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loquaciousferret · 2 years ago

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Heat Waves

Gif: @serenaxpedro

Summary: A heatwave and a broken air conditioning unit in the office leads to tensions running high between you and your partner, Javier Peña. What lengths will you consider going to, seeking relief?

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, no minors etc etc . fingering, unprotected sex, semi-public sex (in an office), maybe more, just please don’t read if you can be sensitive to any kinds of sexual content

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: credit to @tightjeansjavi for the prompt, this was delightful to write hehe

You check the wall thermometer again. The needle is creeping just above 30°. You groan loudly.

For a building full of people whose work visas list them as being employed in “Janitorial Services”, the US Embassy in Medellin had a shockingly poor maintenance and janitorial department.

The air conditioning had broken yesterday, towards the end of the work day. It was bearable because it was already beginning to cool down into the evening, but today, in the mid-day sun, in a July heatwave, it had been too much for most of your colleagues to bear.

Anyone who was able to work from home had scurried off with boxes of files to catch up on paperwork in their air conditioned apartments.

But you and Javi couldn’t move the entire wall of the office where you were mapping out trade routes, connections, linking suspects together and desperately trying to find a pattern that would let you understand where exactly the evidence was that you so desperately needed.

You had probably consumed your body-weight in water. You had already shed as many layers as possible. You had even removed your tights. All that was left was a tight skirt and a blouse that was sticking to your skin all over. Plastered to your lower back, your chest. Nothing was cooling you down.

“Are you evening listening to me?” Javi sighs.

Your gaze snaps up to him, he is watching you with an expression that is more defeated than irritated.

“I’m sorry Jav, can’t think straight. This fucking heat’s making me crazy.” You say sincerely.

“Yeah, you can say that again.” He responds sympathetically.

He wipes sweat from his brow.

“Just… take a break. G’nna go outside to smoke, hopefully catch a breeze.” He mutters.

As he leaves the room, a disturbing thought crosses your mind. The shirt clinging to his broad shoulders and his back muscles flexing as he reaches for the door handle makes you question… Is Javi attractive? Well, obviously, he is, to every other woman in Colombia. But is Javi attractive to you? Not up until now, his personality thoroughly put you off. But the way he looked from behind, even with those patches of sweat staining his shirt… or, maybe, especially with those patches of sweat…

“What the fuck.” You mutter.

This heat really is making you insane. You physically shake your head to try and rid yourself of the thought. Javier fucking Peña. Yeah right.

You return your focus to the document he was attempting to discuss with you before. It was a transcript of an intercepted communication, between two parties who you couldn’t understand a reasonable explanation for them now working together. The whole thing sent your head into a spin trying to piece it together.

You knew you were on the edge of a breakthrough. You could feel it. Javi knew it too, and you were both pushing each other to your limits. He was an excellent partner. His job was the only thing he cared about. That might be the only thing you and Javi had in common. As different as the two of you were, the job was where you found mutual respect, and that was all that mattered.

Heat creeped up your chest and around the back of your neck. It was practically choking, consuming every single sense and causing a layer of impenetrable fog to settle in your mind. Being off your game at a critical point in your investigation was less than optimal.

Javi entered again and you analysed his features. If the heat was affecting him as much as it was you, he was doing a good job at not showing it.

“How are you coping with this? I feel like I’m about to be swallowed by the sun.” You groan exaggeratedly.

“Grew up in Texas.” He shrugs.

“Really?” You say, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes.” He says, meeting your eyes. “Is that surprising?”

“Yeah. I thought Southerners were gentlemen."

“Maybe I am.” He responds, holding a bottle of water to his forehead.

You scoff and then clear your throat. “Anyway, I’m reading this again. I can’t help but think this is a code name for some kind of object or thing, not a person. If it was a person they would have come up before now. There are only so many people that run in these circles, I just don’t think we could have missed someone this important.”

He tilts his head from side to side, considering your suggestion. As he does so, the tendons in his neck protrude and you see how his tanned skin sparkles as it glistens with sweat.

Finally, he responds, “Maybe. But for what? These guys aren’t geniuses. Think we can work out the code?”

“I don’t know.” You say. “Not any further forward on that part.”

You fan yourself with some scrap paper you have folded and concertinaed carefully. You throw your head back in your seat and sigh deeply.

When you sit back up and open your eyes again, you think you find Peña’s gaze trained on your chest, but he quickly looks away.

You feel yourself equally irritated and intrigued by his staring. You had never noticed him look at you like this before.

“Everything OK, Jav?” You say, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah- Yeah. I’m good. Just- Yeah.” His eyes linger on yours for a moment and he runs his hand across his forehead, wiping away beads of sweat.

You both continue to work, but you feel his eyes continually flicking back to you, telling you he is not focussed either.

You feel as though the tension continues to build as you both try and work, and you want to tell yourself it’s not just because of the heat. But you are worried this is one-sided. Even if that would mean you were the only woman in Colombia Javi wasn’t interested in sleeping with.

As the day goes on, painfully slowly, you find yourself more and more distracted by his presence and frustrated with your lack of progress in your investigation.

You curse loudly.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, his gaze intense.

“I’m just… I’m so frustrated, Peña. I don’t know what to do about it.” You sigh.

“I’m sure I know how I could help you deal with it.” He says, with a glint in his eye.

You scowl at him. Now that had to have been intentional flirting.

“I feel like no matter what we do we are always running in circles chasing our own tails. How do they always stay one step ahead of us. Like you said, these guys aren’t geniuses.”

“Hey.” He says, his expression stern. “Don’t talk like that. We’ll get ‘em.”

“Every day that goes on we are losing more. I feel like I’ve already given all of myself and more to this investigation.”

He had closed the distance between you, and placed his hand over yours where you fiddled with your pen on the desk. The touch burned.

“Let me take your mind off it.” He says, something unfamiliar behind his eyes.

You ignore him, and slide the memo on your desk over towards him. “Can you assign someone else to the stakeout tomorrow. We have to be in for the meeting with-“

He cuts you off, grumbling, “You always use work talk to distract guys hitting on you?”

“Hitting on m- Jesus, Peña. The heat makin’ you fuckin’ stupid?” You shoot back.

“Maybe.” He shrugs. But he doesn’t step away from you.

“You believe in shitting where you eat?” You continue.

“Not usually. But I can see how frustrated you are. I’d be a bad partner to let you suffer like this.” He smirked.

You raise an eyebrow at him. You know the answer to your question but you want to hear him say it. “What are you suggesting?”

He leans in closer, “I’m suggesting I help you forget work a while, let me relieve some of your tension. Maybe it’ll force a breakthrough.”

“Yeah right.” You say. You turn to face him, looking for any sign in his dark eyes that he isn’t being serious in his proposition. Any sign of hesitation or doubt. Any sign that it is all some joke. But you don’t find it.

His moustache tickles as he whispers in your ear. His hot breath sends shivers down your spine. “You know you want it. Let me help you.”

You want to say no, but your body betrays you as you find yourself being acted on by what seems like a magnetic force, drawing you closer to him.

You manage to produce one more protest, but it comes out weak, as though you are trying to convince yourself for a reason to say no. “That would be unprofessional.”

“Who’s gonna report us?” He taunts. “You?”

You find yourself shaking your head in response to his question, and he pounces on you, connecting his lips to yours in a desperate kiss.

An oppressive heat continues to suffocate your body, but this one isn’t from the conditions in the office, this is a fire that is coming from within, a burning flame stoked by the attraction and desire that has come over the two of you.

You give in to the feeling of him as his hands roam all over you, unbuttoning your blouse hastily and discarding it. A mixture of excitement and guilt nags at you. This is your partner. This is wrong. And not just any partner, it’s Javier Peña. He has screwed at least half the women in Medellin. This is not how you should be behaving.

But at the same time, you can’t deny the intense chemistry between you in this moment. The way your desperation and hunger perfectly matches his. The way he whispers dirty words in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

His cock is already straining against his tight jeans, and you reach a hand up to palm him through the denim.

He sighs at the feeling and puts his hands on your waist, pulling you up and guiding you to sit on the desk. A strong hand parts your thighs and creeps upwards, pressing against the thin fabric of your panties. You moan into his mouth, and then blush, embarrassed by the affect his touches are having on you so quickly.

He continues to rub gently against the fabric and you reach towards him to release his belt buckle. You fumble with it and he pushes your hands away impatiently and takes it off himself, unzipping his jeans and taking out his erect cock.

He strokes himself a few times and you watch, transfixed, your breathing shallow.

He stops and gathers the hem of your skirt, pushing it up to your hips to release your thighs. He spreads you wide and pushes your underwear to the side, not bothering to remove it as he plunges two fingers inside you.

You gasp and he starts off with an already quick pace, hammering in and out of you and curling them inside you to reach the most pleasurable spots. It doesn’t take long until your legs are shaking, your hands gripping the edge of the desk to steady yourself. You were already sweating from the heat but now you feel as though you are melting, struggling to catch your breath and releasing desperate whines of pleasure.

His thumb reaches up to rub your clit and you moan, “Javii-”

“You like that, huh?”

He attaches his lips to your neck, sucking lightly before moving down to the valley between your collarbones, licking up beads of salty sweat that have gathered there. He moans into your skin and the sound goes right through you, you twitch and start to feel an orgasm rising inside you.

“You gonna come for me before I even fuck you, huh?” He taunts, “More desperate than I thought.”

You ignore his cocky commentary and focus on the feeling of his hands on you. You can’t deny he is skilled and knows exactly the right pace and rhythm to bring you your release quickly.

The pressure on your clit increases and he rubs faster circles around it. Tension builds in your stomach.

“Don’t stop.” You gasp out.

His other hand has reached back to stroke his cock roughly, and he lets out small sounds of pleasure into your ear. You didn’t expect him to be this vocal but it turns you on.

Your pleasure is reaching its peak and he senses it too, toying with your clit unrelentingly as you writhe on the desk beneath him, the cool surface doing nothing to calm the heat inside you. Your legs tense up as your orgasm washes over you, you lose your stability and fall backwards atop the papers and documents strewn across the desk. Your back arches and his movements don’t slow down, unashamed cries of pleasure streaming from you as you ride out your orgasm.

He shifts slightly and there isn’t a moment of rest until he removes his fingers and replaces them with his hard cock. He plunges deep inside you on the first thrust, the hairs at the base of his cock rubbing against your clit, almost driving you to overstimulation with your orgasm barely subsided.

He sets a punishing pace with his haps, snapping against you hard and fast, your cunt greedily clenching and tightening around him every single time he buries himself inside you.

“Feel so good. Don’t know why I waited this long.” He mutters.

You whine, unable to form a coherent response. One of his hands is squeezing at your chest and the other is gripping your hip, pulling you down on him harder to intensify the force of every single thrust.

He is everything you thought he would be, hungry and passionate and clearly practiced in the art of both giving and taking pleasure.

Your sounds echo around the room. Neither of you worry about this, knowing the office was nearly empty. Even then, your desire for him clouds your mind so far to the extent that you don’t think you would mind being caught anyway. It was worth the risk.

He takes both of your legs and manoeuvres you, bending them and lifting them up so they lazily rest against his shoulders. Thank god for yoga, you think.

The new position tightens you up and somehow allows him even deeper access. You moan shamelessly and he grunts with every single thrust. His pace is unrelenting and you feel him becoming more and more forceful with each one, chasing his climax.

“Can I come inside you?” He asks through gritted teeth.

You are unable to form words, you nod, your mouth hanging open but no sounds come out other than strangled gasps.

“Fuckkk.” He grunts, turned on even more at the prospect of filling you up and it sends him over the edge.

He spills into you, your name thrown in amongst the curses he mutters as he comes. He keeps a tight hold of you as he steadies his breathing.

Moments after he releases inside you, you feel the relief he had been promising. You close your eyes and let out a deep, contented sigh.

And then, suddenly, they fly open again.

“Move!” You almost yell, pushing his chest away from you.

“Move. I’ve got it.” He pulls himself away from you and you leap up, pulling your skirt back down. You grab a pen and begin scribbling frantic notes over the transcript.

“I’ve got it.” You repeat.

“Worked even better than I imagined.” He teased, smirking as he buttoned his jeans and re-fastened his belt before coming to join you and see the revelation you had come to.

“Good to know.” He adds, “Nice tactic for the future.”

You roll your eyes at him and thrust the paper towards him with satisfaction. He might be right, it might have been the sex that did the trick, but you would never admit it.

More Javier Peña oneshots:

Over and Done With | Partners | All Work, No Play | Little Games

#javier pena smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fanfic #javier pena x reader #javier pena x f!reader #narcos smut #narcos fanfiction #agent pena #javier pena #narcos fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction

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jo-harrington · 11 months ago

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Disaster Preparedness (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Maybe it's time to put a name to whatever it is you and Eddie are...but not without some misunderstandings first.

Previous Part: Peak Sales Hours

Warnings/Themes: AU where the Upside Down doesn't terrorize Hawkins. Reader works at the Claire's at StarCourt. Eddie works at TapeWorld. Angst, Jealousy, Fluff, and a series of unfortunate misunderstandings with a sweet ending.

Note: A day late, but what can you do. This was sort of always a pre-planned part of the Store Manager Verse (and actually set at Christmas Time at StarCourt) but a very special prompt made me switch it up. So without further ado @allthingsjoeq and @bettyfrommars please consider this collection of Holiday shenanigans inspired by I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus my take on Prompt 14 from your Holiday Prompt Party:

You can tell that the mall Santa is a babe under that beard, and you decide to get closer to investigate.

With a little twist...

You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager and all of my other writing.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

The holiday season wasn't Eddie's favorite, per se.

Just like Thanksgiving, it was a time to make do. Couldn't really celebrate when you were reminded of the things you'd lost or didn't have in the first place.

Still it had its high points. Cookies were great, having a little extra cash between Wayne's holiday pay and bonus and the handful of parties he'd be able to deal at, and let it be known that...Eddie Munson was a sucker for snow and always wished for a White Christmas.

And for his friends? Eddie would always muster up the Holiday Spirit and Christmas Cheer. A special one-off campaign for Hellfire, a potluck dinner with Corroded Coffin, and handmade gifts that he spent way too much time on.

This year...working at StarCourt brought its own spin on Holiday cheer and it was a little annoying.

If he hadn't worked the closing shift on the 30th, and seen all of the overnight workers and maintenance vehicles that rolled out of the service corridors as he walked out, Eddie would have thought that it was magic that transformed StarCourt Mall into a true Winter Wonderland come December 1st.

Because it was night and day.

Lights were strung around every store entrance, wreaths and garland hung every 50 feet from the ceiling, soap snow fell down from special blowers in the vents onto the food court, and the space in front of Montgomery Ward suddenly contained a special gift-wrapping destination.

And suddenly the mall muzak had a festive flair to it.

It was honestly kind of sickening.

He wasn't a scrooge or anything, it was just overwhelming and appeared all at once. And after how overwhelming Black Friday had been, how was anyone supposed to cope with the bright lights, large crowds, and repetitive music? He intentionally started turning the shop radio to a higher volume to drown out the bells jingling and carols mingling for the next few shifts after the decorations appeared.

"It's Holidazzle," you told him as he leaned against the entryway to your store--"the conversion Eddie, for God's sake!"--and watched you hang a special banner in the window, featuring the Gift of Piercing and cartoon bears ice skating around a tree.

"It's overkill," he argued.

"It's Mall Life." You climbed down from your ladder and surveyed your work with a critical eye. "You get used to the big everything that is Christmas and just deal with it, and then, come January, it all dies. We're decorating today, and next week we start wearing reindeer antlers on the sales floor. It just is what it is. Gotta get the customers into the festive spirit so they buy more before it all tapers out.

"Surprised Kyle isn't already wearing like...a Santa hat and a cheesy sweater with ornaments hanging off it or something."

And Eddie wasn't sure if you were somehow clairvoyant or just knew his boss well enough, but that's exactly what Kyle wore to his next shift and, indeed, every shift for the remainder of December.

Santa hats in every color--and he'd bought hats for everyone else in the store--and if there wasn't a Santa hat, there was tinsel in his hair. A piece of glittery garland strung around his neck and a mug full of cocoa constantly present in his hand, even when he was on the sales floor. And, somehow, a different cheesy holiday sweater on every single shift he had.

Where did he even get them?

"Listen," he clapped a hand on Eddie's shoulder and shoved a candy cane in his hand. "I know you're Mr. Non-Conformity, but in this instance, you just gotta go with the flow. No one wants to give their money to the Grinch. But Jolly Old Saint Kyle? He's who they're trusting for their Christmas Gifts. You catch me?"

---

So Eddie tried.

He did. He tried.

For all of 3 days.

He wore the hat, he played the game, he did his spiel about gift certificates and BOGO, and he didn't even get a treat at the end of his shifts because you worked the opposite schedule from him. With school and all it was hard...

He just wanted to kiss you. Was that too much to ask for? It wouldn't be the most romantic place but he figured that he could set out some mistletoe by the baler and trick you into a festive smooch when you took the cardboard out. He could do that now, except he couldn't.

...but Wednesday night you'd both be closing. You'd swapped shifts with Mindy two weeks in a row so you could go to his show last week and she could go to her kids' Christmas Recital at the elementary school this week.

He definitely planned to make his move and get his reward. And give you a little reward of your own, seeing how hard you'd been working too. He wondered if this might be the chance to officially ask you to be his girl. Everyone had already made the assumption the two of you had been dating for months...why not put a name to it? And then he could take you out on a real date.

What could possibly go wrong?

Famous last words.

With a few minutes until his fifteen, anticipation building...Mike and Dustin ran into Tape World, looking out of breath and nervous.

Eddie was finishing up a special order for a customer when he saw them out of the corner of his eye. Little assholes, lurking by the door. Mitch had tried to walk up to them and give them the spiel but they waved him off.

"We're here for Eddie."

Great. This better not be about one of them missing Hellfire on Friday.

"What do you want?" he huffed, trying to be a little patient with them since it was the holidays after all. He picked on them enough at school. "It’s busy tonight."

"Well," Dustin shifted. "We were coming to see the new Ewoks movie--" Eddie snorted and grinned at them fondly. "--and we were just killing some time, when we passed by Mom's store."

Eddie couldn't help the bark of laughter he let out with that one. He told the guys to cut it out, this...continuation of calling you Mom since Halloween.

"You guys gotta stop calling her that," he scoffed. "Steve Harrington's your Mom. Get that straight."

"Well then Mom is upstairs right now flirting with not Mom," Mike sassed, hands on his hips.

Now that gave Eddie pause. Harrington? Upstairs with you?

Flirting?

“Kissing.”

Kissing?!

"What?" Eddie's voice broke a little as he reacted. He chuckled to try and alleviate some of his own nerves. "Isn't Harrington dating someone? Pretty sure I've seen him running around with that cashier from KB Toys."

"Well it was Wicks'n'Sticks."

"But we think they broke up!" Mike piped up. "Because Steve quit Scoops last week."

"Which means we need to pay full price for movie tickets again," Dustin nodded.

"But Nancy said that Robin told her…that he got a job at Santa's Workshop," Mike thumbed over his shoulder. "And we just saw Santa upstairs with Mom and she was wiping strawberry lipgloss out of his beard."

The first thought in Eddie’s head was that you didn’t wear strawberry lipgloss.

The next was that you didn’t wear strawberry lipgloss when you kissed him. What if you wore it for Steve?

No, that was ridiculous.

But unless Santa’s Workshop was operating as a functioning kissing booth and Harrington was looking for a quick and easy fix for a bunch of housewives smooching him after their kids asked for a new bike or Hot Wheels racetrack or Tina the Talking Tabby doll…there was no explanation.

Which, alright, Eddie wouldn’t normally consider himself a jealous person. An envious person. Yeah, he might have seen a little green at the edges of his vision when the kids fawned over Steve Harrington time and again, but ever since he was brought down a few pegs—humbled—he didn’t seem like the same old douchebag from Hawkins High that he used to be.

