#junior officer board

[mashupofmylife]

I went to the Junior Officer of the Quarter board today, and I managed to talk about the guinea pigs AND tell one of my grandpa's sea stories from his WW2 Navy career, so I'd call that a pretty good day.

[twice-inamillion]

The Company 

New Assistant 

Smut (Defloration, first-time sex, deep penetration, creampie, whinging, rough sex, ass spanking, little aftercare, slave contract)

Chapter 17

3975 Words 

(It’s time for a new assistant with Irene getting busy with her new girl group. Luckily she has a junior assistant in training that is due for a promotion. As her new boss it is required for you to welcome her and break her in.)

The office has been busy since returning from San Francisco. Multiple meetings with project managers, clients, partner companies, and personal meetings. You previously met with JYP and suggested a survival show with the trainees from his company. He mentioned it would give it a twist when it comes to the creation of a girl group. 

At first, you were hesitant, but after much discussion about what it would look like, you decided to get on board. You even considered adding Mina as a contestant since you were confident in her skills. 

The only thing remaining would be to inform the trainees about their participation in a survival show, so you and JYP decided to hold a meeting with all the trainees.

The meeting went as you suspected; the trainees were nervous about their participation. The younger trainees saw this as a way to prove themselves and increase their chances of debut, while the older ones voiced their disapproval. 

Nayeon, Jeongyeon, and especially Jihyo were angry at JYP for even suggesting the idea after their failed attempts at debut. 

Jihyo cries from disappointment, with the other two comforting her, knowing how much they have worked for these past few years. 

The meeting ends, leaving a sour taste in your mouth, not knowing how to react. You should have gone with your gut, but it's too late to change your mind, and only for the best outcome. 

When you get back to your office, you discuss things with Jieun (IU) and understand the situation. Being closer to them, she has learned a few things and has learned how disappointed 3Mix would be with their recent failed attempt. They assumed that switching companies would have an easier path to debut, especially Jihyo, who has been in training for the longest time among the trainees in the company. 

“I can’t back out.”

”I understand, sir, but try to be a bit understanding.”

”I’ll try.

The room is silent; you can feel the tension in the air and ask, “What’s next on the agenda?”

”You have a meeting with Irene to discuss about Miyeon.” 

“When is that?

”Later today, it's your last meeting.”

”Thank you.”

———

You hear a knock, “Sir, it’s Irene.”

”Come in.”

”Thank you.” She stands in front of you with folders in her hands, waiting for you to look up at her. 

“Take a seat.”

”Yes.”

”Let’s get to the point. How is she doing?”

”At the beginning, she had a bit of an adjustment to her new schedule. She asked a lot of questions but began to pick things up at a reasonable pace. I also made sure she continued her education and decided to pursue higher education.”

”That’s great. Seems like these few months have been good for her.”

”Yes, I tried not to give her so much at the beginning and slowly increased her workload. Now that I’m in my group, she makes my duties easier.”

”Do you think she can take over your duties once you get busier?”

”With the basic stuff, yes. I haven’t even her any sensitive information yet.”

”Let me ask you one thing. Do you think she can be trusted?”

”She hasn’t let me down. So yes, I think she can, but I can't promise she won’t make a mistake.”

”Jieun suggested a contract like the two of you have as assurance.”

Irene looks perplexed about Jieun's suggestion, “Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

”No, that’s a great idea. I should have mentioned it sooner.” 

In reality, Miyeon has grown on Irene throughout their time together. Hearing about binding her into a contract like the one she is in saddens her as she knows that Miyeon’s freedom will be stripped. 

“Here are her files, sir.”

You read over her report, the things she’s helped Irene with, and her newly gained skills as an assistant. You opened her health file and noticed that her birthday was recent, “Oh, she just turned eighteen. How nice.”

Irene clenches her fist, seeing your grin. She understands what you’re thinking and is disgusted by it.

”Yes, I bought her a birthday and a small dinner together.”

”That’s sweet.”

”Thank you, sir.”

You close her file and say, “Thank you for the report. I’ll have IU put together her new contract and set up a health check for Miyeon as soon as possible.”

”Is that really necessary?”

”I would have thought you would be happy. She’ll take over some of your duties unless you want her to?”

”No, I’m grateful,” but she just felt sorry for Miyeon.

”Okay, you can go now.”

Irene exits your office, defeated, and heads to meet her members in the training room.

——-

It’s been a few days since your meeting with Irene, and now Jieun and Irene are meeting with Miyeon. 

She’s nervous about the meeting, hoping it's about her effort as a junior assistant. 

She is greeted by Jieun and escorted to the conference room you use for private meetings. 

“Irene unnie, good morning.”

”Good morning, Miyeon.” 

They sit and discuss Miyeon’s position as a junior assistant. It’s most of what you and Irene talked about a few days ago, but now it comes to the main part. Irene mentions that she believes Miyeon can take on a larger role within the company. This makes Miyeon smile and happy about her efforts being looked at after her mistake a few months ago. 

“Irene and I would like to consider you for the position of one of the CEO’s personal assistants.” 

Miyeon looks surprised and at Irene sitting across from her, “Does that mean that I’ll be working in the same position as you, unnie?”

Irene replies, “Actually, I’ll be taking a small role since I am trying to focus on my group, but you’ll be working closely with Jieun.”

Jieun interrupts and asks, “What do you think? Would you be interested in the position?”

Miyeon immediately replies, “Yes, I’d love that. I want to prove myself to everyone here after my incident a few months back, so I would love to do my share.”

”Great, that’s the sprint,” says Jieun. “We figured you would accept, so I brought up a contract for the meeting. You know, just to make this official.”

”Yes, of course.”

She goes over the contract and covers the position as the CEO’s assistant, as well as some benefits.

”I talked to CEO-nim, and he said that you’ll be getting a biweekly salary and spending money.” 

Miyeon looks at the contract and is surprised by the amount, “Oh my god, isn’t that too much?”

”He wants to make sure you’re comfortable.”

”Thank you so much.”

”Of course. Also, this section talks about you moving in with the CEO and assisting in his daily needs, like taking notes, setting up meetings, getting his dry cleaning, making sure he has his meals and other miscellaneous things.”

”Oh, I’ll be living with him?”

She looks at Irene, worried, and Irene responds, “We’ve all done it at one point, mainly at the beginning. Once you get out of your probationary period, you will have the ability to move out to your own apartment like we did.”

“Oh, I get my own apartment?”

“Irene says, “Yes, like the one we live in. The CEO provides it for us.”

”Okay, I’m excited.”

”Down below are some of the perks that come with the job.” 

Miyeon looks at the list and is surprised by the amount of perks, each better than the previous one.”

”Where do I sign?”

Irene interrupts, “Wait, we also want to let you know that this job comes with sensitive information, so confidentiality is required.”

”Yes, I understand.”

”Are you sure? Would you like us to give you some time as you read over the contract to make sure that everything is okay?”

Jieun gives Irene a side eye, signaling to not step out of bounds.

She turns the numerous pages and skims over the large letters that talk about job expectations, payment, sickness, insurance, dental, memberships, education opportunities, a termination clause, and other issues that are in fine print. 

“Where do I sign?”

Jieun points at the numerous blank spaces that require Miyeon’s signature. After signing about ten pages, she gets to the eleventh page and asks, “I have fully read and understood the content of this agreement. I sign this document entirely of my own accord without any enforcement and accept any consequences if the agreement is violated or broken. 

Irene tries to get Miyeon’s attention, but Jieun stops her, allowing Miyeon to give her final signature and stamps her Dojang (family seal) as a signed agreement. 

A tear falls from Irene, knowing that Miyeon has sealed her fate as your newest toy. “Unnie, are you crying?”

”Sorry, it's just that…”

”Irene is just happy for you, that's all.”

“Aww, thanks, unnie. I’ll make sure to make you proud.”

Irene feels like she’s about to cry and says, “Oh wow, look at the time. I have another commitment to get to. I’ll take my leave, but Jieun will continue with your onboarding.”

”Thanks again, unnie.”

Irene walks away and exits the room, leaving Jieun and Miyeon alone. Jieun asks Miyeon if she has any questions, and they continue to talk for a while. Most questions are about the role and about the chance to debut in the near future. Jieun replies that anything about her debut is up to the CEO, but she and Irene can answer questions about the job.

Jieun then takes out a folder with Miyeon’s name on the front, “I have your health file right here. It shows that all shots are up to date and have no signs of illness; they are practically healthy.”

”Yes, I take care of myself.”

”It shows.”

Miyeon giggles at the compliment when she hears Jieun ask, “Miyeon, are you still a virgin?”

”Ehh?”

Surprised by the question, she tries to calm herself before answering in a shaky voice, “Ye… yes, I am.”

”Just wondering. Since of your previous mistake.”

There’s a moment of silence, causing Miyeon to feel nervous, but Jieun changes the conversation, “I’ll submit the paperwork today, and your new badge should be ready for tomorrow. Also, begin packing, and I’ll send someone to pick up your items in the morning. 

——

Miyeon has spent most of the night packing her belongings. She tried to talk to Irene but never got home. Waking up, she sees a message on her phone from Irene saying that she ended up crashing at her member’s dorm after practice and will see her later today. 

Miyeon hears a ring and sees it’s the workers from the moving company. They help take her belongings to the CEO’s condo, where Jieun greets them. She escorts you to your room, which is much bigger than the one she was in previously. 

After unpacking the necessities, Miyeon accompanies Jieun to her office, where she gets her new badge and a copy of her job requirements and daily and weekly assignments. 

“It’s going to be most of the things you do now, but over time, you’ll be responsible for what’s on the bottom of the list.”

“Okay, got it.”

“Also, this is what a typical schedule for the CEO looks like. Meetings throughout the day, but his mornings and evenings are mostly free, and there are gaps throughout the day.”

Miyeon looks at the schedule and sees an asterisk for the morning and late evenings. “What are the asterisks for?”

“The CEO might need your help in the morning. For the evenings, it’s just helping him after a long day at work.” 

“Oh, like a massage?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Oh, okay. I’ve done that before with my appa and eomma.”

“Nice. I’ll show you how it’s done since it’s your first time.”

“Thank you, Jieun unnie.”

“You can go home and unpack. Just meet me in my apartment around dinner. I want to go over some things with you.”

——

Miyeon meets Jieun at her apartment a few hours later. They both enjoy a simple dinner and talk about their personal life when she receives a notification that you arrived back at your condo.

“He’s back from his dinner. Let’s get ready and greet him.” She looks at Miyeon and says, “Come with me. I’ll give you some things to make sure you look presentable for today.” 

They exit the elevator and head towards the large doors. Using their pin, they enter the room and hear the shower. 

“Seems like he’s showering. Come with me.” 

Miyeon follows Jieun to the service room and starts to get undressed. Surprised, Miyeon asks, “What are you doing, unnie?”

“Get undressed, rinse yourself, and put this on,” as Jieun hands her a two-piece bikini.

Jieun looks at Miyeon as she shows a lost expression, “Quickly before he gets out.” 

“What are we doing?”

“Service.” 

“Ehh?” 

She helps Miyeon undress and pulls her to the shower. Miyeon tries to cover herself with her arm but is shocked by the cold water coming from the shower head. Miyeon’s mind goes wild, thinking of what type of service Jieun meant. 

After rinsing, they quickly dry themselves and put on their bikini before coming out of the service room.  

They see you swimming in your pool, going from one end to the other. Before reaching the sliding door, Jieun pulls Miyeon to the slide and whispers, “Make sure to do whatever he asks. He can be nice, but if you rub him the wrong way, he’ll make your life rough and even ruin your career.”

Miyeon nods nervously and follows Jieun, who slides the door open and walks towards the side of the pool. She waits until your head pops out of the water and waves at you. 

“Good evening, sir. I see that you’re enjoying your swim.”

”After a busy day at work, I couldn’t help myself. It’s such a stress reliever.”

”That’s great to hear. I brought Miyeon with me today,” and waves at you to step forward.

”Good evening, sir,” and bows her head.

”I see that Jieun is teaching you properly.”

”Of course. May we join you?”

”Yes”, giving a satisfied smile.

Jieun walks towards the edge of the pool, grabs the rail, and walks into the pool. 

You look at Miyeon, who is standing frozen, “Join us.” She nods and follows, walking slowly into the pool. She makes her way to where you two are and is surprised to see your hand on Jieun’s ass. 

Jieun giggles and gets closer to you, letting you grip her cheeks, “Nice and firm like always.” Jieun blushes, “I try to work out since you like it so much.”

You look at Miyeon and extend your hand, “Come, don’t be afraid.” Miyeon hesitates but remembers what Jieun said earlier and extends her hand. “Wow, Miyeon, you look great in that bikini.”

”Thank you…” trying to hide her face by tilting down. 

Suddenly she feels the touch of your hand on her ass and freezes. “Miyeon, you have such a soft butt.” There is no response, and Jieun speaks up, “I bet she’s happy about your compliment but is too shy to say anything. How about we spice things up a little?" and undoes her bra, letting it float to the top. 

You let your hand off of Mieyon’s asscheek and grab Jieun’s waist, pulling her towards you. She wraps her legs around your waist, and you go in for a kiss on her neck. Jieun moans, feeling your lips kiss her neck to her collarbone. 

Miyeon remains frozen, seeing you massage Jieun’s breast as you kiss her. She understands now what Jieun meant when she said “service” and realizes what her role as the CEO’s personal assistant meant. 

Out of nowhere, Jieun says, “Did you know that Miyeon is a virgin?” Miyeon sees your attention and immediately goes towards her. “Oh, really?” 

“Yes, her body was silky smooth as well.” 

You put Jieun down, walk towards Mieyon, and say, “Come with me.”

”Where are we going?”

”To the bedroom, of course.”

She looks back at Jieun, who follows behind them. Miyeon asks in a trembling voice, “I don’t want my first time like this.”

Jieun replies, “Remember what I told you earlier. You belong to him now.”

You take Miyeon into the bedroom, drop your shorts, and toss them into the hamper. “Undress, I want to see what I’m going to be working with.” 

Miyeon's body trembles at the idea that she’s going to lose her virginity in this manner. She assumed it would be with her boyfriend and a romantic setting, but instead, as your assistant. 

You say sternly, “Strip, while I’m being nice.” Miyeon flinches and undoes her bra, dropping it on the floor before moving on to her bottom. 

With her completely nude, you circle around and admire her body, small breasts, flat stomach, and pretty face. You get behind her, part her hair to the side, and kiss the side of her neck. 

Miyeon closes her eyes, foreign to a male’s touch. She tells herself that she can do it; her dreams of becoming an idol are much bigger, and she is willing to sacrifice her body for a moment that will change her life. 

You can see her shiver in fear, like a gazelle that’s about to be eaten by a lion. It turns you on, the feeling of having control of a female. You get closer to her, and she gets startled when you press your body against hers. She feels a thick, hot sensation touching her back and remains frozen. 

You whisper in her ear, “I’m going to give you two choices; you can  be in control of what happens to you, or I make the choices for you.” 

She is at least thankful that she can decide on how she’ll lose her virginity. “I can do it myself.”

“Alright, tell me what you want me to do.” 

Miyeon tries to come up with an idea quickly. She looks around and says, “Get on the bed and lay down.” 

You agree, head to the large white bed, and lie in the middle of it. She walks and climbs on the bed, sitting next to you.

With no idea what to do, she climbs on your thighs and stares at your cock. It's the first time she's seen a cock, and she is lost on what to do. She turns around and looks at Jieun, who is standing in the corner. “Miyeon, grab it with your hand and stroke it like this. Here, you use this.” With the bottle of lube in her hand she opens it, pours some on your cock, coating it. She uses her right hand, stroking it awkwardly at first. As she continues, it starts to get bigger, which makes her use both hands. 

“I don’t think it's going to fit inside of me.” 

You respond, “You don’t know until you try,” giving her a smirk. She turns around once more and looks at Jieun, hoping for her to save her. Instead, Jieun replies, “Miyeon, you got this. Hwaiting!”

There’s no way around it; she has a future to think about, and giving her virginity is a small price to pay. That’s what she is trying to make herself believe. It’s the only way she’ll be able to accept what she is about to do. 

