#let me get it out of my system then i'll be back to my regular (ppfft regular yea right me) scheduled fics
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Title: "A Life With No Regrets"
For day one of @heaven-ecologist Angel appreciation week! (Yes I'm behind on the prompts I know) Happy birthday, I don't know when your birthday is op but have a lovely birthday week!
Angels Week 2022 - Tumblr | Ao3
Fandom: Supernatural
Prompt(s): "Vessel"
Relationship(s): Alfie(/&)Samandriel (can be read both ways)
Rating: Gen
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 2,919
"I have them; my family, the others… and you."
His chest tightened. "And me," he confirmed.
"In a way, it was you or my father." Samandriel furrowed his eyebrows, "I suppose I made my choice."
"Do you regret your choice?" The words left his mouth before he registered what had came out.
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The bag crumpled in Alfie's hand as he handed it off. "Thank you, come again."
He received a smile as the customer left. The bell rang and lingered in the silence of the empty restaurant. It had been a slow day, a few customers coming in every so often but never enough to get near to overwhelming him.
Though, the smile he had greeted and said goodbye to the customer with, had stayed plastered on his face. He had woken up happier than ever and the feeling was a reminiscence of the day. Maybe it was because he had learned that the apocalypse—which was a possible factor that could happen to the world—was indeed not going to happen.
Samandriel had told him the news with nothing but utter excitement and content of words that his family was finally okay again.
Yet despite the end of what the angel had originally asked his permission to take Alfie's body. He never left. Well… granted, he did have to leave for some periods of time to return to heaven with his siblings. He knew Samandriel didn't have to come back, nor did he expect him to, he was one of the protectors of the souls in heaven after all. And yet, Alfie found himself saying yes time and time again whenever he came back to earth.
He enjoyed his presence and that made him happy, maybe it made Samandriel just as happy too. But his smile that refused to leave his face as he worked his shift wasn't from all these thoughts. And while they did have an influence, they weren't the leading cause.
The cause was maybe half due to the fact that no one could see the angel spinning on a chair behind the counter. Alfie tried to say that it was the former reason, and yet, his smile only grew as he continued to watch his friend spin himself in dizzying circles.
The sight made it hard to talk and continue his job with a straight face so he didn't try to fight it. Taking the compliments he had received from the customers and co-workers about how happy he was. He couldn't exactly tell them that an angel of the lord named Samandriel was entertained with the spinning chair in the corner without sounding insane.
He cleared his throat through the silence hoping to grab Samadriel's attention, only the angel kept spinning. A part of him worried that he was going to make himself sick and throw up. Though he had seen the angel go through worse and decided not to worry too much.
An airy chuckle escaped his mouth as he shook his head and grabbed for a rag to clean the counters with. "Are you having fun?" He lightly teased.
Samandriel's eyes met his as he stopped spinning. His eyebrows furrowed down in thought before he nodded his head. "I believe so."
Alfie opened his mouth but the sound of Samandriel's feet leaving the floor and the chair once again spinning interrupted what he was going to say. He chuckled. "An angel of the lord entertained by a spinning chair," he commented more to himself than Samandriel. "Who knew."
"My brothers say we are no longer my father's angels."
"What, are you Charlie's angels now?" He joked.
Samandriel's spinning stopped as a confused look graced his face before he answered. "I am not related to Charlie Bradbury, although she is kind."
"That's… uh." He shook his head, he didn't have the heart.
The corner of Samandriel's lips twitched before he broke out into a wide grin. "I'm kidding."
He scoffed, "very funny."
"You seem to have a vast knowledge about those things, especially—"
"Okay! You can scooch on out of my brain now."
His grin just grew wider as Alfie felt his face grow warm. Sharing headspace with an angel was not ideal. He sighed, "So how does that whole no ruler of the universe thing work anyway?" He asked before Samandriel could start spinning again. He briefly peaked up from wiping the counter as a confused look was sent his way.
"I mean no lord—god," he explained, "that can't be good, right?"
Samandriel shrugged his shoulders, swaying the chair lightly. "It has been this way for thousands of years, my older siblings always took charge. This universe was run by them, the demons in hell and other deities while my father played human," he supplied. "The only difference now is he's…"
Alfie grimaced. He had been there multiple times to witness first hand the dysfunctionality that was Samandriel's family. The small spats and sibling arguments that rivaled any he had ever seen. What little he could see of it was overwhelming, and yet he knew it was worse for Samandriel. Older brothers that squabbled constantly only for the rest to sit back, helpless and watch it all unravel.
"I'm sorry, Sammie," he softly muttered.
Samandriel raised his head with a gentle smile and shook his head. "I like this—now. Even if it means my father is gone. My siblings are finally together with love again, how it once was." His voice grew softer as his smile grew fonder. "I have them; my family, the others… and you."
His chest tightened. A gasp of breath in the new air and unwalked ground. The all too hopeful gaze directed towards him was held as a smile climbed on his face. "And me," he confirmed.
"In a way, it was you or my father." Samandriel furrowed his eyebrows, "I suppose I made my choice."
"Do you regret your choice?" The words left his mouth before he registered what had slipped out.
Samandriel didn't answer quickly or appeared to be in deep thought. He blinked as the question that ghosted through the air, left to be like an annoying itch instead of something head-on.
Guilt started to claw at Alfie, he wanted to rip back his words as quickly as he said them. The somber expression on the angel's face made it all the worse as they both sat in silence.
In a way, he wanted to know. That if Samandriel had another chance, would he choose humanity again or his father? The selfish manner or thought that was there lingered. He wanted confirmation for his own mind and heart that he—humanity would be chosen again. And yet, in the same breath, he didn't want to hear the truth if it wasn't that. He wanted a lie in its most concealing form and the truth to be hidden away no matter how bright it shined.
"I—"
"Samandriel…" he interrupted before he could finish his thought on what he was to say. He couldn't hear it, he couldn't bear the thought of it.
The word left with one breath and he gasped for another as those same eyes met his. He watched him with intent and whole trust surrounded by a world with familiarity of puzzle pieces missing and growing unknown feelings just as peculiar.
He watched as Samandriel's expression changed, thought to a sudden worry as he cocked his head. A misunderstanding or confusion that Alfie could say was plausible. Be it the interruption and tone of his voice, or simply the use of the angel's full name that many—including himself—had deemed a mouthful. He too had his own confusions when it came to others and feelings.
He shifted as he directed his gaze anywhere but the angel. "You don't—"
"Alfie!"
He jumped at his boss's voice, fumbling with the rag in his hand as she walked in sporting a kind smile.
"How's everything going?"
"Oh, um… slow day." He smiled and gave a pointed look around the empty restaurant.
"It is," she acknowledged. "How much longer is your shift?"
"Umm…" he felt his clothes for his phone before remembering it was in the break room.
"Twenty-eight minutes and thirty-three seconds," Samandriel supplied.
"What he s—" he quickly faked a cough covering up his mistake of acknowledging the angel that no one else could see.
She shot him a confused look. "What?"
"Twenty-eight minutes! I said—Uh," he cleared his throat, "twenty-eight minutes."
"Right…" she said warily, "Why don't you take the rest of your shift off, I doubt any more people will be coming by anytime soon."
"Yes, uh, Thank you," he smiled as she turned and left.
He let out a breath he was holding. "That was a close one." He walked past Samandriel and disposed of the rag, their previous conversation left unfinished. "We should get out of here before someone else thinks I'm talking to myself."
The cap on his head was the first to go as he made his way to the break room. He grabbed his bag as he started to remove his uniform. Well�� almost. His hands froze as he turned and came face to face with Samandriel. "Uh… Sammie?"
"Yes?"
"What are you doing?"
"Waiting," he replied simply.
"I'm uh, y'know… gonna change."
Samandriel just blinked.
He sighed. "Just…" he grabbed him and faced him towards the wall. "Stay like that till I say to turn around 'kay?"
His head bounced lightly from where he faced the wall.
Alfie found himself with a fond smile on his face for the umpteenth time that day as he reached for his bag and grabbed the extra change of clothes he kept in there. "Us humans tend to enjoy our privacy," he commented, kicking off his shoes.
"We angels are private about things as well."
"Really?" His tone bordered on incredulous. "You guys aren't exactly embarrassed when it comes to nudity." He had learned that one the hard way.
"Our wings are rather private to us."
"I saw yours that once." And he would never forget the sight. At the end of everything when they were all at peace from the constant war and the angels finally were to return to heaven for the first time together. With one small snap, the wings they all had heard the fluttering of so many times before were visible.
He had gasped at the sight. The colours and sizes all varied from Michael's ash grey wings that triumphed over all his siblings, down to Samandriel's small soft cream coloured wings. It had taken everything in him to not reach out and touch.
Samandriel's head dropped as he shifted a bit in place. "It's a rare occasion for… certain people when we allow them to be visible to the human eye."
"Oh…" he pulled his arms through his shirt and started working on the buttons. "Do they actually look how you showed them to me?"
"What you saw is the manifestation of my grace suitable to not burn your eyes out."
"Right, true form, not suitable for human eyes."
"Not suitable for earth in general," Samandriel stated. "My brothers told me that after the incident with the dinosaurs."
He stopped on the last button at the top as the comment sunk in. "Wait, wait, wait…" he grabbed Samandriel's shoulder and flipped the angel around to face him. "Your brothers killed the dinosaurs?!"
"Michael says that it was our baby brother's fault but Gabriel always argued otherwise"
"What does he say happen to them?"
Samandriel shrugged, "never said."
He scoffed in disbelief. This is what his life had come to. "Can't ever have nice things huh?"
"With my many siblings?" He shook his head, "No."
"Well, come on." He bumped his shoulder and grabbed his bag. "At least we can have some nice things."
"What things?"
"A lot of things," he replied. "Or more importantly Ice cream."
"Ice cream?"
"Mhm," He hummed. "Best invention since pizza."
Samandriel smiled at him. "I've had neither."
"You can't be serious?"
"The times I've been on earth have all been for a reason. I mostly always stayed in heaven; guarded the souls."
Alfie grimaced. Every time the angel spoke about his purpose in the past, he only ever mentioned being the guardian of the souls. As if that was the one and only purpose he served. "Still," he argued, "I can't believe you've never had ice cream before?"
"I don't require food to live."
"Ice cream is not a requirement for life. Although some people would say otherwise—but forget that. Come on." He grabbed Samandriel's hand and dragged him out the door.
The once bright sun was dimmed in a hued ombre of colours. He knew he was going to regret the baby blue button-up and shorts he had changed into very soon by the rate the sun was disappearing at.
"Where are we going?"
A slight tug on his hand had him stuttering in his steps. He halted and turned back around. "We have to show you the wonders of ice cream, Sammie." With another tug, the angel was steadily following him as he made his way around the corner and to a nearby ice cream vendor.
He dropped Samandriel's hand as he ordered and accepted the two vanilla cones before handing one to him.
"Cheers." He bumped the cones together before digging into his own.
Samandriel gave it a peculiar look before he too started to eat it.
"Do you like it?" He asked as he watched the angel's face for any indication.
"Most things taste like molecules."
"Are ice cream molecules any good at least?"
"They're… different."
"Sweet?"
"Sweet," Samandriel repeated with a small nod, "like comfort."
"They call it comfort food for a reason."
"I can see why." He took another lick of the melting ice cream.
Alfie chuckled, "I'll take that as a yes then." Despite having something to concentrate on, he kept his gaze up. Time to pass that his eyes followed Samandriel's movements. The childish gleam as he lapped up the melting sugary treat.
Alfie's own getting less attention and dripping to the napkin around the cone. He looked away from the still unsuspecting eyes as he licked the sticky sweetness from the edges of his fingers and the aftermath of the heat.
His heart beat heavily as he took a deep breath. The presence next to him demanded his attention and he could only ignore it for so long. A constant pain that left throbbing and bruising from where its impression first was. Something that only time would change and yet each second agony with a tied tongue.
A loud crunch brought his attention back to Samandriel. A small edge of the cone was gone from his ice cream, yet the evidence remained on the corner of his mouth.
Alfie lightly chuckled. "You have…" he gestured to the corner of his mouth.
Samandriel tilted his head.
"Here." He grabbed one of the clean napkins and closed the distance between them, wiping away the bit of ice cream on the corner of Samandriel's mouth.
"There you go…" his hand moved away but the rest of his body didn't. The small distance seemed to be almost smaller as he met Samandriel's eyes, dancing across his expression for something—anything to grasp onto.
Samandriel quickly dropped his head from his gaze, staring down at the melting ice cream between them. "I don't; so you know," he said in nothing more than a whisper. "I don't regret my choice."
Alfie swallowed, he knew the conversation would come back around. "You chose humanity?" He still couldn't comprehend why. It had been more than his brothers and sisters, it was more than the people they had met. More than humanity.
"I chose people who love and care about me rather than an absent father I'd never met." His tone didn't falter as his words spilled from his mouth like a command. "There are many things to regret when you've lived as long as I have, but this is not one of them." He raised his head and allowed their eyes to meet. "I'd make the same choice a thousand times more."
His words echoed on the edge of devotion. A choice of right and wrong that only played at the end of the story. If mistake was the aftertaste to choice, Alfie wondered how his words would change.
Yet when all was said and done, Samandriel had already made his choice. And truth be told, Alfie has chosen his as well. All those yes's that he gave without a second thought could have very well been the opposite. No hesitation for the angel's wanted return despite all the situations he knew were inevitable.
"Then," Alfie slightly raised his ice cream, "to no regrets?"
He smiled. "No regrets," he repeated.
Alfie hurriedly finished his ice cream, disposing of their napkins as they walked aimlessly. A chill coursed his body, making him shove his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "It's getting dark."
"Home," Samandriel said. It wasn't a question so much a statement from the angel.
"So I'm walking you to a sandbox?" He questioned. "Not exactly too romantic if I have to say, and I've been on some pretty bad dates."
Samandriel scoffed at him. "No… I mean home." He held out his hand, palm up as if waiting for it to be taken.
Alfie looked down at the gesture, fingers twitching for the warmth that had escaped too soon. A free invitation on a dare mixed with the unsaid truth they both knew laid dormant. An unacting tease as the question really was: how long?
He obliged. The vice grip from earlier melted into their shared warmth as he carefully laced their fingers together.
"Home?" He asked for confirmation.
Samandriel smiled, "home."
#supernatural#supernatural fanfiction#angelsweek2022#spn alfie#samandriel#heavens most adorable angel#samandriel x alfie#virusfanfic#i forgot how to tag my fanfics on here#oh yeah hi!#i'm back baby!!!#a month (two months actually) without uploading she comes back with a fic!#did i just make that referance? yes... yes i did#weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee#also yes it's a spn fic my childhood is coming back to haunt me#let me get it out of my system then i'll be back to my regular (ppfft regular yea right me) scheduled fics#alfieandriel
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I also own an EU disability card which is a way to prove you actually have an (invisible) disability which can be usefull in some cases like during lockdown there was a one-person-per-family shopping rule but I would be allowed to bring a second person to help me with whatever I need.
With this card comes a list of locations like movie theaters or parks that will offer discounts or free stuff to card owners, but they never fully fleshed out the system so everyone basically gets access to everything (on paper technically I can join the wheelchair diving club) and this gets funny side effects like when I got a discount for the zoo with a free activity book for autistic kids.
But the funniest locations to me personally are the ones where they offer me a free ticket for my 'companion'. They clearly have a specific type of disabled person in mind but hey, they're offering so I'm taking it! So I visit these places with a friend and we split the price of the remaining ticket. But this is where the fun part comes, actually informing the ticket workers of my card.
Let's use the example of my visit to the Gravensteen, a medieval castle in Ghent. The ticket guy is standing outside and does this explanation about some stuff that is being fixed in the office hence why he is standing in open air. So at this point we have had a completely normal conversation with this guy. But then we buy the actual tickets and I hand over my card, to prove we're allowed this discount of course.
And the second he sees my picture on the card, this guy, who again, had a completely normal conversation with us up this point, lowers himself down to me (he's not much taller), puts his hands on his knees and goes "SO ARE YOU READY TO VISIT THE BIG CASTLE? I HOPE YOU HAVE FUN!" at which point I was just staring back in bewilderment and not saying anything so he just gave me a sad smile, seemed to resist the urge to pat me on the shoulder and let us in.
We are all too familiar with the infantilization that comes with being disabled but it's becomes extra absurd when it happens min-conversation. He already is aware I can keep up with a regular conversation. The only thing that changed is that he now knows I'm disabled and not even what kind. and the fact that he did the embodiment of this meme was just the sherry on top
Anyway I'll take the autistic coloring book next time please
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A group thing?
written for @steddieholidaydrabbles
prompt: no upside down au | rated: t | wc: 944 | tags: no upside down au, pre-steddie, steve x corroded coffin
Steve gets a job in a record store in Chicago, and a familiar group of guys come in looking for a place for their band to play. Who knows where it could go
Getting out of Hawkins was the best thing that had ever happened to Steve. The plan had been cemented between him and Robin when they started working at Family Video after the freak fire at Starcourt, the result of an electrical fault caused by the cut corners and corrupt construction. They were both going to work as many hours as possible at Family Video, so they could save up ready to move away after Robin graduated high school, with Steve planning to follow her to wherever she went to college.
