#i am a toothpick on the wind

[riffingtheverse]

"Your wife,” said Arthur, looking around, “mentioned some toothpicks.” He said it with a hunted look, as if he was worried that she might suddenly leap out from behind a door and mention them again.

Wonko the Sane laughed. It was a light easy laugh, and sounded like one he had used a lot before and was happy with.

“Ah yes,” he said, “that’s to do with the day I finally realized that the world had gone totally mad and built the Asylum to put it in, poor thing, and hoped it would get better.”

This was the point at which Arthur began to feel a little nervous again.

“Here,” said Wonko the Sane, “we are outside the Asylum.” He pointed again at the rough brickwork, the pointing, and the gutters. “Go through that door” — he pointed at the first door through which they had originally entered — “and you go into the Asylum. I’ve tried to decorate it nicely to keep the inmates happy, but there’s very little one can do. I never go in there myself. If I ever am tempted, which these days I rarely am, I simply look at the sign written over the door and I shy away.”

“That one?” said Fenchurch, pointing, rather puzzled, at a blue plaque with some instructions written on it.

“Yes. They are the words that finally turned me into the hermit I have now become. It was quite sudden. I saw them, and I knew what I had to do.”

The sign read:

“Hold stick near center of its length. Moisten pointed end in mouth. Insert in tooth space, blunt end next to gum. Use gentle in-out motion.”

“It seemed to me,” said Wonko the Sane, “that any civilization that had so far lost its head as to need to include a set of detailed instructions for use in a package of toothpicks, was no longer a civilization in which I could live and stay sane.”

He gazed out at the Pacific again, as if daring it to rave and gibber at him, but it lay there calmly and played with the sandpipers.

“And in case it crossed your mind to wonder, as I can see how it possibly might, I am completely sane. Which is why I call myself Wonko the Sane, just to reassure people on this point. Wonko is what my mother called me when I was a kid and clumsy and knocked things over, and sane is what I am, and how,” he added, with one of his smiles that made you feel, Oh. Well that’s all right then. “I intend to remain."

So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish (The 4th Book in the increasingly inaccurately named Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy Trilogy) by Douglas Adams

this paper came with a box of jars at work I had to put together and I'm kind of obsessed with it. i might frame this and put it on my wall

[star-farer]

bruises and bickering

Summary: Children will always find a way of getting into trouble AU: Ik'aad Taglist: @kybercrystals94 @fionas-frenzy @padawancat97 @margindoodles2407 @comfy-vember @dreamsight73

Comfy-vember 2024, Day 5: Saying their name

For the forty seventh time that day (but who's counting?), Hunter sighs.

“We told you to be careful, kid.”

Omega just shrugs, legs swinging as she munches on Mantell Mix. She’s barely concerned for a clone who’s just had her elbow scraped and bloody.

Kneeling down beside her, Tech winds the last of the bandages and throws Hunter a look that tells him this is all his fault. How precisely their resident genius figured that out is beyond Hunter. Last he recalls, it was Wrecker who was running beside her on their latest mission.

“Well,” says Echo cheerily, snapping the medkit close, “You know what they say: Like buir, like ad’ika.”

“Hey, wha’s that s’posed ta mean!” Echo only grins as he leaves for the cockpit, an indignant Wrecker hot on his cybernetic heels.

“It was rhetorical, Tech,” says Crosshair tiredly when the vod’ika in question raises his finger and opens his mouth in the manner that precedes information.

A shrewd glint of disapproving eyes is shot the sniper’s way past yellow lenses. “I am aware of that. However, I do believe Echo is right. Omega appears to be taking after our unruly ways.”

Crosshair snorts. “Our callsigns start with Havoc. Our ship is called the Marauder. And don’t get me started on all those ridiculous plans we’ve come up with.”

“Remind me who aided with the invention of said plans?”

A triumphant smirk tilts both toothpick and lips upwards at the edge.

“Wrecker.”

“You are incorrigible,” sighs Tech in exasperation, shaking his head.

“Are you surprised?”

“No,” drawls Tech, winking at Omega as he stands, which gets her smothering a laugh in her palm, “I suppose not. I’ve had to deal with your madness since I was decanted.”

“Yeah, which was a couple hours after I was decanted,” puts in Hunter with a grimace, “I nearly lost my hearing when he came screeching out the tube. You just got the scowl because he'd calmed down by the time it was your turn.”

“Wait," Omega blinks, "You remember all that?”

“Sure I do. He came out cranky and crying like always. With the tattoo and toothpick, of course.”

And even as he grins, even as Omega frowns up at him, squinting, he knows he’ll never fool a child as clever as his own.

“I don’t believe you.”

Crosshair huffs triumphantly, flicking the toothpick so that it grazes along Hunter’s nose. He holds out a hand for Omega to take. “This is why you’re my favorite ad. You’re smarter than all these di’kute.”

Two dry are-you-serious expressions are shot Crosshair’s way, and Hunter can’t help but choke on a laugh at the sight of his brother and daughter levelling the most deadpan stares he has seen in all his short life at his sniper.

“She is our only ad, Crosshair.” Omega nods with Tech’s observation, grabbing the bowl of Mantell Mix.

“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone she’s your favorite ad too.”

Hunter clears his throat. “You know I’m right here.”

“You don’t count.”

“Rude.”

Flapping a hand his way, Crosshair gently tugs Omega along with him to the cockpit, stealing a handful of the Mix and earning him a laughing Hey! from the daughter in question as he pops them into his mouth. Tech, as expected, follows right after, resuming their argument about who-knows-what-at-this-rate.

“Hey ‘Mega,” calls Hunter, just before they step out the rear cabin. She turns, eyes bright and face open, bandaged arm still gripping Crosshair’s hand while the other wraps around the Mantell Mix at her torso.

He grins. “Make sure those two don’t kill each other?”

And she giggles like he’s told her the funniest thing in the world, one eye slowly closing in an attempt of a wink.

“No promises.”

[carmensbrain]

You asked and I am here. Cole Cassidy x Reader pretty please? 🙏

No specific criteria - write whatever you feel like :))

Ugh this man has infected my brain😵‍💫

Thank you humble anon for this blessing🎀

Contains- Cole Cassidy x Reader RAHHHHH

Rating- E for every brain!!

Warnings- mentions of mcree (i wanted to incorporate the name change I hate the real guy!)

Authors note- this is mostly self indulgent but I just got my phone back, cut me some slack✋🤚

Fic starts below cut!!

You had met Cole back in his deadlock days while working at your family’s diner, the Panorama. He was still a scruffy teen, toothpick between his lips as he entered the warm building. A girl your age followed in behind him, her long pale hair scruffed and messy.

“Damn you mcree!” She huffed, pushing him roughly before fixing her hair. You knew you’d seen him before, something about his face and the way he carried himself that seemed familiar, he and the girl were plastered all over wanted posters in the area with hefty prices attached.

You decided to give them the benefit of the doubt and let them take a seat at the bar as you took their order. The girl, who you would come to know as Ashe, ordered a grilled cheese and the boy ordered a burger while his gaze drifted to the apple pie in the case across the bar.

“And would either of you want some pie with that?” You ask, seeing the look on the girls face as she quietly reminds the boy of their financial situation.

“Oh no not tonight” the boy says setting his hat onto the bar, scruffy hair falling over his forehead messily.

“On the house, Mcree” you hum, placing a slice of pie in front of the two. The girl looks at you with a cocked eyebrow and stops the boy from eating or even touching the dish.

“It was gonna get thrown out anyway” you clarify with a warm smile and the girl seems to relax as the boy houses the food. They eat silently as you clean glasses and tune into whatever music was playing on the radio, feeling the boys gaze on you as you worked. As they pay their bill and the boy hands it to you he speaks up.

“The names Cole by the way, Cole Cassidy” His voice has a smooth southern tone to it, his cheeks having a noticeable dusting of pink as he speaks.

“Oh sorry… I’m f/n l/n”

Cole and Ashe leave for the night and as the weeks pass you start to notice the lootings and fights drift farther from the diner, bringing in more business during the day. Cole visits regularly “just for pie”, complementing you far too much for something he’s had so many times before but you didn’t mind, not in the slightest.

He treats you like an angel, ensuring that no one speaks to you even slightly rudely as he chats with you. The cooks quickly took notice and began teasing you for ‘straightening him out’, which you laugh at while denying it. Every once in a while he’d bring in flowers for the vase next to the register, hands clammy as he hands the flowers to you.

For about a year and half that’s how it was, until overwatch caught wind of deadlock. Rumors where all you had to piece together where he went, apparently being forced into overwatch in order to avoid arrest. You couldn’t help but miss him, watching as the rain withered the final wanted posters tacked up on the telephone poles. Inevitably you had to grow up, to take full control of the diner as the years pass and locals move in and out.

When overwatch disbanded you were coming up on your late thirties and you couldn’t defend your diner as well as you used to, criminals getting bold again with flashy weapons and body modifications. That’s when rumors of a certain cowboy rolling into town again began circulating through hushed whispers. A red beat up motor cycle came to a halt in front of the entrance of the diner,a cloud of dust pillowing beneath it as the bell above the door rings.

It was a slow morning so the only sounds were the sinks, grills, and the man’s boots and spurs hitting the tile floor. His gaze rose to you as he took his hat from his head and held it to his chest with a gentle smile.

“Ya miss me?”

[call-sign-shark]

The Gentle Art of Terror

summary: Jack and Eva Nelson have an unpleasant encounter during a posh party. Her name? Tina Cacciatore, Luca Changretta's right hand. || Based on the "ask about your OC and mine to receive a one-shot + small moodboard". Also exploring Eva being scared is super cool. (@evita-shelby)

Words: 1.5k

“What are we doing here?” Eva asked, her sly and perfectly manicured hands tightly wrapped around the American’s muscular arm as they navigated in the dim light of the damp wine cellar. Warm but feeble lamps were hanging from the concrete ceiling, softly swinging from left and right at each gust of wind, casting their yellowish hue on the walls. The sumptuous witch’s voice was underlined with a palpable annoyance for she didn’t understand why they should waste their time in this shit hole while one of the most expensive parties ever held in Boston was taking place two stories above them. Jack Nelson‘s only reply was a little “shhh” before he walled himself in silence again, his green eyes surveyed his hostile surroundings with great attention. Even though the letter stipulated that their encounter would be peaceful, only aimed at discussing the terms of territory limits, Jack didn’t trust the man for his life of his. While merciless as an enraged bull and sly as a fox, he knew far too well that Luca Changretta, the most efficient soldier of the Spinetta’s family and the one rapidly climbing the Mafia’s highest ranks, wouldn’t shy away at the idea of slicing his throat at the slightest moment of inattention and Jack couldn’t have that. Even less when his mesmerizing wife, as powerful as him but embodying his only weakness, was with him at this moment.

“Jack.” She called him, her tone firmer as to remind him she wasn’t some kind of docile trophy wife but a Queen who could have almost everyone eating from her cursed hand. The sole power of her voice made him oblige — Nelson pinched his scarred lips in a thin line before replying.

“Remember when I told you Changretta wanted to talk? Well, here we are,” His gaze, usually hard and unyielding, softened at the sight of his wife’s expression, which was a combination of surprise and discontent, “I told you to stay at the party.” 

“And I told you I’m not some meek girl. If you are in trouble so I am, and I won't hesitate to make the fucker atone for the sin of thinking about harming you.” She stated, unbreakable and with the fury of a harpy. To this, Jack couldn’t help but grin: if the situation wasn’t so dangerous he would probably have fucked her right here, right now. With every day passing by, Eva’s reactions comforted him in the decision of belonging to her and only her. 

“Let’s stay careful. I don’t know where Changretta is… Might be as well looming in the dark and waiting to attack—“

“Oh. He’s here.”  She cut him off, one brow raised, her face composed but her gift of Clairvoyance unpleasantly rattling against her bones at the unpleasant sight. In a profound, almost animal instinct, She dug her nails into Jack’s thick sleeve as she felt her husband’s entire body tense when his eyes met with what she saw.

Luca Changretta stood against the wall like he belonged there, a tall and slender figure made of shadows. The swinging lamps of the ceiling threw their warm light at his face, bringing out his sharp traits, accentuating the hard line of his jaw, the predatory gleam in his eye, and the charisma he effortlessly exuded. With an air of casual indifference, the Capo was leaning back, his arms loosely crossed — Surprisingly, his posture was rather relaxed, while still bearing something threatening, like a panther that could spring to action in a blink the moment it smelt blood. A toothpick rolled lazily between his teeth as he carefully watched a third man across him, a man tied to a chair, his form broken and pathetic for he had been reduced to little more than a shell of fear and trembling flesh. 

Eva froze, an imaginary alarm ringing relentlessly in her brain as her genius mind quickly put two and two together —no blood on his face or on his ridiculously pricey tailored suit, a rather long distance from the victim: There was someone else. And that someone was responsible for this twisted scene, probably under Luca’s commands, but if so where was that monster?  Jack should have had the same thought for he quickly checked his surroundings to make sure no one had trapped them but, hopefully, there was no one. However, the echoing footsteps of the powerful couple had drawn the mafioso’s attention for a fleeting second. His piercing green gaze, shining in the dim light, flicked to them and paused just long enough to make sure they understood that he saw them—really saw them. Then, a grin slowly spread across his face in a chilling, knowing smile that curled his lips and reached his eyes in a way that was anything but friendly.

“Good evening, Mr.Nelson. I didn’t expect you to come to our little meeting in such a good company.” He finally said, his smooth voice slightly resounding in the cellar as he nodded at Eva’s direction to acknowledge her presence. Enemy but still a gentleman. As unexpected as it was, Luca wasn’t particularly surprised considering how skillfully manipulative and equally dangerous the new Mrs.Nelson was. Another shiver ran down the Mexican beauty, who couldn’t help but shift their focus from Luca to the tied-up victim, sobbing in muffled and exhausted squeals through the cloth that gagged him. She felt it — this presence, this fourth person hidden somewhere with a stare so burning she almost nervously scratched herself to get rid of the sensation. 

“Luca Changretta.” Jack simply said, spitting the name with so much disgust and disdain it seemed he had just taken a bite of a rotten apple, “I didn’t know you would put on a show in a pathetic attempt to scare me.” Jack stated with a raised brow — if his enemy had the slightest idea about who he was, he would surely know that cruelty didn’t impress Jack Nelson for he himself used to inflect it for business purpose. Ironically, what he loved the most was the Italian way.

“If you think all of this is to impress you let me tell you that you’re wrong,” The mafioso waved off the cutting remark with a elegant movement of the hand, “This unfortunate soul betrayed me so I had to make an example out of him. Nothing to do with you.”

That was how the men started to talk and while Eva was aware of it, the rest of their conversation blurred into unintelligible background when she noticed the tied-up man’s sudden agitation. The latter jolted and his breath hitched, muffled behind the ragged and saliva-coated cloth gag stuffed in his mouth. The air suddenly became heavy with a primal, animal fear that suffocated Eva. As her clairvoyant senses urged her to flee, her dark eyes still followed the panicking victim’s gaze until they fell on the slim and rather short frame of a woman. 

“Amore,” Luca called, interrupting his conversation with Jack Nelson due to the annoying noise he heard in the background, “Silence him.” He just ordered in a Sicilian — as a polyglot, Eva understood it — with as many emotions as if he had asked her to close the door, before focusing on his business talk again.  Two words, one command, and the girl moved closer, her steps light, almost graceful, as she entered his line of vision. She was rather small, standing no taller than 5”5, and harmless at first glance with her slender frame and radiant, ever-present smile. But Eva knew more than to trust a smile, especially this one who was nothing but deceptive - a mask to hide the hideous. She had long dark hair that cascaded down her shoulders, framing a cute but bratty face with mismatched eyes — one as dark as night, the other a brilliant, unsettling golden sun — and blood splatters.

“What…” Eva breathed. 

The man’s breathing quickened as she approached, his chest rising and falling in sharp, panicked heaves. He pulled harder at his restraints in a desperate, useless struggle but it only seemed to amuse her. The broken doll-faced woman tilted her head, her smile widening and a look of near delight crossing her face as she took in his terror.  “That’s okay.” She simply said with a fake soothing tone before pulling a sharp knife out and slicing his throat before Eva had the time to bat her eyes. The strong metallic smell of blood came in a wave so strong that Eva took a few steps back with her expensive heels clicking, eyes wide open, and nausea hitting. Jack must have borne witness to the same thing judging by the instant and worried glance he gave to his wife.

“Hm?”  The killer girl said as if she suddenly remembered that other people were in the room. She finally raised her bicolor eyes towards the Mexican beauty and paused, quietly observing Eva’s face whose exquisite color had turned two shades paler with lips parted in shock. The grotesque scene in front of her didn’t make sense — even with blood on her own hands, she could never understand such unleashed cruelty. Such a bright glimmer of pleasure when inflicting pain.  Eva was frozen, but Tina’s reaction to her presence was instant: her bloodied face lit up with gleeful recognition and her wicked grin turned into an innocent smile. She lifted her hand; still dripping with blood, and waved cheerfully.

“Oh, hey!”  She exclaimed in a light and musical voice, as though she'd just bumped into an old friend on the street. There was no malice in her tone, no hint of the brutality she had just shown.

Eva’s heart missed a beat for the first time in a while at the dissonance between her casual, innocent demeanor and the horrors she had just witnessed. It was wrong. Wrong. So fucking wrong, even for her. After all, she wasn’t a good person but she wasn’t…That. 

And “that”  was a whole other level. “That” was the kind of monster who could not be bribed, not be stopped. An abomination that no money nor power could restraint. 

And “that”?

That was Tina. 

tag: @runnning-outof-time, @evita-shelby, @peakyswritings

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Hi Mimi!!!! I can't believe I'm only seeing your fic Song Roulette now!!! If this is past your deadline you can totally disregard this, but I was wondering if you could do Return to Love by Andrea Boccelli with Hunter? I hope I'm within the rules? I couldn't find them (I'm tired so observation skills are low atm XD) if not I can submit a different one within the rules!

Can't wait to see what you do!!!! As always, your work is amazing 🥰

Hello my lovely @dragonrider9905!

Thank you for your lovely request: Return to Love by Andrea Boccelli

Love this song and him. Such a fantastic request. I hope you like my interpretation of it.

Love oo

Return to Love

Warnings: Longing, confession, gift giving, fear, apprehension, hugs, kisses, I think that's it if I miss anything please let me know.

Italics - flashback

Main Master List   | Star Wars Jukebox Roulette |   AO3 Link

Hunter stood at the entrance of your village, it had been years since he set foot on your home planet. However, now that things had calmed down, Tantiss was no longer a worry. Hemlock was dead and gone. The Empire was no longer looking for Omega. Everything was peaceful. 

As he sat by the village tree, and he finally felt peace for the first time in his life, his mind kept going back to you. 

The way your smile always used to light up your face. 

The way your eyes would always look at him with so much love. 

The way your nose would scrunch up when you laughed. 

All those little moments, all those little quirks that he memorized, and had safely tucked away in his heart. Kept all those precious moments with you to himself, untainted and pure. 

Of course, he still remembered the day he left the village, the day the Separatists were chased off your planet. 

His brothers said their goodbye first, thanking you for allowing you to let them use your home as a base for them. 

You couldn’t help laughing at Wrecker’s wide eyes as you gave him Lula, it’d been a hobby of yours to make toys for the children of the village, and when you saw how much he kept looking at the kids with their toys. Well you couldn’t help but make one for him too.

You had asked Hunter in secret what colours Wrecker would’ve liked, and you were so happy that he loved it, as much as he did. 

Tech and Crosshair also were given presents, Crosshair you gifted him a stack of toothpicks, a habit he developed while being in your home. With Tech, you gave him the new strap for his goggles, it was a special leather that was guaranteed to never wear away. 

Hunter just stood off to the side as he watched how you doted on each of his brothers, his heart swelling with each moment. He couldn’t stop smiling when it finally was just the two of you. 

“We are very grateful for everything you did for us.”

“It was nothing, Hunter,” you looked into his eyes, smiling as the wind blew through his hair, it was getting in his eyes. You reached up and tucked his hair behind his ear. “I’m going to miss you.”

“So am I”

You held out a red fabric to him, “A little something to remember me by.”

“I can’t forget you regardless.”

