#horseshoe moustache

[numnum-num]

Glenn Hughes from the Village People in "Can't stop the Music" (1980)

[octuscle]

A matter of honor

After splitting up with his girlfriend, Angus' financial situation became increasingly precarious. The hotel he had moved into when he was kicked out of the apartment they shared was far too expensive for his means. And after a short time, he realized that his standard of living did not match his income, but hers. Every use of a credit card was a gamble. And Angus was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his cool.

He realized that the situation was critical when he went to his fashionable gym after a short and not very lucrative day at work. His membership card wasn't working. So he went to the counter to ask why. And his jaw dropped: Nicolas, who worked at the front desk, was usually the epitome of a crossfitter. A handsome young man, well-built, well-groomed, a feast for the eyes! But the fellow who was now standing opposite Angus was, firstly, almost a head taller and at least twice as heavy as Angus. A beefcake! His right arm was inked all over with the kind of images you'd expect to see on a hooligan. A greasy mullet on his head and a horseshoe moustache on his face. And a huge cock that was squeezed into his tight trousers.

"Hi Angus, are you having any problems?" asked Nicolas. "I don't know, Nicolas" replied Angus, "you tell me!" "Name's Nick, let me have a look". Nick explained to Angus that the last two contributions could not be debited. And that letters to his address had been returned as undeliverable. No wonder, Angus had of course given his girlfriend's address. Angus took a deep breath and explained his problem to Nick. It felt good to finally tell the truth. Somehow he felt like he could tell his fellow anything. "Angus, my buddy, I think I have a solution," Nick said and pulled out his cell phone. "I'm easily making a thousand pounds a day with this app here at the moment. Sometimes even 2,000 if things are going well. He looked at Angus almost lustfully, grabbed his crotch and said that he could easily make just as much money.

"Hell," Angus thought to himself. As long as my cell phone isn't blocked, I'll give it a try. Nick let Angus into the gym and Angus installed the app. If he understood correctly, this was basically something like OnlyFans. People paid for voyeurism. He could only hope that none of his friends joined in. Angus took a deep breath, put on his most dazzling smile and posted the selfie with the caption "Guys, I'm new here. Looking forward to interacting with you!"

Angus had just finished warming up when he received his first message. "Would love to see you with a nipple piercing. Offer 20 pounds." Angus wondered what he should do now. He could select "Accept", "Decline" or "Counter-proposal". He pressed "Accept" once. The account balance display jumped to 20 pounds. Apart from that, he didn't notice anything. Very strange, he thought as he played with his right nipple, lost in thought. Maybe it would be a good idea to pierce the other one at some point. When he was financially liquid again. The feeling of the piercing was simply hot!

Angus had almost finished training when he got the next message. "What do you think about a new job? Offer you 100 pounds." This was getting stranger and stranger. He pressed "counter-proposal" and jokingly entered 5,000 pounds. What could happen? The display read "Crowdfunding active" and the account balance rose slowly but steadily. Angus finished his training, posted a quick selfie with a sweaty torso and went to take a shower. Back at his locker, he glanced at his cell phone. The account balance was 4,975.89 pounds. And then it jumped to 5,020.00 pounds. Nick had been right, it was a piece of cake. He got into his not-so-clean overalls, put on his work boots, grabbed the toolbox and set off. He had the late shift at the emergency plumbing service today, he had to hurry. He said goodbye to Nick with a fist bump. He liked the fellow. The bald head and the full beard looked great on the guy. Okay, at just 5'6" he looked a bit like a garden gnome. But at least he looked like a damn muscular one.

Angus' boss didn't like it when he played with his personal cell phone during work. So he could only read through the new messages after he had finished work at around 10 pm. There were a lot of offers. Some were strange at best, really sick or perverted at worst. He couldn't even put up that much money as a counteroffer that he would agree to a one-inch cock or six fingers per hand. With others, he didn't have to think twice. Someone had offered him a new apartment for 500 pounds, for example. Another had offered to adjust Angus' hairstyle. For 200 fucking pounds. Angus really had to grin. As he sat around the corner of his basement apartment in his favorite pub, drinking an after-work beer, he scratched his bald head. He still didn't understand what this app was for and what it did… But he already had almost 7,000.00 pounds in his account.

It had been a tough day. Angus was tired. He was glad to be in bed. The last message he accepted before falling asleep was the offer that he was now called Liam. For 50.00 pounds, after all.

Liam knew what he owed his fans. Still lying in bed, he posted a selfie with the caption "Out of bed, off to the gym. And then back to cleaning clogged pipes".

While sitting on the loo, Liam accepted a few more tattoos and a septum piercing. It brought him almost another 400 pounds. But if he wanted the muscles to burn, he had to hurry now.

Nick greeted Liam and told him what work still needed to be done in the men's shower. By taking on these small janitorial tasks, Liam saved himself the horrendous club fees. He could only hope that he had understood Nick correctly. The ascetic Indian's accent was really hard to understand.

"300 pounds if you become a weightlifter". Accepted. "50 pounds if you work out in a basement gym in a backyard in Newham" Accepted. Bloody hell, he was here to work out, not to chat. Liam simply accepted a series of requests without thinking. He hadn't fucked an ass for over ten hours now. And his shift as a sewer worker was about to start. He had to let off some pressure first. One of the fellows working out with him had been watching him the whole time. Liam stood up in front of him.

"Ever sucked a proper ma'e's cock?" Liam asked with his booming bass in his deepest cockney accent. The young man immediately and willingly got down on his knees. Yes, Liam had a mountain of debts to work off. But a man's got to do what a man's got to do.

Pics found @hellishin and @sarge555

[punkeroo]

Forgot to post this. Murderface with a horseshoe moustache was something I needed ALSOO gave him my piercings coz we are one

[underestimated-heroine]

Joe-say Porla was really out here in full-on black lipstick to compliment his horseshoe (I think?) moustache. This is to say nothing of the perfectly groomed eyebrows and subtle dracula eye makeup. borderline-Irene Belserion levels of planning went into his Whole Look.

[getyerroxoffinto2]

Getyer Roxoff in TO said: Damnnnn!!! I love a man in a horseshoe 'stache!!!

[08melancholie]

starts to jump around, i went to have a nap and 100!!!!

I LOVE ALL OF YOU (except the bots)

this means a lot to us little accounts🙏

celebratory smut snippet anyone? 🫣

oral (fem!reader receiving), overstim undertones (iykyk)

Micah's calloused fingertips dig into your thighs, that unkempt and untrimmed horseshoe moustache he proudly wears brushes your inner thighs, your attempts at squirming from the ticklish sensation shut down instantly by Micah's iron grip prying you open for him to see; to devour, like God intended to.

It's almost like he's trying to humiliate and mock you. He doesn't bat an eye at your nails practically in his scalp, your fingers locking strands of his hair between themselves as you pull and arch off the cot, trying your hardest to stay quiet as to not wake anyone up. But God, it feels like you can't even be muffled by the green fabric in your mouth, drooling and heaving through the green neckerchief Micah had balled up into your mouth to muffle you out. He was confident, and knew he'd get you screaming tonight anyways—like every other night.

Your chest rises and drops, your walls squelch into the lewdest, wettest sounds that'd put the devil to shame, and Micah would be a fool to waste even a drop. He drinks from you like from a faucet, making sure he greedily collects all the unholy juices that you offer. Every swipe of his tongue between your folds, suck or gentle bite on your clit, tongue-fuck of your entrance; it all brings you to the whiny mess he knows and loves to see replace his sweetheart—that pure lustfulness you offer, only for him to ever see, to taste, to experience.

Only his.

He acts like a starved man to every orgasm he brings you to, his eyes fluttering closed or staring up, lidded at you as he rides your high out until your legs spasm and shake, until you have to beg him for a small break—but he knows you've got more in you, don't you?

"Stop? Weren't you just begging me to start not a minute ago, doll? I don't think I can stop just quite yet."

"You begged me so well, it's only fair I give you your well-deserved reward, no? Come on, lay back down, girl. Let me getcha your reward, sweet thin'."

"'Ya won't be asking me to stop once I'm fully through with you, trust me babydoll. I know these things."

And then, before you have a chance to calm from your high, his tongue is reaching into your gummy walls and he's starting up again; he needs to see yourself get lost in him and what he can do to you. He can only ever be satisfied himself once he knows he's got you at your very limit, satisfied yourself until the next night.

