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badomensbaby · 9 months ago

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so into you. lrh

pairing: luke hemmings x fem!reader

summary: luke hemmings, a voice actor you've been working closely with for quite some time, ends up confessing just how into you he really is.

warnings: 18+ only. minors DNI. flirting/flustering, protected smut, degradation, praise kink, slight sir kink, dom/sub undertones, swearing, oral sex (female receiving), mask kink, explicit sexual content.

words: 4,680

a/n: iiiiii cannot express where i came up with this idea. i don't mention explicitly in this fic what video game luke's working on but in my head, it's COD MW3. (i may have a small obsession with ghost. whatever.) but alas, i left this fic alone for like a week and finished it on a whim. enjoy. x

feedback and constructive criticism welcome. requests are open!

Ah, Luke Hemmings, the bane of your existence.

It’s not that you hate him or anything, unless feeling so sick to your stomach because he’s too damn pretty to be working as a voice actor counts as hate, then maybe. But it’s really quite the opposite.

You’ve been working at the video game development studio for almost two years. Your title has changed far too many times, as well as your responsibilities, but you get to see ideas come to life from the loose concept to the console screen so you can’t complain too much.

Right now, you’re in the middle of a contract for a multiplayer war game. It’s a sequel, or a prequel- whatever, it doesn’t really matter. The franchise has been around for ages but they’re always coming up with new content and it’s part of your job to make sure every voice and cgi actor are dressed and ready to perform accordingly.

Even though your manager can be a little overkill, like how he demands any voice actor be in full dress while they’re in the recording booth. It really doesn’t do much for their performance but your manager refuses to listen.

You’re in the middle of skimming through your to-do list for the day. There’s three people who still need to get some lines of dialogue done for the storyline of the video game so it’s your responsibility to make sure they don’t fuck around in the booth all afternoon. First up, and is already late, is none other than Luke.

It doesn’t surprise you. Despite looking like a total diva with his sharp jaw and soft, fluffy blonde curls that seem to be immune to any humidity, always laying so perfectly, he was probably the sweetest guy in the industry you’d ever met. Always polite and charming. Sometimes you think he might be flirting with you but it’s likely he’s just that nice.

A paper cup of branded coffee suddenly invades your vision, blocking your view of the list you’ve been working on all morning. It’s warm and smells like cinnamon, your favorite. Looking up, way way up because he’s impossibly tall, is Luke, with a half-crooked smile and bright blue eyes.

“Mornin’ Miss Y/N,” he says, despite the cheeriness on his face his voice is slightly raspy. You try not to think about it too much. It’s only eight am and you’re stuck listening to Luke in the booth until noon. “Blonde roast with cinnamon. You still drink that, right?”

Skeptically, you take the cup from him. Luke doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest by your hesitance. “Thank you?” It’s meant to be a statement but it slips out as more of a question. “Is this why you’re late, Hemmings?”

A glint of mischief flickers in his eyes. “Why, were you worried about me?”

Your stomach seems to flutter rather easily at his words. Shut up, brain! Luke’s a coworker, stop it. “We’ve only got four hours in the booth and almost fifty lines of dialogue,” You roll your eyes, trying to remain professional. “We need every minute we can get.”

“Fair enough, I’ll go get dressed. Have you got my gear ready?” Luke sips at his own drink and you can smell it from where you stand only a foot away. Chai tea latte with hazelnut. Man has taste.

“Yeah,” You clear your throat, trying to keep your eyes away from the frothy milk of his latte dribbling down the side of his lip. Christ. “Yeah everything’s ready to go. Just get your gear on and meet me in the booth.”

“Aye aye, captain,” The blonde mock-salutes you with a wink, before heading off to his dressing room down the hall. Thankful for the ability to properly breathe again, you quickly shake your head and go inside of the small recording studio and begin to organize the dialogue Luke’s meant to be working on this morning.

It’s almost as if you forget how to operate when Luke steps into the small room. It’s only the two of you today, as the sound technician won’t be in until later but you have a decent grasp on which recorded lines will sound best in the final production.

Luke’s already absurdly tall, well over six feet but with his full gear on he’s pushing halfway to seven feet. With thick combat boots on his feet, and full camo gear covering every inch of his lengthy body. A thick, heavy armor carrier plate is fixed against his chest, and his mask is held loosely in his hand. You force yourself to swallow the thick lump stuck in your throat.

“Can you turn the air on?” Luke asks, oblivious to how you’re struggling to breathe when he looks like that. “M’gonna fuckin’ roast in there if you don’t.”

“Yeah- yeah, sure,” You stumble both verbally and physically, barely managing to catch yourself as you twist behind you to turn the air a little cooler in the small room. It won’t help the flush that’s spreading across every inch of your body. You can’t face him yet, so you pretend like changing the temperature is a little more time consuming than it really is. “You can go ahead whenever.”

The sound booth’s door shuts with a soft click. Your heart’s beating a little hard but at least there’s thick glass separating yourself and Luke now, and once you’re sitting with headphones on you’ll barely be able to see him. God, what a terrible time to remember that stupid masked man fantasy of yours.

Luke does well, as usual, hitting the perfect low pitch for his character that your manager hired him for. He plays the character well, you have to admit, hearing his voice rasped and grovely is almost too much. You lower the volume on the headphones just to spare yourself the embarrassment of getting worked up.

It’s eleven-thirty when he finishes up. Every line of dialogue is near perfect and you’re sure they’ll make production without a hitch, so you have no qualms about turning off the recording light that illuminates the hall outside of the small studio.

You’re in the process of organizing the recorded files for the sound technician to look over when Luke steps out of the booth.

Instead of peeling the mask from his head, he left it on, his gloved hands clasped on the doorframe a few inches above his head. Christ, he looks like he stepped out of a fairly inappropriate fantasy dream you could conjure up after a glass or two of wine. “Even got time to spare.”

You can tell Luke’s smirking beneath the black and white mask, if the glimmer in his baby blue eyes is anything to go by. You just blink, too dumb to come up with anything to say, pulling the headphones to rest around your neck. “Uh- you- you did great.”

“Thanks, Miss Y/N,” his head cocks, helmet almost knocking into the side of the door frame but Luke doesn’t notice. “I love when you compliment me. I know you mean it.”

Your cheeks feel hot. It’s too warm in here, that’s all. Maybe the air isn’t working or something. “I do mean it,” you say softly. “You’re a great voice actor. I’d be lying if I said otherwise.”

Luke drops his hands from the door frame, instead leaning against it, his eyes still fixed on you. “You okay over there? You look a bit flushed.”

“M’fine sir- Luke,” You quickly clear your throat, hoping Luke hadn’t caught your stupid slip up. How fucking embarrassing, do you not have a filter? Suddenly a man all dressed up in gear and a mask has you calling him sir? Get a grip!

“Sir?” Luke echoes, his voice syrupy sweet and laced with curiosity. “That’s a new one. Usually all I get from you is Hemmings. I like that, you should call me sir more often.”

You want to look away but it’s impossible. Like a damn car crash, your eyes are fixated on the tall man. It’s fucking sinful how good he looks like that. “It was- it was nothing, don’t read into it.” You deflect.

“Yeah, okay,” Luke says sarcastically, followed up by a slow, dramatic sigh. “It’s a shame, though. Figured you’d finally admit you’re into me so I can stop pining after you in silence.”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

A low laugh erupts from Luke’s chest. “Don’t tell me you’re that oblivious, Y/N. I’ve been obsessed with you since day one. Why do you think we’re always working together?”

“My manager said I’m doing well-“

“That was after I gave him season passes to every game the Dodgers play, sweetheart. Told him I won’t work for him unless m’with you.”

Your brows knit in confusion. Has your growth within your position all been at Luke’s doing? You’ve been working with him nearly as long as you’ve been with the company. And suddenly it all makes sense.

Why your manager never seemed to care what you’ve been working so hard for, complimenting you regardless of any efforts shown to him. Why he doesn’t hang around the studio anymore to micromanage your every move.

You stand abruptly. “You asshole!” The words escape without a second thought. “You bribed my manager so you could work with me? That’s- that’s…”

“I thought you’d be flattered,” Luke says, almost somberly but you know he’s anything but. He’s a voice actor for crying out loud, he can make himself sound however he wants, regardless if it’s real. “What’s the big deal anyway? You have almost total freedom and you’re stuck with me all the time. It’s a win-win.”

Whatever attraction you have towards Luke is pushed to the back burner of your mind. Yeah, you have a stupid crush on him but how could he meddle with your job like that? The two of you aren’t even friends, he had no right.

“That wasn’t your decision to make. Who knows now if I’m doing well because of me or because of you? Terry could be spewing bullshit about my performance reviews to keep you happy!”

“You’re being dramatic,” Luke drones lazily. “Of course you’re doing well because of you. All I did was keep us working together, s’not like I fucking paid Terry off to give you a promotion.”

“I don’t know that!” You yell frustratedly, fists balling at your sides. “God- you- take that fucking mask off, would you?”

Luke remains still. “Now why would I do that?” he asks lowly, stepping toward you. Your shoulders draw inward, despite your attempt to keep confident. “Clearly it’s distracting you. Which I think is working in my favor.”

“It’s not.” You mutter weakly.

“Liars aren’t cute,” Luke tuts. “What, does my mask get you all hot and bothered, Miss Y/N? Huh? Because I’m bigger than you? Because I can do anything I want to you and you can’t stop me?”

“Luke-“

“Tell me I’m wrong, Y/N,” his voice impossibly lowers, until it’s a hushed rasp, his chest only a mere few inches from yours. Craning your neck to look up at him easily makes you weak in the knees. You know he’s right and you can’t find the words to tell him otherwise. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Your lip quivers nervously. The words are right there, the lie you could easily spew but it won’t make it off of your tongue. His eyes are too dark to resist, swirls of pretty blue swallowed by his pupils. Blown out and expectant. “You..”

“You can’t, can you? Because you know I’m right,” Luke continues, clearly feeding off of the nerves you’re trying to swallow down. It’s written all over your face, you’re sure of it. Like a book printed in size twenty bold font. “I’m not stupid, Y/N. I see the way you look at me. I watch you quiver every time I put my gear on,”

Nothing escapes you except a helpless, trembling whimper. One of Luke’s gloved hands slowly raises to push a strand of loose hair behind your ear. Your eyes are nearly brimming with tears of frustration, of how badly you’re ready to give in to him, of how stupid you feel, wet and desperate between your thighs. It’s the mask, you try to tell yourself, but it’s useless because you know damn well it’s a lie.

It isn’t the mask, rather the person behind it. Luke’s probably the most attractive person you’ve met in a long time, it was inevitable you’d end up crushing on him, but when he’s in full dress you can’t deny there’s something inside of you that seems to light a flame inside of you that’s impossible to put out.

“What is it you like so much, hm?” Luke’s head cocks curiously, his cloudy eyes slowly raking over your body. You can tell he’s smirking beneath the mask at how tightly your hands are balled into fists at your sides, holding yourself back from doing something you shouldn’t. “You know what I think? I think you like giving up control. Obeying. Submitting. And when I’m dressed like this you really have no choice but to listen to me.”

“Luke..” your lips weakly spew the man’s name out. He seems to hum in content, he knows you’re close to giving in. He wants to push you over that line. Cross it with no shame. “I..”

Luke’s gloved hand grasps your jaw, firmly but delicately, so much so that it makes your head feel dizzy. “Speak up,” he demands lowly. “Tell me what you want.”

“I..” You can hardly meet his eyes. It’s pathetic of you, trembling like this and stuttering over yourself. Luke knows it too. “I want.. you.”

“Me?” He echoes, but it sounds a little demeaning the way it falls from his mouth. “You’re not giving me much to work with here, Y/N. Better spit it out.”

“I.. want..” Your eyes threaten to fall shut. You’ve never really been confident when it comes to sex but there’s something about the way Luke’s speaking to you that makes you feel a bit bold. Maybe it’s a leap but fuck, you won’t know unless you try.

With a trembling, hesitant hand, you grasp Luke’s unoccupied wrist, slowly drawing his hand downwards until it’s caressing your clothed core. “You. Please.”

Luke actually whimpers. It could easily be mistaken for a breathy sigh but you’ve been listening to this man’s every vocality for years, you know nearly every noise he can make. “Christ, Y/N,” It’s as if he wasn’t expecting your bold move. “I swear to God I’ll fuck you right here. I will, if you’ll let me.”

“Yeah- yes,” You frantically nod, too dizzy to provide any other words of confirmation. It’s all Luke needs, really, before he’s pressing his hand harder against your damp underwear, warm and inviting, he swears he can almost feel your arousal through his glove. “Luke, please.”

“Yeah, m’gonna take care of you, promise,” Luke releases your jaw, working to strip his gloves from his hands. You almost whimper from the loss of contact but you know what’s coming next is far better than a measly touch outside of your pants. “Gonna be a good girl for me, Y/N?”

You whimper out something along the lines of “yes” that Luke seems to be satisfied with because he’s planting a firm hand on your shoulder and spinning you around, using his grip to shove your body forward until your palms collide with the sound booth’s desk. Careful to avoid pressing any buttons you shouldn’t, you adjust yourself slightly, breaths heavy as Luke shuffles behind you.

You can feel how hard he is through the thick, camo pants he’s wearing, cock strained against the fabric and digging into your backside. Your toes curl inside of your shoes. He feels big. You feel Luke’s fingers tease at the waistband of your jeans. “Can I?��

“Yes- fuck,” You mutter through gritted teeth. There isn’t anything for you to properly hold on to while Luke’s fingers work to unbutton and unzip your jeans, before shimmying them down your hips and the swell of your ass, leaving them pooled just above your knees.

“Don’t have a lot of time, Y/N, Mark’s up next isn’t he?” Luke slowly teases his fingers along the dampened material of your underwear, resulting in the soft arch of your back as your hips move closer to him. “Such a shame. The things I’d do for a taste of that pretty pussy..”

“Luke, can you just-“ You’re filled to the brim with frustration, desperately wet and on the edge of bratty at the amount of time Luke’s wasting. He seems to understand easily, because a hand comes down on your left cheek, leaving a pretty little pink handprint on your skin.

“Don’t be a fuckin’ brat,” Luke says around a scoff, sliding your underwear down to join your jeans a little rougher than necessary. “Just for that, m’gonna fuckin’ do it. Don’t care if Mark comes in here to see my tongue deep inside your needy cunt.”

Luke’s words are sent straight to your core, stupidly wet and braindead from how badly you’re soaking the skin between your thighs. You hear the sound of Luke’s knees hitting the carpeted floor, the sound of his mask shuffling and the feeling of his warm breath on your flushed skin.

Luke’s thumbs sink into your flesh easily, spreading you fully for him, your body falling further forward and ass in the air. You know you’re glistening pathetically, all for a hot blonde voice actor in some stupid war gear. “Y/N, you’re fuckin’ drenched. Holy shit,” Luke mumbles in disbelief. “You’re so goddamn pretty.”

You aren’t sure if Luke’s going to continue speaking but it doesn’t matter, his tongue’s busy trailing a fat, long stripe along your heat. Christ, his tongue is so goddamn warm, humming happily against you as he works, alternating between suckling your clit between his teeth and nuzzling his nose against you. Like he just can’t get enough.

Blindly, your hand slips and without either of you being aware, the recording light outside of the small room has been illuminated.

“You taste so fucking good, Y/N. So goddamn good,” He hums again before diving back in, practically fucking his tongue inside of you every which way, like he’s claiming you and drawing his name with every lick. You let out a soft, helpless cry when his teeth graze your clit again. “Could eat your pretty pussy for hours, baby. Wanna spread you out on my bed like a fuckin’ feast.”

“Luke-“ Your voice wobbles, a desperate breath following. You’re so fucking lightheaded it’s insane, all you crave is Luke inside of you. “Luke, please. Please fuck me.”

“Yeah baby, gonna fuck you,” Luke presses a quick, messy kiss against your clit before he pulls back, running his tongue along his lips to gather any excess. You don’t hear him slip the mask back on but you definitely hear his belt unbuckle, along with the fly of his camo pants. “Look at you, what a fuckin’ dream. Bent over and fuckin’ soaked, begging for my cock.”

The sound of Luke tearing a condom packet open with his teeth catches your attention. You hardly have enough strength to look over your shoulder but he’s already rolling the latex over his dick that’s just out of your view. “Where did you get-“ You don’t get to finish your sentence because the words die out in your throat, replaced with a strangled gasp as you feel the head of Luke’s cock slowly trail up your wetness. “Oh, fuck.”

Luke makes a smug, pleased sound before slowly pressing inside of you. And yeah, fuck, he’s definitely bigger than anyone you’ve slept with. Which, honestly, hasn’t been very many people. “Yeah, that’s it,” You hear Luke sigh behind you, hands attaching to your hips as he continues to feed his dick further inside. “Fuck, you’re swallowing my cock up. So desperate for it, aren’t you?”

It’s almost too much. Your eyes pinch shut, teeth sinking into your lower lip to keep the tears at bay. He’s stretching you out so good every inch he sinks inside, until he’s buried to the hilt and stills his hips. “Luke.. fuck, you’re- you’re big.”

You hear Luke chuckle behind you. His fingertips press harder into your hips. “What’s the point of being so cocky if I don’t have anything to show for it?” he says, amused but a little breathless. He’s just as affected by your tight warmth as you are by his sizable dick. “Don’t tell me it’s too much for you, Y/N. You’re a big girl, I know you can take it.”

“Just.. give me a minute?”

“We don’t have enough time, baby,” Luke says soothingly, almost somberly. “I promise you’ll get used to it.”

You intake a sharp, quick breath as Luke withdraws his hips. It’s definitely too big. There’s no way you’ll be able to fuck anyone ever again without remembering how full Luke made you feel.

Then Luke snaps his hips forward and the tears you were desperately trying to hold back fall freely down your cheeks. A borderline scream falls from your mouth and you tighten around his dick, only drawing a groan deep from Luke’s throat as he begins thrusting in a steady, needy rhythm.

So quick and forceful that the sound of his hips snapping against your backside echoes the sound room. So desperate that your body falls forward, chest splayed against the desk and Luke’s carrier plate wedged into your back, his masked breaths deep and warm on your neck. You cry out from the new angle, hitting that perfect spot inside of you. “Oh fuck- Luke- god- right there, fuck-“

“Yeah?” Luke asks in a low moan, digging his blunt fingernails into your waist as his thrusts grow more determined and quick, your body rucking upwards from his forceful movements. All you can do is wail and whine against the desk helplessly. “God, Y/N, you feel so good wrapped around my cock. Lettin’ me fuck you, such a good girl.”

Your position is definitely uncomfortable but you’re too cockdrunk to even care. You know you’ll cum soon, especially when Luke’s fucking you at such a brutal pace there’s a tingling that’s spreading from your toes all the way to your spine. You clench around Luke’s cock, only soaking your thighs further as more arousal coats his covered length.

“Baby, fuck,” Luke’s voice is strained, one hand detaching from your hip to grab at your hair, fisting the strands between his fingers, craning your neck upwards until his masked mouth settles near your ear. “You’re fuckin’ soakin’ my cock, Y/N. Wonder what Mark would think if he found me buried in this sweet little pussy, huh? Think he’d be jealous? Of how desperate you are for me?”

“Oh my god-“ You know it’s coming, your legs feel like static and your head is spinning. Your vision’s beginning to blur as the beginning of your orgasm starts to crash over you. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, Luke-“

“Call me sir,” He’s fucking relentless, pounding into you like he’s got something to prove. It’s messy and slippery and wet, echoing the small room. “Call me sir and you can cum, Y/N.”

“Oh sir, oh my god sir-“

“Come on baby, that’s it, cum all over my cock,” Luke coaxes you, breathing warmly against the skin of your neck. Your nails scratch desperately on the desk as you finally let go, letting out a long string of pleading moans as you finish, clenching tightly around him. “Oh christ- Y/N- yeah, that’s my good girl.”

“Oh my god..” Luke doesn’t stop even after you’ve finished, snapping his hips more forcefully than before.

“Fuck, gonna cum,” Luke pants out. “Wanna cum all over your pretty face. Can I? Please baby, want it so bad.”

“Ye-yeah,” You half mumble, half moan.

Your body’s in Luke’s hands as he quickly slips out of you, discarding the condom and wrapping a hand around himself, helping you slink back until you’re on your knees. Confused, you’re unable to question why you’re facing the wrong way until Luke’s hand is on your jaw and tilting your head backwards.

And that’s a fucking view. It’s upside down, Luke’s masked face staring down at you as his hand works furiously over his leaking, hard cock, groaning and panting. “Fuck, open your mouth.”

You comply, happily letting your tongue fall flat over your lower lip, eyelashes fluttering until you hear a low, guttural groan from Luke’s throat, painting your cheeks and lips and eyelashes in pretty ropes of milky white.

“Ohhh fuck,” Luke’s strokes slow, milking himself until every last drop is coating some part of your face. “Fuck Y/N… you look so goddamn pretty covered in my cum.”

What doesn’t stay on your face ends up dribbling onto your t-shirt. You don’t really care at the moment, fucked dumb as you curiously swipe your tongue along anywhere you can reach to taste Luke’s release. You let out a soft, pleased and rasped, “Thank you, sir.”

