cabinpres_fic: (Default)
cabinpres_fic ([personal profile] cabinpres_fic) wrote2012-05-29 05:28 am

Prompting Post V

Please see the most recent MOD NOTE and ADDENDUM

(updated 5 July)

Welcome everybody. How you got here I have no idea but thank you for coming and welcome again, nonetheless . As you may have gathered this is a Fic Prompting Meme dedicated solely to the hilarious and oh-so-addictive BBC Radio 4 sitcom - Cabin Pressure. I'm aiming for this to be pretty anything goes - but in order for everything to run smoothly, there are a few guidelines. Don't worry - they're not too restrictive.


As you probably all know - our meme now has it's very own database created and maintained by the great Enigel. It both catalogues each and every prompt that we post and provides links to fills. You can find it here: Google Spreadsheet

We also have a Pinboard archive which has been put in place by the lovely [personal profile] oxfordtweed in the place of our late Delicious Archive. This Archive contains a list of all the prompts this meme has to offer - you can find it here: Pinboard Archive

This is a great step forward in making our meme just a little more organised (but not too organised of course. This is Cabin Pressure) which is always a good thing.

So in order to make things easier to archive - Please nest your fills.

This can be done by either posting each part as a reply to that part's immediate predecessor, OR by replying each time to Part I OR - well you get the idea :D

It makes it simpler for Enigel and myself to link fills in a clean and clear manner. Following these guildelines will be very much appreciated guys :D


Reprompting is allowed but please include the URL of the original prompt when you do so. It will make it infinitely more easy to Archive which would make both Enigel and I very happy :)

As for everything else

  1. Be respectful to one another. Disagreements are fine, but not everything disagreeable is trolling. If you suspect someone of trolling, just ignore it. If you cannot respond to a comment without attacking or trolling someone else, keep it to yourself.

  2. No bashing prompts. It might not be your cup of tea - but obviously someone wants it enough to go to the effort of requesting it. So just scroll past it.

  3. Prompt away as much as you like guys - seriously, go wild - but please try to fill as well.

  4. NEW - If your fill includes a major element that veers from the original prompt (crossovers, established universes, kinks, et cetera), please take a few moments to check with the OP that such additions are welcome. This has caused problems in the past and it only takes a few moments of your time.
  5. Please no RPF. I'm not trying to oppress you RPF writers and enthusiasts, I would just really like to avoid any legal problems.

  6. When you post a fill (or post a new part of a WIP) please go over to the Filled Prompts Post (if it is complete) or the WIP Post (if there are still more parts to come) and, following each post's guideline's, post a link to this fill or new part.


According to numerous Child Safety laws it is illegal to provide pornographic material to minors. Seeing that the majority of the stuff we have here is rather adult in nature, this Meme is consequently an 18+ zone. Failing to comply to this rule could result in the Meme getting shut down. So if you're here and you're under 18 please back button now.

+ Please do not post anything regarding minors in a sexual situation. It really doesn't matter how tasteful or crass it is, there are laws that classify that sort of thing as child pornography and as such, I'm afraid we're going to have to go with the attitude that safe is better than sorry.

It really is VERY important that these rules are upheld as the consequences are severe.

Other than that - go crazy guys. Any problems please just message me and I'll try my best to work it out.

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Prompt Index

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fractionallyfoxtrot: (Default)

Fill: 5 times Martin failed to have his first shag and the 1 time when he did (2/4)

[personal profile] fractionallyfoxtrot 2012-06-28 03:51 am (UTC)(link)

Celeste was also far too attractive to be spending any of her time with Martin; she was a classic example of how far one's standards could be lowered when one was using another body to escape the troubles that plagued mind and spirit. Her motives were clear even to Martin. He might have felt slightly more put out if he wasn't essentially doing the same.

Coming down from his fifth, yes fifth, attempt to get his CPL left Martin with nothing but the desire to be anywhere that wasn't his dank attic room where he was alone and a failure, two of his least favorite things. As depressing as his outlook on life was becoming, the tiny ember of determination that still barely glowed inside of him wouldn't let him turn to drugs on the rationale that addiction would be much harder to explain to a future employer than incompetence. However Martin was quickly running out of money for alcohol which left sex as the only remaining option for distracting him from his troubles, as Martin could only assume it would.

Celeste should have been perfect for that. She was older than Martin, with experience he could've benefited from, and she had plans to use him to forget about her own troubles, something involving her husband and a cocktail waitress, or was it a bartender, he hadn't really been listening. She was nice enough, buying Martin a drink and offering him sympathy for his recent failure before inviting him back to hers. Also, Celeste was keen; no one had given Martin a second look in years but Celeste was dragging him inside before the taxi driver finished counting his fare.