The plan led them to Chicago, with Robin getting accepted to study linguistics at the University of Chicago. They found a small, relatively affordable two bed apartment, and did everything they could to make it theirs. While Robin worked on her degree, Steve found work at an independent record store. Even though it was still retail, he found it much better than working at Family Video and Scoops Ahoy had been. There was no uniform, the manager was pretty chill, and employees could choose anything from stock to play over the store's sound system. Steve did tend to play a lot of Queen when it was his turn to pick, but he was learning a lot about other genres from his coworkers' tastes in music.
But Steve's favorite part of the job was the live music. There was a small stage area that local bands could book and come in and play for free, in a chance to get more experience playing. Some of them weren't the best, but some of them were amazing. It was something that made it feel less like work. Some bands were pretty regular, and Steve was starting to form a real friendship with some of them.
"Hi, how can I help?" Steve asked as he came back to the counter from the stock room where he'd been processing a delivery with his coworker. There were a group of guys all waiting around, so he assumed that they were a band wanting to get a play spot. There was something familiar about them, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what.
"Er, hi. We've just moved to the area, and a buddy of ours told us you let bands play here for free." The guy at the front with long hair said, seeming to be the leader.
"Yeah, we do that. Just give me a moment." Steve ducked down to grab the folder from under the counter. "So the boss is the one who makes the final decisions on all the bands, so I'll just need to take your details, and she'll call you back to arrange everything. And I can give you the information sheet with everything you need to know."
The band took the sheet, and murmured a little amongst themselves.
"Okay, so if I can start with the band name?" Steve asked, pulling out a sign up sheet.
"Corroded Coffin." One of them replied.
Steve wrote it down, and tried to make conversation as he did. "You said you guys just moved here? Where'd you come from?"
"This shitty, small town in Indiana. You've probably never heard of it."
"Uh huh. And a phone number we can contact you on?"
The number got rattled off for Steve to note down.
"That sounds a lot like where I'm from. You wouldn't be from Hawkins, would you?"
"Yeah, we are."
"I thought you guys seemed familiar. We probably went to high school together." Steve said. "And your names?"
Each said their names as Steve wrote them down. The last one, who had seemed to be the leader, "Eddie Munson."
Steve looked down at the sheet, before looking up at Eddie. "You used to sell, right? At a picnic bench in the woods behind the school."
"You used to buy? Then do we get your name, big boy." Eddie asked, leaning on the counter.
"Steve. Harrington." Steve replied, watching hesitantly as they all seemed surprised.
"King Steve, what brings you to working in a place like this?"
"Trying to make rent. My parents cut me off after I graduated, and I'm pretty sure it would be a total disownment if they knew half the shit I got up to now. So me and my best friend moved up here after she graduated. She's in college and I'm making sure we can afford our shitty two bedroom apartment."
"Now I want to know what you get up to." One of the others said, Steve was pretty sure he'd said his name was Gareth.
"Let's just say I know what the bandanna in Munson's back pocket stands for." Steve winked as he said it, and couldn't help laughing as they all spluttered slightly. "I've got all the information I need, and I'll make sure to put in a good word with the boss for you."
Steve was working when Corroded Coffin were playing at the store for the first time. He was on hand to help them get set up and make sure everything went smoothly.
"I think that's everything, you guys can start playing when you're ready, and I'll let you know when your time is nearly up. Do you need anything else?"
"How about a kiss for good luck?" Eddie asked.
Steve smiled before pulling Eddie in by the shirt and kissing him deeply.
"Hey, what about the rest of us?" Gareth called from behind his drum kit.
Steve just shrugged, before going around and kissing each of them softly on the lips.
He made his way back behind the counter, looking forward to what could come between him and the band. Friendship, or maybe even something more.
#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#steve x eddie#pre steddie#steve harrington x corroded coffin#no upside down au#steddieholidaydrabbles#atimeofyourwrites
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Survivors Part 1
Summary: Occurs during the events of Season 4x13 and Season 4x14.
*This is my first attempt at writing after many, many years so please go easy on me*
Warnings: Shooting, Injury, Blood
Strictly Angst with a teeny tiny bit of Fluff
Eddie Diaz x Paramedic! Reader
The shift started out as normal as it usually did. I mean, as normal as it could for the 118. I had picked up an extra night shift to try and help C Shift with a staffing issue they were currently having. Eddie, my fiancée, had already gone home for the night after our regular shift. As much as I would have loved to go home with him, I knew the extra money would be nice to have for the costs of planning a wedding.
I had only been at work for 3 hours, but I was already exhausted after having a cardiac arrest and a car flip over on the highway. Back-to-back. Shutting the back doors of the ambulance after restocking, I made my way upstairs to the kitchen area to grab a snack. It was currently 10pm and everyone else was in bed for the night. Right after grabbing a left-over slice of pizza out of the fridge, the bell and pager went off once again for a sick call at a nearby apartment complex.
My partner for the night, Alicia, quickly made her way out of the dorm rooms before shuffling towards the truck.
"Is there no such thing as a break?!" She yells from the passenger side of the truck.
I laugh as I move down the stairs towards the driver's side.
"What does the nice, bustiling city have for us this time?" I ask as Alicia looks over the computer, that is still updating with notes from the caller.
I start the truck up and we exit the station driving down the still busy city roads. Alicia lets me know that were going to The Regal Point Apartments for a 13-year-old male complaining of not feeling well. His mom called, concerned that her son's condition was deteriorating.
Pulling up to the apartment complex, Alicia grabs the medical bag while I grab the LifePak monitor. Luckily, this apartment complex has an elevator, so we don't have to trudge our way up four flights of stairs. Once at the correct apartment, the patient's mother, who introduces herself as Sheila. Alicia and I introduce ourselves with Sheila pointing us towards her son's bedroom. While walking towards his bedroom she begins to talk to us about his medical history.
"His name is Charlie, he's 13-years-old. He has an Auto-Immune disorder that forces him to stay inside all the time. The only times he gets to leave the house are to go to one of his many doctors' appointments."
Entering Charlie's room, Alicia once again introduces us and asks if she can check his vital signs. He agrees with Alicia beginning to check his blood pressure. Even in the small glow from his bedside lamp, I can see that Charlie looks sick. He appears pale with dark bags sitting underneath his eyes. Overall, he looks exhausted.
After checking all of his vital signs and talking to Sheila and Charlie more, I had a weird feeling start to form in my stomach. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but something just did not feel right. The way that his mom seemed evasive with his full diagnosis and couldn't remember his medications, something just seemed...wrong. When Alicia asked the mom about us taking him to the hospital, she quickly stated that she does not believe that he needs to go to the hospital due to him having a weak immune system.
"Ma'am we understand your concerns, but we always recommend people go to the hospital to get checked out. Especially when they are as sick as Charlie is." I try once again.
Alicia was packing up the bag as Sheila repeats that she does not want Charlie to go. "I'll call his primary care doctor in the morning and see if they will see him." She states with a kind smile on her face.
The odd feeling again returns before we exit the house. Getting back in the truck, I keep the uneasy feeling to myself as Alicia writes the refusal report. I wait for her to finish typing before asking her.
"Did that seem odd to you?"
"What do you mean?" she asks, still looking over the report.
"Just the story of his diagnosis and things like that. She just seemed to have a lot of empty answers." I reply back.
"I didn't really get a weird feeling, but I also was talking more to Charlie than I was to the mom." She answers again.
"Something just seems off to me. Maybe I am just thinking too far into it." I state. I mean, it is late, the mom is probably tired after spending the day taking care of her son. That's what we will have to go with for now as Dispatch alerts us to another call we're needed on.
————
"How come you don't make this kind of breakfast for me when we're at home?" Eddie states as he comes bouncing into the kitchen. He's in full uniform which makes it hard for me to not turn around and admire him. I had always loved a man in uniform but there was just something about him in one that made it twenty times better.
"I only cook when I am here because if I start cooking at home, that means you'll expect it, and we can't have that." I reply to him.
He laughs before sneaking a quick kiss on my lips before lifting up my left hand and kissing my ring finger. Even though my engagement ring wasn't there, the little rubber one that replaced it on shift was still just as meaningful. Butterflies erupt in my heart at the small interaction.
Eddie coming to the 118 was the absolute best thing to ever happen to me. Before he arrived, I was a shy little Paramedic who just came to work to run calls and go home. My best friend Buck had been whining forever that I never went out and never spent any time living my life. Whatever that meant. Eddie being here brought out a whole new side of me that Buck says he had always been waiting to see. It was not just Eddie though; Christopher had been another missing piece in my life that I never knew I needed. It had been so easy to turn into a motherly figure for him. When he proposed, Eddie had made sure to include Christopher in it. Mostly because Christopher wouldn't allow him to not include him.
The station bell went off sharply, alerting everyone to a call. "I guess breakfast will just have to wait until later." I yell out downstairs to the crew as I shut off the stove and run downstairs. Hen and Chimney jump into the ambulance while I make my way to the Critical Care SUV. Right after getting engaged to Eddie, I had been promoted to a Critical Care Responder, aka Lieutenant. Which was a fancy way of saying that I had more responsibilities while riding by myself. I hop into the truck and make my way to the call behind the Fire truck and the Ambulance.
Arriving at the call, I let Captain Nash and his crew manage the situation. The best part about my new role, I had Chim and Hen underneath me, which meant they were more than capable of handling anything. I was more along the lines of helping hands when needed with these two. After realizing that I was not needed for this call and hearing another more critical call come out, I let everyone know I was leaving before hurrying on to the next call.
————
"Where did you disappear off to earlier?" I hear Eddie say from behind me.
I had just returned to the station after being gone for most of the day. I turn in my seat so I can fully see him. He's leaning against the door frame of my office with a small smile sitting on his face. As nice as it was to work together, it seemed almost impossible most of the time to actually see him. I smile up at him as he walks over and sits on the corner of my desk.
"I couldn't seem to find my way back here today. Everyone needed something at some point." I state as I lean forward to make some sort of physical contact with him, granted it was just my elbow touching his knee, but hey, it was something.
"I'm tired of everyone needing my girl today. I know you're great and all but damn." I laugh and shake my head at his compliment. He knew that calling me "his girl" was a sure-fire way to my heart.
"Listen, if you need me while you're out there, all you have to do is call me. That's what everyone else likes to do!" I remind him with a smile on my face.
He smiles back at me, and it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. We're stuck like that for a moment, just smiling at each other alone in my office.
Eddie glances between me and the still open office door before pulling me to stand in front of him. Before I can ask him what he's doing, his lips are on mine like he hasn't kissed me in months. I quickly return the kiss and allow myself to enjoy the mental break. Before it can get too heavy, Eddie pulls away but just far enough away that our foreheads are still touching. We are both smiling like cheshire cats, and I don't think anything could be better than this. I pull back further and smile up at him.
"Not that I didn't enjoy that, what was that for?" I ask, still smiling. He just stares down at me before giving me a quick kiss on the cheek.
"I just missed my girl. That's all." Before I can respond to him, the station bell goes off once more alerting Eddie to another call. His head falls backwards with a groan escaping his mouth. I snort at his dramatics and place a kiss on his lips before pulling him out of the office. "Where are you going? You didn't get added to this." He asks as we walk towards the bay.
"I might as well grab a drink before I dive back into my paperwork." I tell him.
As we enter the bay and begin to separate, I feel a light smack on butt. The surprise of it caught me off guard causing me to lightly jump and yell out. I can hear Eddie laughing as he runs off towards the truck to leave. "I love you!" He yells out before hopping in the back. Eddie Diaz was going to be the death of me.
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a lesson in romantics; lesson one
summary: a multi-part series where reader is the new art teacher at hawkins high and the history teacher, mr. harrington, takes a shine to the new girl. mutual pining ensues on their road to love 🥀
a/n: so here's the first part to the series! i hope you all enjoy <3 it takes place in the early 90s where steve and reader are in their mid-late twenties. disclaimer: i have very limited knowledge on the american school systems or how they work lmao so i'm sorry if it comes across as british-y sometimes but i'll do my best to be as authentic as possible :^) also special shoutout to @inkluvs who originally gave me this idea 1635272 years ago and @onceuponaoneshot who inspired me to actually start writing it hehe
characters: steve harrington x fem!reader, robin buckley
word count: 1.3k
warnings: none, just some introductory stuff, steve being a flirt
taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @kennedy-brooke
SERIES MASTERLIST
HAWKINS, FALL, 1992
September. Fall semester.
A new town. A new school.
Hawkins’ newest resident and Hawkins High newest teacher. You’d spent the last month settling into your new home - a small apartment, nothing extravagant but it was enough for you.
You looked forward to the new start, to get back into the classroom. You loved to teach but the prospect of a new bunch of kids always made you a little nervous.
Making your way into the teacher’s lounge, you quietly said your hello’s to the fellow teachers you had met at orientation a couple days earlier. You silently went about making your morning coffee when a bickering pair burst through the door, a petite girl with a dirty blonde bob who you vaguely recognised as the music teacher and a taller guy, with pretty brown hair and a patterned tie slung around his neck.
You caught his eye as you turned to see the source of the disturbance, a soft but cheeky smile donning his lips. He struggled to keep up whatever conversation he was having with the girl he strolled in with as he finally tore his eyes away from you.
The blonde followed his eyeline to you, she smirked followed by a roll of her eyes. She swatted your mystery co-worker on the chest, followed by a hushed, “Steve! Are you even listening to me?”
He wasn’t. She knew he wasn’t. But at least your mystery co-worker had a name now.
Steve. It suited him.
“You’re such a boy.” She groaned, waving him off before going off the mingle with some of the other teachers.
Steve responded with a laugh as he swanned his way over to the kitchenette where you were stood. “First day?” he asked calmly as he grabbed his regular mug from the cupboard above your head.
“Oh, uh, yeah—“ you stammered, caught a little off guard.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, “I never even introduced myself. I’m Mr. Harrington. History.” He said with much more candor, holding his hand out for you to shake.
You accepted the hand shake, making a mental note at how much bigger his hand was than yours. “I teach art.” You said, after telling him your own name, “Am I supposed to call you Mr. Harrington, then?”
Any confidence and swagger he was sporting crumbled, his cheeks flushed with a pink tinge, “I’m such an idiot,” he confessed with a chuckle, fingers combing through that pretty brunette hair, “I’m Steve. You can call me Steve.”
“Nice to meet you, Steve.” You grinned, a toothy smile that made Steve’s heart thump in his chest. A smile he would be thinking about for days to come.
“Well, I better get going. Minds of the youth to shape and all that but I’ll see you around, yeah?” Steve said, grabbing his coffee cup as he gestured to the door that led to the school halls.
“Sure,” you nodded, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, grabbing your own warm flask. You couldn’t help but let your tummy go all fuzzy at Steve’s kindness, a smile creeping its way onto your lips.
“Have a good first day, newbie.” Steve joked with a wink before he called out to his friend as he walked out the door, “Buckley! Are you coming or what?”
~
“You’re crushing on the new art teacher, aren’t you?” Robin blurted out.
Steve cursed his best friend under his breath, thanking whatever God was up there that school was yet to start and the hallways were empty.
“I’m in my late twenties Robin, I don’t get crushes.” Steve waved her off, “I mean, sure, she’s pretty cute but besides, we’ve only exchanged two sentences.”
“Oh, come on, Harrington!” Robin chortled, hand on her stomach as she bellowed in the hallway, “That has never stopped you before.”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” Steve hushed the girl with a roll of his eyes, “anyway, why didn’t you say hi to her? Not very nice of you, Buckley.”
Steve desperately tried to get the attention off of himself, his free hand perched on his hip as he brought his mug of coffee to his lips. His eyes narrowed at Robin over the rim. Like always though, it never worked. His friend far too persistent for his liking.
“Because, dingus,” her tone exasperated now, “I met her at orientation. You know, the thing you didn’t bother showing up for?”
They arrived at the door to Steve’s classroom which was one block over from Robin’s. He groaned audibly at Robin’s comment, “Come on, Robs! I told you I had a migraine,” he muttered as he fished his keys from his pocket, “you know, years of head trauma takes a toll on the ol’ noggin.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she began to turn on her heel to make her way to her own classroom, “it was your loss anyway, Stevie,” Robin teased, a playful undertone to her voice, “‘cause she looked way cuter the other day.”
