#southern rock to my fucking roots

[taylorhawkins]

14 Essential-Listening Taylor Hawkins Tunes

… that aren’t “Cold Day in the Sun”!

1. Pitiful (Taylor Hawkins & the Coattail Riders)

One of his most emotionally raw tracks. I love the strange chords he used on the acoustic guitar to convey the somber depiction of guilt and shame associated with drug addiction described in the lyrics. This is a really painful song to listen to, but it’s beautiful.

2. The Path We’re On (Nighttime Boogie Association)

Matt Cameron and Taylor share vocal duties on this tune (Taylor sings the verses, Matt sings the choruses). Their voices together are pure heaven! Also features Melvins’ Buzz Osbourne snd Steven McDonald on guitar & bass. This group unfortunately only put out 2 songs during the pandemic, but they’re a magical 2.

3. I Could Be Somebody Else (NHC)

Psychedelic in every aspect of that word, this one is best experienced cranked with headphones. Trippy as hell. Dave Navarro was right when he said Taylor is a mind-blowing lyricist and singer. Another emotionally raw tune, when he said one of NHC’s songs makes him feel naked, I think he was referring to this one.

4. Running In Place (Taylor Hawkins & the Coattail Riders)

This song takes you on a journey. It eases you in, then crescendos into classic prog-influenced chaos before it turns to a stream of pretty guitar work and layered vocals as it drops you back off. Taylor said this one was something he wrote talking to himself, trying to bring himself back down to earth and not go crazy. “The Teacher” by Foo Fighters almost certainly took inspiration from this song - the breakdown is nearly identical, and the “…say goodbye” outro is very similar.

5. Too Much for My Own Good (Phil X & the Drills)

This song by Phil X features Taylor on the drums. This is such a fun rock & roll tune that will definitely be stuck in your head for days but you won’t be mad about it. Every person I’ve ever played this to has loved it!! PS- you’ve definitely heard Phil X before, his discography as a studio musician is wild.

6. You Drive Me Insane (Taylor Hawkins & the Coattails Riders)

I love the trippy riff and the vocals in this song, it’s a California rock & roll vibe and it’s one of my top favorites of his. One of his sexier tunes he said was written about Mrs. Alison Hawkins.

7. Southern Belles

No group credited as he played every instrument and sang this one! (I think the bass is either Chris Chaney or Nate Mendel, but I couldn’t find out for sure). This is a heavy-hitting, super catchy one about his southern family roots. Really under-appreciated track from the same EP that gave us “Range Rover Bitch”.

8. Never Enough (Taylor Hawkins and the Coattail Riders)

Taylor’s vocal range doesn’t get talked about enough… The cathartic way he belts his heart out at the end of this song gets me every single time. His voice was so beautiful. Another of that emotionally raw side of his music.

9. It’s Ok Now (Taylor Hawkins and the Coattail Riders)

Another earworm, this one’s rhythm is bound to make you move. His voice is pure rock and roll. I think you can really hear how much his songwriting impacted the Foo Fighters’ music on this album, even though many people think Dave told everyone what to play…when you really listen, that doesn’t seem to be the case. This song feels like summer sunshine to me.

10. Guess I’ll Go Away (Edgar Winter)

Taylor on vocals for “Brother Johnny”, a tribute to Johnny Winter album, this was one of the last things he did musically. He SLAYED that shit. He sounds so good. Rock and fucking roll.

11. Louise (Taylor Hawkins and the Coattail Riders)

I have no idea how he played that drumbeat and sang this song at the same time. Mind boggling. This song is so unique and so catchy, I don’t get why it wasn’t a hit. The rhythm section is my favorite part of the whole thing, Taylor and Chris Chaney locked in together SO well. It’s no wonder they played together from the Alanis days all the way up to him putting the ‘C’ in NHC.

12. Fearless (NHC)

This is a Pink Floyd cover…But it’s an amazing one! It’s groovy and trippy and they’re so locked in together, they were made to play music with each other. NHC unfortunately has a very small discography, otherwise I probably wouldn’t have selected a cover…but maybe I would’ve anyway, this one is just so good!

13. You’re No Good at Life No More (Taylor Hawkins and the Coattail Riders)

Taylor and Dave Grohl split the vocals on this one and it’s such a wild ride. You can really hear his Queen influence throughout this album… so much so that he manifested Roger Taylor’s appearance on the last track! D&T’s voices together are magic as you hear on “Rope” by Foo Fighters and their cover of “Come Together”, I always wish they sang together more often.

14. Perfect Day

Only a minute long, this beautiful song is just Taylor and his guitar. A sweet reminder he wrote for Mrs. Hawkins that his love is always with her no matter where he goes. I’m sure she treasures this one. There’s so much love in it.

[deputy-buck]

Miscellaneous Tag game

Thank you for makin this and tagging me Mar!!! @ronald-speirs

-

Favorite place in the world you’ve visited?

I haven't been many places at all, and all of the places I enjoyed are neighboring states (Florida, SC, Tennessee, Alabama.) so it's almost the same as being home. I'll say Alabama, went to a cliff that my parents, aunt, and uncles used to climb and camp at all the time, idk what it's actually called but they always called it Sand Rock (take a guess what the rock is primarily made of...) it was entirely untouched when they used to go, but now there's fucking campsites and a huge pavilion there, I hate it bc the pictures my parents took made the place look so perfect and secluded, no trash anywhere. Now there's a fucking dumpster with shit leaking out of it and stupid "Beware! Cliff!" signs everywhere like no shit there's a cliff its a rock wall you idiots-

Something you’re proud of yourself for?

.... girl idk- I guess I'm proud of how regardless of the circumstances, I always stick to my morals and principles. Thanks for that one, dad.

Favorite books?

Oh!!! Yeah!!!!!!!!!!!! hmm-

One Bullet Away - Nathaniel Fick. Probably my favorite of all time, it's so well and personally written, made me cry every time I read it.

Islands Of The Damned - R.V. Burgin. I love how simply he wrote it, like he really put his authentic self on those pages and didn't try to seem "more educated" than he was because he was just a little Texas boy and I loved that about him.

Those are really the only ones I can recall details from so I'll stick with those, but I did enjoy Helmet For My Pillow - Robert Leckie a lot, I read that in the truck while waiting for my brother to get out of class,. Generation Kill - Evan Wright was also good but it read so... grade-school-y, ya know?

My To Read list is:

With The Old Breed - Eugene Sledge. Started it but couldn't continue bc it seems like he's censoring himself a bit and IIIIIIII don't fuck with that, I'll power through it eventually though.

Red Platoon - Clinton Romesha. It's by a Medal Of Honor recipient from The Battle of Kamdesh, the only reason I haven't read it yet is bc i will sob about it for days after and I'm not ready for that.

My To Buy list is:

China Marine - Eugene Sledge. I WANT TO KNOW EVERY LITTLE DETAIL OF HIS TIME IN CHINA AFTER THE WAR-

(switching to non-war books oops)

Call Me By Your Name & Find Me - André Aciman. I just want to kill myself really, I want to hurt so bad that I never recover. Both are written in first person though and I hate that shit...

The Power Of The Dog - Thomas Savage. I watched the movie first and now I need to base my whole life off of these pieces of ART like fuckkkkkkkk.

Fellow Travelers - Thomas Mallon. Uhhhhhh yeah I want to submerge myself in this series entirely. Supposedly there's an ass ton of changes from in the series from the book, like Hawk being in the Army in the show and not the Navy like in the book, and I need to know if there are Seaman jokes-

Something that makes your heart happy when thinking about it?

Maizie 💚💚💚💚 my goofy goopy gooby girl 💚💚💚💚 my baby 💚💚💚💚 my sweet little bully girl 💚💚💚💚 the light of my life and the hindrance of my life-path 💚💚💚💚 the most stressful thing I've ever had to deal with day in and day out 💚💚💚💚

also cock. yeah that makes my heart happy too.

Favorite thing about your culture?

The MEN- okay I'll be serious. I'm not exactly sure what my culture is since Southern culture is Black culture (no I won't fight anyone on this unless you've been here, experience life here, and looked into literally any staple of Southern culture and seen that yeah 99% of it is rooted in Black history) and I'm.... Ghostly- I love the sense of community and the general easy-going but also absolutely chaotic feel you get everywhere you go. Like yeah I could get called "baby" and "sugar" and "honey" by the sweet old cashier, and then right when I walk out of the store I could suddenly be helping some stranger pack a deer with ice and have blood all over my hands and arms, the polarity of Southern-ness is great.

When did you join the HBO War fandom? What was the first show you watched?

I want to say two and a half years ago, not really sure though- Band of Brothers was my first watched it back to back like four times, then Gen Kill and watched that one probably four times back to back as well, then The Pacific like two or three times back to back, and now I'm suffering through MOTA.

Have you read any of Easy Company’s books? If so, which ones were your favorite?

I have not. I don't really want to either bc I don't want to realize all the inaccuracies of the show vs the true events. Like the little things, I don't want to watch the show with distain-

Favorite HBO War character and your favorite moment with them?

Oh fuck you Mar, I can't choose!!

BoB: I cannot choose, I can't. I love so many of them way too much that it hurts. Loved whenever Johnny yelled "BULL!!" like yes bestie I would scream his name too-

GK: Poke <3 whenever he was on screen was my favorite. I think his "and all the love in their hearts, from their wives and children. And all that hate, dog. All the hate it took to blow these motherfuckers away. It's destiny, dog! White Man's gotta rule the world!" and that was the first time we saw Doc smile too, love that for them. Alternatively whenever he looks at Brad with his shark-like smile, I would FOLD if he looked at me that way.

TP: SID AND YOU ALREADY KNOW THIS MAR FUCK I LOVE THAT BOY SO MUCH I NEED HIM SO BAD. When he tore Gene a new one about why they were the ones that made it back and not all those other guys, like yes put your boy in line-

MOTA: *crickets*

Do you make content for any fandoms, if so; what sort of content?

HBOwar: Sort of? Not as of late but I have written a few fics and made a few moodboards, can find all of them in my masterlist. I'm sorta working on some TP stuff but it's so hard for me to write for that while FT is consuming my every waking thought.

Fellow Travelers: HAHHAH I CAN'T STOP- Oh I've already made so many little webweaves and edits and a moodboard, and rn I'm working on a puppyplay fic hahah

UFC: I don't make content though I kinda wish I had when I was super-super into the fighters on a personally level lmao

Favorite actor/actress and your favorite film of theirs?

I don't have one, like there's not a specific actor/actress I've watched shitty film for. I usually enjoy Mads Mikkelsen in whatever he does, Jabob Pitts is also lovely, Anne Hathaway is my If I Was Straight actress

Favorite quote/s that you wish to share with others?

"Give what you get and don't complain when you get what you give."

Random fact your mutuals/followers don’t know about you?

Mm, I don't know, I'm always cold and I hate it and will never willingly live any further north than where I currently live, also no further west than Louisiana cause fuck Texas on a personal level

If you’re a writer, do you need a beta reader (say yes so I can be your beta reader 🤭)?

I don't know what a beta reader is please explain SOMEONE-

Three things that make you smile?

Actually being on a job site regardless of how anxious it makes me, I've spent way too long doing what I do from home and not being a part of the installation process.

Hearing other people laugh, idk why but hearing anyone laugh makes me smile.

These pictures of my goofy goopy gooby girl

Any nicknames you like?

Buck is a nickname and I love it cause it's so fucking HICK like ME

List some people you love to see around on tumblr!

@ronald-speirs !! even though like none of your posts from any of your blogs are showing up on my dash?? hate you tumblr-

@ableedingpen !! BRO I WANT TO KISS YOU YOU ARE SO FUCKING AWESOME TO SEE IN MY REPLIES LIKE I GET STUPIDLY EXCITED-

@corkyviolet !! your screencaps are so fucking good and I cry at all of your edits-

@verawhisk !! we don't post the same content anymore but I do still love to see you around, V you are the GOAT

What would you do during a zombie apocalypse?

Shoot myself. No joke, I don't want to deal with that.

Favorite movie?

uhhhhhhhhh, All Of Us Strangers ripped my heart out, not sure if it's my favorite though

Do you like horror movies?

No (sorry Mar) they never appealed to me, I prefer a documentary about real fucked up and gorey events-

Tagging: anyone!!! have fun y'all!!!

[foxilayde]

Sansana Part 1/2[Poe Dameron x Fem!Reader]

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Drugs, illegal activity, slavery, non-explicit sex, cursing, denial of feelings.

THIS IS PART ONE, PART TWO WILL BE OUT NEXT WEEK!

Summary: You’re a spice runner with your partner in crime Poe Dameron. The Pkye Syndicate has entrusted you with a special mission and Poe is making things interesting...

Word Count: 5k

A/N: This is a gift to my dear friend Alex @blackberries45 it’s her birthday today, so show her some LOVE. The reader character is going to be called ‘Lex’ for obvious reasons.

Spice. Not ryll, not polstine, and certainly not fucking gliterstim. Sansana Spice to be more accurate. Highly prized, highly expensive, and highly illegal. A useful crime world currency. Crime. Ha! The word has no meaning to you in a galaxy where planets are being vaporized and the war doesn’t seem to have a single thing worth fighting for. The so called republic, who would gladly toss you in a cell for the rest of your life for finding a dusting of Sansana on your flight suit, doesn’t do shit about the slavery and sentient beings abuse that’s been taking place on Kessel for the past 500 standard years. Wonder why that could be. Couldn’t be because the planet-vaporizers and generals of the planet defenders alike are hooked on the stuff. Not hooked, like, medically. Well, sometimes that’s the case. But they’re hooked on the money. Every currency has gotta be backed by something, and credit where credits are due… you can find the Fort Knox of the galaxy on the northern hemisphere of Kessell; with the droids and the slaves with their vibropicks and short life expectancies. 

You’ve seen them. The slaves. Droids and mammalians nearly indistinguishable from each other- cloaked in the red dust of the deep mines. Children. Of every species. Probably born into the shit. You can’t care, you can’t afford to, so you turn a blind eye like everyone else in the galaxy, you get your shipment and get the hell out. You fucking hate Kessel and you’re glad to be on the ship leaving the ugly bubbling rock. You’ve heard the southern hemisphere is nicer. Plantations inhabited by the most intolerable people you could imagine. It does turn your stomach to think about it too much, hence the getting the fuck out of dodge, but even if you stopped, even if you quit, it wouldn’t matter. The boring and drilling won’t end on your account and there’d be a new runner to replace you. So it goes. It’s the lifeblood of the galaxy, Sansana. A tidal force. And some folks want to virtue signal and talk down to you just because you’re riding the wave instead of getting dashed on the rocks. Whatever. They can drown if they like, not your problem.

In short, it doesn’t matter what you do. Bakers, gunmen, artists, and thieves. If you’ve got credits in your pocket- then baby you’ve got blood on your hands. So what? You’ve cut out the middle-man. You’re closer to the root, to the seam; you’re a spice runner. Hell, spending most of your life in a tanker ship dodging the Reps is probably a helluva lot safer than building a life on a planet somewhere, waiting for the day Kylo fucking Ren has another tantrum and decides he wants to blow up a planet because his daddy left him or whatever the hell that little fucker’s problem is. 

You’re bitter, bitter about Alderaan and the bitterness has manifested itself in this hard exterior that works well as a shield in your line of work. Don’t get close, don’t get attached. Because one day, quick as light-speed, it could all disappear. So you do your thing, you band with whomever the Pyke Syndicate teams you up with, and you make your runs from Kessel to Correlia to Oba Diah to Nevaro. You send your bloody credits to your family, whatever you don’t spend yourself, and you keep your shell strong. 

That is until you met Poe. 

Poe is the best fucking pilot you’ve ever flown with. Maker, to watch him light-hop, to run and outgun the Reps, it’s like a dance. He’s smooth too, not just his attitude, but for a runner like yourself to see the way his hands have a mind of their own at the control panel, flicking the correct of the 52 switches outside his line of vision while not breaking a sweat despite the fact he’s got three Reps on his tail… maker, it’s something to witness. Familiar with the model of ship or not, he’s got a steady hand at the helm; his competence is like the executive function of the ship itself. He’s incredible.

He doesn’t stress you out like Zorii does, cursing up a storm, barking orders at you. Poe is encouraging, Poe gives high fives, Poe claps you on the shoulder and says shit like “nice work”. And being touched isn’t really your thing. Not in any fucking capacity. Crowds freak you out with the possibility of rubbing shoulders with someone, and not just because you’re wary of pickpockets. There’s a thing about proximity that you can’t handle, alright. So far Poe seems to be the only exception to the rule, his touches don’t make you cringe or flinch. They’re tolerable. You don’t like a lot of people. And that is to say, you don’t like people in great quantities and you don’t usually meet someone you can tolerate. It’s not rocket science to figure out why you find yourself in the middle of hyperspace with relative strangers, bouncing from planet to planet, often not stopping long enough to take a full deep breath of the native air. 

The sterile recycled oxygen on the ship is the smell of home. Crisp and dry like plastic, resiny like fuel, and of course; aromatic like spice. The shit is so pure and potent that no amount of packaging can contain the pungent fragrance of the drug. You don’t even bother to hide it in the gunnels on long trips because if a Rep boards the ship, there’s not going to be any mystery as to what you’re hauling. 

What is a mystery is what the hell Poe Dameron is doing running spice when he so clearly likes people and craves stability. He itches to get on-planet on your off-days, to go to markets and chat with strangers, to try new food, to see live music. He’s warm and kind in a way that no-one in this business is. And he is often convincing enough that you let him drag you by the hand to these frivolous excursions. And every time, every new treat he sticks in your mouth, every live song he twirls your clumsy teetering feet to, you can feel the way he presses on your barriers gently like thumbs on an eggshell, fracturing you beautifully and plucking off one fragment of your exterior at a time. As if there’s something worth seeing in the yolk of you. 

And, well. You fucked him. 

It was unexpected and hot and quick and in the dark, neither of you even fully undressed. 

You— the person who cringes about sitting next to a stranger at a bar, fucked Poe. 

You blame it on the chemicals, the adrenaline. You’d nearly been caught by a Rep, dirty orange-suited fuck had you on the ground, pinned, hands behind your back and you nearly blacked out from panic. Poe was wild, shouting at the Rep detaining you to “get the fuck off of her, don’t touch her!” and headbutting the Rep cuffing him, it was all such a blur, but when you came to, Poe was wild eyed, hands hovering over you, holding back from checking your injuries, frantically asking if you were okay. You couldn’t help it. The fucking cortisol or whatever, the fight or flight— it made you jump into his arms. He tentatively held you and rocked you while you cried into his shirt. Reassuring you that it was all okay. The reps were gone, you were safe and “no one’s gunna lay a finger on you on my watch.” So… you crawled into his bunk that night. Fucking chemicals. In total darkness, kissing him with unsure lips, rocking yourself on his willing hardness to your simultaneous release, and climbing shamefully out of his bunk before you gave into the chance to fall asleep in his wide warm arms. 

You were so fucking nervous the next day he would say something. And he’d be well within his rights too. You essentially used him. It took all your courage to sit next to him— in the co-pilot chair of the ship, hard to look at him, heart racing, guilty at how vulnerable you’d been the night before. Ashamed of how much of him you laid up bare against in the total darkness. You were sure that he wouldn’t ever take you seriously as a fellow runner after that. Not just the fucking, but the needing to be saved by him from the Reps, and the crying into his shirt. 

Poe cleared his throat and started with a tentative, “so about last night—“

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You dismissed him with a curt response, busying yourself with the control panel, rechecking the calibrations. From the corner of your eye you could see him nod once and give a simple, “ok.” And he dropped it. He didn’t assume to get too friendly after that, didn’t intrude on your space beyond the usual tiny touches; fingers grazing over cups of caf, a light touch on your shoulder if he needed to get into the supply closet while you’re crouched over the boxes of spare parts, determining your shopping list for the next supply run. 

And it became a bit of a routine. On tough days… and on days that weren’t tough at all- climbing into his bunk in the swirling darkness of hyperspace, grabbing at each other quick and filthy, always leaving before sleep overtook you.

He always asks to taste you. He can’t shut up about it. You don’t even like kissing so much but you do it to keep his mouth busy, so he doesn’t get any ideas. Even kissing doesn’t stop his requests, He begs around your lips and into your mouth while you pump him with your hand, “Please, baby. Let me, let me taste you.” You shake your head even though you know he can’t see it in the perfect black of the hull.

You choose instead to line him up with you and sink down onto him in a now-practiced routine. His hands, so gentle and warm on your bare hips, not pressing you an inch further than you’d allow. 

Being with Poe like this is like the way he dances with you; to live music on Nevaro- so aware of your body, aware of your comfort level. Only ever asking for permission, and only bowing back easily without it.

And maker is he consistent. Fuck. You’ve never cum so hard with anyone else or even by yourself. Which is… pretty incredible because you’d been absolutely convinced, before Poe, that by yourself was the best you’d ever have… he proves you wrong every time. 

“Why do you leave right after? No pressure. Just curious.” He pants after your perfect release, kissing softly below your jaw, knowing that your mind is already out of the bunk. 

You didn’t tell him it’s because if you leave before you fall asleep, you can pretend it’s all a dream. You can wake up and be the person you know yourself to be. And, maker, they way he lets you keep up the ruse in the waking hours, never forcing you talk about it or making dirty jokes or wiggling his eyebrows at you; It’s enough to endear you to him enough to keep coming back, night after pitch dark night, crawling to him like a phantom, taking exactly what you need and leaving without a trace.  

It doesn’t feel real in hyperspace. Cutting through the fabric of space and time like that, leaping from one end of the galaxy to the other… if a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? If you make love to Poe in a place that neither exists in the fabric of space nor time, did it ever really happen?

You don’t tell him that, you pat his stubbly cheek and crawl back into your chilly bunk. Alone. 

He never comes to you, putting the burden of ‘when’ on you always. It’s not exactly a burden though, and every time he feels the dip of the mattress under your knee when you hoist yourself into his bunk he lets out a pleased little “mmmm, baby”. 

There’s no foreplay… sometimes you let him kiss your tits if he needs to get hard. But you’re mostly ready and raring and… it’s not passion, it’s not. Its just a release. It can’t be passion, it’s hardly even real.