“Either way” you smiled as he opened up the red fabric, looking at the necklace in his hand it was a simple ingot necklace. His eyes focused on the design, “It’s the symbol of our village. It’s not much … I’m sure you probably won’t wear it…”

“I love it.” Your eyes focused on each other, as Hunter reached up and put the necklace over his head and tucked it into his body suit. “I’ll wear it always.” He used the red fabric and tied it around his head keeping his hair out of his face.

“If you … any of you ever need a place to call home … my door is always open.” You reached out and held his hand, “Please stay safe.”

Hunter nodded, he wanted to say more, wanted to do so much more than offer a simple squeeze to your fingers. He longed to press his lips against yours. “If I come back, it won’t be for a long time.”

“Whenever you do come back …” you took a deep breath, as you offered one last smile, “my … my door is always open.” You wanted to say how he had your heart so it didn’t matter how long it would take, you wouldn’t forget him. You’d remember all those moments you two shared.

Hunter steeled himself as he stood in front of your house, your necklace nestled against his chest. His fist raised ready to knock, when he took a moment to steal himself. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He knocked, not backing away. It felt as though hours had ticked by as he stood there, when it’d really only been a few seconds. 

You wiped your hands clean, as you answered the door, “Sorry, my hands were …” your sentence vanished from your lips as your eyes focused on Hunter’s face. 

Your heart started pounding as he stood there, your eyes slowly roving over him, making sure he wasn’t injured, before your eyes went back to his own.

“Hunter…”

The fear and trepidation he’d been feeling from the moment he decided to come to you melted away. 

“Hi mesh’la”

You didn’t hesitate a second, throwing your arms around his neck as you pulled him closer, burrowing your face into his neck. He didn’t hold back wrapping his arms around you, burying his face in your hair, remembering your scent from so long ago. You still smelt like home. And now that he held you, you felt like home. 

Neither of you said anything as you both stood there holding on to each other. 

After you’ve had your fill, you pulled back, fighting back tears as you looked at him, “I’ve missed you.”

Hunter fought back his own tears, as his hand gently stroked your cheek, “I missed you, too. I’m sorry I’m late.”

“You’re not late. You’re never late.” You held his cheeks in your hand, smiling as he leaned in closer. You didn’t hesitate, as you closed the distance pressing your lips against his. 

Hunter pulled back after holding you in his arms, deepening the kiss like he’d been wanting to do for the past several years, “How do you feel about moving?”

“If it means being with you, I can go anywhere.”

“Ever heard of Pabu?”

Main Master List   | Star Wars Jukebox Roulette |   AO3 Link

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24

@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren

@firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121

@discofern @kavecika

@monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri

@avathebestx

@theroguesully @furyhellfire66

@carodealmeida

@ciramaris @sprout-fics

@twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian

@ulchabhangorm

@littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee

@vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

@crosshair-is-the-superior-clone @totallyunidentified

@griffedeloup @leotatombs

@leotawrites

[ladylooch]

How Country Feels - [Mack X David]

A/N: I am so excited to bring this to you today for many reasons. First of all, it’s Mack and David in Iowa. So we know it’s smutty and adorable. BUT! Mostly I am excited to give this as a gift to my bestest bestie @casualhilarity. You graduated!!!!! From your really tough 6 week training program and I am so so so so so so proud of you! There was never a doubt that you would be successful in this adventure. This step is just the beginning for you. I cannot wait to see what is next! In the meantime, please enjoy our thoughts on Iowa coming to life in the longest post I have ever made on Tumblr 🥹💜

Word count: 8.2k

Warnings: mentions of death, cancer, grief, smut (18+ content)

10,000 feet above Des Moines, Iowa, Mackenzie Hischier looks out the window as her plane begins to descend from her connecting flight from LAX. She has been flying across the world for almost 18 hours trying to get here. Queenstown, New Zealand was home for her the past three weeks. Her internal clock is all sorts of fucked up from the massive time swing she is going through, but she was able to sleep in sync with the Central Time Zone on her first flight. She is hopeful that will curb some of her jet lag. 

The landscape below is much different from the crystal blue water and rigid mountain peaks she came from. Instead, it is flat and vast, various different shades of greens and brows. It’s also windy. She scrunches her nose as the plane swings a bit to the left before continuing on at a smoother pace. There is not much out here to block the wind, but thousands of windmills dot the prairie below them to capture the best energy source nature can give this area. Mack has never been to Iowa, or the Midwest outside of Chicago, which doesn’t feel or look anything like what she is seeing. 

Shortly after landing, Mack walks out of the secure area, heading down to baggage claim 2. As she gets closer to the carousal, she sees a tall man with a thick black mustache, blue jeans, and a plain white t-shirt stretched across his broad chest. His hands are stuffed in his pockets as he leans against the wall by baggage claim 2, boot clad feet crossed over at the ankles. A worn, NYR baseball cap is on his head, hiding his green eyes that are devouring her even as they hide in the shadow of the bill. Mack can see the toothpick in his mouth as she gets closer. He pushes off from the wall, starting to walk towards her. Never in her life did she think she would do this, but her pace quickens and she hustles her ass across that tiled floor to be picked up by him.

“Hi!” She exclaims as she throws herself at him. He catches her easily, hauling her up his chest, both big hands clutching her ass.

“Hi honey.” He grins up at her. Mack licks her lips, then puts them on his. He squeezes her tighter into their kiss. “Mmm, missed that. Missed you.” He lets her slide down his body, Vans hitting the tile again. “Thought it was winter in New Zealand. How are you so tan?”

“There was so much sun! We got lucky pretty much the whole trip.” This trip was with two of her colleagues because it is a big feature with the magazine. Mack is grateful they had a photographer so she could focus more on the stories of the locals and less about getting the perfect shot for print.

“Good. Glad it worked out for you, baby.” He says, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You tired?”

“Um, yeah. Don’t let me fall asleep.” She mumbles into his side.

“I won’t. You’re in Iowa now. We gotta work when we get back to the farm.” Mack’s eyes widen. She looks up at him with concern. David starts to laugh.

“I’m kidding. Work is done for the day.” 

“But tomorrow?”

“It begins all over again. Gotta feed the cows, let the chickens roam, check fence, and a thousand other tasks.”

“Hard working boy.”

“Yeah.” He grins proudly. The beeping of the baggage claim alerts them before the metal begin to turn. David sees Mack’s bag and steps forward, easily hauling it off. “Just this?” Mack nods. “Let’s go baby.” He holds a hand out for her to take. She laces their fingers together, surprised at how rough his hands feel. Her gaze travels up his arm to his bicep, noting it is rock hard and bulging even without flexing.

“How long of a drive is it?” She asks after they are tucked into David’s big, black truck. He whips it fast and easy out of the parking spot, then roars the diesel engine out of the parking ramp. 

“Ah, about an hour.” He tells her, sliding his hand over to cup her thigh. She weaves her fingers through his. He squeezes them tight. “Plenty of time for you to tell me everything about your trip.” Mack smiles, adjusting herself in the passenger seat so she can look at him while she talks. She loves talking to David. As great as everything else is with him, he is a great listener and always asks the best, most insightful questions about her work. She could talk to him for hours. When she is done, she switches the topic of conversation to him.

“Tell me about the farm. What can I expect?”

“Um,” He chuckles, nudging his hat up off his forehead to scratch an itch. “Well, it’s pretty quiet out there. We are about 15 minutes south of the town closest to us. It has been hot this summer, so I hope you got some summer clothes in there.” Mack does. She packed as accordingly as she could. “Hours are long. I’ll be up before you and come back around dinner time.”

“Oh, I thought you have staff?” Mack questions.

“I do, but someone needs to manage them.” David says. “My farm manager is off on vacation right now. Usually takes the whole month of August off and leaves it to me before he is back to managing it on his own when I head East.” 

“Oooo, you’re the boss.” Mack giggles.

“Yeah of the farm and you.” He quips. Mack rolls her eyes. He is not the boss of her, but he can keep pretending he is.

“Am I gonna see you while I’m here?” She jokes. David licks his lips and nods.

“Yeah, I’ll be able to step away. I have some things planned for us too. Figure I could take you back up to the state fair next week. Get you something on a stick.” Mack gives him a weird look. “You ever been to a state fair? County fair? Nothing?” Mack shakes her head no to both. “Holy shit.” He chuckles.

“At least I don’t think we did when we lived in Jersey. I don’t know that was a long time ago.”

“A fair is where you eat fried food, mostly on a stick, and play games to win prizes, drinks some beer or other frozen drinks to stay cool. Farmers and 4H kids bring their animals to the fair to be judged.”

“What is 4H?” Mack wrinkles her nose in confusion. David looks slack jawed at her. 

“Oh baby. It’s gonna be a whole different world here for you.” He laughs like it’s cute to him.  

Mack feels the first itch of apprehension tickle her spine.

She has been all over the world, but she may be completely out of her league here. 

- - -

The moment Mack steps out of David’s truck in the parking lot of the local watering hole, she can hear the consistent beat of the country song thumping in the tiny bar. David says its a bar, but to Mack it honestly looks like a shack she would avoid if she was alone. After getting a tour of the farm earlier, David informed Mack they were going to be meeting his friends for drinks. He has been talking her up all summer and they’re all eager to get a glimpse of this mystery woman who has stolen David’s heart.

Mack purses her lips for a moment, then looks down at her outfit. She is dressed in a flowing black, long sleeved top from Dior and Black frayed shorts from a boutique in Paris, paired with a Gucci belt. On her feet are black and white Nike Air Force ones. She has on various expensive, designer jewelry and a Prada cross-body bag her mom and dad got her for her last birthday. David had told her she looked good for where he was taking her. She feels very, very overdressed, like even her silk pajamas would be too fancy for this place.

“David.” Mack mumbles when she meets him at the back of the truck. He grabs her hand in his.

“What?” He asks. He is in dark jeans with a blue and white, light weight flannel. His sleeves are rolled up his forearms, exposing his tattoos and the tan skin from a summer of hard work. He took a shower and styled his hair perfectly with a crisp part and a perfect swoop.

“I am so overdressed.”

“What do you mean?” He asks. “You look great?” Mack doesn’t know how to tell him that she is pretty sure her outfit costs more than this bar does. “Don’t worry about it. You’re beautiful and sexy and you’re walking in on my arm. No one is going to mess with you.” Mack snorts and then starts to laugh.

“I wasn’t thinking that, but I’m trying to make a good impression.”

“Babe, they are going to love you. Trust me.”

Within an hour, Mack senses that isn’t going to be the case. 

She can feel the judgement. Detect the way it crawls over her body from his friends. The looks of “not one of us” and the whispers between the girls. She has been talked about enough behind her back throughout life to know when it’s happening right in front of her face. It started when she tried to order a Paloma. The bartender had looked at her like she grew a second head. She glances at David nervously.

“Curley, it’s tequila, grapefruit juice and lime. You got all that shit behind the bar.” David gestures to the wall of liquor. 

“You wanna come make it, David?” Curley asks.

“Fuck. Sure.” David shrugs, going behind the bar and showing Curley how to put the drink together. “You think you got that for next time?” Curley did not look like he had it for next time, so Mack switches to tequila and soda instead. 

The conversation around her has centered on all things farm and rural life. What so and so is up to now. Who had a baby. Who just got divorced. Who was cheating on who. It all seemed very juvenile and uninteresting to Mack. David stayed out of it for the most part, listening along with Mack until his friends, Cody and Trevor, started talking Iowa Hawkeye football. Then she lost him to that.

Mack fingers the cocktail napkin that is soaked with condensation below her glass. It’s times like these where Mack feels so out of place in a country she is a citizen off. She knows this isn’t a full, direct correlation of America, but how can she be more out of place here than when she was in Tokyo last year? Or she can get down and dirty in the rice fields of Thailand and feel more connection with locals who don’t speak the same language than she can in the center of the country she was born in.

David’s lips on her temple break her internal discourse. Mack smiles at him. He rubs her shoulder as if to ask “you good?” She nods at him, smiling reassuringly. 

Dun, nu, nu sounds through the bar speakers, then the whole group slaps their hands on the table. “Woo!” They yell. Then Dun, Nu, Nu. Slap, “Woo!” The whole table erupts excitedly, as a man begins to drawl over the sound system. The table turns to look at David, screaming out the next lyrics, “You were raised on an asphalt farm!” Mack blinks, feeling lost. David tips his head back, laughing loudly.

“Davey! It’s your song!” A girl who Mack can’t remember her name, screams then chugs more of her Miller Lite. 

“Get up and swing your asphalt girl around.” Mack’s eyes widen. David chuckles, tapping her thigh assuringly. 

“No, we are good.” David knows Mack would rather be a metal sign on the wall of the bar than get up when no one else is dancing. Being on display is not her thing. She is grateful for that until she sees the sneering glares of the two women at the end of the table.

“Oh, she’s too good for dancing too.” Mack faintly hears.

Mack looks at David. She can tell he didn’t hear what she heard. Not surprising with how loud his other male friends are signing along to the country song. Mack looks down at the girls, noticing how they avoid direct eye contact with her. The blonde one puts her hand up to her mouth, whispering in the red head’s ear. Then they both giggle. 

“No, let’s dance.” Mack suddenly says to David. She isn’t going to let two, small town, hick bitches intimidate her. 

“What?” He responds, surprised. 

“Yeah, show me what you got cowboy.” She jokes as she stands.

The entire table sucks in a huge, deep breath.

“Oooooooo, she is in trouble.” One of the boys mumbles. David gives her a sympathetic smile.

“We aren’t cowboys, honey. We are farmers.”

“What is the difference?” Mack scoffs, laughing, thinking he is pulling her leg. David winces slightly at the large yelp of the table behind him, then grabs Mack, pushing her towards the center of the bar.

“I’ll show you later.” He chuckles, kissing her mouth. 

“Did I say something wrong?”

“Ah, no. They’re just sensitive. Don’t quite understand how other people are outside of these state lines.” Mack gets quiet, retreating into herself again. David practically drags her around in a circle because she is shutting down internally. “Hey…” He trails off. “This is all new to you. It’s okay.” 

“They don’t like me.” She looks at the center of his chest as she says it, not wanting to see the confirmation on his face.

“Nah, they just don’t know you, sweetheart. A lot of layers to your onion.” David can twist it any which way that he wants, but they both know Mack is right. They don’t like her… right now at least.

When Mack and David head back to the table after their dance, the mood at the table has seemed to shift. Now, they all ignore her. 

“How is the herd looking, Trent?” David asks the guy across from Mack. David’s hand is around her shoulder, rolling his fingers in a circle over the thin material of her shirt.

“Should be a good year.” Trent says. “We really need it. Been hurting the last few.”

“Yeah, we all have.” David nods. “Weather has been shit. Can’t out work that.”

“We can sure fucking try tho.” Trent grins, then clinks beer bottles with him. David brings his over to clink with Mack’s glass. She does so. Trent sucks at his teeth, making a slight slurping noise after swallowing more beer. 

“Mack, where did you grow up?”

“In New Jersey before we moved back to where my dad is from in Switzerland.” He nods.

“You have a job growing up or anything?” David cocks his head to the side at Trent. “I’m just trynna find something to relate to her with.” He justifies.

“Um, no. My parents wanted us to focus on school.” Trent sighs like he is disappointed. 

"Must be nice to have a daddy who was able to give you anything you wanted. Didn’t have to work your way through high school to make ends meet.” 

“Trent, knock it off.” David snaps. “Mack knows what hard work is.”

“Does she? Cause the rest of us aren’t thinking she does.”

“Hey, don’t speak for all of us.” Cody snaps. “Drink your beer and shut up.”

“I’m just thinking that it must be nice to have an NHL daddy who can call in a favor to get you a job where you barely have to work as an adult too.” David stands up, chair knocking back to the floor. He reaches across the table to grab Trent, hauling him up to a standing position. 

“Apologize, right now, and I won’t smear you into the wood floor your daddy installed.” 

“I-I-I’m sorry. I think I’m drunk.”

“No shit.” David sneers, shoving Trent back into his chair. The rest of the table goes ghostly silent. Other bar patrons look over their shoulders at the group. Mack is flaming red over the embarrassment of the words thrown her direction and David’s intense reaction. She is equally mortified and turned on.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom.” Mack whispers as David kisses her cheek in reassurance. David gives her a sympathetic look, apologetic eyes watching her as she heads to the back of the bar. 

Mack goes into the first stall, leaning her back into the tiled wall and covering her face. She sucks in deep breaths, trying not to cry. This night could not get any worse. She wants to leave so bad, but she has never been one to back down from a fight. She isn’t going to start now. She doesn’t want them having the satisfaction of seeing her rattled and vulnerable. No, she’ll throw her walls up and fake charm the pants off them. But first, she is going to grab some fresh air.

She heads through the double wood doors, walking down the parking lot, away from the posse of smokers out front. Her arms are crossed over her chest tightly trying to fight off the chill. She doesn’t understand how it can be so hot in the afternoon, but cool down in the evening. Another thing about Iowa she just “can’t understand”. Tears sting her eyes a bit. She feels dumb. Why is this bothering her so much? That guy is a douche. She knows who she is. She shakes off his words, running her fingers through her hair. Mack knows its because she wants to belong here with David. And from her perspective, so far this trip has been less than successful.

A large jacket comes around her shoulders. She looks to her right, seeing David. His eyes are boring into her, studying her face.

"Looking at the stars?" He asks her.

"Mhm." She looks up at the millions of little dots. Now this reminds her of being in the Swiss Mountains. The same sort of inky, black sky dotted with delicate twinkles. He runs his fingers along her shoulder, resting on the back of her neck. He guides her into his side.

"Talk to me, Hisch." 

"I guess I don't have much in common with this version of you.” Her European accent drips into her voice. She is surprised to hear that. It only comes out when she is feeling emotional, creating difficulty keeping a Western dialect. David grabs the opening of his jacket on her, tugging so she turns completely towards him. He steps forward, crowding her space. He brings a big paw to her chin, tilting her face up to his.

“What version?” He asks, laughing it off. “Baby, I am who I am. No matter where I am.” He brushes her hair back behind her ear. “And you’re everything I’ve dreamed of.” Mack can see how much he means it. It’s in his touch on her cheek, in his gaze stroking along hers, in the sureness of his voice. She nods. He captures her lips. The kiss is soft, sweet sucks and gentle nudging of his tongue against her bottom lip. His other hand winds around her waist, pressing into her lower back to keep her tight to him.

David says the right things, but that kiss says more to Mack than his words ever could.

His lips on hers erase it all- the insecurity, the doubt, the not belonging, the not good enough.

He grounds her because he knows what she needs immediately, sometimes before she even knows. But tonight, it is his physical reassurance soothing her more than anything. He towers over her, shielding her from everything with his muscular body, and consumes her in a way that feels safe not smothering. 

"Just say the word and I'll go back in there to straighten Trent out." Truthfully, having him storm back in there would be so fucking hot. She would get to watch him teach Trent a lesson and get all hot and bothered between her thighs. 

“What is the other option?” She murmurs.

“I take you home. We can spend the rest of the night by ourselves.”

Mack contemplates what home entails. She wants him to hold her hand in his dark truck the whole way home. She craves for him to undress her slowly in that small house. His boots hitting the floor at the foot of the bed while he urges her to lay back so he can take his time undressing her. She needs his rough, calloused hands on her soft hips as he pulls her panties down her legs. Then she wants him soft and slow, gently thrusting deep into her in a missionary position as he irritates her lips with his mustache.

And that’s exactly what Mack gets. 

“You look so good for me, honey. So wet and soft and perfect. Take me so well.” He praises her from where he holds his weight above her. His hot breath dances over her face, coated in light beer and her from his previous perch between her thighs. Mack is blissed out, drunk on him and the stroking of him against the walls of her pussy. 

“David.” She sighs, collecting him to her chest. He presses his to hers and then rolls his tongue into her mouth. He gathers her moans, sucking them up greedily so they are only his tonight. He fucks her deeper, harder, perfect bucks into her wet heat. “Fuck you’re so good. So fucking good.” She cries.

“Yeah? Best?”

“Yeah!” She yells.

“Say my name, sweetheart. Say who makes you feel this good.”

“You! David!” She howls.

“Good girl. My girl.” He groans. Mack’s inner walls clench him, pulling him deeper with each flutter of her getting closer and closer to the edge. Her heels dig into his butt, forcing him to stay right fucking there. She turns her face into his neck, sinking her teeth into him as she comes. 