Luke finds some tissues to clean you up, helping you slide your underwear and jeans back on. Once you’ve regained your breath, and began the short trip back to reality, you feel your cheeks grow stupidly hot. Luke slips his mask off.

“Where the hell is Mark?” he asks curiously.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” You ask in a soft voice. You really want to ask what this means, the two of you hooking up like this. Was he actually into you or using that as an excuse to get in your pants?

“He’s like thirty minutes late,” Luke shrugs, running a hand through his flattened curls. “Why? What’re you worried about?”

Your mouth clasps shut. “Nothing, it doesn’t matter,” You turn away, busying yourself with the paperwork you’d brought inside with you. “I have more recording sessions to do. And you probably have somewhere to be.”

“Y/N..” Luke frowns.

“What?” You snap unintentionally, turning to face Luke with narrowed eyes. “What, Luke?”

“This wasn’t like..” he trails off, looking a bit nervous. It almost makes you feel bad for snapping at him like that. “A one-time thing for me, Y/N. I.. I’m into you.”

“Really?” You ask softly. “You’re not just saying that because I let you.. fuck me?”

“No,” Luke slips out a short chuckle, stepping towards you. “No, I told you m’obsessed with you. This only makes it worse. You’re not getting rid of me.”

“We can talk about this after my recording sessions, alright Hemmings?” Your lips lift into a soft, almost shy smile. Luke does the same, his eyes hopeful.

“Maybe over dinner?” He asks.

“Pick me up at six.” You counter.

Luke dips to press a soft kiss against your cheek. “Text me your address. I’ll go figure out where Mark is and kick his ass for being late.”

You roll your eyes. “If he would’ve been on time that wouldn’t have ended well for both of us, Hemmings,” Luke’s halfway out the door, pausing and turning to you with a sly grin. “What? What is it?”

“Someone left the recording light on. No wonder Mark didn’t bother,” Luke chuckles, amused. “Hey.. I wonder what else we did by accident..” His eyes flicker towards the sound table’s knobs and buttons, your own widening in fear. Which switches were off before? You hadn’t paid attention to anything when your chest was pressed against it. Fuck, what if you-

You turn to reprimand Luke for putting that thought into your head but he’s gone. Before you text Mark, letting him know that you’re available to record, you double check the recording logs for anything out of the ordinary. With pink cheeks, you text Luke your address and a vague note.

you: [123 Main St]

you: also.. seems we might’ve had an accident.

you: file.mp3

#5sos fanfic #5sos imagine #5sos smut #5sos x reader #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings smut #luke hemmings x reader #luke hemmings x y/n #luke hemmings x you

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honeytama · 5 months ago

Text

Make Your Move - Chapter 6

Noah Sebastian x Reader x Matt Dierkes

A/N: She’s back! A little thing; a minimal scene in this chapter may seem similar to a sound deck scene in Unveiled Hearts by @thefallennightmare. I noticed it after I read her story (which I love), but I chose not to rewrite my scene. No copying here, just great minds thinking alike <3

Fic Summary: Find in Fic Masterlist

Content and Warnings for Ch. 6: Lots of fluff and more dating! AHH, some suggestive content, some smut 18+, hands stuff (hand job/fingering etc), almost caught, semi-public

Word Count: 8k

Tag List:

@xxkittenkissesxx @exitwoundsx @jilliemiw86 @abiomens @lma1986

@flowery-mess @doomhands-jr @rain-down-on-me @justdamnpeachy @thatchickwiththecamera @narcissisticbehavior81

@xcllnt @somebodyels3

After Noah and you had your late-night tryst in the showers of the venue, the walk back to the bus felt desolate. You walked alone through the hallways and into the dark, humid night as you exited the venue into its back alleyway.

The grin on your face wanted to stay there; you wanted to be elated that both of the men that you were attracted to wanted you. However, your face falls when you realize that Matt was right: you’re not being fully truthful to him, or Noah.

You feel it’s hard to swallow when you think back to just ten minutes ago. Noah asked what you wanted to speak to him about and you dodged the question. Wanting to believe that your brain was foggy from the sight of Noah’s body, and that kiss, was half of your reasoning for lying, but the other half is that you really couldn’t bear telling Noah the truth.

Outside of the bus, you pace the side of it while listing the options available to you: don’t tell the two men that you kissed both of them the same night and risk their friendship and your relationship with them once they find out, or do tell them and risk it all anyway.

Everything about the situation made you feel gross and at a loss. If only you told Noah about Matt’s confession, then maybe you wouldn’t feel like you’re on track to manipulating them both in the process.

“Why?” You yell out into the night, holding your head in your hands.

You calm your senses and walk to hop onto the bus to head to Nashville, Tennessee. While in bed, you finally decide you should come clean to both of them as soon as possible to save you the heartache. In contrast to your decision, you thought, why not indulge yourself in the fantasy you had never thought possible?

—

A constant buzzing tone from your phone wakes you in the morning; you turn over in your bunk to grab it while noticing the bus isn’t moving. You must be outside of the Nashville venue already.

Without checking the caller ID, you hold the phone close to your ear and mumble, “Hello?”

“Good morning, loser, get out of bed,” Matt's voice is loud in your ear. You pull your phone away from your head and wipe the sleep from your eyes before responding.

“You’re such a bully, let me sleep,” you whine and check the time. Ten AM. It’s a bit later than when you would usually wake up. “Where are you?”

“I’m finishing a run with Noah. I’m on my way back to the venue, but he decided to go the extra mile,” he answers.

“Oh,” you’re lucky the fact that you just woke up can hide the lack of enthusiasm in your voice. You hope with everything in you that they didn't share the things they did with you the night before. They could have been laughing at you. They could’ve been plotting to “dump” you. They could be planning to fire you from the tour. Clenching your eyes closed to push back these intrusive thoughts you finally respond, “Sounds fun.”

“Yeah, it was,” he says, unfazed by your tone. “Anyway, I called because I was wondering if you had plans at, let’s say, noon?”

“Yes, I plan to rot in bed with my phone six inches from my face until they need us to work later,” you explain, matter-of-factly.

“So you’re saying you wouldn't want to go out on a date with me?”

This shocks you awake and you sit up on your bunk. The crown of your head bumps the top of the enclosed space, “Ouch, fuck!”

Matt laughs over the phone, but questions, “You good?”

“Yeah, I just banged my head on the top of my bunk.” You rub the throbbing spot on your head as you return to reality, “You’re asking me out?”

“Yup,” he pops the “P” in the word. Even though he isn’t there with you, you can just see the smug look on his face. “There’s a hot chicken place I’ve been wanting to try since we’re in Nashville and I thought I should finally take you out. You know, just you and me, like we said.”

You never thought that this day would come, but you remember your decision to be open and honest with the two boys. This would be the first time you addressed the elephant in the room, “Does it still bother you that I went out with Noah a few days ago?”

He hums softly. “I’m getting over it. I did give you two permission,” he says. “But, I figured, since I told you how I felt last night… and our kiss,” he pauses again, “you would want to start hanging out with me, too. Just not as friends.”

You bite your lip and sway in your bunk. “You want to date me,” you sing in his ear, teasingly.

“Don’t make me take it back, Y/N,” he grumbles.

“Okay, okay! Yes, I’ll go out with you,” you say quickly. “I’ll be ready at 11:45! Is it close by?”

“Sure is, we can walk there together. Wear something cute,” you can hear the smirk in his voice again.

“I will,” you sing. “Matt?”

“Hm?”

“Are you going to let me hold your hand?” You ask, hopefully.

“Maybe, if you’re good,” he laughs before hanging up the phone.

—

You’re dressed up in your favorite casual date outfit. It’s only a few minutes until you need to meet Matt outside the bus.

Adjusting your hair and accessories, you look into the bus bathroom mirror. The jitters that have shaken your body since the moment he asked out over the phone have not stopped, and really, it’s getting worse. You have to keep your jaw clenched to keep your teeth from chattering. The only thing that can help you is seeing him.

You huff and head down the hallway to the front room. Jolly and Folio sit on the couch on their phones, relaxing.

“Hey, beautiful,” Jolly says. “Where are you going?”

Folio looks up from his phone too, “Yeah? Damn, you look good, I like that outfit.”

Your cheeks flush at their compliments, but you realize you don’t feel comfortable with them knowing that you have been on a date with Noah and are now going on one with his best friend. “I’m going for lunch with Matt,” you tell them a half-truth. Lying seems to be in your repertoire these days.

“Oh, cool. Where are y’all going?” They say in unison.

“It’s a hot chicken restaurant he knows about,” you tell the truth.

“Shit, that sounds good. Could we come with y’all?” Folio asks, excitedly.

Folio, please. “I would love that, but we're going to do some catching up as friends,” you give him a sorry smile and offer to take him there another day while you’re still in town.

“It’s all good,” he shrugs. ‘Y’all have fun.”

You wave them goodbye, “See you later for the show boys.”

“Bye, Y/N!” They sing as you exit the bus onto the concrete of the venue alley.

Matt leans on the brick wall of the venue looking at his sneakers.

“Hey, handsome,” you compliment him. His outfit is different than usual. It’s not that different, however, you could tell he had his idea of a casual date outfit, too. Your chest flutters at the thought of him getting ready for you.

Matt looks up at you at the sound of your voice. A smile slowly creeps on his lips and builds to a toothy, shit-eating grin.

“I see you wore a clean, oversized tee today,” you tease him while looking him up and down. “And, camo cargo pants? That’s so hot.”

“Shut up,” he rolls his eyes. “I think that I look best without clothes, but I dont think Hattie B’s would allow that,” he jokes.

You tend to agree with that statement. He looks like a God when he is down to a pair of fitted boxer briefs. Besides the other features of his physique, below the belt, you’ve only ever taken a good look at his ass. You know that your life would be over if Matt were ever to catch you ogling his bulge, so even after countless sleepovers and pool days, you have no clue what he might be packing.

“Is that the restaurant we’re going to?” You ask as he comes to your side to start your walk.

“Mhm,” he hums. “By the way, you look,” you catch him sneaking a glance over to you, “amazing.”

“Thanks, babe,” you nudge his shoulder.

A ghost of a smile makes his lip curl upwards. He doesn't want you to notice, but you do. “I’m already regretting sharing my feelings with you,” he grunts before taking his hand in yours. His thumb rubs over the top of it softly and you smile to yourself as you walk down the city sidewalk, side by side.

—

“Can you order for me, Matt? I need to use the restroom,” you ask him.

“Yeah, I know what you like,” Matt agrees while staring up at the menu overhead at the ordering counter.

That was something that you loved about him and something you wouldn't get from Noah, not at this point. Matt remembers everything. The second you tell him you love something, your goals, even something you're just remotely interested in it’s like he has a notes app page open about it. Matt tends to order your food for you when you go out back at home, but if you order he’ll speak up for you if you’re too shy to ask for something specific.

“Could I have three chorizo breakfast tacos, please?” You would ask at your two’s favorite taco shop on Sunday mornings. Matt would give you a stare and a subtle head tilt to mention your customization, but when you don't.

“With salsa on the side. Not on top, please. She doesn't like it,” he would say for you before handing over his card.

You haven't realized it until now, looking into the bathroom mirror, but you have been comparing the two men you've been involved with and you don't like it. It’s not like you should have the privilege of comparing either of them anyway. Your choice to have one, for peace, is completely null. You could only hope to enjoy your time with the two of them until everything goes to hell.

Enough, you say to yourself roughly. Enjoy yourself. Enjoy your date. You wash your hands with warm water; the temperature change and the sweet scent from the soap soothes your senses.

You walk back out into the restaurant lobby and spot Matt sitting alone at a booth. His leg bounces up and down as he looks out the building window.

Walking up to sit across from him, he jokes, “You didn’t fall in did you?”

You giggle and get settled in your seat, “No, I was just nervous, I guess. I was taking a second to myself.”

“How do you feel now?” Matt reaches across the table from you and holds his hand in yours.

“Better,” you smile. He continues tracing circles with the pad of his thumb on your hand just like he did on your way here. Just on the soft skin of your palm, this time. “So, what did you order me?”

“I got you the mild spicy sandwich with fries. I think I got us a side of mac and cheese to share,” Matt purses his lips. “I got myself the hot sandwich with fries. You can try mine, but I know you’re not too into spicy stuff,” he shrugs.

You both speak at the same time.

“Thank you–” “Unless, it’s books–

“Matt,” you squeeze his hand in yours while making “What the fuck?” eyes to him. Ducking your head, you look around the restaurant to make sure no one overheard him. “Don't talk about my book.”

“You read it in public,” he says matter of factly. “I can talk about something that you do in public.”

“Reading on the bus isn't in public,” you defend. Heat travels up your neck to your cheeks like it usually did when Matt and you got on to the topic of sex. It happens often, and you hate that you don't mind it.

He shrugs and starts to laugh at himself. “I’ve Googled the title, by the way, I know what you've been reading about, Y/N.”

You decide to play his game. After over a year of dealing with him, you have found that the best way to combat his taunting is to do it right back. “Oh, really,” you tilt your head at him. “What is it about then? Describe it to me.”

Matt lets go of your hand and adjusts his hat. This is his common tell that he would rather change the subject, but in proper Matt fashion, he wants to play with you. “If I remember correctly,” he pauses while looking up at the ceiling, “It’s about a woman who moves into the house next door to this hot guy. Hot guy is a boudoir photographer? She does his marketing in exchange for him to teach her how to fuck. I stole your copy to check for myself and I remember the guy laying her out on top of a counter—”

“Uhm, I have the mild and hot sandwiches with a side of mac and cheese?” The woman delivering your food squeaks out.

“That’s us, thank you,” Matt coughs out.

“Thank you,” you say as they start to dart away from your table.

You and him stare into each other’s eyes with blank faces waiting for the employee to walk far enough away before you can react.

Once they have walked through the swinging door to the kitchen Matt is in hysterics laughing across from you. His keeling over the side of the table just so you can see the pleasure on his face a bit closer.

“Why did you just explain my sex book in front of the employee?” You cover your face with your hands.

“You asked me to! You did this to yourself,” he continues to chuckle while shoving a fry into his mouth.

“Also, I haven't got to the part you’re talking about, so thanks for the spoiler,” you huff before also taking a fry and shoving it in your mouth. “Shit, this is good,” you moan and relax your shoulders.

“Is that how you moan when—”

“Matt, I’m on my knees—,” you glare at him before he can interrupt you. “I’m begging you, could we please talk about something else?”

“Sure,” he calms and starts eating. “I wanted to thank you for saying “yes” to coming out with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was nervous that you might just want to see how things go with Noah,” he admits.

“Matt, I have had the biggest crush on you since, like, a month into knowing you? There’s no way I would pass up the opportunity for a date. I just—”

“What’s wrong?”

Here we go. “I just don't want everyone to know that I’ve been on a date with Noah and you. I feel sleazy.”

“It’s going out. It’s innocent,” he shrugs and bites into his sandwich. Talking with his mouth full, “You let me know if anyone tries giving you shit for it. I’ll beat their ass.” He swallows his bite. “If it will make you feel better, I don’t mind you saying that we’re doing stuff as friends. I’ll do the same. It’s pretty normal for us to be alone since people know we've known each other for a long time.”

Thank God. “I’m glad you feel that way,” you start. “Something happened with Noah. I need to—,”

“Tell me later?” He interrupts and then shakes his head, “Sorry, I don’t want to talk about him on our date. I just want to hear about you.”

“Okay,” you nod. Fuck, don’t take the out. You need to tell him, you think. “Yeah, sorry.”

“It’s ok,” he smiles. “Here, try this sauce. Shit’s good.”

You and Matt spend the next hour at the restaurant eating and chatting away. He feeds you fries and lets you try his sandwich. Which ultimately, as he predicted, would make you chug your drink down to get another refill.

He asks you to tell him about your aspirations again as your legs are intertwined with his underneath the table. He always listens to you so intently with a furrowed brow. It’s intimidating as all you want to do is impress him. However, Matt has never made you apologize for being yourself: for liking what you like, or for dreaming big dreams.

He reminds you of his goals in life and your chest has that familiar tingle by the way his face glows when he talks about them. He shows you his favorite pictures of his dogs that you have seen time and again. He gives you countless, soft-spoken affirmations and praise about how you look, the jokes you tell him, and your work ethic. He tells you how great you’ve been doing at your job. He’s proud of you and date Matt, romantic Matt… isn’t afraid to show it.

You feel loved. He’s in love with you.

—

Matt invited you to watch the show from the sound deck again tonight.

You agreed, excitedly, the butterflies in your stomach have yet to die down after your first date with him this afternoon. The smile on his face wouldn’t dissipate either.

The crew teased about how sweet he treated them when you two came in to check up on them after returning from getting lunch.

“What’s got you so excited, Dierkes?” Kooter, Bad Omen’s drum tech, teased from behind Matt while massaging his shoulders.

“Fuck off, go help Folio,” Matt said, brushing Kooter off. His tone showed itself to be negative, however, you love the way his lips turned up at the ends as he turned back to face you. His eyes smile too as they meet yours as if to say, “You’re what I’m excited about, Y/N.”

The crew set everything up as organized and as detailed as it would be if you two were there to manage the process, and the gig began as usual.

Later in the night, you stand at Matt’s side in the sound deck to prepare for Bad Omens to begin their set of the night. It would be two whole days since you would return to work after spending some time in Nashville before moving on to the next tour stop. Looking around the room, you take it all in, to save the excitement and fulfillment that your job brings to you every night. Fans line and lean over the railings of the balcony seats at both sides of the room; chatting and patiently waiting for the band’s introduction to the stage.

A group of women, around your age, stand in front of the sound deck barrier. They're laughing and taking pictures and you hear one of them dare another to ask Matt for a photo, too. He doesn't seem to notice, but the women catch your curious stare, they nod and motion for you to tap on his shoulder. You take a step closer to him, “Matt, do you want to take a picture?” You ask while lightly tugging on the sleeve of his shirt to get his attention.

He turns to you, immediately. “Yeah,” He smiles and begins to pull his phone from his jogger’s pocket.

“Oh, sorry, not with me,” you giggle, patting his arm. “Them,” you nod your head the ladies waiting hopefully and excitedly across from you two.

“Oh, sure,” he smile falls a tad, but returns to assure you. “I’ll be right back, okay? Then there’s something I want to show you.” He steps off to the side closer to the metal barrier that separates the crowd and yourselves and you watch as the group’s faces light up at him. They cover their mouths in excitement and mouth to each to “be chill or be calm”. It’s hard to read their lips.

The way they feel right now is how you would be reacting to meeting him or Noah in an alternative universe where Matt and you had never met on that walk that one day. Every time you're invited back to the sound deck, you feel like a fan again.

Matt says, “Have fun!” to the group and returns to your side. “So, I was thinking about something cool you could do if you’re interested?”

“Sure,” you raise an eyebrow at him as he walks a couple of feet over to the lighting board on the table.

“Do you want to control the lights during the Concrete Jungle call and response thing?” He pats the console.

“What? Me?” You say, shocked, yet excited. “Hell yes, but what if I mess it up?”

“It’s super easy, not even you could mess it up,” he teases and you give him an eye roll. “I swear. All you have to do is control these two faders; up for brightening down for dimming, and you just lead the crowd to chant “Jun-gle” using the lights. You’ve seen it almost every night for the past week, you’ll be fine.”

“I’ll do it,” you nod slowly.

“Here, practice,” he grabs your hands to rest them on the correct sliders on the board. He’s soft when he guides your fingers to push the sliders upward, slowly, which gradually brightens the lights overhead the stage. Various groups of fans cheer in the crowd for the lighting, hopeful it’s a sign for their show to begin. Matt guides your fingers back down the board and the lights dim to black again. “Now, do it yourself, just faster,” he leans back on his foot and crosses his arms over his chest watching you experiment with the sliders.

“Ok,” you let out a quick breath. Your heart beats fast in your chest, but you would have time to settle your nerves as you wouldn’t have to do this until Dethrone, their final song of the night. “I think I have the hang of it.”

“Good, because that’s all you,” he says. “Sometimes I forget that you're a fan of all of this. I want you to have more of these experiences,” Matt leans in close to your ear, in hopes only you would hear him. “I know I can be an ass, but you deserve to have the time of your life on this tour. I want this to work out.”

“Yeah, I know,” you squish his cheeks with your fingers. He reels back and swats your hand away, but laughs with you before returning to his soundboard and set up. Once he’s out of earshot, you mumble, “I want all of this to work out too, believe me.”

—

You sang to yourself and danced at a volume that wouldn’t take Matt's or fans' attention from the stage as you stand with him tonight.

While you were still reeling from your day with Matt, you still missed Noah. Your heart yearned for them equally, although it is hard to forget the six words that came out of Matt’s mouth last night. “I’m in love with you, Y/N.” It has been on repeat all day.

The nights you weren’t invited into the sound deck you would stand sidestage and would get hyped up with Folio as he passed you funny looks from his drum throne. Noah would partake in the antics, too, when it wouldn’t take away from his performance. Like: Having dance-offs with you when the audience thinks he’s dancing alone, or giving you eyebrows and a smirk at certain parts of his lyrics, and when he undresses down to a tank top mid-set.

Tonight, you don’t have to hide your gaze on his hands as he lifts his overshirt above his head. The way the muscles in his back and biceps flex involuntarily by the motion makes you shutter.

