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justlemmeadoreyou · 14 days

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1. prepping (restaurant owner!harry x chef!y/n)

summary: you landed your dream job as a line cook at harry styles' prestigious haus kitchen restaurant in chicago. the tough chef job demands focus, but it's really hard when your boss looks like harry styles.

words: 4.3k

warnings: nothing major in this one

Your palms were sweating as you gripped the steering wheel, driving through downtown Chicago towards your new job. You kept glancing down at the address on the printed directions, double checking that you were heading the right way. The last thing you wanted was to be late on your first day.

Ever since getting your culinary degree, you had applied to what felt like hundreds of restaurant jobs, desperate to get your foot in the door of a real professional kitchen. But very few places wanted to hire someone so fresh out of school with no actual experience.

Finally, after months of dead ends, you had landed a line cook position at Haus Kitchen - one of the hottest farm-to-table restaurants in the city. You could scarcely believe your luck when you got the call saying you were hired.

Haus was the brainchild of Harry Styles, international superstar singer turned chef. After his chart-topping solo music career, Harry had traded in artist life to pursue his lifelong passion for cooking. Using his accumulated wealth, he opened up Haus five years ago to rave reviews, quickly earning a well deserved Michelin star.

You vividly remembered watching Harry's transition from a pop idol to dashing culinary entrepreneur play out in the media. As a teenage girl, you had been obsessed with him during his One Direction days.

Your bedroom walls were plastered with Harry's posters and you had relentlessly played their songs, sighing over his tousled hair and pouty lips. Then as you got older and Harry went solo, your boyband crush evolved into more of an intense celebrity infatuation as he cultivated a cool, rebellious image.

There were countless gossipy blind items about his infamous hellraising, flings with models and socialites, and run-ins with the law. You had followed all the scandalous Harry headlines with rapt attention - from getting papped stumbling out of nightclubs with an endless parade of beautiful women to getting arrested for drug possession outside Soho clubs.

But finally in his late 20s, seemingly bored of rockstar debauchery, Harry had pivoted to reset his image as a knowledgeable culinary entrepreneur. You admired how he transformed from tabloid bad boy into a refined, successful businessman and chef.

He began studying haute cuisine under the tutelage of famous European chefs, traveling abroad to hone his skills further. While continuing to record new musical projects independently, Harry started establishing himself in the culinary world through guest stints on TV cooking shows and food/wine events.

With his brooding good looks, charming personality, and serious culinary chops, the world fell for Harry's new sophisticated image. Before long, he was the subject of breathless puff pieces in food magazines as "the sexiest Renaissance man in the kitchen." It seemed natural when Harry soon opened up his passion project Haus to capitalize on his popularity and love of food.

Now nearing your mid-20s, your teenage fannish obsession had cooled into more of an admiring celebrity crush. You had stayed aware of Harry's journey, but your priorities were focused on graduating culinary school at the top of your class and finding your own big break in the Chicago restaurant scene.

So when you landed a job at Harry's iconic Haus, it almost didn't feel real. Not only would you be working at one of the city's most exclusive spots, but under the same roof as a chef you had admired for ages.

Not that you expected to have any real personal contact with Harry himself, you reminded yourself as you merged onto the exit for downtown. He was an internationally famous mega-celebrity who had to have hundreds of staffers, not to mention being handsomely paid to just be the smiling face of the business while professional kitchen vets like Paul Thomason handled the day-to-day operations.

Still, you had to admit to yourself that a tiny part of you tingled at the mere idea of being in the same building as Harry Styles...hopefully catching a glimpse of that handsome, endlessly charming man in the flesh...

You shook your head dismissively and double checked the directions again, annoyed at getting so easily distracted. This was your big break, your first serious job in the industry. You needed to bring your A-game and focus, not dwell on silly celebrity daydreams.

It was your fantasies of becoming a respected chef that needed to take priority.

You pulled into the parking lot for the restaurant, double checking that you had the address right. The sleek, modern building had a neon "Haus Kitchen" sign glowing over opulent double-door entrances flanked by velvet ropes and cheerful outdoor seating areas.

Taking a steadying breath, you cut the engine and sat for a moment, giving yourself a pep talk. This was it. No more messing around doing coursework or labs - this was the major leagues with all the intensity of a real professional kitchen. You had to bring it all day, every day.

As you climbed out of your beat-up Honda, you smoothed down your spotless new chef's whites, making sure everything looked pressed and presentable. With your knife kit tucked under your arm, you walked towards the entrance with purpose, chin held high.

From the moment you stepped through the doors, it was like being transported into another world. The smell of simmering sauces, roasting meats, and freshly baked bread envaded your senses. Even hours before opening, the energy and hustle for dinner prep was palpable.

Off to the left was the main dining room you had studied photos of online - effortlessly cool with vaulted exposed wooden beam ceilings, brick accents, and casually modern decor. Pendant lighting glowed cozily over tables draped in white linens and rustic chandeliers hung over plush tufted leather banquettes. A lively bar area centered the space, stocked with top-shelf liquors and backed by a dazzling display of custom glassware.

In the distance ahead, you could hear the clamoring of the kitchen in full swing. Your stomach did a nervous flip - this was it. Taking another fortifying breath, you headed through the archway.

You emerged into a large, sleek open kitchen layout, all stainless steel and butcher block islands. Uniformed cooks were buzzing at their stations like a well-oiled machine under the barked commands of an older, stocky man you immediately recognized as Head Chef Paul Thomason.

Despite his gruff reputation, watching Thomason in action was nothing short of mesmerizing. He moved between stations with the easy grace of a conductor, sampling sauces, tweaking seasonings, and directing the workflow with gruff orders. There was no wasted movement or micro-expression as he continually tasted and perfected dishes, alternating between thoughtful contemplation and decisive action.

Though you had only seen Thomason in pictures and television appearances, his fierce focus and mastery were unmistakable. This was what true professional kitchen expertise looked like in the flesh.

Feeling like a mouse that had wandered into the lair of a lion, you hovered near the entrance, uncertain of what to do next. The kitchen team flowed around you in a choreographed dance, deftly ignoring your presence as they prepped and plated flawlessly.

After a few minutes of anxious loitering, the intimidating Thomason seemed to finally notice you. His grizzled features contorted as he scowled, looking you up and down through eyes squinted with decades of kitchen smoke exposure.

"You must be the new kid," he said gruffly, crossing his bulky tattooed arms over his broad chest. Even without raising his voice, Thomason had a rumbling bass that easily carried over the kitchen's clanging din. "Christ, you're shorter than I expected. Think you've got what it takes to keep up around here?"

You nervously clutched your knife kit closer while trying to not look as flustered as you felt. "Y-yes, chef!"

You swallowed hard, hyper aware of everyone around you now watching the interaction. "I, uh...I came ready to work as hard as it takes. Whatever you need from me."

Thomason grunted, squinting at you for another long moment in consideration. Then he jerked his head towards the back. "Get changed out quick and meet me back here in 5. I'll get you started on prep and we'll see what you're made of. Don't keep me waiting."

"Yes, chef!" you responded immediately, wincing at how high your voice had gone up an octave.

Without another word, Thomason turned and strode back into the controlled chaos of the line, immediately redirecting his attention to sauces and garnishes. Letting out a shaky breath, you scurried towards the changing rooms, heart jackhammering.

Well, you were officially in the thick of things now...

You hustled back out to the kitchen, trying not to look frazzled from your rushed change. A young Hispanic line cook spotted you and waved you over to his station.

"You the newbie?" he asked, not unkindly. When you nodded, he jerked his head towards the walk-in refrigerator. "Thomason wants you to start by breaking down some of the produce delivery for prep."

"Got it, thanks," you replied, eager to prove yourself. The line cook gestured you through the door into the immense chilled walk-in.

You blinked as your eyes adjusted to the cold, taking in the sights and smells of the impressive stockpile. Shelves upon shelves were stocked with an array of fresh seasonal produce - crates bursting with leafy greens, bushels of root vegetables, flats of vibrantly colored tomatoes, exotic fruits, and mushroom varieties you had only read about.

Your culinary school had humble basics for ingredients, nothing like the bounty of locally-sourced, meticulously selected provisions that Haus Kitchen demanded. You felt a thrill at getting to work with such an extraordinary pantry.

Respirating clouds puffed from your mouth as you scanned the inventory tagging system. You had been taught similar protocols in your food safety courses, but there was something exhilarating about putting that knowledge into practice in a real professional environment.

Grabbing a stack of plastic totes, you made a game plan for which items to start prepping first based on perishability levels and what would be needed for that evening's specials. Though you started out slow at first, you steadily built up a cadence of meticulously cleaning, trimming, and sorting into appropriate storage containers.

By the time Thomason stuck his head in to check on you an hour later, you had developed an efficient system and made solid progress through a mountain of deliveries.

The head chef grunted in approval as he inspected your neat stacks of prepped produce, crossing his arms as he looked you up and down with a critical eye.

"Not bad, kid," he rumbled. "Clearly know which end of a knife to use, at least. C'mon back out, got some protein fabrication for you to tackle next."

