#overloaded so pretty much nothing got cleaned

[edmunderson]

took a day off of dish duty and my god........ apparently i'm one of two people in this house who knows how to load the dishwasher right

[charliemwrites]

Government Asset Soap! This is half of the last part (the smut got too long and I wanted to post this dammit).

Original concept comes from @ceilidho’s military asset Soap. Further inspiration came from @391780’s Nikto version “The Summons”. Both are very good and you should definitely check out!!

Content: Post-trauma coping, Non-Con Touching and Kissing, Violence (mentioned), Unstable Soap

It’s probably a fire hazard, the candles. They’re sprinkled across your little cabin like fireflies, feeble but steady heartbeats of a home you’re failing to build. Too many of them, likely. Two, sometimes three, per room. Tiny tealights, smokeless soy, scented pine. It would be easier, safer, to just turn on the lamps you foolishly invested in.

You can’t bear anything brighter than golden halogen anymore, though. The glare drags you back to a tiny cell bisected by cruel metal, holding back an even crueler fate. No, you’d much rather wade through pools of shadow and firelight, fire code be damned.

It’s a small cabin, but you’ve already cluttered it up with furniture and rugs, a theme for each room. Yellow and blue for the kitchen. Purple and cream for the den. Green and brown for your bedroom. Nooks to hide in, spaces to squeeze into, big shapes to huddle behind. You’ll never be caught out in a cold, barren room ever again.

Your days are long regardless of the time of year. Get groceries in town every day, making a point to be friendly and seen so that someone might notice if you suddenly stop coming. Clean incessantly, so many surfaces to dust. Pick hobbies like daisies. Knitting and crocheting, different paint styles, felting. You’re contemplating carpentry, would like to build shelves for all the books stacked up in the den. Keep a dream journal by your bed that you neglect for weeks at a time.

You draw out the nights until you can count the hours until dawn on one hand. Stay up baking, making homemade ink, learning new ways to style your hair, anything, anything, anything—

It’s not the sleeping – or at least that’s not the worst of it. It’s the waking.

Laswell suggested a cat.

You told her to stop suggesting pussy to unstable people.

But it’s still not a bad idea. Another living thing to keep you accountable; the plants are pretty and time-consuming, but not good company.

You talk yourself out of it every time, knowing the worst-case scenario. It’s not catastrophizing if it actually happens, and you can feel an invisible time weighing on your shoulders like another gravity. Tick, tick, tick. Heavier, heavier, heavier. It’s hard to breathe beneath the wait.

The military doesn’t do apologies. It does platitudes at best. Well wishes and good intentions are painted in brushstrokes of blood. Victory flags are planted on bodies, living or otherwise. Laswell apologized. She swore that if there had been another way – any other way…

She didn’t promise to leave you alone. Didn’t assure you that you’d never see her or her goons again.

If you thought it would do any good, you’d tip one of the candles over and set it all aflame. Rebirth through fire. But you never did figure yourself for a phoenix. And besides, a phoenix is still itself, even when the ash falls away.

So, you spool out your time like picking at tapestry threads, one thin string at time.

Tonight, it’s bread. Cinnamon chocolate babka, to be specific. You were craving something sweet. Are debating the merits of some sort of cream cheese icing while you shower off the long, ever-busy day.

Have decided on an optimistic why not as you slip out to begin your overly complicated self-care routine. Moisturizers, hair oils, lotion. An unexpected benefit of overloading yourself, you suppose. Even when you first got out of the military, you didn’t take such good care of yourself. You have a jogging route now. You’re handling your trauma every possible way except therapy. (And sleeping.) Better than nothing, you figure.

The candles have gone out in your bedroom. You click your tongue in annoyance, trying to remember where you left the matches this time. Bedside table?

You pad across the soft carpet, using the edge of the bed as a guide in the pitch black. The only other problem with candles is that their humble light doesn’t reach very far. But you know this house and keep the floors tidy enough that you’re confident you won’t trip.

Make it to the nightstand without incident and pat around. Knock the side of your hand into the little carton and only just catch it before it hits the deck. Let out a little huff and start to fumble it open.

“Nice catch, bonnie.”

You gasp, but your voice doesn’t get any farther than the back of your tongue. The box slips from your numb fingers, matchsticks scattering across the floor. He tsks.

“Shame that. We’ll get ‘em later.”

You can’t move. Can barely breathe. You’re just frozen, heart thundering with a sudden storm of fear and confusion. Hands still aloft in front of you, spine rigid, knees locked.

You feel more than hear movement behind you, and then the warmth of his body seeping into your naked skin. Not quite touching. Not yet.

“Missed you, little bird,” he rasps in your ear.

You always thought that in a moment like this you would scream. Kick and elbow and fight, damn your certain loss. But when it comes down to it, survival drowns out all those stupid, haughty ideas about pride and dignity. So you don’t curse and shout like you always fancied you would.

You whisper, “Soap.”

