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denim-mixtapes · 7 months ago

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Nothin' but a Good Time - [1/?]

Wealthy!Steve Harrington x Fem!Stripper!Reader Rating: Eventually E, this chapter contains no smut yet but mentions drug and alcohol use and strip clubs. Words: 3.7k

AO3

It's 1996 and Steve Harrington has found himself, somehow, with the fancy office job and lush apartment and more than enough disposable income to spend on booze and drugs and one night stands to distract himself from how much he HATES his scummy corporate law job and too-big, too-empty apartment. You, after years of saving, begging cheapskates and creeps for tips as a waitress by day and dancing for bigger tips from bigger creeps after dark, finally afford yourself the opportunity to move into the fancy downtown apartment of your dreams. When you move in next door to Steve Harrington, there's no way of knowing if you've just met the next great love(r) of your life or the biggest pain in your ass you'll ever know. It's entirely possible that it could be both.

November, 1996 – Steve

Thump. Thump. Thump.

A faint rhythm builds from behind the door of Steve Harrington’s office, slow, steady, louder and louder until eventually the sound is muffled and interrupted by a low groan.

“Fuck!”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Just outside the door, his secretary is left aghast, wondering when she missed the arrival of this midday rendezvous and exactly when Harrington had become so daring. Sure, she’s seen her fair share of interns and lower level assistants escorted into his office after late stressful nights or the occasional holiday party, but he’s never been so brave as to interrupt the work day for a bit of afternoon delight. The kid may be a little dense sometimes, but he isn’t that dumb.

Usually Harrington is by the book, strictly on schedule and often working through lunch to stay on the boss’ good side. So the fact that he’s running late to a meeting in favor of a roll in the hay, well, she is shocked to say the least.

Corralling all of her bravery into one swift motion, she knocks on the door and is surprised to hear his, “come in,” right away. Maybe a little haggard and hushed in one breath, but immediate nonetheless. Needless to say, the stout woman is nervous about what she’ll find on the other side of the door when she opens it.

What she finds, however, is nothing more than a slightly rumpled version of Steve Harrington. Tie undone, sleeves of his collared shirt shoved up to the elbows, and his glasses placed gingerly on the desk beside him. His hair is a riot from where he was just repeatedly banging his forehead against the desk, sporting a wide swath of plump red skin above his eyebrows as evidence of the act. No, she hadn’t walked in on anything indecent, only the culmination of stress and burnout on her young boss.

“Sorry for the noise, Linda,” he breathes, scrubbing a palm over one tired eye and down his cheek. “I just– there’s no elaborate explanation here. It’s just been a day.” He types something quickly into the computer before him and then presses the power button on the boxy monitor, turning to give her his full attention with his hands folded on the desk in front of him. “What can I do for you?”

She mirrors his posture, fingers laced together but hanging limp at her midsection, “I was just wondering if I should call Mr. Greene and inform him you won’t be able to make it to the 3 o’clock partner meeting.”

Eyeing the clock on the wall beside him, Steve’s eyes widen to saucers and his chair scrapes loudly against hardwood floor as he stands up in a haste, collecting paperwork and wayward supplies into his briefcase as he does. “Shit.” His brows knit in a gesture of apology for his language, but Linda simply chuckles and steps out of his way. “Sorry, sorry! Thank you, Lin!”

—

No matter how hard he tries to act the part of a corporate bigwig asshole, Steve is convinced he may never get the hang of it. If he were to be honest, he isn’t entirely sure how he made it this far. Truthfully, he’s hanging on by the skin of his teeth and the Harrington name.

After a year of hopping from minimum wage job to minimum wage job, he finally broke down and listened to his father’s demands. Just get the damn degree, Steven, he’d said, I have a job all ready to be laid at your feet, all you have to do is pull your head out of your ass and get the degree. So he did. He sucked it up, used the influence of his family name and a bit more of the Harrington fortune to attend the most prestigious law school he never would have been able to get into with his academic record alone. When he graduated, as promised, he was offered a position just above entry level with a 401k and a more than generous benefits package. He wasn’t sure how many strings his father had to pull or how much bribing it took, but he landed this cushy job that got him out of his childhood home and into an apartment of his own, something that he’s sure benefited not only himself, but also the parents who were clearly sick of putting him up well past 18. Over the better half of the last decade, he took ‘Fake it till you make it’ to heart and managed to charm his way up the corporate ladder, and now here he is: pushing thirty with a private corner office, the title of junior partner, representing corporations he didn’t care much for and working under senior lawyers he liked even less…but this job pays more than generously. It affords him luxuries like the latest new apartment with more square footage than he knows what to do with and the city view from his living room window. It affords him as many trips out to Massachusetts to visit Robin and Nancy as he’d like, stunning suits and flashy watches he never could have dreamed of affording when he worked at Family video and refused his family fortune. And then there’s the extravagant gifts for said family that make up for his absence at Christmas dinner.

This job is draining, but it’s purchased his peace, in a way, so he does what he has to do to make it worth it.

Lately, what he has to do to make it worth it is party until he forgets how much he hates it.

If he had to recall the names of everyone in his apartment at this moment, he would fail. There’s faces he recognizes, sure, people from work and their friends he’s seen at many other parties. Clark from down the hall, who always manages to have the best coke, is in the corner making friends, and Eddie is around here somewhere peddling his own stash…but between the thumping bass and raucous laughter and the blur of lights, there’s about 25 to 30 other people he doesn’t recognize. When a bottle is thrust into his periphery, he gladly takes a swig, drowning the worry of strangers in his apartment and the stress from the day at work with amber liquor.

Clark beckons him over to the mirrored coffee table where he’s set up shop, offering a rolled twenty with one hand and clapping Steve’s shoulder in a shallow gesture of friendship.

Fuck it, it’s Friday.

November, 1996 – You

Dropping one last box at the foot of the doorman’s desk, you sigh and brush cardboard dust from your hands. The two men from the moving company just went upstairs with the last of your large furniture and are set to take off when they return to ground level, having only been paid through 11 AM. So you managed to unload the back of your car and the rest of the boxes from the moving truck into the lobby, promising the doorman – whose name you swear you’ll memorize soon – that it will all be out of the way momentarily. He graciously offered to make sure nobody messed with it in the meantime.