Steve scoffed at the younger girl, simply not giving her a response, before he closed his classroom door behind him. He slumped in his desk chair as he wondered to himself how he was going to get through the day without his thoughts trailing to you and your smile.
~
You’d never been so glad to hear the bell ring in your life. You enjoyed your first day, sure, but it was a little overwhelming to say the least. A lot of new faces and names to learn and remember, a thick new syllabus you had to preach to these kids.
A sigh of relief fell from your lips as you gathered your things and locked your classroom door behind you. As you made your way towards the teachers parking lot, you dug through your purse for your car keys as you fell face first into someone’s firm body.
It was like a scene out of a movie. The papers and books that were clutched in your arms went flying across the hallway, your purse and the contents of it spilled all over the floor. A total cliche.
A string of curses tumbled from your lips as you apologised over and over to whoever it was you bumped into. You both knelt to the ground to gather your things when you finally looked into the eyes of who it was.
A pretty set of brown eyes were staring back at you with a coy smile on the lips of their owner. You could only laugh back at him.
Of course it was Steve.
“I’m sorry,” you giggled, scooping up the stray papers, “I’m a total klutz.”
“Don’t sweat it,” he reassured you, handing you back what he had gathered of yours, “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“Right.” You nodded.
You stood back up, papers and car keys safely in hand now. Steve placed his hand on your shoulder, giving you a light squeeze, “You good?”
Plunging the butterflies in your stomach back down to their depths, you squeaked out a reply, “Yeah, yes. Thank you for not getting mad at me.”
“You kidding?” Steve asked all shocked, tone light and playful, “Can’t get mad at the new girl on her first day. That wouldn’t be very ‘nice and welcoming co-worker’ of me, would it?”
You giggled as you nodded, eyes darting to the floor, unable to meet Steve’s inviting gaze. You gestured to the nearby door with your car keys in hand, “Well, I better get going.”
“Oh! Right, yeah, of course—“ Steve stuttered, waving you off as you made your way to the door, “Hey! A bunch of us get together at a bar downtown after the first Friday of the semester if you wanna join us?”
“Oh, um,” you pondered, “I guess that could be fun.”
“Great,” Steve spoke, “I’ll get you the address. See you tomorrow?”
You nodded as you felt a blush creep on your cheeks. It wasn’t a date. It was not a date, you knew that, but you couldn’t help but wonder what Mr. Harrington would look like in casual clothes.
“You betcha.”
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington oneshot#stranger things fanfiction#teacher!steve#alir#k.fic
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Hold Fast | Ch. 1 Will Squat for Dinner
Series Master List
Inspo: In an IG reel @ tashabraziliano asks a guy at the gym to play a game where if she squats him he has to buy her dinner at Nando’s.
Rating: M for this one shot, but this blog is 18+ MDNI
A/N: Thank you to @bloviating-vy for being my beta and my write or die! Grateful to everyone who voted in my poll and @katareyoudrilling for encouraging me to post. In the Hold Fast AU all the guys make it back from S. America, additional details TBD if this ends up being a series
Word Count: ~4.0k
Tags: no y/n, gymbff!Benny, alcohol, swearing, reader is a powerlifting girlie described as short, Tom is alive unfortunately (we hate Tom), alcohol, brief body insecurity and Frankie being down on himself, Tom owns a bar, Pope owns a gym, alternating POV with one brief Benny POV
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The first time you went to train at Pope's Gym, Benny wouldn’t stop talking your ear off during your workout. When you finally got a word in edgewise, you made a bet with him that if you could squat him, he would shut the fuck up and let you finish your workout in peace. To his amazement, not only did you squat him, you repped him 3 times before setting him down to raucous applause. You’d been gym besties ever since. It didn’t hurt that he was nice to look at with his dirty blonde hair and penchant to go sans shirt so he could flaunt his abs as frequently as possible. Plus, his big golden retriever energy never failed to brighten your day.
Benny liked to tease you about the gym you used to go to that had vanity lighting, a smoothie bar, and chilled eucalyptus-scented towels. While Pope's had the most lifting platforms of any gym in town, you were adjusting to the lack of central A/C and other amenities you were used to. Pope’s was housed in a large warehouse space, bare metallic bones, with multiple commercial rolling doors instead of a proper HVAC system. Besides the rows upon rows of platforms, a selection of assault bikes and ergs lined one wall of the gym, while a section of accessory machines collected dust in the corner.
You learned which platforms got the most airflow depending on which rolling door was open and which ones the massive fans covered best. You had made the switch because you had outgrown your old gym which catered to the general public. The bougie public, Benny liked to remind you. You had started lifting heavy and wanted to lift heavier, so you found yourself signing up at Pope's after Pope himself had given you the tour around the space. You learned that Pope had started the gym after coming back from Colombia wanting to promote health and strength in the community while getting into better shape himself. Looking at the peach shape of his ass you could bounce anything off of, you knew Pope had been putting the work in.
Benny worked the front desk at Pope's between training and fighting MMA. His older and blonder brother Will would come by to work out, but he was often leaving when you were arriving so you didn't know him well beyond a friendly wave. Plus, it seemed like Benny used the majority of the word quota between the Miller brothers. Pope's grew on you and you got to know the regulars who trained the same time you did; enough that you gave them cute identifying nicknames in your head (often without knowing their actual names) and worried about them when they missed more than a session or two.
Benny was surprised to see you walk into Pope's one night an hour before closing since you always trained in the mornings. You had given him a short head nod instead of your usual big smile before stalking to a platform and slamming your bag down.
"Yooooo, everything ok?" he asks as he walks over.
"Does it look like I'm okay," you huff, aggressively wrestling your knee sleeves on. Glancing at him, you immediately apologize when he hesitates and takes a step back.
"Sorry, Benny. I'll be a lot better after I pick up some heavy things and put them down."
"Might help if you want to talk about it?" he ventures leaning against the barbell.
You finish tying your squat shoes before looking at him again with dejected eyes and sighing.
"I just went on a crappy date with a guy from one of those dating apps," you sigh again. "He spent the whole time talking about himself and how much he works out. Then he had the fucking audacity to question me when he asked how much I could lift."
"Fucking asshole!" Benny feels himself getting steamed.
"He just stormed out of the restaurant and left me with the bill when I refused to change my answer," you shrug, but Benny sees your jaw tick. "Apparently, I squat and deadlift more than he does and he couldn't date someone who could do that." You roll your eyes and huff.
"WTF! What a total loser. You don't need a guy like that who doesn't appreciate you," Benny replies incensed. He sees your face fall for a moment, eyes downcast and tight.
"I just — I've been trying to put myself out there again and it sucks," you mumble, cheeks flush with embarrassment. "It's also been kinda lonely since I moved here, and I guess I could just use more friends, too."
"I'M YOUR FRIEND!"
"Yeah, my gym friend! We don't do anything outside of this hot, sweaty box Benny," you remind him with a small smile and playful shove to get him off your barbell.
Benny decides this is completely unacceptable and immediately remedies this by inviting you to the next hangout with him and his ex-Delta Force friends at Redfly's, a local bar nearby. "You know Pope and Will already," he reassures, "Tom's the owner of the bar and he's an asshole, but he's our asshole. And there's Catfish — we call him Fish for short. We've been trying to get him to come work out here, but he's been busy with his new pilot job for the hospital. And he shares custody of his 3-year-old daughter with his ex."
He could see your brain turning over all the information he was throwing at you. You don't seem to react either way to the news that Fish has an ex and a daughter. As you adjust the bar height you respond, "You sure? Don't want to crash a regular thing that you have with your guys."
"Nah, it'll be great! They'll love you!" Benny's determined to get you to come.
You hand him your phone. "Well... okay. Text me the details?"
With your phone in hand, Benny puts his number in to text himself and then convinces you to show him your dating profile. Between sets of squats you both take turns swiping on possible matches, Benny teasing you on your picks. Ever observant, Benny notices your preference for profiles with tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed candidates. As you work through your next set, Benny sneaks his phone out and immediately texts Fish.
Redfly's was what you expected for a bar run by an ex-delta force asshole. Dimly lit, buncha mismatched tables and chairs, lots of dark grain wood, and an air of neglect despite being quite clean. It was mostly empty except for a few grizzled guys who screamed regulars, nursing beers at the bar. Lots of beers on tap, but not so much for cocktail options. Not that you were a big drinker anyway. If anything, all the training made you an extremely cheap date. But damn, if you were going to drink, you wanted it to be a solid cocktail.
"THERE SHE IS!" Benny bounds over to you before grabbing your hand and dragging you over to the table in the corner. He introduces you to Tom who was standing by the table chatting with the guys. Tom gives a half-hearted greeting before stalking off back to the bar. Pope gives you a big smile and hug, "Good to see you hermosa, don't mind Tom. That was downright friendly for him." You snort as you settle into your seat next to Pope. Will also greets you with a small wave and an offer to pour you a beer from the pitcher.
"That's okay, I'm not much of a beer drinker." You wince, wrinkling your nose.
"I thought you said she was cool," Pope teases Benny who rolls his eyes and looks at you with faux betrayal.
"How about I buy shots for the table? Would that make me cool?" you smirk, getting up to go to the bar.
"Only if I get one too," says a warm, baritone voice from behind you. A tall, handsome man slides into the last vacant seat across from yours. Soft brown curls threaten to escape the Standard Oil cap nestled on his head. The warmest brown eyes smile at you as he holds your surprised gaze. "Hi, I'm Fish. Sorry, 'm late."
You want to trace the golden skin stretched deliciously along the column of his neck. Run your fingers through those curls that look so, so incredibly soft. And the strong curve of his nose... You snap out of your reverie before you respond with your name. "Better get those shots then," you say, trying not to trip over your unexpectedly shaky legs. Holy shit, why the fuck didn't Benny mention his friend Fish was gorgeous?
When Benny bugged him to come to the Friday night hangout at Redfly’s, Frankie hadn’t given it a second thought. The exuberant text from Benny, “You coming this week right? Got someone from Pope’s coming to meet you guys!!!” had two too many exclamation points for his taste. He figured Benny had a new lifting partner he wanted the guys to meet and his attendance had been pretty spotty between the new EMS pilot gig and balancing shared custody with Vanessa.
So when he walked into Redfly’s and overheard you say “… shots for the table?” He just assumed Tom had finally hired some help in the form of a very cute new waitress.
It wasn’t until he asked the guys when Tom hired you, eyes not leaving your form as you walked away, did he realize the absolute error in his assumption. “That’s my friend from the gym, Fish. SHE’s from Pope’s,” Benny rolled his eyes.
“C’mon hermano, you know Tom’s too cheap to hire help and too much of a pendejo for help to stick around,” Pope added.
Frankie pulled his cap low over his eyes and slid down his seat. He could feel himself flush. Fuck, he thought. Just made an ass out of myself demanding a shot from a total stranger.
You had frozen for a moment after he introduced himself before offering your name with a bit of a grimace. He thought you were gorgeous though and smelled incredible, fresh and citrusy with hints of something sweet and floral that lingered even after you had walked away.
“So, whaddya think, Fish?” Benny prods. "She’s smart, pretty, super strong, and a total sweetheart. Should ask her out."
Frankie flushes a deeper red. “S’outta my league Benny.”
“Aw, c’mon Fish, you gotta get back out there,” Benny persists. "Made it easy for you too. I happen to know you’re exactly her type."
“What, she into out of shape, 40-year-old, divorced, single dads with a toddler?” Fish grumbles. He hadn’t dressed particularly well tonight either, just his usual worn khakis and old faded navy t-shirt. Hadn’t suspected Benny was going to try to set him up tonight, although with Benny you never knew what you were getting yourself into.
“Might’ve mentioned summa that to her. She didn’t even blink, Fish. You got a shot and you should take it.”
Frankie finally tears his eyes away from you. You had just said something that made Tom smile ever so briefly and he wanted to know what you said. Frankie didn’t even realize Tom smiled anymore.
He sees Pope giving Benny that look that said Pope knew Frankie was indeed interested in you, but needed some extra encouragement and to get out of his head. How a single look conveyed all of that spoke to the years and shit they’d all been through together.
“Gonna help her bring over the drinks,” Benny says, popping out of his chair before Frankie could tell him to keep his big mouth shut.
He lifts his cap and runs his fingers through his hair. He hadn’t even tried to comb his fucking hair before coming out tonight. He slides the cap back on hoping it catches the more unruly curls.
“You’re a total catch, Fish,” Pope says, pouring him a beer. “Don’t count yourself out before even shooting your shot.”
“Could just be a coffee date. Don’t overthink it,” Will seconds.
Frankie takes a big pull of his beer. Easy for these two to say. Both Pope and Will worked out regularly at the gym and had the physiques to show for it. As much as Frankie had insisted everyone needed to get back on their game when they got back from Colombia, he was the only one out of the five of them who hadn't.
At least it didn’t feel like it with his achy back and bad knees. Sure, he had finally gotten his pilot’s license reinstated and now shared custody of his daughter. But he was self-conscious of his soft stomach, especially next to Benny whose abs were definitely the example given in the dictionary next to “rock-hard.” What did he have to offer you besides a mountain of baggage and PTSD? Maybe if he just kept his mouth shut everything would be fine and he’d survive tonight without embarrassing himself.
At this point, you are willing to brave Tom the asshole to collect yourself before sitting across from Frankie and his big brown eyes again. Tom raises an eyebrow when you order six shots ("One's for you asshole," you say to Tom with a teasing glare) and ask if he could make an Aviation. You swear he gives you the faintest smile before grumbling about ridiculous froufrou cocktails, but he wasn't born yesterday and yes he could make you one.
Benny sidles up to you at the bar as you wait for Tom to finish making your drink, offering to help you carry the drinks back to the table. "You doing ok? You seem nervous," Benny observes as you tap your fingers on the bar.
"Why didn't you warn me Fish is fucking hot?" you pointedly whisper back.
Benny grins at you as he leans back on his elbows against the bar, "Fucking knew it. Totally thought he'd be your type, girlie."
"You trying to set us up??" you glare at him.
Benny shrugs with exaggerated innocence. "Maaaaybe."
You huff, "Does he know that? Am I even his type?" You cringe inwardly at your insecurity.
"Well considering he hasn't taken his eyes off you since you left the table makes me think you are," Benny smirks. The smug look stays on his face.
For once you're glad you took more than five minutes to put yourself together before walking out the door. You picked a pair of jeans that hugged your curves and a fitted top with a very complementary neckline. Black-heeled booties gave you a few inches and made your legs look longer than they were. Worth the hassle of walking in at least for one night. The lightest dusting of make-up, mostly eyeliner and glossy lip balm, highlights your facial features.
"So maybe I should shoot my shot then, hmm?" you wink at Benny with a knowing smile.
"If you're thinking what I'm thinking…," Benny grins thinking back on the day you two met.
"That's very purple," Fish observes as you and Benny set down the drinks for the table.
"It's an Aviation. You might like it considering you're a pilot, mmh?" you respond with a smile. Okay, you've collected yourself. Sort of. Let's see if you remember how this flirting thing goes.
"What are we taking shots to celebrate?" Pope asks.
"How about to new, strong, friends?" you quip.
"I'll cheers to that!" Benny raises his glass.
Conversation is light and fun with the guys. You marvel at their connection and closeness as they teased and talked like people who have been through some shit together over the years. You convince Fish to try the Aviation to which he declares it a "very fancy purple" and keeps sneaking sips much to your amusement. They fold you into their conversation, asking about your training, and what competitions you might try this season. They praise Pope about how the gym has flourished and rib him about his ever-revolving door of beautiful women.
"What about you, Fish? You thinking about getting back out there and dating?" Benny asks before flicking his eyes over to you. You remind yourself to thank Benny profusely for being the best wingman ever.
"'Dunno. Not sure where to even start," Frankie mumbles into his beer, casting his eyes down.
"I have an idea," you give Frankie your best coy smile.
"Yeah?" he breathes looking up at you. Those damn brown eyes.
"I have a game for you," you offer before taking a breath. “If I squat you, you get to buy me dinner.” Your heart is thrumming in your chest and you feel your cheeks flush, but damnit, you were going to shoot your fucking shot. "But if I can rep you, I want the whole nine yards. Pick me up at my place, flowers, dinner and dessert."
"You — you think you can squat me?" Fish looks a bit surprised, "I— it's, it's not that I don't think you can. But 'm... A lot bigger than you... 'm out of shape." His ears pink at the last part as he cups one hand over the back of his neck.
"I know I can. Do we have a deal?" you smile at him with encouragement and extend your hand across the table. Fish hesitates, but you try not to assume why.
"Jesus, Fish, if you don't take her up on it, I will," Pope winks at you.
Fish glances between you and Pope for a brief moment.
He reaches out and shakes your hand. "Okay, deal." You try not to get distracted by the way his large hand engulfs yours.
"Let's go, brown eyes," you tell him as you stand up from your chair and whip your hair up into a high ponytail.