It was the same feeling you felt the first time watching him live. The bass of his growls coming through the stage monitors vibrate in your chest and makes your thighs clench. Sometimes, you wonder how long he can hold his breath as he holds on to notes and screams. You imagine his tattooed hands spreading and gripping your thighs apart uneager to come up for air as he feasts on your aching cunt.

Matt can’t hear your thoughts even standing a few feet from you, but you feel like he can so you sneak cautious glances over at him when these delicious thoughts pass through your mind to he if he reacts in any way.

The show was coming up to ‘Dethrone’. Noah has nearly finished his first encore of the night and you take your place in front of the lighting board with your fingers touching lightly on the sliders Matt showed you earlier.

While waiting patiently for Noah’s cue to you, he finds your eyes in the sound deck. His dark eyes match yours directly. Surely, he can’t be looking at you? You wonder. You feel like a fan in the crowd who’s just made eye contact with their favorite band member for the first time. He nods at you, and then he begins.

“Concrete,” he growls into the mic before ticking his fore and middle fingers at you twice.

“Jungle!” You slide the light faders in tandem and they glow above the stage with each syllable the crowd screams.

Noah and you go back and forth. His eyes never leave yours, even as he paces back and forth on the stage, and he successfully directs you through his chant. The room is packed as it’s a sold-out show, but you feel as though it’s only you two present.

He tosses you a proud smile as he begins ‘Dethrone’ and it makes your legs melt.

Fuck, he’s so hot. Distracted by him, you hadn’t realized the number of times he had unintentionally made you blush and make the hairs on your neck rise. Let alone let you realize the growing need for him building up fast in your abdomen. You want any part of him, and preferably more than a kiss tonight.

You watch him perform their final song in awe; you can imagine your tongue rolling out of your mouth and drooling onto the pit floor.

—

After fans have fully exited the venue, you’re left with Matt in the sound deck with a couple of other guys from the crew.

You catch Matt yawning and he asks, “Are you sleepy yet?”

“I’ve found I have a lot of energy after each show. I’m gonna stay up for a bit,” you explain. Your lying streak made this fib too easy to tell. While you had a lot of energy, it wasn’t because of the music or the atmosphere, it was because of Noah. Impulsive thoughts appear like demonic ghouls floating around in your head whenever your sexual needs aren’t met. You wanted so badly to throw yourself at Noah the second you saw him next; to re-do your first kiss? To go even further? However, you can’t, if Matt is to be too close tonight. He was learning to be okay with you having gone on a date with Noah, but you’re unsure of his reaction if he were to find out about you doing anything more.

“I want to try to get to the showers first, but I should get all of this down so we don’t have to worry about it in the morning,” he stretches.

“Go and shower, get to bed,” you rub Matt’s shoulder with care. “I’m gonna stay here and help out.”

“M’Kay,” he yawns again. “Goodnight, Y/N. Make sure my stuff gets packed up real nicely. You’re the only one I trust.”

“Yes sir,” you give him a faux salute as he walks off toward the back of the venue. You smile at him, but your stomach lurches. He trusts you. He’s in love with you! I am being manipulative, you think guiltily.

You spend around forty-five minutes tearing down the sound deck making sure to pack Matt’s equipment, cords, wires, and laptops carefully away. You handled his things with care, even though you were half-distracted by the throbbing between your legs.

“Y/N,” a male voice calls from behind you.

It’s a crew member’s voice. Their usual lighting and production tech who helps Matt in the sound deck. “Hm?” You turn around to meet his face.

“Go ahead and wind down for the night. We’ll take care of the rest,” he nods toward the back of house. “Thanks for helping.”

“Of course, anytime. Goodnight everyone,” you set what you’re working on down and start walking toward Bad Omen’s green room with a sense of urgency.

Once inside, you grab your bag, your nighttime relaxation clothes, and the clean towel you pack in case you want to take a late-night shower. Tonight you do, but you doubt you’re going to be doing your wash routine.

Please be in here and alone. Please.

“Noah, are you in here?” You call out his name as you push open the door to the showers. The layout of the room is more like a locker room than the past showers you have used at other venues. One side of the room is lined with sizable shower stalls with floor-length curtains for privacy, while the other side of the room has a wall of lockers and benches. On them, you notice Noah’s backpack and nicely folded clothing. His boots sit together underneath the glossy, wooden bench.

“I’m in the second stall,” he talks over the sound of the steaming water raining down over him. A light mist rises over the top of his curtain and dissipates as it hits the ceiling. You can’t see him the way you could the night before.

You bite your lip anxiously. What are you doing? You ask yourself. Your body feels hot by how turned on you are and it keeps you warm as you strip yourself naked. Pulling your panties down your legs, you notice a prominent wet spot accumulated by the pool of your arousal. You stuff all of your belongings into an empty locker and softly click it closed.

His name falls from your lips before you can catch it, “Noah?”

It wasn’t in your plan for him to poke his head through the curtain, but he does. “Yeah?” His voice is innocent, but his eyes widen once he sees the sight of you. Your arms bravely stick to your sides to allow him to gain you in full. “Shit,” he hisses under his breath while making haste with the outline of your body. You watch his eyes roam you as you stand there in heavy silence before he opens the curtain a little more to invite you inside. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he says as you stand in front of him. Once you’re in the stall, you feel like his eyes will never leave yours. So, if you tried to sneak a peek anywhere but his face, he would most definitely know.

“Thank you,” your cheeks feel hot. “Is it okay if I shower with you?”

“Mhm,” he nods and hums. His low tone reverberates against the walls of the shower stall. “I was hoping you would. You have no idea the thoughts that have been running through my head since last night.”

His admission makes you feel tingly. “I hope I’m not moving too fast. This feels so out of character for me,” you shake your hands out.

“I want to move as slow or as fast as you do,” he confides to you in a low tone. His fingers reach to the crook of your neck and trace down your shoulder, to your bicep, to your forearm, and rest to intertwine with your fingers.

“You looked so good on stage tonight,” you admit as you look up at him with shining eyes. “Every night, I watch you perform, and it—,”

“And what?” Noah steps into your bubble. The tips of your breasts just barely graze his skin.

“I get so turned on,” you’re nearly talking into his clavicle. He slightly shutters as your breath hits his skin. “Noah, I’m so pent up, it hurts.”

“I can help,” he nods and his wet bangs sway. You watch the water from his hair drip onto your chest. The varying temperature makes you shiver. He notices this. “Get yourself wet first,” he instructs while switching places with you for you to stand under the running shower head.

You run your hands through your hair and close your eyes to enjoy the heat. You feel the same tickly feeling on your breasts that you always feel around him, so you open your eyes to catch his gaze from your tits when you admit, “Noah, I swear I’m already wet.”

His laugh and toothy smile make you warm inside, as much as the hot water warms your skin on the outside. He leans in close to press a kiss into your cheek, “I want to feel how wet you are, Y/N. But first, I want you to look at me. I give you permission,” his shoulders shake as he laughs at you trying your best to look at every shiny tile that lines the stall rather than his nude form.

When he backs away, your eyes trail his body. The freckles on his shoulders are the first of what you see. You reach out to touch them, but his hands come to your bare hips to push you slowly until you’re both underneath the warm, running water. The water moves in slow motion and you follow it with your eyes as it hits his chest and drips lower to his stomach. His waistline is spotted with water droplets. You take one last big breath before letting your gaze fall to his groin. He’s half hard and the tattoos around his lower stomper and thighs surround his member like he’s a work of art. Your shoulders shake a tiny bit when you chuckle at the sight of his wet leg hair and impatient toes that are dancing, waiting for you to look back up at his face.

You look up to meet Noah’s eyes, but you can’t help but sneak glances at his lips. “You’re so beautiful,” you whisper to him as you wrap your hands behind his neck and pull him down into your kiss.

He hums against your lips as if to thank you. Noah’s arms wrap around your body as you detach and reattach to his mouth in fervor. He scratches your back with his nails and grips the skin of your back. He tastes so good, so fresh. Your tongues fight each other for dominance and you win.

Noah groans when he feels your hand caress down his stomach and slowly makes its way to wrap around his half-hard cock. He feels so warm in your hand like he’s blushing down there. You open your eyes while making out with him and his cheeks are glowing pink. The sight of his dick on your small hand gives you raging confidence and makes your heart burst.

You begin to stroke him while kissing him. He grows harder in your hands and grows longer, and thicker. You move your lips and teeth and attach them to the side of his neck as he allows heavy breaths to fall from his lips. “I like the way your cock hardens in my hand,” you moan in his ear.

Noah grips your ass and it makes you pull away from his neck to whine. “I like that,” he moans. “So fucking much, you don’t even know. But, I want to help you. You can make me cum another time.”

You bite your lip and nod.

“Spread your legs, just a little bit,” he commands in a low tone. You spread your legs apart and he praises, “Yeah, just like that.”

He dips his head to your left breast and latches on, tongue first, to the nipple while kneading your other breast with his hand fingers. Water splashes off to the sides of the shower as he presses himself into you.

“Ah,” you whine when his dominant hand leaves your chest to snake between your bodies to your core. The pads of his fingers find your clit and give you a firm press before sliding through your folds, curiously.

Your dazed eyes meet Noah’s as he pulls his hand from your cunt to show you the clear, slimy juices that drool down his fingers. “I really do turn you on, huh?” He boasts before sticking his fore and middle fingers between his lips and lapping your arousal away.

“Mhm,” you moan at the sight of him licking his fingers clean.

Noah plays with your nipples with his empty hand while the right one is brought back to your pussy. “Do you remember when I heard you say my name?”

“Hm?” You’re dizzy and can’t fully think of what he’s referring to.

“The second night of the tour. The morning after, I asked you if you needed to ask me a question because I heard you say my name,” he explains while rubbing your clit in expert figure-eights. “Noah.”

Your eyes shoot open and meet his eyes, but they’re attached to your lips. “I was touching myself. Thinking about you,” you admit while whining on his fingers.

Suddenly, his fingers pinch your clit gently, but with enough force to make you cry out, “Noah.” The pain makes you shutter and collapse against his form.

“I’ve been waiting to hear my name come from your perfect lips again,” he chuckles while pinching your nipples at the same time. “Good girl. Now, tell me what you were thinking about.”

“I was thinking about, fuck,” you grind against his hand as he releases your clit to palm your cunt. “I brought my favorite sex toys with me. I was imagining you using them on me.”

“We can do whatever you want,” he speaks low into your ear before kissing your neck. His longest fingers prod your entrance and tease your pussy with quick, shallow pumps. The palm of his hand presses firmly into your clit and you grab his forearm for balance. You feel it flex under your fingers. “Do you want to cum on my fingers?”

“Yes, please, I need you—,” you squeak out.

The sound of the locker room door swinging open causes Noah to turn you around and press your back against his chest. His hard cock rests against your ass and you want to grind on him so badly, to make him feel good too.

“Noah, could I borrow your phone charger? I’ve lost mine already,” you hear Nick call out to Noah from the entrance of the room.

Noah covers your mouth with his hand and you breathe softly through your nose. His other hand cautiously rubs circles on your throbbing, aching clit as he responds, “Yeah, Nick, that’s fine. You can find it in the second pocket of my backpack.”

You start to grind up against Noah feeling his dick harden against your skin, again, and his hand pressing hard into your private region. You need relief.

Nick’s footsteps echo through the room, and you can feel your heartbeat matching the pace of his steps; so quick and to the point.

Noah continues his movements but goes a bit further to test the waters. He uses his weight to hike you up a bit further and you get the sign to stand on your tiptoes and bend your knees just a bit. Noah reaches his fingers between your thighs again and dips them in your slick cunt, slowly.

Your eyes roll back into your head, and you do your best to stay silent. You hope the running shower can hide how your breath hitches as Noah curls his fingers inside of you, stretching you out.

“Nick, when you find it,” Noah’s voice vibrates against you, “you can keep it. I have two others in my bunk.”

“Thanks, man. I got it now. Good night!” Nick says before you hear his steps towards the door and the door closing behind him.

With Nick gone, you moan against Noah’s palm on your mouth freely. His fingers are slim, but they’re so long and reach the best spots inside of you. His thumb rubs your clit as he fucks you with his fingers.

“Such a good girl for staying quiet,” he praises and removes his hand from fully covering your mouth only to prod your lips with his fingers to stuff them between your teeth. “Now, be loud for me.”

His name is broken as you try to say it, “No-ahhhhh, ple—please!” Your eagerness for full relief drives you to grind harder on his fingers, so much, you're bouncing on them and doing the work for him.

Noah supports your hips so you don’t slip on the wet tile. “I know, I know,” he says daringly while kissing the crown of your head. “Go ahead and cum, you deserve it.”

“Fuck, thank you—,” you hiss as you reach up and tangle your fingers up into the back of his hair. You release on his fingers and he hooks them to repeatedly hit your G-spot as you ride through your high.

“That was so hot,” he praises into your ear. “But, let’s try not to get caught again, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you laugh as you stand while holding the wall for support.

“Let me clean you up. We still need to actually take our showers,” he holds your waist and pulls you back into the water.

—

“Are the showers going to start being our new meeting place?” He chuckles as wraps your fresh towel around your shoulders. The one you stuffed into the locker when you came in. You patted yourself on the back for remembering to do it or else Nick would have definitely known you two were hearing together.

“Maybe,” you shrug at him with a smile. While you enjoyed your private meetings, you also wished you could say and do everything you wanted to you with him in front of everyone else. You could feel that keeping things secret was starting to get harder on your mental health. Sex is the main thing you don't mind keeping behind closed doors.

Noah’s head pops up as if he has had an epiphany. “Do you want to go on another date before we go to sleep?”

“Of course!” you match his excitement with your arms loosely wrapped around his waist.

“Good, because I already have an idea of where can go,” Noah reaches into the front pocket of his backpack to retrieve his phone. You peak at his screen as he opens his Yelp account and searches for the best milkshakes nearby.

—

Noah sits across from you in a black hoodie covering his hair. His lips are wrapped around one of the white and red striped bendy straws in your shared cookies and cream milkshake. He giggles as you pull out your phone to take a picture of him and his hand comes to cover your phone camera.

You playfully fight his hand away while snapping a couple of shaky pictures. “I need more pictures of you!” You whine. “You took so many of me when we were in Boston.”

“We can take one together,” he pulls his phone out of his hoodie pocket and angles it towards your faces. You both take a sip from the shake and he takes a picture. He looks at it before showing you, “You’re so cute.”

“Mhm,” you hum, sipping through your straw. This milkshake was definitely in the top three of all you have ever had. Noah knows how to pick good places.

“So, tell me,” he sits up a little higher in his seat before leaning forward. “Everything. Everything about you that you didn't day on our first date.”

“Noah, it’s past midnight,” you chuckle, but he still looks at you with eager eyes. He wants to know you. Everything about you. You mentally note that one day you could reach the level of comfort that Matt and you have, and you want to try to get there with Noah. “We have the next two days to talk, too,” you kick your legs in excitement and he smiles when they brush him. It’s pretty easy to touch him; his long legs take up the majority of the space under the tiny table you’re sitting at. “What should we do with all of our free time?”

“I have one idea of how we can spend a lot of our time together,” he shrugs and gives you a knowing smile.

“What?” You giggle with your tongue on the straw.

“You could share a bed with me at the hotel we get to stay in for the next two nights,” he suggests.

Your eyebrows raise in intrigue, “Mmm.”

“We would have to have one other person to share our room with us for the room costs to be worth it, but I would get to sleep next to you for real, instead of across from you,” he plays with his hands over the table.

“We’ve slept next to each other every night on the bus,” you think out loud. “I would feel comfortable with that, I think.”

Noah moves his fidgeting to the strings of his hoodie. You love to watch how nervous he gets talking to you. It’s charming. “I really like the way we talk to each other across the short space between us when everyone else is asleep,” he admits and you pout your lip at him in awe. “I’ve never told you this, but sometimes I’ll stay up and watch you sleep when you forget to close your curtain.”

You lean forward and rest your hand on your cheek.

“Also, because I stay up,” he sips on his straw. “That’s how I knew about— you know?”

You gulp down the shake in your mouth so as not to choke on it. He’s referencing what he reminded you of earlier in the shower. Noah. “Oh, yeah, that.” Your face heats up.

One of his hands shoots towards your open hand resting on the table. “That didn’t bother me by the way,” he reassures. “I’m flattered, honestly. Feel free to think about me all the time.”

You giggle before watching his fingers interlace with yours.

“You make me really excited, Y/N. I haven’t thought about being in a relationship with anyone for a long time. I feel so preoccupied with so many other things, but when I think about that with you… it feels possible.”

“Noah, that feels so good to know,” you say softly, it’s almost a whisper. You feel vulnerable now. “You have no idea how much of a dream it is to get to know you that way I had when I was just a fan three months ago.”

“I love that you’re a fan, but you’re also my equal. I was pulled into you the second I saw you. I still think back to us sitting on the patio bench at the L.A. studio together,” he squeezes your hand.

“Me too,” you agree. You two sit in comfortable silence for a beat.

“You don’t have to tell me everything I need to know about you, yet,” he chuckles. But, before we go back, can I ask you two questions?”

You push the empty shake glass to the side and hold both of his hands in the center of the table. “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I want,” he says. “First, do you say yes to at least rooming with me at the hotel the next two nights?”

“Yes,” you nod with an excited smile. Whether you’ll have to live with the consequences of your answer or not, you’ll see.

“Lucky me,” he smiles. “Second—,” he takes his time to continue, “what are you looking for with your time with me? Is it just fun, a relationship… I want to know.”

#my favorite chapter yet!!#next time is WHEW #love you ty!#matt dierkes #noah sebastian #matt dierkes x reader #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens fanfiction

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eddiemunson-reader-shame · 5 months ago

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A Freak and a Basket Case: Chapter Two: Made in Heaven

From the Delulu Writer: You’re going to realize that I don’t write short fics. This was straight from Google Docs mobile. I don’t know how long this is, so fuck it we ball. I’m hoping the generous Eddie POV helps break this aversion to longer fics.

Warnings: Flight of Icarus spoilers, references to drug use, minor suicide mention.

[Masterlist] - Chapter One - Chapter Two (You are Here) - [Latest]

***

The ’85-’86 academic year had to be his year.

It had to be.

It was his last shot. The last hoorah. He had just barely made the cutoff age for the academic year, and it was a miracle in itself that Principal Higgins had a modicum of decency to give him a break and let him even try to attend school again. He would be cutting it too close for comfort, and during the summer Eddie Munson had promised his uncle that he would get his head out of his ass this time around. No more screw ups. No more bullshit scams.

That promise was made in summer, when he was still able to sleep in, hotbox the feelings of shame and guilt away in his van, and gorge on junk food during unholy hours of the early morning before passing out until noon.

Now that he was being jolted awake by both the shrill sound of the radio alarm, and his uncle was kicking his mattress to wake him up at four thirty in the morning before he’d even gotten a good chance at sleep, Eddie was ready to throw in the fucking towel. Bitter thoughts swarmed in his mind.

Fuck it. Kick me out of school. See if I give two shits.

He was at the point where he was forgetting what was important. Last year was a year of losses. Almost losing the Hellfire Club to bullshit blackmail orchestrated by a sadistic son of a bitch of a principal that he did not fully trust. Ronnie had at least reached out via letter after a time, and she sent a few clipped sentences written with an electric typewriter all the way from New York whenever she had enough money left over from dorm expenses to buy postage stamps. But Dougie had gone nuclear. Never quite forgiving his friend for what he had almost undone.

And then there was Paige…

Eddie had been thinking of that mess nonstop the first day back for some reason, running late stuck behind a green Dodge with wood paneling while also battling the commuters during the clusterfuck that constituted rush hour in Hawkins, Indiana. He didn’t know why he was in such a hurry when that morning he’d been ready to give up all over again. Emotions were running high and low, he felt like he was trapped on a broken-down roller coaster falling apart on a shoddy side of the road carnival. Wanting to jump off, throw up, scream, and cry all at once as the reality of everything set in.

Eddie Munson had fucked everything up. Once in a lifetime opportunities lost to the ages in the year of 1984.

’86 had to be his year. Otherwise, he had nothing else left.

He was on his way to his locker when a string bean of a freshman wearing khakis and a button down polo from the GAP slammed into him from behind. Eddie immediately turned around to catch him before he hit the ground, asking the dazed boy if he was okay, confirming it was so, then looking towards the source. He assumed it was a jock, it always was, but he saw no suspicious hunter green letterman jackets lurking in the throng of students looking to get to their classes.

And then there was the gaggle of girls laughing and pointing, but he couldn’t see the object of their teasing because once he came within five feet of their gaggle they saw Eddie the Freak and bolted. So far the first day back was shaping up to be one of those weird days, whispers abound of some bitch of a basket case wandering around dressed for a cold front in August.

For obvious reasons, Eddie was intrigued. A bitch of a basket case was new. Especially ones wearing winter coats in summer when the humidity drowned you before the heat got to you. He doubted there was any merit to the rumors truth be told, but he had to see it for himself. He searched high and low, ditching his first period class to see if he could catch a glimpse. And then like an answer to his prayers he heard a siren call:

Metallica on cassette. Kill ‘Em All Album. Side 1. Approximately thirty nine minutes and six seconds into the album. Track number nine. Seek and Destroy.