Miyeon then grabs your cock and lifts herself off. She tries to align your cock to her entrance and is scared by how big it really is compared to her small entrance.

She lowers her body, pressing her lower lips against the mushroom tip of your cock, and stops. Miyeon looks at you with the look of someone who’s accepted her fate and control of her life to you and slowly drops her body. 

You feel your tip spread her lower lips, pushing into her virgin hole. She groans, experiencing being stretched this much for the first time. She stops when she reaches her thin barrier and looks at you once more before giving her a hungry smile. 

With her hands on your abs, she gives a hard drop; she gasps but immediately bites her lip. “Fuck, you’re so tight!” 

There’s no response, only her body trembling as she’s trying to quickly adjust to the pressure. You place your hand on her arm, but she waves you off. She immediately apologizes, “I’m sorry, sir, it’s just that I’m trying to get adjusted to your size.”

“Don’t worry, it’s expected.” You touch her arm once more, this time allowing you to embrace her. 

“Want me to take over?”

She nods, “Yes.”

You place your hands around her small waist and lift her, pulling her out from her cunt. “Bend over and get on all fours.” 

She does as she’s told and places her body on top of the large pillow. She presses her face against it and closes her eyes and she feels you press your cock into her cunt.

“Hmph… hmm…” 

She clenches the pillow, feeling your cock stretch her walls. She yelps when you hit the back of her womb, “Wait, wait, you’re breaking me!” You don’t respond and increase thrust inside her. She clenches her hands on the pillow as you use her body for relief. You want to make sure that her body gets used to your cock, especially her womb, since you’re its new owner. 

“Does it feel better when I take over?” 

There’s no response from Miyeon, so you raise your arm and give her a slight slap on her ass. She yelps and lifts her head, “Ow!”

You increase the pace of your thrust, your balls hitting her flesh, “Fuck, you’re going to be as great as my new toy.” Miyeon just continues to bite onto the pillow, listening to you talk about her position as your new toy.

Before long you’re about to cum and warn Mieyon on your orgasm nearing. “I’m going to cum.” Miyeon lifts her head, her mouth drooling, and pleads, “Please… outside… do it outside…” You scoff and say, “You’re in no position to throw out demands, I’ll cum wherever I want, and I always cum inside.” 

Miyeon feels your cock throb and releases a large wave of cum, flooding her walls and womb. “No! So much inside!” Your cum floods her womb to the brim; she can feel her womb getting addicted to your cum and cock, knowing that there is no coming back after this.

Jieun leaves after the second round and is satisfied, knowing she did a good job for her master. You continue to fuck Miyeon, round after round, until she passes out, and even then fuck her until you get your fill. 

Miyeon wakes late in the morning completely nude, and her lower body is completely sore. She tries to get up, but any pressure on her legs causes her to tremble and fall back onto the bed. 

“Miyeon, it’s me, Irene.”

”Unnie, come in.”

Irene comes inside, sees the mess, and feels sorry for what Miyeon just went through. “How are you feeling?”

”Horrible, I lost my virginity, and my body is completely sore.”

”I’m sorry you had to go through this.”

”Jieun said it was necessary if I wanted the slightest chance to make it in the industry.”

There’s a silence, and Irene breaks the ice and says, “Here, take this.”

”What is it?

”A morning-after pill.”

[hpowellsmith]

Honor Bound: Guard students and secrets at an elite school!

Steam | Google Play Store | Choice of Games on Android | Choice of Games on iOS | Choice of Games on Amazon | Webstore

Protect an exclusive boarding school and rebuild your life after scandal as a military bodyguard for the children of the rich and famous! Return to the world of Crème de la Crème, this time as a military officer in the Republic of Teran.

Honor Bound is an interactive novel by Harris Powell-Smith where your choices control the story. It's entirely text-based, 595,000 words and hundreds of choices, without graphics or sound effects, and fueled by the vast, unstoppable power of your imagination.

You've built a promising career in the Teranese military, a force which has not seen major engagement in decades but which holds vast influence. Thanks to an injury, you're no longer in the field. Thanks to the complicated (read: scandalous) circumstances of that injury, you've been quietly reassigned as a bodyguard for the teenage child of a famous scientist. This should be an easy assignment: your charge is at boarding school in the wilderness, an exclusive sanctuary where the children of the rich and powerful become artists and scientists of the future. The school sits close to your own hometown, so you'll be familiar with the area. Finally, you can recover your health and get your career back on track.

But danger is closing in, and peril can come from inside as well as out. What secret projects are your colleagues pursuing in the dead of night? What is your commanding officer not telling you? Bandits lurk in the wilderness—including one of your childhood friends!—and natural disasters constantly threaten the fragile environment. And then there's the danger to your heart, from the complicated feelings that come from returning to your birthplace, and from adjusting to the new reality of your life. Can you really go home again?

Build a warm community and bond with your colleagues, or impress everyone with your aloof competence. Chase ambition to receive glowing reports and get your life back on track—or become such a disaster that only bandits will tolerate your presence. Or, just maybe, you will have to risk it all for the sake of doing the right thing.

Play as male, female, or nonbinary; cis or trans; gay, straight, or bisexual; asexual and/or aromantic; allosexual and/or alloromantic; monogamous or polyamorous.

Customize your age: play a junior officer in your 20s, a mid-ranking officer in your 30s, or a senior officer in your 40s.

Befriend or romance a severe military officer; a bold, easygoing outdoors expert; a determined and overworked priest; an earnest but scatterbrained fellow bodyguard; a childhood friend turned disgraced bandit; or the anxious, serious widowed parent of your charge.

Pet the dog, the cat, or both.

Meet the main characters of Crème de la Crème, Royal Affairs, and Noblesse Oblige, and find out what their lives are like now!

Shape the school life of your teenage charge: encourage her to make friends or sabotage her rivals; let her slack off or push her to achieve; and get caught up in boarding-school drama.

Unearth and thwart shadowy schemes—or join in the scheming for your own gain.

How far will you go for ambition, duty, and your country?

Steam | Google Play Store | Choice of Games on Android | Choice of Games on iOS | Choice of Games on Amazon | Webstore

[octuscle]

Blood is thicker than water

Peter hated being out in the fresh air. He had hated working on the farm ever since he had had to help his grandparents muck out the barn during the summer vacation. Yes, there weren't many other ways to earn money here in Lincoln now. But Nebraska wasn't Peter's future either. He was very sure of that. His future would be somewhere in New York, Singapore or London. Somewhere where the big money was. That's where he wanted to go. And that was where he belonged.

The job at the local bank wasn't that glamorous yet. But it was the starting point. Working at the cash desk, processing loan applications, it was all just a prelude to the glittering world of investment banking and hedge funds. He was hardworking, he was smart and charming. And he looked incredibly good in a suit.

When the board called him into his office, Peter saw his big moment had come. He adjusted his tie knot, took a deep breath, knocked and entered the office of his top boss. "Peter, good to see you, have a seat!" Mr. Harrison greeted him. "I hear wonderful things from you. I thought it was long overdue to meet you in person." Peter had to make an effort to stay cool. "As you probably know, the head of our corporate client department is being replaced. And even though you're actually a bit young for a position as head of department, I've been advised to consider you." Strike, thought Peter. "However, I have a, shall we say, delicate task… But if you master it successfully, I have no doubts that you are the right man for the job." A few minutes later, Peter wished he had never started at the bank.

The farm he was on his way to belonged to his uncle Cleatus. It had once been his grandparents' farm. His mother's parents' farm. Not the one where he had had the humiliating experience in the cowshed. This was his father's parents' farm. Damn it, he thought to himself. I must have manure running through my veins. I come from a clan of cows. "Anyone home?" he called out as he arrived in the yard between the stables and the house. The farm looked run-down. He hadn't been here for a long time. Suddenly he heard someone loading a shotgun. "I'm not expecting visitors!" Peter heard a harsh voice. Peter turned around and grinned as friendly as he could. "Hi Uncle Cleatus! It's me, Peter" "Peter, damn it, why are you in disguise? You look like an asshole from the bank!" Peter gulped. This was going to be fun. His uncle invited him into the large kitchen. It was dirty and untidy. Peter saw the pile of unopened post. He took a deep breath, declined the offered beer and began: "Uncle Cleatus, I'm actually not here by choice. And let me get straight to the point: I'm one of those assholes from the bank…"

"Junior!" roared Cleatus. "Say goodbye to your cousin!" Peter looked down the barrel of the shotgun. It hadn't gone as well as he had hoped when he told his uncle that the farm would have to be foreclosed. "Junior, now!". The floor shook as Junior approached the kitchen. It was beginning to stink. Slurry, sweat… And then his cousin Junior stood in front of him. A colossus! He took him in his arms and almost crushed him. "Throw him out, the asshole!" Peter lost the ground beneath his feet. Junior carried him out into the yard. And threw him into the mud. He lay in mud, cow shit and manure. Peter picked himself up and turned around. He wanted to protest. But one look in Junior's direction was enough. And he took off in the direction of the town.

Something was strange… Peter should actually feel humiliated and bad. But he was fine. The dirt on his ruined suit was drying. He was sweating in the warm air. He whistled a song. He was doing well. Of course, his uncle's farm hadn't been saved, but at least he hadn't put his own family out on the street. Shit, that wouldn't be worth a promotion on this planet either. He was beginning to develop pride in his grandparents' accomplishments working this land. They had made this country great. That made him very proud. And he was growing, without realizing it, in his suit.

He had parked his car outside on the country road so as not to get it dirty on the muddy dirt track. Peter now stripped out of his dirty suit on the road and sat in the car half naked so as not to soil the seats. The suit lay crusty, but neatly folded, in the trunk. It wasn't the end of the day yet. He had to report to the bank. He needed something to wear. And, given the way he smelled of cow shit and manure, a shower, too. Peter scratched his chin to think. His chin was scratchy. Very scratchy. And his upper arm looked kind of powerful. His cock in his boxer shorts was getting hard. Shit, what was he going to do now? Fortunately, he remembered the workwear store at the entrance to the town. He would find something to wear there. Maybe nothing from an Italian designer. But it would certainly be better than underwear.

The waitress in the store looked as if she was always serving men in their underwear. Peter mumbled that he needed something for the office. The waitress nodded understandingly and said that a guy who was built like him was certainly not the kind of person who would fit into an office. Peter didn't understand, but nodded. "Go into the changing room, I'll bring you something," said the sales assistant. Peter did as he was told. He looked in the mirror. Yes, he was a man who, in his underwear, you would probably expect to see as a construction worker or tree cutter. Arms like his didn't really fit into a shirt. "You look like you have an appointment at the bank," said the sales clerk. "You'll want to look respectable." Peter actually wanted to say that he worked at the bank. But somehow he had the feeling that wasn't true… "Yes, I have a farm to save," Peter replied. "Shit situation," replied the salesman. "Bankers are all vultures!"

When Peter arrived back at his small office, where he was a corporate account manager, he took a deep breath. Yes, he too was a vulture. But not as bad as the money-grabbing careerists up there. He was a passionate banker. He wanted to help people. His people. Before he called Mr. Harrison, he took a deep breath. His huge chest rose and fell. He reeked of sweat in his cheap polyester shirt. And after his visit to the farm, he probably had cow shit in the treads of his rough boots. But he just wasn't the type for penny loafers and Egyptian cotton shirts. He was a guy from Nebraska. Even if he did work in a bank.

The conversation with Mr. Harrison went as Peter had expected. You couldn't expect sympathy from a man like that. And Peter didn't want to work with a man like that again. He had saved hard. His dream had been to buy a house in the suburbs soon. But now there were more important things. One word followed the next in the phone call with Mr. Harrison. Until Peter plucked up his courage and told the vulture to stick his money up his ass. Peter would pay off his uncle's debts. And then turn his back on the bank. He threw his tie in the garbage can. And unbuttoned his shirt. Free! Free at last!

Junior was quite a challenge. His cousin was a few weeks older than him. And he hadn't been softened up by working in the city. But Pete had been living on the farm for a few weeks now and, thanks to his cooperation, there was a silver lining. The auction was off the table. Everything would be fine. And at the next wrestling match in the cowshed, Junior would lose and Pete would win. And the winner would get his cock sucked by the loser. Life on the farm was wonderful!

[probablyspooky]

Tesoro Atlantis [Vinny x F!Reader]

[Next]

You're a marine biologist, friend of Milo Thatch, who brings you along on the expedition to find Atlantis, allowing you a once in a lifetime opportunity to see the seabed for yourself, but you find more than that.

The day at the museum was going as it usually does, you were currently leading a small tour through the marine life fossil exhibit, going over many types of prehistoric crustaceans.

“The helicoprion, also known as the buzz saw shark, was a group of shark-like fish with a spiral jar-” you spoke to the large group of people trailing behind you, you trail off noticing your friend, Milo Thatch waving at you from the large archway of the exhibit.

Taking a moment while the group looks around without you, you walk over to him.

“What is it, Milo? I’m working right no-”

“[Y/N], you’re not gonna believe this, last night after work-”

“You mean after the board called you an idiot and you ran after their car-” “Yeah yeah-anyway, there was this woman-”

“A woman?”

“A pretty one, her name was Helga, she took me to this mansion, this man… Mr. Whitman”

“Milo you’re taking up my five minutes,” you hold his shoulder, preventing him from rambling some more.

“I’m going to find Atlantis!” he exclaims, his eyes full of wonder.

“Oh Milo! Thats-” “And you’re coming!”

Wait what?

Here you are, on the launch pad of the Ulysses submarine, taking it all in while you sling your duffle over your shoulder, the bustling sounds of men hauling carts onto the launch pad. You spot Milo speaking to a beautiful blonde woman, you assume that’s the Helga he was speaking of.

You chuckle, following him to the large elevator leading down to where the sub meets the water.

“Are you excited?” Milo asks you, wiping his glasses

“Well of course, who wouldn’t be excited to possibly find a lost underwater civilization?”, you say walking off the elevator with the large flow of men.

Milo and you take a moment to admire the large sub when Milo is run into from behind.

“Hey, junior. If you’re looking for the pony rides, they’re back there.” said this tall Italian man.

You squinted at him taking in his buzzed head with flat top hair, his black sweater, and for some reason he was wearing a chestplate loosely hung onto his body. He proceeds to push a cart full of explosives between Milo and you, glancing at you for a fraction of a second.

“Um, excuse me, excuse me. You dropped your dy-dy-dy” Milo stutters.

“Dynamite” you say, taking it from Milo, and holding it out towards the man.

He takes it squinting at the two of you, mostly you, and then taking an occasional glance at Milo.

“What else have you, uh…got in there?”

The man smirks.

“Oh, eh, gunpowder, nitroglycerin, notepads, fuses, wicks, glue, and…” he glances at you, “paperclips; big ones. You know, just uh, office supplies”

You cover your mouth to cover a chuckle, this makes the man smirk under his large mustache and he continues towards the ship.

“Milo!” a man calls out.

Milo tells you he will be back and to board without him, as he walks off to meet the commander. 

You board the sub, struggling to keep up with the flow of the large crew of strong men boarding at the same time as you. Finally reaching a common area, a little aways from the flow of busy traffic, you take a deep breath.

“I’m going into the deep sea,” you smile, turning to find the bunk room you were assigned to, swinging your duffel over your shoulder. The stupid bag tears, sending your journals and sketches of deep sea creatures all over the floor.

“Dammit…” you mutter, kneeling down and trying to gather as much as you can before people can step on it.

“Need some help, bambina?” a familiar voice says from ahead of you. 

A pair of boots steps up and kneels down, the man from before helps you gather your items and hands them to you.

“Oh thank you…mr…?” you squint at him, trying to pry his name out of him.

“Vincenzo Santorini, but you can call me Vinny okay?” he says, his face seemingly void of emotion.

He reaches over to your bag and looks at the tear.

“Cheap bag, eh?” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handful of large paper clips, using them to hold the torn fabric of the bag together.

“I thought you were joking about the paper clips…” “I never joke about something as important as the paperclips”

You chuckle, suddenly hearing Milo yelp, something about a bed.

“Oh that’s Milo,” you sigh, “Thank you Vinny” you smile at him, making your way to where Milo was yelling.

You come to the male bunk area and find Milo getting a thorough checkout from a giant man.

Vinny steps behind you.