"You're going to do this in heels?" Fish asks as he gets up from his chair with a grunt. Christ, he's so tall. And broad. You shrug and look up at him through your lashes, “I mean, Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels.”
You move so you stand with your side towards his front.
“I'm going to put my hand here,” you gesture to his right inner thigh just above the knee. "Is that okay?"
"Yep."
"Alright, you ready?"
He nods.
You carefully slump him over your shoulders in a fireman's carry, gripping tightly to his upper arm and thigh. You can feel the warmth of his body pressed deliciously across your shoulders. He's so warm.
You brace.
Benny's out of his seat, whooping and hollering. Pope's leaning forward, elbows on his knees, clapping, "Let's go, let's go!" Will's grinning and shaking his head in amusement. The regulars at the bar sneak glances over in your direction.
Frankie catches himself remarking on the particular shade of purple out loud when you return to the table with Benny bearing shots and a suspiciously purple beverage. He realizes after you respond and the dazzling smile you give him that you’re flirting with him. He thinks?? He’s so out of practice. God, he’d do anything for you to smile at him like that again.
When you slide your drink over to him to try he surprises himself by taking a sip. He’s even more surprised that he likes it. Crisp juniper dances across his tongue followed by a delicate floral sweetness and a touch of citrus with a spiced cardamom and anise finish. This very purple drink tastes the way you smell. And the giggle you give him when he calls it a “very fancy purple” blooms warmth through him, settling low in his core. He can only think about how he can elicit that sound from you again.
Which is how he misses Benny asking him if he’s thinking about getting back out there and dating. Fucking Benny and his goddamn big mouth.
But then you’re smiling at him again, telling him, single-dad, divorcee Francisco Morales, you have an idea. He’s looking at you and he can barely breathe as your eyes sparkle with a mischievous glint and your plush, glossy lips propose a game.
For a moment he’s confused. Did you not want to go out to dinner with him? Because if he’s honest, he doesn’t think you could squat him. He’s so much bigger than you. And he’s pretty sure if he tried, he could put you in his pocket. But then you’re brimming with confidence and extending your hand out to strike a deal.
It’s when Pope — fucking Pope — threatens to play your game in his place that Frankie is engulfing your delicate hand in his large one. You surprise him with a firm handshake and it’s then that he can feel the callouses across your palm. Callouses from many, many reps with the barbell.
Frankie finds himself towering over you, realizing you’re about to try and squat him in heeled booties. He vaguely hears you ask for consent to touch his inner thigh just above his knee before he finds himself suspended horizontally in the air across a set of firm shoulders, anchored by two small hands. He can feel when you brace, feel your entire core expand. The muscles across your shoulders and back flex underneath your fitted top. And suddenly he’s moving up and down, steadily with control.
You end up squatting Fish five times before setting him back down gently with a breathless giggle. He's towering over you again and you just want to press yourself into his broad chest and envelope yourself in the smell of his body wash.
"Dinner?" you smirk up at him.
"Wow, yeah, dinner on me," Fish flushes, impressed and a little dazed.
"It's a date then," you quip, poking him in the rib before you sit back down at the table. You notice his brown eyes spark with realization at your comment.
Will, Benny, and Pope all high-five you. Cheeks still pink, Fish pulls his chair around to sit closer to you. Tom wanders back over to the table grumbling that Redfly's isn't that kind of establishment with theatrics like you just pulled. But he also sets down an Aviation along with another pitcher of beer before returning to the bar.
"He's just jealous you didn't try to squat him," Benny laughs. You giggle in response as the conversation around the table picks back up.
Feeling Fish's gaze on you, you slide your cocktail over to him. A frisson of electricity shoots up your entire arm when his fingers brush against yours as he takes your cocktail glass.
You tilt your head towards him, your eyes meeting his warm brown ones, and whisper, "By the way, my favorite flowers are dahlias."
Frankie lost count by the time you repped him the third time. Just awed by you having the strength to carry him like this. He decides to just enjoy the rest of the ride.
When you set him back upright he almost melts into a puddle at the breathless giggle you let out. He catalogs that sound in his mind. He wants to brush back the hairs that have escaped your ponytail and he already misses your touch, wants to close the space between your bodies somehow without being creepy.
He gets lost in your eyes when you gaze up at him, he’s definitely over a head taller than you, and ask, “Dinner?”
Frankie is pretty sure he responds in the affirmative, still a bit dazed and very impressed.
It’s when you confirm it’s a date that his brain fritzes, reboots, and takes a minute to come back online. He blinks several times at the realization. He has a date. With you.
next chapter>>
Notes: Dahlias symbolize elegance, creativity, positivity, and growth. It also represents inner strength, likely due to the plant's ability to tolerate harsh conditions.
"Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels.” — Ann Richards
🙏🏽 Thank you so much for reading my first fic! I'm bad at tumblr and new to tags/warnings/fan fics in general, so if I missed something please let me know.
I am open to constructive feedback but please be gentle with this baby powerlifting writer, yeah? I might be able to squat you, but I'm a big ol' softie.
Aaand I'm thinking about expanding on these characters and making Hold Fast into a series if anyone would want to read it. I may or may not already have a Frankie POV at Pope's Gym where he gets to see reader in her element. 👀
Taglist: @katareyoudrilling @christinamadsen @rebel-held
#frankie morales x you#frankie morales fanfic#frankie morales x reader#frankie x reader#frankie morales x f!reader#frankie catfish morales#pedro pascal characters#triple frontier#pedro pascal cinematic universe#hold fast a frankie x powerlifting!reader fanfic#happy frankie friday#frankie friday
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Hi :)
can you do a ballet dancer wanda or Lizzie X drug addict (doesn't have to be drug addict) male or G!P reader. I don't really know what it can be about but can you do with smut and wanda/Lizzie is very flexible because she is a ballet dancer
Here Comes The Regular
Ballet Dancer Wanda Maximoff x Addict GN! Reader
Warnings: ED. Smut. Drugs. Alcohol. Amab! Reader
18+ MINORS DNI
Wanda and Y/N both met at a college party, Wanda was dragged along by her best friend and fellow dancer, Natasha Romanoff. Just straight after finding out her ex boyfriend had been cheating on her with one of the girls from the cheer squad.
"This will be good." Nat told her with a smile. "Get you back out there."
"I don't want to get back out their Nat." Wanda told her as they made their way inside the house. "I just want to go home."
"Come on Wanda." Nat pleaded with her as she dragged her through before one of the guys took Natasha away to dance, leaving Wanda to find the kitchen as she grabbed a soda.
"Not your type of scene." A voice spoke up from beside her.
"No." She whispered as she shook her head. "My best friend dragged me here."
"Come on." They told her as they grabbed her hand, leading her towards their bedroom. As they let her in, she looked through their records until she found one. "You like The Replacements?" They asked her.
"I do." She nodded shyly as Y/N took the vinyl from her hands and placed it on the turn table. The two smiled as Here Comes The Regular started to play through the speakers, drowning out the party downstairs. "I used to listen to this record when my dad was alive." She admitted as she sat on their bed, Y/N being respectful and sat crossed legged on the floor.
"He has great taste." Y/N stated as they took a sip of their soda.
"He did." Wanda nodded with a smile. That was how that song became theirs. The only time it was ever played was in intimate moments between the two, the moment the two had their first time, the moment they confessed their love for one another. Their first dance at their own wedding. The song held a huge place in their hearts.
But as the years went on, the two started to lose sight of the other. Wanda had become more and more self concious due to her career in the ballet as Y/N had started with drugs at corporate events. Being pressured by their superiors to try a line and only starting the beginning of a journey downhill.
At one of the events, Y/N had took Wanda as their plus one. Disappearing to the bathroom every now and then to have a line as Wanda threw back glass of wine after glass.
Once the two had returned home, they were a mess of limbs as Wanda led them to their shared room. It wasn't until the two were naked and Y/N truly saw Wanda naked for the first time in months, tears welled up in their eyes as they moved away, suddenly sober at the sight of their wife.
"I can't." They whispered as they moved towards the bathroom, soon throwing up everything in their system before leaning back against the wall. Wondering how they never really noticed Wanda's state.
The next morning, Wanda woke to an empty bed, scrambling to get dressed when she noticed that she was naked. It was that moment that Y/N had walked in, a small bag of white powder in their hands.
"We need to talk." They told her as she covered herself. "We both have problems and we need to address them."
"I don't." Wanda spoke weakly as Y/N shook their head.
"Wanda, last night we were about to have sex for the first time in months. Those months you wouldn't even let me hold you." They told her. "All the while you were fading away, I was getting high. I'll admit that I have a problem because I can't really go a day without a line but I would it for you if you got the help you need too."
"But our careers." She whispered. "I need to be thin for my career."
"Not that thin Wanda." They told her. "You were perfect before you done this to yourself." They walked towards the vanity and picked up a picture of the two of them before they were married. "Look here, tell what you see is wrong here because I don't see a damn thing wrong." Wanda could only cry as she hugged the blanket closer to herself as Y/N sat on the bed, taking her hand in their own. "I love you Wanda, I really do and I just don't want to see you hurt yourself."
"I'm sorry." She whispered as Y/N gazed at her tenderly.
"Why did you do this?" They questioned as they gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "You can tell me."
"The last choreographer." She sniffled as Y/N listened, anger slowly building inside of them. "He said that I needed to lose a few and that I was borderline fat."
"You were never fat Wanda." They told her as they wiped her tears. "I should have spent every day telling you how beautiful you are. I should have noticed that something had changed but I was too busy getting high."
"Why?" Wanda asked them as they chuckled dryly. "Why did you start?"
"I guess it was peer pressure." They told her as they looked at the small bag. "I thought that maybe one try wouldn't be too bad but then I had another, then another and that just started the need for it everyday." They looked back at Wanda, guilt in their eyes. "Maybe if I wasn't so fucking spineless, I would have noticed that you had been struggling and I can't apologise enough."
Wanda got on her knees, completely revealing herself as she cupped their face. Soon enough retreating as she noticed Y/N's guilt ridden stare as they looked at her body.
"This isn't on you." She whispered weakly, coverling herself again.
"I think we both need help." Y/N told her as they got to their feet, sitting down at their computer. "I just, we owe it to ourselves to get help." She watched as they looked over for different rehabilitation centres. "Maybe if you aren't comfortable about rehab, maybe have Nat or your mom stay here with you and see a therapist." They suggested as she took a shakey breath.
"What about you?" She asked them as they looked at the small bag.
"I can maybe go to one of these centres, depending if we can afford it." They sighed as Wanda shook her head.
"I don't need a therapist." She tried as Y/N shook their head no. Reaching for their phone.
"You do." They told her. "I want you to get better Wanda, you're too important to me to let you disregard yourself. Besides, I can ask Bucky, he went through the same thing. He can help me." They picked up the bag and headed towards the bathroom, dropping it in the toilet before flushing it. "I am going to tell Norman I need an emergency sebatical."
"Well, I haven't got work just yet." Wanda whispered as Y/N got her some clothes.
"I'll call everyone and set up the guest room for your mom." They told her as they left the room, leaving Wanda the privacy to get dressed. Once Wanda was ready, she headed towards the guest room to start on the room. "Your mom and Nat are on their way." They informed her. "I am going to pack a bag before I head over to Bucky's."
"What does this mean for us?" Wanda asked them, fear in her eyes.
"It just means that we are going to get better." Y/N told her with a smile, Wanda finally noticed the change in their features due to the drugs. "And when we are back to our old selves, I will be coming home." They kissed her lips softly before pulling her into their embrace. "I love you Wanda. So much." With that they left the room to pack a bag. They waited for Nat to arrive before they left, Wanda watched as they drove away with her arms wrapped around herself.
"Come on Wan." Nat wrapped her arm around her and led her back inside. "Y/N has left numbers for the best therapists in town." Nat told her softly.
"We have to go no contact right?" Wanda questioned as Nat gave her a sad smile.
"Yes, going no contact is completely practical for your recovery Wanda." She reasoned. "But you have myself and your mom is flying in." Wanda just looked at one of their wedding photos on the wall as Nat's voice turned into white noise.
As the weeks went on, Wanda had therapy three times a week. Also she had done weekly weigh ins to monitor her progress, all the while she worried about Y/N. Knowing they've decided to go cold turkey so they could afford the help for her.
"What?" Nat whispered on the phone.
"I've had to strap them down." Bucky informed her. "It's getting through the harder part right now so they will say or do anything for a hit."
"What did they do?" Nat questioned.
"Well, they tried to hit me with a lamp so I had to tackle them." He told her. "They have had to have stitches on the cheek because the bulb smashed. I asked Bruce to come and help. He gave them a sedative."
"What do I tell Wanda?" She questioned.
"Just tell her that they are getting better." He told her. "Just don't tell her anything that may set her back. Y/N would kill me if Wanda had a set back because of them."
With that, Wanda's recovery was going extremely well, all the while Y/N struggled. Especially after they had been let go from Oscorp.
Wanda remained going to therapy after making a full recovery, even her mom went back home as Nat remained in the guest room. Not wanting to leave Wanda alone as Y/N was still recovering.
It was a few months once Y/N was ready to leave, the cravings had completely gone and they had started to look more and more like themself. They stood outside their front door, their bag in hand as they took a nervous breath. Although their wife is inside, they were nervous because of it being months since they had seen each other.
"Y/N?" Wanda gasped as she started down the stairs, they closed the door and dropped their bag in time to catch her. Tears coming down both of their faces as they kissed for the first time in months.
"I missed you so much Wanda." They told her honestly. She smiled before kissing them once more, this time with such intensity and hunger.
"I missed you." She whispered as she pulled them upstairs towards their shared room. She kissed them harder once the bedroom door was closed, starting on removing Y/N's clothes as their tongues danced hungrily. Y/N's hands cupped her ass, pushing her hips into their hardening cock, making her sigh as she pushed their shirt from their shoulders.
The two made quick work of each others clothes before Y/N lay Wanda down on the bed, hovering over her as they gazed lovingly at the woman before them. Seeing how she has come along, now seeing the woman they had always loved regardless.
"You are breathtakingly beautiful." They whispered as they caressed her cheek. Wanda pulled them down to her lips, kissing with such fire igniting passion as their bodies molded together.
The room was full of sighs, moans and groans as the two made love. Their fingers intertwined as Y/N thrusted their hips, hitting her g spot as they shifted angles. Wanda let out a gutteral moan at the feeling. The knot in her stomach getting impossibly tighter as she soon came over the edge. Moaning Y/N's name and scratching down their back as she spasmed beneath them, causing their own orgasm to take over.
The two soon lay together, naked as Y/N held Wanda in their arms. Taking in the closeness that they have craved the passed few months. Talking about everything the two had missed from the others life.
"I am so proud of you Wanda." They told her, gazing into her green eyes. "You've overcome so much and you truly are amazing."
"Don't forget about yourself." She told them. "You have no idea how you helped me through it."
"No." They shook their head. "It was all you." She watched as they got out of bed, heading over to the records and getting out the very album they had listened to when they first met. "It's only fitting that we listen to it when we have both overcome so much." Wanda beamed as she stood up, wrapping her arms around their neck as they held her hips. The two singing the lyrics to Here Comes The Regular with loving eyes. Remembering the moment they both had impatiently waited for.
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff#marvel#elizabeth olsen#elizabeth olsen x reader#wanda x you#wanda x y/n#wanda x reader#wanda maximoff x you
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I just want to say a few things before you get to the end. First up, it's been a pleasure to read your thoughts on the series; like any fan, you have your own unique interpretations and it's always good to read how fans see certain scenes. It's also been fantastic to see fellow fans respond to your posts adding on to what you've written, again bringing your thoughts out more and generating discussion.
Also, seeing your thoughts has made me appreciate scenes and characters I never thought I would -- Yamamoto for instance, who would've thought?! They've also reminded me of why I fell in love with the series as much as I did, from the artwork to the themes to the incredible bonds between the characters. You've reminded me that BLEACH has it's flaws that can sometimes take you out of the story, but when it hits, it 100% HITS! It's a manga that's about the bonds we form, how they can help us overcome challenges and be a source of light in our lives. It's about the ways we overcome grief and the fear of death, whether it's literally fighting your way through it or slowly coming to a state of acceptance as time goes on. It's about the 'hearts' of people, about what they look like and how they're shared between those you choose. I could go on and on, but then this would become an essay and we'd be here all day.
All of this is to say, thank you for choosing to create a Tumblr account and deciding to read the series and give your thoughts along the way. I can't believe you've finally reached the end, it almost feels like I'm saying goodbye to the manga again!! I don't think I'm the only one here who sees you as a big and valued part of the community on here, so I hope you'll be sticking around! :)
Thank you so much Rays! Response under the cut because it went long.