Afterwards, David plays with her fingers as she lays on his sweaty chest. He kisses her forehead, inhaling the scent of her deeply. He keeps his face there afterwards, as Mack starts to go limp in his arms. Her eyelashes brush gently against his warm skin. He shifts her hips a bit, turning to the side so she can lay more comfortable in the crook of his arm.

“Goodnight, honey.” He whispers on her forehead. Then kisses her a final time before leaving her to her slumber. 

- - -

Two weeks into her trip, Mack is still having some trouble adjusting to Iowa. Every thing is completely different here. The grocery store, the little town he took her into, the restaurant options and drinks, even the air is different! It’s laced with manure and dust, making her nose plugged up so she constantly has to drainage. Her eyes had been almost swollen shut every morning of that first week.

“Do you have allergies?” David had asked her. Mack didn’t think so, but she’s also never been to a place quite like this. After a few days of Zyrtec, Mack can finally breathe through both nostrils.

In celebration, and because she is admittedly very bored, she gets into the shower. It’s the only thing in the farm house that is modern. David likes to take long showers after working in the field all day to get clean and relax. He’ll bring a can of Coors Light in with him and have some alone time. Mack thinks is is adorable, getting to see his self-care routine in Iowa. He doesn’t do this after games in NYC, but she thinks that might be because his adrenaline is usually still roaring after hockey. His favorite post-game routing has seemingly been sex. 

After getting clean and putting on some light make up, along with a sundress, Mack got to work putting together a meal for them. She opted for easily transported items like chips, sandwiches, and cut up fruit. Then she made some lemonade from the cup of lemonade mix she found in the pantry. David loves Lemonade down here. She is starting to enjoy it too. This time she puts fresh strawberries in for a little extra sweetness. 

Mack glances out the front window to where two farm hands are working. She puts her feet in the cowboy boots David got her at the boot store in town when she first got here. They are more broken in now and are no longer hurting her feet, so she feels comfortable wearing them for today’s excursion. Then she grabs the basket and steps outside. 

Mack covers her eyes with her hand, looking out at the vastness of the farm. David took her on a tour her second day here, but she doesn’t remember anything. She worries about getting lost out there. She double checks that she has her phone. At least she seems to have good service here. 

“Um, hi.” Mack says nervously as she walks up to the two farm hands by the barn.

“Hi Mackenzie.” They greet her happily. Something about being the boss’ girlfriend she is sure.

“Mack is fine. Um, do you know where I can find David?” She holds up the basket with their lunch. “I want to bring him lunch.”

“Oh, he is in the far back 40 on the edge of the farm property.” One of them says. 

“Okay. And I can get there with that?” She points to the small utility vehicle they whip around on the front of the farm. 

“Yeah….” They trial off, giving each other a look. “Do you know how to get there?”

“I know everything branches off from this road, she points to the left. But after that I am a little lost.”

“I can take you.” The older one, who seems to be more in charge says. “We can take the truck.” Mack nods. “I can put that in the bed for ya.” He hoists it over into the truck bed, then they both get into the cab. 

“What is your name?” She asks once they start down the dirt road. Rocks kick up against the mud flaps and the underbelly of the truck, making her have to yell a bit over to him.

“Felix.”

“Nice to meet you.” She smiles politely. “Thank you for taking me.”

“Of course. Mr. David says you are our special guest. Can’t let you get lost out here.” Mack blushes, biting her bottom lip. 

“Oh I don’t know about that. How long have you worked on the farm?”

“About 25 years. I worked for Mr. Chuck before Mr. David.” Mack knows Chuck is David’s dad. She doesn’t ask, but wonders if he was there when Chuck passed away on the farm.

“That is nice. You must like it here?”

“Yes, they are fair to their workers and their families. Last year, my wife had cancer. The treatment was expensive. We had to travel up to Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. But Mr. David paid for the whole thing and kept my job. My wife has now been in remission for five months.” Felix does the sign of a cross then kisses his lips in praise. 

“Wow.” Mack murmurs. David never told her that.

“He is special. Nothing like his siblings.” Felix’s face seems to cloud over. “We are happy he bought them out of the farm.” Another thing Mack wasn’t aware of. “He has made changes, some hard to learn at first, but all have been good. For us and him. More money and security. People on other farms around here want to work for him the most.” Pride swells in Mack’s chest at hearing that.

Felix turns to the right, heading away from the road and out for a few minutes. They come over a hill, down into a valley where Mack see’s David’s black truck. She frowns, realizing he is out here working alone.

“Is he always out here alone?” She wonders.

“No, just today.” He says. “It’s a hard day for him.” Mack furrows her brows, but nods along. He didn’t say anything before they left. He seemed normal too. The truck comes to a slowed stop. David is working along the fence line. He wipes his forehead with his forearm, looking up at the truck. He sees Felix, then grins huge when he sees Mack.

“Felix! Look at you bringing me pretty little things after busting me for that in high school.” Felix roars with laughter, his big chest shaking as he leans out the rolled down window. 

“This one seems a little less crazy.”

“Eh, you don’t know her like I do.” David winks. He tosses his tools into the cab of his truck. “Stay there, honey.” He says to her. Mack stays put, letting David come to her door. He opens it up, then gives her his hand to help pull her down safely from the high farm truck. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I brought lunch to you.” 

“Oh?” He wiggles his eyebrows, then drags his gaze along her body in her blue, linen sundress. 

“Actual food.” She fills him in. He quips a smirk at her, then leans down to kiss her. 

“Basket in the back, sir.” Felix says.

“How many times do I have to say not to call me that?” David rolls his eyes.

“How many times I gotta tell you it’s about respect?” Felix quips back. Mack smiles. She likes Felix a lot. She can see herself getting to know him more over the next few weeks. 

“Fine. Hey, when you get back up can you tell Becks to get to the N.E. pasture and start working some of the cows into N.D. pasture instead? I don’t think I’m going to get to that today.”

“You bet. I’ll have Reed go with him too. That kid needs to get the hell off my project.”

“He’s a little wild.” David acknowledges. “That’s why he is with you.” David reminds Felix who sighs heavily. “Look what you did with me.” He grins. 

Felix waves and drives off back to the barn after David hauls the picnic basket out of the back. 

“I brought a blanket too.” Mack pulls it out of her bag that she had slung across her shoulder. David drops the tailgate of his truck, then lays the blanket along the back.

“That’s good otherwise your thighs would be burning in that short dress.”

“Is it short?”

“Honey, you know it is.” He slaps her ass to prove his point, getting some of her bare cheek against his palm. Mack leans forward, feeling the fabric slide further up her thighs as she digs in the picnic basket. David runs his fingers up from her knee to cup her ass. He reaches for her arm, pulling her away from the food. “Want something else first.” He sighs against her mouth.

“What if someone comes to find you?” She weakly protests. She had this in mind for lunch too.

“They’ll call me.” He murmurs against her mouth. “Trust me, I don’t want any of my guys seeing you, honey. I wouldn’t take the chance if I didn’t think it was safe.” Mack nods, believing him completely.

He wraps an arm around her waist, pinning her tight to him. His hard cock protrudes from beneath his zipper, pulsing for Mack to touch. Her fingers, clutch the back of his neck, feeling his skin sweaty and hot beneath her fingers. He smells sexy like sweat and deodorant that works just as hard as her man. It’s hot, sexy as fuck, to the point that Mack wraps her leg around his waist to grind against him.

David moves his mouth from hers and presses kisses along her throat. He sucks her skin hard into his mouth at the nook of her neck and shoulder, then continues down. Mack arches back, letting her head fall back so he can access her chest completely. His lips continue their path over the swell of her left breast, then he nudges the fabric to the side. Her nipple pebbles in the sunlight, pink and beautiful, just for him. He opens his lips, pulling it in. His tongue strokes over her sensitive peak, then creates a wet trail to the other one, grabbing it between his lips. He lets that one go with a final slurp, then goes back to kiss her mouth. 

“Mmm.” Mack hums. Her fingers go to his belt, working it apart. She pulls his hard length out of his jeans and underwear, stroking along his shaft, feeling the velvet skin tight in her hand. She works her fingers up to his head, stroking until his slit releases pre-cum. 

“Fuck.” He groans, breaking away from their kiss. David turns Mack, lifting her dress up over her ass and pulling her bare skin back to his. He works his cock between her ass, savoring how she grinds her cheeks against him while he holds her tight by her stomach. He kisses her shoulder, tasting her warm, vanilla skin. 

“Bend over.” He growls before she reaches between their bodies and holds his balls, stealing his breath. She rolls them over in her hand as she lays forward obediently. Her right cheek presses into the blanket she brought. David moves her dress up, pulling her thong underwear down for her ankles to hold. David strokes his cock as he puts two fingers at Mack’s entrance, testing her. She is soaked, almost dripping down those soft thighs for him. He curses again, then plunges into her welcoming heat.

Mack’s arms stretch above her head, gripping the blanket in her palms. Her hard nipples stroke against the ridges of the truck bed with each direct thrust of him into her. David works his hands off her hips to the front of her thighs, keeping his hands there to protect her from the lip of the tailgate. His lips kiss her spine, then he get into position to fuck her hard and fast just like she begs for. The truck suspension squeaks from his powerful pumps.

“So good.” Mack calls back. She opens her eyes, taking in the surrounding Iowa wilderness, grinning at how sexy it is to be fucked by this man right here. Maybe she could be a country girl after all. She giggles.

“What?” He asks her.

“Maybe I am a country girl.” 

“By the time I’m done with you, you will be.” He laughs, slapping her ass with his abdomen with each drill of his cock into her. 

“Oh.” She groans, felling like a completely, coming undone mess at what he is doing with her. His unhooked belt slaps the outside of her thigh as it swings. She moves one hand from above her head, bringing it to her clit to roll it in rapid circles. “David…” She moans loudly, letting her voice go, carrying out across the field.

“Mmm, yeah. Let the world hear you baby. Let everyone know who’s pussy this belongs to.” He brings a hand under her stomach, arching her lower back and hips up so he can drive at a different angle. Mack’s eyes roll into the back of her head, almost securing to her brain at how incredible his cock feels pressing into her velvet circle. 

“Right there. David, please don’t stop. Never stop.” Mack wails. 

“Not until you coat this cock, sweetheart.” He assures her. “This what you wanted, huh? Made your man a little meal so he would stuff you full of his thick cock?”

“Yeah!” Mack admits shamelessly. “Ohmyg-“ Mack chokes on the last word as the intensity of her orgasm rips the breath from her lungs. 

“Oh fuck. Baby, yes.” He moans, losing control at the hard flutters of her around him. “So fucking good, baby. Perfect for me.” His hoarse voice coos at her as he paints ropes of cum on her walls.

Their heavy breathing makes them hot, sweat beginning to bead along their spines as they lay limply against each other on the truck bed. Then, David straightens up, gliding himself out of Mack gently. She whimpers at the emptiness, wishing he would stay there for a little longer. He delicately drops her dress back over her butt after bringing her panties up into place. She turns, leaning on the tailgate as her legs shake. David tucks himself back into his pants, buckling his belt before focusing back on her. He grips her chin with his thumb and pointer finger, giving her a soft, wet kiss. 

“You are amazing.” He sighs. Mack grins into their kiss.

“You too. Never felt like this.” She whispers, holding him by the back of his neck against her forehead. Never thought she would admit things like this to someone either. But as per usually, David is scratching out all of her rules and rewriting new ones, like spending weeks in America’s heartland and turning down jobs from her editor.

“I’m starving. What did you bring us?” David asks, picking her up and setting her on the tailgate behind her so she can reach the picnic basket. She brought them turkey sandwiches with fresh lettuce, tomatoes, and homemade pesto mayo she put together yesterday afternoon. All the flavors have marinated deliciously together, creating a flavor bomb in her mouth. 

“Holy shit. This is amazing. Thank you!” His genuine appreciation makes Mack’s chest warm. She smiles coyly, with her mouth full of food. He leans down to kiss her. Mack gently chews the rest of her bite, looking over at David who is devouring his sandwich is two more huge bites. She chuckles, then licks her lips before speaking.

“So Felix said today is a hard day for you?” Everything about David’s demeanor changes like a snap. His face darkens. He begins to fidget next to her, slightly pulling away as his body gets rigid. He sniffs, then takes a big glug of lemonade from the mason jar. 

“Yeah.” Mack hesitates, remaining quiet while watching him stuff some chips in his mouth. Then she puts her sandwich down on the plate next to her, turning to sit facing him. She puts her hand on his thigh, continuing to stay quiet until David sighs heavily. “My mom died ten years ago today.” Mack stills, then rolls her bottom lip into her mouth. 

“I’m so sorry.” David nods, clearing his throat.

“This date every year I come out here and fix fence and talk to her. Tell her about what I’ve been up to the last year. Cry a little bit. Then go clean off her and dad’s grave and put some fresh flowers down from her rose garden by the house.”

“That sounds like a nice way to honor her.” Mack murmurs, moving her hand from his thigh to his hand, lacing their fingers together. He brings the back of her hand up to his mouth, kissing along her knuckles.

“It is. Unfortunately, I’ve had ten years to get the tradition perfect.” He sighs. “Every year on this date though, it feels like it just happened.” Mack can imagine so. “Sucks.” He sniffs again. Mack rubs her thumb along the tendons of his hand.

“Will you tell me about her?”

“She was hilarious. Spunky as shit. Had to be with how crazy my siblings and I were in our younger days. We used to pretend to be super heroes and jump off the barn into the hay. It was all fun and games unless you were a bit off…. Or got pushed off like me.” Mack’s eyes widen. “But my mom was always watching out the window and would rip my brothers a new asshole anytime they were picking on me. She was strong and full of joy. She loved working in her garden. A few of the plants have died off over the years cause of deep freezes, but most of those rose bushes are hers. I hire Felix’s wife to tend to them in the summer so they’re always taken care of. Mom would have wanted that, since she isn’t here to do it…” 

Mack squeezes his hand then brings her other hand up to run over his back. She rests her mouth on his bicep, continuing to listen while holding him. 

“I think that’s why it was so hard when she got sick.” His voices starts to get tight. Tears pinch Mack’s eyes. “That… but also she has missed so much. She didn’t get to see me graduate from high school or college. Didn’t see me get drafted or my first game in the NHL. At least my dad was there for those, but it wasn’t the same. He didn’t have the words like she would have when I struggled to stay up in the NHL those first few years or the way he rode my ass when I was home every summer to be a better farmer.” David shakes his head. 

���It’s like every year something happens that I’m sad she isn’t here for. This year, I’m sad she doesn’t get to know you.” Mack’s bottom lip shakes as two tears go down her cheeks. He turns his lips into her hair, then continues to talk against her head. “She would have loved you- strong, independent, sassy, and so pretty you could bring even the most stubborn man to his knees.” Mack smiles, cupping his cheek to hold him against her. “Those dimples… baby.” He sighs, “They get me every time.” 

“I hope she still likes me now… even from wherever she is watching over you.”

“I think so.” He smiles. 

“Could I go with you to their resting place?”

“Yes, of course you can. I just gotta check the rest of this fence and then we can go.”

“Thank you for telling me. I didn’t know…”

“I know. I’m sorry. I don’t like talking about it. Probably why Felix told you.” Mack nods, understanding that Felix was looking out for David too when he told Mack about today on the drive down. 

Mack and David finished their lunches and she helps him check fence. She walked the line with him and pointed out normal fence she thought looked bad and he taught her about what to look for instead. When they were done, they loaded up into David’s truck, then drove back towards the house.

The house is coming into view when David peels off to the right and drives to an open, unassuming field. There is no fencing, just in ground stones that mark the Carlson members that are buried on the farm. David grabs a bucket full of cleaning supplies. He gives Mack the flowers he picked earlier that had been resting in a bucket of water, then takes her hand to walk over to his parents' graves. 

Mack begins to cry immediately, feeling so overwhelmed with sadness for David. And his parents. For everything they have missed. For the people she will never know. For all the moments that David will never get to have with them and how fucking cruel it is that he has to go through that for the rest of his life. All those happy days will have a shade of grey because of who is missing. It’s not fair. She wants to change that for him, ease some of that, but instead, all she can really do is cry sympathetically. 

When they get to his father, Charles E. Carlson’s headstone, David drops her hand and puts his work gloves on. He uses his tools to cut away the over grown grass and weeds. Then he grabs the soapy water and rags to clean the dirty away from the head stone. Mack kneels off to the side, by his mother’s stone, watching quietly, sensing her help is not wanted. This seems methodical and therapeutic to David.

He rests his butt on his heels while he looks down. He presses his palm on his dad’s name, then works his way to his mom’s and does the same thing. This time, wet tear drops fall from his eyes onto the dusty stone as he cleans the grime off. Mack swallows hard, new tears of her own falling down. David puts his left hand on his mother’s name, Beatrice. Mack reaches out, putting hers on top of his. David opens his right arm for her to slide into his side. Then he holds her close.

Mack doesn’t know, but while he holds her tight, David is telling his mom, where ever she is resting, that the girl in his arms is the one.

- - -

Mack can’t believe it is her second to last night here.

As different as it all was when she first got here a month ago, her and David have settled into a nice routine. Every morning starts early, with a romp in the sheets. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow, always incredible though. After that, Mack wanders down the hall in his shirt to make him coffee and some eggs to wolf down fast after his shower. She sits with him at the table as he tells her all the different chores he has for the day. She asks questions. He patiently answers. 

Then, after a long smooch with wandering calloused hands, he heads out to the field. Mack will meet him for lunch, or if it’s too hot, he comes into the kitchen to take a break in the air conditioning. They spend 10 minutes of his hour long lunch eating and the other 50 devouring each other. On the tail gate, on the kitchen table, on the floor, on the couch- wherever they can make it to before their clothes start falling off their frames.

David will return back to his chores, then come home around dinner time. Him and Mack trade off making dinner. He likes to grill for her as she tries different self- prepared marinades with fresh produce from the farm’s garden. Then they end the night watching the sunset on the front porch, which is where they are right now.

The porch swing sways gently from David’s light rocking. A calm, cooling breeze blows through the wrap around porch that hugs the white farmhouse his family built generations ago. Mack thinks about her flight in two days that is supposed to connect her with Newark before she will turn around in 24 hours to head towards Aruba. Dread pinches her stomach uncomfortably. She has started to fall in love with this place and all of it’s differences that she hated 4 weeks ago. David is staying here for two more weeks. He will be returning to New York a few days after she gets home from Aruba.

Mack looks down at his forearm across her stomach. Her fingers tips drag along his tanned skin, watching the goosebumps form on him from her touch. An emotional sigh falls from her lips. His lips touch her hair in recognition, fingers pressing deeper into her side.

“You okay?” 

“I don’t want to leave.” She confesses. He moves so her back falls across his lap. His other arm catches her head in the cook of his elbow. “Wanna stay here with you.” She whispers, reaching up for his face. 

“Baby, if you wanna stay you can, but if you need to go, that’s okay too. There is a whole life of yours outside of me.”

“I know. But it can wait until I’m ready to rejoin it.” David smiles down at her. His fingers run up from her stomach, along her left breast, to cup her cheek. Mack presses up to meet his lips. His hand tangles in her wild, country hair, gripping her tight to his mouth so he can taste her thoroughly. 

“You’re sure? I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay here.”

“I don’t.” She assures him, gripping his wrist where that hand still holds her face. His thumb rubs a track across her cheek bone, looking into her brown eyes. 

“Okay. Then stay. I want that.” He admits. “Was feeling really sad in the field this morning, thinking about driving you up to the airport.” Mack smiles, nodding in agreement. He pulls her up to kiss him again, then lets her head settle in his lap as she wiggles down. Her hair splays across his thigh as he works his finger prints gently into her scalp. Her eyes flutter, wanting to close and give into how good this feels. 

Mack loves the salty breeze off the ocean, the sand between her toes, and the way the pace of island life is unapologetically slow.

But not even that can compete with how good it feels here in David’s arms on his front porch swing.

More Mack & David can be found here.

[intotheelliwoods]

May have gone a little overboard with this ask hahahahaaaa... @wakerrife

If you are asking how to write ports from a story perspective:

Ports/prosthetics are still under lots of development in real life, which leaves such a big fantasy element to them for starters! Theres no right or wrong way to entirely depict them in stories you know? So theres my first advice, write them in a way that ties in to the theme of your story!

Slapping some good old FMA comparisons here since I saw you were a fan!

In FMA, when attaching the actual arm to the port its depicted as a very painful process that totally just takes the wind out of you for a while. This is since the whole motivation of that story is to retain the flesh arm back, shoving in your face how painful the ordeal is drives that motivation home and so that writing style makes complete sense!