“You good Milo?” you ask, tilting your head at the sight of it all, suddenly a dog? Capybara? Shuffles over to you.

You jump a bit startled, bumping back into Vinny.

“Mole, stop scaring her,” he says.

“I was jussst trying to find out her history.” the short man with goggles, Mole said.

Vinny rolls his eyes.

“Girl’s not like men Mole, they wash their hands”

Mole growls and scurries back to his bunk.

“Don’t mind Mole, loves dirt, I’ll show ya to ya bunk okay?” Vinny says, walking down the hall, “You comin?”

You look at Milo, seeing he’s okay, you follow Vinny.

Walking down the metal hallway the two of you are silent. Vinny leads you to a mostly empty bunk room.

“Here you go Bambina,” he says,”briefing in an hour, see ya there eh?”

You nod as Vinny leaves you, setting your bag down you lay yourself onto the firm mattress bunk. 

“An hour…”

You lean down to your bag, grabbing a pencil, trying your best from memory to sketch a certain italian.

On the bridge Milo is discussing the plans to reach Atlantis.

You lean against the firm railing watching Milo struggle to capture everyone's attention. You feel someone's eyes resting on you as you stand there, too nervous to meet their gaze you try hard to keep your focus on your friend.

“Heh, uh, how…how ‘bout some slides? The…first slide is a depiction of a creature,” he fumbles with the slides in his hands trying to slide them into the projector, “A creature so frightening that sailors were said to be driven mad by the mere sight of it.”

The slide he puts into the projector was not in fact the creature, but a slide of Milo and you at the beach.

“Hubba, hubba.” Packard chuckles.

Vinny snorts and then turns his gaze away.

“Milo!” you groan.

“Sorry!” he sputters, scrambles to grab the correct slide, “Anyway, this, uh…okay. This is an illustration of the Leviathan, the creature guarding the entrance to Atlantis.”

Vinny chuckles, leaning back onto the railing with his arms crossed.

“With something like that, I would have white wine, I think.”

You chuckle to yourself, earning a smirk from Vinny as the briefing continues.

Milo continues the briefing, referencing the Book of Job, the bible, where they would need to reach a tunnel that will curve to an air pocket to the entrance of Atlantis.

Mole grumbles, pulling on Helga’s shirt.

“You said there would be digging,”

“Go away, Mole,” she replies, giving him a shove

A helmsman calls the captain over to come look at something, the meeting is over so you saunter over to the window to take in the sights of the deep sea creatures.

Your eyes graze the lower sea beds, spotting giant isopods, fangtooths, even different colors of Abyssal jelly fishes. Smiling to yourself you lean closer to the window to see the ocean floor.

“Good view?” Vinny chimes in, standing next to you with his hands in his pockets.

“Oh!” you jump, a bit startled, “Y-yeah, it’s not everyday I get to see the ocean floor this close up.”

“You like this fish stuff eh?” he asks, crossing his arms over the railing and bending down to look out the window with you.

“Oh I love sea life,” you respond, “Ever since I was young I have had a deep passion for sea life.”

“Oh, I never really like fish, I mean it’s good with some wine and a nice sauce. But I don't really like swimming with them.”

“Ironically,” you smile leaning down, your hands on your cheeks, “I don’t know how to swim.”

Vinny laughs.

“No? You’re in the wrong spot then bambina,” he looks at you, “ Don’t worry I got you.”

You give him a warm smile, as he returns one to you.

Suddenly, the Ulysses jerks violently, almost sending you over the railing, Vinny steadies you with a hand  on your shoulder.

“The hell?” he mutters.

The intercom blares as Helga’s voice blares throughout the Ulysses.

“Load the torpedo bays! Subpod crews! Battle stations!”

Vinny frowns, his mustache furrows.

“I gotta go bambina, get somewhere safe.” Vinny says, running down the hall. 

A deckhand runs up to you, and grabs your wrist, leading you to the bridge as you were a special guest.

The Ulysses jerks again, this time the submarine turns to its side, sending you flying off the stairs, hitting the large bay window.

“Jiminy christmas! It’s a machine!” Milo shouts,

You peer up, holding your head, a gash on your forehead throbbing as crimson life drips down your chin, you look out the large window, peering into the giant red eye of the mechanical Leviathan as it strangles its grip tighter onto the submarine.

Rourke frowns, staring into the eye of the beast.

“Launch subpods!’ Rourke shouts.

You stare as torpedoes fire from small pods that seem to fly throughout the water.

“Vinny! Mole! Fire!” he commands.

The leviathan’s grip on the sub weakens as the torpedoes make contact with its metal shell.

“We’re free, all ahead full!” Rourke barks.

The sub tries to make an escape, full force skimming through the water as the small sub pods continue to try and hold the beast back.

Packard is on the phone, chatting to someone named Marge.

“Sir, engineering on 4,” she mutters, lighting a cigarette.

Rourke listens in on the comm.

“How much time do we have?....Alright. You heard the lady! Let’s move!” he shouts.

Milo comes over, helping you up, his eyes landing directly on the gash of your forehead.

“Move? Where? Move where?!” Milo asks, tugging you along.

Helga shouts down to the crew below her, “Packard, sound the alarm!”

“I don’t think he’s coming back-”

“Packard!” Helga yells.

“I have to call you back.-- No, no, I’ll call you”

The alarm blares as the crew ushers Milo and you towards the escape pods.

“All hands, abandon ship,” Packards voice says over the PA system.

Milo and you are shoved into tight seats as they seal the escape pods hull.

“Lieutenant, get us out of here!” Rourke shouts.

You watch, a little dizzy from the gash on your forehead still bleeding.

The Leviathan roars, strangling the Ulyssess again.

“Lieutenant!” Rourke shouts.

“I’m working on it!” Helga shouts, kicking the lever that seemed to not want to move. With a firm kick, it jolts forward, the hull of the door pops open and the escape pods drop into the water.

“Where to, Mr. Thatch?” Rourke barks.

“We’re looking for a big crevice of some kind.” Milo responds, reading through the journal.

Rourke scans the seabed, and points, “There up ahead!”

Helga grabs the mouthpiece to communicate with the other pods. “All craft, make your mark 20 degrees down angle! Steer clear of our evac pod, we got wounded, she’s staining carpet!”

You don’t remember much besides Milo yammering about some sort of grease trap.

You can see other pods struggling to keep up, some exploding underwater as some sort of blue beam fires into them, next thing you know the eva ship you’re in struggles against the tight space of the crevice.

The pod breaks the surface of the water and Helga opens the hatch.

Milo gets you to the stairs of the ruins.

“You okay?” he asks, taking a rag from his pocket to wipe on your forehead.

A gloved hand grabs Milo’s hand, stopping him from touching your gash.

“You got that from your pocket? A hanky? It’s dirty,” Vinny growls, going into his side pocket, pulling a small first aid kit from it, he produces some alcohol and begins to clean your gash.

“You okay bambina?” he asks a tinge of worry in his voice.

‘I’m fine…” you mumble.

Audrey and Sweet watch this all unfold.

“Neva’ thought I’d see Vinny bein’ so sweet on someone before,” Audrey says, crossing her arms.

“Guys are suckers for cute faces, it just took Vinny awhile to find one he likes,” Sweet chuckles.

The crew holds a memorial for those they had lost in the sea, nearly 200 men in the crew, what they had now were all that were left of the crew.

Rourke sighs, running a hand through what’s left of his hair.

“Okay, people, saddle up. Lieutenant. I want this convoy moving 5 minutes ago.”

Helga begins to bark orders and Vinny turns to you.

“Wanna ride with me?” he asks, pointing a thumb behind him.

You were about to respond when you heard Milo struggling to convince Rourke he can drive a truck, he can’t.

“As nice as that sounds…I’ve gotta help my friend out…” you say, pointing towards Milo, “Maybe next time?” “Okay tesoro…” he smiles, turning to his part of the convoy.

You feel the heat of her cheeks when he says that, and then it fades fast as you hear Milo stalling, and jerking the truck, unable to drive it. 

Mumbling to yourself you manage to catch up with the truck as it was barely moving. The convoy honks and men begin to shout at Milo for holding them up.

“Move over Milo,” you say, climbing into the truck and driving up the stairs, effectively getting the convoy moving again.

The entire trip trying to find this damn door is boring, Milo accidently nearly gets everyone killed reading his map wrong, leading the convoy to the den of a giant hostile bug. 

They take a small break, where they drink some water. 

You stand there drinking some water, as Milo does the same. Vinny comes between the two of you, smirking at you as he addresses Milo.

“You didn’t just drink that did you?!”

Milo nods.

“That’s not good! That’s nitroglycerin! Don’t move, eh, don’t breathe, don’t do anything. Except pray, maybe…” You watch as the Mole man sneaks behind Milo, jumping up with a loud “BOOM!”, causing Milo to scream.

Mole and Vinny laugh out loud, Vinny’s large hand resting on your back and you chuckle with him.

“That was mean…” you say.

“I can be meaner, it’s a tough spot, comedy is good in times like this eh?”

They set up a small camp to eat and refuel, Milo is off to the side, charting with his protractor, compass, and maps.

“Maybe I should go get him to eat something…” you say, going over to him.

“Hey Tesoro, let him do his thing, he can eat in the car, you drove a lot today, come sit, rest eh?” Vinny says patting the spot next to him.

Cookie…despite his name…is not a good cook.

After heading through cold caves, hot caves, climbing over rocks and other ancient ruins.

Milo smiles looking at a giant ancient pillar.

“Good night! Will you look at the size of them? It’s gotta be half a mile high. At least. It-it must have taken hundreds– No, pfft, thousands of years to carve this thing.”

You watch as Vinny places bundles of dynamite, and wires connecting them to  a single wire and then a detonator. Milo is too busy taking in the beauty of the pillar to notice. Vinny grabs the back of Milo’s collar, dragging him back to the detonator.

He holds the hand of the detonator, about to push it down but stops. He smirks, turning to you.

“Tesoro, c’mere,” he reaches a hand out to you, and you take his hand, he pulls you over and places your hands onto the lever.

“Quickly and firmly, just push it down fast.”

You push down, sending the spark to the dynamite, watching as the bottom of the pillar explodes, you look up at Vinny as he smiles at the explosion. The pillar groans as it;s weight causes it to fall over the chasm.

Milo frowns, looking at the piece of history that is now laying across the chasm.

“Hey, look, [y/n] and I made a bridge. It only took us like, what 10 seconds. 11 tops.”

You smile at Vinny and he returns it. Vinny walks back to his truck and is stopped by Sweet and Audrey.

“What?” he asks,

“You neva’ let anyone set off ya bombs, what’s up with you?” Audrey pries, leaning close to Vinny, trying to read his blank face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he responds, climbing into the truck.

“I know what we're talking about,” Sweet says, climbing into the truck, “I ain’t gonna say it out loud as it's your business, but do know, I know, and if you don’t tell them, I won’t tell them.”

“Yeah yeah…” Vinny frowns as Sweet continues to drive.

After crossing the makeshift bridge., the convoy approaches a blockade.

Rourke and Vinny stare up at the massive blockage.

“Looks like we have a little roadblock. Vinny, what do you think?” He asks Vinny.

Vinny looks into his bag and then up at the block.

“I could un-roadblock that if I had about 200 of these…Problem is I only got about…10. Plus, you know, 5 of my own. And a couple of cherry bombs…Road flare…” Vinny’s eyes glance behind him, looking at Milo and you.

“Hye, too bad we don’t have some nitroglycerin, eh, Milo?”

You cover your mouth to smother a giggle, hearing Mole laugh out loud. Milo frowns looking at you and Vinny.

Rourke frowns, stroking his chin and walking away.

“Mole, looks like we’re going to have to dig,” he states.

Vinny pulls you away as Mole starts the digger, it barely taps the door before it breaks down.

Audrey walks over to look at the issue.

Vinny is staring down at you, taking in your features as you watch Milo and Audrey talk mechanics.

“You feelin’ okay Tesoro?” he asks, pointing to the gash on your forehead.

“Oh, yeah I’m okay…” you respond looking at him, “what’s a tesoro?” 

He freezes, a small pink tint on his bony cheeks.

“It-it’s Italian…”

“Oh? What’s it mean?” you ask him, 

He stammers for a second before hearing the digger starting up, allowing him to avoid this situation entirely. 

They reach a large cave, and the convoy decides to make camp for the night. You look up at the glowing ceiling.

“Wow…” you exclaim.

“Why is it glowing?” Audrey asks, squinting to look up.

“Pah! It is a natural phosphorescence!” he says.

“That thing is going to keep me up all night, I know it.” Vinny frowns.

“That’s not the only thing,” Sweet says, brushing past the two of you.

The group begins to set up camp for the night. You help Milo set him up.

“Sorry for not telling you…” he says to you, ashamed.

“It’s fine, I brought a blanket, it’s only one night so it shouldn’t be too awful..” you respond.

Vinny looks over at the two of you.

“What’s the matter tesoro?” he asks, walking over.

“Oh, Milo forgot to mention when he was over at my apartment that I would need a tent, he told me to bring sleeping supplies but no tent.” you say plainly looking at an embarrassed Milo.

“W-well you see, I-I thought sleeping materials would…imply a t-tent you…W-wait…Did you call her tesoro?” Milo asks, pointing at Vinny.

Before Vinny can respond, Cookie rings the dinner bell.

“Come and get it!” He calls out.

Vinny gives you a look, beginning his walk to the campfire.

Before you could follow, Milo grabs your wrist.

“H-hey hold up,” Milo whispers to you, “What’s goin on, between you and Vinny?”

“Whaddya mean?” you ask, looking at him, and then back towards Vinny.

“Tesoro means sweetheart…”

You feel red rush to your cheeks, you put your hands together and take a deep breath.

“I’m sure he just means it in a friendly way…” you say.

“Y-yeah…”

You go and sit at the fire next to Milo as Cookie dishes out his meal for now.

“For the appetizer, caesar salad, escargot, and your oriental spring rolls.”

You grimace at the slop that was dropped on your plate.

“There you go, Milo, put some meat on them bones!”

“Thanks, Cookie. That looks…grieser than usual…”

“You like it? Well, have some more! You’re so skinny, if you turned sideways an’ stuck out your tongue, you’d look like a zipper!”

Sweet mentions how they’ve been hard on him, and they invite him to sit with them. Vinny comes over and leads you to sit next to him.

They have a good chat, Vinny stares with his normal blank expression, occasionally stealing glances of you trying to keep down Cookies grub.

Cookie comes over with his cement wagon of grub.

“Main course!”

Everyone politely declines, and when Cookie turns, everyone dumps their portions into the fire, effectively putting out the flame.

At the edge of camp, you roll out your blanket onto the rough ground.

Vinny comes over, and you can’t help but chuckle at the sight of his pale hairy legs sticking out of his ‘pjs.’

“You…gonna lay on the ground?” he asks, flicking the match in his mouth around.

“I don’t have much choice in the matter,” you reply, sitting on it and looking at him.

He grabs you from the back of your shirt, lifting you up and grabbing your blanket. Walking off with it.

“H-hey wait!” you follow at a quick pace.

He goes to his tent, placing a duffel in the center of his mat, tossing your blanket on one side, and then sitting on the other side.

“Sit.”

“I’m sat.”

The others talk about how they ended up this profession, How Milo’s grandpa fueled his passion for Atlantis, finding the arrowhead. How Audrey's dad wanted sons, but got two daughters instead.

Milo looks over at the two of you on Vinny’s mat.

Packard comes over and Milo smiles at her.

“Forget your jammies, Mrs.Packard?” he asks her, leaning into his palm.

“I sleep in the nude.”

Two sleep masks were tossed around, one to Milo and the other to you.

“You’ll want these,” Sweet says, “She sleepwalks.”

Vinny lays on his back, and you look down at him.

“Well, as far as me goes…I just like to blow things up.”

Sweet pulls his mask off his face and stares him in the eyes.

“Don’t start a relationship on lies. Tell the truth.”

Vinny’s eye darts between Sweet and you, he groans, and pulls the mask down.

