprised by your rude antics, maybe you got like this more often than you thought. How about that time you told her you’re surprised Cat didn’t pack her a sandwich with a sticker on it’s wrapper during patrol?

“I can tell… why?” you inquired. Your own voice was deeper too, it almost matched hers.

“Didn’t wanna come” Ellie said, stuffing a hand inside her pocket. She was uncomfortable, clearly, and wanted, needed, to make you shut up. It’s not because your presence annoyed her, It’s because she knew she was wrong. She knew she fucked up when she ditched you, and if only you knew how it was eating her alive every day. She had to do it, because in her eyes, she would have done something much worse if she hadn’t.

Being around you when she wasn’t with Cat was hard enough, because she knew she could never have you, that you’d never want her. Not if you knew. You were too smart, and too good, to ever want to be with her. Cat was easy, she didn’t ask too many questions. She’d lay there for Ellie when Ellie told her to, and she would agree to stop a conversation when it got too personal. When Ellie cried at night, and woke up sweating, she didn’t ask why. She let it go, and Ellie knew you never would have. You’d fucking hate her if you knew. She could have saved the world — and she didn’t. He didn’t let her. The wounds she had were too deep, they were clawing and tugging at her skin from the inside. Ellie was a tortured soul, and you didn’t deserve that. That’s why she left, and maybe, that’s why she was here right now.

“That’s too bad” you mumbled quietly. You did your best to make it sound genuine, and you failed miserably.

Ellie scoffed.

“Yeah”

You shifted slightly, and walked over to stand right in front of her. You met her eyes for the first time. Those stupid, beautiful emerald eyes.

Ellie looked down, and looked up at you. She swallowed deeply.

“Anyways” you sighed. “Think I’m gonna go”

“Already?” she questioned, slamming her Rum filled glass on the bar counter.

“Yeah, I’m cold and it sucks in here, so” you said, and smiled politely. It really was freezing, and talking to her like this was painful enough.

“Let me walk you” she blurted.

What?

“Huh?” walk you where? the door? you knew where it was.

She tugged at the loose string on the bottom of her button up. It was ironed, where did Ellie find and iron? Did Maria do it for her? Town hero perks?

“Let me walk you home” she repeated, her voice carrying a touch of insistence. Once again, you found yourself captivated by her burning gaze, those eyes that seemed to hold secrets yet to be unveiled.

“I can walk home alone, Ellie” You huffed, ever the stubborn.

“No” she exclaimed.

“Maria said it’s been pretty dangerous”

“I can have my own back, you know, I’m not an idiot” You scoffed. You knew she didn’t think you were an idiot, why did she have to walk you home?

“I know that — Just wanna make sure you’re safe”

“Gosh, Ellie thank you! thank you!” You said in the most high pitched voice you could fathom. “The town’s hero is at it again, everybody!” You exclaimed, slightly raising your voice, earning both of you a few curious looks from the townspeople.

Ellie wasn’t embarrassed. She was just annoyed. And she wanted to slap you in the face for being so stubborn.

She grasped your arm with an unexpected forcefulness, pulling you along as she swiftly guided you outside. In the process, you accidentally bumped into a few people, hastily muttering a string of apologetic "sorry" and "excuse me" as you hurriedly tried to navigate through the crowd. You attempted to resist her firm grip, trying to free yourself with a burst of strength, but you found yourself overpowered by her determination.

Once she managed to pull you outside, she finally released her grip on your arm, allowing you a brief respite from her firm hold.

“You are not walking me anywhere, Williams” you scoffed. What made her think you needed her help?

“You’ve always been so fucking stubborn” she turned to face you. Her hands were on her hips. Her face wore the same expression she did when you went on your first patrol together, when you insisted on going left, even though she knew you had to go right.

“I’m walking now” you stepped away, and started walking. “And if you followed me — you wouldn’t be walking me home, you’d be stalking me” you exclaimed as you backed away.

Ellie quickly followed your pace, her boots stomping on the snow covered ground.

“You are”

Step

“So fucking annoying”

This was the longest conversation you’ve had with Ellie in two whole years. It felt like nothing’s changed, except for everything.

The following ten minutes were torturous. You were walking fast, Ellie right behind you. No words were exchanged between you, the silence enveloping the crisp air as you both walked in silence. Your attention turned inward, focusing on the sensation of the cold air filling your lungs with each breath, and the soft sound of Ellie's boots pressing against the creaking snow beneath her.

You finally arrived at your place. It’s grey exterior blanketed in a pristine layer of snow. Every inch of its structure was adorned with a delicate coat of white.

You turned around to face her.

Ellie’s skin appeared slightly flushed, with a rosy tinge highlighting her cheeks, and her nose bore a noticeable reddish hue, hinting at the crisp winter air. She didn’t say a word.

You took a deep breath. She looked cold.

“Want me to make you some tea?” you questioned. You didn’t mean to let her in, and she didn’t expect you to ask. She looked surprised, her eyebrows turned slightly upwards.

“M’fine” Ellie insisted, her voice resolute despite the chill in the air. She sought warmth by tucking her hands deep into the pockets of her dark green coat.

“Jesus, Ellie — Just come inside” you urged, the concern evident in your voice.

“If walking you was stalking wouldn’t coming in be breaking and entering?” she inquired, a sarcastic tone lacing her words.

“Just —“ you uttered, your voice trailing off as you reached for the doorknob, slowly opening the door.

“Come inside”

"Fine," Ellie relented, her resolve wavering as she decided to follow in your footsteps.

The house welcomed you with its cozy warmth, though slightly disorganized in its appearance. Yet, amidst the subtle chaos, it remained a comforting sanctuary, always your safe space. Being there brought a sense of solace, as if the troubles of the outside world faded away. And with Ellie's presence by your side, an inexplicable tingling sensation spread through your being.

You proceeded to heat up some water, carefully attending to the task of preparing tea, a familiar ritual.

Ellie never knew where to sit, or where to stand, so there she was, examining every single one of your movements. The air felt thick, like you could cut the tension with a switchblade.

"Your house looks different," she murmured in a low voice, leaning against the cream-colored wall.

“Bad different?” You questioned, taking out two mugs from the cupboard.

“No, just… more stuff” she murmured.

"Well," you uttered as you gently placed the teabag into the awaiting mug. “You haven’t been here in a while, so”

Ellie hummed in response, and bit her lower lip.

“You’ve kind of changed too.” you murmured.

“Tattoos looking bigger. And you look more tired. Plus, your shirt looks ironed, so maybe you even… showered? Woah.” you teased.

“Fuck, you really are funny huh?” she said, crossing her arms.

“Always were a sucker for my jokes” you responded with a sly smile.

She didn’t mean to say what she said next, because that was like opening a pandora’s box. Or, more like, the gates to hell.

“This is the longest conversation we’ve had in years” Ellie murmured. You handed her the green colored mug, your finger brushing her’s for a second. You both flinched.

“Mhm” you took a sip from your tea. It was still so hot, it burned your tongue.

“And who’s fault is that?” You questioned, raising your eyes to meet her burning gaze. It was incredibly impulsive.

Ellie rolled her eyes. She looked baffled.

“You still don’t get it, do you? She questioned.

“Get what? that your girlfriend doesn’t like me? trust me Ellie, I get that, crystal clear.” You smiled, as you slammed your mug on the counter.

“I’m not doing this right now” she declared, her tone firm and resolute.

Oh, did that sentence burn through you.

“I think you are” you stepped forward to face her. She looked terrified, like a lost puppy. Not so “town’s hero” now. Thank god she wasn’t wearing Cat’s badge, because she would have looked ridiculous.

“I’m not” she said quietly, looking at the floor beneath her.

You felt the ever so familiar lump forming in your throat. She owed you.

“Tell me what it is exactly that I don’t get” you spat. The pent up anger from all these years finally just fucking bursted. She left you. She left you for her, your best fucking friend.

“It’s just funny how she didn’t give a shit about Jesse, or Dina, or anybody! Just fucking me, right? I’m the fucking problem?” you blurted. Your voice was shaky, filled with rage. The tears in your eyes started forming. You didn’t even know how much you were holding it inside of you, it all overflowed, at 2AM, right in your kitchen. Right where she told you she couldn’t see you anymore.

Ellie was frozen, her mouth parted slightly. She was flushed, and it showed. It wasn’t the cold weather anymore, it was you. She didn’t expect this to happen so fast. She came inside for some fucking tea.

That’s when you shoved her. And she didn’t even fucking move.

“Don’t fucking do this to me” she begged. Her voice was desperate, and shaky, and what the fuck was she hiding?

You found yourselves standing uncomfortably close to each other, the proximity palpable. The warmth of her breath gently grazed your forehead, creating a tantalizing sensation that sent a shiver down your spine.

She took a deep breath.

“What I did was bad. But — fuck, Jesse and Dina never slept over, you know that?”

The room fell quiet.

“So?” you whispered. You couldn’t even look at her.

“Don’t do this” she begged. Her eyes were glossy. She looked as if she was about to cry, too. Her chest was pressed up against yours.

“I’m not doing anything” you mumbled quietly. Her body was so warm. You felt like you were about to have a heart attack, and Ellie felt like she already did.

“If I would have stayed… I would have done something… so much worse” she whispered. Her hands were trembling.

“What would you have done?” you whispered against her. Dangerously close now. You could feel her unsteady heartbeat.

“You know” she whispered back. You saw the vein on her neck, how beautifully spattered the freckles on her skin were, like a constellation.

“Please” you begged.

That’s all it took.

Almost.

"No," she whispered, her voice barely audible. The proximity between your lips was almost intimate, an agonizingly close distance.

“Please” you begged.

Her eyes were dark, breaths unsteady and fast, like she just ran a marathon. Her chest was rising up and down. She’s dreamt of this moment, for so fucking long. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t fuck more people up. She’s done more than enough.

“You don’t know what you fucking do to me” She whispered against your skin. Her eyes were shut closed. If she didn’t see, maybe it would’ve been less wrong. If she didn’t see, maybe Cat wouldn’t either. She could go home, kiss her girlfriend good night. Walk away. But there you were, pressed up against her, making her head spin like a carousel, fogging her brain with your scent, and your lips, and all of the times she pictured you like this, helpless and begging. She never looked at Cat how she looked at you. Cat never made her feel like she could faint at any given moment. Cat was safe, she was a sunny day. You were a thunderstorm, a cloud, soaking her up. When Ellie said she would have done something so much worse, she meant that.

Cat was right when she told her to stay away, she always was. When Ellie begged Cat to stop her ramblings, Cat told her she looks at you like she’s hungry. That it’s disgusting, that she wishes it was her. She was crying, and begging, and she was right. That’s why Ellie knocked on your door that way. One person she could save.

Ellie’s hands were firmly pressed up against the wall, locking you in.

“You dont know…” she whispered.

You whimpered silently at her words. You were aching everywhere, you just needed her to do something.

“Show me” you said, and it came out more as a plead. You were begging her.

Ellie leaned in, drawing her face closer to yours, and your lips delicately brushed against each other. The electrifying touch sent a shiver down your spine, evoking a soft, involuntary moan that escaped your lips. It went straight to her heart, and then slipped right to her cunt.

Her lips were plump against yours. Just barely touching.

She delicately brushed her lips against yours, causing a gentle collision that sent a jolt of electricity through both of you. A shaky breath escaped her mouth.

“Ellie…” you whispered. Ellie, just do it. you can’t take it anymore.

She abruptly slammed her hands against the wall, causing it to tremor ever so slightly. The suddenness of the action startled you, making you jump in response.

“Shit” she huffed.

And her lips weren’t against yours anymore, neither was she.

Ellie backed away. She couldn’t.

Your lips quivered, and there it was. Her precious thunderstorm erupting.

The tears came out hot, and sticky. They ran all over your cheeks. You let out a quiet sob. Ellie was staring, her breaths uneven and her mouth agape. She almost did what shes been dreaming of doing since the moment she saw you. Almost.

your legs betrayed you, giving out completely. You crumbled down onto the floor, unable to stand any longer. With tears welling up in your eyes, you instinctively curled up, bringing your head between your legs as you tried to suppress the sobs that threatened to consume you.

It was a truly pathetic sight, Ellie towering over your quivering body. It’s been two whole years, and you missed her every single day that passed. It was gnawing at you. Seeing them hand in hand, kissing on the street, making out behind the dumpster. Thinking of Ellie hugging her at night, caressing her skin, touching her everywhere, telling her she loves her, fucking her, tasting her and not you. It should have been you. But it couldn’t be.

If only you knew that when Ellie was between her thighs, you were the only one she thought of. If only you knew Ellie had to bite her lip till it bled to stop from screaming your name. That’s why Ellie always turned off the lights, That’s why Ellie shoved Cat’s face down on the bed with her entire palm when she took her from behind. That’s why she always closed her eyes.

Her body gave up on her, too.

She sat on the cold concrete floor, trying to steady her breaths.

“Look at me” she commanded. It was breathy, and shaky, more of a plea than a real command.

You wiped your tears.

“I can’t” you whispered.

“Please” she begged.

You mustered the strength to lift your face, raising your gaze to meet hers.

“I think about you all the time” you blurted.

She huffed in response. Your soft voice was killing her. She couldn’t even respond. She just watched.

“Ellie…” you whined. The distance between you was torturous. There was so much space, and at the same time, no space at all. You could still feel her lips brushing against yours. You wished you could taste her. She yearned for that even more. She felt like something was chaining her down to the floor, holding her captive.

What you did next, is something Ellie had buried deep inside her darkest fantasies.

You delicately caressed your smooth neckline, doe eyes burning through her’s.

Ellie swallowed deeply.

“What are you doing?” she mumbled, lower than a whisper. Her voice was raspy, and her pupils were blown out. She was imagining, for sure, hallucinating, intoxicated by the picture of you being pressed up against her. It couldn’t be real.

“I need you” you whimpered.

She almost crawled right to you right then and there. Her knees were spread open in front of you. Her breath hitched in her throat. Her heart felt like it was leaping out of her chest.

“You cant” she insisted. It felt like she tried to convince herself, and not you. You couldn’t. There’s no way.

“I want you” you whispered, lowering your hand to caress your breasts.

Something took over you. Being pent up with frustration for years birthed such a desperate sight, she couldn’t fathom it.

She grunted in response. Do that again and she’d lose her fucking mind.

You cupped your breast.

Ellie threw her head against the wall. She forgot how to breathe. Her nostrils were flared, and she almost slapped herself in order to convince her that this was real. This was happening.

“Holy shit” she wheezed.

“Please” you begged, and squeezed your breast forcefully. Your nippled hardened against the material, so you gave them a twist, sending a bolt of electricity right through your clothed cunt.

Ellie’s mouth was agape. She was transfixed, mesmerized. Her cheeks grew more red by the second. It was so fucking wrong, she almost told you to stop, but she couldn’t. Her voice felt dry and her brain was buzzing. Her ex best friend was so desperate for her she couldn’t even help herself.

The image of Cat went through her head. Cat seeing, walking in. Cat trembling and crying, telling her she told her so. Cat screaming at her that she’s an awful person, that she hurt her, That she should burn in hell.

Then, you took your shirt off.

And Cat was gone.

Her eyes were darting from your tits to your needy eyes. You were giving her that look she only saw in her dreams. That desperate, pathetic twinkle in your eye. She saw a girl look like that in an old porno she found. Ever since, that picture of your face replacing the actresses burned through her memory. She knew it was for her, you were showing her, but she looked like she wasn’t supposed to see, a peeping tom, a pervert. Her cunt twitched inside her tight black boxers. Cat never made her cunt feel like this.

The dainty lace bra adorned your body. you looked like an angel, eyes red from crying, cheeks still wet, chest rising up and down. She wanted to ruin you.

You stopped for a second, looked for a sign to keep going.

The room was silent, the only noises that muttered were your soft whimpers and Ellie’s harsh, uneven breaths.

“Take it off” she whispered. You almost couldn’t believe she said that. You nodded pathetically. She always knew you’d be like this. She imagined you nodding your head frantically, kneeling beneath her and undoing her belt, way too many times she wouldn’t dare to admit. Her heavy breaths were a confession to all of her sins.

You unclasped your bra, your tits spilling out of it with a sigh of relief.

Ellie was hypnotized, fully staring. She remembered the first tine she saw you in a bikini. Jesse noticed she was staring, and he gave her some advice. “Look at the ground or the sky, pretend there’s something super interesting going on there”

She didn’t need to pretend now.

“Fuck” she grunted, feeling her cunt twitch inside her briefs. Her mouth was agape, she wanted those nipples between her teeth. Her tongue slightly moved involuntarily inside her mouth, imitating the kitten licks she’d give your tits if she could. It was truly pathetic. Thank god you couldn’t see. Her fists were clenched, and she was forcing her feet onto the ground. If she pretended something was pulling her in, she wouldn’t crawl towards you and take you like she always wanted.

You toyed with your nipples, rolling them between your fingers, almost as if you read her mind.

“Spit on ‘em” Ellie demanded desperately.

“Ellie…” You whimpered, her voice was making you grow wetter by the second. If you took your pants off, she could see the wet patch that soaked through your panties, making them almost sheer. You were almost embarrassed, but it was too late now.

“Do it” she commanded.

“Do it for me” Ellie begged. She brought a hand up to cup at her perky clothed breast. She imagined it was you, your tits between her fingers. She wanted to squeeze the fat, take it in, spit on it, latch her mouth onto your nipples, slap them as you ride her thigh, or her face, or her whatever the fuck you wanted.

The saliva ran down your chest, droplets flowing at an incredibly slow pace, each and every one of them teasing Ellie, mocking her. Almost there, almost reaching your sensitive nipples. When it finally did, Ellie was breathing so heavy she almost wheezed.

You rubbed the spit all over your tits, glazing your nipples with the liquid, coating them shiny with your saliva - all for her. You were staring at ellie with your mouth open. You moaned at the sensation, making Ellie shift and slightly slide off the wall. She was gone.

“Feels so good” you whined.

“Fucking shit” She huffed. She bucked her hips, searching for that friction. She didn’t do it yet, but oh she will.

“Mhhm” you hummed, a high pitched moan escaping your lips.

Ellie almost went cross eyed.

“Need you, please” You whispered while massaging your breasts. You were squeezing the fat harshly, almost punishing yourself for being such a dirty, desperate girl.

“Show me” She begged, in between breaths.

“Show me how bad - shit”

You cupped your cunt, your hand feeling warm over it. Your clit twitched. Ellie let out a moan so deep, you almost came right then and there, all over your panties.

You circled your clit through your pants, teasing Ellie without even realizing. I can do it, and you can’t! It felt like you were mocking her.

“Take that shit off — fuck” she huffed. Her hand was resting on her thigh, pinching it. Stay down. Don’t crawl, don’t fuck, don’t cheat.

In a matter of six seconds, your pants were on the floor. You crossed your legs together in embarrassment. What if she saw how wet you were?

“Spread” She commanded.

You looked at her stupidity.

“Spread ‘em, please” Ellie begged.

You spread your legs slowly, revealing your soaked white cotton panties to Ellie. Her eyes rolled back at the sight.

“Fucking shit” she grunted.

Her hand met her own cunt and gave it a stinging slap, followed by a desperate grunt. She moved her veiny hand up and down, almost grabbing her pussy. She felt perverted, and sickly, and so, so good. The friction of her hand on her cunt was followed by a string of deep moans, chanting your name like a prayer. She didn’t even know how bad she needed it.