He'll stop once he knows you're done. After all; he knows your body and abilities like the back of his hand.

"Good job, 'ya always make me proud, pretty lady. We can take care of me later, I wanna look at'cha right now."

i want him to eat me out like its his final meal, until i cant form a coherent thought and i'm just..... micah, micah, micah.... <3

once more, thank you for 100 followers, this means a lot to me🫶

[amrass]

I feel like this question is more serious than any shipping wars in the Micah Bell fandom lol. I have no strong opinions, I'm just curious.

[theflaggerrrr]

[ID: A horizontal seven stripe flag, with the colors, from top to bottom, being green, blueish green, brass, dark gold, brass, blueish green and green. The alternative version of the flag on the left has a drawing of a white beard, outlined with a dark green color.]

" Beard "

A flag for people who are beards. Beards, in LGBTQIA+ context, is a person who marries or dates another person who's queer to hide their sexuality or identity.

Note: IDs suck, I know, I did not get any sleep.

Other terms that (I think) I coined:

[Top ID: A horizontal seven stripe flag, with the colors, from top to bottom, being greenish blue, turquoise, light brown, dark beige, light brown, turquoise and greenish blue. The alternative version of the flag on the left has a drawing of a white Horseshoe moustache, outlined with a dark blue color.]

[Bottom ID: A horizontal seven stripe flag, with the colors, from top to bottom, being dark red, red, yellow, dark yellow, yellow, red and dark red. The alternative version of the flag on the left has a drawing of a white Chevron moustache, outlined with a maroon color.]

" Horseshoe (top) & Chevron (bottom) "

Horseshoe: A flag for beards between a person and a gay man.

Chevron: A flag for beards between a person and a lesbian.

[ID: A transparent image that says "Winta holds no Bad List, but is not afraid to distribute charcoal! merry Holidays!" with a picture of the account's mascot (an orange-blue fox toy, which instead of blue is green due to Christmas) dressed as Santa, who's upside down.]

[princessimotep]

Tienes Mi Corazón - Chapter 6

~*~ 18+ content. Minors do not interact ~*~

A lot had happened since Javier’s confrontation with Micah. Things had turned bad back in Horseshoe Overlook when Pinkerton agents had revealed themselves to Arthur whilst he was on a fishing trip with young Jack. Dutch had deemed it best that they move camp for the safety of the gang members. Charles and Arthur found a camp called Clemons Point and it was more beautiful than the latter. It was well hidden and had a lake which stretched out for miles. Hosea reminded Miriam that she was more than welcome to stay until she figured out what she wanted to – so that’s what she did; she stayed. She concluded she was safer with these people than out on her own, escaping from her past. More importantly, Javier was the main reason she wanted to stay. With each passing day, the man filled her mind more and more. Thinking back to the rescue, the horse ride back from Strawberry, to him standing up to Micah for her…  but not just those things. Little things influenced her infatuation of him. The way he would tie his bandana around his neck, how he stood tall whilst on guard duty. The way he would shave, leaving his goatee and moustache. How he would shine his boots, taking pride in his appearance. To Miriam, he was the best dressed in camp and most of the other gang members would agree. She even caught Sean one time telling Javier that vanity was a sin and Javier threatened him in that suave way of his. He had such an alluring appeal to her when he would subtly threaten people like that.

It was the first night at Clemons Point and everything had finally been set up by the best efforts of everyone. Once everything had been done and Miss Grimshaw was happy with the layout, Miriam was finally released and able to wander around camp. The wavy-haired woman rolled her head back and sighed in content as she made her way over to the water. The scenery was so tranquil. The crescent moon’s glow bouncing off the surface of the water making a most mystical haze. The stars twinkled, splattered like paint across the dark night’s glassy veil. She had only read about such landscapes in her books and it was truly breath-taking to see such sights in real life.

Normally, Miriam would be reading at a time like this however she decided to spend her free time to help a certain someone with a clothing repair. Earlier, Javier explained how his jacket had gotten a tear in the arm area and Miriam offered to help fix it. Despite his pleads of telling her she didn’t need to trouble herself, she insisted. She explained that she wanted to do this for him, she just needed to help Grimshaw with her chores and she’d get right to it. So that is why Miriam now had Javier’s jacket in her arms. Finding a spot a little away from camp, sat on the shoreline by the water, Miriam tucked her skirt neatly over her folded legs that were out to the side and started threading a piece of cotton through a needle.

“There you are.” A familiar warm voice spoke out, followed by his footsteps on the shore. “I thought you finally decided to leave us.” Miriam grinned at Javier’s words. She didn’t break her eyes away from the thread and needle.

“I couldn’t possibly leave you all. Not just yet.” Javier leant down, peering over her shoulder.

“And why’s that?” Once she finally pushed the thread through the end of the needle, she looked at him with a coy expression.

“Well, you all just have… so many clothes to repair.” She flicked Javier’s jacket out so it was now across her lap. “You’d all have nothing left to wear if I were to go.” She joked to which Javier laughed.

“Ah so it’s my clothes that keep you here, hm?”

“Why of course Mister Escuella.” She teased, holding back a laugh. “You are the best dressed man in camp.” He cockily smiled, looking away.

“Well, I try.” He fiddled with his white sleeves, rolling them back into the crevice of his elbows. “Especialmente para mi chica.” (“Especially for my girl.”) Miriam looked at Javier, raising an eyebrow.

“I wish you would teach me more, Javier. I’d like to know what you’re saying to me.” Javier gestured his hands out, straightening his back. He tried to find an excuse to delay his teachings for her, after all, he still got drunk off that innocent and puzzled expression she would give him every time he spoke to her in Spanish.

“I’ll teach you if… you teach me something.” She scoffed looking around.

“Like what?” There was a pause. His eyes then shot to her sewing needle. He pointed.

“Teach me to sew.” She blinked a couple times.

“What, now?”

“Sí.” Javier then sat down behind her with his legs either side of her body. His closeness got Miriam nervous again. “With you as my teacher, I’m sure I’ll pick it up quick.” His body arched over hers, his head able to look over her shoulder to get a full view of her hands and lap. He took the needle from her hand, the thread falling out from the end. “What do I do with this?” Miriam smiled, shaking her head. Both her tiny hands grabbed onto his large one. He couldn’t help but adore the way they looked holding onto his.

“First you need to thread the needle.” His eyes dropped down to where the thread was and picked it up with his spare hand.

“This?” He gruffly asked.

“Yes. You need to push it through that tiny hole at the end of the needle.” Miriam let go of his hands so he could try and connect the two. He strained his neck forward, frowning at the difficulty of it.

“Mierda. How are you supposed to do this?” She smiled softly at his frustration.

“If you can’t get it through, you just need to wet the end.” Once again, Miriam held onto Javier’s hand; the one which was holding the thread, with both of hers. She looked at the small piece of cotton that poked out from his fingers and she placed her lips over it. The tip of her tongue poked out, soaking the thread with her saliva. Javier watched intently with his copper eyes. To him she had the most pretty little mouth. He fantasied putting his index and middle finger between her lips and how she would obediently run her tongue over them. He swallowed watching Miriam pull her lips away. She let go of his hands so he could thread it through which he successfully did after a couple attempts. After that she taught Javier the basics of sewing with her small hands guiding his big ones, he started to repair the jacket. Every time she would let go of his hands; Javier would make out he needed help just so she could hold onto him again.

God, he thought she looked beautiful between his arms.

“So… can you please teach me some Spanish?” Miriam hummed. He didn’t say anything, just smirked. She turned her head just a little to look at him. Their lips were inches away. “Or least just translate what you said earlier?” He let go of the fabric, leaning back on his hands to take a break whilst he cracked his neck. Miriam helped finish off the repair.

“What’s something you like?” She contemplated the question and looked up to the sky.

“Well… I like the moon and the stars.”

“What about them?”

“They’re… beautiful. They truly make me feel safe. At peace. Others find nights like these lonely, but I find them comforting. Whenever I’ve felt alone in the past… I always look up to the night sky. It makes me realise I’m not alone in this world.” Javier cocked his head to the side to try and see her face. The moon’s light sparkled against her skin. She looked as though she had been touched by an angel. To him, she had a sweet way with words. He leant forward again and pointed up to the moon.

“Luna.” Javier stated. She repeated the beautiful word. He then gestured out to the stars. “Estrella.”

“Es…strella.”