Blasting so goddamned loud that from his distance it sounded faint, but he knew that whoever was listening to it directly would be deaf before their twenty-first birthday.

He saw you beelining for the front door, and instantly Eddie was fascinated by you. Sure enough you were all bundled up in your quilted Carhartt jacket like a blue collar worker braving a blizzard, gray skirt swishing as you power walked down the hall. The music beckoned to him, and the Black Sabbath patch on your blue backpack encouraged him to follow. Despite the stormy look on your face and the fuck off aura radiating from you, Eddie couldn’t help but allow the admiration to take over. He wasn’t intimidated, he wasn’t repulsed by your demeanor or appearance. Quite the contrary, Eddie could see something in the way your body communicated to the world:

You were a lost, pathetic little lamb trying to butt heads with everyone and everything, unaware that the world was fanged and scary and could spit you out in a malformed bolus should it desire.

And yet you still kept trying to fight back.

It was as if his body was moving of his own accord. His heart knew before his brain could logically process what was happening. A compulsion, his inner wild child, sent signals to his feet to quicken his pace as he raced after you, adrenaline coursing through him as he heard nothing but the steady pace of your gait matching the pulse of Seek and Destroy. Eddie didn’t stop until he was so close he was breathing in your scent, and in a sudden burst of confidence, both hands flashed out and snatched you by the backpack straps, pulling you in until you were flush against him. He yanked off your headphones, getting in close until his lips were grazing the shell of your ear.

“You’ve got bitchin’ taste in music there, princess. Metallica, right?”

Your scream cut off the last bit, and he held onto you like he was holding a wild stallion steady as you jumped nearly ten feet in the air. You were still pressed with your backpack to his chest, your own little chest heaving with fear.

“FUCK ME FREDDY!” You hollered. “You scared the shit out of me!”

Eddie laughed hard as he spun you around to face him, hands steadying your shoulders as he looked you in the eye with a large smile on his face.

“Sorry, sorry… Relax. Didn’t mean to scare you there. But hey, at least that got your attention, right?”

You hit the pause button on your Walkman and killed the music, looking up with a stormy and defiant expression. Eddie realized something when you looked at him: you had been hiding behind fear. Your eyes, minimized by the thick coke bottle lenses within the frames of your glasses, began to soften when you looked at him. He could see the tightly wound tension leave your body as you relaxed. Your facade was slipping. Before him was an individual army crawling through hell to survive.

“You uh… you heard my music huh?” you said quietly.

Eddie grinned, nodding enthusiastically.

“Oh yeah. From all the way down the hall. You like Metallica?” he asked.

“Uh huh…”

Eddie grinned at the shy answer. God… You were adorable.

“Hell yeah, good taste. Metallica is one of my favorites too.”

He noticed you weren’t much for eye contact. As much as he tried to meet your gaze you wouldn’t look right at him. It seemed as if you were closing yourself off from everyone, a purposeful and calculated act. Understandable if he was being honest. Your eyes were red rimmed and your nose was still dripping a little bit. The morning must not have been kind. For a moment he saw your vulnerability, and it endeared him to you.

“I’m Eddie, by the way.” he said gently, holding out his hand.

“Eddie?” You cocked your head to the side, sweet little face looking up at him as if expecting a trick.

“Yup.” he popped the consonant at the end, and he tried to give you a sweet disarming smile to show his sincerity, “That’s me, Eddie Munson.”

Gently, slowly, he felt your warm hand envelop his. He shook it just enough; not too firm of a handshake that he scared you off, but not so weak that it seemed he didn’t want to touch you. Because if the way his heart was racing at the feel of your warm palm against his was any indication, he very much did want to touch you, and he wanted to make sure you knew it.

A few seconds ticked by, and you finally told him your name after letting go of his hand. He noticed at first that you seemed to try saying something else, but you quickly corrected yourself. Eddie repeated your name slowly. It suited you. Very lovely. Silence for a beat, and then you gulped and spoke up to end the silence.

“My favorite person in the whole wide world is an Eddie…” you mumbled softly.

“Yeah? Who’s this other Eddie?” He raised an eyebrow, dimples showing with the big cheeser he had on his face as he noticed you still weren’t letting go of his hand.

“Eddie V-… Eddie Van Halen…” you stammered.

Eddie’s heart nearly stopped.

“No way, are you shitting me right now?” he demanded.

You shook your head.

“No… I’ve seen him live… he’s… he’s really cool.”

Inhale through the nose, hold for five seconds, exhale through the mouth so he didn’t start having a heart attack.

“How the hell did you end up going to one of those concerts?” He managed

“… my dad. Last year... He took me for an early birthday present…”

So you’ve got good taste in music, and you have a dad that takes you to concerts like Van Halen as an early birthday present…

“They were pit side. I got one of the shirts at my house.”

God dammit… No. There’s no way. There’s no way in the hell that you’re real…

“Which concert was it?” He croaks tentatively.

“The 1984 Tour… I saw them and Autograph play… in Albuquerque.”

He had to stop you right there.

“Okay wait hold on, your dad seriously took you out of Indiana all the way into the middle of nowhere in New Mexico just to see Van Halen for your birthday?! Where in hell do you even live where that seems like a feasible option?! That’s a twelve hour drive at least!”

“I used to live in New Mexico.” You said softly. “I’m not from here…”

Yeah, yeah of course you weren’t from Hawkins. There was no way in shit someone as cool as you, someone who had been pit side to Van fucking Halen, could be from Indiana. It almost gave him flashbacks to shades of his ex, and he nearly wanted to pull away from the conversation. Yet you were so sweet, so different, and he knew if he let you just become a random anecdote in the annals of time, Eddie would have thrown up for weeks and then jumped into traffic if he saw you being poached by someone else.

He pressed on. Heart racing and trying to maintain so that he didn’t spook you.

“Could have fooled me, you don’t have the accent for it.” Eddie said, leaning up against one of the tan lockers.

You hesitated and bit your lower lip, nodding and rocking side to side on your feet as you began to pluck at the loose threads of your jacket.

“… people here don’t like to hear it. So I cover it up…” you said.

“Good idea. Because honestly, it’s not worth the trouble… You’re in Hicksville now. Hawkins isn’t the first narrow minded white bread town, and it’s not going to be the last. Especially if you don’t fit in with their good ol’ boys club mold. Hell, I don’t even fit in it. I’m the biggest target for these bigoted assholes with my reputation. I don’t doubt you’ll get the same amount of bullshit I do.”

“You…?” You blinked, confusion written on your face, “Why would anyone make fun of you?”

Harsh laughter erupted from his throat, and he was so consumed by the absurdity of your question that he didn’t notice you flinch back. As if he was being crucified, Eddie held out his arms dramatically wide, his battle vest opening up to show off his Led Zeppelin baseball tee with a couple of holes in the fabric where the rivets on his jeans had been rubbing against them.

“Take a good look at The Freak of Hawkins High sugarplum. I’m a long haired satan worshiping metalhead cult leader. I play shitty Pantera and Slayer covers in a dive bar every week. I deal drugs to the preppy kids that have more money than sense. I lure innocents in to play my little satanic Dungeons and Dragons games, and then I hotbox it in my van afterwards with them. I’m a Munson, furthest thing from a good little schoolboy. No, no, we Munsons drop out of high school and go to jail young, and probably die young too.”

He went on and on, the word vomit not stopping. If he was going to be honest with himself, he knew this potential thing you two had was dead on arrival from the moment you opened your mouth and started talking about Van Halen. You were way out of his league, even by metalhead standards. From what he gathered, you had deep pockets, or at least your dad did if he was able to take you to shit like Van Halen concerts, something Eddie could only dream of. Everything about this was scary. It was scary and horrifying and the only thing he could think of doing was self sabotaging before he got too attached to you.

And then you frowned, still looking at the floor, until you spoke up, looking him directly in his eyes.

“That doesn’t make no sense… Sounds like a bunch of horseshit to me.” You said simply.

He watched it all happen so suddenly and he couldn’t look away. His large brown eyes widening and his heart turning cartwheels in his chest when he saw the little twinkles of light, the little pinpricks of stars beginning to glimmer in your eyes as you held direct eye contact with him. It wasn’t just that you were cute, because Jesus H. Christ you were the cutest thing he’d ever seen in his life. There were other things he’d never seen on anyone he’d dated: honest to god romance novel pining on your face, your soft lips parting slightly as if you wanted to speak but had lost the words. Your body moved in closer to him, and his own reciprocated purely on instinct, inviting you into his space.

Magnetism.

“None of it makes any sense does it?” He said, voice so low you had to lean further in to hear him, “But this is Hawkins. Judgemental jackanapes abound and people like you and me are lambasted for the crime of being different. Double for you I’m guessing, since you’re the new Hispanic kid in town.”

You nodded, looking hopefully at him.

“Let me guess, you had an easier time fitting in when you were in New Mexico, right?” He asked.

There was a brief hesitation as you gathered your thoughts.

“… Kind of. Maybe not towards the end, but there’s a lot of guys into heavy metal and leather and stuff. A lot of my tios- my uncles- are rockers. My brother likes it too.”

“Older or younger brother?” He asked.

“Older…”

“He get you into metal?” He grinned.

“Yeah.” You said, nodding, “He started me on Black Sabbath and Ozzy, my favorites other than Van Halen. My dad was the one who showed me Van Halen… oh, and Dio…”

“Rad… your dad and your brother got you set up with the best of the best. You have some of the most badass taste in music in all of Hawkins right now.” Eddie praised, and he’d wished he had complimented you sooner, because now that he saw you smile and giggle at his compliments he couldn’t get enough, “… and that’s a hell of a smile you’ve got there sweetheart. And a pretty laugh to match.”

“Quit it…” you giggled.

“Hell no, you can’t just tell me to quit it the second I give you a compliment. Gotta take the compliments where you get them.”

There was that smile, that goddamned cute giggle. The reaction he wanted. You covered up your mouth as you began to uncontrollably laugh, as if you’d taken a fat hit of reefer and had the permanent giggles. He loved people like you, who acted high and giggly without any external help. But he didn’t like how you were trying to hide those teeth from him. He wanted to see it. Wanted to see your smile and bask in the good feeling it gave him.

“Ah ah, none of that!” He scolded, holding up a finger, “You quit hiding that pretty face from me. What? You don’t want me to see it?”

“Nuh uh!” You giggled.

A devilish grin came over Eddie’s face.

“You gonna make me get forceful, sweetheart?”

“Noooooo…!” You whined, laughing harder as you shook your head quickly.

“Cut it out then. Put that damn hand down, lemme see that pretty face.”

Eddie began to wrestle your hand away from your face as you squealed in delight, shrinking in on yourself as he let out a mad giggle. He was enjoying this, enjoying the feeling of touching you and not having his face slapped or being punched in the stomach. You welcomed his touch, almost craved it, flying into a fit of hysterical laughter when he played dirty and grabbed your sides, tickling your soft plump abdomen so that you were forced to move your hands away from your face to shield your belly.

At the end of it, Eddie was breathless with laughter, holding your sides and swaying with you. Coming down from your fun, he saw your smile for the first time. No pearly whites. He could see the flaws and imperfect teeth as you smiled ear to ear.

Real recognizes real…

You are very much real. Very much so. You’re warm and soft and real underneath his fingertips.

“Princess,” he breaths.

You cock your head, swaying side to side and your grin never leaves your face.

“There we go.” He says softly, stroking your sides, “There’s that beautiful smile. See? Much better when you’re not hiding it behind your hands.”

Your eyes sparkled, starry eyes…

He’d only ever seen hungry eyes before. Only ever been desired like one desired a succulent steak or a rich slice of cake. Last year felt like he was giving up so many vital aspects of himself that he almost felt like an imposter when he kept trying to have a better year, a shot at a better life. Everyone had taken from him last year, gnawing at the bones of his corpse until there was nothing left.

Paige looked at me like she wanted to eat me…

But you…

You look at Eddie Munson as if you are awestruck by him, and as shocking as the feeling is, it makes him feel beautiful for a split second. He feels important. He feels valued, like he’s been the epitome of good alignment his whole life and the chaotic parts don’t matter. You look at him like you’re seeing a mythical hero. As if your village was burning to the ground all around you and he’d just come in the nick of time, clad in mithril armor, immune to the flames and devastation and ready to swoop you up to your feet.

But that defiance when you first faced him, the fire in you, it’s a strength, it’s a power he is drawn to. Realistically he knows if he were to swoop in it wouldn’t be to save you, it would be to help you pick up your own sword and fight alongside him.

He wanted that. He wanted someone to fight life’s battles alongside him.

He wanted that someone to be you.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things flight of Icarus #Paige Warner #Ronnie Ecker #Ronnie my beloved #soon #patience my love #slow burn #stranger things fanfiction

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cerisesakurainspring · 5 months ago

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🌷Kiyoko's Daily Logs during the Karasuno-Nekoma Training Camp🌷

From Sportiva x Haikyuu Volume I

May 2

Training camp starts today. Four new members participated in the training camp for the first time.

Hinata 162cm - Middle Blocker

Tsukishima 188cm - Middle Blocker

Kageyama 180cm - Setter

Yamaguchi 179cm - Middle Blocker

Asahi (Wing Spiker), and Nishinoya (Libero) have also returned for the first time in about a month (in good physical good condition) and have started activities as a new team. (Immediate goal is to participate in the Spring High.)

19:30 First day practice ends

19:50 move to training camp

*starting from today we will be living together for 4 nights and 5 days at the training camp (except managers)

20:30 Dinner / Mr. Takeda's special curry (delicious), salad, miso soup

21:30 Return home

Special note: last person to take a bath, don't forget to ventilate.

May 3

7:00 Road work

(1st yr Hinata got lost)

*Hinata —> look around you

Other members should be careful to look after Hinata

10:00 Strengthen receiving, practice all morning

12:00 lunch break

In the afternoon, I went to the supermarket to buy dinner.

Uniform cleaning

Uchizawa cleaning (0B) used

(Receive service coupon)

Special note: washing machine not in good condition

(Need to discuss fees with teacher and club fees)

May 4

Cleaning the club room and equipment room.

Found something usable inside the cardboard

In need of repair. Details will be reported later.

In the afternoon the starting line up for the game against Nekoma was decided. The rotation is left up to Coach Ukai.

○Sawamura ○Hinata ○Tanaka

○Azumane ○Tsukishima ○Kageyama

○Nishinoya

3 regular players from 1st year (expected to improve team performance)

Offensive side > Hinata and Kageyama's strange quick attack

Defensive side > Nishinoya's receives, Coach receiving training

Nekoma Highschool Information:

•A veteran player in Tokyo

•Had frequent practice matches in the past

•Is there a connection with ??

•The decisive battle at the garbage dump????

Special note: Temperature and humidity are rising in May

Deodorizer measures are required in the room (we all are investigating the cause)

May 5

Last night, everyone left the training camp without permission.

*Strict attention

Reason: because of hunger

Measures: Adding a late night snack (under consideration)

Uniform provided at noon

In the afternoon I left early due to feeling unwell.

(The work is left to Mr. Takeda)

Special note: The washing machine is not working properly.

Repairs after the holidays?

May 6

8:50 Gather at Karasuno Sports Park Stadium

9:10 start warming up

10:00 Practice match begins

Karasuno - Nekoma

All three matches (total of 6 sets) were good matches.

•Attack power 5/5

•Connection, receiving

Team completion level - Nekoma is on top

*See scoreboard for match details

Practice match results; improved team morale

Issues clearly identified for each individual (especially first year students) increased attack patterns

This training camp turned out better than expected.

The time it takes to reach your goal is important.

Special note: washing machine cannot be repaired (cause —> Tanaka and Nishinoya)

Consult with teacher regarding future actions.

Text translated online so if some are mistranslated that is why.

This daily log from Kiyoko was interesting and wanted to share it to those who haven't had a chance to read through the light novels yet.

Also, Tanaka and Nishinoya are the troublemakers of the group aren't they??

#haikyuu #haikyū!!#kiyoko shimizu #karasuno #tokyo training camp

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bomberqueen17 · 5 months ago

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holding it down

currently am being held down in the chair by Chita, who was waiting patiently next to my recliner while i was in the other room packing up my clean laundry. I'm going back to the farm today, and need to leave sometime before noon to arrive in time for dinner. The only productive thing I really did this week is that last night I made a Vat of Borscht that i'm going to bring to serve for dinner tonight so my sister doesn't have to cook. anyway. Oop Chita just had enough of absorbing my body heat / qi (we joke that's what she's after, absorbing qi by sitting on people) and has transferred herself to the other chair, where she will sleep for six to ten hours without moving much. Her life is hard.

anyway wittering on behind cut

my dreamwidth crossposter broke so i should figure out how to set up an RSS thingy there, idk how to do that though. i think tumblr did something that broke how they do RSS and that's why the crossposter went down.

I'm trying Vyvanse again, a slightly higher dose. One pill a day, I can do. Yesterday I just felt scattered and ran around not getting things done. I did go double grocery shopping with Dude, and there was a Pokemon Go thing going on so I was catching cyndaquils while wandering through the grocery aisles, and i just-- sometimes I can feel that what I am doing is really bad for my attention span, and I could super feel that this was not helping me at all.

"I need to meditate," I said, sweating, on the ride home in the car. (It has been so hot. It was so hot yesterday. It was 87 and so humid and even with the ac in the car I was just sweating. ugh.)

"So meditate," Dude said, but I don't know how.

I probably should start writing in my journal again. I had been using a like day planner thing, and I was doing pretty poorly at it-- i'd write goals but they were never concretely connected to anything, and mostly I was writing down what I did after I did it, but at least that tied me to reality somewhat. So I should at least go back to that, I stopped the last week at the farm when things were so fucking hectic I didn't do anything but work, eat, and sleep.

I don't know if it helps but doing nothing doesn't help either.

And it's a lie to say I did nothing this past week. I was very off my game, but I did consult two different medical professionals for whatever that's worth, and I did manage to get past a huge writing block that's been deviling me for over a year really.

The horrible heat is supposed to break, which is good timing, because there is no climate control at the farm, and the only air-conditioned room is insufficiently conditioned and so is usually warmer than the surrounding spaces. I would have had a miserable week if I'd been there this past week, when it was over 90F most days and wasn't getting below 75F at night. (It was 81F here this morning at 6am, but it is supposed to rain and the day's high will only be 82. So.)

I did get some sewing done this week, though not as much as I wanted. I did a bunch of laundry. I did not clean the house or make any progress organizing any spaces, which were things I had wanted to do. But the writing, I can't describe how important getting that writing done was for me.

I'm having trouble being confident in my writing currently, a couple of scenes I feel are not emotionally true to what I was trying to say. I did rediscover some old notes though, and I think I've figured out what was bugging me in the Geralt/Emhyr scenes, and what I should work on with them. (I think the background information that Pavetta was an unhinged little gremlin monsterfucker and that was what formed Emhyr's id is really important and I have to work out how to incorporate that into everything going forward.)

I also keep finding myself yearning to write some original stuff. So we'll have to see, if I can get through the backlog of ideas in the Witcher stuff and start winding some of that up (??!!?!?!) then maybe there'd be some time to poke those ideas.

Anyway. Cat tax, here is what Chita looked like as I began this post, being a feline seat belt holding me into this chair:

[image description: small gray cat, head turned and eyes closed, is lying on my green-clad lap and has one paw outstretched toward the camera, touching the gray arm of the chair we're sitting in, holding me in position.]

#about the author #farm life #adhd struggles

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breezybangtanbebe · 1 year ago

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Heaven: Changkyun❤️‍🔥

Tags: Monsta X's IM x Reader, long-distance relationship, lazy morning sex, kinda fluffy then kinda nasty, pussy eating..something short and sweet. :)

2.7k words

24 hours.

That was all the time you had with him and he had already wasted a third of it in bed.

The Miami humidity was less offensive from inside the luxury suite. Oceanview balconies welcomed in the breeze that morning as you lay tangled in sheets as white as the sands with your long-distance lover.

Changkyun was..busy, to say the least.

Promotions. Rehearsals. Fittings. Video shoots. Interviews. Fan meets. Group studio sessions. Solo studio sessions. Performances.

With all he and his group members had scheduled, it was out of sheer luck his managers granted the guys one full day of rest before they got to work on promoting their two new albums internationally.

Though being back in the states after such a long time seemed like a vacation, the young rapper had his fill of obligations and you couldn't bring yourself to be upset with him for choosing the first several hours of his rest day with you to be spent sleeping.

Ok, maybe you were a little mad.

Slightly pouty at best. But not at him, only at time and the lack thereof.

He deserved the rest after all.

It was barely noon and the room service you'd ordered for breakfast was surely cold when your boyfriend opened his eyes. You're seated upright in the large bed with the TV remote in hand, channel surfing in silence.

You were freshly showered, smelling like warm sugar and decadently scented body butter, shaved and exfoliated, and primed for a day of making up for the lost time. Considering how tired Changkyun was last night when he and his group members touched down in Florida, you didn't expect him to be actively intimate with you when you went to bed.

When you awoke that next morning, inhaling his warm masculine scent with your face nuzzled in his neck, you didn't mind the stillness or silence. After being separated for so long, it felt like heaven to finally be in his arms.