He’s a good guy, he’s someone you can trust. And that shit is rare out here in the slug fields, the outer rim, and even rarer in your trade. It’s not typical for teams to last as long as yours has. But you can’t seem to shake him. The Pyke’s are pleased with your consistency- you figure that’s why they keep assigning you together and you’re so grateful Zorii isn’t on this run with you because she is… stressful. The only thing you miss about her is her willingness to be the emissary to Kessel when you land for the spice pickup. Because Poe refuses. You’ve never pressed him, never demanded that he should take his fucking turn to pick up the supply. And it’s not like he’s ever told you that he won’t do it. He is just always seemingly busy with internal repairs every time you land on the fucking torture rock. You don’t call him out on it. Because he doesn’t call you out on your proclivities, your needs. He accepts them and you accept his. If this is his line, if he cant step on Kessel, then you’ll do it for him. It’s a small price to pay for the safe feeling you get with him at the control panel… and the safe feeling you pull from him in hyperspace. 

The droids have finished loading the supply by the time you buckle in next to Poe. A rusted S1-D6 in a burlap cloth, tapping the side of the ship and giving you a broken and rusted thumbs up from the viewing port. Maker this place is fucking depressing. Your lips form a tight line and you nod at the droid.

Poe’s face is grim as he types in the coordinates for-

“Tattooine?”

Poe doesn’t look at you while he fires up the engines and destabilizes the compressor. 

“Yeah. We’re skipping the usual. This batch is going straight to the Daimyo.”

To the Daimyo? Not the Pykes. What the hell? 

“And are we the one’s expected to make the trade?” 

You’re not used to this, you’re used to dropping the shit to the syndicate’s establishments. You’re suppliers, not fucking drug dealers. Maker. You can’t even fucking speak Huttese! 

Poe flips the internal power mode controls to manual and tells you simply, “yes.”

“I’ve never done that before. Made the trade. It’s not my thing.”

Poe sequences the auto-lift and gives you a reassuring smile, “I know. No one’s expecting you to do it. The Pyke’s gave it to me. Just let me do the talking Lex.”

“You speak Huttese?”

“Are you surprised?” He gives you a cocky smile and a wink. Ugh. No. You’e not surprised. He’s good at everything. It’s mildly irritating. Whatever. He’s probably not fluent. 

You confirm the all systems command on your side of the pit and the ship rises easily. Leaving Kessel and all its fucking misery, maker you love to watch that planet get smaller and smaller until it’s a pinprick. Until Poe engages hyperspace and you’re in swirling blue. Neither here nor there. 

“Is this some kind of promotion for you?�� You’re suddenly struck by the idea that Poe might be promoted to something more stable. Maybe running a branch of the syndicate of his own. He could do it. He’d be perfect at it. You can see him now, with a team in a Cantina. Regulars, subjects, a unit to protect him… somewhere warm and bright. With all the teeming life a planet has to offer. You’d heard they’ve been looking for a Head on Nevaroo. And you know how much Poe likes their five-blossom bread and the band that plays at Greef’s most nights. Whatever. People come and people go. You get a new partner every few runs. And that’s the way you like it. 

It’s honestly stupid he’s stayed a runner this long. Runner’s get paid flat shit for the most part. The Syndicate expects the runner’s to scrape a little spice off the top, you assume that’s why the pay is so bad. But a dealer… a dealer can set their own cuts. And the better they are at talking, the better cut they can get for themselves. 

“A promotion? Don’t know.” Poe shrugs and unbuckles himself, he heads over to the radio transceiver, sits down on the floor beside it, and begins untangling the mess of wires you can only assume was done by an Anzellan with how tiny and convoluted the knots are. “Would be nice though, wouldn’t it? Be a dealer?” Poe smiles up at you and you don’t know how he’s able to make being a dealer sound like the most optimistic thing in the galaxy. 

You unbuckle yourself and make your way over to the little stack of wires across from Poe, lowering yourself on crossed legs, you take a bundle of blue into your lap and begin to look for a place to begin. Maker, it’s impossible. 

“What’s so great about being a dealer?” You mutter, finding the end of a wire and tugging hard till the threads all bunch up and you sigh in frustration. 

“More money, for one. My dad could really use it.” Poe has mentioned Kes before. How badly the war affected everything in the Dameron household made you feel guilty for being so bitter. Poe lost his mother to the war, and his father has been trying to maintain their family aggregate business on Yavin with dwindling supplies and one bum leg. Poe had been there, helping him and then decided it would be more effective to send him money. Kes didn’t need labor, he needed parts. Parts for irrigation and tilling. And parts in this economy, when every scrap of metal is worth it’s weight in spice… well. There aren’t many entry level positions in the slug fields besides runner and miner. 

“You’d be a good dealer.” You choose another wire to tug and the bundle seems to get more bunched with every pull you make. 

“Careful, Lex. That sounded like a compliment.” He smiles at you and you note the way he untangles. He grabs the whole bundle in both hands and gently pulls from the center, stretching the cloud of string larger and larger, creating open pockets and widening the surface area of the previously balled clump. Loose wires fall out the edges of the mass and he rests it gently in his lap while he feeds the wire through the widened loops. You continue to tug and pull, getting into the tight knots with your fingernails and swearing every time you drop your bundle. 

“Well, where are we going after Tatooine, then?” You ask, still concentrating on the bundle. 

“Oba Diah.” 

You scrunch your eyes closed and shake your head. “How was I kept out of the loop on this?”

“Well, I know how much you love talking to Crodit.”

“Ew.”

“Exactly. Love of your life. I talked to him before we left for Kessel. Orders came from Lom himself.”

“No way.”

“Yeah. They’ve got faith in us, Lex.”

“Faith in you, you mean.”

“Us.” Poe says seriously. “You know how rare it is to find someone as devoted to Keeping It Business as you, Lex?” Poe insists. 

You don’t know how to take the compliment coming from him so you just look back to your bundle and pick at a particularly aggressive loop.

“I think it’s you they’re impressed with. Your— people skills.” 

“We make one hell of a duo. You have to admit.” He taps your shoe with his. Tiny touches. 

You can’t help the smile that burns your cheeks when you try to fight it. He’s right. He’s too generous with his compliments, but he’s right. Its why they team you up. You work well together.

“And neither one of us is scraping spice.”

Poe goes uncharacteristically silent.

“Right?” You question, letting your hands fall into your lap. The only sound is the buzzing of the fluorescents above you and the swirling hum of hyperspace.

Poe gives you a mischievous grin and shrugs his shoulders.

“Poe! You haven’t been scraping have you?” Fuck. That would be an unmitigated disater. God if the Pykes ever find out, you’re going to get more than canned.

“Not yet!”

“What do you mean, not yet?” 

“Little Lex, do you know why we are going straight to the Daimyo?”

“Yeah, you just said- because Crodit-“

“Did you not get a good whiff of the shipment? Get a look at the color?”

“No. Not really” You busy yourself with the wire, unwilling to say you’ve never inspected it AT Kessel before, always waiting for after you boarded. Because you’re a fucking runner. If there’s something dodgy with the product, or there’s not enough, that shit is between Kessel and Lom… but, well fuck, if you had known you’d be dealing you would have taken a closer look. 

“Fuck? Really?” Poe drops his half done bundle, (maker he’s so fast at that) and gets to his feet, slamming his hand to the port door and disappearing suddenly. You don’t have time to get anxious about the state of the product before he’s back and leaning on the far wall of the cockpit with a hand over his chest. 

“Dammit, Lex. You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“What do you mean?” 

“What do I-? Get up.” He snaps his fingers at you and holds out a hand for you to take. You toss your wire bundle to the side, barely a dent in progress, you take his warm hand and he hoists you up, still holding your hand- he leads you to the loading trunk. One of the cases is cracked open and you can smell the fucking thing from the other side of the hull. 

“Shit that is strong!” You remark, the odor overtaking you. It’s a good smell. A great smell. You’re used to the permeation of spice but this smells different. Stronger. Better. And when you get closer you note the redness is unlike any Spice you’d seen before.

“Gorgeous, right?” Poe smiles and nods his head at the cracked case, “Go on, take a look. I know you didn’t do it at Kessel.” 

You roll your eyes. If he’s going to give you shit for Kessel, he can pick up the next shipment himself. 

You kneel down over the trunk and rub your finger instinctively over the deep blood red of the dust. The spice. It looks like extrait or something. Unreal.

“You know what that is?”

You shake your head, mesmerized by the color, the smell, the texture of it as you glide your fingertips over the fine, powdery surface. Regular spice is more of a dull orange and has a note of dust in the scent. But not this. It’s pure, whatever it is.

“Sansana.”

Your eyes widen, “All of it?” You indicate to all of the cases and Poe nods his head with a huge smile.  

“All of it. And we,” he kneels down next to you and shakes your shoulder, “get to keep the dealer’s cut… if we talk it up with the Daimyo.”

Holy shit. A dealer’s cut on Sansana. Your family is going to be set for a while. Kes is going to be set too. Why you’re thinking about a man with a bum leg you’ve never met, who lives on a planet you’ve never been to, you’re not sure. … You might even be able to take a fucking vacation. To where, you don’t know, or really care. 

Finally, that magic mouth of Dameron’s is going to do you some good. If he can get you 60%, maker, you’ll be happy as a clam on Mon Cala. 

“I wanna try it though,” says Poe.

“What?! Try Sansana? Are you nuts?”

“What? When else am I going to get this opportunity? I gotta be able to assure the Daimyo he’s getting a quality product… plus Crodit kind of, well, it’s part of our deal. He said he couldn’t get me the dealer gig without dosing on Sansana. I gotta do it in front of the Daimyo too. As a cultural show of good faith.”

A cultural show of good faith?

“Crodit’s using you as a test-porg?!”

“Lex, it isn’t like that. I’m a big boy, I know what I signed up for.”

“So, let me get this straight… You’re going to the Daimyo, then you’re going to snort up Sansana, and then negotiate a deal? That sounds like a kriffing bad idea if you ask me.”

“No, Lex. WE are going to the Daimyo, I will negotiate, and THEN I will snort up Sansana…. In celebration of making a good deal.”

“I- Okay then. If that’s what Crodit says, if that’s what you say, I’m staying out of it. In fact, this is a much better idea than what I thought you were doing— scraping. Maker, that would have meant both of our heads.”

“I’ve got a proposition for you though, Lex.” 

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, I want you to do it with me.”

“Do what?”

“Sansana.”

“In front of the Daimyo?”

“No, not in front of anybody but me. Back on the ship. In Hyperdrive. Nice and safe on our way to Oba Diah.”

“I’m not just going to do Sansana because you asked me to, Dameron.”

Poe inhales as if he’s about to say something and then pauses and nods. “That’s fair.”

“I’d consider doing it for credits.”

“Straightforward. I like that about you, Lex.” 

You tip your forehead to him. 

“What if we make it interesting? A bet.” He offers.

“I’m listening.”

“If I can get us an 80% dealer cut with the Daimyo… then you have to do Sansana with me.”

80 percent? That’s a no-fucking brainer. You could take a month long break on a fucking deserted island, soaking up sun and surf without a care in the galaxy. All for one hit of the most coveted Spice in the fucking galaxy. Duh. “Deal!”

“Wait wait wait, not so fast, little Lex.” 

You prop your hands on your hips, “Of course there’s a catch.”

“You have to do Sansana with me, and… you have to let me eat you out.”

He’s never talked about it before, never brought it up. Only ever when you’re both naked in the dark with the only thing illuminating you being the swirling blue of space-travel. Never like this though: staring at each other face-on with the fluorescents overhead. He must see the way you gulp.

“We can do it in the dark if you want. I’ll even close the port-shade so there’s no light at all… I just want to taste you.”

You gulp again and stare at his mouth then. Would it really be so bad to… let him…. Lick you? I mean, maker he’s obviously hard up for it, including it on his end of the bargain. Everything about it is win-win-win all around as far as you’re concerned.

Maker, just looking at him is making your kriffing head spin. What are the terms of the bet exactly? If he gets more than 80 percent: you get money, a possible vacation, a dose of sansana, and Poe’s face between your legs; and thats all if HE wins the bet. 

If you win, and he doesn’t get over 80% you get… a regular dealer cut and life as usual, plus soberly babysitting a spiced-out Poe on your way to Oba Diah. God it seems like an easy yes, so why the fuck is it so hard to say it?

Poe, noting your continued silence puts a hand on your shoulder. 

“Lex, you don’t have to. I’m going to try to get us that 80% cut no matter what. I just thought I’d…”

“Spice things up?” You offer with a smile.

Poe laughs. “Yes. So, what’s the verdict?”

You purse your lips and nod. “I’m in.”

“Attagirl!” 

“But only one hit!”

“Hey, I won’t force you! You do as much— or as little as you want.”

Poe scoops a small palmful into a leather pouch and sets it on the shelf next to the cracked case. 

“You sure they won’t notice a scrape?”

“This much?” Poe holds up the pouch with laughter in his eyes. “Honey, a calibrator droid wouldn’t know this much was missing.”

“Just trying not to die, Dameron, that’s all.”

“I respect that, Lex. I really do.”

Poe closes and secures the cracked case and offers his hand to you, helping you up. Both of your palms are dusted in enough red to land you in Rep prison for life and when you rise up on your feet your face is nearly close enough to kiss him. He lets go of your hand, slowly dragging the red grit between your fingers and he turns to step back into the cockpit. His palm leaves a print on the white keypad and the earthy-red tone of the smudge doesn’t match the ship at all. It's glaringly natural among the sterility. You find a spare rag to wipe it clean. Maker what have you signed up for?