You diligently followed Thomason back out to the main kitchen, wiping some sweat from your brow with your sleeve. Despite the industrial cooling system, the heat blazing from the ovens and range tops made the open kitchen feel like a furnace.

As Thomason led you to a stainless steel butcher's block island, you couldn't help but gawk at the array of gleaming knives hanging from magnetic strips overhead. The blades were works of art - sleek, razor sharp, and clearly extremely expensive.

Gesturing you over, Thomason grabbed a boning knife and twirled it deftly before handing it to you. "Let's see how you handle breaking this down."

He gave the block a solid smack with his meaty palm, indicating for you to get started on the glistening slab of beef tenderloin before you. Taking a steadying breath, you gripped the bone-handled knife firmly and leaned over the cutting board.

"Yes chef," you murmured before carefully piercing the thick cut of meat, angling the blade with practiced precision from all your training.

Around you, the kitchen bustled with the usual rattling pans, sizzling ranges, and Thomason's occasional barked orders. But as you fell into the rhythm of deftly separating fat and sinew, the noises began to fade from your awareness.

You were completely focused on your knife work, confidently sawing through the tender flesh as you reduced the tenderloin down to portions and trimmings for other stations to further break down. It was meditative, almost hypnotic, the way you instinctively slid the blade along rendered paths of butchery.

After your initial intimidation of the intense Haus environment, you started to find your groove and calm amidst the choreographed insanity surrounding you. You were so laser-focused on the satisfaction of properly executing each slicing technique that the rest of the kitchen chaos became mere white noise.

You had no idea how long you stayed absorbed in the butchery, but eventually you became aware of a presence at your elbow. Glancing up, you nearly jumped to see Harry Styles watching you work with an unreadable expression, hands shoved into the pockets of his slim-fitting slacks.

His dress shirt was rolled up to his elbows and the fitted cotton fabric clung to his toned arms and chest, a few chest hairs peeking out of his slightly undone top button. A single necklace rested in the divot between his sculpted collarbones, drawing your eye to the alluring hollow of his throat as he swallowed hard.

You froze mid-slice, mesmerized by watching the tendons in Harry's wrist and forearm flex as his hands flexed restlessly in his trouser pockets. After a beat, his pillowy lips curved into an easy smile, crinkling the delicate crow's feet at the corners of his kaleidoscope green eyes.

"Afternoon," Harry said in that lazy, husky drawl that used to make millions of fans swoon. He flicked his eyes down to your handiwork before bringing them back up to your face. "Looking good there, newbie."

You blinked, not trusting your ears for a moment before realizing with a jolt that Harry was very much real and quite close. Like, unnecessarily close for your over-stimulated brain to handle.

"Uh...I-I, um...th-thank you?" you croaked out, wanting to cringe at how lame you sounded. Get it together, this wasn't the time to geek out–you instructed yourself.

But Harry didn't seem to notice your fumbling, simply giving you a dimpled half-smile before reaching around you to snag a stray piece of trimming from the butcher's block. He inspected it contemplatively before popping it into his mouth, those plump lips wrapping obscenely around the bite as he chewed and ruminated with relish.

"Perfection," he declared after swallowing, shooting you another crooked grin like you were co-conspirators sharing an inside joke. With a subtle wink, Harry pivoted on his boot heel and sauntered off, whistling a jaunty tune.

As he retreated, you risked a glance down at his form-fitting trousers shamelessly admiring the way the fine fabric cupped the ample curves of his pert backside. Even at his age, Harry Styles had the muscle-toned body of a man decades younger - long, lean muscles taut under golden tanned skin.

You blinked hard and shook your head, annoyed at catching yourself ogling your new boss like a drooling fangirl. Pull it together! This was totally inappropriate and unprofessional. You had zero business daydreaming about someone who gave you your paycheck, no matter how obscenely famous and heartthrob-ishly handsome they were.

Firmly re-focusing on your knife work, you determinedly put Harry from your mind and tried to re-immerse yourself in the rhythm and refuge of the butchery. But the memory of his distractingly lush mouth so close kept replaying over and over, preventing you from recapturing your previous sense of meditative flow.

Dammit, you needed to get a grip! This kind of inappropriate crush on your employer was exactly the kind of silly, immature behavior that would make you look like a unprofessional joke in a serious kitchen environment. Blowing an opportunity like this was not an option.

Later, as you untied your apron strings and joined the team in breaking down the last stations for cleaning at closing, Thomason sidled up alongside you. You braced yourself for more of his typical gruff rebukes or criticisms.

Instead, the veteran chef simply gave you a long, considered look before saying gruffly, "You did good work today, kid. I can already tell you got the stuff to handle it around here if you keep your head down."

You blinked up at him in surprise before managing a small smile. "Thank you, chef. I really appreciate that."

Thomason grunted noncommittally before wandering off, likely to oversee something else. As you tidied your workstation, you couldn't help feeling a small glow of pride. Despite the craziness of your first day, you had seemingly passed this initial trial with flying colors.

As you left through the back entrance into the quiet night air, you took a deep breath and allowed yourself a satisfied smile. Maybe, just maybe, you really did have what it took to succeed in this highly competitive environment after all. For tonight at least, you had handled the punishing pace and standards. Tomorrow was another day to prove yourself all over again.

***

Your day started before sunrise the next morning, brewing a strong coffee and reviewing the notes you had taken the previous evening about which menu items needed prepping. By the time you arrived at Haus, reinvigorated by the crisp morning air, the kitchen was already a hive of activity in preparation for lunch service.

The intense scrutiny under which you worked only amplified with the daylight. Every slice, every sauté was carried out under the watchful eyes of Chef Thomason and his steely gaze. More than once, you felt his presence looming over your shoulder, inspecting your work with the same critical eye as a diamond cutter examining a flawless gem.

"This slice is uneven," he barked, startling you. You flinched, resisting the urge to make excuses as he continued, "The portions all need to be identical for plating. Paying attention to details like that is the difference between a sloppy meal and a stellar one. Don't let it happen again."

"Yes, chef," you replied tightly, making a minor adjustment to your knife work. Though his words stung, you had to admit Thomason was completely right. In a restaurant of this caliber, any minor imperfection could spell disaster.

You redoubled your efforts, pouring all of your concentration into each preparation, each plate. By the time the end of your shift rolled around, you were drenched in sweat, your feet screaming from being on them for 12 hours straight. But you had successfully made it through day two without any major mishaps.

As the whirlwind of dinner service finally calmed to a stopping point, you stood in the kitchen obediently waiting for Thomason's inspection and inevitable critique. But to your surprise, he merely gave a curt nod of approval before waving you off.

"Not bad, newbie," he grunted. "Get a good night's rest. We'll need you back bright and early tomorrow."

Those few gruff words of acceptance warmed you more than any high praise could have. For Thomason, a man of very few words, his small nod seemed to indicate you were, for the moment, living up to his exceedingly high standards.

The high from that small victory buoyed your spirits as you made your way towards the back exit, already dreaming of the few hours of sleep you might be able to grab before starting the cycle over again. You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you nearly bowled someone over coming around a corner.

"Whoa there!"

You froze, looking up into the grinning, mirthful eyes of Harry Styles himself. Up close, the force of his charm and magnetism practically crackled in the air around him like a physical force. His sweater clung distractingly to his lithe, muscular frame and his chestnut hair was casually tousled. A pair of small diamond studs glinted in each ear.

"Sorry about that, H-Harry," you stammered, resisting the urge to take a flustered step back. You were vividly aware of just how little physical space separated the two of you. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

If he noticed your frazzled state up close, Harry didn't let on. His pink lips merely curved in an easy, dimpled smile. "No need to apologize. I don't usually make a habit of lurking around blind corners, to be fair."

You laughed before you could stop yourself, surprised at how easily he was putting you at ease despite your elevated heart rate. Up close, Harry's eyes weren't just green - an entire kaleidoscope of colors ranging from jade to emerald to amber seemed to shift and dance in his gaze. It was...dazzling, frankly.

Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to take a subtle step backwards, putting a more professional amount of space between the two of you. The last thing you needed was to do something wildly inappropriate that would get you fired before the end of your first week.

"Still, I should have been paying better attention to my surroundings," you replied, aiming for a respectful, levelheaded tone. "It's been a really intense couple of days just trying to stay on top of everything."

Harry nodded in understanding, arching one perfectly sculpted brow. "Thomason hasn't let up on you at all, I take it?"

When you shook your head ruefully, he chuckled. "I know that seems like his permanent state - gruff, perpetually unsatisfied, and grumpy as a hibernating bear. But honestly, the fact that he hasn't fired you already is a good sign you're doing well."

You blinked at him in surprise. "Wait...really? But he critiques everything! I feel like I've gotten nothing but corrections so far."

"Exactly." Harry's dimples flashed as he grinned. "That's how you know he sees potential in you. If Thomason didn't think you had what it took, he wouldn't waste his breath giving feedback. He'd just cut you loose and hire someone else to start over."

His words were like a soothing balm on the anxiety and self-doubt you'd been carrying around for the past couple of days. You hadn't realized that Thomason's critical approach was actually a twisted form of acceptance and mentorship. The revelation caused the hard knot of tension between your shoulder blades to finally release.