This won't surprise you, but I too have grown in my appreciation for the series over the course of the uh three years that I've run this blog. Bleach has character concepts I've never seen elsewhere. It has moments of storytelling brilliance. It has truly, phenomenally astonishing art.
But more than anything else, I, like you, am impressed by the heart. For a story that's largely about the afterlife, Bleach is shockingly humanistic, locating virtue not in any system of belief, in any group or faction in the various conflicts that provide the setting for the manga, but in people. All people, whether they're our extremely relatable teenage protagonist and his friends, the occasionally sketchy adults in his life, or the various adversaries ranging from evil monsters to supernatural samurai to a regular-ass gang to a foreign apocalypse cult. Bleach never, not once, lets the viewer fall into the comfortable childish space of believing that there's good people and bad people in the world.
There's just people. Sometimes these people want to do bad things, like execute their sisters, or kidnap your girlfriend, or isolate you from your family, or destroy the entire world. Bleach doesn't flinch away from that either. But it (again, very humanistically) locates those bad actions not in the individual human beings, but in our relationships with one another through the systems and structures we've created to organize ourselves.
And yet in the face of the idea that humans do their worst work through other people, that's also where Bleach locates its greatest virtue. Alone, we're nothing. It's the bonds that we have with others that are what make life worth living, that are the source of everything good in this world. And navigating that dynamic, between spiritual bonds and structural shackles...that's really what adult life is all about, isn't it?
Anyhow, my adult life has been greatly enriched by all of you on here. But I'll take the chance to thank you specifically Rays, for being such a source of joy. Your positivity and passion are the sort of thing that makes a humble blogger want to come back for more, and I've deeply enjoyed hearing all of your thoughts, not just on my liveblog, but through your own posts and writing. I'll be sticking around for sure.
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Top Gun Coffee Shop plus other stuff AU Idea (Part 1)
Jake moves to California to start a new life and starts working as a barista in a coffee shop.
The shop owners are Iceman and Maverick, who runs it with their son, Rooster, who manages the books and a lot of the behind the scenes stuff. Phoenix is the general manager, and Bob is the other barista/event coordinator.
The coffee shop is a front for the real business of them participating in information brokerage, middle man, forgery, smuggling, and other underworld business.
There are a series of different interesting customers that come in, and the staff are surprised that Jake just rolls with it. They're confused on how stuff doesn't faze him, they think he might already be on to their business, but nope, he's way too focus on making coffee great and learning how to cook pastries.
(A very tall man with a slightly beat down suit and a small scratch on his cheek came in. He was shifting his weight between two feet, making sure that the bag he came in with was hidden behind his back.
"Hello there, welcome to the Top Flight Cafe, where we may not offer flights, but our coffee can send you to the moon, what can I get for ya?" Jake drawled barely giving the man a glance before scowling back at the POS system.
"They don't do flights, anymore? What happen to the shipments?" The man asked confused as he squinted at Jake.
"I dunno, sir, you gotta ask Mr. Bradshaw about that one, but I'm pretty sure we don't do supply shipments ourselves, a truck comes with the flour and all the imported coffee goods," Jake said, shrugging. "All I do is help carry them on my shoulder to the back and count 'em, that's all.
"You guys transport the flour on regular flour bags," the man's voice said incredulously, stressing the word flour too much for Jake's understanding.
"I mean, what else are we gonna use?" Jake asked, raising a brow. "If ya really wanna know, you can call Mr. Bradshaw, but aside from that what can I get for ya?"
"Hey Jake, I'll take this customer back in my office, he's my guy, did you take his order, yet?" Mav said bursting from the back of the bakery as he speed-walked towards the counter flashing an awkward smile between the two of them. "He's new, he didn't know to bring you directly to me," Mav said.
"Not yet, Mav," Jake said.
"Yeah, what do you want, our meeting may take a while," Mav said glancing at the other man.
"Uh huh," the man said, squinting suspiciously, "An espresso would be fine, Mav," the other man, said.
"And I'll have a double shot espresso and an everything bagel with strawberry cream cheese and bacon," Mav said cheerfully rounding the counter and clapping the other man on the shoulder. "Leave the goods on the employee's break room table, me and Sli will catch up, no need to ring him up," Mav said steering the taller man away.
It was comical to see how the much taller man let him.
"I don't want to catch up with you, I wanted Ice," the man name 'Sli' said with a sigh. Almost like he's pouting.
"Tough luck, we're a two in one deal," Mav said as they walked through the back area.
Jake shrugged and made the order. Mav always had chaotic orders.)
---
He's so focused on doing his job, that he manages to miss some telling signs that the coffee shop wasn't just a coffee shop.
("Hey Bradley," Jake says bursting into the managers office, darting forward to the supplies closet without a glance towards his general manager. "Do we have anymore markers? We ran out, and writing with a pen on cups is annoying." Jake said opening the closet widely and rummaging through it.
Bradley immediately muttered something in another language on the phone before hanging up, shutting several folders, and shoving papers down his suitcase and into some of the desk drawers.
"Yeah, buddy, I think they're behind the box of batteries--"
"Found them, thanks, man," Jake said barely even glancing his way as he waved before he went out.
Making Bradley's efforts useless, but better safe than sorry, right?
He really should start putting the supplies closet outside the office.)
---
Javy, Mickey, and Reuben visit Jake and they seem to be wary of the coffee shop. Jake shrugs them off because he's starting to really like the place and the job he's steadily getting good at.
("I don't burn the coffee all the time, anymore, man!" Jake said smiling widely as he handed Javy a cup.
"I'm so proud of you, buddy." Javy said in a deadpan as he sipped his coffee. "Do you know how to froth milk, now?"
"Yeah, Ice taught me during my first day," Jake said smiling brightly.
"Ice, huh?" Payback said muttering to himself.
"Yeah, they apparently have weird nicknames, his is Iceman," Jake said nonchalantly as he wiped down the counter.)
---
Eventually, shit hits the fan. The coffee shop is stormed during regular day hours on a weekday. After the lunch rush where everything has been quiet. Men armed to the teeth burst in, making people drop to the ground as they pointed guns at the few customers that were there.
Jake just continued to wipe down the counter as he calmly walked in front of the register.
"What can I get for you folks today?" Jake said in a bored manner. "If you wanna buy some manners, you gotta get them somewhere else, though, unless you wanna show me ya got some by putting away the guns? These ladies and gentlemen are customers just like ya'll they have the right to be here like you do."
"Jake," Bob hissed tugging the back of the other man's shirt harshly.
"SHUT THE HELL UP, Where the fuck is Iceman, Bobby?" The leader said pointing the gun at him.
"Mr. Kazansky ain't here today, and even if he was, you can't just ask for him easily like you can ask for coffee," Jake drawled.
"Jake, stop." Bob gritted out before facing the antagonists. "He's not going to give in with whatever you guys want, you know. However, if you put the guns down, we can talk about this," Bob said with steel in his voice as he removed his glasses and rested them to the side.
One of the men huffed out a laugh, "You have no leverage against us, Bobby-boy, we have you outnumbered today. All we got to do is to kill you one by one, he's always been fond of his staff. Especially normies like him," the man said nodding in Jake's direction. "He really knows nothing, huh? Unfortunate that his hick brain doesn't have a sense of self-preservation--"
"Rude, I am a delight," Jake drawled, resting his hands on the counter and leading forward. "Buttt that's more of my charmin' personality, you won't find it delightful if I take action. Only I can call Bobert names after all, ya know?"
"Pfft-- what's blondie here gonna do--"
Bob couldn't believe his eyes, he was accustomed to violence. Raised in it by this point, but he never expected it from Jake of all people. And he never expected it to be so smooth, fast, and efficient. By the end of it, all of the armed men were incapacitated on the ground, the leader on his knees as Jake looked down at him and pinched his cheeks together with one hand, staring impassively.
"Considering I'm the one standing here while all your friends are done for," Jake started, voice even and smooth. "It seems like this hick has more self-preservation than you, do," Jake said smiling before delivering a sharp hit to the temple making the man pass out on the ground.
Jake put his hands on his hips and looked upward as if praying to God for strength before pulling out his phone. He looked back at Bob and gestured for him to give him a moment, as he brought the phone to his hear.
"Hey Coyote," Jake said chuckling weakly as he pinched the bridge of his nose and gave a deep sigh. "Seems like I'm back in the game, although, it may have seemed that I never left in the first place," Jake said huffing out a low laugh and shaking his head in disbelief. "I need clean-up crew, now."
---
part 2
#fanfic#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin#top gun#top gun fandom#top gun maverick#pete maverick mitchell#mavdad#tom iceman kazansky#bradley rooster bradshaw#bob floyd#natasha phoenix trace#javy coyote machado#payback#reuben fitch#mickey fanboy garcia#drabble#ideas#writing ideas#fic ideas#Jake is basically John Wick is this one and he's known as The Hangman#Thisjustcametome#dadmiral#dad!mav#ice pops
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desperate times, desperate measures
Tonight is turning out to be my fifth night of sleep deprivation due to a nasty upper respiratory virus running its course through my system. Thankfully, it's not Covid (which I've already had twice), but I'm only getting about three hours of sleep each night due to excessive post nasal drip & phlegm that wakes me up from coughing and bad nausea. Unfortunately, I used up the last of my sick time to call out on Sunday (with Monday as my regular day off) and had to go back to work on Tuesday. Between the exhaustion, coughing, and nausea, it was pure misery.
If I call out again, I will reach my work limit (only 5 absences allowed in a rolling six month period) and will be subject to dismissal (sadly, that's the state of employment for most 'essential workers' in the US these days), so I'm going to have to apply for a 3-day leave of absence (minimum I can request) in order to save my job. Meaning I'll be short three days pay towards my lodging next week.
As much as I hate to ask for help once again, I have to try to raise $300 to cover the difference.
Donations of any amount will be immensely appreciated, and thank you in advance for any reblogs of this post!
#coping with homelessness#relying on the kindness of others#homelessness#tw: homelessness#ko-fi support#ko-fi aid#ko fi request#ko-fi donations#ko fi support#ko fi aid#ko-fi request#ko fi donations#community aid#community support#financial aid#financial support
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Emily's attack
My first attempt at a story!!! Explicit, proceed with caution!!!
***
I had barely gotten inside after a long day at work, still in my paramedic uniform for the day, when she knocked on my door. I checked my watch before I turned around - it was exactly 9pm, the time we had arranged. I was exhausted, not really in the mood for the lesson, but I had told her I would help, and I needed the extra money.
I opened the door and found myself looking... down. She was smaller than I had pictured, and although I didn't have any required criteria for who I could help, I found myself attracting quite a specific clientele: usually women, often young, who found themselves struggling to breathe during their intensive fitness regimen, which left them with excellent figures that made this job, well, easier.
Emily was no exception.
'Hi,' she said quietly when I struggled to form the words. She really was that beautiful, with perfect, plump lips, round breasts and a tight hourglass figure. She wore a tight tank top (no bra - she had read the guidelines for her first appointment) and loose linen shorts. Sometimes, I really loved this business. 'Is this the...'
She let it trail off when I nodded. 'Uh, yeah! Come in. Emily, right?'
I stepped back to let her into my apartment, mentally scolding myself for not tidying up beforehand. As quickly as I could, I led her to the spare room, where I had everything set up. When I was just starting out, before I knew how in demand this business would be, I ran it out of my bedroom, but that made things... complicated.
She looked around shyly, noticing the relativity empty room, with nothing but two chairs and a kitchen caddy under the window, though the blind was down - I didn't need nosey neighbours getting the wrong idea about this.
I guided her to the chair and sat across from her, resting my elbows on my thighs as I leaned forward. 'So, what's been going on?'
'I...' God, she was shy. This was going to be hard. 'I saw your services online and I thought... well, you helped some other people who are in my predicament, so I thought maybe you could help me. I've had this trouble breathing... kind of like asthma, but it doesn't come up when I'm doing usual exercise. It only happens when I'm, well, you know.' She blushed, rubbing her hands between her thighs and letting her blonde hair fall over her face. 'I don't have a boyfriend or anything, but I find it hard to have casual sex. Because I'm worried I won't be able to breathe, or I'll collapse. My throat closes up and my heart starts racing and I feel like I might be dying, and I don't know what to do. It happens when I start to get close and then, well, then I can't get there, because I'm scared of what will happen when I get over the edge, if I might die.'
I nodded solemnly. 'What you're experiencing is a very common occurrence. Trust me, I see a lot of women in this position.' At this, I gave a soft chuckle. 'What's happening is that your body is reacting to the sexual stimulation as a threat to your survival. It's a mis-wiring of the system.'
'What do we do to fix it?'
'Well, it's complex, and if you're here it means you know my methods are unorthodox. But the most success we've seen is controlled stimulation, sometimes paired with CPR, to take you to climax without killing you. It teaches your body how to react to the climax by giving it a bit of a helping hand. We do this a few times, regular sessions, until your body starts to learn on its own.'
She looked uncomfortably around the room. 'Here?' she asked.
I chuckled. 'Well, I can't exactly get a hospital bed in here. And a real bed would be too soft for CPR, it would have a detrimental effect on its effectiveness. Don't worry - I have pillows for under your hips, which keeps the blood flowing to your heart. I can go get those when you're ready.'
She looked shocked. 'What, now? Are we doing this today?'
'We don't have to,' I said, putting my hands up in defence. 'It's completely up to you. We can call this a complimentary information session.'
She looked around the room again, and then her eyes slowly passed over me. I felt exposed in my uniform - it had been getting tighter since I'd started going back to the gym more regularly, and I could feel the fabric press against the skin of my arms. Slowly, she nodded. 'No, now is as good a time as any. What do you want me to do?'
I cleared my throat. 'Well, step one is to simulate the conditions of the attack. You say it happens when you start to climax? We'll have to get you there, and then we'll start doing whatever methods necessary. First, let's get you hooked up. Could you take off your clothes?'
She lifted her tank top over her head, and I tried not to watch as her breasts bounced back into place as she lowered her arms.
'Pants too, please,' I said quietly. She slipped out of her pants, revealing a lacy pair of underwear that disappeared into a firm ass. Like I said, sometimes I really loved this job.
'Lie down, please,' I instructed, motioning to the ground. Tentatively, I pulled out the EKG machine and started to press the electrodes onto her breasts and abdomen. I could feel the heat of her skin and the lines of her abs beneath my hands. One hand could span nearly the entire length of her torso. I tried not to let my imagination get carried away with that, though I felt myself twitch beneath my pants. I then grabbed the pillow, sliding it beneath her hips.
'This will monitor your heart,' I said. She moaned slightly, and then pressed her lips together, as though it were an accident. She pulled her legs up as if trying to keep them together. I tried to suppress my smile, to keep it professional. 'Is there anything that turns you on, that might help you get to climax?'
Wordlessly, with my hands still on her abdomen from where I had pressed the last wire onto her skin, she lifted herself up onto her elbows, so that our faces were close. I could smell the mint of her breath.
'Is this allowed?' Oh, boy, yes it is allowed. This line of work wouldn't work if this was not allowed. To communicate this point, I pressed my lips to hers, feeling the hot air of her mouth and warmth of her tongue against mine. As soon as they met, the machine started to beep, slowly getting faster. Every time we pulled away, I checked the numbers, just to make sure.
Her hands roamed my body, reaching for the buttons of my uniform, but I grabbed her fingers with one hand, forcing them above her head, watching her body stretch to accommodate the motion. Her breast heaved with desire.
'The uniform is to remember who's the teacher and who's the student,' I whispered into her ear, before moving my lips to her neck. The monitor beeped faster as I sucked on the soft skin of her collarbone, letting my other hand roam of her breast and gently flick her nipples back and forth. I could feel them getting hard under my hands. Her heartbeat was climbing, climbing - I rested my hand on her ribs in an attempt to bring it down just slightly, in case I mistimed the whole thing and killed her. I could still feel her heart beneath the slight pressure of my hand on her upper abdomen.
But she was doing okay, which I occasionally paused to check, searching her eyes for signs of fear. There was nothing but desire, which made me incredibly horny, though that was probably a test of the rules. Oh well, I thought. I'm my own boss.
I moved my lips to her breast, releasing her hand to guide her nipple into my mouth as my other hand continued down to rest on the curve of her pelvis, lightly caressing her centre. God, she was so wet already. Not that the machine wasn't giving away everything, her heartbeat incredibly receptive to my every touch. I was hard as a rock, hoping she couldn't see the tent that strained my pants. Her hands pulled at my hair, at the collar of my uniform, at everything she could get her hands on.
I flicked at her nipple and let my fingers stroke the outside of her underwear in gentle motions. She liked it - the beeps gave her away.
'More,' she whispered, nearly missed in the chaos of the EKG machine and her panting breaths. I moved away from her side to between her legs, guiding her underwear over her thighs and discarding them. I could see her centre, dripping and ready, and even without me touching her, she was grinding her hips against the pillow. Without my hands, her own started to move down to her centre, though she eyed me curiously.