END

~~~

only tagging those who interacted with my asking post because Poe being a spice runner is a very sensitive topic.

@paper-n-ashes @ozarkthedog @samsspade @itsmypersonalagenda @lovers-liability @littlemousedroid @tasmdd @d1rtysna1l @takenbyheartstrings @ophelialoveshandsomemen @silkzomi @spider-starry @cottagebunny9 @rosie-jane @enichole445 @maskjunkie @pri00r @randomcuboidshape @mstgsmy @strxwberrymoonstar @mysweetandsaucy @obiwanshusband @lily-lilli @lemongingerart @3-14123 @stormkobra-5 @laters-gators

[ceruleanchillin]

Honeymoon Headcanons: Mayans Edition

Characters: Angel, Coco, EZ x F!Reader

Miami (Angel)

It wasn’t difficult at all to decide where the two of you would take your honeymoon. When you weren’t gonna be naked, Angel wanted you in sundresses and bikinis. You wanted him in linen shirts, and to feel him up in a club. Couple that with you both wanting a tropical environment, and Miami it is.

Angel letting you handle the accommodations, because you seem to know more about what you wanna see/where you wanna go than he does. He only cares about a bed and shower for when he’s not taking you in the inappropriate places. He just hands over the cash, though he complains about his hurt wallet.

Angel hard as a rock when he sees your new name on your plane ticket.

The two of you nearly missing your flight because your husband needs to “show his wife he loves her”.

You babying him on the flight, because Angel has never flown anywhere before.

“Mami, it’s perfectly valid to feel like a flying toaster can’t safely get you anywhere but a casket. Which they can’t even put you in, because you’ll be everywhere!”

Cue you distracting him with kisses and dirty words in his ear, which gets you initiated into the Mile High Club

Barely making it into the cute little condo before the two of you are at it again, collapsing in the late hours to jet lag and mutual satisfaction.

Your first official day is spent dragging Angel around the humid streets. Knowing he stresses easily if you plan things too tightly, and wanting to wing it yourself. It’s surprising how well you to fit in, it almost feels like home.

Angel switching from being jealous, because your tiny cotton sundress is attracting more than just his attention, to him kissing all over your dewy skin because so much of it is visible.

You getting as jealous as Angel, because it seems like each place you drag him to has openly interested ladies. It’s the white linen shirt that he won’t fully button no matter how many times you try to make him.

Angel basking in the attention, and even playing it up to force you to be the one to initiate inappropriate public sex.

Smirking when you break after a woman pays for his (and unintentionally yours) order at a small cafe you stepped into and you snap and drag him to a hidden place.

“I only love you querida, mi alma.” he whispers in your ear when he bottoms out inside you.

You two are a beautiful couple. Photogenic as all hell. Alone, neither of you have a problem attracting interest, but together, you make people want to be seen around you. That’s why you have no problem club hopping to all the exclusive places.

Angel taking photos and videos of you dancing because he’s so enthralled. He can’t wait to show your kids one day when they ask why he fell for you, and he explains how full of life you are.

Getting enough liquor in Angel to get him dance somewhere away from the club, especially since he (lies) and says he can’t.

You and Angel competing to see who can get the most people to buy your drinks + the two of you losing track because you both get drunk.

A quickie in the coatroom is the prize, Angel fucking you to the hypnotic beat.

Spending a few hours apart the following day, only to still keep texting and FaceTiming each other until you met up, touch starved, at a small restaurant.

Deciding to spend the rest of the day at your Airbnb laid up under each other after Angel scores weed. Teasing Angel about his monetary complaints when you spend all night enjoying the small backyard pool.

Angel thanking God for getting an adventure loving woman as his soulmate when you wake him up the next afternoon to inform him you rented jet skis for the day.

You being impressed when, while jet skiing, Angel silver tongues your way into an invitation to a nearby yacht party out of the host.

FaceTiming Gilly to make him jealous that you two are doing Hookah and drinking Casamigos in a hot tub.

Angel ramping up the mockery when EZ and Coco appear on screen, attracted by Gilly’s whining. Everyone looking overworked and salty, while you and Angel are living your best non-sober lives.

Slipping away from the party to one of the rooms on the boat, because once again, you and Angel never know when to stop teasing each other before it ends up in sex.

Feeling bold enough to suggest that since Angel’s been documenting so much of the trip, that maybe he should film this too.

The aftermath being a surprisingly sweet series of kisses and confessions where the two of you express how thankful you are to have found each other. How you can’t wait to build a forever together.

Marfa + Roswell (Coco)

No one knew how you got Coco to agree to travel for your honeymoon until you finally revealed where you were going. Splitting a week between Marfa and Roswell.

You and Coco are that “weird” conspiracy, incense, and weed couple, so it makes sense.

Giving Coco an edible before you leave, because like Angel, he doesn’t fuck with air travel like that.

“They got me with that bullshit in the military, but that was out of my control. You askin’ a lot right now, you’re lucky you’re cute mujer.”

Coco getting progressively handsy during the flight as the edible hits. Eventually, you stop fake-fighting his neck kisses and forward touches.

Also like Angel in that he’s unafraid to become a member of the Mile High Club.

The ride from the El Paso airport, to the car rental place, to Marfa takes far longer than Coco would like.

He’s used to long stretches of trip on his bike, and when you notice him becoming antsy, you distract him with interesting facts about Marfa.

The entire time, Coco can’t help but think that you’re the perfect road trip co-pilot, only to realize he actually meant his life in general now.

Coco proud as hell when you fall in love with his accommodations choice like he did. The colorful airstream trailers of the El Cosmico hotel are the two of you through and through.

You both trying to be responsible adults and refresh after travel, but continuing to get lost in each other during the whole process.

Shower sex -> Making out while drying off -> Touching while searching through your bags for something to wear -> bed sex -> repeat

Looking thoroughly mauled when you finally manage to get Coco off of you and into the car in search of food the next afternoon.

Coco being happy you can’t cover up due to the heat, while you wonder what superpower he and his boys have that let them wear flannel and long sleeves in the heat.

Dragging Coco to a cute cafe you saw on instagram, and him knowing, by the hipster design of it, that his wallet is about to cry.

Stealing food from his plate, and laughing at him sucking his teeth and whining when he catches you.

“You’re stuck with me forever now Johnny sooo….get used to this.”

“Small price to pay for that I guess.”

Finding small shops to go to and being Siamese twins in every one. Coco showing he has good taste in a lot of things one might think he wouldn’t. Him opening up his wallet at everything you 'ooh' and 'aww' at. He can’t help it, he likes you happy, and your kisses and adoring looks are addicting.

For almost everything you get, Letty gets something too. Neither of you wants that tantrum when you get back.

You fighting yourself to avoid the art supply store, and Coco not having it.

“I have so many supplies already, it’s an addiction at this point.”

“So? Get some more. It’s our week, we shouldn’t stress about shit.”

Coco bragging on your talents and successes to the art shop cashier when you checkout.

“Cocoooo.” you murmur hiding your face in his shoulder, arms around his waist.

“Don’t be shy ma, you’re fucking amazing. I love your skills.”

Cue the cashier swooning at the two of you.

Finding unique liquor stores and getting tipsy on samples. It becomes twice as fun when locals, and other tourists alike, start discussing the Marfa lights with you, and you and Coco impress everyone with your ideas.

Being invited to a bonfire smoke session with the other El Cosmico guests when you get back.

Sketching Coco by the firelight, because he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in that moment, and now he’s officially yours.

The sex being on another level of intimate that night, because all day you and Coco have been engaging in your respective love languages, and it culminates in mutual need for each other.

The drive to Roswell being more tolerable for Coco, but he still misses his bike. Your excitement about AlienFest is so palpable however, he quickly forgets.

Your hotel being more conventional, but the people you meet making up for it. Finally, you and Coco aren’t the weirdest ones in the room.

Taking the time before the festival starts to check in with friends and family and accumulate odd souvenirs for them. You believe Coco is intentionally getting them stuff they’ll hate.

“Taza won’t wear that baby, he has better taste in jewelry than UFO earrings.”

“Ok, but can he bitch about us not getting him anything? Plus, you can guilt anyone into anything.”

Doing cute edible pastries at the festival.

“You know Aliens are demons right? Jack Parsons and L. Ron Hubbard were doing summoning rituals in the Mojave in 1946, and Roswell was the following year.”

“Word?…Shit. Tell me that again when we’re not rolling. I wanna read about it………you’re so smart mami.”

Coco realizing between every snack stop, every dance he shares with you, every trinket you pick up, and every little conspiracy tidbit you share, that you’re his wife now. That the peace he’s been feeling all week, that he thought he’d never have, is going to be his new normal.

New Orleans (EZ)

You and EZ both enjoy engaging with history and culture, and felt that your honeymoon should be built off of your shared interests. During your meticulous wedding planning, it was decided New Orleans would be the honeymoon destination. It didn’t hurt that you missed your southern roots too, even if you weren’t from New Orleans.

Traveling with EZ is a dream considering you’re both pretty organized, together people. He’s not afraid of flying, but you’re always a little nervous.

EZ being Best Husband™️ and soothing even the most minor of your stresses by turning your attention to the excitement of your trip and your new relationship status.

Teasing EZ in-flight won’t get you Mile High Club initiated, because he finds it much more entertaining to punish you by letting you work the both of you up, and making you stay that way for the duration of the flight. He’s got enough will power to suffer through it, because your soft whines make it worth it.

The airbnb is everything it was promised to be, and you’d appreciate that later, but all you can think of is your husband when you step through the door. That’s the other half of why EZ likes to leave you waiting. Your aggression and exclusive desire for him gets, and keeps, him hard.

It rains the following day, which is just as well, because neither of you are quite ready to stop physically expressing your love for each other. The day consists of ordering food, falling out of your clothes and onto each other, separating to read, falling back on each other, and quick naps.

Angel sending mocking texts in your Reyes group about how you’re trying to turn his brother bamma like you, only to stop when you threaten him with no souvenirs.

EZ and you taking responsibility for your own tour because let’s face it, you both know exactly what you want to see, and can plan a more satisfying tour for the both of you. You take turns deciding where to go next.

When it’s his turn, EZ picks an art museum, and can’t quit smiling about it. You think it’s because he picked a place he really wanted to go to.

“Babe, I have a surprise for you.”

“What?” your excitement always makes EZ’s heart race with his own.

He hands you the guide brochure he picked up at the door, folded to the section he wants you to look at.

“Faith Ringgold exhibit?!”

He hums and nods, grunting when you knock into him with a hug.

“Thank you for thinking of me. I love you.” you look up at him, eyes shining with unshed tears and he just kisses you, afraid he’ll cry if he says anything.

The two of you avoid the tourist trap spots for lunch and find a cute family owned cafe. You order for the both of you based on what you know about southern cuisine and both of your tastes.

You love watching EZ fall in love with the food as he keeps asking “Can you make this?” about everything he eats.

The two of you walking through the Garden District in the evening. Hands swinging between you with no plans but to admire the beautiful homes and foliage.

EZ noting how awestruck you are, and you describing what you love about the historic, towering homes.

He catches that when you describe what your dream home in the area would be, he and your future children are mentioned frequently, and it makes butterflies dance in his stomach. He can picture your family in the yards around him.

The two of you almost make it back to your Airbnb, but give into your baser urges after all the domestic conversation. EZ pulls you into an alley for a quickie, the two of you fighting to silence the other’s vocal expression.

You teasing EZ after that he’s more like his brother than he thinks. Him teasing back the two of you would’ve been caught and arrested if he was like Angel.

The following day is relaxed and less planned. The both of you getting thoughtful gifts for each member of your family, blood and otherwise. EZ scores major points for the gifts he suggests for your mom and dad, and you kind of want to jump him again.

EZ is glad you’re impressed, but it’s nothing to him. It all comes naturally because he loves you so much, and refuses to be anything other than the husband he knows you deserve.

AN:

I didn’t want to add this, cuz I wanted to end on a sweet note, but you just know Angel would accidentally send that vid to one of his boys.

Personally, I lose it for shit like this. Anything domestic in writings is my jam, so I decided to make these headcanons.

- Fun fact: Jet Ski is kind of like Bandaid in that it’s become the generic term for “personal water vehicles”, but it’s actually a specific brand’s name for their PWVs. I learned this while writing this enjoy💀.

[hyunjilicious]

3:11am [captain syverson]

Summary: you’re just an army medic so in order to have your voice heard you need to go straight to the captain with your ideas, right? And what better way to do it, if not at 3:11am in his room? (SMUT) 4.3k

Warnings: daddy kink, size kink, unprotected sex, Sy is a little bit of ass, dirty talk, manhandling, a tad bit of humiliation/degradation.. :) I didn’t go too far.

Feedback makes my day! Maybe tell me what you thought? Please? :)

-

Danger loomed at every corner. And you couldn't have been oblivious to it. Every one was either panicked or enraged, both emotions driven by the ongoing terror forced upon your group as you have been caught in the crossfire. The conflict you found yourselves stuck in was generations old, and the fact that you had hidden eyes, watching your moves from every shadow, was as unsettling as it could be.

You crossed the camp on high alert, even if those were supposed to be safe grounds. Laughter was audible from the tents nearby, yet the fear never left your bones. Palms cold but still damp with nervous sweat, you counted the steps you had to take until you reached your destination. Ever since you left your designated bunk, you've been picturing the stairs that led down to Captain Syverson room, and now they were mere meters in front of you, but you still felt like you couldn't breathe. 

Even when you reached the door, you still couldn't swallow the lump in your throat. And the fact that it was unlocked, made you all the more nervous. 

You didn't want to knock. The lights were all off, and you were afraid the sound would draw unnecessary attention. So, going against your gut, you slowly pushed the door open, cautiously stepping inside.

Dead silence.

Only a pair of red glowing numbers were visible in the thick darkness, showing you just how late and unacceptable it was for you to be there. 3:11 am. Not only should you have been asleep for hours, but you were also pretty sure that if you were to be awake, the bunk was the place where you should be counting the sheep until you dozed off. 

From memory, you turned to the left, picturing inside your mind where the door that led to the hallway was supposed to be. You probably managed to get about two steps in before, from the suffocating darkness to your left, a loud clattering noise was heard, before a pair of strong arms restrained you. 

Only a gasp managed to escape your lips before your mouth was forced shut by a hand, aggressively making it impossible for you to make any sound. Realising kicking and squirming in this person's hold would be of absolutely no use, you raised your left leg in the air, gathering momentum for a strategic hit. But the blow was never delivered.

"Shh!!!" 

Despite threatening and capable of making anybody's blood run cold, that southern accent was impossible to mistake. 

"Don't fucking move" he said again.

With your brain soaked in adrenaline, obeying his command sounded near impossible. You fidgeted against his rock hard chest, and all it did for you was get him to tighten his hold.

"I don't know if your eyes got accustomed to the dark yet" captain Syverson said through gritted teeth, "But at about 2 o'clock, MacGregor is sleeping. If you wake him up, we're both dead"

You swallowed the information with difficulty, but it relaxed you to some extent. However, despite calming down and not showing any signs of wanting to put up a fight anymore, Sy didn't let you go.

Instead, with high precision, he dragged you through the darkness, and across the room, right where you were initially planning to go. Clutching the hand that was still roughly pressing down against your lips, you stumbled obediently in every direction he dragged you to. When you reached a plain black door, he opened it with maximal caution, and pushed you inside, before turning around to close it in the same silent manner.

You stumbled a few steps forward before regaining your balance as your knees have probably never been weaker. Struggling to catch your breath, you saw Sy turn and face you, the coldest of death stares plastered on his blue eyes.

"The fuck you doin' here, hm?" he growled, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"I-" you said, squinting in the neon light of the tiny room, "I have an idea for the crew, it's-"

"Don't fucking care what idea you got, darlin'" he shook his head, taking another step in your direction, "Do you even know what time it is?"

"Late" you sighed, stating the obvious.

"Damn right it's late" he nodded, "What I wanna know now is why you were stupid enough to sneak all the way over here, when you know-"

"No one saw me, Sy" you exclaimed.

A grin tilted the corner of his lips upwards, "I fucking saw you"

"Yeah but-" you stopped to frown as confusion hit you, "How did you see me?"

"Listen here, little girl" he taunted, each word more threatening as he started to close the distance that was keeping you apart, "You're a doctor, not a soldier, fixing our shit is none of your business. Two, you don't report to me-" he said, nodding his head to the side, "And three, I'm sure no idea was too urgent that you couldn't wait until the morning"

Calling you out like that was completely unnecessary. You had been lying to yourself, claiming the reason for your late night visit was purely selfless, however when you heard the words come out of his mouth, you realised just how strongly you had been bulshitting yourself.

"Fine-" you huffed with annoyance, getting ready to walk past him, "You want me to leave? I'll leave"

"Nuh-uh" he shook his head, grabbing you by the forearm. He didn't move any other muscle of his body and continued talking without turning to look at you, "You're a smart woman, tell me why you're really here"

"Because I wanna help!" you rolled your eyes - a lie you almost believed yourself.

"Try again, doll" he commanded, tightening his grip. The fact that you felt a bruise already forming riled you up, but it wasn't enough to get you to cooperate in the way he wanted you to.

Once you realised what he was waiting to hear, you shook your head in disbelief, "You got no class!"

After spitting the anger filled words in his direction, you tried to free your arm, and walk away, but he wasn't having it.

"Well-" Sy took a deep breath, harshly spinning you around and slamming you face first against his desk, "If you had any, you wouldn't be here now, would you?"

Knees weak under his heavy presence, you gathered all your strength into your arms, planting your palms against the metal surface of the desk in order to push yourself up.

All it took him to cancel your intentions was an effortless shove against your upper back. He got you back down in under a second with a loud thud, but this time he bent down too, towering above you.

"Now that you saw your antics don't work with me-" he growled directly into your ear, his thick beard tickling the skin of your neck. Sy lodged his hand into your hair, curling his fingers around your roots and forcing your head back, "Mind telling me why you're really here? We can do this until the morning, I ain't tired"

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" you huffed through gritted teeth.

"What? Seeing you squirming under me with absolutely no say in what's about to happen to that sweet little pussy of yours? Yes, very much so"

"Fuck you"

"Isn't that why you came here?" Sy taunted.

He grunted, shaking his head in disbelief. "Try again" 

This time, he didn't pull your hair anymore, and the sting you expected to reach your scalp never came. However, he bucked his hips into yours, pressing your body even harder against the desk. With every time and every way his body brushed against yours, the pain between your legs grew stronger and stronger. But still, you didn't want to word your need, instead just settled for milking every last drop of this unexpected turn of events. About 15 minutes before, when you had just left your room, you weren't sure you would even get to talk to him, let alone end up in this situation. Under him. His cock shamelessly pressing up against your ass, as every word that came out of his mouth only managed to make you crave him more.

"Are gonna tell me, hm?" he moaned into your ear, the weight of his body on top of yours becoming difficult to bear. "Or am I gonna have to force the words out of you?"

The way he talked, honey sweet yet goosebumps worthy, his tone managed to crack your self control. Against your better judgement, you breathed out slowly, the pleasure in the back of your throat materialising into the softest of whimpers.

"Oh" Sy grinned, his right hand groping its way down your body, "Can't hide it anymore, can you?"

If until now you did a fairly bad job at hiding your true emotions, when he grabbed a handful of your ass, his fingers threatening to leave purple bruises, you dropped the facade all together.

"Fuck" you moaned, forehead pressed against the desk as you arched your body back, harder against his palm.

"That's my girl" he laughed.

Much to your dismay, after his deep amused tone reached your ears, he pulled away. Upset at the sudden loss of contact, you choked back a whine, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder.

Even with the lights turned on, he was facing away from the source, so that soft shadows contoured his features perfectly. His eyes hooded with greed looked down at you, and as soon as he saw the hungry expression on your face, his lips curled into a devious smile. "No, sweetheart. Face the wall", he said, nodding his head.

Reluctantly, you did so. Delectable anticipation washed over you when his calloused hands grabbed your waist. It was only for a minute, though. He roughly pulled you back until your hips passed the edge of the desk. You didn't get a chance to put two and two together before Sy forced your pants open, and pulled them down your legs, along with your underwear in under a moment. 

Flushed with embarrassment at the full, sudden exposure, you clamped your thighs together.

Without a word, he lodged his boot between your feet, forcing your legs open. "This could've been avoided" he stated, "But I don't think you wanted that. I think you wanted the slut fucked out of you"

"Come on…" you pleaded, lodging your teeth deep into your bottom lip.

Your entire body fired up when his bare fingers connected to your opening. He moved agonisingly slow, teasing his way along your lips, intentionally applying the perfect amount of pressure to have you crying for more.

"You know you're gonna have to do so much fucking better than that, don't you?" Sy chuckled, dipping his fingers into your wetness. "I know you can beg."

"Fucking hell-" you cried, squirming under his influence, "Please"

"No, baby. Tell me, use your words. I wanna hear you tell me how to fuck you. And don't bother holding back 'cause you know I won't"

"Come on, Sy-" you whined, trying your best to grind down against his fingers, "You know I want- I want you-"

A rough slap that echoed around the room attacked your ass, delightful pain propagating in waves across your whole body. You let out a tortured yelp, but it wasn't enough to impress.

"You already made a mess on my fingers. You're dripping wet, love. Why try to hide just how big of a slut you are?"

"I'm a slut-" you panted, breathing heavily through every word, "I'm a slut, please, I need you"

Another blow. This time, his palm landed on already inflamed skin, doubling the pain that fueled your pleasure.

"Need me to what, baby girl?"

"I need you to fuck me" you whimpered, tears running down your cheeks. Digging your nails into the underside of the edge of his desk, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to concentrate around the ecstasy he had running through your veins. "I need your cock, Sy, please. I fucking need you really bad right now, please. I'll do anything you want"

"All you need to do, pet, is learn your place" Syverson said, greedily caressing your ass. "Did you come here just to get that cunt used?"

"Yes" you nodded, not even remembering that in the beginning, you really did have something important to talk to him about. "Yes, I only wanted your cock. Please fuck me, I promise I'll be good forever"

"My good slut forever?" he questioned, the perverted enthusiasm audible in his tone.

As he spoke, Sy slid his middle finger inside your pussy. "Is that all you want, whore? To be my property?"

"Yeah…" 

"You want me to own you?" he taunted, sliding another finger into your pussy, just for the sake of pushing your buttons, "Want me to use your whore body for my pleasure whenever I feel like it?"

A rush of electricity coursed through you.

"That's all I want, Sy" you whispered.

"Are you sure, baby girl?" he taunted, bending down.

His immense frame hovered above your shivering body, his haunting presence enough to get you drunk on the ecstasy of what was to come. 

You swallowed thickly, pained tears stinging your eyes. Cupping his cheek over your shoulder, your words came out as a ghostly whisper, "Please-" you breathed out, "I need you now, Sy. I wanted you since I met you back home, you know that. Please, I can't wait any longer"

His daunting chuckle sent shivers all over your body. He pushed himself off of you, but his breath still tickled the back of your neck. It was enough for you to know that you were to remain in place and wait for his next move.

"Of course you can wait, angel" he said, moments before the metallic clank of his belt being unbuckled fueled your senses, "You're lucky I don't want you to"

You released a weak chuckle, shaking your head in disbelief at the way he managed to carry the situation. Your shoulders were dangerously tense as you waited. For anything. For him to say or do something, but he forced you to sit and boil in anticipation. But the build-up was worth the frustration, as when you felt his touch against your pussy, adrenaline started to pump through your veins.

"You know how long I thought about fucking you like this?" Sy asked.

It was then that you realised it wasn't his finger probing your folds, but the tip of his cock. Slick and solid against your pussy, he expertly teased all your right spots.

"You flaunt this fucking tight ass all day long, panting in the heat, sweat dripping down your tits-" Sy exclaimed, his need and hunger for you audible through every word, "and now you're telling me-"

He paused to bend down above you, hands planted on the desk on either side of your shoulders as he spoke lewdly in your ear, "And now you're telling me I got you naked and whimperin', beggin' me to empty my balls inside your pussy?"

Refusing to use your words, you settled for a better answer - the only answer your dazed mind was able to give. Arching your back as you moaned his name, you pushed your ass back, his massive cock inching inside your pussy.

Syverson grunted, low and guttural, pleasure erupting from the depths of his throat. Goosebumps arose across your body.

"Fuck me, Sy-" you cried, your voice breathy and seductive, "Rough me up, come on"