You were happy to be pressed against him with his leg slotted between yours, causing a teasing friction every time one of you stirred.

He felt so good. His skin was smooth and soft, contrasting his muscles that were firm and toned beneath it.

"G'mornin" Changkyun croaks from beside you, not even lifting his head as he pulled himself from his slumber.

You glance over to find him still smushed against the fluffed pillow with his jet black hair fanning over half of his face. All you can see are his dark pink sleep swollen lips as they moved.

"I smell peaches..." were his next words and you chuckle breathily as you shook your head.

"Good morning." You smirk, resuming your attention to the television only to turn it off. You weren't watching it anyway and you preferred to take advantage of the opportunity to talk. Changkyun groans tiredly as he rolls over on his back, running the palms of his large hands over his face.

"Fuck......how long have I been out?" he grimaced tiredly, leaving only one eye open to adjust to the daylight. You looked over at him fondly for a beat before responding.

"A while." is all you say, sounding much more resentful than you intended. Changkyun tenses at your tone and turns his head towards you with a lazy frown.

"Uh oh...You're mad," he states and you mirror his frown, shaking your head adamantly.

You watched Changkyun rise up from the pillows, shaking his bed head out until his long mane of black silk was falling over his perfect head in the sexiest way. His spine was curved as he sat up, making the lumps of his abs and chest protrude attractively.

Damn...

"No. Why would I be mad?" you respond distractedly.

"Because.......I fell asleep." Changkyun pauses to stretch his arms over his head midsentence.

"You came here straight from the airport babe...after an 18-hour flight." you point out, now leaning against the headboard and shamelessly admiring his body as he woke himself up fully.

After rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, Changkyun lets out a strained sigh before plopping back against his pillow again. You smirk at how he did all of that for nothing.

"And you're obviously still tired so..." you trail off, not even wanting to finish your sentence since it would add insult to injury.

"Nope! I'm up...I'm up... Tired or not, we only have half a day left together.." Changkyun groans tiredly, his words muffled slightly as he rubbed his hands over his face again in an attempt to wipe the sleepiness away.

"Not really. I mean I'll be here for as long as you all are in Miami." you shrug and Changkyun wrinkles his nose in disagreement.

"Yeah but then I'll be too busy or too tired to spend time with you. It'll be more nights like last night. Coming in late and going to bed soon after." he almost whines. The guilt and regret in his tone are enough to make you feel like a turd for showing any signs of disappointment.

He really was working hard and the distance wasn't just hard on you. He missed you too and when this opportunity for you to be together came about, he was more excited than you to board that flight.

"Hey.....I knew what I signed up for. I'll be here for as long as you are. If that means the bulk of our alone time is to be spent in bed, laying together, I'm ok with that." you shrug, actually believing what you were saying for once.

Changkyun squints at you incredulously.

"You sure?"

You nod at him with a soft smirk.

"It can deal with it. One of the few of cons being with you."

At that, Changkyun's eyes widen in offense and amusement.

"Cons??? ....with an 's'? As in plural? More than one?" he asks, his tone climbing with each question. You laughed at his expression and roll your eyes as you moved to get up from the bed.

"Oooh, yea. You think being IM's secret lil girlfriend is a walk in the park?" you toss over your shoulder on your way across the suite. Changkyun sits up just enough to watch your thickly toned legs move as you walked, keying in on the way the shirt you wore barely concealed your ass cheeks beneath it.

"I mean. Not really but..." he murmurs, trailing off and tilting his head to get a different view of your curvaceous body. From up close and under the covers, Changkyun hadn't realized you were basically naked underneath that loosely fit shirt. Well, his loosely fit shirt. One of the many you'd sifted through from his luggage. It was always comforting to have his scent on your skin, even when he was laying next to you.

Knowing now that you were naked made any trace of jet lag or fatigue fade, waking up other parts of him as he watched you venture across the room in the direction of the outlet where your phone was charging.

Your nudity is further confirmed when you bend over thoughtlessly to pick it up, exposing your naked ass and the slit of your lips to him for only a second. As you stand and turn to the side, the shape of your full breasts and nipples poke through the thin fabric, and Changkyun stares shamelessly as you checked for any missed notifications.

God, he loved your body.

Dreamt of it almost every moment he wasn't with you in Korea.

Spent countless nights envisioning it as he stroked himself repeatedly, calling your name as he came in his hand, and doing his best to ignore the heartache he felt once the haze faded.

But now, you weren't just a beautiful part of his imagination.

You were here.

A few seconds pass and you were making your way back to join Changkyun in bed, mindlessly texting away in response to your friends that had been checking in with you since landing in Miami. As you resumed your spot beside him, Changkyun watched you settle back against the pillows with your phone still in hand. He drags his bottom lip between his teeth while you sent your final text, setting the phone aside on the nearby dresser.

You felt his eyes on you immediately and glance over with a smirk.

"What?" you perk your brow. For a moment Changkyun doesn't respond, only dragging his heated gaze over your body appreciatively. His mouth shrugs innocently before laying his head back down against his pillow.

"Oh, nothing...Hey, why is it that every time you move...I suddenly have the strongest craving for peaches....." he asks randomly. You grunt softly in amusement at his question and shake your head.

"You probably just smell me. I took a long shower before you woke up..." you shrug nonchalantly, not expecting Changkyun's interest to be peaked by the small fact.

"Foreal?..come here?"

Without warning, Changkyun reaches out to pull you towards him by the neck. He nuzzles you playfully while inhaling the sweet scent of your clean skin, making you giggle and push back against him.

"Now you know I'm ticklish..." you complain lightly while trying to escape his hold, only encouraging Changkyun to pull you into him tighter and chuckle mischievously against your skin.

His lips were pillow soft on your neck, the tip of his nose brushing just beneath your jawline as he inhaled the soft peaches and cream scent. His new favorite smell on you next to his. His hands held the fabric of his shirt firmly, trapping you against his body as he kissed up and over your jaw until his lips were on yours.

He tasted surprisingly fresh despite having woken up a few minutes ago and you allowed yourself to melt into him with every luscious peck. He sucks at your bottom lip before taking it between his teeth, making you moan at the sting.

He releases it to resume the languid dance between your tongues, sighing in contentment as his hands snuck beneath the shirt covering your body. The moment he touches your bare skin, you flinch in reaction to the chills they inspired as if electricity flowed through his fingers.

He squeezes your hip and allows his grip to travel lower to cup your ass cheek, pushing the shirt higher from your body.

"Take it off.." he whispers against your lips and you immediately comply, pulling away so that you could pull the loose shirt over your head. The moment it's gone, Changkyun's mouth is on you again. Starting at your lips, he pecks them softly before returning to your neck. His hands glided up your waist as he moved to guide you back against the mattress.

You allow him to dominate you gently, sinking into the pillows and opening your legs as he settled between them. The weight of his body is comforting and your hands stroke the skin of his back as his lips traveled downward.

The middle of your throat.

The center of your chest.

Over your left nipple briefly. Then to the right.

As he sucked the pebbled flesh into his mouth, you grind your body against that stiffness in his underwear. He was hard and thicker than you remembered if that were even possible.

You angled your hips in a way that makes the fabric between your bodies seem thinner than air and Changkyun groans with your nipple still caught between his lips. He pulls away to flick his tongue over it a few more times before abandoning it to attend to the annoying shred of clothing blocking him.

He settles between your legs and takes a moment to admire you beneath him. You blush under his gaze, feeling it hover over the swelling pink flesh between your legs.

He wastes no time in scooting down to push them back and smother the heat thar gathered with his mouth and tongue. You gasp on contact, eyes already rolling back at the feeling of Changkyun's tongue sliding sinuous flat licks over your folds.

The warmth of his opened mouth kisses on your clit has you moaning softly to the ceiling and Changkyun digs his fingers into the meat of your thighs as he ate.

His deft tongue plunges inside of you while his thumb rubs rhythmically over your clit, just the way he remembered you loved it. His eyes are on you, watching you bite your lip and screw your eyes shut with the struggle of holding on.

Suddenly, your fuse is blown and in an explosion of colorful language, you came all over Changkyun's waiting tongue. He presses his thumb against the hood of your clit while your walls twitched and pulsed around him, savoring the taste of your climax with a satisfied groan.

You were still panting when he pulled his mouth away from your pussy and the mattress bounces slightly as he sat up on his knees.

The print beneath his shorts was prominent as fuck and Changkyun hurriedly frees himself from its captivity. Your eyes immediately fall on his dick as he pushed his black Balenciaga boxer briefs down his toned thighs.

He's already got you wet and wanting him, legs still spread wide to accommodate his body.

There's an unspoken plea between the two of you and Changkyun responds to it by grasping your thighs and pulling you towards him over the sheets. In the same movement, the tip of his dick slides past your entrance and stretches you well until you're pressed firmly against his pelvis.

From here, he goes in. Mindlessly fucking you like there's no tomorrow. As if all of his frustrations from being away from you, having to love you from a distance, wishing he could be inside of you every night, were all being channeled through him.

Boosting his stamina.

Feeding his need to make you call his name.

Which you did. Over and over as he drove your body back up to the head of the bed.

You felt so good. Warm and wet. Tight and welcoming. It was like you were made for him and the distance hadn't affected a thing. Muscle memory molded you around his thick shaft and you took every inch of him like you were designed to do. His forehead was pressed against yours, noses touching and mouths agape as his rhythm hastened. Your walls were clenching at his pressure hungrily and your voice was reduced to barely audible yelps.

Your body trembled endlessly as you reached your climax and Changkyun smiled wolfishly against your parted lips.

"Yep, that's it. Gimme that shit, baby. Let it go.." he coaxed and praised you through the mind-numbing orgasm he rewarded you with. He continues pounding into you until tears pooled from your eyes and you weren't sure if you'd cum again from the sheer overstimulation.

All you knew was that everything he did, every move and rasped word he spoke, he was pushing you higher than you ever thought you could go.

Holding you close, Changkyun rolled his hips into you feverishly until he was stalling out. An unbearably sexy groan escapes his lips when he came deep inside of you and you took every drop of him with pleasure, squeezing him as he stroked you to his completion.

"Fuuuuck, I missed you...I missed you so much.." his husky deep voice whispers lovingly in your ear and you moan softly in response as he pressed himself deep inside of you for emphasis.

"I love you...fuck, I love you..." he continued, his voice almost breaking with the known profession. As he comes down with his face buried in your neck, Changkyun plants a series of lazy wet kisses over your sweat-coated skin.

When his teeth graze that same ticklish spot, you giggle and shy away from him. He grumbles in protest but promptly ceases his tease to rest his head on the pillow you shared.

He remains inside of you, his body weight nearly smothering you. But you didn't care.

Because being with him in any way felt like heaven.

And you were happy to die...

*sigh* hes so FFFFFFFFFOYNE

#monsta x smut #changkyun #changkyun smut #jooheon #wonho #hyungwon #kihyun #minhyuk #shownu #hyunwoo

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bangjiazheng · 1 month ago

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Today evening (01.11.2024 23.55 ) I logged into 【tumblr】 in the evening.(5th)

Today evening (01.11.2024 23.55 ) I logged into 【tumblr】 in the evening.(5th) This is today's my 5th log into【tumblr】(Nearly this time(almost at the same time),I also login in facebook too.)

This evening,I am learning Czech language,Happy Happy!!!!

This evening,I am Seriously And Happily learning Czech language(Note:????…………Meow~????………………Happy Happy!!!!!!!!!!),Very Happy Very Happy!!!! I am seriously and happily learning each word's 【Declensions】,Very Challenge,But Very Happy!!!! Because【Declensions】always makes【The Same Word】become 【Different Words】，Always make me (????…………Meow~??????………………) I am trying my best,Using up all my physical energy,Serious And Happy learning【Declensions】. I will certainly be improving.I will certainly find out 【The Same Word】of 【Declensions】. I learning Czech language,Absolutely Serious,Absolutely Happy!!!!!!

When I am learning Czech language Very Seriously,I am Very Happy!!!! Learning Czech Language,Happy Happy!!!!!!

After seriously and happily learning Czech language,I used up many physical energy,I feeling tired………… I am a good man,I am not a lazy man.I learning Czech language Very Serious,Very Happy!!!! I am focus on learning Czech language,But,Used up many physical energy,Must need to recover……………… After serious and happy recording,I will go to bed Happily,Listening Czech language sleeping Happily…………Very Happy Very Happy!!!!!!

Now,I have checked 2 alarm clocks………………(I hope to get up on time 05.45,…………Meow~!!!!………………) Specially the double-bell alarm clock,It always need to be checked,tested, and adjusted…………Very Troublesome……………… Recently,I consider change bigger capacity battery,And their recharging time will shorter. But,Changing bettery need more test………… I will do more test about alarm clocks and batteries.(…………Meow~…………)

Today morning,noon,afternoon,evening,Where I live,Raining,Very Comfortable.But,The air in room is humid.

This morning,noon,afternoon,evening,I am learning Czech language,Very Happy!!!!!! Althrough the【declensions】are Very Difficulty,But they are Very Happy!!!!!!!!!! Learning Czech Language,Very Happy Very Happy Very Happy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am learning【B1 textbook】【Lesson 12】in depth, Very Serious,Very Happy!!!! The theme of 【Lesson 12】 is 【 Culture And Art】,I am very familiar and interesting in it. Very Meaningful And Very Happy!!!! Learning Czech language is Very Happy!!!!!! Very Happy Very Happy!!!!!!

Today morning,noon,afternoon,evening, When I am learning Czech language(and doing houseworks),I found that I am Very Happy!!!!Very Happy Very Happy!!!!!!Very Very Happy Happy!!!!!!!(Happing~,Happing~!!!!!!!!!!………………) Why am I so happy learning Czech language???? Because: I Love Life!!!! I Love Czech Language!!!! I Love Learning Czech Language!!!!!!Learning Czech Language,I am Very Happy Very Happy!!!!!!!!!!………………As Happy As Learning The Universe!!!!!!!!!!!………………Happing~ Happing~!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!…………………………Happy Meowing~!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!……………………………………(Note: As Happy As A Middle-Aged Big Good Meow,Happy Happy!!!!)…………………………………………

I Love Czech Language!!!! I Love Learning Czech Language!!!!!!Very Happy Vey Happy!!!!!!!!!!Very Very Happy Happy!!!!!!!!!!!…………Happing~,Happing~!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!…………………… Learning Czech Language, Very Seriously And Very Happily!!!!!!!,Very Happy Very Happy Very Happy!!!!!!!!!!………………Happing~ Happing~!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!……………………………………

I am learning Czech language Very Seriously,Very Happy!!!! Learning Czech Language,The Happiest The Happiest!!!!!!

Now,I am learning Czech language,Very Happy,Very Happy!!!! And,After doing houseworks,I will continue learning Czech language,Happy Happy!!!! The Happnesses of my learning Czech language couldn't describe in any words,Because Too Happy!!!!!! Very Happy Very Happy Very Happy!!!!!!!!!!Happing~,Happing~!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!………………………………Happy Meowing~!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!………………………………………………………………(Note: As Happy As A Middle-Aged Big Good Meow,Happy Happy!!!!)………………………………………………

After serious and happy recording,I will go to bed,listening Czech language sleeping Happily.Very Happy!!!! I learning Czech language Very Seriously,Using up a lot of physical energy………………Very Happy Very Happy!!!!!!

Now,I seriously and carefully set 2 alarm clocks all at 05.45.Happy Happy!!!! Tomorrow morning(Today morning…………Meow~…………),I will get up on time,Continue learning Czech language Seriously And Happily!!!! Learning Czech Language,Very Happy Very Happy!!!!!!

Happy Halloween!!!! Happy Meowing~!!!!!!

Bangjia Zheng I Learning Czech Language,Very Happy Very Happy!!!!!!!!!!

01.11.2024 23.55

#Learning Czech Language #The Happiest The Happiest!!!!#I Love Czech Language!!!!#I Love Learning Czech Language!!!!!!#Very Happy Vey Happy!!!!!!!!!!#Very Very Happy Happy!!!!!!!!!!!…………#Very Happy #Very Happy Very Happy #Very Happy Very Happy Very Happy #Very Very Happy Happy #Very Very Very Happy Happy Happy #Sharing The Happinesses #Happy #Happy Happy #Happy Happy Happy #Bangjia Zheng #01.11.2024 23.55

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 1 year ago

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There's Nothing I Wouldn't Do

Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia x Nadia Garcia (OC)

A/N: I wrote this to go along with a series being written by mayhemmanaged and cassmitchell called Gunpowder & Lead! Update as of 01/31/2024: This story is no longer connected to anything being written by the two accounts mentioned above. They are reworking this story. This is MY HARD WORK AND EFFORT and I will not be deleting it just because this character is no longer included in their story.

The character of Attie Blake is @dakotakazansky's. Fern belongs to @desert-fern. Obviously all of the Daggers are the property of Paramount. The only characters who are mine are Nadia 'Nova' Garcia and Alex.

Disclaimers:Female!Reader, and all the warnings below!

Warnings: Abuse, Recovery from Abuse, Assault

As a reminder, everyone’s experiences are different. Everyone’s experiences are valid. This is a fictional story.

My Masterlist

It’s just past noon on a sleepy Wednesday in Austin, Texas. The afternoon sun beats hot against my face. I grab onto the hood shrouding my features and tug it up a bit higher to make sure nobody can see me. You see, I’m not supposed to be here. The only reason why I am is the baby boy in the carrier strapped to my front. Alex. My son and the only good thing I have in my life.

So why am I standing in front of a tiny flower shop named Hera's Orchard in one of Austin’s winding streets of small businesses with my baby in my arms and everything important to me in a bag at my side? There's a rumor, a rumor floating around on the dark web talking about this place. Rumor says that if you walk in and ask if they have any asphodel in the back, they'll help you, no questions asked.

I inhale deeply, trying to breathe despite my bruised, aching ribs and broken nose. I have to do this. For Alex, there's nothing I wouldn't do. I can take any and everything Arthur, my husband, lays on me. But the minute he turned his hand on our son, I'd had enough. The bruised ribs and broken nose, they're what I'd gotten for standing in his way. They're also the final straw. The tiny bell above the door jingles and as I walk in, the humid air stinks of soil and the heady perfume of the thousands of blooming flowers lining the walls. I feel a little bit like I've walked into a jungle. But automatically, instantly, it feels a bit easier to breathe.

Alex seems to like being in Hera's Orchard too, his chubby little hands grasping for the bright colors he can see even as his big eyes go wide at the onslaught of new sensations. I cuddle him closer, kissing his downy head before boldly forging my way to the counter I can see in the back.

There's a sign on the petal strewn countertop, proclaiming, "Ring the Bell for Service! Someone will be out shortly!" Right beside the sign is a bronze bell, like the kind they have on hotel concierge counters. I press it just once, and then have to drag a few petals from Alex's little fingers. If I hadn't caught them, they would've gone right into his mouth.

"Buddy. Alex! No, honey. Those do not go in your mouth." My son is ever vocal, babbling very seriously back at me. I'm having an oh, so serious conversation with my baby when an amused mock cough catches my attention. While I was conversing with Alex, someone walked out from the back and came to stand behind the counter.

She's beautiful, her shoulder length brown hair is tied up into a knot at the back of her head and green eyes bore right through me. She's small and slight, but when she folds her arms across her chest, the muscles bulge with hidden strength.

"Hi, welcome to Hera's Orchard. I'm Fern, how can I help you today?" I can't hide my nerves as I slide the hood off, finally revealing my face to Fern. Her piercing eyes soften, seeing the bruises rising up vividly across my face.

"Hi, Fern. I'm Nadia," I make Alex wave with his little hand, "and this little guy is Alex. I read online that you just got a shipment of some rare asphodels into the store? I was hoping to purchase one as a gift." My throat is dry as I catalog the expression on her face. Fern's serious and stern. The sweet, slightly goofy grin she'd leveled at Alex just moments before is gone.

"Come with me." I grab my bag and follow her into the back. "Hey Charlie! Can you take over in the front? I've got a consult on a custom flower arrangement here!"

Charlie, a teenage boy, thin and gangly with the wildest curls I’ve ever seen, levels Fern with a lovestruck expression before walking out to man the counter. I know what he's so struck by. Have you ever been in a room with someone and been captivated by them? That's Fern's energy, from head to toe. I follow her into a small, plant covered office. Just as we sit down, Alex begins whimpering and gumming at my fingers.

"Sorry, he's hungry. D'you mind if I nurse him while we chat?" I can't believe I'm asking a stranger this question. Arthur would cut me down on the spot if he knew. Per his rules, babies are to be bottle fed only when other people are present.

"Of course. Feed the little guy. Take your time. I take my custom arrangement consultations very seriously." Her smile is soft as I situate Alex at my breast, heaving in as deep a breath as I am able as he begins to nurse hungrily.

"Now that he's eating, do you want to tell me a little bit about the person you'd like to gift this special arrangement to?" Fern's got a little sketchpad in front of her and she begins to sketch bloom after bright bloom as I explain what I'm looking for.

"So, you're looking for an arrangement that is subtle and beautiful to gift your husband?" There's something dangerous in Fern's eyes as she uses a knife to cut the sketch free and hand it to me.

"Yes.” I trace over the thin wispy lines of the sketch, before murmuring, “This is beautiful. How soon can you have it ready?"

