#North Americans and friends going steady

[kickerofelves]

Going Steady — North Americans

[melodymunson]

older! Rockstar Eddie Munson x fem! reader x eventual older Steve x fem!reader.

(Eddie is 38 and the reader is 25.) The year is 2008. All 21 chapters are on ao3. Only chapter 1 will be on tumblr.

series title: Love Buzz

chapters 1 and preview of chapter 2 (5K words)

chapter 1: like a dream come true

series summary: Corroded Coffin have a reunion tour with none other than doom/gothic metal legends Type O' Negative. Reader recently finished college with a bachelor's degree in the music business. After being interviewed by none other than Eddie Munson himself, you get the job as their touring band manager. What starts as a business relationship grows into friendship and eventually an epic romance. Steve Harrington is CC's bodyguard. Eventual Steddie x fem! reader. Multi-series.

Ao3 link

The sound of your alarm clock blared in your ears as you removed your eye mask and stretched. You turned it off, then got up and put on your house slippers, then made your way to your shower to get ready for the day. Gone were the days of doing pole dancing and burlesque for money to pay for college. Your college debt was all paid for and you had a temporary, yet steady job working at your best friend's family-owned restaurant. Pay and tips were good, but today you were interviewing for your dream job. You couldn't wait to meet the frontman and lead guitarist of the legendary 80s metal band Corroded Coffin- Eddie Munson. They toured with so many amazing bands back in the day before they reunited, such as Carnivore, Cinderella, Whitesnake, The Scorpions, Bon Jovi, W.A.S.P., and even the Prince of Darkness himself- Ozzy Osbourne. The 80s were a bit of an obsession to you, even though you only grew up late in the decade and were just a kid when the 80s were about to end. The 90s were just fine, but you had the fondest memories of your childhood in the 80s. Once you washed your hair and used your favorite body wash, you shave your legs and blow dry your hair before applying your favorite scent of perfume and lotion. The interview flyer said to dress casually, so you dressed in your favorite pair of black leather pants and a Black Sabbath tour shirt. You paired it with your most worn and metal pin-decorated black leather jacket. Although you were a bit apprehensive about anything that could go wrong, you instead decided to focus on all the good. After getting some breakfast, you headed out to go to the drive-thru and pick up your favorite coffee order then go to Eddie's studio for the interview. Corroded Coffin was recording a brand new EP and it was the first music they would release in over 10 years, since their last show and album was back in 1995. The original lineup was back together, though and they needed a new manager- someone reliable. With your degree and experience working a little in the music industry throughout college and in your 2-year internship.

When you arrived at their studio, Eddie's uncle Wayne led you into the recording studio and told you to make yourself comfortable. You had a short phone interview with Eddie but this second interview would be the last one to see if you would get the position. That summer Corroded Coffin had a 30-date North American tour that was sold out, including 4 dates in Canada. Traveling was something you wanted to do much more of and this would be the perfect opportunity for that. Your last relationship ended only two months ago and you couldn't wait to find more things to do to keep yourself busy. This dream job would hopefully be the best distraction. As you walked into the studio, Eddie saw smiled at you as he looked you up and down. He was quite impressed with what he was seeing. When you sat down in the room opposite the recording booth, Eddie put his guitar down and made his way over to the room you were in. You stood up as soon as he entered and Wayne left. Eddie looked even more attractive in person. He had the most stunning tattoos and his curly locks of hair were something else. When you were younger, you had a big crush on him, but now you felt like you were smitten. Seeing him in magazines, on posters, in interviews, and even in music videos didn't do him enough justice. He was not just hot and sexy he was a very handsome man and his stubble only added to the allure. His ripped Ozzy shirt complimented his pair of spandex jeans quite well.

"Sit down, please. I'd like to get this interview started and after you can stay if you'd like and hear us record a new song. How does that sound?" He asked as he sits down in a chair opposite from yours.

"Yes, sir. I mean Mr. Munson. I would like that very much."

"No, no, don't call me sir, or Mr. Munson. That's my father and sir just makes me feel like an old man," he admitted, trying to hold back a slight chuckle.

You sat back down and nodded your agreement, waiting pensively for the interview to start. Even though no one else was around or super close by, you couldn't help but feel your nerves get the better of you. Here this beautiful rockstar and guitar Adonis was sitting right in front of you, and it was making you nervous. It was a good thing you had some time before the studio to do your makeup- some black eyeshadow, lipstick, and foundation.

"Well, to be quite honest with you, judging from your resume, you are one of the two most qualified so this interview will be the last one before I make my final decision. I will call you with the news by tonight after talking it over with the rest of the guys. Now my first question is, are you completely dedicated to being on a full-length all-summer tour across North America with Canada included?" He asked with a raise of his brows.

His brown button eyes were so gorgeous. You couldn't fall for him though. He was your potential boss after all. If you didn't end up getting the job, then you probably wouldn't hear from him again unless you went to one of their shows.

"I know I am qualified for this job and I am very dedicated to my job. At the moment, I work at a restaurant, but I can give my week's notice and be there for you at the start of the tour and throughout the summer, Eddie. I also have my passport renewed and ready at my disposal now if you'd like to check it out."

"That won't be necessary." He clears his throat, then eyes you up and down again with a small smirk on his lips. "I need to have you sign an NDA otherwise known as a nondisclosure agreement. What happens and what is said on tour and in the studio stays on tour and in the studio. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Eddie. I understand that fully. I am familiar with NDA and I could sign one."

"Good, because we wouldn't want my band's new songs to be leaked, now would we? The album isn't being released until the very end of the summer after all. Not even the song track titles," he explains to you as he gestures with his hands for emphasis. His metal and sterling silver rings were a sight to see and you liked his style.

"I completely understand. I can keep it a secret."

"Now there's no set uniform for this job, but just to let you know I like your style and would like to see you wear similar outfits on the tour. Just throwing that out there. I've seen your references, resume, as well as your degree in music and your GPA, and I am highly impressed. I just have one last question for you. Are you prepared for long days and some grueling nights? Can you keep up with that sort of lifestyle with little sleep some nights, well most nights actually, and being around as well as managing 4 crazy old dude rockers?"

He didn't want to scare you off or make you nervous. Those things were far from his true intentions, but he wanted to know that he had someone reliable for him. Someone who truly was a person he could count on, because there were so many people he couldn't even trust.

"Yes, Eddie. I can be the manager that you and Corroded Coffin need."

He got up and put out his hand for you to shake. You took it and shook his hand.

"I'll be in touch. We are about to record our guitar and drum solos for the new track and I think you should stay."

"I will. Thank you."

He nodded and left the room, closing the door gently behind him. As they recorded, you watched in amazement and fascination, as you banged your head along to the music. His eyes met yours as he played his solo, and a wicked grin was on his face whenever he made eye contact with you. Later on, he talked to his bandmates and they decided on the new band touring manager.

Eddie's POV:

I like her already. She has a good personality, likes great music, she seems reliable and trustworthy, and even better she certainly has the look to be my band manager. I just wonder if she will have what it takes to survive out on the road with the 4 of us crazy rockers. The relationship is going to be professional and I won't let myself stray from my music and my job but God if I said I didn't want to take her out I would be lying. She is drop-dead gorgeous and I feel like she is the perfect fit for our band. Once I call Miranda and let her know the job position has been filled, I will call her to let her know she has the gig.

Your phone rang almost right after you had finished up your dinner and watched one of your favorite movies on DVD. You picked it up almost instantly once Eddie's name showed up on the caller ID.

"Hello?" You asked.

"It's me, Eddie. I just got off the phone with the other interviewee and I had to let her down easily. You got the job."

You muted your mic for a few seconds to do a happy dance and scream before unmuting him.

"Great. When do I start?"

"I'm glad you still want the job. Two weeks from tomorrow, we start tour prep, and two days after that we are off on the road. Are you sure you're ready for this and fully committed to it?"

"I am. I swear."

"Good now get some rest and I will call you in about a few with some more details."

"Thanks, Eddie."

"Good night. Take care of yourself."

"You too, Eddie."

You hung up and danced all around your house before you called your best friend to celebrate. She came over for celebratory drinks and hugged you before she left. She more than understood you calling it quits with your job at her family's restaurant and things were great between the two of you. You slept well that night.

Your best friend couldn't help but gush about it with you when you revealed you had gotten the job, and that you were now officially the touring band manager of Corroded Coffin. She was so happy for you and it was going to be the best thing ever to go out on tour with one of your favorite bands. The summer tour started in Los Angeles, California, and ended in Brooklyn, New York, with some other dates. Of course, there would be a stop in Hawkins, Indiana, the band's hometown. Your friend couldn't help but talk about just how hot she thought Eddie was, especially in recent interviews and magazine print photos. She was so jealous of you and you promised her a backstage pass in New York. Eddie and his fellow bandmates had moved to Brooklyn in the early 2000s because of the great music scene there. The tour with Type O' Negative was a co-headliner with the bands switching stage times each night of the tour. Of course, you thought Eddie was great looking and getting to know him better throughout the tour, which you imagined would happen, was going to be pretty great. According to the tabloids, he was recently single but of course, your relationship with him was going to be professional. You didn't dare ask an almost stranger about his relationship status. Eddie was formerly married with no children. His ex-wife, Hailey, supposedly could be a real bitch, and you hoped you would never have to cross paths with her. It was going to be the summer of a lifetime guaranteed and as you packed for your trip, you listened to Corroded Coffin as your bestie and roommate helped you get ready for the tour. The way he smelled at the interview was a mixture of nicotine and a nice spicy cologne and aftershave. His hands were calloused from playing the guitar, but it seemed like he had the tried and true hands of a real guitarist. What you wouldn't give to have his hands in yours. You fantasized about him at night and thought about his big and strong arms wrapped around you, but of course, that couldn't be possible, right? He was your boss and good-looking, but still, you didn't want to jeopardize your dream job. You would keep your hands to yourself. For all you knew, he probably had a girlfriend, and in a low-key relationship, he hid from the public's view. Either way, there would probably still be groupies on tour.

A few nights later, just days before the tour, Eddie called you post-band rehearsal.

"Hi, Eddie. I hope you are doing well."

"Thank you, and I am. I just wanted to get in touch to talk to you about a few things. The plane and itinerary that you have received in the mail are all paid for up-front and included in your salary. Is now a good time to talk?"

"Definitely. I wasn't busy doing anything."

"Good. I assume you also got the checklist for what you need to bring on tour and what's suggested, what you should probably leave behind?"

"I did. I received it in the mail today," you told him sounding eager in your tone as you lay on your bed.

You took another sip of your glass of red wine, as Eddie took another puff of his joint.

"Well, great then. Now on this tour, family and friends can be invited backstage, and on the tour bus, but we have a strict schedule, with a limited number of days off. I was just making sure it's understood that you run it by me first before any family or friends come backstage?"

Secretly, you wondered if Eddie liked younger women but quickly dismissed this thought.

"That's perfectly understandable and I will let you know in advance. My best friend wants to come to the New York show. Is that alright?"

"In Brooklyn? Definitely. I just have one more question for you." He paused for a few brief moments, and took another drag, before placing the joint down on his ashtray and continuing. The suspense was killing you. It sounded like he was smoking, and his voice was smoky, but in a good way. "Well, since all the technicalities are already taken care of, and the traveling logistics, as well as the food budget, I was just wondering if you would be interested in directing and being in our next music video?"

At that moment, you wanted so badly to jump up and down in excitement- and to scream, but contained yourself, and calmed down before you responded to him.

"That sounds pretty amazing. I'd love to direct and star in your new music video," you told him, sounding very intrigued.

"Great and finally, I just wanted to make sure you don't have any further questions for me."

"Not at the moment. My best friend will take care of my dog and I will be there for the full duration of the job. No one will come in between my job or be in the way."

"Well, you are still pretty young. You'll be pretty great for the job then. I have one more thing to say. You'll be one of the very first people to hear the new album in its entirety, including bonus tracks and all. Also, I wanted to tell you about one of my good friends. Steve. Steve Harrington. He's going to be our merch guy. Just letting you know."

"Great. I can't wait to meet him."

"Me too. Take care and I'll see you at the airport on Saturday?"

"Definitely. See you then. Good night Eddie."

"Good night, Y/N."

As you counted down the days on your calendar until the next time you would see Eddie again, you made the most of it. You spent each day with your best friend, until the day of the flight. After a nice shopping trip together and buying some new clothes, as well as shoes for your trip, you had a sleepover and reminisced about old times. When the day finally came to see Corroded Coffin and meet up with the band at the airport, you put on your best perfume after your shower. You changed into your favorite band tee, along with ripped jeans, your best black leather jacket, and platform boots. You took a taxi to the airport, and when you arrived at JFK international airport, you checked in through security and met Eddie, Jeff their guitarist, Gareth their drummer, and their bassist, Grant, by the gates.

Everyone ended up being nice in the band, and as a late arrival, Steve showed up.

"Hi, I'm Steve. You must be the new band manager, Y/N."

He extended his hand for you to shake, which you accepted.

"Eddie mentioned you. Nice to meet you."

As everyone sat around waiting for the plane to board, Eddie went to the nearest snack machine and brought bag packs of chips and bottles of water for everyone. You thanked him, glad to have a snack. Soon the plane was called to board and you got on soon finding your seat in first class. It was amazing to be sitting next to Eddie, and you felt like rock royalty, as you were in that section with the band. You didn't quite feel worthy, but you felt so at ease around him and near him. The faint smells of both tobacco and a nice cologne were coming off of Eddie. It was so comforting to you and as the plane took off and emerged into the air, you felt more calm than ever before. Soon you had champagne, and after your first big swig of it, you could feel the alcohol hit you. It was a nice feeling to have. The movie Playing on the flight was a horror film called The Devil's Rejects, and it was pretty enjoyable so far. You wanted to pace yourself and had just one glass as opposed to the other guys having between 1-3. Soon it was lunchtime, and after you ate you fell asleep and napped for the next few hours. The total flight time was about 6 hours. When you woke up close to the time of the plane landing, you were resting against Eddie's shoulder. Startled a little bit by your position, you looked up into his chocolate-brown eyes.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked with a smile on his face.

"I slept well," you replied, trying your best to not make anything seem awkward as you smiled back at him.

Eddie said nothing about the way you were sleeping and instead looked out of the window. Soon the plane made its descent, and you felt a mixture of emotions, including apprehension and happiness, but also a feeling of euphoria. After all, you were in the city of Angels and you felt like anything was possible. The following night was the first day of the tour at The Mayan. It was a sold-out show and would have close to 2000 attendees. The night after was Vegas, and you were looking forward to seeing some of the West Coast.

"So, are you ready to hit up the hotel and then maybe go out after for some drinks?" Eddie asked you.

"Oh, that would be great."

"Good. You have your room at the hotel, of course, and with the best view."

"Thanks, Eddie." You wondered if the bar meet-up would be with just Eddie or some of the other guys as well.

As you got off the plane and went to collect your luggage at the airport, Eddie stayed close to your side. He couldn't wait to take a smoke break, but right now, his priority was getting everyone safely to the hotel. He hailed a cab for you and him, along with Jeff. Gareth and Grant would take the next one though. L.A. was so busy and crowded, but as the traffic lightened up a little bit, you soon found yourself at the entrance to the Sheraton Hotel. The place was very nice, and after checking in with the hotel staff at the front desk, you took the elevator with Eddie to your rooms on the fourth floor. Once you parted ways with him, you explored your room and unpacked, before freshening up just a little bit. He texted you he would be at the local bar at the Virgil in downtown L.A. around 630 p.m. You texted back you would be there. Soon you left for the club and when you arrived, you found Eddie outside smoking. As you walked up to him you noticed the song playing in the bar was a Corroded Coffin song.

"Sounds like they are playing your song."

"Yep, they sure are. Shall we go in?"

You nodded your approval and walk with him into the bar. Soon you sat down, and the bartender came over to ask for your drink orders and ids. You showed her your ID, and she took your order of a mojito and Eddie's order of a triple shot of bourbon.

"So, what do you like to do for fun?"

"I'm very into art, cinema, photography, makeup, concerts, and shopping. That sort of stuff."

"Nice. Pretty much the same for me except makeup and shopping aren't all that bad. It just depends on what you are shopping for I guess. I love record stores."

"Me too. Swap meets, garage sales, and vinyl record shows can be pretty fun too."

"I agree. Great minds think alike."

With drinks in hand now, he gave you a toast.

"To us."

"To us," you repeated after him right before clinking your glasses together, then taking a big sip of your mojito. It was delicious, and most importantly, refreshing.

He loved how his bourbon tasted on his tongue, and he loved the feeling of the liquor in his system. A good drink after a nice smoke was just what he needed.

After a long silent pause, the song Master of Puppets began playing in the club. Eddie's head banged along to it and you smiled at him warmly, feeling a slight buzz from the liquor as you took another big sip of it and so did Eddie.

"This is my favorite to cover live especially," he mentioned with a slight hum, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I love this song and I'm sure the cover live is great. Hopefully, I will hear it on this tour."

He nodded in agreement as a big smirk formed on his face.

"Definitely. You sure will," he told you as he lifted his glass again to clink against yours.

He drank and leaned his head against his hand as he looked at you with his beautiful chocolate-brown eyes.

"What's on your mind?" He asked, sounding genuinely curious as he stared at you.

You took a big gulp of your drink, practically finishing it now, then set it down on the counter.

"I'm thinking about dancing. Head banging. I mean Metallica is awesome and makes me want to move. Know what I mean?"

"Sure. Why not?"

He got up and offered his hand for you to take. As soon as your hand met his and you made contact, you let him escort you to the dance floor.

As you moved in time to the music and danced close to him, you spun around, then bravely bumped and ground against him, with your back facing towards his chest. You boldly moved against him and leaned your head back. He enjoyed the close contact as the song's second verse wrapped up and the chorus kicked in again. He sang along to the music, and his head banged as you continued to move against him, but almost lost your balance. Catching you instantly, Eddie whispered in your ear.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah, fine."

"I think we should dance a bit more, then head back to the hotel," he suggested.

You nodded in agreement, then continued dancing as he held onto your hips so you wouldn't fall. Eddie was all smiles as you danced for him. He was just so happy. You felt so excited and felt that at that moment, anything was possible. It was getting late and the tour was starting tomorrow. Right now you were going to live it up.