“Sí.” Without thinking about it, Javier’s hand went to her waist. “So, you could tell someone you really care about, this… tu eres mi luna y estrellas.” Miriam turned around in his lap, now on her knees looking up at him. She playfully raised an eyebrow.

“And what does the first part mean?”

“It means…” His middle and index finger held onto a few strands of her hair and placed them over her shoulder. “tu eres… you are… mi luna y estrellas… my moon and stars.”

“Tu eres… mi luna… y estrellas.” She repeated. His fingertips brushed over the lengths of her own fingers. She was too captivated in his gaze to notice. Javier’s eyes bore into hers.

“Sí.” Then something in her clicked. The way he was looking at her; it made her realise that he was saying those words to her. Her heart sped up in its beats. Her blood felt on fire as it rushed down her neck and chest, straight to her core. He was looking at her so serious. His eyes were hungry yet needing. Full of want. ‘Could he…’ She thought to herself, her heart swelling at the idea that this man could possibly feel the same way about her as she did for him.

“Javier…” He held tightly onto her hand, making sure she stayed.

“Miriam.” He sharply stated.

“THHHH…EEERREEE you two ARReeeee…!” A low voice belonging to a woman echoed across the shoreline. The couple pulled away from each other, looking at who it was. It was Karen and she was clearly in quite a drunken state. “I’ve been lookIN’… EVERYWHeeeeRRee for yoouuu.” Javier scowled, running a hand through his hair, stopping when he came to the band that held his ponytail.

“I think you’ve had too much.” He muttered with a hint of annoyance in his tone. Karen’s mouth went into an ‘o’ shape at the remark.

“What’s PISSED in yuuuurr BOOOts. HM?” Miriam smiled nervously, not wanting the two to get into any sort of conflict. She gave the fully repaired jacket to Javier.

“Karen…” Miriam got up, placing her hands on Karen’s arm to guide her back into camp. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“I DON’T neeeeed BaByInGG!”

“I know. But you want to end the night on a good note, right?” Karen slumped over, looking at Miriam. Slowly Karen broke out into a huge grin. She booped Miriam on the nose.

“Yuuuur a good friend.” Shaking her head with a small laugh leaving her lips, Miram helped guide the blonde to her tent.

After Karen had been settled down and passed out in her bed, everyone else had retired to their own tents by that time aside a couple members. Miriam was in her own tent, led down on her back in just her undergarments. It was raining outside and the sound of the droplets smashing against the tent soothed Miriam’s ears. The very sound gave her goosebumps and would often lull her to sleep. Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to fall asleep. Miriam’s mind was on Javier and the man was driving her insane. ‘Was that a confession?’ She’d think to herself along with many other impending thoughts. ‘Does he… like me? Like really like me?’’ ‘Does he do this to all the other women?’ ‘What if he’s just teasing me? What if… it’s some sick twisted game.’

Miriam panted at the idea. If it was just a game to Javier, it was the cruellest thing he could do. She rubbed her thighs together to relieve the desirable feeling growing between her legs. ‘God… I like him so much.’ Her hand trailed down underneath her undergarments, her middle finger touching her clit. She hissed at how cold her finger was compared to her core which was burning hot. Her middle finger went further down to her opening and she couldn’t believe how sopping wet she was from just thinking about Javier. She swiped her finger back up to her clit, coating it in her juices. She rubbed it in circles, toes curling at the sensational feeling that coursed through her veins. ‘Oh Javier…’

The cocoa-haired woman rolled onto her front, pushing her arm further down into her undergarments. She pretended it was Javier’s fingers instead of her own. After teasing her clit for a few seconds, she pushed her middle finger into her pussy. She could hear the squelch of her liquids over the sound of the rain. She gasped at the cold temperature inside her. Miriam pressed the back of her hand into the ground and angled her middle finger out straight so she could begin to ride it. She imagined Javier whispering words of Spanish in her ear before telling her how much of a whore she was being for him, getting all worked up like this.

“Javier…” She whispered. A small patch of drool formed on her folded-up dress coat she used as a pillow. Her hips rolled more into her hand, her palm brushing against her clit. She frowned, tears welling up in her eyes at the thought of him being so cruel to her whilst he pumped his fingers into her. She added her index finger, a couple tears rolling down her face. ‘Can you handle it, cariño?’ She imagined him whispering in her ear. ‘Or should I stop?’

“N-No! Don’t stop…” She begged to herself. By the Gods she could just imagine the smug look on his face, seeing her in this state over him. “M-Mmm… Make me come… Javier…” She arched her fingers into a hooklike shape to scrape against her g-spot. ‘Like this, cariño?’ “Y-Yes!” She panted harder, almost starting to hyperventilate. She grinded harder into her hand, going dizzy at the immense pressure building up in her core. Miriam’s chest went tight. “J-Javi… Javi…” Her back arched and she lifted her head with her eyes shut feeling her orgasm overtake her body. She badly wanted to cry out his name but she knew she would wake everyone up, even if the rain was loud tonight. All she could do was hang her mouth wide open and grind harder into her palm, feeling her clit twitch in undying excitement. The ecstasy shot through her body, all the way to her toes.

When it was over, she let out a huge sigh, shaking violently as she dropped herself onto her belly. She pulled her fingers out from her undergarments and looked at them seeing how wet they were. Her cheeks blushed into a violet glaze as she grabbed a rag that was beside a bucket. She wiped her fingers clean before soaking her hands thoroughly in the bucket. She even splashed some water over her face to make herself cool off from the intense experience. She had touched herself before but it had never been as wild as that. Just thinking of the man now, even after her orgasm, shot a hot arrow into her core. Miriam could easily get herself worked up again over him.

Trying to push her impure thoughts away, she laid down on her side and shut her eyes. She focused on the rain and smiled. Perhaps she didn’t just like him.

It might have been something more.

[sulfurousdreamscapes]

The shadow of a fish swam past the crossword puzzle, and that was all the impetus it took for Auguste to search his coat pockets for a pencil. He didn't find one, so he looked behind him, at Samantha, who lay spread eagle on the floor, staring at the glass ceiling that kept the two of them from being submerged in the Atlantic Ocean.

"Do you have a pencil on you, dear Samantha?" Auguste asked, his thin, trimmed moustache curling up into a smile.

"Did you finally decide to have a go at that crossword?" Samantha asked, eyes fixed on a shark ripping apart a catfish.

"Yes."

"I thought you were saving it for a special occasion. Such as when we finally get to leave this prison, as you put it."

"Yes, well. That was then, and this is now."

Samantha groaned and made an effort to get up, before deciding not to get up after all. "There should be a pencil in my handbag."

Auguste waited for the catch, but none came. "Do you want me to look in your handbag for the pencil?"

The red cloud of blood dissipated within a minute, and the sea was dark, dark blue again, with shadows swimming past the glass-topped hotel.

August cleared his throat. "I thought you said I could never touch your belongings."

"This is a special occasion."

Auguste stifled a laugh and got up from his upholstered seat. He went across the hotel restaurant and found the handbag right where he'd first spotted it, tucked against the window wall in a booth for six.

"Let's see what's in here."

Samantha groaned. "How long before they realise we're still alive down here?"

Auguste raised a finger to the air. "It's best to consider this a hell we've been consigned to, based on all our previous sins. That's the newest theory I've come up with, and it's the one that makes the most sense to me, I think."

Samantha closed her eyes. "What did you find in the handbag?"

"Lipstick, a notepad… a little horseshoe charm. Where's the pencil, dear Samantha?"

"Look, Auguste, I have to confess something."

"That there is no pencil in the handbag?"

"That handbag isn't mine."

"Oh."

"I was just pretending it was mine. I never even looked inside it, so I don't know if there is a pencil or not."

"Are you sorry? Or…?"

"I'm not sorry. I just thought that since we're trapped in a hotel under the sea, we should have some secrets from each other. My mother always said that secrets make for the best stories."

"It doesn't look like there's a pencil here."

Samantha sat up and rubbed her eyes. "What will you do if you don't find a pencil in here?"

Auguste looked at her from across the restaurant. "Why, I'd go absolutely insane trying to solve a crossword I can't fill in."

Samantha shook her head. "All this time, we had the perfect balance - you with your crossword, me with my handbag. Now we've crushed it all."

"Yes, we've entered a new phase of hell."

Somewhere far above them, a blue whale passed by, casting a massive, dark shadow over the restaurant as it went. For a moment, Samantha wished the glass would shatter and fall in with all the water, just to see how it'd feel to be suddenly taken by the Atlantic Ocean.