“Wider” She commanded.

You spread your legs so wide your thighs almost hurt. When Ellie saw that wet spot, she lost it.

“So wet” she whispered in disbelief.

“Show me that pussy” She whimpered.

“Show me that fucking pussy”

You moved your panties to the side, the cold air hitting your clit making you flinch. You swore you could cum just from clenching in and out, listening to the obscenities leaving her mouth.

“Holy shit” She moaned, and cupped her cunt forcefully.

“So pretty” she whispered. It was even prettier than she thought, glistening folds and a little puffy button poking out. She needed to see inside, everywhere.

“Spread it with your fingers” She grunted. You parted your lips with your pointer finger and your thumb, wide open for her. She saw how bad you were clenching, begging for something inside. Your puffy clit moved with every pull.

“Wanna fuck you so bad” she groaned, it was killing her.

“Need to see you Ellie, please, please” you begged.

With that whine leaving your mouth, Ellie unzipped her jeans, and pulled down her boxers slowly, revealing you of the most beautiful sight youve ever seen in your life.

Her thighs were creamy, a mound of soft, dark hair adorning her pubis. Her slick was shining on her milky inner thighs from the boxer briefs she took off slightly brushing on them. She was so wet, it almost glistened like a far away star, deep in the galaxy. Her mouth was parted and she looked famished.

Tiny droplets of sweat were shining on her forehead, making her hair stick to her face. She was a panting, desperate mess.

You couldn’t help but slide your hand up your thigh, and started running your fingers through your glistening folds. Finally. “Oh god, Ellie” you moaned. You wished those were her fingers, if you could, if you only could.

Ellie moaned like a porn star at the sight. You thought she might tease herself, might play with her cunt before doing something. She proved you wrong.

She slid two long fingers inside her aching hole, squelching sounds filling the air. She pumped them in and out, fucking herself like a madwoman. Her hungry eyes were fixated on your fingers caressing your needy cunt. Her mouth was watering, borderline drooling, soft “ah!”s escaping her lips.

You circled your clit slowly, and felt your lower stomach leap at the contact. You lapped your slick with your middle finger, and sucked on it. It was obscene. Ellie’s cunt twitched. She almost came.

“Good girl” She groaned at the sight.

“Faster” She commanded, a deep moan escaping her lips.

You fastened your pace, and she was looking you directly in the eyes while pumping her fingers inside her cunt. With every pump, you could see a milky cream coating her fingers, the sight alone made your puffy clit ache with pleasure.

It was so wrong, and obscene, and pathetic, and you almost came.

“Fucking shit — fuck yourself, show me, fuck yourself” She whimpered, fastening her pace as well. The moans that left her mouth were deep, bursting from the inside of her soul.

Her fucking ex best friend.

“E — Ellie m’close” you whined, inserting a finger inside your soaking hole.

“Can see how fucking tight you are - fuck”

“Faster, do it f’me baby faster” She groaned.

The harmony of your moans intertwined, creating an intoxicating symphony.

“Ellie — gonna cum, fuck” You babbled, drool running down your chin. You were so close, eyes rolling to the back of your Ellie filled brain.

“Please fuck me, please fuck me”

“Cu — Fuck, shit, m’cuming” Ellie grunted.

“Say my fucking name” She demanded, her words coming out so sloppy and ridiculous.

“Ellie — Ellie! Please!”

Ellie almost screamed. She wanted to tell you to come for her, wanted to hear the noises youd make, see your face twist and the screams of her name, but she couldn’t help herself, the sight of your desperate cunt and the look on your face, so stupid, so cumdrunk, so pathetic, begging her to fuck you - brought her to the edge. It errupted inside of her like a volcano, pumping and squeezing on her fingers. She rode her orgasm until it tickled and hurt.

When you came, Ellie almost shed a tear.

This wasn’t just wrong.

This was vile.

She pulled up her pants up and left without saying a word, too embarrassed to look you in the face.

When she got home, Cat was sound asleep on her bed. She gave her a delicate kiss on the cheek, and whispered;

“I’m so sorry”

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fanfiction #the last of us #ellie williams x you #wlw #lesbian #ellie smut #ellie williams angst

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hotvintagepoll · 4 months

Text

Very very very upset about cagney not winning so I wanted to submit some propaganda as his number 1 shooter :( was he conventionally attractive? No… was he the scrungliest cutiest patootiest manlet ever? YES!!!

Some fun facts for you… his first onstage appearance was as a chorus girl (top row, second from left with the killer arms hehe.) He actually had such bad stage fright that he would get sick before going onstage :(( which is hard to believe given the confidence that he exuded onscreen! According to James himself, he didn’t even really have a passion for acting that landed him on Broadway, to him it was ‘just another job.’

Despite a genuinely rough upbringing which influenced a lot of his ‘hoodlum’ characters, he was the complete opposite of the characters he played, apart from definitely being a mama’s boy, much like many of his gangster roles hehe c: He loved animals, art, sailing (despite suffering from severe seasickness hhh) and gardening. He was nicknamed the ‘faraway fella’ by his dear friend Pat O’Brien because of his introverted nature. Here are some of his drawings and paintings. He actually attended Columbia to study art, but had to drop out when his father died in 1918.

He raised horses later in life on his land in Martha’s Vineyard, Verney Farm (a combination of Cagney and his wife’s maiden name, Vernon. He was married to his wife, affectionately nicknamed Billie, for 60+ years until his death.) He was so interested in farming that he was awarded an honorary degree in agriculture from Rollins College, and when accepting the degree, he submitted a paper on soil conservation… what a silly little guy.

James was also a talented boxer—owing to his street fighting youth—and ballplayer. If he hadn’t been an actor, he may have made the major leagues!! Speaking of career changes, he was nicknamed ‘the great againster’ for his constant walkouts from Warner Bros. following contract disputes. On more than one occasion, he threatened to quit Hollywood to become a dentist or a doctor like his brother lolll. Most importantly, he was one of the founders of the Screen Actors Guild and fought hard for actors’ rights!! Here are some pics of him boxing/wrestling … I love when those strands of hair would fall out over his forehead :D

Anyway I have so much more I could say but this is getting long so I’ll stop here… I just love him so much!!! He was a sweetheart and a cool guy!!! As someone said, this is the verified short king lover website, so SHOW IT!! Vote cagney!!

#submission #james cagney

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koisuko · 2 months

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Is it alright if I request mk1 characters with a reader who is a black panther, tiger or lion? Platonic, of course.

Lost motivation for this one, and it’s been sitting in my drafts for a million years so I’ll only do these three fellas.

TW: potential mentions of animal mistreatment, gn reader, slight gore

ft: Liu Kang, Raiden and Kung Lao

Liu Kang

Being a god, he had seen his fair share of unusual things, big and small, yet even this took him by surprise. Walking through the woods near the Wu Shi Academy, his bright glowing eyes took in the serene environment around him, centering his mind and relieving the stress simultaneously.

It wasn't long before he was stopped in his tracks, a bewildering sight before him, a sleek black panther. Your fur bristled down your back, your ears folded as you bared your sharp canines to him in fear. Your fur was slightly tinted red, flesh wedged between your teeth, and a brown leather strap circled your neck. A now broken chain connected to a loop in the collar, a gash severed your side in your fight for freedom. You were once a pet, a toy, your existence solely for the entertainment of humans, your mother slaughtered in front of you and your siblings sold at auctions. You were subjected to cruelty, the sick treatment of your kind made your stomach churn, you weren't about to let it happen again.

You bared your teeth once more, a deep guttural hiss left your throat, this human was strange, his eyes bright like headlights. If you weren't so afraid, you would be curious, his aura felt..safe, comfortable, yet you didn't let up on your defenses. You didn't dare move, the gash on your side stinging and irritated. Dirt festered the wound further from your earlier scuffle with your captors.

The human put his hands up, kneeling down to your level with a smile. He didn't move forward yet strangely, he didn't run away in fear. You nearly gave in to your curiosity, but the memories of similar behavior from your captors only to be met with betrayal lingered in the back of your mind, freezing you in place. Your hissing ceased, your breathing still rapid, reflecting your inner battle and fear for your life.

“I mean you no harm.” Just his voice in itself brought you a small amount of peace. Slowly, you stepped closer towards him. Your nose held high to sniff the scent carried through your nostrils from the gentle breeze of the forest. He didn’t smell like your captors, no, quite the opposite. Sensing your unease, he stood, taking a small step back. “Come, let us tend to those wounds.” As he began retreating where he came, you followed silently behind.

Raiden and Kung Lao

“No way, that has to be a beetle!” Kung Lao brought his finger to point at the small bug, having harshly removed it from its cozy home while farming. “Look at that, see?” He gestures to the shiny bit on the back, “definitely a beetle.” Raiden rolled his eyes at his antics, “we have more important things than this debate, Kung Lao.” He tilts his head, raising a brow at his best friend. “Oh come on Raiden, just admit that I’m right,” Kung Lao brought one hand to sit on his hip, while the other gripped the hoe, leaning his weight on it slightly. Raiden didn’t even entertain the idea. Instead, he simply rolled his eyes before resuming his vigorous harvest of cabbages.

Kung Lao had a witty reply at the tip of his tongue, ready to further irritate his friend. Until a sudden commotion reached their ears, causing them to perk up and look to eachother with confusion. In the center of the village, a crowd had formed. Various villagers stood in a circle with their arms raised in defense at the thing in the center of it. Children who were once playing, now cower inside their homes. “What’s going on here?” Raiden asked, a villager running in fear had stopped to answer him, “tiger!” Perplexed, the two men looked to each other before pushing their way through to the center. The villager certainly wasn’t lying, there in the center of the group was a tiger, whipping around with massive teeth bared in defense. Its ears were flattened, stature low as if ready to run at any moment. It didn’t seem to be looking to hurt anyone, more like it looked afraid and confused.

Raiden and Kung Lao pushed further towards the center, standing before you with outstretched arms and palms foreword to convey their means for peace. “Everyone stand back,” Kung Lao ordered, not once taking his eyes off you. They didn’t look at you in fear, their eyes wide in both shock and awe. What a magnificent creature, Raiden thought to himself while he admired your stripes and fearsome display. The group surrounding you slowly became more sparse and spaced out, easing your stress only a little. You brought your focus to the two in front of you, another guttural warning sent their way. “It is okay, we mean you no harm,” Raiden took a small step towards you, hoping that if you were to run away from him that it would be in the direction of the nearby forestry. You were not hurt, but had followed a goat towards the village and had been found by terror ridden villagers. Their shrill shrieks and shouts had coaxed you away from your home and unfortunately, right in the center of human territory.

You never had a good relationship with humans. The last experience being trapped in a cage, poked and prodded until you snapped at them, only to be punished for such behavior. A interaction burned into your brain, forever tainting your view on such beings. They took another slow step, causing you to tense up and hiss aggressively, the hairs on your back bristling. “Hey, we want to help, we won’t hurt you,” Kung Lao uttered, he kept his hands up and held a submissive posture. Raiden followed suit, mirror Kung Lao to, in theory, say they mean no harm in a language you understand. You took a second to glance to your right, where you could see the luscious greenery of the forest, peeking through two humans stood side by side. All you have to do is wait for the right moment, and bolt for safety between them.

Raiden could see you look, he glanced as well to meet where you were looking. He knew what you wanted, and was willing to help. He pointed slowly towards the two in your way, still keeping a heavy gaze in your direction, “you two, move to the side — slowly.” They did just that, moving at a snails pace to avoid causing you further panic. All the while, you were stiff and still, unsure and frankly, feeling unsafe. Raiden gestured to where you were looking with a steady hand, “we won’t hurt you,” he spoke softly. You stayed completely still for a moment, weighing your options and stalling out of fear. Was this a trick? Humans always play tricks, but what other options do you have?

With a surge of adrenaline, you burst into a sprint towards the entrance to the woods. As you neared, you slowed your pace to a trot before reaching a full stop, just before the entrance to your home. You turned to give one last look to the men. A small huff flaring your nostrils.

Raiden and Kung Lao watched you retreat into the forest, disappearing behind the shrubbery. A smirk played on Kung Lao’s lips, elbowing Raiden in the side, “so, still think it’s not a beetle?”

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rougepancake · 11 months

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I saw your yui komori reader drabble and was wondering if you could something similar but with a yashiro nene reader? basically reader is a hopeless romantic who falls left and right for hot guys. oh! and could it be gender neutral reader and with genya and tanjiro? please and thank youu and have a good day!

OH THIS IS PERFECT 🙏

Ft. Genya Shinazugawa and Tanjiro Kamado

Warnings: None! Modern au. (Sorry Tanjiro’s is so short 😭)

GENYA SHINAZUGAWA

He watched as you fawned over Uzui and Gyomei with Mitsuri. You thought they were amazing, and it made him slightly jealous.

Yet he couldn’t figure out why.

“Hey there Genya!” Tanjiro ran up to him, smiling as brightly as ever. He followed his gaze and stopped, chuckling nervously. “Wow. They seem to be getting along pretty well, huh?”

“Yeah.” He spun around and walked away, his hands in his pockets as he walked through the halls.

As he walked, he thought of you. Which was weird. Since he hasn’t really ever felt this way before, he doesn’t know what to do. He’s at a loss.

Does he fight you?

No. The thought of you being injured makes him a little sick.

Does he talk to you?

Also no. That idea makes him ten times more sick.

“Ah!” Your shout pulled him from his thoughts and back to reality as he looked at where you sat on the floor.

Had he run into you?

“Sorry.” He grumbled and stuck out his hand so he could help you up.

But there you sat, staring at him in awe.

Your face flushed a deep shade of red and you took his hand, avoiding his gaze as you thanked him for helping you up and apologized for running into him.

“Sorry… I should pay better attention…” You spoke softly and he felt his heart soar.

“Me too.” He nodded and watched as you scurried away.

The next day, he heard you talking to Mitsuri about the hot guy you bumped into in the hallway. You had told her that you were stunned into silence and thought you were going to die when he helped you up.

And he thought he was going to die just hearing you say that.

TANJIRO KAMADO

“Tanjiro! Just look at him! Is he not just the hottest guy you’ve ever seen?!?” You squealed and kicked your feet as you looked over at the barista who had taken your order. Tanjiro cringed and gave you a sympathetic smile.

“Sorry Y/n I don’t think he’s my type.” He joked, and you knew that was his equivalent of ‘what the hell are you thinking’.

“Man!” You groaned and leaned back in your seat, pouting slightly. “You’re no fun!”

“I’m plenty of fun. You just don’t like the fact that most of the people you find attractive are hideous.” He retorted and took a sip of his coffee, giving you a playful smirk.

“Oh yeah?” You challenged. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah I’m pretty sure.”

“Well damn I guess you’re one ugly fella then.”

He choked on his coffee.

#demon slayer #x reader #demon slayer x you #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer imagine #demon slayer x reader #kny fanfic #kny #kny x reader #kny x gender neutral reader #demon slayer x gender neutral reader #demon slayer tanjiro #tanjiro kamado #tanjiro x reader #genya x reader #demon slayer genya #genya shinazugawa

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fungusgnat444 · 2 months

Text

It might as well be spring (1945 post war König au)

SFW, slight xenophobia (someone calls König a Gerry because this is set in 1945), non canon König, implications of size difference, implications of trauma and anxiety, mentions of war, reader gets kinda harassed a little by a customer, reader’s name is Marlina, mentions of smoking, fem reader, I think that's it. Let me know if I missed anything. This chapter is relatively short 2.2k words

“Hey! You listening?”, your friend asked exasperatedly as she waved her hand in front of your vacant eyes. You were daydreaming as you often did on your criminally short coffee break. After all, Bill's Diner wasn’t exactly the most enriching place to work. “Jeez, Marlina. Always off with the fairies, huh?”, she huffed, rolling her eyes at you. Betsy was a good friend but, by God, she was chatty. You often thought if she kept prattling on, her bottom jaw would end up falling right off her pretty little heart shaped face. Unfortunately for you, her jaw always manages to cling on somehow.

“Sorry Bets. You were talking about Tommy again right?” You sighed as you raised your coffee mug to your lips.

“Hey! Don’t say it like that, mopey Marli. I’m just excited, is all. He’s coming back today”, she whined as you shot her a perturbed look at the mention of the ‘fun’ little nickname she always used when she wanted to get a rise out of you.

”I know. you’ve been talking about it all week”, you chuckled weakly as she pouted at you. Boys in uniform had been coming in all day. The place was alive with their loud, cheerful chatter. The jukebox blaring, one song after the other; It Might As Well Be Spring by Dick Haymes had played more times than you could count. “… I am happy for you, Bets. I promise”, you reassured as you offered her a soft smile, patting her hand with yours. Although her chatter could get awfully repetitive, you did understand why she did it deep down. She was worried about him and for good reason. Your older brother had come home the week prior. You knew what it was like to worry yourself sick over someone; sleepless nights whenever you’d read something in the paper about the war over the shoulder of someone’s worried father as you served him coffee, waiting impatiently for the mail every Tuesday, desperately hoping another letter would come. You were just glad the war was finally over. The diner was no fun but it sure beats the monotonous work at the ammunition factory. ”… You think he’s really going to propose?”, you asked quietly as you leaned closer, a cheeky smirk washing over your face. She blushed and cast her eyes down to her lap shyly.

”He says he got me a pretty little ring from Paris”, she chuckled gleefully looking back up at you.

”Well, whatever your answer is just please, for the love of god, don’t pick those hideous lilac bridesmaid dresses you showed me. If I have to wear that I might not even show up”, you jested. She slapped you on the arm playfully as she tried her best to protest through the laughter that erupted from the two of you.

”That’s quite enough, girls. Back to work”, Bill’s gruff voice warned joylessly as he waddled past you. He was such a tubby, little grouch of a man but at least he paid well. You both stood reluctantly, rolling your eyes and groaning an annoyed ‘yes sir’.

As you tightened your pinny around your waist, you heard another groan from Betzy’s lips. “Ugh, great… More army boys”, she sighed. Your eyes followed hers out the large windows, seeing several more cars full of boisterous men pulling into the car park. You huffed as each of them bustled into the diner in their shabby green clothes. God, you were sick to death of that stupid muddy coloured fabric. A group of about five of them sat at one of your tables and whistled you over. Great… more touch starved boys for you to serve.

“Hey fellas. What can I get for you?”, You chirped with a faux-polite grin on your face.

“Coffee and apple pie all ‘round… maybe throw in your number just for me, sweetheart”, one of them jeered with a cheeky grin, making all the others burst into shameless laughter. It took every ounce of your remaining energy not to roll your eyes. You just stared back at them bemused as you jotted down their order. You knew they probably hadn’t seen a girl in ages but that didn’t stop you from fantasising about spitting in every cup of coffee you served them as each of their greedy eyes stripped you bare.

”Sorry, hon. My boyfriend came home last fortnight, so it seems you’re all out of luck”, A bare faced lie. The lie was worth it though; their greedy smirks all turning into butthurt pouts. You strutted away trying your best not to giggle. You walked behind the counter and Betsy��s eyes met yours knowingly, as you grinned. “Order up”, you said cheerily to Bill, handing him the order so he could fetch the pie.