More songs came on, and with each one, you danced close to him, getting so close that your lips almost brushed against his. The way he smiled at you made you smile. He made you feel so safe with him. It was getting late, and soon you said goodbye and parted ways. The next day would be the first day of the tour and it would hopefully be amazing.

You slept well that night. Morning light soon came into your window and without hesitation, you turned off your alarm clock, eager to start the day. You checked your phone- finding a text from Eddie.

It was great to spend time with you last night. Eager for tonight. Let's rock!

His text made you smile, and you texted him back.

Can't wait for tonight. It's going to be the most metal show ever! :)

Eddie soon read your text, eager to see you again. Getting a good morning text from you was the best way to start his day, and you felt the same way about him.

After the concert, there would be a meet and greet. As the manager, you had to run that, but hopefully, it would go by well without a hitch. Beautiful women who were around were sure to be throwing themselves at Eddie. At least those that would give him their numbers. He was your coworker though. You had no right to get worked up about this. You wanted to look out for Eddie. You didn't want him to get used by any woman. Spending more time with him was all you wanted, and if anything more happened between the two of you, then so be it. Everything was going to work out and your dream job was starting today. You needed to be focused, but hopefully, later there would be time for some fun and getting to know Ed's better. As for Eddie, he was glad to have a dedicated person to be Corroded Coffin's tour manager. With you, he had just that.

chapter 2 title and preview: rock n roll all nite

Summary- Corroded Coffin put on their first concert of the tour. After Eddie has a fun night at the show he seeks comfort in someone else but realizes he needs you.

The club was one of the nicest you had ever seen. Everything about being there felt like home to Eddie. Playing gigs and living it up every night as a rockstar was his calling. His life revolved around Corroded Coffin, and his band meant everything to him. Without his bandmates, he wouldn't be where he was after so many years of putting both his heart and soul into his music. The hard work paid off, and he could launch a successful musical project even with all the turmoil of his past and being the town freak. Saving Hawkins from the likes of Vecna, and all the destruction that came from Hawkins' lab- he still had received no acknowledgment for any of it. Left for dead in the upside down, he eventually made his way out of the other side alive by some miracle. After extensive healing, he made a full recovery and healed. Music kept him going. Tonight was special. Type O Negative was one of the most respected bands from the east coast and Brooklyn. Being around the band and finally meeting them was one of Eddie's best experiences. Peter Steele was an influence of his. Doom Metal meant a lot to Eddie, with his favorite band being Black Sabbath. They were also the biggest influence on Peter and Type O Negative. The day had finally come that they would play a show- a co-headliner no less with these doom metal legends. The soundcheck went by without a hitch and everyone had a good time. You had the best view and once they had played through a few of their big hits; they took a short break before the VIP guests would arrive. Most of the tour had been a sell-out already, with the meet and greets sold out.

The meet and greets were very exclusive, but Eddie was going to meet every fan individually, along with Jeff, Gareth, and Grant. Everyone arrived in a timely fashion. To no one's surprise, at least half of the guests were women. All of them were so pretty. No doubt Eddie would have a groupie or two, maybe even more tonight. As a manager of the band, you had to be professional. Some girls had him sign their boobs, which was nothing new for him as to be expected. Many had magazines and posters to sign and when you took their group pictures, some women hugged him. The women were at least classy enough to not flash anyone.

One woman had fan art for Eddie and she got a backstage pass from him. Everything about Eddie was charming, so it was no surprise this was happening. Once the meet and greet ended, you accommodated all the guests back outside and assured them they would have an early entry. Eddie was too old for all the groupie stuff, but he wanted to meet every fan that wanted to meet him.

the rest of this chapter and the full 21 chapter series can all be found on ao3

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[kyleoreillylover]

𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦’𝘴 𝘢 𝘊𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘥 ✧

Dominik Mysterio x Carmelo Hayes x Fem!Black!Reader

Summary: 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘣 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘋𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘬. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘺- 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦'𝘴 𝘢 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘥. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘋𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘬 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

Word Count: 7,150 words A/N: I had to write for my 2 husbands, cause they are too fine! This took so long, hope ya'll enjoy! Warnings: Wrestling related violence, allusions to smut but no actual smut written, unwanted advances.

You wore a smirk on your face as you made your way into the arena, your NXT Women's championship shining brightly around your waist.

You reveled in the attention and turning of heads as you strutted to to a secluded corner. Your mini black dress showed off your curves, the long locks of your curly red wig adorned with golden hoops framing your beautiful face. You looked damn good and you knew it.

It wasn’t the attention from the people you wanted, though. But you’d get that soon enough.

You continued walking until you were in front of the locker room, knocking on the door. “Ilja, you in there? Everyone decent?” You didn’t want a repeat of last time.

A deep accented voice yelled back in response, “Come in love!” You pushed the door open and stepped inside, finding your best friend Ilija sitting on one of the benches, lacing up his boots. He looked up at you and gave you a warm smile that turned into a playful grin as he took in your attire.

"You look stunning, love. All this just to be by ringside for my match?" 

You giggled and gave Ilja a playful punch on the arm. "What can I say? You're a very lucky man."

Ilja chuckled, motioning to the empty spot next to him, and you slid onto the bench beside him. "That I am. And I'm gonna need some luck tonight against Bronn." 

You pursed your lips, a concerned look on your face. "You sure you want to do this? I don't want you to getting hurt for me." 

Ilja placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, his eyes meeting yours. "Don’t worry about me love. Bronn crossed a line with you, and it's time someone kicked his ass. And taking my pick for either the NXT or NXT North American Championships makes it all the more sweeter."

Ilja wasn’t lying, Bronn had taking a lying to you the past few weeks.

Whether it was because he was messing with Ilja and wanted to get under his skin by bothering you, you didn’t know. But what you did know was that you were sick and tired of him breathing down your neck constantly, not taking no for an answer and trying to corner you everywhere and get the two of you alone.

And trust me, you said no plenty of times.

You nodded in agreement, giving Ilja a grateful smile. "I'm glad I get a front row seat to his ass kicking."

"You sure you want to be that close? Especially with Melo and Dominik standing by? I don't want them trying to hurt you.”

You bit your lip, trying to hide your smile at the mention of them. So maybe your intentions with helping your friend weren't entirely innocent, so what! Two of the hottest men in NXT were interested in you, and you weren't about to pass up the opportunity to enjoy some eye candy while watching Ilja make Bronn regret every decision he made.

It all started a few weeks ago after you had a grueling match with Roxanne Perez. You were sweating and making your way to the back, wanting nothing more than to wash all of the pain away.

You were so out of it, not realizing you were walking on autopilot until you bumped into a hard chest. Your body collided with a solid wall, and a strong pair of arms reached out to steady you. Startled, you looked up to see Carmelo, his dark eyes locked onto yours, a faint hint of a smile on his lips.

"Whoa there, sweetheart. You okay?" he asked with genuine concern in his deep voice. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you stammered out a rare embarrassed apology.

"I, uh, I didn't see where I was going. My bad, Melo."

He chuckled, his gaze never leaving yours. "No need to apologize, sweetheart. We all saw the match you had. You killed it, by the way."

You chuckled and smiled at the praise. "Just champ stuff, you know how it is, you're the A champ after all." You pointed towards the shining NXT championship resting on his shoulder. "And trust me, you're a very good champion." you complimented with a playful wink.

Carmelo's grin widened at your flirty tone as he adjusted the title on his shoulder. "You think so, huh? Well, you know game recognizes game."

You raised an eyebrow and played along. "I see that. And what's the game plan here?"

Carmelo leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "The game plan, sweetheart, is to get to know you better." His eyes skimmed over your face, lingering on your lips, sending a shiver down your spine. His hungry gaze sent all the air out of your body, leaving you breathless.

But you weren't going to back down, especially this soon. You leaned in closer, your lips tantalizingly close to his ear.

"Is that right?" Your breath tickled his ear, and you could feel his body tense at your proximity.

Carmelo swallowed hard, his gaze never wavering from your lips. "That's right, sweetheart," he replied in a low, seductive voice. "And I think you want the same thing."

Your heart raced as his words sent a thrilling chill down through your body. "Maybe I do." you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. Your lips brushed against his earlobe, making him shiver in response. "But you're gonna have to work for it."

Carmelo's hand gently cupped your cheek, and his dark eyes locked onto yours, "I can work with that." he murmured, stepping closer to you, closing the already minimal gap between the two of you. You gave him a sultry smile in response, but before you could speak, a voice echoed through the hallway.

"Look what we have here.” Carmelo rolled his eyes, dropping his hand from your cheek as the both of you pulled away from each other and turned to the cocky voice to see Dominik with a smirk on his face, making his way to you and Carmelo.

"What do you want, Dominik?" Carmelo groaned, giving him a dirty look that made him smirk wider, his eyes scanning over your body before finally meeting your eyes.

"Whoa whoa, calm down." Dominik held up his hands in mock surrender, smirk never leaving his face. "I just overheard this beauty talking about the A championship, so naturally I assumed you were talking about me."

He pointed to his championship belt sitting perfectly around his waist before turning his eyes back to you, extending a hand to you. "Finally nice to meet you, beautiful. And from one amazing champion to another, if you wanna hang out with the true champion instead of a phony, you know where to find me."

Carmelo's nostril's flared as you gave him an amused smile that made Dominik's heart beat out of his chest before accepting his hand. "A charmer. I like it." You held onto his hand a bit longer than necessary, a playful glint in your eye. "It's cute. But not as cute as the two of you fighting over who's the true champion when I'm the one holding it around my waist."

You let go of Dominik's hand and playfully patted the NXT Women's championship that adorned your waist. "But I like the confidence."

Instead of being offended like you thought he'd be, Dominik grinned widely, a heated look in his eyes as he gazed at you. "You're a feisty one, hermosa. I like you."

"And she doesn't like you, so how 'bout you go back to your 'Mami' and leave us alone." Carmelo cut in before you could respond, glaring at Dominik. Dominik glared right back, stepping closer to him.

"What, you jealous she likes me more than you?" Dominik taunted him, getting in his face. Carmelo clenched his jaw, squaring up to him, their faces inches apart.

"You wish. She's just being nice to you."

"Can't handle a little competition?" Dominik couldn't resist pushing Carmelo's buttons even further, a smirk on his face when Carmelo clenched his jaw, giving him a death glare.

"Boys, boys, calm down." You stepped in between them, giving them a seductive gaze when they turned to you. "As entertaining as this has been, and trust me, it's been really entertaining, I have places to be. But if you want to talk to me, just remember; I only like winners."

You left them with a wink before strutting away, the both of them mesmerized by your confident grin and the sway of your hips as you left. The two gave each other one final glare- a promise that the better man would win- before going their separate ways.

And ever since then, the two of them have been flirting with you non-stop and trying to one-up each other.

Whether that was Dominik giving you a bottle of water and leading you his private TJD locker room so you didn't have to wait for a shower, Carmelo offering to give you a ride home before Dominik could because your car broke down with a sly grin on his face as the both of you passed Dominik to the exit, or the both of them never failing to find you no matter where you were and showering you with compliments. And you always fed into them with a smirk on your face before being whisked away by one of your friends or crew before things could go further.

But you wanted things to go further. And you wanted it to happen tonight, and you always got what you want.

You snapped out of your thoughts when Ilja gently touched your shoulder, bringing you back to the conversation. "You okay, love? You don't have to go out with me if you don't want to."

You shook your head, focusing back on him and giving him a reassuring smile. "I'm good, Ilja. And trust me, I want to be out there with you tonight. And Melo and Dominik don't scare me, Carmelo is like a puppy and the only scary thing about Dominik is Rhea. I'll be fine, okay?"

Ilja chuckled and stood up, finished with lacing up his boots. “Okay, then let’s go kick some ass.”

Your heels clacked as you walked to the ring with Ilja, blowing kisses to the fans while Ilja jumped on the ramp, soaking in the cheers from the fans. Carmelo and Dominik were already sitting on commentary, giving each other dirty looks that could kill.

You blew kisses at them as you jumped on the ramp with Ilja, giving them a playful wink when they tore their gazes away from each other and onto you, which didn't go unnoticed by Vic and Booker T.

"Looks like the NXT Champions are more focused on our guest tonight than on the match," Vic teased them, earning a glare from both of them.

"Shut up Vic!" They both said in unison, staring back at each other in surprise. Booker chuckled at them, "Well, who can blame 'em, Vic? When you have a champion like that at ringside, it's hard not to be distracted."

And distracting you were as you leaned against the ring ropes, looking as beautiful as ever, a sly smile playing on your lips. You gave Ilja a side hug and leaned closer to him, your voice a soft, encouraging whisper in his ear. "You got this." He nodded and you gave him one last smile and a fist bump before sliding out of the ring when Bronn's music hit, giving Carmelo and Dom a seductive smile as you sat in between them.

"And joining us is the NXT Women's champion herself, here to support her best friend. Do you think Ilja has what it takes to beat Bronn?"

You smirked at Vic's question, feeling Carmelo and Dom's gazes burning a hole through your skin. "Vic, I wouldn't be out here with these lovely men if I didn't have 100% faith in him in the fact that he is the better him. Plus, I am not friends with losers."

"So what I'm hearing is you'll drop him after he loses his match with me, if he even wins? Cause we all know he's not good enough to beat me."

Dom's smile was devilish as you turned to him, matching his devilish smile with one of your own. "That depends if he even chooses you. I mean, why would he want to challenge for the B championship in the first place?"

Dominik grin widened as he looked at you-he loved it when you got all mean. "Oh, I'm hurt, babe. I thought I was your number one choice."

"You're not even the number one guy here, what makes you think you'd be her number one choice?" Carmelo shot at him, giving you a charming smile that made your skin tingle as Bronn came out the back, making his entrance.

"Sweetheart, don't let this fool bother you." He put his hand on the back of your chair, leaning slightly closer to you with that sexy smile of his, enjoying you batting your eyelashes at him and leaning into him. "You deserve someone who treats you like the lady you are."

"Oh, and that's supposed to be you? Someone who can barely take care of himself? Talk to me when you actually win a match without your little sidekick Trick in your corner." Dominik hissed at him, immediately making Carmelo’s smile shift into a glare as his words hit a nerve.

“Like you don't have 'Mami' by your side all the time. Talk to me when you don't need her to win a match." Carmelo bit back, making them dissolve into another argument. You ignored them in favor for Bronn advancing towards the commentary table, his eyes never leaving yours.

You glared at him as he got closer to you, a smug grin on his face. "After I take that title opportunity from him, I'm gonna take his girl too!" He yelled at you, slamming his hands on the table. That got the attention of the boys, making them pause to see Bronn towering over you, the both of you locked in a stare down.

"You couldn't have me even if you wanted to. Have fun losing, and we all know I don't like losers." You spat back, not backing down from him. He chuckled, the smug grin on his face growing wider.

"We'll see about that, sweetheart." You stood up at the nickname, glaring at him harder before a borage of arms gently pushed you back, and Melo and Dom stepped forward next to you, and if looks could kill Bronn would be lying in his grave right now.

"We got a problem?" Carmelo growled at him, Dominik mirroring his deadly glare as he gently pushed you back into your seat.

"Nah, man. No problem here." Bronn backed away, his grin still wide on his face.

"That's what I thought." Dominik muttered as Bronn left, eyes never leaving his until he went inside the ring.

"Are you all right, sweetheart?" Carmelo asked you, his voice laced with concern as he sat back down next to you.

"Want me to kill him?" Dominik sat on the other side of you, and from anyone else the concern would have felt suffocating. But not with them.

"I'm fine, really. I could've handled him, but I appreciate it." You gave them an appreciative smile that made them relax and share a relieved look with each other before it turned into disdain now that you were alright. You turned your attention back to the match, enjoying Ilja smacking and punching Bronn around. You cheered for every hit Ilja gave Bronn, and your heart pounded with every near fall.

You waved mockingly at Bronn when he got knocked face-first to the floor right in front of the three of you by Ilja. "How did that feel, Bronn?" Dominik mocked him with you, Carmelo trying to hide his smirk as the two of you laughed at his pain. 

"Okay, Ilja!" Carmelo praised when Ilja jumped out the ring and perfectly landed on Bronn, giving him chop after chop, having the upper-hand in the match. That wouldn't last for long though, as Bronn managed to duck from a chop and speared him onto the cold-unforgiving floor. 

You winced at the impact, looking at him worriedly as Bronn gave him punch after punch after punch. You wanted to go and help him, but you knew Ilja had to do this himself. You drew a line though when Bronn grabbed the steel steps, remembering the last time used it with Von Wagner and the pain and utter destruction Bronn caused him. 

You jumped out of your seat, ignoring Melo and Dom trying to pull you back, and rushed towards them, running to Bronn and tried to grab the steel steps from him, your eyes blazing with anger.

"Bronn, enough!" You shouted at him, trying to pull it away from him. He didn't let go, cackling as he looked down at you.

"You have to protect him, how pathetic!" He sneered at you, trying to rip the steel steps out of your grasp. But you refused to let go, and the two of you were in a tug of war over it.

"The only thing pathetic here is you, you can't even take a hint! I. will. never. like. you. Deal with it!" Bronn's smirk faltered at your words and you felt someone suddenly behind you, strong arms pulling you away from the tug of war.

It was Carmelo, his arms wrapped firmly around your waist, pulling you back and away from Bronn and the steel steps. You struggled in his grip, still seething with anger, but you knew he was doing it to protect you.

“Don't let him get to you get to you, babe. He's not worth it.” Carmelo whispered, trying to calm you down.

You gritted your teeth, trying to pull away from his grip. The ref was out of the ring, coming to the two of you. “Everyone out!” He yelled, ejecting everyone from ringside.

“Are you kidding me?!” You yelled back, breaking out of Carmelo’s grip and storming to the ref. “It was his fault! Reprehend him instead of us and do your job properly!!”

It was pure chaos. Ilja was down, you and the ref were getting into a screaming match with Carmelo trying to calm the both of you down, and Bronn watched on with a smile on his face. He laughed while turning away, dropping the steel steps and running right into a smirking Dominik, who was sneaking up on him from behind and tried to hit punch him in the face to cost him the match.

But Bronn grabbed his fist easily before it could hit his face, enjoying the way Dominik's smirk dropped as he panicked.

“Man, you really are stupid, aren’t you?" Bronn taunted, tightening his grip on Dominik's fist. Dominik tried to pull away but Bronn dragged him back and let go of his hand and in one swift move- grabbed his throat and lifted him in the air, putting him in a chokeslam and slamming him onto the ground.