"Huh," you exhaled, unable to stop the small smile tugging at your lips as you finally understood Thomason's tough love. "I guess I should take that as a compliment then."

"Absolutely," Harry agreed with an approving nod. Then his expression softened around the edges, growing earnest as his gaze searched yours. "Look, I know it's a huge adjustment and the pace here can be absolutely brutal starting out. But for what it's worth...I think you've got what it takes to be something really special in this kitchen."

You felt yourself flush at his unexpected praise, your stomach fluttering with a swarm of nervous butterflies. Harry held your eyes for a lingering moment before seeming to mentally collect himself.

Clearing his throat, he flashed you one more crooked grin. "But don't take my word for it - the proof will be in your work. Stay focused and trust the process. I've got faith you can handle it."

With that, he brushed past you, his shoulder grazing yours in a way that made your entire body buzz with friction. As Harry sauntered off down the hallway, you couldn't stop yourself from turning to watch his retreating form - the easy, rolling gait, the tantalizing sway of his hips below the slim cut of his trousers, the tousled waves of his chestnut hair.

You let out a shaky exhale, feeling off-balance and electrified all at once. Get a grip, you scolded yourself firmly. That was your boss - your incredibly famous, wealthy, and wildly attractive boss. Daydreaming was a one-way ticket to catching inappropriate feelings and potentially torpedoing your entire career before it even started.

And yet...you couldn't quite silence the part of your brain reliving Harry's velvet tone and intense eye contact as he professed having faith in your abilities. Just the casual warmth of his voice and proximity had set your heart pounding in a way it hadn't since you were a hormonal teenager, utterly dazzled by his rock star persona.

Shaking your head, you forced yourself to turn on your heel and head for the exit. Overthinking could only lead to dangerous territory. You needed to stay laser-focused on your work - that was the only way to succeed at Haus and make your culinary dreams a reality.

As you stepped out into the fresh evening air, you paused for a moment on the deserted back stoop, closing your eyes and taking a few centering breaths. When you opened them again, you felt the last fluttering tendrils of Harry's heated presence dissipate, replaced by a familiar sense of determined calm.

This job was your priority now, not silly schoolgirl crushes or indulging fantasies about your wildly unattainable boss. You knew better than to get distracted by daydreams that could only lead to self-sabotage.

With a decisive nod, you strode towards your car with renewed focus. You would prove yourself at Haus through your skills and work ethic alone. No other agenda, no unprofessional entanglements allowed.

Your passion was cuisine, creating nourishing dishes that delighted - that had to remain your sole priority. You couldn't afford any distractions from that lest you squander this incredible opportunity. Steadying your breathing, you looked forward with fresh clarity and resolve.

Tomorrow was a new day to earn your place in Harry's formidable kitchen. And this time, you vowed, you were utterly prepared to meet the challenge with your complete and undivided focus.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

tell me if you like this! this is an idea for a new series that will probably have 6 parts??? i guess. but do tell me if you like it! because there's no use in writing when nobody reads 😭😭

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whatdoeseverybodywant · 2 months

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JEY RIZZO - JEY USO X Kabana Love (OC)

Request: Okay so yk how the raw before war games when they were mentioning how they needed a 5th member? Well, this universe, it’s a mixed war games so Rhea is in. Cody makes his “call” Randy and a former NXT, newly signed Keiarie or Kabana Love for her ring debut with them. Mr. Main Event takes a notice to her and tries to yk, get his game on the whole night with her.

Thank you for the request @shantinextdoor. I hope you like it 🫶🏽.

taglist: @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci1996 @jeyusos-girl @melaninsugababy @baconeggndcheez @bemybabiibish @purplehairgawdess @jstarr86 @nbanenefrmdao @alyyaanna @arination99 @empressdede @harmshake @m3llowww @theninthwonder @leaderofthebadbitchbrigade @badbitchcentralinc @bebesobrielo @vensusworld

“Well if it isn’t Miss Kabana Love..” Kabana smirked and excused herself from her conversation with Kelani Jordan and turned around to face The American Nightmare himself.

“Well if it isn’t Mr former executive vice president.” She shot back, laughing when he rolled his eyes. “You not down here tryna become NXT champion are you?” She asked teasingly as she pulled him into a hug.

Cody laughed. “Nope” he said, popping the ‘p’ “got a special invitation to come down here to watch the show from Shawn”. Kaiarie nodded

“Okay well, unlike you some of us have to work. ” She smirked, patting her NXT Women’s Championship that was wrapped around her waist. “But we should get dinner after.”

“Oh totally.” Cody said, nodding his head. “I missed you busting my balls every chance you get.” Kabana and Cody glared at each other before breaking out into smiles. “Come find me after your match”. She gave him a thumbs up before waving as he walked away, both of them oblivious to the two sets of eyes watching them.

“The following match is scheduled for one fall and it is for the NXT women’s championship!” Kabana took a deep breath and shook out her stage fright jitters and her theme song started to blare through the performance center.

She smiled as she appeared at the top of the stage listening to the fans chant her name as she held up her championship, her opponent in the ring already glaring daggers at her. “Making her way to the ring, from Chicago, Illinois Kabana Love!” She entered the ring walking up to Tiffany Stratton and started talking her shit, title raised high in the air.

Kabana smirked as the referee stepped in between them, separating them and pushing them to their respective corners.

As soon as the bell rang the smirk was off of Kabana’s face, it was game time. It was honestly one of her better matches with her and Tiffany trading move after move, near fall after near fall and the crowd was louder than ever.

It was now nearing the end of the match and Kabana had just got her knees up to block Tiffany’s Prettiest Moonsault Ever and was about to set her up for the Love Tap when someone jumping on the ring apron distracted her. Both Kabana and the referee looked at Dominik Mysterio in confusion.

“Are you fucking lost?” Kabana spat at him, rolling her eyes at the dumb little smirk on his face.

“What the hell?” She heard Vic Joseph say as she was grabbed from behind. “That’s Rhea Ripley Book, what the hell is she doing here.” Before Kabana could react she was set up for the Riptide and planted firmly on the mat. Rhea rolled out of the ring and wrapped her arm around Dom’s waist as the both made their way back up the ramp, smirking at all the boos they were receiving.

Tiffany took advantage of the situation and set Kabana up for another Prettiest Moosault Ever.

1-2-3 ding ding ding

“Here’s your winner and the NEW NXT women’s champion. Tiffany Stratton.” Kabana laid in the ring, glaring up at the ceiling as Tiffany celebrated with her championship.

“Bull-shit! Bull-shit!” she heard the crowd chant and she couldn’t agree more. What just happened was complete bullshit. She had never had a run in with Rhea or any of the other judgment day members, so why in the fuck did Rhea just come out here and cost her the title?

Kabana was livid as she made her way backstage, trying to find Rhea before being told that she and Dominik were already gone from the building. “You alright?” Kabana sighed and turned to face Cody. “That was bullshit and 100 percent my fault.” Kabana narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “They approached me after they saw us talking earlier, thought I was trying to recruit you for our War Games match.”

Kabana scoffed and shook her head in disbelief. “Isn’t that fucking great. On everything I love Rhea better watch out cause she gon get hers.” She said placing a hand on her lower back as it began to ache again. “You still need a member?” Cody nodded with a hopeful look in his eyes and Kabana smirked. “Count me in then Rhodes, bitch got something coming to her.” Cody smirked and placed his hands in his suit pants pocket. Rhea had no idea of the beast she had just awoken inside of Kabana.

Monday Night Raw

Kabana smirked as she made her way through the crowd dressed in all black. It was time for Rhea to reap what she sowed.

Rhea was leaning against the ring post laughing as Jey was getting his ass kicked by Judgement Day and Drew Mcintyre. The smirk was wiped off her face as a figure in black jumped the barricade. She looked around for security before she was knocked onto her ass by a mean right hook.

Kabana took off her hood and glared down at Rhea. She heard the crowd roar as they recognized her but she kept her eyes on Rhea who was backing away slowly. “Oh you done fucked up now.” Kabana snarled and as soon as Rhea tried to get up Kabana pounced, tackling her back down to the floor, throwing blow after blow. Rhea pushed Kabana off her and got to her feet only to be knocked back down by a superkick from Kabana.

“You thought you could cost me my title and there be no repercussions?” Kabana asked a knocked out Rhea. “Bitch are you dumb?” She rolled her eyes as Dom came over and helped Rhea to her feet, helping her walk over to where the rest of the team were standing.

“I’m so happy you guys won the advantage.” She heard Cody yell into the mic as she rolled into the ring to join her team. She paced behind the men, eyes still glaring at Rhea.. “I’m so glad you have a star like Drew McIntyre with you.. Because we’re not alone.” Cody trailed off and Kabana cut her eyes over at him then at Jey who was already looking at Cody. She had heard him talking about Randy joining them but she wasn’t sure he accepted.

“We found a sixth member. Somebody that I.. have a legacy with.” Kabana started to smirk. This War Games team was stacked and she couldn’t wait to get her hands on Rhea inside of the cage.

Survivor Series: WarGames

Kabana smiled at Adam Pierce as she handed him back his pen. She was officially a member of the Raw roster and after War Games her first order of business was taking that title away from Rhea.