As you returned to the table with the pie and began to pour their coffee, you noticed something quite peculiar out the window. At first the sight annoyed you but eventually your annoyance transformed to curiosity. Another man in uniform pulled into the car park, but this one was different. He was all alone. All day car after car had rolled in from the military base nearby; all packed to the brim with jolly, cocky boys in green. He was the first to arrive alone. Not even a hint of a smile decorated his face; a sad half finished cigarette hanging from his glum lips. His uniform was different too, the green was a deeper, forest green. On the shoulder of his jacket was a patch with red and white stripes; maybe a flag, you thought but a flag you weren’t familiar with. Maybe Poland? You couldn’t quite make it out. As you finished pouring the last cup of coffee the men sitting at the table all looked out the window and collectively groaned.

“Oh Great. Giant Gerry’s here”, one of them grumbled. You looked at him confused.

”Giant Gerry?”, you asked curiously. All their heads turned to you, an unwelcoming look on each of their faces.

”Yeah… that's what we call him anyway”, one of them said bitterly. “He’s built like a horse and about as talkative as one. Our lieutenant says he was some kind of double agent. He’s from… um… Belgium… or something. I don’t really remember, I don’t really care either. He’s a miserable freak”, he explained, taking a sip of his coffee.

”yeah most of the time he’ll just sit there silently watching everyone at base. Gives me the willies”, another one adds as ‘Giant Gerry’ exited his car, flicking his now spent cigarette to the ground and stomping it out with his shiny black boots. It was only when he stood that you truly understood his nickname. From where you stood his head blocked the sun like he was a great big oak tree. Now that he was out of it his car looked almost comically small; like one of the toys your little nephew would play with. You quickly looked away and retreated behind the counter to get more coffee. As the giant strode slowly to the door you poured the last cup of coffee for the men, trying your best not to stare at the way he had to duck his head to fit through the doorway. As he sat at one of the only empty booths in the place, he removed his cap, revealing a full head of curly copper locks. That’s when Betsy noticed him. Her eyes wide as she approached you.

“Jesus… Who the hell is that?” She whispered to you. Looking back at him as he pinched the bridge of his nose and slouched slightly against the table.

”I don’t know but you’re about to find out. He’s at one of your tables”, you chuckled softly with a mocking wince.

”Marli, please. You do it. He looks like he’ll eat me alive”, she said clutching your arm. Always so dramatic. You looked at her, annoyance and a hint of fear in your eyes.

”Bets, no! I- … okay fine, but you owe me big time”, you folded, as you always do. You knew that if you made her do it, you wouldn’t hear the end of it for weeks. Plus you couldn’t deny your curiosity. She nodded emphatically and you went on your way to face the giant. As you approached you sighed shakily and mustered the most convincing smile you could. He was even more intimidating up close. His face was littered with scars, the biggest of which started at his clenched jaw, ploughed through his right cheek and finished after cutting through one of his thick, low eyebrows. His eyes were different, however. Big, bright blue pools, glistening in the afternoon sun as he stared out of the window; heavy lidded and gentle. Eyes that didn't belong on a scarred giant like him.

“Hello, sir. What can I get for you today?”, you ask quietly. No answer. He just kept staring out the window, his thick fluffy lashes fluttering every time he blinked. Your eyes flicked down to a badge laying against his broad chest. König. A name. Maybe that would get his attention. “Um… mister König, sir?”, you asked tentatively. Suddenly his spine straightened and his eyes snapped towards you; like a dog catching the smell of food. Now his eyes were wide and his brows were furrowed in confusion. He looked down at his name badge and back up at you, still silent. You tilted your head slightly and shifted your weight from one leg to the other. “Sir… you alright?”,

“Sorry, miss”, he said quietly as his eyes fluttered down to look at his hands resting on the table. “Most people here don’t say my name right. I was… surprised”, he said quietly, his eyes meeting yours again. You offered him a small chuckle. “Well… there’s a fella who works at the library. I think he said his parents were… Swedish..- Anyway, his name’s Björn. I figured your O was pronounced similarly… I can't remember what those dots are called… an amulet or something”, you rambled. Oh god, you were starting to sound like Betsy.

”Umlaut… An amulet is a type of necklace, no?”, he said softly, his eyes still boring into you. His voice was deep and velvety and his accent manifested itself in throaty, rolled Rs like the purrs of a kitten and long, clear vowels. Giants aren’t meant to sound like pretty little pussy cats, are they? “I’ll have to find this library, hm? I haven’t had anything good to read for months”,

”Oh… here”, you said cheerily as you leaned forward to grab a napkin from across the table. You were about to start writing on it when he spoke again.

”what are you doing?” He asked. As you turned to face him you realised that hunched slightly over the table like this you were now at his eye level, face to face and much closer. Close enough to smell his musky cologne and feel the warmth of his brutish body. He almost looked frightened, like you’d pulled a gun on him. A giant scared of a little mouse; it would almost make you giggle if he wasn’t so imposing.

“Just giving you directions… to the library”, you uttered quietly, offering him a smile. Finally his expression softened, although his body remained rigid. All he gave you was a short little hum of acknowledgment as his eyes fluttered down to the napkin. He was probably the strangest man you’d ever met. Maybe it was a European thing, you weren’t sure but his disposition was so opposite to his appearance it was honestly a little unsettling. You started to write, trying hard to ignore the unfamiliar knot forming in your stomach. “Here’s the address. It’s right across the road from the town hall so it's pretty hard to miss”, you said gently.

he smiled gently down at the napkin for a moment. “Danke, Fräulein”, he said as he slid the napkin into one of his pockets. You stared back at him confused for quite a while before he registered that you had no idea what the hell he was saying. “Oh- thanks, miss”, he stuttered as his cheeks reddened slightly. You tried your best not to laugh.

”Anyway. What can I get for you?”,

”I haven’t looked at the menu yet, my apologies”, he said with a deep chuckle. “Hmm… what do you recommend?”, he asked.

“Well, the cherry pie here is alright. I wouldn’t touch the coffee if I were you. It’s pretty awful”, you said absentmindedly.

“Water then. Hopefully that won’t ruin the pie, yes?”, you wrote down his order with a little chuckle.

”Any cream with the pie?” You asked. He nodded and off you went, pleasantly surprised by the polite giant. When you returned you were met with a smile.

As you went on with your work you couldn’t help yourself from casting curious glances at him while he ate his pie. Then suddenly one of your glances was met with the sight of an empty booth. His car wasn’t even in the car park anymore. He’d vanished like a phantom. However as you approached his booth you saw what he’d left for you. The sight almost made you faint. Three dollars lay in a neat little pile on the table with a little note. Thankyou for being so kind. König. You called over Betsy who let out a dramatic gasp at the sight. “Jeez, Marli! I guess he liked you”

those words would end up being truer than you could ever imagine.

Hope y’all enjoyed it. I’m already working on part 2. 3 American dollars in 1945 is the equivalent of about $50 today btw. Our big Austrian boy is so silly sometimes hehe. Title comes from a song called it might as well be spring by Dick Haymes. It’s pretty cute hehe

#konig #konig imagine #cod konig #konig call of duty #konig cod #konig x you #cod mw2 #konig fanfiction #konig mw2 #Konig #konig fluff #sfw #1940s #au #konig au

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foli-vora · 1 year

Text

masterlist | foli jolly xmas list

my only wish: part one

jack daniels x single mum f!reader

summary: typical hallmark movie. he’s never been one for christmas - he hates the tacky decorations and the ear drilling music, but maybe the owner of a small town bakery and her children will change that.

warnings: mentions of drugging/use of sedatives, minecraft talk, swearing, nothing really to note yet, but this story is rated explicit so is strictly 18+ ONLY.

word count: 4.1k

a/n: gif by moi. happy december! christmas is officially within reach and i am fucking buzzing. i originally started this last year but with the arrival of mini foli, i never got around to working on it/finishing it sooo better late than never i guess? lmao. cringe cheesy hallmark romance coming right up! i hope you angels enjoy x

“It’s fuckin’ November.”

Jack glares at it, picking up his distorted reflection in the absurdly large golden baubles being clipped onto the branches and curling his nose slightly at the ruffle of cheap tinsel as it gets draped and wound around the thick body of the tall tree. He studies it with a heavy air of judgement, deciding very quickly that it’s tacky.

What’s with the plastic shit nowadays? Where are the real trees? The ones that throw off heady waves of pine and shed their dry needles all over the damn floor?

And why the hell is everyone so hell bent on celebrating Christmas so damn prematurely? What’s the rush? Everyone celebrates through November and it leaves no excitement for December. By the time Christmas eventually rolls around, surely everyone’s sick of trees and gaudy decorations and that damn chirpy ear drilling music —

Tequila tsks lightly, slapping his friend's arm affectionately as he continues on to Champ’s office.

“Aw, c’mon man, don’t be a grinch! Gotta get that Christmas spirit flowin’.”

He was a Christmas person, Whiskey discovered. December the year they met, partnership still fresh and admittedly unstable, the man had been humming Christmas songs and munching on gingerbread and candy canes like they were going out of fashion. If it wasn’t for his damn good company and decent sense of humour, Whiskey probably would’ve requested a transfer.

Whiskey grunts, tearing his eyes away from the bright and merry decorations and following along after, fingers running along his belt and tucking in any stray untucked pieces of shirt that had rucked up during his walk.

“I ain’t a grinch – it’s November. Act accordingly.”

Tequila’s still laughing and poking at the so-called Scrooge when they breeze past Champ’s ever busy secretary and into his office, delivering a breezy two fingered salute as the man in question turns from gazing out of the floor to ceiling window running along the length of the room.

Champ eyes them both seriously, features pulled into tight scrutiny, before he smacks his lips quietly and levels his gaze on Jack.

“You still stealing gifts and telling kids Santa ain’t real?”

Tequila hides a snort in his palm and Jack gives a little glower, unable to keep his lips from twitching.

“I’d never.”

Champ’s face eventually breaks into a grin and he gives a low chuckle, lowering himself into his chair with a small exhale that blows out from around the press of his lips.

“I will admit I’ve never seen the appeal of celebrating a month early.”

“Thank you,” Jack’s head rolls to eye Tequila critically.

The man remains unbothered and lets his shoulders lift into a small shrug, a grin stretched across his lips. “I don’t even care. The second spooky season ticks over midnight on October 31st? It’s Christmas.”

“You’re a damn embarrassment.”

“Man, you love me.”

“Fellas,” Champ rumbles with mirth and catching both men's attention, “enough now. Shall we get to it?”

Time rolls by as Champ gives Tequila his next mission and Jack listens attentively, throwing in his opinion when asked and preparing for whatever is coming his way next, but in a strange turn of events, nothing comes. He frowns as Champ finishes up the meeting, slipping the thick framed glasses from his nose and throwing them softly onto his desk.

“Uh, sir?” His confusion only grows when it becomes clear Champ had nothing for him. “What about me?”

“What about you? You are takin’ some leave – startin’ this afternoon,” Champ says, reclining into the aged leather upholstered backrest and watching the deepening twist of Whiskey’s features with a shine of amusement.

Leave? Is he being stood down? He wasn’t aware of any misdemeanours or wrongdoings during the latest missions — everything had gone smoothly, despite the minimal hiccups along the way… but that wasn’t anything unusual, hiccups were a part of the job. He hadn’t been reprimanded for any decision or direction…

Do they find him lacking? Sure, his back protests every now and then, but he was still in his prime. He had years left, with aims to get somewhere higher up when he could no longer do field work. Do they think he doesn’t have it in him anymore?

An odd feeling of desperation builds in the pit of his stomach. This is his life. What would he do without it?

“Sir, I assure you I’m more than capable of handlin’ any assignment –”

“I know that,” Champ cuts in, soft and reassuring, “but you’ve accumulated quite the collection of vacation hours.”

Whiskey blinks in bewilderment, “... and?”

“You’re a workaholic,” Tequila whispers teasingly, lips tugging up into an amused side grin. “Means you need to get a hobby, man.”

“I have hobbies,” he snips in return, defensive.

Silence overcomes the office space and it feels slightly stifling. He swallows, readjusting himself in the seat to sit straighter as his eyes dart between the disbelieving expressions of both Tequila and Champ, and what makes it worse is nothing comes to mind as quickly as Jack needs to prove them wrong.

There’s not a damn thing to back up his argument. Does he work too much? Maybe. That’s not a bad thing – he’s damn good at his job. Sure, he spends more time out in the field than at his home, but again, that’s not a bad thing… he’s just busy. What does it matter, anyways?

Their brows raise, sensing their little victory, and Jack wets his lips, ready to deflect.

“Why’re you so interested in what I do in my free time anyway? I’m fine, I like to keep busy.”

“There’s keepin’ busy, and then there’s overdoin’ it,” Champ says in disapproval. “We’re not havin’ one of our best agents work himself into the damn ground. You’re takin’ a vacation and that’s it.”

In search of some back up on the matter, Whiskey exhales softly through his nose and lets his eyes roll to his partner, who remains uncharacteristically quiet. Tequila pointedly avoids his gaze and takes an interest in picking at his cuticles as he slumps down in his chair.

“You in on this?” Jack accuses, a twinge of irritation grating his tone.

Tequila blinks innocently, his eyes finally meeting his friends. “What? ‘course not.”

Giving a quiet grunt, Whiskey turns back to Champ and sighs.

“And if I refuse?”

They can’t fire him, they wouldn’t. Would he be stood down? No field work for so many weeks? Couldn’t he just gift his vacation hours to someone else? Hell, Tequila loves any excuse to get away — he’d give them all to him if it meant still working like normal.

Champ smiles, anticipating his reluctance.

“Ginger’ll activate the sedative Tequila here put in your drink and we’ll see you right to your accommodations.”

Jack's eyes snap back to his partner, his nostrils flaring.

Tequila smiles guiltily, “Merry Christmas?”

—

Glen Ridge is a small town with a modest population, but was surprisingly open and welcoming to tourists, used frequently by travellers for its snowy peaks just bordering the town centre.

With the centre buried deep in the valley, the mountains provide a pretty picture no matter what street you walk along, and the thick forests sprawling opposite give a sense of comfortable seclusion, like you were closed away from the world in a wonderful little winter paradise.

Even Jack can’t deny the roll of calm that overtakes his body as he enters the town limits, taking in the smiley faces along the sidewalk and the charming old school feel of the shops and cafes lined along the road.

It’s picturesque, practically straight out of a movie.

His cabin has the same feel much like the town did — old, comfortable, cosy. The timber structure of it was nestled amongst some towering trees, with a wonderfully creaky porch swing sat stationary on the porch. Inside reflected the out, with stained timber shiplap walls stretching towards the tall cathedral ceilings running throughout.

It was nice. As far as accommodations go, it wasn’t bad for a forced vacation.

He wanders, finding the bathroom, and then the master bedroom, the large what looked to be handmade king bed looking wonderfully welcoming with a hand stitched throw, thick duvet and fluffy pillows. No, not bad at all.

There’s a single bottle of Statesman Whiskey sat centre on the kitchen countertop, with a large emerald coloured envelope perched against it. He eyes it in vague curiosity, and plucks it from the stone top before fingering the envelope flap out of the way and pulling a card free.

An overly joyful cartoon reindeer greets him and he grunts at it, rolling his eyes and flicking the card open, wincing at the sudden screech of Christmas music playing loudly from it.

Merry Christmas, Ebenezer. Don’t be pissed at me. Enjoy your break, old man.

The icy resentment that had grown in the pit of his stomach cracks slightly, giving way to an affectionate warmth and understanding. Sure, he’d been pissed at the kid for not giving him a heads up and slipping him a sedative, but Tequila had meant no harm or cruelty. He wasn’t built like that, not with those who meant something to him.

Regret tugs at his insides the more his eyes trace the words. He didn’t say goodbye before he left, admittedly quite sour over being practically forced out of work. He wasn’t going to be humiliated by being sedated and carried to his vacation spot, and the irritation over the situation had only grown as he cleaned up his desk and passed along the work he still needed to complete to other agents.

It felt wrong.

He hadn’t even been allowed to take any of his usual work tech from the office. No laptop, no tablet… hell, Ginger even put locks on his phone. He wouldn’t be able to reach the Statesmen headquarters, or any other agents privately, and vice versa. He was truly on his own, with no temptation of work clouding his mind and keeping him from enjoying some down time.

He doesn’t even know where to start.

Jack sighs as he wanders back into the main area, his hands finding his hips as he looks around his lodgings, taking in the cosy feel of the lounge and the vacant fireplace, soot and flame remnants licking up the brick.

“Well,” he drawls dryly to himself, “now what?”

—

“Just in town for a few weeks,” he smiles at the stranger, jaw clenching with the effort of keeping the growing irritation out of his features.

It’s the same answers over and over. The townsfolk were incredibly kind and open, often stopping along their way to ask how he is, what he’s in town for and how long is he staying, but with each question having the same direction as the ones asked by previous passersby, the small talk gets old fast.

He lingers in the cereal aisle of the small grocery store, smile turning somewhat stiff as the conversation moves on, answering any other questions directed towards him with a patient expression. Are you single? What do you do for work? Have you travelled much? Where are you from?

Despite the impatience steadily building in his system, he ensures to keep his attitude easy and charming, quickly winning over the trio of elderly ladies crowding him into the breakfast foods until they seemed satisfied with the information he had provided.

His cheeks ache from the force of keeping up appearances and he ensures to make it quick upon leaving the store with his groceries, ducking his head and hiding behind the yellow tint of his sunglasses to avoid meeting any other strangers’ eyes who seemed keen for a chat.

It almost works.

“Hey mister, would you like to buy a cookie?”

Jack’s steps falter at the younger voice, and his head turns to find a boy standing behind a little foldout table just outside the sliding store doors. His eyes drop to study the individually bagged gingerbread men, each obviously decorated by the hands of a child with uneven icing and odd designs.

“He don’t look much like a festive gingerbread man,” Jack says, pointing to a particular cookie and the bright blue icing covering it in some sort of blocked blob.

“That’s because he’s wearing diamond armour,” the kid replies frankly, the silent duh obvious in his tone.

What the fuck is diamond armour?

“Is that right? You do these yourself?”

“My mum bakes them – she’s got a bakery. I decorated them, though. I made the icing, too. My sister says she likes it. She’s kinda why I’m selling them – I want to buy her the doll she’s wanted all year.”

“That’s real good of you, kid. She’s lucky to have a brother like you.”

“So…?”

“So what?”

“You gonna buy a cookie or what?”

Jack snorts in amusement, shaking his head. “Maybe another day.”

“You’re gonna say no to a kid trying to do something nice for his baby sister? It’s Christmas, mister.”

“And?”

“Well,” the boy shifts, a small frown pinching his brows, “what if I don’t have enough for her doll? I’m trying to do it all by myself and I made her a promise, but if I break my promise she’ll be crying on Christmas and I would’ve let her down and I can’t let her down because I’m her big brother and she should be able to believe in me and if I can’t do this, then she won’t talk to me and I love my sister and I want her to talk to me and… and —”

Tears build in his eyes.

His lower lip startles to wobble.

Ah, hell.

First day in town and he’s already making a kid cry. Tequila would never let him live this down if he knew. A quick look around tells him no one had caught him terrorising a child — yet — so he juggles the bag of groceries into one arm and dives a hand into his back pocket for his wallet.

“Alright, kid, alright… I’ll take the fancy diamond fella.”

It’s funny how quick the tears dry up once the money is handed over and stashed in the little tin covered in cartoon stickers. He’d fallen for the oldest trick in the book – hook, line, and sinker.