You saw the movement out of the corner of your eye, but didn’t pay it any mind and continued to yell at the ref until you heard yelling and saw Dom on the floor in pain and Bronn carrying the steel steps again, ready to slam it down on him. You pushed past Melo and the ref, running to him and shoving Dom away.

It felt like slow motion when the steel hit your body, the pain overwhelming all your senses, then everything went black. You felt like you were floating, your body weightless despite the heavy pain. You could barely hear anything except the ringing of your ears and the muffled yelling coming around you. You didn't come to until you heard the bell ring hurting your ears and someone lift you up.

Your eyes fluttered open when you felt someone tapping your face, trying to bring you back to consciousness. Your vision was blurred, but you were able to make out Carmelo's voice.

"Oh thank god." Carmelo sighed with relief, but concern still seeped through his voice as he wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you up to a standing position. "Talk to me sweetheart. How do you feel?"

You groaned in pain, your ribs aching with each breath. "I feel like I got hit by steel, how do you think I feel?"

Carmelo let out a nervous chuckle, relieved to hear your voice. "Your being sarcastic, so that's a good sign."

You winced as you tried to stand on your own, feeling the dull throb of pain in your ribs. The arena lights were too bright, and the sounds around you were still muffled.

"Stay down sweetheart, you're hurt." Carmelo urged, his arms still around you. You pushed away your pride and leaned on him for support. Your hearing became less muffled, and you could now clearly hear the yelling going on. You turned your head towards it, your vision slowly coming into focus.

Dominik was in the ring on top of Bronn who was a bloody pulp, punching him over and over again until his face was bruised and the mat was seeping with his blood. Ilja was being held back by security who tried to control the situation, cursing at them until he saw you awake and standing. Ilja broke free from the security and rushed to your side, concern etched on his face as he gently snatched you away from Carmelo.

"Stay away from her, this is your fault!" Ilja snapped at Carmelo as he pulled you into his arms to check on you, his red eyes darkening even more with anger.

"My fault? Bro, are you kidding me?" Carmelo shouted, eyes wide with anger. "I was trying to protect her!"

"She would't need protecting if the two of you didn't come out! I knew you guys would cause nothing but trouble." Ilja shouted back, his grip gentle yet firm as he gave you a once-over to make sure you were alright.

"She only stepped in cause you couldn't handle your business." Carmelo shot back, running a hand across his forehead in frustration. It was then you noticed his hands were bruised, and your mind flashed back to the yelling you heard while you were down. He must've joined Dom in beating Bronn's face in. You heart raced from their protectiveness, but you also felt a pang of guilt. You also felt your head ache from all the arguing going on.

"Calm down, all of you!" you cried out, your voice cutting through their anger, finally making them stop. You gently eased out of Ilja's arms and stood between the two of them.

"Ilja, it wasn't his fault, he tried to stop me. So if you're gonna be mad at anyone, be mad at me." You gave him a soft but serious look, his red eyes softening at your words. You then turned to Carmelo.

"Carmelo, stop Dom before he get's suspended. And no fighting with him. Ilja, take me to medical. I can barely walk on my own. Anyone object?" The two men were silent, serious looks on their faces as they nodded.

"Let's get you taken care of, love," Ilja spoke, wrapping his arm around you. You let him and leaned on him as support you as the both of you walked to the medic, each step shooting pain throughout your body.

Ilja helped you up onto the examination table and sat next to you, and you winced as you settled into the cold metal surface, the medic walking into the room and gave you a concerned look as he looked over you, poking and prodding at your injuries, making you bite your lip in pain. One particular prod had you hissing in pain, Ilja quickly standing up and glaring at the doctor.

"Are you hurting or helping her?" He growled, making the medic freeze up in fear. You placed a gentle hand on Iljas arm, giving him a pointed look .

"Ilja, calm down." Your eyes flitted from him to his seat, and he reluctantly sat back down. "You can continue, sorry about him." The medic nodded nervously, Ilja's glare did nothing to soothe his nerves. He quickly hurried up the examination, taking note of your injuries.

"Alright, luckily it looks like you have some bruised ribs and a mild sprain on your ankle. Nothing appears to be fractured, but I can't clear you until you are fully healed up. Just rest up with some ice and you'll be fine."

You nodded, thankful that was all it was. The medic handed you some ice and gave you a small smile before leaving the two of you alone to your own devices. Ilja was mumbling angrily under his breath as soon as the door shut, and you sighed and glared at him.

"Ilja, I told you calm down."

"Yeah, let me just shut off all my emotions and calm down after those three hooligans caused you to get hurt." He scoffed. "For Dom out of all people, you know he doesn't care about anyone but himself!"

You sighed and leaned back on the examination table, wincing at the coldness of the ice on your skin. "This was probably his plan in the first place, take my championship opportunity and taunt me by hurting you in the process? I can't believe you'd get hurt for him!"

You winced, this time not just from the cold of the ice but also from Ilja's anger.

"Okay, he might be an asshole but he's not that much of an asshole! And I didn't want to tell you because I didn't know how you'd react, but Dominik and I have been talking, trying to get to know each other. He's not what you think, Ilja. He's…" You searched for the right words, "complicated. But he's not evil. He’s actually really sweet. And Carmelo has been looking out for me too. They both have. I know it's… complicated, but please try to understand."

You could always tell the way Ilja was feeling through his eyes. They were expressive in an away that was simply him. And right now, his fiery red eyes were a mixture of anger, concern, most of all, hurt. You let the silence play out until the was ready to speak. Finally, he let out a long, heavy sigh.

"I…them? Out of all people? Since when?”

You paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Since a few weeks ago, after my match with Roxanne. We bumped into each other, and things just sort of... happened. I didn't plan for it, Ilja. It just did. And I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t want to hurt you. But that ended up happening anyways.”

You turned away from him, looking at the wall instead of his intense gaze that made you feel vulnerable and exposed, like he knew every single one of your thoughts. He reached out, gently turning your face back toward him.

"You didn't hurt me, and I don't care about the title opportunity, I care about you. And seeing you laying there, hurt because of them, it tore me apart. It took everything in me not to lose my mind." His voice was softer now, more raw, and it tugged at your heartstrings.

You set the ice down and reached out to him, placing a hand on his cheek, your thumb gently stroking his skin.

“I’m sorry for worrying you, and for costing you the match. But I'm not sorry for what I did. He would have done the exact same for me, and I know you would have too." You stroked his cheek, your eyes boring into his. "And I'm not asking you to trust them, I'm asking you to trust me."

Ilja was lost in his thoughts for a moment, his hand covering yours, holding it against his cheek. "You're right, I would've done the same thing in a heartbeat. And I trust you more than anyone, you know that. And as much as I'd hate to see you get hurt again, if you trust them, then I support you. But promise me you'll be careful. I don't want to see you hurt like this again."

You nodded, a grin spreading across your face as his words washed over you. "I promise. And if anything happens, I'll let you beat them up."

Ilja let out a soft chuckle and caressed your hand against his cheek. "Deal. And no take backs, so if you see me beating up Dominik you can't get mad."

You giggled, the sound filling up the room and making the tension dissipate. "Deal, but only if he really deserves it." Ilja smiled at your giggling form before pulling you into a hug. You relaxed into his arms, feeling his arms tighten around you as you guys nestled into each other for what felt like hours.

You finally pulled away when he was fully relaxed, a smile playing on his lips as he looked at you. "Now go shower and get my stuff, you stink!" You teased and gave him a playful shove.

Ilja laughed heartily at your comment. "Alright, alright. I'll go freshen up. Jesus, you're injured and you're still beating me up."

You giggled again and pushed him towards the door as best as you could. He rolled his eyes and gave you a warm smile before leaving. Once he left, you hobbled back onto the table and placed the ice back on, shutting your eyes and trying to relax.

Time seemed to blur as you finally let yourself relax after everything that happened, and at one point you must've fallen asleep, cause you were woken up by loud knocking on the door.

"Come in." you called, your voice hoarse. The door creaked open, and in walked in a guilty looking Dominik and a concerned Carmelo trudging behind him. Their eyes softened when they looked at you, going over to you, and Dominik got to you first, his eyes pleasing and red as he reached out to you.

"Mi amor… fuck… I'm so sorry for this, for you getting hurt, for everything. This is all my fault." His hands hovered uncertainly around you, as if he didn't know whether he was allowed to touch. You made the first move, taking his hand and squeezing it.

"Dominik, it's not your fault. I chose to step in, remember? You smiled reassuringly, your voice gentle as you looked into his eyes, seeing the unshed tears in them. "And you're not the one who hurt me. So, stop blaming yourself."

"But I should've handled Bronn myself, mi amor. I shouldn't have let you step in. I should've protected you!" Dominik insisted, his voice heavy with guilt.

"Dom…" You tried to interrupt, but he cut you off with an angry huff.

"No, don't do that. Don't act like it's okay. It's not okay! You got hurt because of me!" Dominik voice got louder with anger, and frustration. He pulled his hand away and ran a hand through his disheveled hair, pacing back and forth in the dimly lit room.

"Dom-"

"This happened because of me-"

"She said it's not your fault!" Carmelo shouted, the room going silent at his outburst. Dominik stopped pacing and looked at him with shock in his eyes at his words that were surprisingly supportive.

You watched as Carmelo walked towards Dominik, a stern look on his face. "I know we don't like each other and you prolly won't listen to me, but listen to her." Carmelo gestured to you, sitting on the table trying not to grimace as you sat up. "She made her choice, and we can't change that. She forgave you, and if she says it's not your fault, then it's not. Blaming yourself won't make yourself feel better. Trust me, dude."

They stared at each other, a tense silence filling the room as Dominik glared at him, a look in your eyes you couldn't place. You couldn't tell if he wanted to beat Carmelo's face in too or comfort you, probably both.

After what felt like hours, Dominik finally let out a heavy sigh and his shoulders slumped. "You're actually right for once."

Carmelo raised an eyebrow, Dominik wasn't actually insulting him for once?

"I am always right."

"Don't push it." And there it is, the classic banter between them. It brought a small smile to your face, despite the pain coursing through your body.

"He is right, Dom." You chimed in, your voice gentle but firm. You gestured for both of them to come to you, and they did, standing in front of you, their expressions still filled with guilt. You reached out, taking one of Dominik's hands and one of Carmelo's, intertwining your fingers with theirs.

"This is nobody's fault except Bronn's. You both tried to protect me, and I appreciate it. And I want no more blaming each other or yourselves for what happened. You can't protect me all the time, and I'm a big girl, I can handle myself, okay? Your voice was soft yet serious as you spoke, giving them a look that meant business.

"And no more fighting. I get that you don't like each other, but I like both of you, and I want you both in my life. I'm not saying be besties, but please don't be at each other's throats every hour of every day. Can we agree on that?"

You didn't know what you were expecting, maybe another argument to come out of this? You held your breath as they shared a look, a silent understanding between them before they turned back to you.

"If it makes you happy, we'll do anything for you. " Carmelo said sincerely, squeezing your hand.

Dominik nodded in agreement, his grip on your hand just as tight. "Even if I don't like it-" He gave Carmelo the side eye before turning back to you. "I'll do it for you."

You gave them a geniune smile, your eyes beaming with happiness. "That's all I ask." You sat up fully and kissed each of their cheeks, before standing up, using the table for support.

"Whoa, whoa, where are you going, mi corazon?" Dominik asked, the both of them quick to support you.

"Ilja was supposed to be back with my stuff, but he's taking forever, so I'm gonna go check on him."

"No need to, we ran into him in the hallway on our way here. We kinda had a talk, and got your stuff." Carmelo confessed, nervously scratching at the back of his head. He gestured towards a bag on the nearby chair. "It's all there."

You gave them an appreciative smile before your furrowed your brows in surprise, a talk with Ilja could range from peaceful to murder. Considering none of them looked like they got into a fight, you figured it went as well as it could.

"What kind of talk? Please tell me he didn't say anything embarrassing, I'll kill him."

They both chuckled, amusement in their eyes. You leaned against both men, leaning your head on Carmelo's shoulder and letting Dominik wrap an arm around you, a teasing smile on his lips. "Don't worry hermosa, he was on his best behavior."

"But it went… well, actually." Carmelo continued, a thoughtful expression on his face. "We had a… heated exchange at first, but he seemed genuinely concerned about you, and, uh, he made it very very clear that we better take care of you right, or there'd be consequences." Carmelo added, his expression turning serious for a moment. "He was kinda intimadting, not gonna lie."

"Intimdating to you. He's not scary to me." Dominik voiced, a proud smirk on his face until you gave him a sharp glare that made him backtrack and tell you the truth.

"Okay, maybe he's a little intimidating," Dominik admitted with a sheepish grin, giving you a quick peck on the forehead. "But only a little. And I can still kick his ass."

"Yeah, in your dreams." Carmelo said with a chuckle. Dominik gave him another glare, but this time it didn't seem as deadly as before. "I totally could! Mi corazon, back me up!" He looked at you with wide eyes, mentally telling you to agree with him.

"Mhm, I'm sure you could." You replied with a playful grin, you and Carmelo laughing at the offended look Dominik gave you.

"Okay, as much as I would love for you to tell me all the ways you can beat up Ilja Dom." you said, still grinning, "I feel like total shit, and all I want to do is sleep this pain away. And I can barely walk, let alone drive. So if you really want to make it up to me, you can drive me back to the hotel."

Dominik's expression softened immediately. "Of course, mi amor. I'll carry you if I have to."

"Like she'll let you, miss independent." Carmelo teased, and you gave him a faux pout.

"Now that you said that, you are absolutely carrying me." You teased back, earning a playful groan from him.

Carmelo rolled his eyes but gave you a smirk. "Whatever the lady wants, the lady gets."

"How come I don't get to carry you?" Dominik whined, making you giggle at him. "You can grab my stuff, sweetie."

"Ya snooze, ya lose, dude." Carmelo smirked at him, laughing when you made grabby hands at him, and he scooped you up in his arms, surprising you with how effortlessly he carried you.

"Wow, someone's been hitting the gym." you teased, playfully poking his bicep. "Very hot."

"You think so?" Carmelo shot you a smug grin. You chuckled and winked at him. "Definitely."

"Alright, show off," Dominik grumbled as he grabbed your bag and followed behind you and Carmelo, but the smile he had on showed you he wasn't actually mad. You wrapped your arms around Carmelo's neck and settled into his arms, feeling safe and comfortable despite the pain, closing your eyes and letting him carry you out of the arena.

You let yourself fall into slumber, ignoring everything else around you until you felt yourself being laid in the car.

"Go back to sleep, mi corazon. We'll be here when you wake up."

You nodded drowsily, seeing a blur of Carmelo and feeling a kiss on your cheek before you drifted back to a deep sleep.

The next time you stirred, it was to the soft murmur of voice and then you felt yourself being pulled from the cozy seat of the car, the chilly air making you curl up into whoever was holding you. You blinked sleepily, your vision slowly clearing as you realized you werein front of the hotel. . Dominik had you in his arms this time, and he looked down at you with a soft smile.

"Hey there, sleeping beauty," Dominik said with a warm smile as he gazed down at you. "We're back at the hotel. Ready to go inside and get some rest?"

You mustered up a sleepy grin, curling up even more into him. He didn't seem to mind, giving you an amused smile and a gentle squeeze. "Yes, please," you mumbled softly, your voice heavy with fatigue.

He carefully carried you inside the hotel, Carmelo trailing behind with all your stuff. It was quiet, soothing music from the speakers making you even more tired. Once you made it up to your floor, Carmelo opened the door, to your room, holding it open for Dominik to carry you inside. You sighed in content as Dominik placed you onto the bed, soft blankets enveloping you in warmth.

"Your clothes are in here, we figured you didn't want to sleep in that dress." Carmelo explained, placing your bag next to the bed. "The bathroom is all yours. Do you need help changing?"

You let out a small chuckle at Carmelo's question. "I think I can manage, but trust me, both of you are more than welcome to join me in the bathroom. You're sweet for asking."

Carmelo's eyebrows shot up in surprise, a playful glint in his eyes as Dominik smirked at the thought. "Trust me, neither of us are opposed to that. But I don't want to hurt you even more.'

"I'll be gentle." Dominik winked at you, making you give him a seductive smile as you slowly made your way to the bathroom."I am gonna shower, relax, wash all this off me, and if you guys really wanna make it up to me, you'll take good care of me and help me take my mind off of this pain. Right?"

Dominik and Carmelo shared a mischievous glance before nodding in agreement.

"Absolutely, mi amor," Dominik said with a grin. "We're gonna be at your service."

Carmelo looked you up and down, his heated gaze making you shiver in anticipation. "Trust me, we'll take good care of you." His voice was low and sexy, making you bite your lip and want him to take you right then and there.

You winked at them before stepping into the bathroom, stripping off your clothes and stepping under the warm water, the heat soothing your body and your pain. You wrapped yourself in a robe once you were done, fixing up your face before stepping out and making your way to the bedroom.

Dominik and Carmelo were sitting on the bed on their phones, but as soon as you entered the room their eyes snapped to you, putting their phones down and looking at you with desire in their eyes.

"Damn, mi amor, you clean up nice.” Dominik praised, patting the spot on the bed between them.

You approached them, the robe lightly falling off your shoulder, a sultry smile playing on your lips. "Are you guys ready to take care of me?”

Carmelo's eyes darkened with lust as he reached out to pull you closer, and you settled between them on the bed. "Oh, we will, baby. We'll take very good care of you."

Carmelo kissed you first, his lips warm and inviting. The softness of his mouth against yours made you hungry with need, his tongue teasing as it prodded into your mouth, and every touch, every kiss sent shivers of pleasure through your body.

Dominik came up from behind you, pulling on your robe until it fell to the floor, revealing the curves of your body. His hands traced the lines of your skin, caressing and kneading the soft skin and leaving a trail of heat on your skin as he kissed your neck, both men bringing you down onto the bed.

Let's just say, they made it up to you, very very well.

[jadewolf22]

Welcome to the Pack: Chapter 1

Summary: Zombie apocalypse AU with Gwendoline Christie’s characters x fem!reader x OC Character (Beth) Featuring: Phasma, Brienne, Larissa, Gwen (in Fabric), Lyme (Hunger Games), Jane, Jan, & Lady Jane (The Darkest Minds) with mentions of Miranda and Anna (Welcome to Marwen) based off of this post by @rippersz

TW: Apocalyptic world (?), OC is hit by vehicle, strong language, mentions of death/killing, mentions of PTSD/Trauma, implications of smut, implications of poly-amorous hierarchy/ poly-amorous relationships involving nine people, wolf pack-like environment (reader is referred to as “Alpha”), ext…

A/n: I apologize for the amount of Russian and French in here. I have Russian heritage and wanted to pay a little tribute to that here (ended up being a lot more than a little) and also just felt like it would be a nice little tribute to some of the people on here who aren’t native English speakers. I hope to use more languages in other fics for this same purpose. Reader is American but was taught fluent Russian by a close friend of hers.