“Aww shit.” She heard somebody say from behind her. “Was that a contract I just saw you sign?” Jey Uso asked as he walked closer to her. Kabana nodded her head with a smile on her face. “Good, so that means I get to see more of you.” Kabana furrowed her eyebrows. Was he flirting with her? “Happy you on our team tonight too. We definitely winning.” He said rubbing his hands together.

“Are we gonna be graced with another wonderful press conference?” She asked, smirking at the way his cheeks turned a shade of pink.

“Hell no!” He exclaimed as they started walking towards the dressing rooms. “And I put the blame all on ya boy Cody. Uce was giving me shot after shot.” He scratched the back of his neck. “It was embarrassing as hell too. I was stumbling all over my words and shit..” He trailed off with a shake of his head.

“I thought it was kinda cute..” She said, eyeing him up and down. He looked extremely good in his War Games ring gear. The blue and camo mix looked good on him.

“Stop flirting with my protégé Uce.” Cody came up to the two of them, wrapping his arm around Kabana’s shoulder. “You ready for tonight?”

“Hell yeah, I’m ready to get my hands on Rhea. Stupid bitch been subbin’ me on twitter all damn week.” Kabana said, rolling her eyes and unzipping her hoodie, showing off her new ring attire.

“Damn K.” Jey said, choking on his words as she did a slow 360 for him.

“It’s cute right? I figured I needed something new.” Cody watched as Jey hungrily looked Kabana up and down, a slight smirk on his face. “I’ll catch up with y’all in a bit though.” she ran off an extra pep in her step feeling Jey's eyes on her.

“Have you no shame?” Cody asked, laughing when Jey shook his head ‘no’

“Nah, so uh- what’s the deal with you two?” Jey asked, eyes never leaving Kabana’s frame until she rounded the corner out of his line of vision. “You and her.. You know?”

“Hell no!” The American Nightmare exclaimed. “Brandi would kill me.”

“So I can..” Jey said pointing in the direction Kabana went and Cody nodded, laughing.

“So whatchu doin after this?” Josh asked Kabana, ignoring the looks from the rest of their teammates who were locked in the cage at the top of the ramp with them. Kabana stopped her staring contest with Rhea to cut her eyes over at Jey.

“Huh?”

“Like after the show, you wanna go get dinner or something..” Sami and Cody startled to chuckle at the look of bewilderment on her face.”

“Wait, you’re asking me out.. In the middle of our match.”

“You know what they say, Carpe Diem or something like that.” He smiled, his grillz gleaming in the bright lights.

“Jey, i’m pretty sure, it’s gonna be like 2 am once we actually get out of here.” Jey nodding then stepped out of the cage as the referee opened it.

“Okay, then my hotel room.” He winked, “Think about it.” he pointed at her and smiled before running down to the ring to help out Seth Rollins.

“I can’t believe i’m actually doing this.” Kabana muttered to herself as she stepped off the elevator onto the 3rd floor. She exhaled a shaky, nervous breath before knocking on the door that matched the number Jey had told her earlier before leaving the arena.

She rolled her eyes with a chuckle as he opened the door with a wide smile. “Finally, the food was starting to get cold..”

🫣 i hope you don't hate it. Thank you for trusting me with your request @shantinextdoor 🫶🏽`

#jey uso x reader #jey uso x black reader #jey uso imagine #fic request #jey uso fanfic #jey uso fluff #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso fic

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haggishlyhagging · 5 months

Text

It would take Diane Joyce nearly ten years of battles to become the first female skilled crafts worker ever in Santa Clara County history. It would take another seven years of court litigation, pursued all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court, before she could actually start work. And then, the real fight would begin.

For blue-collar women, there was no honeymoon period on the job; the backlash began the first day they reported to work—and only intensified as the Reagan economy put more than a million blue-collar men out of work, reduced wages, and spread mounting fear. While the white-collar world seemed capable of absorbing countless lawyers and bankers in the 80s, the trades and crafts had no room for expansion. "Women are far more economically threatening in blue-collar work, because there are a finite number of jobs from which to choose," Mary Ellen Boyd, executive director of Non-Traditional Employment for Women, observes. "An MBA can do anything. But a plumber is only a plumber." While women never represented more than a few percentage points of the blue-collar work force, in this powder-keg situation it only took a few female faces to trigger a violent explosion.

Diane Joyce arrived in California in 1970, a thirty-three-year-old widow with four children, born and raised in Chicago. Her father was a tool-and-die maker, her mother a returned-goods clerk at a Walgreen's warehouse. At eighteen, she married Donald Joyce, a tool-and-die maker's apprentice at her father's plant. Fifteen years later, after working knee-deep in PCBs for years, he died suddenly of a rare form of liver cancer.

After her husband's death, Joyce taught herself to drive, packed her children in a 1966 Chrysler station wagon and headed west to San Jose, California, where a lone relative lived. Joyce was an experienced bookkeeper and she soon found work as a clerk in the county Office of Education, at $506 a month. A year later, she heard that the county's transportation department had a senior account clerk job vacant that paid $50 more a month. She applied in March 1972.

"You know, we wanted a man," the interviewer told her as soon as she walked through the door. But the account clerk jobs had all taken a pay cut recently, and sixteen women and no men had applied for the job. So he sent her on to the second interview. "This guy was a little politer," Joyce recalls. "First, he said, 'Nice day, isn't it?' before he tells me, 'You know, we wanted a man.' I wanted to say, 'Yeah, and where's my man? I am the man in my house.' But I'm sitting there with four kids to feed and all I can see is dollar signs, so I kept my mouth shut."

She got the job. Three months later, Joyce saw a posting for a "road maintenance man." An eighth-grade education and one year's work experience was all that was required, and the pay was $723 a month. Her current job required a high-school education, bookkeeping skills, and four years' experience— and paid $150 less a month. "I saw that flier and I said, ‘Oh wow, I can do that.’ Everyone in the office laughed. They thought it was a riot. . . . I let it drop."

But later that same year, every county worker got a 2 to 5 percent raise except for the 70 female account clerks. "Oh now, what do you girls need a raise for?" the director of personnel told Joyce and some other women who went before the board of supervisors to object. "All you'd do is spend the money on trips to Europe." Joyce was shocked. "Every account clerk I knew was supporting a family through death or divorce. I'd never seen Mexico, let alone Europe." Joyce decided to apply for the next better-paying "male" job that opened. In the meantime, she became active in the union; a skillful writer and one of the best-educated representatives there, Joyce wound up composing the safety language in the master contract and negotiating what became the most powerful county agreement protecting seniority rights.

In 1974, a road dispatcher retired, and both Joyce and a man named Paul Johnson, a former oil-fields roustabout, applied for the post. The supervisors told Joyce she needed to work on the road crew first and handed back her application. Johnson didn't have any road crew experience either, but his application was accepted. In the end, the job went to another man.

Joyce set out to get road crew experience. As she was filling out her application for the next road crew job that opened, in 1975, her supervisor walked in, asked what she was doing, and turned red. "You're taking a man's job away!" he shouted. Joyce sat silently for a minute, thinking. Then she said, "No, I'm not. Because a man can sit right here where I'm sitting."

In the evenings, she took courses in road maintenance and truck and light equipment operation. She came in third out of 87 applicants on the job test; there were ten openings on the road crew, and she got one of them.

For the next four years, Joyce carried tar pots on her shoulder, pulled trash from the median strip, and maneuvered trucks up the mountains to clear mud slides. "Working outdoors was great," she says. "You know, women pay fifty dollars a month to join a health club, and here I was getting paid to get in shape." The road men didn't exactly welcome her arrival. When they trained her to drive the bobtail trucks, she says, they kept changing instructions; one gave her driving tips that nearly blew up the engine. Her supervisor wouldn't issue her a pair of coveralls; she had to file a formal grievance to get them. In the yard, the men kept the ladies' room locked, and on the road they wouldn't stop to let her use the bathroom. "You wanted a man's job, you learn to pee like a man," her supervisor told her.

Obscene graffiti about Joyce appeared on the sides of trucks. Men threw darts at union notices she posted on the bulletin board. One day, the stockroom storekeeper, Tony Laramie, who says later he liked to call her "the piglet," called a general meeting in the depot's Ready Room. "I hate the day you came here," Laramie started screaming at Joyce as the other men looked on, many nodding. "We don't want you here. You don't belong here. Why don't you go the hell away?"

Joyce's experience was typical of the forthright and often violent backlash within the blue-collar work force, an assault undisguised by decorous homages to women's "difference." At a construction site in New York, for example, where only a few female hard-hats had found work, the men took a woman's work boots and hacked them into bits. Another woman was injured by a male co-worker; he hit her on the head with a two-by-four. In Santa Clara County, where Joyce worked, the county's equal opportunity office files were stuffed with reports of ostracism, hazing, sexual harassment, threats, verbal and physical abuse. "It's pervasive in some of the shops," says John Longabaugh, the county's equal employment officer at the time. "They mess up their tools, leave pornography on their desks. Safety equipment is made difficult to get, or unavailable." A maintenance worker greeted the first woman in his department with these words: "I know someone who would break your arm or leg for a price." Another new woman was ordered to clean a transit bus by her supervisor—only to find when she climbed aboard that the men had left a little gift for her: feces smeared across the seats.