Martin went through the motions, following her into the living room and falling with her onto the couch. He kept his eyes closed as they kissed; the color of her hair reminded him of an experience that usually kept Martin away from blondes... and rugby. Celeste whispered suggestions as her hands moved over his body, things that she wanted Martin to do to her, some of which he was afraid he didn't know how to do. Fear of the unknown had never kept Martin from putting forth a good effort but, in this case, his heart just wasn't in it.

Neither was his cock.

Celeste's hand slid between his legs but there was very little for her to stroke or grab.


Martin pulled himself away from her lips and buried his face in the crux of her neck. He should’ve felt more embarrassed; he was a perfectly healthy man, lying with a good looking woman who was more than willing to take his unmentioned virginity, and yet his body showed no interest in that prospect. He tried to fish around in his mind for inspiration--that bloke in the business suit at the bus stop, the woman who worked in the shop, the newest student to move into the house--but nothing could stir his cock from its lackadaisical mood.

Maybe it was because he was tired, maybe it was because he’d had some to drink, maybe it was because he was fed up with the world treating him like its personal punching bag; Martin couldn’t give a fuck that he couldn’t get it up to fuck.

He lifted his head to look at the confused expression on Celeste’s face. Martin doubted that this had ever happened to her before; in fact he was quite sure that Celeste had never failed to arouse a man and, as a person well experienced in disappointing sexual encounters, he felt a fleeting pang of guilt for what this might do to her confidence.

“Sorry to have wasted your time,” Martin apologised as he got up from the couch.

Martin was glad she didn’t say anything as he left. He wouldn’t have had anything to add; he was content just to be the one who walked away for once.


Martin never imagined that his embarrassing excuse for a sex life could actually get more embarrassing.

Then he fell off a bed.

He just lay there, seeing no reason to get up and put himself through any more humiliation. Martin had landed on his shoulder and he worried about how it would affect the upcoming van jobs he desperately needed to make it through the month. He pushed himself onto his back, feeling the carpet rub against his bare back and arse, and stared up at the ceiling.

Arthur poked his head over the edge of the bed and looked down at him.

“Are you all right, Skip?” he asked.

Martin crossed his arms over his face, trying to ignore the niggling thought that Carolyn was probably somewhere in the house and would have definitely heard the thud.

"I'm fine, Arthur," Martin sighed. "But if it's all the same to you, I think I'll just go home."


Martin was at the end of his tether.

They’d been stuck at the smallest, dingiest airfield Martin had ever seen, and that was really saying something, for hours. The client was the well-to-do older brother of the airfield manager and he’d hired MJN to fly him there so he could inform his younger brother that he was buying the airfield and taking it off his hands. This, of course, sparked a heated argument between the siblings, the result of which was the airfield manager refusing to give them clearance to take off until his older brother, as he so eloquently put it, ‘took the contract and shoved it up his arse.’

The heat of the day had turned everyone into the worst versions of themselves. Carolyn argued with the brothers, trying to side with whoever seemed like MJN’s ticket out of the standoff, and ended up calling them both idiots. Douglas had won every game he could come up with to pass the time and had taken to playing Twenty Questions with Martin’s life, regardless of whether or not Martin wanted to play. Arthur was Arthur; nothing was more grating than to hear that things were ‘brilliant’ when they clearly were not brilliant.

After Douglas’ last series of questions came perilously close to unveiling that Martin was a virgin, even without any answers from Martin, he decided to take his leave from the airfield manager’s office, exchanging the comfort of air conditioning for the relief of silence. Martin wandered into the rundown hangar where he saw a man circling GERTI with a mix of confusion and distaste on his face.

“Can I help you?” Martin asked.

The man turned from his inspection of the aeroplane and gave Martin a once over.

“Is this your plane, mate?” he questioned, knocking a hand against the fuselage.

“Yes. Why?”

“Piece of rubbish she is.”

“What?” Martin bristled. The man looked a little surprised by Martin’s response; he gave a curt nod as if his observation was obvious. “She is not,” Martin replied firmly. “She may be getting on in years but GERTI is a fine piece of aerospace engineering.”

“‘Aerospace engineering’?” he laughed. He slapped GERTI with the flat of his hand and Martin cringed involuntarily at the rattling noise she made. “She’s more gaffer tape and string than she is engineering. Calling her an aeroplane would be an insult to aeroplanes.”

On a different day, Martin might’ve left the dirty, arrogant man alone with his opinion but his tolerance for other people’s opinions about his life had run out. As the captain, an insult to his aircraft was the same as an insult to himself and Martin was not going to stand there and take it. He straightened his captain’s hat and stepped towards the man, determined to defend his aircraft even if the other man was taller and broader than he was.

“Who are you to make such assessments about my aircraft?” Martin demanded.