And he did. You managed to push all his buttons and get him to lose the self control he tries so hard to put on display. He did an excellent job, judging by how hard his cock was when he slammed his hips into yours. Your walls spread beyond what you ever thought would be pleasurable, yet he had you crying out his name as your eyes rolled back. 

His immense hands held your hips with damaging force, planting bruises all of your skin. Not that you had any choice, but you let yourself go limp, and allowed him to manhandle your frame to his will. With ever powerful thrusts of his body against yours, the desk underneath you rocked, slamming into the wall, making a sound loud and obnoxious enough to awake just about anyone who was sleeping there. 

But you didn't care. And neither did Sy.

The only thing you had on your mind was the killed ecstasy he fucked into you, his cock slamming balls deep into your aching pussy. You rolled your head, whined and dug your nails into your palms, in what was probably the most pathetic attempt to keep yourself grounded. 

Syverson wasn't far behind. His breathing aggravated, turned into guttural groans that made the hairs on your body stand up. 

"Fucking hell" he cursed, his fingers sinking deeper into your flesh as he picked up his pace, "FUCK"

You moaned, a wave of pleasure coursing through you, "Harder please"

Those words went against all your senses, against the pain you felt between your legs, the strain on your back or the lack of air in your lungs. But you wanted more. Needed more.

With one long, hard thrust, Sy pushed his cock all the way inside your pussy, his balls pressing against your clit, "Wouldn't wanna break you, little girl"

The teasing side of you awoke. You pushed yourself up and threw your hair back so that you could turn and look at him over your shoulder, "You couldn't if you tried"

His whole frame darkened. Not just the look in his eyes. He now seemed taller, more dangerous and menacing as your words tickled his lust. Syverson shook his head, and in one swift motion, lodged his hand in your hair pulling you all the way up with your back against his chest.

"I don't want you talking to me like that," he groaned.

If you hadn't felt his cock twitch, fear would have definitely enveloped you. 

"You're in no place to undermine me, ok?" he growled, voice deep, ringing against your ear, "You're so small and powerless. It's fucking clear I call the shots. Be a good little girl and don't piss me off" he threatened, his free hand wrapping itself around your neck.

"Or what?" you whispered. 

"You're a soldier, right?" Sy laughed, "Wouldn't it be a shame if for a few days you wouldn't be able to walk straight. Or sit down?"

You swallowed thickly, his words turning you own even more as your pussy clenched around his cock just thinking about it, "Sounds more like an offer than a punishment"

Sy took his sweet time answering. Before he opened his mouth to speak, his hand traveled down your body, all the way over to your clit, where he began to apply pressure in the form of experienced, delicate circles.

You whimpered in return and only then did he answer. "Turns out you're a bigger slut than I thought, but don't think it will take me long to have you crying and begging"

You nodded yes. He never asked any kind of question, so you had no idea why you responded that way, you just did, and Sy took it as his cue to resume his work.

This time, he held you against his body. With each thrust, the tip of his cock applied more and more pressure to your sweet and overly sensitive spots, braiding pain into the pleasure he created for you.

But it was what you wanted. How you wanted it. Because it was a matter of time until he had you moaning and crying, expressing the pure ecstasy that was surging through your body. You were approaching your high at such a dangerous speed that the strain in your back was no longer of importance, and the force with which Sy pulled at the roots of your hair, wasn't even passing the threshold of discomfort anymore.

All your thoughts had been flooded by his breathing, low and guttural, against your temple. The simple fact that his pleasure was audible in his tone, aggravated your arousal. You've never in your life been so eager to please someone. But now, you were beaming proudly, your stomach in knots.

You came soon after that. The orgasm came down crushing on you, blurring your thoughts completely. Your muscles spammed uncontrollably, and the cries that escaped your lips were sure to wake up everyone in the compound. But neither you, nor Sy cared.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" you panted, seconds before your eyes rolled back in pleasure, your body remaining weak and consumed in his hold.

"Come on, darling" Sy chuckled, readjusting his hold around your body, pressing you even harder against his chest, "Daddy's gotta finish too. Otherwise we did this for nothing"

"Yes" you moaned. 

The way he forced his cock in and out of your sensitive and overly-used cunt brought tears to your eyes. You knew he was close when he slowed down his pace, now his thrusts becoming deeper and less regulated. Each slam of his hips into yours rocked your whole frame, until your toes barely reached the ground. Sy held you up into his massive arms, guiding and handling your body to fit his needs perfectly. 

And it fucking worked because in a matter of seconds, he lost control, aggressively riding his high until there was no amount of cum to be released. When he pulled out, panting and exhausted, he moved to the side, planting his hands on the edge of the desk to catch his breath.

Determined to not piss him off anymore, you gathered yourself much faster than him, ready to dress yourself back up and bolt.

"What are you doing?" Sy asked, looking at you over his shoulder with confusion in his eyes.

"I'm- uh, I was gonna-" you mumbled, pointing to the door but he stopped you.

"Hop on" he said.

He pointed to the desk, and although unsure, you did as he told you. You barely managed to stay awake while he was in the small bathroom attached to his room, but when he returned and placed a damp washcloth between your legs, your mind buzzed awake.

"I hurt you" he said, massaging your thighs as he softly cleaned you up, "I got-"

"No, it's fine" you stopped him, "I'm just exhausted and probably very sore, god, but I'm good"

Sy just nodded, something obviously still bothering him. But he didn’t say anything, and instead, proceeded to clean you up, ending with a gentle kiss against your sensitive opening.

You hissed unconsciously, but then ended up smiling widely, amused with your own reactions. Sy helped you off the desk and guided you to his bed, his hand on your ass as you leaned into his side for support.

“It hurts, right?”

“I’m just sore, it’s fine” you tried to dismiss his concerns, but he wasn’t having it.

Sy grabbed your face into his hands and forced you to look into his eyes, “It’s gotta, darling, you understand that”

You shook your head, smiling, but he wasn’t waiting for your approval.

“Come on” he said, guiding you to lay down, “We have about 2 hours of sleep left, and god knows, you’re gonna need them”

“Fuck yes” you sighed, plopping down next to him.

Although every fiber of your body begged for closeness, you stopped yourself, afraid to not cross any lines. But, much to your surprise, Syverson didn’t waste a second before pulling you into his arms and tucking your head in the crook of his neck. It gave you a sense of security you never felt before in your life - the way his heart beat against your skin. He fell asleep with his arms fastened around your frame, tightening his hold every time you tried to move.

It was just a matter of seconds until you both drifted off. Considering your whereabouts and the circumstances you’ve lived though, it was safe to say this was probably the best night’s sleep you had gotten in months. That was why, when you were pulled awake by him getting ready around the room, you were so disappointed.

“Is it 6 already?” you mumbled, rolling over only to land face first into his pillow.

“Go back to sleep, darling,” Sy said, fastening his belt, “Got some paperwork to do. I’ll cover for you and then I’ll come back with coffee in about 2 hours or so, how’s that sound, hm?”

“Mmm” you moaned, “Perfect”

The last thing you heard was Sy chuckling at himself, and then, you fell back asleep. You had no idea how much time passed until a loud, redundant noise woke you up. It took you about a few seconds to realise what it actually was that you were hearing.

“Y/n?” a grave male voice echoed from behind the door, “You in there?”

After that, he knocked a few times more, before starting to repeatedly slam his fist into the door.

“It’s open, what the fuck-” you groaned, not even standing up from the bed.

Instantly, the door flew open, Sgm. MacGregor bursting into the room, features ablaze with pure anger.

Your face fell.

“Sergeant, I-” you tried to speak, hurrying to find a way to explain what exactly it was that you were doing naked, in a room other than yours, when in fact you should have already been on post for god knows how many hours.

“Don’t even wanna hear it” he groaned, waving towards you, “This is about Captain Syverson”

“What-?” you muttered, “What happ-”

“Shot” he said bluntly, “3 times. You need to move. Now”

[bbrandy2002]

Happy Birthday Burnsy!

The Country AU -- I'm Gonna Live Where The Green Grass Grows

Pairing: Drake x Alyssa, Liam x Riley, and a whole host of other TRR characters.

A/N: This was a silly little idea I had months ago for an AU built around the places and people where I grew up. I never had plans to actually write it, but I mentioned it to Burns, and well ... she wanted it lol so here we are. And she’s already read half of this and is the one who made the mood board for it and the song inspo hahaha. Thank you to @mskaneko for the edits of our OTP’s, and @charlotteg234 for pre-reading the first half of this.

Trigger warning: Gun usage, hunting, mild language ... I think that’s it

@burnsoslow

My dearest friend, when I think back at where we were one year ago, I can’t help but be reminded of the vastly different world we live in now. On February 5, 2020, there was no covid keeping us sheltered and fearful, families were complete, jobs were stable, and so many of the things we worried about then simply pale in comparison to now, Life wasn’t so bad. But here we are with all these new changes and mindsets. Through it all, one thing remained consistent: YOU. You have been my strength, my rock, the anchor that grounded me. We have cried together, laughed a lot together, worried for each other, and celebrated those small victories that were important to each other. And I get so happy when someone comments about how much they love the friendship between Riley and Alyssa because it's the most real part of Fearless. If anyone ever wanted to know what we’re like, it's all written out in that story. I’ve got your back, and you have mine. You’re my best friend and I just love the hell out of ya! I hope your birthday is amazing and that this fic is everything you wanted for this AU.

------------------------------------

On Sunday mornings in southern Georgia, you did one of two things: You woke up early for church services or woke up late to watch NFL football.

Some people figured out a long time ago how to do both.

Sitting in the back pew of the First Cordonian Church of Everlasting Peace, Alyssa Walker sat quietly with the sweetest southern belle smile, nodding her head along to the beautiful words spoken during Pastor Hakim’s sermon and hiding a pair of earbuds lodged in each ear. 

She and her husband, Drake, had laid claim to the pew when they were teens trying to sneak a kiss or two during prayers. After ten years of marriage, they no longer needed to sneak kisses but stayed in that same seat, believing the biggest sinners should stay as far away from the minister as possible. Why be the barrier that may prevent the spirit from reaching the rest of the congregation? The couple felt it was the least they could do.

They were actually pretty good folks and well respected in their community. Alyssa had taught first grade for eight years at the local elementary school, where her two children, nine-year-old Audrey and six-year-old Patrick, also attended. Her best friend since third grade, Riley, was the art teacher there. 

Drake worked nearby as the lead mechanic at Rys and Sons Chevrolet out on North Ramsford Avenue. Constantine had owned the auto dealership for 35 years before passing it down to his sons, Leo and Liam, when he ran for and became the town's mayor. Leo peaced out, heading to South Florida, while Liam took on the sole responsibility of ownership himself. 

And while most people in this sleepy little town of Cordonia were Falcons fanatics, Alyssa grew up rooting for the team where her parents were born and raised before settling in Georgia as newlywed lawyers: The Chicago Bears.

With the game against the Packers blaring into her ear, she kept a keen eye on the rest of her fellow parishioners. When they clapped, she clapped. When they sang, she sang. She raised her hands in hallelujahs when they did. She had learned to read lips and could “Amen” and “Praise God” right on cue with the rest of them. All the while, she sat in contentment, listening to her weekly football games. 

“The score with 14 seconds left in the second quarter is Chicago -- 14, Green Bay -- 17. The Bears have the ball on the 5-yard line. It’s third and goal. If Trubisky can score here, they’ll go into the locker room at halftime with a lead for the first time in this game, or possibly tie it all up with a field goal after this down. This is a huge, HUGE play, Jim ...” 

Alyssa twined her fingers together and lowered her forehead onto them as she waited with bated breath for the announcer to call the play-by-play. As far as anyone else knew, she was praying fervently for the Hebrews crossing the parted Red Sea away from Pharoah's army that the pastor was chronicling.

“And here comes the snap. Trubisky backs up. He tosses to Robinson in the end zone. OHHH! So close… batted away by Alexender …”

“JESUS!” Alyssa yelled out in anger. With earbuds in, she didn’t realize how loudly that just came out of her mouth. Drake nudged her in the thigh. She glanced over at him for a second before he nodded to the 123 pairs of eyes that had all turned at once in her direction. It instantly dawned on her that everyone in the congregation heard the outburst.

Feeling the color drain from her face, Alyssa placed a hand over her chest and addressed, “I am soooo into this sermon, Hakim. Woohoo! Go, Jesus, go!” She pumped her fist in the air like she was rooting him on.

Drake dropped his face onto Patrick’s shoulder, who was sitting on his lap, to cover the incessant laughter that threatened to spill out of him. He was doing a terrible job of it, as a momentary burst of muffled snickers could be heard through the sound of the game playing in Alyssa’s ear. Her husband was nothing but a big kid himself -- she wouldn’t change that for anything.

“Mommy,” Audrey whispered next to her. “It’s about Moses. Not Jesus.”

Alyssa smiled, patting her daughter’s knee. “Same thing, baby. They both performed miracles.” She cut her eyes to the phone hidden under the cardigan draped across her thighs. “And the Bears need a miracle right now, guys,” she muttered, “Part those shithead Packer’s defensive line, Lord. It’s time to help my Bears get to the promised land.”

“Going for it on fourth down, Trubisky drops back. The Packer defense is putting a lot of pressure on the Bear’s offensive line. Every man is covered in the end zone. He has no one to throw to, Jim. They’re running out of time. Four seconds left. And, NOOO, they sack Trubisky on the 10-yard line … WAIT THE BALL IS LOOSE … THE BALL IS LOOSE ... he fumbled the ball. The Packers are scrambling to get it. There are green and white jerseys all over that ball. BUT LOOK … Green Bay’s Klark picks it up. He’s running the other way … and he just slipped … he just slipped, and the football fell right into the hands of Chicago’s Robinson --”  

Alyssa grabbed Drake’s thigh, her fingers digging deeply with hope and panic. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” her stressed words weren’t audible to the crowd, but they were speaking volumes in her heart.

“--Robinson’s on the 20, now 15, he’s sweeping past the defense to the 10 -- 5 -- TOUCHDOWN, CHICAGO!!!”

"FUCK YES!" Alyssa jumped up, her arms outstretched in a V shape. “Hallelujah. Holy shit. Thank ya, Jesus.” She let out a huge sigh of relief, feeling nothing short of elated, not concerned in the slightest by the heads that twisted around again.

Hakim stood slack-jawed from the raised platform for a moment, his tallish physique slouching on the pulpit, before adjusting the microphone and clearing his throat deeply. "I'm certainly glad, Sister Alyssa is ... feeling the spirit this morning."

"I am feeling it, Brother Hakim," She shook her head profusely. "I. Am. Feeling it." She shot him a dimpled grin.

Drake snorted loudly, covering his face with one hand and grabbing the side of her dress to pull her back down with the other.

They turned to each other, neither one able to control the snickering and shaking of their bodies. Drake lifted a sleeping Patrick over his shoulder while Alyssa grabbed Audrey's hand; the Walker couple decided they were too immature for church this morning.

They laughed all the way to the parking lot.

"It's never a dull moment with you, baby girl," Drake chuckled, turning over the ignition.

"You know me …” She blew on her nails before rubbing them against her chest. “... just doing the Lord's work." 

--------------

It was customary in Cordonia for families to gather together each week for a big supper after church. 

The Walkers traditionally took turns hosting with Liam and Riley, and Constantine and Regina. This week's meal was at the elder Ryses.

Sitting down at the dining room table, everyone licked their chops, hungry and ready to dig into all the made-from-scratch southern goodness Mrs. Regina had prepared: Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, coleslaw, macaroni and cheese, green beans with hamhock, corn-on-the-cob, deviled eggs, biscuits, sweet tea, and coffee. It was all accompanied by two containers of broccoli salad, Alyssa picked up from the Piggly Wiggly deli after church, and Riley's lopsided carrot cake.

There was always a lot of food, a lot of love, and what would it be in a small town without a little gossip here and there.

"Regina, you've outdone yourself on this meal," Liam raved while placing his five-month-old son in a high chair and fastening the clasps. "If it tastes as good as it smells, we're all in for a big treat."

Everyone agreed as she sat down, Constantine pushing her chair in with a peck to the top of her head. "Thank you, Liam." She looked up at her husband with a sincere smile, rubbing his arm. "Only the best for our family."

She meant every word of that as she and Constantine glanced around the table at all the cheerful faces of the people they loved most — that included Drake and his family. 

Drake's father had been the sheriff for many years before his untimely death, while the younger Walker was a teen. Connie had never met a braver, more hard-working man than Jackson; the now mayor stepped in after that death to be the father figure in Drake's life. Drake was already best friends with Liam, and over time, the family just considered him one of their own. Drake and Alyssa's children referred to them as Mamaw and Papaw Rys.

As everyone settled in and passed the food around the table, the doorbell rang; 7-year-old Ellie -- Liam and Riley's oldest -- jumped up to answer it. With everyone focused on getting their helpings, Riley leaned over and whispered to Alyssa, "Any more scoop on Savannah?"

Alyssa passed the potatoes to her and answered in a hushed tone, "I drove past her house yesterday ... Chuck was there. His big rig was backed right up into the driveway. They're not even trying to hide it anymore."

"I knew it." Riley slapped a scoop of potatoes onto her plate, passing them across to Liam. "When does Bertrand get back from that Bankers Convention in Atlanta?"

"I think Max said on Tuesday. And I guarn-damn-tee, Chuck will be there until then."

"Of course he will. Have you told Drake yet?"

Alyssa shook her head, peeking over at her husband, who was in hog heaven, dousing everything on his plate with white gravy, blissfully unaware of their idle chitchat. She turned back to Riley. "Not yet. You know how protective he is. I'll need to hide the gun cabinet keys when he finds out ... if he finds out. You remember how upset he got when Bianca got caught at the Love's Truck Stop with Landon Ebrim over the summer. His mama can do what she wants, but not with a married man."

Riley agreed with a nod before taking a sip and swallowing her sweet tea. "Ya know, I've never seen sweet Emmaline that angry."

"Yeah, me neither. She sure whopped ass that day." They both giggled lightly. "Landon's dentures flew clean across that truck lot."

"I saw her the other day at the Food Lion, grinnin' like a baked possum. Got that ol' dog for everything he had."

Alyssa huffed, "Cept' his nuts."

Ellie ran back in and hopped in her chair. "Miss Olivia is here!"

Alyssa stiffened, clutching her fork a little tighter before letting out a faint groan. Not that she didn't like the Assistant Principal of Cordonia Elementary -- she was her boss, after all, and they grew up together -- she could just be a little off-putting, sometimes with her treatment of Drake. In light of Olivia's recent divorce, she had, however, started directing most of her scorn on her ex-husband, Anton.

Everyone greeted Olivia as she strolled in behind the youngster, shrugging her jacket off and tossing it on a counter with her purse. "I smelled your chicken and taters all the way from Lythikos Drive, Regina. You know how I love a good rib stickin' meal."

"Is Travis and Waylon here?" Patrick piped up eagerly from the children's table, hoping to have some boys to play with rather than the three little girls who kept ganging up on him.

Olivia pulled out a chair and started loading her plate down. "They're with their daddy this weekend, sugar. I'll tell them you asked about them."

Drake lifted his coffee mug, not making eye contact with anyone. "Speaking of ... I saw Anton yesterday at the Dollar Tree ... with someone." He smirked into his drink. While everyone else knew who and was trying to avoid the elephant in the room, he owed her for years of squabble.

"Who? Madeleine?" Olivia spat, adding heaping spoonfuls of sugar to her already overly sweetened tea. "Bless her rotten heart, he was seeing her before our break up. Moved in with her right after the divorce was final, so I hope she's enjoyed cookin' and cleanin' after my youngins' all weekend, cause she's gonna be doin it a hell of a lot more now that she got herself fired."

Madeleine was a bank teller in the drive-thru at First Cordonia and also Leo's ex-fiancee. 

"Madeleine got fired?" Alyssa asked in surprise. "She's been there for years."

The redhead swirled the sugar around in her tea with a spoon before licking it off and continuing, "Mmm-hmm. Bertrand caught her on video, stuffing her gaudy drawers into the vacuum tubes at the bank and sending them to that bastard when he drove through to make a deposit. He was making deposits alright. Right between her scrawny, cankled ass --"

"Olivia!" Liam quickly interjected, knowing once she got going, it would likely turn R-rated with several little ears listening. "I'm dying to hear how the Christmas Festival for next Saturday is coming along." He shot a look across the table at Drake for getting her worked up. Drake simply grinned.

By late afternoon, supper had been eaten, dishes cleaned, and pants unbuttoned. After a couple of hours of chatting on the back porch and watching the kids play, the two younger couples packed up leftovers Regina insisted they take home and were ready to hit the road. 

Liam and Riley lived next door and walked out with the Walkers who were making their way to the Tahoe parked on the street.

Alyssa bounced and cooed over baby Jacob before handing him back to Riley and getting into the vehicle's passenger seat. 

Liam was leaning into the driver's side window, having a casual discussion with Drake about the opening day of deer season next Saturday and asking what time he wanted to head out.

Alyssa was half-listening and half-working the stereo when an idea popped into her head. "You know what would be fun?” Both men stopped talking and glanced over at her. “We should all go?”

Drake knit his brows. “Go where?

“Hunting. We can make it a double date. You and me, Riley and Liam. The great outdoors. Some quality time together. I’ll even make snacks for everyone. It’ll be fun,” her voice was chipper. She was excited about it. 

She was also deadly serious. 

So were the dubious looks Drake and Liam gave each other over the thought of taking their wives on the most important hunting event of their year. Not that either didn't enjoy spending time with their significant others, but hunting was a whole different world. It was a one-person sport where you spent the day away from reality and responsibilities and just enjoying the great outdoors —a place to be alone and experience the thrill of a good hunt.

“Guys, I’m serious. We go fishing together, and I’ve shot targets plenty of times. I really wanna go hunting with you. Riley wants to go too, don't you?” She cast an inquisitive glance out her window at Riley, who glared back with the biggest what-the-fuck look she'd ever made. “See, she wants to go too.”

“Baby,” Drake began softly, giving her knee light squeezes. “I don’t mind taking you, but this is opening day. We’ll be in the woods for hours, in the cold. It’s not really what someone would consider a ‘date.’ And we’re going to the Festival that night … we’ll get a chance to spend time together there.”

She held his gaze as her lips began to quiver. “I understand. You .. you need time to be away from me, and it was a dumb idea anyway --”

“No,” Drake cut in. His heart plummeted from the sadness in her voice and eyes. “That’s not it at all. I love spending time with you. And if you really want to do this, then … let’s do this.”

“Really? We can go together?” Drake nodded with a smile before she squealed in his ear and pulled him into a tight hug. “I can’t wait! Thank you!”

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Liam let out a heavy breath as he looked over at Riley -- The woman he knew would not be a fun hunting partner next week -- still standing on the sidewalk, appearing like she might faint. “Yeah ... I can’t wait either.”

---------------------

Saturday. 5:15 a.m. The cellphone alarm on Drake’s bedside table let off a series of rhythmic beeping sounds and vibrations. 

The alarm wasn’t needed. The man had been awake for hours, listening to his wife's gentle snores; the anticipation of bringing home at least a 12-pointer keeping him from falling back asleep. 

Letting out a ferocious yawn and a hearty stretch, he picked up his phone to dismiss the alarm and rolled over to wake Alyssa.

With her ass perfectly curled into the space between his stomach and thighs, his hands settled on her curvy hip, jostling her slightly. “Time to get up, my little peach. We gotta get crackin’ before all the good deer are gone.”

“I just need one more hour, okay? Thanks,” she protested with a drowsy murmur, pulling the pillow over her head.

Drake chuckled, rubbing soothing circles over her back. “No. We have to get up now. We’re wasting time, sleepyhead. Unless … you don’t want to go.”

Alyssa’s heavy eyes stung as she tried to peel them open one at a time. “No, I wanna … go ...” she trailed. Her eyes slowly shut again, and she was out.

On a day like today, Drake was usually up and ready in ten minutes. Once he could finally get his wife out of bed, dressed, and back awake again from where she fell asleep on the toilet, it was close to 45 minutes. 

Maxwell, who was also a childhood friend and the music teacher where Alyssa taught, rented the room over their garage. He agreed to come down that morning and watch the kids while the pair spent their morning in the woods. Bianca used to help out in that regard, but the kids complained she slept the whole time, and Alyssa was pretty sure her mother-in-law smoked pot around them.

Drake loaded up the truck, placing his rifle and a smaller .22 caliber for Alyssa behind the seat. Dragging herself slowly to the vehicle, the night sky still pitch black and her breath turning to thick vapors in the frigid air, she listlessly tossed a Taylor Swift tote bag on the floorboard and climbed in.

Drake looked at his phone after everything was packed up to see if Liam had sent a message about being late. It was unusual for him not to be there already. Typically, his best friend was up and at his house before Drake was even ready. He sent off a quick text to check.

Drake: Where you at, man?

Liam: Running late. Riley had to put makeup on and do her hair. 

Liam: I’m having so much fun already 😑

Liam: snark

Drake: Lyss couldn’t decide which gloves looked the best with her orange vest. I guess she wants to impress the deer before she kills them.

Liam: We’re not catching deer today. We’ll be lucky if we catch a cold. Be there in 10.

Twenty minutes later, Liam’s gray Silverado pulled onto the Walker’s gravel drive. Riley had wanted biscuits and gravy from McDonald's, and she had to run back inside to pee, so that set them back. But, with everyone now there, they were finally ready to head out.