In 2AL meanwhile, the whole story is about acceptance, therefore I opted not to have the whole ordeal of attaching/detaching the arm be a painful process. I wanted to drive home the idea that its is completely alright and normal for Leo to have a robot arm, as an every day painless thing just like a regular arm, and so my opting for it indeed being painless helped drive that theme of acceptance home

Meanwhile if you are asking from a more medical perspective:

I am going to be flat out honest and say I am pulling half of this out of my ass hahhaaa, apologies I have no resources since I did not put in much research! Most of what I say just comes from background knowledge, but hey do give me some slack here, I am a biology student who is still learning!

Although most of my inspiration for care and all, I actually loosely based off infected ear piercings believe it or not! For example, did you know if an earring gets too badly infected and is not removed in time, the ear can start re-growing around the piercing and just sorta,,, consume it?? Its entirely possible for nearly any foreign implant to get rejected by a body and I find that concept so cool. So hey there is food for thought, if you dont properly take care of a prosthetic port skin can start growing over it! Or the body can reject it!

I do have some more thoughts regarding care and such that ive been thinking about as of late if you happen to be interested, who knows maybe something can inspire you!

Make sure the skin directly touching the metal doesnt dry up! Since the skin there is used to being fully enclosed by a warm shoulder, not thinned out and pressed against metal! Its easy for the skin to start drying and cracking around there. Preventing it from doing that can be done easily by just using a q-tip or your finger and rubbing vaseline or lotion of some kind around the skin. Reason you dont want it to dry up and crack would be since the cracks can crawl further up the shoulder and tear perfectly fine skin, which would definitely get irritating after a long while if your whole shoulder ended up just being decked in scabs. Even worse of one of the splits in the skin got infected. No one wants an infected port just like no one wants an infected ear piercing.

Be sure to clean the area where the skin and metal actually meet! Same reason as above, you do not want an infected port! An infected port can potentially lead to a rejected port which is never a good thing! Cleaning it meanwhile usually looks like taking a toothpick soaked in hand sanitizer or rubbing alcohol, and scraping out dirt/germs from the slim space in between the skin and metal, this is so the skin there doesnt grow over whatever gunk may be there and cause infection.

Make sure the inside of the port itself stays relatively clean! Clean out grime and gunk! Make it so the arm can actually fit into the port! The arm cannot fit into the port if you have 2 inches of mud stuck inside the rod, or meddled in the ratchet system, or whatever fantasy cool system you have! If you try and fit an arm into a port with stuff all up inside it you could potentially break the arm! Or if it doesnt break then overall quality would definitely be lowered through the more funked up movements trying their best when covered in stuff! Anyways cleaning the port itself depends on what materials you have half the time, looks different for different people ig!

Oh and reasons no one wants an infected port:

The slim chance the body just starts rejecting the port and trying to force it out

The slim chance that if the port was not put in correctly/out far enough from the body, the body will start trying to regrow around the port

The fact that infections are extremely painful especially in such a large surface area in comparison to just an ear

If the infection pain was not enough, adding a massive metal arm that pulls on the skin would be even more painful

Would also want to add that if your body rejects the port, its a god awful experience. Rejection means that your body tries to push the port itself out of the body, a very painful experience, it usually does this by growing in such a way that puts force to sorta try and pop the port out. Issue is, the port is very much bolted down via ball joints onto the shoulder blade and collar bone, and so the flesh that grows under it to push it out ends up just gushing out the sides of the port as gross as it sounds. Its a really nasty experience. So without help via surgery to remove the port, have fun being in agony the rest of your life! If this happens and you do manage to remove the port, you would have to undergo waiting for the shoulder to heal up again before even daring to put in the port once again. Should also note that this can only be done so many times, since with each surgery to remove and install, more and more excess flesh gets cut of, until you may eventually reach a point where there is not even enough healthy flesh to sustain the port any longer.

Hope some of this was helpful!! Oops I had too much fun writing this up!

More asks under the cut!

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@archieagain AOSDJNOSDFJKF HII HELLO!!! IM ELLIWOODS!!! I DONT KNOW!!!! have a great day you made my week btw <3 <3

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@gemini-forest everyone.. everyone point and laugh at the typo everyone!!!!! giggles!!!!!!

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@snipersiniora 2 Left Arms my favorite fanfic ever!!!!!

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@skylabrea Annnddd bookmarked for later! :) Thank you so much!!!

[jalbert-james]

i have done something horrific and i need to share it here.

biden/trump fic, sfw

also in ao3. info and fic under the break

My Love, Mine All Mine by amohomines on ao3.

disclaimer: this fic involves drug use. i know this is a crackfic, but i treat this seriously as someone who actively and has struggled with addiction for years. i am not making fun of drug users, but it only felt right to include. i at least tried to write it realistically (to my experience) and respectfully.

without further ado, here’s the fic:

“As long as you carry your own bag.” The phantom of a smile haunted Don’s mind. He knew the conversation Joe was talking about. They crossed paths at an underground club Don frequented. Sitting across a small table, they shared a martini and chatted between sips. Joe recently went on vacation and was telling Don all about it.

“The grass was beautifully green, and the wind was just right. Great place for golfing, you know. You should have seen it.” Don watched the way his hands fiddled with the toothpick at the rim of the glass. The same toothpick he just had between his lips, pulling off the firm olive imposed on it.

“My golf buddies don’t really like to leave town. They say the golf course at home is the best that’s ever been. Can’t really golf by myself, can I?” Don tried to chuckle with that TV smile he kept on, but he had a hard time masking around Joe. They may not talk much, but he always felt vulnerable. His guard was let down, and he knew Joe could read his mind just then. He confirmed it with his next words, words that would be branded to his mind so that he could never see Joe again without thinking about them.

“I don’t mind golfing with you, Donnie.” Joe stood and wrapped his messenger bag around his shoulder. “Just carry your own bag, how’s that?” As Joe stood, he paused just to torture Don with a warm stare. A half smile, a slow fluttering of the eyes, and a wave goodbye later, Don was left at the loneliest table in Washington D.C.. He called his chauffeur and left that club wishing he had drank enough to pass out.

Don was back behind the podium, giving his best smile to the cameras. He didn’t think his smile had faltered, but his heart had definitely skipped a few beats. He gained his composure as the ache in his chest died down. “… as long as you carry your own bag.” He watched Joe’s lips curl around the words. He knew what he was doing to Don. Joe had left him with so little to cherish, and what little he had tortured him in every second of this debate. He was stuck between leaving the debate and going off the grid, and closing the space between the podiums.

-

Joe knew what he was doing to Don. He didn’t want to hurt him, but the indifference between them would kill Joe before his longing ever would. Cold silence was freezing his heart to a stop. He needed something to get him by.

Joe ordered a single drink for them to share on purpose. He purposely let his fingertips linger around the orange stain where Don’s mouth embraced the toothpick that garnished the drink. He purposely scooted in close so that their knees touched, and he purposely didn’t move to get space. He knew, but it was the choice between a small choke and being suffocated to the point of dying. He wanted more.

”I don’t mind golfing with you, Donnie.” He loved to call him that — the secret little nickname that Joe used for him. “Just carry your own bag, how’s that?” Joe reluctantly packed up, though he never wanted to leave. Nothing could make him want to leave. He knew that if he stayed, he couldn’t control himself, especially not with being tipsy, and he couldn’t risk being caught with Don. But oh, how he wanted to get rid of the divider between them: the cameras watching; the societal expectation; the politics; the podiums; and of course, the table dividing them now. Joe had one option, and that was to remove himself from Don’s proximity, though he’d kick himself for it as long as he lived.

Joe got home and drank and drank. He tasted that martini in every sip, drink, chug. It was a good martini, but it was a shared martini: one that both Joe and Don’s lips greeted. He smelled Don’s cologne over the scorching Patrón. He drank anything that could burn Don out of his mind, but he stuck.

He wasn’t proud of it. He knew he would regret it. But he also knew that nothing else could possibly give him the relief he so desperately needed. He reached into the secret compartment under his nightstand and painfully drew out the pipe. Nobody would know. He just needed one hit, and he would be done.

Don would not make it into his dreams that night, because he would not sleep. He would be momentarily wiped from Joe’s memory, and oh, how tranquil those few moments were. But still, Don was left miles away, tasting the same martini and hearing the same voice pierce through him. He was left with no relief.

[faceofpoe]

As I dig into my post-Lau AU, I am reminded of another dropped thread from season 3 that was easy to forget about in light of the ep 3 escape and ep 4 reunion but.

Ep 2 ends with Hunter & Wrecker thinking they have the sector where Tantiss is located, and it annoys me that this is never mentioned again even in a 'hey we're still scouring that sector' kind of way from Rex's folk in 6. Or mentioned in 5 when Echo comes and they're discussing Tantiss and looking at the datapad.

But putting that aside, and living in my Crosshair & Omega on-the-run-for-longer shenanigans dreamland, just imagine what we could have had.

They go to the sector, get wind of a fugitive recovery operation on this nowhere planet Lau. No clue if it's anything related at all but hey, it's a quiet sector and here's some noise, let's go see what's up.

And everyone there has some wildly different tale of this card shark kid (accounts put her age anywhere from 5-37), her surly father, and weirdest family dog anyone's ever seen coming in, cleaning up in this illegal card game with an Imperial officer, starting a shoot-out in the cargo dock and releasing all the wildlife on their way out the door.

(The introduction of assorted invasive species promises to be an ecological nightmare on Lau for years to come).

Hunter and Wrecker are like 'well gosh that kind of sounds like Omega but idk about the surly father or family dog' and move on when the investigation dead ends.

Two rotations later they catch word from another nearby planet of an elaborate heist at a toothpick factory.

[crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf]

Disgrace Chapter 7 : Crosshair x F!OC

Estkle City, hugging the base of the equator mountains, alive with the winds peeling away from Ga'hah's storm spot; This city is port du call for the grand rail that brings civilians through to the Sohn city state in the North. It's the last stop before Tah'nyem finds herself home. Armed with a satchel of casino winnings and a posh nightlife these two are determined to enjoy their evening. They talk about their families, their doubts, and she even bullies him into telling her how his toothpick habit started. For once the world feels slow.

Chapter Specific Warnings: Nudity, Angst and Fluff in a constant tug-o-war, drug use (smoking, drinking), Implied sex and sexual situations, I was hungry while writing this. This is also the chapter where I zoned out and forgot clone twins was fanon. Kark it we ball.

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Authors Note: My stars, are these two actually talking to each other? Self Indulgent chapter, jam packed with cute, watch Tahny die from cute overload. Am I stress posting my work at 5 am again? haha yeah.

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Word Count: 8687

Dynamic: Princess x Guard, Speed running Co-dependancy, A Mangy Cat and his Aggressive little Chihuahua. She's a damsel, she's in distress- she can handle it.

<-Previous Chapter - Read On Ao3 {START HERE}

Music Inspo- Sugar Water, Cibo Matto

Listen on Spotify - Listen on Youtube

Chapter 7 : Sweet Water

The cargo hold bounced with a protesting rumble and I stirred from the light dozing that had taken me.

I was on the cot, laying flat against the rough fabric, nude besides a cloak draped over the narrow bed like a blanket. Crosshair was squeezed next to me, head laying on my shoulder, eyes only half lidded as he relaxed against me. 

There was a slight burning sensation against my sternum and I looked down to see him tracing lines on my skin with the end of a toothpick. Same pattern, over and over, etching a red symbol into my chest. A circle, then a cross through it. 

“You're an artist now?”

He didn't answer, nor stop his work. 

Circle, long vertical line, short horizontal line, circle. 

“Right over my heart?”

He finally slowed, tossing the pick aside, and blew softly over the hot scratches. I murmured sleepily against his forehead at the soothing, cool sensation. 

“What's on your mind, Cross?”

Crosshair still hasn't said anything, just moving to be more over me, taking the rosey peak of my breast into his mouth to suck on softly before coming even to look me in the eyes. 

He was making me a little self conscious, being so quiet… so intimate. 

“Again.”

“Again?”

“Again.”

He was dropping his hips, wedging my thighs apart and I groaned in exhaustion. 

“You can't have anything left by now…”

He wasn't listening, leaning in to kiss my neck and I giggled softly, nuzzling him in his persistence. 

“I need a shower, li’nen…”

We had been on the road for hours now, sections of the trip having the truck slowed to a complete stop.The channels could only do so much against the inclimate weather between the Ga'haiian city states. 

There hadn't been much to occupy us. I had tried to pull open a holofilm but we had gotten… distracted.The tiny sink made washing up pitiful and I was once again dying for hot water. 

The intercom over the workbench crackled to life and Ger'nahei’s voice came over the static. 

“We're pulling into Estkle, twenty minutes till we get to East Station, we'll be stopping just before to let you guys out… better be de~cent,”

That last part was delivered in a sing-song, answering my question about how much they could hear up there. 

Crosshair slumped dramatically against my chest, sighing and letting himself become dead weight on top of me, making it hard to breathe. I struggled, chuffing in showy annoyance. 

“Oh, get off… I need to figure out where our clothes even are,”

“Speak for yourself, mine are right there,”

He vaguely gestured to the pile of discarded armor next to our belongings on the floor. 

“What about your blacks?”

His eyes fluttered open and he glanced around before shutting them again. 

“Don't need em’”

I quit struggling with a short exhale of amusement. Instead, I wrapped my arms about him, stroking his back. 

“Guess I'll be walking about Estkle stark naked… lucky day for the locals,”

He scowled up at me and I shot him a smirk. 

“Not appealing, oh heavy one?”

“People already look at you too much”

He complained, sighing into my breasts but lifted himself to his elbows regardless, drawing the back of his relaxed fingers over my cheek as I raised a brow at him. 

“You're the one that wanted me to be bait,”

“It's the way they look at you…”

It was true, I've never attracted a… normal range of attention. The looks that came my way could never be called innocent; no matter what I tried. 

“Jealousy is still foolish, li’nen”

I stroked his brow, finding his gaze, trying to get through to him that I meant it.

“Men, Women, they look at me, always have… it's not likely to stop till I'm old and gray. I'm used to it,”

My fingers caressed the hollow of his cheek, the sharp jawline and he pressed against the cup of my palm, letting me hold him. 

“They'll stop if I'm with you,”

“I'm not yours to protect, You can't be with me forever…”

His expression darkened.

…

“Cross… you said you didn't care about how it ends-”

Lips pressed to mine without warning, his arms sliding between my back and the cot to hold me to him. 

“I don't…”

He mumbled against my lips, kissing me in quick little pecks. 

“Just… don't talk like that, not as long as there's for now,”

Kisses down my chin, my neck, down to the still hot symbol etched on my chest. 

“For now you are mine… you swore it,”

Is that what I promised?

My eyes were growing hot at the affectionate outpouring. 

How am I supposed to keep this in check while he keeps… doing this…?

But I was pulling his lips back to mine, wrapping my legs about him to get closer. 

…

Bzzzkrt

“Ten minutes,”

~~~

Ger’nahei had opened the door to a rather disheveled duo; A certain someone making a nuisance of himself as I attempted to get some semblance of clothing on. 

At least we found his blacks in time…

They were replacing our weight with sacks of gravel from the side of a depot and closing up again. Crosshair and I stood off to the side on the pavement between the tall, cubic pillars of the Estkle slums. 

The tall woman turned back to us, pulling up a holomap and approaching Crosshair. 

“The station is a few blocks this way towards the city center,”

From here we just grab our tickets and ride the train to Sohn. Easy peasy. 

The rail system being called a train was a vast understatement, the magnetized track powerfully propelling cars that were the size of buildings. The many floors containing sleeper cars, massive cargo storage, an entertainment holoplex and more restaurants than you’d ever actually see attempting to navigate the massive, moving city. 

East rail was more popular for civilian travel, whereas the West rail on the other side of Nohct used to be solely industrial, connecting the mining colonies to the ports but now it was reserved for military and political transport. Not exactly easy travel.  

The holomap was snapped off, and Ger'nahei made to leave. I moved in to give her a hug and she put her hands up, side stepping me.

“I ain't touching you after that concert we heard,”

She was laughing, Sevill was staring daggers at me. Not unusual. I smirked and gave them a little wave as I stepped away from the humming vehicle.

“Good luck, kids,”

Ger'nahei climbed into the rig with a salute and they chugged off, headed to the cargo loading bays of East Station. 

Crosshair casually draped an arm over my shoulders, opening up his own copy of the map to check our heading before steering me out of the alley to the main street lined with ramshackle stands and door stoops full of laughing chattering groups enjoying the weather together.

It was pleasant… strange to me, but pleasant. I watched younglings play along the curb while their families argued jovially about something nearby and was overcome with something wistful and aching.  

Hugging tighter to the side of my escort I tore my eyes away from the smiling faces. 

“It's so peaceful, this busy little world of yours…”

His voice seemed to reflect the ache that gripped my heart as we traveled farther from the residential buildings.

“Yeah… not that war has never touched us, these ghettos are a result of conflicts after all,”

“Still…”

He looked back towards the laughter carried up the street on the breeze to flow through us, then picked up the pace, distancing us from the source of the discomfort coiling around us.

The shopfronts lining the road began to have less bars over the doors and more spotlights casting warm lighting over the stone street with their displays. 

As we rounded the next corner the station pavilion came into view. 

A towering, steaming railcar clung to a tall wide track that stretched off to the horizon. The structures to the sides of the station kept most of the train out of view, but it blended against the gaps to look like parts of the building, almost even with the skyline.

“That's impressive,”

“Mm, it's the only way to get from Nohct to Sohn anymore, the Western line is a lot smaller and not open to civilians… especially since the occupation,”

“No one just… goes through the mountains?”

He looked in the direction of The Equator Range and I shook my head. 

“It's too dangerous… Weather's mild but the ground is unstable, there's Cockerexes everywhere, and above all else it's vast,”

It would take nearly two rotations with a ground vehicle just to cross the desert between the mountains and Sohn’s farmlands, and that's after navigating the mountains and valleys of the dividing range. 

“Besides, the train route is scenic,”

The tracks skirted the Eastern storm Mehaklei, cutting through the rain eroded valley that was now a misty wetland, shimmering and prismatic with the stray rays of light that managed to reach it from the sun facing hemisphere. 

“I’ll get us a view then…”

“My Vah'hadarr should have left us tickets…”

“It'll be safer this way,”

I could see thoughts whirring in him again but was afraid if I asked he would try to distract me with… well, himself… again. His increasingly reckless behavior had me worried what he'd deem appropriate in the small city square. I was trying to gauge when the shift in demeanor started. The private box, the moon… maybe since we left the watchful eye of the military?

He was steering us across the open block, approaching the lit kiosk selling tickets for the massive railcar. 

“Stay here,”

He instructed, angling me to a lamp post,

“I don't want anyone working for the rail to see your face till we're out of the city,”

He pulled my hood up, drawing the cloak about me a little tighter,

“Crosshair, your name was on that list too… and what about chain codes?”

He paused a moment but took my hand reassuringly, gently brushing his lips against my knuckles. 

“They shouldn't be able to recognize me, as for the codes…”

He jiggled our heavy satchel of credits. 

“Nothing money can't buy, Stay.”

He squeezed my hand and backed away, turning into a confident step as he wove his way to the sales counter. 

I leaned against the light and watched him go, his own cape blowing in the soft breeze, giving a peek here and there at the armored physique beneath. The glimpses were teasing as he drifted off and I smiled at the memory of what those hips felt like. 

Minutes passed with him at the counter, chatting to the clerk. A flirty tilt to his shoulders and a smolder in his stern brow was making her giggle while she made our reservation.

Look at him flaunting it.

I chuckled and entertained myself by taking in the surroundings. 

The open street wasn't as busy as the center of Nohct City, though people still drifted about the sidewalks navigating around the speeders that would occasionally pass through. The buildings were close together, shops and restaurants interlaced with hotels and apartments. 

Everything looked a little dingy, the buildings some of the oldest I've seen on Ga'hah. However, the updated storefronts still shone brightly, luring in the foot traffic of the evening diner crowd and a higher class of tourists waiting to depart on the train in the morning. 

I sighed, releasing a tension that I had been holding in my shoulders. Cross was right, this was peaceful. It felt safe… 

I knew the sense of security was foolhardy… Behind the facade of the train square there was the crime, the turf wars and the instability caused by Sohn's absolute disregard for the problems it created in the Southern hemisphere… But for now it felt, safe. Peaceful. 

A hand on my shoulder made me jump and the soldier smirked down at me, handing over a set of train passes. 

“You let your guard down,”

“Can you blame me? Its nice out here,”

I looked down at the passes in my hand and my eyes widened. 

“Cross, a whole suite?”

“We have a lot of credits, and the clerk was easier than I thought she'd be… this much is no good to me, and nothing to you…”

I caught the hint as he gave the satchel another jiggle, sharing a conspiratorial smirk.

“A last night hurrah huh?”

He shrugged.

“How much we got left?”

I was passed the still heavy casino satchel and whistled, checking the time on our tickets. We left early, first thing on the new rotation.

“Let’s find a hotel first, somewhere nice or somewhere less conspicuous?”

We could backtrack, go to something less formal off the beaten path. 

“It's safer where there's more people,”

“Then we'll stay somewhere close, your winnings, your pick,”

He leaned into the lamp post, an arm over my head, talking lower. 

“Then what?”

“A warm shower, then we'll get dinner,”

“Dinner?”

“Dinner”

“Mm, after dinner?”

“We’ll have a few hours, I'm sure we'll think of something…”

We pushed off quickly, an eager sway in his step I couldn't help but mimic as he pulled us to the first hotel within our line of sight. As we made towards the lighted porte cochere his pace faltered in front of a patio packed with patrons clinking cutlery against fine plates. The smell drifting from the restaurant was heavenly, a mix of grilled meats and wood smoke. 

“Let's go here,”

“Mm, sure, but there's a dress code, we'll need to stop and get you a dinner jacket…”

He grimaced, causing me to laugh lightly, patting his chest. 

“Don’t worry, it'll suit you,”

I looked about at the glowing storefronts and hurried us to one that was still open. 