It’s hard to even wrap your head around the fact that you’re moving into an apartment with a doorman in the heart of the city at all, let alone one within walking distance of your diner waitress job, and close enough to a bus route to the club where you danced. You’ll have to remember to pay your grandma a visit in her new nursing home and thank her for keeping her rent-controlled lease and illegally subletting it to you. Just another thing to add to your overflowing calendar.

When you make it up to your shiny new apartment on the ninth floor, you say your goodbyes to the movers who are on their way out, sign the appropriate paperwork for them, and drop off your armload of boxes before heading back down.

It takes quite a few trips on your own, but after another half hour, you exit the elevator in the lobby to see only three boxes remain and heave another sigh of relief. The end is in sight, and by the grace of whichever God is looking out for you, you might even be able to sneak in a nap before work tonight. You bend over to pick up one of the last few boxes of your belongings and suddenly feel the all too familiar prickling heat of someone’s intense stare. Rolling your shoulders, you let go of the cardboard handles and stand to turn and face whoever is continuing to stare.

Behind you, leaning one hip against the front desk, is exactly the kind of man you would expect to live in a building like this. Slightly older than you, but not by much, tall and lean, but the sleeves of his tight white tee shirt show off the perfect sculpt of his bicep. The man is etched in sleep, draped in it like the blankets he surely just crawled out of, the fluffy length of his hair sticking out in every direction, pushed up and out of his face by round wire-framed glasses. He smiles in a way that feels friendly, but has the sly kind of charm behind it that makes you want to shy from it.

“You know,” he says, grinning wide, “I know I had a hard time waking up today, but something tells me I might still be dreaming, pretty thing like you moving into my building.”

You want to scoff at his comment, knowing exactly how you must look right now. Sweat drying on your skin, messy bun practically falling out of its hold, sporting a plain black tank top and a pair of your ex’s old basketball shorts rolled at the waist. You manage to hold back the scoff, but do roll your eyes with a soft smile at your new neighbor. “Cute, you use that line often?”

His sharp jaw ticks, but his smile softens around a friendly laugh as he rubs tiredly at one eye. “Can’t say I do,” then, dropping the hand in favor of offering it to you to shake, “I’m Steve, need a hand with these?”

Accepting his secondary offer and shaking his hand, you smile in return and introduce yourself, but decline the first. “Thank you, but I’m sure you were headed somewhere. Don’t let me keep you from your plans.”

“Nonsense.” When he shakes his head, there’s a pinch to his forehead, eyes slamming shut at the motion, but he recovers quickly and hides the pain. This man is clearly fighting a monster hangover, and yet he insists. “I was just going to pick up some coffee. It can wait.” Without waiting for you to agree, he takes the smallest box and stacks it atop another, picking them both up and tacking on, “lead the way.”

You decide there’s no arguing with him, so you grab the last remaining box and head back to the elevator, punching the 9 button once inside.

“No way,” he says in disbelief, “ninth floor?”

“Mhm,” you mumble softly, “9C.”

Your eyes are drawn to the crinkle around his eyes when he laughs again despite the dark circles below, the two moles just below his cheekbone that dance when he smiles. Damn it, he really is pretty.

“I’m in 9B, right next door! You’re moving into Ms. Ruth’s old place?”

There’s practically a lightbulb above your head when you make the connection, and in comical time with it, the elevator dings, signaling your arrival. “Oh, so you’re the Steve Grandma warned me about!”

All color drains from his face. “W-what did she say?”

Steve follows you down the hall to your front door, and you can’t help but giggle at his change in demeanor. Both of you set the boxes down just inside your front room and you turn to him with a hand on your hip. “Just that you’re too handsome for your own good and a habitual flirt. Both of which I’m finding to be true already.”

“Oh, well,” not only does his color return, but his cheeks pink noticeably. He gives a small nod that tips his glasses onto the bridge of his nose and sends a tuft of hair curling into his face – he couldn’t have choreographed it better if he tried. With an exaggerated wink, he continues, “you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

You scoff, “sure, sure,” and lightly push his shoulder out toward the hallway. “Thanks for your help.”

He strides down the hall back to the elevator and points at his own front door as he passes it. “Anytime…and you know where to find me if you need anything. You know, cup of sugar, little company. Whatever.”

With a shake of your head and the elevator doors closing around him, you punctuate, “bye, Steve.”

—

Later the same night, in the dressing room before your shift, you’re practically glowing from the long afternoon nap you allowed yourself in place of unpacking. You did your makeup at home – never really did care to leave your expensive products in the locker room, no matter how much you trust the other girls – so all you have left to do is get changed. There’s a lounge just outside the locker rooms for the dancers and bar staff. It isn’t much, a cracked and peeling old leather couch, a few folding chairs around a card table, and a kitchenette for snacks and drinks, but it serves its purpose. After changing into your first outfit of the night, a bedazzled fishnet body suit over a metallic hot pink matching set, you practically bounce into the lounge and land gracefully on one end of the couch, heels in hand.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” comes a sleepy voice from the kitchenette where Eddie Munson, club security, resident dealer, and occasional fill-in DJ, makes his routine evening coffee.

“Didn’t you hear?” One of the other dancers, Charity – though you’re not sure her real name, stage names only even back here, that’s the rule – asks, draping herself onto the other end of the couch. She pokes at your thigh with the toe of her heel and scrunches her button nose in your direction. “Honey here is fancy now, moved into that luxurious new apartment of hers today.”

“It’s true,” you boast with a dramatic lean into the couch, lazing, a cat to sunbathe under the fluorescent lights and clutching at pretend pearls, “I am one with the fat cats, now.”

“The fat cats living off their granny’s handouts, maybe,” Says Felicity, the club manager, through a playful snort as she enters the room.

You concede, “yeah fine, I could never afford this place if it wasn’t for her subletting it to me, but it’s all a part of my master plan.”

Eddie settles into one of the folding chairs, propping his feet up on the armrest of the couch beside you. “Master plan? Do go on.”