“My family owned a flower shop. We would sell roses, carnations, baby’s breath, you name it. One day, I’m making about three dozen corsages for this prom…” he sighs, “You know, the one they put on the wrist. And everybody, they come. “Where is it?” “When is it?” “Does it match my dress?” It’s a nightmare. Anyway, I guess there was this leak next door of gas or what… Boom! No more Chinese laundry. Blew me right through the front window.” 

Vinny flips himself over and lights a match, holding it high, and staring intensely into the flame. “It was like a sign from God. I found myself in that boom…”

He glances at you for a second, meeting your eyes for a short bit.

Milo smiles, and then turns to the group again.

“What’s Mole’s story?”

Sweet puts his hand up.

“Trust me on this one, you don’t wanna know. Audrey, don’t tell him. You shouldn’t have told me, but you did, and now I’m tellin’ you, you don't wanna know.”

The light from the lantern goes out, and you lay down, curling under your blanket. 

You hear Vinny.

“You good Tesoro?” he whispers.

“Y-yeah…”

“Comfy?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Good…”

Drifting off the sleep, dreams of the ocean, flowing in the water, your breathing in the cool water, unable to drown. A hand reaches out and cups your cheek.

“Tesoro…Tesoro…Tesoro!”

You jolt awake to Vinny over you, the smell of smoke filling your lungs.

“We gotta move!” He says, helping you up and leading you to a truck with Sweet. The entire convoy proceeds to try and cross the bridge towards the entrance to Atlantis. The fireflies Milo had awakened lit the truck with gas ablaze, causing a massive explosion, the bridge collapsing, causing the heavy digger to struggle against its own weight.

The digger groans as it tries to fight against gravity to no avail. It slides back, pushing the rest of the convoy to slide and fall into the abyss. Vinny drapes himself over you as the trucks crash into one another, hitting rocks, and falling into pitch darkness.

You can’t see anything, but you can hear Vinny’s heartbeat as he covers you with his body, heavy breaths as he takes most hits from his side.

The crashing, the sounds of metal hitting the ground began to die down.

Rourke lights a match, looking around.

“All right, who’s not dead? Sound off.”

Everyone groans.

The voice of Cookie echoes over the groans.

“Danged lightnin’ bugs done bit me on my sit-upon. Somebody’s gonna have to suck out that poison…Now don’t everyone jump up at once”

“You okay Tesoro?” Vinny whispers to you, loosening his wrap on you.

“Y-yeah…are…are you okay?”

“Eh, could be better, could have wine.”

[kurthummeldeservesbetter]

I wanna know ur HCs for Mod AU jayvik 💕

OOOO this is an interesting one because I usually don't indulge in most modern aus of anything, but I shall try.

ask me about arcane!

Both are graduate students at the academy. Both double-majored in Engineering for undergrad, but Jayce's is Mechanical and Electrical, and Viktor's is Mechanical and Chemical. They are in graduate school for Mechanical Engineering, though. Over-achievers, they are. The school is equivalent to MIT. Or is MIT, technically, if you want to make it USA-centered.

They met in a Thermodynamics class (yes, i had to look up types of classes for this lmao) and became fast friends because everyone else around them was extremely obnoxious and very annoying. They started dating two semesters before Viktor graduated, three before Jayce graduated.

For a few semesters, everyone thought they would be rivals, because they were always trading spots in GPA rankings and scores. Everyone thought the tension they were catching was academic hatred, until a library assistant caught them making out in a study room, and then everyone in the engineering school collectively went "ohhhhh"

Both are at the academy on scholarship, Jayce has a few for welding competitions and even some money from art competitions, and Viktor's schooling is being paid for from essays and whatever grants he can get his hands on. Both are determined to have very little student loans. Viktor is also a graduate assistant to the dean of engineering (similar to canon) which pays for his portion of housing (with Jayce).

Jayce has been offered spots on sports teams all the time. He does not know how to explain he has the coordination of a baby deer on ice. He likes to work out, but it's mostly for long days in the labs and blacksmithing he does, which is something he likes to be traditional for. His excuse is that his schooling and work take up too much time for sports.

Viktor is also an international student, having transferred from his home-country university his sophomore year. He and Jayce (who moved to the city when he was 15 from out of the country) related on this very fast.

Sky, Mel and Elora are all apart of the international student club with Viktor. They are all besties. Caitlyn and Vi are Jayce's friends from home (Caitlyn is his "cousin" and he teases Vi, the GF, all the time) and Catvi are undergrad students. All of them like to meet at the "secret" coffeeshop on campus (aka the one people can never find, because it's in the back of an office building).

Jayce and Viktor organized a sit-in when the campus president and campus board (not Dean of Engineering Heimerdinger) routed money from programs that helped campus-accessibility for students with disabilities to a new stadium. It lasted twenty days, five members quit the board, and the money was routed back to fixing elevators, automatic doors, and providing more covered benches.

Jayce was student-class president his junior year, but stopped working on the student council when it took too much time away from Viktor and his friends. Viktor is thankful for it. (Jayce also ran away screaming from the guys trying to get him to rush for frats).

Both want to start their own company when they graduate, focusing on public health and progress, with things like air and water purifiers, teaming up with medical companies for robotic prosthetics, lung + heart mechanical help.

Viktor got sick the winter between his graduation and what was supposed to be the start of grad school. He was diagnosed with severe acute asthma, pneumonia, but just barely avoided a COPD diagnosis with treatment. He was in the hospital for a month and a half, now takes breathing treatments a few days a week, and goes to doctor appointments once a month.

Jayce was so worried, he almost had to delay his own graduation. Viktor managed to convince him to get it together in time to pass with good marks and keep his spot in his grad cohort, while Viktor had to delay his grad school start by a semester, rather than in the spring like he planned. This is why they are in the same cohort, because Viktor had to start later than planned. (Jayce secretly likes that they have all their classes together, even if he's sad for the reason why).

im sure ill have more at some point, bc it is a little interesting!

[lunawagner]

Couples of Linkon High School

Freshmen: Rafayel x MC

MC is the class president, with Rafayel as her deputy. He calls out, "Miss Class President!" throughout the day.

MC has good grades, —not the top student, but definitely in the top ten.

Of course, Rafayel draws and doodles during classes. But his grades are not bad either thanks to his drive to outperform his possible rivals in love.

His notebooks are filled with sketches of MC.

MC teaches math to Rafayel and Rafayel teaches English to MC.

They are both bad at physics and spend class time drawing short comics together. However, if nobody listens and the teacher seems down, they would listen and nod along even though they don't understand a word.

The chemistry teacher is unsure if they like or fear Rafayel.

Overall, teachers love them 'cause they treat their teachers as real people and genuinely care about them.

Sometimes they lock their pinky fingers under the desk and keep them that way until the class is over, even though they both get a bit embarrassed.

Rafayel is determined not to kiss her on the lips until both become adults.

Their music teacher is Rafayel's aunt. MC loves her classes and is learning to play piano. Rafayel always complains but still can play at least one decent piece on every instrument you have in the music room.

The art teacher is Thomas. He and Rafayel always argue as Rafayel doesn’t want his art to be just another mass product produced for exhibitions and competitions

MC grew up in a government institution. Although she doesn't remember, she met Rafayel when he was placed there after losing his parents. His relatives quickly took him in, but MC looked out for him, saving him from the bigger kids who tried to bully him. Eventually, they became friends.

MC is tomboy-ish and can't process her emotions properly.

MC's fashion sense is minimal, so Rafayel goes to shopping with her on weekends. Thanks to that they have some matching couple clothes.

Sophomores: Xavier x MC

They have average grades but excel in sports, making them the school's hidden assets in tournaments.

The school coach would love to have them join every team if he could.

Xavier is popular among other boys and has a considerable number of fans.

They nap together during lunch breaks.

They are members of the literature club and student librarians. So they regularly visit the library to read books or organize shelves and help others.

Literature teacher loves them.

Xavier tends to sleep through STEM classes, so MC shares her notes with him later in exchange for snacks or chocolate milk.

When Xavier gets bored during lectures or breaks, he secretly plays with MC's hair.

Despite skipping classes for extracurricular activities, they absorb information quickly, allowing them to pull all-nighters before exams and still perform well.

Some boys claim they got beaten up in the dark when they went down to the basement. Everyone's suspicious of Sylus, but it’s actually Xavier who’s taking care of anyone who messes with MC.

They hang out with a large friend group that includes Tara, Jenna, Jeremiah, and Bella.

Tara enjoys styling MC’s and Bella’s hair with cute hairpins to see how Xavier and Jeremiah will react.

Xavier wears one of MC's hair ties as a bracelet, believing it brings him luck.

They use all of their stationery together, so their pencils and erasers frequently end up in each other’s pencil cases.

MC's dad is a police officer and her mom is a nurse. Xavier's parents are both politicians.

Xavier doesn't get along with his own father but they are on good terms with MC's dad. They play board games, go fishing, or jog on weekends. MC doesn't have the foggiest idea of how it happened.

Juniors: Zayne x MC

Zayne is the top student and MC is right behind him in second place.

People often think MC is just an airhead who gets good grades just because she’s dating Zayne.

But while she is cheerful and active, she’s also super diligent. She pays attention in class, reviews her notes, and makes new ones before exams to make sure she’s on top of things.

She doesn't want to fall behind Zayne and secretly worries about how he would react in case she fails and gets bad grades.

All the teachers are fond of them with some even treating them like their own kids.

MC’s family trusts Zayne more than they trust her, so they’re quicker to say yes to events if they know Zayne will be there with her.

MC has a cute habit of drawing little hearts on the random pages of Zayne's textbooks. Once Zayne noticed it, he started drawing jasmine flowers on hers.

They tend to avoid skinship at school, except for the times MC is sick. During those times, Zayne stays close to her all day, ensuring she is hydrated and consuming warm drinks. He hugs MC and lets her rest on his chest, and he holds her hand during classes.

Seniors: Sylus x MC

One word: Trouble

But no they're not your typical troublemaker brats. They are also top-notch in nearly every class, so teachers don't know what to do with them.

At first, they were pretty low-key about their relationship, keeping it a secret. But once they went public, they became all about PDA with Sylus' hand always around MC's waist whenever they managed to take a break from holding hands.

Science teachers would love to exempt Sylus from taking their classes so that he can never ever set foot in their labs.

Chemistry, physics, and biology teachers change their way when they see Sylus in corridors, lest he ask them about things that would lead to a global catastrophe.

The music teacher gets goosebumps whenever they see Sylus.

Most of the girls don't like MC and there is always gossip and slander surrounding her. But for some, she is like a protective big sis.

MC and Sylus's families have been business partners since the time of MC's grandma.

Sylus' family makes huge donations to the school, so the administration is unusually lenient with him.

They play truant regularly. For what? Nobody knows.

It’s hard for others to actually mess with MC. But, when they do, Luke and Kieran are quick to pull pranks on them even before MC or Sylus can react.

Luke and Kieran look so similar that teachers often can’t figure out who’s at fault. Their innocent expressions after causing trouble don’t make things any easier.

Sylus and MC are chosen school representatives. They are intimidating and cunning so it is easier for them to negotiate with and win over teachers and the local student union.

People come to them with problems to be solved. MC is willing to help them without any immediate material return but Sylus always turns it into a business deal with specific terms.

MC doesn't have many close friends, but she occasionally lunches with the MCs of Xavier, Zayne, and Rafayel.

[tin-wufborf]

Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 14)

Hello, and welcome back to Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics! I truly cannot believe we've reached part 14 of this series, but I have had a lot of fun along the way and am so happy to be able to share all of these wonderful fics with you all!

As ever and always, thank you all so much for your continued support of this series. It continues to blow me away how many of you have liked and shared the previous parts. We'll probably be coming to the end of this series in the relatively near future, but I'm thinking of maybe doing some themed rec lists if anyone would be interested in that? Idk, we'll have to see how I feel when this series is all said and done.

Okay, that's all from me today. I hope you all have as good a day as you can, if not a great one. Oh, and don't forget about that Bad Friend Scott McCall warning.

Smoochies and squeezies!

List and links to previous/next part(s) below the cut.

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DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20

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Consigliere by neil4god (NR | 5/5 | 7,042)

It's been years since Danny left Beacon Hills behind and everything that happened in it. He moved on, joined the FBI and forgot all about his junior year of High School. At least he tried, but with Stiles Stilinksi leering at him from the FBI's most wanted board, well that makes it kinda hard to forget, and now they want to know all about it. They want him to talk to Stiles, worse still, they want him to wear a wire while he does it.

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Stilinski Orphanage by pineneedlepants (M | 1/1 | 10,514)

Throughout the short months Derek has been spending at the Stilinski Orphanage, he's come to a few conclusions. One, for the Stilinski's, bullying is a zero tolerance thing. There are hundreds of kids staying under their roof and they want things to be peaceful.

Of course, with that many children in one place, with different backgrounds and ethnicities, not everyone follows this rule. The thing is that because the Stilinski Orphanage is actually very popular and well respected, kids circle in and out in a decently fast cycle. Enforcing the strict no bullying rule isn't always as effective, and so sometimes, these bullies get called to the headmaster's office and then transferred to another orphanage, in a place that's far, far away from Beacon Hills.

Except Derek knows better.

He's pretty sure the Stilinskis eat the 'transferred' bullies. Not that he really cares.

-- Happy Early Halloween!

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Snow Flirting by thepsychicclam (M | 1/1 | 11,396)

As Beacon Hills get pounded with foot after foot of snow, single dad Stiles can't quite keep up with his four year old, his job, and shoveling his driveway. Derek makes his teenage son shovel Stiles' walk, and that just leads to Derek helping Stiles out with a whole bunch of other tasks. That's okay with Derek, though, cause any chance to be with Stiles is okay with him.

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stop, drop, and roll by thepsychicclam (M | 1/1 | 12,237)

Stiles knows he's in trouble when he invites the Beacon Hills Fire Department into his third grade classroom and he can't stop staring at a certain scruffy fireman. But after the third graders take a field trip to the fire station and participate in the fire department's holiday canned food drive, Stiles can't ignore his crush any longer.

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Would You Like to Make a Deal? by the_sporadic_writer (NR | 4/4 | 14,180)

Stiles never meant for everything to spin this far out of his control, never thought it would turn out this bad. Never thought that he would enjoy playing as the resident human and enjoy spending time with a pack of wolves. Never expected to get tangled up with Derek Hale of all people, and never thought that he would have enjoyed their time together.

OR, the story where Stiles is a demon and got more than he bargained for when his boredom got the better of him.

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A Tiny Bit of String by bunnymaccool (T | 1/1 | 14,382)

The pulling of a single bit of string can sometimes, perhaps, unravel the entire piece of knitting.

Sometimes the universe decides it has taken too much... and chooses to give back.

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little boy lost by crazyassmurdererwall (smartalli), smartalli (T | 1/1 | 14,862)

If someone asked Stiles to write a parenting book, Stiles would say the best and most important rule is to love your kid. Just love the hell out of them, and make sure they know it.

The second most important rule would be don’t turn your back on a curious three year old with supernatural speed.

Stiles is currently failing at the second rule. Badly.

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Claudia's Puntastic Life series by JoMouse (6 works | G | 15,410)

1. Holy Guacamole (G | 1/1 | 4,278) Derek runs into an old friend on Halloween. Inspired by that scene of Derek with the kids on Halloween - you know that one. 2. Kiss You Instead (G | 1/1 | 3,712) Derek has been invited to join Stiles and his pun-loving daughter, Claudia, for Christmas cookies and present wrapping. 3. The Happy Couple (G | 1/1 | 2,492) Derek and Claudia decide to surprise Stiles with breakfast in bed, but that's not the only surprise in the works. Day 2 of Sterek Valentine Week 2020. Theme: Breakfast in Bed. 4. It's Lit (G | 1/1 | 2,550) Claudia is scared of fireworks; Derek tries to help out. 5. Full Moon Ficlet #140 - Stir (G | 1/1 | 704) Stiles comes home to a flour-coated kitchen. 6. Spring has Sprung! (G | 1/1 | 1,674) It's Spring and Derek is thinking about the future.

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Keep It Together by ravingrevolution (T | 1/1 | 23,129)

“What if I guess what you are?” Derek asked.

Stiles sighed. “Why do you even think there’s something to guess?”