Eddie might even say Steve was kind of alright.

But you were his girlfriend…or something…

And the jealousy and possessiveness he often mocked others for over the years, as he watched meathead jocks tighten their arms around their girlfriends shoulders as he simply walked past, suddenly overcame him.

“Mitch I’m taking my fifteen!” He called towards the back of the store and strutted out of Tape World, all while Mike and Dustin called after him, fully intending to get to the bottom of this obvious misunderstanding.

---

He planned to ask you about Harrington the moment you opened the door to the loading dock, hauling the dolly of cardboard boxes behind you.

A simple "hey sweetheart, how was your day, anyone named Kris Kringle come to bother you?" and he would have had his answer and all of his doubt would have been alleviated once and for all.

Except that as soon as you appeared--with your disheveled hair and makeup, your slumped shoulders, and your groan of weariness--your eyes got brighter and you melted at the sight of him. So happy to see him, so relieved.

Then he melted.

"God, what a night," you groaned and let the dock door slam behind you. You abandoned your cardboard and walked right into his arms where he was standing by the baler; your arms wrapped around his waist and your face nuzzled into his flannel, just the way he constantly craved. "Some lady wanted an individual gift receipt for every single item she bought. Then Chrissy almost messed up this kid's piercing. Thank God I stopped her as soon as I saw."

"Oh yeah?"

"And then I swear I'm like...I just have one of those faces where everyone comes and complains to me as they're shopping. I have to hear about everyone's life story or their relationship issues, especially this one guy..."

Eddie's ears practically perked up at that.

"This one guy?" he urged you to continue, on the edge of his proverbial seat.

"I dunno," you sighed tiredly. "Not the first time he's come to me for advice. He's a nice guy and he means well, but it just seems I'm always the one. And I'm happy to help just...not during Q4, you know? He needs to figure out how to talk to his ex on his own. And not just...come in looking for extra glossy strawberry lip gloss thinking he's gonna kiss his way back into their good graces."

Extra glossy strawberry lip gloss.

Eddie wondered if he was pushing his luck if he were to ask if this nice guy was dressed in a Santa suit.

Still his heart soared nonetheless. He should have known that it was nothing to worry about, that those little shits just put two and two together to make five, and that mom wasn't actually kissing Santa Claus.

It was just a misunderstanding.

"How was your night?" you backed away from him slightly to look into his eyes. "I feel like I haven't seen you in days."

It was like a weight on his chest had been lifted, as he stared into your sparkling eyes.

"Same old, same old," he chuckled away the doubt. "Probably worse because no one knows what they want to give as gifts for Christmas and they're not listening to me."

"How dare they not take the advice of the great God of Music!" you feigned outrage.

"Gonna give me an inflated ego, sweetheart."

"You mean you don't already have one?" you teased.

Whatever fleeting bits of doubt remained disappeared as his fingers found your sides and he tickled you as punishment for the jab. Even more so as you grabbed his face and kissed him to get him to stop.

---

You'd spent the remainder of your break on Wednesday night softly kissing on the loading dock. You held hands as he walked you back to your store. Then once the mall was closed, you continued the kissing against the side of his van in the employee lot as the rest of the cars disappeared one by one.

With one last kiss goodbye, you agreed to Christmas movies and cocoa at his place on Sunday.

But as he sauntered into the mall on Sunday morning, twirling his lanyard on his finger as he headed to Tape World, Eddie swore that the universe was mocking him--

Or it was just that trademark Munson Bad Luck.

--because with a quick glance up towards your store, he saw you, holding the gate up with one arm, talking and laughing with someone conspicuously dressed in a Santa suit.

Well, he couldn't really see the holly jolly bastard that was up there making you smile, but just a quick glimpse of red velvet and white fur and all of his doubt was back.

The two of you still hadn't put a label on your relationship yet. He'd wondered the other night as he drove home if it was a little juvenile to want to call you his girlfriend. Was it too high school? What did a real life, grown up boyfriend do? He only had TV shows to go by and he figured you'd laugh if he tried to give you his '84 class ring that was stashed in his sock drawer. In fact, he was sure of it.

But how was he supposed to get past the visceral need to be your boyfriend when you were up there being wooed into potentially becoming the new Mrs. Claus yourself?

By Santa Harrington no less.

The doubt was back with a vengeance.

Kyle--decked in red onesie pajamas, butt flap and all--clocked his woes as soon as he walked into the store.

"Don't tell me she broke up with you," he guessed as he counted up the registers for the day. "I know it's not the end of the world, but you guys barely got started. What the hell did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" Eddie answered honestly as he restocked the front display.

"Hmmm, actually come to think of it, that might be exactly the point."

"I don't think we were ever together, if I'm being honest."

"Dumbass," Kyle chuckled under his breath. Eddie, exasperated and just needing someone to commiserate with, explained the whole thing to his boss, who simply ate it up like a gossiping housewife and then laughed louder. "No seriously, you're a dumbass. This is the Mall at Christmas, dude. You're gonna start going cross eyed if you're looking around every corner for a suspicious Santa Claus flirting with your girl.

"Why don't you save yourself some heartache and just talk to her. You know, like you should have been doing this whole time? So, one time only because you're my buddy, I'm letting you take an extra break so you can go up there and talk to her."

And Eddie knew Kyle was right: it was all about communication.

Communication, or the lack thereof, was how the two of you had gotten this far, right? You'd known each other since May? June? And had only figured out that there was some mutual attraction in...what? September if Eddie was going to be honest with himself. Two weeks ago if he wasn't.

Lack of communication, caused by self doubt and fear, cost him...months...of getting to kiss you and hold your hand. And while he cherished the time spent being your friend, he was always gonna wish he had all that time being more.

So no, he shouldn't let it draw out much longer.

---

Unfortunately, he really was a dumbass.

So instead of taking advantage of it being so early in the day that there were practically no customers in the mall to go upstairs and clear things up with you and maybe ask you out on a real date...

Eddie booked it across the mall to Santa's Workshop.

There he stood, wasting his extra break in line with the handful of proactive parents coming in early to get their family pictures with the Big Man himself.

"What's on your wish list this year?" A little boy in a tiny navy suit tugged on the leg of his jeans and asked him.

"Uh..." He was at a loss when it came to kids and his hands wrung around his lanyard. But he couldn't just leave the little guy hanging. "A new amp...and maybe a Skeletor action figure."

The boy's eyes got wide and blabbered on about his desired Castle Greyskull while his mom ran a comb through his hair.

"Eddie?"

Eddie froze and his attention shifted from the kid, up and up green velvet clad legs then torso, to a familiar cherubic face and tousled curls covered by a pointy hat.

"Gareth?" he chuckled, staring incredulously at his friend dressed as one of Santa's Helpers. "...what is this? I didn't know you..." his eyes slid down to the little boy, then back to his friend. "...were an elf."

"I was trying to keep it under the radar," he shrugged and gestured down to his costume. "Especially since they have me dressed like this. Uh....anyway, why are you in line for Santa?"

"Uhh..." Eddie scratched the back of his neck then folded his arms across his chest. "Gotta get my wishlist in before all the good gifts are taken."

Gareth narrowed his eyes in suspicion and Eddie hoped that he would just chalk it up as another one of the million things he'd seen Eddie do over the years of their friendship.

"Can I keep the picture?" Gareth finally asked mischievously. "Or was Wayne planning on sending out a special card this year?"

"Nah man," Eddie nodded, grateful not to have to answer any more...invasive questions. "It's all yours."

"Nice." Gareth held his fist out for Eddie to bump and then let the family ahead of Eddie in to see Santa.

Which meant he was next.

Now, Eddie wasn't big on confrontation, so unless he was actively thwarting bullies and deterring them from picking on his friends, he wasn't the type to pick a fight. He also wasn't the type to have a calm and rational discussion and get to the bottom of a problem either.

So this was new territory for him.

What would he say?

What could he say?

"Now listen here Harrington," he muttered. "You...she...I..."

He ran a hand over his face and shook his head.

"I heard you're having some relationship issues," he tried again. "But you can't keep sniffing around my girl. My girl? Ugh...but what if she isn't."

There were a few flashes of a camera and by that time, Gareth was back to lead him to his execution.

"Alright, young man," he snickered. "Are you ready to meet Santa?"

"Shut up," Eddie shoved him and stalked along the carpet into the little photo area.

He was too preoccupied with the task at hand, too consumed with thoughts of you laughing with Steve Harrington and exactly what he was gonna say, that he didn't notice that it wasn't Steve under the beard and hat until he plopped himself directly on Santa's lap.

Santa groaned as Eddie settled himself and threw an arm over his shoulders.

"Aren't you a little too old for this Munson?" Santa deadpanned. "Or is this one of your little Hellfire pranks."

Eddie froze at the familiar voice, as years of hearing that grumbling gritty tone at Benny's and the police station and around town flashed through his memory.

"Hop?" he whispered in horror.

"Who were you expecting?" Hopper grunted.

"Why are you Santa?"

"...don't tell me you thought Santa Claus was real, kid?"

"No, I just--" Eddie stammered, looking for the right words. "I...Why?"

"I'm doing this to surprise Jane," he explained in exasperation. "Buddy of mine runs Santa's workshop and Joyce said she'd bring the kids to the mall today, maybe get a picture. So I pulled some strings. I don't know what to get her for Christmas; she's keeping her wish list under wraps."

It all started making sense for Eddie. Jane was friends with Dustin and the others so he'd seen her around Hawkins High, even though she wasn't interested in DnD. She was a good kid, if a little shy. Of course Hop was doing this for his adopted daughter, wanting to give her a perfect Christmas.

"But you...were up at Claire's earlier?" Eddie narrowed his eyes, the reason for him being there still eluding explanation.

"Because that's Jane's favorite store. I swear I'm single handedly keeping them in business with the number of earrings and scrunchies I buy every week. The manager promised she'd keep an eye out if Jane and Joyce popped in today, let me know everything Janie was looking at if this ended up being a bust."

Hopper shot Eddie a pointed glare and Eddie, correctly, looked ashamed of himself.

"Alright, less talking," the elf at the camera rolled their eyes and waved for Hop and Eddie to scoot closer. "More smiling. Say jingle!"

There was a flash and a polaroid was shoved into Eddie's hand as Hopper shooed him away.

---

"What is this?" you pulled away from Eddie's soft, warm lips as your hands felt something foreign in his back pocket.

The Year Without Santa Claus wasn't the most romantic Christmas movie, but Eddie was feeling a certain type of resentment when he had chosen the movies at Family Video, and it was mostly going ignored in favor of cuddling and kissing and sweet words.

Until your hands worked their way downward to pull Eddie's weight further into you, and you found--

"Did you go take a picture with Santa?" you giggled as you inspected the Polaroid. Eddie groaned and rested his head on your shoulder. "Can I keep this?"

"Believe it or not," he sighed, "Gareth already has dibs."

"May I ask why?"

"Because he likes to ruin my life. Pretty sure he's gonna take it to Fox Photos and get it made into t-shirts."

"No, why did you go take a picture with Santa silly," you shoved him. "It's really sweet."

He turned to look up into your eyes, to get the courage to just...tell you how silly he was being...to ask you out for fuck's sake...but the way you looked at him, the softness of your gaze, the way you reached out and pushed his bangs out of his eyes...he didn't want to ruin it all.

"I promised I was getting into the holiday spirit didn't I?" he shrugged pathetically. "Couldn't let the opportunity pass without getting photo evidence."

You stared fondly at the picture for another moment and then pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"It's perfect."

---

After Eddie had chickened out, you planned your get-togethers for the rest of December.

Or rather, the lack of them.

With finals coming up and the semester coming, and then mall hours getting later and later the closer to Christmas it got, the opportunities to hang out became sparse.

The best the two of you could unfortunately--or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it--come up with was Christmas Eve.

You'd fight off those final last-minute holiday shoppers, and come 6pm when the mall closed, you'd both be off to Benny's for the special pot roast dinner that he put up for anyone who didn't have family to go to, or didn't want to go see the family they had.

With Rick out making the rounds, and Wayne scheduled for that sweet time-and-a-half holiday double most years, Eddie usually ended up at Benny's anyway.

This year, with you, it would be perfect.

He just had to get through the next few weeks without a hiccup.

The universe, once again, decided to test him.

Mock him.

It was almost comedic at this point.

Santa was everywhere.

Of course, he would be, it was Christmastime but...everywhere in relation to you.

Thankfully, it wasn't Harrington he needed to worry about.

However, that meant it wasn't just Santa he needed to worry about.

It was all of the mall Santas.

Hop had shown his face in the red suit and beard once or twice more and scared the life out of him. Especially when Eddie walked smack into him on the way to drop an Orange Julius for you on the night you closed.

The church's community choir had spent one Saturday afternoon caroling by the Sears, all dressed as Santa Claus. As the two of you made your rounds window-shopping and chatting on your break, one of the Santas grabbed you and spun you around in a circle during a jazzy rendition of The 12 Days of Christmas where you, apparently, were the true love bestowing the many gifts.

How Eddie let a bunch of Santas serenade you before he got a chance to, he would never know. Nor would he let himself live it down.

And then one awful day, he found you sitting at your usual table in the food court with a charismatic older man in a Santa suit--sans hat or beard. The man sat in Eddie's usual seat and leaned quite close, making you look entirely uncomfortable; he couldn't help puff up his chest to ward off the intruder by the time he reached the table.

"This is Henry," you introduced as politely as you could. "He's gonna be the manager at the new Spencer's store when it opens in January."

"Figured I would do the neighborly thing and just say hi," he chuckled and looked down at his attire. "Oh? This? Figured that this would be a great way to do something nice for the community in the mean time."

"That's great," Eddie sniffed judgmentally, getting a weird feeling about this Henry. "Nice to meet you. You're in my spot though."

"Eddie!" Your eyes went wide and you bit your lip to stifle your laughter.

"Hey, nope, totally get it," Henry held his hands up and stood from the seat. "Those lunch breaks are short, especially when you want to spend them with friends and not a stranger like me. Nice to meet you guys. See you around."

Eddie dropped into his seat and you waited until Henry was well out of earshot to scold him.

"That was not nice."

"I'm not nice," Eddie grumbled. "He was looking at you weird, like he wanted to steal your soul or something. Did you not get creepy stalker murderer from him?"

"No, I totally did," you nodded. "He was like...dead behind the eyes. I know, that's awful to say. Anyway, are you feeling soft pretzels and cheese because I--"

"Are you a Santa magnet or something?" Eddie interrupted you and you looked like a deer in the headlights.

"What?" you giggled. "What do you mean?"

"I dunno," he shrugged. "Seems like they're just always around."

"It's Christmas, Eddie," you frowned in confusion. "Even I have a little Santa dress that I'm gonna wear to work. Everyone's just in the spirit."

"Yeah well..."

"I thought you were trying to get in the spirit too," you reminded him and then reached over and plucked at the fair isle sweater Kyle had gotten the whole TapeWorld team so they could match for a group picture. "Exhibit A, Mr. Grinch."

"I am trying," he whined. "It's just hard to be extra jolly when someone's always sniffing around your girl."

"Am I your girl?" you asked. You were obviously teasing him, but still...Eddie froze. "You haven't asked me if I want to be yet."

Everything inside of him was on red alert at that moment.

Evasive maneuvers? No, that was a bad idea. All power to the forward shields, which were holding but weakened. He didn't have enough firepower for this.

"No..." he replied awkwardly. "I haven't."

The way your expression dropped broke him, and he knew he had fucked up.

---

"I'm disowning you," Kyle shook his head in disappointment by the time Eddie got back from lunch. "In fact. We all are."

"Jesus Christ," Eddie groaned.

"Mitch! Paulie! Eddie's disowned."

"You can't fire him, he's closing tonight," Paulie argued.

"Not fired," Kyle pointed across the store with authority. "Disowned. And such a shame; Edward Tapeworldington, first of his name...you shall never be king."

Eddie stewed in the laughter of his coworkers.

"Why don't you ever listen to me?" Kyle threw an arm around his shoulder. "You could have asked her out right then and there. Been like 'hey you wanna be my girlfriend?' And it would have been like...the happiest day of your life. Hell, happiest day of my life. Cuz then I wouldn't have to hear you bitch about it all the time."

"Didn't know I complained that much," Eddie muttered self-consciously.

"All the time," one of the other guys chuckled.

"It's not complaining," Kyle corrected. "It's just that...we want you to be happy. As cliche as this sounds, we're like a family right? Hey, psst, all of you? Savor it, you're only gonna hear me say it once.

"If one of us is miserable, we're all miserable," he continued. "And you've been kind of a miserable piece of shit for a while, Ed. I'm sure your buddies would tell you the same thing. Lovesick puppy act's only gonna get you so much sympathy until you're the one getting in your own way."

Eddie felt his stomach turn because getting in his own way really did hit the nail on the head.

He thought about it for an eternity--really only 30 seconds--went about asking himself what had held him up for all this time. Fear of rejection obviously but even he started to think that some of the things that had gotten him so caught up were just...excuses.

Even now that he knew you liked him just the way he liked you, they were just excuses.

"So why can't I just...say something?" he finally asked.

Kyle clapped his hand down on Eddie's shoulder twice and then turned so he could head out for his own break.

"Only you can answer that question kid."

---

"Hey do you wanna go out sometime? Ugh."

So he practiced.

"So remember how we're supposed to go to Benny's for Christmas Eve? No."

For days he practiced.

"You know how the first time we went out for pizza I mentioned it wasn't a date? Well this one is. No god, you're an idiot."

Through the rest of the semester, during band practice, he even almost flubbed the lyrics at the gig at the Hideout on the Tuesday before Christmas. There were only so many days left until your dinner together at Benny's and he really wanted it to be your first official date.

But if Eddie was gonna fix this, if he was gonna ask you out, he needed to get it right.

"Hey sweetheart." He muttered as he counted down Paulie's register at the start of his closing shift. "I know I really flubbed it last time we talked but I really like you and I want to know if you'd be my girlfriend.

"We've already kissed enough for it," he added at the end and then winced.

"How about you just lose that last bit," Paulie offered beside him and signed a few receipts. "And then it's perfect."

"Yeah?" Eddie asked hopefully. "Alright. Cool. Great."

He would do it after work tonight.

"Edddiiiiieeee!!!" a screeching voice called from inside the mall and Eddie and Paulie both watched as a Santa with flailing arms ran into TapeWorld. "Eddie man, I really need a favor. I need to use your bathroom."

"What the f--Gareth?" Eddie looked around the store to make sure he wasn't just hallucinating. Gareth was already shedding the hat and the fake beard and unbuckling the wide belt from around his waist. "What the hell are you doing here? Why are you Santa? I thought you were an elf?"

"There's no time to explain," Gareth panted. "But there's a line through the food court to use the bathroom and I couldn't wait, so you either need to let me into your back room or I'm gonna exorcise a demon right here on your sales floor man. Please."

"Ugh," Eddie wrinkled his nose and pointed towards the stockroom. "Yeah, sure whatever. Gross."

"I owe you one," Gareth tossed the fluffy jacket of his costume over the counter at Eddie and then ran into the stockroom. Hopefully just in time.

"So glad I'm cleaning the bathrooms tomorrow night," Paulie scrunched his nose in disgust. "Alright, you and Mitch need anything before I go?"

Eddie was about to say no, was about to send Paulie on his way.

But then he looked down at the coat and got an idea.

An awful idea.

Eddie Munson got a wonderful, awful idea.

"Actually, now that you mention it," Eddie grinned and shrugged the coat on, then the belt, and as he glanced up at Paulie, his coworker groaned, clearly able to read Eddie's mind.

"I thought we agreed no more gimmicks," Paulie exclaimed. "You're just gonna go up and talk to her."

"Yeah," Eddie nodded. "I, Santa Claus, am gonna go up and talk to her. I'm not even gonna take my full break, just five minutes, and then you can leave."