Auguste shouted, breaking her out of her daydreaming.

"I found a pencil!"

[yakool-foolio]

Case 4 start! How deep into the rabbit hole can we dig? What lies at the end of this winding tunnel? Only one way to find out, press onward!

Hey Mikotoba! And uhhhhhh hello to you too, Judge...! I'm still frightened by seeing him, and dressed so fancifully as well. Guess I should start calling him Jigoku. And now we know the three travelling men from 16 years prior!

Out of all the reappearing characters I anticipated to show up again, the horseshoe moustache jury member was not one of them.

Kazuma went missing yesterday? We should go on a wild goose chase to find him, WHO'S WITH ME?! Kazuma was a stowaway before he got snatched up by Stronghart, just like Ryunosuke!

This red head really said "Hello darkness my old friend" SHOLMES HAS RED HAIR AND PRONOUNS! Ah yes, the issue that plagues all of humanity ever since we became human: rent. DID YOU REALLY JUST STRAIGHT UP POUR CHEMICALS ONTO YOUR HAIR SHOLMES WHAT THE FUCK- AND HE TURNED THE RED-HEADS IN TO THE POLICE OUT OF PURE UNFILTERED SPITE FOR RECOGNIZING HIM OH MY GOD DUDE

It's interesting to learn about the hows but what concerns me the most is the WHYS Sholmes! Why did you lie about Kazuma's condition?! At least he can provide a tidbit of info for me to chew on.

Evie! Glad to see this jury member is already back because I like her design a lot. Damn Sholmes is full of spite today, and Ryunosuke is his unfortunate next target. There are no coincidences, Ryunosuke, that cemetery is going to haunt you forever now.

(To Whom It May Concern - @raymondshields)

[raisindave]

[Chapter 52] Seeing the World Through Ballistic-Tinted Glasses

He was shorter than you would've expected, shorter than any trainer you've had before. Even stood next to Price, he looked nearly half his size. You could easily match his height with a better pair of shoes than your running sneakers. A decent night's sleep made you bright-eyed and eager to learn, a sentiment Price seemed keen to share, catching a glimpse of a confident smile under his moustache. For the time being you were taking in as many visual clues as possible as to who this prescribed instructor was. A tight-fitting moss-coloured tee clung to lean muscles on a slender frame, definitely not a soldier per se, but unquestionably some kind of martial arts instructor. Roughly your age, with deeply rooted smile lines etched into his cheeks. 

"Sergeant Grant, this is Lorenzo. Lorenzo, Sergeant Grant. You'll be spending the next few weeks together," Price's voice boomed over the tile toward you.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sergeant," Lorenzo spoke in a thick Italian accent, rocking on his heels as he spoke. 

"It's nice to meet you as well," the words flowed easily as you stood before the two men, the rest of your comrades sat just past them at the same tables you had spent the night before. "-And just Lua is fine." 

From the corner of your eye, you saw a skeletal mask rise from whatever he was doing as you spoke those words. Lorenzo smiled sweetly when you approached, pulling you into a handshake that shook your entire body. With an upturned palm he led you through a pair of swinging doors that bridged the common room to the outdoor courtyard, not wasting time with further introductions. Gleaming sunlight caught on fresh puddles that made your pupils strain to adjust to the change of lighting. At least the air was fresh, sticky with dew. It still smelled of warm rain on damp concrete and grass from the recent showers Gaz so kindly noted the night before. 

"Do you speak my language?" He spoke as you walked, 

"Like a two-year-old," you lamented, "nothing beyond the bare minimum."

He hummed in thought as he pressed further into the sunny turf, taking his time to consider his words as an unsteady silence wedged between you. From where you stood, there were buildings on either side of you, like a horseshoe of concrete and plaster enclosing you into a broad grassy courtyard. The opening that didn't directly lead to a glass window or brick wall led to the damp tarmac where bustling aircrew scurried like ants to ferry jets and trucks to their allocated spaces. 

"You captain said you're like a kind of traduttrice," he spoke with an air of certainty despite his fractured knowledge of the language.

Of course Price speaks fucking Italian. He seems to speak a little bit of every language, to the point where it makes you wonder why you're even on the team to begin with. 

"A linguist. Like a translator, just with a few extra steps," you corrected awkwardly, raking your eyes over the lush trees that fenced the grassy plaza offering shade for rich soil. 

"Linguist, Linguist," he trailed off, rolling the word over his tongue as if to taste it. "You're like a songbird- la uccellino, singing different songs and chirping them back to your officers."

"That's one way of putting it," you shrugged, returning your gaze back to his. 

It gave you a chance to consider his appearance further. Rich olive skin made him look like he belonged in an oil painting, and brown curls hooked and looped atop his head in messy locks. He wasn't hard on the eyes, definitely the kind of man you'd see on the cover of one of those 10-cent romance novels you see at thrift shops. And something about his easy grin said he knew it. 

"Let us begin?"

"Here? In the yard?" You jested, uncertainty reverberating through your system as if he'd just delivered a punchline. 

"Rule one: combat doesn't consider your comfort," he said, slapping his hands together in a clap as he spoke, rolling his neck around his shoulders.

"But… does the first lesson have to be in the mud?" Only after the words passed your lips did you realize how whiny you sounded. 

"Okay, we can just talk then," Lorenzo smiled sweetly, meeting you with hazel eyes. 

"Thank you," you said, folding your arms over your chest as the chilly morning air crept over exposed forearms. 

"Okay, Uccellino. See how your feet are shoulder-width apart?" He stepped closer, meeting your eye level. 

Your eyes followed his pointed finger as it led you to correct your stance, but just as your gaze caught your feet, a flash of movement caught you by surprise. In an instant, an explosion of pressure hit your shoulder, one that you quickly identified as you being hurtled to the ground. His boot had swiped out your feet from under you, toppling you to the ground like a sack of rocks. Sunlight suddenly beaming in your face, paired with cruel gravity and searing pain made you wince. Cool mud from a rainy night before squelched under your shoulder, seeping through your shirt and caking into your hair as you wrestled against gravity. 

That's when you heard your peanut gallery chuckling in the background. A flick of your eyes showed your four comrades watching this trainwreck unfold in a matter of seconds. The world had only just stopped spinning when you caught their playful judgement, but the horror of their scrutiny was overruled by your attacker's approach. Lorenzo extended his hand down to you, inviting you to help yourself back up to your feet. It took half a mind not to slap it away, rejecting his corny training style. 

"You lied," you barked, slapping your hand against his as you hoisted yourself back upright. 

"Rule two: don't trust anyone," he let his grip on your hand slip, making your tailbone collide with the damp mud again. 

You swung your ankles behind you, leaning forward to bring yourself upright on your own, but a boot on your hip sent you toppling back down. Cool mud squished between spread fingertips, blowing away stray hairs with an exasperated breath. The peanut gallery dispersed, catching them sauntering away toward the tarmac on the horizon. Another flash of movement commanded your attention back to the figure before you, reflexively wrenching your body to catch an incoming kick from hitting your side. Recently pristine pants chafed and dragged over your thighs, forming leaded weights restricting explosive movement. 

"Do you think the only time someone'll attack you is when you're on satin pillows and sheepskin?" he called down to you playfully after you thwarted his initial kick. "No—the real combat happens when you aren't ready for it. It's dirty and unpredictable, and it always will be. Even when you're training."

"How am I supposed to train if you won't even let me get back to my fucking feet?" You spat, offence clouding your vision along with the slurry of muck. 

"That's not my problem," he sighed, circling around you like a vulture. "It's yours," his passing shadow suggested he was keen for another strike. 

"That's not fair, attacking me when I'm already down," the words came out like a roar, clawing for control over cruel gravity that insisted you surrender. 

"It's the best time to attack someone, really," his shadow lurched into yours.

Your legs sprung forward when a clenched fist tried to grip the back of your slippery shirt, instincts compelling you to resist his grapple at all costs. Seconds fluttered past in a blur. Unsteady ground resisted your attempt to understand your footing, forcing the terrain to serve as an additional opponent in this fight. There wasn't enough breath in your lungs to allow you to leap to bring him down with you like you wished you could. 

"So is this what you teach? Brutality?" you roared. 

"I teach survival. 'Doesn't have to be pretty, Uccellino," his accent rolled his words, swinging on squishy footing to aim another shot at your side. 

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," you grunt with a tight jaw restricting your enunciation. 