Derek cocked an eyebrow at him. “You’re taking a cold bath and showing no signs of being chilled. A normal human would be shivering by now and your body temperature hasn’t dropped at all.”

Which, okay, fair point.

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Start Small, Like Oak Trees by SmallBirds (M | 1/1 | 24,237)

The months following Allison's death have passed Stiles by in a haze of monotony. He sleepwalks through days that seem to lose their color, an unwilling passenger in a body he no longer trusts. Eventually, he thinks, he'll just fade away. He isn't sure anyone would notice. Then, during a spur of the moment grocery run, he stumbles upon Derek Hale attempting to console a lost child, and for the first time in recent memory the world doesn't seem so awful. He's not sure what he'd been expecting when he eventually convinces Derek to move into the Stilinski's spare bedroom, but a newfound passion for weeding and topsoil certainly isn't it.

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I found you hidden in plain sight (why'd I take so long?) by Gorgeousgreymatter (E | 7/7 | 25,419)

Stiles is pretty sure he’s hallucinating. He’s got to be. There’s no other plausible explanation, he thinks, as he sits on the sidelines of the lacrosse field and feels the cold, hard bench underneath him, the roar of the crowd at his back like the worst white noise machine in the world.

There’s no other reason why he sees it, the hulking, black figure of a wolf peering at him from the treeline behind the bleachers. Its eyes flare in the glaring glow of the stadium lights, but they’re the wrong color, he thinks: blood-moon red instead of cobalt blue, but the familiarity of it all makes his stomach roll and clench.

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Between Dogs and Wolves by artemis69 (T | 1/1 | 25,934)

"This is…not four million in cash,” remarks Stilinski.

“Isaac. Did you fail to get my money back and decided to pick up a stripper on the road to bribe me? Because let me make this perfectly clear: this would totally work. Well done.”

Or

The mafia!AU where the Hales owe four million to the Stilinskis, Laura rents Derek (but not as a stripper), Stiles gets a new favorite, Derek gets a new boss, a new puppy and a new family.

Sometimes they break people, but mainly, they just snark at each other.

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I've Lived A Better Day by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere (NR | 18/18 | 32,819)

When Stiles comes across a rogue Alpha during his first year at Berkeley, the ensuing fight doesn't exactly go his way. He calls an unlikely ally to help him with his transition, and finds out his new pack isn't quite who he might have thought it would be.

Stiles is now left with the task of trying to figure out how his old life will fit in with his new, but that is not without its challenges.

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It's A-Boat Time! by Fae_vorite, isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) (T | 1/1 | 33,681)

He could hear the others talking outside, Scott and Isaac freaking out over something and Stiles snapping at them to shut up and help him get inside.

“Dude, how the fuck can you expect me to stay calm right now! Seriously, that’s a fucking tail!”

“We can talk about it later, just get me inside before someone fucking sees me! I don’t want to end up in a fucking aquarium!”

“Christ, you’re heavy!” Isaac grunted. “How much does this thing weigh?!”

“Shut up and walk,” Stiles snapped.

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Blindsided by AClosedFicIsNeverRead (E | 16/16 | 39,664)

Derek exhaled tremulously and tried to stay calm. He called several more times, growing steadily more frantic each time, before allowing the truth to settle in: Stiles’ phone was off. “No. No, no, no, please, no,” Derek whispered to himself, barely able to see the screen through his tearful eyes. What had he done? Had he been so blinded by rage that he dismissed Stiles' call for help?

- OR -

Fuming over Scott's betrayal, the Alpha is out of his mind with anger. When he receives a call from Stiles in that incredibly inopportune moment, he does not even let the teen speak - just screams at him, blames him for everything, and hangs up. But then Erica and Boyd show up, frantically insisting that Stiles is out there somewhere, likely hanging onto life by a thread after being tortured for hours... Will they be able to find Stiles before it's too late? And just how much of the Stiles they know will be left if they do manage to track him down?

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The More That I Know You (the more I want to) by LadySlytherin (M | 1/1 | 43,656)

When death, in the form of hunters, comes for a family of Kelpies seeking refuge in the Preserve - in Hale territory - the Hale Pack is too late to save them. Before he dies, the male Kelpie presses a precious bundle into Stiles’ arms and begs the Emissary to take responsibility for it, which an initially reluctant Stiles does. When he agreed, Stiles had no idea what the sight of him with a baby would do to his esteemed Alpha, Derek. If he’d known, he might not have been so reluctant to agree.

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let's get lost by hot_damn_louis (NR | 12/12 | 57,232)

Stiles was used to hiding things from those close to him. He hid his grief from his dad, his anger from Scott, and the deep sadness from everyone else. Somehow, he can't seem to hide anything from Derek, who is now acting more and more like a real person. Maybe even a friend. All Stiles wants is to feel normal, and Derek seems to be the most normal thing in his life.

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Intention by AlliDee12, ReadablePlot (E | 14/14 | 125,612)

The idea of making things better clings to Stiles: He needs to undo even a fraction of what he did, stop it from happening again, make something around him better in a way he can't for himself.

And things do get better, for all of five minutes.

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A Teenage Love Song by HaleHathNoFury (My_Trex_has_fleas) (E | 26/26 | 155,834)

Stiles is sick and tired of how much he fucks up. His dad is disappointed, his step-mom judges and his step-brother can do no wrong. It's not that he doesn't love them, he just gets so tired of being different. Now he's being moved lock, stock and barrel to Beacon Hills aka the town his mom grew up in so they can go live in his grandma's house and his father can get him back on the straight and narrow.

It's going to suck.

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You're stronger than you know by Littleredridinghunter (NR | 15/15 | 234,195)

Set at the end of season 2, Stiles survives his encounter with Gerard and his goons, but it isn't easy.

The pack are letting him down again, his dad is not speaking to him, his life is just generally falling apart.

Until he has to get a bronze dagger to kill a siren and his whole world gets flipped on it's head!

My summaries are rubbish but I hope you'll still give it a chance!

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[bratbarzal]

Blurb event yay! Is Coley fair game? If yes....

Maybe a cross of Friends/Roommates to Lovers with Coley:

"I thought since we both had nowhere to be today, we could make a day of it. Just ourselves"

"C'mon, like I need an excuse to spend time with you"

✩‧₊˚ bratbarzal's valentines event!˚₊‧✩

3. “I thought since we both had nowhere to be today, we could make a day of it. Just ourselves" and "C'mon, like I need an excuse to spend time with you" with Cole!!!! you better believe anyone who names their dog olive pawfield is fair game. I see your friends/roommates to lovers and I raise you childhood friends/he took you in after a bad breakup to kind of lovers!!

Cole has always been a little funny when it comes to you dating.

The two of you have known each other a long time - since you were a scrawny little 7 year old new to town, getting shoved around the playground for fun until someone took it too far, and Cole ended up being the one sat in the nurse's office with you, holding a bleeding rag to your nose and waiting for your mom to come pick you up for concussion protocol.

He's been looking out for you ever since, and you'd always assumed it was that same protectiveness that had him acting up whenever you got into any sort of relationship with any other guy.

He'd checked your first kiss into the boards at a junior hockey tournament, a kid almost twice his size - but that didn't matter to Cole, warning him away from you with a padded elbow to his side after he had heard that you weren't the only girl he was going around kissing.

Your first serious boyfriend had a similar fate when Cole had watched him flirting with another girl in class when you were off sick, telling you that same night when he had brought your textbooks from your locker, promising to knock his teeth out if you wanted him to. You'd shrugged it off - and it wasn't that you didn't believe Cole, but you'd never seen your boyfriend display that sort of behaviour, at the time - and later down the line, when it had ended in tears and drama, a stray puck might have flown his way when the two of them shared the ice, bruising his ribs and putting him out of action for a couple of weeks.

He promised, after that, to be less physical about it, but he never stopped looking out for you.

And what was once petulant and slightly, problematically, violent became solid and reassuring, because Cole Caufield never says I told you so, despite all the times he could.

And that's what led you to moving into his place when your last relationship imploded - Cole offering you his spare room for as long as you needed it, promising that you weren't a burden, and needn't be in any rush to look for other living arrangements. Even after he had warned you exactly what kind of guy your ex boyfriend was, having treated his teammate's sister the exact same way, he still held your hand through the aftermath.

To say you're grateful is an understatement.

Living with your best friend is great. He's good company, he's clean, he keeps the refrigerator stocked, and he's the perfect reminder of home - warm in his affections and cozy in his presence, with a playful smile that sometimes takes you straight back to those chairs in the nurse's office, to him telling you that you still looked pretty even with blood crusted all over your face.

It's the kind of comfort that makes it easy to get over the rest, to forget boyfriends who cheat and lie, and only remember the love of your best friend, who always leaves coffee in the pot and comes home from his morning skates with breakfast bagels in hand.

You're expecting an empty house for most of the day when you wake up in the late morning - a quiet, serene lull in the air and the heat cranked up in his absence - but when you shrug on a hoodie - no doubt one of his - and your slippers, and pad through to the living room to seek out Olive, you're surprised to find Cole there, too.

"You're home!" You smile as you round the couch, distracted all of a sudden by the array of blankets on the floor, with a spread of pillows at the top. The blinds are half drawn, the late morning sun blocked and giving a moody glow to the room, and Olive sits just behind him, pretty much begging for her routine cuddles.

"Yeah, I didn't feel right leaving you alone on Valentines," he scratches awkwardly at the back of his neck, thick muscles tensing in his arms as he winces nervously your way. "I thought since we both had nowhere to be today, we could make a day of it. Just the two of us, like old times."

"Aw, Cole," you pout, "You didn't have to stick around just for my sake, Olive already promised me a romantic stroll in the park, later."

He chuckles, that same sweet smile that settles like a familiar weight in your stomach, like a soothing hot tea or a home-cooked meal. "Maybe I'll come with, considering my plans for the day are being walked all over."

"What do you mean?"

"I set up a den, like we used to make, and I figured we could watch a movie, but I couldn't find any of the snacks you like at the store, it was all like fancy and heart-shaped, and I didn't know if you'd really want that. So I bought you a cookie but uh," he looks back at Olive, who looks between the two of you with an unassuming, innocent gaze, sugar-cookie crumbs dusted across her whiskers where she hasn't quite reached to clean them yet, "I guess I tempted fate leaving it on the coffee table."

"You didn't get her one, too?" You giggle, stepping toward the dog and kneeling beside her, scratching at the back of her head in the way she likes until she nuzzles into your familiar touch and you coo at her, "That's not like him, he forget his number one girl, huh?"

"Well, I figured if either of you needed a pick me up today of all days, it wasn't the pampered pooch."

"I'm alright," you smile as you stand back up, edging toward him with open arms, "But I'll take you up on a den-day. This is really sweet."

He wraps his arms straight around you as soon as you're close enough, pressing his chin to your temple and twisting his lips into the side of your head. "Anything for my number two girl."

"Please don't call me that," you snort, sensing the way his cheeks puff out into a smile and playfully pushing him away.

"You brought that on yourself," he chuckles, "What do you say we go on a snack hunt, leave Olive to do zoomies from her sugar rush so she's not bouncing all over us on the floor?"

"You could have stopped at snack hunt," you smile softly, edging past him in search of your thickest winter coat - ready to brave the Montreal weather in search of popcorn and chocolate, and maybe even something heart-shaped to fill the void, because all of a sudden, you are in a loving mood. "I don't need any other excuse to go anywhere with you."

Cole nods, following your lead and grabbing his coat straight from the hook next to yours.

You don't know how you end up holding his hand the whole way around the store, the two of you foregoing a cart so that you can just get as much as you can carry - or why you're still holding it over the centre console as he drives the two of you home, heart shaped lollies pushing into both of your cheeks.

But maybe you need to stop questioning things when it comes to how you love Cole, and just accept that maybe he always knows exactly what's right when it comes to you and relationships.

[flagbridge]

The Raoul (de Chagny) Navy: An Exploration of the Vicomte's Naval Background:

Our beloved Vicomte, Raoul de Chagny, is a young junior officer in the French Navy ("le Royale"), but this hardly gets much exploration. It's a detail that is often glossed over--I anticipate because Naval historians and Phans often do not have much Venn diagram overlap--until now. Let's just say my username is a Naval reference.

Note: the "Raoul Navy" is not my invention--our hilarious and wise "Phantom Dark Web" friends at Leroux Less Traveled (incl. @box5intern) came up with it, and I love it.

I've started digging into book Raoul and his Naval background and turns out we are missing out a whole lot about Raoul's character background if we don't dig into it. So I'm going to tell you what the book tells us and what that means. I'm going to give you the overall pieces up front, and then explain:

Raoul looks very young and feminine (except for his "little" mustache, which he effectively has grown to prove that he can)--and everyone treats him like a baby

Raoul at this point has already completed three years of Naval training including a world tour, so he is fairly experienced and even worldly for his age. He is described in the French as a "cadet", but he would likely be a sub-lieutenant at this point since he has graduated from the Naval Academy.

He's on a six month leave before going on a very dangerous mission to recover remains of a lost Arctic mission--a mission he himself is unlikely to return from.

And everyone still treats him like he's a baby (especially the old dowager widows), even though he has had quite a bit of life at this point--so he has something to prove.

What we know about Raoul and the Navy (Here is the English):

"He was admirably assisted in this work first by his sisters and afterward by an old aunt, the widow of a naval officer, who lived at Brest and gave young Raoul a taste for the sea. The lad entered the Borda training-ship, finished his course with honors and quietly made his trip round the world. Thanks to powerful influence, he had just been appointed a member of the official expedition on board the Requin, which was to be sent to the Arctic Circle in search of the survivors of the D'Artois expedition, of whom nothing had been heard for three years. Meanwhile, he was enjoying a long furlough which would not be over for six months; and already the dowagers of the Faubourg Saint-Germain were pitying the handsome and apparently delicate stripling for the hard work in store for him."

We also learn in another paragraph that the de Chagnys had admiral in the family, so the Naval connection is likely a family business for second sons. Raoul is a second son, so a career as a military officer would have been a distinguished career for him.

Borda: First ship

Brest is the main port of the French Navy and home of the Ecole Navale (or French Naval Academy. In the 20th Century it moved, but Brest is still, along with Toulon, a major naval base)

According to the French: Le jeune homme entra au Borda, en sortit dans les premiers numéros et accomplit tranquillement son tour du monde (Note that the French calls him a "young man", not a lad)

The Borda is traditionally the training ship of the French Navy, and there have been six of them. This would have been a cadet/midshipman cruise for Raoul. He would have been on the ex-Valmy, an 120-gun ship of the line, which became the Borda training ship in 1864.

The Borda is also the ship of the Ecole Navale (French Naval Academy)—this means that Raoul attended the academy.

The Naval Academy is two years in Brest, and then their third year is the World Tour—so that timing also aligns with where we are in the book. Raoul would have begun at the academy at 18, and he is at the start of the book, 21 years old.

After the Borda, which he completed with honors, he did an uneventful world tour.

This would have been his third year, still as a midshipman.

He could have been assigned to any ship for this training cruise—possibly a cruiser (the d'Estang is pictured below in 1884 in Algiers), which did long range missions. Note: Their max speed was about 15 Knots (which is a very respectable speed that some warships still transit).

This world tour cold have been as far east as what is now Vietnam, or through the Suez--but likely near French colonies.

With influence, he is assigned to the Requin expedition.

French: Grâce à de puissants appuis, il venait d'être désigné pour faire partie de l'expédition officielle du Requin, qui avait mission de rechercher dans les glaces du pôle les survivants de l'expédition du d'Artois, dont on n'avait pas de nouvelles depuis trois ans.

The Requin was a real ship in the Mediterranean fleet, but did not go on its first mission until 1885, which means that this is a deliberate or unintentional oversight of either Leroux himself or his narrator. The Requin was a steel hull—and the Artois was actually a 18th century Royal Navy ship so this piece is a complete fabrication. However, Arctic missions at this time were frequent and tended not to go well.

However, Raoul could also be excited about getting to go on a new steel-hulled ship. The Redoutable was already in commission—commissioned in 1876.  Most of the rest of the fleet at this point were ironclads.