I can't believe I'm doing this. Can I poison my husband? That’s the catch about Hera’s Orchard. It is a flower shop, one that has rave reviews and an ever growing list of clientele, but it’s true clientele is a bit shadier than housewives who want a fresh bouquet for their dinner table. ‘Asphodel’ is the key word in those situations.

"Come with me." Rather than answer my question, she leads me to a small doorway in the back of the shop. She unlocks it with a key and grabs my bag. With Alex in my arms, I walk through the door, pausing only so Fern can latch the door behind us. Fern stops at the end of the passageway, knocking on the door. A small window opens, looking us over before the door opens and we're let through.

"This, Nadia, is the Underworld. This is Persephone and Songbird. They run this place and are my closest friends." The women I see arrayed before me are beautiful and strong. Are they the salvation I've been looking for? Can they save Alex, and by extension me, from more suffering?

"Hey, Bruiser!" It's Persephone, her tone musical even as she wiggles her fingers at Alex. "What's up, Buttercup?"

"Seriously, Seph?" Fern's disgust at the nickname is palpable but I can tell it's a play at disgust more than the real deal. "This is Nadia Wilson. She walked into the Orchard looking for an asphodel."

Those seem to be the magic words. Before I can blink, I'm pulled to a table with Fern on my right and both of the other women in the room seated before me.

"I'm Persephone," Her voice is soft as she looks at me with Alex snoozing in his baby bjorn after his lunch. "Bruiser mentioned that you needed some help?"

At my confused look, she's quick to assure me, "Hey, you can talk openly here. We've got the entire Underworld locked down. Nothing leaves this room. I can assure you of that fact. We got the best hacker we know to build our anti surveillance gear."

As much as that intrigues me, if only because I just built an anti-surveillance setup myself, I desperately need their help more. So I let the whole tale spill. How I emigrated to Texas as a young girl and taught myself how to code. How I'd fallen in love with the green beauty of the city and the hills surrounding it. But sadly that wasn’t all I’d fallen in love with. Arthur Wilson had swept me off of my feet. He seemed like a gorgeous man who had money and seemed to adore everything about me. So I hadn't hesitated when he asked me to marry him.

"Alex," you explain to the women, "is the only reason why I’ve stayed in my marriage for as long as I have."

My breathing is ragged as I stare at the wall behind their heads. "Arthur, my husband, has hated Alex since before he was born. My husband hated how my body changed with the baby. He hates how I'm not back to my pre-baby weight or body type yet. So he takes it out on me."

"At first it was just with his words. A probing comment here, a harsh word there. Then he started hitting me. I worked so damn hard to lose weight, to go back to what I looked like before, and it still wasn't enough. He's been hitting me more and more frequently."

"Then to top it all off, there is something else too. He's been cheating on me, I know he has. I've found red hairs on his clothes and he stinks of a perfume that's not what he buys me and insists I wear. But I could stand all of that. Last night, he tried to hit Alex. He's only three months old!" Your voice breaks and a tear slips down your cheek as you sob the words out. "He's just a baby, after all. Babies cry!"

"I can't let him hurt my baby. I can't live like this. Not anymore. Please help me. Please." My broken tones echo in the room around me as I make pleading eye contact with Persephone and Songbird in turn.

"Of course we'll help you, sweetheart! We're the Furies. It's what we do." I can't help my sobs as I let myself fall apart at their words.

3 weeks later

I wasn’t sure what to expect as the outcome from that first meeting at the Underworld, not at all. But whatever it was, it definitely wasn’t this. It’s 3 AM and red and blue lights blanket the front lawn of the suburban home I shared with my husband up until a few hours ago. That’s when I’d come downstairs with Alex in my arms and found Arthur and his newest side-piece, the red-head whose hairs I’d noticed on his suits, dead on the lounge chair in his study in various stages of undress. Like any dutiful wife, I’d screamed until our housekeeper found me and stayed by her side until the police arrived.

My pain and fear are all too real. Since I met with Persephone, Songbird, and Bruiser, it seems like Arthur turned all of his attention on me. I’ve been under a microscope ever since. He’s added a potentially broken wrist, two black eyes and a twisted ankle to the broken nose and bruised ribs I had the day I’d left Hera’s Orchard with a gorgeous flower arrangement under my arm. So the tears I cry as I clutch Alex to my chest in front of the sweetest Police Sergeant I’ve ever met are real. His face has been continually distressed since he first found me and I can’t believe how good he makes me feel.

“Sergeant Mickey Garcia,” he’d said, smiling at me as I tried to settle Alex from when the baby had been startled awake at the sirens of what seemed like the entirety of the Austin Police Department spilled onto our front lawn. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

I’d stammered back my own greetings and let him lead me into the kitchen.

“C-can you tell me what happened?” He’d blushed crimson when I tried nursing Alex to get him to settle down. His face had only grown more and more serious the more I spoke. I found myself spilling the entire tale to him, captivated by the curls spilling over his forehead.

“Sergeant Garcia,” his superior, a man with arresting green eyes and dark blonde hair calls Mickey over to him. All night I’ve been getting appraising looks from the men of APD. Either I look like shit with a squalling baby in my arms or they’re trying to figure out if I have the courage to turn black widow on one of the Police Department’s biggest donors. I do, but they won’t ever know. I look like a beaten down, broken woman, but I’m far from it. I’m a professional woman. I build custom computers and security protocols for corporations around the world. It’s my true passion and calling, one which Arthur had never cared to know about.

As Mickey briefs his superiors, the looks I get go from being evaluating to pitying. I know I look a sight, bruises turning blue and green on my tan skin and with bags so dark under my eyes they’re purple. Add to that my pajamas, bedhead, and a squalling baby and I’ve successfully slipped under APD’s radar. They’re sure to have pulled the security footage, the footage my paranoid husband always had recording, by now, the footage which shows me asleep in my bed or sleep-walking to Alex’s room when my collicky baby wakes me up in the middle of the night. Alex is a sleeping weight against my chest before Sergeant Garcia walks back to me.

“We’re going to get you into an ambulance Mrs.Wilson and get you and Alex to the hospital and check out. If you’d like, we can call someone to come stay with you while you’re there and who can take care of Alex while we wait?” His voice sounds like sex and smoke. Were I not so recently a widow and not so injured to boot, I would have jumped him on the spot.

“Yes, I have someone I can call. I’d like to change and grab a bag for Alex if I can first though?” At his nod, I limp my way upstairs, putting together a bag for Alex before handing the Sergeant both the bag and Alex at his insistence. Arthur never once held Alex like that. When I step out of the bedroom in a pair of jeans and t-shirt, Alex is happily drooling against Sergeant Garcia’s chest and he looks too comfortable for this to be the first time he’s holding a baby.

“Wow.” My voice is quiet. “This is not the first time you’ve held a baby, is it Sergeant?”

His chuckle is bashful and shy. “No, actually. My sister in Miami has three kids. I’ve held them all.”

“D’you have any babies of your own, Sergeant?” I don’t know why I’m asking that question, not now of all times.

“No, I don’t. But I’ve always wanted to.” He clears his throat before helping you into the ambulance and handing Alex to you. “Now let’s get you in touch with who you wanted to call. Who’d you like to call?”

My voice is all fire as I say, “Attie Blake. She’s a friend and my lawyer.”

4 months later

Arthur’s sister and mother had put up a perfunctory fuss when they found out he was dead, accusing me of murdering him and any other depraved things that came to his mind. They even tried to sue me. But even their high paid team of lawyers couldn’t stand up to Atlas Blake. With Attie’s help, I managed to win the case and secure all of Arthur Wilson’s fortune into a trust fund for his son. Mickey’s been by my side ever since as well. It was almost too easy to fall in love with him. Especially when I saw how easy it was for him to accept Alex as a part of the package deal. Mickey helped me scope out the location so I could buy the small shop near Hera’s Orchard which I made into a net-cafe and officially introduced me to Birdie Floyd and Emory Seresin, who I only knew so far as Songbird and Persephone.

Since then, my life has never been better. The Furies are the closest friends I have, and the shop, named Daedalus’ Automata, is the perfect place for me to do my thing. What’s my thing, you ask? Before my marriage, before Arthur demanded a trophy wife, I was in cyber security. Give me any network and a computer and I could tell you how secure the network is and at least four ways that I could make it better. I also make custom computers and anti-surveillance hardware. It’s how I continued making money under Arthur’s nose. Now, it’s how I’ve been paying back the Furies for helping me. I keep any mentions of the Furies out of the internet and away from the Task Force’s attention. The best part is how Mickey doesn’t care when I come home smelling like grease with Alex in my arms. How I wish I’d met Miguel Garcia first.

It’s late when I stagger through the front door late on a Friday night. It’s date night and I’m so late that I’m sure any excuses I have will be flimsy at best. Mickey had grabbed Alex from Daedalus when he got off of his shift, so I don’t have the baby with me when I walk through the door. The entire house is filled with the most delicious scent, and as I look at my watch, I know I’m at least an hour late for dinner.

“Mickey?” My voice is soft as I toe my shoes off and walk through the house. “I’m sorry I’m late, vida. I had this absolute wreck of a computer get dropped off for repairs.” In part that’s true, I did have a wreck of a computer dropped off for repairs. But that’s not why I’m late. The Furies were running an op tonight, one for which I was on comms, making sure my girls were safe as they were running around doing what they do best. I walk through the kitchen, my heart dropping at the sight of the candles on the dining table, the wax nearly melted away.

“Mickey?” My voice drops to a whisper when I walk into the study and see all of my computer screens fired up, filling the entire room with their cool blue light. On the screen flash three dossiers, my own, Fern’s and Ranger’s in addition to the blueprints for the facility we hit tonight. It was a strict information gathering op, but so important. How could I have been so stupid that I hadn’t locked that information down before I left this morning?

“I think you’ve got some explaining to do, amor.” I’ve never heard Mickey sound so serious. “I love you, and I promise I’m not angry, just worried. Tell me what’s going on.”

I can’t resist melting into his embrace, inhaling the musky warm scent of his cologne as he squeezes me tight.

“I love you, Miguel. I just need to have you sign something first. Then I promise I’ll tell you everything.” Then I reach for my phone and speed dial Attie.

“Hey Attie, I’m going to need an NDA here.” I can’t help looking at Mickey over the next half an hour we wait in the kitchen. I’m puttering around nervously, barely able to stomach the stew Mickey made while I finished up at the shop. Mickey’s not much better. He eats too, but he keeps stealing these searching glances of me, and the tension enveloping our small kitchen is nearly too much to bear. He tries to speak a few times but each time, stops short. I can’t help wondering what this means for us, for Alex who already has heard us both refer to Mickey as dad or daddy.

It’s the doorbell ringing which startles me out of the pensive way I’ve been glancing into Mickey’s eyes. It’s Attie at the door with Bradley right behind her.

“Hey Nova.” She’s smiling, which should provide me with a sense of relief. But I can’t help the dread pooling in my gut or the bad portents which my mind is constantly bombarding me with.

“Hey, Attie. C’mon in.” I hug her for a few minutes before leading her and her six-foot shadow into our kitchen.

“Hey, Roos.” Mickey sounds exhausted and I can’t believe it’s because of me. “So you’ve been read into what the girls are doing too?”

It breaks your heart when he folds into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and runs his fingers through his curls.

“How bad is it, Bradshaw?” At Bradley’s lack of response, I can see Mickey’s jaw tighten and worry cloud his features even more.

“It’s alright, Mickey.” It’s Attie who takes control of the situation. “Read over this, sign it, and then Nova and I will tell you what’s going on.”

Mickey gives the document a cursory look over, scrawling his signature where required before pushing it to Attie and leveling me with one of his intense panty dropping looks. It’s with my heart in my throat that I let the whole tale of my introduction and involvement in the Furies spill. Anger glints in his eyes as I finish.

“I need a drink. Whiskey, Roos?” He can’t even look at me. I understand needing a bit to process, but Mickey’s never processed like this before. Please let him understand. Please let this not be the end. I share a scared look with Attie before standing to grab a tumblr for her, too. I don’t drink, not a drop, and while I’ve never minded Mickey or our friends drinking, tonight the sight of the alcohol slipping down his throat just fills me with dread. Maybe it’s residual PTSD from Arthur, who’d beat me if he got too drunk, but it’s just as likely to be the tense situation I’ve found myself in.

“So where do we go from here?” Mickey’s looking right at me as he says the words. “I know you know this, amor, but I’m on the task force hell bent on finding Persephone and the Furies. To stop them. How can I protect my family? The woman I love, the woman I wanted to ask to marry me tonight, when she’s on the other side of the work I’ve devoted my life to?”

My smile is tremulous as I launch myself into his arms. Relief floods my veins, maybe this isn’t the end!

“You wanted me to marry you, Miguel?” I can’t hide my sobs as I bury myself into his skin. His arms are strong and secure as they automatically wrap around me.

“Course, amor. I’ve wanted to ask you to marry me since the day I met you.” I can’t help the clumsy, salty, kiss I press to his lips. “I’ve wanted you and Alex from first sight. This doesn’t change anything, not between you and me. It’s going to change everything at work, though.”

I get lost kissing Mickey for several more long moments, until the baby monitor on the counter chirps, spilling Alex’s cries into the room.

“I’ll get him,” I murmur in Mickey’s ear. “Attie will join me. Talk to Bradley, vida. He knows, so does Bob.”

Attie’s a silent shadow behind me as we walk into the nursery and I change the baby’s diaper.

“It’s going to be okay, Nov. The entirety of Mickey’s loyalty is with you and this little guy. They’ll figure out a way to keep us safe. And we’ll do our part to keep them safe too.”

Mickey looks relieved when I walk downstairs once Alex is back to sleep. It’s looking at his face and the home that we’ve made together that I make a vow I’ll keep if it’s the last thing I do. I’ll protect my fiancé, protect his friends and protect our son. If someone finds out about the Furies, it won’t be because of me. Nobody I love will ever get hurt again, not if I can stop them.

It’s that righteous vision that fills my veins when Mickey and I get married in a small courthouse ceremony a few weeks later surrounded by our friends. It’s a hurried engagement, but necessary, especially since spousal immunity can only help when in our situation. He adopts Alex too. Attie checked, Mickey adopting Alex does not void the Wilson trust fund. Things seem to smooth between Mickey and I. Our two week honeymoon in Miami is the most fun I’ve ever had in my life. Not to mention, the most time I’ve spent naked in one stretch. Mickey didn’t let me out of bed for the first 48 hours we were there.

When we get back, life sinks into its own balanced pace. My new normal, punctuated by the gorgeous solitaire diamond on my left ring finger, is full of promise. But as things pick up and I start hearing more and more about a new king-pin taking over Austin, the more I worry about what’s to come. But I’m able to put my worries aside for the most part, staying vigilant. I do what I can to help the cause, sending the young boys and girls who need help to Cora’s Bakery down the street for pomegranate scones. After all, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and that’s all of us. It’s why we do what we do.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@dakotakazansky @cherrycola27 @thedroneranger @desert-fern @sarahsmi13s @hisredheadedgoddess28 @roosters-girl @roostette @bobby-r2d2-floyd @footprintsinthesxnd @genius2050 @angelbabyange @djs8891

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #controlled chaos squad #dagger au #mm gunpowder & lead #cm gunpowder & lead #mama may and birdie create mayhem #mickey fanboy garcia x oc #fanboy x oc #mickey garcia x oc #i hope you love this one #i had so much fun writing it #nadia garcia

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beneath-the-irish-sky · 2 years ago

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May 28th - 30th

My day started at about 10 a.m. and I had plans to grab coffee with the group at 12 p.m. on May 28th. I had time to do some research and explore what I would like to do in my free time on the weekdays! I am so excited to be here! I love traveling, and one of my primary goals is to travel to every continent one day! In fact, I am heading to Amsterdam in the Netherlands this weekend for an adventure. I will write all about it when I return.

My teacher asked us yesterday what we were most surprised by, and I would have to say it is how green it is here. Yes, I know Ireland is known to be green, but it is still such a contrast from Phoenix, AZ. It is such a lively and vibrant green!

As anticipated, we met up at noon and walked about 15 minutes off campus. We walked through a small neighborhood and got to see what the neighborhoods of Dublin look like. When we arrived at the cafe, they informed us that we had to bring our own cups!

When we asked the cashier why, she said that it was for environmental purposes and that it is not widespread. Reducing waste is a smart idea and they have a lot of foot traffic, so it is working. We luckily found a store nearby that sold plastic cups and now we know to bring ours back for a refill.

We then joined our teacher and their family for our historical walk of Dublin! It was very interesting to learn the history and I am excited for tomorrow's lecture to further deep dive into it. I really enjoyed learning about the name Dublin and how it originated. Dublin means Blackpool, which got its name from the Vikings when they used to dock their ships in front of a castle (picture 6) in the dark waters. Hence, the black pool of water. We then walked past famous places like the Temple Bar (pictures 3, 4, & 5), known for its lively atmosphere, tourists and drinks. As we passed by the

Bank of Ireland, I learned it used to be the Parliament Building (pictures 1 & 2).

We then had a small course (learn while relaxing) overview while eating at St Stephens Green Park. It was gorgeous there! historical park and garden, located in the center of Dublin city. There is something for everyone to do there including those who are visually impaired. They take great care to be inclusive and kind. I would compare it to a miniature Central Park.

We then went back to the rooms for a while (pictures 7 & 8). I have been making friends and planning excursions with several other students. We learned Harry Styles is touring Europe and found that he will be playing at the Slane Castle outside of Dublin. How awesome is that! The concert is scheduled to last about 8 hours with 3 bands playing. Two of us booked tickets right away to the now sold-out concert on June 10th. Our section is so close to the stage. It will be an iconic kind of experience! Anything outside of Dublin proper requires planned transportation. The Slane Castle is in a rural area and about two hours away. Ireland does not have Uber or Lyft. We would have to find a bus route and purchase tickets in advance or take a taxi which could get costly and might not be there at the end of the night. We decided to go with a bus, and we are now looking for the right outfits to wear. In Ireland, you have to layer and plan for rain, cold, humidity or just a sunny day. Makes planning a bit challenging but I am up for it.

I am so excited to go and am so grateful for all the opportunities I have had on this trip. I ended my day with our group going out to a restaurant near where we got coffee that morning. I loved the atmosphere in it because it felt so welcoming.

I woke up a little later on May 29th because my class did not start until noon. We have a class on Irish history today and are learning how to navigate campus later on. I arrived at my class and attended the hour lecture that took a further deep dive into what we learned yesterday during the walking tour. It was really cool to recognize the sites that the instructor was lecturing about.

We had a break before we had to meet up for the class again to take a tour of the University College of Dublin (UCD) campus. During the break, we got food at the Centra, a convenience store that is located right by our room. We rejoined the group and met our tour guide for campus the session. This session was fascinating because not only is the Campus beautiful (pictures 9 & 10) but because I have begun to become good friends with everyone on this trip and everyone is so nice here. They are a perfect addition to this experience. We are all having a good time joking around with the tour guide and really immersing ourselves in the culture and information the guide is sharing.

After the tour, we decided to head back into the Dublin city center to get souvenirs and other things that people had forgotten to pack. We went into a store called Penny’s which is similar to a Target. We tried on clothes and quickly discovered that sizes are completely different here! Generally, about two sizes too big! I was pleased with the prices however because I bought a pair of good quality jeans for 10 Euros. After shopping, we stopped at McDonald's to see if it was any different than it is in the States or other countries I have visited. It was odd because this McDonald's was heavily guarded with security that would not allow you to go to the upstairs section without proof of purchase. I also interacted with more Irish locals while standing in line and waiting for food. I met a group of young girls who were talking to me about school and what I should do in Dublin before I leave. I think that it is really awesome how people will strike up conversations with you and are willing to help no matter if they know you or not.

We soon headed back to our dorm and decided to start looking into flights to Scotland for our free weekend the third in. We were surprised by how cheap the flights were compared to the prices to go to Amsterdam and how much there is to do in Center City Eidenberg. The research was behind us now and we are still a bit jet lagged, though, I ended up staying up until about 1:30 in the morning before I finally fell asleep. An 8 hour time difference will do that.

We had to wake up early on the morning of May 30th because we had class at 9 a.m. I met up with the rest of the group, and we all walked over to our classroom at about 8:45 a.m. where we attended a two-hour lecture that taught us about the Irish language (Gaelic) and how to speak a few common phrases. It was extremely difficult! I did not know that they had three different dialects and that there are many ways to say the same word or phrase. At the end of it, I only remembered how to say my name and how to hold up a very small conversation. Very small. For instance, please is translated to "le do thoil" and thank you is "go raibh maith agat". I just hope everyone speaks english on this trip...

I really liked taking this class with this group because we all felt very unified. No one made fun of others for not understanding how to say something, nor did we make anyone feel bad for messing up. We were all very supportive and wanted the best for each other.

After the class, we had another long break where I went back to my dorm and realized that I locked myself out! I had to go get a temporary key from the front desk before running back up and getting my stuff to go to Kilmainham Gaol (picture 11).

Kilmainham Gaol is a prison for thousands of men, women and children for minor offenses to the political uprising voices, and those who fought in battle. It is now a national monument and tells stories from those who lived out their sentences there. It was a very long bus ride and a very long walk to get there, but it was so worth it! Being able to see the place where many people in the rebellion were executed and lived out their final days was a very impactful experience that I'll never forget (picture 12 & 13).