"This isn't gonna work man."

"None of my plans ever do," Eddie shrugged and pulled Paulie into a big hug. "But if it does, I owe you my whole life."

And off he went, across the mall, and up the escalator. He adjusted the coat and the hat and then remembered that he forgot the beard on the counter.

No matter, of course; he really didn't want to get fake beard in his mouth when he planted one on you.

There was practically a line out the door by the time he got to your store. He was able to see you through the window, on the register checking one customer out after another.

You were in the zone, but you didn't look stressed. You smiled a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes, but every so often Mindy would crack a joke beside you and it did.

"This actually might be the worst idea," he muttered to himself.

But it was too late.

It was now or never.

You were gonna kill him.

Some of the younger kids in the store started muttering in excitement when they spotted him, only for their parents to say "that's not the real Santa" and "Santa doesn't wear ripped jeans" but you were oblivious until he was standing right beside you at the counter.

"Excuse me," he took a breath and lowered his voice like he would during Hellfire. "I heard there was something special on your wish list this year, young lady."

"Sorry sir," you answered without a thought. "I'll be with you in a second."

"You can't even take a second to help jolly old Saint Nicholas?"

You turned your head, obviously about to tell him off as you schooled your features into something plastic and robotic and customer friendly, until you realized it was him. Then something visibly short-circuited in your brain and he smiled brightly.

"I'd like to apologize to all the boys and girls shopping tonight," he announced to the customers theatrically. "But I have very important Christmas business with our dear Store Manager here. It'll only take a minute."

He was surprised when a few of them started laughing and clapping.

"Alright Santa," you finally composed yourself to answer, arms crossing over your chest in annoyance. "What official Christmas business can I help you with?"

"Well, I was reading over the wishlist that you sent up to the North Pole," he explained. "I don't have it with me, you see. Had to leave it down in the workshop so the rest of the elves could work on the scrunchies and the lipgloss you wanted."

"Uh huh."

"And the new windshield wipers that you refuse to let Santa replace."

You rolled your eyes and waved your hand to get him to go on.

"But there was one thing on the list that...maybe it's these tired old eyes--"

"Old?" you giggled and reached out to tug on his curls. "Your hair isn't even white Santa."

A bunch of nearby kids boo'd.

"Clock's ticking," you whispered. "Get on with it, or I'm gonna have to kick you out Ed."

"--maybe these tired old eyes weren't able to read. See I thought it just said friend. But my trusty elves Kyle and Paulie and Mitch assure me it says boyfriend."

Mindy cooed an awww from beside you and Eddie felt his confidence grow.

"So, Miss Store Manager," Eddie held his hand out to you. "Which one is it? Because I happen to have some high quality...boyfriend material that I can use to make your wish come true. Is that what you'd truly like this Christmas?"

Mindy immediately slammed a hand onto your shoulder and squealed, and although your lips were clamped shut and nose was scrunched, Eddie was sure that you were holding back a smile.

It was the longest 30 seconds of his life.

"Yes, actually," you finally responded. "That's exactly what I want for Christmas Santa."

Eddie's heart surely grew 3 sizes in that very moment as a bunch of customers clapped. And he was eagerly about to jump forward and plant a kiss right on your lips when your hand slammed against his chest to hold him back.

You laughed and your eyes sparkled with promise as you pointed to the door, a silent understanding that you'd continue this conversation later. But for now?

"Get out of my store!"

---

Eddie found you leaning against the side of his van when he clocked out. Your car was parked beside his, running idle, as you waited. The radio softly played the Nutcracker Suite and you hummed along to it.

"Alright," he began when he got close enough. "I know that what I did was a big no-no, but I think everyone was in good spirits about it."

"You're lucky they were," you glared at him in--what he hoped was-- fake annoyance. "I really would hate it if my DM got a call complaining about that. Then I'd have to break up with you before we were actually even together."

"I wouldn't blame you," he winced and then looked down at his feet. "So...do you wanna go out sometime?"

"Like a date?"

"Yeah," he glanced up at you and then back down at his feet. He shuffled them back and forth. "Dinner at Benny's on the 24th? How does that sound."

"Ugh, I dunno," you sing-songed and took a few steps to close the distance between you. You grabbed the lapels of his jacket and shook him a few times.

"Wh-what are you doing?" he questioned as you lifted his hair and turned his head back and forth.

"I'm looking to see if this was the quality boyfriend material that Santa just promised me a few hours ago."

"Hey now," he grabbed your hands in his. "I most certainly am. We've just...been friends for so long. I didn't know if..."

"I do," you answered before he could finish.

"But what if I..."

"You aren't."

"I was gonna say 'what if I fart under the blankets while we're cuddling.'" He deadpanned. "See, this is why it's important not to make assumptions."

"Alright, Fartmeister," you challenged him. "If you want to Dutch Oven your girlfriend, I guess I can't fight you. But don't be shocked when I do the same thing to you eventually."

"That's all I want from a girlfriend," he said. "A strong sense of retaliation and justice."

"Alright then."

"Alright." He shook your hand like you were making some kind of deal. "Christmas Eve at Benny's for our first date."

"Sounds perfect," you agreed.

"Good."

You launched yourself in his arms and pressed your lips to his and he swore, probably for the first time in his life, he believed in the spirit of Christmas.

---

Next Chapter: Standard Operating Procedures 1.06

#promptparty #Eddie munson x reader #store manager verse #eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #Eddie munson #christmas fic

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lovinglyysubmissive · 10 days ago

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Ways a wife can contribute to a happy, Christ-centered marriage by nurturing love, respect, and joyful service to her husband:

1. Pray together and individually

• Pray for your husband’s needs, spiritual growth, and guidance. Pray together regularly, inviting God into every aspect of your marriage.

2. Communicate with Love and Respect

• Share openly and kindly, and listen with empathy. Respect his thoughts and opinions, honoring his role as a leader in the home.

3. Prepare His Lunch or Favorite Meals

• Pack a nutritious lunch for him to take to work or surprise him with his favorite dinner. This simple act shows care and appreciation.

4. Maintain a Clean and Peaceful Home

• Create a relaxing environment by keeping the home tidy and welcoming. Organize spaces that matter to him, like his favorite chair or workspace.

5. Encourage and Uplift Him

• Speak words of encouragement, recognize his strengths, and affirm his leadership. Avoid criticism, and let your words be a source of strength and comfort.

6. Show Physical Affection and Care

• Express love through small gestures, a gentle touch, or quality time. Physical closeness helps strengthen your emotional connection.

7. Practice Patience and Forgiveness

• Be quick to forgive mistakes and approach disagreements with patience and grace. Reflect Christ’s love by prioritizing unity over proving a point.

8. Welcome Him Home Warmly

• Greet him warmly, showing excitement to see him. This simple gesture helps set a peaceful and positive tone for his evening.

9. Support His Work and Hobbies

• Show interest in his work or hobbies, offering encouragement and helping when you can. Your support reinforces his value to you.

10. Align with His Vision and Decisions

• Seek to understand and support his vision for the family, discussing decisions in a way that respects his role as head of the household.

11. Run Errands or Handle Tasks He Dislikes

• Take on errands or tasks he dislikes, such as grocery shopping or car maintenance, to lighten his load and show you’re thinking of him.

12. Cultivate a Cheerful Heart and Gratitude

• Approach marriage with joy and gratitude for your partnership. Let thankfulness be evident in your actions and attitude.

13. Be Intentional in Physical Affection

• Give hugs, a kiss on the cheek, or a back rub after a long day to make him feel valued and appreciated. Regular lovemaking is also recommended!

14. Model Christ’s Love and Kindness

• Be a daily example of Christ’s love through kindness, patience, and compassion. Build him up with gentle words and actions.

15. Stay Rooted in God’s Word Together

• Study the Bible together to grow spiritually and strengthen your marriage. When both partners are aligned with God’s Word, you share a foundation for love and purpose.

16. Take Care of Household Chores Thoughtfully

• Handle regular household tasks that he appreciates, like laundry, dishes, or organizing, to create a peaceful and comfortable home environment.

17. Celebrate His Accomplishments

• Acknowledge his achievements, big or small, and celebrate them together. This helps him feel seen and appreciated.

18. Encourage His Relationship with God

• Pray for him and encourage his spiritual growth. This support strengthens both his faith and your bond.

19. Express Appreciation Through Notes or Texts

• Leave thoughtful notes in his lunch or send an encouraging text during the day. Simple reminders of love brighten his day.

20. Plan Date Nights and Special Moments

• Plan date nights or small surprises, even at home, to keep the romance alive and show your commitment to nurturing your relationship.

21. Cook Meals that Support His Health

• Prepare healthy, balanced meals that align with his dietary needs or preferences, showing care for his well-being.

22. Offer to Pray for His Specific Needs

• Ask if there’s anything specific you can pray for and take time each day to lift those needs up.

23. Be Available for Quality Time

• Dedicate time to him free from distractions. Whether it’s watching a show, taking a walk, or just listening, be present and engaged.

By serving, supporting, and loving your husband in these ways, you’ll contribute to a marriage that reflects Christ’s love and builds a joyful, nurturing partnership. 🌷

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amalgamasreal · 2 years ago

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So I don't know how people on this app feel about the shit-house that is TikTok but in the US right now the ban they're trying to implement on it is a complete red herring and it needs to be stopped.

They are quite literally trying to implement Patriot Act 2.0 with the RESTRICT Act and using TikTok and China to scare the American public into buying into it wholesale when this shit will change the face of the internet. Here are some excerpts from what the bill would cover on the Infrastructure side:

SEC. 5. Considerations.

(a) Priority information and communications technology areas.—In carrying out sections 3 and 4, the Secretary shall prioritize evaluation of— (1) information and communications technology products or services used by a party to a covered transaction in a sector designated as critical infrastructure in Policy Directive 21 (February 12, 2013; relating to critical infrastructure security and resilience);

(2) software, hardware, or any other product or service integral to telecommunications products and services, including— (A) wireless local area networks;

(B) mobile networks;

(D) satellite operations and control;

(E) cable access points;

(F) wireline access points;

(G) core networking systems;

(H) long-, short-, and back-haul networks; or

(I) edge computer platforms;

(3) any software, hardware, or any other product or service integral to data hosting or computing service that uses, processes, or retains, or is expected to use, process, or retain, sensitive personal data with respect to greater than 1,000,000 persons in the United States at any point during the year period preceding the date on which the covered transaction is referred to the Secretary for review or the Secretary initiates review of the covered transaction, including— (A) internet hosting services;

(B) cloud-based or distributed computing and data storage;

(C) machine learning, predictive analytics, and data science products and services, including those involving the provision of services to assist a party utilize, manage, or maintain open-source software;

(D) managed services; and

(E) content delivery services;

(4) internet- or network-enabled sensors, webcams, end-point surveillance or monitoring devices, modems and home networking devices if greater than 1,000,000 units have been sold to persons in the United States at any point during the year period preceding the date on which the covered transaction is referred to the Secretary for review or the Secretary initiates review of the covered transaction;

(5) unmanned vehicles, including drones and other aerials systems, autonomous or semi-autonomous vehicles, or any other product or service integral to the provision, maintenance, or management of such products or services;

(6) software designed or used primarily for connecting with and communicating via the internet that is in use by greater than 1,000,000 persons in the United States at any point during the year period preceding the date on which the covered transaction is referred to the Secretary for review or the Secretary initiates review of the covered transaction, including— (A) desktop applications;

(B) mobile applications;

(D) payment applications; or

(E) web-based applications; or

(7) information and communications technology products and services integral to— (A) artificial intelligence and machine learning;

(B) quantum key distribution;

(D) quantum computing;

(E) post-quantum cryptography;

(F) autonomous systems;

(G) advanced robotics;

(H) biotechnology;

(I) synthetic biology;

(J) computational biology; and

(K) e-commerce technology and services, including any electronic techniques for accomplishing business transactions, online retail, internet-enabled logistics, internet-enabled payment technology, and online marketplaces.

(b) Considerations relating to undue and unacceptable risks.—In determining whether a covered transaction poses an undue or unacceptable risk under section 3(a) or 4(a), the Secretary— (1) shall, as the Secretary determines appropriate and in consultation with appropriate agency heads, consider, where available— (A) any removal or exclusion order issued by the Secretary of Homeland Security, the Secretary of Defense, or the Director of National Intelligence pursuant to recommendations of the Federal Acquisition Security Council pursuant to section 1323 of title 41, United States Code;

(B) any order or license revocation issued by the Federal Communications Commission with respect to a transacting party, or any consent decree imposed by the Federal Trade Commission with respect to a transacting party;

(C) any relevant provision of the Defense Federal Acquisition Regulation and the Federal Acquisition Regulation, and the respective supplements to those regulations;

(D) any actual or potential threats to the execution of a national critical function identified by the Director of the Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency;

(E) the nature, degree, and likelihood of consequence to the public and private sectors of the United States that would occur if vulnerabilities of the information and communications technologies services supply chain were to be exploited; and

(F) any other source of information that the Secretary determines appropriate; and

(2) may consider, where available, any relevant threat assessment or report prepared by the Director of National Intelligence completed or conducted at the request of the Secretary.

Look at that, does that look like it just covers the one app? NO! This would cover EVERYTHING that so much as LOOKS at the internet from the point this bill goes live.

It gets worse though, you wanna see what the penalties are?

(b) Civil penalties.—The Secretary may impose the following civil penalties on a person for each violation by that person of this Act or any regulation, order, direction, mitigation measure, prohibition, or other authorization issued under this Act: (1) A fine of not more than $250,000 or an amount that is twice the value of the transaction that is the basis of the violation with respect to which the penalty is imposed, whichever is greater. (2) Revocation of any mitigation measure or authorization issued under this Act to the person. (c) Criminal penalties.— (1) IN GENERAL.—A person who willfully commits, willfully attempts to commit, or willfully conspires to commit, or aids or abets in the commission of an unlawful act described in subsection (a) shall, upon conviction, be fined not more than $1,000,000, or if a natural person, may be imprisoned for not more than 20 years, or both. (2) CIVIL FORFEITURE.— (A) FORFEITURE.— (i) IN GENERAL.—Any property, real or personal, tangible or intangible, used or intended to be used, in any manner, to commit or facilitate a violation or attempted violation described in paragraph (1) shall be subject to forfeiture to the United States. (ii) PROCEEDS.—Any property, real or personal, tangible or intangible, constituting or traceable to the gross proceeds taken, obtained, or retained, in connection with or as a result of a violation or attempted violation described in paragraph (1) shall be subject to forfeiture to the United States. (B) PROCEDURE.—Seizures and forfeitures under this subsection shall be governed by the provisions of chapter 46 of title 18, United States Code, relating to civil forfeitures, except that such duties as are imposed on the Secretary of Treasury under the customs laws described in section 981(d) of title 18, United States Code, shall be performed by such officers, agents, and other persons as may be designated for that purpose by the Secretary of Homeland Security or the Attorney General. (3) CRIMINAL FORFEITURE.— (A) FORFEITURE.—Any person who is convicted under paragraph (1) shall, in addition to any other penalty, forfeit to the United States— (i) any property, real or personal, tangible or intangible, used or intended to be used, in any manner, to commit or facilitate the violation or attempted violation of paragraph (1); and (ii) any property, real or personal, tangible or intangible, constituting or traceable to the gross proceeds taken, obtained, or retained, in connection with or as a result of the violation. (B) PROCEDURE.—The criminal forfeiture of property under this paragraph, including any seizure and disposition of the property, and any related judicial proceeding, shall be governed by the provisions of section 413 of the Controlled Substances Act (21 U.S.C. 853), except subsections (a) and (d) of that section.

You read that right, you could be fined up to A MILLION FUCKING DOLLARS for knowingly violating the restrict act, so all those people telling you to "just use a VPN" to keep using TikTok? Guess what? That falls under the criminal guidelines of this bill and they're giving you some horrible fucking advice.

Also, VPN's as a whole, if this bill passes, will take a goddamn nose dive in this country because they are another thing that will be covered in this bill.

They chose the perfect name for it, RESTRICT, because that's what it's going to do to our freedoms in this so called "land of the free".

Please, if you are a United States citizen of voting age reach out to your legislature and tell them you do not want this to pass and you will vote against them in the next primary if it does. This is a make or break moment for you if you're younger. Do not allow your generation to suffer a second Patriot Act like those of us that unfortunately allowed for the first one to happen.

And if you support this, I can only assume you're delusional or a paid shill, either way I hope you rot in whatever hell you believe in.

#politics #restrict bill #tiktok #tiktok ban #s.686 #us politics #tiktok senate hearing #land of the free i guess #patriot act #patriot act 2.0

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blogwan · 1 year ago

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Watersplashnet - Gold

A Splash Pad/Splash Park Manufacturer plays a crucial role in the design and development of Splash Pads and Parks. They work with clients to create custom designs that meet their specific needs and requirements, ensuring that the final product is safe, functional, and aesthetically pleasing. These manufacturers have a highly skilled team of aquatic play experts who guide clients through the process of planning, designing, and installing their Splash Pad or Park. Splash park manufacturer are responsible for the manufacturing and installation of Splash Pad/Park equipment. They use high-quality materials to ensure that the equipment is durable, safe, and long-lasting. Leading manufacturers like Empex Watertoys® and Rain Deck offer a wide range of commercial splash pads and spray park products that are designed to deliver a twist of watery fun for kids of all ages. Proper installation of the equipment is critical to ensuring the safety and longevity of the Splash Pad or Park. Maintenance and upkeep of Splash Pad/Park structures is also an important responsibility of Splash Pad/Park Manufacturers. Regular maintenance is essential to ensure that the equipment remains safe, functional, and attractive. Proper maintenance can also help reduce long-term costs associated with repairs and replacements. Manufacturers may offer maintenance services or provide clients with guidance on how to properly maintain their Splash pad or Park. Overall, Splash Pad/Splash Park Manufacturers play a vital role in bringing water play fun to communities and ensuring the safety and longevity of these popular recreational spaces.

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soobrat · 9 months ago

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pit stop; cyj

🖊️⇝ pairing; afab, blk!reader x yeonjun

🖊️⇝ word count; 8.3k

🖊️⇝ genre; friends 2 lovers, smut, fluff, & light angst

🖊️⇝synopsis; you should probably buy a lottery ticket with how luck you are when it comes to running into celebrities... despite just moving to a new country

🖊️⇝ warnings; very cliche "forbidden love w/ an idol" trope, end is unedited, mc thirsting heavily for mingi, heat of the moment sex, PIV, unprotected sex (mc is on bc), creampie, squirting, cum eating, cunnilingus, overstimulation, slight posessiveness, mc has faux locs at one point

📜⇝ HAPPY BHM!!!!! Would you believe me if I said I started this last BHM? :D Anyways if you're not a black woman you should still read this because it slaps. It would've been even better if I managed to post during valentine's day too.

There are many things that can go wrong in a foreign country all on your own, but for your own health, you push them to the wayside. Maybe you pushed them too far because now you’re stranded with a flat tire miles away from where you’ll be staying. It’s only your first day and you already managed to fuck it up. You have to commend your ability to surprise yourself even after all these years.

You don’t have a local SIM card and your phone is completely off. You should’ve listened to the internet when they gave you a long list of how to prepare your phone when moving abroad. Now it’s useless. You laugh humorlessly as the odds continue to stack against you. Do people stop for hitchhikers in Korea?

You try anyway, you know enough Korean to give them an idea of how to help you. Many cars slow down but zero cars stop. Some even roll down their windows to stare into your eyes as they leave you stranded. You don’t have proof, but you swear one of them took a picture. You can’t be appalled by their actions, it’s not like you came from the most friendly country anyway.

“Come on, people. Just a little slack. Cut me just a little.” You murmur desperately, forcing a strained smile as you wave down another car. It’s another window roller that leaves you behind. You suppose it must be a strange sight. And maybe they’re worried you don’t speak Korean. There you go again, waving any worrying conclusions away. Don’t wanna prove your family right.