[mulloey]

the promotion • wooyoung

wooyoung is your rival for a promotion at work, and you’d both do anything to get it

inspired by the devil wears prada.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: office!au, coworker!wooyoung, bosses!seonghwa and hongjoong. bisexual characters, implied switch!wooyoung, workplace rivalry. hate sex, let’s-see-who’s-really-better-sex, semi-public sex (nightclub bathroom), some spanks, some dirty talk, honestly mild for me but still pretty filthy

—————

From the day you started working here, Wooyoung’s been your nemesis. And that’s not an exaggeration — he said so himself, the very first time you walked through the doors to your shared office, clutching your bags and books and essential items and desperately trying to make it to your desk without dropping anything.

“Hi,” you’d said to him, still breathless as you introduced yourself.

He looked up from the desk, narrow eyes piercing through the silver-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. He’d looked you up and down, pursing his lips before letting out a huff, rolling his eyes. “I’m Wooyoung,” he’d said. “And I’m next in line for the promotion. So until I get it you can consider me your enemy.”

It hadn’t taken you long to find out what he’d meant — as the two junior executive assistants to Kim Hongjoong, editor of Vogue Korea and the most powerful man in fashion, you were both on equal footing and of equal importance to Hongjoong. Or at least you would be, were his senior executive assistant, a severe but relatively friendly man named Seonghwa, not leaving his post at the end of the season month — ostensibly to take an editorial position at a rival magazine; though, if Wooyoung and his circle of gossips were to be believed, perhaps due in no small part to his alleged liaisons with the boss. Whatever, you thought, that’s not important — what’s important is the big, gaping, well-paid hole that would be left by Seonghwa’s absence; one that could potentially lead to a position on the editorial board itself. Just like it had for Hongjoong.

Common-sense would, of course, dictate the promotion go to Wooyoung — he’d been here longer and had certainly shown himself to be far more dedicated to the magazine than you, only really here for the work experience, could ever pretend to be. But your work ethic and efficency was something to be reckoned with; and the boss himself, tight-lipped and not at all fond of gossip, had refused to commit either way and, when he’d overheard Wooyoung bragging to a secretary that the job was basically his, had given him a scolding in his office that was so loud it permeated through the closed doors and, you must admit, gave you a great deal of satisfaction. And if Wooyoung hadn’t despised you before, your inability to hide your satisfied smirk as he’d trudged sheepishly back to his desk, certainly gave him reason too. “I’ll kill you,” he’d mouthed in your direction.

“I’ll kill you first,” you’d mouthed back.

In the months since that incident, the area outside Hongjoong’s office, piled with papers and drafts and clip-outs strewn across the two face-to-face desks, the tension has been palpable. Wooyoung refuses to talk to you about anything except work, and you’ve had little desire to change that — from the work-related conversations you have had, you’ve found him to be a bratty, snooty, thoroughly unpleasant person to be around. The only people he doesn’t talk down to are, of course, Seonghwa and Hongjoong themselves, and much to your annoyance, it’s clear they have a soft spot for him; it’s the only explanation for why he hasn’t been fired or demoted after all the times he’s disrespected the CEOs, designers and other editors that pass by his desk. You scoff just thinking about it but you admit you see where they’re coming from — Wooyoung, while unpleasant, is the kind of unpleasant that makes you want to kiss his cheeks as much as throw him through the window. And you can’t deny, he’s attractive in a sultry, magical kind of way, and probably takes better care of himself than you do. His face would be utterly magnificent if only it weren’t wearing a sneer all the time.

Today he’s outdone himself — it’s the day of Seonghwa’s leaving party, the same party where Hongjoong will apparently pull one of you aside and tell you you’ve been promited; ever-dramatic, you’ve found your boss can be. The day of the party and you’ve somehow found yourself without any information or invite. You doubt you’d have even known a party was happening had one of the secretaries not asked you what you were going to wear to it and you’d looked at her with utter confusion. She’d rolled her eyes, clearly realising what had happened; “Ask me who’s organising it,” she’d whispered, and you didn’t need to do so to get the answer — you just had to follow her gaze as it wandered over to Wooyoung’s desk, where he was hard at work looking through some papers.

As she pranced away, declaring it the end of her lunch break, you’d scowled over at Wooyoung — part of you wanted to march over and confront him, but you didn’t want to make a scene. And hey, he’d put a wonderful scheme in place to ensure you looked like a no-show and thereby excluded yourself from consideration for a promotion — he deserved a few more hours of thinking it had been successful. You’d break the news to him at the party, right before Hongjoong whisked you away for your promotion — yes, you wanted it now despite knowing Wooyoung was more deserving. You wanted to beat him.

Pulling up to the club written on the invitation your secretary friend had grabbed for you, you hear the music and chatter of the attendees even before it comes into view. You step out the car, invitation in hand and dressed to impress — you have to be, if you’re going to fit it in here — as you approach the security. You hand them the invitation and your ID, letting them scrutinise you — you look rather young, admittedly — before they nod, allowing you in.

You’re not a club person, never have been — it’s too noisy and crowded and messy for you to have any fun and it’s not like the company on the dance floor is much better — but you must admit, Wooyoung’s done a good job. It’s a classy set up; even the bartenders are clad in formal, butler-like attire that, you note with a giggle, they look utterly incensed to be wearing. No expense has been spared, apparently, certainly not according to the chapagmes listed on the menu handed to you as you walk in — all exquisite and all on-the-house.

You take a few minutes to mingle, circling between the attendees who you’re of varying familiarity with. Seonghwa greets you with a smile, noting your get-up with an appreciative whistle; Hongjoong, too, seems to look at you with almost hungry eyes. That bodes well, you think. Even as you walk away, not wanting to intrude on the conversation they then strike up with another senior editor, you feel their eyes fixed on your retreating form. You’d feel embarrassed and flustered, perhaps even want to do something about it, were you not here as a professional — one with a motive at that. You’re here to get promoted and finally beat Wooyoung, and if you can do that without causing a scandal in the process, it will make your victory even sweeter.

You find Wooyoung pretty quickly after that; though he apparently finds you first, as you’ve barely registered his presence before his hands are on your waist, yanking you towards him in what a stranger may mistake as friendliness. You know better though — he’s mad.

“Who let you in?” He snaps. “How did you even find out about this?”

“Security,” you say. You hold up your invitation, dangling it in his face almost mockingly — no, you may as well be honest here: completely mockingly. “Ahyoung gave this to me.”

“Meddler,” you hear him mutter. You notice his eyes fixed on your dress and with good reason; gold and shimmering, it hugs your curves perfectly and illuminates you in a way you’ve never shown yourself before — certainly not in the office. “You’re wearing that,” he says. You swear he must be drawing blood from how hard he’s biting his lip.

“Yes, Wooyoung,” you say. “I’m wearing that.”

He swallows, and you feel his discomfort as he stares you down. You look good, and you both know it. It’s going to be really, really hard for him to screw you over now — just as you intended. “It looks good,” he says. “Even on you.”

“Drink with me,” you say. He cocks an eyebrow at the change of subject, perhaps expecting you to bite back or get offended by his words; but you’re in the lead now and you want to celebrate. “Come on,” you say.

You grab his wrist, ignoring the pained sound he makes at your tight grip — he deserves that, after the way he’s treated you. Reaching the bar you order five shots of vodka, more than enough to get you where you need to be. True to Wooyoung, he orders six — always needing to outdo you at every turn. You down each of them together, feeling yourself get looser and less inhibited as the bitter alcohol pours down your throat. “Fuck!” You both yell as you finish your last one. You laugh at the coincidence and he smiles too; the first smile he’s ever given to you. It fills you with a strange warmth that the alcohol can’t entirely explain away.

“More?” You ask, gesturing towards the vodka bottle still tantalisingly close on the top of the bar.

Wooyoung chuckles. “As much as I’d love to see you embarrass yourself tonight,” he says, “and believe me, I’d love it, I think we’ve both had enough.”

“I’m fine,” you reply, shaking your head.

He tilts his head, amused smile on his lips. “I know you are. I have something else in mind.”

—————

You’re not entirely sure how you get here; one minute you’re at the bar with Wooyoung and the next you’re on the dancefloor, hands wrapped tightly around each other's hips as you move to the pounding beats of the music. You’ve discovered now that Wooyoung is, annoyingly, an incredible dancer; his moves are fluid and effortless and entirely in contrast to the intense, scrutinising stare he fixes on you. You try to match his movements but to your chagrin you can’t keep up; he’s a natural.

You feel eyes on you and see you’ve caught the attention of a few of the other attendees, including your bosses, who watch you bemusedly as you dance with your arch-nemesis, the man you’d sworn to destroy — who’d sworn to destroy you. They don’t look surprised, much to your annoyance, and converse with each other with knowing smiles. Huffing, you turn back to Wooyoung, who apparently no longer has any desire to keep his gaze from your chest. Looking down you see your breasts are raised and glistening with sweat, and it’s no wonder he looks so affected. You chuckle; this wasn’t a particular part of your plan, but it could certainly be useful. If you can keep his attention on you — well, on those — you can direct your attention elsewhere, and finally take the winning shot you’ve been gearing for all night. You smile; you’re not as easily distracted as you seem. You came here with a mission and it’s not one a few shots or Wooyoung’s admittedly flustering attention can derail. You’re a winner. You’re going to win.

You lean in closer, letting your lips ghost across his neck in a deliberate, fleeting touch as you raise yourself up to whisper in his ear. “You’re not very subtle, are you?” You say, but above the music it’s more of a yell.

He blushes, an annoyingly cute sight, and shakes his head. “Neither are you,” he says. “I don’t believe for a second you had that dress laying around.”

“Of course I didn’t,” you laugh. “Checked it out of the archives as soon as I found out about your secret party.”

“I invited you,” he says, but his eyes say he knows you know he’s lying. “Perhaps it got lost in the mail.”

You laugh out loud; the alcohol makes it so you have to lie your head on his shoulder to steady yourself. You don’t read into it — but you hope he does. “I’ve heard a lot of stuff gets lost between your desk and mine,” you say. “Briefings, memos… invitations. Lucky I found out, isn’t it?”

“Very,” he replies, and with his gaze still fixed on your chest you get the feeling that this time he’s being genuine.

You him, staring him up and down for a moment as you consider your plan. There’s an easy way out of this — keep distracting him until you can find a moment to speak to Hongjoong, show him why you’d be the best pick in more ways than one. Or you could go the other — riskier, certainly. But the rewards? Oh, the rewards…

And that is how you end up here; this time not for reasons you can excuse or blame on Wooyoung. The bathroom door slams shut behind you as you pull each other in. He locks it carefully, checking it truly is sealed before turning to you, hunger in his eyes — and success in yours.

“Take off my dress,” you say.

He opens his mouth, taken aback. “What?”

You roll your eyes. “I couldn’t have been more clear, Wooyoung. Take off my dress.”

“O…kay,” he says, sounding uncertain. In the lights of the bathroom he’s not very clear, but you see the flush on his face as his shaking hands slowly peel the tight fabric away from your body. When it finally drops to the floor, pooling around your black heels, he gapes; your black, lacy lingerie is a welcome surprise, covering everything and nothing at the same time. “Wow,” he breathes.

“You like it?” You ask, trying to sound unsure — trying to sound modest. Even though you know exactly what you’re doing.

“Of course.”

“Then take yours off, too,” you smile. “We’ll see who really deserves that promotion.”

“What does that have to do with this?” He asks — but he’s pulling his clothes off, so he clearly isn’t too bothered about the correlation. “Just because Seonghwa was fucking Hongjoong doesn’t mean we all have to.”

You snort, rolling your eyes until he finally removes his shirt, exposing his surprisingly toned, tanned and glistening abs. Your mouth waters slightly; you lick your lips in anticipation. He snaps his fingers. “Subtlety, please,” he chuckles.

“Fuck off,” you retort. “And I know we don’t have to fuck Hongjoong. But don’t act like you’re not planning on it.”

He stills for a moment; apparently he hadn’t expected you to say that — or to know that. He huffs. “There goes my edge.”

“So it’s true!” Forgetting where you are, your proclamation comes out as a yell, certainly alerting anyone outside to your presence. Wooyoung hisses in surprise and before you register what he’s doing, clamps his hand over your mouth, muffling you. It’s a rushed, thoughtless act — but it goes straight to your pussy.

You stand there silently for a moment, waiting to see if anyone heard you, if anyone’s going to interrupt you. When they don’t he releases you, looking annoyed. “Keep your fucking voice down,” he mutters. “But yes, it’s true. But I wasn’t going to fuck him to get the job, you know.”

“Right,” you say. “Just as part of the job. But you’re forgetting something, aren’t you, Wooyoung?” He cocks an eyebrow, curious as he awaits your answer. You lean into him, breath hot on his neck as you whisper into his ear, making him shiver involuntarily. “I have a hole too.”

His reaction is instantaneous; without a word he spins you around, harshly bending you over the sink. You lank painfully on your chest, a squeak of surprise leaving you as he slaps your ass a little harder than is playful. “Bitch,” he spits, slapping you again. “Fuck, I hate you so much.”

“So do I,” you snap back.

“You’re ruining my life.”

“So are you!”

“I’m ripping your panties.”

You’re about to reply, not having fully processed his words when before you can stop him you hear the painful sound of expensive, intricate fabrics ripping as he tears them apart to expose your ass and pussy. You shout his name indignantly and he silences you with another slap. “Don’t worry, baby,” he purrs. “I’ll buy you an even nicer pair with my new senior assistant salary.”

“Like hell you will,” you grunt. You writhe in his hold, a tantrum more than an actual indication of displeasure and he chuckles.

“You’re right,” he replies. “If you keep this attitude up, I might just let you take the loss. Hold still.”

You hear rustling behind you before wet fingers poke at your hole, making you gasp — his saliva-covered digits work you open quickly and efficiently before he pulls them out and something much bigger replaces them. You whip your head round in momentary panic, and are both relieved and confused to see a condom sat snugly on his dick. “Where did you get that?” You ask.

He shoots a look at you like it’s supposed to be obvious. “I brought it.”

Your jaw drops slightly before you regain your composure. “You planned this?” You ask, a little incredulous; you feel a little cheated, knowing Wooyoung also had plans for this evening.

“No,” he says. “You did.”

You flush, caught but still hopeful; just because he knows your game doesn’t mean you can’t still win it — it’s your game, after all. “Fine,” you huff. “Hurry up and fuck me.”

He snorts, pushing all the way in and adding a sharp, deep thrust for good measure. “God, you’re fucking rude,” he grumbles. “I’m gonna set you so fucking straight before I become your boss.”

“If you do,” you say, but it’s not quite the winning line you’d hoped for because halfway through Wooyoung starts to move, and he does not ease you into it. He’s not massive but fairly big and fuck if he isn’t skilled — you hadn’t expected it, honestly, especially not from someone as petulant and bratty as Wooyoung. You didn’t think he’d have enough experience… giving… to be this good at it.

As the pace continues to speed up you feel yourself losing your mind a little bit — his hand is tight in your hair, pulling your head back and forcing you to stare into the mirror in front of you, traitorously revealing the overwhelmed yet blissed-out expression on your face. Just from your eyes Wooyoung can tell you’ve never been this high before — never been pleasured so deeply and thoroughly and you hate the pleasure it undoubtedly fills him with. God, you hate giving him anything — but you apparently have no problem taking. Your cries get louder, moans strangled and screamed as he goes harder and the hand in your hair moves to clamp over your mouth again. “God,” he growls in your ear. “You just can’t keep fucking quiet, can you?”

You try to reply but it comes out as more of a garbled moan, making you flush and he chuckles. “Alright, baby,” he says. “I’m gonna cum now, then we’ll get you cleaned up so we can go get my promotion. How does that sound?”

From around your pleasure your manage to spit out a “fuck off, Wooyoung,” but rather than pissing him off, it makes him coo. Apparently, you are fucking cute to him now.

“Yeah, baby,” he chuckles. “Keep talking like this. You definitely have the high ground now.”

You groan, both in pleasure and anger as his thrusts get less ordered and more frantic, like he’s chasing something — you know exactly what. You gasp, preparing yourself as the pressure of his hand on your mouth increases.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby,” he grunts. “Keep that hole nice and open for me.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before he comes; apparently it feels so good he has to bite down on your shoulder to stop himself from yelling but you don’t care; not when your own orgasm so quickly follows when he presses a finger to your clit and applies embarrassingly little pressure. He chuckles as you come undone, pulling out of you when you finally collapse and helping you to your feet. “Who’s getting promoted now, do you think?” He grins.