~~~

Our room key guided us to the fifth floor, three doors from the main lift. I held my hand out for the key and Crosshair slipped it to me quietly.

The store experience had left him flustered, having let me take the lead in picking him an ensemble. At least flustered beat the heated irritation the experience started with. The switch in the shop keeper's demeanor between taking in our shaggy appearance and catching sight of our heavy wallet rubbed us. Cross about punched the man on principle and I probably would have let him. 

The door clicked and slid open leading to a simple king suite. A small kitchenette was just inside the door, opposite an alcove leading into the fresher. The large bed took up most of the room, but the feature was a nice set of chairs in a sunken sitting room overlooking a wide window. 

I sighed out a bit more tension, the safety of walls, silence and a locked door. 

“This'll do…”

Cross immediately went to the window and drew the curtain, locking us away from searching eyes. 

“You say that a lot,”

“What?”

“This’ll do,”

He was mocking me slightly. 

“Ever happy with your accomodations?”

“Maybe I'm just greedy…”

My things were starting to pile on the floor. Desperate to wash up and change into something clean, I was already walking to the refresher midstrip, bouncing on a foot stuck in a pant leg. 

“Greedy, huh?”

Cross seemed amused as he followed my half naked, self imposed obstacle course to the tiled room. He growled something under his breath I didn't quite catch, that familiar fire behind his eyes. No time for that though.

I almost cried at the sight of the oversized tub and double headed shower stall, we had been slumming it so long. It did raise a question though…

“Bath or shower?”

It was whispered in my ear, but his hands were busy undoing his armor.

“Mm, let's let fate decide…”

He raised a brow at me as I made my way back into the room undoing what remained of the buttons on my shirt, letting it fall to the ground. 

I picked up the directory next to the complimentary com. After making sure the display scanner was off, I opened a channel to the restaurant we passed. 

“Yes, hello… What time is your next reservation available?... Great, I'll take it… Tah- uh… Tahny. Of course thank you,”

Closing the com, I looked at the device, sparing a moment of regret that I couldn't contact Kahtzi. Changing coms so frequently, you would think I'd have her register memorized but… I was overdo by at least a day, she must be worried… maybe Jar'ath commed her. I shook myself mentally and turned back to the man watching me. 

“Plenty time for a bath,”

As I finished talking I realized the water was already running. 

“Can you still read my mind, Crosshair?... You have to tell me if you can,”

He strutted over and pushed me down onto the bed I was sitting on. Any lingering thoughts of home were wiped clear when my lips were his again; hard, hungry kisses while his strong arms wrapped about me. 

“No… unfortunately, but I can tell the future,”

“Oh yeah? And what does the future hold?”

I was breathing heavily already and he chuckled as he shifted, scooping me off the bed to drape over his shoulder like a rag doll. We headed back to the sound of echoing water.  

“Clean, warm, bath,”

He shifted me down slowly, pulling my body against him as I slid off his shoulder.

“Futures looking bright then…” 

The porcelain was filling quickly with nice clear water and I glanced about for the house soaps on the counter, smelling a few of them before dumping something delicately floral into the forming pool. 

Bubbles sprang forth spreading over the surface and I looked back at Cross. He was fiddling with the light panel, setting the tone to something warm and low before he finished undressing, slipping his blacks to the floor. 

Testing the water briefly, I stepped in with a refreshing slosh that swirled the bubbles. 

“It'll be easier if you settle in first,”

He breezed to the side of the sunken tub.

“Should we let it fill more?”

“Don't worry, you'll displace most of it,”

There was no further hesitation, he stepped in with me and lowered himself into the water causing it to lap at the sides of the smooth tub. I followed, nestling my back against his chest and sighing into the warmth seeping into my senses. 

We let the water finish leveling around us before I tapped the spigot with a toe, not wanting to shift from where I was. It had been a long day and I think both of us were more weary than we let on. 

The water slowed to a trickle and the soft tinkling echoed in the large room with its smooth stone surfaces. 

We had let exhaustion win this time. Curled in the tub in an odd kind of stasis as the world that had been spinning since the night we jumped ship slowly crawled to a stop… letting us be still. 

His fingers were trailing up my arm and back down again. The line he followed was faded, barely visable against my skin now tanned a few shades darker then when the ink was applied. He finished his tour by lacing his fingers in mine, cupping the back of my hand in his, and turning my palm upwards. It was the dark scars on my fingers he was after, stroking his thumb over the small marks. 

My eyes were wandering over his arms, taking in his own sets of markings patterning the skin. Shiney burns, raised rips…

“What's this one?”

I used my free hand to trace a set of parallel marks on his forearm and he groaned, a low laugh, sounding embarrassed.

“Wrecker’s lothcat… he snuck it onboard, guess who found it?”

I smiled softly. 

“Don't like cats?”

“I like cats, that one just didn't like me,”

“And Wrecker… who's that?”

The name had conjured an odd image in me, not really a picture but an impression; loud… apprehension. Odd. 

He took a moment to answer, I was starting to think he'd let another question of mine go flat, but eventually he spoke… softly, fondly. A nameless warmth that I hadn't realized was missing.

“He's my brother, one of, He's a big sweetheart… you'd like him,”

He nuzzled my hair encouraging me to pry further. 

“There's four of them?”

“Three… no, Echo counts, four, I have a sister too now…”

“They make female clones?”

“Yeah, special…like us, but she's just a child,”

“Aren't we all,”

Crosshair had gone quiet again and my heart and mind ached with him. He missed his family. He felt betrayed by them, replaced even, but he missed them. I could feel a tension starting to coil between us, in his muscles pressed against me. A now distant memory of a darkened service tunnel.

“... I had hoped they'd come back.”

I sat up, and turned to straddle his legs, wrapping my arms about his shoulders to pull him into a wet, tight hug against my chest. 

“How do we quell that storm in you, li’nen?”

…

“This helps…for now,”

For now. 

“What do you call the rest of them?”

There was still that lingering guilt of not learning the names of the clones that had traveled with me and his references stirred an odd feeling of familiarity in me, tinged with hurt and longing… a deep sense of broken trust… will I always be colored with his memories, or will this fade? 

He leaned back against the side of the tub to look at me more comfortably. 

“Hmm? Besides Wrecker… I mentioned Echo, he was a Reg before the Clankers got a hold of him,”

“Clankers?” 

“Uh… droids, tore him to bits, now he's part Clanker himself, Then there's Tech, we came from the same tube,”

“That's a thing? You have twins?”

“A few… Echo was a twin too,”

Was a twin?

A pang went through my heart again.

“Are you close? With your twin?”

“You could say that, he's the one of us that does all the talking… then there's Hunter, he's our leader… mainly cause no one else wanted to do it,”

He snickered softly at his own dig, the rumble of it in his chest caused me to smile a little too. I was glad he was talking for a change.

“Is he any good,”

…

His eyes went dark and distant at that, the little crook of amusement leaving his lips, I pivoted,

“... And the girl?”

…

“Her names Omega, honestly… I didn’t get to know her, didn't seem… prudent… seems like a good kid,”

You know the word ‘prudent?’

I was scanning him in the nice warm lights, finally getting a chance to really look at him. The red sun had filtered out our imperfections, making us like new in each other's eyes. The cargo hold was lit, but barely… This was the first time we were able to truly see everything.

 Like his arms, his chest was patterned with the stripes of war. Long gashes here and there, over a peck, across an ab. Countless healed burns from blaster bolts. I ran my hands up his stomach to trace the tattoo over his right rib.

“Ninety-nine…”

“That's our squad… we all have one of these,”

He stretched to give me a better look at the skull over the number. 

I sighed in exaggerated disappointment.

“Guess you're married then…”

His brow furrowed, not expecting that… I winced, rushing to explain the joke.  

“Sorry, old… Ga'haiian stuff, before we adopted the Republic’s ideas of marriages we had our own ways, rather than splitting into couples we would form tight knit clans and they would share a mark… military squads and their tattoos are kind of… similar,”

I leaned, moving my drape of hair to show him the tiny diamond star hidden behind my ear.

“Kahtzi and Jar’ath have matching ones, it's a promise to take care of each other, today people try to equate the two, clans and marriage, to make the fact that clans aren’t legally recognized any longer more palatable,”

“You and… Jar'ath? Not to judge a book by its cover but…”

I shot him a look, but I guess it was a fair question.

“It's not like that, doesn't have to be for the clan to work, he's like a brother… but that's why equating the two is kind of absurd,”

He was quiet again running his fingers over the ink on his ribs. 

“They left me behind… so much for taking care of each other.”

His voice was suddenly thick with bitterness.

I didn't really know what to say, every word feeling hollow as it passed over my tongue just to be swallowed again. The phrase was simple, but I knew the tempest that lived in him. What could match the devistation of such a storm?

“How could they?”

Was all I could really manage, cupping his jaw to turn his eyes so full of hurt to me. 

“I don't know… but they left me again, and again, They just don't want me anymore,”

“That can't be true…”

He choked back a dry, humorless laugh. 

“I guess not directly, Wrecker offered me a half assed invitation… but I've known him my whole life, the very thought of me on the Marauder again made him nervous. And when I didn't immediately jump on their very enthusiastic offer, they left. The second my back was turned, without even another glance… they left me for dead,”

“That can-”

“Thirty two rotations, Tahny…”

“What?”

“They left me, alone, on a platform in the middle of a raging sea, nothing but the smoldering remains of our home for company, it took. Thirty. Two. Rotations. for scouters to find me,”

I froze. 

“How are you alive?”

The words came out as a whisper, my lungs unable to fill against the tightness forming in my chest. 

“I shouldn't be, I should've died out there… I don't belong anywhere anymore,”

I carefully shifted, coaxing him to lean into my arms, to let me cradle him against my breastbone. 

“What about the Empire?”

He sighed,

“Might as well stay… rigid and unyielding, just like me,”

…

The phrase sent a wave of hurt through the back of my mind, alienation, loneliness,

“I don't find you rigid…”

“You don't know me… not everything,”

“Have you not been yourself with me?”

There was a heavy pause, reflecting his contemplation. 

“I don't know…”

“Do you like who you are with me?”

…

“...yes,”

His answer came soft and unsure. I took a deep breath, noting how heavy he felt against me as he surrendered to my touch, his muscles finally relaxing. The waves in him may never cease, I suppose…but I might be a shore for him to crash upon… for now.  

“Then… that's who you are, not what you've done, or what someone says you are… so I do know you, as for the details… tell me, don't tell me, I'll have your back either way,”

He lifted his head from my breast, a shimmer in his eyes as he searched for truth from my words, clinging to it once it was found. 

“I might not be a good person, Tahny,”

“You don't have to be li’nen… might be better if you're not,”

I'm not exactly a good person either… 

I found his lips, pressing against them to sooth him, reassure him. Arms wrapped about me, crushing me against his damp skin. My muscles ached in an unfulfilled bid to protect my lover, all I could do was cradle him, kiss him. 

…

The water began to cool around us, and I made to turn the tap back on to add more heat but Crosshair caught me, tapping the stopper lock instead.

“I’d love to stay like this, cy-uh… but I'm ravenous, and if I remember correctly… we have a dinner date,”

I snorted at that. 

A dinner date after everything?…

“This feels a little backwards, doesn't it?”

“Welcome to Strange.”

“Ha. Ha.”

It seems we had recovered from the shadowy place our thoughts had turned. 

I shifted to stand, but first turned into the soft kiss that was waiting for me. I had started to expect this temporary goodbye between our brief moments of private, quiet intimacy. 

He watched me as I dried and left the refresher before I heard the water slosh again as he made to do the same. 

Picking up the duffle from the floor I tugged out the paper bag from the casino. The shift I had purchased was black and slinky, the satin quality of the fabric making it shine like wet ink. I stepped into it, pulling the tight cut over my hips and sliding my arms into the straps. I hooked on the beaded filigree pieces to drape over my bare shoulders and adjusted the cleave cut that made a sharp line between my breasts down to my navel. It wouldn't drag, and the long skirt had enough flow to hide the egregious slit to either hip. Until I walked that was. 

On second thought, maybe this was too much for Estkle. 

I reached into the bag and grabbed the simple blazer and catsuit that I snagged as an alternative, laying it out on the bed. 

As I slid my thumbs under the straps to undress again, Cross rounded the corner, new slacks pulled up and hanging from his hips while the rest of him was still exposed. 

I looked at him and he looked at me. 

“Is that what you're wearing?”

“No… I was about to put this on instead,”

I gestured vaguely at the outfit on the bed and once again made to lower the straps. 

“Don't. I like this one,”

He had made his way over, catching my hand from its task and turning me to get a better look at the plunged neck line. 

“It's gonna draw attention,”

“I'm with you, their eyes won't linger…”

I doubted that, but admired his confidence. He was intimidating… maybe he'd be right. 

“We're still laying low, right?

His fingers traced the gapped fabric between my breasts down to the dip of my navel.

“As low as can be,”

~~~

We integrated into the posher crowd gathered on the busy patio alight with fiery torches, a few heads turning at his tattoo and my faded markings but otherwise no one paid us much mind. I did catch a few brief glances, the start of a head turn as my thighs split the hem of my dress as I walked, but they quickly turned back down to their food.

It was amusing, the slight man commanding such presence. He wasn't even that tall by Ga'hah standards. And yet…

By Be'llahl, they are scared of him aren't they?

I leaned into Crosshair's arm as he guided us to the host podium. The dark gray lapel jacket was soft despite its chunky knit, the leather patch on the elbow making a cool spot against my skin where my arm wrapped about his.  

He cleaned up well, the coat accentuating his slim waist and broad shoulders. I had picked out a thin, ribbed sweater to wear underneath, simulating his comfortable black bodysuit. The loose cut slacks had a crisp crease drawing the eye to the length of his stride as we strutted forward. 

A slim Ga'haiian girl looked us over briefly before taking us up a staircase past massive vases stuffed with fresh flower arrangements in vibrant, saturated tones. She showed us to a table for two on the second floor, snugged into the open bay doors overlooking the busy street below. 

A brief explanation, a bottle of nectar requested, and we were left to our devices. 

Cross subtly angled the window shades, his foot reaching between mine to hook the chair leg, drawing it slightly more into the room to obscured me from outside observers and keep a better eye on my back. 

“Want to see the cold bar?”

“Not yet,”

He clicked the flag device at the table which switched the glowing pattern from red to green. Almost instantly a muscular man brandishing an oversized skewer laden with a sizzling roast appeared at his side. He explained the cut and marinade then asked if we'd like a portion, which Crosshair eagerly accepted. 

A quick slice of a traditional blade and the seared meat fell to the waiting stone plate. 

“Should I wait for you?”

I shook my head, standing.

“Dig in, I'll be back,”

I sashayed across the wide stone floor, past a stories tall glass wall. Droids puttered about behind it, pulling nectar bottles down from the vast floor to ceiling storage racks just feet behind the glass. Buff men and women in leather aprons and chefs coats carried various roasted meats on skewers to the packed tables filling the space. Voices echoed off the dark stone walls, droning out the soft, live music drifting up the stairs that led back to the lobby. 

Finally I reached the massive bar laden with more fresh flowers framing overladen trays of cheeses, smoked fish and various salads. It didn't take long to fill a chilled dish. 

Cross had several cuts of meat laden high on his plate by the time I had found my way back to the table. He looked up at me, a subtle red tinging his cheeks. 

“I forgot to turn the flag off,”

I covered my mouth as I snorted back a giggle. 

~~~

Stacked plates, a case worth of empty bottles and a settled tab found us a little over an hour later. 

“... And that's how Ga’hah stayed out of the war… for the most part, not sure what the point was with the Empire moving in the second it was over,”

“I was there you know, in the field… at the end,”

“Yeah?”

“Our last order… was to kill the Jedi generals that turned on the Republic… I was the only one of us that complied,”

I was eyeing the flush tinging Cross's cheekbones trying to determine if he was actually a lightweight. I knew I was, and glanced back at the empty bottles scattered about the absolute carnage of the evening's feast. He just shrugged trying to hide the odd look creeping up on him. 

“You're serious…” 

“Lot of good it did,”

“What do you mean?”

He swirled the last of the nectar in his glass.

“It just doesn't feel any different, It's not called war anymore but the blaster fire sounds the same…”

“And now it's brother against brother,”

He downed his spirit, emptying the glass and drowning the ghosts in his inner storm. 

“They were cowards for running, nothing can be changed from out there… and now there's no choice for them,”

“You could have still gone with them… I'm not sure how much change we're really doing here,”

…

“Maybe I just stayed cause it was comfortable,”

He was starting to look really down. I took his hand around his cup, sighing,

“It doesn't sound like you've been comfortable at all honestly,”

He didn't answer, instead, checked the bottles for any remaining nectar. So I rambled…

“Hurts the pride though, just… enforcing some status quo, just look at me,”

He obediently met my eyes, though I really meant that figuratively. 

“Uh… look, I stay in my Vah'hadarr's shadow of progressive legacy, I uphold the appearances… but there's reasons we kill Bly’ju’s guards but not Bly'ju, there's consequences for one and not the other, some changes… people like you and I can't make them. Not without martyrdom and there’s better deaths out there than rotting in a jail cell for shooting some asshole,”

“Do you feel bad about the guards?”

“Nah… kark ‘em. Even a life contract can't compel you to act… they knew what they were doing,”

His brow furrowed in confusion, not really making the connection I was getting at.

“Maybe we just…chose the path of least resistance because we're too tired to really get what we want, holding your guard up your whole life will do that to you,”

“What is it you want?”

I felt like that should have sounded accusatory, but when I searched his gaze I found the same desperate questioning in his eyes. Like I might have an answer he was looking for. Chugging the considerable amount left in my glass I blurted,

“Peace… some quiet too, for myself and the few people I give a shyte about,”

“Sounds nice…”

“...Quiet?”

“Having someone to give a shyte about…”

His gaze matched mine, eyes shiney from the liquor. In amazement I tracked the occasional flick of him scanning around us, even drunk he was ever the professional.

“Oh Cross, you'll find your people!...some kindred spirits, plus I'll always be about in my tower for you to visit… or just find a familiar face and cling on, I'm sure there's one or two or three thousand at the GAR,”

I giggled, the absurdity of his reality dawning on my addled mind. 

“That's not funny,”

But his cheeks were tight from trying not to smirk. I found his eyes with mine again, laying my head on my arms, folded on the table. He mimicked my posture,

“You should know the regs don't like me much…”

“They're just jealous… just wait till they find out you have connections to Kahtzi Zho,”

He blinked,

“Wait, Zho? Why does that sound familiar…”

I smirked, raising a brow at him.

“The holocal? In the GRSO relief packages,”

“No… your Kahtzi is the Kahtzi Zho?

“Mm, which month was your favorite?”

“Nelona.”