Then comes yet another car slowing down. Except, this one is slowing to a stop. It’s a flashy car, much flashier than anything you’ve seen thus far. You don’t know much about cars, but you know the person you see once the window rolls down must be well off. He peeks at you with intrigue and a bit of amusement, his sly vibe fitting for his fox-like features.

“Need help?”

You nearly collapse to your knees in relief. Not only is he stopping to help you but he can speak English so you don’t have to embarrass yourself. “Yes! My car has a flat. My phone doesn’t work, I just need car… service… people.” God, can you speak English? You’re already huffing, looking really weird to this handsome rich man and the other handsome rich man in the passenger seat.

“Are you a MOA?” Yet another man pokes his head out from the backseat to peek at you. His eyes are critical despite their roundness. He raises his eyebrows in a way that makes you think there’s a wrong answer. Your brain is already overworked for the day so you answer honestly. “I’m sorry, I have no clue what that is.”

Assuming you can’t understand, he mumbles “leave her” in Korean and slinks back into the backseat.

“I’ll call the car service people for you.” The driver smirks and you can tell he’s making fun of you. You just force a smile and thank the man before retreating back into your car. Shut inside the one space familiar to you feels like finally getting a moment to breathe and reflect. This is just a little hiccup. Soon you’ll be at your new home and next week you’ll be working again.

You were consumed in a book whenever help arrives, and lifting your head, you notice that flashy car is still there.

Luckily enough, the maintenance truck had an inflated spare available and you were on your way, but not before thanking the driver. As you approach he rolls the window down again before leaning his arm on the door.

“Thank you so much, I’m not sure how long I would’ve been out here if you didn’t help me.” You sigh. You weren’t sure what you could offer him to express your gratitude, you were pretty useless as of now.

“It’s no problem. The least I can ask for is that you don’t tell anyone you saw us here.”

You have trouble keeping a smile on your face as a hint of dread sets in. Why wouldn’t they be allowed in the countryside? Were they criminals? Is this a common location for crime?

“I know you don’t know us yet, but in case you find out from the internet, just keep this between us.”

You did not find out from the internet. You found out eight days later when you saw a cardboard cut out of the driver in the mall. Holding up a makeup product he didn’t need with a smile that almost hides the eternal mischief hidden in his expression both times you’ve seen him. This whole time you thought they were notorious criminals and you were going to get booked before you even stepped foot at home. But no, the nice car was from them being idols, not criminals.

Maybe you were a bit in the dark about k-pop idols, but why weren’t they allowed to drive around? You hold that thought, possibly forever because you had just experienced a pretty rare occurrence so early into your move.

-🖊️⇝

Tonight was your first office party since your move. Your boss saved up to rent out a hotel venue and even scored you and your coworkers rooms for the night. Less risky without the threat of drunk driving or getting kidnapped you guess.

“I could only book the ballroom today, so I’m sorry but you can’t wander around. You can only go in this room and the floor where your rooms are located. There’s a celebrity staying here and the hotel is pretty much on lockdown.”

Your coworkers immediately get to gossiping about who’s here and all you can do is marvel at the odds. There was no way you’d be meeting another celebrity. The odds are even more unfathomable than you previously thought. You break the rules on accident, drunkenly tapping the wrong floor number. Your eyes are closed when you stumble out and run into someone tall.

“Um, this floor is… off limits.” The man grabs you by your shoulders and holds you at arm's length. Your head lolls back and you get a good look at the guy and he, in turn, gets a glimpse of you. His jaw drops open and he looks over to the other men behind him. Your brain had been too debilitated to translate Korean.

“Hey! Are you that girl? Flat tire?” A familiar voice rings out and snaps you from your daze and you attempt to hold your head up straight. “Yeah! Car service people!” The driver whose name you’re sure starts with a Y says excitedly. Again with the mischief, sticking its pesky little head out more confidently with the teasing nickname.

“No way it’s you guys again.” You chuckle drowsily.

“Yes way!” The blond man lets go of your shoulders.

“Are you a MOA yet?” It was the one from the backseat asking the same question yet again. It completely slipped your mind to figure out what that meant.

“I still have no idea what that is.” You flash a tight smile as he narrows his eyes at you. One of the two you haven’t spoken to yet says something frantically to the others in Korean before they all turn to look at you.

“Hey… do you want some water?” Y approaches you, speaking almost like he’s about to sell you something. Your eyes roll back, your urge to rest almost winning the fight.

“I want to go to sleep.”

“Let’s get you some water!” The blond one says enthusiastically before ushering you into a door down the hall. They talk to each other as you gulp down a cold bottle of water, slumped in the living chair they frantically cleared for you. This would help with your hangover tomorrow anyway. After they deliberate with themselves Y turns to you.

“Is your party still happening?” He kneels before you, talking to you like a lost child.

“Yeah, I left early.”

“Great! We were gonna sneak down there ourselves, but you going back would be easier.”

“You want me to go back?” You barely swallow your water before you ask. “Yeah. All we were given was fruit. We can’t survive on fruit and the food smells so good.” He pleads with his eyes before the blond chips in.

“Please? We’re hungry.”

Downing your second bottle, you look at them warily as your mind sobers up. “You guys are famous. Can’t you just get room service?”

“No, we’re banned from it. They told the hotel not to serve us.” The black-haired one who looks to be the tallest or close to it pipes in. Much too massive for his youthful vibe.

You look at each pair of puppy eyes incredulously. “So they’re starving you?”

Yeonjun is quick to clear the air, starting to explain again that they had fruit before Mr. MOA interrupts him. “Yes!! We’re starving!” His whining is cut off by the blond scolding him.

“What are your names?” You ask once you realize you have no idea.

You learn each of their names and each of the food items they want brought to them. You have five styrofoam containers filled to the brim in both arms as you board the elevator. You’re aware they’re exaggerating, but concern for them still flares up. They were pretty thin, and you’ve heard whispers of their insane diets. But you do what you do best. They seem fine, and they wouldn’t have the energy they’re exhibiting currently if something was wrong.

Thankfully, no one was on there with you. That is, until you see that someone had pressed the button from your floor. You stand there awkwardly as your coworker looks at you like you have five heads. Then he sees that you’ve pressed the button for a forbidden floor.

“K-pop fan?”

You sigh, shifting the containers in your hands. “No. I’m acting as a food delivery service.”

“Ah.” He doesn’t press you, nor will he say anything. None of your coworkers are the type. The idols are waiting impatiently by the elevator when the door opens, hurriedly unloading each container.

How you ended up with five grown men in your hotel room was really a blur. Apparently their manager might walk in and bust them if they stay in their room. “We’ll be quick!” They promised.

Now Beomgyu and Kai are napping on your bed while you lean against the wall. Yeonjun’s eating whatever is left over in the living chair in the corner, smiling happily at you.

“I love you. I could kiss you.” He manages with his cheeks full of food.

You give him a tight smile, familiar with his habitual attempts to fluster you by now. “That’s not necessary. Your manager is probably looking for you guys.”

“Nah. We’re allowed to wander around as long as we’re in our room before 1 am. Today was our last day.” You chew on his words as he chews on the remnants of his food. He swallows hard, forcing what seems to be a painfully large chunk of food down his throat. Food seems to placate his teasing disposition, a thought that makes you cover your mouth to conceal your smirk. It takes a moment for him to recuperate before he speaks again.

"What do you wanna do right now?" He narrows his eyes, pointing his plastic cutlery at you.

You’re not sure what he means exactly, even after taking a moment to let your eyes flit around the room. So you do what you usually do, shrug and be honest. "Around this time I'd be playing some game until my eyes are painfully dry."

He halts mid container disposal to peer at you excitedly. "You play video games? Which ones?"

Finally, something you were a natural at talking about. "I like games like Minecraft or Rust, but I dabble in FPS games too-" You get caught up in one of your favorite conversation topics, surprised when Yeonjun dumps his trash quickly before marching over to you and taking your hands.

"Oh please tell me you play Valorant."

"Yeah, like I said, I dabble-"

"Okay, I'm really gonna kiss you."

“Don’t you dare-” Your words are cut off by a chaotic mixture of a gasp and laugh when he pokes his lips out, leaning in slowly. He unpuckers his lips and they settle into a smirk. The realization of how close you are to each other sets in and brings about a strong flow of energy between you two. You shake his hands off yours and shove him away, forcibly resuming your playful aura. He laughs, widening his eyes once it dies down.

“Oh, I cannot wait to kick your ass.” He points, eyes posing as a warning. You huff as you pick up a towel. You sling it over your shoulder before raising your eyebrows at him. “Is that a bet or a promise?”

And to think if your office party was planned even a day later, you would’ve probably never seen them again. Yeonjun nabs your phone while you were in the bathroom, sticking his number in there. The first important milestone of your relationship with the boys was being added to their group chat. Then you visited their dorms and them, your apartment. You weren’t aware of the transition, you just looked up and it felt natural to be around each other.

“___’s on!” Yeonjun cheers through your headset. He pauses once you turn on your webcam. “You found a hairstylist?”

“Yeah. Turns out there are black ones here. I never knew.” You reply, half paying attention as you adjust your camera.

“I know there’s a Korean name for that style but I feel like it’s… not correct. What’s it called in English?”

“Locs! Do you like ‘em?” You comb your fingers through each loc, careful not to tug at your tender scalp. “They fit you so well I forgot how you looked before.” He says as if he’s shocked by his own accuracy.

“You’re so right. I should’ve popped out the womb with locs.” You chuckle to yourself, unable to stop playing with your hair. Yeonjun has that look on his face like he’s about to smart-mouth you. “Locs and not wounding your own teammates would’ve been really handy.” He tries to quip quickly in an attempt to fly under your radar.

Your smile is immediately wiped off your face. “It was an off day for me, how many times do we have to go over this?”

“Next time your favorite character dies don’t come online.”

“I knew I should’ve hung out with Taehyun today.” You transition from excitement to insults like it's nothing. These boys definitely make it easy.

“Yeah, whatever. Are you coming to Mingi’s party next week or do you have work.” He says as if the word itself affronted him. New names were constantly thrown at you. You took a break from researching and watching videos because it was just too much.

“Why are you always so offended by my job? And I’ll see if I can make it.”

It makes it even harder to consume content about these idols when you think of what they go through. From these five alone, you can tell how hungry these idols are to be in this position. They put up with so much and you can’t help thinking their companies take advantage of that.

“You know, you never told me why you weren’t allowed to drive around the day we met.”

An effortless transition is made again as Yeonjun sets aside his teasing. “We have a lot of rules. Like, a lot. It’s no problem, we all knew what we were signing up for pretty much. It feels kinda pointless to go through all that work just to get in trouble, so we hold each other accountable.”

“I’m guessing that’s not counting the hotel food heist?” You bring up with a snort. It feels a little silly to make an exception for food.

“That was a small rule, and we just finished the final concert of a very tiring tour. The day we met I rented a car after a full month of grueling practice hours with little to no sleep. We were hysterical. So we took a ride.”

The boys seem alright. They’re full of life most days and with no context, you would have no idea what they’re going through. He informs you that this party is another one of those exceptions. There are secret parties thrown constantly but it was reckless to go without thorough planning. You like the thought of them getting a proper break and they really want you to come, so you do what you never do: call in fake sick to work.

But not before attempting a little research. Perhaps a different approach would help. You’re picking at scraps since you only have one internet friend who likes kpop. What if they never heard of him?

___: Y’all who is Mingi

You sent out the tweet before you went to sleep. You had just gotten your ass handed to you on Valorant so you didn’t feel like being let down that same night. You woke up to more notifications you’ve seen on all your social media accounts combined.

mingitzsong: you mean our lightskin king Malik???

That was not the tweet you expected from your friend, not by a long shot. Nor were you expecting the “my moot has a hit tweet!” DM.

Your notifications were flooded with fancams, edits, pictures– is that a video of him grabbing his…?

It was too early and you had gone too long without being satisfied by another person so this was all going to your head. You couldn’t tell if you were a stan now or just horny. You wanted him on your wall… or inside you.

So maybe that was the real reason you were okay with lying to your boss, but it was much more touching to say it was to please your friends.

-🖊️⇝

You enter the function excited to see the guys. Mingi too, but you were trying to seem less eager about that. You find the two youngest members first talking to a group of unfamiliar people. You try to sneak past, intending to say hi when there weren’t people to be introduced to. But alas, they saw you and you met a few idols their age. Then you run into Soobin coming out of the bathroom. “You made it!” His excited smile was ten times cuter when he was tipsy. He pulls you into a big tight hug and it’s so unlike him. He seemed to have an aversion to touching anyone when it wasn’t necessary. Drunk Soobin was unbearably adorable and it took everything in you to not stay with him and pinch his cheeks. But you needed to find the other members.

The club Mingi rented out is not ideal for finding friends. There are two floors and this is your third time walking down the stairs. You haven’t even seen the host himself yet. With his height, it shouldn’t be easy to miss him. As you walk past the large dance floor you become privy to the reason you haven’t found them. Your head naturally lowers, your eyes automatically avoiding the dancing bodies. It wasn’t your fault, your tendency to avoid large groups of people is written deep inside your DNA. It was time to stop beating around the bush, so you enter the group of dancing bodies.

It felt like miles of grazing people despite trying your best to shrink into yourself. In the heart of the group were the three you were looking for. They were lost in the music and possibly a bit drunk. Yeonjun casts a glance to see who was approaching before wordlessly holding out his hand. You accept with exaggerated confidence, fake it ‘til you make it. It was easier than you thought to dance smack dab in the middle of the dance floor. Your focus had been locked on the tall man before you, your body on autopilot as it sways to the music. He guides you closer by your hand with undoubtedly genuine confidence sewn into his smirk. You find yourself naturally smiling, unable to shake the shyness that overcomes you. He was doing it again, but this time you took the bait and let yourself be reeled up to shore. Forced out of your comfort zone, but you couldn’t find it in you to complain.

“Who is that?” You hear a deep masculine voice say to your left. Your eyes stay glued to Yeonjun like you’re physically unable to look away, and you swear he’s having the same problem. But you eventually do. Mingi is still looking at Beomgyu until he answers, only then does he grace you with eye contact. The wind is pulled from your lungs as you gasp. You were too distracted by Yeonjun to fully bask in his glory.

“Well. Here he is in person.” Yeonjun fails to pull your attention away even when he rests his hand on your shoulder. “This is ___.”

Mingi makes a sound of understanding, nodding as he not so subtly rakes his eyes up and down your body. It takes everything in you not to shiver. He repeats your name with a small smile that makes your heart skip rope.

“It’s nice to meet you.” He bows slightly before rising with his cheeks squinting his eyes. “I’m a rapper, my group is called ATEEZ.”

I know, you’re tempted to say. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” You bow back, restraining the locs that fall over your eyes.

“You’re… very beautiful.” His eyes fall again, taking their time coming back to your face before flashing a seductive smirk. You bite your lip, acute amounts of shame stirring with the arousal in your belly as the tension thickens in such a public space.

The members of TXT are long forgotten as you’re sat at the bar with the handsome Mingi. You talk for hours, though it’s mostly flirting and subtle invitations. As much as you can communicate with your limited Korean. You’re glad it’s gotten good enough that you can understand what he tells you next. According to Mingi, there are no restrictions in his company when it comes to doing… it. If they’re of age, they can do whoever they want to their heart’s content. As long as they’re not reckless. TXT has to plan in advance for your visits and they have three emergency escape or hide strategies just in case. That’s just for being seen with you.

There’s heat brewing between your legs. You’d be a huge liar if you said being around handsome men that you couldn’t think about touching wasn’t slightly torturous. Not even a little tipsy quicky you could pretend didn’t happen. No kissing. Hugging was even a stretch. Even if there’s a fuckload of chemistry, gotta ignore it. But this man, the same one you’ve been fantasizing about, can touch you in ways that has heat traveling throughout your entire body.

“What do you think?” He asks with a raise of his eyebrows. You agree in a way you hope doesn’t seem desperate, but in the end who cares? Not you when he leans closer, taking a moment to take in a quick breath before closing the distance. Butterflies swirl and thrash in your stomach as excitement takes over. It’s your fault the kiss escalates but you still can’t care about shame when your dreams are coming true.

His tongue feels like heaven against yours, sinfully wet to the point where you can’t help thinking of it somewhere else. He inhales deeply through his nose and you can feel the ensuing groan in your spine.

A frantic voice pulls the two of you apart, someone talking about an emergency. He and Mingi share an exchange before Mingi looks back at you. He sighs disappointedly. “Ah, I’m sorry. Maybe next time.” He winks before being whisked away, vanishing like he did every morning when your sweet dreams slip between your fingers.

You and Yeonjun don’t see each other for the rest of the party, you stay at the bar to sulk. Yeonjun was buzzing after the brief dance you shared. Your hand was so soft, and the way you looked at him… he’d never seen that from you before. If no one had taken your attention he doesn’t know what might’ve happened. He shakes the thought away as if it were a physical intrusion.

When you kept asking about Mingi before the party, Yeonjun thought nothing of it. You were basically clueless about the industry and he was happy to fill you in. But the way you looked at him, sure it wasn’t as loaded or intimate (or unprovocative) but you looked starstruck. It would sting a little if you didn’t become a fan from their music but from someone else’s.

Yeonjun’s body had become entirely tense, unable to dance in a carefree way after you took over his mind. There was a whole lot of conflict going on in his brain but not a lot of solutions. What does it matter? It’s not like you’re gonna stop being friends with them. You’ve given their home life a level of excitement and joy that it hasn’t reached before, and they didn’t have to train for months to receive it. All Yeonjun had to do was kick back, look over with a smile to see that you’re smiling back.

The next time you see each other is outside the club next to their van. “Hey, you disappeared.” Yeonjun shoves his hands in his pockets before nudging you with his elbow. You glance up at him, but it’s like your neck’s made of rubber. Drunk like him, but way worse at concealing it. Soobin explains that he found you by the bar and decided to help get you home.

In the backseat between Yeonjun and Taehyun, you’re restless. You keep whining and fidgeting until Taehyun asks you what’s wrong. “I’m just frustrated.”

Confused by this progression, Yeonjun turns toward you with a curious frown. “Did something happen with Mingi?”

“He had to leave.” You whimper before letting your head fall on Yeonjun’s shoulder. When you lift your face to look at him you’re way too close for it not to be a problem. He’s hesitant, but Yeonjun allows his face to linger in this dangerous proximity. “I’m still a little worked up.” Your eyes flit down to his lips and he gasps lightly. He casts a quick glance at his members. Taehyun was looking down into his lap, brows tight. The other members seem to be minding their own business. Getting the idea before he even looks back at you, Yeonjun’s heart flips.

When he turns his head again you scoot closer. The lights of the city whiz past, shadows obscuring your features before painting them in vibrant hues. Each aspect of your face that he tried not to think about lay before him in a way so breathtaking he can’t think straight. He usually stops himself by now out of fear that he’ll become obsessed with you. Then he feels the tip of your nose brush against his, signaling how close he is to breaching an important rule. Just then, the van passes through a tunnel, cloaking the entire vehicle in a dimmer light. His heart stills, time stills as the drowsy look wipes off your face. You pull back a bit to flash him a genuine look. As if you’re also considering this.

Yeonjun is closing in just as the van leaves the tunnel, moving fast but not fast enough.

“Hey, break it up!” A bright light is flashed in both your faces. Yeonjun squints and blocks the light, unable to pull away from you because it feels like snuffing out this flame will leave him stranded in the tundra. But Soobin sounded frantic, and he’d hate to stress out his friend and leader. So he pulls away and he’s right. It’s frigid and cold.

“What happened?” Kai sits up from his chair and glances at Soobin before peering at the back seat.

Soobin sighs, clearly hesitant to report this. “He almost kissed her.”