"My beloved mother used to say, 'Every knock is a boost,'" he sang as his boot connected just below your shoulder blade. 

You cried out in pain, and for a moment all the world's colour was replaced with darkness. Blooming heat radiated from where he'd struck, forcing all remaining air from your lungs. It made you gasp and gape for air like a fish out of water.

"I doubt your mother has ever had to deflect a kick to the kidney laying flat on her back in the mud," you chirped back with a fractured voice, creaking from your strain for oxygen. 

Finally, an explosion of movement and sheer willpower brought your feet to swing below you, rising from a crouch on shaky posture. It could have been his mercy, but you'd prefer to recognize it as you finally getting ahold of yourself. Crisp air on damp skin did an excellent job at cooling superheated muscles when you finally had the opportunity to find precious moments without an incoming smite. Your head spun, even when you tried to shake away the fog that came with standing upright too quickly. 

"Rule Three: Use your size to your advantage, Uccellino. You're no brute like your comrades," Lorenzo gestured for you to lower your stance with a downward-turned palm. 

"You're just making these rules up as you go, aren't you?" you muttered, turning on your heels to face him as he began to pace around you again, eagerly. 

"Let the attackers' momentum do the heavy lifting, and you're just here to guide them along," his words and actions clicked in your mind, and he hopped into a jolt toward you.

Where his fists initially collided with the fabric material just below your collarbone, you instead deflected his grip with your forearm, swaying your torso low to steady your balance. In a show of repurposed kinetic energy you guided his advancements past you, planting the heel of your palm on the back of his shoulder to steer him away. With your posture lowered, it meant your center of balance was low- lower than someone who had height over you. Low enough to regain composure quickly enough to strike back, slamming your shin into his spine as he stumbled from your diversion. His grunt turned into a laugh as he turned back to you, responding your well-placed strike with a pleased smile that flickered to a wince. 

It was a valuable lesson, a unique trait of your stature. One that was never taught to you expressly taught to you in generalized training that came with your enlistment. Laswell did indeed mention that you wouldn't be expected to see combat, but the field has regularly put you closer to the action than you're used to. The threat of violence is just the new norm now, and it's past your time to adapt. Part of you made you hate the fact that Ghost was right about one thing, but the other part of you wanted to deny his correctness altogether, opting to declare it your own discovery. 

Training went on for a time, possibly another hour considering the sun's angle. It was no use looking at your wristwatch; it was caked with a thick layer of mud thanks to Lorenzo's avant-garde teaching style. By the time he called it, you found yourself cradling muscles you didn't even know existed in your body. Sweet spit had pooled in your tongue and messy hair made you look like a wraith. The thought of what passers-by might be thinking had never crossed your mind since your comrades left, but the few passing soldiers in tight formations seemed too thoroughly drilled to turn their heads to observe fully. However, that didn't stop brief glances. 

Initial outrage and a damaged ego translated to an unexpected bump in confidence once you started getting the hang of your instructions. Learning always felt so rewarding, especially when it's on your own terms. Bidding Lorenzo adieu came with a polite smile and a 'well done' that made weakened muscles feel like they're worth the oncoming soreness. Eventually you stepped past the swinging doors you'd passed through hours before, yawning in the crisp conditioned air. The Italian sun was searing at this time of year, though nowhere as severe as your last locations. Perfect imprints of each tread of your boots were left behind with every step toward your dorm, counting down the seconds until you could burn these ruined rags. 

Even in the shower, you got to track what existing bruises marred your skin before the new ones had time to manifest. Deep red teeth marks on your inner thigh began to fade to pink, a dwindling memory, soon to be overridden by brutal Lorenzo's grappling. It's refreshing to not have to scuffle with someone twice your size. Price couldn't have chosen a better instructor, though the thought of another lesson in the morning made your joy dim. It felt like every time you ran your hair through another handful of shampoo, more dirt swirled into the drain in a neverending cycle. Uccellino, what a sweet nickname. Little bird. So sweet, more graceful than a cricket. An insect that's known for its penchant to irritate people. 

Just as you started to wonder where those teammates had disappeared off to, a view past orange curtains showed them filing out of a boxy green jeep just off the distant tarmac. Price and Gaz immediately followed by Soap and Ghost. Each sported heavy armour and packs, but it goes without saying what they were up to. Probably trudging through a nearby forest or cliff face, enjoying local scenery while you were fighting for your life in the mud. It's hard to be upset though; after all, it means you got to avoid rucking. That's a win, even if it means cleaning rocks of dirt from split fingernails. 

They had the nerve to look peachy keen, bounding toward the complex in springy steps. Didn't even break a sweat. Soap was swinging his helmet around like a purse, tapping the back of his fist into Ghost's shoulder. Ghost must have replied with some snide quip that made the other's faces light up with a chuckle before they slipped from your field of view. Just before they passed, you swore you felt brown eyes flicker to meet yours through the window, but the second you saw movement in your direction from that pale mask you'd ducked away. 

More than anything, a sense of power and pride warmed your chest as you wring your hair dry with a thin towel. The world tends to feel small when you're stuck with the same six or seven faces on repeat. Especially when each of those faces could pummel you to death, shatter your career, or both in some cases. A rare glimmer of hope sang in your bloodstream, and with the upcoming gala, it felt like you might just meet your prince charming who'll whisk you off your feet. You'd never pinned yourself as the hopeless romantic type, and the thought confused you. Maybe Italy just has that effect. Ultimately, the feeling of control and pride is an illusion, and the powers that be hold your puppet strings like leads. But it didn't mean you couldn't enjoy one moment of genuine peace. No matter how brief it'll likely be. 

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Master List

[octuscle]

So this one Black guy I've been working out with said he needed a new boyfriend, and now I'm swelling up with muscle and fat. My skin's gotten a lot darker, too. What's happening?

Malcolm is a picture of a man. A nubian god. Ebony black, flawless body. Works as a personal trainer here at the studio. Actually, you have no idea why someone like that is training with a linnet like you. But you didn't question it. You enjoy it as long as it goes well.

The chocolate protein shake after training tastes bitter. And sweet at the same time. It's incredibly rich. Malcolm empties his canister in one go. You can't quite manage it. But almost. And then you have to burp. Malcolm laughs. And you say goodbye with a fist bump. You can feel the questioning looks from the other guests. What does the Adonis want with the linnet?

I'm neither particularly clever nor particularly successful. The training with Malcolm is actually starting to take effect. But you still have arms like twigs. And your pale, pimply face with the red hair isn't exactly an eye-catcher either. Nevertheless, you got a decent job as a developer in the administration department of a large insurance company. It pays good money. And you work in a nice team where you are largely left alone. Thank God. Because things are different today. As you develop your code, you notice how your hands change. Your fingers are getting meatier. And the skin darkens. You grin. Is it the chocolate milk? Hardly. More likely the light in the office, you suspect. You're having a good run today. Work is going well. Normally you need your peace and quiet, but now you feel like listening to music at work. You put on your airpods and ask Siri for some chill tunes to help you concentrate. At lunchtime, you order something from the Indian restaurant. In the evening you had sushi. You've forgotten the time. You look at your watch. Obviously it's time to go home. Apparently you're fantasizing. When did you start wearing such a fat gold watch? And the back of your hand really looks like you probably do after three weeks of beach vacation. In other words, like a normal person after a three-week beach vacation. You'd probably be red as a sheet. Barry White is booming out of your fat overears. It's time to go home and go to bed.

While you're brushing your teeth, your moustache is bothering you. You didn't have one this morning. And the whiskers are black. But your teeth are dazzling white. But maybe it's only because of the dark color of your face. Damn, it must be the protein shake. Your pyjama bottoms are tight around your thighs. And the T-shirt is stretched across your chest. When the alarm clock wakes you up at 05:30, it doesn't. You ripped it off your upper body in your sleep.

Malcolm is waiting for you with a big grin and a chocolate protein shake. As you fist-bump, you notice that his skin is barely any darker than yours. You're lifting more than ever. You're sweating like a pig. But this is the best workout ever. As you rub the sweat from your forehead, something is different. Something is missing. Your hair. Your hands are calloused. Like from years of hard workouts. You look in the mirror. The horseshoe on your face makes you look older. Is that why Malcolm calls you "Daddy"? You just grin about it. Nevertheless, you need to take a shower now. Malcolm, because the first paying customers are about to arrive. You, because as head of department you want to be the first and last in the office.