While on this tour, I have noticed that every instructor or tour guide that we have had thus far has been very detailed and passionate about the topics they're talking about. They genuinely are so excited to teach you about their culture and about their history. I have also noticed that they are very proud of their country and where they come from! It has made for a very enlightening and fun experience.

We traveled back to our dorms and I worked on some homework that I had for class the next day. When I was done, I met up with the group to book our flights to Scotland and to look into where we will be staying. We are really getting to know each other better! I cannot wait to see the rest of the country and to explore its neighboring countries in the upcoming weeks!

Thank you again if you're reading, and I hope you have enjoyed this Blog and pictures!

#ireland #europe #study abroad

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battleangel · 1 year ago

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Who Cares About a Bunch of Dead Black & Brown People?

"Canadian wildfires" from this summer, if you remember them, were a "100 wildfires that started simultaneously in Canada". Yeah, okay.

Yet, if you recall, all the videos on the news and social media were of the smoke that completely filled and covered the sky on the east coast of the U.S. like a literal alien attack movie, like ID4.

People on social media reported seeing mushroom clouds and bombs being tested in NYC.

This is because the government was testing alien weaponry including bombs.

Right after the "Canadian wildfires", a former CIA director admitted in a Congressional hearing that "non-human remains" aka alien remains had been found by the government for years.

During this time this past summer, record levels of air pollution and toxicity were reported on the east coast as well as record humidity.

Yes, due to climate change but also due to government testing of confiscated alien weaponry and bombs that polluted the air and created unheard of levels of humidity.

Climate change has been known for decades and yet nothing real has been done about capitalism which drives every aspect of climate change, from the destruction of the rainforest by fast food conglomerates, to greenhouse gas emissions fueled by the auto industry, factory farming practices responsible for ethane from animal feces which is a huge climate change contributor plus all the millions of gallons of water required, drilling for oil, oil spills, oceanic pollution from non-biodegradable trash that ends up in the ocean, endless Amazon warehouses, endless SHEIN & Amazon landfills, air conditioning house at 70 degrees at all times, endless cars clogging the highway all rushing to nowhere to sit in traffic to waste the day away inside in a building wasting your life away for a paycheck & benefits, emitting pollutants out of your exhaust pipe smoke smog killing the environment depleting the ozone layer creating smog difficult to breathe, dirty machines belching smoke and gas on concrete highways to hell.

Yet noone does anything about rampant overconsumption, wastefulness, mindless spending, mindless buying, keeping up with the joneses, wasting money at IKEA, buying furniture to impress guests that never even come over, consumerism, materialism, oversized portions of food at restaurants, fast fashion worn today thrown in a landfill tomorrow, private jets killing the environment flying to nowhere for nothing, drones delivering Amazon packages that nobody needed in a day much less an hour and nobody does anything but to demand Amazon Prime deliveries in half an hour and Elon Musk is colonizing Mars and Bezos is flying rich wypipo to the moon.

This weekend, IGN via Bloomberg reported 50k year old zombie viruses being released due to climate change causing Siberian glaciers to melt.

Government wants disabled, immunocompromised, elderly, lower income black and brown people gone. As many as possible.

Whoever else dies is just collateral damage.

Why?

Because by 2030, white people will become the minority in the US if current birthing trends continue and they will be replaced with blacks and hispanics making up the majority as their birth rates are much higher than white peoples especially amongst hispanics.

The elites are using the government to do whatever it can to reduce and delay this trend before white people become the minority in the US.

The government also wants to reduce Medicaid and Medicare enrollment as well as the money spent on these programs and what better way to do that than weaponizing viruses (COVID & 50k year old "zombie" viruses) via policies to kill off lower income food service, fast food and big box retail employees, people living in inner cities, disabled and the elderly, the majority of whom are black and hispanic?

Look at Beyonces and Taylor Swifts concerts over the summer, all the crowds and unmasking despite an increase in COVID cases, mutated COVID cases and long COVID cases with severe health consequences including extended hospitalizations and lung damage.

Why did noone care that this COVID resurgence was happening alongside the Eras and Renaissance tours with literally over a million people in attendance, extremely large crowds gathering with a real chance of concert attendees infecting one other?

Because, as we saw with George Floyd and the temporary black squares on Instagram, once the performative virtue signaling stage of COVID was over, nobody gave a fuck anymore and the elites know most people dont really gaf about poor, disabled, elderly black & brown people so the new COVID mantra became "stay tf inside if youre vulnerable, I aint wearing a mask to Eras or Renaissance cuz I look tew cute".

They correctly surmised people were o-v-a-h it and most had been summoned back to their wage slave 9 to 5 life of drudgery so they knew people wouldnt complain about the concerts as they had already done their "say her name Breonna Taylor" performative virtue signalling bullshit and now they wanted to shake their dreads to Slayonce and Taylor.

Who cares about a bunch of dead poor, disabled, elderly black & brown people anyway?

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randomoranges · 1 year ago

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been having some complicated feelings with my writing. it’s been hard to find the motivation to write. en tout cas. had this idea since last year. it’s very short but whatever. it’s a thing that is done instead of another incomplete project.

Y fait chaud dans l’métro/It’s Getting Hot in Here

Étienne opens the door to his class after hearing the familiar toc-toc toc toc and before he can even say anything, Edward breezes by and makes his way towards the couch in the back of the class, where he lets himself fall on it with a groan. Étienne locks the door behind him and follows him back to the couch, already amused by his antics.

“It is so fucking hot. I’m drenched and it’s barely noon.” Edward bemoans. He pulls away his shirt to attempt to get a breeze going, but it doesn’t seem to do much. Étienne takes pity on him and heaves one of the two fans towards him. It may only push hot air around, but it’s better than nothing. “How hot is it in here anyways?” He asks as a distraction, while Étienne brings over the second fan, getting some sort of wind tunnel going around him.

“Twenty-eight degrees and seventy-two percent humidity.” He reads off from CO2 reader on the wall.

Edward groans and curses at the same time. “It’s thirty-one up in mine. It’s a boiler. It honestly feels like there’s a wall of heat.”

Étienne gives him a sympathetic pat on the back and joins him on the couch. Even though he has a higher tolerance for the heat, even he has to admit that this is ridiculous.

“I swear to God, if you even attempt to sit any closer to me or cuddle, I will push you away and then melt on this couch.” Edward warns and Étienne knows better than to do any of that, so he stays where he is and opens the lunchbox Edward had brought along. He rummages through it and takes out the carrots before nibbling on one. He’s not hungry – the heat always cuts his appetite but he makes an effort before Edward can call him out on it.

“You know, when I first moved to this godforsaken city, I thought people who had air conditioners were exaggerating and weak.” Edward says as he tears into one of the sandwiches from the lunchbox.

Étienne chuckles, remembering hearing such a comment. He also remembers Edward insisting on putting a unit in their bedroom when they moved in together, but he makes no mention of it, “And now?”

“And now I wonder why this godforsaken government hasn’t started putting them in these old as hell schools.”

“Because they’re too comfortable in their air-conditioned offices and out of touch with reality.” Their own principal and most of the administrative staff in the school has a unit in their office. They don’t obviously, because it would be too complicated or too costly, or some other bullshit excuse. But, it’s okay if the kids and the staff suffer day in and day out. Not that it has any effect on them, really. Or the kids. Or their concentration.

Edward looks at him and manages a stifled laugh. “You know, I think that even without the air-conditioning and the heatwave they’d still be out of touch with reality.” He takes a long swig of water and tries to peel himself away from the back of the couch. “For the record, I also thought you were out of touch with reality when you suggested we get a pool.”

Étienne recalls that conversation fondly. He’d held his bit and eventually, Edward had come around. Now, it almost seems as though Edward gets more use out of the pool than he does.

“And now?” Étienne prods gently.

“Now I think you were gifted with future vision and you knew in what a miserable state I’d be in, languishing in this suppressive heat.”

“You’re welcome,” He teases. “I gather you’ll be going for a swim when we get home?”

“You bet your ass I am. Hell, I might just even jump in fully clothed. Or not. It’s all up for debate.”

“I look forward to seeing what you decide.” Étienne tells him from the lip of his own water bottle.

FIN

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #edward murphy #étienne maisonneuve #au #ficlet #teacher au

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chaletnz · 2 years ago

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Mistico Park La Fortuna

Tyrza and I were up super early and ready to go for our 5:30am pick up hoping to get to Mistico Park very early and be among the first to enter and walk the hanging bridges. Unfortunately, we were left waiting as our shuttle did not arrive. By the time we had waited a little more than half an hour the hotel's reception had opened and I asked Fernanda to call the tour company and try to figure out why we were not collected. There had been a miscommunication with the driver so they changed our pick up to 7am (and gave us a full refund) and we went for a little walk around and bought a pastry at a nearby bakery that was open early. During this little walk I managed to lose my room key but the driver had arrived so we just hopped in and that was an issue for later. When we arrived at the park, we realised it was admission only and didn't include a guide, we didn't mind though and headed into the park to look for sloths. Tyrza spotted some little animals that looked like raccoons right away and we watched them eating their breakfast and rustling around in the trees for a while. Next I spotted a huge bird that looked a bit like a peacock way up in the trees. I was also fairly confident I saw a toucan in the trees too, but it was so far up I couldn't get a photo of it. Tyrza saw a squirrel and we saw a lot of butterflies and spiders but no sloths. The park was awesome in any case, with about 8 suspension bridges throughout that we took our photo opportunities on. The volcano was still covered in clouds so we couldn't get perfect photos despite our great viewpoint. The souvenir shop and restaurant were super pricy so we just got our driver to take us directly back to our hotel. I looked for my room key along the path we walked as we headed back into town for breakfast and coffee at the Chocolate Fusion Cafe. I went for a mango blueberry smoothie bowl topped with some caramelised cacao beans on top, and a mocha since this was a chocolate specialty cafe after all! It was delicious and probably less than $10 all up. After breakfast Tyrza and I went our separate ways so I could look further for my key. It was starting to get really hot and humid as I was walking around retracing my steps so I went to ask the hotel front desk for forgiveness thinking they might just say okay whatever and be done with it. While Fernanda could sympathise with my day of problems she said it would be $20 to replace the whole door handle. I walked for another hour to search again but it was still nowhere to be found so I reluctantly told them it was gone forever, coughed up the $20, and the maintenance man came to replace the whole door handle and keys. I surmised that someone picked it up and took it or handed it in to some random shop because I searched every piece of the ground and bushes over two hours and asked in a few shops but noone had seen it/didn't understand what I was asking them. By evening it was raining very heavily so when there came a break in the rain Tyrza and I regrouped to walk down to the La Fortuna pub which was empty. Georgi came to join us (not in a rain break so was soaked) and we ordered our drinks, I had a piña colada with ice cream, Tyzra tried a float of the local beers, and Georgi had two pints of the house beer - her typical starter. Once happy hour hit we ordered 6 drinks, 2 each of the Cuba Libre, Mojito, and Guaro Sour and did a mix and match so we could each try two. At another rain break we made a dash to Pollo Fortuneño where we ordered a share plate with ribs, chicken, tortillas, beans, and fried plantains. After dinner we ran into some of the group getting dropped off after their cooking class and salsa lesson so we all went out together for a drink at Lava Lounge. I decided I wanted a sickly sweet dessert brownie with ice cream and Georgi decided it was her now birthday so we all ran with that, she got free shots and a happy birthday song from the live musician in both English and Spanish.

#Costa Rica #La Fortuna

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gaynaturalistghost · 2 years ago

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The SPECIFICITY of the tasks is important to me. This’ll be a mix of wiki on Ophiocordyceps unilateralis, actually a big group of species, and what I can remember from mycology but this is generally what the experience is like for these guys.

Ok, you’re a carpenter ant now. Most of the time you are in the canopy, following an extensive network of trails because you are a forager, and you have a very important job. No one else leaves the nest as much as foragers. You stick to the canopy but on occasion, there is a gap and you have to move along the forest floor to get where you’re going. You might be a bit nervous in this less familiar environment, though you don’t know why. Everyone tries to avoid it -but hey, you didn’t get eaten and that’s the important thing- you think to yourself as you move your way back up to the canopy.

However, when you were down on the forest floor a spore or two landed on you. No big deal, you might say, there’s tens of thousands everywhere, all the time. Usually you get back to the colony and clean the spores off each other. This time though, is different. The spore goes undetected and germinates into hyphae. It uses enzymes and mechanical force to punch through your exoskeleton (no bite necessary). Once it’s inside, infection begins. The fungi must do what pathogens do, avoid the hosts defenses and proliferate. It comes across many different tissues in the ants body, but it’s had at least 43 million years to work out which cocktail of enzymes to respond to your immune system, tissues and wether they are alive or dead. It knows more about the inside of your body than you do. The fungus replicates in the cavities of your body and reaches right beside the brain, it stays on the outside where it will secrete enzymes when it’s good and ready.

A few days later, while you’re following the canopy trails, you start to feel twitches. Then full body convulsions until you fall to the forest floor. Or you feel like maybe, leaving the trails would be good. Maybe moving around on the forest floor would be better. It’s nice there. Then it seems like a good time to find a place that’s 68-86 F (20-30 C), 94-95% humidity, and climb 26cm up the northern side of the plant and bite a leaf vein abnormally hard. If you are like the carpenter ants in Thailand, the jaw muscles of all the infected ants from your colony lock IN SYNC at solar noon. The fungus might be working with the muscles in your jaw to bite the leaf, or made your muscles atrophy. You hang from this leaf until the fungus decides to kill you. The fungus prevents your body’s decay by invading soft tissues to hold it together and makes antibiotics preserving you from microbial attack until the reproductive structure busts out the back of your head and releases spores that fall to the forest floor.

I got to look at Entomopthora muscae (the genus name means insect destroyer) which makes flies climb onto something and crawl to the highest point. Glue comes out of the mouth and before the fly is completely dead it’s legs and wings straighten out to better disperse spores. My prof said in houses flies become more attracted to light, and only at dusk (I think 3pm is the peak?) they fly into windows. Over and over and over until they stick and die. The fungus will excrete a white halo of spores around them on the glass. And that all I think about when I hear the thunk thunk of some fly bumping into a window.

Here’s a picture of some! They are stained, not naturally colored like this

You know, as the concept of “zombifying fungi” becomes more and more popular, I notice it still referred to everywhere as like a “brain parasite.” So I guess a lot of people overlooked or forgot how in 2019 it was discovered that cordyceps and other similar fungal parasites leave the brain and nervous system completely untouched. They only control the muscles. They use chemical signals to make the muscles flex in real time where they want to go :)

#cordyceps #ophiocordyceps #it’s worse than the movies make it sound #this is more scary to me #zombie ant fungus #ghost speaks #mycology #mycology is great but there are the Horrors #entomophthora muscae #housefly #science #cursed science facts

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scatteriskity · 14 days ago

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= Skit Chat = Storm Chased

I wore shorts to class today, because it was still a balmy 73 F outside and wearing long pants in the humidity is an unpleasant combination. The forecast did predict a cold front to swoop in sometime in the afternoon, after the noon storm. Which was why I also packed lunch, in case I'd be stuck on campus until the rain passed.

Class finished, and it was still reasonably dry outside. People biking and walking between classes. A good sign. Sure, dark clouds on the horizon and the smell of rain in the air, but it would only take me ten minutes to bike home, might as well make a break for it now.

As I am biking back, the wind picks up like crazy. A full minute on full blast. I have to stop and angle my back to the wind (look, I don't want bugs or sand or stuff in my eyes and mouth). Also because biking against the wind is fighting a losing battle.

But the absolutely incredible thing? I'm certain that gust was the one bringing in the cold front. The temperature dropped ten degrees as I was standing there, bracing against the breeze. I could literally feel the warm and cold air mixing, and in a matter of minutes, the coolness had taken over.

I experienced the threshold of a cold front. The realization was exhilarating, combined with a little desperation as the raindrops (now cold) started to fall.

"Please Lord just give me five minutes, I'll be home in five minutes, just hold off five minutes--"

I've had to bike home drenched before. A good lesson in being more prepared with an umbrella. But today was full of blessed surprises.

Not only did I not get rained on until I arrived at my door, the moment I put the key in to unlock the door, the rain came down.

Talk about timing! Praise God ^-^

#skit chat #the Author is at it again #His Timing is incredible

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itsawhumpsideblog · 3 months ago

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In The Ranks Of Death You Will Find Him, Book 1

Content notes: The first battle and all that goes with it; the trauma of survival; a sprained ankle; another difficult family conversation; the introduction of the only romance plotline I've ever written and liked. The chapter title and lyrics are from The Minstrel Boy, the song that inspired Rory. This was probably my first "favorite song" (yes, back in the cassette tape days) and has been a favorite ever since. The first two verses are Irish, written in the late 1700s, but the third verse is an Irish-American Civil War-era addition. As in past chapters, this is the version I grew up with, although there are others that I think are prettier. Listen here: https://youtu.be/N3kEd7jiAVQ And a bonus song, the inspiration for Jack (who is the only one of the boys not to have inspired a chapter title). The song is Banks of Newfoundland and the version is by Great Big Sea! Listen here: https://youtu.be/rIynC1KndZQ

"The minstrel boy to the war is gone

In the ranks of death you will find him.

His father's sword he has girded on

And his wild harp slung behind him."

~The Minstrel Boy

In late May, we were finally ordered away from our drill site of the past few weeks. We packed up everything we could carry, and fell into formation one hot morning to march into rebel territory.

"Mary, Mother of God," Jack swore when we stopped for water mid-day. "If I ever make it to our camp, it's going to be a genuine miracle."

Patrick grinned as he scooped water in his tin cup. As usual, he looked cooler than the rest of us did. He took a long drink and then held Rory's beloved fife as Rory went over to the creek to fill his canteen.

It was a long day, but that night we were camped with several other regiments- the 13th and 79th New York regiments among them- and we found we had been assigned to Sherman's brigade of McDowell's division. There was more drill, more Virginia heat, and plenty of thunderstorms to drench us every afternoon. Sometimes I welcomed the rain for the cool it brought, and sometimes I cursed it for the humidity.

It was late July. We had been in the army for two months now, with only a month left to go, and we hadn't seen any fighting.

"Remind me again why we enlisted," I grumbled after a particularly long, hot day. We were sitting around in front of our tents eating cold beef and hard tack, because it was too hot to light a fire and too tiring to put more effort into our meals.

"For the adventure of it, of course," Patrick laughed. "I just can't for the life of me figure out why I didn't let Declan come with us. He's missing all the fun. This would've cured his war fever for certain."

Jack shook his head. Ted laughed. "Patrick, lad, you did a good thing making your brother stay home. He's surely getting more work done than we are."

Having had that conversation, of course the next day we were ordered to pack up and start marching. We were headed for a town called Manassas, and perhaps, so they said, for a battle. We were excited, a little nervous, and highly skeptical that there would be any excitement. We forded a river at a place called Sudley Springs in the mid-morning and at noon we were on a hill, watching cannon-fire before us and trying, on the advice of our officers, to choke down a little hard tack and drink some water.

"You're going to need all your strength, boys," Sergeant O'Malley cautioned us. He stopped in front of Rory. "You doing all right, Coleman?"

"Yessir."

"Not nervous, are you?"

"Nosir."

"Good lad."

It was a white lie- we were all a little nervous. They said there were some ladies from Washington who had come to watch the battle. Somebody was supposed to have seen them, but all I could see were soldiers, and lots of smoke and it was scaring me.

A little before one o'clock we were ordered to fall back, off the hill where we had been waiting and past some woods.

"What do you suppose that means?" Jack asked nervously.

"We're just moving back so we can get a running start," Ted replied, all confidence. "If they'd just put the boys of the 69th in, then they'd see how fast the Rebs can run." He laughed and we tried to join him, but it sounded thin and insincere even to my own ears.

It was a little after two when we got the order to move again.

"All right, boys," called an officer, "We've got our orders. Up on that hill-" he pointed "- Ricketts' battery has been captured by the Rebels. We're going to get it back." We started forward and I realized I was sweating, but not from the heat. The sweat pouring down my back was ice cold.

I didn't have much time to think about it, though, because as we crossed Bull Run and started up the hill towards the battery we were going to try to rescue, the first of a storm of bullets flew past us.

Next to me I saw Patrick duck and then laugh and blush, standing up straighter. Ted flinched and seemed to shake himself. His jaw was set tight and he gripped his gun. We fired when we could, or were ordered to, and advanced grimly up the hill.

The first of our men died in that volley and I'll never forget the sounds of it. Lead striking flesh and bone, the way they screamed when they fell, all of it was a blur in my mind but stayed fresh in my senses for days afterward. We went on, through it all, leaving the fallen where they lay, and I shook as the bullets whistled over my head.

I was afraid to look around to see whether my friends had made it. I could see Patrick beside me, out of the corner of my eye, and Ted on the other side, but Rory and Jack weren't in formation with us and I wondered where they were in all this- whether they had stayed behind or come with the regiment into this lead rain.

As we got closer, I noticed, somehow, that there was a little house on top of the hill, near where the guns were. The windows were shot out, and for a split second I thought I saw a woman's form in the window. No, I thought, of course there isn't anyone inside, and I gave myself a mental shake and turned my attention back to the task at hand.