Their reactions vary from shocked to worried to a little frustrated. “That’s like… the biggest thing, hyung.” Soobin pleads for Yeonjun’s understanding with his eyes. Yeonjun nips at his top lip, unable to curb his embarrassment and disappointment. “I know, I know.” He sends a hand through his hair frustratedly.

You sit stiffly between the two men as Taehyun gears up to say something. All this for a kiss? One you were admittedly excited for. Still, you don’t have it in you to get angry at them. Like Yeonjun said. They worked hard for this. It’s silly to risk it all over a kiss. Even if that label makes your heart sink.

“You guys know I won’t say anything. I’m already risking getting fired over driving you here.” The driver pipes up as he casts a quick glance at the rearview mirror.

“It’s not about that, we can’t slip up.” Taehyun finally speaks, eyes cutting at Yeonjun. “At all.”

“I said I know.” Yeonjun speaks with more conviction that raises the tension considerably. Everyone else in the car can feel it. You send nervous glances to the other three who seem to be doing the same. “It’s fine! We’ve all been drinking, so.” Kai tries, his nervous smile flickering out when he looks back. Taehyun has his jaw clenched as he stares out the window and Yeonjun is clearly pissed off.

“Exactly, let’s just drop it. Nothing happened anyway.” Soobin adds authoritatively, looking back at the two who don’t return his glance.

Everyone does as much, leaving the car unbearably quiet. When you arrive at your apartment you say quiet goodbyes to everyone including Jun who gives you a cautious and almost apologetic look. “I’ll come with you.” Soobin grunts as he stands from his seat.

Yeonjun watches helplessly as you both exit the car and Soobin walks you to the door. He would’ve offered before the car even stopped. But this isn’t only about him. A scandal could harm the entire group.

-🖊️⇝

Five months. You haven’t been laid in five months. Then here comes this 6ft-something man with puppy dog tendencies who turns on the sex appeal like it’s nothing, stirring up your emotions to this degree.

You tie half of your locs up before tugging two down to frame your face. You bite your lip as you take in your appearance, a little shocked at how good everything came out. “What do you think? Should I add anything else?”

Things have been a little stiffer between you and Yeonjun. You still hang out but you both can feel it looming. The chemistry. The tension. The threat of jumping each other’s bones at a moment’s notice. Yeonjun doesn’t want to drag his members down because of a rash decision. He’s not sure what’s going through your mind but he can see the conflict in your eyes.

Yeonjun considers helping you. Immediately he’d recommend a choker. It’s hard for him to quell the thoughts about how good your neck looks with a piece of fabric wrapped tightly around it. Then he would suggest going for gloss instead of lipstick, but perhaps he should stop thinking about your neck and lips while he’s ahead. Also, this is all to help Mingi. Valentine’s day has passed, but it’s a miracle if an idol is free then anyway. This is essentially their valentine’s day plans, it’s a thought that presents a lingering bitter taste in his mouth. But he knows better, so he keeps those thoughts to himself.

“Yeah, it looks good like that.” He says as plainly as he can. Like a friend should.

You turn in your chair and rest your arm on the back. He looks really tired today. You can tell it’s one of those weeks that are really beating down on him. This is the most severe you’ve seen it get with your own eyes.

“You’re usually good at helping me with my looks.” It’s true that you’re cautious as well, but if he could have one moment to not be worried about one hundred things at once, you really want it to be with you.

“You did pretty well on your own.” His shrug does nothing to shield how disingenuous he’s being. You give him a knowing look, deciding to probe just a little.

“You know you can take a nap on my bed while I’m gone.”

“I’m good.” He assures with a smile meant to be soft but ends up strained. “Text me if you need anything or if something goes wrong.”

No, no. That’s the last thing you need. Him needing to have his guard up around you and still being so courteous. “I have other friends that I can text. You go play video games or relax or something.”

“Oh yeah? Name someone that isn’t an idol, quickly.” His tense demeanor melts just for a second, just to poke back. You give a short, dry laugh. Knowing very well you didn’t have an answer. Non-idol friends would do you some good. You think for a moment before replying half-jokingly.

“How about I call your leader instead and tell him to come take you home.”

Yeonjun stands from the bed, walking over with a look that you recognize by now. He’s thinking about it again. Kissing you or touching you. “I wanna be here when you get back.” He’s not sure why. You’re not gonna be drinking and Mingi is a gentleman, he’ll make sure you get home safe.

You’re acutely aware you must be looking at him the same way, which means you’re both in danger of breaking the biggest rule. He’s tired and probably unbelievably frustrated. And he wants it so bad. You can practically smell the arousal when you two get like this. Hell, you want it too. Sleeping with someone who’s been stifled for years and is finally able to let loose? The sex would be unforgettable. The thought permeates in your mind, strong enough to overshadow your habit of pushing all this to the wayside. You stand from the chair.

“Why? I’ll be alright.” You blink, unaware of how cute you look peering through your lashes. Despite his notes, you did do a great job. Fuck a choker or lip gloss, if you showed up to a date looking like this, he’d lose all ability to function.

“You look so beautiful.” He breathes out, but how genuine he is shines through. This was more intimate than the dance or the almost kiss. HIs eyes have a slight sheen as they gaze down at you earnestly.

“That means a lot, Jun. Thank you.”

Yeonjun, instead of responding, takes your shirt strap that had fallen down your shoulder in between his fingers. He slowly moves it back up, hand brushing lightly against your soft skin. You’re cold to the touch, your body being chilled by your air conditioner. How long would it be until you were properly warmed up? Too long.

“I don’t think I can handle you looking like this for someone else.” The words roll off his tongue, feeling as though someone else had said them. He looks over at your eyes from your strap, the touched shock on your face confirming that it was real. It happens quickly, the rationalization. You shut up the part of your brain urging you to run away from the conflict and tug Yeonjun closer by his shirt. His hands move to your face and the two of you linger there, either giving this a second thought or wondering if this was really happening. You lean in, feeling his breath fanning only to jerk back suddenly. Your lips brush against each other first before they finally meld, finally connecting in the way you both truly craved.

He’s so expressive, you can feel the longing, hear the pent up frustration leaving him with every heavy sigh. You chase each other’s lips instantly after each disconnect as if the kiss is providing oxygen rather than inhibiting it. There was that heat again, warming his frigid body as you wrap your arms around him and urge him closer.

He pulls away, the impish fox you know well looking so unfamiliar. His eyes pleading and blown out, his pretty lips pink and swollen. You impatiently pull him back in and you feel the same warmth he is. Except it’s burning you up. Both of you feel like you’re being swallowed by a large flame as your tongues circle each other. He lets out a wanton moan that has your core clenching. “Taste so good.” His voice is nearly inaudible, murmured between kisses.

Pushing your straps down your arms, he undoes his recent action. He pushes your dress over your breasts but he’s too consumed by the kiss to look down. His hands envelope the flesh held by your bra as he pushes his tongue into your mouth. Things are escalating quickly but you grow frustrated that he isn’t inside you already. You’ve both waited long enough.

“Fuck me, please.” You beg, eyebrows slanting as you let your pride go for just a moment. You reach down and tug at the waistband of his sweats, feeling a little justified as he returns your desperation with his eyes. With his hands kneading your breasts and your fingers clenching his pants you stare into each other’s eyes. No words exchanged but you each understand loud and clear that you need each other. Bad. As his face draws closer you try again. “Fuck me.” You whisper as he nuzzles your nose.

You’re begging for it but Yeonjun can’t decide how he wants you first. He shuts his eyes and imagines your body bent in half, your as lifted into the air. Presented just for him. His cock throb and he squeezes your breast. Your ensuing moan almost pushes him to throw you onto the bed. But then he imagines the moonlight bleeding through the curtains and painting your body. The lights of the cars that speed past illuminating your umber tinted nipples that perk up nice and hardened for him.

The fantasy draws more and more saliva onto his tongue that rolls off onto yours. Your tongues tangle in a horny mess. If anyone saw what the two of you were doing they’d probably be confused, but both of your faces are scorching and the spaces between your legs are throbbing. Yeonjun is on his tenth fantasy on how he wants to pose you when he starts whimpering. You grab his crotch and return the squeeze he’s been giving your breasts. He finally unlatches from your lips to toss his head back, letting out the loudest moan of the evening. You kiss down his throat, feeling the vibrations of his pretty sounds. It’s taking every atom inside your body to not bite and suck, instead you ghost your teeth over his supple skin.

As his moans transition to groans and growls his actions become more rough. He grabs your wrist to keep your hand steady as he grinds into it. His nails pierce your breast and it’s your turn to whimper. He yanks your hand off of him and moves his own to your waist, finally guiding you over to the bed. In every fleeting fantasy he had there was one thing either missing or integral. The very look on your face you have now as he’s moving over you. Your dark eyes are so doe-like yet so sinful. They yearn for him, yet dare him.

The taking off of your clothes is agonizingly slow. It doesn’t matter that you’re both rushing to the point that you almost rip each other’s shirts. It’s still torturous. His long cock bobs as he repositions himself, a drop of precum dribbling from his tip and shining in the light. His nails dig into you yet again as your legs are hoisted on either side of your head. Every time he grips so forcefully you wish he’d do it harder, squeeze you until you fuse together.

You get as close as you can to that wish when his tip cards between your lips. You jolt, surprised by your own sensitivity. Yes, it’s been a long time, but it’s not that. Your clit and lips are so swollen that they ache. You feel like your molten juice will pour out of you at any moment. You hold your legs in place as Yeonjun lowers onto his forearms, bringing his face closer to yours. You’ve already stuck your tongue down his throat and gripped his cock, but there’s something strangely intimate about his bangs brushing against your forehead. He watches you intently as he slowly pushes in. You gasp, as if the heat radiating off his cock is actually singing you as he slides in.

Yeonjun releases his lip from his teeth as a deep groan forces its way out from the depths of his core. Your pussy swallows him whole, so devastatingly wet that it coats your outer lips and coaxes him in with ease. The urge to crack a window, shove the comforter and sheets off the bed, anything to quell the overwhelming heat is a fleeting thought for the both of you. It’s quickly replaced by the gnawing need to feel every part of each other. To get deep. Yeonjun arches his back and pushes his hips in until you’re yelping and your hips buck uncontrollably.

Then something snaps and a rhythm takes over Yeonjun’s body. His hips snap toward yours at the perfect pace that has you clawing down his back. You feel his skin under your fingernails.

Your hips desperately chase after him, fingers fumbling over your achy clit. It’s a blurred frenzy that neither of you can completely process as real. Your brains are turned off anyway, blindly chasing pleasure and that orgasm so sweet your teeth go numb at the thought.

The height of the pleasure makes each pump of his cock maddening. It’s so good you both almost want it to stop. The pleasure spikes higher, making your moans peak in pitch. Your grip falters on your thighs as your legs start to quake.

“I can’t– I can’t!” Your mumbles are nearly incoherent between your shrieky whimpers. A knot squeezes so tight in your lower belly it feels like a large, heavy ball. Yeonjun grits out moans as his eyebrows furrow. The pleading look is so sexy, the desperation in his voice. His fucking cock is inside you. It’s so deep inside you.

“C-cumming!” Your thighs slip from your hands as a violent tremor sweeps through your body. The knot snaps and you feel hot liquid spewing from your cunt. Yeonjun fucks through the pressure, sharp profanities shoot off his tongue. He claws at your thighs and his thrusts transition to slow and punishing. The myriad of noises flooding from your lips don’t lower in intensity. The pleasure barely plateaus and you’re right back in the trenches.

“Fuck! Yeonjun, fuck!” You squeal. His hand crawls up from between your breasts to your throat. “You’re taking it so well, you’re perfect.” His voice cracks, the sincerity in his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re so, so perfect.” His body drops closer to yours, his voice tickling against your ear. His thrusts pick up with his fractured moans. You can tell just how much is being released as he fucks you. It’s just as magical as you imagined, watching him let loose like this. But the twitch in his brow bothers you. His muscles are tight, his shoulders tense. You let out a serene sigh.

“Let it all out, Junnie.” You run your hands over his shoulders, feeling his muscles loosen under your fingers. His eyes flutter shut, mimicking your serene sigh. He doesn’t get to rest for long. The conflict wracking his body this time is different. His cock is twitching inside you.

Your clumsy hands travel all over his shoulders, neck, and land on his face. His hips start to fracture from their rhythm and his face occasionally pinches. You caress him, wanting to bottle up the version of him that’s close to cumming.

You press a tender, wet kiss to his lips. “Cum inside me.”

It doesn’t occur to you that he has no clue you’re on birth control. So when the most guttural moan erupts from his chest it catches you off guard. His hips grind down against yours, his cock throbbing as it pumps you even fuller. Your sweaty bodies stay like that for a moment, not long enough for your sensitivity to wane. He pulls out, unplugging your hole for all the fluids to flow out.

His cock is heavy against your clit, so heavy that it triggers your sensitivity. You close your legs around him and turn your head into your pillow. He flows you, planting a long kiss on your lips as he grinds his cock into your mound.

“Jun,” you tap at the mattress, the excruciating pleasure taking you to another planet.

“I love your pussy.” He finally pulls away and the rigidity of your body eases. You let out a shaky breath, eyeing him as moves down your body. He glances up at you with his mouth hovering over your tired pussy. “It’s mine.” His eyes flutter shut as he kisses your mound wetly. A sharp moan rockets out of you. Your head shoots backward and your thighs threaten to close around him. That was just the teaser.

His tongue delves in to scoop out his and your essence. You’re in awe of the dirtiness of his actions and the lengths he’s willing to push you. All while staring you right in the eyes. Your eyes roll into the back of your skull as you push at his head.

He hums before lifting away. “You want me to stop?”

“N-no!” You reply instantly, a laugh bubbling out of both of you. It was ridiculous at this point. Yeonjun curls his tongue inside of you until he’s satisfied with how clean he got you. He lifts up, giving only a glimpse of his sullied face before he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

He crawls back up and you groan.

“No, we’re both gross, don't lay back down.”

He grumbles ‘give me an hour’, making you both laugh. It’s comforting, a crackling fire lulling you both to sleep.

You gasp loudly, shooting upright.

“Mingi!”

-🖊️⇝

If only you hadn’t done that. The vibes after the sex were immaculate. Now things are tense again as Yeonjun gets you ready to meet with Mingi. His hands run over your sudsy body, making sure you’re squeaky clean. He helps you with your bra, even helps you pick out a new outfit. When all is said and done, you’re back to looking at each other through the mirror. He sighs.

“Go ahead and text him you’re ready.”

You pull your phone out, finding you’re just flipping it over in your hands instead of unlocking it. You chew on your lip, your heart beating so intensely it’s debilitating.

“I’m ready.” You rush out, thinking for a moment before turning to actually look at him. Yeonjun breathes a laugh with a smirk.

“I said tell him, not me.”

“Why? You’re my date.” Your smile beams brighter than you mean it to. It’s all fine because he returns its luminosity.

“I’m down for that. I’m too fatigued to go anywhere, though.”

“I know, I really tuckered you out didn’t I?” You cock an eyebrow at him, doing your best impression of a sly fox you know.

“Okay, but who made who squirt?”

You shove him, making him chuckle as he catches himself. You quickly leave the bedroom, turning to shout back at him.

“I’m watching the movie without you.”

He chases after you and you just barely evade him to sit on the cough first. He dives next to you, snuggling up close and nuzzling his forehead into yours. It’s something he used to do to annoy you, and though you’re tonguing your cheek, your heart is fluttering.

You watch the rest of the movie hugging his arm with your head on his shoulder. As the credits roll, is the first to talk in thirty minutes.

“It was always gonna be us.” Yeonjun chuckles. “We both knew it from the moment in your hotel room. Fuck it, I might’ve thought about it when I first saw you.”

You crane your head to look at him, his sharp eyes already on you. There’s a softness to them.

Multiple fists thundering against your door makes you both jump.

“Open up! Yeonjun has been here for way too long!” Identifying Soobin’s voice dulls the alarm bells blaring in both your heads.

Yeonjun trudges over to let them in, sulking back to the couch as the four younger book it past him. Beomgyu launches himself on the couch and asks what “we’re” watching. Kai is close behind, snatching the remote before Beomgyu could even think to grab it. They argue over that as Soobin sits down, rubbing his temples. He sinks into the couch as you sit beside him. You can feel Yeonjun’s warmth on your left and you bite your lip trying to ignore it.

“And just what were you doing here all alone?” Soobin’s eyes slowly pan over to the two people sitting suspiciously close to each other. You both shrug, mumbling something about movies and ice cream.

Taehyun sighs, squeezing his ass in between the both of you until you’re forced to part. You just roll your eyes, ignoring it for now. The movie watching experience with these five was always chaotic. Chaotic enough that you and Yeonjun could sneak glances at each other with no one noticing. The noise dissipates as you get lost in each other’s eyes. You both smile.

#100 #poor mingi T___T #txt #yeonjun #smut #kpop #choi yeonjun #yeonjun smut #txt smut #kpop smut #choi yeonjun smut #txt yeonjun smut

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thefixations-ofmine · 4 months ago

Text

Pairing: Evan Buckley x Tommy Kinard AU (911)

Word count: 3.3K

Warnings: age gap, blowjob (m receiving), rimming, pet names

Summary: Former high school football star Evan Buckley navigates his new adult life. A broken down car takes him to the nearest body shop, where a very handsome 30-something mechanic catches his eye - and he's good with his hands too!

A/N: Yay, a new fic! This has been sitting in my head for a while and I finally put it down into words after seeing this manip photo of Oliver with longer hair. Sadly, I put aside some things I had already started, but I'm happy to get more work out there! Constructive criticism is welcome. Enjoy!

Main Masterlist | Drabbles Masterlist

“Helping number 36!” A young lady announces over the intercom. A shared gasp fills the room at the loud intrusion, and everyone has a look at their ticket. Evan sighs finally! He walks into the service area and heads to where an assistant is waiting to get his ticket.

“36?” A short man in glasses questions.

“That’s me! I’m Evan,” he answers with a handshake.

“Great, Evan. What brings you in today?”

He goes on for a solid fifteen minutes about all the troubles with his car. From the screeching breaks to the clicking steering and so on. His folks couldn’t afford a new car for when he got his license, and with their money and his combined, a deadbeat ‘64 Buick Skylark was all he could get - while still looking badass. It got him from point A to point B, albeit all the times he had to stop to nudge something back in place or to make sure the oil level was still right. He was saving to get himself a car that was at least of the decade, but it was proving longer than initially planned with all the fixing and maintenance on this one.

“Well, we have a really great old school mechanic, and an open schedule, so we can actually get started today if you’d like!” The assistant states, and proceeds to give him a rundown of the costs. Evan nods and runs back to his car to back it into a garage spot.

“Little further!” He hears a voice call from behind the trunk, unable to see the face of the man in the mirror. “Alright!” He adds waving his hands, and Evan breaks abruptly. He gets out of the car and starts rambling about what needs to be fixed, until a hand on his shoulder stops him.

“We’ve got it, kid.” The deep voice says again, and Evan turns this time, getting a first look at his face. And what a face! He’s surprised at first that he has to look up at him (even for just a few inches), and he rapidly gets lost in his striking blue eyes. “We’ll take care of it like it’s our own,” the mystery man says, bringing Evan back to reality.

“Um, thanks. Yeah, that would be, um, great!” He’s met with a reassuring smile, crinkly nose and all. He smiles back, trying to act as cool.

“I see you play,” Tommy (Evan remembered he could read for a second and saw his name tag) tries to start a conversation, pointing at the high school logo on his t-shirt. He nods. Tommy laughs. “I also used to a few years back. Same high school. Didn’t stick though, I was good with my hands but for different reasons.” If the blush on Evan’s cheeks wasn’t already apparent, that last statement accompanied by a wink surely painted his face a lovely crimson shade. If anything, it keeps Evan from telling him he actually graduated last year, but that’s besides the point.