In 1980, another dispatcher job opened up. Joyce and Johnson both applied. They both got similarly high scores on the written exam. Joyce now had four years' experience on the road crew; Paul Johnson only had a year and a half. The three interviewers, one of whom later referred to Joyce in court as "rabble-rousing" and "not a lady," gave the job to Johnson. Joyce decided to complain to the county athrmative action office.

The decision fell to James Graebner, the new director of the transportation department, an engineer who believed that it was about time the county hired its first woman for its 238 skilled-crafts jobs. Graebner confronted the roads director, Ron Shields. "What's wrong with the woman?" Graebner asked. “I hate her," Shields said, according to other people in the room. "I just said I thought Johnson was more qualified," is how Shields remembers it. "She didn't have the proficiency with heavy equipment." Neither, of course, did Johnson. Not that it was relevant anyway: dispatch is an office job that doesn't require lifting anything heavier than a microphone.

Graebner told Shields he was being overruled; Joyce had the job. Later that day, Joyce recalls, her supervisor called her into the conference room. "Well, you got the job," he told her. "But you're not qualified." Johnson, meanwhile, sat by the phone, dialing up the chain of command. "I felt like tearing something up," he recalls later. He demanded a meeting with the affirmative action office. "The affirmative action man walks in," Johnson says, "and he's this big black guy. He can't tell me anything. He brings in this minority who can barely speak English . . . I told them, 'You haven't heard the last of me.'" Within days, he had hired a lawyer and set his reverse discrimination suit in motion, contending that the county had given the job to a "less qualified" woman.

In 1987, the Supreme Court ruled against Johnson. The decision was hailed by women's and civil rights groups. But victory in Washington was not the same as triumph in the transportation yard. For Joyce and the road men, the backlash was just warming up. "Something like this is going to hurt me one day," Gerald Pourroy, a foreman in Joyce's office, says of the court's ruling, his voice low and bitter. He stares at the concrete wall above his desk. "I look down the tracks and I see the train coming toward me."

The day after the Supreme Court decision, a woman in the county office sent Joyce a congratulatory bouquet, two dozen carnations. Joyce arranged the flowers in a vase on her desk. The next day they were gone. She found them finally, crushed in a garbage bin. A road foreman told her, "I drop-kicked them across the yard."

-Susan Faludi, Backlash: the Undeclared War Against American Women

#susan faludi #female oppression #male entitlement #male violence #blue collar #women’s work #pay gap #sexism #misogyny #womens history #us history #amerika

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digangi · 7 months

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do you wish there were more books about morally complicated ex-wives fighting a mysterious legal conspiracy while falling back in love?

☼ would you like to see more lesbian or wlw protagonists with really messy lives?

☼ do you want more queer literature in the mystery/thriller genre?

☼ are you a fan of second-chance romances between women?

My award-winning 2022 novel Last Chance Chicago follows recovering addict and former lawyer Sam DiCiccio as her ex-wife Amy Igarashi makes her way back into Sam's life after being framed for insider trading. Sam wants Amy back. Amy — a hedge fund VP — wants to figure out which of her coworkers is trying to put her in federal prison, before they manage to get away with it. Naturally, Sam volunteers to help.

I recommend it, but I'm biased, don't take it from me:

☼ Last Chance Chicago is available as a paperback and an ebook almost anywhere books are sold, including my publisher, Bywater Books.

☼ It's also now available as an audiobook voiced wonderfully by Nicky Endres, who you may have seen face off with Amanda Seyfried's Elizabeth Holmes in The Dropout and who praised the book as exciting, hilarious and authentic (thank you Nicky!) ❤️ 🧡 💛

#bookblr #wlw books #lesbian book #sapphic books #lesbian novel #queer literature

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atopvisenyashill · 7 months

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How would asoiaf characters react to being teleported to our modern world?

characters i think would adjust mostly okay:

catelyn stark - imagine a catelyn who actually gets to use her intelligence as like, a lawyer or something. i'm weeping right now.

sansa stark

arya stark

jon snow - you can’t tell me this man wouldn’t get to the modern day and not immediately throw on a “this is what a feminist looks like” shirt unironically

brienne of tarth

arianne martell

doran martel - get this man a dietician so he can manage his ailments dammit

oberyn martell

asha greyjoy

theon greyjoy - first of all, get this man some anti psychotics but second of all, theon is the definition of “he should have been at the club”

joncon - for very similar reasons to theon actually lol. also like, a doctor for his hand or whatever.

jaime lannister - the thing about the real world is that if jaime joins the army and then realizes he’s willingly become part of the imperialist war machine, he can just finish out his time and then not join up again. he can literally just quit his job & become a pacifist or whatever the fuck.

samwell tarly

stannis baratheon - i think it'll be a shock but once he realizes he doesn't have to fuck women - or ANYONE really if he doesn't want to - and that there's a lot of people who find "strong silent and kind of a dick" a hot personality to have, he's gonna get lit, he's a baratheon after all he just needs the right circumstances

duncan the tall - put this man on a horse farm he'll have that shit running like a navy captain within a month, i believe this

characters i think would struggle a bit

cersei lannister - can’t murder but can take t, so there’s some trade offs here. she also has a terrible time adjusting in general so 50/50 she loses it or becomes buck angel.

tyrion lannister - again can’t murder, but once he gets over that, i think he will really enjoy being rich in this century. imagine tyrion on dating apps. he’ll be fine lmao

bran stark - i think bran would struggle without his direwolf connection but he will recover once he gets a wheelchair and a psychiatrist

davos seaworth - he's not a man that adjusts that well (imo) but there's nothing about him that screams "can only exist in a vaguely medieval context"

quentyn martell - he's just so sweet, someone's gonna bump him on the street and not apologize and it's gonna cause a meltdown but it's okay because doran and oberyn are throwing a rager with good music and good food and he'll be fine when he just has some carbs

characters i think would rather be k worded

ned stark

daenerys targaryen - listen, unless she gets to bring her dragons to fly around the chicago skyline, i think she's gonna be miserable.

basically every other greyjoy

barristan selmy

arys oakheart

tywin lannister

#asks #lmao

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supernatural-rp · 2 years

Text

Jay Halstead X Reader

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, kidnapping, blood, violence

Near Death Experience

It was mid December in Chicago. Jay and Y/N been together almost 3 years now. They met at a bar when Jay stepped in to save her from a drunk who was putting his hands on her when she told the man to stop multiple times.

Jay kissed his sleeping girlfriend on her forehead before he headed to work. The Intelligence unit was working a case involving human trafficking and drug deals gone wrong. They had just received another call about another drug induced homicide.

When Y/N work up, she stretched a little before heading off to take a shower and then get dressed before she had to clock in. After she was done, she grabbed her things and headed to her truck which was near an alleyway. She called Jay’s phone hoping he wasn’t busy.

Jay saw Y/N calling and picked up. “Hey, baby, heading to work?” Jay grinned as he waited for Antonio and Voight.

“Yeah, I just got to my truck. Heading to work now. I just wanted to call you and-“ But Y/N was cut off when someone came up behind her covering her mouth. She screamed. Her screams were muffled.

Jay heard the muffled screams. “Y/N?’ Hello?! Y/N” Jay called again. Then the line went dead.

As Voight and Antonio were coming out, Jay got a text from Y/N phone.

“If you ever want to see her again, stop working the case. And stop trying to play hero, Detective.” -Kidnapper

Jay swore under his breath. “Son of a bitch!!!”

Voight came up. “Jay, hey, what’s going on?” He looked at his partner.

Jay held his phone up. “They got her.” Was all Jay could manage to get out.

Sometime later,

Voight got everyone together. “Jay and I will go check out the apartment and truck. See if we can find anything. Antonio, you and Erin go talk to neighbors. See if they saw or heard anything. Also be on the look out for security cameras.” Voight told everyone.

Jay was quiet as Voight drove. He looked over at Jay. “We will find her, Jay.” He reassured Jay.

Jay sighed. “If I hadn’t left her alone, this wouldn’t have happened.” Jay blamed himself.

When they arrived on scene, Jay started looking around the truck. The door to the driver’s side was open, and he found Y/N’s phone on the ground. Smashed to pieces. He clenched his teeth. There was blood spatters on the ground.

“She must have put up a fight.” Voight studies the blood splatters.

With Y/N,

Y/N woke up on the ground. Her mouth taped shut, her hands and feet bound by tape. She opened her eyes blinking. Blood dripped down the side of her head where she had been hit upside the head near her truck before she was kidnapped. She tried to sit up, but the pain was too much for her to bare. She saw a man open the door, and walked in, locking it behind him. He kneeled down to her, lifting up her chin. “You’ll make the perfect trade.” He smirked, eyeing her up and down. “Once we get you cleaned up of course. Boss man doesn’t want to see you like this.” Y/N rolled her eyes at the guy. She mumbled through the tape.

Back at the Unit,

“Traffic cams manage to pick this up. A man came up behind her while she was talking to Jay. She opened her door up, and that’s when he attacked her.” Erin showed everyone the traffic cam footage. “And, we got a clear shot of his face. Ran it through the database, and we got a match.” She handed the files over to Jay and Voight.