I moved her hand and pinned it up near her head, leaning over her as my own hand took its place, slipping a finger into her warm centre. With one finger inside her, I pressed the heel of my hand to her swollen clit as I fingered her, all while watching her breathe, just to be sure that she still was.
'You're doing so good,' I found myself moaning as I rocked my hand into her. I slipped in a second finger, feeling the push of her pelvis against my hand. She started to moan. We had lift off. I let go of her hand and settled myself with her legs over my shoulder, moving my palm to replace it with my mouth. With soft, gentle kisses at first, and then powerful, stroking licks of her clit. The moaning intensified, and her hips bucked wildly. I pressed my hand into her lower abdomen to keep her still as I licked her clit and curled my fingers in her cunt. She tasted incredible. I could hear her breathing, labouring against her lungs, as they struggled to inhale. She was getting there. Just a bit more...
And then, suddenly, I heard the sound I had been listening out for - the sound of a heart in distress. I pulled away quickly, lifting myself out from between her to first check the machine, and then her. Her heart was beating, but much too fast, and she looked at me with panicked, swirling eyes. Her hands reached for her neck, desperate.
'It's okay,' I said, immediately switching to work mode, the safe version of me. I reached for a stethoscope from the caddy and rested it over her breasts, confirming the EKG machine's diagnosis. This was the attack she feared. 'We're going to get this heartbeat down, okay?'
She shook her head, as if to tell me she didn't believe me.
'Look at me,' I said, reaching for her face. I wrapped my arm around her torso and pulled her up so I could readjust the pillow to underneath her breasts, keeping her airway open. She was light and limp as a doll. 'I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Okay?' She stared into my eyes frantically. I couldn't be sure she heard what I said. Instantly, I pinched her nose and pulled down her lower lip, closing our mouths together to blow hot air into her lungs. I could see her chest rising the slightest amount. When I pulled back, she was still staring at me, her eyes still moving in panic, not taking breaths on her own.
I did it again, sealing my lips over hers and blowing air into her, this time letting my other hand rest on her stomach to feel the rise. I couldn't tell where the air was going - stomach or lungs? I gave her more breaths, aware that the machine was still indicating her heartbeat was insanely irregular, as I applied more pressure to her body with my hand. One breath with a hand pressed to her sternum, and another with a hand pressed into her stomach. As I pressed to her chest, her heart beat wildly against my hand. It was slowing down, ever so slightly. As I gave her one more breath, I felt the rattle of her lungs as she took in my air on her own, and expelled it. Progress.
'Okay, Emily, you're okay. I got you. You're going to be okay. I'm not going to let you die on me.' Thankfully, she was still conscious, but immobile, and fear kept her paralysed. I sat up, surveying the situation and the machine. We weren't ready for defibs - this was a manual task.
'This is the part I said before - we need to give slow chest compressions while we stimulate, to teach the heart the proper way to beat.' I placed one hand on her sternum, though my hand was big enough to nearly cover her entire breast. I then pressed my other hand over her vagina, fingers resting on the opening, palm pressed and applying pressure to the clit. She was still wet and warm, so I slipped two fingers into her vagina - in and out, in and out, as I pressed down on her chest, all while watching her face for signs. At first, I kept my compressions and fingering slow, gentle movements that kept her calm, as her heart reacted on the monitor. I could feel it against my hand, as her nipple stiffened, almost against her will - she was so panicked, and so aroused at the same time. But I was completely in control of whether she made it through this, completely in control of her heart and her body right now, and I had to make sure I kept her safe.
She was still warm and wet for me, though she had stopped grinding her hips against my hand. I counted out 30 compressions and 30 'come hither' motions in her vagina before carefully removing my hand to rest on her stomach. With the other, I pinched her nose, and she opened her mouth, ready for my air. She closed her eyes as I breathed into her lungs, feeling the gentle rise of her stomach under my hand. The EKG machine was quieter now, slightly slower.
After a few more breaths, I looked into her eyes, smoothing back her hair to check that she was okay. Her chest was still heaving desperately, but she looked less panicked, and I knew I had earned her trust. My palm found her chest again, and this time, I straddled her, letting my stiff cock press against her clit as I secured her thighs between mine. Slowly, I pressed against her sternum, one palm over the other, as I calmed her heart to beat against the rhythm I set. She looked up at me, watching me press into her, calming her breathing. I nodded at her.
'You're doing so good,' I said. 'Just keep breathing.'
She breathed between my compressions, her stomach rising against me as she inhaled. I watched the EKG machine as it steadied the rhythm, steading slowly until we came to a pace. With every drop of the machine, I lightened the pressure of my compressions, until I was barely pushing at all, holding my hands pressed to her ribs. Her own hands raised up to meet mine, as if to thank me.
She coughed, and pulled herself up on her elbows. 'That was scary,' she said, in a small voice. Immediately I pulled myself off her, grabbing my steth and coming by her side. I put the ear pieces on and pressed the bell onto her breast, listening to her steady rhythms.
'It was scary for me too,' I admitted. 'I didn't want to lose you.'
She laughed, and coughed as she did. 'Bad for business?'
I couldn't bring myself to laugh along, I was still caught up in the thought of losing this magic that I had only just found.
'Well, I think it was working,' she said. 'I think I probably need more practice, though. Should we say same time next week?'
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"Trisha's Log, Day... I don't dare keep up anymore..."
Part 1 2 3 4 5
(Haespar: It's day two.
Trisha: Stop ruining my vibe, you're still dead.
Haespar: Yes, and I'm haunting you. With facts.
Trisha: *hisses*)
"IT HAS BEEN AN INDETERMINABLE NUMBER OF DAYS
since I began this expedition, now turned struggle for survival. I've lost Emily and am actively searching for her, but having not had a bite to eat in weeks and running low on water, I don't know if I'll succeed. To whoever finds this-"
(Emily: I got the remote power module. And some snacks, here.
Haespar: Ooh, melon flavored, my favorite. Thank you very much, Emily.
Trisha: *already chowing down on some cheese sticks* Dankss Ehmilhy, yhour da bhest. *gulp* Where was I?
Haespar: Starving despair and loneliness.
Trisha: Right! Emily, you're currently gone, so just be your usual self and the audience won't know.)
"If you've found this log, I am dead. I died while carrying out my vital mission and searching for my lovely assistant, but failed catastrophically. Unless you're listening to this from a library archive, in which case I totally succeeded and became an awesome legend!"
Trisha continues to detail all of her future exploits and galaxy spanning quest for vengeance, love, mystery, and cake.
Meanwhile:
Haespar: Alright, adjust the telemetry of this unit to the one Valencio cooked up yesterday, and that should hook the biological scanners back up to the bridge.
Emily: Done.
Haespar: Excellent. *taps his datapad* Ira, bio scans are up on our end, confirm?
Ira: Yup, all green. Reading you three down there nice and clean. Trisha's a bit heated up. Monologuing?
Haespar: About her imminent demise after years aboard this derelict.
Ira: *chuckles* Alright, good to know. While you're there, check on the tertiary power splitter two floors down, the main one up here is acting up a little.
Haespar: Will do. Hmm? What's wrong, Emily?
Emily: It's flickering between 27 and 28.
Haespar: What?
Emily: The number of lifesigns aboard.
Trisha: WHOA WHOA WHOA!!! Legit mystery time! *gently into the recorder* (Pause on seducing one of the heads of the three headed corrupt banker to blackmail him for trade secrets only to learn the evil tech startup was a Illuminati cabal all along) Let me see, where is this mystery life dot.
Haespar: It's jumping all over, is there a pattern yet, Emily?
Emily: Need to log more data, but doesn't feel like it.
Trisha: It is popping up for a few seconds and disappears for about four times as long though. Hey, isn't that kinda like how you'd do a radio connection attempt? Brute force every frequency range. Oh wait, but then you'd just do all at the same time. Hacking maybe? Trying to get into a specific system without tripping any alarms?
Emily *into her comms unit*: Ira, please send an all frequency ping at these intervals towards us.
Ira: Alright, *shouting* Valencio, give Emily these pings. *normal again* Should be sorted in a tick, what's that about anyway?
Haespar: The lifesign readings are being weird, showing a 28th at regular intervals in random locations. Could be one of the system we haven't checked yet is acting funny and somehow interfering wi-
Emily: Wait. It stopped flickering. A 28th. On the bridge. *To comms* Ira?
Ira: Uhh, yeah. I'm looking at him.
???: Hello, my name is Professor Iorvan Hal'Ahmat Garaamhan. Thank you for answering my call.
Continue->
#humans are space orcs#humans are space australians#humans are space oddities#humans are deathworlders#humanity fuck yeah#carionto#dun dun dun cliffhanger ending?#Yes it is#I'm doing a cliche like that#(mainly because I don't know how to continue yet#but that's a problem for future me)#and now I'm weaving Cthulu in this too#yay!
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"Baby Johnson's Arrival"...Pt. 5
(previous)
20 Minutes Later......
"Deanna?..." *closes the door*
*sees who it is* "Oh hell no! I don't know why you're up here, but you can get out! Tell that mothafucker to give me my son and my phone, we're leaving! I'm getting a restraining order and filling for full custody. He'll be lucky if a judge allows supervised visitation."
"I know you're upset right now but just take a moment to think rationally."
"Rationally!??? Look at my face!!" *voice cracking* "This is more than one punch!...I'm done."
"Listen, he had no right to put his hands on you. Nothing in this world justifies that. But with that being said, it didn't come out of nowhere. You named his son after Sean, something he has to live with for the rest of his life. That was fucked up too."
"Well he should've handled that like a man, instead of using his fists! Of course I was wrong, but that doesn't mean I deserved this."
"I'm not saying you did, I just want you to see that there's cause and effect. Going to the courts over this one incident doesn't make sense. It wouldn't be a regular case. He's Michael fuckin Johnson!...The world famous, six time NBA champion, multi-billionaire! Do you realize the rippling damage that would cause? Think about Silas. Labeling his father as an abuser would mess up his future."
"Oh please, only Mike is going to suffer, and rightfully so."
"How can you be so sure? If this gets out, he'll be flooded with lawsuits from people looking for a payday. They'll say he's a monster and use your situation as ammunition. No one will care if they have any real claim, it'll be believable. His reputation will be finished, he'll have to resign from his companies, and he'll forever be blackballed. Silas is his son. No one will want to work with him or put him on a team because of the negative attention his father's name will bring. Sure he'll be rich, but will he be happy? All the comments, ridicule, comparisons...It will take a toll."
"Well, what do you suggest I do then!? I can't be here and I'm not leaving my baby. He's not going to give me custody without a fight. I won't win without telling my truth."
"I know. He's stubborn and not capable of seeing the bigger picture, but you are. You're Silas' mother and have been protecting him since you found out you were pregnant. Continue to do that by letting this go. Everything was fine before today. He knows he messed up and I promise you he won't do that again. Just take a breather, rest, and reset."
*shakes her head* "This is crazy..."
"I agree. It's alot, but you're doing the right thing. I'll go get you an ice pack and some Tylenol."
"...And Silas?"
"Hmm. Maybe I should bring him up after you get some rest. Babies can sense stress. You'll feel better afterwards and that will make all the difference."
A Little While Later.......
"Took you long enough, I was beginning to get worried. Ryan handled his part and got through to Sean's agent. Once he heard the words blackballed he had him make a post addressing the rumors." *rubs Silas' back* "So what happened with Deanna?"
"She's hurting but I think I got through to her. Right now she's resting."
"Good. Did you give her the pain medicine?
"Yes. I told her it was Tylenol like you asked." *with a slight attitude*
"I know you didn't want to do it but it had to be done. I can't trust that she won't change her mind, so it's just a little insurance. Technically Percs have Tylenol in them so you really didn't lie."
"So how exactly will that work in your favor?"
"It's simple. If she goes to the courts, I will have the judge order a hair sample drug test. They leave your system but stay in your hair for up to 90 days. My lawyers will paint a very different picture that you and Ryan will corroborate. I told her ass, I don't play about my kids. She's either gonna fall in line or lose him for good."
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Finishing Touch
Recommended Song: Good to Me by Seventeen
|Masterlist|
Summary:
As your elder brother's apprentice, he sometimes sent you on errands for him. This time you didn't mind so much when you met the handsome blacksmith who mantained the tools of your trade.
Genre: Smut
Pairing: Blacksmith!Jungkook X Carpenter!FemReader (Y/N)
Warnings: Swearing, heavy handed flirting, blacksmithing/carpentry jargon, I JUST LOVE CRAFTS OKAY, Namjoon is the older brother who wants whats best for you, reader has buff arms but its not really mentioned, Jungkook and reader are both a little weird, crackish?, reader has a bit of an oral fixation, reader knows what she wants, face sitting, oral(m&f),multiple orgasms, 1 spank. Jungkook is a biter. Multiple positions. let me know if there's any I missed.
Word Count: 6k
So this in unbeta'd so sorry for any mistakes. I'll also be adding the poem I wrote that somewhat inspired this at the end.
Some days you cursed the day you asked Namjoon to be his apprentice. He was a capable carpenter and an attentive brother, but he was the biggest klutz you had ever seen! Which meant you were often sent on errands by him as he nursed his latest injury. You loved him dearly, you just wished he was more careful. What had you on your most recent one for him was a twisted ankle he had received after slipping on some wood shavings.
Namjoon had his tools handcrafted by a surprisingly local blacksmith who you had yet to meet. And apparently after a horrendously bad attempt at maintaining said tools, his blacksmith had forbade him from even trying and demanded that anytime upkeep was needed, Namjoon was to take his tools to this blacksmith where he would be discounted the cost. The benefits of being a regular you guessed.
So with a box of blunt chisels in grasp, you shifted them to rest on your hip so you could open the door to the blacksmith. A system bell twinkled above you to mark your arrival. The interior wasn’t quite what you had imagined it would be. When you thought of blacksmiths, what honestly came to mind was that they all looked like they did in mediaeval fantasy films. Cramped, hot and full of hazards. But much like how Namjoon’s shop is fairly modernised, so is this one.
The entrance was a crisp white and sectioned off from the main workshop. There was a standing desk that looked to be bare save a lone laptop and a card reader. Behind the desk to the side was a code locked door, seemingly soundproof. Next to the door, thus directly behind the desk, was a large window, also soundproof as you did not hear the sound of the forge fire that was in clear sight. Through the window you saw the workshop itself, spaciously layed out as to minimise trips and accidents. Different tools safely stored away in carefully organised shelves. Grindstones and sanding belts lined in a row for sharpening. A power hammer tucked away in a corner. The forge was central on the back wall with the anvil not too far away. There was a work table pressed up against the wall opposite to the grindstones, where you saw the smith, setting something down before heading to the door.
You weren’t sure what you were expecting when you saw the smith for the first time, but you certainly weren’t expecting him to be so handsome. Shoulder-length hair was tied away with some loose strands framing his face, some soot smeared across his cheek highlighting a small scar. It made you want to get the rag out of your pocket to clean him up a bit. Big doe eyes met yours and you were captured in them like the small galaxy of lights they reflected. He wore a fitted grey long-sleeve shirt, its sleeves rolled up, a pair of cargo pants and a tool belt. You had to stop yourself from staring at the tattoo sleeve that consumed his arm.
The smith cleared his throat, snapping you out of your daze, “What can I do for ya?” He asked, gesturing towards the box.
“Oh! Uh, my brother- Namjoon- needed some things sharpened but had a bit of a… mishap,” you felt a blush colour your cheeks.
“Ah~ So you’re Namjoon’s little sis. He talks about you a lot whenever he stops by.” He took the box from you and surprised you a little when he grasped one of your hands to inspect, “looks like he wasn’t lying, you’ve been putting the work in, these calluses are impressive.”
You gently pulled your hand away, blurting out against your will, “are you like this with every girl you meet?”
“Only the pretty and talented ones,” he said with a wink, “do you want to come on through as I sort these out? Shouldn’t take too long.”
You nodded dumbly, reeling from his apparent flirtatiousness.
He gave you a lopsided smile before turning, punching in the code and opening the door. He gestured with his head for you to go in first. It was warm in the workshop, almost sweltering.
“How can you wear a long-sleeve here? It feels like I’m about to melt and I’m in a t-shirt.”
He shrugged, “You get used to it I guess. I’ve been working around the forge since I started apprenticing under my father at thirteen. Also stops my arms from getting burnt when sparks fly.”
That made sense. He headed over to the grindstones, set the box down and got to work. You noticed the stonewheel he was using was different from the others. It was situated in a wooden basin of water, wetting it as it spun. It was also most hypnotising, watching him pick up a chisel, make sure the angle is perfect before putting it to the grind. Once satisfied he would get a leather strip and give the chisel a few swipes against it.