Word Count: 8,073

No one truly knows where the virus came from. Some say the Chinese created it, others the Russians, still others claim that it wasn’t created at all but rather an effect of global warming or some kind of solar flare. All anyone could truly agree on was that it was dangerous and deadly. The Serix Virus, as scientists later called it, was a physically transmitted disease that transformed the infected into zombie-like creatures that were unable to feel pain with half-decayed, green skin and bloodshot, yellow eyes; you could shoot one and it wouldn’t go down until a bullet found its head. 

Eurasia fell victim to it in the first month, with Africa and Australia not far behind. Three months later South America and Mexico followed. The survivors came flooding to North America, hoping for sanctuary, but none was received. Not even a month later the first cases were reported in North America and the rest of the world went to hell. People scrambled, turning on one another like gladiators in an arena. Fear took over and humanity crumbled, all in less than a year. Now, nearly three years later, the world remains black and dead. The “creatures” outnumber the human race twenty to one, if not more. They travel in packs just like most of the survivors-at least the survivors who were actually smart-shuffling through the remains of towns and cities, searching for their next meals of sweet human flesh; all too eager to taste blood in their mouths and skin in their teeth. To feast on people like Beth. 

Beth was a small town woman of 29 from Luray, Virginia and the lone survivor of her hometown. Everyone, her friends, her family, were gone, having either been eaten or transfigured and she was, permanently, on the run. With no weapons other than a little glock with only one full mag left and almost no remaining food Beth knew her time was almost up. She was no survivalist; she had no impressive background or knew any kind of self defense other than her fairly good aim, which would do nothing to save her when her mag ran empty. With her hope fading as the days went by, Beth moved to camp beside a road, her last chance to find salvation-to get help. 

She sat there on the side of the road for days, watching helplessly as the sun began to set at the end of her fourth day there and there was still no sign of help. Beth was about to give up and move on when something-a low rumble in the distance-caught her attention. She stood up and turned towards the sound, walking towards the curve in the road from where the noise was coming. It grew louder-the steady roar of a motor-and Beth’s heart leapt. She ran towards the curve, hoping to see the vehicle as it approached and catch the attention of its driver, but it was closer than she’d thought. 

A large black blur came speeding around the corner, clipping Beth’s right side and sending her flying backwards across the road. Beth screamed as pain radiated through her. Her arm was on fire, her head throbbed, the world was spinning, and her legs ached. She didn’t dare move for fear that something had been broken. 

Beth jumped a little when she heard car doors open and voices shouting at each other from inside the vehicle,

“-Are you out of your goddamn mind-?!”

“-Just leave her-!”

“-Not gonna leave her when it’s my fault! Now get your ass’s out there and help me!” 

Footsteps came running towards Beth, two blurry figures kneeling beside her. She couldn’t see much but well enough to know that they were both pale, one with long black hair, the other with short blonde hair. Together they lifted her, Beth screaming in pain as her body protested the movement. They carried her up into the vehicle-a black mini bus, and laid her down across the seats, which had been turned to create two long benches along either side of the bus, leaving a wide space between them for boxes of supplies. 

“Let’s go, let’s go!” a third person growled from the front of the bus as the other two took their seats, one person beside Beth and the other on the bench across from her.

Beth screamed as the bus jolted forward, grabbing hold of her arm as she began to slip in and out of consciousness from the pain. 

“Gwen, you get to explain this to the Alpha when we get back,” the voice from the front of the bus growled. It was deep and cold, mildly monotone with a clipped English accent and a slightly rough edge to it. Beth couldn’t see its owner but could guess that whoever it was was not someone to fuck around with, “She’s made it clear that outsider’s aren’t welcome-”

“You know what, Phasma, foutre en l'air! I didn’t ask for your damn opinion!” another voice, this one softer, more melodic, almost haunty with a soft English edge to it, snapped, a low growl tearing from the throat of its owner, “I’m sure she’ll understand my reasoning-”

“Not fucking likely,” the deeper voice grumbled as the vehicle shook and swayed, causing Beth to whimper every other minute, “Last time one of us brought someone back, Alpha turned him into crawler food real quick.” 

Crawler? Beth had heard the creatures called many things; flesh-eaters, zombies, the undead, but never Crawlers. The term was fitting, though. They did move at a crawling pace until they smelled food. 

“Last time we brought someone back, it was a man,” the softer voice countered, sounding annoyed, “Alpha made it clear no men were permitted in the camp, she’s had no problem bringing in women. What about Miran-?”

“Enough Gwen, you made your point.” a third voice cut in, a commanding edge to their tone. This voice was quiet, crisp, and rather gritty. There were hints of an accent to it, but Beth could not place where exactly it was from- somewhere in Europe, if she had to guess, based on its resemblance to the other two, “This is not our mess to deal with. When we get home we’ll hand her over to Jane and Gwen will explain what happened to Alpha. If she’s lucky, the Alpha will let her stay.” 

The other two grumbled in agreement, silence taking over the vehicle, allowing Beth to fully succumb to the hold of sleep. When she faded back to a semi consciousness, Beth was no longer in the bus but instead lying on some kind of cot, listening to a rather heated discussion between a large group of people,

“-Why would you bring her here?! We barely have enough food to go around as it is-!”

“Don’t try to pull one of those again. We all know there’s enough food here to last us years-!”

“That’s a rough estimate-!”

“It doesn’t matter if we have enough food or not! They’re injured, which makes them nothing but a hindrance to us! We should have left them where we found them-!”

“Not everyone here is as much of a hardass as you are, Phasma!! Forgive us for trying to have a little empathy-”

“Empathy isn’t going to help us survive!”

“Alright, доста́точно!!” Silence fell immediately. Beth didn’t know what the word ‘dostátočno’ meant, but it was clear that the others did, “That’s enough, all of you… While I appreciate the input, the decision is mine to make. Gwen… I want you to stay with her until she wakes up. When she does have Jane give her a quick lookover then bring her to me. We can figure out what to do from there… Everyone else просто позвольте этому быть. It’s not the end of the world-”

“No. That’s already happened…”

“Phasma, I don’t wanna hear another word out of you, Вы меня понимаете??!”

“... Yes, Alpha…”

“Thank you. Now, все возвращаются на работу…Phasma, Bri, I want that hole in the wall patched up by sundown.”

“We’re doing what we can, but there’s not enough materials to fortify it completely.”

“Then we’ll make another run, tomorrow. We cannot stand to let that wall have gaps in it. It’s too dangerous to-”

The rest of whatever the person had been saying faded away as Beth slipped back under sleep’s sweet spell. The second time she woke, Beth was fully conscious, opening her eyes for the first time in what felt like days. She was in some kind of large, stone room with high, intricately designed ceilings lying on what seemed to be an old-timey hospital bed. Her right arm was in a sling, both of her legs were wrapped in compression bandages from the knees down, and there was a thick gauze wrapping around her hairline. Every part of Beth’s body felt stiff, her broken arm felt full of pins and needles, and her head throbbed in time with her heartbeat. 

“It’s about time you woke up, petite souris,” came a voice to Beth’s left, causing her to jump. 

Beth looked over to see who the voice belonged to, and found her breath taken by the beauty across from her. The woman was tall and incredibly pale, possessing a slender yet shapely figure, with graceful curves and a lustrous cascade of dyed black waves that fell in loose tendrils around her shoulders, framing her face like a dark halo. Her hair had a glossy sheen that caught the light streaming from the nearby windows, imbuing her with an almost supernatural radiance and her lips were full and painted with a deep, velvety shade of red. Steel blue eyes watched Beth closely, framed by thick lines of black eyeliner. She wore a fitted shirt with a black and white checkered pattern and with sheer, flared sleeves as well as black leather pants, a black choker and black, knee-high combat boots. There were two Ruger LCP’s holstered in a belt at her hips and an N4 short barreled rifle resting in her lap, her finger lying lazily over the trigger. 

“Where am I?” Beth asked, wincing as she fought her way up to a sitting position.

“Home, for now, petite souris.” The woman purred in French and Beth recognized her soft, melodic, almost haunty voice with its soft English edge. She was one of the women from the bus, “Unless the Alpha decides otherwise.”

“The Alpha?” Beth repeated, her brows furrowing in confusion. What kind of fucked up cult had she gotten herself into? “Who the fuck is The Alpha?”

“She’s our leader,” the woman explained, her voice hardening slightly at Beth’s confused, almost humored tone, “Our chef de file. The one who keeps us safe from those things crawling around outside… If you’re going to stay with us, you will need to learn to respect her, petite souris. Or she’ll throw you to the crawlers without a second glance.”

“Right… How long have I been here?” 

“About a day-”

“Gwen, you were supposed to come and get me when she woke!”

Beth and the woman-Gwen, jumped in surprise, turning to see another woman walking their way. This woman was about the same height as Gwen, Beth assumed, if not half an inch or so taller, with soft alabaster skin, and a mane of natural raven hair pinned up into some sort of plaited crown around her head. She had a wiry, haunting figure with a regal bearing about her and a rigid posture, conveying an air of authority and severity. Her angular jawline and high cheekbones contributed to that sense of severity, while her piercing sky blue eyes seemed to scrutinize everything with an unwavering gaze. The woman’s face was free of makeup, but by far no less beautiful than Gwen’s, with a small scar adorning her upper lip; something she must have sustained before the virus. She was dressed in a black linen dress that brushed against her mid-thigh with tight sleeves, accessorized with a black and silver corset as well as black leggings and black knee-high boots. Fitting for a post-apocalyptic world yet still fashionable.

“Ouais, peu importe, salope.” Gwen muttered under her breath, giving the second woman a dark look, “She just woke up, Jane. Give me a little slack.”

“Alpha’s orders.” was all the other woman “Jane” responded, her voice cold with a cutting edge to it and a heavy English accent, turning her attention to Beth, “Consider yourself one lucky woman. It’s a rare thing for someone to be hit by a bus and walk away with only a broken arm, a minor laceration, and a few bruises.”

“Tell that to my aching joints.” Beth grumbled. 

“Would you rather I say it to your corpse?” Jane asked, her tone anything but sarcastic. Clearly she was a ‘no-nonsense’ type of woman, “Up! I need to see you move.” 

Groaning internally, Beth swung her legs off the cot and planted her feet firmly on the cold floor, hissing as her joints protested against her movements. She could feel both pairs of eyes on her, sweat gathering at the base of her neck as Beth pushed off the bed with her good arm, standing on wobbly legs. Jane had her walking back and forth along the edge of the bed for several minutes before having Beth try a few stretches that would, hopefully, help to relax the muscles in her legs. 

“That’s as good as you’re going to get for now,” Jane said after a time, rewrapping Beth’s legs after inspecting the swelling, “I’m sure the Alpha’s getting impatient. She’s up on the balcony taking a smoke.” she addressed to Gwen, an indifferent look in her light, sharp eyes.

“Think you can handle stairs, petite souris?” Gwen asked, directing her attention at Beth and ignoring Jane as the imposing figure walked away.

“Do I have much of a choice?” Beth returned. Gwen shrugged, turning on her heel and heading out after Jane with Beth hobbling along behind her. 

Beth couldn’t help but look around in awe as she followed Gwen. They were in some kind of gothic mansion, with tall stone walls and ceilings decorated with intricate patterns, statues and paintings, as well as mahogany accents in the doors and stairway railings. Clearly, this place had been some kind of retreat or something for those who basked in wealth. Everything was well constructed and detailed, too nice for something people of a lower class would have had the privilege of seeing. 

With a little help from Gwen, Beth managed to make it up to the second floor of the building, hoping and praying that “the Alpha” was not on any of the upper floors. There was no way her legs were going to be able to make it up another flight. Relief filled Beth when Gwen began to lead her down a long hallway, away from the stairs. They passed many rooms, most of which were empty, but as they walked past one of the rooms on the far end of the hall, Beth caught a glimpse of a woman standing over a table inside but didn’t have time for a proper look before Gwen drew her attention away. 

“She’ll be in here.” Gwen said, placing her hand on the doorknob of a large mahogany door at the very end of the hall. There was a golden plaque nailed to it which read “Principal Weems”. Apparently, this place had been some kind of school, “Whatever you do, petite souris, don’t speak unless you’re spoken to. And, if you want to have any chance of staying or staying alive, be respectful. If there’s one thing Alpha can’t stand, it’s someone who can’t respect their superiors, comprendre?”

Beth nodded, able to loosely translate the french word. The corner of Gwen’s lips twitched upward in a light smirk before her face went void of expression and she opened the door, beaconing Beth to follow her inside. The room was massive, with well used leather furniture and a large mahogany desk in front of a set of open french doors which led out to a spacious balcony. There was a large marble fireplace to the left of the doorway, carved to look like… medusa? At first the room smelled faintly of wine and must, and then a gentle breeze blew the scent of cigar smoke in through the open balcony doors, drawing Beth’s attention to the figure leaning against the stone railing of the balcony, facing in towards the room; You. 

Beth didn’t know what she’d expected from someone who called themselves “the Alpha” but whatever it was was not what you were. When she and Gwen reached you and you rose to your full height you towerd over both of them like a fucking skyscraper with a broad, maculine body complete with soft ivory skin, thick meaty hands, prominent veins, and muscles that might as well have been chisled from stone. Short red hair cut in a 90’s bob framed a sharply defined, oval face allowing your deep green eyes with their frightful and unnerving gaze to stand to attention. You wore a loose-fitting bronze t-shirt tucked into black jeans decorated with custom-sewn pockets all down the legs with a brown and black flannel tied around your waist, a gold watch on your wrist glinted off the dying sunlight, and black, knee-high combat boots similar to Gwen’s adorned your feet; though yours had to be at least three sizes bigger. There were two Glock 19’s in a holster around your waist, a semi-auto .22LR slung across your back, and a knife as long as Beth’s forearm in a vertical sheath across the back of your holster; the many pockets of your jeans bulging with mags for the three guns.

“Give us a moment, would you малыш,” you addressed to Gwen, taking a long drag from the joint between your fingers, continuing to speak as you released the smoke from your lips, your voice silky yet harsh with a tough, demanding and authoritative tone that matched the rest of your persona perfectly, “Why don’t you go see if you can help Jan with the mending? I’m sure she could use a second pair of hands. If not, tell Jane I told you to help her with supper.” 

Gwen gave a small nod, turning and walking away without so much as a glance in Beth’s direction. Beth had caught the Russian word for ‘baby’ and realized that it was you who had been speaking the language earlier despite having a flawless American accent whenever you weren’t using Russian dialect. 

“So, маленькая полевая мышь, I hear one of my girls hit you with the bus?” you spoke softly, eyeing Beth like someone would a confused child, “Tell me… why should I let you stay, hmm? What can you offer us?” 

“I…” Beth paused, unsure how best to respond. She didn’t know what words would save her life and what words would end it, “I-I’m a fair shooter. I can hit a perfect bullseye four of five times-”

You chuckled, drawing her up short, “маленькая полевая мышь, I have four women who can hit a bullseye five times out of five shots. What need would I have of your skill when I already have others who are better at it?” 

“I’m a forager.” she tried again, “I know what plants around here are safest to eat, which ones can be used as medicine, and which ones can end a life-”

Again, you cut her off, “And I have a woman who has a master’s degree in medicine and herbology.” 

Damn it. 

“I…” Beth was defeated. Shooting and foraging were her only helpful skills and you were right. What need would you have of her if there were already those who could do it better? “Those are the only things I can offer you…”

“Poor маленькая полевая мышь,” you purred with a small smile on your lips. You seemed to be enjoying watching Beth as she began to panic, “If you have nothing to offer me, why should I let you stay, hmm?” 

“Please?!” she begged, ready to fall on her knees and plead at your feet, “I-I don’t need to stay forever. Just long enough to heal-Please-!”

“There is no need to beg, полевая мышь.” a low chuckle escaped your throat, sending a shiver down the back of Beth’s neck, “You are lucky Gwen seems to have taken a liking to you. If not for her, I would feed you to the crawlers… You may stay with us until you heal but, while you are here, you will conform to my rules. Break or refuse to follow one and I will cast you out with only the clothes on your back. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes… ma’am…” Beth mumbled, looking down at your feet.

“Good,” you purred again, your lips pulled up in a tight, almost fake smile, “Why don’t you come inside and take a seat while I go over the rules with you, hmm? I’m sure your legs must be killing you for standing for so long. When we’re done, I’ll give you a proper tour and introduce you to everyone.”

Beth nodded, her body visibly relaxing in relief as she followed you back inside. You sat down in the chair behind the desk, motioning for Beth to take one of the leather seats across from you. 

“So,” you started as Beth sat down, looking down at her hands resting in her lap, “let’s get to it…?”

“Beth,” she answered when she realized you were silently asking for her name.

“Beth. Welcome to our little pack. I am y/n, but you will refer to me as Alpha. Calling me by my name is a privilege that must be earned. Is that understood?” “Yes.”

“Good. Now, in order to keep everyone safe and keep our pack from falling apart, I have set a few rules in place. Failure to conform to these rules will result in your immediate removal from the pack. Get caught breaking a rule and you will be punished accordingly.”

“Yes, Alpha.” Beth muttered, her eyes still trained on her hands. 

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, милый,” you reprimanded, smirking when Beth’s gaze shot up to your face, “Good. Now, our rules. One; you will obey every command I give you without question or complaint. As the alpha, it is my job to ensure that the pack remains safe. You must trust that my actions and commands are made with this in mind. Two; you must return to camp by nightfall every night and are not permitted to leave again until sunrise. Crawlers are most active at night, that is when we need to be the least active. Three; never leave the camp alone. Always in groups of three or more. Four; if you are injured, whether by a crawler or something else, you must tell someone. You cannot expect us to treat you as if you are injured if we do not know that you are. Am I clear so far?”

“Yes, Alpha.”