“You know,” you swat at the heavy, thick-soled boots before leaning forward to don your shoes and look up at him over your shoulder flirtatiously, “find a rich, hot man who can afford to live in the building and make him fall in love with me.”

“Solid plan, how’s that working out for you so far?” Charity laughs playfully.

It’s quiet for a moment as you contemplate the question. You were joking, of course, but when she asked the first thought that came to mind was of your interaction with Steve. It could be nothing, after all Grandma Ruth did warn you that her next door neighbor is a major flirt and for all you know that’s how he interacts with every woman he meets – maybe even every man, you don’t judge. On the other hand, it could be something. You never know.

“Well, actually there was this guy–”

You’re interrupted by one of the bartenders leaning in the doorway. “Eddie, we’re about to open, need you at the door!”

On his way out the door, Eddie twists his mess of curls up into a bunch atop his head and as a goodbye, says, “fill me in later, ladies, duty calls.”

—

The next time you see Steve, it’s under wildly different circumstances. For him, anyway.

You’re still sweaty and worn out after a long morning shift at the diner and the walk home under blazing July sun. Your fifties-style uniform wrinkled and stained with sticky syrup and dried milkshake from the bratty kid who “accidentally” dumped it on you in passing. Your apron is slung over your arm carelessly and you have just let your hair loose from its scrunchie when you entered the building so you have no idea how wild it actually looks.

Steve, however, is nothing short of stunning when you run into him at the mailboxes. He’s sporting a navy blue suit that fits him so well it must be tailored, still slightly disheveled at the end of his workday but clean cut and endlessly handsome despite it. There’s a dusting of five o’clock shadow along his sharp jaw, and his glasses are perched low on the tip of his nose as he sorts through the small stack of bills before tucking them into the inside pocket of his blazer. When he looks up and meets your eye, he visibly brightens.

“Well hi, neighbor,“ he greets with a warm grin dimpling his cheeks. He leans with one arm above your head against the wall of mailboxes and looks softly down his nose at you. “How’re you settling in?”

Shifting the strap of your bag up higher onto your shoulder, you try to cover up the stains, once again shying under his attention. You’re more than used to attention from men, used to their intense stares and acute observation, but only when you have prepared for it. When your makeup is done to perfection and you’re fresh and clean as a whistle. Not now. Not smelling of fryer grease and pancakes and the sweat of a hard day’s work, with melted makeup and dried mascara flakes accentuating the bags under your eyes. You finally answer, “alright I guess. I’ve been working a lot lately so there hasn’t been much time for settling, but I’ll get there eventually.”

He scrutinizes your outfit with a playful sneer. “I can imagine how hard it is, having to commute back to the fifties every time you have a shift.” He reaches out to untuck the collar of your dress that folded itself inward on your walk, smoothing it down with a caress of the thumb. “This suits you, by the way. ‘S cute.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, swatting his arm away with the apron in hand. “It pays the bills and I’m good at it. I wouldn’t have chosen it, otherwise.”

Without ceremony, you both start walking to the elevator, step in step as if this was routine, as if you’ve been doing together for years. He presses the elevator button and shakes his head as you wait for the doors to open. “Does it, though?”

Swallowing your offense, you give him a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

Together you step into the elevators, and Steve holds out an arm to make sure the doors don’t close on you as you pass through. An unnecessary gesture, as the doors don’t close if they detect motion, but it’s appreciated nonetheless.

“Not that I’m judging, because I am not, I just find it a little hard to believe that you can afford this place as just a waitress. What else have you got up your sleeve?”

The elevator once again signals your arrival with an overhead ding, and you just shrug as you brush past him toward your door. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

—

Working two jobs to keep up with your discounted rent is tough. You’ve never been ashamed of either job, both of them honest work and both of them something you’re good at and damn proud of, but there’s no denying that it’s tough sometimes.

The late hours at the club, though not every day, followed by an early wakeup call for the breakfast shift at the diner often called for little to no sleep, trudging into the building well past three AM with only enough time to shower and fall into bed for two hours before the alarm went off again at 5:30. But you made it work. Naps in the middle of the day and strategically planning which days you went into the club, you always made it work. Which means on the off nights you choose not to go into the club, you value your time and the opportunity to go to bed before midnight.

It’s a rare Saturday night that you choose to stay home a few weeks after your move. Usually Fridays and Saturdays are your biggest tip nights so it’s rare that you skip, but it had been a particularly rough day at the diner and you have to go in even earlier than usual tomorrow to cover the overnight server’s vacation, so you decide it isn’t worth the added stress. You’ll just take a nice relaxing bath, maybe watch a movie on cable, and get to bed early.

Only, ever since Steve got home, there’s been a constant flow of people outside your front door, trailing from the elevator to Steve’s, some knocking, some letting themselves right in with a slam of the front door, most of them shouting. Their voices echoed off the walls and floated through the crack under your door. You wrote it off as a simple get-together and hoped it would die down soon, but to no such luck. The swell of voices and bass heavy music and generic party ambiance only grew louder as the night went on, and here you are.

It’s two AM, your alarm is supposed to go off in just over an hour, and you’re wide awake, no, kept awake by the thumping of the party music on the other side of your shared wall and the boisterous laughter of Steve’s guests.

You try not to be annoyed, really. Sure, it’s well past midnight, but it’s also Saturday, and you’re no square. Obviously people can have a good time and enjoy their weekend, but God, it’s so hard to not let the noise get to you, your anger bubbling just under your skin the longer the ruckus keeps you awake.

Angrily shoving a pillow over your face, clamping it around your ears, you make note to say something to Steve the next time you see him.

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington/reader #steve harrington/you #stranger things reader insert #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington reader insert

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notmazikeen · 6 months ago

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No Space | Toji Fushiguro

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

‧₊˚✧[chapter 1]✧˚₊‧

"He's a what?"

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The music in your car was loud, the bass vibrated your seat with each beat. Today starts your first day of work, without having a supervisor watching you. You were working the nightshift… so naturally you were a bit nervous being alone.