The man crossed his arms over his chest and squared his body to Martin’s. “The name’s Darren and I’m the chief engineer at this airfield,” he answered.

“‘Chief engineer’?” Martin scoffed. “Judging by the size of this place, I’d guess you’re the only engineer. Congratulations on beating out yourself for such a prestigious position.”

Darren tensed at the accusation but he didn’t make any attempt to refute it. The scowl on his face hardened as he stomped into Martin’s personal space. He looked over Martin again, his gaze landing on the hat perched atop Martin’s head.

“I should congratulate you, Captain,” Darren said, mockery dripping from his last word. “It must take great skill to pilot an aircraft that looks like it should’ve fallen out of the sky ages ago.”

Martin did his best to stand tall in the face of Darren’s glare. “I’ll have you know that I conduct a meticulous walk around before each and every flight. There is nothing wrong with my aircraft.”

“‘Nothing wrong’?” Darren repeated. He thrust an arm back to point at GERTI. “The rear tires are nearly bald.”

Martin lifted his chin defiantly. “There is nothing wrong with my aircraft.”

“It’s leaking hydraulics fluid.”

“There is nothing wrong with my aircraft.”

“The whole thing smells like fish!” Darren shouted.

“Then someone turned on the second ‘No Smoking’ sign even though everyone knows not to turn it on!”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard a pilot say!”

I am a captain!

Martin snapped. His temper flared out of control as his sense of propriety shattered, already worn thin from hours of heat and arguing. He shouted at the top of his lungs and his body shook with anger. Martin’s hands balled into fists at his side, as if his body was preparing for an altercation.

Darren also snapped. He lunged at Martin but not in the way Martin’s body had prepared for. Darren caged Martin’s face in his hands, assaulting Martin’s mouth with his own with such force that it knocked the hat off Martin’s head. Everything about it was rough; the dry air-chapped lips that threatened to devour his, the irritation of Darren’s five o’clock shadow, the grip he held on Martin’s head.

It took Martin’s mind a few moments to recover and catch up to the situation. He opened his mouth to argue, to protest and push the engineer off of him, but Darren seized the opportunity to stick his tongue in Martin’s mouth making the pilot’s complaints morph into hungry moans of lust. Martin grabbed Darren’s grease-smeared shirt in both hands and pressed forward, returning the other man’s finesseless kiss and receiving a grunt of approval when he nipped not so nicely at Darren’s lower lip.

Darren dragged Martin back to the farthest corner of the hangar, away from the relentless sun and GERTI’s wary watch. They crashed into his office; Darren grabbed Martin around the waist and dropped him onto the desk. Even sitting on the desk, Martin wasn’t as tall as Darren so he ran his hands through the engineer’s short hair and pulled him back down to the combative kiss. They fought each other for control, neither man willing to let the other be fully responsible for the tense, but heated, pleasure.

Hands fell to Martin’s trousers, making quick work of his belt and fly. His fingers dug into Darren’s arms when the engineer’s skilled hand wrapped around Martin’s cock, giving it a stroke through his pants. Martin’s head fell to Darren’s shoulder and he grit his teeth against the feel of a hand on his cock that wasn’t his own. Martin whimpered, a sound he’d deny until his dying day, as a thumb rubbed over the dampening head.

“I’d let every scrap of junk land here if I knew someone like you was sitting in the cockpit,” Darren muttered next to Martin’s ear.

“She isn’t scrap or junk,” Martin complained. “She’s an aeroplane.”

“Barely,” Darren chuckled.

Martin pushed away from the other man, his features pulling into a frown despite the hand on his cock. “No,” he said sternly, “she is an aeroplane and a perfectly dependable one at that.”

“One you can depend on to kill you.”

“She is not.”

“She is too.” Martin opened his mouth to argue and Darren stepped back, taking his hands away from Martin and staring at him in disbelief. “Are you really going to fight me on this? Now? Even though it’s painfully obvious that she can barely perform the one function she was made to do?”

The last barb stoked Martin’s anger, causing his ire to burn hotter than his lust. He couldn’t, no, he wouldn’t stand for it; GERTI didn’t have to meet anyone’s standards but Martin’s and as long as she flew for him, as long as she had the power to take them away from this hellhole, he would defend her.

With as much dignity as he could muster with his trousers undone, Martin pushed Darren aside and got down from the desk. He held his trousers up and marched out of the office. Martin pulled up his fly and fastened his belt as he walked back to the front of the hangar, stopping only to pick up his fallen hat. He brushed some dirt off and set it on his head. He looked up at GERTI and gently pat her with his hand, letting his fingers trail along her underbelly as he headed back to the airfield manager’s office.

There was nothing wrong with GERTI, just as there was nothing wrong with her Captain.

Nothing wrong at all.
Edited 2012-06-28 04:08 (UTC)