The kid grins in triumph, popping a small blue bubble of gum between his lips and Jack frowns playfully at him, unable to stop the pull of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Well played, kid. Does that kind of stuff work a lot on your mama?”

The boy shrugs loosely, popping another bubble of blue gum. “Nope, stopped working on her years ago. Works all the time on strangers in lame cowboy hats, though.”

The brief wave of surprise gives way to a heavy flood of amusement and a laugh rumbles from deep in Jack’s chest, his grin widening, “You’re alright, kid. What’s your name?”

“Gabe,” the boy grins in return, cheeks creasing with dimples.

“Gabe,” Jack hums, “I got my eye on you. You’re lucky I don’t string you up like a Christmas ham for insultin’ my favourite Stetson. Am I free to leave now, or are you gonna trick me into buyin’ more?”

“Depends… how much money you got?”

Jack laughs again, shaking his head and continuing on his way, tucking the blue man into his grocery bag and grinning at the loud goodbye Gabe shouts after him.

—

You eye the handsome stranger from your place in the kitchen, unbothered as flour flicks up from the bowl in your hands and dusts the front of your apron. He’s alone as far as you can see, and when you squint extra hard, you find no ring on his finger when his hand rises to fix the Stetson perched on his head.

A cowboy?

And a very pretty one at that.

“You’re making a mess,” comes an amused murmur next to you, and your eyes immediately fall away from the cowboy and drop to the noticeable catastrophe in your hands.

“Oh, fuck!”

Most of the mixture had flicked out of the bowl due to the distraction currently standing at your shop counter studying the treats on display. José chuckles, a wet cloth already in his hands and he gently ushers you to the side to take care of the small disaster.

“Go on, go talk to him,” he grins, wiping your mess away and chuckling lowly at your wide eyed panic.

It’s the possibility of embarrassing yourself that keeps your feet firmly planted in the safety of the kitchen. You were… shaky at best, your experiences with men lacking after focusing on nothing but the kids and the bakery for the last few years. You preferred it that way, you think. No distractions.

You didn’t have room for someone in your life then, especially after everything. You didn’t have the patience to foster a new connection at that point in your life, you didn’t have time to dedicate to another… but you can't deny the ache of loneliness that surrounds your heart now. The focus and dedication of building a new life came at a cost, and the empty feel of a bed every night reminded you of that harsh fact.

“No, no I can’t. Besides Stacy’s already doing a great job of—”

“Stacy, I need your help back here!” José calls before you can stop him.

Startled, your head whips back to the front of the store.

“No, no, no—”

It’s too late.

You hear Stacy politely excuse herself from assisting the handsome cowboy and then she’s entering the kitchen with a smile, more than happy to be dragged away to a fresh batch of pies by an all too smug José. You give him a soft glare and sigh, wiping your hands down the front of your apron and stepping out into the front, not wanting to keep your customer waiting for too long.

“Hi,” you greet politely, heart picking up a bit in your chest as his eyes fly to you, “sorry about that. How can I help you?”

His smile is rich and warm when he looks at you, and it’s impossible to not let the small bud of attraction building in the pit of your stomach grow stronger. He straightens, the leather jacket hanging from his shoulders parting around the thick burgundy scarf wound around his throat as his hands bury in the front pocket of his dark denim jeans.

“Hey darlin’, I’m after s—”

It’s typical. Of course something would have to go wrong, someone would have to interrupt. It’s so typical you should’ve expected it, but you still jump in surprise. The door slams open and Gabe rushes in with a loud “Hi Mum!”, bringing a sharp breeze of icy air into the shop, before running back behind the counter and brushing past you to dump his school bag in the corner.

“Hi baby. I’m so sorry,” you murmur, turning back to the man, heat washing along under your skin as the stranger’s eyes dart between you and Gabe, “this is my son.”

A grin slowly forms on the strangers lips, and your stomach tightens at the sight of it.

“Yeah,” he drawls deeply, “we’ve met.”

Apparently only just now bothering to notice that you had a customer and were in the middle of serving him, Gabe perks at his voice. His body straightens and he openly grins at the stranger, obviously pleased to see him and your brows furrow lightly in confusion.

“Hi, lame cowboy!”

Your confusion evaporates.

You’re mortified.

“Gabriel!”

Your son had always been… lax with his verbal filter, but never at the level of insulting strangers. What is he playing at? The heat in your cheeks grows until they throb, and you fight the urge to run back to the protection of the kitchen.

Leave it to your son to insult the first truly attractive, seemingly unattached, man to walk into town in what feels like years.

“I’m so s—”

“No, no – he’s fine,” the stranger quickly cuts in, his smile still friendly and your internal alarm calms slightly. “It was a comment from our conversation yesterday.”

“He bought the diamond armour gingerbread man,” Gabe explains. “Did you like it?”

The stranger looks down at him, a more serious expression overtaking his features. “I’ve gotta be honest with you, kid… hand on my heart, it was the best damn gingerbread man I’ve ever had.”

Your insides twist at the compliment, thrilled that he enjoyed something you had baked, and a self satisfied smile threatens to spread across your lips. His eyes fly to meet yours and your smile turns somewhat shy under his approving gaze, the teasings of his own smile causing the corners of his lips to twitch.

“I’m glad you liked it,” you say softly, heart running wild.

His lips part, but Gabe beats him to the punch.

“Did you want another one? I have some leftover from yesterday – hold on, wait right there!”

Gabe turns and disappears into the kitchen without another word. Silence falls over you and the handsome stranger, but it doesn’t seem to feel uncomfortable… in fact, it’s quite the opposite. You give another small smile when your eyes meet, relishing in the warmth running along under your skin.

“Haven’t seen you around before,” you note with a tone of interest, leaning against the counter. “Are you just passing through…?”

“Jack,” he supplies with an easy smile, “Jack Daniels.”

“Like the whiskey?”

His smile widens, and he turns to lean a hip against the front of the counter casually. You become hyper aware of the fact that there’s just the width of the counter between you and it does nothing to calm the flutter of butterflies building in the pit of your stomach.

“Exactly like the whiskey. I’ve got a cabin for the holidays… boss decided I work too much.”

You laugh softly, head tilting as you appraise him, studying each line and crease of his face with appreciation. “Well, do you?”

Jack gives a small unbothered shrug, a deep chuckle oozing with guilt falling from his throat. “Probably, but I got nothin’ else to do so it keeps me busy. Plus those bills won’t stop comin’ in.”

“I know the feeling,” you reply.

Your index finger dances along the cool countertop as you deliberate your next question, clinging to the small wave of confidence you've been riding since stepping out of the back.

“Does your other half not think anything of your work habits?”

You hope the way the question is phrased doesn’t come across as completely fucking obvious, but you know you’ve failed when a wider grin starts to pull at his lips, something more playful seeping into his eyes. His gaze flickers over your face, briefly dropping to your lips before rolling back up to meet yours and the small action comes to settle low in your stomach.

“No other half to complain about it, I’m afraid,” Jack replies wistfully, and it’s exactly what you want to hear.

“Oh,” you breathe softly, tongue coming out to wet your lips, “that’s too bad.”

Gabe reappears in the next moment, halting whatever direction that particular conversation was heading, and you smile softly at him, stepping aside to let him lay the remaining gingerbread men on the counter. He quietly orders them into a neat line before looking expectantly at Jack, his fingers tangling together in waiting.

The man in question studies each man carefully, lips pursing in thought as he bends to get a closer look.

“I’ll tell you what, kid,” he murmurs, crossing his arms on the counter and levelling his gaze with Gabe’s, “I’ll take ‘em all and give you a nice tip for your great service, and you go buy your sister that doll — deal?”

Gabe hurriedly nods, his lips stretching into a wide grin as he eagerly shakes the hand Jack holds out to him. You warm further at the kind gesture, unable to stop the ache of your smile as Gabe eagerly packs the cookies into a bag and accepts the offered cash with a heartfelt thank you, his giddiness obvious as he beams up at Jack.

“You both take care now,” Jack smiles, his Stetson dipping as he gives a nod of farewell.

Cowboy.

“Don’t be a stranger, Jack,” you call to him, welcoming Gabe into your side as he presses himself close to you.

Jack half turns as he leaves, giving you a radiant final smile that you're sure will haunt your thoughts for the rest of the day.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’.”

everything pp tags: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80,@danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld, @juletheghoul, @punkerthanpascal, @itswanktime, @karolydulin, @pedrostories, @fabilei, @ghostwiththemostbitch, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @cannedsoupsucks, @chaoticemz, @hows-my-hair, @alexxavicry, @cran-berry-vodka, @deadhumourist, @outercrasis, @thisshipwillsail316, @toxicfrankenstein, @hotchlover, @ew-erin, @mishasminion360, @jitterbugs927, @penelopeimp, @woodland-mist, @pedro-pastel, @spaceserialkiller, @adriiibell, @1andthesame, @elegantduckturtle, @captain-jebi, @magpie-to-the-morning, @sharkbait77, @sleep-tight1, @musings-of-a-rose, @karlawithacapitalk, @woomen23, @frasmotic, @songsformonkeys, @loonymagizoologist, @aynsleywalker, @ruhro7, @bluestuesday, @what-iwish-you-knew, @princess-djarinn, @totallynotastanacc, @girlofchaos, @pjkimrn, @bangaveragewhitewine, @trickstersp8, @rominaszh, @gooddaykate, @ms-loverman-066, @bunniwarrior, @detectivecarisi-1, @tintinn16, @iceclaw101, @bport76, @thatpinkshirt, @tusk89, @withakindheartx, @curiouskeyboard, @pedropascalsx, @sirpascal, @racetrackheart, @patisseriel, @timpletance, @titabel, @xdaddysprincessxx, @dnxgma, @astronomeoww, @dindjarinswhore, @alwaysdjarin, @mando-amando, @mx-ferelden, @trinkets01, @jxvipike, @thesmutslut, @thereisaplaceintheheart, @scentedthingtidalwave,

jack daniels tags: @pedrohoe04, @stardust-galaxies, @androah, @wildmoonflower, @quica-quica-quica, @stevenmylove, @lawfulgranola, @dins-cyare, @eatommo, @serini-ty, @bbyanarchist, @raphaelaisabella, @breakfastonpluto19, @churchofrain, @joelmiller81, @h-hxgirl, @mischiefnevermanaged94,

#folijollyxmas #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x f!reader #agent whiskey x f!reader #jack daniels x you #agent whiskey x you #pedro pascal x reader

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kindestofkings · 6 months

Text

photography era

inhaler x reader (platonic)

potential elijah hewson x reader (romantic) ??

reader is childhood bestfriends/ who doubles up as their occasional photographer, who the lads are trying convince to go on tour with them!

authors note: heyyyy so this is my first time every writing/posting something on tumblr so please be kind 🥹 social media aus are my guilty pleasure so i thought id try my had at one ! let me know what you think <33

yourusername

liked by bobbyskeetz and others

yourusername graduated college baby, celebratory drinks, idiots returned to the homeland, re entering my photographer era, (rare) pretty bus seens, my girls <3

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bobbyskeetz at least this idiot doesn’t still get the bus at the ripe of 24…

yourusername WHO HURT YOU ROBERT ?!??

collegefriend no cause im gonna miss seeing your cute face every day

yourusername no cause I cant think about it or ill get all sad !!

yourusernamecollegefriend we’ll do coffee loads

inhalerfan1 wait who’s this girl?? How does she know the boys?

inhalerfan2 they’re all mutual friends! they all grew up together, think they met during school :)

inhalerfan3 she’s really into photography, she took alot of the bands earlier pics!!

elijahhewson great no excuse now come on tour with us

ryanmcmahon_15 yeah or youll be a big fat liar

joshjenkinson_ yeah time to join your idiots on tour!

yourusername …. dont tempt me

inhalerfan2 omg to be her

(liked by 50 users)

inhalerdublin

liked by yourusername and others

inhalerdublin dont mind us, just dreaming of festival season. not long now 📸 @lewevans

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joshjenkinson_ 🤘🏼🤘🏼

bobbyskeetz oh baby take me backkk

ryanmcmahon_15 who are those good lookin fellas?

inhalerfan1 me 🤝 ryan

thinking bobby and eli are goodlookin

(1.2k likes)

yourusername @lewevans the man that you are, these a sick photos 🔥

lewevans cheers mate! hopefully see you in action this time around ?

(liked by elijahhewson,bobbyskeetz, ryanmcmahon_15 and joshjenkinson_)

yourusername oh ffs not you too 🫠

yourusername hahah U2 @elijahhewson

elijahhewson ….right prepared to be blocked

yourusername wait no no no come back! I dont even know who bono is !!

elijahhewson removed you as a follower !

yourusername added to their story

- bobbyskeetz hahahahhaha what an idiot

- joshjenkinson_ oh the receipts are coming out

- ryanmcmahon_15 well you know this is never gonna work to get back in the good books right?

- keep going tho

yourusername

liked by ryanmcmahon_15 and others

yourusername so ill watch you life in pictures like a used watch you sleep 😭

Its now been a million days since my “best friend” cut all contact with me, come back guggi be here 💔

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inhaler1 holy shit these photos are something else

inhaler2 was just thinking this! Ive never seen them before

yourusername heyyy they were acc taken by me! my camera roll is plagued with these boys at this stage lol xx

inhalerfan4 wow i didnt know eli could smile..

bobbyskeetz its yn’s superpower

inhalerfan4 fwfagshsjue wtf hi bobby

joshjenkinson_ and by a million you mean 1 day right?

ryanmcmahon_15 and we were literally all together last night

yourusername god forbid a girl exaggerates every now and again 😀

inhalerfan3 wait omg are they dating?? he looks so boyfriend in these

inhalerfan5 omg they have to be you are so right

inhalerfan2 jesus they’ve said so many times she their bestFRIEND dont be weird

elijahhewson accepted your follow request!

#inhaler band #inhaler dublin #elijah hewson imagine #elijah hewson x reader #elijah hewson fanfic

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octuscle · 1 year

Text

Truck Stop

Christian had never had to go to the bathroom so urgently in his entire life. His bladder almost burst. He chased his Porsche at more than 220 Km/h over the highway. Finally the sign for the exit to the service area. That's when he saw the restroom, right across the street was a parking lot. Okay, it was a truck parking lot, but he couldn't take that into consideration anymore. Running to the restroom, he was already unbuckling the belt and zipper of his suit pants. There were already three men standing at the urinals. Quite hulking, as far as he could tell out of the corner of his eye. Fortunately, one stall was free. He dropped his pants and pissed like a bull. Then he heard a loud fart. Followed by a booming deep laugh. Immediately followed by another fart. My God, what a stench that was. Christian had to get out of here. He pulled up his pants and fastened his belt while turning around. And collided with one of the behemoths standing right behind him in the toilet stall. "Could it be you took my parking spot, fella?" the guy asked. Dirty jeans, dirty wife beater, hairy chest and arms. To see the face, Christian had to crane his head back. A man in his mid-40s with a bald head and unkempt beard. Christian felt uncomfortable. Also because he had pulled up his pants too quickly, a last stream of piss ran down his pant leg. "Payback's a must, lad," the colossus grunted and turned around. Christian was about to push past him when the man let out a huge fart. Christian almost felt sick. The man stepped aside. Christian noticed that the room was filled with six or seven men. Boots, dirty jeans or hi-viz pants, their impressive upper bodies in T-shirts or undershirts. One of the truckers dropped his pants and someone pushed Christian's face into the hairy crack. He held his breath, but just as he came up for air, another fart blew in his face. Christian's eyes went black. When he regained consciousness, he was lying alone on the floor of the toilet. He stood up and realized that he had been lying in a puddle of urine. The whole floor was dirty and stank. He could throw away his suit. But now he had to get out.

In the fresh air, he took a deep breath. Boy, why did he have such a tremendous hunger. Even if he was ashamed of his dirty and smelly clothes, he had to eat something. Urgently. He walked toward the rest area. In the entrance area, he noticed that it was actually a store with clothing. Okay, more like work clothes, of course, but he couldn't go around people like that. He grabbed some work boots, a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. There was no changing room, so he paid and undressed behind the clothing rack. He didn't wonder about the dirty white socks. And about the urine-stained grayed jockstrap. He put on his pants and boots. And then the undershirt. He had foolishly not been able to see that this was not a T-shirt in the package. But anything was better than his filthy clothes, which he simply stuffed into a trash can.

It was late and the selection in the self-service restaurant was slim. Since there was nothing else, he went for the chili con carne. At least the portion was huge. Christian set his tray down on an empty table. He was the only guest for the most part. The chili wasn't bad at all and Christian gobbled it down small. There one of the guys from the restroom sat down to him. And asked if he could have taken a joke. Sure, point of honor, said Chris and stretched out his hand. The two of them slapped hands. A second fella joined them and put three bottles of beer on the table. They toasted. Little by little, the round increased. After the second beer, Chris had to burp like he had never done before in his life. The round laughed bawling. And one after the other did the same. And then Chris farted so loudly that the few other guests and the employees turned around. Again the round laughed up.

"Lads, I've got to take a shit, then I'm off to my bunk," Chris said goodbye to his buddies. When he was out of the restroom, he wiped his paws on his dirty jeans and lit one last cigarette. He still had a few miles to go in his truck tomorrow, so it was time to hit the sack.

#redneck tf #male tf #muscle tf #wife beater #male transformation #muscle transformation

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damnation-if · 5 months

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howdy fellas! i guess it's that time of year again

i'm sure all of you that have been following me for a while are sick of hearing about everything i've gone through over the past interminably long year of my life, and i'm really sorry about that... believe me, i'm sick of it too lol. anyway that's why i don't always talk a lot on here at the moment, because i'm worried about answering too many asks and coming across as annoying.

the truth is, just recently, things have finally hit a place that i can at least describe as "fairly stable." i'm hopeful i'll soon be able to afford to go to an IT place and get my files rescued, which will be a godsend for me. i'm really relieved about all of this obviously, and i keep thinking about making a post because i'm so excited to think about being able to jump right back in. but i've held myself back from telling you all that hopefully things will start moving again soon because i'm anxious about overpromising and don't want to disappoint any of you guys (any more than i already have).

if it makes any of you feel any better, i have no plans to stop writing damnation even if all of you unfollow me and i'm just writing it for myself XD i just needed to. you know. get a house and food first. so. hopefully i'll have proper good news for you all soon!