Jay looked over the files. Anger washing over him. “I know him. He’s known for kidnapping women and selling them to sex traffickers. He’s also wanted in three states for capital murder, two drug induced homicides, drugs, assault, and attempted kidnapping.” Jay said.

“And we got a location on the vehicle he transported her in.” Antonio came into the room a few minutes later.

“Alright, gear up.” Voight said, as Antonio texted everyone the address.

Later,

“Let me go!” Y/N screamed and pleaded as she was dragged by her hair into the warehouse. “Shut the fuck up.” The man snarled, throwing her into a container. She screamed as she left in total darkness, her wrists and feet bound by tape. She cries softly, burying her face into her knees. She had black and blue bruises all over her arms and legs. Her eye was swollen, her lip busted. The side of her head was bloody.

Chicago PD surrounded the warehouse. “Chicago PD!” Jay yelled.

The men started firing at the PD. So, they fired back at the men. “Where is she?!”

Jay tackled the felon to the ground. “Where is she?!” He started the beating the shit out of the guy.

Voight motioned to Lindsay and Adam. They searched the warehouse. Adam threw open the container.

Y/N screamed when she saw the door to the container open. She scooted away, burying her face.

“I found her.” Adam called over his shoulder. “It’s okay, Y/N, it’s me, Adam.” He reassured her.

Jay stopped beating the guy. Voight handcuffed him as Jay took off to the shipment container. “Y/N?!”

She heard Jay’s voice and looked up. “J-Jay?!” Tears streamed her cheeks, as he freed her feet and wrists. She threw her arms around him. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I got you.” He cupped her bruised her cheeks. “You’re safe now.” He kissed her head, lifting her up, as he carried her out.

Chicago Fire was on scene. Severide and Casey helped her into the ambulance so they could assess her injuries. “Can Jay come? Please?” She looked up at Severide and then back at Jay.

“Yeah, he can ride.” Severide smiled reassuringly.

Jay hopped into the back, holding her hand in his. “It’s okay.” He kissed her hand.

#fanfic #chicago pd #jay halstead x reader #jesse lee soffer #antonio dawson #hank voight #erin lindsay #adam ruzek

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juneandnick · 2 months

Text

Make A Wish - Season 6

I have a lot of wishes for the finale season. Wishes you can read there: #season6 wish

The name Martha means Mistress of the house.

In Season 1.

Nick does business with Beth (Martha at Jezebels): trading alcohol, hair dye for Oxy, Percocet, speed, pregnancy tests ... They also had a "love affair".

In Season 2.

Marthas create a diversion to allow June and Holly to leave Gilead.

In Season 3.

June works with Mayday into Lawrence’s home. These people are Marthas.

At Jezebels, after June killed Winslow, Marthas hide the murder, clean up the room, make the body disappear ... (with the music Cloudbusting in the background).

We also learn in this season that they have a communication code:

- Muffins mean yes, - Scones mean no.

In Season 4.

Nick wants to know if June is in Chicago. He meets two Marthas (Lori and Reese). They let him know that his star on his shoulder does not give him the right to treat them any way he wants. It is obvious that they have no fear of him.

Lawrence and Tuello made a trade: The release of 22 women of the resistance in exchange for Fred Waterford's return to Gilead. Many of them are Marthas.

In Season 5.

In Canada, June and Moira meet Lily, who works for Mayday and was a Martha. Lily is one of many women who were traded for Fred Waterford.

We absolutely do not see Nick's Martha. We nevertheless know that he has one because in episode 1, Rose tells him: I did not want to wake the Martha so I made the coffee myself. Who could she be? Have we seen it before?

- Could it be Alison?

A chemistry teacher who goes deeply in the resistance (S3E02).

- Could she be one of the five women June saved?

An engineer, an IT tech, a journalist, a lawyer and a thief (S3E03).

- Could it be Maureen? One of these five women who helps June to escape from Jezebels (S3E11).

(Non-exhaustive list)

From the beginning, the Marthas have a key role in The Handmaid's Tale. I hope it will be still the case in the finale season. Obviously, I have absolutely no idea what season 6 has in store for us. Like all of us, I have expectations, hopes, wishes…

I would like the Marthas to be true allies for Nick, whether he escapes from Gilead or not. As I hope they can always count on his help to resist against Gilead.

I still have this hope that Rita will be involved in the fight against Gilead in season 6 and that she will help Nick (in one way or another) and her old friends.

Sources Pictures: Screenshot S4E05 (by me) - The Handmaid's Tale Instagram

#the handmaid's tale #osblaine #june osborne #nick blaine #resistance #season6 wish

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yaachtynoboat711 · 1 year

Text

Coffee Bae

Pairing: Kevin Atwater x Black Med! OC (Karis Z. Brown, M.D., F.A.C.S., F.A.C.C.)

A/N: Hey y’all! Happy New Year! After the love “Just One Round” received, I wanted to give y’all an origin story. Also, I wanted to modify something. While Black women wake up phenomenal beings, we can’t do everything. That being said, Karis is just cardiothoracic surgeon, rather than both a trauma AND cardiothoracic surgeon. I’m sure she’ll thank me for lessening her load. Y’all ready? Cool, here’s the story!

**I had to re-upload because the rough draft uploaded rather than the finished product. I apologize**

Summary: A chance meeting at the local coffee shop get Kevin and Karis together.

Word Count: 1384

Warning(s): Black Love, language

Pressurized steam, clinking porcelain, shouted names, and scattered conversations were the soundtrack to Karis’s morning trip to her favorite coffee shop, Jahva Coffee Bazaar. Her godparents’ coffee shop had been her safe haven since she moved to Chicago nearly a year ago. Karis traded in Hand Grenades and beignets for Harold’s mild wings and miserable winters. However, with the dramatic change in environment came unprecedented professional and personal growth.

Today was her first lecture at Chicago Central. She would be speaking to the med school students as a part of their cardiology education. Nervous was an understatement; she spent most of the day before revising and rehearsing the lecture. Now, she was at Jahva in her usual spot: the corner booth in towards the back.

One of the unique elements of Jahva was the element of community. Bruce and Juanita— Karis’s godparents— insisted strangers sit together when it got busy. For some reason, today was that day. The Friday morning traffic was busier than usual; more students and professionals stationed their electronics on the tables and counters. To make matters worse, it rained throughout the morning.

Kevin braved the rain to make it to Jahva. Wayward droplets cascaded off of the sleeves of his black puffy coat, falling to the welcome mat at the front door. He scanned the coffee shop for an available seat as he stood in line, cursing to himself as he failed to find a vacant spot.

Sure enough, he spotted Karis in her corner booth. Just as he confirmed his intended destination, Bruce, her godfather and shop owner, caught Kevin’s attention.

“Kevin, my man! What’s good witcha this mornin’?” The two men dapped each other up.

“Can’t complain, Unc. I don’t have to be at the station until later on…,” his eyes wandered back towards Karis,”…so I’m here.”

This time, her gaze met his. She grinned and returned her focus to her MacBook.

Kevin resumed his conversation with Bruce, “Aye real quick. Gotta question for ya, Unc.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you know who that beautiful young lady is over there?” Kevin nodded in her direction as to not gain attention to himself.

Bruce chuckled to himself, “Of course. She’s my goddaughter. She’s a surgeon and just moved into the city bout a year ago. If you want to sit by her, just go over there. I’ll send your usual that way.”

Kevin patted Bruce’s back in appreciation, “Good lookin’ out, Unc.”

Karis watched the tall, handsome man strut towards her. In a panic, she re-opened her lecture notes on her laptop. She had to look busier than she actually was. Her commitment to the diversion worked. She felt a presence in front of her. Her eyes met his once again, this time, she smiled, revealing the thin gap that nestled between her two front teeth. His gaze intensified.

“Is uhh…,” Kevin began to fumble over his words, “is this uhhh…seat…taken?”

Karis chuckled at his schoolboy-like nervousness, “Actually, I was hoping you sat next to me when you came in.” She picked her work bag out of the empty seat across from her, “Please, have a seat.”

Kevin bit his lip as he sat down, excited that she accepted his request. He thanked her, to which she graciously welcomed him. As he sat down, he reached his hand out towards her, “I’m Kevin by the way. Kevin Atwater.”

She quickly shook his hand, “Karis Brown. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Karis? I like that,” a grin spread across his face, “Beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”

The next twenty minutes were spent with a lively introductory conversation. He was shocked to hear that she was born in Colorado Springs and raised in North Memphis. Like most people, he observed that didn’t seem to have a Memphis. “Oh no, honey, I’m just not around my peoples. God knew not to let me work at home,” she joked.

“Oh, so you from Memphis?! North Memphis?! Project Pat, ‘Today you'll hear the story of Russell Resthaven and the day he tried to save his girlfriend’, Nawf Memphis?!” he jokingly replied as he pulled his coffee closer to him.