He lets his eyes wander on the man’s body as he walks around to the hood; he guesses he’s around thirty. His thick veiny hands run along the metal, and thicker, veinier arms struggle to stay contained in the white t-shirt, proving he did in fact play sports in his youth. He likes what he sees, and doesn't know how to act about it. There was one thing a small town high school couldn’t provide you with; a well diverse sex-ed class. Not that nobody talked about it, but it was more often in a bad light than in a supportive kind of chit-chat in the back of a locker room. He had only been exposed to “educative” material through dodgy websites - though he owed his quarter-back wrist strength to that!

Today though, Evan would be happy to learn and explore.

“I’m sorry, do you guys have any water?” He manages to blurt out, running a finger into the neck of his shirt and his other hand up the side of his jeans.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to use the hose, kid.” Tommy points him to the side of the building a few feet away. Evan rushes to it, and almost drowns from the big gulps he’s inhaling, and doesn’t notice Tommy’s watching. Doesn’t see how he licks his lips at the sight of his own mouth pursed, and the sway of his Adam’s apple as he swallows vigorously. How Tommy’s eyes run down his arched back as he’s holding himself up with a hand on his knee. When he’s done drinking, some stray drops run down his chin and Tommy wants to lap at them. He clears his throat and goes back to examining the engine when their eyes meet.

A couple hours has brought the awkward moment to a well established conversation between the two as they exchange about cars and Fantasy Football predictions - both of them stealing looks every once in a while, silently eating the other up. When Evan runs his hand on his stomach as it growls, Tommy takes the opportunity to ask:

“Do you wanna grab a bite?”

“Huh?” Evan asks, his brain scrambled from the heat and the blood filling his semi.

“I think I’ll need at least another day before I’m done, and the last piece I took out will keep you from driving home,” he begins. “I thought maybe we could grab a bite and I can drive you back?” There’s another sensation added to the hunger in Evan’s stomach, one he had felt a long time ago when an exchange student from England had arrived at their school. He’d gotten Evan in a corner one day and kissed his lips, and Evan let him for several seconds before he pushed him away, embarrassed - confused. He told him he wasn’t mad, but that this didn’t have to happen again or be made known to others. He still hates himself after all those years for not apologizing before the guy went back home.

“I. Yeah, yeah. That would be great.” He finds the strength to answer.

“Awesome. Let me get out of these overalls and I’ll be right there.”

Evan guides Tommy down the streets of his neighbourhood after leaving the diner, where he had the best burgers of his life. Didn’t I tell ya, kid? He remembers Tommy had said when Evan moaned at the taste of the greasy patty. He turned red right there again, but when his eyes landed on Tommy’s, he realized they were both bothered and hot by the situation. If he was reading it right…

Kid. Evan can’t shake the hold that pet name has on him, a weird mix of adoration and degradation. He wasn’t a kid! He was 19! But then again, in contrast to the well-established, rugged man sitting next to him, as he watches his fingers drum absentmindedly to a Kiss song on the steering wheel, Evan can understand why he uses that word. He hopes it isn’t derogatory, but is willing to prove Tommy wrong.

When they get to Evan’s house, Tommy drives his car into the empty driveway and turns the engine off with a content sigh. “I guess that’s my stop,” Evan jokes and clumsily goes to tap the center console, unaware that Tommy had leaned his arm onto it, the contact of his hand hitting the strong skin sends a shiver down his spine. Like a deer in headlights, he stays like this, not budging a finger until he hears Tommy chuckle deeply.

“You okay there, buddy?” That was a new one, Evan notes, and he’s sure now that he read the situation wrong because Tommy must see him as a bro, as his little brother’s friend who’s always squatting in the basement. But the second later, Evan is shoved into a new reality when he feels Tommy’s left hand come to cradle his chin to turn his head his way. He’s unable to tell if he’s still breathing, but that can be done manually so he should survive even in the confined space around them. There’s a tentative look in Tommy’s expression, a light smirk as his eyes volley in a triangle between Evan’s lips, his eyes, and the few bunches of curls that pop out of his cap. When the hand on his arm tightens instinctively, Tommy takes the plunge and crashes their lips together.

It’s hungry and unfiltered, and what Buck gives in clumsiness Tommy can redirect and show him he’s really into this. As if his grunts or the hand creeping to the back of Evan’s neck weren’t enough proof that Tommy wasn’t just trying to be nice. That’s when Evan realizes he’s kissing back, and grunting too, and he’s not going to have to feel sorry for the near future because of his stupid brain. He unfastens his seatbelt to try and kneel onto the seat until Tommy laughs into his mouth, now open from having been explored by a hungry tongue.

“Evan,” he begins, “are you sure about this?” There’s a frown on Evan’s face and he wonders what he did wrong, until Tommy corrects: “I mean, is this okay here in the car? Won’t anybody just walk by?” And then Evan smiles.

“My parents are out of town for the week, if you would, um. If you’d like, we can go inside.” It’s like the puffiness of his lips is keeping him from talking properly, but Tommy’s eager to get out of the car and follows Evan to the door, hooking one of his fingers into a loop at the back of his jeans, that way he can pull Evan against him as he shuts the door. They makeout in the entryway for several minutes, hands rushing to touch the other’s skin.

“Sit on the couch,” Tommy says firmly. Evan’s stomach flips again. He obliges, and sits awkwardly on one side of the couch, leaving room for Tommy, completely oblivious to his intentions. Until Tommy grabs both sides of Evan’s ass and manhandles him onto the center, and finds a comfortable spot between his legs on his knees, then Evan understands where this is going and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t send a sweat down his back.

“I, um,” he struggles. “This is um... Has never happened before.” He’s already a panting, sweaty mess even though he’d been in this position before - granted the subjects on the floor were much more petite, delicate and feminine. This was uncharted territory he definitely wanted to wander into, but he felt like he forgot his flashlight and was walking barefoot in gravel through the expedition.

“It’s alright, kid. I just want to take care of you for tonight if you’ll let me, no expectations.” It reassures him already, and he nods in approbation. “You stop me whenever, tap my shoulder and I’ll be gone.” He chuckles along with Tommy, and bites his bottom lip when he’s already working on his fly. He makes quick work of it; good with his hands, Evan thinks back.

And boy does he prove it fast. Evan’s not sure he even got to take three breaths in before Tommy was running his thumb along the bottom of his head, applying a faint pressure that had his blood pumping just right, filling his length the rest of the way, causing him to hiss sharply through his teeth. There seems to be a surprised excitement in Tommy’s expression, and he’s not sure if it’s at his size or the way he’s pathetically putty in his hands already, but he’d let that live in the back of his mind forever.

“Breathe, baby boy,” Tommy encourages as he pumps him now. It’s not the usual technique he’d use on himself, but Tommy found that one to be a safe bet most of the time. He feels Evan relax under him, his legs falling a little further apart and Tommy takes advantage to creep into the new space. His arms are holding Evan’s hips down, his left hand wanders under his t-shirt onto the tight, soft stomach of the sweet boy before him. He’s in pain, straining the zipper of his jeans and he curses himself for wanting to look nice rather than throw on some sweats. But it’s not about him. He hasn’t had dick in his mouth for way too long now, and when that buff twink walked into the garage, he knew there was something to play with in those hugging blue jeans.

“That’s it,” he praises, kissing the tip and sucking the bead of precum that had threatened to glide down. “You taste so good.”

“Than- Thank you sir,” Evan moans from deep in his chest. Tommy’s eyes roll to the back of his head, and he sucks in just the tip, then maybe an inch or two, then three, until Evan is a shaking mess under his grip. He sucks his cheeks in on his way up, trying to wet him as much as possible, before connecting their gaze and sinking down fully in a single movement, his nose poking the taunt pubic flesh. Tommy could almost come in his pants at the sight of Evan’s reaction. He can only imagine nobody had gotten that monster down fully without struggling before, and Tommy secretly thanks his first busy years out of the closet for the practice. He pops off after a few seconds.

“Is that okay?” He’s teasing, of course. The wet sounds of his hand pumping with purpose already answer his question.

“Is that… Are you, are you fucking kidding?” He throws his head back with a punched laugh, sending his cap to fall onto his lap. Tommy grabs it and puts it on backwards, and Evan has to shut his eyes or he’ll embarrass himself in the next seconds. The look makes Tommy pass for one of his team mates, and there’s a jolt in his stomach at the idea of fooling around with him in the lockers in high school. Though the age difference dynamic is still strongly present; he can confirm from the tricks Tommy is pulling on him. “It’s, it’s so good Tommy.” He pulls out his name in a high pitched moan. Tommy knows he doesn’t have that many pulls left before he’s tipping him over the edge.

He pulls the coffee table behind him a little closer, until his body is slightly nudged underneath it, and he gently lifts Evan’s feet so they rest on it, spreading him just how he intends. He doesn’t waste his time plunging in, dragging his nose along the crease of Evan’s thigh, then the other, pushing into his balls in the passing. His hands have found a safe place just under his knees, so his dick can get a break as he explores him, smells him. He digs a little lower, and gives a trial lick to Evan’s taint, reading his immediate moan as a sign to keep going until he’s fully making out with his asshole moments later. Tommy groans into him when he feels the curious drag of the boy’s fingers into his hair, the cap long discarded, asking him to stay right there just a tad longer until he’s a writhing mess and Tommy knows he’s gotta take action. Evan’s legs are burning, his stomach feels stiff and he’s not sure whether the pressure in his head is from an upcoming aneurysm or simply that he’s never had his soul sucked out of his body this expertly.

Evan doesn’t even realize Tommy’s lips are back around his dick until he teases his teeth along the top of his tip, soothing it immediately with a pass of his tongue, ellissiting the loudest, most embarrassing sound he’s ever let out in his - numerous - sexual experiences. His fingers are going numb into the fabric of the couch, his nails threatening to strip off. But he’s not close to putting a stop to whatever Tommy had going on; he hasn’t peeped down in a few minutes, scared that the sight of Tommy looking back at him would have him spill way too quickly. He’s biting his tongue now, because he’s just as close and doesn’t know how to let Tommy know.

There’s no actual moment to think because the next second, Tommy’s nose is up against his pubes and he swallows around him once, and twice. And maybe a third time for good measure. And Evan has to let him know he’s about to coat the back of his throat before he’s making a fool of himself, but Tommy’s deadly grip onto his hips is acting on his ability to enunciate anything.

“To-” He’s at least going to try. “Tommy,” he adds. He brings a hand to venture into his curls again, tugging a little hoping he catches the clue. But Tommy is urging on and has his mind set on the goal. He looks up, winks at Evan and takes one last breath before sinking back down fully, swishing his tongue on the bottom of Evan’s dick and managing to bring it out just enough to give his balls some attention.

Evan’s ears start ringing, he’s seeing white. Am I fucking dying? Then Tommy pulls back and tugs on him a few times until the string snaps and he’s emptying himself into the cup Tommy formed with his tongue, moaning and screaming and gasping for air and he’s panicking at the never ending ropes. He’d come again if he had any energy left when Tommy retrieves his tongue and swallows his load with a deep groan of satisfaction.

“I knew you’d be fucking sweet,” he states. Tommy runs his hands along Evan’s thighs, soothing the downfall of such a high. He kisses along the muscles of his stomach and up to his neck, where he lays a long, open-mouth kiss to the sweet spot behind his ear. “Was that okay?” He’s genuinely asking.

“You’ve gotta stop doubting yourself, sir.” Evan puffs out a laugh. “This, um - This was the best fucking thing I’ve ever experienced.” He leans back into the couch and runs a hand into his hair, still unsure if the light from earlier wasn’t the end of the tunnel. But the warmth Tommy radiates around his body proves he’s still very alive..

“Well, I’m glad you had a good time, baby,” Tommy answers, daring a quick peck to his lips. He gets up and extends his hands to help Evan up also, making the poor boy realize the big problem he’s created;

“Do you, um. Should I-” He looks down.

“Oh, kitten, no. Don’t worry about me, okay?” Tommy deflects his intentions, hoping to buy himself a separate alone time with the pretty boy. “Plus, I’ll see you tomorrow for your appointment, huh?” He winks. Evan makes a mental note to be refreshed and energized for the day, already planning his undeniable turn for the deed. There’s a light stress in his chest at the thought of having his first experience as a giver with a man be so soon. But he’s on fire standing in front of the most handsome man he’s ever seen, who’s more than likely going to ravish him as soon as he lifts a finger, so he’s not going to fuck this chance up.

“I’ll be there on time, sir.” He nods, walking with Tommy to the front door. He owes him at least a decent goodnight.

“Bring that cute smile of yours.” Tommy has Evan blushing effortlessly, but he’s feeling a little bold. Before Tommy’s hand can turn the handle, he’s got him plastered to the door, and rushes to kiss him silly, moaning and toying with his tongue until they’re both breathless again - and as a preview, lets his hand cup at the slowly dying erection in Tommy’s jeans, earning a playful bite to his bottom lip.

“I’ll bring more than that.”

#tevan fanfiction #tommy x buck #bucktommy #911 fanfic #911 abc #Evan Buckley #Tommy Kinard #Ronnie writes #BuckTommy AU

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pekoehoneyncream · 1 month ago

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Sergeant Kyle Gaz Garrick Headcanons

Part One

Words: 600~

TW: None (sfw)

Part Two

Y'all are powered by spite alone, istg. Gaz won the poll by one vote, ONE! I had soap's shit lined up and ready to go and y'all really said 'nah, no thank you'

Here's your prize,

Hope You Enjoy!

Gaz is slow to trust. He does not like strangers, and often feels on edge around new people. He isn't outright rude, in fact he's often downright friendly. He knows better than to alienate unknowns and make unneeded enemies for his team by acting hostile.

Ghost often validates Gaz's suspicious nature by asking him for breakdowns of potential weaknesses and if someone's likely to become a problem or a liability.

Gaz shows a lot of love through acts of service, if there's anything that the 141 needs or needs done he'll make sure it happens, often before they even realise it's going to become a problem.

Gaz has a habit of referring to other people as NPCs. Particularly groups of people that ostensibly have a use, but only ostensibly.

Gaz cusses A Lot. He uses swearing, snark, and sarcasm as coping mechanisms, particularly in stressful situations. He doesn’t like directing his vitriol at his teammates, but situations, enemies, unknowns, strangers, acquaintances, and friends are all free game.

Cannot stand ticking or tapping noises, especially when he can't find where the sound is coming from. Rattling vents and unbalanced ticking ceiling fans are the banes of his existence. | At first he tried to be casual when he brought stuff up to Price, “So, have you noticed that the third light in the breakroom buzzes and flickers a bit when it's on?”, but now he just straight up tells Price what bothers him. (Price tells maintenance, but if they're being too slow Price has been known to just fix it himself.) | Soap, with his pathological need to bounce his legs, is on thin fucking ice. Gaz can usually ignore it if Soap keeps a consistent rhythm, but when Soap's fidgety he starts to drive Gaz up the wall.

Not great at sharing. Leaving the last piece of something, in case someone else might want it, is not something that would ever cross his mind. If someone doesn't directly ask for something, he's assuming they're not interested.

He's cannot do constructive criticism. He's got the criticism part down pat, but rarely cares enough to struggle with making it constructive. He embodies that video: Be Nice. ‘I'm finding it.’ It takes you that long? ‘It does, It does.’

He's an only child. His mom, Gemma, is a Biomedical Equipment Technician, and his dad, Arthur, is a Semi-Retired English Professor. He was mostly raised by his dad, as his mom's job kept her out of the house most days. His dad actually became Semi-Retired to be a Stay-At-Home-Dad and raise Gaz. Arthur Garrick has published a few textbooks and still goes in for the occasional guest lecture.

Gaz's bedtime stories were books like Le Morte de Artur, the Iliad, Lord of the Rings, the Robert Frost Compendium, and Narnia.

When Gaz was learning to write his dad taught him cursive, leaning towards calligraphy. To this day Gaz's printing looks like a ten year-old's. Meanwhile, his writing is very pretty to look at, but nearly illegible. His signature is completely unreadable, it's just a very elaborate pile of loops and slashes.

Occasionally forgets the words for things. His brain does this thing that he likes to call Playing Wheel of Fortune, where it will let him remember the meaning of the word, and sometimes what the word rhymes with, or its first letter. | These moments all go something like this: “You can’t pin that on me! You've only got… fuck what’s the word, where its a person in a place and they're getting blamed for something. It’s like a lawyery thing.” A court? “No no, it's like they got caught, but they were in the wrong place and it’s only if you put it together a certain way it looks bad. Like a bad impression, but serious. It’s a long word. I think it starts with S… Circumference? No. Situation? Something like that.” Circumstantial? “Yes! Circumstantial! Circumstantial Evidence!” I saw you eating my crisps, that's not circumstantial evidence.

Thank You for Reading!

PekoeHoneynCream's Headcanons

#kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz headcanons #gaz cod #gaz call of duty #PekoeHoneynCream #cod #call of duty #cod headcanons #call of duty headcanons #simon ghost riley #john bravo six price

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sunsblogs · 1 year ago

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CADECON - SİLVER

A roofing company in Richmond can provide a variety of services to ensure your roof is in top condition. One of such services is roof repair and maintenance. Regular maintenance can help extend the life of your roof and prevent costly repairs. A reputable roofing company can detect and fix problems like leaks, cracks, and missing shingles, ensuring your roof remains structurally sound and weatherproof. By investing in regular roof maintenance, homeowners can save money in the long run and eliminate the need to replace the entire roof. Where roof replacement or installation is necessary, a roofing company richmond can provide expert guidance and services. A professional roofing company will work closely with homeowners to determine the best roofing materials and styles to fit their needs and budget. Whether it's asphalt shingles, metal roofing, or shingles, a reputable roofing company can minimize disruption to the homeowner's daily routine by ensuring the new roof is installed correctly and efficiently. In addition to roof repair and replacement, a Richmond roofing company can also provide gutter repair and installation services. Gutters play a critical role in protecting a home's foundation and preventing water damage, making it imperative to keep them in good repair. A professional roofing company can evaluate the condition of your gutters and recommend any necessary repairs or replacements. They can also install new gutters, ensuring they integrate seamlessly into the roof system and effectively divert rainwater away from the home[3]. By investing in gutter repair and installation services, homeowners can protect their homes from water damage and preserve the value of their property[4]. You can visit our website for more information.

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visit-new-york · 1 year ago

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The Williamsburg Bridge remains a beloved and functional part of New York City's infrastructure, offering more than just a physical connection between boroughs. It weaves together the social, cultural, and economic fabric of the city while serving as a reminder of the city's enduring spirit and resilience.

Accessibility for Bicyclists: In recent years, the Williamsburg Bridge has become increasingly popular among cyclists. The addition of dedicated bike lanes and paths has made it a key route for those commuting between Brooklyn and Manhattan by bicycle. This has contributed to the city's efforts to promote sustainable transportation options.

Emergency Services: The Williamsburg Bridge, like other major bridges in New York City, is equipped with emergency evacuation plans and protocols. It is considered an essential route for emergency vehicles and personnel during crises or natural disasters.

Cultural Influence: Beyond its practical role, the Williamsburg Bridge has had a profound cultural influence, particularly in the Brooklyn neighborhood it connects to. Williamsburg, with its vibrant arts scene, has become synonymous with the bridge's name, and it has featured prominently in local art, music, and literature.

In Popular Culture: The Williamsburg Bridge has appeared in numerous movies, TV shows, and music videos. Its distinctive architecture and picturesque views have made it a favorite location for filmmakers and artists looking to capture the essence of New York City.

Connecting Diverse Communities: The bridge has played a crucial role in connecting diverse communities in Manhattan and Brooklyn. It has been a conduit for the exchange of cultural influences, economic activity, and social interactions.