“Fuck,” you groan. “That was so unfair, Wooyoung. You can’t just— do that when I’m trying to get a promotion.”

He snorts, shaking his head at what you admit is audacity on your part. He smiles rather fondly at you, pressing a kiss to your lips. “This was your game, sweetheart,” he whispers smugly. “I just played it.”

—————

just a shortish thing that randomly came to me when i was thinking of ideas & also because i havent written any solo wooyoung fics? and i needed to fix that. last without his own fic is jongho but i have a couple things potentially in the works for him. anyway, hope you like this! who u think got promoted?? leave any thoughts and reblog & comment if you liked it! it’s a very big motivator for me. requests are OPEN!

[risingchaos]

Explanation of pips in Star Trek (TNG onward)

Explanation of the wrist cuffs in Star Trek TOS

This will mostly have pictures of Star Trek: Next Gen because of ease but this is generally applicable to any ST media chronologically after TNG. If I’m remembering correctly it doesn’t really deviate.

So, the way that Star Trek ranks work is based upon the U.S. Navy. I’m going to break this down into five classes and each rank inside it, lowest to highest.

If you just want to know the look and don’t care about any explanation, there is a guide at the end for you. :)

—————

Cadet - Uniform distinction

These are people enrolled in Starfleet. They wear distinctive uniforms to help differentiate them from others. Left is dress uniform, right is regular. The Cadet uniform is almost always an entirely red outfit, also shown in the AOS movies. Also I believe they have lines on their uniforms usually to tell what year they’re in. Think Cadet Uhura from Strange New Worlds (technically ranking works different in this show but the uniform is the same).

Petty Officer - No pips, CPO wears one empty [x]

Petty Officers wear no pips. This rank really isn’t talked about because almost no one is really featured. It’s comprised of people who are enlisted but didn’t attend the Academy. You see it on some engineers. Within this rank, there’s also a command structure like Chief Petty Officer who wear one empty pip, but it’s difficult to find reliable breakdowns of it. Unfortunately I couldn’t find any clear pictures of a lapel. Miles O’Brian is a Senior Chief Petty Officer.

Ensign - One gold [o]

It’s generally what people are promoted to out of the Academy. Technically they have command but not really. Under this rank is also Acting Ensigns and Ensigns who were promoted for the field. Think Wesley Crusher’s arc.

Lieutenants

This has three ranks within it.

Junior Grade Lieutenant - One empty, one gold [xo]

These are just above Ensigns. They wear one empty pip next to solid gold. Medical personnel are typically Junior Lieutenants out of the Academy due to their extended training. They often have actual responsibilities on the ship. We actually watch Geordi La Forge’s promotions through Lieutenant, as he starts the show as a Junior Lieutenant along with Worf.

Lieutenant - Two gold [oo]

This is what we see most often interacting with the crew we’re following. They have genuine responsibilities. We see them taking head of teams or working at consoles. They’ve proven themselves to Starfleet. Worf and La Forge are promoted to this in season two, and Tasha Yar was a Lieutenant in season one. Spock is a Lieutenant in the first two seasons of SNW.

Lieutenant Commander - One empty, two gold [xoo]

These are heads of departments, the one people default to about smaller issues on board, and general senior officers. They are the ones defaulted to for ship’s command, as seen throughout TNG with Data, and are often relied upon by Commanders and the Captain to keep the ship going. Data is a Lieutenant Commander throughout all of TNG, La Forge is promoted in season three. Worf is not promoted until season four of DS9. Deanna is actually a Lieutenant Commander for almost the entire duration of TNG. They are often referred to as “Commander” instead of Lieutenant by officers unless introducing themselves.

Commander - Three gold [ooo]

Most often called “Number One”, this is the second in command. They are competent, capable, and willing to take lead and help the ship. Commanders are trusted by the crew and the Captain, and are often a yin to the Captain’s yang. The Head Doctor is often a Commander to give them authority, like Dr. Beverly Crusher. William Riker is the iconic Commander in TNG, Spock is Commander in TOS.

Captain - Four gold [oooo]

We’re all very familiar with Captains. They are as senior as you can get on a ship unless there’s an Admiral on board. Captains are intelligent, confident, and understand what must be done, even if it’s a bad situation. The lives of their crew is in their hands. It comes with a great deal of free will to choose their ship’s path, yet an insane amount of responsibility. Captain Picard of TNG, Captain Kirk of TOS, Captain Janeway of Voyager. We know the names.

Admiral - Entirely different system

Admiral pips are strange. They do not wear pips on the collar, instead wearing them basically in boxes. It really was not standardized until the end of DS9, I think. The Admirals wear a different uniform to make themselves stand out. Admirals are representative of Starfleet. They make the big choices for the fleet, the life changing ones. They give direct orders if needed and expect respect from all lower officers. They’re incredibly powerful. We don’t get to see much of Admirals in any show, but we know of a few, such as Admiral Picard in Picard, Admiral McCoy in TNG, and Admiral Kirk in the movies.

Here is a complete guide to each rank in Starfleet, excluding Cadets and Petty Officers.

Ensign - [o]

Junior Lieutenant - [xo]

Lieutenant - [oo]

Lieutenant Commander - [xoo]

Commander - [ooo]

Captain - [oooo]

Commodore/Rear Admiral (lower half) - [[o]]

Rear Admiral (upper half) - [[oo]]

Vice Admiral - [[ooo]]

Admiral - [[oooo]]

Fleet Admiral - [[ooooo]]

x is an empty pip, o is a gold, and for the Admirals, the double brackets is to indicate that they’re in a box.

—————

Hope this helps you understand ranks in Star Trek better, as it has helped me. Let me know if anything needs clarifying! I have edited this a few times to add more clarifying information.

Thank you to @vvkingofgaybisciutsvv for asking for this! I had a great time putting it together.

[dallasgallant]

Time period post: Schools

Honestly surprised I didn’t cover this topic sooner, considering the characters are in high school. I’ll stick mainly to that range but I’ll bring in some broader information just for some additional knowledge. Like all my posts like this please consider this a starting point! If you’re interested look more into it as I can’t cover all of it and I’m trying to go off what’s potentially ‘most relevant’ to people’s fic writing.

Two important bits of context for 1960s schools: Student rights and desegregation.

‘Old school’-

Real quick terminology was a little different to refer to schools like elementary school would sometimes be “primary school” (I know this is still the case in Europe/Canada but large parts of the us no longer say this) or “grammar school” as a sort of preschool- early elementary range.

Junior high was also more common for a middle school but still used today in some parts. The age layout used to be different, sometimes depending on where you were kids from 12-18 would all be in the same huge school.

There were no smart boards or whiteboards. Chalkboards, pull down maps — students turned in everything either in cursive or written on a type writer! (There were entire typing classes for this skill as well. Then again when computers were slowly implemented in the 1980s) there were projectors however — either overhead, slide projector(which goes through a bunch of small photos aka slides) or a movie projector for educational film!

Copies were different too, worksheets would likely be from a Ditto (which had a particular smelling ink students loved).

What students carried-

No backpacks! It’s not until the mid 80s this really becomes a thing for schools. Lockers were used and you’d just carry home what books or materials needed, sometimes there were books traps which were mainly used by younger students (it’s a belt that goes around your books basically) girls would sometimes bring larger purses so they’d be able to carry the books too.

This is why there’s the trope of “oh Billy carry my books for me?💕” or students walking home with everything in their arms like in Halloween (1978)

Textbooks were pricey and the students responsibility so there’d be textbook covers! Sometimes nice ones were made when there’s something you like on it but if you’re poor or want your own custom ability you’d use a paper grocery bag.

There are those who buy lunch but if you bring it you either have a tin lunchbox or a brown paper bag (sack lunch) no cloth ones.

As mentioned above there was a lot more “life skills” based classes than there are today, some may exist in more rural communities but a lot of these got cut. Typing classes, drivers ed (in school!!), shop (Auto, wood and Metal), home economics -> from cooking, laundry, balancing checkbook etc.

Being called on/corrected-

Students weren’t people until the late 60s. I’m not kidding there were Supreme Court cases as there was a tendency of treatment and rights being actually acquainted to prisoners.

Dress codes weren’t as strict as the 40s and 50s but you’re still not wearing a tube top and daisy dukes to school. However the 60s are the age of teen rebellion…

Corporal punishment! You were allowed to be hit by a teacher if deemed necessary. Sending to the office/punishment in general was also more common : detention, suspension, expulsion etc (I mean this as actual and not just irrational as lately there’s been almost too lax)

Truancy officers! Making sure kids are in school, not skipping, missing etc.

There also seems to be more academic demand and rigor on the outside looking in on the time period, however I’ll say it with a grain of salt as some of it may be a ‘back in my day’ style…

Locality-

In a small or rural town school events would mean far more, especially back then. Clubs, fundraisers, carnivals and sports all were a huge part of students and the communities social life! Going to watch the football game was a big thing. Same goes for school dances like prom and homecoming.

This also makes things like superlatives, awards, sports wins etc more impactful.

[i-am-countess-olivia]

A short pre-canon Fitzier treat for you all today.

Whale Fish Islands, July, 1845. Francis witnesses James' canoe accident and it kind of messes him up.

--

Nose crinkled, Hodgson stares. “Dear God, the smell of him, sir. What is that? Seal fat?”

Francis doesn't reply. To the native man who stands before them clutching close a sack of wares to barter, he gestures and says in the local tongue: “Show.”

The man's eyes widen in surprise then narrow again in mistrust. He glances back at the toy-sized vessel he's dragged on board with him, as if to ensure it's still there. The bustle of bodies around them seems to unsettle: crates and canisters winched up, shunted and stacked by strange, shouting men who, as they pass, cast at him uncharitable glances.

The sun blazes above, burnishing the clear, calm waters of their anchorage and the distant jagged line of bergs. They've been toiling since four o'clock that morning, steadily dropping deeper into the harbour under new weight, and still the Barretto Junior isn't even half unloaded yet. And still no sign of Francis' tea.

Francis nods again and raises a reassuring smile. "Show," he repeats.

After some reluctance, the man squats down and begins to unpack his cargo, carefully and piece by piece, as if he were handling rare treasure.

Bundles of dried cod skins, scraps of animal skin, whale bone picks and crude figurines line the boards. Cured seal bladders filled with God knows what.

“Poor fellow," says Hodgson, fixated on the sight. "What a pitiful display—“

“The coal, Lieutenant Hodgson," Francis says abruptly."Will you see to it that we're making the most of the little space we have? Paths should be kept clear."

Hodgson blinks up from the spread as if torn from a dream. "Sir," he mutters and takes his leave.

Francis crouches down beside the man and points to the bladders. "What's this?"

The man picks up one and loosens the knotted twine. He holds up the open pouch to Francis' nose.

Inside Francis sees heaps of some dried berry, black and shrivelled, smaller than a currant. The musk of the pouch hits him first, harsh and brown. But something quickly cuts through: a dark, sour, wilted floral aroma that pulls Francis with all the violence of sensory memory to the hedgerows of his childhood, to a warm summer only just collapsing into autumn and his boy's fingers turned blue with brambles and damson skins—

"What use?" Francis asks.

The man spreads a grin of brown teeth. “Add water and drink," he says and thumps his chest. "Good for bad heart."

Francis closes his eyes and breathes again. Transported. Far from here.

He wants to ask: do you have more? And fresh? He doesn't know the word for fresh.

But then the shouting begins.

"Captain! Starboard, quick!"

Francis' heart whips cold in his chest. He leaps up, berries rolling wild across the deck, crushed underfoot as he sprints to where the crowd is gathering, pointing, shouting—

His heart, frantic, alarm bells ringing. He's down south and three years ago: they've only just leapt onto new land, together and triumphant, he and James, when from Terror's whale-boat a man tries to follow, doesn't grab the rope, stumbles as he jumps. The look of horror on James' face—

Man overboard.

Laughter rings.

"Ha! Must've begged them off the Eskis."

"How'd he get himself into that tiny bloody thing?"

Francis roars orders, pushes them aside. For a moment the blazing blue dome of sky blinds him and then he shields his eyes and sees:

The huge black cradle of Erebus looming behind, three of her officers bobbing precariously on the water in the tiny crescents of native canoes, circling a boat which has diverted from the transport. The four men inside it casting a net of strong arms to grip, to drag out of the sun-gilded harbour — Fitzjames.

They get him steady. They're looking for a blanket to throw over him. He shakes off like an animal, laughs, claps backs, clasps his rescuers' hands, waves to his companions still upright in the water.

Then, for a fleeting instant — or is it just Francis' fancy? — he turns and glances back at Terror.

Dark streams of hair plaster the Commander's face. Dark streams of seaweed plaster his bare legs.

Francis turns and walks away.

--

That evening, heavy with the weight of years to come, Terror sits deep in the harbour.

Francis sits in his cabin and repeatedly slides his hand into a satchel of dried berries: fondling, stirring, then taking out his fingers for a smell.

After a while, he grabs a parchment and begins:

My dear James—

He writes wildly for half a page:

—four men, pulled away from their duties to drag him from the water like some prized specimen, all to amuse—

He crosses out the lines and rubs too hard at his eyes. Behind them, the native man grins: good for bad heart.

He goes again:

—and you should see him floundering with the Fox, what did he have, three weeks' instruction at Woolwich? James, I can't—

No. He can't. Francis drowns the lines in ink then scrunches the wet page.

He gets up, feeds the letter to the stove. By the light of the flames, he examines his ink-stained fingers: blue, like they were during those ancient summers when he could still keep himself warm.

---

END. The berries I imagined as being empetrum nigrum. They probably have vitamin C!

[malk1ns]

Tbh I would love to be a fly on the wall to hear exactly what the Pens were promising Geno. Maybe even bringing Mario in to assure, reassure, and re-reassure Geno's people that Sidney is 100% an untouched virgin.

Anything to get Geno's breeding rights of course

of course!!!

Zhenya sighs as he drags his cursor over the screen, copying the email text and pasting it into the translation software he sprung for a few years ago.

He can speak English just fine. Has to, after all the people he's dealt with. Reading and writing, though, is an entirely different beast, and one he's not all that interested in dedicating much time to.

He just wishes the Penguins would bother to translate their little notes before sending them along.

Technically, they're not supposed to be sending him communications on the side at all. Zhenya's agent was very clear about that up front, when the Penguins front office first reached out—if Zhenya were to consider uprooting his entire life all for one omega, even one as exceptional as Sidney Crosby, everything was to be negotiated above-board and by the book. That means running everything through layers and layers of legal channels before anything gets decided.

Zhenya doesn't have much patience for that. He has hockey to play and other appointments to keep, and this whole hypothetical could drag out for years.

It appears that Mario Lemieux feels the same. He'd started emailing Zhenya on the side as soon as Zhenya's agent indicated he was interested in exploring the opportunity, straight from his personal email account. Sometimes he'll loop in other high-ups within the Penguins organization, but frequently it's just him, sharing footage of Crosby and tantalizing little details that are obviously couched to pique Zhenya's interest.

It bothers him that it works. Crosby is beautiful, of course, with big eyes and a plush red mouth and the ability to put together places on the ice that seems almost otherworldly, but Zhenya likes to think of himself as a professional, not one to have his head turned by an omega more than a decade his junior.

Mario, as an alpha himself, would know exactly how to push Zhenya's buttons. Zhenya would resent the consistent reminders that in the end we're all no more than our instincts, but he has to admire the persistence.

Today's letter, it appears, is about Crosby's experience. Zhenya had responded to Mario's last email with a crude sex joke, one that was frankly below him, but he'd been on his way to an appointment with a particularly well-paying omega, so he'd been bricked up and horny for days in preparation.

Sidney is no virgin, he'll be the first to tell you that, Mario's response starts. He's perhaps less proper than some of the European omegas you're accustomed to; you must understand that he's been through a lot in his career, ever since he was a little boy, and he's used to standing up for himself. He's enjoyed a robust social life since he's been in Pittsburgh— Zhenya snorts —and he's not ashamed of it. Nor should he be. If that's a deal-breaker, you should let your agent know now, because we have no intention of hiding that from you.