Before she could acknowledge his knowledge of Memphis rap, her phone lit up with the reminder of the engagement in 45 minutes. “Shit!,” she yelped. She put her laptop and tablet in her “professional” work bag—a large bronze Telfar shopping bag. She took a napkin and scribbled on it. “I’m sorry, but I gotta go. It was nice to meet you, Kevin. Have a great day,” she called out as she walked out.

A defeated Kevin looked to Bruce, who just shrugged his shoulders. As she reversed out of the parking lot, a knot of guilt pained Karis’s stomach. She didn’t want their conversation to end so abruptly. However, it had been years since she held an entertaining conversation with a man. “Don’t worry, he’ll be at Jahva another day,” Karis assured herself as she drove to Chicago Central University. Only time would tell.

Sundays were for church, sports, and cleaning. Karis made it to church, even after working an overnight shift. After church and a quick nap, it was time to complete the weekly cleaning reset. Karis changed out of her scrubs in favor of the new fuzzy lounge set her mother sent as a house-warming gift. She then lit a fresh linen scented candle before calling on her Google home device, “Hey, Google. Shuffle my holy ghost cleaning playlist.”

“You got it. Shuffling Holy Ghost Cleaning Playlist on Spotify.” Her Nest got things started with Fred Hammond’s “We’re Blessed”.

Song after song, she rid the house of the passing messes made during the week. She re-homed the pile of boxes that crowded the foyer to their respective places. She swept and cleaned her floors. Finally, she gave the kitchen a deep clean: mopping the floors, disinfecting the newly-installed granite countertops, and washed the dish towels and carpets. Maintaining a clean house as an on-call surgeon was hard; but the thought of cleaning during the week was laughable.

The praise and worship cleaning service faded out to an incoming call from a 708 number.

She jogged to the living room to see the unknown number. She initially wanted to push it off, assuming it was a scam call. Yet, something told her to answer.

“Karis Brown,” she answered with reasonable hesitation.

“Karis,” there was a sigh of relief on the other end, “Girl, you had me worried you wasn’t finna answer.”

“Kevin?,” she asked.

“Not gon’ hold you, I was scared I’d never talk to you again until I looked down and saw your name and number on that napkin.”

“I was hoping you’d gotten it. How was your weekend?”

The two engaged in small talk once again, he asked how the Friday lecture went and the weekend went overall. All went well by her account.

“Listen, I uh…was wondering…if umm…you wanted to…go to brunch in about an hour? It’s a place I’ve been meaning to go that’s in Bronzeville. I wasn’t sure if you were in church or sleep or anything like that.”

She chuckled at his consideration, “You’re so cute. I went to 7:30 Eucharist after my shift this morning so I’m good to go. I would love to continue our conversation.”

“Bet, so it’s… 10:45 now. Say I meet you at noon?”

“Sounds good. See you then, Kevin.”

Karis couldn’t put your finger on it exactly, but something about talking to Kevin refreshed her soul. Karis’s walk to her closet was a scurried shuffle. She was elated for the outing with Coffee Bae.

Fin.

My Lawwwd! A Taglist Turlaaaaaaa!

@muse-of-mbaku @kumkaniudaku @goddessofthundathighs @mbakusthrone @mbakuwife @crushed-pink-petals-writes @forgottenthoughtsandmemories @jackburtonsays @randomwordprompts @bakarilennox @wakandan-flowerz @ljstraightnochaser @babygirlofwakanda @eerythingisshaka @turn-thy-paige @darqchilddaydreamz @doublesidedscoobysnacks @wakandas-vibranium @oshasimone @destinio1 @sonofnjobu @teheeboo @sarahboseman @itsjustyazz @iamrheaspeaks @chaneajoyyy @lovelynervouschaos @katasstrophey @mareethequeen @jozigrrl @jellybean531 @awerkofart @storibambino @blackgirloneshots @royallyprincesslilly @certifiednatural @orchiddreamz

#yaa the author #chicago pd #chicago pd fanfiction #kevin atwater x black oc #kevin atwater x black!reader #kevin atwater fanfiction #kevin atwater fluff #kevin atwater #kevin atwater x reader

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fiercynn · 1 month

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Monday night, Reese was selected by the Chicago Sky with the No. 7 overall pick, joining SEC rival Kamilla Cardoso from South Carolina, who the Sky took No. 3 overall, and Gonzaga sharpshooter Brynna Maxwell, who they drafted at No. 13 overall. A three-time All-American who led LSU to the 2023 national championship — its first in women’s basketball — Reese is a 6-foot-3 forward who will get plenty of minutes early on in Chicago. The Sky, who traded All-Star Kahleah Copper in the offseason, are undergoing a rebuild under new coach Teresa Weatherspoon, a WNBA legend when she played from 1997-2004. Weatherspoon was a defensive specialist, and Reese, who’s known for her relentless, high-energy game, should fit in well with that style of coach. Reese is an intriguing pro prospect. She’s a tremendous athlete with a great motor, a gifted rebounder who reads the ball off the glass extremely well. At LSU this season, she averaged 18.6 points and 13.4 rebounds per game, one of just a handful of players in women’s college basketball to average a double-double.

#angel reese #wbb #wnba #women's basketball #chicago sky #wnba draft

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the-physicality · 5 days

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how to pick an nwsl team:

angel city fc (Los Angeles): if you like Christen Press. Very famous ownership group (politically concerning). The team is struggling but has bright young talent. Beckintweed is in her first season as head coach after bringing the team to the playoffs last year as interim.

notable players: christen press, Alyssa Thompson, Gisele Thompson, Messiah bright, Claire Emslie, Sarah Gorden

noteable injuries: Press- extended acl recovery, Jun Endo preseason acl

bay fc (San Jose/Bay Area): if you are an optimist/want to be an early adopter. a lot of exciting internationals, but struggle to win games. First year expansion team so also trying to define themselves. notable players: Rachel Kundananji, Princess, Asistat Oshoala, Deyna Castellanos, Tess Boade, Caprice Dydasco

notable injuries: Alex Loera - acl, Melissa Lowder gk #1 preseason acl

Chicago red stars: if you want to see a redemption story. coming back from a bad season, USA phenom mal Swanson is back to lead attacking talent. Also has USA gk #1 Alyssa naeher. Lorne Donaldson (who coached Jamaica wnt in the 2023 wwc as well as Sophia smith and mal Swanson at a youth level) is in his first year as head coach

notable players: Alyssa Naeher, Mal Swanson, Sam Staab

Houston dash fc: if you like rooting for an underdog and won't get discouraged. a team that has struggled historically but is still fun to watch. A lot of international talent, did very well in the draft. The team has a new head coach Fran Alonso who just came over from the Scottish women’s league. You can watch the team work to implement their new style in real time. Jane Campbell #3 gk for the uswnt as of late won goalkeeper of the year last year. Lost a lot of players to free agency and is rebuilding with rookies, trades, and transfers. somehow both the straightest team and the gayest team at the same time.

notable injuries/abscences: Kiki Van Zanten ankle/ lower leg sei, 3 players on maternity leave

notable players: Jane Campbell, Diana Ordonez, Sophie Schmidt, Paige Nielsen, Tarciane (incoming), Michelle Alozie

Kansas City current: if you like watching bangers. one of the top teams to beat this season. With Malawi sensation Themwa Chawinga this team is difficult to stop and has a lot of attacking prowess. Has some defensive liabilities. Coached by former uswnt head coach vlatko andonoski. Has signed a good number of u18 players

notable players: debinha, lo’eau labonta, themwa chawinga, Vanessa dibernardo, bia zaneratto

New Jersey/New York Gotham fc: if you like the uswnt. recently picked up 4 uswnt players in free agency. Also just got Ann Katrin Berger gk from Chelsea on a transfer. She is very good. Head coach Juan Carlos Amaros won coach of the year last year and the team won the championship. They have struggled with injuries this year and scoring more than one goal in a game.

notable injuries: Midge Purce acl , Abby Smith sei from 2023

notable players: Lynn Williams, Ann Katrin Berger, Crystal Dunn, Rose Lavelle, Tierna Davidson, Esther Gonzalez, Jenna Nighswonger, Emily Sonnett, Midge Purce, Yazmeen Ryan

North Carolina Courage: if you are ok waiting . traditionally a very strong team, has struggled a bit this season without Kerolin who tore her acl on the last regular season game in 2023.

notable injuries: Kerolin acl (Nov 2023)

notable players: Casey Murphy, Brianna Pinto, Tyler Lussi, Manaka, Narumi, Ashley Sanchez, Kerolin

Orlando pride: if you like the brazil women's national team. aka brazil fc. Has gone from a team that struggled to one of the top teams this year, in part due to the players brought in over the offseason, many of whom play for Brazil. Recently brought in Barbra Banda a Zambian striker, who has been very productive.

notable players: Marta, Barbra Banda, rafaelle, ally watt

Portland thorns: if you like soccer dynasties. traditionally one of the most successful teams in the nwsl with a lot of local support, the h th orbs struggled in the first few games with their worst start to the season ever. Following the firing of their head coach, the team has won 6 in a row in interim hc rob gale. Has a lot of strong attacking talent but is vulnerable on defense. The home field is turf.

notable players: Sophia smith, Olivia Moultrie, Christine Sinclair, Janine Beckie, Becky Sauerbrunn