Normally you can easily wrap towels around your hips in the gym. Today it only lasts a few steps. Then it slips to the floor. No wonder, with your roid gut padded with healthy fat. As you pick up the towel, your gaze falls on your reflection in the mirror. Your cock is dangling between your legs. As big as a beer can, even though it's flaccid. And it's as black as a piece of coal. Like your bushy pubic hair. You're no longer a pimply twenty-year-old Irishman. You're black African-American prime beef. A sweaty black piece of prime beef. You need to take a shower.

Malcolm has soaped himself up by the time you arrive in the shower. Damn, your cock has a life of its own. He slowly gets up. Malcolm grins. And drops the soap.

Pic found @roughridingrednecks

[tcwmatchmakingau]

Old Flames

Prompt : What if Fives somehow matched with an old fling he had feelings for early in the war and they rekindle that old romance?

Pairing : Fives x Female OC

Rating : NFM

Word Count : 4,985  sorry :/

Content Warnings : Mention of death. Swearing. Sexual innuendo. Otherwise fluff and a bit of angst

The music was in a minor key and pumping, just the way Veera liked it. She loved to dance and her music loud but feeling a little self-conscious, (she was slightly older than the average patron), she kept to a darker corner of the dance floor. She’d not been to this club before but had already decided she would return, especially if this DJ was appearing… just, not on a night like tonight. Speed dating was on in the room next door and she’d come to support a work colleague who’d wanted company to be on the safe side. But that had worked to her own advantage, as she had arranged to meet a date of her own here. Veera had bitten the bullet! After a failed relationship with a clone officer, she’d decided to enlist the help of RTL Matchmaking, an agency dedicated to clones. Veera had always preferred letting nature take its course, so to enlist the help of an agency to speed up the process of finding a partner, went right against her grain. At least they were a not-for-profit! It took a hell of a lot for her to submit but the man she’d lost was going to take some beating, no standard fellow would cut it, she wanted to meet another clone but with an aversion to 79’s, she knew she needed professional help.

The first round of ‘speeding’ had finished and contenders were now hitting the main room, most of them remaining in their ‘chat up’ frame of mind. Veera’s friend was in round two, so she had another good hour of meat market diplomacy to contend with. Still, she was grateful for any chance to go out. One week shy of the Battle of Geonosis and the start of the war, Veera had found herself a short-term detainee in Coruscant’s immigration detention. She’d been deported from Raxus, accused of ‘Pro-Republic Views’. It wasn’t as black and white as that though, Veera was more a conscientious objector and had made some political comments that angered her regional governor, a man of dubious character. A deal had been struck that saw Veera and her university colleagues released from a labour camp but deported, “To their obviously preferred home world,” as punishment. Needless to say, being from a Separatist world during the height of the conflict meant life hadn’t been easy on Coruscant.

But now, Palpatine was dead, the war was over and Veera had freedom! She could be with whomever she wanted and go wherever she wanted and right now, she wanted to go to the bar! She ordered two bottles of water, downed one on the spot and thought to hell with it, “A morning concoction too, please!”

She’d barely finished her first sip when some boy saddled up to her, attempting a vulgar chat up line. The bartender heard and locked eyes with Veera, waiting to see her response and her first thought was to verbally bite a great chunk out of the lad but she restrained herself.

“I’m seeing someone,” she told him short and sweet. Tucking her bottled water under her arm, she took her drink in hand and moved to slip away.

“Are they here tonight though?” he followed up.

Veera just inhaled and walked away to find a table, concentrating solely on not spilling her drink as she watched the liquid swirling close to the rim of the glass. She thought a quick sip would lessen the chance of any spillage but didn’t see the group of animated young men advancing towards the bar and they were too busy talking to see her. It was an accident waiting to happen and sure enough, one ploughed straight into her! Next thing Veera knew, other than a hefty jolt, was caf and vodka up her nose and her water bottle hitting the floor. Swiftly registering that even more of her drink was dribbling over her mouth like a horseshoe moustache, she feigned looking for her bottle whilst quickly wiping her chin. One of the men had already retrieved it and was passing it to her with a, “Miss, your water.”

She was taken aback to realise he was a clone. It was then she realised another of the group had grabbed her hand to steady her drink, thus preventing any further disaster. Looking up at him with admittedly a little trepidation, to both apologise and thank him, she froze! She could tell by his expression that he too was doing a double take. But that goatee and tattoo, it was definitely him. She gasped for air.

“Fives!”

“Veera?”

Panic set in and her eyes darted around the club, “Fives, you’ll get into trouble!”

“Veera, the war’s over. I doubt we have to worry about that anymore.”

His comment brought her back to the here and now and she realised to her embarrassment she was on the cusp of hyperventilating. He had taken her other hand as well while the boys with him were looking at them in total confusion.

“I was never what they said I was,” she blurted out, surprising herself even.

“Hey cyar’rika, I never thought you were.”

It took a moment for his words to register and he looked at her with such a deep empathy she was transfixed.

“Um, this is awkward,” he continued. He gave her hand a tiny squeeze before letting go, “I’m actually here to meet someone. I don’t want to be rude but I’m about to be late.”

“Oh! That’s ok,” she swiftly answered. “I um, sorry to hold you up, I didn’t spill anything on you did I? Best let you go then. I’m supposed to be meeting someone as well anyway, so er –“

“Yeah well, uh, it would be nice to see you again… might even catch you before I leave tonight, if my plans don’t work out?”

“Sure, maybe later then…. unless you were here to meet with a Jane Doe to begin with?” she said jokingly. It was the name oddly given by RTL to identify herself to her match.

His mouth gaped, “Were you told to meet up with a John Doe?” he asked suspiciously.

Now Veera stood stunned, “Did you get that name from RTL?”

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“You’re John Doe?”

“Yeah, and you’re Jane Doe?”

“Yes!”

The lads were watching their conversation toing and froing as if watching a null-racket match.

“They matched us!” Veera stated.

“Looks like it,” he laughed a little. “Wow!”

“Yeah, wow! …Oh, well er… now I know why they gave us pseudonyms.”

“Yeah, bet they’re sitting in their office looking at their chronos thinking, any…minute…now!” Fives joked.

They took each other in for a moment before Fives clapped his hands together and turned to his junior clones.

“Ok gentlemen, it would appear I’ve stumbled across my date. You can all go now and sign up to the speed dating. We’ve got some serious catching up to do.” And with that, Fives led Veera to a table, sat her down first then joined next to her.

“I have to admit I’m staggered!” said Veera, “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again!”

“Me too…although, I wanted to see you again.”

“As did I but –” Veera let out a big sigh. “When RTL interviewed you, did you tell them about –?“

“Yeah, I did,” he preempted her words, “You?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “So, where do we start?”

Fives huffed in acknowledgement they’d have a bit to get through. “How about er… where do you work?” he teased.

Veera saw the funny side of his hackneyed first-date question, “Same hospital but I’ve moved to the ED, which I’d wanted all along. What about you, you’re out of armour, still an ARC with the Five-o-First?”

“Yes, although thinking of applying for an instructor’s position. It comes with a promotion.”

“Really? You’d be good at that that…. I’d like for you to get a promotion.” Veera then nodded at the lads who had come with Fives, “So, no Echo, although I’d dare say this wouldn’t be his scene, how is he?”

Fives paused and momentarily drew on the tabletop with his finger, “Actually, we lost him over a year ago, killed in action.”

Veera’s heart sank, “Fives! I am so sorry.” She instinctively reached out to hold Fives by the hand, “That wasn’t very smart of me, I didn’t think, I am so sorry.”

Fives placed his other hand on Veera’s to fully envelope hers but couldn’t bring himself to look at her, “It’s alright, time heals as they say.”

“Hmm, they say.” Veera brought her other hand into the mix and they silently sat holding each other.

“You know,” he said, turning to look at her, “it happened only about a week after we deployed.”

“So soon after I met you both!” It deeply unnerved Veera to think that on meeting Echo, his days were already numbered.

“And about two days after I was ordered to not see you again.”

Veera was silently registering his despondency when he scoffed, “The irony still gets me, only Echo could console me after losing you, then I would’ve given anything for you to console me after losing Echo.”

Fives was staring blankly at their hands watching his thumb slowly caresses her when he realised Veera was letting go to scoop him up in a hug and Force, he hadn’t realised how much he needed the gesture.

“I’m sorry. I thought Echo was such a lovely fellow.”