“хорошая девочка. Rule five; in order to ensure that we have enough water for drinking and cooking, each of us are only permitted to use the showers three times a week unless given verbal permission from me. Six; everyone must use the gym at least two times a week. We need to keep our strength up. Once you heal enough I will have you working with one of my girls to build your muscles back up. Seven; never keep helpful supplies hidden for yourself. We share everything of great value with the pack. Less important things like jewelry and perfumes and such are fine. We have no severe need for them.”

“Yes, Alpha.” Beth repeated again, showing that she was still listening.

“Number eight; don’t bring men into the camp. They cannot be trusted, nor will I pretend to tolerate them. Nine; do not ever turn off the safety feature on your weapon. It must always be ready should another group attempt to raid us or a horde of crawlers find its way through our defenses. This also means that you must be extremely careful. No one has accidentally shot someone yet, but we have had one too many close calls in recent months. And finally, ten-this rule will not apply to you without my explicit permission which you are highly unlikely to receive; do not touch another one of the girls in an intimate sense without verbal permission from both the woman and myself. As the alpha, it is my job to attend to the needs of my pack, whether that be physical, mental, sexual, or otherwise. The others know they are not to touch themselves or each other without my permission and the same goes for you.”

A mildly disgusted look overtook Beth’s face as the realization of your words sunk in. You were fucking all of them?!

“Don’t worry, полевая мышь,” you laughed, the sound harsh and rich, “I have no intentions of mating with you. You are not a permanent part of the pack, not like my girls.” 

“Is that how you became the alpha?” Beth asked before she could stop herself, “By fucking the rest of them into submission?” 

A dark shadow filled your eye as a bemused look crossed your face. You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the desk as you eyed Beth, running your tongue against the inside of your bottom lip.

“I’ll give you one pass since you are new, but if you ever speak to me like that again I will gut you. Do you understand, полевая мышь?” you hissed, your smile widening when Beth nodded, “Yes, мышь, that is how I became the alpha. Before me, it was the principal of this school. Fuck the right people in the right ways and they’ll give up everything to you… But don’t let that fool you into thinking I only fuck them to keep my position, oh no, I fuck them because I truely love them, and will do whatever I can to make them forget about what goes on outside these walls, even if it’s just for a night.”

Beth nodded again, her mind still reeling as it tried to process everything you had just told her.

“So, now that you know our rules and how our pack operates, would you like to stay? If not, we’ll give you back your things and send you on our way.” 

She didn’t know what to say. Beth knew leaving now would inevitably result in her death, yet she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to stay here. You were incredibly fucked up in the head, that was for certain. However, you did genuinely seem to mean what you said about protecting your ‘pack’. As much as Beth didn’t like either option, she ultimately decided that a month or so with you was better than being eaten alive by crawlers in a night. 

“I’ll stay.” she muttered, “And I’ll do whatever I can to be of help while I’m here.”

“Good,” you cooed, clasping your hands together with another tight smile as you rose to your feet, “Come, let’s get you familiar with the camp and properly introduced to everyone, shall we?”

Beth nodded, pushing off of the chair, her legs shaking as she stood. You waited a moment, giving her legs a moment to adjust to carrying her weight again before you strode out of the room, walking slowly so that Beth could keep pace. 

“This is our command center,” you said, leading her inside one of the rooms she’d passed earlier, “In here we keep our main radio as well as our maps, supply lists, and other things of that sort. And this is Larissa.” 

The woman-Larissa looked up from the map she’d been studying and offered Beth a soft smile that had her weak in the knees. Like the others Beth had met, Larissa was tall. Taller than Gwen but not by much, with silvery-blonde hair done up in a complex updo half hidden in a silver headscarf, a shapely, feminine figure dressed in white pants and a silver blouse accentuated with a thick brown belt and brown ankle boots, skin like a porcelain dolls, and long-fingered hands tucked into white gloves. Her eyes were a brilliant, sapphire blue framed by thick mascara-coated lashes and her lips were soft-looking and full, stained a deep ruby red in color. 

She was prestigious and well put together, seeming almost out of place in the modern world. Too gentle, too clean, too pure. But something was off. There was a weary look on her heart-shaped face as she eyed Beth, as well as a sense of falseness to her smile. To Beth, it seemed as if the woman was afraid, But afraid of what? You? Beth? 

“Larissa, сладкий голубь, this is Beth,” you announced, smiling gently at Larissa, a comforting gleam in your eye, “She’ll be staying with us for a while.”

“You’re letting her stay?” Larissa questioned, her voice velvety and melodic, yet there was something enigmatic about it…

“Only because I don’t want to hear Gwen’s pouting for months.” you teased, momentarily drawing a true smile from the woman before it turned false again.

“I suppose that’s as good a reason as any,” the blonde concured, eyeing Beth again before returning her focus to the map on the table as you strode back out of the room, beaconing Beth to follow. 

“You’ll have to excuse her demeanor. Larissa is not one to trust easily.” you said to Beth as the two of you descended down the stairs, “It will take her some time to warm up to you.”

Beth nodded, half-listening as you went on to tell her about what the school had been before the virus, following you into what at one point had been the school’s cafeteria. All of the tables but one were gone, leaving space for eight beds set in a circle in the middle of the room. There were hospital curtains on the sides and in front of each of the beds, allowing for some separation and privacy, though not very much. Also beside each bed was a small stand, on top of which lay an array of objects; hair brushes and hair ties, makeup products, jewelry, photographs, knives, gun magazines, notebooks, books, ect. Then at the foot of each bed was some kind of trunk Beth assumed was for storing larger possessions and clothing. 

There was a large, clearly handmade, circular stone fireplace in the center of the circle of beds, surrounded by an array of well-used, mismatched chairs. Very homey, Beth thought, a sudden wave of homesickness overtaking her. It had been so long since she’d seen anything that even remotely resembled a normal home. 

“This is our sleeping quarters and-for want of a better word-dining hall. We eat and sleep here as well as simply lounge around after curfew. I’ll have the twins help me bring down a cot for you later… My room is just past that door.” you pointed to a mahogany door on the far wall, not too far from the circle of beds but far enough to make it very clear you were separate from the others, “Should you need anything during the night or notice something off while you’re on watch, just knock. I’m a light sleeper.”

Beth nodded again. She wanted to make a comment about you sleeping separate from everyone else but that unnerving glint in your eye kept her at bay. You moved on, showing her the infirmary, makeshift gym, bathrooms and showers. 

“How do you have running water?” She inquired as the two of you made your way outside. Without humans to run things, places like power plants, dams and such had ceased working. Very few places still had electricity and water, none of which were anywhere near your camp. 

“We were able to create our own water system by connecting the plumbing to a river a ways up the mountain. By connecting it to a filtering system, we were able to obtain clean water for drinking and cooking.” you explained, “In order to do that we had to first shut off and drain the preexisting system, remove and close off several pipes from the upper floors, making it so that the plumbing would only run through the ground floor-not that we needed it for much else.” 

“And the electricity?”

“Solar power. We raided a solar power plant not far from here about a year and a half ago and figured out how to use the panels we’d taken to power everything here, including the bus one of my girls hit you with.” you said, stepping outside.

The area you’d taken her to was a courtyard at what appeared to be the center of the mansion. Most of it was made of the same stone as the inside, the other part of a thick wrought iron fence, both of which were decorated with beautiful scrollwork designs. Intricate arches lead off to other parts of the school, while thin cobblestone paths weaved through the grass, which was luscious and oh so green compared to the rest of the world. Several tarps had been stitched together and hung over the entire courtyard, protecting it from the rain and sun. Stone benches lined the courtyard’s edge, there were several tables littered with supplies off to one side, as well as a makeshift shooting range, and a large sparring mat staked to the ground with tent spikes, where two more women were currently occupied. 

The women on the mat were both broad and muscular, though the one facing away from the two of you had a much more haunty feel to her figure. Her short, snowy-white hair was slick with sweat and brushed against the nape of her neck. 

“Phasma, lower your hands!” you shouted, causing Beth to jump, “You’re leaving your ribs exposed! Brienne, widen your stance! If she pushes you, you’re done for!”

The two paused, unfolding from their fighting stances and turning to you, Beth unable to keep her jaw from dropping when she caught sight of-who she assumed was Phasma-'s face. The woman was tall, standing about two inches shorter than you, and had a square face and prominent jaw with a clearly broken nose. A single icy blue eye glared at Beth coldly, the left side of her face marred by a burn scar accentuated with a pearly white eye; clearly the injury had left her blind. Intimidated by her gaze, Beth dropped her eyes to the rest of Phasma’s body. A ripped gray shirt clung to her broad chest and shoulders like a second skin, green cargo pants covered her legs, showing off the muscles there when she flexed them just right. When she shifted her stance a light clinking filled the air, drawing Beth’s attention to the chain of military tags around her neck. 

“Come on ladies, you would think I wouldn’t need to tell you these sorts of things with your track records.” you scolded lightly as they approached you.

“Sorry, Alpha,” they muttered in unison, giving Beth a chance to look at the other one while their attention was trained on you.

The other woman was just as tall as Phasma, with the same square face and chiseled jaw, though her hair reached her shoulders and was the color of straw rather than snow. She had the same small, blue, almond-shaped eyes but hers were darker, more like the ocean, as well as the same porcelain skin. There was a large scar on her cheek; it looked rather like a human-made bite mark. It must have been something she sustained before the virus or she would not have been amongst the “living” now. The woman wore a dark blue tank top that showed off her pale, freckled shoulders tucked into brown cargo pants belted with a thick black belt around her broad hips. Both women were barefoot with linen strips wrapped around their hands, raw pink flesh peeking from beneath the strips. 

“You’ve already met Phasma… in a sense,” you said to Beth, drawing her from her thoughts as you pointed to the one-eyed woman-Phasma, “This is her twin sister, Brienne. Ladies, this is Beth. She’s going to be staying with us for a while.”

It was easy to note the similarities between the two sisters. As well as being similar in appearance the two women had the same posture and ora, and the exact same look on their faces as they eyed Beth like she was merely a piece of meat.

“You’re letting the rat stay?” Phasma practically growled, her voice deep and cold, mildly monotone with a clipped English accent and a slightly rough edge-the bus driver! Realizing Phasma was the one who’d hit her with the bus, Beth narrowed her eyes at the woman, shifting her stance ever so slightly in an attempt to appear stronger and more confident, though the bandages and sling did little to assist her, “Why?”

“Because, Phasma, I don’t think you want to hear Gwen whining for the next few months because we didn’t help her little field mouse any more than I do.” you answered, your voice firm and assertive, causing the frightful-looking blonde to go silent. 

“Alpha,” the other sister-Brienne, stepped forward slightly. Her voice was gravelly and had a natural stentorian and authoritative feel to it, but when she spoke to you it was in the most submissive and respectful way, “our resources are spread thin as it is. Taking on another member… it is not something we can afford…”

“I understand your concerns, Brienne. Believe me, the thought has crossed my mind, but we will make it work.” you assured, “You both know I would never do anything without fully thinking it through-”

“If you had, the runt’s corpse would be halfway up the mountain by now.” Phasma muttered, crossing her arms over her chest, her sister going white beside her as you flushed scarlet.

“Phasma, то есть достаточно!” you roared, raising your hand as if to strike her before lowering it again with a deep breath, “As of now, Beth is a part of our pack. You will treat her with the same respect as the others… And if you ever speak to me like that again, you will be sleeping outside the walls. Is that understood?” The woman merely shrugged, cracking her knuckles as she shifted her gaze to Beth, the one blue eye narrowed dangerously. You sighed, clearly annoyed with the woman’s behavior. 

“Finish your match,” you told them, “Once you’re done go ahead and begin evening procedures. I suspect Jane will have supper ready here soon.”

Phasma shrugged again, her gaze never leaving Beth, causing sweat to form at the base of her neck. Brienne put a hand on her sister’s shoulder, whispering something in her ear that caused Phasma to scoff, roughly shoving her sister away and turning and walking back onto the mat. Brienne shot you an apologetic look, nodding at you before following after her twin, ignoring Beth entirely.

“Ignore them,” you said to Beth, turning away from the sisters, “The twins have always been wound rather tightly, especially Phasma. Give them their space and they’ll give you yours. Just, whatever you do, try not to piss them off… If you couldn’t tell, they’re not afraid to break a couple of bones.” 

“What happened to them?” you looked down at her, your head slightly tilted in question, “The scars…?”

“Those are stories for another time,” you said dismissively, moving towards the cluster of picnic tables where two figures were conversing on one of the benches along the edge of the yard, “Lyme, познакомься с нашим гостем!” you called as you and Beth approached the two.

The woman you’d addressed-Lyme stood up from her spot on one of the stone benches as you and Beth approached, Beth unable to keep from ogling at the goddess before her. The woman towerd over Beth, standing just shorter than the twins with a muscular and powerful, yet curvy build that suggested years of some kind of combative experience and flawless, ivory skin. Her face was strong and angular, free of makeup with chiseled features that conveyed determination and resilience, and eyes like pools of silver that had Beth struggling to breathe. Her dirty blonde hair was cut in a short, stylish pixie cut that kept it out of her face at all times. There was an air of confidence and authority to her, exuding a sense of quiet power and strength. She was dressed in a dingy white tank top that hugged every curve, dark acid wash jeans, a bloodstained jean jacket, a long silver chain hanging around her neck, and gray boots. There was a large AK-47 slung across her back and two knives sheathed at her hips. 

The woman beside Lyme was a few inches shorter than her companion with that same authoritative presence and long, silky brown hair tied back in a low ponytail. She had flawless, sun-kissed skin, a strong, lean and almost cat-like figure and a soft round face void of makeup and splattered with the lightest freckles Beth had ever seen, accentuated with small, dusty blue eyes. There were several small tattoos on her fingers and more poking out from beneath the sleeves of her brown shirt which she’d paired with military-style pants and brown boots, accessorized with a western-style leather holster that housed a silver Glock 17. Her jaw was clenched tightly, and her eyes were narrowed as she eyed Beth up and down, stopping both ways when her eyes reached the sling around Beth’s arm, seeming to size her up. Clearly, she was as keen on having an injured stranger in their midst as Phasma and Brienne were.  

“Beth, this is Lyme and Lady-” you introduced, gesturing to each woman as you said their name. 

“Lady?” Beth asked, releasing a breathy laugh at the odd name which she instantly regretted when the brunette gave her a dangerous look that would have had Beth six feet under if looks were able to kill.  

“Her real name is Jane, but we call her Lady to keep from confusing her with our other Jane.” you explained, stepping slightly in front of Beth as Lady’s hand twitched towards her Glock, “Lady, оставь пистолет в покое.”  

The brunette grumbled, folding her arms across her chest as you gently steered Beth away from the two women.  

“I’d watch your back around her,” you warned, “She’s the wild card around here. I wouldn’t be surprised if she tries to use you as target practice... At least for the first week or so.” 

“Don’t think she’s the only one.” Beth mumbled, eyeing the twins sparring on the mat with a worried glint in her eye. 

“Phasma and Brienne may want to put a bullet in your head, but they’d do it with good intentions-at least, Brienne would… You must understand, we haven’t had a new member in over a year and, well... it didn’t end well.” 

“What happened?”  

“...She died...” you answered, your voice soft, “We were all close with her, and her death shook us quite a bit. In truth, I think the others don’t want you here because they’re afraid of having that attachment again.” 

You went silent for a few moments after that, leading Beth away. She longed to press, to learn what had happened, but it was clearly a touchy subject and she dreaded what would happen if she pushed too far. If she was being entirely honest with herself, Beth was afraid of you. Everything she’d heard, everything she’d seen gave her the impression that, though some of the others in your ‘pack’ were scary, you were the only one who she needed to be terrified of. Your authoritative demeanor, your commanding presence, the unnerving glint in your eye, the harsh edge to your voice all pointed to one simple fact; you were dangerous. In what way exactly, Beth did not know, but she was in no hurry to find out. 

You lead her back inside to a new area of the first floor and into a room piled high with boxes of supplies and racks of clothing categorized by the item and sizes. She followed you through the maze of racks to the back of the room to where a figure was sitting, pointing as you spoke. 

“Jan is who you will go to tomorrow to get fitted for proper clothing. Not only does she have the best sense of fashion, but whatever we don’t have, she can make. She’s quite handy with a needle and some thread.”

The woman you pointed to was like an angel in mortal form with a lean, angular body and pure white skin. A halo of platinum blonde hair fell to the base of her neck in waves framing a sharp, heart-shaped face with blood-red lips and dark eyeshadow with thick black eyeliner that accentuated cerulean blue eyes. Her black, five-inch platform boots seemed a little out of place given the world’s current predicament, but looked quite good with the flared red pants and ruffled white blouse. There was a box of clothing at her feet and a pincushion and several spools of thread on the desk beside her while she methodically stitched away at a shirt laying in her lap. 

“Jan, мой павлин,” you practically cooed, drawing the angel’s attention away from her work, “Why don’t you put the mending away for a while and come meet our guest?”

Jan nodded, gently placing her work on the desk as she stood, her eyes flicking over Beth. Unlike the others, her gaze wasn’t disapproving or judgmental, but rather curious and intrigued. She walked closer, flicking her eyes between you and Beth as she drew near. Even with those boots on she was still an inch or so shorter than you, and as she came to a stop in front of Beth a sweet mixture of warm vanilla and cherry scents filled Beth’s nose.

“I’m Beth.” she offered, holding out her hand to the beauty standing before her, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Jan murmured, taking Beth’s hand in a dainty handshake. Her voice was like a breath of wind, angelic, crisp, and oh so silky. It would have been all too easy for Beth to get lost in its sweet spell. The woman’s skin was like satin against Beth’s coarse hands, deep ruby nails standing out against the pale flesh. 

Beth went to say something, what exactly she was not sure, but the loud, deep ring of a bell cut her off. She released Jan’s hand, looking to you for an explanation as to what the bell was for. 

“That’ll be the dinner bell,” you said to Beth, though your eyes were trained on Jan. To Beth, it seemed that you favored the platinum angel over the rest of your packmates, “Best we head to the dinning hall before Jane or Larissa have our heads for being late.” 

Jan nodded, turning off the lamp beside the desk she’d been using before taking hold of your arm as you led her and Beth back out of the room. The three of you joined the others in the dining hall where you did a quick check to make sure everyone was accounted for, scowling when you noticed one member was missing.

“Where’s Phasma?” you half growled to Brienne, your eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“She went to put the bus away,” Brienne shrugged, “Best bet is she’s still in the garage.”