“Of course you like Nelona.”

“What's wrong with that one?”

“Nothing… I took that one myself,”

He chuckled, closing his eyes a moment,

“So you want some peace, princess? Good luck if you plan on having your girlfriend in tow,”

“Mm… you know, I'd probably hate it,”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah… I need chaos, Crosshair. I need speeders racing through the night and bar fights, and toying with people who could easily kill me in sick, brutal ways, Without it I itch… without it I'm just my Vah'hadarr's… pet,”

The last word was spat with contempt and he started stroking my hair, leaning into the table to reach me. We were quite drunk…

“Peace still includes your father?”

“Family is important, Kleinthu Vah'hadarr nam’patri… there is no me without mine Vah'hadarr, so… all my rights flow through him till I'm married off…unless I abandon my station,”

I dramatically gestured to the red smudges under my eyes,

“It is my duty as a low-born Lady of Sohn,” 

“Well there's a Ga'haiian custom I'm not in love with…”

His brow was pinched in frustration on my behalf, charming me yet again so that a sad smile colored over me,

“It's not… Ga'haiian, not really. It's Sohnese. These marks under my eyes may as well be a for sale sign, but unlike your common slave I’m to be traded for political favors, I have my freedom on Coruscant… for now, but one day I’ll be sold just the same, It’s not so bad, symbolic mostly… and my Vah’hadarr has been good to me, teaching me and letting me have a life…”

Crosshair's eyes had darkened as I spoke, fingers sliding through my hair to cup my chin. I was too inebriated to really read his expressions, Maybe he could relate,

“Besides, I like the work for the most part… It suits me, Perhaps that's why you stayed too, not cause it's the right thing exactly… but because the blaster fire sounds the same… if you left, if you never had to fight on a battlefield again, Too quiet. You'd have to think about it all like… like I would,”

“It all?”

“Mhmm… all of it,”

“Sounds like a lot.”

“Isn't it though?”

“Mm, I think we're drunk, and overstaying our welcome,”

The man was keeping his cool though, trying to mask his slight wobble as he stood up to take my hand. I couldn't help but giggle drunkenly.

He takes himself so seriously…

“You're… kind of funny sometimes, you know that, Crosshair?”

“...funny? I don't think I've ever been called funny before,”

“Deal with it, it… it rounds you out, Mr. Rigid and unyielding,”

“If you say so… up you get ner’burc’ya,”

I leaned on him as we turned, with dread, to the long staircase. Giggling again, I checked that I still had my clutch.

“They must have a lift…”

“I can still handle stairs,”

He was maintaining balance fairly well, even with me hanging on him, and we haphazardly navigated the descent. 

“Where to?”

I jiggled the casino purse, there was still a good chunk of credits to spend. Once we were on the train I could charge my father's account to my heart's content, so splurging on souvenirs seemed in order.

He leaned in, the smell of nectar rolling sweetly from him as he wrapped his arms around me. His weight guided me to lean against a pillar, and he pinned my arms over my head, brushing his lips to mine. He still tasted like the fruity spirit and I drank the flavor of him as he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue over mine before withdrawing.

“I just want to get you back in that bed…”

Maybe saving some cash would be wise…

He angled us out of the restaurant and we swifted back in the direction of the hotel, passing storefronts and groups of chattering people in a hurried stride. 

The fresh air was sobering, though it was getting cold, the smaller of the moons positioned to the West. The wayward winds from the Mehaklei pressure front made Estkle a breezy city, and they ran through the loose cloth of my skirt, making it dance about my legs as we briskly made our way up the street to where the buildings thinned to a view of the plains…

Until Crosshair slowed and stopped, staring into a glimmering display of fancy bottles. 

“What was it… that scent you wore, the night we met? Is it here?”

It was my usual bottle, long gone now somewhere in our travels. The perfume was something my mother had gotten me as a graduation present. Nothing too fancy, I wouldn't have used it, but the flowery scent was complimented by a fiery resin musk underlay. It smelled like a late summer evening. 

“That one,”

I pointed to a square of the display housing a red and gold bottle in various sizes. 

“Stay here,” 

He left me on the sidewalk, disappearing into the store with a staggered gate. 

I mean… I think I know what you're up to…

I shook my head but smiled to myself, turning to lean on the stone storefront. 

My eye was caught by a tiny store at the corner a few paces away. It was barely the size of a closet, with only a service window facing the street, a thin man zoned out behind the glass in front of his rolled wares. 

Cross had the big bag, so I rifled my own stash of credits in my clutch as I approached the dingy little stand. 

“You have Darh?”

“Sure do, plain, flavored or spiced?”

“What flavors do you have?”

“Berry or citrus,”

“Berry then,”

“Good choice,”

The clerk slipped the rolled herbs into a small tube to hand to me, took my credits, and I was at the perfume shop again before Crosshair had finished his purchase. 

He stepped back onto the sidewalk moments later and handed me a small bag. It was heavier than expected and I looked in curiously. 

“You got one of every size?”

I pulled out the tiny travel version to glint in the light from the shop window, lips quirked in amusement. 

“That one's mine,”

Cross lifted it from my fingertips, tilting the small vial to puff against my pulse point before he tucked it into his breast pocket. 

I looked at the small lump under the jacket lapel and felt my face flush with more than alcohol. 

“How you surprise me…”

Shaking myself, I pulled the tube from my clutch. 

“Now for me to surprise you,”

…

“What's this?”

~~~

My pumps hit the floor with a muted thump as I kicked them off and slumped into one of the chairs. The room was dark, the only light coming from the refresher. 

I flipped the hollow tube in my fingers, watching Cross carefully rip into the wiring panel, finding a way to disable the smoke detector without setting off the alarms.

Neat skill.

He had scoffed at the idea of lighting up in the stairwell, which was traditional, but I wasn't gonna complain about the privacy. 

I popped the tube and took out the paper roll and strike, waiting for the go ahead. There was a quick skrtt and Cross nodded that he had figured it out, before he came to sit with me by the window. 

“Have you ever smoked?”

His toothpick habit was suspect, but I wasn't even sure clones were allowed to pick up such things…

“No…”

“So the toothpicks?”

He turned away, hiding a new flush blooming over his cheekbones.  

Okay then,

I got up from my chair and moved to his,knees about his hips to face him.

“I'll help, first time rookie mistake is resisting the inhale,”

I put the end of the Darh stick in my mouth, hitting the strike to create a little flame. There was a crackle as the plasma caught the end of the paper and I drew air like a straw to pull the heat into the herbs, lighting them. A sweet smelling smoke coiled lazily from the fresh ember and I drew another breath, pulling smoke from the herbs, coughing a little. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, it's normal… now here, just breath in through your mouth, slow and shallow,”

I pulled deep on the smoking herbs, filled my lungs and leaned into him, grabbing his chin to coax his lips open, exhaling slowly into his mouth. Smoke leaked between our lips, as we shared the hit, his arms wrapping about my waist as I pulled back again. 

He coughed as he exhaled what I gave him, but tried to suppress it, putting on a brave face.

Cute. 

I took another puff, but let him sit with what he had. 

“What's supposed to happen?”

“Give it a minute, it'll absorb into your blood stream and travel to your brain, everything will feel a little slower…”

Clipping the burning end of the roll, I set aside the rest. The first wave was already starting to hit me, the air taking on the thicker quality of water, the illusion of more resistance. More importantly my thoughts slowed.

The ever whirring flow of information halved it's speed and I could peer through my thoughts a little more carefully, examine them longer before they slipped out of sight again. 

Right now I was staring at Crosshair. My position was slouched, even to his face. A small crack in the drawn curtains was letting in a beam of moonlight to cut across his features, highlighting his tattoo. 

I love this tattoo…

My fingertips were reaching out to it and he leaned into my touch, closing his eyes. He was probably floating by now. 

I scooted closer, resting my elbows on his shoulders my one hand still cradled his temple, thumb tracing the thin lines of ink over his brow. I set the other to stroke his head, starting from brow to neck. 

Bristles of new growth had began to come in across his scalp, coarse against my skin. I delighted in the tactile feel of it, bringing both hands up to massage with my nails and fingertips.  

“So you do have hair,”

“I actually have amazing hair… it's just been easier to keep it off,”

“Is that so?”

I scratched a tad more vigorously and he leaned into it. 

“Maker, it's been driving me crazy,”

He giggled,

“Whatever you do, don't stop till it's fully grown back,”

I laughed lightly at his sudden, boyish demeanor, but my fingers were starting to cramp and I eventually had to stop to a sad whine from the intoxicated man. 

I quieted him with kisses, soft, small kisses… to the corner of his mouth, his nose, the cheekbone and brow. Feeling the shapes against the sensitive flesh of my lips, mapping his face, imprinting a memory. As I pressed my lips lightly to his forehead I felt his breath heavy against my neck, breathing in the scent that had been spritzed there,

“You'll come back to Coruscant… won't you, Tahny?”

“No one could keep me away, once whatever this is has blown over I'll be back,”

“...and I can come see you?”

“Of course, Cross, whenever you want…”

He relaxed into me, arms tightening slightly as he sat still, breathing me in.

“So…”

I slowly rocked back, sitting even with him again. 

“...the toothpicks?”

“If I tell you will you scratch my head again?”

We both giggled a little at that,

“Sure,”

…

I waited while he gathered his thoughts through the haze of the Darh root. 

“Back when we were cadets, there was a holofilm, Tech somehow managed to get a hold of it… an old Outer Expansion story about a gunslinger,”

I raised my brow, those old films were hokey, but I couldn't deny I liked them occasionally. 

“This gunslinger kind of became my hero…”

“What was the name of it?”

He flushed, looking down. 

“We didn't know… it was a silent film, the text files had gotten corrupted so the cards between scenes were just blank, I was meaning to ask Tech if he could look for it again…”

He trailed off. 

“So, your hero…?”

“He was the stoic good guy, never missed a shot or took insults, good guys could smoke in those days… but, obviously I couldn't,”

I was starting to put the pieces together and my heart started to warm. 

“I started taking toothpicks from the mess hall, and chewing on them to… look tough like the gunslinger,”

He said the last part fast and looked away, his cheeks turning bright red. 

My heart melted completely. Though I had little reference, I couldn't help but try to imagine a young Crosshair on Kamino. 

Tiny Crosshair with toothpicks. Tiny Crosshair making finger guns at the other clones. Tiny Crosshair acting like an Outer Expansion action star. By Be'llahl, can I survive without a heart?

I couldn't handle this story high, that was for sure, and resisted the urge to start bawling from the adorable imagery that flooded me. To disguise my distress I pulled him to me in a hug that could probably crush bones. 

He leaned against me, yawning. 

“Don't ever tell anyone that…”

“Who would I tell?”

…

“Jar'ath.”

“I absolutely would not tell Jar'ath.”

“Kahtzi.”

…

“Okay, I might tell Kahtzi,”

He groaned into my shoulder but seemed to accept that reality. 

“Scratches?”

“Mhmm, let's move though, you're getting tired and my legs are falling asleep,”

I slid to the floor and he obediently followed as I took his hand, guiding him from the sunken alcove back to the bed at the center of the room. 

I stacked the pillows into a nest and crawled in, fancy dress and all, reaching for my lover staring down at me dreamily through an addled haze. He crawled, more clumsily than usual, over me, resting his head against my chest with a relieved sigh. 

Starting slow I worked my nails in little circles, up and down, careful around the edge of his scar. His breathing eventually became heavy, the drinks and food and smoke catching up to him after an absurdly long day. 

I wasn't fairing much better, my hands folded around him and still, eyes heavy but… watching him sleep, not thinking much of tomorrow.

It felt important to remember him like this. Unguarded, content. There wasn't much time left, it was important to drink him in… like sweet water. 

~~~

BONUS TRACK: This kept playing while I was doing the illustrations.

It's them ✨

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Tag List:

@feral-ferrule @here-comes-the-moose

[thrawns-babygirl]

Hey, can i put in request for our snarky hotshot?

I saw this prompt somewhere and really liked it

“want a massage? i’ve been told that i’m..very good with my hands” and if you’re bored it can lead to some dirty dirty? If that’s the case, body worship maybe? TY soo very much <3

Sorry this took so long lmao. Moving house has been KILLING me. I loved writing this and I hope I did the prompt justice :)

And yes I will continue writing Medic!Reader. Doc is just the perfect gender neutral nickname I am a sucker for when the fic writes itself. No I will not stop and no one can make me.

Crosshair x GN!Reader

(This is my first time attempting to write an actual GN penetration fic so lemme know if it leans to heavily in one way or another. It can be read as either PiA or PiV imo)

Rating: E (18+) Warnings: Unprotected sex, creampie Word Count: 1700+

Masterlist

Crosshair was loitering again. It wasn’t an uncommon thing; he wasn’t exactly subtle about being soft on you. It was a source of constant teasing from his brothers, much to his chagrin. He was very firm about it “No I do not have a ‘crush’ on the doctor Wrecker, grow up” or “they’re just so fun to tease” which would result in knowing looks shared between his brothers as he stormed off to loiter in your office as you finished paperwork.

Today was no different.

You were hunched over your desk, trying to finish off the last of the medical reports so that you could get to sleep at a reasonable hour for a change as you were once again interrupted by the drawl of a certain handsome sniper.

“Your posture is terrible, that’s gotta be bad on your back” you look over to where Crosshair is leaning against the wall of your office, arms crossed over his chest still clad in his armor moving the ever-present toothpick in his mouth from one side to the other. Fixing him with a scowl you adjust your posture slightly before replying “Well no one is asking you to hang around and berate me about it, don’t you have someone else you would rather annoy?” he hits you with his trademark smirk “No”.

You simply sigh before getting back to your work. You try to ignore him, honestly you do, but it’s difficult. His presence is a source of constant conflict for you, he is devilishly handsome, and he knows it. He enjoys flustering you with flirtatious comments and small touches when the situation allows, he enjoys the way you blush and stumble over your words at his teasing, he enjoys it far too much.

You grunt softly as rub your back, maybe he did have a good point. Your back was sore, your eyes were tired, and you wanted nothing more than to go back to your quarters, take a hot shower and fall into your semi-comfortable bed.

“Told you so” you can almost hear the smirk in his voice as he moves off the wall towards you. You sigh and shut off your terminal before glancing over at Crosshair who is now standing behind you, looming over you with his imposing height. “I’m heading back to my quarters Cross, go find someone else to piss off” you tried to snap at him, but your voice just sounded exhausted instead as you rub your shoulders. You stand up and leave towards the direction of your room, attempting to ignore the sniper who was following you.

“You know…” he starts as you look over your shoulder at him, raising an eyebrow “I’ve been told that I’m very good with my hands, if you want a massage” you think about the offer, wondering if this is a joke or if one of you has actually taken the final step in this ‘will they wont they’ situation you’ve found yourselves in. Deciding to throw caution to the wind you simply nod and lead the way to your quarters.

Once inside you feel a little unsure of how to proceed, you never really thought either of you would take this final step towards… whatever it is that’s happening right now, and you never thought this far ahead. You decide to lay down on your bed, face in your pillows as you hear some shuffling from Crosshair behind you.

You feel Crosshair’s long toned legs against your thighs, something that is decidedly not the hard jab of plastoid and you lift your head up to look behind you only to be greeted with the sight of Crosshair in only the bottom half of his blacks straddling your thighs busying himself with a small packet of lubricant that look eerily familiar. “Did… did you swipe that from my office?” you move your head back down into the pillows to stop Crosshair from seeing your blush as he tuts “where else would I have gotten it?” you decide not to question it as you feel his hands under the hem of your shirt. “You gotta take this off doc, I need room to work” you silently follow his command as you shift and allow him to help you remove your shirt. Ignoring the burning heat in your face as you lay your head against your arms on your pillow.

You shudder slightly as you hear him open the packet and rub his hands together, successfully stifling an embarrassingly desperate moan as his hands make contact with your back. He wasn’t kidding, he is really good with his hands. You feel all your tension leave you as he runs his hands along your back, working through the knots and kinks in your muscles as you feel yourself melting into the mattress.

He works his hands lower until his fingers are digging into your hips as his thumbs work on a particularly tense area of your lower back. You fail to stifle your moan this time, you also fail to notice the sharp inhale and movement of Crosshairs hips to the sound. You’re lost in the bliss of Crosshair’s hands as he finally breaks the silence that has settled over the two of you “You know doc… I think I could get better access if you moved your pants down a little” you both know this is probably untrue, but at this point you really don’t care. The two of you have been moving around this for far too long and if this is what it takes for you to finally step over the line, you’re more than ready. You nod as you feel Crosshair’s hands snake their way under your pants and underwear, pulling them down slowly as he reveals more of your skin to him.

“You’re… stunning doc” his voice is breathy with a barely contained desire as he runs his hands down over your bare skin, running his fingers over the flesh of your ass kneading the soft skin before he leans down and starts trailing a line of kisses down your back. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted this… wanted you” he continues pulling your pants down further. “I need you to tell me you want this too” his voice has dropped into a breathy whisper as he speaks to you.

You raise your head slightly to look behind you, his face and chest are dusted with a light blush, his eyes are blown wide with lust and there is a very prominent bulge in his blacks. You nod, wetting your lips as you find the words “yes… yes I want this too”. You watch as Crosshair lets out a shuddered exhale and moves to find the leftover lube from the packet before placing your head back into your pillow.

“Just lie back and enjoy Doc…” his voice is husky as he returns his hands to your body, running them along your thighs up towards the swell of your ass, placing kisses along your back, his stubble sending tingles through your body as he brings his now slick fingers to your entrance. You tense slightly as he slowly pushes a single finger inside you, pumping it in and out for a bit before adding a second scissoring them slightly. “Fuuuck… you’re so tight doc… can’t wait to feel you around my cock” you shudder at his voice, the feeling of his long fingers filling you up, soft moans falling from your lips as he moves the digits in and out of your tight entrance.

You whimper slightly at the feeling of his fingers leaving you, only to take a sharp inhale as you feel him move behind you, removing the bottom half of his blacks. You steal another quick glance behind you and gasp at the sight of him.

He’s huge, long and thick with precum beading at the tip. You watch as he pours the remainder of the lube onto his length, giving himself a few strokes before leaning over you, one hand beside your head as he uses the other to line himself up with your prepped hole. You moan as you feel the blunt head of his cock press against you before slowly pressing in. The sounds he makes as he slowly feeds his length inside you are utterly sinful, a long groan of your name leaves his lips as he holds himself above you with both arms, panting softly.

“Fuck… Doc you’re so fucking tight. You take my cock so well” his voice is shaky, as if he’s trying to hold himself back from slamming his hips into yours with reckless abandon. You turn your head again and nod, hoping that he gets the hint that he can start moving.

He does, his first thrusts are slow, tentative, gauging your reactions before he begins picking up the pace at your soft moans of his name. It’s not long before he’s moving his hips into yours, ripping pornographic moans from your chest that you would probably be embarrassed about if you weren’t so thoroughly engulphed in pleasure.

“Fuck just like that, you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting this Doc… You’re fucking perfect” he lets out another long groan as he fucks you with reckless abandon, the head of his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you repeatedly, bringing you closer and closer towards your release. His rhythm begins to faulter slightly as his breathing gets heavier “where...?” his voice is strained as he holds himself back from the edge “inside” you let out one long moan of his name as your climax washes over you, your legs shaking from pleasure as Crosshair slams his hips inside of you a few more times before letting out a sinful moan as his cock throbs and he finishes inside you, filling you with his cum.

He leans down against your back as you both pant, attempting to catch your breath, both of your bodies covered in a thin layer of sweat as you bask in your afterglows. He pulls his softening length out of you before disappearing to the refresher to grab you a damp towel, throwing it at you as he places a toothpick in his mouth.

“Not a word of this to my brothers. If I have to hear ‘I told you so’ from Hunter I’ll deck him”  

@where-is-my-mind-tho @antishadow2021 @healingskywalker @crosshairlovebot@ilovestarwarsmen725 @vincentferard

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Immortal Beloved - Chapter Two.

Well, here we go with the next instalment, guys. I won't lie, I'm a bit disheartened that chapter one did not do as well as the prologue. I just hope that's because people are busy and haven't gotten around to it yet, rather than 'oh, this sucks, not reading it any longer.' Sadly because of events not too long ago, that's exactly where my worried little mind always goes :( Huge thanks to all of you who have interacted, though. Maybe I can encourage some of you who don't already to leave a comment, or reblog it? It would mean the world to your hardworking author.