“Huh, you might not say that when I tell you he told me to dump you like a hot kebroot! He did a very good job of talking me out of wanting to defy my orders.”

Veera laughed as she sat back. “Oh, did he now?” she said with a knowing smile. “Guess I can’t blame him after what they probably said about me. Ultimately he was looking out for you. Bless him!” She raised her glass in a toast and took a sip of its remnants, offering Fives the rest. He took it and raised it in return.

“Yeah, good ol’ Echo,” he toasted, and then finished off her drink. He laughed to himself as he put the glass down with a faint sniff, “He was filthy on finding out you were Raxian.”

Veera wasn’t prepared for how much that would hit a nerve, “He wasn’t alone on that front.”

“Sorry, put my foot in it, I didn’t mean it to sound like that.” But as he lent on the table his memories kept swirling around in his head and it ended up too much for him, finally turning to face Veera and spitting out, “What in Sith’s Hell was going on?”

Veera retracted a little at his gesture and he was quick to apologise, taking her hand again and holding it firmly in both his. “I’m sorry it’s just, it drove me nuts, even after all this time it would crop up to bug me…. It couldn’t have been too bad or they wouldn’t have let you join a clone matchmaking service.”

Veera couldn’t help acknowledge his logic with a slight laugh.

“I’ll talk officer,” she joked, raising her hands in surrender, “I’ll tell you anything you want to know but I’m gonna need a drink while I’m at it.”

“I do want to know,” said Fives decidedly, “I do… Let’s get something.”

He turned the switch for the holo-menu on their table and they lent in to see what was on offer. Despite the uncertainty of what he would learn, he felt a pleasant familiarity being next to Veera and he hoped she felt the same, so close together their arms almost touching, and as they finalised their choices he’d sneak a look here and there, the length of her eye-lashes, the straight line of her nose and her cheek bones, or more so the plump bit right at the top, he was sure the girls would have a name for it when doing their makeup but he knew it as the part he loved to brush his thumbs over, if he could just hold her face in his hands. Force, he’d forgotten just how captivating she was.

“Oh let’s get both bottles!” she said.

“What?” he snapped back to paying attention, “Two bottles of wine?”

“Why not? The war’s over and we should live it up - they matched us up for a reason! Our friends can help with any leftovers.”

“Oh mesh’la.” He smiled at her and hit the order button with conviction. Turning to face Veera, Fives sat with one arm resting on the table, the other on the back of his chair and in a tone that hinted he was accustomed to giving orders, said short and sharp, “Ok then, from the beginning!”  

Veera sighed deeply and made herself comfy in her chair.

“Before you lads got rec leave and we were looking after Wolffe in our hospital, I’d worked out that somebody was going through my apartment messing it up, as if toying with me. I was convinced the politician that got me deported had hired Raxian goons to intimidate me.”

Fives was taken aback.

“I reported it to the police and told Wolffe and my uncle, you remember he was Wolffe’s surgeon, during one of Wolffe’s check-ups, that’s when he started helping me out with bug detectors and the like. He knew I was from Raxus, he’d read my dossier but still, he was taking a bit of risk with me being a new arrival. What we didn’t know then, was that Homeworld were also going through my flat.”

“What? I thought they were just watching your place, not going through it.”

“Turns out they’d been watching the Raxians going into my joint so assumed I ran some safe house. Homeworld would go in and rifle around after the Raxians had been in.”

Fives nodded to hold off as their waiter arrived with their order. He then did the honours and poured Veera a glass of wine whilst she decided on something to eat from their mixed platters.

“So,” he continued, taking some food for himself, “you had two groups routinely rifling through your apartment.”

“Yes, then you clones got granted rec leave and Wolffe arranged that One-o-Fourth party at 79’s to thank our ward staff.”

“The night me met,” Fives smiled and Veera couldn’t help smiling back.

“Yes and because Homeworld were watching my place, they’d seen Wolffe visit but then saw me come home with you after our date.”

“And from that they accused you of entrapment?” Fives shook his head and helped himself again to the platter. “Did they not realise all I scored that night was a caf and data pad full of legal documents to read while you got changed for your night shift?” he playfully bemoaned.

Veera shrugged, “Bureaucrats, maybe getting invited in for caf and to read someone’s data pad is their idea of sexy.”

Fives laughed out loud.

“No, hang on!” Veera remembered, “You got a kiss when you later dropped me off at the hospital so you can’t complain!”

“I’ll complain I only got the one,” he said with a wink and a sip of his wine. He was pretty certain she’d blushed at that.

“Anyway,” she stalled to recover, “a few nights later, Wolffe visited and crashed on the couch while I went to work. They actually broke in that night and he caught one of them.”

“For real? Go Wolffie!”

“He then arranged a meeting with Fox for information on who he’d caught but it turned out he caught a Homeworld agent. That’s how we found out their involvement.”  

“No way!” Fives laughed, “Incompetent lot.”

“Yeah, I have my opinions, anyhow, Wolffe’s meeting with Fox was then interrupted by Homeworld. Wolffe was told you and he were getting orders to sever contact but Fox argued it would be better if Wolffe stayed in touch as an informant.”

Fives paused for a few minutes to absorb the latest bit of information. “Hmm, so Wolffe go to stay onboard yet I was thrown overboard? Crafty bastard that Fox. It’s not for nothing he’s called that.”

Veera shifted a little uncomfortably.

“And Wolffe started informing on you?” said Fives surprised and with a little shake of his head, picked over the platters again and Veera joined him. “How did you find that out?”

“Let’s just say Wolffe told me without telling me, if you catch my drift. He thankfully didn’t believe them and disagreed with what they were doing, so, hell of a risk on his behalf!”

“It was either very trusting or foolish of him.”

“Since when have you known him to be foolish?” Veera was feeling a little pressured and pulled the menu up to order some more water. “Look a lot happened in the hospital and Wolffe came to trust me. I just can’t tell you what because that would be a breach of client confidentiality.”

Fives prickled. “And now the war’s over and we’re all friends again? That and or I take it they never found anything?”

“There never was anything.” Veera said pointedly.

“Well, not that they could prove,” he teased.

“You’d better be bloody joking!”

“Mesh’la, I tease you too cruelly.” He picked up the wine bottle and topped up her glass as if a peace offering. She took a sip and continued.

“After Wolffe caught the Homeworld guy, I think they were a bit embarrassed so they stepped up their surveillance and finally caught one of the others. He admitted they’d been hired by someone off-world to harass me, there was nothing more to it.” And with one hand on her heart and the other raised to swear an oath, she added, “And that’s the truth!”

Fives lowered his eyes and bowed his head in acknowledgement of her declaration.

“Now, I want to know what happened to you,” she blurted out.

Fives lent back in his chair with his glass of wine and pulled a platter nearer for easier pickings. “Well, we flew out the morning after our date and I got commed to present to the captain’s office. Had to stand to attention whilst this Homeworld officer strutted up and down with his chest puffed out, telling me I’d been seen at your place. He asked me how long I’d known you, where and how did we meet, where had we been, what did we do there, was ours a romantic relationship and if so, how romantic? Surprised he didn’t ask for the length of my cock.”

Veera choked on her wine and tried to scold him but Fives just laughed for having caught her off guard, “Oh they all gag, cyar’rika.”

She eyed him with a look of disbelief, “Fives, you are shameless!”

He laughed some more, then confessed, “Sorry, had to let off steam, I still get angry at the thought of that shebs’palon.”

Veera gathered herself then added her two credits worth, “I’m surprisedyoudidn’t volunteer the information.”

“Oh but I told them in my RTL interview.”

“Fives!” she shook her head..

“Which is clearly why they matched us up!” he said with a grin that implied he was either happy or done something wrong, probably both.

“Fives!!!”

Veera buried her head in her hands.

“Ok, I’ll behave. Back to my interrogation. The best bit was when he asked me, as if he were springing it on me, if I knew you were from Raxus? His face was priceless when I said you’d told me upfront and let me read your court documents. That pleasure however was short lived. He screamed at me that they were fakes you used to trick people –”

“What?”

“–and that known Raxian operatives had been seen going to your flat so you clearly were up to no good. I was lucky not to be getting charged with fraternisation but if I did anything after his dressing down, I’d get treason!”

Veera stared at him wide-eyed and silently contemplated the unpleasantness of Fives’ encounter. “I knew from Wolffe they were saying entrapment but didn’t realise they threatened you with treason. That’s horrible!”