Your phone screen turns black as you reach your new job. Pulling carefully into a parking spot. There were so many people in the parking lot, all wanting to build muscle or lose weight.

In all honesty, you hadn’t even worked out at this gym yet, even though you were given a year long free membership. There had been tons of people coming up to the front desk asking if there were any open positions. Feelings of doubt and shame crossed your mind. The day hadn’t started like you’d hoped it would, and working your first seven hour shift was shitty.

The gym was blasting a rock music playlist, the same playlist on repeat all day. At least you were the front desk receptionist, you could clean some stuff and then sit around and chill.

As the hours painfully went by it was now sundown. Only a few more hours to go. Then you could lay back in the comfort of your bed.

Your job was to help the customers with memberships, purchases, greeting them, and cleaning.

It was pretty laid back honestly. There was no rush to get things done, and the members seemed to be really kind and respectful.

A truck pulled into the parking lot, blasting loud music, it made you groan internally. You liked playing your music loud but that was just obnoxious.

Finally the truck shuts off and the man in it walks through the front doors. A tall man entered your view. He was rather stout, he wore a baggy t-shirt and sweatpants, but from the sight of his biceps filling in the sleeves of the shirt, you could tell that underneath that he was massive.

His hair was black and his eyes were almost an unreadable deep blue color. A scar was draped over his lips as well. He had a confident and menacing aura to himself. Maybe he used to be in the military?

The man struts up behind the front desk and waves. “Hey, I’m Toji, we haven’t met yet but I’m a personal trainer.” He gave a soft smile. Maybe this man just had a resting bitch face, because he sounded a lot sweeter than he looked.

You gave him a smile and he reached out his hand in greeting. “Nice to meet you.” Your voice is soft and sweet, contrasting against him. You took his rough hand in yours and shook it gently.

“They throw you to the wolves, Eh?” His biceps strained against the fabric of his shirt as he set his backpack down. You swear you just felt freezing, and suddenly you were burning up.

“Yeah. Aha it’s officially my first shift.” Trying to bring your focus elsewhere you began to search through the computer, aimlessly looking for something, anything to distract yourself.

He gave a nod and chuckled deeply. “If anyone bothers you, come and get me, yeah?” He glanced over in your direction, his attention turning back to the computer he was checking his schedule on.

You couldn’t help but smile and nod. “Of course, thank you!” And with that, he waved again before strutting off to go work out. He seemed really sweet, maybe the two of you would become closer.

After going around and wiping off the machines in the back of the building a man offered to help you move one of the benches back to its original spot. “Do you need some help?” You quickly shook your head and waved your hand in dismissal. A nervous giggle escaping your lips. “No,

I got it!”

He nodded and you turned your attention back to the seventy pound bench, but yet you could feel the stare from him burning into your head. You had an amazing sense of reading people before they had even spoken. Something felt off.

Getting to the last bench into the correct position, a strained huff leaving your lips. “You go girl.” The man said with a grin, ew.

Honestly you weren’t sure if that was what he said, it was kinda hard to hear, but nevertheless it was icky.

After some time you went back to the front desk, spinning in your chair impatiently. Only one more hour until you could finally go back home. It was nine o'clock, only one more hour.

Toji strutted up to the front counter and said his farewell before leaving. You hoped he’d talk to you some more but there was always tomorrow. And would you have a story to tell him tomorrow…

Suddenly you bring your head up and spin slightly to your right. The man from earlier standing on the other side of the counter. “Have a nice night.” You politely smiled. He didn’t budge. “You as well, also you’re really pretty by the way.” He gleamed. An overly confident aura emitting from him, deep down you knew he was most likely a dickhead.

A nervous laugh erupted from your throat, you felt a little flustered. Not everyday do you get a compliment and it had been so long since you had heard one. One from a random person made it all that more meaningful.

“Oh, thank you aha!” You tried to stay calm, something just felt so off…

The man smiled back at you before walking towards the door, you heard his footsteps abruptly stop before he spun back to you. “Do you have a boyfriend by the way?” In a shocked state, you blurted out, “Yes, haha.” Rubbing the back of your neck and looking away.

He was in no way attractive to you.

His douchebag aura, his voice, his looks, his odd outfit. Everything was a turn off.

“Well he’s a very lucky guy!” The man added before finally walking out the door.

What the hell. That was honestly so weird. You knew he’d say something just from the way he looked at you, but you didn’t know he’d be so forward.

After the hour had passed, it was finally time to go home. All of the inside lights were off and it was quiet.

The dark scared you, and any normal person would have shit their pants at the sight in front of you.

Peeking out of the garage door glass, there was a truck parked right outside the door you needed to go out of to leave. The truck was turned off and the cabin lights were off as well. Giving you no idea if someone was inside the truck or not.

Your skin raised in bumps and you felt a twisting knot in your gut. Your intuition was spot on almost every single time, so naturally you factimed your mom.

“Mom… someone is outside the door and I’m scared to leave. Their lights are off and I don’t know…something feels off.” You whispered. Scared that the person outside may hear you.

Your mom comforted you and told you to stay on the phone, you stayed on facetime with her for forty minutes before the truck finally peeled out of the parking lot. Your gut told you that if you went outside, something bad might have happened.

After that unnerving situation, you finally got into your car safely before driving home.

The car ride was quiet, the music was loud coming from your speakers, but your brain blocked it. The hair on your neck still raised in anxiety.

The next day was quick to approach. You made it to work and basically fucked around for a few hours before Toji came in two hours before close. You brought up the events of last night and he showed concern across his face.

“If something like that happens again, and I’m here, come get me. I don’t want anyone messing with you.” His tone was hinting a protective aura from it.

You nodded and he gave you a weak smile. During training a few weeks back, you had seen him around but never took note of his name or anything, but he interacted with your coworkers differently.

This made you feel safe and comforted. In all honesty, it was a little silly to freak out over such a small thing, but the thought of the man who was flirting with you, waiting outside to confront you, was terrifying.

You made your way to the women’s restroom to restock some items and mop the floor. This was one of your least favorite tasks because women would always walk in and dirty the mirror, after you had already cleaned it.