Just down the rural road from where Drake and Alyssa lived, the current sheriff of Cordonia, Bastien, owned several acres of unoccupied land that he used for recreation. He had been a close friend of Drake’s dad and agreed to let Drake and Liam hunt and fish on his property whenever they wanted.

Turning onto the dirt road and opening the gate, the four friends arrived at their spot just as dawn was breaking. 

No one spoke much as they trekked through the mud, sticks, and brittle fall leaves that littered the path to the deer stands. Riley and Alyssa were too exhausted to say anything. Drake and Liam just weren’t used to talking at all.

"Riley, love,” Liam whispered softly. “Can you watch how you’re walking? The noise is going to scare the deer away.”

“I can’t help it if … " She reacted loudly in frustration before Liam placed a finger over his lips, and she resumed speaking more quietly. “I can’t help it if there're leaves everywhere. I’m walking on them as delicately as possible.”

“How much further? I think my toes are frozen and I need coffee.” Alyssa bemoaned while walking on the balls of her heels. Drake was basically dragging her sluggish body by the hand. Her eyes were still drooping from exhaustion with every careful step.

“Just over yonder of that fence row is our stand.” He pointed out.

Alyssa aimed her flashlight around the woods in several spots. "And where do we pee at?"

Liam lightly snorted as Drake answered matter-of-factly. "Just over yonder of that fence row below our stand."

"Oh ... " her tone was small and apprehensive, "... I guess that's ... okay." She glanced back timidly at Liam, who was following close behind.

He shielded his eyes from the beam of her flashlight in his face and frowned. "I'm not going to watch you pee, Alyssa."

Riley gasped, "Eww! I don't want Drake watching me pee either." 

"Shhhhh." Liam was quick to remind her again of the volume of her voice.

"Stop, shushing me, Liam! Those deer don't know I'm out here."

Drake grunted, then whipped around to face the three of them. "Would you keep your voices down? No one's watching anybody take a piss," he whisper-yelled. "Lyssa and I will be at least a hundred yards away from ya'll. Riley, I promise you can piss your little heart out, and I won't see it."

"We're separating?" Alyssa asked wistfully. "What if I need to ask Riley something, and she can't hear me yelling across to her?"

"You'll just have to ask her when we're done, baby girl. And ... please don't yell questions to her while we're out here. Low voices."

They continued on with their noisy hike.

"Having so much fun," Liam grumbled to himself.

-------------------

Liam and Riley headed to their tree stand as Drake helped Alyssa climb up the ladder to theirs. 

The stand and ladder were made of plywood -- chipped and faded from years of exposure to the elements -- and were attached at the apex to an oak tree about twenty feet off the ground. At the top it had enough room to take a step onto, with a wooden seat just wide enough to accommodate them. One plank rail came out on both sides. 

Alyssa plopped down onto the seat, clutching her tote bag of goodies on her lap. She lifted the brim of the orange beanie she borrowed from Drake -- that smelled of animal carcass and gun powder -- above her eyes and peered out to the wilderness spread monumentally below. She closed her eyes and slowly inhaled the fresh, dewy air, taking in the sounds of twittering birds, branches clashing from the nearby squirrel frolicking on them, and the rippling of a bubbling brook streaming down the hill. 

A pleasant warmth overcame her as Drake's much larger body sat down next to her and protected her from the frosty wind blowing in from his side.

Alyssa wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling into him. "I can see why you like this so much. It's so quiet and peaceful ... look how purty it is out here, Drake. It's just real purty, isn't it?"

Working diligently on getting their gear together, he stopped briefly to look out; affection glowed in his eyes. “It sure is, darlin’. Almost as purty as you ... and notice I said 'almost.'” He winked, and Alyssa blushed, feeling that same love trickling up inside her she'd had since they were teenagers. Drake could charm the pants off a chipmunk, but she was thankful he only used that gift on her.

"Sooo ... " She drawled in her thick Southern accent. "How long will it be before the deer start coming out?" 

Drake drew the barrel of her gun back after loading it with shells and explained, "Don't know. It could be minutes. It could be a few hours. Just whenever they head this way, I reckon."

Perplexed, Alyssa nodded slowly. "A few hours? I s'pose that's okay. What do you do while you're waiting?"

He shrugged, passing a gun to her. "You just ... sit here."

"You just sit here and do what?"

Drake leaned over to kiss into her orange cap and replied, "Wait."

"Wait." She acknowledged. "I can do that. I'll just sit here ... and wait."

Several minutes had passed, and Alyssa was already bored with listening to nature, Drake's gurgling stomach, and sitting quietly with nothing to do. Every so often, a shotgun blast was heard in the distance, signifying either someone out there had gotten their prize or Riley had driven Liam insane. It was the only break from the monotony that came with the boredom of sitting in a tree for who knew how many hours.

Letting out a giant exhale that caught Drake's attention, she propped her rifle against the railing and pulled the cloth tote that was sitting between her boots into her lap. Rummaging through the bag, she pulled out her phone and began thumbing out a message.

Drake furrowed his brows and asked, "What're you doin'?" 

"Just texting Riley,' she answered dismissively. He shook his head and leaned it back against the tree while she formulated her message.

Alyssa: You still alive over there? How's it going?

Riley: This is boring as shit.

Riley: And now my texting is apparently scaring away the deer. F the deer Liam. F all the damn deer!!!! What were you thinking, Lyss?

Alyssa: I was thinking we could spend quality time with our husbands. The men we love and cherish with all of our hearts. I’m having a great time with Drake so far 😍😘

Alyssa: And no one twisted your arm to come bitch.

Riley: Liam's just staring through binoculars. He hasn’t spoken in 20 minutes except to tell me to point the gun away from him or to quit moving. Let’s go get our hair did at Adelaide's.”

Alyssa: OHHH Yes! And get Chinese food ... CRAB RANGOONS!! I'll have Drake drive us back. Girls Day Out. Love you!

Drake let out a belch and blew it away when Alyssa turned to him with a dazzling smile and a sparkle in her blues. "Can you drive Riley and me back to the house?"

"What? Right now?" he shrieked. She answered him with a cheerful nod. "What happened to all that talk about wanting to spend quality time with me?"

"I still do. But ... we're just sitting here, not really doing anything. I could be getting my hair done for tonight's festival. I also have a ton of laundry to do, some papers to grade, and I’m supposed to be making the Devereaux’s famous peach cobbler for the raffle. If I leave now, I’ll have time to do all of it.” Alyssa knew she probably wouldn’t do half of that, and Audrey would likely make the cobbler, but it made the situation sound more urgent.

"It's opening day, baby. I'm not leaving this spot." He reached into the pocket of his overalls and pulled out his keys. "If you and Riley wanna take my truck, I'll ride back with Liam."

She gave him an exasperated look. "I don't know my way back to the truck. And I sure as hell know Riley doesn't."

He smirked, stuffing his keys back. "Then you're stuck."

The next hour was brutal. Alyssa texted Riley to alleviate the boredom for several minutes, but there had been no responses in a long while. She wasn't aware that Liam tossed her friend's phone over the hill when she started making TikTok videos of her plight -- Liam took his deer hunting seriously: No noise meant no noise.

Drake wasn't much better; he was quieter than his usual self. It wouldn't have been so bad if she could at least talk. An occasional whispered word was not going to cut it.

Alyssa sighed heavily. She wiggled around for comfort. She unwrapped a Nutty Bar. She crunched. She opened a can of pop. She tapped her fingers. She flipped the pages of a magazine. Each one got that look from Drake that let her know it was too loud. If she ever made it out of there, she planned to jabber and stir until she couldn't do it anymore.

After another half-hour of stewing quietly in her thoughts without a sign of a deer anywhere, Alyssa decided now was the time to finally just talk. 

"Do you ever think about having another baby?" It was a topic that had been on her mind for a while. To her surprise, Drake didn't give her a look or even freak out the way she anticipated. Despite his own rule of silence, he even responded in kind.

"Yeah. Kind of a lot."

Her right brow darted up. "Really?" 

Drake took a breath and shifted the gun across his lap. "I mean, of course. It's always been my dream to settle down and have a bunch of youngin's with the woman I love." He studied her lit-up face; he'd swore she'd gotten more beautiful with age. That's why he hesitated when he added, "But ... "

Her shoulders slumped at his words, and a deflated look impressed upon her face. "But ... " The word barely made it past her lips.

Drake reached for her hand and gripped it tightly. "Lyssa, we have so much going on right now. You're working on National Boards, Audrey has piano recitals and basketball, Patrick has peewee football and Boy Scouts. We barely have time -- except for right now -- for just ... us. I'm not saying,"never"... just that right now ... isn't a good time."

"I understand that, but ... we've always made it work. And don't you miss those tiny little fingers wrapped around yours? And the way they smell fresh out of the bath? And those chubby little cheeks pressed up against yours?" she goaded.

“Of course I do. I remember the first time I held Audrey and PJ in my arms -- there’s just no better feeling in the world than ...to look down ... " Drake paused as his voice cracked, and his brown eyes glistened like glass. " ... and to see someone so small ..." When she sniffled, it made it that much harder for him to speak. "... that you created with the woman you've loved since you were 16 years old. But I like who they are now, and watching them grow, and doing things with them ... And, well ... there’s no shit clean up.”

“You obviously haven’t washed Patrick's clothes in a while,” Alyssa retorted with a chuckle that brought out one in her husband.

"I’ll have to talk to him about that." He gazed deeper into her eyes. "But I do love you ... more than all the peaches in Georgia, Lyssa Claire.”

Alyssa smiled.“That’s what you said to me when you promised to marry me when we were teens.”

Drake returned his own smile. “I did. I remember like it was yesterday too. Sitting in your parent’s basement, watching Friends reruns, eating pizza, making out. And hell, it’s still as true today as it was then. Somehow, even more."

Their cold lips parted and joined halfway for a fervent kiss, with Drake's hand meandering around the subtle groove at the junction of her waist. Just as it became more intense and desirous, a rustling of twigs off in a nearby thicket caught Drake's ear, and he broke away, his eyes scoping the perimeter. Alyssa wasn't offended, she heard it too, and her heart raced with excitement.

Lifting the binoculars hanging from his neck, he spotted two deer eating from a blackberry patch some thirty yards away. He pointed in their direction; Alyssa gave a quick thumbs up, letting him know she saw them too.

Drake carefully lifted the rifle resting in his lap as Alyssa leaned forward and squinted to get a better visual. "Is that a buck and a doe?" she whispered, not moving an inch.

"Sure as fuck is." He mounted the stock of his .30 caliber, Winchester, just beneath his collarbone;  the rush of this moment coursed ravenously through his body. He lined up the scope and placed a steady finger on the trigger -- his thumb pulling the hammer back.

“Wait.” Alyssa loudly whispered. “You can’t shoot him.”

"I'm gonna. Better cover your ears."

"No, Drake. There's a doe with him. What if that's his wife? You can't just leave her all alone without him."

"Lyss, this is the whole reason we're out here."

"So you can make a widow out of her?"

"No ... so I can make deer chili out of him."

Alyssa's mouth flew open. "No. No. RUUUUUUUUN! RUUUUUUN!"

Drake pulled his face away from the scope and fired her a look. "What the hell are you doing? They're getting away!"

She tilted her chin boldly. "I don't care. That was her husband, and they're in love, and you can't take that away from them. I would be so sad if we were just out eating berries and someone came up and shot you, ALL SO THEY COULD EAT DRAKE CHILI!". 

Drake dropped his head. He knew there was no point in arguing with her. As long as he’d known her, she was stubborn, and at that moment, she was dead set in believing those two deer were living out the greatest romance of all time. Nothing he said or did would change her mind on that. 

A thought emerged while he attempted to comprehend the logic of the situation. Those deer ran off in the direction where Liam was set up. Maybe if he could give his friend a heads up, it was still possible at least someone would leave those woods with the prized buck.

Turning his back from Alyssa so that she couldn't stop him, he pulled a small walkie-talkie from his pocket and radioed Liam. Alyssa knew what was up and jumped to her feet, thrusting her arms around him in an attempt to stop the travesty.

"You can't do this, Drake," she hollered, "That’s her soulmate. And why don't I have a walkie-talkie? I want a walkie-talkie!"

While seated next to Liam, Riley was swinging her legs, purposefully making the soles of her boots scrape against the platform. Liam tried to ignore her; maybe he had been a little too uptight about every little noise and utterance she made. But this was playing a whole different ballgame now: she was now making it her mission to piss him off.

Prepared to pound his head against the tree, Liam gritted his teeth, skimming his eyes in her direction. "Love, do you have to do that?"

"Did you have to throw my phone in the woods?" She spat back.

Liam rubbed his hand over his face. "No, and I am sorry that. I apologize for all of eternity. I promise I will get you another one as soon as we get back, okay?”

Riley huffed. "Fine, but that phone had all of my contacts on it. It had our babies' pictures and videos on it ... our vacation photos. I can't get those memories back ever, and I have to find it, and God only knows where it landed. It could be ..." She stopped rattling on when she caught sight of the distressed look Liam was giving her. Knitting her brows, Riley asked, "What?"

"Nothing ... just ... can you lower your voice a little? You're gonna scare the deer away," 

He regretted it as soon as it came out. 

“LIAAAAM!”

He saw the steam gushing out of her ears. There was no time to answer the incoming call on his walkie-talkie from Drake.

Belting out a furious screech, Riley jumped up and tried to jerk the gun from his hands. There was no question she wouldn't shoot him, but she'd sure as hell shred his favorite gun apart piece-by-piece and toss them all the way to Portavira Lake on the other side of town.

Riley tugged with all of her might. "I have HAD IT with being quiet for those damn deer, Liam. HAD IT!"

"Sweetheart, you need to calm down ..." He stood up in front of her, pulling back on the rifle even harder, surprised -- and not pleasantly so -- his considerably smaller wife had this much struggle in her.

"Don't you sweetheart me. You have shushed me for the last time, Liam Preston Rys!"

“Okay, I’m sorry! But can you at least admit us fighting over a gun is dangerous? Somebody is going to get seriously hurt, and I don’t want it to be you, Riley. Please. I won’t shush you anymore, I promise.” His face softened, eventually adorning a loving smile at his wife, who, with a sigh, was unable to resist that handsome face and relaxed her grip. 

Riley gave him a half-smile in return. “I’m sorry, too. I’ve ruined your hunting trip.”

“Yes ... you did.” Liam agreed, dodging the playful slap she nearly made to his upper arm. “But I don’t want to fight anymore.”

With the War of the Ryses finally over, they went in for a makeup kiss until Drake’s voice called out to Liam again through his walkie talkie. Liam set the gun down on the bench and leaned it against the tree before he started digging into his pocket to answer the device. Riley dropped down onto the seat, her elbow brushed against the rifle and caused it to slide away until the barrel end hit the railing and set off a powerful blast.

When the ringing in both of their ears subsided, and the smoke had cleared, Liam and Riley collected themselves from the sudden spine-gripping explosion that shook them both. While Riley explained to Liam what happened, a hysterical sounding Drake came back over the walkie-talkie, wailing, “Alyssa’s been shot! Alyssa’s been shot! Help me!”

__________________

Later that evening, in the courthouse square, the street was lit up with zig-zagged rows of red, green, and white lights. Strands of garland were wound around every lamppost in perfect spiraled loops, and red bows hung and waved with the wintry breeze.

With traffic rerouted away from the area, vendors lined sidewalks selling local goods to put the town's citizens in the festive spirit. What would this small town in Georgia have been without boiled peanuts, low country boil, fried green tomatoes, barbecue, and peach everything? 

Once Constantine had lit the 30-foot spruce, surrounded by hundreds of merry people from all walks of life that made up this small community, the festival was officially kicked-off.

In a large tent set up on the square, Liam and Riley laid out styrofoam containers and drinks they’d purchased from a barbeque vendor on one of several picnic tables inside. With their two young daughters munching away on their meal, and the stroller with their sleeping son beside them, they both sat down with heavy hearts and restless minds.

Liam bit into his barbecue sandwich, noticing Riley only prodding at her mac-and-cheese while staring off into the distance. He didn’t have to ask what was wrong; he knew what happened that morning was bothering her with guilt and worry. It wasn’t every day she accidentally shot someone.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Riley shook her head slightly with a sad look. “No. It’s just not the same without Alyssa here. You know how much she loves Christmas and the festival. She was so looking forward to it too, until --”

“You shot her.”

“Yeeeeeesssss,” she cried out. Liam reached across the table and gave her hand a comforting squeeze, his thumb caressing her smooth skin. Riley continued to sniffle as she grabbed a handful of napkins and wiped the barbecue sauce off Liam’s sticky fingers that were now smeared all over hers. “I didn’t mean to, I swear it. And the way … and the way Drake cried. It broke my heart. Now he has her on bed rest AND house arrest. He won’t let her take calls. I’ll never see or hear from my bestie agaaaain.” The tears continued to flow in steady streams.

Liam stiffened, feeling the eyes of everyone in that tent, gawking at his overly-dramatic wife breaking down. He started to tell her to lower her voice, but after the gun battle in the woods, he thought better of it. “Riley, darlin’, you know Drake is really overprotective of Alyssa. And as scary as what happened was, she only needed the one stitch and band-aid for her graze wound. Something tells me Drake won’t be able to keep her down long.”

---------------------------

Liam was right. As much as Drake tried to keep her in bed so he could wait on her hand and foot, protect her from the careless friends of the world who could inadvertently do his baby girl harm, and check to see if she needed a new band-aid every few minutes, he could not keep her down. She had been far too excited to hang out with the people she loved so much and celebrate at one of her favorite festivals.

Maxwell had left for the events with Audrey and Patrick an hour ago; they were part of the children’s caroling group and needed to be there early. Against Drake’s wishes, Alyssa showered, got dressed, and made sure he knew in no uncertain terms would he be able to prevent her from going. The only thing he knew to do was to go, follow her around the entire night, and make sure she wouldn’t get shot again.

They circled the block where everything was held several times, but spaces to park were impossible to find. Three blocks away was the church where they attended, and the parking lot was completely empty. Drake didn’t like the fact that Alyssa would have to walk so far in her debilitated condition and was prepared to haul her piggyback style if he had to, but this was the best spot he could find.

Drake moved the gearshift into park and reached over to grab Alyssa’s arm, who was already bounding out the door. He pulled Alyssa back inside, the chilly air blowing through her open door swept her straighten hair this way and that way. 

She cocked her head to the side and exhaled, “Drake, I can open my own door. I’m not broken. It’s just a scratch. I’m fine.”

“I know.” He smiled that tenderhearted smile only Alyssa had ever seen. The same one sending a shudder through her already chilled body. “I changed my mind,” he replied simply

Alyssa slammed her eyes shut and groaned. “I just told you I was fine --”

“No, no,” He shook his head. “About having another baby. I want to start trying.”

Saddled with curiosity, she slid back into the truck and shut the door. “But, I thought you said we didn’t have time for that --”

“Yeah, I did say that. I still believe it. But … today made me realize that yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today …”

Alyssa’s hand flew to her mouth as she laughed out loud. Drake gave her a confused look before chuckling awkwardly to himself, “What’s so funny?”

She lowered her hand, still laughing. “You got that saying from a quote on a poster in my classroom. You’re the one who hung it up for me.”

The memory dawned on him, and he lowered his head, attempting to cover the guilty grin that spread over it. “Well, hell. Here I was trying to make you think I was all insightful and smart and stuff.”

Alyssa’s hand splayed across his rugged chest as she leaned over to kiss him.“You are very insightful and smart. You know I never settle for anything less than the best.”

“I s’pose.” he said, forking his fingers through his hair. “But … I guess what I wanted to say was … I know that bullet missed you, barely … but what if it hadn’t? What if I’d left those woods without you today? Just like you were afraid that doe might. Time wouldn’t matter anymore. There will NEVER be enough time with you. You’re my life, Alyssa Claire. You’re my lover, my friend, my heart, my confidante, my soul, my everything … my little peach. I want to experience all that life has given me with you as my wife … and forever make time with you.”

“DRAAAKEY!” she bawled, spreading her tiny arms wide around his bulky body. Alyssa drew him into her so hard it nearly crushed the wind right out of his lungs. “I -- love -- you -- so muuuch!” Drake patted her back and kissed into her hair as she sniveled into his shirt. He hated when she cried, but damn if this didn’t feel good to him. Anytime she was happy made him that way too. 

They took a moment to kiss and pet each other a little before Alyssa sat up and asked, “So … when do you want to start trying for a new baby Walker?”

He shrugged. “Whenever you want, baby.”

Alyssa looked through the back window of the truck and scanned the parking lot. She bit her lip and looked back at him impishly. “What about … now?”

Drake’s eyes flew open wide. “In the church parking lot?”

Pursing her lips, she affirmed, “Yes. We’ve done it behind the Piggly Wiggly plenty of times. And let's not forget the ‘Great Ass Blow-out of 2019’ in the Atlanta Convention Center parking garage.”

“I will never forget that.” Drake shook his head as that momentous sexual experience replayed in his mind. “Mmmm, you performed magic that day, woman.”

She raised a brow and coaxed him on, “So? What’dya say?”

Drake took a tentative look around at the dark, empty lot, then back at her. “We’re so going to hell, but I’m in.”

“Eeeeeee,” she squealed, jerking his arm around in excitement. “Try to keep your ass out of the window this time, okay?”

Thirty minutes later, Pastor Hakim pulled into the church parking lot with Mara, the game warden, following behind in her truck. There had been several reports from passerby’s of loud animals howling and screeching behind the church. The stray cat population was out of control in that area, and several cats had burrowed their way inside the church on occasion. 

Hakim parked his car, with Mara pulling in beside him. They both got out simultaneously and listened quietly to see if they could decipher where the commotion was coming from. 

Within seconds, a load moan roared out, followed by several consecutive whimpers that were hard to make out by the duo.

Mara listened intently, then gestured with her flashlight to an area near the back of the lot where clusters of shrubs and dry brush bordered. Hakim ambled behind her, the noise getting closer and closer until the pastor's brow furrowed at the shaking of a nearby truck.

“Damn, teenagers,” he grumbled as they tipped toed discreetly.

Mara crouched down by the truck's tailgate, Hakim bending over while she duck-walked toward the driver's side door.

The game warden turned to the pastor and instructed, “On my three. 1 -- 2 -- 3.” They both jumped up at the same time, flashing the light inside the cab. “HAHA Caught ya! OH MY GOD!”

Alyssa, who was on top of Drake, completely naked except for the band-aid on her left arm, looked up in utter humiliation and shock. She crossed her arms over her chest to cover her breast, feeling like she might faint. Not knowing what to say at that moment to rectify their actions or why those two were still staring inside the truck, Alyssa smiled sheepishly. “I’m still feeling the spirit, Hakim.”

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[ginger-danica-snapps]

Set Our Course by the Stars

Written for Day 6 of The Spring Blossoms and Autumn Leaves event @jonsaseasonalbash 

for the prompt set, spring fever/stars/autumn sadness 

Summary: Sansa had almost given up on being rescued from the hell of King’s Landing by any member of her blood. They were all dead and gone, accept for a bastard brother who had gone to the wall. Sansa has never been so happy as to be wrong about something in her life. Her prince does come and he is the Prince Aemon her father promised her once upon a time when she was a sweet, summer child. 

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30952292

The day that Sansa’s prince rescued her from the dreaded lion’s seemed as normal a day as ever in the beginning. 

She woke early and her handmaids, all loyal, western ladies, helped her to don a dress with heavy silks and loosely tied sashes. They wove her hair into the intricate styles that Cersei Lannister was well known for. Then she took exactly twenty deep breaths, exhaling and inhaling, as she stood before her mirror and prepared her armor that could not be seen. 

Twenty deep breaths is all she allowed herself everyday, except for three times in a week when she was able to go to the Godswood for prayer. She bothered not with the sept. The southern gods abandoned her completely when Joffrey ordered her father’s head chopped from his shoulders. 

Twice she had thought she might find rescue from unlikely sources. The first when Stannis Baratheon attempted to take King’s Landing. He had failed. The second was when rumors of Daenerys Targaryen hatching dragons reached them. Then the notice of her death by the hands of the masters of the city she was sacking and the slaughter of her dragons. One stray arrow from atop a wall took down the mother of dragons. 

Sansa would have probably died in dragon fire if she had survived, but Sansa thought that preferable to being humiliated in the Lannister court and forced to eventually carry a Lannister child. 

Today was one of the days she would first go to the morning session of court. If Joffrey was in a particularly distracted mood, then Sansa would physically be able to acquit herself to the Godswood. 

She knew the chances of her making the Godswood for prayer was unlikely the moment she had walked into the balcony of the throne room. Joffrey immediately noted her presence and it was not long before a lady came to get her. 

“His Grace requests your presence, Sansa,” the girl spoke, only a few years above Sansa’s age, but certainly no one that should have considered it appropriate to call her by name with such familiarity. 

Summoning all her courage and thrusting her feelings, thoughts, and dark wishes behind the cool facade that was Lady Sansa Stark, daughter of a traitor, and willing guest of the crown’s own custody. 

In another life she would have been as Theon in Winterfell, if Cersei Lannister and her hellspawn were anything like her father. Scolding herself for the ill thinking, Sansa plastered a polite smile upon her mouth and curtsied deep before the throne. 

She maintained her stance and waited for permission to rise or for Joffrey to indicate that the Kingsguard should knock her all the way down. 