#posts from the mortal world #i opened with howdy because i live on a farm right now in the middle of nowhere #i had to move out here because nowhere in the city would let me bring my cat lmfao #anyway. there's a non-zero chance i could have been homeless and destitute when you sent this ask :)#and i'd still have been expected to receive it with unmatched grace and be considered unreasonable if it made me upset lmfao #i hope this answers your question

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kindkingsarchieve · 6 months

Text

photography era

inhaler x reader (platonic)

potential elijah hewson x reader (romantic) ??

reader is childhood bestfriends/ who doubles up as their occasional photographer, who the lads are trying convince to go on tour with them!

yourusername

liked by bobbyskeetz and others

yourusername graduated college baby, celebratory drinks, idiots returned to the homeland, re entering my photographer era, (rare) pretty bus seens, my girls <3

view all 100 comments

bobbyskeetz at least this idiot doesn’t still get the bus at the ripe of 24…

yourusername WHO HURT YOU ROBERT ?!??

collegefriend no cause im gonna miss seeing your cute face every day

yourusername no cause I cant think about it or ill get all sad !!

yourusername collegefriend we’ll do coffee loads

inhalerfan1 wait who’s this girl?? How does she know the boys?

inhalerfan2 they’re all mutual friends! they all grew up together, think they met during school :)

inhalerfan3 she’s really into photography, she took alot of the bands earlier pics!!

elijahhewson great no excuse now come on tour with us

ryanmcmahon_15 yeah or youll be a big fat liar

joshjenkinson_ yeah time to join your idiots on tour!

yourusername …. dont tempt me

inhalerfan2 omg to be her

(liked by 50 users)

inhalerdublin

liked by yourusername and others

inhalerdublin dont mind us, just dreaming of festival season. not long now 📸 @lewevans

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joshjenkinson_ 🤘🏼🤘🏼

bobbyskeetz oh baby take me backkk

ryanmcmahon_15 who are those good lookin fellas?

inhalerfan1 me 🤝 ryan

thinking bobby and eli are goodlookin

(1.2k likes)

yourusername @lewevans the man that you are, these a sick photos 🔥

lewevans cheers mate! hopefully see you in action this time around ?

(liked by elijahhewson,bobbyskeetz, ryanmcmahon_15 and joshjenkinson_)

yourusername oh ffs not you too 🫠

yourusername hahah U2 @elijahhewson

elijahhewson ….right prepared to be blocked

yourusername wait no no no come back! I dont even know who bono is !!

elijahhewson removed you as a follower !

yourusername added to their story

- bobbyskeetz hahahahhaha what an idiot

- joshjenkinson_ oh the receipts are coming out

- ryanmcmahon_15 well you know this is never gonna work to get back in the good books right?

- keep going tho

yourusername

liked by ryanmcmahon_15 and others

yourusername so ill watch you life in pictures like a used watch you sleep 😭

Its now been a million days since my “best friend” cut all contact with me, come back guggi be here 💔

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inhaler1 holy shit these photos are something else

inhaler2 was just thinking this! Ive never seen them before

yourusername heyyy they were acc taken by me! my camera roll is plagued with these boys at this stage lol xx

inhalerfan4 wow i didnt know eli could smile..

bobbyskeetz its yn’s superpower

inhalerfan4 fwfagshsjue wtf hi bobby

joshjenkinson_ and by a million you mean 1 day right?

ryanmcmahon_15 and we were literally all together last night

yourusername god forbid a girl exaggerates every now and again 😀

inhalerfan3 wait omg are they dating?? he looks so boyfriend in these

inhalerfan5 omg they have to be you are so right

inhalerfan2 jesus they’ve said so many times she their bestFRIEND dont be weird

elijahhewson accepted your follow request!

part 2

#elijah hewson imagine #elijah hewson #elijah hewson x reader #inhaler #inhaler dublin #fake instagram #social media au #inhaler x reader #ejiah hewson fanfic

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darklydeliciousdesires · 6 months

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Immortal Beloved - Chapter One.

Oh guys, when I tell you I was touched beyond words at how this was received by you all. I have been sitting here squeaking with joy at your lovely reviews! If I have missed anybody out in my thank you notes, please take my humble apology and know that I appreciate you so much for taking the time to both read and offer feedback.

Okay, so on with the first chapter, then. You'll notice here that my imagination weaves with canon to make some slight changes, such as giving the boy's (and Ada's) mother a name, also I wrote John only to have one child with his late wife. It made sense to me, not having to pull focus from the plot too much by having to characterise four little ones on top of everything else.

So yes, here we are, then. I think I'm going to choose Thursday as our update day and keep it to once a week posting. Those who know me of old know that I often like to throw in a little surprise update sometimes, though! Once again, thank you so much for the feedback, and I truly hope you continue to enjoy it :)

Previous chapters - Prologue

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 4,057

Warnings - Adult themes + vampire content throughout. Minors DNI!

“John?”

He was still in a daze as he entered the back room, seeing Polly lift her gaze from the paper she read in front of the crackling hearth, her dark eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re bloody white as a sheet. If you’re about to be sick, go back outside. I’ve neither the desire nor patience for mopping up the contents of your stomach.”

“Nah, I’m... I’m alright, Pol,” he began, his voice just as vacant as the expression upon his face, the toothpick between his lips practically dangling.

She wasn’t convinced by his statement, placing the paper upon the arm of the chair and rising to her feet. “John, you look like you’ve seen a ghost, and you...” She sniffed his breath, her mouth down turning as she scoffed, “and you stink like a brewery floor. What did Tommy say, eh, about getting in this state. Look at you!”

Her admonishment barely even landed; John still in a state of shock at what he’d witnessed, his eyes flitting to the table. Whiskey. Yes.

Polly’s gaze followed. “No. There’ll be no more of that. You’ve had enough.”

Finally, he moved, side stepping his aunt as he reached for the bottle, uncorking it rapidly and drinking from it directly. “Believe me, Pol. After what I just saw, all the fucking whiskey in Ireland ain’t enough.”

She folded her arms, watching as he crashed down in the chair opposite the one she’d been comfortably sitting in. “Well, you don’t look hurt. Whatever it was, it can’t have been that bad.”

“Not for me, but...” he began, taking another swig of the golden liquid within his grasp, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve as his eyes found hers, “for the fella outside missing his head, I can’t say the same.”

“You bloody what, John Shelby?” Her voice rose like a siren, Polly’s authoritative boom filling the space. “A Rasmussen, I take it? And since when have you been in the habit of lopping off heads and leaving the evidence all over the bloody street? Holy shit, you boys will be the death of me!”

She then studied him a little closer. No blood. He'd have been covered in more than just a fine misting of crimson, should he have removed somebody of their head. It also wasn’t John’s style, as far as despatching of an enemy went. He was a gangster, not a barbarian. She wouldn’t have even pegged his elder brothers for such acts, and their bloodlust far exceeded John’s. Her statement was about to be recanted when her nephew offered his reply.

“No, not me. I didn’t do fuck all!” he corrected, gulping back more whiskey, the shock starting to soften as his muscles began to unclench, one by one. “It weren’t me, but you wouldn’t believe me if I told you what I’ve just seen out there.”

“Is that so?” she charged, moving swiftly to stand beside his chair. “Try me.”

He pointed his index finger towards the door, his eyes rounding once more as he relived it in his mind. “A woman, a fucking woman in a white dress, covered in blood, moving faster than I could see. She fucking... grabbed this fella, right, like he was a kiddie’s doll, bit into his neck, and then ripped his fucking head off. I ain’t lying to ya. I swear on my soul, that’s what I saw. She had these teeth, teeth like a fucking wolf.”

Polly lifted her chin, a wave of cold dread sloshing through her insides. She knew exactly what John had seen, but could scarcely believe it. They were back. “You’re drunk. Go to bed.”

His eyes narrowed, leaning forward in his seat. Her answer, it had been a little too swiftly delivered. “You believe me, don’t you? You know what she was.”

“I said go to bed.”

“I ain’t going nowhere until you tell me what the fuck that thing outside was.” Yes, Polly could be firm, but so could her nephew. It was a trait that ran strongly through the Shelby blood. She sighed, her shoulders dropping, striding to the cabinet and fetching two glasses.

“Pour.” John met her instruction wordlessly, tipping the whiskey into the glasses she held, taking the other from her. Polly sank into her seat, sipping her whiskey and pulling a cigarette from the case beside her, lighting up. “Your great-grandmother used to call them the shadow walkers, but it’s only since that Bram Stoker fellow wrote his novel that there’s been a commonly known name for them. That woman you saw, John, she wasn’t human. She was a vampire.”

John was baffled, and his face showed it. “But they ain’t real. I’ve heard of that book you’re on about, Dracula, isn’t it? They... they’re fiction.”

A light snort sounded from Polly’s nose, her cigarette glowing as she took a fierce drag upon it. “Most people think that they are. They think of them as nothing more than monsters of make-believe, dreamed into existence by the imagination of a brilliant novelist.” Pausing, she smirked darkly, sighing through her nose. “I wish to god above I was one of those people. They keep themselves very well hidden, the vampires. And who would believe it, that these blood sucking creatures of the night truly exist, eh? Seeing is believing, though, and by god, John. I wish you hadn’t seen her. Those things, they’re evil incarnate.”

“She saved me life,” he admitted, eyebrows rising a fraction. “That man, and apparently three mates of his, they were all waiting for me. The one missing his head was Samuel Rasmussen. She knew him by name.”

Polly cocked her head slightly. “What did she say to you?”

“Not much,” he sniffed, sipping his drink. “Said what I’ve just told you, then said my blood smelled like earth and fire, other things an’ all but I forget what. Oh, and that I was the most beautiful creature she’d seen in a long time.”

She smiled, nodding slightly. “Well, she got that part right. You take after your mother in that respect.” It never ceased to amaze her, just how much John resembled Thora, her late sister-in-law. His blue eyes, lily skin and auburn hair came straight from her. “I’m warning you now, though. What she did for you won’t have been out of sheer magnanimity, oh no. There’ll be a reason behind it, and whatever that reason is, I am telling you, John, you’ll want for no part in it.”

He smirked, feeling a little more himself. “What if the reason is that she just wants to fuck me?”

Immediately, he found his ear clipped. “Fucking hell, Pol!”

“Take something seriously for once in your fucking life!”

He rubbed the side of his head, chewing aggressively on his toothpick. “I bloody am.”

Her snort dripped in sarcasm “Like fuck, you are. You’d want throwing right into the loony bin if you even contemplated that, you bloody daft boy!” She remained forward in her seat, her dark eyes fixing him in an unbreakable stare. “Don’t trust her, not even for a second, or it’ll be your head ripped off your shoulders and left out for the coppers to find next. You hear me?”

“You make it sound like I’m going to see her again,” he mused, swirling the whiskey around within the glass tumbler before sinking it.

“You will,” she assured, her tone bitter. “You will see her again, because like I said, they don’t do anything without good reason to, those creatures. But you’ll be prepared. Carry a silver knife and get up to the church sharpish, fill a little bottle with holy water from the font. When weaponised, silver will kill her and the water will burn. And whatever you do, John, never, ever invite her into this house. She can’t get in unless she’s invited.”

He had to wonder how, exactly, Polly had such a wealth of knowledge over them. “Have you ever met one before? You talk like you know them of old.”

“No, thank god, but your great-grandmother Boswell, she had. Those campfire stories she told us as babes, we knew they weren’t fibs. We heeded her warnings. They’re drawn to gypsy blood, you see, something about it being palatable.”

“She didn’t bite me, though,” John reasoned, Polly scoffing lightly.

“If she’d just taken out four other fellas, she probably wasn’t hungry. That’s what they need to survive, the blood of the living. Trust me, she’ll be back, but you’ll be prepared. Stab her in her cold, dead heart and forget you ever met her. Don’t even think twice about it. We’ve got enough to be reckoning with, what with these fucking Rasmussen’s and the pile of shit they’re throwing our way. I don’t need the worry that you’re being stalked by the bloody undead on top of that.”

“Why didn’t you mention any of this to us before?”

Sinking her drink, she cleared her throat, reaching for the bottle. “And have you think I’d gone loopy?” Her snorted words brought a smile to John, Polly continuing. “We just don’t speak of them any longer. They’re rare, not an everyday threat. I’ve never heard hide nor hair of them since hearing nana’s stories, since I was just a young girl.”

As the lie fell from her lips, Polly felt conflicted. She had to protect him, though. Keep the details scant. Besides, he was too drunk to take on anything else. Indeed, there was more she could have explained. She decided against it, clamping her lips between her teeth for a moment.

“Hang on,” he spoke, frowning a little. “What did you mean, when you said undead?”

“They aren’t alive anymore, John.” She paused, picking a little fleck of tobacco from her lip. “They walk and talk, but they’re not really living. Something about how they’re made, I don’t know the details, but yes. Undead. An enchanted corpse, basically.”

“I dunno about enchanted, but she was enchanting,” he began, the corner of his mouth upturning. “She was bloody beautiful.” His face further softened as he remembered that feeling of magic lingering in the air between he and her, the pull to her, her essence shining like the brightest star within a pitch-black sky.

“John, no. Absolutely fucking not.” Her pointed finger only momentarily wiped the growing smirk from his handsome features. “I mean it, do not even consider a fucking dalliance with a bloody vampire!”

He shrugged slightly. “I’ve took worse to bed.”

“John!” Her acerbic bite of his name had him in soft fits, the whiskey seeming to do the trick in placating the fear he’d felt at the time, now he was no longer in peril. “Your fucking face when you walked in here not ten minutes ago, looking like you’d seen a ghost. I was surprised your trousers were still dry, you looked that afraid!”

“Bloody hell, Pol. I was only pulling your leg,” he laughed, rising from his seat. “Don’t worry, I ain’t stupid. I’m going to bed. Maybe all of this is just a drunken dream, I dunno.” Suddenly, her foot shot out, kicking him in the shin. “Ow, what the fuck?”

“Did that feel like a dream to you?”

“No, it feels like it’s gonna be a whacking great bruise on me leg!”

She smirked, entertained at herself. “Good, might have knocked a bit of sense into you. Goodnight, love.”

“Yeah, night, Pol.”

He departed for the stairs, ambling up quietly so as not to wake Finn, entering his room and shivering upon the removal of his coat. His stripping of clothes into long johns and a vest was done at speed, diving under the bed covers and burrowing beneath the many woollen blankets. He hated that his room was the farthest from the chimney breast, meaning the heat didn’t ever reach the room where he could see his breath clouding through the darkness, it was so bitterly chilly.

The knocking through of the three houses that allowed for their once illegal bookmaking endeavours to be run from the Watery Lane properties meant one large communal home, Tommy and Arthur’s abodes flanking the three, John remaining within the house he’d been born in twenty-eight years previously. It was the home he and his late wife had lived in, before he’d sadly lost her four years previously.

Closing his eyes, he felt the pull of sleep tug at him, drifting off into dreamless slumber, awoken the following morning by the sound of the milkman’s cart doing the morning deliveries. Oh, his head. He needed tea and jam slathered toast, and quickly. Heading downstairs, he warmed enough water to have a wash and shave, combing his hair and returning to pull on a suit, opening the front door to take the milk in off the front step.

“Morning, Mr Shelby.”

“Morning, Jack,” he called back to the milkman, his cart paused, John turning to see a throng of people gathered a little further down the lane. “What’s all that about?”

“Some kids found a headless body down by number six, so I’ve been told. The bobbies are on their way. Shocking business for a Wednesday morning, I can tell you!”

John’s heart skipped on a beat as the night before rushed back over his neurons. He truly hadn’t been dreaming. “Blimey,” he began, feigning something as close to shock as he could, craning his neck a little further, able to make out the figures of his elder brother’s there surveying the scene, the local constabulary appearing right at the bottom of the lane. “Wonder how he ended up headless?”

Jack lit a cigarette, his chest tightening as he coughed. “Might be best not to know, eh?” He paused, John seeing it, the unspoken statement there upon the milkman’s face. Grim discoveries close to a Shelby dwelling. Of course, he suspected it had something to do with him or his brothers, but Jack was much too cautious to speak it. Their reputation preceded them, after all.

“I’ll be moving along now, Mr Shelby.” He flicked the reins, clicking his tongue. “C’mon, Beamish. Walk on.” The giant, bay shire horse snorted before continuing to the next house, Jack’s lad jumping off the back of the cart to lay the required bottles next to each door, both getting a good look at the grizzly scene as they passed it by, Tommy and Arthur having a brief chat with Sergeant Moss before walking back to meet John on the doorstep.

The former cocked his head back in the direction of the small crowd. “Know anything about that, John? How one of our adversaries came to be missing his head almost right outside our front doors?” He’d recognised Samuel’s face as it lay wide-eyed upon the cobbles ten feet from his body, remembering him from the race meet.

Tommy watched as his younger brother stepped back into the house, his mouth thinning. “I think we need a family meeting.” With the elders of the Shelby family assembled, cups of tea poured and cigarettes lit, John recounted the events of the night before to his brother’s, Polly interjecting with details that backed up his story. Tommy listened passively, but Arthur, well...

His gruff laughter sounded through the air, sweeping a hand through his hair. His laughter was not mocking, though. It carried with it all the hollowness of fear. “A bloody what?”

“Arthur, you know he’s telling the truth,” Polly stated defiantly, her eldest nephew still laughing, laughing to stop himself beginning to shake with fright.

“What a pile of old shit! A bloody vampire, eh? Fucking hell, you two have lost your faculties if you’re expecting us to believe that!” Turning to his brother, Arthur was surprised to see Tommy completely unmoved by the story, his face unflinching, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“Come on, Arthur,” he spoke evenly, sipping his tea. “Nobody is having you on, and you know it.” Turning to John, he placed his tea down. “This woman, John. Long, dark hair with a tattooed throat and chest?”

He nodded a little dumbly. “Yeah, that’s her.”

Tommy sat back again, flicking ash into the nearby ashtray with a sniff. “She’s been watching the house for a couple of weeks now.”

“And you didn’t feel the need to mention that to anyone?” Polly charged him with, a deep frown settling between her eyebrows.

“Speak not of the shadow walkers, lest ye bring them into the light. That’s what our dad used to say,” he revealed, Arthur scoffing immediately as he threw himself to his feet.

“I ain’t listening to this load of old cobblers! Fucking mad, the lot of ya!”

“Arthur, you know it’s true. You saw what I did on that night,” he reasoned softly, Arthur’s agitation winding tighter by the second as he paced the flagstones. “It’s time to face up to what happened.”

“What night?” John demanded lightly, looking between them. Silence followed. “One of you better give me a fucking answer.”

Tommy paused, bringing his cigarette to his lips once more. “I’ve thought about that night here and there over the years, but never mentioned it. Dad told us not to breathe a word to anyone,” he began, Arthur making a start for the door, almost throwing it off its hinges and slamming it behind him.

Jerking his head in his wake he raised his eyebrows a fraction. “Terrified the life out of Arthur, so much so that he pissed himself. He’s never come to terms with that he witnessed, refuses to acknowledge it ever happened at all. He can’t comprehend what he saw, what we saw on that night, when dad took us up to the Black Patch when we were nippers to visit family. Now, I don’t know how much Polly revealed to you, but they aren’t spoken about, the shadow walkers as our gypsy kin always referred to them as, but for centuries, they had a pact.

“Gypsy blood to a vampire is what a fine wine or whiskey is to us, so for hundreds of years, vampires would guard the camps in exchange for feeding upon that blood. That was, at least, until the pact was broken. I don’t know why, and neither did our dad, but one night they returned, to hand out the punishment they felt befitting of that broken pact.

“Our dad did perhaps the only honourable thing he ever has as a father, and got on a horse, riding us out of there to the nearest church where he hid us away until the dawn. Vampires cannot walk upon hallowed ground, nor can they stand in the daylight, lest they burn to ashes. The rest of the camp weren’t so lucky. People were attacked, only very few surviving, but in a state of dread that one day, they’d be back. I suppose that day was last night, for I highly doubt she’s acting alone.”

John immediately stared at Polly. “Did you know all of this?”

She nodded in confirmation. “I did.”

“So why the fuck didn’t you tell me last night?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing.

“Because you were drunk as a lord, John. What I said was enough explanation without going into the finer details, of which I wasn’t sure you’d be able to absorb. I’m fucking surprised you comprehended even half of what I told you, to be frank.”