Toji made his presence known, trying his best not to frighten you. He stood at the entrance of the bathroom. The door was propped open so as he said hey, his rough knuckles tapped on the wood.

Hearing his voice made you smile. You were quick to turn around and come into his field of view. “Hey.” You smiled and gave him a smile. A tired smile.

“I’m leaving, but let me put my number in your phone, just in case something happens.” You nodded and wrote his number down in your contacts. His eyes watching your every move intently.

“Okay there.” You saved his number and closed your phone before looking back up at him. He leaned in close and gave you a small side hug. A rather odd gesture, but comforting?

“I’m serious. Call me if someone is giving you trouble, I live down the road. I’ll come to you.” His lips curled into a toothy grin and it almost sounded like he smelt your hair. Maybe he was just inhaling.

With a small nod and a farewell he left the gym. Your stomach feeling all giddy, and your shift ending, you felt like the night ended perfectly. To be fair though, you’d never actually want to call him if something did happen. Regardless of how much he made it known that he’d protect you.

The end of your week was rather slow, Toji hadn’t come in for a few days. There were some other guys whom you’d catch staring at you, but no more interactions like the first guy. The days passed so slowly. Your favorite person to see at the gym made your days more enjoyable, and with him gone, it was agonizing.

As the week finally ended, you had a break in your schedule. A few of your friends from college asked if you could come out for drinks, of course you couldn’t say no. Except the bar you were going to was in the same town as your work. And the thought of somehow seeing Toji there made you all that more excited to go.

You slipped on some jean shorts and a low-cut baby tee, your hair down, and your makeup subtle but very noticeable. You looked stunning. Compliments from your friends made that known to you.

Your group met up in the parking lot, talking away about this and that. Nobody knew about Toji and you wanted to keep it that way. He was a few years older than you, and you didn’t want to risk getting lectured over that.

As your friend group walked into the bar, the place was bustling with music and people. A very lively scene. It made your spirits high and your excitement higher.

There was a big round booth in the corner of the bar and your friends decided to set up camp there. This made you able to see almost every part of the bar, besides the alcohol counter. The bar was set up to where the booths lined the walls and the dance floor was in the middle of the building. The drink counter was located on the same wall as your booth, and your back was turned away from the counter.

Everyone ordered some kind of drink before making their way onto the dance floor, while you stayed behind for a moment to fix your lipstick. You had hoped a guy would ask you to dance, so you needed to touch up your makeup. Deep down you had really stayed behind because you were nervous all of the sudden. What if Toji really was here for some random reason.

You finished your lipstick before sipping down the last few sips of your drink. You decided you weren’t all that tipsy, and you needed to get another drink in your system before feeling confident enough to dance.

As you made your way to the counter, there were a few men beside you, girls fawning over them. You glanced around and you swear you saw a larger man walking through the crowd. Butterflies filled up your stomach. Was he really here?

The stout man made his way to the bar beside you, but it wasn’t Toji. Just some other random person that had black hair and muscles. You didn’t even realize a sigh escaped your throat before the man cleared his.

“Rough night?” He grumbled. His voice sounded nothing like Toji’s but you guess it was attractive.

You nodded and gave a very weak smile, but then squinted your eyes in remembering you were here to have fun. “Sorta.”

He nodded back and chuckled deeply. The bartender strutted over to the two of you and you placed your order, but the man beside you paid for your drink. You smiled and stepped a bit closer to him. “Awe thank you!” You giggled softly.

“Of course, pretty lady.” His hand reached out in greeting. “Names Shiu Kong. When you finish your drink, want to dance?” You shook his hand generously and introduced yourself. “I don’t see why not.” You tilted your head with an eye squinting smile.

You quickly downed your drink before making your way to the dance floor, Shiu in tow.

The bar seemed to play actually decent music, the building was filled with voices singing and bodies dancing against each other. Now that you had a good amount of alcohol in your system you were feeling free.

Shiu made some small talk with you as you danced against him. A smile never leaving his lips.

You closed your eyes and really drank in the vibrations of the music. Feeling Shiu’s hands graze along the sides of your waist, swaying you along with him. For a moment you felt a weird gut feeling, like something was off. You opened your eyes and were met with a handsome sight.

Toji was across the bar, sitting in a booth by himself. Staring intently at you and Shiu. It made your skin crawl the way he stared. You turned your gaze elsewhere and hoped he didn’t notice you gawking at him.

You made Shiu spin you around so that his back was now facing Toji, hoping to create some space between Toji’s gaze.

After a few songs and Shiu meeting your friends, you felt absolutely plastered. Your friends just kept ordering shots and you were drunk. Shiu also got progressively more drunk as well, and as he did he became more touchy. Which you didn’t mind all that much.

The two of you sat at your booth alone, you sat on his lap and sloppily made out with him. The alcohol fuzzing up your brain. He had hinted at taking you home but you insisted you didn’t do one night stands unfortunately. Shiu understood that though, and was polite enough to not pester you about it.

As your night out began to come to an end, he asked for your number before he left. You said you’d text him soon, but honestly would you remember to? You could barely even see straight, maybe drinking so much was a bad idea.

Your friends said they’d want to leave in about an hour, so you were soaking up the enjoyment with them while it lasted. Every now and then, your eyes would catch Toji staring at you. A cold blooded stare.

You wanted to go over to him and say hi but maybe you shouldn’t. He had just seen you sitting in a guy’s lap and his tongue down your throat. It was slightly embarrassing, but nothing too bad.

One of your favorite songs began to fade into the speakers, making you and your friends squeal with excitement. “House Of Balloons - The Weeknd” started to blast in your ears. The music enhancing the tension between you and Toji.

You danced in a rather sleazy motion against your friends, your gaze catching his as the lyrics spat out “You belong to meeeee.” A small grin escaping your lips as his eyes narrowed slightly. You could barely see the same smirk plastered on his face.

The Weeknd always knew how to capture an attractive moment so well. You ran your hand through your hair and closed your eyes again as the song faded into the next. This song was more fitting towards your situation and it made you become flustered.