“Did you hear, Lady Sansa?” that voice mocked from the gilded throne. She imagined the sharp edges of the conquered swords slashing into Joffrey as they said King Maegor had died. She imagined pushing him back onto the blades herself and quickly pushed these thoughts behind her carefully, constructed mask, glad she was still kneeling and had yet to look up. 

“Your grace?” she asked, keeping her voice meek and low. 

“I asked if you had heard, Lady Sansa, of the great news that has reached us?” Joffrey mocked her as he stood from the throne. 

“I have not, Your Grace? Would you please be so kind as to honor me with this great news?” she responded, keeping all inflection out of her voice. What else could he do? Her father was dead, her brother and mother murdered, as well as Rickon and Bran. She had been married to Tyrion Lannister who seemed to think it such a great kindness that he would not take the maidenhood of a barely grown girl. 

What else could he do to her? 

“Your brother...Snow, was it? The bastard of your father? He has left the wall and forgone giving his vow to the night’s watch. My man says that he did not swear, but I don’t think I believe him. I’ve sent word North that anyone who finds him shall win their weight in gold and an empty northern keep for their own if they bring me his head. I shall give it to you as a gift once the dwarf begets a child on you,” Joffrey leaned down and wrapped his hand in her hair and pulled her head back to stare into her eyes as he whispered. 

“Or when I fuck one in to your cold cunt. One moon, traitor’s seed, do I give him to put a babe in your belly. If he does not then I will slip in one night and do the job for him.” 

Sansa made herself shiver as if in fear before responding with a simple, “Yes, your grace.” 

Joffrey sneered at her and turned away to make the climb back to his seat. 

“This traitor is fowling my air. Remove my...aunt...from the court,” he said offhandedly and Sansa stood and made one more quick dip before fleeing. 

Upon making it to the Godswood, Sansa ignored her handmaid's who walked behind her, or the shadowing presence of the Lannister men and went straight into prayer at the base of the tree. She kneeled into the roots and placed her hand upon the bark. 

Please. My mother’s gods have forsaken me and my father’s are all I have left. Wherever Jon is, please keep him safe. I will offer anything, just keep the last of my blood safe. 

Time passed and when she felt the warmth of the setting sun move on her body, she stood and brushed her skirts off. The ladies had long since left her and her guards had changed. She made her way back into the keep and to her quarters with Tyrion. 

Not that he would be inside of them. Tyrion had left two days prior to travel to Casterly Rock and back on his father’s order. Upon entering she started to ring for a maid to help her uncloth, but a shadow shifted behind her changing screen. She opened her mouth to scream, but suddenly a man was in front of her and for a moment in her confusion she thought her father stood there. 

Then her vision cleared and she gasped, “Jon?”

“Sansa,” her lost brother whispered, almost reverently and reached out to cup her cheek and brush her hair back from her face. His eyes followed down and she knew the moment he saw the lashes that peaked out of her dress at her nape and shoulders. Ser Payne had been particularly bad at aiming in the last few moons. 

Jon gently laid a hand upon them and pulled her to his chest, “I’m so sorry, Sansa, that I was unable to be here before now. I...I was at the wall and I learned some things and then I was away looking for allies. I thought there would be time...Robb was winning and my allies were not particularly happy about entering in the war until we had more support.”

Sansa was not sure who Jon could have drummed up as support, but Dorne was a possibility. They had always wondered if Jon was the son of a Dornish noblewoman, even Ashara Dayne for all they said her son had died. 

A noise from outside her doors brought her back to the present and out of her mind’s wondering. 

“We need to go, Sansa,” Jon said as he stepped back from her. 

“Where? The entrance to my room is guarded,” she answered back, fear setting inside of her. 

Jon laughed, “We are not going out the door, sweetling. We are going through the tunnels.”

“Tunnels? What tunnels?” Sansa whispered even as Jon moved to a tapestry that she realized was already displaced. Then he was slipping his fingers between two stones and pulling it out. Suddenly a low grinding noise of rock upon smoothed stone was heard and a doorway appeared. 

Jon held his hand out to her and she grasped tight as he led her forward. Stopping only momentarily to lift a torch that was in a sconce in the dark tunnel. He handed it to her and did some shuffling to close the entrance again. Then he took the torch back and led her forward. 

“Where are we going,” she whispered as they moved quickly and quietly. She was unsure of where else they passed as they climbed downward on a staircase that had to be where the wall widened at the base of the kitchen keep at which the top was her and Tyrion’s quarters. 

Jon pulled her closer as the tunnel narrowed into a long hall. 

“We will be passing into a cavern below the throne room. It is the only room from what my contact has said that the Lannister’s discovered from the Targaryen’s. It’s where Robert Baratheon was convinced to place the dragon heads. Then we will go down another tunnel that will lead us to a small strip of land and water. A boat and an ally with the ability to take us through the bay to a ship waiting for us will be there,” Jon explained and it was now that she realized something odd about his clothes. 

He was wearing black as she would have thought a man of the watch would, but it was not the rough leathers and ruffled fur she’d seen her Uncle where on his trips home from the wall. It was shining in its richness, layered and thick, with red threading throughout. The armor that was beneath his cloak glistened like the blackest metal she had ever seen forged and red rubies adorned something she could not quite make out. 

Reaching forward she brushed the cloak from his chest and her breath caught as the three headed dragon appeared. 

“Jon…” she began hesitantly. 

Jon leaned down and kissed her forehead, before standing and cupping her chin as he spoke, “My father named me Aemon Targaryen and my mother begged my uncle, your father, to protect me from Robert Baratheon. Almost twelve moons ago, Aemon Targaryen, maester at the wall recognized the tone in my voice and the features of my father in my face. He discretely requested a search at the Citadel and two moons later, riders came with documentation of my parents marriage and my birth. Three moons ago, inside the sept on Dragonstone, loyalists gathered and declared me Aemon, first of my name, and King of Westeros. When we sail from King’s Landing, it is only to join with the rest of our allies. We do not have enough to take the bay and the city, but we have enough to block supplies in and out. Our army will eventually surround the city. Now that Tywin Lannister and the majority of his major allies are in residence for the royal wedding, we will never have a better opportunity.” 

Sansa was quiet and easily began to follow him again as the words circled in her mind. Jon had always been kind to her. Kind, brave, strong, and true. Her father’s words came back to her. 

“Sweet one,” her father said gently, “listen to me. When you’re old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who’s worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong. This match with Joffrey was a terrible mistake. That boy is no Prince Aemon, you must believe me.” 

There was a bright light ahead and Sansa watched as Jon drew his sword and pressed Sansa behind him. They stepped slowly into the large, cavernous room that Sansa knew was where her sister had often hid. Arya had talked about the large dragon heads that dominated the room for days after her discovery. 

Beside the largest of them, Varys stood. Sansa tensed up, but Jon gave her hand a squeeze in support. 

“Your Grace, Your Royal Highness, Lord Seaworth is ready. We must be away before the chance that someone realizes the princess is missing,” the master of whisperer’s said and began to lead them through another tunnel. 

Sansa found herself introspective about the idea that she was being referred to as a princess. 

She supposed it meant that Jon recognized Robb as a King. 

“He named me his heir in his will,” Jon said quietly as they climbed wet, oddly spaced stairs, “It took moons to convince the northern lords to follow me after I admitted my heritage. Winterfell has already been secured and returned to the Starks. The House of Bolton has fallen. There are many things that will surprise you in the coming time, but Rickon and Bran survived. Theon lied about their death. I have named Rickon as Lord of Winterfell and Lord Manderly is acting as his regent.” 

Sansa hummed in approval, but thought it odd they accepted Jon, when two sons of Ned Stark were alive. The only way they would have agreed is if Jon had agreed to do something to strengthen their loyalty and suddenly Sansa knew what they had demanded. 

Rhaegar was a fool with his affection, if that is what it was, but he did elevate a Stark daughter to one day be a Queen. The only thing that would assuage the Northern pride and offer them enough stability to be a part of the seven kingdoms was if there was another Stark Queen and this time, one that would beget the heir to the iron throne in the open. 

“Marriage. They have demanded we marry for their cooperation. You agreed?” Sansa hesitantly asked as they stepped from the darker tunnel and into the night air. She watched the conflicted emotions cross his face. 

“Yes, but only if you wished to be my queen. If you do not, then I will take a Northern bride of their choice and you will be the regent of Winterfell until Rickon is of an age to be the warden,” Jon responded simply. 

Someone brave and gentle and strong. 

The words echoed in her mind again as they finally reached a small rowboat with a man aboard. He reached out and helped Sansa into the boat and Jon climbed in after her after a few words with Varys. 

“You will leave in plenty of time to avoid being caught in the siege. Do you understand me, Lord Varys?” Jon was saying quietly as the man tittered and agreed. He walked away as the man began rowing away. 

Jon reached down and began to help. 

Sansa tilted her head and watched him carefully, knowing that her silence was probably not helping Jon’s state of mind. She’d never really given thought to Jon as anything but a person who shared a miniscule amount of blood and caused her mother shame. It was not his fault and she understood that now in way she had been woefully unprepared to do before the summer child of her youth was discarded for the cynical reality of the world. 

Still...Targaryen or not, Jon had always been everything her father desired for her in a match. The only difference being that she had not known of his high birth at childhood and he had supposedly been her brother. 

Cousins, though...cousins could marry. It was highly likely had the war gone another way and the North had stood with Lyanna, then it was likely Sansa would have been betrothed at birth to Jon...Aemon. 

“Do you prefer Aemon now?” she blurted out and couldn’t help the twitch her lips made in an effort to smile when Jon burst out laughing at the first words she decided the share after the shock. 

“Nay. Please just keep to Jon. It’s hard enough remembering to answer to the Lords and Ladies of my allies, nevertheless my...cousin,” Jon finally answered. 

They were quiet for a time as Sansa watched the stars appear and because too shine in the night sky. Using the little knowledge she could remember from her younger years, Sansa found the wolfstar and it made her feel safe for a very small moment. 

As the night stars shined, they made way to a large ship outside of the bay in the darkest part of the night. The hour of the wolf, Sansa thought with an odd sense of satisfaction. Jon reached down and helped haul her up on the deck. Sansa found herself quickly leaning in to her cousin. 

“See there, Sansa?” Jon whispered as he pointed to the wolfstar. She nodded her head. 

“Every night as the stars come out, we make our heading and set our course by the wolfstar. It leads us North and regardless of where we are, it will always take us home and it will always be a part of the north,” he said solemnly. 

Sansa stared up at the sky and then at him again. Standing on her tiptoes, she pressed a kiss to his mouth. A small, fleeting thing, but one that left him staring down at her in surprise and serious. 

She laughed softly, “I thought perhaps it might be alright if I kissed my betrothed, the King.”

She abruptly stopped laughing when he took her lips again, this time in a longer and deeper kiss. He leaned his forehead against hers after releasing her lips. 

“You may kiss me anytime you like, sweetling, but certainly always under the stars,” he whispered to her and Sansa felt her heart swell with something she had thought lost. 

Hope. 

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV: A Synthesis of Aether

#FebHyurary Day 17: Food + Day 18: Music

A/N: So I had too many ideas for yesterday, but knew for today touching on Synnove’s aether synesthesia would work well, and then I said, “DT YOU FOOL YOU CAN COMBINE BOTH DAYS FOR HER AETHER SYNESTHESIA.” And lo: a fic! Mostly dialogue, I haven’t done a dialogue heavy ficlet in a loooong time so I feel a bit rusty, but this was a fun exercise!

RATING: T WORD COUNT: 1455 WARNINGS: None!

---

[Installing SCAEVAN SYSTEMICS operating software.]

[Installation successful, running update cycle.]

[Updates complete. Archive Node Unit 453 now online. Please specify primary user.]

“Synnove Greywolfe.”

[USER: SYNNOVE now registered. How may I assist you today?]

“Please stand by for audio recording.”

[Standing by.]

The node’s lights dimmed from bright grass green to soft seafoam as it partially powered down, its northern and southern hemispheres slowly rotating in opposite directions.

Synnove lowered her hand and glanced over at Rereha. “All right, you can babble now,” the Highlander said.

Rere took her hands off her mouth to tug at her braided pigtails and beamed at her. “Whatcha doing?” she said, in the sing-song tone of someone feeling exceptionally nosy, rocking back on her heels.

Synnove rolled her eyes and set her hands on her hips. “Y’shtola’s working on a compilation of aetheric synesthesic perceptions as a downtime project,” she said. “She asked me if I was willing to contribute, to which I obviously said ‘yes.’ But because I’m not often able to spend much time in Revenant’s Toll that doesn’t devolve into Warrior of Light or Ironworks business—”

“—audio recordings you can send or give her are more convenient.”

“Careful, Rere, or other people will begin realizing you’re smarter than you pretend to be.”

The lalafell gasped. “Madam, you wound me!”

She received a satisfied smirk in reply as Synnove added, “And what better way to create an audio recording than with my new archive node?”

Rere pulled herself up onto Synnove’s desk, sitting on the edge and kicking her feet back and forth as she leaned back to rest on her hands. “Did you liberate it from the Ironworks?”

“I purchased this fair and square, I have a bill of sale from Jessie herself.”

“Nero’s OS?”

“The fact you know that term is vaguely frightening, but the man does have an unparalleled understanding of Allagan technology and if you tell him I said that, I will hang you by your toes from the edge of the Steps of Faith.”

Rere mimed locking her lips.

“Hand me that stack of paper, please.” Synnove pointed to Rere’s right. The lalafell snagged it and dutifully handed it over.

The arcanist shuffled through them, humming tunelessly as she did, before she came across the correct page. “All right,” she said, mostly to herself. “Start with Y’shtola’s list of baseline sensations today and go from there.” Louder now: “Begin recording.”

[Audio recording now live.]

Synnove automatically straightened her spine and rolled down her shoulders in the same way she did before she began a lecture for the fourth-year arcanist students. In a clear, strong voice: “Synnove Greywolfe recording for Y’shtola Rhul on the 18th day of the Second Umbral Moon, 11 Year of the Seventh Astral Era, on the subject of synesthetic perceptions of aether. I personally perceive aether, in addition to visual manifestations, as both taste and sound. Occasionally, one sensation will dominate the other, and certain sounds and tastes aren’t exclusive to one elemental type.

“For this recording, I’ll describe the overall generalities I associate with different elemental aether; variance is high depending on factors such as location or origin, in terms of ambient or crystallized aether, or in the case of spells, if they are being performed correctly or are altered in some capacity.”

“How to spot the catastrophic boom just before the boom becomes catastrophic and it’s too late to do anything about it.”

Synnove sighed. Rere giggled.

“Y’sthola, remind me to recalculate the angle needed to ensure Rere lands in Silvertear if thrown from the highest tower in the Toll.”

“Hey!”

“You’d be fine, Hydaelyn likes you best.”

Rere pouted, lower lip pushed out to the point of exaggeration, which meant she wasn’t actually offended.

“To get back on topic: fire. Fire aether most frequently tastes like hot spices, such as peppers; coffee; red meat, such as buffalo; bitter chocolate; cherries; wine. Sound tends to be uniformly brass instruments such as horns and trumpets; very occasionally it can sound like metal striking metal.

“Earth aether is auditorily simple and gustatorily complex. The sound of earth is always rhythmic and steady, if not outright drumming; the sensation of it echoing follows fairly often, too. Taste runs a huge gamut: savory or sweet seasonings, such as cumin or cinnamon; white meat, such as pork; most vegetables, particularly green or starchy vegetables; certain fruits such as apples and figs; bread; cheeses; stews; whiskeys.”

“I’d call most of those foods ‘homey.’”

Synnove frowned thoughtfully. “That’s a fair assessment,” she said after a moment. “Earth aether tends to ‘taste’ comforting.”

“Does that mean Tyr is the ultimate comfort food?”

“Does that mean you want to go flying out of my office window into the harbor?”

“I’m going to shut up now!”

“See how long that lasts,” Synnove said under her breath while her sister smiled beatifically. “Where was I… Ah, wind.”

The Highlander frowned. “Wind aether is another oddity, taste-wise. Mint tends to present quite frequently, along with sweet chocolate, white grapes, vanilla, white wine, arak, olives, and scallions. Thankfully when it seems to be a combination of flavors, it’s complimentary…” She shook her head. “Sound is similar to flutes, chimes, whistles. Bit stereotypical, honestly.

“Lightning…” Synnove paused, frowning again. “Sound tends to be similar to specific string instruments such as violas and cellos; deeper sounds. Low notes on a piano or harpsichord, sometimes simple humming or vibrations. Taste does not tend to be strong, but most frequently has manifested as berries and/or stonefruits. Alcohols such as gin, palm wine, ouzo, and brandy.”

“That is not the element I’d consider boozy,” Rere said idly. She had lain back on the desk and was staring up at the huge arched ceiling of the tower office, twiddling her thumbs.

Synnove shrugged without further comment, already looking at the next item on the list Krile had transcribed on Y’shtola’s behalf. “Water is what one would think would be boozy but I have legitimately never tasted ‘boozy’ water aether before. Tropical fruits dominate; in terms of savory, as horrifically stereotypical as it is, seafood. But almost never in a way that makes sense, I once found a water cluster in a bluefin tuna’s belly that tasted like Coerthan oyster confit.”

“I remember that, you made the weirdest face.”

“I still can’t find the words to describe just how fucked up that taste versus visual dichotomy was. In any event, water aether also sounds like string instruments, mostly harps, dulcimers, and brighter pianos. Also, a very specific drum… Rere, what’s that staccato-sounding drum the Flames have been using in their parades of late?”

The lalafell picked her head up. “Snare drum?”

“That’s the one. Timpanis on occasion, too. And finally…ice. Sound leans towards woodwind instruments like the clarinet and piccolo, as well as bells. Any bell. Taste…hmm. Slaw, fruits that freezes well, fruit juices, Thavnairian sweet tea—”

“That is not tea, that is an abomination.”

“—some melons, cucumbers, white rum, wintergreen.”

“I still can’t believe you’ve never come across ice aether that tastes like the Bismarck’s root beer float.”

“They introduced it to the menu last year.”

“So?”

Synnove sighed that heavy, gusting sigh everyone who spent longer than thirty minutes with Rereha learned. “Y’shtola, I see a note here about Primordial Light and Dark, but I’ll do that in the next recording along with variations and discrepancies, as first, I need to beat my sister over the head with a grimoire—”

Rereha hopped down from the desk and ran for the office door, shouting BYE Y’SHTOLA I LOVE YOU BEST over her shoulder as she did.

“—and second, I’m hungry and now is a good time to break for lunch. Recording end.”

[End of recording. Is there anything else on which I may provide assistance?]

“No, that will be all for now—ah! Before I forget. Please create new nodal designation of own choice.”

[Clarification requested.]

“Pick a name for yourself.”

[…]

[Accessing imperial Allagan databases for repository of birth certificates. Scanning records.]

[Archive Node Unit 453 rename complete. Archive Node Unit 453 is now Kleio.]

Synnove smiled, pleased. “It’s nice to meet you, Kleio.”

[…Thank you. Database scans are currently inconclusive as relates to instruments in modern usage versus those of Allag. What samples are available to provide edification?]

The Highlander cocked her head, staring at the silver-and-green node for a few long moments, before another smile, this one slow and delighted, crossed her features. “I have a few orchestrion rolls that include solos and chamber music that you could listen to while I have lunch, and I can provide lists of which instruments are used in each piece.”

[That would be satisfactory.]

“Perfect! Let’s get you set up…”

[juniper-tree]

The real flora of fake Zion

Fallout: New Vegas was a formative game for me. It gathered up and solidified a lot of disparate interests I’d had for years: desert life, survival medicine and ethnobotany (what Arcade does), being dumb and causing a ruckus. 

The botany really stuck with me. Still working on the desert life. I am an herbalist but not a botanist (yet—for now I just watch Joey Santore and vibe) but plant IDing is a fun hobby. And nothing’s more fun than looking at 10 year old brown pixels and figuring out what the hell they’re supposed to be. 

Continuing my “video game plants in real life” studies (here / here), and because I can’t stop myself from writing plants into my story, here’s a non-exhaustive list of the flora unique to FNV’s Zion Canyon in Honest Hearts.

Ephedra viridis (Mormon tea)

Mormon tea, as you may surmise from its scientific name, is a main source of ephedra, and it will fuck you up. This is trucker speed. As for its common name, well here’s a long post on some of the evidence for and against the idea that Mormon settlers used this as a coffee substitute. If you would like to imagine Joshua Graham and Daniel’s speed-fueled arguments carrying on into the night, I will certainly not stop you. By all accounts, it has a nice flavor.

(lots more behind cut)

Adiantum capillus-veneris (southern maidenhair fern)

Maidenhair fern clings to rock faces and overhangs in Zion, with no observable soil and sometimes very little water - a xerophyte. It tends to cluster and spread in crevices, as around the opening to Crossroad Cavern above. This fern is pretty prevalent in actual Zion, so it’s nice they included some climbing/vining vegetation to break up all the brown-red rock lumps.

Quercus gambelii (gambel oak)

The gambel oak is indigenous to Zion, and in the game—as well as in life—you’ll see it in various states of coloration: bright green, rust red, golden yellow.  It’s one of two tree species to remain in post-apocalyptic Zion, which is still rather lush and green compared to the surrounding wasteland. I imagine that without significant acorn-eating (and spreading) wildlife, the oaks don’t thrive the way they might, radioactive blight aside.

Datura wrightii (sacred datura)

Boy, they did a nice job rendering the sacred datura plant, didn’t they? Datura wrightii is as presented in-game: highly toxic, known to cause hallucinations and sickness (death, really, if you are not knowledgeable and skilled in indigenous peoples’ practices with it), and grows in individual green clumps in the desert soil. A poisonous little oasis with inviting, pretty white flowers.

I will tell you that seeing sacred datura in person for the first time (in Joshua Tree) gave me that “she is too fond of video games and it has turned her brain” feeling. I wanted to lightly pluck the flowers and have them disappear into my invisible backpack. I did not.

Pinus ponderosa (ponderosa pine)

It took me many go-rounds to decide whether the in-game tree above was ponderosa pine or douglas fir. Something tells me the design was more “generic conifer” and not as true to life as it might be. I’m fairly confident I picked the right one, and anyway, the ponderosa pine is much more interesting. Brachyptera is the subspecies which grows in the Four Corners area. It can grow tall and bushy like the digital ones up there at Ranger Substation Eagle, or it can grow spindly and bent with high elevation and wind.

Did you know ponderosa pines were used to test atom bombs in Nevada? They took a bunch of pines from elsewhere, planted them at Area 5, and then kaboom. The trees largely fell over (video of test). Seems like they could have guessed that.

Artemisia filifolia (old man or sand sagebrush)

The sages in Honest Hearts are very scraggly indeed, sharp, spiky silvery white shrubs without much soft leaf or fuzz, like real ones. They look a bit more like Artemisia cana (silver sagebrush), but perhaps they’ve just become hardened like everybody else in the Wastes. The sand sagebrush has tons of documented uses among the indigenous peoples of the west, including as toilet paper.

Others!

Unlike some of my other investigations into video game plants, because this is set in a real, identifiable place I can touch with my own hands and feet, I don’t have to make real plant analogues from fictional ones. Except in the case of broc flower and xander root. The wiki suggests broc plants resemble Sphaeralcea ambigua, desert globemallows, and while the flowers bear a similarity, I do think this is quite intentionally a fictional plant with fictional properties. As is xander root—essentially, a turnip. Turnips are very good for you.

Of course, there are other plants common to the Mojave Wasteland which I’ve not covered here: Yucca baccata (datil or banana yucca), prickly pear Opuntia cacti (the ones they’ve drawn look kinda like Opuntia polyacantha but Opuntia phaeacantha would be more correct for the region), Agave utahensis (Nevada agave - var. nevadensis wouldn’t be in Zion but var. kaibabensis would so I won’t be picky, and anyway who’s to say how plants spread after 2077).

[the-lady-writes-what]

20. Tenya Iida 

Theme: Vampire, Southern Gothic

Kinks: Outdoor sex, biting (duh), slight blood kink, mild spanking,  mild punishment play, brat calling

All underaged characters are aged up. Tenya is 18+. Don’t come for me unless I send for you.

(The original Master List will change slightly from story to story. I keep adding stuff that I did not put on the original list)

Masterlist

You closed the ornate French doors behind you and stepped out into the night. The evening was sticky with the high humidity, but it was better than the sweltering heat inside. You fanned yourself with a silk fan and wandered into the garden. Cicadas hummed wildly in the trees while crickets chirped in the grass. In the air hung gardenia, wisteria, and homegrown lemongrass. So much better than the cloying, choking smell of cheap perfume, and even cheaper cigar smoke. You were dragged here almost against your will. The only things you liked about the party were the cocktails and the lovely new cocktail dress you got to show off. It was a silk and chiffon dress that wrapped around your body like a second skin. Best of all, it was in your favorite color. 

Here in the deep south of Louisiana, the silk and chiffon were welcomed in the heat. The evening had cooled a great deal since the afternoon when you arrived at this southern palace. If it had been hosted at an actual plantation home, you would have chosen to wear your new favorite dress to a different venue. 

Thankfully, the house was less than fifty years old and was owned by your boss, who liked a certain amount of Americana, odd for someone who was Japanese. But who were you to judge Mr. Toshinori? 

Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to walk into the night all by yourself. If quirks weren't bad enough, add vampires into the mix, and you have a world turned upside down. Before you ask, vampires were never real until someone had the misfortune of having a literal vampire-quirk. It spread by accent when that civilian had gone too long without sating themselves on living blood, they infected another. As it came to be known throughout the world in news and social media, the vampire quirk was passed through bites and the exchange of blood. The victim still kept their original quirks, but now they had to have blood to live, they can't step out into the sun unless the victims wanted serious burns, and they grew pale or gray like death, depending on skin tone.

But the party was too stifling.

Half the guests were strangers to you, friends of Mr. Toshinori. The other half of the guest list included people who just made you feel terrible. They weren't bad people, but they reminded you of a time when you had someone special. Tenya has been missing for two years since the vampire quirk first infected Japan. Though a lot of work had been done to quell the problem, many were still missing. One day he was there, fighting crime and protecting you and the city. The next, he was gone. Vanished. His family and agency didn't know where he'd gone, much to your horror. Two years later, there were more questions than answers.

The fresh air was necessary for you not to lose your mind or get plastered in front of Mr. Toshinori's friends. Tonight felt similar to summer evenings in Japan, so it wasn't out of place. You stepped further away from the house and squinted into the yard. A full moon pierced in between the branches and shed some light. You found a path that led out into an unfenced part of the yard. You weren't sure if Americans were fond of wide open backyards, or if the fancy house was built so far from the nearest neighbors, a fence seemed silly. You glanced over your shoulder, then continued. You didn't mind the grass tickling your legs, but it was the bugs treating you like an all-you-can-eat buffet. You found a pebbled path and took it to avoid all the bugs. Your heels weren't very high at all, so walking down the trail wasn't a significant feat. You circled the property, always making sure that you could still make out parts of the house.

The night grew longer. Sooner rather than later, someone was going to miss you at the party. Your quirk wasn't strong against most people, let alone someone infected with a vampire quirk. You think about going back but only think. The night air is so clear and breathable. You didn't even mind the bug bites and humidity. You made another circle around the house's property before your legs started to hurt. Behind a gardenia bush stood a stone bench perfect for you to rest. You sank down with a sigh. The smell of gardenias was almost too much before a new smell wafted towards you. It was a smooth, masculine cologne. You smelled it before and knew it well.

You sprang to your feet to follow the scent. It led you back around the house where no one in the windows could see you scurry through the bushes. The lights of the house slowly began to disappear the further you traveled. A finely manicured garden gave way to the wilderness. Moonlight and starlight guided you deeper still with frogs croaking around a small moss-covered pond. Moonbeams split between the branches of a weeping willow to outline the shadowed figure sitting at the base of the tree. You stopped in your tracks. Your heart started pounding.

The figure rose to their feet and turned towards you. A summer breeze brushed the leaves out of the way to reveal their full form.

"Y/N?"

Tenya's voice froze the blood in your veins. Tears welled in your eyes at the first intonement of his voice, and you took a cautious step towards him. Your legs shook to the point that you weren't able to stand any longer. Your heel snagged on an upraised root and sent you tumbled over. Tenya's superior speed let him catch you before you landed on the loamy ground.

"Are you alright?" Iida asked.

You balked. Your jaw dropped to the ground.

"Am I okay? Are you okay? What happened? Where have you been?" You had a thousand more questions. Instead, you chose to grab hold of his shirt and bury your face inside his chest.

His arms hesitantly wrapped around you. You breathed in his scent deeply. You missed this smell. Almost as much as you missed the man himself.

"I've missed you so much," you sighed.

"I…I missed you too," said Tenya.

You didn't bother to dry your eyes as you lifted your head to look up at him. Tenya's eyes glowed red in the dark. Gasping, you pulled away slightly. Tenya ground his teeth and turned his eyes away from you. You felt his arms slip away from you even though you still clutched his shirt.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I couldn't stop him. I wasn't trying to apprehend a criminal, but he bit me. I couldn't face my family or you after knowing what I became."

"Then, why are you here?"

"I made arrangements with Toshinori. I only wanted to see you one more time. I wanted to see how you were if you were eating right. If you moved on." Your heart sank. You reached up with both hands and held his face and turned it slowly over to yours.

"Move on? You hoped I moved on?" Your voice cracked at the insult. "All I wanted was to know what happened to you, Tenya. I love you, I don't care what you've turned into! You gave yourself up in the pursuit of justice. You're my hero, Tenya. How could I move on from you?"

You didn't give him a chance to make a rebuttal. You kissed him hard on the lips, licking and biting where you could. You both stumbled to the ground, Tenya being too distracted to stop the fall. You straddled his hips and held his head between your hands. Your tears watered his cheeks as you kissed his lips and each cheek, his eyes, chin, forehead, and both of his ears. You kissed him all over until his face was cherry red.

"Y-Y/N! Calm down, I understand! You, you love me. But there's something you need to know."

You stopped for a moment. More so to catch your breath than because he told you to. You wanted to kiss him all night. His eyes glowed red in the dark. Tenya leaned forward and braced his hands against the moist earth. As he sat up, you felt his hardened member poke between your cheeks. Tenya parted his lips. Two slivery fangs protruded from pinkish gums.

"I've been infected by the vampire quirk, which makes things like this…awkward. You have no idea how many nights I thought about you. Wondering if you would still want me after finding out I was infected. I wanted to go to you and," Tenya swallowed hard. "Do unspeakable things to you."

His face grew redder. The tips of his ears turned bright pink. You stifled yourself to keep from laughing. No matter how adorable you thought his face looked, that didn't make the situation any less severe. You needed to focus on what he was about to say.

"I found myself going to your apartment and thought about how your neck would feel against my new fangs as I thrust inside you. I wondered what you would sound like as I…fucked you and sucked your blood. I was afraid that you would think of me as nothing but a monster."

You reached behind your back, where Tenya's cock stood at attention. You wrapped your hand around him and pumped him through his clothes. This made the man beneath you buck his hips.

"Does this look like I think you're a monster?" You asked slyly.

Tenya grunted as you pumped him harder. You shifted forward a little, so you could unzip his pants pull it out. You couldn't tell whether it was the vampire quirk that made him so big and hard all of a sudden, or your administrative kisses were enough to make him rock hard.

In a flash, you were pinned to the willow tree, shielded from all view except for Tenya's. The wind was knocked out of you that you didn't get the chance to recover. The sounds of tearing fabric reached your ears before you realized that it was Tenya, your sweet Tenya, who was doing the clothes-ripping. Your silk panties were reduced to shreds by the time he was done with them. The seams of your dress were also ripped in his furor to get you to spread open for him. Tenya gave no warning before plunging right in. You moaned at how full you felt, how the veins of his cock rubbed you the right way. You tossed your head back as Tenya slammed his hips into yours. His teeth left indents in your shoulders and the tops of your dress, where it slipped from your shoulders. Tenya's speed and rough treatment made the willow tree shiver along with you.

"You're devious, you know," Tenya growled. "Fucking a vampire in the middle of the woods. You should be punished for having such a lewd mind."

Tenya held your legs wide open and pulled them taut behind his back. Your ankles instinctively crossed each other at the small of his back, and your heels dug into his flesh. Not that Tenya seemed to mind or notice. Tenya held you tight against him until there was no more space between you. In your lust-filled haze, you could no longer tell where you ended and where Tenya began. He pounded your cunt with the ferocity of a starving man at a buffet. You giggled how earlier you thought yourself an all-you-can-eat buffet for mosquitoes, and here you were being served up to someone who likely hadn't had sex for two years.

One of Tenya's broad hands came down against your thigh, turning it bright red with his handprint.

"Laughing…at a time like this, YN?" Tenya grunted with a deep thrust that kissed your cervix. "You should pay attention when you're getting punished."

If this was punishment, then you were going to be a very bad girl for your boyfriend.

"Mhmm, Tenya. Do it again. Fuck me harder, spank me more!"

Tenya slowed only to give you a stern look. His hips never stopped moving, and his cock was still heavily buried in you. He glowered at your sheepish smile.

"Is that how you want to play, little brat?"

You challenged him to a fight you could not win. Still buried deep within your inner walls, Tenya laid you out on the grass, hair and torn chiffon rumbled on the ground. He held your legs up to your chest and demanded that you hold them there. Your shoulders pressed into the dirt, but you didn't mind. Tenya resumed his seat in your warm walls and started stretching you out anew. This new angle was superb for reaching deep inside your cunt and hitting your cervix over and over again. Tenya clawed your body like it was his own toy to play with. Having never before seen this side of Tenya before, you moaned at the rough treatment. Your juices spread all over your lower belly, thighs, and the Tenya's pelvis. Stars danced in front of your eyes as you felt your whole body tighten. Your back arched taught like a bow. Your hands clutched the ground for support as you felt yourself falling. Tenya snapped his hips with enough strength to break your bones. Heavy ropes of cum warmed your walls and lower belly as it spread. You were utterly boneless despite Tenya slowly pumping more into you.

His head leaned down and pressed his lips against your throat. You felt the pinpricks of his fangs jut against your flesh, teasing and threatening at the same time. Slowly, you nodded your head.

Tenya waited for no more. He sank his teeth into as he started his pumping again. His thrusts were slower but harder. Each bone-shattering snap of his hips dragged you back up to that wonderful precipice you'd just fallen over. You moved your hips against him and wrapped your arms behind his neck. Tenya was careful not to take too much or too quickly. He suckled your blood with a strange gentleness that contrasted the harsh thrusting inside your womb. That only changed when he climaxed again, fangs and cock still fully sheathed inside you. You milked him while his mouth laved up the crimson rivulets.

You reached up to cling to his shoulders as Tenya carefully pulled away to avoid hurting you further. The ache in your legs was proof that you had never experienced the like before. However, it was a delicious pain. You vaguely remember Tenya rearranging your clothes and his before picking you up off the ground. You fell asleep in his arms, listening to the hum of cicadas.

[princess-of-riviaa]

Bewitching the Witcher

Summary: You and The Witcher aren’t meant to be together. In fact, the only thing you two should be doing is getting as far away from each other as fast as you can. You shouldn’t. You really fucking shouldn’t. But he’s just too tempting to resist.

Authors note: Alternate universe (?) where women can be Witcher’s too, but all Witcher’s are forbidden from having romantic relationships. Also, I know up to this point i’ve written purely for fictional boys from books, but my Geralt of Rivia feels are consuming me. I’m considering writing for fictional characters from all source, including TV shows and movies, not just books.

Warnings: public sex, swearing, violence, 18+

The life of a Witcher was a lonely one. It was better that way. If you were all you had, then you didn’t have to worry about anything more than monster hunting. You’d been a lone wolf since you could remember and actually preferred it that way.

You spent most of your days traveling through the mountains of Mahakam. There were plenty of werebbubs to kill for gold there, and the iron forges were the best in the land, so you were always upgrading your swords and daggers for the next best thing.

Your life was simple. Until the day Geralt of Rivia came along.

...

You hated him. There wasn’t a single thing you two could agree on. Whether it was as superficial as what to hunt for breakfast or something as big as deciding to take a certain quest to kill whatever monster needed killing that week. Hell, you got along with Jaskier better than you did with Geralt, though that was probably because the bard was too terrified of you to disagree with anything you said.

Geralt, on the other hand... Geralt seemed to have some weird gratification in arguing with you, almost like he got something out of it. Your bickering would almost always turn to screaming matches and you could see a strange little gleam in his eyes every time. And when your valid points would turn to straight up insults, the twitch in the corner of his mouth instantly made your thoughts turn to something a lot more intimate.

You couldn’t understand why Geralt got off on arguing with you, but you couldn’t deny that seeing him turned on had an affect on you. When his eyes went dark, your nipples hardened. When he growled at you in that low voice, you got wet. When his hand wrapped tightly around your wrists seconds before you’d punch him in the face, you imagined how it would feel to have him rip your clothes off and fuck the life out of you.

There was only one problem: witchers were forbidden from lying together. It was something about the magic inside of every Witcher. Something about it coming into contact with itself had lethal effects. That was why most Witchers hunted alone and not in packs. The magic in your veins willed you to keep your lives separate. Befriending other Witchers was frowned upon, but having sex with one was... It wasn’t an option.

So whatever fire you felt when you and Geralt argued would just have to be ignored. That was the best option. For everybody.

...

Your plan to keep your distance from Geralt went to hell the night a berserker came to town. Jaskier, Geralt, and you had just arrived in a southern city in Aedirn. Roach had just been locked up in a stable for the night when two old men came up to Geralt and you. They cried and screamed over the horrors of a wild berserker running rampant throughout the city and nearby towns. With a quick warning for Jaskier to keep himself busy, you and Geralt were off.

The berserker was hiding in the forest on the outskirts of the city. Tracking the wild beast was simple enough, but fighting it was harder. If Geralt had been any weaker, or you any slower, one or both of you could have been hurt. Or worse. But it only took a handful of minutes to behead the beast.

This was your favorite part about hunting: the ecstasy that rushed through once the kill had been made. You caught your breath and took in the sight of Geralt. He stood just feet away, his eyes still pitch black from the potion he’d chugged down on your way here. With the beast’s guts spilled all over him, the black eyes, and his heaving chest struggling to move as he caught his breath, he looked... animalistic. You had no doubt that you looked just as bad.

The sight of him like this always made you doubt your willpower. It was times like this, when you saw The Witcher and not the human Geralt pretended to be in society, when your want for him became desperate and impossible to ignore.

He watched you watching him. His eyes never left your face. You knew he wanted you just as badly right now. You could sense the lust pouring off of him.

You stalked towards him, your eyes never leaving his face, and you basked in the warmth you felt from watching his eyes stay frozen to the sway of your hips, hypnotized.

“You want me.” It wasn’t a question. You didn’t need to ask. You already knew the answer. “Just as badly as I want you.”

His lust was written all over his face, and you were sure the only thing keeping him from ripping your clothes off and fucking you until tomorrow was the fact that he didn’t dare to move a muscle, not even to breathe. Perhaps he thought if he didn’t move then he could talk himself out of pushing you away.

“I want this,” you whispered once the distance between you two was gone.

“I want these off.” Your fingers moved towards his pants and slowly unbuttoned the first clip; your eyes never left his black ones.

You brushed your mouth over his ear and whispered, “I want you growling in my ear as my body writhes beneath you.”

You finally unbuttoned the last clip on his pants, just in time to notice the hard bulge that had barely been concealed beneath them.

You pressed your hand against his cock and began to touch him over his underwear. “I want this hard and throbbing for me.”

He let out a sigh that sounded very much like a moan and you smiled.

You kissed the side of his neck, just below his ear. He growled softly. It was just low enough for you to hear it, but it made your toes curl anyways. “I want your cock inside of me, deep enough so I can feel every inch of you.”

“Y/N.” His low voice was half-warning, half-plea.

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. With your eyes locked, you grabbed his hands and brought them up to clasp your breasts. “I want you to touch every part of me until I come undone.”

The black of his pupils was beginning to fade. The gold color returned, though now you could see the desire in them, clear as the day.

His hands began to move on their own, massaging your breasts over your clothes. You closed your eyes in pleasure as your nipples hardened. You wanted to memorize what this felt like. You never wanted to forget what his hands on your body did to you.

“I want you to mark me as yours,” your murmured, stealing the last of his self-control.

He kissed you before you could even get your entire sentence out. It felt just as you imagined it would. It was a kiss that you felt down to your toes, a kiss so deep and lustful that you couldn’t help but moan into his mouth. He pulled you tighter against him. Your hands moved to his neck, then to his hair, and your fingers tugged at the root of his pale-white locks. He released a groan against your mouth. The sound of him made you even wetter than you already were and you rubbed your thighs together, desperate for any kind of pressure.

Geralt pulled away just enough to look you in the eyes. He searched your face, looking for something. “Y/N--”

“I know.” You brought a hand to the side of his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek, his nose, his bottom lip. You knew what he was going to say. But you didn’t want to hear it anymore. Fuck the dangers of lying with another witcher. You wanted Geralt badly enough to die for him.

And he must have seen that in your eyes, on your face, because he kissed you again. This kiss was different. He didn’t kiss you like he was starved and you were a five-course meal, but rather like he could spend the rest of his life doing just this. That thought alone sent more heat coursing through your body.

You pressed your thighs together again, needing something. He must have sensed your desperation because he nudged your legs apart with his knee. Once you complied, his thigh moved to press against your pussy. That was when you realized how wet you already were. You felt your desire stain your pants and your underwear and begin to drip onto Geralt’s thigh. Your body moved without you telling it to, your hips rocking up and down against the muscles in his leg, and you whimpered.

“Fuck,” he muttered before his mouth trailed down your neck, to your collarbone, and he began untying your shirt.

Your fingers were still wrapped in his hair and you gave an involuntary tug when his mouth met your bare chest. He growled against your skin and you felt him grow hard against you, his cock pressing into your stomach.

“Geralt,” you whimpered. “Please... I need you...” You could take it slow another time. Right now you needed to feel him inside of you.

He seemed to understand what you needed without you having to say a word. In a flash he’d ridden you of your pants and, with his mouth still on your skin, he backed you two up until he hit a tree. You didn’t have a chance to say anything before he had lifted you up by the backs of your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist. He lowered himself to the ground.

Now that you were sitting on his lap you could feel every part of him: the impenetrable strength in his thighs; the thick, hard muscles on his stomach; and the hard, impossibly thick length of his erection pressed against your pussy. You moaned at the pleasure you felt, imagining how much better it would feel to have him inside of you, fucking up into you.

Again, your hips moved of their own accord. You moved back and forth against him, teasing both of you. He let out another growl as his mouth attacked your right breast, kissing and sucking around the nipple until it was erect. He massaged your other breast with his hand, pinching your nipple between his fingers, and the pleasure was so intense that you almost came right then.

You ran your hand over the length of him before lowering his underwear just enough for his cock to spring free. It was bigger than you had thought it would be. You pulled back from Geralt to gawk at the size of it. You’d never seen a man so big before. But then again, you’d never been with a Witcher.

“I need to be inside of you,” he grunted against your mouth as you bent to kiss him again. You needed him inside of you, too.

Rising to your knees, you grabbed his length and moved it along your slick folds.

His fingers dug into your hips, warning you not to tease him right now. The desperate look in his face--the darkness in his eyes and his parted mouth--set you on fire. You couldn’t take anymore teasing, either. So you pressed his tip against your entrance and slowly, oh so slowly, lowered yourself onto him.

The vast size of his cock forced you to both be patient. It took you a long minute before you had adjusted to his size and could fit more of him inside of you. Your walls clenched tightly, painfully, against him and you whimpered into his neck. He brought one hand up to your back, careful not to move his hips as he tried to comfort you.

“Am I hurting you?” He murmured, worry in his voice.

You nodded against his neck and breathed in the scent of him. “Yes. But I like it when you hurt me.”

Once you were finally able to fit all of him, you began rocking your hips in a slow movement. Having him inside of you was better than hunting, better than killing, better than fucking breathing.

Your walls tightened around him as he grasped your hips again, moving you at a pace that pleased him. All you could do was hold onto him as his cock moved inside of you. The world was silent save for his grunts and your whimpers.

“I’m not going to last much longer,” he warned as he picked up the speed yet again.

“Geralt,” you cried into his neck, holding onto his shoulders as you moved together.

Your walls tightened even more around him. He quickened the pace, helping you reach your orgasm.

He found your mouth again and kissed you hard. You moaned into his mouth as you came around his cock. Your vision blurred and all you knew, all you could think was: Geralt. Geralt. Geralt.

You hadn’t realized you’d been screaming his name until you stopped, only for him to cum inside of you a second later. You whimpered as he filled you up with his seed.

Only once he’d put his cock back in his pants were you able to regain control of yourself enough to open your eyes. You stayed there, straddling his lap, as your fingers traced the sharp lines and dips of his face. He closed his eyes, content to let you touch him.

“Nothing’s ever going to satisfy me again,” he mumbled. “Not after that.”

You bent down to kiss him, and with a knot in your stomach that was full of both dread and hope, you knew he was right.

[ursie]

What music do you think Nico would like? Or just any music hcs in general with the squad?

Oooooooo ok ok off the top of my head

Percy : oh you know he’s condescending to everyone about their taste he hates modern music he hates fun. He’s not even if a 40 dad to like the smiths but he is a ramones fan and we have to live with that knowledge. I think the only modern bands he’ll put up w wo complaining is Green Day because of Annabeth and Thalia and he’ll begrudgingly our on the pop stuff for Nico and Hazel because damn it all he does want them to act their age. Also I think he likes rap but he’s overly picky about what’s good rap and what not. He’s just overly pretentious about music as a whole almost takes the fun away

Annabeth : only listens to top 40. Taylor Swift makes her go feral according to her and she thinks Halsey is that deep. She’s also incredibly fond of Green Day but went years hiding it from Percy because she loved fucking w him w the top 40 station

Thalia : ok ok fake punk I’m gonna say it you know Green Day is the hardest thing she listens to. She thinks panic at the d*sco is punk. She stans f*ll our boy, she thinks imagine dr*gons goes hard. You need to live with this because you know it’s true. Percy put on Blondie once and Thalia asked for real rock and roll and Percy hasn’t slept since

Grover : obviously he likes classical music but also I think he just lays down and plays metal and screams also bluegrass

Clarisse : HICK QUEEN, you know she can and will tell you the difference between country and western music. She will explain every sub genre. She doesn’t really listen to music unless she’s feeling a certain way so it’s either her hick workout playlist or her mood gospel playlist no in between also veggie tales for when she watches hedges kid or she was raised hardcore religious and couldn’t listen to music absolutely no middle ground

Leo : I think he loves what his mom listened to but he doesn’t remember who they were so he often finds himself humming parts of songs he’s long forgotten tbh. Also assigned top 40 dude. He also likes grunge but like as a normal guy. Told Percy nirvana was overrated and he wouldn’t talk to him for a week. He’s not super picky a bop is a bop as far as he’s concerned

Piper : alt queen! Indie queen! Doesn’t listen to music by white men and won’t start now (may sneak in some mcr but it’s a guilty guilty guilty pleasure she won’t admit to) really likes grunge. Gets into kpop when it hits the states

Jason : a completely blank slate you give him a cd he’ll say thank you I love it before listening to it and mean it. He can jam to every song he doesn’t realize there’s genres yet. Absolutely vibing

Frank : I think he’d like classical. But also I could see him sneaking some heavy metal when his grandmas out and vibing hard to it. He takes Hazel to hardcore concerts

Hazel : she’s a good southern girl and listens to her roots so you’ve got Jazz, Blues, Zedeco, on top of folk/gospel/country music but also nowadays she’s getting really into heavy metal hard core punk music and the alternative scene

Reyna : not going to pretend I know many Latine artists regrettably I don’t and I should rectify that. But Selena. Also I can see her liking pop as long as they actually are singing ala Demi Lavato instead of Selin$ Gomez yknow? Other than that I think she’s probably actually pretty ambivalent to it she’s never really explored it she likes what people play or doesn’t yknow?

Will : Clarisse but if you were born in the Bible Belt and you were poorer

Nico : absolute king no bad takes completely vibes generally enjoys most music. Doesn’t like too much screaming and it can’t be too loud so he’s more pop punk than pure rage music. Also indie pop, disco, jazz, and a few classic rock peeps to makes Percy shut up (Blondie, Joan Jett, literally just women), in gen if I were to break down his taste I’d say Mcr HELENA that song. Perfect, MIKA, Hozier, Carly Rae Jepsen, Paramore, ABBA, totally became a Stan LOONA dude. Also given his travels I think his music taste would be very diverse and have a lot of small time artists from all over. Despite the bands I listed I think he probably listens to a lot of truly indie/underground/unknown stuff. Also I think he’s probably not super into classical he has a fondest for opera

[foxilayde]

Working on a Poe x Fem!Reader smut fic where you’re both spice runners (I know it’s a controversial topic in the fandom, like- so much so that I don’t think I'll use my regular tag-list) but this is a gift for a friend and I'm really fucking stoked on it: here’s the first 500 words, It’s going to come out on the 17th lmk if you want to be tagged. 