John’s puzzlement was clear as it ghosted across his face, sighing as he rubbed his brow. “But it don’t make no sense. If she was here because she wanted us dead, some kind of further punishment for our kin breaking the pact, then why am I still alive? She could have had me head off, just the same as she did to Samuel fucking Rasmussen, but she didn’t.” He felt his heart flutter as he remembered how fondly she’d gazed upon him. God, she was such a beauty.

Tommy shrugged lightly. “At a guess, I’d say she wants to rekindle the blood pact. Why she’d choose us and not one of the other families out there, well, I can’t answer that.”

“Which means she probably wants something else from us, something greater,” a frowning Polly mused, the dread in her voice quite clear. It was a distinct change to her usual confident, self-assured tone.

“And we’re not about to give her the chance to even broach it.” Tommy then turned to John, his eyes wide. “You’ll carry a silver knife upon your person from now on, as we all will. Her kind are not to be trusted. Killing that man, I suspect was to lure you into a false sense of security. Vampires are immortal; they have all the fucking time in the world to exact a plan. She’s biding her time.”

“She didn’t only kill him,” John snorted, jerking his head to the right. “Coppers will find another three bodies somewhere out there soon enough.”

Tommy rose to his feet, keen to move to his office and begin the day. “All the more reason not to trust her when she returns. Mark my words, John boy. She’ll be back. She’ll be back, I tell you, and it won’t lead to anything good.”

All talk of vampires, blood pacts and a family history unknown to John meant that he could forget his pounding head for a short time. After his refuelling with toast and tea, he walked through to the offices, grasping the ledger and beginning to write, the space soon filling, the usual loud chaos abounding.

Hangovers and mysterious, vampiric women aside, John’s day ended certainly more favourably than the previous. The favourite at Epson, Shamrock Pride pulled up lame in the fifth race, just as he was intended to. This netted a very tidy profit for them, John finishing his day with a spring in his step because of it.

The Garrison for a whiskey or three? Whyever not.

“Daddy?”

The soft grasp of a tiny hand curled his little finger, John pausing from pulling on his overcoat to look down into the big, green eyes of his daughter, Katie carrying a book within her grasp.

“You should be in bed, pige.” Pige. Short for pigeon, the fond pet name for his only child from his short marriage to Martha, his wife taken from him by the cruel clutches of consumption when Katie was mere baby in arms.

Poking out her bottom lip, she proffered the book forth. The Velveteen Rabbit. It had to have been their fourth read through at that point, the book only published six months before. “Please?”

He sighed softly through his nose. “Go on,” he spoke to his brother, “I’ll catch up with you.”

Arthur nodded, leaving John to place his coat over the back of the fireside armchair there in the front room, adjusting his trousers as he sat, Katie scrambling onto his lap. “Right, where were we?”

Opening the book, the cloth binding soft and velvety against his fingers, John laid the well-worn leather bookmark across Katie’s legs, stroking her strawberry blonde curls as he began to read. Ten minutes, give or take, and she would nod off with her little rosy cheeked face nestled against his chest.

Eleven and a half minutes later, and the soft little piglet snorts of a babe in slumber filled the space, John smiling down at her. “Let’s get you up them stairs, eh, pige?” Once he’d placed her into her bed and covered her in blankets, he laid a kiss to her forehead, whispering his love before creeping out, overcoat thrown on and a cigarette lit before stepping out into the frigid night.

Snowflakes fluttered down over the streets of Small Heath, John feeling winter tingle as his cheeks, the flames of the blast furnaces offering a roar of warmth as he passed them by, the lights of The Garrison twinkling through the inky gloom.

“John.”

The whisper of his name echoed through his ears, John turning, his eyes scanning for the source. Nobody. On he walked.

“John.”

It was louder than before this time as once again he halted, turning, looking for the female to whom the voice belonged. He almost dived out of his skin when upon his turn back, there she was.

The vampire looked even more breathtaking to him than she had the night before.

#john shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfiction #john shelby smut #peaky blinders smut #john shelby x ofc #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fic #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic

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lace-coffin · 13 days

Note

For when your requests open soon kinda like the child breaking in how do you think the collector would rect to like teens using the hotell as a smoke spot or something also jow that im thinking about it he would just kill them since the start of thr collection it starts by saying he kills anyone and doesn’t discriminate personally i say dang but also i hsve no idea i might be making up everything im typing as i go along hoping your like oh wow this fella this extremely homosexual fella is so right!!!! #guess whos drunk game!!!!!£!

How would Asa Emory react to teens breaking into the hotel to smoke?

I absolutely love this request lmao, from one homo to another u r absolutely so right. I hope u had a good night pookie < 3

Tw for violence and gore

The acrid ashy smell was a dead giveaway before he’d even stepped into the hotel. Teenagers using his hotel as a smoke spot, hadn’t they seen literally any trashy slasher movie? This was a perfect setup to get murdered by a hulking masked man with an axe or whatever the kids were watching these days.

It’s not like he could completely blame them, him having been a teenager once and not above bumming a smoke off other students when the stress got the best off him.

Groaning and dragging a gloved hand down his face, Asa enters the building, pulling the door with more force than necessary and effectively slamming it into the wall in annoyance. It’s not like it was worth being stealthy, these little fucks will be dead soon enough, not like it’s going to matter in the end.

Two hounds sit either side of the collector at his monitor, Allister on the left and Aster on the right, waiting at attention for orders but mostly soaking up the absent minded pats Asa has been giving them whilst focused on the screen.

A group of teenagers, maybe about college age, sit slumped against the filthy walls of the abandoned hotel room smoking, what, he’s not sure, but that’s not relevant. smashed beer bottles litter the floor, glittering under the barley there fluorescent lights.

Disgusting, spilling all that shit over his floors, don’t they know he has art pieces in here that are priceless? Not like they would understand the work that goes behind his beautiful collection.

A pissed off groan escapes Asa’s gritted teeth, the dog’s ears perking at this, shifting to sit slightly more alert. Asa looks down to his pups, tilting his head in thought. He has a good view of the room from here, he may be able to put on a show for himself in the future before finishing them off. Setting the camera’s to ‘record’ he stands, scraping his chair backwards.

Pulling the mask taught by the strings and tying himself in he double checks his hunting knife is where he left it and sets off. Aster and Allister follow happily down the halls, just happy to be included and by their masters side.

The door is slammed open before any of the teens can react, dogs ordered to dispose of the intruders with a shout and hand signal, realistically no matter how well trained his pets are they wouldn’t be able to take down 4 teenagers by themselves. knowing this Asa pulls his knife from his belt, the teens paying no attention to him, solely focused in attempting to either kick the dogs snouts away and detach the muscle deep bite they have lodged into them off or trying to tear the hounds off their screaming and struggling friends.

Grabbing one of the men by the throat the collector slams the stranger against the wall, knife raised at his jugular with intend to slash.

“Y-you don’t have to do this man, we’ll leave ok? We’ll even clean up, fuck just..just let us go and we won’t say shit I promise”

the fear is evident all over this kids face, the desperation gives Asa a sick kick, feelings of superiority and giddiness bubbling up in his chest. the masked man adds more pressure to the knife, enough to break skin and allow a few dribbles of crimson to run down the knife, watching the panic increase ten fold.

Apart from letting out an undignified squeak the teen stops reacting, bracing for the end. How dull. Realising his toy has stopped performing he rips the blade across the soft flesh under him, making it messy and careless. The gasping body slumps against him, no longer able to hold himself through the agony. Asa’s lip curls in disgust, shoving the bleeding body away from himself to crumple to the ground.

Glancing back over it seems the dogs have fatally wounded at least two of the intruders, they aren’t dead yet but regardless they won’t be rushing anywhere in a hurry. The injured strangers flinch in terror as he approaches, before anything can be said Asa’s heavy leather boot is smashing the teens head against the dirty floor as hard as he can, skull making a sickening crunch under the weight of it and sending a wave of euphoria over the killer. He notes his boots will need cleaning later, viscera caught on the laces.

Something about the display must have awakened something primal in the least injured victim, taking off down the hall clumsily, usually he would send a dog to give chase or do it himself but he knows this hotel inside out, there’s a range of traps lining the walls of just that hall, let alone the entire building. Regardless if Asa bothers to follow or not he won’t be making it out alive. As if on cue a guttural scream then groan can be heard. He made it atleast two corridors down, better than most.

Attention now back in the room Asa looks over the last victim, curled up and bleeding into the ratty carpet. Shock probably. No point in making a show of this one, his mind has already checked out. He might make good food for the projects in the basement…you can never be too prepared. Sighing Asa slings the man’s half conscious body over his shoulder without care, whistling for the dogs to follow as he makes the trek to the basement.

#slashers #slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #writing #asa emory #asa emory x reader #my writing #the collection #slasher fucker #slasher hcs #slasher horror

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cheynovak · 4 months

Text

Family business: Part 1

Billy Butcher & Sarah Butcher x Soldier boy

Warnings: Age difference, cursing, violence, smut, 16+, ... it's the boys... what not

Side note: English isn’t my first language.

Words: 5900

Sarah is Billy Butcher’s daughter from a previous relationship. He did not raise her, on the contrary, when he found out that her mother was pregnant, he fled to the army. Butcher felt too young to care for a child, afraid to follow in his father's footsteps. But Sarah's mother wanted to keep the child. In the first 5 years he sended her postcards on her birthday with a little bit of money in it. But when he never got a responce he stopped. Years later Billy’s and Sarah’s paths cross when they search for the weapon that killed Soldier boy only to find the supe himself, who seems to have an special interest in Sarah.

*Might not follows the original “the boys” timeline*

----

Sarah woke up in a shitty New York apartment, she looked outside the dirty window, it was a nice sunny day but all she could think of was how horrible she felt doing this job. The CIA needed some unknown people for some shitty job when they couldn’t keep get their hands dirty. And that was one thing she had no trouble with.

She took a quick shower before throwing on some old rock band shirt with a grey skinny jeans and black doc martens. Before she got out the door, she took her old black leather jacket and keys. Once outside she took the metro to the CIA headquarters where she had to meet with Susan Raynor. Sarah walked around in the big city thinking how much she hated this place, she could wait to get back overseas.

Sarah presented herself to Suzan, “Mrs Raynor? I’m Sarah, Sarah Turner, my boss sends me to... take care of an inconvenience for you.” she said shaking her hand. “Ah yes miss Turner. Take a seat. Where waiting for my other associate before I can inform you about your task.” She said with a disapproved look at her. “You might like the man, British too.” Sarah looked with smiled like she had a toothache. “Yeah well, all Brits get along ay.”

“Sorry kept you waiting luv, traffic.” Sarah heard a familiar accent behind her. She looked up, looking at the man, she could have sworn she recognised him. “Who’s this?” He asked Suzan without looking at Sarah. “Butcher meet Turner, Turner, Butcher. Your new partner.” - “Since when do you give me partners and tasks Suzan?” - “Since we need you to go to Russia and find out what killed soldier boy, what killed him can kill Homelander, but I don’t trust you, so I arranged backup.” - “I don’t need a fucking babysitter, no offence luv.” He said to her swiftly. “Take it or leave it.” Suzan told him.

Suzan Raynor explained all the resources Sarah had, and talked about their mission, the boys could be included, but only Sarah could call in for progress with her directly. Once dismissed Sarah and Billy stepped out the room. “So, Butcher...” Sarah asked “Billy Butcher?” He turned around. ”You know me sweetheart?” - Sarah’s heart dropped “By reputation” she felt sick to her stomach, but the fact that he didn’t recognise her last name made it easier on her.

Sarah met the boys, MM, Frenchy and Hughie seemed nice fellas. But she couldn’t help to feel troubled, they planned the trip to Russia, she noticed both MM and Frenchie were trained, Hughie on the other hand seemed like a beat-up puppy. Butcher started to go over the plan one last time. “We enter here...” Sarah couldn't help but to roll her eyes at him. “I’m sorry luv is there anything you want to say.” - “Yes, that is a fuck bad idea. I bet ya that these doors will be guarded by at least a dozen soldiers, unless you can hocus-pocus your arse through them, we need a new route.” - “Well excuse me for my language darlin but, I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think. I’ve been doing this since you were in bloody diapers.” Yeah, diapers you never had to touch you fuck. Sarah though.

She kept her mouth closed and loaded in her duffel bag feeling pissed, she really wanted to put Butcher in his place, but she knew it would compromise the mission. She heard Frenchy talk to Hughie. “She gives off, Lara Croft vibes, no? Spicy lady.” he joked. “Yeah, well two English alfa’s, I hope it will work out.” the skinny kid answered. Sarah saw Butcher put away some green liquids put away. “What is that?” She asked him.

“None of ya business sweety.” he answered. “None of my business...” she repeated fierce. “If I need to go out there in Russia risking my ass, I need to know what shit you're taking.” Walking over to Butchers bag taking out everything until she found the temp V. “What is this shit?” - “Oi, give that back you little cunt.” - “No fucking way asshole, tell me what is this shit you’re taking.” - “Give it back or I’ll take something from you.” - “You sound like a fucking child Butcher.”

Butcher grabbed your bag throwing it all out on the floor, he saw a picture falling out. ”What’s this?” He said while picking it up. Sarah saw his face getting pale as he looked at your mother in the photo. It was an old picture, taken when you were 7 maybe 8 years old, on a vacation in France, Sarah sitting next to her mother on a bench at the sea. He looked back at you locking eyes still holding the picture in his hands. Sarah walked over snapping it out of his hands. “That is my dead mother you fuck. If you ever touch this again, I'll kill ya, understood.” Billy nodded slowly.

He didn’t ask, she didn’t spoke. They both got back to preparing their bags. But Sarah could feel his eyes lingering on her. On the flight to Russia, they sat apart. Sarah chose the seat next to Frenchie and MM. Sarah deliberately chose to bring headphones, so she didn’t have to interact to much with the boys. “What happened?” Hughie asked Butcher referring to the incident back home. “I knew her mother, we used to date back in the days. I had no idea she passed away.”

Once landed Billy planned to rest at the motel first before digging around the foreign lab.

Butcher handed out the keys, “not you, not yet, we need to talk.” He said to Sarah. They walked to his room. “What?” she asked like a spoiled teenager who was about to get a preach. “Your mother, when... how did she die?” - “Oh no, don’t pretend like you care.” She snapped at him. Billy frowned “If you really cared about her, if you really cared about us, you would have never left.” She yelled at him. “So do us all a fucking favour and pretend you don’t know her, cause that is what I will do when this shit show is fucking over. Pretend I never met you.”

Sarah walked out the door, Billy followed her. “Sarah... SARAH stop.” She stopped but didn’t face him. She could feel the tears in her eyes burn, not knowing why this hurt her so much, she never knew him. “Sarah, I wasn’t ready to be a father, for fuck sake I was 19 years old. Your mom insisted on keeping it.” - “IT?! Keeping IT?! She burst not saying anything anymore before taking another breath “I don’t need to know your sob story Butcher.” she turned around. “You didn’t want a child, I don’t want you in my life, let just focus on the job and get it done, ok.” Sarah took her key and went to bed.

The next morning everyone gathered at the parking lot looking terrified. ”What happened?” Frenchie asked arriving last. “Raynor, got executed last night. Her brains blown up, Annie just texted me.” Hughie said. “That means someone may know were here.” Butcher added. “No time to waste then.” Sarah said walking to the rented car.

Sarah woke up in the red lighted room at the lab. “What happened? WHY ARE YOU NAKED?!” she yelled at Hughie standing in front of her, covering her eyes. “I eh, pushed you aside during the attack, you bumped your head.” Billy kneeled in front of you. “Are you ok, luv?” - “Yeah yeah, I'm fine.” you said while lifting yourself up, grabbing for is arm as you felt a little dizzy. “Still not a reason to be naked though!” she pointed at Hugh, looking around. “What’s this?”

Sarah opened an old container, smoke came out, Billy pulled her back, behind him, once they saw a man walking out. She looked in him up and down, turning to Hughie whispering. ”He has a reason to be naked.”

“Soldier boy.” Butcher mumbled, making Sarah look back at the man. At first, she thought he was looking at Butcher but when the smoke cleared, she saw his green eyes were locked on her. Her breath and heart stopped. “No way, he’s alive?” she looked at Billy who looked shocked at her.

After Soldier boy blasted his way out of there, you all hurried back to the states, trying to take care of Kimiko.

“Well, there is no reason for me to stay here.” Sarah announced. Billy looked shocked, “The fuck you mean. There is a fucking ancient supe out there and you are leaving? - “What do you want me to do? Buy a fucking flute and whistle until he comes to us like a dog?” - “He blew up midtown, we need to do something.” Hughie begged. “Guys even if I wanted, I have a fucking concussion, my shoulder is hurt and there is no fucking way I’m taking that shit you injected yourself with.”

“Then wait here.” Billy said, “Heal and if you still decide on leaving, I’ll buy you a ticket.” Sarah though about it for a second, healing before the long travel wasn’t a bad idea. “Fine.”

Not long after they agreed to that Billy texted her, “meet me at this address ASAP.”

Sarah walked up to an old cheap motel. She knocked on the door, Hughie answered, letting her in. She immediately saw Soldier boy snoring a line of cocaine before he looked her up and down. She never felt nervous when a man checked her out, hell she even used her body every now and then to get what she needed or wanted, but the way he looked at her made her head spin and her heart race.

Billy walked over to you, tilting your head back looking in your eyes. “How do you feel?” Sarah slapped his hand away. ”Stop fathering me.” Hughie and Ben exchanged a look. She nodded to Soldier Boy, “You found him.” - “Yeah, well Hughie and I need to take care of somethings, we need you to stay with him.” Billy smiled at her. “Really? Babysitting?” she answered. “Babysitting, taking care of the elders, whatever you want to call it.” He said pushing Hughie out the door.

Sarah felt the awkward silence, “Well, coffee?” she asked walking to the small kitchen not waiting for his response. “You were there in Russia, weren’t you?” He asked following her. “Eh yeah” - “You got me out.” She turned to him leaning on the counter. “It was a team effort.” he nodded still looking in her eyes like he was searching for something.

As time got by, Ben seemed to like Sarah better than the rest of the boys. And Sarah decided to stay for a while. There was this unspoken bond between her and Ben, both outsiders taking care of their past, in different ways but still. At this point Billy only thrusted Hughie to tell the truth about Sarah. But Ben noticed the similarities pretty early on.

Ben started the conversation after seeing Sarah walking to the bathroom, Billy was sitting next to him watching tv. "You know, I wanted some rugrats of my own... couple of little boys." Billy looked at him, “With Countess. But not everything always goes the way we want right?” Billy didn’t answer. “Does she know?” - “Yeah.” - “You didn’t raise her?” - “No.” - And that’s why the tension is so bad between you two?” - “She thinks I left her mother because I didn't love her, I loved her I didn’t want to be a father, she wanted the child, what choice did I have.”

“You could have grown a pair of balls and taken care of your child and woman.” He said bluntly taking a smoke, walking towards the window, he saw Sarah standing in the door, slightly smiling at him. He knew she heard him, even though it wasn’t his intention. “Billy, Frenchie just texted, he needs you at the lab.” He got up looked over at you, nodded before leaving with a sigh.