“Older - Isabel LaRosa”

You sang the words and opened your eyes again as you felt a presence close to you, and they didn’t smell feminine.

“Older, huh?” He scoffed slightly. Your friends backed away giggling and letting out a few wolf whistles.

You grinned and nodded. “Yeah, and?” A challenge in your voice.

Toji let out a chuckle and clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Shiu is like twice your age, y’know.” You felt a little taken aback, he knew Shiu???

“Wait, how’d you-” You were cut off by another deep chuckle from him. “We’re business partners. Not at the gym though.” He said slyly. You could tell he had drank, his rough voice dripped with the intoxicating smell of whiskey.

You rolled your eyes and huffed. “What can I say, older guys have their shit together.” You shrugged before turning to walk away. Your head turning over your shoulder to glance at him one more time.

“Bye, Toji.” You smirked subtly before making your way towards the exit of the building. Your feet trying their hardest to carry your body weight. Fuck, you drank more than you had thought.

Toji bit his lip as you walked away before sighing loudly, his feet dragging after you. He really didn't know why he was following you, it was like his body was out of his control.

“Wait, uh let me walk you out.” He grinned before aiding you in pushing past the sea of bodies. His tall figure made people move out of your way, he looked terrifying from first glance.

You felt his hand find its way to the small of your back, acting like he didn’t think you’d notice. His fingertips rubbing small subtle circles against your spine.

As you reached the stairs outside of the building, your foot caught the edge of the concrete stairs and you tumbled forward. Except you didn’t hit the ground.

Instead your back somehow felt something rough. Toji reacted fast and grabbed your waist tightly, pressing your back against his chest. With a huff of embarrassment, you tapped his hand to signal he could let go now.

Your skin was raised in goosebumps now, and your heart fluttered. His grasp was protective over you. “Watch yourself.” He mumbled before giving you some space. His hand going back to its place on your back.

Finally you found your friend's car, a few of your friends in the backseat, all gawking at the man behind you.

“Thank you, see you at work?” You smiled and turned around to face him. You face turning a deep shade of red as you could hear your girlfriends giggling in the backseat.

He chuckled and gave a toothy grin. “See you at work.” His thumb rubbed up along your spine before he turned to walk away. He stopped and angled his head just enough to where you could see his menacing eyes. “Good night, panther.” His chuckle is almost hoarse.

You playfulled rolled your eyes at him. “Good night, Toji.” And with that he walked off, and you got into the front seat.

“Oh my gosh! Who was that?!” Your friends began to bombard you with questions around this mystery man.

You sat happily in your seat and smiled giddily. “Toji. We work together.”

You wondered how this was gonna go down at work. Hopefully it was kept a secret between you two.

You knew that in a few days when you worked again, you’d have something or someone to look forward to.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

@catobsessedlady @yuuuumii

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raz-writes-the-thing · 1 year ago

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Snack Foods (Good Omens)

Aziraphale x Crowley x GN!Reader / requests are: open and encouraged

Summary: You're originally from the US and are feeling homesick. Your partners somehow just always know what to do to make you feel better.

Good Omens tag list: @coffee-and-red-lipstick @quickslvxrr @clarina04 @motionlessindoubt (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

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Moving to the UK had not been something you’d seen in your future when you were young. It was one of those things that just sort of happened. One week you were working minimum wage and working towards a degree, and the next week you were studying abroad. A month after that you were securing a job in your chosen field and you just… never looked back, really.

Your family was sad but supportive, thankfully. They understood how much your career meant to you and what these opportunities meant for you. They rang as often as they could and visited once or twice a year, which was great, but you still missed them, of course.

Your main source of solace when you really missed home was the Bookshop. You’d found it by accident one day after going to the coffee shop across the road. You’d met some friends there who had recommended the place. It was indeed now your favourite joint for a pick-me-up latte. There was nothing quite like a hazelnut coffee frappe, was there?

But you digress. You’d gone to the coffee place to meet your friends and spied the vintage-looking bookstore while you’d been there. After you’d finished with your friends you’d popped over to see what they had to offer.

Being so far from home had been particular torture that day and you’d been hoping to pick something up to distract you from your misery and transport you elsewhere. At least for a little while. Browsing rows of books, parchments, scrolls and everything else under the sun was where you’d first met Aziraphale.

A stout, comforting man (or you’d thought he was a man, anyway- at first) who had seemed to be trying to herd you out of the store before you bought something, which you had thought very odd for someone paying rent in the middle of London for a multiple storied building. But that was neither here nor there.

It had been an accident, really. You hadn’t meant to, but as soon as Mr. Fell had mentioned your accent and asked where you were from in an effort to divert your attention to his precious books, you had burst into tears. The poor man had looked so startled as you chastised yourself internally and wiped away the tears refusing to stop leaking from your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you said, absolutely horrified.

“Oh, dear,” was his response. “It’s quite alright- though, I must ask- why are you crying?”

And so your friendship had begun. With a dash of tears and a sprinkle of awkwardness. After that, you’d popped in to the Bookshop whenever you were lonely or missing home to catch up with Mr. Fell. He’d set you up with a recommendation, a comfy chair and a cup of hot chocolate and leave you for hours to engross yourself in other universes.

You’d met Crowley shortly after you started going to the store regularly. It didn’t take very long for the two of you to become thick as thieves. You had a similar sense of humour and both of you found more joy than you should have in the misfortune of others. Not anything serious, of course but neither of you were able to not giggle when you saw the ass end of someone’s shopping bag just fall right out.

Anyway, all this was to say was that the two of them had fast become your best friends, confidants and then, one day after that, your partners. And as partners, they were very finely attuned to when you were not having a great day. Today was one of those days.

Crowley had ducked out for a bit before you’d gotten to the shop, and Aziraphale was pulling out all the stops to help you feel better. A new book, hot chocolate, a funny dance, even. Nothing was working. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. The dance and the following cuddles helped, but not by a whole lot.

Your Angel was doing his absolute best for you, and you were currently curled up in his lap with his hand stroking through your hair. You were sniffling sadly. You couldn’t even call back home with the time zone differences.

“Don’t look at those, my dear. You know they will only suffice to sadden you further.”