Previous chapters - Prologue One

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 3,700

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

“Holy shit.” Patting his pocket quickly, he was mildly dismayed to find himself without the silver letter opener he had stashed in there, the only thing made of the metal he could find that would work as a weapon against the shadow walker stood before him.  

“Do you search for this?” There within her handkerchief covered grasp was the very tool he’d been told to arm himself with, the vampire tilting her head back. “You know what I am now, for you to be carrying the very item that could destroy me within your pockets.”  

Looking at her unflinchingly, the blue of his eyes burned cold through the amber of his eyelashes, taking a drag on his cigarette. “I do.”  

Puzzlement tugged at her grin. “But why? I pose no threat to you, John. I told you this.”  

The caution in him continued to amp, but swirling around it came a feeling of great juxtapose. His first encounter with her had been truly terrifying, appearing before him more beast than woman. As she stood mere inches from him now, there was a gentleness to her quite palpable, the feeling of a storm stilled, the raging rain and howling winds broken by glittering beams of sunshine. He kept the words of Polly and Tommy firmly in mind, though. 

“How’d you know my name?” 

“Your walls are thin, and vampire hearing is quite the thing.” Smiling, she watched as he mirrored it for a flicker of a second, his face swiftly altering, blankness stilling his features. She read him like a book, though. “Your aunt, she is incorrect.”  

“Yeah? What about?”  

“When she spoke of us being evil incarnate. I for one am not.”  

His soft snort was muffled by the blast furnace once again roaring, but she still heard it. He could have snorted in disbelief three streets away from her and the sound would still reach her ancient ears. “You tore four men to pieces last night. That counts as evil in my book.” 

“Then you are evil too, John Shelby. For the weapons you wield, the intent behind the bullets you direct at your enemies, or the razorblades within your cap intended to blind and maim. I could say we are the same.” She had him there, he had to concede. “I saved your life, there was a purpose to my slaying of the Rasmussen men. That, and I happened to be quite famished.”  

He sighed, flicking his cigarette away, returning the toothpick to his mouth. “Look, love. What the fuck do you want, eh?”  

She cocked her head, smiling, reaching for his cheek. “For you to be calm, John. All this coolness towards me is unneeded, I swear to you. I would also like for you to be a gentleman, escort me down to the public house and buy me a glass of wine. I am partial to a nice, dry red.” She held the letter opener forth, gesturing to it with a nod. “A show of faith. Take it. I trust you; I would like for you to trust me as well.” 

They shared a weighted silence, pulled in by one another’s gaze, the vampire speaking once again as her eyes toured him. “Gods, you are so strikingly handsome.” 

She watched as the confidence he carried himself within seemed to slip a little, his cheeks colouring a tad as he looked away for a moment, a tiny slither of shy disbelief fluttering through him.  

He looked back at her with a sniff, his shoulders bobbing lightly. “I ain’t bad.” There within the sharply dressed gangster, the man with the feared surname that preceded him, was the tiniest smidgen of boyish bashfulness. Oh, how she adored it.  

“So,” she began, eyes glittering at him through the gloom of the evening, “that drink?” 

The stroke of her fingernails against his cheek soothed him in a way he couldn’t explain, feeling himself pulled into the glacial vortex that was her eyes as he returned the letter opener to his pocket. “Alright.” He suddenly remembered Arthur’s reaction, coupled with the warnings of Tommy and Polly. “We can’t go in The Garrison, though.” 

“This is of little matter to me,” the vampire began, adjusting the black fur of her collar. “I much prefer The Brasshouse.” 

“You mean the place on Broad Street? Bit far, ain’t it?” 

She smiled, taking his arm. “Not too far at all. Now, hang on tight. We shall arrive in a jiffy.” Suddenly, he felt as if he’d been shot out of a canon, the air whirling past him at great acceleration, his feet finding the floor below after a few seconds. Looking up, he saw the doors of The Brasshouse to his left.  

“How... the fuck did you do that?”  

Her smile flashed a set of pearly white teeth. “You bared witness to the stealth that I move with. The Bentley Motor Company has nothing on me.” She took his arm again, his warmth delicious against her perpetually cool body. “Let us head inside, and perhaps I shall tell you more about myself. I sense you have many questions.” 

She absolutely wasn’t wrong.  

As he entered the cosy surroundings of the pub, with its long, polished oak bar, bare brick walls and tiled floor, he wondered whether he’d completely taken leave of his senses. There he was, escorting a vampire towards the bar, intent on purchasing her the dry red she had made it known she was partial to, against the grave warnings of his family. He was nothing if not a risk taker, though, a man who lived life in the moment, caution thrown to the wind.  

Imagine the stories he could tell his grandchildren; about the time he’d courted a vampire.  

Was it even courting, though? Perhaps such a notion was getting ahead of himself, John realising that for all the thrill seeking within his nature, he should still perhaps not throw his caution to the aforementioned wind entirely. After all, he still had no idea over her intentions towards him. 

“Large whiskey, Irish, and a dry red for the lady.” John instructed the barman, who nodded before bustling away to prepare their drinks.  

All around him, the eyes of the patrons were drawn to his companion, how much she stood out compared to the other female persons there present. Short hair styled in finger waves was all the rage, but the vampire couldn’t have been further from that, with her dark curls tumbling almost to her waist. The stares did not abate once they’d taken their seat in a booth, John noticing one man at the bar practically salivating over her. 

“Oi, mush. This ain’t a museum and she's not on display,” he barked, his frown deepening. “Put your fucking eyes back in your head.” 

The man scoffed, leaning back against the bar in a casual, unbothered manner. “And who are you to tell me what to do, eh lad?” 

“John Shelby.” 

At the mere mention of his famed surname, the man’s face dropped, picking up his drink and moving with his cohorts across the pub, John muttering beneath his breath. 

“That was very gallant of you, but I do not mind being stared at so much. I know that I am somewhat of a curious sight to behold,” she began, running her fingernail around the rim of her glass. “I do not look like other women.” 

His eyes roamed over her, pupils inking into the blue. “No, you don’t.”  

“And you enjoy that,” she asserted, her pretty lips curling, looking at him through the flirtatious flutter of her long eyelashes as she sipped her wine.  

On impulse, he reached forward, wiping the drip of Cabernet from her lip, bringing his thumb to his own mouth and sucking it momentarily. It made her shiver within. “I do,” he finally confirmed, his eyes not leaving hers for a second. Oh, how she loved a man who had the confidence to stare so unblinkingly at her. “Do I get to know your name?”  

“Brynhild.” 

He was taken aback a little. “That’s a strange name,” he began, eyes still fixed firmly on hers, so much so that she shuffled slightly in her seat. He was much too handsome for his own good. “No surname?”  

“It is a very old name. As for surname, I do, but it is not like a surname that is known today. My people used patronymics, and what that means is to combine the father’s name as the prefix, and then either son or dottir as the suffix. I am the daughter of Leif, so therefore my name is Brynhild Leifsdottir.” 

He was fascinated, if not a little confused, closing the gap between them as he leaned across the table. “I think I’m just going to call you Bryn.” 

Her laugh at his dryly delivered assertion tinkled through the air. “That is fine with me. I like that. Nobody has ever shortened it before.” 

“Who were your people? You sound foreign but I can’t place your accent. I’m a fucking clod with nationalities, geography an’ all that.”  

“No, no,” she assured, her hand pressing to his forearm for a moment. “You are correct, for even though my accent has softened, I am not English. I am Norse, or Norwegian. My people were Vikings.”  

His eyes all but fell out of his head. “What, as in the fellas who came over and terrorised a load of monks up north all them years ago?” 

“You say that you are, to use your term, a fucking clod with nationalities and geography, yet you know this correctly, John. Not as much of a clod as you think, hmm? You know your history, also.” 

He shrugged. “Me sister is a right bookworm, she rattled something off about it once and I remembered.” He paused, momentarily wetting his lips with a flick of his tongue. Again, she shivered internally. “I know it’s bloody rude, to ask a lady her age, but...” 

“One thousand and seventy-two. If I am to count my human years, then I am one thousand, one hundred and two years old.” She reached for his mouth, placing two fingers beneath his chin to close it after it had dropped open.  

“Fucking... hell.”  

“And you are?” 

He suddenly felt a little inferior to his companion, that tiny little show of bashfulness making an appearance once more. “Um, twenty-eight.”  

“Ahh, then if you are to discount my vampire years, we would not be so different. I had just turned thirty years of age when I was made what I now am.” His face remained a picture of wide-eyed incredulity. “Does my ancientness bother you?” 

“No, not at all. I’m just... bloody hell. The things you must have seen and learned in your time. Fuck.” He laughed softly, shaking his head in wonder. “You're fascinating, Bryn.” Their chemistry already mingled in the air like magical alchemy. 

She beamed, and he felt his pulse quicken. “You are very complimentary. What else do you wish to learn about me?” 

He sipped his whiskey, returning the tumbler to the table with a soft clunk. “Whatever you want to tell me, love.” He winked, taking her hand and laying a soft kiss to her cool fingers. It took all she had not to reach across the small space and plant her lips to his.  

Everything. She wanted to tell him everything as the blue of his eyes pulled her further to him, her usual aloofness banished to a place she could not reach to pull it back. Not that she wanted to. Bryn scarcely encountered humans who were quite a confident in themselves as John, especially in the face of all that she was. She knew he’d been afraid of her the night before, but that no longer seemed to linger within the body of the well-groomed, handsome young man. 

He was unfazed, he did not cower to her. She was the most powerful apex predator on earth, yet he treated her like a lady. It had been many years since she had experienced that. He’d watched her decapitate a man with her bare hands, he knew of her savagery, yet it dented neither his chivalry nor his flirtation as they fell into long conversation together.  

“To answer your question, yes, I can eat and drink, but they have no nourishing effect upon me. I could drink every last drop of alcohol within this public house also, and it would not affect my equilibrium. I do so merely for the pleasure when it takes me, and to blend in. A woman at a dinner party pushing her meal around with a glass that never empties draws attention, the type I do not always wish to receive. All the food in the world could vanish and I would not be concerned, for truly I only need the blood of humans to survive. Animal blood works too, but not as well. We weaken without our life’s source.”  

John listened keenly as she talked, remaining mostly silent as the evening passed by, his eyes darting to the large clock in the corner every so often, willing it to tick backwards. He’d been there with her for four hours, and he wished for nothing more than another four to follow. “What else about being a vampire make you different from humans?” 

She was only too happy to share that, but there were some secrets she would keep back. Even when in the company of a man who she viewed with as keen interest as she did John, she never gave everything up at once. “My speed, which you have witnessed. My strength is boundless, too. I could – and have – uproot a tree by pushing it, for example. I could also hold a car up one handed and throw a grown man across the room with a mere shove of my hand into his chest.”  

His eyes sparkled. “You’ve done that, ain’t ya?” 

Leaning close, she licked her top lip momentarily, her grin broadening. “Too many times to count.” She paused, cocking her head slightly. “You know exactly what I am and yet, you do not fear me.” 

His shrug was light, finishing his drink. “There’s no point. If you wanted me dead, I’d be gone within a blink, I suppose. It was like being scared when I went to France. If I thought about it too much, then I wouldn’t have been able to do what I was there for and defend me country.” His eyes seemed to dull a little, John clearing his throat before offering a candidness he seldom ever uttered. “It did scare me, though. If I let it.”  

The war hadn’t affected him quite like it had Tommy, John’s perpetual cheer and effervescence shining through the shadows left behind by the harrowing darkness of war. Only very, very occasionally did the Flanders blues bother him. 

She placed her hand atop his, John moving his thumb out from under hers, stroking the soft skin just below her first knuckle. “Anybody who claims not to have felt fear in battle is a liar. I remember it well, thought it was so very long ago.” 

“Some kind of vampire war?” he asked curiously, Bryn shaking her head. 

“No, John. When I was human. I was what is known as a shieldmaiden. I fought side by side upon the battlefield with my Viking brethren. I became extremely adept in burying my axe in the heads of many an Englishman.” 

He looked very impressed at that revelation. “So, what you’re telling me is that you’ve spent your entire existence basically being a fucking killing machine?” 

Her lips pinched as she tried not to find his words as entertaining as she did. Oh, he was such a lovable rouge. Not many would brush off that kind of information, let alone turn it into a joke. “I suppose I have, yes. I tend to be a little more sedate in my penchant for slaughter at my age, though. With age comes a gentleness not seen in younger of my kind. We ah, find a little of our humanity again, you could say.” He fixed her with a comic look of disbelief, raising his eyebrows aloft. “Except for last night, that is.” 

“Decapitation ain’t really sedate or gentle, love.” he hummed, laughing when she finally began to, dropping her gaze for a few moments, beginning to swirl a curl around her finger. “Got ya there, ain’t I?” 

This man, oh, this charming, playful man. He made her feel like a girl again, not an ancient creature of the night, not a barbaric shieldmaiden. Just Brynhild. Just Bryn. “Yes, John. Yes, you do.”  

On they continued to chatter, until last orders were called, John in no hurry to leave as he bought another round of drinks.  

“How much, gaffer, to keep this place open just for the lovely lady and I?”  

The landlord looked a little apprehensive, until he saw the size of the roll of banknotes produced, John beginning to peel them off. He raised his eyebrows questioningly, thumbing away a couple more.  

“That’ll be sufficient, sir. Got to keep it quiet, though, lights off. I’ll fetch some candles.” When it was just John, Bryn and the man who facilitated their elongated stay within the cosy surroundings of The Brasshouse, he finally broached the question that had been at the back of his mind the entire night. 

He kept his tones hushed, moving to her side so that they could share conversation that would not reach earshot of the landlord, sat at the other end of the pub next to the gramophone. “So, why did you do it, then? Take out the Rasmussen fellas, that is.” 

She nodded knowingly, lacing her fingers together before her. “I knew that you would bring the conversation back to that eventually. I suppose it is only fair that I reveal my intentions, especially after the lovely evening you have treated me to.” She was not short of a bob or two, but John had not allowed her to put her hand into her purse once.  

Drawing herself up a little, Bryn began. “I will start by revealing that I initially sought out your family for the purposes of alliance only, but then I witnessed you and felt my cunt do whatever the cunt version of a backflip is, so I will be completely honest there. I have interest in an alliance, and in addition to that, I now have interest in you.” She paused a moment while John’s mirth displayed itself in a long snort before he laughed hard. When women were unexpectedly crass, it never ceased to entertain him. 

“There is an old saying, John. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and gods, the Rasmussen’s are my enemies of the highest order. What they are, they are not merely a criminal enterprise. They are vampire hunters, their lineage spanning longer than mine. From one generation to the next, they have stalked me through the shadows for centuries, after what it is within me that fuels them. You must have noticed by now that they are much stronger than your average person, yes?” 

John nodded, allowing her to continue. “This is because they drink of our blood. In doing so, it will give a human some of the attributes of the vampire they have drank of. Sharper senses, speed, strength and stamina. You can imagine, can you not, the attributes they would gain if they managed to seize me. They would become unstoppable.” 

He looked thoughtful, absorbing her words. “S’cuse me if this sounds like I’m being a thick headed Brummie twat, but what advantage does an alliance with us give you? You’re ancient and powerful. We might be gangsters but still, we’re fucking feeble compared to you.”  

The admission of his lesser strength to her made something unpleasant prickle his insides, but John was no fool even in the face of such inner concession. He could not deny that while he himself sat very high upon the ladder of intimidation, Bryn was perched right upon the top rung. 

“Daylight, John. You have the daylight, whereas I do not. My home, all of my homes, in fact, have been well fortified against break in. This does not mean it cannot still happen, though.” She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering, her fangs snapping out within her closed mouth as the pain danced in her memories. Making them recede, she continued.  

“When residing at my home in London, I am guarded during the daytime by men under the employment of one Alfie Solomons. I believe you are acquainted with him. I offer an exchange basis. I pay most handsomely for such services.”  

He still looked a tad confused. “I think I’m missing something here. Why can’t you just go kill ‘em all? Ain’t like you’re not strong enough to do that.”  

“It matters not how strong I am. The Rasmussen family is great in number, as I am sure you have deduced by now. Their dwellings are well fortified against vampire attack especially, for they know the marks they have had upon their heads by others of my kind. This has not changed throughout history. They have always bred plentifully to remain in good numbers and thus further their cause. I cannot risk happening again what their ancestors put me through.”  

He almost didn’t want to ask, watching the pain swirl in her eyes, the way her nose crinkled slightly, the tightness in her jaw. “What did they do to you, Bryn?” 

Reaching for her wine, she gulped the rest back, wishing alcohol still had a soothing effect on her. “Took me prisoner for over a hundred years.” 

John might not have known about vampires for a long period of time at all, but what he did, he knew that perhaps it stung her pride greater than he could ever imagine to confess such weakness. As he covered her hand with his, he knew on an instinctual level that this rare and radiant woman was one he wanted to pledge his protection to.  

Whether his family would agree was a different matter altogether. 

[ilynpilled]

Hey! So I'm from the Jaime/Lannister side of the fandom but wanted to ask your opinion on where you think GRRM is going with Dany. I don't mean spell out her endgame or anything, but what messages do you think he is trying to impart through her character? I see so much Dark!Dany! theory shaped by the show that has just never really resonated with how I read her in the books. I see her more as a figure who will try to be Queen of Westeros, but will ultimately end up abdicating or even sacrificing herself during the LN because finding "home" is more important to her than ruling... but that is not based on much other than gut feeling. What do you think?

yeah idrgaf about the show tbh. i think it fundamentally misunderstood key themes that the books were exploring. corrupted/mad dany feels so deeply cynical to me. people have been reiterating this: she is a subversive messiah figure & she is given a narrative that is so often reserved for the “male hero”. the gender commentary in that would fall flat on its face to me if she becomes mad fascist female ruler like bffr. yeah, she will get darker come winds, like everyone else she will have to make choices and will face moral dilemmas because she is resolved to continue combatting the institution of slavery. she knows she will not be able to do it without dirtying her hands in some way. i think grrm is gonna explore the concept of necessary force and the question of when it is more moral to take a stand and draw blood: is it justified to cut off and burn something at the root, especially if the alternative is allowing the cancer to exist and continue to spread? the institution of slavery is a wound that cannot just be covered up with a bandaid. like this is a very important aspect of abolition. the only way i can see the idea of “madness” be relevant is in a more subversive john brown paralleling way with how people thought that man was insane bc he wanted to end slavery lmfao. if terrible people think you are mad for attempting to make radical changes that harm them that is a good sign. also would hate her becoming an aerys parallel like in the show like that is cringe bio essentialism territory, again, antithetical to the themes prevalent in these books. d&d’s #subversive #dark #unexpected ending was unironically the equivalent of:

do not want her ‘idealism’ to be completely robbed from her at any point either really. im not opposed to tragedy but i dont think id vibe with it being too cynical in this instance. this series is about earned romanticism. its heroes are the dreamers yada yada. it is about a dream of spring. i always thought she represented hope in some way. she is gonna be the flame during TLN, literally and metaphorically imo. i do think there are thematic and more abstract aspects to lightbringer, like yeah humanity uniting over an ideal for a better future & it can be about hope or whatever, which is why multiple characters have some kind of flaming sword foreshadowing, but a main one is gonna be dany and her dragons. like on top of all the pretty overt foreshadowing, like let us think about the logistics here, what is gonna do more damage to the others?? three magic nukes or some convenient dues ex machina magical flaming toothpick we forge out of murdering a woman? i also do not want to instantly write her off as a doomed martyr either though. i see the appeal in the tragedy of the kind girl who wanted a home dying without ever getting to live in the one she created but still leaving it for millions upon millions of people present and future… but also idk i am just not crazy about martyrdom as a trope unless it is executed very well. i like when characters survive for a cause rather than die for it. dany always kept persevering, not just for herself, but others: her children and her people, so i like when altruism is framed in that way. also i might be a little bitter if she is the only one to die from the new generation or whatever like in the show

[ladyelissarose]

‘I think you’re cute’

(In honor of @entertainmentgal8 who gave this wonderful idea!)

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x black curvy reader (nickname- Koko)

Warnings: sass and fluff... anything else?

Summary: Who knew that Bob would be sorta intimidated by confident girls? Well, with Jake’s help which was a shove, Bob falls into the lovely hands of a friendly stranger.