“Thank you.” Sarah said walking closer to Ben. “For what?” He said smiling. “Putting him in his place.” - ”I just don’t think he sees you for what you are.” - “And that is?” Sarah asked still walking closer, her eyes met his. “A tall, beautiful young woman, gorgeous big dark eyes, who is stubborn, fierce, smart, a firecracker.”

“And you can tell all that from what, a week knowing me?” She looked up at Ben. Even though she was 5ft11, he stood taller than her looking down in her eyes. “I’ve known that since I set a foot out of that container.” Ben’s hand moved to the back of her black hair and the back of her neck. He looked at her lips before slowly closing the space between them.

His movement stopped abrupt when the door opened, he looked over her shoulder. Hughie walked in. “Good you’re here.” Sarah said still standing close to Ben. “I’m going training, I found a private room I could rent at the gym.” She left Ben standing there. Fucking cock blocker, he thought looking mad at Hughie. “Oh, besides I found ourselves a house instead of this motel room.” She said turning back in the door. “I’m tired of sleeping on a couch.”

Sarah, Ben, Frenchie and Kimiko moved in almost permanently, although Billy dropped by every day to check on Ben, but secretly he wanted to get to know Sarah. Frenchie seemed to be the only one to notice the tension between Ben and Sarah. He stood a little to close, was way more friendly with her than with the others. Accidently bumped into her in the kitchen. She would lay her hand on his shoulder when walking past him at the table, bending over to pick things of the floor, not caring he’d look at her cleavage or ass.

Sarah was a very structured woman, even in the middle of this shit show she turned the basement into a small training room. She seemed to be the only one using it, not understanding how all of them stayed in shape without training. One day Hughie asked her to show her some tricks. “I’ve seen you fight in Russia, even without temp V you really know how to handle yourself.” She looked shocked. “Eh yeah, sure I’m heading down now.” Ben couldn’t help but to laugh, “I want to see this.” As he followed them.

Even though Hughie did his best she and Ben could see martial arts aren’t his thing. “Come on kid, tired already?” Ben joked leaning on the railing of stairs looking over them. “Don’t listen to him.” Sarah spoke, “Not all of us are granted with a supe boost. Besides, the right technic will take down anyone.” Hughie smiled soft but knew he never would be cut out for that. “Is that so?” Ben huffed “Fine, do it.” - “What?” Sarah looked at the supe walking down. “Take me down, I’ll even make it interesting. If you can get me on my knees, I'll take you on a date.” Sarah laughed “Oh Ben, how did you know that was my dream.” Answering over dramatic sarcastic. “What if I can’t.” - “You get on your knees for me... in private.” He said moving his thumb over her lip.

“Sarah don’t.” Hughie said afraid he would take advantage of her. “Agreed, just to wipe that smirk of your face.” she said taking a step closer. She had miss calculated him physically, all though she knew he was build firm, she had no idea that her hits and kicks would be brushed off so easily. Ben never hit her back, all he did was block and push her aside. Sarah was out of breath. “Giving up yet?” Ben teased not a drop of sweat on his face. “Never!” She yelled when kicking his chest.

“Oi! What the fuck is going on.” Butcher yelled running down the wooden stairs with Frenchie. “Sarah and Ben are... training.” Hughie answered. “Ough.” Sarah let out a grunt falling on her knees when Ben tackled her. “Oh princess, sitting on your knees already? Thought that was the deal, after the fight.”

Butcher looked at Hughie “Deal? What deal Hughie?” - “Sarah made a deal that if she doesn’t get Soldier Boy on his knees she had to... get... on eh, hers for him.” - “WHAT?! Hey fucking cunt!” Butcher yelled running down the stairs. “The fuck are you planning mate?” Ben looked over Sarah’s shoulder at him unbothered.

Without hesitation Sarah got up and kicked Ben in his face now that he was distracted. Making him step backwards, losing his balance, falling on one knee. “Mon dieux, a little Jean Claude Vandamme in the house eh!” Frencie laughed hitting Hughie’s shoulder. Ben looked up at her, entirely surprised. Sarah stood there, towering over him, with a wide grin holding out her hand. Ben took her hand pulling him off his knee. “A deal is a deal.” Ben said standing to close to her. “Don’t worry, just the look on your face, that was all I needed.” Sarah said not backing down, almost chest against chest.

“No, no, NO! Get back, you get away from her!” Butcher pulled on Sarah’s shoulder demanding her to step back looking at him. “Oh, don’t act like you fucking care.” She said walking away. Butcher looked at Ben “Stubborn, like her father.” he said patting Butcher's shoulder before following Sarah up the stairs. “Father?” Frenchie asked. Billy’s face said enough, “Sarah is mademoiselle Charcutier? No! That is not possible.” - “It is.” Was all Butcher replied.

Later that night, Kimiko wanted to watch singing in the rain. To everyone’s surprise, Ben didn’t complain. All four watched the movie. Until Sarah heard her phone ring in the kitchen. She got up to see who the caller was. It was her boss back in the UK. He had been calling to see if she was still alive and or working the case. She didn’t noticed Ben got up until she felt the warmth of his body behind her.

“How long?” He asked placing his hands on her hips. She felt the heat rising in her body. “How long what?” She asked. “How long are you going to keep teasing me woman.” She felt his lips brush over her shoulder.

Frenchie looked over at the kitchen seeing Ben covering Sarah’s body. But she didn’t seem to mind it as he watched her head fall back against his shoulder, her hand moving back, fingers tugging Soldier Boys hair.

“Am I teasing you? I had no idea.” She flirted. “Tell me Ben, if you feel like I tease you too much, why didn’t you ever make move.” - “Your fucking friends are cock blockers.” he growls, while he softly bit the flesh in your neck with his teeth. His hands moved up to her breast, kneading them over her shirt. “I don’t know how long I can wait before I rip your clothes off and take you right in front of everyone.” Sarah turned around facing Ben. “Is that a promise?”

Ben looked shocked at her comeback, but his surprise turned into lust really quick. Lifting her on the kitchen table, kissing her like a hungry man.

Sarah looked over his shoulder, Kimiko and Frenchy were still focussed on the tv. Ben’s lips were on her neck again. She pushed him back, he looked confused. Sarah slipped past Ben walking back to the couch. She saw Frenchie looking up at her, she answered him with a wink before sitting down.

Later that night she heard a soft knock, Sarah expected Ben, knowing him, he didn’t want to give up just yet. But to her surprise she saw Kimiko on the other end. “Hi.” She let her in.

Kimiko heard what happened and wanted to know more about her family and Butcher. So, she told her everything, how she was raised by her single mom, that she lost her at 15 due to cancer. After wandering around for months a group of private contracters had found her and trained her. She owns them everything.

The man who took her is was now the boss, Sarah even told her that she was ditching his calls because for some reason she wanted to get to know Butcher. God forbit she would ever say that to him. “Soldier boy?” she typed. ”What about him?” - “You like him?” -”Yeah, well we get along, I guess where friends of some sort.” - “ He looks at you like he wants to be more than friends.” - “Oh no, he is like that with ever woman.” Sarah answered feeling her cheeks blush. -” Not with Annie or me. Frenchie says so too! He saw you two in the kitchen...” - “I don’t know. He... does something to me, I feel like I can’t thrust myself around him.” she confessed.

Kimiko enjoyed the girl talk she had with Sarah, and so did she. “Talk soon?” Sarah asked while letting Kimiko out the door, she smiled and nodded quick. Sarah looked at the clock 2am. Damn, time to hit the sack. She thought changing into her pyjama, well actually a tank top and panties.

Sarah heard a knock “Forget something Kimi?”She asked opening the door.

Ben looked down at her, “Hi.” was all he said. “Ben... What are you...” He didn’t let her finish. “ I heard you talk to...” he pointed his thumb behind at him, trying to remember her name. But when he looked down at her, he could see she wasn’t wearing much. Making him forget all he wanted to say. “Yes?” Sarah asked trying to bring him back, but instead he walked in. “Fuck this.” He crashed his lips on to hers, pulling her body to his with one hand under her shirt and the other covering her ass.

Sarah felt like she had to fight this, but the more she felt his lips on her the more she felt addicted. Uncontuesly she moved her hands over his chest, over his shoulders, pulling him closer to her body. Ben found the back of her legs lifting her up, carrying her to her bed, laying her down undernead him. He looked at her for a second.”Fuck you’re beautiful, can’t believe that cavemen is your father.” - “Can we please not talk about him now?” She kissed and bit his neck.

Ben’s hands moved under her shirt, lifting it over her head. Fingers teasing her nipples while his mouth was sucking and kissing the flesh of her breasts. She couldn’t help but to moan at his touch. Ben felt her hand moving to his head, pushing him down to her panties. He grinned “So bossy” while kissing her hip. “You like it.” she teased back.”I saw it in your eyes when I kicked your ass.” Ben didn’t answer with words, but he did with his tongue against her slit. “Fuck.... Ben!” Sarah moaned tugging at the sheets beside her.

Ben heard her breath getting faster, her body arching for more friction. He place one hand over her hips while the other pushed his fingers inside her. "Fuck sweetheart, I wanted to taste you the minute I laid my eye on you.” He said between sucking at her clit and licking. Sarah felt the coil in her stomach grow. “Oh Ben... don’t stop!” She whimpered. After her high she looked at Ben while he wiped his mouth with the back of his hands.

Sarah wrapped her legs around him, turning him on his back. Her mouth on his, her tongue touching his, tasting herself. Grinding on his coverd cock a few times before lifting herself taking her hand down between their bodies. Ben moaned in her mouth when her hand got down to push down his trainers a little to stroke him. Ben grabbed her hair in his hand when she moved herself down.

Sarah tugged Ben’s pants further down, taking it all the way off together with his underwear. Placing herself on her knees between his legs. She hears him chuckle. “What?” she asked. “Looks like I have you on your knees afterall.” Sarah smacked his thigh but smiled at the same time, Ben could see the lust in her eyes when she kissed and stroke his thighs, hips, ... everywhere exept where he wanted her te most. “Stop teasing princess.” He groaned.

“So needy” she teased sitting back up, Ben looked confused. “Really?” She climbed on top of him smiling. “Your big mouth will get you in trouble, handsome.” She grinded against him while she whispered in his ear. “Had you just kept it shut, I might have sucked you so hard, so long till you came in my mouth.” Ben gripped on her thighs she knew it would leave marks, but she didn’t mind. “Oh, so she likes control?” - “You have no idea.” She said, holding his cock steady for her to sink down on.

Sarah’s head fall back, sitting straight on his lap, Ben saw her face when he filled her up. “Fuck.” was all he could moan. Her hands hold her steady on his chest while she rode him. His hands over her breasts to her neck before he sat up kissing her shoulders, neck, breasts...

Ben pushed her over, her head towards the foot end of the bed. Wrapping her knees over his hips, while he took her wrist in his hands and pulled them over her head. Sarah felt his thrusts getting harder and faster. His cock pushing against that one spot inside her that made her scream his name. “Fuck... Ben! Harder... fuck me harder ... please.” - “Say it again.”

“Fuck... Me... Harder.” she begged out of breath. Ben placed his hands over her throat not entirely kneading but holding her in place, while thrusting harder in her. “I’m going to ruin you for any other man you will ever fuck.” He whispered in her ear.” - “I don’t want anyone else.... fuck... Ben, I only want you.” She managed to say between breaths while she came on his cock, her orgasm never felt this good before. Not long after Ben came too.

Fuck Sarah though staring at the ceiling after coming down from her high. “Maybe a little late, but please tell me you’re on birth control?” Ben said looking over at her. “Heh? Eh yeah, I am.” she answered not mentioning she forgot to take it a couple of nights in a row. “I’m going to the bathroom real quick.” She said jumping up putting on a pair of shorts and her top leaving Ben in her bed.

Sarah ran to the kitchen, starting to throw out everything in her purse trying to find those damn pills, she got nervous. “Looking for something?” She heard Butcher getting in by the back door, putting the lights on. “You’re up late. Need a hand?” - “No, no, I got it.” She said relieved. Taking the pill with a glass of water. “What are you doing here?” She looked at the man. “I couldn't sleep found myself walking here.” He looked at the packaging “Good you take those.” Sarah huffed “Yeah, would not what to put unwanted children on this earth now would we.” She said walking past Butcher. “Sarah...” - “Goodnight.” She quickly said before she had to hear him apologise again.

Ben was still in her bed. “That took long enough.” She crawled in the bed next to him, kissing his lips without saying a word. But he could see she was upset, she hugged him, his steady heartbeat made her fall asleep quickly.

The next morning, she woke up to the sound of clashing pots and pans in the kitchen. When she wanted to move, she could feel Ben’s arm still wrapped around her, spooning. Sarah had moved during the night, but Ben still seemed to hold on to her.

His heavy breathing came to an abrupt stop. “Goodmorning” she said smiling at him softy. “Hmm.” was all he said snuggling closer to the spot between her neck and shoulder. “God, you smell amazing.” he said still sounding sleepy. “We need to get up.” - “Do we?” he asked with a hint of mischief in his voice. Sarah could feel his hand move down, tugging her shorts aside. “I think we still have some unfinished business.”

Sarah felt his dick pushing against her while his hand was making sure she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Without much though she started to copy his behaviour teasing and playing with him. When their breaths got heavier, he moved her shorts down lifting her leg up a little so he could take without moving too much. One hand on her hip while the other held her close to him, wrapped around her breast holding her body close to his.

Ben took her hand and placed it in between her hips, holding his hand over hers. “You feel that?” he moaned “That is where I belong. Deep inside you.” Sarah kissed his lips in return. “Fuck Ben, promise me you’ll fuck me every night.” - “And every morning.” he said kissing the spot behind her ear. “I’m going to fuck you until you’re pregnant.” Shit that didn’t supposed to sound so hot. She though.

After their morning “work out” they both entered the kitchen, seeing literary everyone sitting or standing there. They all stared at the two of them. Kimiko smiled at Sarah, already knowing what had happened. Since she saw Ben sneaking to her room after she left.

“Mornin” she said in unison with Butcher. Ben couldn’t help but to laugh, he couldn’t believe still not everyone saw the resemblance.

*A couple of weeks later*

Today was the day they wanted to take down Homelander. Everyone was preparing but Sarah felt ill, walking to the bathroom she couldn’t help but to overhear a conversation between MM and Frenchie about some gas that could take down Ben. But she decided not to tell him, so he could focus on Homelander. Over these past few weeks they became closer. He shared how he felt about Homelander being his son. “If they just told me. I would have given my seat up.” He had told her somewhere between their passionate nights and open conversations afterwards.

Things got heavy at the Vought tower. Ben tried to hurt Homelander by saying the few words his father ever said to him. ”Being a fucking disappointment.” He tried to turn the conversation to Butcher and Sarah. “So, this is Sarah. Well, sweetheart wish I could say you look like you mother.” - “Fuck you.” - “How are you feeling? Not to nauseous I hope?” He grinned. Sarah looked confused at him, but when he looked at her stomach and back up at her, she realised she was late.

“Congratulations Butcher. Or should I say grandad.” Sarah felt Butchers eyes on her, but all she could do was stare at Homelander, unbelievable she had to find out like this. When Meave placed her hand on her shoulder, she snapped out of the shock, looking between Butcher and Ben. Butcher followed her eyes to Ben. Ben already attacked Homelander, but Ryan defended his father.

When Ben tried to get Ryan and Homelander out of his way Butcher blasted him a crossed the room.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Ben said getting up.

“Not the kid.”

“Oh, I thought you said blood didn’t matter. Thought that was the whole fucking point”

“He’s my wife’s son.” Ben looked shocked, seeing Sarah’s eyes grow big. “What!?”

“You leave the mother of your child, YOUR CHILD but you will defend this kid? WHY?” Sarah yelled hitting Butcher in the chest. Homelander heard everything that she said before Maeve hit him. Ben stopped you “Go find the others. I’ll take care of this.” - “I can help.” - “No, I need you to be save.” He said while he kissed the temple of her head. “Go, I got this.” Butcher looked at them realising what was going on.

Sarah ran through the entire building finding Hughie at the control room. She looked at the monitor how everyone attacked Ben. “How, wait why is he the villain in all this?” Sarah saw how Annie reloaded, she ran as fast as she could back to them, she saw how MM held the gas over Ben’s mouth. Ben’s chest was glowing. “I’m not... going back in that... fucking box!”

“MM stop! STOP he will kill everyone!” She felt Maeve running past her. Ben looked at her when she pushed him through the window. Sarah ran after them. “NO!” She fell to her knees, covering her eyes when Ben’s radiation exploded. She looked over her shoulder, everyone was shocked. Butcher laying there on the floor covered in blood.

*After the fight*

Sarah and Butcher were brought to the same hospital. The doctor confirmed her pregnancy. Butcher got a warning never use temp V again or it would get him killed. The drive home was quiet. Once home he spoke to her.

“Sarah, can we talk?”

“It’s late Butcher, I really want to go to bed.”

“It’s important.”

“Fine.” She sighs, taking a seat at the kitchen table copying him.

“I really don’t know where to start but, I never wanted to leave you, luv.” He looked at her with sincere eyes. “I sent you postcards for your birthday, and Christmas and wrote letters, hoping your mother would tell me about you.” Billy saw the tears forming in her eyes. “I didn’t want to be the monster my father was. Didn’t mean I didn’t want to know you...” He paused a second “I want to get to know you and be there for your baby.”

Sarah got up with tears in her eyes “Well thank you for sharing that. Goodnight Butcher.”

She got to her room, falling on to her bed, tears started to fall. After some time she heard her phone buzz. Number unknown.

She picked up “Hello?”

“Sarah? It’s me.”

“Homelander” she recognised his voice.

“We need to talk...”

-----

Part 2 soon : Homelander contacted Sarah, trying to form a front against Butcher, promising her, her child will be save. "Family comes first" He said.

-----

I hope you guys like it! I have a idea for part 2 BUT, Love to hear what you think should happen!

Definitely check out my masterlist!

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kcrossvine-art · 2 years

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Hewwo! baps your face off! TODAY from the big book of Redwall cookin’, we have my fuckin favorite recipe thus far; Rosey's Jolly Raspberry Jelly Rock Cakes- The one that I've actually had ready to go for a few weeks now but I kept eating it too fast to take notes. Buckle into your buggies, hotshots.

(You can find the original recipe at the bottom if you’d like to follow along, and i plead you do)-

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to a Jolly Raspberry Jelly Rock Cake?” YOU MIGHT ASK

All-purpose flour

Baking powder

Salt

Unsalted butter

Sugar

Eggs

Raspberry jam or jelly

Went to read this recipe and upon realizing i had every ingredient- from start to finish it took about an hour and half from deciding to make it to being able to eat it!

AND, “what does Jolly Raspberry Jelly Rock Cake taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASK

Excellence. Pure comfort. Food that heals bones and hearts. Food that laces up scars. Food you make for your lover in bed on a cold rainy day.

Not quite fluffy, but very soft, smooth center

Crumbly, again soft, outer

Tart raspberry jam is the crown jewel of the piece. Mwah. God.

Rich and refreshing

The sprinkled sugar comes out not overbearingly sweet

Do try to eat/serve these warm, they keep well, but the jam will start to absorb into the pastry

Most jam or fruit filling works here, as long as it has some tartness, the world is your oyster. Grab your oyster fork. Feel weird about having an oyster fork.