~~~~~

Spice. Not ryll, not polstine, and certainly not fucking gliterstim. Sansana Spice to be more accurate. Highly prized, highly expensive, and highly illegal. A useful crime world currency. Crime. Ha! The word has no meaning in a galaxy where planets are being vaporized and the war doesn’t seem to have a single thing worth fighting for. The so called Republic, who would gladly toss you in a cell for the rest of your life for finding a dusting of Sansana on your flight suit, doesn’t do shit about the slavery and sentient beings abuse that’s been taking place on Kessel for the past 500 standard years. Wonder why that could be. Couldn’t be because the planet-vaporizers and generals of the planet defenders alike are hooked on the stuff. Not hooked, like, medically. Well, sometimes that’s the case. But they’re hooked on the money. Every currency has gotta be backed by something, and credit where credits are due… you can find the Fort Knox of the galaxy on the northern hemisphere of Kessel; with the droids and the slaves with their vibropicks and short life expectancies. 

You’ve seen them. The slaves. Droids and mammalians nearly indistinguishable from one another- cloaked in the red dust of the deep mines. Children. Of every species. Probably born into the shit. You can’t care, you can’t afford to, so you turn a blind eye like everyone else in the galaxy, you get your shipment and get the hell out. You fucking hate Kessel and you’re glad to be on the ship leaving the ugly bubbling rock. You’ve heard the southern hemisphere is nicer. Plantations inhabited by the most intolerable people you could imagine. It does turn your stomach to think about it too much, hence the getting the fuck out of dodge, but even if you stopped, even if you quit, it wouldn’t matter. The boring and drilling won’t end on your account and there’d be a new runner to replace you. So it goes. It’s the lifeblood of the galaxy, Sansana. A tidal force. And some folks want to virtue signal and talk down to you just because you’re riding the wave instead of getting dashed on the rocks. Whatever. They can drown if they like, not your problem.

In short, it doesn’t matter what you do. Bakers, gunmen, artists, and thieves. If you’ve got credits in your pocket- then baby you’ve got blood on your hands. So what? You’ve cut out the middle-man. You’re closer to the root, to the seam; you’re a spice runner. Hell, spending most of your life in a tanker ship dodging the Reps is probably a helluva lot safer than building a life on a planet somewhere, waiting for the day Kylo fucking Ren has another tantrum and decides he wants to blow up your home-world because his daddy left him or whatever the hell that little fucker’s problem is. 

[dustedmagazine]

Listed: Jeffrey Alexander

Jeffrey Alexander is a fixture in a free-wheeling, Grateful Dead-loving, guitar jam underground, a founder of the Iditarod and Black Forest/Black Sea and a sometime member of Jackie O Motherfucker. His Direwolves splice acid folk with a buzzing, humming motoric-ness that edges near Stereolab, but his latest band, the Heavy Lidders, is pure transcendental pleasure. In her review, Jennifer Kelly noted that, “These songs take their time to loosen and relax, pursuing repetitive vamps until the edges melt away and the hard colors swirl into pastels.” Alexander is also a DJ and here he lists some of the music he spins for listeners.

For this Listed, I decided to run down some of the bootlegs and quirky things that I often play on my radio show — hope you dig it. I started doing radio back in college in the 1980s, where I was also the record librarian. The archives at the station opened me up to a myriad of sounds and new zones. Radio for me is like a new mixtape — not knowing what is going to come next… or waiting for the next mic break to try and find out the name of that killer song they played 15 minutes ago. The mystery of it all is still exciting, like remnants of pre-internet music fandom when we searched through record stores, made lists from music magazines and traded tapes. I had a spell as a commercial FM DJ on WRNR in Maryland in the 1990s, but it wasn’t until moving to San Francisco that I started my own program called Pome Pome Tones. PPT currently broadcasts Wednesdays 7-9pm Central fortnightly on www.dunebuggyradio.com. Podcasts are up at www.mixcloud.com/dwlvs.

Fairport Convention — Reno Nevada — April 27, 1968

Recorded live on the French TV program Bouton Rouge. Brooke Sietinsons of The Espers turned me on this this when we were VHS tape trading in 2000 and I’ve been retreating to it every so often for 20 years. This is Fairport at their most delightfully blinding San Francisco ballroom jamming free flight. It’s just so fucking good. I love the crisp dual vocals of Judy Dyble and Ian Matthews, I especially love that they both sit down and look so bored during the guitar jam out. Especially Judy, just like a Donna Jean icy stare. But the jam out is super nice too — modal jazzy freak-outs, some of Richard Thompson’s best ever captured on video. This takes the most boring song from my favorite Richard and Mimi Farina album to incredible new zones. I also tend to play a lot of Ian Matthews’ early 1970s records on my radio show, as well. Such a pure voice and perfect ringwear rock vibes.

The Smiths — How Soon Is Now? (Chopped + Screwed)

The chopped + screwed style coming out of Houston, TX in the late 1990s/early 2000s is so fascinating. Full-on Robitussin-fueled shamanism, it’s like the modern-day version of dub. There are so many examples of this across the spectrum, but this 10-minute chopped version of The Smiths takes the cake — probably because 16-year-old me in 1984 sat on the floor listening to the original version of this over and over again, studying the gatefold. But this version is so much better. Thank you Scobed + Robed.

I’m Still In Love With You (Alton Ellis, Sean Paul)

Althea + Donna’s Uptown Top Ranking is one of my all-time favorite songs, and one of John Peel’s as well. A well-worn Jamaican riddim starting with Alton Ellis in 1967 and made famous again by Marcia Aitken in 1977. DJ Algoriddim has expertly mixed together a boat load of these variations here and it’s a killer 30-minute jam.

Jon Rose – Paganini’s Last Testimony

When things get autumnal each year, I gear up for a spooky edition of my radio show. One of my favorites featured this Jon Rose piece which he originally broadcast on ABC, Australia in 1988. It’s an amazing sinister collage of bible-belt radio bits, demonic violin, and Rose reciting devilish text from Paganini’s own letters. The CD is long out of print but you can hear the entire 57 minutes of this glorious creation on an old episode of Pome Pome Tones here.

10cc — I’m Not In Love 1975 Disco Purrfection Version

12-minute remix version of a favorite song from my early childhood — unbelievably smooth mix by DJ Disco Cat. Read the comments on the YouTube post for the full mix backstory. Purrfect.

Sun Ra Arkestra — at Victoria Theater, San Francisco California — Aug 3, 2013

I’ve been super fortunate to experience the live Arkestra a handful of times, and this set from 2013 simply floored me. They completely consumed that old ratty theater space with their magical floating power.

Dire Wolves — at Festival of Endless Gratitude, Copenhagen Denmark — Sep 13, 2019

Live DWLVS ! Yeah, I play my own music on my radio show all the time, somebody has to. This is a short rough audience clip — the proper audio of the whole set was released on LP by Feeding Tube / Cardinal Fuzz with a fabulous poster.

Flow & Heady by Dire Wolves Just Exactly Perfect Sisters Band

Copenhagen 2019 was the last time I saw these DWLVS bandmates in person, but we have plans to meet up again at the Milwaukee Psych Fest November 19-20, 2021, unless ya all spreadnecks shut it down.

Chuck Brown and The Junkyard Band — at Wilmer’s Park, Brandywine Maryland — Sep 19, 1989

I grew up in Baltimore and spent a lot of time going to punk and hippie shows in DC (old 9:30, DC space) in the 1980s, but Wilmer’s Park in southern MD was totally the place. All-day and night go-go shows, mini festivals with overnight camping, shows from Hot Tuna, Zero, Allmans, Root Boy Slim (!!!) and some of the best BBQ I’ve eaten, oh man. There was a lot of crossover of punk/funk/crunchy scenes back then, I loved it all. I went to a lot of Trouble Funk gigs, but this was the only time I witnessed the legendary Chuck Brown.

Alice Coltrane — at Palace of Culture, Warsaw Poland — Oct 23, 1987

Harp solo during her appearance at the Jazz Jamboree festival in 1987. Perfect, transportive.

Bardo Pond — What Are Their Names?

Probably the greatest band of the last 30 years covering one of my absolute favorite David Crosby songs, what could be better? I curated this Terrastock festival in Providence RI in 2006 and assembled a CD compilation of some of the performers for a micro release on the label I used operate called Secret Eye. The original features Jerry Garcia, Neil Young, Phil Lesh (what an amazing LP!) and this Bardo version somehow channels that essence in a slow fried perfect hash jar tempo.

[cythieus]

Mario/Peach Fic Rough Draft

Tasteful flower arrangements and buffets flanked by smaller round tables had transformed the palace courtyard from a spot for solitary reflection into somewhere guests were entertained. Clustered people engaged in conversation wherever room permitted, though no one had taken a seat yet. A semicircular bar guarded the southern side of the fountain, staffed by three Mushroom people. Servers used the bar as a kind of base, but spent most of their time flitting between guests and tables.

Most in attendance were Mushroom people or humans. There were a trio of Tostarenans noticeable because of their neon colored skull-like heads and short stature and a single Pianta with blue skin, his long nose jutting out from under the tree that grew from the top of his domed head. The ease with which Mario had become used to creatures that had no parallel on Earth was amazing, but everything on this side of the warp pipe was bit jarring.

If only he could get used to the reverent splendor of the Mushroom Kingdom and its Princess.

The kind of parties that Mario knew typically took place in cramped rent controlled apartments or the darkened spaces of Brooklyn bars that might have been built in repurposed alleyways. He never would have dreamed he would attend something hosted by royalty just a few short years ago.

You also didn’t think you would be breathing the same air as or get a kiss from an honest to God Princess, yet here we are.

His suit sleeves felt rigid and unnatural because of how he was holding his drink up near his chest. It had been some time since he last wore a suit and he felt the need to get a new one for this occasion. He considered letting his arm down to his side and pinching his fingers around the rim of the glass, but years of rooting around in muck as a plumber still made him cautious about the idea of touching a drink with his fingers right where he would be putting his mouth. It was different for food, he didn’t understand the strange quirk, but it was something that he didn’t think he would be able to alter anytime soon.

A chime of laughter broke through the monotony of the distant conversation and clanking dishes. Princess Peach stood on the middle landing of the wide grand staircase that led back into the castle with her head tossed back in enthused laugh. While most of the women in attendance styled their hair up in buns pinned in roll at the back of their head Peach wore her blonde hair down. It cascaded off her bare shoulders and down to the middle of her back.

The crown that she usually wore was accented by a ring of pastel flowers that stayed firmly in place even as she looked down at a pair of children. One of them was tugging on her dress and she turned to the side, her laughing turning into a smile as she addressed them. Mario couldn’t tell if she knew these children otherwise. It was hard to judge with Princess Peach—she had a way of making everyone feel welcome.

Peach stepped in close to the kids and sank down into a squat, presumable so she was at eye level with them. The dress she wore today wasn’t something Mario had seen before; a pink off the shoulder dress that has a much flatter, more ruffled skirt than usual and fell to the midway point between her knee and ankle. She rested her slender, pale arms over her lap (no gloves today) as she spoke to the children.

Though she was across the courtyard he could tell by her smile and the way she squinted her eyes until the skin at the sides of her nose crinkled that she was sharing some irreverent, endearing tidbit with the kids.

Mario lifted the cap off of his head, smoothed his hair back, and placed the hat soundly back into place. It would have felt wrong without something up there. The gray newsboy cap wasn’t quite the same, but it offered a kind of comfort.

Better not stare, someone might notice.

He glanced at a waiter passing with a tray propped up on the bulbous pileus of its head. Mario had come to learn that the Mushroom people’s heads and the patterns and spots on them had all kinds of meanings to them both superstitious and founded in hard fact.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caused Mario to glance in the direction that the waiter had headed. Daisy’s orange dress seemed like a flare in the middle of the pastel and floral print of the worn by everyone else at the party. The big floppy orange hat perched atop her hair bounced as she wove her way around obstacles and people in her bid to get to Mario.

Without slowing her pace, she spun, plucked a pair of champagnes from the tray and used the back of hand to push the sunglasses up the bridge of her nose. “I guess it’s sad boy hour over here,” Daisy said before downing one of the champagne flutes.

“Those white trays are for non alcoholic beverages.” Mario kept his eyes forward, not looking at her as he spoke.

Daisy tilted her head down over the glass, letting the liquid empty back into the glass. “This is the worst thing to ever happen to me. And I was kidnapped by fucking aliens once. Is Peaches tying to poison me?” She said as she poured the contents of both flutes into a bush just behind the raised dais where they stood.

“Maybe you could slow down? I can smell vodka on you from here,” Mario said.

“Oh, a bird shit on my dress and I used the vodka to clean it off. I wouldn’t drink that cheap bilge-water they’re serving over there.”

Daisy glanced around as if expecting to see someone. Mario already knew what the next thing out of her mouth was going to be”

“Where’s your sexy brother?”

That hadn’t been how he had thought she would phrase it. “You know how Luigi is about crowds.”

“Right. He’ll eventually turn up.”

Mario nodded.

“Why don’t you stop moping in the corner and go talk to her?”

“And say what?” Mario asked.

“Whatever you normal-types say to each other. She likes you. She claims you’re dating now and here you are hiding from her like one of those little fat ghosts with the nub hands,” Daisy said.

“They’re called Boos. You’ve spent time with several of them over the years; you’ve got one’s number in your cellphone.”

“Know what your problem is?” Daisy asked.

Mario didn’t have time to answer before she leaned in closer to him, the smell of alcohol mixed with floral perfume dominating the air around her.

“You’re hung up in the minutiae of every situation. Go try to put your arm around her while she chats with those children, maybe grab a drink and try to have a little fun? Who knows, maybe she’ll let you turn her guts inside out.“ She said the last part very quickly and before he could cut in or correct her she waved a hand at him.

“—I need to go find something to drink before I have to suck this vodka out of my dress. There is too many boring people out here for me to remain sober.” Daisy rushed off toward the bar in a frantic pace, leaving the glasses resting on the railing behind where she had been standing.

Mario lifted the glass to his lips and drank; the after being clutched in his hand for so long the liquid had warmed considerably, but he found it was often better to have something to take the edge off the things Daisy said.

She wasn’t wrong though.

It was rare that Daisy lied. He wasn’t sure that she had enough shame to know that she should really omit things in most cases. The lies she had told might have just been out of some sense of needing to conceal something for someone else or honest mistakes.

Daisy believed deep down that Mario was right for Peach and that her efforts in talking to him would help. Mario finished his drink and wandered near enough to the bar to exchange his glass for another. For a moment his reflection was visible in one of the decorations on the bar and he noticed his mustache looked a little frazzled. He reached inside of the breast pocket of his coat and plucked out a comb. Careful to tilt it just right to go with the grain of the hair he brushed down and away from his nose in clean, even strokes.

Peach leaned in beside him trying to rest her butt against the bar, but it was obvious that she connected to it with a bit more force than she intended and cause the whole thing to rock. One of the Mushroom People behind the bar grasped it to steady things.

“Oops! My apologies! Sorry, sorry!” Peach went to grab one of the glasses in a bid to keep it from falling over, but she bumped it onto its side instead. “Oh no, I am so sorry—this is my fault.”

A bushy eyebrowed Mushroom Person gave her a deep, close-lipped grin. “It’s fine Your Highness, we’re all used to your little accidents by now.”

Redness crept across the space on either side of Peach’s nose. While he had been admiring her with a kind of starstruck awe from across the room, being this close to her was like staring into the sun. Peach seemed to glow with more than just embarrassment as she pressed a slender hand to one cheek, the blue jeweled ring on her index finger catching the sunlight.

Right, the spill.

Mario tore his eyes away from her and spun to grab for a bar cloth. He pushed in close to Peach where the spill was and mopped it up. “Excuse me, Your Highness. I’ve got that,” he said hurriedly brushing the ice into his hand and depositing it into the glass.

The color in her cheeks faded as she turned to help. She took the glass and sat it behind the bar on the lower shelf before letting out a truncated giggle. Her blonde bangs had were pressed to one side, she seemed to notice at that same moment and used her fingers to fan them back out. She moved a tendril of hair away from her cheek, tucking it back over her ear.

“I haven’t seen you around here before.” She brought the hand that had been up by her ear down to rest against the side of her neck and her bright, blue eyes searched his face before nerves or something else got the best of her and she averted her gaze.

Somehow Peach was both graceful and awkward; he guessed that she fought to compose herself most of the time, but he had seen the woman trip over literally nothing while simply walking around. The only person he could think of less prone to accidents was Luigi.

“Very smooth, Your Highness,” Mario said with a smile. He left bar rag and took the time to remove his hat.

“You’re actually not allowed to call me that,” she said.

“Princess?”

“Uh-uh. It’s Peach, just Peach.” She shook closed her eyes and shook her head.

“Peaches?”

“Daisy only calls me that because when she was a little she had a speech impediment and couldn’t seem to say my name without messing it up. But I will be sure to let her know you’re making fun of her.”

“Don’t put me back in Daisy’s crosshairs…”

“Ha, you’re actually so scared of her! I won’t tell if you do me a favor and walk me around the back gardens.” Peach offered her elbow out to him as she often did when she wanted her to loop his arm through hers.

So he did.

“We hardly got to talk today so I’d—well I think I’d like that,” Mario said. Peach smelled like perfume, some scent that they didn’t seem to have on earth or if they did not one he could place, and sugar and flour from baking earlier.

“We haven’t had time together because you always seem to be as far from as this garden will allow.”

Now Mario was sure that there was some redness in his face. He moved to put his hat back on, hoping it would hide some of the color.

“Toadsworth!” Peach called to her steward.

Toadsworth was an older looked Mushroom Person with brown spots on the cap of his head, unlike most of the others of his race that part of his head was beige. He had a bushy mustache that concealed the bottom half of his face and when he spoke his words were always slightly muffled.

“Yes, Princess?” He said turning, his weight rested partially on a cane at his side.

“Can you watch things here for me? Mario is taking me on a romantic stroll.”

Mario swallowed. How even she shade from his cap’s brim wouldn’t hide the redness in his face. He could feel the heat bubbling up and a shiver shot through him.