"This is called 'Stropping', it polishes the edge and makes sure there's no imperfections in it that aren't visible without a microscope or something."
He set the chisel on a nearby table and picked up the next one.
"This doesn't look so hard, how did Namjoon fuck up so bad that you'd need to do this for him?"
"He would lose and chip his edge in his sharpening attempts. But I don't mind doing this much for him as a favour if he helps me out with a few projects from time to time."
You raised a brow in interest, "Such as?"
"Carving axe handles, knife hilts, spear shafts, things like that. Especially if it's a custom order that stipulates some sort of cosmetic aspect to those. Though he's come out to fix my bed a few times."
"Your bed? Is it old?"
Jungkook chortled, "No… let's say it's well loved." Your cheeks coloured, immediately catching on to what he meant. "Sometimes it was some of the supporting struts the mattress sits on, once it was a leg. Namjoon was an angel for fixing that in such short notice. Though I haven't had to call him out in a while."
"Ah, you've taken pity on it."
"Not quite, just been too busy for a relationship recently."
You deflated a little at that, not that you were interested. It was just a shame such a handsome man was off the market.
"What about you? Anyone in the picture?"
You huffed, "Nope. Namjoon hasn't approved of anyone who's shown even a hint of interest in me. And his fucking vibe checks always turn out correct. Last guy was a potter and Namjoon felt there was something off, so he catfished him, turned out the dude had a wife and kids."
Jungkook stopped what he was doing and turned to you with wide eyes, jaw slack, "No fucking way."
"Yep, sometimes it's suffocating to have such a protective older brother. But in that situation I was thankful."
"He does talk like the sun shines out your ass. He once said, and I quote, 'I will not let the hardships of this world sully her'. That was when we went out for drinks and he started complaining about a… dancer?... that wanted to be fuck buddies with you."
You put your head in your hands, "That guy was spewing some bullshit about how having sex regularly would limber him up and make him a better dancer."
"And according to Namjoon you almost fell for it."
"It made sense at the time!" You cried in embarrassed betrayal.
"You sound just a little frustrated," he said with a bunny toothed grin.
"No shit. All the guys I meet just want my body."
"To be honest, you do have a banging bod but I get that it's annoying for people to be so shallow. I've had similar issues. But do you know what helps me manage the stress of being single?" He paused to give you time to respond but you just shrugged. "My work. Hitting red hot things with a hammer is great for working through things."
"I'd imagine splitting wood with a froe is a similar sensation."
Jungkook tilted his head in confusion, "Excuse me, I'm not entirely acquainted with the processes of carpentry. How is a froe used? The blade doesn't face out like an axe but is on the top so…?"
"You put the blade against the wood and hit it with a mallet, once the wood starts cracking you can use the handle as a lever to pull the wood apart. It's quite effective and is good for getting the wood to the width you need with little shaving."
"Ah yes, so you too get to hammer things." He nodded sagely and got back to work. "Here's an idea, I feel you need a man in your life that isn't a family member, someone to measure potential suitors against. How about once a week we take turns going to each other's workshops. You show me some carpentry tools and techniques, I show you how to maintain the tools of your trade. And we chat, you can get to know me because I already feel like I know you thanks to Namjoon."
You shook your head, "You know Namjoon's ideal me. So that's a rather rose tinted view."
Jungkook shot you a mischievous smirk, "You saying there's a bad girl side to you Namjoon doesn’t know?"
"I will neither confirm nor deny anything. That's for you to find out."
"I look forward to it."
----------------------------------------------------
A week later and Jungkook was knocking on your workshop door, Namjoon was taking the day off and so the shop was technically closed. He was in a tank top due to the warmer weather you had been experiencing, which showed off more of his arms and that gorgeous tattoo sleeve of his. Loose fitting sweats clung to his thighs like their existence depended on it and his hair was half up in a bun. His doe eyes were framed by a pair of glasses that suited him far too well. You found yourself biting your bottom lip as you appraised him. He waved hello and chuckled as you noticeably broke out of your trance.
"I know they're cool," he said gesturing to his sleeve, "maybe someday I'll talk you through them."
You shook your head, "Sorry, just wasn't expecting to see so much of you so soon."
"That's what she said." Childish. "But in all seriousness, it's hot as balls out there and I feel like I'm less likely to get a serious burn here than at the forge. So I thought I'd let the boys breathe a bit."
"You'll have to be extra mindful of splinters then," you half joked. You had gotten some rather nasty ones in your early days before you had gotten yourself some woodworking sleeves.
You noticed his gaze was going past you to something in the corner and turned to look.
"Is that a wizard? Is Namjoon carving a wooden wizard statue?"
You cleared your throat awkwardly, "Not Namjoon, I am. It's my first proper solo project and it's taken me a good few months just to get a decent base design done. I'll be etching finer details into it soon hopefully."
"Can I ask why a wizard?"
"Wizards are cool. Not like the Harry Potter ones, I mean the types you find in D&D or painted on to the side of a hippy van from the 70s. Ones that ponder the orb."
Jungkook contemplated it before nodding, "I get where you're coming from, but personally I'm more of a fan of warriors and stuff. In fact one of my personal projects has a crusades motif."
"You what?"
He grinned, "It's a long sword I call 'The Inquisitor'. One of my favourites if I do say so myself. One of three in a collection called ‘The Hero’."
“Might want to be careful about who you’re calling a hero there. I don’t know many people who look at crusaders fondly.”
“Yeah I know. Organised religion is flawed but its imagery slaps.” That earned a laugh from you. “So what are you teaching me today?”
You gestured to an overturned incomplete table that was on the floor, “we’re attaching the last two legs with tongue and groove joints and pegs. Namjoon doesn’t like to use wood glue, saying it's ‘a shortcut for quantity over quality’. Which I do actually agree with. Also helps to keep the old methods alive. The grooves have already been cut into where the legs will be going. You'll be helping me with the tongues.”
Jungkook muttered something that you couldn't make out. You got to work, showing him how the width, length and depth of the groove would be transposed onto what would be the tongue. How you triple checked the measurements before committing to them with a saw. You got the table leg into position.
"Right, can you grab that mallet and hammer this into the groove for me. I'll keep it steady."
Jungkook grabbed the mallet, eyebrows knitting as he concentrated on hitting his intended target and not you. With his arms exposed, you saw how his muscles rippled and flexed with each heavy swing. He let out the occasional grunt of effort which you tried not to focus too much on, especially when you noticed his tongue peek out to wet his lower lip. And then he was finished and grinning down at you.
"What now?"
"Now it's your turn. We just have one more leg to attach before we can put the pegs through."
He nodded and immediately got to work copying what he had watched you do.
"So what made you think you were too busy for a relationship? You clearly have time on your hands if you're here with me."
Jungkook briefly glanced at you then refocused on what he was doing, "My ex. She told me I clearly had two loves in my life, her and my work. Said she hated being runner up in my heart as I was so committed to my craft-"
"I'm sorry but that's bullshit. She broke up with you cause you're passionate about creating things? Because you're carrying on your family business?"
"When you put it that way, yeah."
"That is actual assholery on her part. A life without passion isn't a life at all. If someone had said something like that to me, I would have broken up with them."
"It's nice to hear that at least one person doesn't mind."
"If you don't mind me asking, how long ago was this break up?"
"Two years-"
"TWO WHOLE ASS YEARS?! You, a walking wet dream,” you waved your hand up and down, gesturing to him and his outfit, “have been willingly single for the last two years because of what your ex said."
His cheeks coloured. He set down the pencil and ruler and picked up the saw you had been using. He did two pulls then got to work sawing off the excess.
"Well it gave me time to focus on myself and what I wanted. Made some pretty baller things. And to be honest, it's been pretty hard to think about dating anyone when Namjoon has been talking my ear off about you and singing your praises before I had even met you yet."
Wait a minute… that sounded like Namjoon had been trying to set you up. You knew something was fishy about his ankle injury! It was all part of his plan! You facepalmed at your brother's antics.
"Jesus Joon. I'm so sorry about my brother, if I had known I would have stopped him."
"Hey now, I'm glad to finally put a face to the name. And as I said before, I'd like for you to get to know me. Then we see where it goes from there be it friends or something else, that is if you're interested. Which you seem to be otherwise you would have called me a walking wet dream. To be honest I like the forwardness." He winked at you. “Right, that’s this one all done, are you hammering this time?”
“Sure. As in the hammering.”
Jungkook knelt down and lined the leg up with its groove. Mallet in hand, you tried not to think about how, if the table leg wasn’t there, he would be at the perfect height to- You hit the leg before you could continue that line of thought. You were so focused, you hadn’t realised Jungkook was watching you much the same way you had done to him earlier. A few more good wacks and it was well and truly wedged in. You wiped the sweat from your brow.
“You got some impressive arms, do you go to the gym?”
You shook your head, “Nah, just comes with the job. All this manual labour requires some muscle. Can you help me flip this table?”
Jungkook moved to the other side of the table, lifting on your count and the table was now standing on its legs for the first time. You instructed him to try and hold it steady as you bored holes into the sides that went right through the centre on the joints.
“Since I did the drilling, how about you peg?” You said, handing him four perfectly sized pegs (you had made them earlier and chosen the corresponding drill bit with the right circumference).
“Is carpentry normally full of innuendo?”
“Depends on the carpenter.” You gave him a cheeky grin, “what you’re gonna want to do is hammer the pegs as far in as they’ll go, saw off the excess and finally, sand them.”
----------------------------------------------------
Next it was your turn to learn from him. You were back in his studio, waiting in his reception area for him to arrive. You spotted him through the window into his workshop, coming out of a door you hadn’t noticed last time. From what you could see, his hair was down, tucked away behind his ear. He was in a plain black oversized t-shirt and brown cargo pants. He walked over to some shelves and picked a few bits and bobs you couldn’t see and set them over by the grindstones. He turned and smiled when he saw you waiting. He jogged over to the door and unlocked it from the inside for you.
“Hey there, fancy seeing you here,” He said, still smiling. You were starting to melt for his cute grins.
“Oh you know, I got invited by some guy. I’m beginning to think the ‘learning each other's trades’ was all just an elaborate ploy to create flirting opportunities.”
He shrugged, “Well that remains to be seen. Come on in, I’ve got everything set up for you.”
“Since you’re not in a long-sleeve, we’re not doing anything that involves heat,” you appraised, walking by him.
“You got that right. I’m not the type to throw someone in the deep end.”
He led you over to the grindstones where you saw what he had set down. It was a set of chisels. They looked new.
“What’s all this?”
“Today you’ll be learning how to sharpen these chisels, which I made myself by the way, and if I’m satisfied that you’ll be able to take care of them they’ll be all yours.”
You turned to him wide-eyed, “You’re fucking with me right.”
There was that smile again, “Nope. I figured it would do you some good not having to use Namjoon’s, give you some independence from him.”
You squealed and hugged him on impulse then sheepishly let go of him, clearing your throat, “I mean thank you.”
Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, “No problem. It’s just my way of saying thanks for that… pep talk? Last week. And you know, they’re not as time consuming to make as a sword or something. Right, anyway let’s get started. You’ll be using the whetstone.” He pointed at the wheel you had seen him using before.
“Why not the others?”
“Cause we don’t want you losing your temper.”
“I’m not that easily annoyed.” You pouted.
He chuckled, “No not like that. If you try to sharpen something that's already been tempered, which by the way is a heat treatment to harden the steel and alleviate internal stresses, on a dry grind you’ll reheat the metal and lose the temper. So we use a whetstone because it keeps the metal cool. That’s also where the phrase lose your temper comes from.”
You had been nodding along as he spoke, “I see.”
You picked up one of the chisels and inspected it. It was quite beautiful, a perfectly carved wooden handle (you’d have to ask him about his wood choice later) and the steel had a marble effect which your fingers traced over.
“It’s Damascus steel. A blend of iron carbide and ferrite folded into a steel billet. Not to be confused with real damascus steel because that technique was lost due to cultural suppression.”
“That sounds like a lot of effort for someone you’ve only known for like three weeks.”
“Yeah I know, but as I’ve said, thanks to Namjoon I already feel like I know you. And so far you haven’t done anything that goes against what I’ve come to know… God that sounded creepy.”
“No no, I get you. It’s like when my mum used to talk about her church friends and when I was introduced to them, I already knew what they liked and disliked so it was easier to talk to them.”
“Yeah, you’re the church friend here. Except I don’t mind it when you try to flirt with me. Anyway, shall we? I might need to put my hands on you depending on how well you do, are you okay with that?”
You shrugged, “I’m down with that. I doubt you’d use it as an excuse to grab my tits or something.”
Jungkook blinked at you a few times and shook his head, “Okay first, get the wheel turning, there’s a pedal on the floor which controls it.” You put your foot on it and got the wheel going. “Now what you’d want to do is with one hand on the handle and the other at the base of the steel, you want to angle it so the blade is going to meet the stone correctly.” You went to do as he said. “Ah wait.”
His chest met your back as his arms encircled you, hands guiding on yours to adjust the chisel to the correct angle. You then brought the chisel to the stone and the sound wasn’t all pleasant, neither were the small vibrations in your hands, but his heat was distracting you from it.
“That’s it, just like that. I’ll let you do the next one yourself. I’d say it's time to strop and test it.” He laid out some leather on the table next to the other chisels. You turned, stopping the wheel, and did as you had seen him do last time. “You’re picking this up quickly. You must have inherited all the steadiness that Namjoon didn’t get.”
You were about to question how you’d test it when he started rolling up a pant leg. His legs weren’t all that hairy but there were some noticeable strips missing. He then beckoned you to give him the chisel. You watched in bewilderment as he ran the chisel down a small patch, shearing off the hair there. He beamed at you.
“Cuts like a dream. That’s a pretty good job you’ve done there.”
“Can I ask why you just did that?”
He straightened up and put the chisel to the side.
“Quickest way to test, and as long as they’re washed properly afterwards, there's no harm… other than when I’ve nicked myself.”
“Maybe this is why your ex left you. Not because of your work but because you test the sharpness of blades on yourself-”
“That makes it sound like I self-harm. I do not. I shave. A very clear difference.”
“What I was trying to say is that it's ridiculously weird.”
He pouted this time, “Have I lost all appeal to you now then.”
It was only then you were reminded of how close he was to you. You gulped.
“I uh, I wouldn’t say that. Everyone has their quirks. Like me, I chew on stick-width bits of wood when I’m bored in the workshop.”
Jungkook laughed, properly laughed, a sound you wanted to hear again. “You called me weird and you’re out there literally chewing on wood like a beaver? Talk about double standards. At least my ‘quirk’ tests the quality. What are you doing? Testing the wood density?”
You blushed, “Look sometimes my mouth wants something to do. So what?”
He chuckled, pushed his hair back and got impossibly closer, his eyes darkening, “I had wanted to take this slow, maybe have a few more back and forths, but what am I to do when you tell me something like that.” He cupped your face, thumbing your lower lip, “what am I to think other than I can give it something to do for you.” His eyes flicked between your and your lips, “Can I?”
Jesus fucking christ, you had melted on the spot and all you could do was nod dumbly. The rest of the chisels were forgotten as he crowded your space, lips meeting yours in a slow, deliberate dance. His hands fell to your waist as you grasped at his shoulders, trying to pull him closer still. But you stumbled backwards, knocking the whetstone and breaking the kiss.
“Whoops, perhaps my workshop isn’t the place for this. Come on.” Jungkook took your hand and led you through the door you noticed earlier. “Welcome to my home-”
You pushed Jungkook up against the door, lips locking with his in a fever. Not missing a beat, his hands grasped your hips and pulled you into him. He licked at the seam of your lips, asking for permission which you eagerly gave with a moan. His hips rolled into yours and you lightly bit his bottom lip making him groan.
“Wanna take this upstairs?”
“Lead the way.”
Jungkook took you by the hand again and led you through his home, up the stairs and down the hall to his bedroom. You didn’t have much time to take in your surroundings before he was mouthing and sucking at your neck, thoroughly distracting you. You pressed back into him and felt how hard he had gotten against your ass.
His hands trailed to your stomach, slipping below your top, “Mind if I?”
“Jungkook, I appreciate the constant checking in but please hurry the fuck up.”
He huffed in amusement. He grasped your top and pulled it up over your head. You hadn’t expected things to turn out as they had done so you were in a sports bra. Again he muttered something you couldn’t quite hear. You took off your bra before you helped him to remove his own shirt and felt yourself grow wetter when you could see his whole chest unobstructed. Those pecs looked very squeezable. You licked your lips, you’d get that opportunity soon you silently vowed.
“Get on the bed,” you ordered.
He raised a brow, “And why should I?”
You raised onto your toes so that you could reach his ear, “I believe you said you’d give my mouth something to do.” You didn’t have to tell him twice, he was more than eager to situate himself on the edge of the bed. He was in the midst of unzipping his pants when you settled on your knees between his spread legs. “Let me.”