Historical Preservation and Restoration: Various organizations and government agencies have been involved in preserving and restoring the bridge to ensure its longevity. Efforts have included repainting the bridge, restoring its architectural features, and maintaining its structural integrity.

Design Features: The Williamsburg Bridge's towers are constructed of steel, and its suspension cables are made of wire rope. The bridge's overall design showcases elements of the Beaux-Arts architectural style, with ornamental details and decorative flourishes.

Maintenance Challenges: Maintaining a bridge of this size and age is an ongoing challenge. The bridge requires regular inspections, repairs, and upgrades to keep up with modern safety standards and the demands of urban transportation.

Future Developments: As New York City continues to evolve, the Williamsburg Bridge remains a vital part of the city's infrastructure. Future developments and improvements may include further enhancements to pedestrian and cyclist facilities, as well as ongoing efforts to reduce environmental impacts.

Centennial Celebrations: The Williamsburg Bridge celebrated its centennial in 2003 with various events and activities to mark its 100th anniversary. This milestone offered an opportunity for New Yorkers to reflect on the bridge's historical importance.

Artistic Expressions: Over the years, the Williamsburg Bridge has been a canvas for artistic expressions. Street art and graffiti have adorned its support structures and pedestrian walkways, contributing to the bridge's cultural identity.

Traffic Congestion and Alternatives: Like many urban bridges, the Williamsburg Bridge experiences traffic congestion during peak hours. This congestion has prompted discussions about transportation alternatives, such as improved public transit options, to ease the burden on the bridge and reduce environmental impacts.

Hurricane Sandy and Resilience: The bridge, like other infrastructure in New York City, faced significant challenges during Hurricane Sandy in 2012. The storm surge resulted in flooding and temporary closures. In response, the city has explored ways to enhance the resilience of critical infrastructure, including the Williamsburg Bridge, to future extreme weather events.

Iconic Landmark: The Williamsburg Bridge is not just a transportation link but also an iconic symbol of New York City's skyline. Its unique silhouette and the way it frames views of the city have made it a subject of admiration for photographers, artists, and tourists alike.

Community Engagement: The Williamsburg Bridge has been the focus of community engagement and activism. Local residents and organizations have advocated for improvements, safety measures, and the preservation of its historical and cultural significance.

Economic Impact: The bridge's role in connecting Manhattan and Brooklyn has had a significant economic impact on both boroughs. It has facilitated the movement of goods and people, supporting businesses and industries on both sides of the East River.

Night Illumination: The Williamsburg Bridge is often illuminated at night, casting a stunning glow over the East River. The changing colors and lighting schemes have been used to mark special occasions and holidays, enhancing the bridge's visual appeal.

Symbol of Progress: Throughout its history, the Williamsburg Bridge has symbolized progress, connectivity, and the spirit of innovation. It reflects the dynamism of New York City as it continues to evolve and adapt to the needs of its residents.

The Williamsburg Bridge stands as a testament to both engineering innovation and the enduring cultural significance of infrastructure in urban life. It has served as a lifeline for generations of New Yorkers, connecting people, neighborhoods, and opportunities across the East River.

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ghelgheli · 7 months ago

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i love your thoughtful posts and your patience in answering questions, was wondering if you had read transgender marxism and if so what did you think of it? ty!

thank you 💖💖

i put off answering this ask specifically to read transgender marxism. i hadn't realized, going in, that it was an anthology of essays rather than a book with a single thesis and thread. having worked through them all i have to say... i was underwhelmed.

a few of the essays (e.g. queer workerism against work and seizing the means) read as restatements, using assorted theoretical widgets, of the rote fact that aspiration toward class consciousness and proletarian revolution demands that we organize with a consciousness of transness. true! moving on.

a few others (trans work employment trajectories, notes from brazil, dialogue on deleuze) felt like re-presentations of known knowns and (sorry!) kind of pedestrian to work thru.

several of the later essays (and especially the afterword, which as far as i could tell misrepresented at least JGP in histories of the transgender child and possibly even metabolic rift) bored me near to tears and were difficult to distinguish from the wordplay of theorizing purely in the realm of ideas. i'm pretty sure i think "‘Why Are We Like This?’: The Primacy of Transsexuality" by xandra metcalfe is just wrong and plays into racialist constructions of the plasticity of the subject while trying to construct an image of liberation.

that said, I had some favourites that i would recommend:

Encounters in Lancaster by JN Hoad. i posted an excerpt of this one recently. the analogies to atomism, the conception of the aleatrix, the image of heterosexuality as the swerving stream that sweeps us up in its currents—i thought it was beautiful and sharp.

The Bridge Between Gender and Organising by Farah Thompson. also posted an excerpt of this one. just a good autobiographical account with clear upshots of one subjectivity of organizing for a Black trans woman

A Queer Marxist Transfeminism: Queer and Trans Social Reproduction by Nat Raha. this is a critical recommendation (i think there is a classic overuse/misapplication of "femme" thru the text) but the concept of "gender labour" (not gendered labour!) and of the transfeminine subject as being relegated to the lowest, informal and unwaged rung of performing this labour in service of gender maintenance is something that will stay with me

i also enjoyed Transgender and Disabled Bodies: Between Pain and the Imaginary by Zoe Belinsky. don't have too much to say about this one. here's an excerpt tho: "The organism creates her own foundation: she continually creates the being of her own species – the condition for creating the ‘I can’. She continually creates her capacity to create that species-being and the ‘I can’. She does this through the collective labour of organisms labouring in common, in order to coordinate themselves as sensory parts in a higher organism. The labourers must move from particularity to generality in order to establish the general horizon of transformative possibilities: the inorganic body – institutions, tools of culture – that support the creative capacity of the human body."

#ask answer #transgender marxism #ty for asking!

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usafphantom2 · 7 months ago

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Updated B-52 electronic warfare suite will be tested in flight in 2024

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 03/29/2024 - 10:36 in Military

Flying through the skies since the 1950s, the B-52 Stratofortress is a U.S. Air Force (USAF) workhorse and a lasting symbol of American military power. The eight-engine giant has unique capabilities unparalleled to any other American warplane - which is why, after more than 70 years of service, it continues to play a vital role in the defense and national security strategy of the U.S. And thanks to a collaboration between L3Harris and USAF, this iconic aircraft is prepared to remain ready for the mission against highly sophisticated emerging threats in the coming decades.

Under a 10-year contract worth $947 million granted in 2021, L3Harris is upgrading and improving the AN/ALQ-172 electronic war self-protection system (EW), which protects the B-52 and air crews from a wide range of electronic threats. Our current work is based on decades of experience in providing critical technology as a Manufacturer of Original Equipment of the AN/ALQ-172 systems for the B-52 fleet. And combined with other ongoing modernization efforts, these updates will increase the relevance and reliability of the B-52 by the 2050s.

L3 Harris AN/ALQ-172 systems.

"Our opponents continue to evolve, facing advanced and far-reaching threats that challenge our ability to operate in contested environments," says Robert "Trip" Raymond, USAF's Program Leader for EW Technology Development at L3Harris. "It is essential that we provide our B-52 crew with the necessary tools to keep the B-52 relevant, lethal and survivable as the backbone of the strategic bomber force of the United States."

The effort of modernization and support - ALQ-172 Maintenance and Reliability System (MARS) - intends to do exactly that, increasing the average time between failures due to its modular design, while further improving the performance, maintenance capacity and reliability of the system. Thanks to an integrated and improved radio frequency system, crews will be able to simultaneously combat multiple radar threats that interfere with aircraft operations. And by replacing analog systems with more economical software solutions, USAF will be able to reduce the size of B-52 crews from 5 to 4. This frees up resources for additional mission-critical activities.

Ultimately, the updates will further help USAF in its Global Attack Mission and strengthen the effectiveness of the B-52 in modern warfare, while making future upgrades cheaper and easier.

"We are implementing affordable solutions that not only reduce costs, but also provide crews with more advanced protection against the most sophisticated threats detected by radar," said Jimmy Mercado, Program Director at L3Harris. "All this results in a more modern, efficient and effective aircraft, ready to dominate the future struggle."

USAF plans to conduct a test flight with the new electronic warfare capabilities of the B-52 in 2024.

Tags: Military AviationBoeing B-52H StratofortressEW - ELECTRONIC WARL3HarrisUSAF - United States Air Force / U.S. Air Force

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Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, he has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. He has works published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. He uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation.

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#b 52 stratofortress #usaf #bomber

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driftward · 3 months ago

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Folks don't talk much about the war around these parts, but you can see its scars in the people it touched. Not much more to say about that, but you best be aware of that history. For some folk, it stays with them.

A Desertwalkers story.

The Engineer in the Machine

The military was a mighty machine, the treads of which rolled across oceans and valleys, powerful gears upon which to grind policy and the will of the people. And Ada Fairlight was a dutiful cog in that mighty edifice, doing her part as mighty gears moved slowly around her, directing the will of a nation.

Today, that machine would be put to different purpose. Smaller, finer gears would come into play today, for it was a delicate work they would be doing. Information and logs and testimony would be fed in, and from that material and with those fuels, the machine would grind fine, until nothing but truth remained.

And then the machine would deliver justice.

It was with this in her mind that she entered the chambers of the military court, a somber affair in which she would play her part, same as she always had, every day since she had been commissioned to be part of the machine.

Fellow officers and bureaucrats moved around the chamber as she took her seat, enlisted men and women seeing to their various needs. It was an affair of quiet, hushed noise, full of murmurs and humming as people spoke. But at last, the place fell silent, as everyone took their place.

“Captain Fairlight,” the Master at Arms called, and she responded, arriving at the podium in accordance with rule and regulation.

“Do you swear that the witness you bear today shall be whole and truthful under the watchful gaze of the Fury and the Twelve?”

“I do.”

The Master at Arms gave her a salute, which she returned.

The Admiral in charge of the hearing cleared his throat. “Captain Fairlight, if you would please explain the circumstances and situation leading up to the incident aboard the Royal Service Ship Uragnite on the date in question.”

~*~

Captain Ada Fairlight was in the engineering spaces of the R.S.S. Uragnite, inspecting the equipment. As the chief maintenance officer onboard, she had responsibilities, and it was one of these responsibilities she was tending to now.

The ship was, in her opinion, in shambles. Operational, but she was constantly finding maintenance that needed to be done. She felt that it was bad enough to violate operational doctrine, but Major Mirkasch, Head of Engineering disagreed and overrode her every time she submitted her findings. Every sennight was another argument with him. She had plans that would allow them to repair while underway and still keep the ship going, but he was obsessed with the ledger and meeting aggressive deployment schedules.

She could smell the faint acridity from overworked electrical wiring as she made her way through the engineering spaces to inspect one of the gas cutoff valves. The ship had a mess of steam and ceruleum pipes serving as veins to feed it its lifeblood, and the valves were critical for their safe operation.

And also the subject of another ongoing argument between Captain Fairlight and Major Mirkasch.

With a sigh, she turned to the maintenance log locker to review it. Before she could open its latch, however, she was thrown up against it, or rather it rocked forward and slammed into her, as the deck under her feet became unstable and she felt, more than heard, a boom crack throughout the ship.

They were still in port. There was no possibility of that being an enemy attack. Almost on instinct, she reached up into the overhead, pulling herself up to touch a hand to the ceruleum line.

It was warm, it was vibrating, and it was howling.

She ran to the cutoff valve, where its motor was already making a valiant effort, yet failing. The emergency alarm began to sound as she got to it, just in time to hear it make a terrible grinding noise, and stop, all life gone from it. She leapt for its clutch, and wrenched it, throwing her whole body into disengaging it.

“Emergency report, emergency report,” sounded over the loudspeakers, from a voice that had been trained to maintain utter calm in any calamity. “Gas rupture in berthing.”

There was another engineering compartment between here and there. The hatch to one of them was in front of her. Anyone already in there was trapped until the gas flow could be stopped.

She grabbed the oversized valve, nearly two fulms across. Its size meant it was an absolute bear to operate manually. One hand on either side of it, she began to work it, even as she snapped orders out, even as she tried to get the situation under control.

“Contact control! Tell them the bravo gas cutoff valve is stuck.” An enlisted man rushed forward to take her spot, but she was already in motion, her hand a vice on the valve as she wedged her knee underneath a convenient piece of machinery and used her stomach, her legs, gravity, her arms, every onze available to her to pull that side down. “I have this! Retrieve respirators, make sure the O2 lines are running!” As her first hand made its way to the bottom of the valve’s motion, on the other side she secured her grip, and now she pushed up, continuing the rotation of the valve, every muscle from her toes up through her legs, her spine, and her arm serving as a kinetic chain. “Get ready for egress! Chief, charge water to the fire main!”

Gods, she hoped the gas would not ignite. Right now this was just an emergency. A spark would turn it into a catastrophe of conflagration.

The people in the space moved to carry out her orders, and she remained in motion on the valve. Down on one side, up on the other. Pull, push. It did not take long before her muscles were burning, her breathing labored, but she continued on. She could hear sounds on the other side of the compartment door, good men and women waiting to escape before the ceruleum turned their lungs into caustic soup.

Down. Up. Wrench. Turn.

The record for closing the valve manually was thirty six seconds. She was determined to do better.

At last, the valve hit its stop, and would go no further. The little needle indicator showed it was shut. Her entire body slick with sweat, she let go, and wobbled as she tried to steady herself.

Already exhausted, but there was more to do. She pointed to a nearby enlisted person.

“Verify that valve and report!” she commanded as she went to the hatch, placing one hand on its wheel as the enlisted person scampered to take her place on the valve.

“Secure!”

“Report to control! Everyone else, stand back!”

She quickly spun the wheel, and slammed the hatch open into its catch. A wave of the stench of vaporized ceruleum slammed into her senses at the same time several people spilled out. Some were coughing, wheezing into their masks, quickly trying to get clear, trying to escape.

With them was Alastor. Of course he was with them. The infantry were his responsibility, and he was carrying two of them, both unconscious.

“Where is your respirator?” demanded Ada.

His voice had a pitched creak to it as he spoke. “Not enough to go around. Had to give it away. Let me just grab someone else’s, I have to go back in-”

He made to move around her, but she shoved her shoulder into his, bodily dragging him to the side.

“You can’t go back in! Those fumes are already eating your lungs!”

He glared at her, and coughed heavily, as if to prove her point. Thick mucous flecked from his mouth, globs of it landing to wobble on his chin.

“I have more people in there.”

Ada glanced back at the open hatch. It stunk, and the air had that wavey, purple quality to it that told her that there was far too much gas in there.

She pointed, giving an order. “You, fetch me a respirator,” she said. She turned to Alastor. “You will sit this out. This is not up for debate. Grab a respirator, sit down for at least a count of thirty, clear out your lungs. I will get your people.”

Alastor glared at her, unruly. He was older than her, but she outranked him. After a moment, though, he nodded, and sat on the ground.

“Good man,” she said, taking the respirator as it was handed to her. No flash hood. Risk of fire was too great, she would need to find one. She checked its bladders. It would need to be topped off as she went, but at least she would not be breathing in any fumes. “Report to damage control command, let them know that Captain Fairlight is entering the -”

Her ears were ringing, and the world’s sounds were subdued, distant. She was in so much pain, she was not quite sure where she hurt and where she didn’t. She rolled over, and pushed herself off the deck. She could feel a wave of heat flowing by above her, searing the air. Her skull felt like it may near as well have been exploded. As she struggled to stand, she looked around, and saw smoke. There were bodies on the floor, some like her, struggling to stand.

Others were slicked with blood. Some were not moving.

Some were on fire.

She saw a ripple of purple in the air turn blue with flame and burn itself out.

She looked back to the hatch to the other compartment, and she saw flames in the air, dancing, lighting and dying and lighting again in turn as they met purple waves and broiled.

And nearby was her brother.

He was writhing on the deck, seemingly unable to control his limbs. He was kicking his legs out spastically, his arms trying to grab any surface. It was as though he was panicked, trying to escape some terrible thing. He was gasping, and blue fire sputtered from his mouth, and died, and came back to life.

His lungs were on fire.

Ada dived for him, having to fight him to the ground. She got her arms and legs around him, trying to wrap them around his, trying to keep him from getting leverage, trying to keep him on the deck. Long enough for her to wrap a hand around his mouth, and to get her fingers around his nose, and to pinch it shut.

He writhed in her arms, his back arching and his gut spasming, as he continued to try to fight her. But she held on, rocking with him, refusing to let go. Refusing to let him escape. Refusing to let him take another breath.

He grew weak, and then he stilled, ultimately collapsing against him. She waited.

Held on.

Gave him a count of thirty.

Around her, people rushed, trying to salvage the situation. Two fire hoses were spilled out, and one of them was pointed into the next compartment. It could not put out a fire of this nature, but the deluge of water might keep the compartment cool enough to reduce further damage.

The fire would burn itself out soon enough.

Just as she hoped it had done in his lungs.

At last, she let go, and pushed her brother off of her, wedging him into a corner. She did not know if he was alive or dead. Either way, he would need to be out of the way until the medical team could tend to him.

She got up to her feet, and walked over to the door to the next compartment. An oppressive heat rolled out of it, warning her away. If she was to go in there now, without a flash hood, the heat would well be enough to melt her respirator to her face.

But there were still people in there.

She retrieved several ratchet straps, and grabbed the second fire main away from the person holding it. They just watched as she shoved the hose up the front hem of her uniform top, up the front of her chest, sticking its nozzle just under her chin, and then used the ratchet straps to make sure it stayed in place.

Once she was certain it was secure, she headed for the hatch.

One of the enlisted tried to stop her.

“Ser, you can’t go in there,” they said.

She shrugged them off, not breaking stride. “There are people in there. I need to get them out,” she said.

She had told Alastor she would get them.

She would have done it anyroad.

Nobody deserved this hell.

When the heat became too much to bear, she wrenched open the nozzle on the firemain. A deluge of freezing water exploded under her chin, soaking her immediately.

Thus protected, she made her way into the next compartment.

She quickly found two people, one unconscious, the other struggling to get them out. She took over, and pointed back to where she had come from. “Go! I have this one!” she yelled, as she planted her body under the unconscious one and hoisted them into the air. The first one nodded, and together, they made their way back out. She dumped her human cargo on the floor without ceremony, and dove back in.

The next one was harder. She found them unconscious, one arm stuck in between ladder rungs where they had tried to escape. She almost burned her hands getting them free before she retreated to a locker to retrieve a pair of heavy leather gauntlets. She came back, pulled them out, and carried them to the exit before immediately returning.

Overhead, the loudspeaker continued to make announcements. “Fire in forward engineering compartment upper level. Fire in aft infantry berthing upper level. Plant steam out in progress. Prepare to receive emergency recovery teams.”

The next one, she pulled off the deck, having to peel their face off the grating where they had melted and become stuck. She ran back with them, set them down, returned. Her arms burned. Her lungs burned from exertion. Freezing water continued to rush into her face, but the heat of the space leaned against her on all sides. She could feel it on her skin, clawing into her.

She had to duck lower, stay down close to the deck. If she looked up, she could see the air above her rippling and writhing, a living thing, roiling and wavy from the heat. Under her heavy leather clad boots, the metal grating that made up the floor was sagging.

She kept moving.

There was less and less purple in the air as the vaporized ceruleum burnt itself out. With the cutoff valve closed, no more could enter the space. But the damage had been done, and she came across insulation that had been crisped, blackened on its edges. As she carried one person out, she could see metal sagging, melting in terrible heat, on the edge of the compartment. It looked as though it was beginning to sweat little metal droplets.

She saw a body too close to the slag as she moved.

They would have to rest there. She could only spare time for the living.

The fire hose could not make it all the way to the next compartment over, but there was another fire hose on the way. She took several long precious moments to undo her ad-hoc ratchet strap arrangement, swapping out one hose for the other, and abandoning the first one, being careful to make sure that she always had at least one with its nozzle open and spraying water into her head.

Her face was sore from the constant deluge. She had to stop to refill the respirator several times. Everything hurt, and nothing was getting better.