Like a molten lava cakes baby cousin-

. Used fine granulated sugar

. Used salted butter (and only a pinch of salt instead of tsp.)

. Used raspberry jam

. Served with goat cheese caramel lightly drizzled

. Bumping the cook time up from 15 to 17 minutes let the edges brown a bit more which I recommend I think in the future I would like to also try pairing this with slices of strawberry, or perhaps fresh raspberries placed on top? Its hard to spitball pairing ideas because Most Things would pair fair!!

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Gentlethems of the Jury, we here at crossy wossys kitschy kitchy, welcome our very first 10/10

I so dearly need to communicate that I've had this art made for a good week now, I first baked this almost 2 weeks ago, and am just now getting around to writing the actual review. I like to have the food in my mouth to write about the flavor/mouthfeels section. And I kept eating them too fast to take notes. I've used almost a whole bag of sugar making these on repeat and my teeth surely hate me but the heavens sneer enviously.

These fellas don't seem rather persnickety- I think one would have to actively try to mess up the recipe in a way where its no longer delicious. These are essentially scones with more variety in textures and flavors! The aforementioned latest batch was made at 4am halfmindedly with multiple perceived mistakes, and the only difference from the first carefully attended-to batch was that they were slightly less pretty to look at, both being absolutely mouthwatering.

The low fussy-ness, low spoons (for me!), and delicious outcome that can pair with many drinks, makes this a flawless pastry in my eyes. a proud 10/10, with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

1 and 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, plus additional for rolling the dough

1 and 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

6 tablespoons unsalted butter or margarine, chilled and cubed, plus additional for the baking sheet

1/2 cup sugar, plus additional for sprinkling

2 eggs, lightly beaten

Raspberry jam or jelly

Method:

Preheat the oven to 400° F and grease a baking sheet.

In a mixing bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder and salt. Add the butter and rub it into the flour with your fingers (alternately, pulse the dry ingredients and butter in a food processor) until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Stir in the sugar. Make a well in the centre, add the eggs and mix well to form a stiff dough.

Turn the dough out onto a floured board and form it into a roll. Cut the dough into ten pieces, shape them into balls and place them well apart on the baking sheet.

Use your thumb to make a hole in the centre of each and fill the hole with jam or jelly.

Pinch the dough closed over the jam, sprinkle the rock cakes with a little sugar and bake them until golden brown, about 1 5 minutes.

Cool the cakes on a wire rack and eat them while fresh, preferably on the same day.

#redwall #cooking recipe #food #cross cooks redwall #digital art

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alwaysbethewest · 8 months

Text

Triple Frontier fic: Put Yourself in My Place

It's a fishben body swap fic 🤷‍♀️ This is for the @pedrostories 1000 follower celebration 🥳 I was browsing the prompts last week and felt a little overwhelmed by how many great options there were, but when I saw body swap listed in the tropes I knew that was what I had to choose. I also worked in two of the dialogue prompts but I don't want to spoil which ones.

Title: Put Yourself in My Place Pairing: Frankie Morales/Benny Miller Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3.1k Content/warnings: Friends to lovers, body swap, big dick Frankie, oral sex, anal sex (the sex is while body swapped, just to be clear), mysterious magical objects, Pope gets threatened with bodily harm, brief cameos by Frankie's ex-wife and daughter, food, just absolute nonsense. Unbetaed (please let me know if you spot any typos!) I had a lot of fun writing this, lol, so I hope it will be a fun read.

The phone buzzing on the nightstand awakens Frankie. Groggily, he grabs it and checks the caller ID.

It’s a glitch. His own image fills the screen, an old picture of him with the baby sitting on his shoulders, matching sunglasses and baseball caps atop their heads. She’s grabbing his hat, twisting the brim so it’s nearly covering one eye, and he’s trying to keep a straight face for the camera as Benny gets the shot.

In his half-asleep state he’s so distracted by the picture that the call times out, only to start up again vibrating in his hand. This time he notices the caller’s name: 🐠Fish👨🏻‍🦱. Someone’s fucking with him.

He hits answer.

“Very funny,” he mumbles into the phone. His voice sounds strange in his own ears and he clears his throat.

“Dude,” the caller says, urgent. The voice is familiar but he can’t place it. “This is fucked. Up.”

“Who is this?” Frankie asks. He still sounds off and he’s got a bad feeling brewing down in his gut, well-honed instincts starting to scream for attention as he blinks fully awake. Something isn’t right.

The walls are the wrong color. Sunlight is filtering in from the right instead of the left. There’s a poster of Georges St-Pierre hanging nearby.

He’s in Benny’s room. In his bed.

Had he blacked out last night? He could swear he’d gone to bed in his own house.

“Dude,” the man on the phone says again. The voice almost sounds like— “It’s me.”

—himself.

Frankie closes his eyes. He’s starting to feel a little lightheaded.

“I don’t understand.”

“Francisco,” the voice says, “Go look in the mirror.”

Dumbly, Frankie stands and steps in front of the full-length mirror mounted on the wall by the closet. He looks at his reflection—and finds Benny’s shocked blue eyes staring back at him.

“I’m you,” Benny tells him, in Frankie’s own voice. “And you’re me.”

“What the fuck,” Frankie breathes. There’s a moment of silence between them as he tries to absorb the vision of himself standing here in someone else’s body.

“You know whose fault this is,” Benny starts.

Frankie blinks, curling Ben’s long fingers into a fist. He thinks about it, just for a second.

“Pope,” he says. There’s a sigh on the other end of the line.

“Fucking Pope,” Benny agrees.

Benny-in-Frankie’s-body drives Frankie’s car over to his own apartment, where Frankie has the bizarre experience of opening the door to find himself standing in front of him. After a brief discussion in which Benny insists he probably could fly a helicopter, no problem, Frankie puts his foot down and hovers over his shoulder as Benny calls him in sick to work.

Then they get Santiago on a video call. He’s sitting at his kitchen table and he answers them casually through a crunchy bite of cereal. “Hey, fellas. What’s happening?”

“You’re an asshole,” Benny tells him flatly. Pope raises an eyebrow and takes another bite of cornflakes, waiting for elaboration.

“I told you there was something hinky about that shit you had us moving yesterday,” Frankie says, “and you swore up and down everything was fine.”

Pope tilts his head, confused. “I thought it was just Fish who was complaining about it. You didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly,” they say in unison.

“It was Fish,” Benny says.

“Me,” Frankie continues, pointing to himself. He gestures between them. “We woke up… like this.”

“I think I’m missing something, boys,” Pope says. He sets down his spoon and picks up a mug from the table.

“We fucking swapped bodies,” Benny exclaims, and the whole thing is almost—almost—worth it to watch Santiago choke and splutter on his mouthful of coffee.

“Okay,” he says, still coughing but mostly recovered. His eyes shift uneasily. “Okay, uh. Okay. I need to make a phone call. Do you… do you remember anything you… touched?”

They’re both silent for a beat, staring at him like he’s stupid.

“We touched everything,” Frankie says finally. “That’s the point of moving shit from point A to point B.”

“Right. Okay. Right.” Pope lets out a nervous laugh. “It’s probably—I’m sure this is going to be fine. I need to call—” and he’s hung up before he can even finish the sentence.

Fucking Pope.

“Do you wanna have sex with me?” Benny asks.

They’re still at his place. Pope had texted a little while after their phone call, Looking into it. Sit tight. Maybe an hour, and then, like a coward, left them on read when they’d replied with more questions. Frankie has been spending the time rifling through Ben’s kitchen—his metabolism is higher in this body and once he’d gotten past the initial shock of their situation he’d been hit with the kind of hunger he hasn’t felt since his active service days. Benny has spent most of the time looking at his own reflection, poking and prodding at his face and fussing with the texture of his hair.

(“What if I shave my head while I’m you?” he’d mused earlier.

“What if I rob a bank while I’m you?” Frankie had countered.)

Now, Frankie stares at him over his bowl of oatmeal. “I don’t think I heard you right,” he says.

Benny stretches a leg out to hook under the crossbar of the chair across from his, looking annoyed when he doesn’t quite make the distance. “I’m not short,” Frankie says preemptively, for the third time this morning. Benny pulls a face.

“No but—haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like to sleep with yourself?” he asks earnestly.

Frankie looks at him—at his own face, the full curve of his bottom lip and the broad stretch of his shoulders under the old t-shirt Benny had put on—and he does start to wonder. He clears his throat, shifting his weight.

“I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Well. I’m just saying. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

“Unless we’re stuck like this forever,” Frankie says, and Benny gives him a look that says that’s not helping.

“Maybe if we come at the exact same time it’ll switch us back,” he suggests.

“Benjamin. What??”

Benny shrugs, but he’s laughing, too. “If I was an ancient evil wizard cursing an amulet that’s how I’d configure it. Just to fuck with people.”

Frankie shakes his head at the absurdity of this entire day, and the last two minutes in particular.

But—

“Amulet?”

Benny’s eyes shift.

“I just thought—remember? We touched it at the same time when I was showing you the design. And it had that inscription we couldn’t make out.”

“Jesus,” Frankie says. “Yeah. You didn’t want to mention this earlier?”

Benny shrugs. “I didn’t think of it until just now.”

Frankie unlocks Benny’s phone with facial recognition and texts Pope again. We think maybe it was an amulet?????? Blue stone w strange writing around edge. Tarnished chain.

Together, they stare at the screen for a minute until Pope sends back a thumbs up reaction.

“I swear to god,” Frankie says, “If he doesn’t get us switched back I’m never speaking to him again.”

Benny nods distractedly and drums his fingers on the table. It’s as if the movement catches his own attention, because he looks down and rubs his thumb over the bullseye tattoo on his hand.

“So do you want to?” he asks. Frankie cocks his head and Benny offers up a vague, filthy gesture by way of explanation.

“You want to blow me?” Frankie interprets. He’s still not sure if Ben is serious or just fucking around. But his response is an enthusiastic nod, warm brown eyes widening earnestly, and Frankie feels a hit of arousal course through him.

He hesitates. “Wouldn’t it be kind of… narcissistic?”

“So what? When has a little narcissism ever hurt anyone?”

Frankie laughs out loud. “Well—for one, there was Narcissus.”

Benny is already sinking to his knees.

“Wait,” Frankie says. “Don’t do that.”

He hesitates, looking chastened.

“You’re gonna fuck up my knees,” he tells him.

“Old man,” Benny grumbles, but he carefully gets to his feet and heads down the hallway towards his bedroom.

And Frankie gives in and follows.

Benny takes a long time getting acquainted with his dick before he ever gets it in his mouth. He’s touching it lightly, moving it around, inspecting it from every angle. He runs his fingertips down the length, making Frankie tense up and shiver.

“It looks different from down here,” he observes. “Never realized that vein looked like that.”

When he finally does it—

Well.

It’s surreal watching his own mouth close around the head of his cock—like watching a porno of himself. He’s holding his breath, and it comes out shaky when Benny works his tongue over the tip.

Benny’s gaze flicks up to meet his and they lock eyes. Frankie lets out a breathless, nervous laugh and it sets Benny off laughing too, a shared moment of euphoric insanity, but then he surges down onto the length of Frankie’s cock again and Frankie’s no longer laughing.

He’s called Ben a cocksucker before—a crude, boys will be boys insult among friends, and Benny’s called him worse things in return with no hurt feelings between them. Now that it’s come true, he’s surprised to find Benny’s not half bad at this. At least, not while equipped with Frankie’s mouth. He can’t help but wonder if they might do this again so he can compare, if they switch back.

When. Not if. Under the haze of arousal that’s overtaken him, there’s still a knot of anxiety sitting in the bottom of his stomach, distracting him.

Ben presses a knuckle behind his balls, nudging into the space there and using his other hand to push Frankie’s legs open like he wants to reach back further. Frankie hesitates, shifting away, and Benny looks up at him.

“Uh—that doesn’t really do anything for me,” Frankie explains.

“What d’you mean?”

“Like…” He wiggles his forefinger. “Anything with my ass. My ex tried to finger me one time because she said it was going to be the best orgasm of my life and it just—felt like a visit to the proctologist.”

Benny is silent, looking at him thoughtfully from between his legs. Frankie’s cock is starting to feel neglected.

“What if… since you’re in my body, it feels different this time? Can I try?”

Frankie shrugs his assent.

It turns out that, kind of like the active metabolism thing, the nerve endings in Ben’s body are sensitive in a way Frankie’s not used to.

“I’m so—fucking jealous of you,” he gasps, when Benny has two thick fingers buried deep inside him. “I never knew it could feel like this.”

“I knew you’d like it,” Benny says smugly, a little muffled with his mouth hot against Frankie’s balls. “Do you wanna find out what your dick feels like?”

With Benny’s fingers inside him and his face between his legs, Frankie feels tingly all over, almost dizzy from it so that it takes him a moment to answer the question.

“I—yeah, kind of. That’s weird, right? This is weird.”

“Super fucking weird,” Benny agrees with a laugh. It’s funny to see his smile lighting up Frankie’s face. He wonders at it, while Benny’s focused on grabbing the lube stashed by his bed, trying to work out which parts of his face are his and what is Benny shining through. Transforming him into someone altogether new.

“Oh shit, that’s big,” Frankie gasps when Ben pushes into him, clutching hard onto his forearm.

Benny laughs silently. “How many girls have you heard that from before?”

“I always thought they were—stroking my ego,” Frankie says, breathing out a laugh. Benny grins, cheek dimpling.

“Try to relax,” he says. “I’ll go slow. Tell me if you want to stop.”

They’re not making love—that would be beyond the level of super fucking weird they’re already at—but it’s what Frankie would call this if they were a couple. Benny fucks him slow and careful and full and distracts him by leaning in for a kiss. It’s totally surreal, and somehow oddly comfortable at the same time, kissing his own mouth. Realizing he’s tasting Benny on his lips and deepening the kiss without even thinking about it. Feeling the anxious tension in his gut dissolving into something hot and dangerous, pleasure like the high of a drug.

“Don’t stop,” he whispers, and Benny makes a low noise in his throat and hides his face against his neck, tickling Frankie’s skin with the brush of his mustache. He closes his eyes and gives himself over to the waves of euphoria, and in the end, improbably, they do come together at the exact same time.

It doesn’t change them back.

Frankie’s phone lights up with a text. They both scramble to look, hoping to see Santiago’s name on the screen, but it’s from Laura, Frankie’s ex-wife.

Stuck at work, she’s written, adding a dismayed emoji. Any chance you’re able to do the preschool pickup and watch M for an hour or two? I can get her from your place.

“You’ll have to come with me,” he tells Benny. “They don’t hand over the kids to any random guy that shows up.”

His daughter grins when she sees them, but she falters as she draws closer, looking between the two of them skeptically like she can tell something is up.

“Hey, Minneola,” Benny greets her. She wrinkles her nose at the nickname and gravitates towards Frankie, who picks her up. There’s not even a twinge in his lower back, he realizes. He might be happy stuck in this body after all.

“You have a good day, baby?” he asks her. She rides comfortably in his arm, talking his ear off about the butterfly-themed craft her teacher had led the class in, and Benny saunters along beside them as they make their way back out to the car.

Whatever intuition his kid has that the man who looks like her daddy isn’t actually him today, her mother does not share. Laura barely spares him a glance when she swings by the house, a little flustered at the late hour as she collects her daughter and grills Benny on what he’s given her for her afternoon snack.

“Thanks again,” she tells him, leaning in to peck him on the lips, and she’s out the door again before she can notice the dazed expression on Benny’s face.

“I can’t believe I got lucky with two Moraleses in one day,” he says, when she’s gone. Frankie smacks him upside the head and then tousles his hair back into place, with a little more affection than he’d like to admit.

They’ve demolished an extra-large pizza and googled “body swap,” “body swap magic,” “body swap real,” “body swap historical,” and, in an act of desperation, “freaky friday real life,” to no avail when Pope finally—finally—calls them back.

“So my guy looked into it—” he starts.

“What do you mean, your guy?” Benny asks.

“My occult guy,” Pope says, as if that’s a thing. “The guy who owns the amulet you touched.” Frankie swears under his breath but Pope continues on as before. “So, it took him a while to track down the information about that exact artifact, but he found it and it’s good news.”

The ball of anxiety that has been twisting itself up in Frankie’s system all afternoon as the hours had passed very slowly begins to unwind.

“It’s like a 24-hour bug,” Pope continues brightly. “You’ll just switch back again by tomorrow. No harm, no foul.”

Benny and Frankie exchange a look that makes it clear they both still fully intend to exact revenge on Pope for putting them in this position to begin with.

“Between you and me,” he continues, oblivious, “this guy is a little out there—”

“No shit,” Benny says dryly.

“—he kept saying something about a ‘soul bond’ that I didn’t totally understand, but the final word was, like I said, everything will be back to normal.”

Soul bond is a heavy phrase to hear mere hours after having what was supposed to be very casual, platonic sex with a friend while he just so happened to be inhabiting your own body. Frankie feels Ben’s eyes on him and busies himself by gathering the mess of pizza-stained paper napkins on his coffee table into a single, scrunched up pile.

“Thanks, Pope,” Benny says after a moment. “If your guy is wrong, just so you know, we’re gonna kill you.”

“10-4,” Pope says, and makes quick work of hanging up the phone.

“Maybe I should sleep here tonight?” Benny suggests. “So we know it works. Like. In case there’s a… proximity thing,” he finishes lamely.

“Yeah,” Frankie says. “That makes sense.” It doesn’t, really, since they were in their own houses for the first switch, but he feels antsy with anticipation and, if he’s honest, he doesn’t really want to be alone right now. He thinks Benny doesn’t either.

The sun is barely risen when he wakes up, just dim light starting to break through around the edges of his blinds. His heart is racing, like the adrenaline rush when your body jerks awake from falling in a dream. There’s a dull ache in his lower back and a familiar curve to his nose when he lifts a hand to grope at his face. Next to him, Benny is back in his own body too, one long leg draped heavy over Frankie’s. He looks younger, asleep like this—deceptively innocent, Frankie thinks wryly.

Benny’s eyes flutter slowly open and Frankie can’t quite look away. They stare at each other for a long moment and Benny gives him a small smile.

“Well that’s a relief,” he murmurs, voice all early morning deep. “I was starting to miss your face.”

“Yeah,” Frankie says. “Me too.”

Benny’s smile widens and he rolls closer in the bed, face tucked next to Frankie’s shoulder and the whole length of his body pressed up against his side.

So just like that, just like Pope’s guy had said, they’re totally, completely, thoroughly, unquestionably, and entirely—back to normal. Not a soul bond in sight.

Benny’s hand finds its way onto Frankie’s thigh.

“I’m glad we switched back,” he rumbles sleepily. His breath is warm on Frankie’s skin, mouth nearly touching him. “But it was kind of cool, I guess, getting to be you. Anyway—now the next time someone tells me to go fuck myself I can say, I’ve been there, done that.”

“Jesus Christ,” Frankie groans, appalled at the bad joke. Benny laughs, setting his teeth into Frankie’s flesh when he tries to smother him with a pillow, and Frankie finds he likes that a little too much, so maybe—it’s a slightly new and improved normal, after all.

(mini taglist of a few fishben appreciators: @loversandantiheroes @littledozerdraws @littleferal @thirstworldproblemss @green-socks)

#triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal #frankie morales #benny miller #fishben #frankie morales x benny miller #triple frontier #pedrostories1k #my fic #fanfiction

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