I remember fewer of the details than I had expected to, although my sensory impressions are perfect when I close my eyes and allow the memories of that first battle to surface in my mind. The details of some of our other engagements are clearer after all these years, but then, they were made up of less anticipation if not less raw fear.

Off to our left, a grey shape came through the mist. We spun almost as one man towards the direction from which they came and were trying desperately to get them in our sights when, luckily, there was a yell.

"Hold your fire!" a voice screamed. "They're our boys!" My hands shook as I turned back to the hill. That we had come so close to firing on our own men, dressed as they were in grey uniforms, frightened me. We knew that a few regiments wore grey. We had seen them before and should have known their position. The enemy was in front of us- fellow New Yorkers were on our flank.

We took the cannons, and all around me men fell. Some were dead right away, and made no noise. Others screamed and cried. I saw one young soldier, not much older than myself, fall holding his side. Blood was pouring through his fingers and he was crying out in Irish, curled up on the rusty grass. His voice haunts me to this day. When I closed my eyes that night, all I saw was him lying there. I never knew his name and I don't care to guess what happened to him in the end, but for days afterwards, whenever I lay down to sleep, his voice echoed in my ears and the sight of him stained my dreams.

We had taken the cannons at the top of the hill, so near the little house with its windows shot out, when the order came to retreat.

"Just get out of here," the officer shouted who gave us the order. "Just get the hell out." Almost in a body, we turned and ran.

I was halfway down the hill when it occurred to me to look for my friends. I had been so caught up in loading and firing and keeping my feet moving in the right direction, in stuffing down the panic I felt, that I had stopped paying attention to who was next to me. Suddenly I was worried- I turned to my right to find a stranger there. It wasn't Patrick. My heart dropped and I whirled around to the left and found that Ted was just a few feet from me, whole and running as fast as he could. It brought me some relief, but not much. We made it to the stream and scrambled through it, then kept on going, more slowly the farther we got, towards Washington.

I couldn't find Patrick. I looked all around, barely watching where I was going, nearly blinded with panic. As I got farther from the sound of guns and the battlefield, my head cleared. The more aware of my surroundings I was, the more frightened I was for Patrick. After several minutes, I stopped still and a man I had never seen before promptly plowed into me.

"Watch where you're going!" he fumed, probably out of the sheer fright we all felt, and I apologized without really thinking about it.

I felt the need to do something, and I knew that I would never be able to live with myself if I didn't find Patrick. The thought that he might be ahead of me never entered my mind. I was consumed with the idea that he was wounded or dead, and that he had been left on the hill by that house, where we had been fighting.

I turned and began struggling back the way I had come through the stream of men, determined to find Patrick. I had been walking for only a few minutes when I heard something.

"Micheál!" a voice shouted and my breath caught. "Micheál!" I spun around, searching the crowd of uniformed men, and after a moment I saw Patrick, waving to me. He was limping and I ran over to him.

"Patrick," I gasped, out of breath and shaking. "Are you wounded?"

"No," Patrick said in disgust. "I've sprained my foot." He rolled his eyes. His face was dirt- streaked, as my own was, and there were rivulets of sweat running through the soot on his cheeks.

"How did you manage that?" I asked, laughing with relief.

"I tripped crossing the stream. I was trying to catch up with you and Ted when we retreated."

"I was ahead of you?" I asked, trying to figure out where we had lost one another.

"Yes, I was next to you until we started back down the hill, and then I fell behind." So he had been there almost until the moment I looked around. I felt better about that.

"Come on, let's go catch up with the others," I suggested

"I'll try," Patrick agreed. We went on, but the going was slow, with Patrick limping, and after a little while I got impatient.

"Here, lean on me," I told him. He sighed, embarrassed, but slung an arm around my shoulders and we followed the line of men on towards the capitol.

Somehow we managed to catch up with Ted. He looked relieved and came over to walk with us. "We've all made it," he said. "I saw Rory and Jack a bit ago. They were sent back for the wounded- as stretcher bearers, you know." We nodded and Ted put his arm around Patrick, taking some of his weight onto his own shoulder so that we could move faster. Again, Patrick looked embarrassed and he frowned. Patrick hated having to admit that he needed help with anything.

We kept going and by the time we stopped retreating we had gone a good long way. At last we could sit and make a fire, eat something and rest for a while. Patrick sat down by the fire while Ted put on a pot of coffee and I went to wet a rag in the nearby creek to wrap Patrick's sprained foot.

"Ouch," he said, making a face, and then he looked disgusted. "I feel like an idiot," he complained. "Men getting shot all around me, and I only tripped."

I shrugged. "Your good luck again, I suppose."

"That it is."

Ted finally lounged next to us in the waning light. "I'm with Patrick," he informed me. "All the things that could have happened back there and the lad takes a spill? That'll be a fine story to tell the girls at home. A proper hero he is." Ted looked at Patrick and shook his head. "What were you doing, dancing out there? Did your shoelace come untied?" The relief of stress was enough to set us laughing and we tried hard to stifle the noise, but couldn't stop. We went from laughter as though at a joke, to hysterical laughter that wasn't funny and from which we couldn't calm down.

Then, Jack and Rory returned and the looks on their faces sobered us right up.

Jack's face was white and drawn. His eyes weren't focusing properly and he looked unsteady on his feet. Rory's eyes were empty and his expression very carefully blank. They came over to the fire and Rory took Jack's elbow and helped him sit down. Rory sat down, too, one arm reassuringly around Jack's shoulders. Jack ran one shaking hand through his hair and stared into the fire with wide, horrified eyes.

"What's happened to him?" Patrick asked in a shocked voice.

"He'll be all right," Rory said, his voice steady. "He just needs rest." He looked at Patrick's bandaged foot. "And what happened to you?"

"I tripped," Patrick said in disgust. "Jack, what happened?" To our horror, tears began to roll down Jack's face in torrents.

"It was-" he started and had to stop and take a deep breath. Collecting himself, he continued in a shaky voice, "They sent us back for the wounded. God, it was awful. He died on the stretcher. We were right out front of the field hospital and he died. He gave me his letter and he died-" Jack's voice broke and we stared at each other, helpless, as Jack buried his face in his hands. He sobbed, his shoulders heaving, and Rory silently pulled out a sooty handkerchief and gave it to Jack. His arm still around Jack's shoulders in that silent gesture of comfort, he explained in his usual way.

"He was a drummer, younger than me. We were taking him to a field hospital. He gave Jack a letter for his mother- I don't think he had the chance to send it before the battle. We were standing out front of the hospital when he died." Rory was silent for a moment. Then, his voice thicker than it had been before, he added, "Jack's just taking it hard. That's all." Struggling to master his emotions, he motioned for a cup of coffee, the first time I had ever seen him ask for anything. Surprised, I handed it to him and he pushed it into Jack's hands and made him drink.

Jack downed the hot liquid in just a few sips. Tears were still falling down his sooty face and when he had finished half the cup he handed it wordlessly back to Rory. Rory took a few sips of his own and then stood, pulling Jack up with him.

Jack seemed in shock and did as he was told. His arm still around Jack, Rory walked him in the direction of the creek. When they came back, Jack's face was clean, though he was still sobbing and his eyes were puffy and red.

"Lay down, there by the fire," Rory said quietly. Jack lay down; facing the flames, his head on his knapsack, and Rory covered him with a blanket. He sat down next to Jack who lay crying quietly until exhaustion set in and he finally slept.

Rory nodded, satisfied that Jack would be all right, and after a moment he spoke.

"It was worse than anything I've ever seen," he said solemnly. "And I've… I've seen some bad places before. This was different." There was a long silence. We had been there, too, and seen our own nightmares, but watching Rory and Jack had made me acutely aware of the fact that when the order came, we had turned and run and that they had cleaned up after us, in a manner of speaking. I felt suddenly guilty.

"He'll be all right in the morning," Rory said, looking over at Jack, whose face was more peaceful in the firelight. "It was just a shock for him. It was a hard place to be."

We nodded and the discussion ended there. We didn't waste much time in laying down for the night, although I, at least, lay awake for a long time.

Duty for the next couple of days was very light. Not only was the army recovering from the battle, but our ninety-day enlistment was up on the 25th of that month and we were to be sent back to New York.

Sergeant O'Malley excused Patrick from duty for those couple of days. His foot was still painful and so swollen he couldn’t put his shoe on. We gave Patrick the jobs of tending the fire and preparing supper and between us we handled anything he might have done before. Then, finally, the day came when we helped him onto the train for the trip back to New York.

The train was quieter this time, I noticed, and not just from the loss of over a hundred voices. Our own conversations were more subdued, and there was no boasting or daydreaming of killing rebels. We'd seen that, and we knew what it meant now.

We perked up some, though, when we finally got off the train. There was to be a parade through the streets and it seemed more in line with what we had expected when we signed our enlistment papers.

We formed up, our uniforms dirtier than they had been, our ranks somewhat thinned, and marched proudly past cheering crowds, all come out to welcome us home. This was what I had envisioned when I had enlisted. Honor and glory, pretty girls and parades, the battles fought and finished and the group of us home in one piece, to be made much of. Then I thought back to a conversation we had had on the train.

"So, will you be staying home for good?" I had asked, curious. My own mind was long made up- after all I had seen, there was no way I could stay away. It had been terrible, and terrifying, but the war had to be won. We had to fight.

Patrick had shaken his head. "I can't," he said, and Jack and Ted agreed.

Rory merely shrugged. "What would I go home to?" he asked, and that was that. We would all be re-enlisting.

That thought dampened my enjoyment of the parade, knowing that the war was far from over for me and my friends. I could only hope that our next homecoming would be this glorious. Then I looked around again and the cheering crowds and buildings of New York City, such a far cry from that little house on the battlefield, brought me back to the present, which I was enjoying.

I saw Rory smile shyly as a young girl thrust a flower into his hands. Ted laughed and thumped him on the shoulder and then accepted with a bow a flower from the same girl. I shook my head and Jack laughed at me. Patrick snickered at the look on Rory's face, and then went back to concentrating on getting through the parade. He had refused to stay behind and his foot was mostly healed, but he was still limping some.

When at last we were given leave to go, Patrick leaned on Rory's shoulder and mine to go the few blocks home. Ted's mother met us at the end of the parade route, and we watched in amusement as she and his crowd of siblings rushed over.

"Oh, Teddy," his mother exclaimed as she hugged him, "it's so good to have you back." It was funny to see big Ted submitting to hugs from a crowd of girls, all with their hairpins just exactly in place and their aprons starched, in contrast to his mud and dirt. His little brother, too, was freshly washed and combed and Ted picked him up and let the little boy ride on his shoulders.

"Are these your friends?" Mrs. McGrath asked her son, motioning to us.

"Yes," he replied. "Mother, this is Jack, Rory, Micheál and Patrick. Boys, this is my mother and the rest of the clan." He laughed.

"How do you do, ma'am," we said politely and she smiled.

"It's good to meet you, boys. Now, Teddy, we'd best be getting home. Your father will be home soon, and he'll be wanting to see you." She took the littlest girl by the hand and looked expectantly down the street, clearly ready to get going.

"I'll be seeing you, lads," Ted promised, and headed home in the middle of that crowd of girls.

Jack was the next to leave, though as it turned out he lived only a few blocks from my own home and walked most of the way there with us.

"We'll be enlisting together, won't we?" he asked and the three of us nodded.

"Don't think I could go off again without you lads," Patrick grinned and Rory nodded, much more seriously.

"Well, then, I'll be seeing you about," Jack told us and with handshakes all around, he went home.

Rory stood still outside our building, not following us as I helped Patrick inside, and he had his old, frightened look on his face.

"What's the matter, lad? Come on in," Patrick said, motioning to him to follow us.

"You don't mind?" Rory asked, timidly, and Patrick understood suddenly.

"Of course not," he said. "You're to stay with us as long as you like. Come, now, let's go see how the families are getting along." Rory smiled shyly and followed us up the stairs.

At last we were on the third floor, where Patrick's family lived and where I suspected I might find my own family as well. Sure enough, when we opened the door, they were all inside. Maura and Mother were darning socks with Mrs. Murphy while Bridget and Colleen washed dishes, Declan was working sums on his slate from a schoolbook open on the table, and Mr. Murphy was reading an old newspaper.

There was a collective gasp as we entered and our families stood, almost as one, and hurried over to us.

We just had time to get in the door when we were smothered by hugs and kisses from our mothers, Mr. Murphy clapping us on the shoulder, and our sisters cheering. It was, in truth, rather embarrassing. Rory smiled sadly as he watched the scene.

"Patrick," his mother exclaimed, after a moment, "were you wounded?" She had seen the way he was standing, and she looked shocked and worried. Patrick flushed red.

"No," he admitted. "I've wrenched my foot, that's all."

"Come, sit down and I'll have a look at it," his mother said, and his father helped Patrick to sit down and put his foot up on a chair.

"Mother," I interrupted, putting a hand on Rory's shoulder, "this is our friend Rory. He's got no place to go in the city- do you think he could he stay with us for a bit?"

"Of course he can," Mother said. She smiled kindly at Rory and I saw him relax. "Rory, it's good to meet you. Why don't you come in and sit down? Bridget, put some coffee on for the lads."

Rory and I sat down at the table, across from Patrick, and I looked around, taking in all the familiar details of home. Mrs. Murphy had examined Patrick's foot, which was swollen and reddened.

"You've not broken it," she decided, "but you've sprained it, sure. Better bandage it, and put you to bed." Patrick rolled his eyes, and was about to protest, but Mrs. Murphy's mind was made up. He allowed her to lead him over to the big bed in the corner of the main room, with the trundle bed underneath it, and he relaxed against the pillows, clasping his hands behind his head.

"Now I feel like we've really made it home," he said to Rory and me, grinning. There was a long silence between us, broken by Bridget who came over and announced in her bossy way,

"Supper's ready. Come on, Micheál, and bring your friend with you. Patrick, Colleen said she'd bring a plate over."

"Thanks, lass," Patrick grinned, laughing a little at all the ways in which the girls had not changed. Declan, however, seemed to have changed much more. He was quiet and a little sullen looking. He closed his schoolbooks with a snap and practically threw his slate in the corner. He said little, but he looked at Patrick and I, and particularly Rory, who was his own age, with envy in his eyes.

We went back to our own home after supper, down a flight of stairs.

"We'll be back tomorrow," I told Patrick as we left and Rory smiled and waved a little as he shut the door behind us.

That night was one of the best I had ever spent. Unlike Patrick, I slept in the small second room. With all the girls in my family, they needed more space. Mother got the largest bed in the main room, and the girls slept on a trundle bed and a cot. My cot was as I had left it, exactly. I was touched and a little saddened by the fact that they had not put the room to use while I had been gone.

Rory offered to sleep on the floor under his coat, but Mother refused that. Instead, she went across the hall and borrowed a cot from our neighbors, who had an unused bed since their oldest son had gone off to sea, and we fit it snugly into my little room. Then mother insisted that he borrow a nightshirt from me and that we both take baths.

She drew a tub of water and, to Rory's obvious relief, let us take it into my room to bathe. Rory undressed and got into the tub and when I turned around, his privacy assured, I winced at the sight of the scars on his back, now long healed but still visible.

When he had finished it was my turn to wash away the dirt of three long months. We had bathed in the army, of course, but it was different to be home with a tub of hot water, and not wading into a creek and hoping the soap didn't float away. Few things in my life ever felt so good as that warm bath, and when we were finished, we dried off and got into bed.

Being home was like a dream. When I woke the next morning, it took me several long minutes to remember where I was and it wasn't really until I opened my eyes that it sunk in; I was home.

Mother and Maura were working that day and so was Bridget, which meant that they were gone by the time Rory and I woke up. I left Rory sleeping, his face perfectly peaceful, and went into the larger room. Colleen had gone off to work with Bridget and Declan, I knew, would be at school. That meant that Patrick was alone upstairs. I went back to my room to dress, and left a note for Rory before heading upstairs to the Murphy's apartment.

Patrick was more or less as we had left him. Though he had washed and dressed in a nightshirt, he was still in bed, lounging among the pillows. He grinned and waved as I came in the door and sat up cross-legged.

"Where's Rory?" he asked.

"Still sleeping," I replied. "I left him a note, but if he doesn't come over soon I'll go back downstairs and see if he got it."

"That sounds like a good plan," Patrick said. He paused a second. "Micheál, Mother thinks I’m staying home."

"Uh-oh," I said. "There's going to be a scene, isn't there?"

"There is. At your house, too, I suppose."

"Probably."

We sat silent, brooding on the conversation we would eventually need to have with our families, when there was a tap on the door and Rory came in. He smiled shyly at us, and walked over to sit on the floor by Patrick's bed. He had dressed in his uniform again, having nothing else to wear.

"You found my note," I guessed.

Rory looked confused. "Note?" he asked

"I left you a note, telling you where I was," I replied.

He ducked his head, blushing. "I can't read, Micheál," he said in a quiet voice.

"Oh," was all I could think of to say. "Sorry."

"No matter," he replied graciously. "I'll learn someday," he added, smiling at the thought. "I'd like that."

It was a quiet day. With our families gone and no work for us in the city, we had nowhere to go and not much to do- for once. It was a quiet couple of weeks, in fact, as we ran errands for our mothers and began planning for the future.

When the day came, however, there were no two ways to break the news. The call went out late in August for volunteers to join the 69th New York Volunteer Infantry- we had been members of the militia before- and we simply went back and enlisted.

"Again?" Mother cried when I came home with the news. I just nodded. "And you, too?" she said, looking at Rory. She had grown fond of him, for all he didn't talk, and Rory liked being mothered. She frowned and asked, with despair in her voice, "There's nothing I can do to stop you?" We shook our heads.

Mother came over and hugged each one of us. "Take care of yourselves. Come home all in one piece, and when the war is over, you come back here with Micheál, Rory." We promised that we would, and not long after came the day when we were told to report again.

It was November and we were about ready to leave New York. We were ordered to form up on the morning of the 18th for a ceremony before we left the City- we were to be presented with a flag made by Tiffany and Co, and, I figured, to hear a lot of boring political speeches.

I was right about the ceremony. We stood there, our legs going numb, for longer than I cared to think about while politicians spoke, while the flag was presented, and while more politicians spoke. The part I was looking forward to, not necessarily happily but for which I was waiting, was leaving for the war again.

The flags were handsome, I had to admit that. One was a big American flag, and the other flag was our new regimental one. It was green, with a golden harp on it and our regimental number on a banner across the top. Rory, who was musical, liked the harp in particular. What I liked most was that when the flag was presented the ceremony was over.

It was a familiar scene at the train station, not long after. Patrick and Rory and I had found seats on the car and were looking out the window, watching Ted's mother kiss him goodbye, and looking around for Jack. He was nowhere to be seen, and Patrick and I were leaning out the window, searching the crowd in case he was looking for us.

"Hello, again," Ted greeted us as he bounded up the stairs into the car and sat down next to Rory. "It's been a while since I've seen you lads. Where's Jack?"

"Haven't seen him yet," I replied. "It's odd he's not here yet."

"Hmm. That it is. He was coming back for sure, was he?"

"Last I heard."

"When did you last hear?"

"Tuesday. He told me he'd meet me at the train." No sooner had I said this than we heard footsteps come running up the aisle of the car and Jack sat down next to me. He was breathing heavily and had arrived just in time- no sooner had he taken a seat then the train began to move.

"I've made it," Jack panted. He sat with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, trying to catch his breath. When he at last sat up, his hair stuck in a dozen different directions, he explained, "I had a letter this morning." He stopped and took a few more gasps. "I was trying to finish a reply and get it mailed, but…" he shook his head. "Never mind," He laughed. "I probably should have started writing it this morning."

"Who'd you have a letter from?" Ted asked, and Jack blushed. We all stared at him, amused to see this new side of our friend.

"Sinead Rafferty," Jack muttered, and I realized that I remembered him talking about her before.

"Sinead, hmm?" Ted teased. "She's your girl?"

"I guess so," Jack said, smiling to himself.

"What did she have to say?" I asked.

"She's coming to New York," Jack burst out, as soon as the words had left my mouth. He was grinning broadly. "I… I wrote her and told her to come. I said I would find her a place to stay. She's like you, Micheál, she's always wanted to come to America, and she's finally found the money, working for some Englishman that owns a house in Dublin. She wrote to say she'd gotten passage on a ship and she'll be here soon as she can."

"But you won't be there when she arrives, will you?" Ted pointed out.

"That's what took so long getting here," Jack explained. "I just got the letter this morning and I had to find someone to meet her, and then I had to write her to let her know I've enlisted again." He had been starting to catch his breath, but he was out of breath again with excitement.

"Are you going to propose right away, or will you wait a bit?" Ted teased and Jack blushed again.

"Who said I was going to propose at all?" he replied, getting obstinate.

"You didn't have to say-" Ted began, but Patrick cut him off.

"That's good for you both," he said to Jack. "Ted, leave the lad alone, will you? He'll propose when he's ready, and besides, he can't do it from the other side of an ocean." Ted snickered and Jack colored up again. They managed to keep the argument going until we had almost left the city and were well on our way back to the war.

Masterpost

#historical whump #slow burn whump #whump novels

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