You sighed, rubbing your temple before muttering, “You lot go ahead and get started. I’ll run out and grab her.” 

You left without another word, leaving Beth alone with the remaining seven members of your pack. She stood back, staying out of the way while the others lined up to get food much like you would in a school cafetorium-which they were currently in-unable to keep her eyes from glancing over the strong, shapely figures standing about ten feet from her. As much as she wished to deny it, Beth could see why you would find it hard to choose only one of the women here; she was caught in the claws of these beauties… and no force on Earth would save her if she woke the beast…

A/n: This is the first fanfic I've written that was over 1,000 words so I apologize if it drags a little at times. Pt.2 should be released in a few weeks. Hope you enjoyed!! :)

[lifenconcepts]

MY UTTERLY BELOVED TF2 OC!

I’m very proud of this, I’m not one to use digits art and so think this is actually applause worthy.

IVAN “VOLK” KATERZHNIK

LORE, DESCRIPTION, HISTORY, AND OTHER BELOW \/

A soviet pilot which crashed after flying through a storm and somehow ended up here rather that anywhere near Europe.

Pretty much godly when it comes to communications as he was the one to come to if you had technical problems or needed a message sent off through morse or radio. 

HISTORY / HIS STORY: I’ve done some good research on USSR in 1960s/1970s (about where the tf2 thing is set) to be able to comply somewhat with what tech and knowledge existed then. He flew a Tupolev Tu-95 plane (a fascinating beast, truly) which bares bombs and missiles and yet after a mistakenly taken dosage of amphetamine( after taking inspiration from British/American soldiers using it to boost moral and altertness), caused a buffer between logic/reality and delusional thinking of following orders, which allowed him to blindly fly from a runway in Khabarovski krai (beside the sea of Okhotsk), before being forced to crash land by a storm in New Mexico, where after taking a good 17 hour Power Nap, ventured the land with aloofness and nonchalantness and finding the RED base (TF2 ofcourse). There, he managed to recognise Ludwig as a medical personal and insisted he get treated for injuries, all the while speaking in the common broken English/Russian that many Eastern Europeans bare with phrases like “Amerika, da! Kennedy, Elvis Presley!” and has limited yet basic conversational knowledge on Czech, German, and polish. Greatly fluent in Russian.

His character in short:

Unattached, very limited family connections before he even flew, and laughs at the concept of a relationship that isn’t strictly professional. Aroace before the term even was coined. Very docile when it comes to being questioned and happily complied with initial allegations and requests despite a language barrier. Is surprisingly hyper aware of his surroundings and has a good grasp on the moral dilemma of war but also an insatiable appetite for confrontation and blood, and despite not liking violence, can handle a gun, blade, or explosives with a steady hand. Speaks a lot with hand gestures and isn’t afraid to be a bit strange, and most notable of a hobby is going out early dawn and late dusk to enjoy the rays of sun, take some fresh air, and at times go for a walk in the wilderness. Has disappeared without a trace multiple times before venturing his way back. Good relationship with most the REDs, albeit doesn’t take them seriously apart from Engineer and Medic - who he also sometimes helps with work. Doesn’t like to be limited with rules but respects the set basis of don’t be an asshole even if he makes harsh remarks at times without really noticing it. Can uphold a certain level of banter in English, but it is very bare bone and his knowledge of words is primarily based around technical terms so he could translate “Вам ни холодно?» (are you not cold?) into “Your system froze?” while gesturing to their body.

Physical appearance & taste:

Wears an aviator’s jacket with sheep wool lining, a watch by the brand “Kosmos”, has a busted up metal flask which he usually had a bit of whiskey in - in a (handmade by a long gone friend) leather casing with an intricate soviet symbol and pattern on it, some basic military brown/gray trousers, a dusty pecan coloured messenger bag, a muskrat ushanka (it fits his head properly I just like to draw it in a stylised manner), and some basic black soviet combat boots. He doesn’t really care for branding but knows random American things through cultural osmosis and exposure via his friend back in fatherland who is obsessed with ‘western’ media and food. Has seen a few American movies (don’t ask how his friend obtained it.. it wasn’t legal) and his favourite one is “North to Alaska”! He has zero interest in politics and a lack of understanding in certain aspects of life that may be important (for example battle tactics) but is ready to follow orders and make his own decisions based on prior experiences should he have to. Considers himself a patriot although knows very little about his own country, mainly the goings on in his hometown that shall stay unnamed. Loved the radio station Mayak and the song “Moscow Nights” practically runs through his veins.

Fascinated with snow, roads, and the sun like some eternally high schizoid (edit that out in tumblr entry). Likely has some underlying condition in his mind that hasn’t gotten traction in mass understanding yet so he just is overall chill, acts more or so like a child, yet understands and does things with the precision of a marksman.

Silly story & his plans for now: Has managed to tame a lynx cub once, well.. prior to it then mauling him. But his arm had a cool scar on it because of that! Within the lore though is more or less a helping hand towards the respawn machine and keeps the others company, as despite technically being able to return home, his superior ordered that he’d send out a message should he return from missions - and although this would be an emergency not a mission, he doesn’t want to risk being lost in Siberian wilderness should he go unguided or disrespect his fellow companion. Is trying to find his plane that he’d abandoned in some forest and scowered the place by foot for nearly a week, and once he managed to eventually find it, a good refuel and he’ll be sent off. That is.. if they manage to find it at all. And he is concrete and set about doing so and not just finding some other way about this because of a deep love and connection to the plane he so dearly piloted for nearly a decade.

Overall is a very laidback individual, physically and emotionally strong ‘n capable, loves music and often spends his free time listening to whatever the radio has to offer - and although he missed his usual Muslim Magomaev, Эдита Пьеха, or Я хожу по Москве, he still managed to enjoy the American tunes and sometimes hums Elvis Presley’s “it’s now or never”. Also adored all the various marches and anthems popular at the time. Favourite Russian song is Old maple/Старый Клён from the film Девчата (Girls).

PLEASE DO NOT use this a for your own ocs! I worked very hard :( you can take vague inspo but I’ll be heartbroken if you make harsh copies.

[duuhrayliegh]

hey babes can i request more seb x singer!reader? thank youuuu :)

slowing down

Neither of you says anything for a few minutes, basking in the uninterrupted silence. In the recesses of your shared apartment, you can hear the faint click of the air conditioning. Raindrops hit the bay windows in your living room and you just know that the sunrise is going to be beautiful. or in which you can't sleep

pairing: seb stan x singer!reader (that’s right, I'M FUCKING BACK FOR MORE BABY)

warnings: it's kind of angsty? idk i didn't mean for it to be but i guess here we are?

a/n: of course you can love! i'm in the world's worst slump but i refuse to let this stop me. i can honestly tell you that this will probably be really shitty but nevertheless here we are :/

pls like and reblog if you enjoy my work. which you can check out more of on my masterlist.

You're quick to dim the glow of your phone, the illumination too much for your dry eyes. You're halfway through your North American tour and have finally reached the break in your schedule. Three whole days that you're able to fully relax and recharge after two months.

Two excruciating months that you spent away from home, sleeping in hotel bed after hotel bed, chasing peace and quiet on airplanes, private cars, and green rooms.

Two long months without Seb.

It wasn't so bad at first. I mean let's be real, you both have busy lives. He's a leading Hollywood actor who has film execs fighting tooth and nail to cast him in their upcoming projects. And you're touring your second album, playing in venues both large and small, never stopping for longer than five minutes.

Until now. When you were first planning out your tour schedule with your management company, you insisted that there be a break halfway through the run. You wouldn't label yourself as a homebody, but you're something close to it.

You knew yourself well enough to predict when you could burn out. Much to the dismay of your team, you refused to even consider a tour unless it had the required time off built in.

You've watched too many of your friends have to cancel shows to recuperate, you wouldn't do that to your fans. People have real lives outside of concerts--it's not always sunshine and rainbows, but rescheduling shows was the last thing you were willing to do. Compromise wasn't an option for this decision, and thankfully they bent to your demands rather quickly.

What you didn't account for was how wired you'd be.

You made sure to plan your time off for after your New York shows. That way you would already be where Sebastian was and you could spend the break with the man you love.

You'd think your body would enjoy the break. Instead, it doesn't seem to realize it's on a break. So here you lay, doom-scrolling on your phone with the brightness turned so low you might as well not even be on it.

You closed and opened the same three apps for the past thirty minutes. A lump is beginning to form in the back of your throat and your eyes are starting to burn. You could feel your breaths coming in faster intervals, fighting against the exhaustion in your bones. The words on your phone screen start turning into just random letters, then blurring altogether, becoming one big glowing blob in your hand that your mind can't seem to fathom.

"Birdie?" Sebastian's baritone startles you back to reality. You quickly flip the screen into the duvet, stifling the dim object from his sleepy view.

His hand finds yours, running his fingers over your tense knuckles that grip the phone steady. He pries the device from your grip and places it face down on his bedside table.

"What's wrong, bird?" By this point, he's preparing for whatever you throw at him. Sebastian's front molds to your back, pulling you into his warm skin.

"Do you ever feel so exhausted that you reach the point that you're not tired anymore?" Your voice is soft, not wanting to disturb the peace and quiet any more than you already have. Sebastian's fingers are still tracing meaningless shapes on your knuckles as he hums against your bare shoulder.

Neither of you says anything for a few minutes, basking in the uninterrupted silence. In the recesses of your shared apartment, you can hear the faint click of the air conditioning. Raindrops hit the bay windows in your living room and you just know that the sunrise is going to be beautiful.

"Like, you spend so long waiting for something and then once you get it, you're disappointed?" You breathe the words into the void before you can stop yourself. It's only when you realize what you've said do you rush to correct yourself. "Not that I'm disappointed. That's not what I meant."

Sebastian hums in acknowledgment. Beneath the blankets, he tangles his legs with yours, wrapping you in the comfort you've been without for the past two months.

“It's just that my mind won't stop running. Like, I've done the damn thing. I planned the time off so that this wouldn't happen." Your breathing quickens again but slows as soon as Sebastian nudges your feet with his. Tears pool along your lash line, threatening to spill over out of frustration? exhaustion? pure anger? You aren't able to fully discern what you're feeling.

"I'm just so. damn. tired, Bastian." Your voice lilts into a whine at the end, but you both know it's to mask the chink in your armor. You shuffle to plant your face in his chest, attempting to shield yourself from the world outside.

Something you've learned about yourself is that you're so quick to give. The first to volunteer yourself. Always think of everyone else before yourself. It's a quality that people envy.

What they don't know is the toll it takes on the giver. The volunteer. The thinker. The envied. They don't know that you lay awake at night, exhausted beyond all reason with your mind racing when you try to put yourself first for a change.

"I don't know how to make it stop." He wraps you in his arms, burying both hands in your hair at the base of your neck. "I don't know how to make my mind quiet."

Frustration oozes from your every fiber and it makes you burrow deeper into Sebastian's hold. You squeeze your eyes shut, the action causing a throb to form in between your brows. You begin to match Sebastian's breathing, allowing your chests to rise and fall in sync. You rest your forehead on his collarbone and listen to the even beating of his heart.

No more words are exchanged. No more admissions. No more almost insults. No more dimly lit phone screens.

Just the rain. And the whir of the AC. And the matched breaths.

All the worries and troubles are pushed aside to be another day's problem.

For now, you'll rest.

--

please like and reblog if you enjoy my work. for requests.

for more of my work.

[icarusbetide]

back on my bullshit y'all. implausible historical scenario: southern alexander hamilton (pt 1: lavien & laurens version)

Part 2: Washington's son dramatic-ass version

my favorite hobby is shoving historical figures into impossible scenarios so i can get them to do what i want. once again made up some convoluted series of events just to create a hamilton wildly out of character- god forbid, a southerner who might even get along with thomas jefferson. here's the first implausible scenario that make it possible.

Alexander goes to live with his half brother Peter Lavien.

Peter Lavien was the legitimate child of Rachel Hamilton’s first marriage. He moved to Beaufort, South Carolina in 1764 at eighteen and became a prominent merchant and member of the church. However, he returned to St. Croix in 1769 to settle his mother’s estate, aka get everything that she had wanted to go to James Jr. and Alexander. In 1769, the two boys were taken in by their cousin Peter Lytton (who died), and then Lytton’s father, who also died a month later. Probable that this happened after Lavien had once again left St. Croix, but let’s just imagine that he for some reason takes pity on the boys - and takes them with him. Nothing makes sense here, roll with it.

It would be even sadder and morbidly funny if he only took Alexander. I say this because in his 1778 last Will and Testament Lavien left “Alexander Hamilton and his brother Robert Hamilton” a fairly substantial amount of money. One brother must’ve left a greater impression on him and maybe poor James Jr. hears this half brother who took his inheritance say “Alex and Robert can come with me” and goes “Who tf is Robert, fuck this” and peaces out. 

Now, politically: Extrapolating since I’m not sure how prominent “prominent merchant” is, but maybe this means that Alex has the chance to meet prominent southerners early on, who like many others, are charmed by his energy and precocity. Does this mean he has more affection and allegiance for South Carolina than he did in real life for St. Croix? Does his politics and economic experience change? Assuming that like Washington, wartime experience is enough to make him a nationalist and he still had some experience at Cruger’s (and maybe helping Lavien) and thus does not have differing economic beliefs, his enemies would lose out on a major attack: perceived bias to the North. His connection to the Schuyler family would still serve, but maybe without as much weight, since he has those southern connections. 

I love the idea of a South Carolinian Alexander Hamilton who grows up in a fairly secure American home with a steady guardian. The personal implications! The family drama of being forced to rely on a half brother who resents you for taking his mom, and who you resent back for taking your inheritance! Does this give him more issues, less issues? No idea! Even worse, Lavien was apparently a Tory, so there’s that. Two brothers who perhaps got closer over the years, split apart again by political differences. “I take pity on a bastard brat and you repay me with this?” type shit. Lavien moved out to Georgia in 1777, and apparently died in 1780 or 1781 which means Hamilton would’ve been a prominent aide de camp to the commander in chief, and potentially married into a great New York family when it happens. How would he react to that?

And I can’t give up the idea of Colonel Alexander Hamilton of South Carolina meeting John Laurens of South Carolina. Maybe I push it further and say they meet early on and become childhood friends, even.

This is really stretching it but idc, they get to be childhood friends and Hamilton gains the favor of Henry Laurens. Maybe they even go to Europe together, wreak havoc on everything, and then disobey both Laurens' worried father and Alexander's Tory brother to join the army as aide de camps.

Maybe in this universe, Hamilton is chosen to go to South Carolina instead of John Laurens and their fates are switched. Maybe Henry Laurens who still wants to keep his kid out of danger asks Hamilton to go in his stead and pushes Washington about it, and Hamilton, wanting a command, readily agrees. Maybe that continues on after Yorktown, when Hamilton returns to South Carolina. Maybe Laurens has to learn that Hamilton died in a skirmish through a letter from his father and vows to continue on their shared dreams and Hamilton's plans, becoming the influential but even more abrasive leader of the federalist party. i want to see the switch, where it's the more idealistic laurens who isn't a good politician either (the two of them are a disaster) enters the public arena to be slandered and corrupted - laurens who is isolated from his fellow southerners and who seems to be mourning someone constantly and washington knowing exactly who it is. a laurens who looks back and yearns for a promising, brilliant young man who could've done so much more if he only had the chance WAIT WHO SAID THAT-

[breitzbachbea]

@fvriva Copying this out so I can do more stuff -

But yes! One of Charlie's many exes, only two of whom have ever received a name, is a guy called JJ! His full name is Jacob Johnson and I once posted some old pictures I had of him here .

They used to date when Charlie was pretty young and just out of school and were part of a bigger gaggle of gay guys. Guys who were just experimenting and finding themselves ... and who thought it'd be funny as fuck and their good right to fancy Charlie's father substitute Paddy. Charlie didn't find that shit funny at all, but kids can be so cruel. (I also bet like some were like "Ohhh, he's from the North and he's kinda badass, do you think he's an ex-Provo?" because these boys are pulling a Michelle from Derry Girls. And saying "He's a Prod from Derry" has zero effect, because then it's "Oh my god, that means he doesn't got all that repression! I bet he's a real Casanova!" at which point Charlie was ready to either eat the Abrakebabra tray himself or shove it down someone else's throat.)

However, Charlie's boyfriend JJ never participated in that tomfoolery. Because he was a clever young man, who knew if he kept it to himself, he could date Charlie, partially to get closer to that hunk of man. Enjoyed it very much whenever he was with Charlie and Co. and Paddy was around.

However, JJ overall didn't feel like Ireland was a great place to live and wanted more opportunities, so like many young Irishman, he went away to America. And before he left, he did the kind thing of breaking up with Charlie ... and also the not so kind thing of telling him the truth in regards to Paddy. Rough breakup.

JJ gets to America, things don't really turn out as they are ought to be and America has more or less just the same problems he wanted to escape, be it in a different costume. Poor JJ falls in with the Mob to get by and after seven or eight years, he is like "Hey. I am not gonna snitch on you, I am not gonna cause trouble, but I just wanna go home. Could you arrange something for me?"

And his boss, a young man called Alfred Jones, is like "Hmm, sure! I think I know someone you could work for, someone to keep eyes on you and who takes care for you in Dublin! Harry O'Connel's the name!"

And JJ does think. Hey, that's the name of Charlie's childhood friend. Even the surname is spelled that weird way ... But he shrugs it off, because maybe someone just left an L off the end and there have to be plenty of Harry O'Connell's in Ireland.

And Harry thinks the same when Al talks to him about an Irish guy called Jacob Johnson, like yeah yeah sure. Fork found in kitchen situation.

And then JJ arrives back in Dublin, goes to the office after some preliminary meetings with other subordinates or so, walks into Harry's office ... and Harry's face is not one that you forget. Not much has changed since puberty is through. And thusly Harry also learns that he has hired Charlie's ex as a new subordinate.

So poor JJ, comes home from his failed American Dream, learns that his ex's childhood friend is a mobster and THEN learns that the same holds true for said ex and has always been the case for the middle-aged guy he fancied.

JJ has learnt a lot about himself since he went away, especially about his priorities in life, so he now also realizes that Paddy was just some embarassing Teenage infatuation and nothing genuine at all. Not to mention that he may have a soft spot for Charlie still, but no old spark that is still alive. Charlie does make a bit of an ass of himself for wishing it was the case and being thoroughly disappointed when he gets mercilessly roasted by JJ and not even a little bit fancied. Sir, you are getting steady now, you don't NEED your ex-boyfriend for approval.