“It was downright scary. He then told me to visit the doxies if I wanted company, I was ropable.”

“I’m sorry Fives. I really shouldn’t have agreed to that date.”

“Oh cyar’rika, I understand I’m impossible to resist,”

“Oh Fives,” Veera rubbed her forehead, “You got the impossible bit right,” she teased, “and for the record, my documents aren’t fake!” Veera said indignantly.

“Oh I know. I was having a heart to heart with Skywalker a month later, he put in a request for evidence so I could get a copy from the courts which I read in full.”

“Oh! You did your research…. I’m impressed, in a back-handed compliment kinda way.”

“I wanted to get to the truth! Then all I wanted was to let you know I hadn’t ghosted you but I couldn’t work out how. Then, time just…” he shrugged, looked away and went back to leaning on the table.

Fives’ honesty and honey eyes had warmed Veera as he’d told her his story. She felt guilt for what he’d been through, getting threatened by Homeworld.

“I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had ghosted me,” she finally said, “I gave you the notes to read for a reason. Wolffe told me what happened about two weeks after you deployed, said he didn’t want me thinking the worst of you.” She paused and inhaled deeply, “I was livid to learn I couldn’t see you again or explain anything.”

Silence followed as the two looked at each other with small expressions of hopelessness over the past. Then Fives swiftly moved in, cupping her face with both hands and kissed her. Veera found herself feeling a little surprised by his urgency but a cosiness soon took over and she felt suspended in time. His lips soft, his nose pressing into her cheek, warm. He moved gently, savouring the moment, making her feel she was going to melt entirely and needed to grasp onto him for dear life wherever her hands landed, as if that was going to save her from being rendered into a liquid on the floor. He pulled back to breathe but she kept her eyes closed, she didn’t want the feeling to evaporate.

“So you felt the same as me?”

He delicately pressed his forehead to hers as he spoke and Veera could barely whisper, “I did.”

She could clearly hear his breathing over the music.

“And now?” he asked.

“I’m so grateful for a second chance.”

He pushed his chair back a little further out of the light and pulled her up to straddle him. They sat compressing themselves together, behaving the best they could in a public space yet wanting to feel everything of the other, their kisses deep and sensuous.

Eventually they pulled back before things got out of hand but remained as seated, not breaking the hold their eyes had on each other for a long time, no words needing to be spoken. Then Veera laid against his chest and he gently held her. Feeling each other’s warmth they relished in the stillness.

“I want to take you home now,” he whispered.

“I want that too…but it’s rude to ditch our friends. Besides,” she said, sitting back up to look at him, “the wait will make it a thousand times sweeter.” She ran her hands through his hair and he looked at her as if to say you’re playing a dangerous game.

They were all flushed as they righted themselves back in their seats then topped up their glasses, sharing tidbits with each other from their platters.

But curiosity got the better of Fives, “Still can’t believe Wolffe was able to stay. Did you and he ever ….get together?”

Veera was caught totally off-guard.

“That look is admission enough,” he said with a faint, understanding smile. “Always thought he was keen on you.”

“How?”

“You didn’t see him looking down at us every five seconds at 79’s?”

Veera shook her head.

“Oh he was keeping an eye on us.”

Veera looked down at the table.

“I’m pissed he got to stay on while I got banished.”

“Well it’s not like he had any say in the matter, Homeworld ultimately made the decision and ordered him.”

Fives sat silently, finally nodding and screwing up his nose he drawled under his breath, “Still think Fox is a crafty bastard.” He poured himself another glass.

“Pour me one too please….and actually, they say it’s not proper to talk about an ex on a first date. Can we please not talk about Wolffe anymore, not today.

“Veera, forgive me, because I want to believe it was all unintended and we got caught up in the crossfire of war but because of you, I was threatened with charges of fraternisation and treason. That’s a hot date with a firing squad! It also tarnished my reputation with my seniors. I am well aware standard first date protocol means we discuss hobbies, art galleries and preferred pets but really, we are not on our first date and we have history, so I think I deserve some background knowledge if I’m to entertain this match-up any further.  The One-o-Fourth extracted us from our mission. He knew I’d lost Echo and he even told me he got the same orders as me so I’m very pissed to learn that wasn’t true and he got to stay with you. Dammit, we’d even been in 79’s together drinking in Echo’s memory and you knew nothing?”

Veera couldn’t tell if it were nausea or hurt she was feeling but she couldn’t have looked good because it made Fives

swiftly work to make amends.

“Mesh’la, I’m sorry, I’m sorry –“

“If you’re feeling pissed,” said Veera firmly, “I get it….but piss on Homeworld, not Wolffe. You know what I think? I think he chose not to tell me because he knew I was already very upset and the news of Echo would’ve crushed me. He also felt that if we didn’t talk of military matters, they’d have no evidence they could twist against me, or all three us for that matter. He knew I like you. He also knew I liked him but I was a mess. Yes, I was sweet on him before I met you but thought I’d read him all wrong. You asked me out first. If it’s any consolation, we both felt guilt that he got to stay and that I’d dated you and that you were taken out of my hands before the natural flow of things could take their course. Those issues gnawed at us constantly.”

Fives went quiet. He sat for a long while with his arms crossed, his thumb stroking his bottom lip. The sound of Veera sniffing snapped him out of his reflections.  She was dabbing her eyes and wiping her hands on her skirt when he took them in his and rested them on his knees.

“Forgive me, please? I don’t want any more sadness or hurt. I’m sorry.” He started sniffling himself. “Look, I can lay all my cards on the table and tell you about my exes and exploits but I went to RTL to find something serious. Never in my wildest dreams did I think it would lead to a second chance with you! You knocked me out the park when I met you at 79’s. Then we dated and I thought wow, this girl’s unbelievable! No one since has ever made me laugh like you did, or made me think of them in awe. I’m so sorry I upset you.” He sniffed again and swallowed hard. The look of pleading on his face too much for Veera.

“Come here you,” she said and gently drew him towards her.

They kissed, slowly, simply, sniffled a bit in between then rested their foreheads together.

“I’m sorry too,” she said.

After a moment of regaining their calm she asked him, “Do you think they matched us cause they knew we needed to get this off our chests or cause we actually do match?”

Fives huffed a little laugh, “I’d like to think both.”

“You’re such a diplomat.”

Fives threw his head back laughing, “Me, a diplomat? Cyar’rika, you’ve been drinking,” he winked. “Oh I hope we don’t have to wait too much longer for the kids, I want to go home.”

The twinkle in his eye made Veera blush.

“You were going to take me out dancing, remember?”

“Hmm, fond memories of the night we met, another thing I couldn’t forget about you.”

Veera laughed, “You know the saying about dancing?”

Fives shook his head.

“The vertical expression of a horizontal desire, legalised by music.”

“Young lady!” he beamed.

“Come on hazard stripes! Let’s dance.”

“Hazard stripes? Oh  girl…you’ve been warned!”

Fives and Veera’ companions eventually emerged from their speed dating. Having agreed to look for them together, they finally spotted them on the dance floor but they weren’t dancing, rather leaning against a pillar, enfolded in each other’s arms.

“I’ve never seen him so….peaceful,” said one of the clones.

“Yeah, especially not with a lady!” another added.

Veera’s colleague asked them what they meant.

“Well, he’s usually so animated, like flirty and joshing with them –“

“Or all over them!”

The boys laughed heartily.

Veera’s colleague however looked at them, enamoured. “Well, all I can say is there must be something to this RTL Matchmaking lot cause look at them both, that’s pure tenderness right there. Think I might sign myself up.”

“Hey, what for?” exclaimed the first clone, “You’ve just met me!”

“Uh, uh, cheeky! I’ve just met all three of you. The agency would’ve narrowed it down to one for me, saving me a load of grief. Anyway, let’s go get a drink, we might be here a while.”

[sweetheartmotives]

"What position you got him in? Tell MIKE I said hi 😒😒"

The one farthest away from me

How am I supposed to take a guy named Mike seriously enough for that?...

He sounds like a 40 year old dad with a horseshoe moustache

I mean maybe you like dilfs, I don't know!! You and MIKE sound soooo cute together 😒😒

Again, tell him I said hi. Hope you guys are enjoying cuddling together or smth 😒

[08melancholie]

I played gta v just after rdr2 and I missed Micah so naturally I gave Trevor a mullet and a horseshoe moustache lol

omg dont give me ideas... instantly ran to my pc and booted gta up