Zhenya raises an eyebrow. It might just be the translation software, but this is a slightly more defensive tone than he'd expect Mario Lemieux to take over a team asset. Then again, there was a rumor that Crosby spent time living with Mario's family when he first entered the league—perhaps there's some fondness there beyond what a team owner feels for a high-performing player.

One thing I can promise, though, is that Sidney has never been with an alpha. This has been something that was worked into his contract since his days in junior, and he's always been diligent. He avoids being around alphas when he's cycling, including me—and he's a son to me, there's no risk there. He takes that element of his chastity very seriously. I can assure you that when it comes to alphas, Sidney is entirely unspoiled. He would be yours first, and potentially for longer if things work out.

Both of Zhenya's eyebrows go up at that. It's true that omegas in Russia are generally expected to behave in the traditional fashion—demure, modest, chaste. Zhenya grew up believing that too. But he's a grown man now, he's traveled the continent and been to all sorts of cosmopolitan places and met all sorts of sophisticated people; it didn't take long for him to realize that an omega's worth doesn't necessarily lie in how virginal they've kept themselves.

Sidney Crosby is special, though. Zhenya's watched enough of his footage to know that. Any get of theirs would be extraordinary. And the idea of being the first to have Crosby that way, the first to awaken his instincts like only an alpha can in an omega...it's more tempting than it should be, considering how long Zhenya's been doing this.

He doesn't bother reading the rest of Mario's email. Instead, he sends a note to his agent requesting an update on the negotiations with Pittsburgh, as well as a copy of his current contract with Metallurg. He wants to take a look at the termination clause, so he's ready when the time comes.

He wants to go to Pittsburgh.

[songforeddiemunson]

Haunting in Blackwood Hollow Part 2

An Eddie Munson x F!Reader Miniseries

Series Summary: It’s the year 1991. Eddie and reader check into a rented house in the Appalachian woods, joined by Nancy, Jonathan, Steve, and Robin. Unfortunately for our gang, things in Blackwood Hollow are never as they appear.

Tropes: established relationship, Jonathan x Nancy, no mention of the events from ST, smut, comedy, fluff, scares, bit of whump (but nothing too crazy)

Series Warnings: Swearing, drinking and weed use, sexual and scary situations, minors please DNI.

Chapter Two: Fool Me Once

Chapter warnings: naughty language, mentions of drinking, weed use. Smut, p in v sex, bit rough (you like it) wrap it before you tap it. Spooky situations

Author's Note: Thanks so much for the smut inspo, @hiscrimsonangel (with this post haha iykyk)

Word Count: ~3K

PART ONE

You stayed up quite late that first night catching up with your old friends, drinking cans of pilsner or oversweet margarita mix from sticky solo cups, laughing your asses off, the ouija board forgotten and back in its box. No longer a big fan of heavy drinking yourself, you cut yourself off after just a few drinks, preferring the more mellow buzz of herb than bubbles. 

Jonathan got quite drunk, which was a riot, and his friendly ribbing of Steve always increased in that state, to the delight of everyone in the room. Despite Steve’s history with Nancy (and subsequently Jonathan), the three of them managed to become great friends. 

Robin bemoaned what she referred to as her perpetual spinsterhood, making you all laugh; “I don’t think you can legally call yourself a spinster at 23,” Steve said. “Just enjoy not being tied down yet,” he finished, causing the rest of the room to tease him for projecting, considering he couldn’t seem to find his one-and-only either (but he pretended he didn’t mind, fooling nobody). 

Steve dated plenty, but Robin struggled with it more than he did for obvious reasons. The two of them were roommates for a time in Indianapolis before going their separate ways. The catalyst; one of Steve’s hookups once implied she would like Robin to join them in the bedroom, which horrified them both so much they ultimately got separate places but still lived on the same block. Robin managed a coffee shop and spoke about her wish to try out for the Indianapolis Philharmonic, which thrilled her but made her so nervous she became nauseated whenever she thought about it for too long. Steve had been employed as a junior high school basketball coach for the past year and decided he would like to go back to school for academic sports; he loved working with the kids.

Nancy filled in the group regarding her grad school studies at Columbia University in New York City for journalism. It was hard work but, true to form, Nancy was excelling, and she had a bright future in print journalism in the city. Jonathan had relocated to be with her and was working as a freelance photographer when he wasn’t working in the kitchen of a popular Brooklyn restaurant. He had ultimately decided not to pursue college and chose to support Nancy instead, thinking that would be the best chance for them as a couple. It caused a lot of friction at first, with Nancy initially pushing Jonathan to go to college, but they were able to work through it and had come out stronger.

After high school Eddie had tried his hand at being a musician, mechanic, bartender and assorted other odd jobs with limited success, and ultimately decided to attend vocational school to become a tattoo artist, which was truly his calling. All the doodles he made for Corroded Coffin and the Hellfire Club paid off, and he was one of the most sought-after ink artists in St. Louis, earning enough for the two of you to live in a nice apartment, despite your modest salary as an administrative assistant for a dentist’s office.  

You were all thriving, and it was wonderful to celebrate each other’s successes. The wedding rehearsal was the following evening, and you looked forward to catching up with the younger kids there– “kids” who were all legal adults by this time; a fact that none of you could believe nor enjoyed thinking about. You were all relieved that you weren’t staying with them, despite the less than ideal location in which you found yourselves; those kids were like a pack of ferrets on cocaine, especially when they were all together. It would be too much, so you stuck with your own age bracket.

Finally, around two in the morning, Robin decided to turn in. Nancy and Jonathan followed about fifteen minutes later, leaving you and Eddie alone with Steve.

You stretched and yawned. “I think it’s time for bed. You coming Eddie?”

Eddie waggled his eyebrows at you. “I don’t know, am I?” he asked, his voice dripping with hyperbolic innuendo.

You laughed and gave him a smack on his tightly bedenimed rear end. “Just get moving, Munson.” 

“Yes ma’am,” he saluted, while Steve rolled his eyes.

It turns out that mercifully, someone did actually change the sheets.

A blessing, honestly, considering you were currently tangled up in them, with the sharp bones of Eddie’s pelvis almost painfully pressing into the soft flesh of your thighs. The bed, old and squeaky with a metal frame that resembled something out of a cold war era prison, was a loud testament to the rhythm of your sex. You couldn’t be bothered to care much, since it felt incredible. The few cans of PBR you had chugged didn’t hurt either.

Eddie had you pinned to the mattress, caged between his arms as he nuzzled and suckled your neck, punctuating soft kisses with nips that would surely leave a mark. You enjoyed it like this sometimes, when he would manhandle you just a bit, claiming you, marking you, and fucking you roughly into the mattress. Sure, there was a time and place for soft lovemaking, but sometimes, you just wanted to be nailed.

“Feel so good baby,” he murmured into your ear, barely more than an exhalation, most of his efforts being concentrated on slamming his cock into your depths. You could barely do more than wiggle and squeal with the way he had you immobilized, which seemed to heighten every sensation. Even his breathy little grunts and gasps were sending you into the stratosphere. You clawed at his back, and the resulting moan in your ear helped bring on climax number three, and you bit into Eddie’s shoulder to stifle your cries.

Eddie’s pace began to falter, and he grasped your waist roughly with his fingers as he shuddered and thrust to his own completion, ending with a final grind of his hips against your sensitive clit, making you yelp. “Ha,” he burst triumphantly; he could be a cocky shit when it came to the pleasures he could draw out of you. He also wasn’t wrong. 

After a tender kiss, Eddie rolled off of you and retrieved his boxers from the floor, sliding them on before fumbling around on the bedside table for his smokes.  He lay back down with his back propped up against the pillow, lighting a cigarette and sighing contentedly. He looked at you and grinned.

“You think everyone heard us?”

You chuckled. “I don’t see how they couldn’t,” you said, as you dressed in a tank top and sweatpants. “This bed is so squeaky, it almost wasn’t worth even trying to be quiet.” 

Eddie laughed. “You sound so cute though when you try,” he said as he flicked his ash into the ashtray on his nightstand. “All squeaky and whiny,” he finished with a wink.

“How dare you,” you joked. “I’m a vision of propriety.”

“Properly fucked, you mean.”

“Eddie!” you scolded, laughing.

“I’ll take it back when it stops being true darlin.’” 

“You’re the worst,” you countered.

“You love me,” he said.

“Dammit, you’re right, I do,” you said. You bent to kiss him, and as you pressed your lips to his, you felt him smile.

“I love you too babe,” he said. 

It was incredible, how he could still make your heart beat faster after all this time.

You headed into the ensuite bathroom and started to go through your usual bedtime routine of brushing your teeth and washing your face. You were suddenly struck by how exhausted you were; between traveling, cleaning, drinking (and smoking) and some vigorous sex, you were thoroughly spent. You glimpsed through the open bathroom door that Eddie had picked up his paperback of Needful Things, and was reading it by the light of the table lamp.

You clicked off the bathroom light and were just about to exit when something caught your eye out of the window. You peered closer to the thick glass to get a better look.  

There was someone standing below on the lawn.

You couldn’t make out any details, but you had the sudden, hair-raising sense that whoever it was was looking right at you.

You jumped backward in alarm.  "Eddie!” you shouted. 

He was out of bed and by your side in an instant. “What?!  A rat?  Why are you standing in the dark, babe?”  He peered around the room intently.

“No, down there!”  You pointed out the window, down onto the grass, but now the figure was gone.  “But…but it was there a second ago…”

Eddie bent to the glass for a closer look, brows furrowed.  "I don’t see anything. What was it?“

"A person! They were definitely standing down there. And babe– I swear it was looking at me.”

A look of intense wariness crossed his features, and he straightened, all business.  "Are you sure?“

"Yes! It was right there!”

“Stay here.”  He was out of the bathroom like a shot. He quickly pulled on his flannel pajama pants and strode from the bedroom.  You waited with your heart in your throat as you heard the front door below you creak open.  You watched out the window as Eddie came into view on the lawn, carrying a fireplace poker in one hand. He clicked on a flashlight and began to sweep the property with it.  It was late, and the shadows from the trees that peppered the property created long ribbons of darkness across the grass that the lights from the house were unable to penetrate.  You realized that it must have been difficult for Eddie to see out there, even armed with a flashlight, and you broke into gooseflesh at the thought.

Screw this, I’m not leaving him alone out there, you thought to yourself, and left the bathroom.  Eddie hadn’t turned on any of the lights in his wake, and in the darkness the house had taken on an even more sinister quality than when you had arrived. You tried to push it out of your mind, dismissing it as the aftershock from your scare. It permeated regardless, with a nearly palpable weight. You hurried downstairs and toward the front door, clicking on lights as you went.  The downstairs area was deserted; everyone else must have also turned in. You quickly scanned the entry area for a weapon, finding only an umbrella. It would have to do.

You stepped outside, eyes sweeping the lawn for Eddie, hearing only crickets as you peered into the trees. In the moments since you had taken your eyes off of him he had disappeared from view. Your heart was pounding and your breath misted around you in the chilly night air.  You crept forward slowly, and you found that your eyes were having difficulty adjusting to the darkness. The shadows were too inconsistent. Anyone could be watching me from those trees and I’d never know it, you thought. Dammit babe, where did you go? 

“Babe?” you called softly.  Silence. “Eddie,” you called again, a little louder this time. Was that a twig snapping?

“What?” said a voice, from directly behind you.

You squeaked with fright and whirled, striking out with the umbrella.  "Ow, what the fuck?!“ Eddie bent forward, clutching his head.

"Oh my fucking god Eddie! You scared me!”

He rubbed his head in irritation where you had whacked him, mussing up his curls. “What are you doing out here? I asked you to stay inside!”

“I’m sorry! I couldn’t just stand there waiting for you. Are you alright?” you stood on your toes to get a better look at your boyfriend’s scalp, but thankfully there was no blood.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said, then sighed resignedly.  "I didn’t see anything in front, so I circled round the back to be sure. There’s nothing out here that I can see.  Are you sure you saw someone?“

"Positive.”

“Your eyes couldn’t have been playing tricks on you?”

“Edward,” you said, your voice taking on an acerbic tone. “You know I’m not prone to hysterics.”

“Fair enough,” he shrugged, and hugged you to him.  "Maybe it was Steve or something.”

“If it was, where is he now? I didn’t see anyone when I came downstairs.”

Eddie could only shrug at that.

Once back inside, he bolted the front door. "Seems solid,” he said.  He went around the house and checked to be sure all the windows and the back door were locked, and when he was satisfied, you went back to the bedroom together.  As you passed Jonathan and Nancy’s room, Jonathan opened the door and poked his head out, his hair mussed and sticking up in every direction.  

“Someone scream?” he mumbled blearily.

“Eddie saw a spider, go back to bed,” you said. Eddie shot daggers at you with his eyes, but a slight upward curl of his lips belied his irritation. Jonathan only nodded and closed his door.

Back in your own room, you undressed and crawled under the covers, snuggling up to Eddie.

It was quiet for a moment, but the wheels in your mind were still turning. “Maybe it was just a local cutting across the lawn on the way somewhere. They may not be used to the house being occupied,” you offered.

"Maybe,” Eddie replied, but he didn’t sound convinced. “Will the light bother you if I read for a while?” he asked.

“Not at all,” you said.  "Going to sleep with the light on will be okay with me tonight.”

The following morning you shuffled downstairs for breakfast, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as your housemates warmed up the oatmeal or ate the boxed cereals that Nancy helpfully supplied the previous evening.

“Did anyone see or hear anything strange last night?” you asked the group as you poured yourself a cup of hot coffee.

“I think I did,” Steve began. “Some sort of instrument I think. What was that Robin?”

“Bedsprings,” Robin stated simply as she swallowed a bite of peaches ‘n cream flavored oatmeal, looking the worse for wear.

“Uh, besides that,” you said, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks. Eddie laughed.

“Don’t hate,” he said.

“I heard Eddie scream at a spider,” Jonathan said, and this time it was your turn to laugh.

“It was NOT me, and it was not a fucking spider!” Eddie yelled, offended by the notion.

“No,” you said, quelling your giggles. “It was actually me. I– I thought I saw someone outside last night, watching me when I was getting ready for bed.”

Steve sat forward, suddenly wide awake. “Wait, really?”

You nodded. “Eddie went out to look for whoever it was but he didn’t find anything.”

“Oh shit,” Robin said, “that’s the last thing I needed to hear. Can we go to a hotel now?”

“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation,” Nancy said. “Maybe it was just a local?”

“The nearest neighbors are a quarter mile away,” you said. 

“I dunno,” Jonathan chimed in, “you hear stories about cannibals living in the woods in Appalachia…”

“That’s a gross stereotype,” Robin scolded.

“Feel free to ignore him,” Nancy said with a sigh.

“My mom was from Appalachia!” Eddie spat.

“Okay, nevermind,” Jonathan said, as he shrank down in his seat and went back to his oatmeal.

“Well if it wasn’t a local, what could it have been?” Steve asked.

“Maybe messing with the ouija board woke something up,” Robin said, and though you normally didn’t place much stock in those things, you felt something akin to an ice cold finger trail down your spine. You shivered.

Steve chuckled. “You can’t be serious.”

“No really!” Robin cried defensively. “In the movie Witchbo–”

“I am not using a shitty 80s horror film as a guidebook!” Steve shouted.

“Whatever,” Robin said. “If you guys get murdered by an evil axe-wielding ouija spirit, you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You laughed it off along with everyone else, yet the idea wouldn’t leave you. It was unsettling, to put it mildly.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie was studying your expression. You did always wear your emotions on your sleeve, and he could sense your unease.

“So,” Eddie said. "What’s everyone wearing to the wedding?"

His umber eyes slid over to yours as the conversation devolved into fashion and hairstyling chatter.

Thank you, you mouthed to your boyfriend, and his Mona Lisa smile wordlessly said, I’ve got you. And he did, that much you would never be unsure about. Regardless of what was happening in your life, Eddie Munson would always have your back, which made you feel very lucky indeed. 

You didn’t know it yet, but it was a sentiment you would come to rely upon much more in the days to come. 

To Be Continued...

More is coming! As always, comments and reblogs are the lifeblood of every fic writer!

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