That's Jacob Johnson! Poor lad, deserved better :/

[rreskk]

The return

Summary: You meet Trevor again for the first time after he left the military. 

You knew Trevor since the military. You drifted away after he was proclaimed grounded, to his disappointment. You reached out multiple times to send your best wishes to him, but even then, he made no effort to write back.

You weren’t exactly lovers, but you were close. If it wasn’t for his departure from the team, you’d probably end up together happily.

It was a blur looking back. You remember seeing him the last time. He was distraught and angry at himself. Trevor was in a state and you offered to help but he refrained from any contact, rushing off into the distance and leaving you confused and ashamed.

Present time, you were sitting face to face with him and his… Friends. At a strip club. In North Yankton.

His hair was grown into a wild mullet and he grew out his goatee. You remembered how his hair was shaved and he had a clean face. You did wonder if he kept his dog tag or if he destroyed it in fury.

You were acquaintance with Michael and Amanda before they introduced you to Trevor, unknowing of your history together in Canada.

It was brief to explain how you both met, the group chuckling at the coincidence while you kept a steady glare towards the man who left you without another word. He returned your glance, but it was more mournful.

It was especially awkward as Trevor was engaging in the sexual activities going on in the club, exchanging gazes to you every second. He’d be talking dirty to a sex worker but remain eye contact with you, not missing a beat. He’d be talking to her exactly how he used to talk to you when sleeping together.

You felt deceived at this.

There was no physical exchange though.

The only distraction was conversating with Michael and Amanda’s private business. It felt too personal for you to interrogate as they were… Well, getting it on.

There was this other man beside Trevor though.

He had blonde hair, blue eyes, and quite short. He called himself Brad. He wasn’t exactly talkative to you, he mainly troubled Trevor who was trying to enjoy his time with the strippers.

Brad was utterly clueless though. He came across as obnoxious and ignorant. You weren’t pleased with shaking hands with him before, fighting the urge to wipe your hands afterwards.

“Come on, man! You should of agreed to the private dance!” Brad joked to Trevor who slowly fell onto your eyes again.

“Not tonight,” He simply said, shrugging Brad’s hands off his shoulders. “Not in the mood.”

The blonde man rolled his eyes. “You are always in the mood.”

You sat there, opposite them in the small booth, being left as Michael and Amanda went off to their own adventure. You could only listen to their conversation as there was no one to talk to.

“Why don’t you go off then?” Trevor told Brad, pointing towards the stripper who was walking up to the table.

The blond man sighed in disappointment and excused himself from the booth, following the sex worker like a servant to his master.

That’s when you were left alone with your ex-lover… Well, almost ex-lover.

He fiddled with his beer before clearing his throat. “I thought you were going to stick with the military.”

You were pained at how forceful his words were. It sounded like he was swallowing pins and needles.

“I was transferred to the American military. I’m just travelling around for Christmas holiday.” You explained quietly.

Trevor hummed ineffectively.

“What about you?” You inquired directly.

He dropped his eyebrows and frowned. “Broke.”

“Unemployed?” You guessed and he nodded his head.

“Me and the guys are relying on each other for money right now.” Trevor muttered; bitter from his current situation and the horrid memory of his dreams being crushed.

“I didn’t expect to see you around here.” You tried to liven up the mood, earning a small smile.

He shrugged. “Snow, the cold, small villages. I thought it would be perfect.”

“What do you find perfect then.”

Trevor flinched at your question. He opened his mouth but struggled to answer.

You just hugged your cup of whiskey to your lips and hope to block out this conversation.

That was until he finally answered.

“Mountains, guns, money, my own airplane…” He listed before glancing at you again. “Love.”

Now you were begging for the whiskey to block this out, gulping and fighting back the burning sensation of alcohol.

Trevor finally looked away.

“Michael has persuaded me to do some heists… and Theft.” He uttered in disbelief. “I couldn’t give a fuck but it’s doing nothin’ to me. I’m still broke, alone, and fucking miserable.”

You bit your lips. “You are doing big crimes now?”

Trevor breathed out a sarcastic laugh. “Big crimes? I fucking kill people. Well… Those who deserve it. Anyone who breathes on me wrong.”

You cringed deeply, wondering how this weird man with violent tendencies turn into a full-time serial killer and hardcore criminal.

“I knew Michael did all that… Didn’t know he’d persuade people to join him.” You sighed.

“Me, Brad, and him all work together.” Trevor explained. “It’s an all right team, but fuck, we end up wasting all our cash on dope, chicks, and weapons.”

“So… What you are doing right now?”

He nodded at you.

You turned your focus onto the stripper he declined. “Is that why you say no to her offer?”

Trevor followed your gesture and clicked his tongue.

“I said no because you are here.” He admitted without shame. “It is nice to see you, by the way.”

You could only smile and finish off your whiskey, brushing it against the table and sucked in your lips.

“When are you called back in by the army?” Trevor wondered out loud, toying aggressively with his empty glass.

“In a few weeks.”

He noticed a waiter going by, snatching the unopened bottle of wine; threatening the worker to shut the fuck up when they were going to complain. You sat back and watched the show, confused at how the waiter just coward off.

“Well,” Trevor grunted out when popping open the bottle. “Let’s make up for lost time, yeah?”

[waterspoutskies]

NBC made a pair of podcast series' about my childhood hometown area.

Ok, I've been formatting this post for a hot minute but given the timing. The primaries start in two weeks. It is three weeks to Super Tuesday. And I am beginning to be sorely worried.

I'm not so steady on how to phrase this, how to explain the sheer magnitude of how and why this election matters So Very Much. (And maybe that's why I'm writing this so late at night with the fog of medication settling in.) But I will try.

I am originally from Texas- North Texas, specifically, and Northeast Tarrant County to really zoom in the lens. I grew up on the cutting edge of both gifted student and disability accessible programs, surrounded by teachers who taught us we could and would go anywhere, supported by parents who loved and fought for our futures. We lived in an idyll. An American dreamscape.

There was a battleground brewing underneath it all.

For you see, this is conservative, (majority) white, christian, suburban North Texas. And the same school where our valedictorian is gay and our prom queen is lesbian harbored the quiet laboratory for pushing intolerance to the masses- One upset megachurch attendee at a time.

First it was Southlake.

In the Southlake podcast, the topics and recordings include blatant, overt racism. They include explicit and vulgar language. There are points recounting anti-LGBTQ+ commentary, racial slurs, deriding mental illnesses, the whole nine yards. Every episode comes with a necessary warning preceding the vicious parts.

And then, god help me, it was my quiet, tolerant, always insulated hometown. Grapevine.

In the Grapevine podcast, the topics and recordings include anti-LGBTQ+ commentary of all levels. They cover conversion therapy, deadnaming, homophobia. They cover how parents ruined lives and careers for their own interest. Anything that you have seen spouted online is fair game. As with Southlake, every episode comes with a necessary warning preceding the vicious parts.

I cannot and will not make anyone listen to/read (transcripts are available for each episode) these, but I hope people will.

In short, the sum is that we do not win. In Southlake, white supremacy wins. In Grapevine, evangelical nonsense wins.

And I need people to understand that this is the kind of thing at stake in the elections this year. This is my hometown. This is where my classmates took our educational opportunities and made them political weapons. This is where the same people who shook my hand and smiled so brightly as I campaigned against them are those who want my friends in conversion therapy, run out of town, or dead.

Some of the students highlighted within these podcasts are friends and acquaintances of mine. My best friend and I walk one student's dogs when their family is on vacation. Another plays the 7 foot something war-axe wielding barbarian in our D&D campaign.

Mercifully, we have or are able to get out. But there are so many who are not as close or free to escape as we were.

So please, please, do not skip this election. Do not stay at home. Do not think your vote does not matter, because it does. Every inch we can claw back, from the municipal to the legislative to making our anger known in the primaries, it matters. This starts in your town, and yes, it does goes all the way up. But there are so. many. steps, and offices, and intervening laws, and political entities in between here and the White House. And if there is anywhere you can throw in a wrench or shock the system, you should.

A lot of queer kids in my hometown high school will thank you.

(I think, following this, I'm going to go back and try to explain a little more of the situation and the buildup to how we've gotten here, how this has been bubbling up to the surface for years longer than the last four. But not now, and not in this post. I just needed to get this out there.)

[paktderpakte]

Last Flight

The moonlit sea slid by beneath the two Meteors. It felt to Collins like they hadn't seen anyone for hours, but they didn't have that kind of flight time. Every so often the crippled engine sputtered, he felt the plane slow, watched the altimeter bleed the height he was trying to save for the glide, precious feet slipping into the sea like his fuel.

He and Davies had gamed it out on their channel together in the first few minutes after they escaped the blockade, trying to weigh their options and what might have happened on the Island, what might have happened to the relief fleet, where they might go now. Even on a full tank they'd never make it to Papua. Illustrious had to be somewhere in the Philippine Sea, that was certain, far out of reach dueling with Kaga-- or else she and her escort were simply sunk. Flying to her, they would run out of fuel somewhere south of Taiwan and get shot down by Japanese patrols.

The only thing for it, they had decided, was the Philippines. The Americans might throw them in jail, might hand them over to the Japanese, but then they might not. Assuming no leaks, they would run out of fuel a few kilometers north of Luzon, and then they could drift in, make a belly landing on some beach or even land on an airstrip if they could make contact with someone.

It was about the best plan they were going to get.

Speaking of making contact, he decided to try again, flicking his comms to the distress channel for ships. He took a moment to steady himself, then spoke.

"Mayday, mayday, emergency. Survivors from the siege of Hong Kong flying southeast, bearing 1-3-0 toward Luzon. Insufficient fuel to reach land; engines damaged. If any League of Nations or friendly ships are receiving this transmission, please respond. Repeat, emergency, crippled RAF fighters request assistance, en route from Hong Kong to Manila, running out of fuel. Please."

Tenser than ever, he listened for a response. Static. Listened some more, hoping to catch some semblance of speech in the static, and nearly jumped with excitement to hear a human voice until he realized it was Badger. "We might get some shipping traffic, but that's it," he commented, not chastising his friend so much as commiserating. "And it'll probably be Japs."

"I know. Right now-- if I spoke it well enough I might ask them for help too."

"They'd shoot us."

"Maybe." They flew on.

The comment stuck in Collins' mind more than he liked. He thought of Campbell, stumbling back to the Island…the rest of the squadron, left behind, surrendering to the IJA. Would they be shot? Sent off to a prison camp in the interior?

"We wouldn't have to worry about it if Control had done its job." Badger broke his despairing reverie, and anger flared to replace it. This was all down to command incompetence-- incompetence or malice. His fist clenched against the lever thinking of it for the first time since they'd fled. Shattered wrecks strewn on the airstrip at Von Seeckt with his comrades still inside, James' plane blossoming into a ball of fire, Parker sinking under the waves.

He hated that bitch in the red planes. Sylvie Dorn. He had read her file over and over in the brig, burned her face into his memory. He didn't care what Jaeger was like, that he seemed to have a shred of honor-- he had a murderer in his command staff, as far as Collins was concerned, and she would pay for it.

But she only killed James, didn't she.

Adlai. He'd made them stick it out over Guangzhou, he'd refused to send them more fighters over Hong Kong, kept the ceasefire from them too.

He'd killed them all.

He'd pay for it too.

Not that Collins told Badger any of that. His wingman would never rat on him intentionally, but they'd probably be questioned, and having murderous intent toward your former air controller would raise red flags. He just took a breath, tried to calm himself, let the death grip release. "Yeah," he finally radioed back. "They really fucked up bad."

"…anyway. How's your fuel?" Better to get back on survival.

"Little more'n forty. I don't think my fuel lines got hit-- the black squadron's commander, I charged him and it spooked'em. I'll probably make it over land."

Though he couldn't see it, Collins shook his head. "Yeah, you're doing better than me. And that wasn't their commander. It was a stand-in. Whoever it was probably wasn't used to leading so many planes."

"Eh? 'ow you know? Maybe he was just off 'is game."

"Because the black squadron is the first of their wing. Schwarze," he muttered it like a curse. "Their commander was the thief who stole my plane."

Davies whistled. "One 'ell of a trophy. Pilots are a mess without a commander, they teach the Russians that, they say. Kill the head of the snake and the rest falls apart."

"…I hope Temple is having a better time of it than that," Collins finally said, after a long silence. They could see the island at this point, black against the black sky, and yet-- Badger was doing much better than him. Twenty gallons in his tank would be generous, and as Collins stared at the fuel gauge it seemed to drop visibly, ticking away his life, ticking away the time Temple Squadron had a deserter for a commander instead of a dead commander.

The broken engine sputtered again, the airframe shook around him, he sank a few dozen more feet. "I might make it with the glide, but I might have to ditch in the water. We'll see."

"Right."

He made another distress call, but the two pilots didn't say much more to each other. Even when the engine 'ran,' now, it didn't want to put out the same kind of thrust. The speed indicator kept dropping, the altitude indicator, the fuel indicator, all ticking down, grains of sand in an hourglass as Luzon crawled closer.

Maybe thirty klicks out, the pierced engine stopped for good, then the other a few moments later, as the last of the fuel burned up or dripped into the sea. "Fucker. I'm out. I think there's a beach…a little south of our bearing?"

Badger took a deep breath on comms, steeling himself. "I see it. Are you going to try and ditch there?"

"No better options, are there?"

"No." The second pilot hesitated. "I'll bring help back. I still have a ways left to go."

"Yeah. You've been gimping your speed to stay with me too."

The less-damaged plane and its pilot separated from Collins, and started to accelerate, banking away to the south where the lights of a city gleamed. "I'll be back. Really. Even if you're dead I'll be back."

Collins didn't respond. And now he was alone. No men to protect, just his own skin.

They'd practiced engine-out landings, but this wasn't that, there was no runway. He was just falling out of the sky. He pulled the plane into a glide configuration, didn't bother but to glance at the altimeter now, just watched the sea and the strip of sand loom up to meet him. He wasn't going to make it. There would be no leaving a trail screaming onto the beach, he was going to skip across the water like a rock and his plane would shatter and sink and none of them would know what happened to him. God.

An instant before his borrowed Meteor hit the waves, Collins wondered if Davies would make it to an airstrip. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was the canopy splintering from the impact.

[heritage-instrument-insurance]

The Story of Fiddle Instruments Evolution

Close your eyes and picture this: a fiddle snuggled comfortably in your hands. Just four strings and a bow, right? Simple, perhaps. But this little musical instrument holds a world of magic that has traversed the globe for centuries. It has been there for the lively jigs of Europe, the soulful whines of Appalachian evenings, and everything in between. The fiddle has been a companion, a storyteller, and a way to celebrate life's ups and downs. Simply put, this string has been a constant friend of the human spirit. Let’s know a bit more about it.

Europe: A Tapestry of Folk Fiddling

The fiddle's story starts way back. It begins with its medieval ancestors like the rebec – a pear-shaped string gear with just one drumhead! By the 16th century, the fiddle we know and love had taken shape. It was not just for fancy folks in castles either – it became a regular at lively parties and community gatherings in Ireland, Scotland, and Wales. Jigs, reels, and strathspeys were not just fun dance tunes. They were a way for people to show their spirit and keep going, even through tough times.

Meanwhile, over at the grand courts of Europe, it had a more sophisticated cousin – the violin. Famous composers like Corelli and Vivaldi wrote beautiful pieces for it. But the lines between fancy and folk music were not always distinct. Elegant dances like the gavotte and minuet found their way into village celebrations, and sometimes catchy folk melodies snuck into the grand ballrooms too.

All credit goes to trade and cultural exchange that the fiddle kept transforming and growing. The lively Celtic styles met up with the unique sounds of Scandinavia, where musicians loved using drones and special harmonies. In Eastern Europe, it became a part of klezmer music, the energetic and beautiful tradition of the Ashkenazi Jews. So, it is a whole family of sounds, constantly evolving and reflecting the cultures it touched. If you are lucky enough to have this gear, make sure to cover it under a comprehensive fiddle insurance policy.

The Fiddle Sails West: A New World Songbook

Across the Atlantic Ocean, European immigrants were not just carrying their belongings – they were carrying an absolute musical heritage in their trusty fiddles. In the melting pot of North America, the gear found a whole new way to sing.

For pioneers pushing westward, it became a steady partner. Small and easy to carry, it was perfect for livening up barn dances, community gatherings, or even a lonely night under the vast frontier sky. Tunes like "Soldier's Joy" and "Forked Deer" were not just catchy melodies. They echoed the struggles, the grit, and the deep longing for home the settlers fronted.

But the fiddle's story in America did not stop there. Up in the Appalachian Mountains, a unique blend of European, African, and maybe even Native American influences came together to create bluegrass music. The fiddle, alongside the banjo and mandolin, became the heart and soul of this new sound. Bluegrass fiddling is all about driving rhythms, fancy fingerwork, and sometimes even playing two notes at once (called double stops).

Its influence was not limited to just one region, though. Down in Louisiana, they joined forces with accordions to create the lively sounds of Cajun and Zydeco music. And even in American country music, it became a staple. Think of iconic artists like Johnny Cash and Charlie Daniels – their signature styles would not be the same without those unmistakable melodies. Therefore, industry experts recommend getting a dedicated fiddle insurance plan in the first place.

A Legacy That Endures

The string's journey is not over yet! Modern players like Alison Krauss and Mark O'Connor have been keeping things fresh by mixing old tunes with new ideas, making this gear a welcome guest in today's music scene.

So, what makes this instrument so special anyway? It is all about how adaptable it is. A skilled musician can use it to create wild, happy jigs that make you want to dance all night. But it can also be a gentle voice, expressing sadness in a mournful ballad. It is versatile.