Racing Louisville: if you want to watch a team turn around. a team that has struggled historically has put together a solid team in the offseason under new head coach bev yanez. Got some very good rookies in the draft and is off to a decent start.

notable players: Savannah Demelo, Reilyn Turner, Emma Sears, Uchenna Kanu, Ary Borges

San Diego wave fc: if you like to watch a team underproduce. very successful for a team established in 2022. Has a very strong system but has struggled with injuries as of late. The home field is shared with San Diego state football and is not always in the best condition.

notable injuries: Jaedyn Shaw, Alex Morgan (lower legs out tbd)

notable players: Alex Morgan, Jaedyn Shaw, Kailen Sheridan, Naomi Girma, Abby Dahlkemper, Maria Sanchez

Seattle reign: if you want to watch a team figure out their identity without US national team players. historically successful team that lost a lot of impact players in the offseason to retirement or free agency. Previously owned by the ol group, had to be sold because its owner Michelle Kang also owns the Washington Spirit. Dropping the OL, the brand got a massive upgrade. Is struggling this season. The home field is turf.

notable injuries: Claudia Dickey #1 gk

notable players: Jess Fishlock, Lauren Barnes, Quinn, Bethany Balcer, Alanna Cook, Ji So-Yun, Jordyn Heuitema, Veronica Latsko

Utah royals fc: if you live in utah. a new expansion team that is struggling quite a bit. First time head coach Amy Rodriguez selected ally sentnor as the first draft pick. Has a racist kit and stadium sponsor. Does not have a full roster.

notable injuries: Imani Dorsey Achilles

notable players: Mandy haught, Ifeoma Onumanu, Ally Sentnor

Washington spirit: if you want to watch rookies make magic. owned by Michelle kang, not afraid to make big moves and spend $$$ for a strong team. Has found success recently. Operating under interim hc Adrian Gonzalez until Barcelona head coach Jonathan Giraldez arrives after the end of their season. Croix Bethune is doing very well her rookie season.

notable players: Trinity Rodman, Croix Bethune, Casey Kruger, Andi Sullivan, Ashley Hatch, Hal Hershfelt

#Hopefully this helps someone

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beardedmrbean · 24 days

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Oh yes the hoteps, how the fuck they got together? And why their main base is in Chicago?! Is there a certain kool aid I don’t know about

Also about my ancestry, the thing is I may visit Nigeria if a close friend from they want to come or like for research.

I mean in my black oriented stories, I was slams a hammer so hard in the audience head pointing out the black Americans would see the native Africans as foreigners

Also make passive aggressive comments on the Dahomey.

Actually…I wonder if I could like every talk to a African and expose how bad our education system is telling the us the whole story about the Africa slave kingdoms

I imagine they would have downright shocked that black Americans of all people never learn about the Dahomey until the first women king trailer

Like to me, sorry not taking away the Jewish people struggles, just showing how bad my community knowledge is to our ancestry. Is like a Jewish person never taught what Emperor Hadrian did to ancient Israel.

Then how just about how people like you reveal we did the genetic history of black Americans ancestors with enslaved ancestry and parts we’re from

Why isn’t taught, a huge identity crisis among my community id that we were taught that our pre American ancestors were only slaves.

Of course we aren’t part of those tribes but give us better state of mind…ish

But one thing

Me: So you bitch about the war on drugs and militarization of police the elites did?

Black activists: yep

Me: Had it ever occurred to you that we are taughted a sanitized version of the African slave trade all the way to college while we get hit with the native atrocities and Japanese interment camps stuff in middle school. And how antagonistic we are on average towards African immigrants because we act like toddlers?

BA: nope

Good why am I doing research about our main ancestors more than you

Oh yeah the root thing

https://x.com/copicsquiddo/status/1392364456127221761?s=46

You know with the whole decolonization talks, I notice that the left intentionally leave out black Americans because at the end of the day we are the irreversible result of colonization…unless the left have this dumbass option that modern Yoruba culture is the same as my ancestors were part of-oh my god

So yeah we’re rootless, to where we only have middle upper class people povs of Africa until the 60’s

Also this idea that black people cant cruel as our white slave owners? Oh yeah that never-

*Phone call from the afterlife*

Hello? Oh it Maya Angelou, pointing out that she was RAPED by her mom’s boyfriend as a child and why she was muted for a few years. OW! Oh it Micheal Jackson hitting that high note point out how much of a pos his father was to him and his siblings

Remember that Jackson 5 mini series where they point out the dad was abusive as hell

Got a feel mj and the others did “uncredited” consultants on that series

I heard that mj dad didn’t even GRIEVE or act sad his fucking son was dead. My god, actually I was checking Paris Jackson, she was on an Amazon show called the Swarm where she said her was culturally black. Swarm centered around a serial killer obsessed with a beyonce stand in.

So have the daughter of a man who finger twitch at concert made people faint. Is a good reference

But I read up that MJ mom tried to funraise a documentary after her son death…holy fuck is the MJ we know is a least terrible result of the household he was in?

Um oh yeah, *phone rings* oh Tyler Perry, orphan (wait she was and tp were basically Judas for their higher ups), children of the welfare queens and abusive inner cities parents pointing out the hell they went through

Okay I’m talking about child abuse, but I notice when white, Asian, and Latinos point out their parents and elders shitty actions they are supported

But when black Americans points out that a lot of our parents beat us harder than overseers did to other field ancestors. We need to treat them with kids gloves

Of course not all and we do point out this shit. We need to treat these abusive tactics with kids gloves

“Slavery, racism, and systematic oppression is why!”

Hmmm, why I don’t see Mexicans, Indians, Argentinians, Chinese, Vietnamese, Native Americans, giving their elders who often went through hell too. The same execuses?

Oh yes the hoteps, how the fuck they got together? And why their main base is in Chicago?! Is there a certain kool aid I don’t know about

Splinter from nation of islam, or something like that is my guess. Nailed it

I mean in my black oriented stories, I was slams a hammer so hard in the audience head pointing out the black Americans would see the native Africans as foreigners Also make passive aggressive comments on the Dahomey.

To them here they would be, just like the other way around would work the same, and far more than passive aggressive, but they earned it.

Prev bit and Like to me, sorry not taking away the Jewish people struggles, just showing how bad my community knowledge is to our ancestry. Is like a Jewish person never taught what Emperor Hadrian did to ancient Israel.

I wonder where "ancient" stops applying, that one happened well after Jesus

an·cient ADJECTIVE

belonging to the very distant past and no longer in existence: "the ancient civilizations of the Mediterranean"

Suppose that works, nice and vague too. Granted that one doesn't turn up in Christianity so it's not too well known outside of Jewish circles, but they do their own schooling too, pretty much no matter where they are they have 'Jewish School' identity is important to them and all their holy days are confusing to a outsider.

There's a handy chart for us gentiles

Admittedly black Americans were not given the chance to do the same, there was "africatown" technically Plateau, Alabama where former slaves that still remembered home could go to escape Americans, not just white people.

Prev bit+ Of course we aren’t part of those tribes but give us better state of mind…ish

Absolutly be good to learn, sadly the nature of how so many got here y'all are likely to be in the same boat as so many of the rest of us are there, we're all mutts, I'm a european one they'd be african. Might explain some of the pan african stuff honestly, with DNA tests now you can pinpoint though just make sure the company isn't one that will sell your info to the cops or anyone else.

Me: So you bitch about the war on drugs and militarization of police the elites did? Black activists: yep Cont:

It's gonna start sinking in soon enough I think, the information is there and people know where to look now so there will be some folks that are not in the mood to be berated anymore that will begin the education process.

My guess at least.

This sounds familiar, can't just blame white people for that tho, also lots of the kingdoms and what not that did the selling and being sold don't exist anymore, makes it even harder.

Prev and I heard that mj dad didn’t even GRIEVE or act sad his fucking son was dead. My god, actually I was checking Paris Jackson, she was on an Amazon show called the Swarm where she said her was culturally black. Swarm centered around a serial killer obsessed with a beyonce stand in.

joe jackson that was bad ya, same with mya angelou, Tina Turner, and several other people through history, folks need to give up on the race dynamic parts of abuse and just focus on how to help people heal,

Blaming the actual abuser instead of some nebulous concept would be good too. Nice to give the bad guy a name, even if it's Joseph.

Okay I’m talking about child abuse, but I notice when white, Asian, and Latinos point out their parents and elders shitty actions they are supported But when black Americans points out that a lot of our parents beat us harder than overseers did to other field ancestors. We need to treat them with kids gloves

Overseers knew better than to beat the tractor with a baseball bat, one of those things that changed with slavery being abolished is working conditions could actually get worse.

Coal miner talking about the boss telling him to be sure and get the mule out if there's a cave in,

'what about me and the men boss'

'I can hire more men, gotta buy the mule'

“Slavery, racism, and systematic oppression is why!” Hmmm, why I don’t see Mexicans, Indians, Argentinians, Chinese, Vietnamese, Native Americans, giving their elders who often went through hell too. The same execuses?

there's a reason it changed to bipoc from just poc while the lgbt alphabet soup keeps getting longer and more inclusive.

#zoomer huey anon

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