 Climbing out of her white convertible, Koko fluffed her short, shiny jet black hair that had gotten a little crazy due to the strong winds while driving down Fighter Town. The hot beaming sun shone down on her smooth bare shoulders, as she wore a spaghetti strap yellow blouse, a color that made her walnut colored skin glow beautifully. Koko had decided to come to California for a short vacation and visit her mother, wanting to take a break from books and numbers, after graduating with a Masters in Business and Financing back at Springfield, Georgia. At  first she wasn’t too sure about her choice of place to spend her free time at Hard Deck after her mother decided to call the day short, but soon she’d learn that it had been the best decision ever. Upon walking in, Koko was met with the jolly music playing through the speakers, it wasn’t familiar she thought, but still enjoyed a little bit of a twist when it came to different versions of music. What she did quickly notice though, was how a lot of the customers there were either wearing green flight suits or Naval khakis, making her realize immediately when she saw the decorated wall full of Naval badges and pictures,

  ‘This must be a Sailor’s hangout place... how cool.’

 Koko admired the many mugs that hung on the ceiling, and loved the view as she took a seat at the bar, waiting to get her order taken, she didn’t even know what to get, so she just figured that she’d ask the beautiful woman that just appreciate her with a lovely voice,

  “Hi dear, I’m Penny. What can I get for you?”

Penny’s warm smile made Koko feel more at ease as she asked,

 “What’s the best refreshing drink I can get here, maybe something that’s not necessarily alcohol but still good?”

  Perking her eyebrows Penny looked at the shelf’s behind her as she sighed,

  “Well, I can see if I can make you something interesting, give me a second, please.”

 Koko sent her a nod,

  “Of course, thank you.”

Just then she heard the door swing open and loud laughters filled the room as the new customers entered. Koko watched intently as she witnessed a tall brunette walk in with a well kept mustache in a Hawaiian shirt, along with another tall man who was a blond, with a toothpick sticking out of his lips barley hanging off his pink tongue. They pushed each other playfully while calling one another teasing names, but soon behind them walked in a short cute guy, with his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose as he was looking down trying to fix his belt that kept his khakis up. Koko was entertained for a moment as she watched him fiddle with his belt for quite a minute, though it was cute to watch him so concentrated that even a small line appeared between his brows and his tongue barely poked out his lips. A Texan accent drew Koko out of her daze when it was drawled in her direction,

  “Howdy there ma’am, who’s got ya here looking pretty today?”

 Realizing that he was clearly flirting and giving his attention to her, Koko smiled confidently as she sat up,

  “This is only for me sir.. how about yourself?”

 Smiling broadly at Koko’s sass while adding a wink, he puffed his chest and extended his hand to her,

  “Same here darling, I’m Jake by the way.”

 Shaking it firmly enough Koko replied,

  “I’m Koko, you must be a Naval Aviator right?”

 Taking in by surprise that she knew who he was, Jake couldn’t help but ask as he took a set next to her,

  “My my I hardly have anyone outside of the Navy telling me who I am, but I’m honored. Anyways, how’d you know specifically?”

  Knowing that she could count on her smarts when it came to these things Koko simply said,

  “Oh I didn’t know, I just put the pieces together now. Though It’s kinda obvious when your wearing a Wings badge right over your chest, it pretty much symbolizes what you do.”

  Letting out a surprised huff, Jake took in Koko’s appearance and smiled,

  “Well you must have the whole package then.”

 Quirking an eyebrow at Jake Koko hummed,

  “Oh really? And what does a whole package come with to you?”

 With a cheeky grin Jake replied honestly,

  “Brains and beauty Koko, brains and beauty. Not everyone has both, but you seem to be an exception to that.”

  With a proud smile Koko put forth,

  “I must be Mother Nature’s favorite then, Jake.”

 A hearty laugh was let out as Jake threw his head back, he couldn’t get enough of how sassy and confident Koko was, she wasn’t like other girls, who were shy and needed everyone’s approval, Koko knew who she was and stood by it proudly. Soon Penny came back and questioned,

  “Does a root beer sound good to you? It’s the best on in town I’ll tell you that.”

 Koko felt a wave of satisfaction hit her as her mouth watered,

  “Sounds perfect to me, I’ll take one.”

 Penny smiled happily,

 “Great! Now what can I get for you Hangman?”

 Jake placed his card on the table while ordering,

  “I’ll open a tab for my boys and I, and I’ll start with a light beer for now.”

 Picking up a cool bottle from the fridge Penny handed to him as he thanked her then yelled for Bob,

  “Thanks Penny. Hey Bob! Come over here and grab something.”

 Koko followed Jake’s fingers that pointed towards the person he called Bob, and a warm fuzz of butterflies filled her tummy when she locked eyes with the person she was entertained with earlier. His bright blue eyes soon looked away from Koko’s warm brown ones as he felt a rush of shyness go through his system, unbeknownst to him made Koko feel a pinch of sadness of the thought that he couldn’t bare the sight of her. Even though she was pretty confident about herself, she still couldn’t help but feel a little hint of self consciousness, Koko was pretty curvy, had her short ack hair, along with cute earrings that covered her ears. She had seen the others girls that filled the seats in Hard Deck, and they were nothing like her, they were more taller and slim, lighter skin, looking more attractive than her she thought. But soon Bob came trailing around shyly as he watched Penny from the other side of the bar preparing Koko’s root beer, he couldn’t tell what it quite was yet, so he watched curiously. A few seconds later Penny came back and placed the cool root beer in front of Koko as she said sweetly,

 “Enjoy dear.”

 “Thank you Penny.”

Koko mirrored Penny’s smile as she began to take a long sip of her delicious drink, and quickly relishing its goodness. Bob had watched Koko the entire time as she drank her root beer, to shy to ask what drink it was so he could get one too. You see, Bob was always a quiet one, not really talking much and staying in his own comfort square, and asking a complete stranger (though very beautiful to him) about what drink she was having was too much for him. But Jake came to the rescue when he nudged Bob’s side and whispered to him subtly,

  “You’re never going to be heard if you don’t speak, just ask. I promise you she’s really cool.”

  Bob looked at Jake with a glimpse of fear, shaking his head while stuttering,

 “A-Are you kidding me? M-Me.. talking to her is a joke, I’m totally out of her league perhaps, she probably likes strong and confidently guys like you, not quirky and n-nerdy guys like me Bagman-“

 Jake huffed under his breath as he threatened Bob,

  “Just shut up and ask, or I’ll ask for you and make you look like a total shy baby that has 4 eyes! Go!!”

 Hangman giving Bob a light shove was enough to catch Koko’s attention as Bob steadied himself on the chair that was right next to her. Hangman walked away towards Rooster while hoping that his shove helped Bob out of his comfort zone. And Koko being the sweet and attentive person she was, asked him nicely,

 “Oh! are you ok?”

The death of Bob was the moment he heard Koko’s sweet words that were directed to him, and he completely went blank as he stood there leaning on the stool he almost fell on. Koko smiled at him with confidence to show him that she was ok with him around her, and proved it more when she innocently giggled at his confused face as she fixed his glasses back in there place carefully while saying,

 “You might want to check your glasses sweetie, might need better ones, so you’re not tripping over.”

 Hearing her sweet sass made Bob break his ice easily, as he retorted back,

  “Oh- oh no.. I uh, was blinded by...”

 Koko raised a brow at him as she waited for him to finish his sentence, which came with a shock as he spurted out,

  “I was blinded by your beauty.”

Koko sent him a face of awe as she pushed her hair behind her ear,

  “Oh is that so... well, I’ll be here to catch you every time you fall for my beauty.”

 Sending him a wink afterwards only made his heart swoon as he let out a cute, short chuckle, grateful to know that she took his words kindly,

  “Oh! Well, thank you..”

  “No thank you... why don’t you take a seat.. I’m Koko.”

 Bob quickly sat down as he shook her hand gently,

  “I’m Bob, uh- it’s a pleasure Koko.”

 “Likewise Bob, so what brings you here?”

 Bob sighed gratefully once again to know that Koko was kind and talkative, making his social skills a little bit easier to get out, as he replied,

  “I just got back from training today.. I’m in the Navy.”

 Sending him a nod of approval Koko said,

  “A Naval Aviator correct?”

 Excited to know that she knew what he did, he replied, 

  “Yeah! Exactly. H-How about you? I’ve never seen you here.”

 2 hours then had passed as Koko and Bob chatted back and forth about one another’s lives and how they got to Hard Deck that very day. Bob was happy to know that Koko was quite the brains like he was, they were able to relate in a lot of things when it came to learning and education. Koko had even let him get a taste of her drink which soon convinced him to get his own glass that never went empty for the rest of the evening as they happily got to know each other more. Hangman watched in the distance and was proud to see that his planned worked, as Koko laughed happily with Bob as he talked so freely with her, like if they had known each other for years and years. When Bradley got with playing the piano after being paid by Hangman to do so, only because he wanted to see Bob and Koko get closer, he was even more excited when he saw Bob take Koko’s hand lovingly and pull her towards the open space and began to show her some moves as they danced while laughing like carefree teenagers. Koko could feel how nervous he was to lay his hands on her as they danced, but she did the move for him when she placed her hands in his own, and led them to rest on her curvy hips, Bob was wide eyed once he realized where exactly his hands were, but was calmed when Koko reassured him,

  “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, that’s ok.”

 Bob was quick to let her know that this was all he wanted,

  “Oh I’m completely happy- well fine with this- y-you know what I mean right?”

 His nervous giggles were enough to convince Koko that this was probably Bob’s first time ever doing this, so she asked him,

 “You’ve never danced with a girl Bobby?”

 Calling him Bobby made a blush creep his cheeks as he replied honestly,

  “Well, not with someone as great and beautiful as you. I was too scared to approach you at first.. I thought you might take me as a weirdo or something, because you’re so confident and amazing.”

 Koko awed,

  “Awe Bob, well you actually had caught my eye sense the moment you walked in. I thought- well actually I think you’re very cute.”

  Bob squeezed Koko’s hips lovingly as he replied back with a new confidence,

  “And I think you’re cute too... I really want to know you more.”

 Feeling bubbly inside Koko smiled as he raked his hands through her hair to put it behind her ears so he could see her face and earring he had grown to love as well, as she said,

  “I’d like to get to know you more too.”

When the bar was up to close, Bob walked Koko out of Hard Deck whole holding her arm as the walked down the steps, ever the gentleman Bob was. Once he took Koko to her car, he asked politely while looking at her doe eyes that beamed along with her skin that shone brightly under the moonlight, 

  “I’d like to take you out some time... whenever you’re free... is that ok?”

 Tip-toeing to peck his cheek lightly, Koko replied,

  “Of course that’s ok.. let me write you down my number and mom’s address on this receipt, I’ll be staying with my mom for quite a while, as I visit here.”

  Quickly Koko hand wrote her number and address, soon slipping it in Bob’s hands which he took and held onto it tightly, like if it was a precious diamond or his source to breathe. Koko then got into her car, and let Bob close the door for her after she was settled in, he looked down at her as she smiled happily at him, he made his most confident move when he bent down and laid a sweet kiss on her head, and said afterwards,

  “I’ll see you soon Koko... thank you for tonight.”

 “I’ll see you soon too... and you’re welcome. Thank you as well for being so sweet and you.”

 Waving to her goodbye as she began to pull away, Bob bid,

  “Goodnight! Drive safe.”

 “Goodnight Bob! Text me when you’re home!!”

  “I will!!”

Five minutes after walking inside her mothers home, Koko still felt all warm and giddy, remembering every word he said, every touch, even the kiss he left on her head. A large smile grew on her face when her phone beeped, and she read the new message,

 ‘Hi Koko! This is Bob, I made it home! Did you?’

Quickly replying Koko typed,

‘Hi Bobby, yes I did! I’m glad you’re home.’

  ‘Same here for you. Oh, I just checked in with my boss, and I have a free day Saturday, maybe I can have the day with you?’

 Thinking about it for a quick moment, Koko then remembered that her mom had a girls night with her aunts that day, meaning she’d be free sense her mom would be with her aunts, so she happily agreed,

 ‘I’m free that day! So yes, sounds fantastic!’

 ‘Great!! I’ll come and pick you up at 12pm!! Goodnight Koko☺️’

  ‘Perfect, ’ll be ready for you!! Goodnight Bobby😊’

[cookingmywaythroughcarryon]

Chocolate Cake with Chocolate Orange Buttercream

I am back! It’s been a  very long hiatus but I’ve still been trying out recipes and  cooking foods mentioned in the Simon Snow Series! 

Today seemed a particularly good day to post, as Carry On Countdown is going on and today’s prompt is CAKE!! 

This cake comes from chapter 89 of Any Way the Wind Blows and is courtesy of Lady Ruth Salisbury, of course. 

“There’s chocolate cake with chocolate-orange butter cream.” (Simon POV, Ch 89, Any Way the Wind Blows, by Rainbow Rowell.) 

I’ve made this cake a few times now. The family seems to love it for birthdays. It’s very rich, very dense and very good.

Chocolate Cake with Chocolate-Orange Buttercream

Ingredients

Cake:

1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour

1 3/4 cups sugar

1 cup unsweetened cocoa

1 1/2 tsp baking soda

1 1/2 tsp baking powder

1 tsp salt

2 eggs

1/2 cup of canola oil

1 cup milk (I used lactose free)

1 tsp vanilla

1/2 cup boiling water

1/4 cup orange juice (which I forgot to include in the picture)

Buttercream:

8 oz bittersweet chocolate, chopped, or 8 oz bittersweet chocolate chips

1 stick unsalted butter, at room temperature

6 oz shortening ( or more butter if you prefer, I used vegetable shortening) also at room temperature

3-4 cups powdered/ confectioner’s sugar

1/2 cup orange juice

1 tsp orange zest

1 tbsp cornstarch

Method

Cake: 

Preheat the oven to 350F. 

Grease two 8-inch cake pans and line with parchment paper. 

Whisk the sugar, flour, cocoa, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in one large bowl.

Gently whisk the eggs in a separate bowl until yolks and whites are combined then add oil, milk, and vanilla then mix well. Save the boiling water and orange juice for a bit later.

Add the egg/milk/oil mixture to the dry ingredients and mix. 

Then add the boiling water and orange juice to the mixture.

Divide the batter evenly between the two cake pans.

Bake for 25 to 30 minutes or until center set and toothpick inserted comes out clean. 

Remove from oven and allow to cool on wire rack. 

Buttercream:

Melt the chocolate in a double boiler and allow to cool slightly

Whip the butter and the shortening until creamy

add orange juice and orange zest, mixing well

add 3 cups of powdered sugar, one at a time. 

add cornstarch

add melted chocolate

add up to one more cup powdered sugar, to reach desired consistency (the first time I made it I ended up with the entire extra cup, last time I used 3/4)

if it feels too thick you may add a tablespoon more of orange juice 

Place one of the cakes on a plate and cover top with buttercream. Gently place the second cake on top of the first and apply the buttercream liberally over the top and sides of cake. Slice and serve. 

Enjoy!

Recipe with photos below!! 

Ingredients (sorry the orange juice is MIA in the photo)

Cake:

1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour

1 3/4 cups sugar

1 cup unsweetened cocoa

1 1/2 tsp baking soda

1 1/2 tsp baking powder

1 tsp salt

2 eggs

1/2 cup of canola oil

1 cup milk (I used lactose free)

1 tsp vanilla

1/2 cup boiling water

1/4 cup orange juice (which I forgot to include in the picture)

(dry ingredients in photo!) 

Cake Method: 

Preheat the oven to 350F. 

Grease two 8-inch cake pans and line with parchment paper.

Whisk the sugar, flour, cocoa, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in one large bowl.

Gently whisk the eggs in a separate bowl until yolks and whites are combined then add oil, milk, and vanilla then mix well. 

Save the boiling water and orange juice for a bit later.

Add the egg/milk/oil mixture to the dry ingredients and mix. 

Then add the boiling water and orange juice to the mixture.

Divide the batter evenly between the two cake pans.

Bake for 25 to 30 minutes or until center set and toothpick inserted comes out clean. 

Remove from oven and allow to cool on wire rack.

wet ingredients! 

Cake cooling 

Buttercream Ingredients:

(there is the orange juice!)

Buttercream:

8 oz bittersweet chocolate, chopped, or 8 oz bittersweet chocolate chips

1 stick unsalted butter, at room temperature

6 oz shortening ( or more butter if you prefer, I used vegetable shortening) also at room temperature

3-4 cups powdered/ confectioner’s sugar

1/2 cup orange juice

1 tsp orange zest

1 tbsp cornstarch

shortening and butter

The buttercream!!! 

Buttercream Method:

Melt the chocolate in a double boiler and allow to cool slightly

Whip the butter and the shortening until creamy

add orange juice and orange zest, mixing well

add 3 cups of powdered sugar, one at a time. 

add cornstarch

add melted chocolate

add up to one more cup powdered sugar, to reach desired consistency (the first time I made it I ended up with the entire extra cup, last time I used 3/4)

if it feels too thick you may add a tablespoon more of orange juice

Putting the cake together:

A slice of cake: 

Enjoy the cake!  

@carryon-countdown​ 

[reassambled-dragoon]

Shippy Nonsense

(Or: Storm Dancer--the Warrior of Light, Savior of Ishgard, Champion of Eitherys, "Former Scion", Mother of Four Including A Two-year-old Menace and Excluding Her Bajillion Adopted Kids, Grandma of Three Kids, Chaotic Bisexual Extraordinaire...versus Hekaarn, a 4,500+ year old world-hopping dragon who is Done With Midgardsormr's Inbred Lunatic Descendants Except Vrtra Because Vrtra is Sensible)

In the spirit of Dawntrail early access starting TOMORROW HELLO...

   -You'll need to take the ship, with the Toothpicks.- Hekaarn rumbled quietly as he lazily glided above Scholar's Harbor, the sensation like a greatly oversized housecat's purr. Instead of making Storm's chest buzz, her whole body vibrated, which…was actually pleasant. As usual, she was seated at the base of the huge red dragon's neck, comfortably warm from the natural heat radiating from his scales. -I'm sorry, my friend, but this is one fear I can't fly you away from.-

   Storm's hands clenched on her thighs. She knew he was capable of flying damn near anywhere–hells, he'd taken her into “orbit” to watch Eitherys turn–but there were some things he simply would not budge on. She took a deep breath, then sighed. “Any chance y'could explain why?”

   Hekaarn tipped a wing, shifting away from the harbor and gaining altitude to fly over Old Sharlayan. The wind sang over his scales, but though it was snowing, he made sure his Dragoon was in a little bubble of summer. Ah, magic. -Because, in short, I am now augmenting and strengthening your magic and channels, which, need I remind you, is necessary after your little universe-saving stunt and subsequent duel with that Zenos bastard. Congratulations. If any mortal can be called dragon-souled, it's you.-

   Before Storm could do more than twitch, his physical chuckle rolled through her body. -Not that I mind. You haven't a greedy bone in your body; it would never occur to you to take without asking. No, what I am doing is freely given. However, it does limit me somewhat. I cannot carry and shield you, Alphinaud, and Alisaie, in addition to all of your combined gear and your beasts, across that great a distance. Not for the initial flight, at least.-

   “But–Hekaarn, why didn't you tell me this bond was risking–”

   -Because I trust you. And I am not being harmed by this augmentation any more than when we fly together.- He put on a burst of speed and broke through the clouds, ignoring the condensation that immediately froze on his scales. Storm, of course, stayed warm, though she put her sunglasses on; it was bright up here. -Besides, you do realize this makes you a more powerful Dragoon than those Ishgardian fools that took dragonsblood? Most of it was given or taken unwillingly, and their magic suffers as a result.-

   “...like Estinien and Heustienne,” the Roegadyn murmured. Poor Heustienne would always suffer from what the heretics had forced down her throat, and Estinien may be coming to terms with Nidhogg's aether, but the man would probably never know true peace and happiness. “...and Catrine and little Snow have the risk as well.”

   -Existence is a risk.- Without warning, Hekaarn spun into a barrel roll, laughing as Storm cursed and punched him. His shields meant she wasn't going anywhere, and Storm knew that, but knowledge didn't always override instinct. -What's wrong, my dear Dragoon? Did you forget your boast that you can land anywhere?-

   “You are such an asshole.” Storm gave his scaled neck one last wallop, then sat up and stubbornly crossed her arms. “Fine, fine, I'll find other ways to fret about my grandkids. And my kids. And my papa. And–”

   -Windless hell, woman, I am going to eat you.-

   “That's Cid's prerogative.”