[spacenutspod]

Don’t miss one of the best meteor displays of 2023, as the Perseids peak this coming weekend. Grab a lawn chair, bring a friend, a red light and lots of bug spray: the August Perseids are active this week going into the weekend. You won’t want to miss ‘em if skies are clear, as 2023 is a banner year for the Perseids, one of the sure-fire performers when it comes to meteor showers. First, the good news: 2023 is an optimal year for the Perseids, primarily because the light-polluting Moon is safely out of the way. In August, the Moon reaches New on the 16th, just 3 days after the expected peak of the Perseids. Looking northeastward at 2AM local, from latitude 35 degrees north. Credit: Stellarium. Peak Times to Watch The Perseid meteors are broadly active from July 17th to August 24th, though the key peak is expected to occur on Sunday, August 13th around 7:00 UT. This favors eastern Europe and central Asia at dawn. Western Europe and North America should see increased activity on the mornings of Saturday the 12th and Sunday the 13th. Keep in mind, if skies are cloudy, it’s still worth watching a morning or two before or after. The orientation and the flight of the Earth in its orbit, versus the incoming meteor stream during the key peak for the 2023 Perseids on August 13th. Credit Guy Ottewell, from his Astronomical Calendar 2023. The Perseids are grain-sized bits of cometary dust laid down by Comet 109P Swift-Tuttle on its 133-year orbit around the Sun. The comet is currently headed towards aphelion and won’t reach perihelion again until 2126. Most years see the shower producing 60 to 100 meteors per hour as seen from dark skies. The radiant in the constellation Perseus the Hero rises low to the northeast for mid-northern latitudes around 2 AM local. Start watching early as you may see a few early arrivals glancing off the Earth’s atmosphere in the evening as well. The Perseids were first identified as a modern annual shower in the mid-19th century, though the observed uptick in August meteor rates goes back much further. Astronomer Edward Herrick noted in his 1839 work submitted to The American Journal of Science and Arts that Christians had (and still refer to) the Perseids as the “Tears of Saint Lawrence,” in reference to the martyrdom of Saint Lawrence (San Lorenzo) in early August 258 AD. In recent years, the Perseids have been steady performers at a rate of 60 to 100 per hour. Though they’ve had their reign as the ‘King of Annual Meteor showers’ challenged a bit in recent years by the December Geminids, the Perseids have the key advantage of occurring in the summer, during camping season. A Perseid meteor from 2019. Credit: Mary McIntyre. Observing the Perseids You’ll want to watch from a site that’s as dark as possible. Rates for meteor showers always pick up after local midnight, as you turn forward into the oncoming meteor stream. Even a small amount of light pollution can significantly impact the number of meteors you’ll see. Any meteor you can trace back to Perseus is a Perseid, though a few random sporadics may make an appearance. Also, watch for the planets Jupiter and Saturn nearby. The ringed world is headed towards opposition later this month. On the morning of the 13th, the 9.5% illuminated crescent Moon rises around 2:00 AM local… perhaps, it’s also worth watching for Perseid impacts on the night side of the Moon as well? Imaging the Perseids is as simple as setting a DSLR camera on a tripod with a lens affording a wide field of view. Simply shoot a series of long-exposures, and see what turns up. Be sure to take some test shots beforehand to get the ISO/f-stop/shutter speed combination just right for the current sky conditions. I like to use a remote intervalometer controller to automate the process. This lets you simply shoot long series of shots, while you lie back and enjoy the show. Our typical mobile meteor observing kit (complete with bug spray). Credit: Dave Dickinson. If you’re looking to do real science, you can report what you see to the International Meteor Observers network. Also, keep an eye (and ear) out for stranger phenomena, including crackling audible meteors, and persistent smoke trails lingering after bolide fireballs. I like to keep a pair of binoculars handy, to examine these wispy vapor tracks across the sky. You can even tune a standard FM radio to an unused station and ‘hear’ radio pings from meteors as they ionize the upper atmosphere. Clouded out, or reside in the wrong hemisphere? You can also catch the 2023 Perseids live online courtesy of astronomer Gianluca Masi and the Virtual Telescope Project. Don’t miss the 2023 Perseids; the next optimal year isn’t until 2026. The post Why 2023 is a Great Year for the Perseid Meteors appeared first on Universe Today.

[lizardtracks]

Snowshoes in the desert

Southern Arizona encompasses part of the basin and range region. This huge swath of topography nearly defines the American southwest, stretching north to the Colorado and Columbia Plateaus and west to the Sierra Nevadas. It continues east through southern New Mexico as far as the Rio Grande’s Big Bend. The defining feature are broad flat basins interspersed with abrupt jutting mountains. It would take a geologist to explain the underlying tectonic plate mechanics. So I won’t attempt it here. I just want to say that it is this topography that produces the Sonoran Desert’s “sky islands.”

The sky islands are just what they sound like. The abrupt mountains produce huge elevation changes. These changes alter rainfall and temperature enough to create a staggering diversity of life zones. A drive up Tucson’s Mt. Lemmon highway** into the Santa Catalina Mountains takes you from from an arboreal desert all the way to the Hudsonian zone, with small alpine pockets near the very top.

One of my favorite sky islands is the Santa Rita range about 30 miles south. While you can drive up Mt. Lemmon, getting to the peak of the Santa Rita’s 9400’ Old Baldy is done on foot. The reward for your trudge, hike, or climb—depending on your bent—are views that, on a clear day, let you see other mountain peaks nearly 100 miles distant.

Yesterday I trekked up Old Baldy for a completely different reason: I wanted to snowshoe. Okay, you’re right. No one really wants to snowshoe. What we want to do is play in the snow. And if that snow is more than calf deep snowshoeing keeps us from lurching around like schizophrenics. My idea was that our incredibly wet winter, coupled with a snowfall just days ago that brought frozen rain down to 2000’, would be enough to ensure an opportunity. And looking at the north face of Baldy from Tucson it all seemed a good bet.

So I borrowed a pair of snowshoes from a friend who volunteers for search and rescue and headed out.

My arrival at Josephine Saddle via the Super Trail didn’t portend a good outcome. I had donned my micro spikes once for any icy stretch maybe fifty yards long. But I was hiking in my shirtsleeves and there was a scant, and patchy, two inches of snow. Undaunted, I continued on the Super Trail around the mountain’s southwest flank.

For sure it is counterintuitive to go the the hotter drier side when there is clearly snow on the cool, shadowy north route. But the Old Baldy trail up the north face has its problems. One is that it ascends 2700’ in just 2 1/2 miles. The other is that everybody and his cousin uses Old Baldy. The trail would not have loose snow. The snow would be packed, in many places nearly to ice.

My idea was that with all the snow that had fallen, it could not possibly have melted off even on the warmer side of the mountain. And, since fewer people use that route, any snow was less likely to be packed. I was definitely right about it not being packed. In the shade, before the trail turned west, very few tracks went ahead of mine. And I was right about the melt off. What I forgot about was evaporation. Huge amounts of snow don’t melt. It evaporates. That’s what had happened. And with it my dream of snowshoeing evaporated as well.

I trudged upward anyway. It was a great day to be in the Santa Rita’s. And it was an excellent day to be on the Super Trail. At the 8700’ level on a cooler face I finally encountered knee-deep snow. I strapped on the snowshoes. But the smooth steady ascent of Super Trail also changed at that point. It climbed more steeply. And also intersected a precipitous slope. If it was a good place to snowshoe, it was a bad place to learn to snowshoe. I swished along for about a quarter mile before deciding to turn around and enjoy the hike down.

The photo above shows the frustration. The trail is clear and dry. Everywhere else is calf-deep, knee-deep, hip-deep snow. But it was hard to be annoyed. The cool snowy mountains were beautiful. The Super Trail was as empty as I’d hope it to be. I got in a 14-mile hike. And I did get to snowshoe even if was just a tiny bit. All in all, a pretty good day.

**You may also see it referred to on maps as Catalina Highway, or hear people call it by its actual name the Hitchcock Highway.

[lgg5989]

Hangman Sonfic Series: Girl Crush

Here is another installment to my collection of Hangman songfics! See my Masterlist for more songfics. Thanks to everyone for reading and your support :D

Tagging: @barbiewritesstuff​

Based on Little Big Town’s Girl Crush.​

You knew that Jake Seresin was going to cause you heartache from the day you met him. The cocky, arrogant pilot waltzed through the door of the Hard Deck and you immediately felt your heart skip a beat. His handsome face and fit physique drew every woman in the bar to look at him, and his flyboy persona seemed such a hard shell to break through. However, after a few drinks and some good conversation, you managed to crack his shell and the two of you became friends. 

You knew that his time was limited on North Island and for that reason you kept him at an arm's length, no matter how much you wanted to be more than just friends. You were invited to his Top Gun graduation ceremony, where he was the top of his class. On the night before he left for deployment, he picked you up in his truck and drove you out to the beach where the two of you sat in the bed and watched the sun set. You thought that night he might kiss you, but after the sun set and he brought you home, you had only gotten a kiss on the cheek and a whispered goodbye. 

The next few years were made up of shitty video chats, late phone calls, and short visits. Jake would return to North Island between deployments oftentimes staying with you. So when you had signed the lease for your latest apartment, not only had you requested a second key, but you made up a room just for him, a place to stay off base when he was ‘home’. 

—

Your day had started normally enough, wake up, do some chores around the house, go to work, but you knew when you got a call from Jake at a reasonable hour of the day something was up. Glancing over the few patrons of the bar, you decided to take it, not knowing what kind of news he would have. 

“Hello?” you asked, stepping out the back door of the Hard Deck and into the soft, warm sand of the beach. 

“Hey Jacks,” you heard Jake’s voice say, you could almost picture the smirk on his face at your ‘callsign’, “Long time, no see.”

He had insisted upon calling you something special a few days into your friendship and one night at the bar, after you had poured him your shared favorite, Jack and Coke, he decided that your callsign would be Jacks. 

You let out a quiet laugh, pressing the phone closer to your ear, “It has been a long time, I was wondering when I was going to get another call from you at some obscene hour of the night, but here we are, and it's only,” you paused, looking down at your watch, “five in the afternoon.”

“Well, I’ve always got time for my best girl,” he said. 

You let out a quiet sigh, “We both know I’m not your best girl, but thanks for making me feel better.” 

For the last three months, he had been dating a pretty little blonde thing named Marissa. She was everything you weren't: a thin, blonde haired, blue eyed, all-American girl. Since the day they started dating, you knew that Jake would probably marry her, and you weren’t sure if you could take it. 

“Hey now, you’re always my best girl,” he said quietly, “Best friend I’ve ever had, how could you not be my best girl too?”

You rubbed your forehead, “You know Marissa should be your best girl, being that you are dating her and all,” you answered quietly. 

Jake hummed, “You’re probably right.”

Glancing back into the bar, you saw some new patrons walk through the door, “What’s going on Jake? I’m at work,” you pressed, wanting to know why he called. 

“I, uh, just wanted to let you know I’m back in town. Just got in today actually. Marissa and I were going to swing by, if you’d like to see us,” he answered. 

The smile that had come over your face promptly slipped off, even though you and Marissa never got along, Jake had been trying to bring the two of you closer, “That sounds great,” you said trying to keep your voice steady, “I’m closing tonight so I’ll be here until three.” 

“We will see you later then,” Jake said, “Bye, Jacks.”

“Bye Jakey,” you answered, the name only you, well you and Marissa, were allowed to call him falling from your lips. 

You heard three beeps as the line went dead. Turning around, you made to walk back into the bar, shoving your phone deep in your back pocket. As you reached the door, you pulled your phone back out and turned it on silent, no use in worrying about getting a call from Jake since he would be there in a few hours. 

You opened the door and went back to your place behind the bar, making drinks for the new group of pilots who had been at Top Gun for a few weeks. 

—

By the time midnight rolled around, you were wondering if Jake was coming at all. It wouldn’t be unlike Marissa to keep him from seeing you, and with her in town he probably wouldn’t be staying with you either. Thankfully, you didn’t have long to dwell on the thoughts because the bar was particularly packed, you and Penny were constantly taking orders, to the point that you didn’t even get to have your break yet. 

About an hour later, you looked up to serve your latest patron and your eyes met striking green, “Jakey!” you exclaimed, pulling the tall man into a hug over the bartop. 

“Hey Jacks,” he said, his nose pressed into the top of your head, “Busy night?” 

“Busy is an understatement, what can I getcha?” you asked him. 

“Our usual and…I don’t know, something fruity,” he said with a smile. 

You gave him a look before saying, “Jake, you’ve been dating this girl for how many months now and you don’t know what she likes to drink?” 

“Hey, it’s not like I don’t want to know, I just don’t remember,” he said, “It’s not easy, like our order,” he finished with a wink. 

You rolled your eyes at him, “This is why we can never date Jakey, I’d make things too easy for you,” you said as you poured him his regular and made a tequila sunrise for Marissa. 

Handing him his drinks with a wink of your own you said, “They’re on the house sailor.” 

“Thank you ma’am, much appreciated,” he said with a laugh before disappearing into the crowd. 

—

As the bar started to clear out, you were forced to watch Jake and Marissa. They were tucked into a booth, her practically sitting on his lap. He was whispering into her ear and she into his, the two of them laughing together, her head thrown back and her hair falling down her shoulders. 

You cleaned the bar, trying to keep from staring as he pulled her into a kiss, their lips pressed tightly together in a way that made you think he wanted more from her even from across the bar. At that moment, they moved to get up and you hastened to turn away, not wanting to watch as they left. 

“Good to see ya’ Jacks, breakfast tomorrow?” Jake asked, him and Marissa now leaned up against the bar. 

You smiled and turned around, “Sounds good, the usual diner?”

“The one and only, I’ll pick you up?” he asked expectantly. 

Your smile widened, Jake knew you hated driving, it wasn’t that you were a bad driver, just that you couldn’t stand every other person that was on the road with you, “You know I can’t or I’ll be pissed by the time I get there.” 

“Alright, see you at eight then!” he called as he guided Marissa out of the bar, his hand in her back pocket.

You turned away, a bit of jealousy coursed through your system and it confused you. Jake didn’t belong to you, as much as you wished that he did, but he was in a relationship with Marissa, and you weren’t a homewrecker. 

The thoughts of them together, wrapped up in her bed, made you feel sick. For the rest of the night you stayed behind the bar, hoping that the mess left behind by everyone while they were leaving would keep you occupied long enough to forget about Jake and Marissa before you left for home, and the empty apartment you were now paying for. 

As the last pilot left, you locked the front door, turning back to the messy bar, you let out a sigh. It was a bad idea leaving the cleaning up until the end of the night, but you had been so distracted that at the time, you really didn’t care. 

Before you started cleaning, you pressed play on the jukebox, picking a country hits album for it to play through. You brought a trash can out from behind the bar and began cleaning the place up for Penny in the morning. As the music washed over you, the task of cleaning became easier, and soon all you had left was to sweep up the floor. 

Once you had placed the last barstool up on to the counter, the jukebox clicked to a new song, the deep notes of a guitar cutting through the bar, before a woman’s voice rang out, “I’ve got a girl crush, Hate to admit it but, I got a hard rush, It’s slowin’ down…” 

You closed your eyes, letting the lyrics wash over you, it had been a while since you heard Little Big Town’s Girl Crush, but the song seemed particularly fitting for how your night had gone. “I got it real bad, Want everything she has, That smile and that midnight laugh, She’s givin’ you now…” 

Turning the jukebox up, louder than you’d heard it in years, you brought the broom handle up to your lips, like a microphone. You imagined you looked something like Christina Aguleria at the beginning of Burlesque. Singing along with the song, the lyrics coming back to you from all the times you’d heard it on the radio, your voice cracked a little, the emotions from the day finding their way into your words, “I want to taste her lips. Yeah, ‘cause they taste like you.”

Spinning around the bar, you kept singing, bending your knees some, your voice sank deep into the words, “I want to drown myself, in a bottle of her perfume. I want her long blond hair. I want her magic touch. Yeah, ‘cause maybe then, you’d want me just as much.”

“I’ve got a girl crush,” you whispered out, tears springing to your still closed eyes. You opened your eyes and looked up at the ceiling, the tears trying their best to run down your face. You let them fall, feeling them run down the side of your face and into your scalp. 

Turning back to the task at hand, you began sweeping the floor once more. The tears kept coming, and no matter how hard you tried to bite back the sob that you could feel rising in your chest, you couldn’t. “I don’t get no sleep. I don’t get no peace. Thinkin’ about her, under your bed sheets.” 

You tried to lean the broom up against the bar, your body hunching over against your will as you let out a few more strangled cries. The broom clattered to the floor as you released it, grabbing on to the bar top to keep yourself upright. At that moment a pair of arms wrapped around you from behind, pulling you into a firm chest. 

Fear suddenly overtook you, your tears drying up as adrenaline flooded your system. Unsure of who was holding on to you, you threw your elbow back, catching the man in the ribs, causing him to let out a grunt of pain. At your jab, he let you go, and you were able to pull away from him and turn around, taking a defensive stance. 

“Jake?” you asked, looking the figure up and down. He was looking worse for wear, and you knew that you didn’t look much better. Instinctively, you wiped at your face, trying to fix what surely had to be two dark lines of mascara on your cheeks. 

All you could hear was the end of the song before the bar was plunged into silence, “I’ve got a girl crush. Hate to admit it but, I got a heart rush. It ain’t slowin’ down.” 

“Is it true?” he asked, looking at you, something like regret in his eyes. 

“Is what true?” you shot back, trying to protect what last shred of dignity you had. 

He sighed, shaking his head at you before taking a step closer, grabbing your arms gently, “Y/n,” he said gruffly, a warning in his voice before he continued, “I saw you singing. Is it real? Is that how you feel?” 

“I…” you started, a fire erupting inside you wanting to fight back, to tell him no, it wasn’t real, that you weren’t in love with him. You took a shaky breath, the tears now back in full force, “Yes,” you said quietly, looking at your shoes, almost smiling at the sight of Jake’s dumb cowboy boots he insisted on wearing when he was on leave. 

You felt him let you go and your heart sank, this was it, you’d have to go back to your empty apartment and find a way to move on without your best friend. 

Suddenly, you felt his fingers trailing across your cheek, dragging a piece of hair behind your ear, “She left me,” he said and your eyes shot open, focused on him. 

“Why?” you asked, “I thought she was crazy about you.” 

Jake let out a quiet laugh, “That’s the thing Jacks, she was crazy about me, but I’m crazy about someone else, and she saw right through me.” 

You felt your eyes widen before Jake leaned in and kissed you. Pushing up on your tiptoes, you pressed yourself to him, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him as close to you as you could manage. His tongue traced your lips, and you opened your mouth to him, moaning as he deepened the kiss further. 

When he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against your own, the two of you were breathless, your shallow breaths mixing together. 

“I went home, and you weren’t there. Figured I would come here to walk you back, so glad I did,” he whispered to you. 

You pressed another open mouthed kiss to his lips, whispering to him, “I’m glad you did too.” 

That night he did walk you home, and while his room was empty, you found that you didn’t mind.