You grasped the edge of his pants and boxers, pulling them both down in one as Jungkook lifted his hips off the bed to aid you. You salivated when his cock sprung up and slapped his stomach. You weren’t patient enough to tease him, opting instead to lick him from base to tip, taking his tip between your lips and easing him further in.
“Shit! Jesus christ!” His fingers tangled into your hair, stopping you from continuing as he tried to hold himself back. “Fuck Y/N warn me before you do something like that. Last thing I want is to be a quick shot.”
You released him, “I don’t mind that. Come whenever you want.” With that you sank back down on him, taking him deeper until he hit the back of your throat. You gagged.
Jungkook’s head kicked back with a guttural groan. His hips raised, pushing him deeper still and you gagged again.
“S-sorry, I wanna- can I move? Hum if I can move.”
You hummed. Jungkook used his hold on you to keep you still as he thrust into your eager lips. Your eyes welled with tears each time he made you gag but you paid it no mind. Your fingers made their way into your pants and underwear, you began to rub your clit in time with his thrusts. God, you were so wet already. You moaned around him as the heat in you started to build.
“Y/n” he moaned, “I’m gonna, fuck. Boutta cum. If you don’t want me cumming in your mouth- shit- you better stop now.”
You hummed again and stayed put. Jungkook came with a grunt, eyes shut in bliss as you swallowed around him. You only pulled away when you felt him begin to go soft. You held his cock as you licked the remnants of his cum off it, Jungkook whined.
“S-Stop, post nut sensitivity.”
You stopped immediately and sat back, “What would you like to do now?”
Jungkook’s eyes trailed down you, landing on how you still had a hand in your pants though it had stopped its ministrations at this point. “I would like to repay the favour and then after that, hopefully, fuck.”
You giggled, “I’m down for that.”
You stood and were about to pull your pants down when Jungkook stopped you. Copying what you had done earlier, pulling them down for you but while also showering the newly exposed skin to open mouth kisses. You stumbled a bit since you were still stood up.
“Wait a second, let me sit-”
Jungkook led on the floor and beckoned for you to sit on his face with that damned smile of his, “I have your seat right here, come on.”
Oh you couldn’t say no to such an offer. You lowered yourself until your pussy was just above his mouth, not wanting to crush him. But Jungkook wasn’t having that, he palmed at your ass and pulled you down onto him properly. And much like you had done to him just moments before, Jungkook wasted no time in devouring you. He licked from your pussy to your clit and nipped at it, making you jolt. He eased his tongue into you, making you both moan. You rolled your hips as he kept going, your clit brushing against his nose. You gasped when he switched to sucking on your clit, instead pushing two fingers into you. Oh fuck. You groped your breasts, pinching your nipples for extra stimulation. Jungkook curled his fingers, rubbing against the spot that made your toes curl and a wanton cry leave you. You could feel his smirk as he made it his mission to hit that spot with deadly accuracy. That heat that had been building earlier reignited into a blaze, quickly building in intensity.
“Fuck, just like that. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”
Jungkook hummed in acknowledgement, alternating between sucking and rubbing your clit. It didn’t take much more for the heat to reach its peak and spill over. Your pussy clenched around his fingers as you came but he didn’t stop. You sighed as he helped you to ride out your high. You dismounted him when you had your fill and watched as Jungkook slipped his tattooed fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean. You moaned. Jungkook got up and pulled you into a searing kiss, you could taste yourself on his lips and he could probably taste himself on yours. His erect cock pressed against your stomach.
Jungkook broke away, “How does my bad girl want it? Doggy? Cowgirl? Anyway, it's fine by me.”
“Doggy.”
Jungkook gave your ass a light slap, “Then get on that bed, babe.”
You scrambled onto the bed, making sure to teasingly shake your hips as you did so. Jungkook growled lowly and was quick to follow you. A hand ran down your back, over your slightly reddened cheek. Two fingers brushed against your entrance torturously, dancing around actually entering you. You noticed as well as felt him lean over you to reach into a drawer. He pulled out a foil packet. He opened it and expertly rolled the condom down his length.
He lined himself up and eased himself into you, giving you a chance to adjust before he pulled out to just the tip and plunged back into you. You swear to god he hit your cervix right then and there. You keened at the delicious sensation, back arching. Jungkook pressed against you, littering your shoulder with marks as he sent spears of pleasure through you with each merciless thrust, his pace brutal. You tried to hold back your moans, knowing you’d be near screaming if your didn’t. To be honest, you felt like you could cream his cock just like this there was just one thing missing.
“Don’t hold back. I wanna hear you crying because of my dick. Come on. Cry for me Y/N.”
You couldn’t hold back anymore, you were sobbing with each thrust as his tip continually kissed your cervix. He pushed you further into the mattress and anchored your hips into place, holding you still so he could abuse your pussy as he wished. Your fingers grasped at his sheets as all you could do was take it. You weren’t used to being passive when fucking but shit what else could you do? Your ability to think was melting away with each deadly snap of his hips. And then he was stopping and you cried in outrage but he soon had you on your back and his cock in you again.
“Sorry, I just had to see your face. Oh look at you.” He wiped your tear streaked face.
He hooked one of your legs over his shoulders and abruptly continued his onslaught. With the way he was bearing down on you, you wouldn't have been surprised if your back was out of commission afterwards. In fact you think you heard a snap that wasn't from skin meeting skin. God you were so close. One of his hands snaked down to rub your clit in figures of eight. You were clenching around him, cumming just moments after. Your voice ripped from you at the intensity, leaving you gasping.
"Fuck you're so tight!" He groaned, brows knitting together as he concentrated on reaching his own climax.
In your pleasure-addled state, your impulse control vanished. Your hands reached up and groped at his chest, squeezing them like you had wanted from the get go. Your fingers expertly toyed with his nipples, his hips stuttered as he let out a strained whine.
"It's okay, you can cum. Want you to cum."
Jungkook let your leg fall so that he could bury his face into the crook of your neck, biting down as he finally released. He stayed like that for a moment, allowing himself a chance to regain his breath before rolling off you and discarding the used condom in a nearby waste bin.
"You are definitely not a good girl. I think I broke a slat in my bed again."
"I think you threw my back out so the slat will have to wait. Can't have my brother fix a bed I've been fucking on."
Jungkook laughed, "That's fine by me. Hey, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"
"We totally went about this in the wrong order. But yes, I'd love to have dinner with you."
----------------------------------------------------
Namjoon was taking a break, an americano cupped in his hands, when you gingerly entered the workshop the following day.
“So how are things with Jungkook? Any interest there?”
“Well, he needs a new slat for his bed.”
Namjoon looked disappointed, “Aw I’m sorry. I thought he would be into you. Sorry for getting your hopes up.”
“Oh no, he’s very into me, that’s why I’m fixing the bed.”
A few seconds passed until realisation hit him and he dropped his mug. Scandalised, he shouted, “Y/N!”
----------------------------------------------------
Thank you so much for reading this very niche fic! I'm tagging posts relevant to this fic with "Finishing Touch" for any asks I get sent, and comments I reply to or possible follow ons are some people have already shown an interest in. Here is an example of the chisels Jungkook made:
And here is the poem:
My Dear Blacksmith
Engrave your design into me; etch your story. Grind, carve, chip and scratch away. Pass your judgement with your tools. In one hand, heat and torment, temptation and punishment. In the other, honour and warmth, loyalty and redemption. Give me depth. Temper me in flames and harden my edges in oil, unbreakable when mastered. You inlay me with precious gold and dazzling jewels to highlight the beauty in your work. Oak and guard, balance and poise just like those who came before. For I am but your sword, an extension of your will. When the time comes, I shall miss you, my dear blacksmith. And as the years will pass us by, you shall wither and age as I dull and rust. But your story shall forever be in my steel.
----------------------------------------------------
This work of fiction is copyright © JungkookieNoona and protected under UK and international law. All rights reserved. Any unauthorised broadcasting, copying or reposting will constitute an infringement of copyright.
#jungkook#boop#jeon jungkook#jungkook smut#BTS jungkook#jeongguk#jeon jeongguk#jungkook scenario#jungkook fanfic#bangtan#bangtan scenario#bangtan smut#finishing touch
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I see @eponymous-rose doing these sometimes and I've always thought it was so much fun, so here's a Day in the Life of a clinical Associate Professor™. For reference, I've been seeing patients & teaching at my current university since finishing my residency almost a decade (!!!!!) ago.
9:30 - 10:00 - Precious precious office hours, spent answering emails from students, colleagues, and a guest speaker from a national organization I'm trying to coordinate an event for in two weeks. Everything's lined up except the venue (all our regular lecture halls are booked), and of course we discover this just outside his window to refund his airline tickets. Rats.
10:00 - 12:00 - Clinical lab! I'm coursemaster for two complex lecture/lab courses in the spring (protip: never let admin do this to you), so right now I spend most of my week in the classroom. Friday AMs are my advanced procedures lab, & today the students are doing intradermal and subcutaneous injections of the forearm and eyelid. This course can be really scary for them, so I go to a lot of effort to get them mentally and emotionally prepped, practicing approach and needle manipulation, etc. All of them do wonderfully, and even after cleanup and taking the biohazard bag down to disposal, I'm out on time.
12:00-1:00 - Guest faculty candidate lecture! Our full-time faculty has been down by about five people for a few years, and we also have three more of our remaining full-timers out on medical leave until late February, so we are hurting for help. This applicant gives a phenomenal talk on diversity and optometric scope across the several continents she's taught in over the last twenty years. It's an extraordinary talk and I honestly learn more geography than I expected.
1:00 - 2:30 - Lecture! Advanced procedures lecture to the third-year class, usually the only barrier between them and their weekend. I really like today's lecture and it goes well, and even the chronic dozers in the side seats stay awake.
2:30 - 2:45 - Intended to be an interview/tour with the faculty applicant, except here comes the first wrench. Just as she gets to my office, the colleague delivering the speaker lets me know she's having tech trouble with her Zoom-in guest lecturer and also there's a very upset student in the hall outside the classroom. I go down with her right away; student is okay, just got some very bad news, and when I'm sure they're settled with their friends & support system I help the colleague with the tech.
2:45-3:10 - Tour finally happens! The students we encounter are chipper and cheerful (not always the case in practical season!).
3:10-4:00 - Meeting with my clinic coordinator to prep for next week's practicals. My other big course this semester caps with a high-stakes clinical entrance exam; in essence, the students must perform a complete, independent eye examination from start to finish, and they can't enter clinic with "real" patients until they pass. The setup & scheduling for this practical (which runs over three weeks) is probably the most complicated logistical nightmare of my year. However, my coordinator is amazing, and within the hour she has a detailed list of both her tasks and mine and will report back as each prep step is done.
4:00-5:00 - Desperately trying to finish this schedule, answer my most urgent calls from patients, and finish some time-sensitive grading. Another colleague comes by and asks what I thought of the guest speaker, and when I say I didn't get much time in my interview with her, she suggests I tag along to the faculty dinner with her tonight at 5:45. A fantastic idea! I'll just wear what I have on, yeah?
The faculty dinner is at a five-star steakhouse. I'm wearing scrubs and a pullover.
It's okay, I have time to make it home and change! I can make it!
5:15 - I accidentally overwrite 90% of my completed schedule with an old, mostly blank copy, and don't realize it until after saving multiple times (I was on a different tab in the spreadsheet).
5:15 - 5:45 - Meticulously recreate the schedule as quickly as I can. I've already emailed out some assignments to the students, so I can't start over from scratch (which would have honestly been faster). Finally finish & send out the details to needed parties.
5:45 - 6:35 - race home, feed the dog, change into slacks and my favorite blazer, race out to the steakhouse.
6:35 - 8:30 - I arrive just before the salads come out, hallelujah! I have the best steak I've ever eaten in my life, as well as have a fantastic conversation with the candidate and the other faculty. The time honestly flies by, and when I realize what time it is I'm feeling very guilty about leaving the dog. Still, I'm sure she'll be a fantastic fit for the program, and it's honestly a relief to have my questions about some of her experience answered.
8:50 - home at last, at last!
8:51 - I discover my fly has been unzipped all night.
8:52 - 9:00 - I indulge in paroxysms of shame until I rationalize that the restaurant was incredibly dim, I was sitting the whole time, and my undies are also black. It's fine. It's fine. It's fine.
9:00 - now - hot bath, a book of poetry, and a double bourbon. After today, I feel like I've earned it.
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Outer Rim Marches, #0.1
In January, I started a westmarches campaign for Mothership RPG. This is the first post in a series of play reports and mini-reviews I intend to share of the campaign-in-progress.
Let's call this post "Zero Session #1," in a series of Zero Session posts, where I'll get into the how/why of organizing and running this campaign.
Why? Well, I own a ton of Mothership modules. I've been playing and writing for Mothership RPG for over two years, yet most of my sessions became playtests and that "work-only" connection to the game was burning me out.
So, I decided to build a sandbox campaign around the physical MoSh games I have in hand, and to find folk to play at an open table.
For now, ok, sure, it's more of an open table sandbox for interconnected one-shots than a "true" westmarches game, especially since the game has only one GM (me, but I'm hoping to open that up soon). But Outer Rim Marches sounds cool, eh?
Initial Forward Operating Base (F.O.B.)
The PCs arrived at Sater's Redemption. They work for The Company, who hired them to represent their new presence amid a mess of other factions, and leases a ship, The Orpheus, to the Crew.
(We decided the official corporation name of The Company that owns their ship will be revealed in play. That hasn't happened yet, eight sessions later. I love hanging this important piece of worldbuilding in the balance for when it can have a bigger narrative impact. Not knowing wtf is going to happen is one of my favorite parts of running ttrpgs.)
The Crew's job: explore the Outer Rim to establish footholds in new trading hubs (F.O.B.s), discover novel exploitable resources (artifacts), capture profitable exobiological lifeforms, and spread the influence of The Company.
The above graphic might be familiar to folk who follow my substack, the 5 Million Worlds Rokaner Report. Each month, I release a free sci-fi adventure setting, and this station was the featured world in the April edition. A taste of things to come.
Game Organization
When I set out to recruit players, the first important bit was setting a firm, regular playtime. When people reached out, I sent them the Consent in Gaming fillable PDF to get an idea of collective Lines/Veils. Once I got that back, I sent a google survey to gauge interest in modules and game commitment to split folks into ping-able groups.
The playtime is working out well. We had one three week break, I was out sick one time, and only once did we have not have enough folk to play. Ten sessions out of a possible fifteen since January!
I kinda fucked up the module-interest part of the survey though. I listed module names, and without content tags this was pretty useless for the players (outside the BIG names, like Hull Breach). I intend to redo this survey soon, and I'll share a copy here when I do!
The player commitment bit was super helpful, at least. Since I run games on Discord, I split players into three groups: the Command crew who vote on which job to take, the mainline players are the Crew I ping each week to advertise the game (I make an "Event" in Discord), and and a final Cryo group to call on when games don't fill up right away.
This has worked super well for me, even when I drop the ball on giving the players the Event ping in advance.
The Sector Map
I built this hexmap using Sectors Without Number, which is a sector generator for Stars Without Number. I opted for this against the recommendations of Mothership's Warden's Operation Manual because in a westmarches campaign, from what I've understood, the world is meant to be established once the game begins. I think this is especially important should other GMs and player groups begin playing in this world.
To be blunt, I found using this is kind of annoying. There's a lot of irrelevant SWN info to delete, TONS of systems to hide individually, and it's pretty intensive to integrate module info into the systems.
In short, listen to Sean McCoy's advice in the Warden's Operation Manual if you're starting your own Mothership game and don't fucking do this, haha.
And to be honest, I'm not sold on this even being useful as a sandbox tool intended to be shared with other GMs, even. The verdict is still out. To be continued in another Zero Session post down the line.
ANYWAY! This map looks empty, but that's because it's the player-facing starcharts the Company gave them. PCs need to buy hyperspace route maps at various hubs to explore beyond these bounds. So the star and hyperlane layers hold loads of hidden info.
Feel free to poke around the current state of the sector.
And I do like the shift from a web to hexmap. Little swirls of points get me all crossed up. The Jump-drive distances in Mothership are amenable to using hexes, and tracking distance (i.e. time passed) is straightforward.
ORM Campaign Sneak Peek
Mothership space travel takes a long-ass time, in case you didn't know. To date, we've played nine adventures over ten sessions, and over two years have passed in the campaign world.
The players skipped over a lot of systems to go to Hardlight, which they've recently learned is on the edge of the Public Sector (from Hull Breach). Gonna be some interesting sessions coming up.
The next Outer Rim Marches post will be the official ORM#1, in which the players board the lauded Year of the Rat.
#indie ttrpg#ttrpg#rpg#horror#mothership#mothership rpg#role playing games#tabletop#osr#west marches#sci fi
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