Nevertheless, she persisted, pulling out as many as she could find, until finally she set one body down on the deck out in safety, out where she had started, and two people grabbed her from either side. One of them turned off the hose keeping her cool.

She fought against them. “There is more in there! I have to go back!”

“Your job is done, Captain!” one of them yelled. “The recovery team is here!”

She pulled against them, one last time, almost out of reflex. But they were right. In her haste, in her single minded determination, she had missed that several men and women had finally arrived, dressed in the oversized puffy suits meant for exactly this kind of work. Fully sealed. Fully insulated. Even now, they were pushing past other people, and entering the hell beyond.

She stopped fighting, and nodded. One of the people on her let go, but the other held on. She got her legs firmly under her, and tried to push to stand taller, to get leverage and move, but he kept her.

“Let me go,” she said.

“Respirator off, captain,” he said.

After a moment, she pulled it off, and winced. Her face hurt. She took a deep breath in, and her wince became a grimace. Breathing, cooler air against her face, everything hurt.

She realized she must look a mess. Her uniform was in tatters. She became aware that her legs and arms must have been terribly burnt. She was drenched from head to toe in dirty water from the fire system, and stunk, of that, of ceruleum, of engineering, of sweat. She could feel her hair matted against her skull, gross and slimy.

She finally got a look at the person who had been helping to hold her back, and noted the medical symbol on his uniform as he looked her over.

He finished his examination, reached up, and drew something on her forehead.

“You’ve been triaged,” he said. “Unfit. Get yourself out of the way, captain, before you become another casualty.”

She wanted to fight him on that.

But she looked around. There were already people here, and more coming in. While she had been rushing back and forth, fires had been put out. Equipment had been turned off. Other medics were present, tending to other bodies.

She swallowed, and nodded, and finally at last he let her go. She stumbled away from him, trying to stay out of the way of the others as they did their work, searching until she found the corner she had tucked her brother in.

She sat down heavily on the ground, and pushed herself against him, and felt the fight leave her.

She was tired.

But the plant was in good hands. The plant was safe. She had done what she could, and it would have to be enough.

~*~

Ada walked out of the courtroom, and was surprised to see Alastor sitting on a bench in the hallway.

“Do not stand up,” she said as she began to walk over him. “Do not stand up, do not salute me, stop it, do not-”

But he had come to full attention, and his hand came up in a sharp salute.

“Ser Fairlight.”

She came to a stop, pulling herself up to return the salute. “I hate you so much.”

“You hate me so much… what?”

“I hate you so much, Ser Fairlight. Sit down.”

He grinned, and released his salute, allowing her to drop hers as he lowered himself carefully to the bench. Ada sat primly next to him, and wrinkled her nose angrily at him, which caused him to let out a wheezing laugh.

“What are you even doing here? I was certain your hearing was not until tomorrow?”

“It isn’t. I thought I’d see how my little sister was doing.”

“I am both taller and heavier than you.”

“Fine, my bigger sister.”

“You should be in the infirmary. You are crippled.”

“Not yet, I’m not.”

She frowned at him.

“At least, not until they declare it during my hearing, right?” he said, as he wheeze-laughed again.

“The only thing keeping me from hitting you is sympathy.”

“And your overly keen sense of propriety.”

“There are rules to society, Alastor. You should learn a few sometime.”

He grinned as he sat back, and she sighed at him.

“How’s it going in there?” he asked.

“Going from the top down. We just finished my testimony on the accident. Questioning will continue when I go back in there, as they decide what to do with me.”

Alastor leaned forward slowly, a frown creasing his forehead.

“What do you mean, what to do with you?”

“I suspect I shall be asked for my resignation.”

“What? Why!? That doesn’t make any sense - you’re a bloody hero!”

Ada did not look at her brother.

“No commanding officer will ever trust me again.”

Alastor opened his mouth to respond, but a polite cough stopped him.

“Ser Fairlight?”

“Yes?” they both responded, looking up.

The enlistedperson looked momentarily taken aback, but recovered quickly.

“Captain Ada Fairlight,” he said. “The court is ready.”

“More testimony,” she said. “I will meet you after, Alastor.”

~*~

Captain Ada Fairlight frowned as she looked through the maintenance logs.

Main machinery upper level was still in terrible disarray. Red tags fluttered in fan driven breeze, marking equipment that was out of service or otherwise not to be operated. Workers made their way through the space and around her, working on repairs as they were able, while she and the watch tried to stay out of their way.

Above her head as she read, the bravo ceruleum cutoff valve was one of the items that had a red tag hung from it. The valve stem was suspected to be bent, which was part of what made it so difficult to open or shut. It was a problem Ada had known about for some time, and one of many matters on which she and the Head Engineer had often argued.

Before the accident, she had ordered it and that side of the ceruleum system to be taken out of service pending further inspection and repair.

Someone had marked it as repaired, put it back into service, and signed off on it being in good function. In the maintenance log, she found the name of the enlistedperson who had supposedly done the work.

None of their initials or signatures were anywhere in the log, however. Nor that of their supervisor, or anyone who might have helped them.

Just Captain Mirkasch’s signature, at the very end, verifying the work complete.

She looked at the name of the worker again. One of hers, but they had not been in the engineering spaces as of late, even before the accident. Indeed, they had been a near neighbor of hers these past few days. She tapped her finger on their name.

The safety officer came up to her while she was thinking. “I’ve accounted for most of the emergency kits. It’s possible that some material was destroyed during the accident, but I think we’re still shorter than we should be.”

“Thank you, captain,” she said. “Have you reviewed my work so far?”

“I have, and added my own,” they said. “Soon as you sign, I will countersign.”

She nodded.

It was not until the next day that she made her way down to the Head Engineer’s office, knocking on the door as she arrived.

“Enter,” she heard through the door, and she let herself in.

The office was familiar to her. About the size of two of the junior officer’s wardrooms, it was dominated by a large desk, which in turn was covered with diagrams, charts, and reference books. Each wall of the room had a different diagram on it, one showing the steam and gas plant schematic, another showing electrical wiring throughout the ship, another showing a full layout of where all the equipment was.

Captain Mirkasch was sitting at his desk, reviewing paperwork. He glanced up at Ada as she entered.

“Captain Fairlight,” he said dryly. “The infirmary release you early?”

Ada stopped in front of the desk, and saluted. “Major Mirkasch. I wished to speak with you regarding the gas leak incident.”

“Repairs are still under way, Captain, and engineering has the matter well in hand,” he said dismissively.

“The original gas line rupture was probably just an act of nature,” she began.

“Oh good, finally, a matter on which we can agree.”

“But I believe that the resulting explosion and follow on series of events were completely avoidable.”

He looked up at her, frowning.

“You see, ser,” she continued. “I think the cascade of failures began with the bravo cutout valve. We have known for some time that the stem on the valve was bent. A bent stem meant the valve was very difficult to operate, open or shut. If you perhaps had let me place a Pattern on the valve-”

“Yes, yes, we have had this argument a dozen dozen times, Captain, and let me remind you, once again, that the use of your superstitions is permitted, but not required. This ship has one mission, and one mission only. We deliver troops to the front line. Nothing more, nothing less. Anything that might interfere with that mission is, or might prevent us from deploying, is simply out of the question. Now, if that’s all, I would like to get back to work.”

Ada bristled at the use of the word superstitions, but let it go. She had a more important point to pursue.

“Not all, Major. Leaving aside the matter of my plan to keep the plant operational and safe, I believe that, over time, the operation of that valve became too much for the motor to handle. This placed repeated strain on it, leading to its failure. With that motor, the valve can be closed in four to five seconds. Without it, that valve takes near half a minute to close for even our best operators, during which time forward engineering and berthing were flooded with volatile ceruleum. Resulting in an explosive air mix.”

“Supposedly,” said Mirkasch. “And what do you want me to do about it, captain, go back in time and replace the valve?”

“I will get to that,” said Ada. “Another factor that I think led to the explosion was poor conditions in the electrics. A lot of that gear was rather warmer than it should have been, with insulation missing in places. Heat or a spark, plus the volatile air mixture, led to the explosion, injuring several. More were injured or killed due to a lack of available safety gear.”

“Need I remind you, Captain, we are at war. Supplies can be difficult to obtain, and the mission of this ship is paramount. A few missing respirators or a shortage in flash gear is to be expected.”

“We are failing to accomplish that mission now, ser.”

“Yes, thanks to an accident outside of our control. Is there anything else, Captain? I have better things to do than talk in circles around you today.”

Ada clasped her hands behind her back. “I remember that motor failing, Major. I personally saw it taken out of commission. A look into the maintenance logs showed that someone placed it back in to service. I believe they did so without actually performing the maintenance in question, judging from the condition of the motor.”

Major Mirkasch studied her carefully, steeping his fingers in front of him.

“Whoever they are, they will be in serious trouble if so,” he said, carefully.

“You signed off on their work, ser.”

He nodded. “I sign off on all work in the plant, Captain, but I cannot review every single maintenance task that has to be done. Spot checks are the standard. And if this person elected to not perform the maintenance in question, then there would have been nothing for me to check.”

Not how that works, thought Ada to herself.

“Anyroad. Pass their name to me, I will investigate further.”

“I already have, ser,” she said. “I wondered, at first, how they had done the maintenance at all.”

The Major raised his eyebrows.

“Fireman Rhotflamsyn has been in the infirmary since shortly after coming aboard. Fell down a ladder well, broke his leg. We have not been able to spare the time to return him home to a proper hospital, so the medical staff set his leg and have been keeping him as still as possible.”

She continued as the Major frowned at her. “You would know that, of course, ser, if you bothered to keep track of our people at any other time besides morning muster.”

“…watch your tone, Captain. What are you trying to say?”

“I am trying to say nothing, ser. The logs, however, say much. My predecessor also had much to say about the condition of the electronics, but it seems you repeatedly overrode him on the matter. The safety officer claims that the responsibility for plant safety equipment falls upon you, and yet our inventory of such seems to be short of what it should be. And the logs tell of maintenance done on my motor, but my motor is dead. Three people with it. Plus fifteen injured.”

The Major’s lip curled, and he looked as though he was about to say something terrible, but he stopped himself, leaning back in his chair, and taking the time to compose himself.

“Supposedly, Captain. Supposedly. Let me tell you what I see. I see a Captain, upset over the unfortunate circumstances that led to her brother getting hurt. Unable to find fault, she has exceeded her duties and the bounds of propriety, is finding fault where there is none, and is thinking to turn a tragedy into a drumhead.”

“My brother was far from the only person hurt, ser.”

“Nevertheless. This is all pointless conjecture. We shall wait and see what the official report says, which I am certain will find that this entire incident, while tragic, was simply an accident.”

Ada took a deep breath in.

“We will not need to wait, ser.”

The Major became very, very still.

“What?”

“I am allowed to compile such a report, per regulation. It falls within my duties and responsibilities, and by the letter of law, I am empowered to make such a report if I see fit. I have seen fit. My report has been fact checked and signed off by a fellow officer, and as of this morning, is up before the executive officer for review. The intent of this meeting is to inform you of my findings, as well as to inform you that the report has been submitted.”

The Major stood up slowly, leaning on his knuckles on the desk.

“You went over my head,” he said, measuring his words out.

“Which is also permitted by regulation, ser,” she said.

“You went over. My head,” he said again. “You are out of line, Captain.”

“What I did was fully within the code of,” she began, her voice ice.

“Captain Fairlight. Attention!” he barked.

Ada snapped immediately to stand fully at attention.

“You went over my head,” he snarled. “You have violated the chain of command for your own selfish, stupid, petty purposes. You have -”

He stopped, and turned his head to the side to growl, as he took several deep breaths. When he spoke next, his voice grinded, growled, threatening.

“You are insubordinate, and you have violated a sacred trust, Captain. You will give me your resignation before the end of the day.”

“That is explicitly called out in the regulations as an illegal order, Major, and I shall not follow it.”

“While you are at attention, Captain, you do not speak unless asked a direct question.”

Ada’s jaw tightened.

He stared at her, waiting, daring her to speak again, but she remained silent.

“You are relieved of your duties, Captain. When I dismiss you, you are to return to your quarters, and you will stay there. And if I see you anywhere else before you are sent for, you won’t have to wait for the court martial. Do I make myself clear?”

Ada continued to stare past the wall at nothing. “Aye, ser.”

The Major sat back down at his desk, and he glared at her, challenging, but she did not respond.

“Get out of my sight.”

Ada saluted him, pivoted, and left.

~*~

Final closing statements had been made, and the Admiralty had convened to close out. Ada sat amongst those under judgement, listening carefully, as findings and judgements were passed. Judgement of the ship’s captain was first, as everything that happened under his command was automatically his responsibility, by long tradition. The admiralty declared him innocent of malfeasance, and the events that had happened under his command an act of the gods. He would be removed from duty for reassignment to a shore command.

A relatively light sentence, given what had occurred, but Ada frowned at the declaration of the ‘act of the gods’.

The executive officer was next, and his judgement was much the same, and Ada began to feel unease.

Then Major Mirkasch.

“Major Mirkasch, attention.”

Ada was now paying keen attention.

“In the matter of the incident onboard the R.S.S. Uragnite on the date in question, on the question of whether or not Major Mirkasch is guilty of gross malfeasance, dereliction of duty, falsifying logs, and related charges, the Admiralty has reviewed the evidence and found him not guilty.”

The courtroom remained otherwise silent as the Admiral continued. Ada became aware of a terrible pain in her jaw, radiating up through her skull and threatening to crush her restraint.

“Major Mirkasch, you will remain onboard the R.S.S. Uragnite pending completion of turnover duties. Once those are complete, you will be given new orders to be transferred to another fleet. Do you understand this order?”

“Yes, ser.”

“Do you have any questions?”

“No, ser.”

“You may be seated.”

Major Mirkasch saluted, and sat down. Ada could feel her nails biting into her palms.

“Captain Fairlight, attention.”

Ada came to her feet smartly.

“In the matter of Captain Fairlight’s guilt regarding insubordination, conduct unbecoming of an officer, disobeying a direct order, dereliction of duty, and related charges, the Admiralty has reviewed the evidence and found her not guilty.”

Ada stood stock still.

“Captain Fairlight, you are hereby removed from your post. You are detached from the R.S.S. Uragnite effective immediately. Upon the closing of these proceedings, you will proceed to personnel, to retrieve your new orders to another ship in the fleet. Do you understand this order?”

No.

“Yes, ser.”

“Do you have any questions?”

Just one.

“No, ser.”

“You may be seated.”

Ada saluted, and sat, feeling as though she was snapping down into her seat like a spring being violently brought to full compression. The hearing continued, as the admiralty worked their way through the other officers, chiefs, and enlisted, thorough in their judgement of the accident.

She paid little attention, stunned. None of it made any sense. One of them had to be right. Either herself or Major Mirkasch. The court had found both of them not guilty. Exonerated them both. Had even set them on paths to continue to serve.

He had gotten people killed.

She would never be trusted by any command ever again.

This was all wrong.

At last, the hearing came to an end. The entire room came to their feet on command, and then, once dismissed, began to file out of the room. Ada just sat back down in her chair, still unbelieving in the outcome, still uncertain of what to do next.

As he passed by her, Major Mirkasch just nodded in her direction. “Captain,” he said, no malice, no heat, just a flat acknowledgement, simply stated. He did not seem to expect a response, not pausing for one as he continued to make his way out.

Finally, at last, it was just her, the Master at Arms, and one of the admirals in the courtroom.

The admiral continued to scribble something for his notes. The Master at Arms cleared his throat politely. Ada took the hint, and stood up, but at the same time, the admiral glanced up to see her.

“Did you have a question, Captain?” asked the admiral.

She did. But did she wish to pursue it?

“Aye, ser. Permission to approach and speak, ser.”

“Approach and ask your question.”

She walked up to the row of judge’s desks where the admiralty had sat on high and listened to testimony, deliberated their decisions, and passed judgement. Once she was close, she saluted, and waited until the admiral saluted back before she spoke.

“Just… why, ser?”

The admiral looked her over.

“My testimony and Mirkasch’s were in opposition, ser. Either he could be guilty, or I am, or both of us. But to dismiss the charges? And send us back to fleet? I do not understand, ser.”

The admiral sighed, and sat back in his seat, and considered Ada for a moment.

“Plainspeak, then, Captain. Major Mirkasch is well liked by his peers, and is the son of retired Admiral Mirkasch. You will note also that he has made it to Major. He has done his job well enough up until now, without major incident. To dismiss him would require a political will we simply do not have at the moment. No. We will see him assigned somewhere with a stricter XO who will do a somewhat better job keeping an eye on him. In addition, one of the officers who will be reporting to him may be subordinate in the rank structure, but his family has rather more pull than his. We’ll see him do his job.”

“What of the dead and injured?”

“Plainspeak, Captain, plainspeak. What of them? We are at war. Casualties happen. Unfortunate, but the machine must move on.”

More like a beast, if it was eating its people like this, thought Ada.

“And what of me, ser?”

“You have family of your own which we wish to be careful of. And in addition, Captain, frankly, you are too valuable to go away. Now, I will confess, I do not fully understand the full extent of all of this Pattern and new engineering, but we recognize that it, and you, are extremely valuable. You will find the ship you are going to will be rather more, ah, accommodating of your more… radical ideas.”

Ada shook her head. “I turned in my superior officer, ser. I … was right to go past him in the chain of command, but I also recognize that nobody else will see it that way. My career is effectively over.”

“Plainspeak is the word of the day, captain. And the word of this admiralty is thus.”

He put his pen down for a moment, clasped his hands in front of him, and leaned forward to look her in the eye.

“We do not give a damn.”

Ada felt her temper turn to ice.

“I shall turn in my resignation, then.”

“Should have thought to do that earlier. Too late now. I will personally reject any such letter that you submit.”

She glared at him.

“For that matter, why did you wait to do so? Might have avoided charges. It’s not generally in our best interest to go after someone for insubordination if they leave of their volition.”

“I wanted to see how this turned out, ser. And … and I wanted to see the right thing done, ser.”

The admiral drummed his fingers on the desk thoughtfully.

“You were never going to turn in a resignation letter. I’ve met officers like you before, and that’s what I think. No, I know your kind. You signed a contract and took an oath, and you’ll see them both through before the military is done with you. No, I think you’ll be staying, Captain. We’ll be better for it.”

She hated that he was right.

He capped his pen, and began to organize his papers. “If it makes you feel any better, we will be keeping a very close eye on the Major, family connections or no. Was there anything else?”

“No, ser.”

“Very well. Dismissed, Captain Fairlight.”

Ada came to attention, saluted, turned, and left.

~*~

Alastor was no longer in the hallway when she left, which was just as well at the moment. She did not feel like talking to him.

She did not feel like telling him that she had failed.

She did not feel like telling him that they had both been failed.

She walked, steadily, stiffly, keeping herself composed, keeping her head high.

And she thought of the one bit of testimony that she did not tell in the courtroom.

Of how she sat next to his still body. How she had reached over. How weak she had felt, after all had been said and done. How dead she felt.

How dead he felt.

How she had pulled him into her arms, and curled up around him, and began to sob as the ship around her creaked, as its mighty metal groaned, as the great vessel struggled to keep itself alive. Of how it felt that the death was reaching through its bones, threatening to drag the whole crew down.

She did not tell them that she felt she had left her feelings there, in that moment, sobbing against a body she did not know was alive.

She turned and looked up at the large military complex building. A gigantic edifice of stone, gray and imposing. A beast, in truth, whose belly consumed lives and delivered nothing of worth.

The machine had always been an illusion. Slick and clean, efficient and capable to outside eyes.

But she knew better, now.

The machine was bleeding to death, but the beast fed well.

She turned her back to it, and walked away.

#final fantasy xiv #weird wild west au #desertwalkers #backstory #biot writes #ada fairlight #one of two

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