You were flicking through old photos, and as soon as the words left his mouth you turned the phone off with one more longing look. He was right, as usual.

“There, see? Better already. Crowley will be back soon, I’m sure. Perhaps you and he can play that game that you both enjoy so much?”

“Maybe,” you replied noncommittally.

The game in question involved doing your best to come up with more and more ridiculous ways to spend eternity. It was quite an amusing game. Particularly when drunk.

As if summoned by his name, Crowley wandered his way into the shop. He was toting a plastic bag which- judging by the bright colours within- meant it contained some sort of food. The Demon picked your legs up and sat down on the arm of the recliner, re-placing your legs back on his thighs when he was settled. He gave them a soft, comforting pat.

“Right. Can’t have you being sad, can we, Pet?” He supplied as a greeting. You blinked at him, nuzzling your head further into Aziraphale’s hand in your hair.

“S’pose not,” you replied suspiciously.

“It’s, erm, not much,” Crowley said, peeking into the bag before handing it over to you, averting eye contact awkwardly. “Might help, though.”

Your brows drew down in confusion and you moved the handle out of the way to view what was inside.

“Oh.”

Crowley repeated the statement, deflating somewhat.

“I- this is- Crowley.”

Aziraphale was beaming at you, scratching at your scalp. The motion gave you the shivers which in turn made Aziraphale chuckle.

“This is so nice? I can’t- oh my God- Cheetos!”

“Let’s not bring her into it, shall we? I don’t believe she had anything to do with it, eh?”

You shot the Demon an apologetic look and started ripping items out of the bag. Mike n Ikes, Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, Reese's cups, and- was that a root beer? A real, precious root beer? Was this Heaven?

This was possibly one of the kindest things someone had done for you since moving. ‘Demon,’ your ass.

“This is perfect, thank you so much,” you say tearfully while ripping open the bag of Cheetos and shoving one in your mouth. “Where did you get these from?”

Crowley squeezed your foot comfortingly. You wiggled your socked toes in his hand.

“Nipped over to the store in Edinburgh. Our Angel here heard they had specialty foods.”

You pecked Aziraphale on the cheek, giving him an absolutely beaming smile which he reciprocated happily.

“Oh, it’s no problem, really. I’m happy to do anything for either of you. More than happy.”

You picked up a Cheeto, offering it to the Angel who looked at its colour sceptically. You can tell he’s about to respectfully pass on the snack before he sees the expression on your face and he gives in, opening his mouth for you to feed it to him. He looks horrified as the taste sits on his tongue.

“Oh,” he says, chewing faster to get it out of his mouth. “That’s just… that's lovely, dearest. Thank you.” You offer him another. “No thank you, one was quite enough. More for you, after all.”

Crowley snickers and rejects the snack you offer him. He wasn’t big on food in general, but it would be rude not to at least offer. Crowley was more of a drinks man, anyway.

Once you’d had your fill you gave each of them a big kiss on the forehead, thanking them profusely for the effort. It really was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever done for you.

And as it turned out- it actually worked. It didn’t ease the ache of missing your family, but it did alleviate a little of that homesickness. You made Crowley promise to take you to the store sometime (and regularly after that) and while you certainly didn’t see your family often enough, you realised that you’d created a new family here instead- in addition to the one back home, that was.

As thanks, you promised to never make Aziraphale chow down on American snack food ever again. He was very much grateful. To thank Crowley, you washed the Bentley for him in skimpy clothes. It was safe to say he was a fan.

You may miss your birth home, but you had a lot going on for you here too, and wasn’t that just as important in the end? You thought so.

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sharkposting · 1 year ago

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Special greek shark!!

I'm in Greece right now so for the next couple days I will only cover sharks that can be found around the Mediterranean sea!

Daily shark day 10:

Angel Shark

Squatina squatina, the angelshark or monkfish, is a species of shark in the family Squatinidae (known generally also as angel sharks), that were once widespread in the coastal waters of the northeastern Atlantic Ocean. Well-adapted for camouflaging itself on the sea floor, the angelshark has a flattened form with enlarged pectoral and pelvic fins, giving it a superficial resemblance to a ray. This species can be identified by its broad and stout body, conical barbels, thornless back (in larger individuals), and grayish or brownish dorsal coloration with a pattern of numerous small light and dark markings (that is more vivid in juveniles). It measures up to 2.4 m (7.9 ft) long. Like other members of its family, the angelshark is a nocturnal ambush predator that buries itself in sediment and waits for passing prey, mostly benthic bony fishes, but also skates and invertebrates. An aplacental viviparous species, females bear litters of seven to 25 pups every other year. The angelshark normally poses little danger to humans, though if provoked, it is quick to bite. Since the mid-20th century, intense commercial fishing across the angelshark's range has decimated its population via bycatch – it is now locally extinct or nearly so across most of its northern range, and the prospects of the remaining fragmented subpopulations are made more precarious by its slow rate of reproduction. As a result, the International Union for Conservation of Nature has assessed this species as Critically Endangered.

#ocean #shark of the day #sharks #marine biology #sea creatures #shark #daily sharks #sea animals #angel shark

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murderousink23 · 1 year ago

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11/05/2023 is All Saints' Day 🇳🇱, National Doughnut Appreciation Day 🍩🇺🇲, International Stout Day 🇬🇧, Guy Fawkes' Night 🇬🇧, World Tsunami Awareness Day 🌊🇺🇳

#all saints day #national doughnut appreciation day #international stout day #guy fawkes' night #world tsunami awareness day

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inevitably-johnlocked · 9 months ago

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hi, honey! do you have any boat/ship fics?

Hi Lovely!!

Here are the fics I have that take place on a Boat or a Ship of some kind! Literally just what I can remember in the moment, PLEASE add more if you guys have them! I've also added fics on my MFL list that have the tags :)

BOATS / SHIPS

Baetica Series by Jberry (E, 17,943 w. across 2 works || Post-S3, Fake Marriage For a Case, Cruise Ship, Homophobic Language, Developing Relationship) – John Watson and Sherlock Holmes must solve a case on a cruise ship. To get close to the crew and passengers, they must get married for the case on the Baetica. However, their relationship hits rocky seas both due to the case and internal conflicts.

The Kepler Problem by kinklock (E, 24,270 w., 1 Ch. || Sci-Fi AU || Alien Sherlock, Space Repairman John, Alien Biology, Horny John) – Working in uncharted space exploration was not as exciting as John had hoped, especially when it turned out to be mostly bot maintenance on uninhabited planets. However, the mystery of the repeated, unexplained malfunctions on planet BAK 2212 might turn out to be exactly the kind of adventure he'd been craving.

SpaceBois go to Space Series by elldotsee (E, 62,028+ w. across 3 works || Series WiP || Astronaut / Space AU || Scientist Sherlock, Biomedical Engineer John, Sherlock is William, Astronauts, Close Quarters, Shy Sherlock, Space Travel, Mutual Pining, Chemistry, Developing Relationship, Minor Injuries, Suicidal Ideation, Whump, Flirting, Angst with Happy Ending, Mars Colonization, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Zero-Gravity Sex, Alternating POV, UST/URT) – Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because...new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab. Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters?

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Facial Shaving, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

MARKED FOR LATER

My, She Was Yar by blueink3 (M, 5,313 w. || Teenlock Cinema AU || Mention of Sex for Drugs, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending) – YAR: adjective; (nautical term, of a sailboat) agile, quick, easily manoeuvred. Or, the exact opposite of what Sherlock Holmes is when he stumbles into John Watson's cinema and turns his life upside down. Part 7 of the Tumblr Prompts series

Below Zero by Calais_Reno (M, 10,912 w., 2 Ch. || End of the World AU || Falling in Love, Antartica, Space Station, Pandemic, Heavy Angst, Loneliness, Love, Hopeful Ending) – 10,000 miles south of London, John Watson sits in a research station in Antarctica. 210 miles above London, Sherlock Holmes is floating in a space station. They are Earth’s only survivors.

Rigging screws, size 1 3/8 inch, galvanised by AJHall (T, 15,250 w., 6 Ch. || Case Fic, Boat Safety) – On the eve of a planned voyage to Brittany, Marjorie Jameson starts her day with no problems more pressing than forcing a boatyard to do an emergency repair to the family yacht. A chance encounter at the Cowes hi-speed ferry terminal begins to unravel a web of conspiracy and murder, with her charming, untrustworthy husband Julian right at the centre and Marjorie as the next intended victim. But no-one's going to trust the word of an aging housewife whose complaints of abuse the police have previously dismissed as delusions.

The One Where Sherlock Doesn’t Ruin John’s Holiday by nutmeag83 (T, 18,898 w., 11 Ch. || Pre-TRF / S2 Timeline, Friends to Lovers, Cruise Ships, Vacation / Holidays, Fake Relationship, For Science, Bed Sharing, Cuddling/Snuggling, Mutual Pining, John POV, Minor Case Fic, Cooking, Dancing, Drunk Shenanigans) – John wins a cruise vacation for two and brings Sherlock along. But when it turns out to be a couples cruise, they have to pretend to be a couple themselves (for science). How many pretend kisses will it take before they can’t deny their feelings any longer?

To Belong Series by DrFish (T, 19,400+ w. across 4 works || Series WiP || Victorian / Mythical AU || OctoJohn, Scientist Sherlock, Attempted Kidnapping, BAMF John, Protective / Possessive John, Developing Relationship, Being Lost, Size Difference, Capital Punishment, Happy Ending) – William Sherlock Scott Holmes failed to graduate the University of Cambridge class of 1877. Adrift in London, he accepts a post as assistant naturalist on a scientific expedition to the Western Pacific Ocean aboard Her Majesty's Sailing Ship Frontier. Events do not proceed quite as planned and Sherlock finds himself cruelly cast away by his shipmates. Perhaps he will find salvation in the company of a most unlikely sea creature.

If I had a boat I would sail to you by Sunnyrea (E, 20,576 w., 1 Ch. || Titanic Fusion) – John is completely different and special from anyone Sherlock would normally come in contact with - no talk of money and hidden family secrets, no surface, superfluous conversations and blatant lies. John was the most honest person in less than five minutes Sherlock has ever met. He wants to know everything else there is to know about John Watson.

A Piece of Eight Series by by KtwoNtwo (T, 30,562+ w. across 5 works || Series WiP || One Piece Space AU || Character Study, Space Pirates) – Mankind has spread out through the galaxy on ships with solar sails and jump drives. Here be tales about a particular sector of the galaxy where the Commonwealth of New Britannia is adjacent to a gravitational anomaly commonly referred to as the Red Line. Avast all ye spacers, batten down the hatches and prepare for interesting weather; its a space AU crossover between One Piece and Sherlock.

Riptide Lover by jinglebell (E, 114,090 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE|| Merfolk & Victorian AU || Mermaid Sherlock, Human John, BAMF John/Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Oral Sex, Hand Jobs, Mild Gore, Dubious Interspecies Consent, Stockholm Syndrome, Dark Romance, Dubcon and Morality, Rough Sex, Abstract Mentions of Rape, Size Queen, Switchlock, Foot Fetish) – The year is 1866. When John becomes swept overboard, he never expects to encounter a living creature of myth. When the merman absconds with John, the lost sailor must use every tool at his disposal to convince Sherlock not to kill him. But it seems that killing John Watson is not what the deadly, beautiful creature has in mind at all...

Over Fathoms Deep by bittergreens (E, 486,840+ w., 61/? Ch. || WiP || Historical / Regency / Sailing AU || Sailor!John / Aristocrat!Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Virgin Sherlock, Sailing, Bottomlock, UST / RST, Hand/Blow Jobs, Frottage, Masturbation, Happy Ending, Anal) – When the youngest son of the aristocratic Holmes family is shipped off to sea in an attempt to cure him of his poor temper and bad manners, he fully expects to spend a long tedious voyage as miserable as ever. What he does not count on is having his heart stolen by the strapping young crewman, John Watson.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #boats and ships #help steph find fics #marked for later fics

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