He hums but it sounds like a growl in your panicked state. “Missed me too, aye? You’re already naked fer me.”

His hands are searing when they settle on your waist like they belong there. He pulls you back against him; in the dark he’s bigger, broader than you remember. At least, you think, he’s fully clothed for now.

“What are you… how are you here?” you ask.

He barks a laugh, mean and rough. “Was only a matter of time after that shite they pulled.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and see it recreated in the phosphenes behind your lids.

Soap buried balls deep inside of you, murmuring a constant stream of filth as he got harder and harder inside you. Filling you up as you twitched around him, oversensitive and teary, afraid of what would come next.

Then the lights flashed, flicked red. An alarm sounded, Laswell’s voice ordering Soap away from you. But he just snarled and hunched over you, hips snapping to bury himself right back inside while you cried out.

The locked door swung in, armed guards swarming in. Yanked Soap off you while you scrambled to cover yourself. Someone grabbing your arm none too gently to pull you from the room. Soap wild-eyed and snarling like something possessed, until he was overtaken by struggling guards and you were trembling naked in that damned hallway.

“Was mad at you, at first, cannae lie,” he says, almost conversational. Your eyes snap open, though you know it’ll do you no good. “But I’ve had time to think on it. Wasnae yer fault, was it? Saw them drag you out.”

An awful relief floods you. Fuck dignity, fuck honesty. This is Soap right behind you, completely unrestrained and unsupervised.

“Yeah,” you answer, voice small. “I didn’t know they would do that. What… um. What happened to you?”

He presses his face into your damp hair, pressing closer, snaking his arms to squeeze you against him.

“Sent me off on some shite mission,” he explains, “probably hoped I’d die out there. You smell so good, lass.”

You shiver as his breath ghosts over the sensitive skin of your neck. Hot, humid.

“And… and then what?” you insist, trying to stall.

You’re not sure what you’re stalling for. There will be no miraculous saves here – not that you really got any last time. It’s not like there’s any real plan to be made here, either. None that you’d be confident enough to risk his wrath on.

“Disappeared. Took care of business. Came to get my pretty little bird.”

A rough hand trails over the curve of your hip, brush the neat curls of your mound. You suck in a breath, hands twitching with the urge to stop him but not sure of putting up resistance when you’re still unsure of his mental state.

“And what about you, hm?” he rumbles. “Been a good girl while I’ve been away?”

His fingers dart down towards your entrance, not nearly prepared for anything. Least of all his thick digits.

“Y-yes!” you yelp, grabbing at his wrist. Relief makes you dizzy when you manage to stop him. “I-I’ve been good. Which means I’m not… I can’t just take you. I need… I need prep.”

He huffs, nips at the tender spot beneath your ear. The thrill that shoots through your stomach is terrifying.

“That’s what these are for, bonnie.”

And to your horror, he starts to push past your resistance like your staying hands aren’t there at all.

“John!”

He freezes. You shudder air into your burning lungs, feeling dizzy on panic.

You can get through this without pain, just think.

“I haven’t even got to see you,” you stutter, voice shaky. Can’t quite inject the disappointment you’re trying for, but hopefully it’ll work. “And I bet you’re all dirty from travel.”

He grumbles. “So what?”

You scramble to think of a satisfactory response. “S-so let’s get reacquainted in the shower, yeah? That way I can see your handsome face, at least.”

He chuckles, grazes his teeth “playfully” across your cheek. “Bossy thing.”

“You like it.”

And to your shock, he agrees with an amused huff. Hauls you up in his arms and walks you back to the still muggy bathroom. You’re set on your feet and spun around, chin jerked up to receive a savage kiss. All tongue and teeth, no finesse. He’s just licking into your mouth, hungry and animalistic, spit dribbling down your chin.

When he finally pulls away, you blink spots from your vision. Finally focus on his smug features and make a soft, horrified noise when you register the splatter of crimson across them.

“Och, that? My little bird had watchers.”

Of course you did. The horror ebbs a bit. Resentment has made you indiscriminately bitter.

“Oh,” you say, “th-thank you. Definitely glad we’re showering first, then.”

“Squeamish?”

You’d like to know when the world turned upside down and John fucking “Soap” MacTavish began teasing you about the blood on his face.

“A bit,” you admit.

“Poor dear,” he coos. “Hard to believe we were made for each other sometimes, aye? Complementary, we are.”

Is that what he thinks? Christ.

You turn to start the shower again, spine prickling with the weight of his eyes on your back. The water rushes down and then he’s crowding you against the cold wall beneath the (thankfully) warm spray.

“Y-you’re still dressed!” you protest between sharp nips to your collarbone.

“Fix it, then,” he snarls.

You claw his shirt up his back, get momentarily distracted by the impressive display of muscle hidden beneath. Draw your palms over his chest and feel him shudder.

“Fuckin’ heavenly, love,” he purrs. “Missed this.”

A vague memory comes back to you, him gripping you close because he felt you naked against him for the first time. Him admitting he hasn’t had affectionate touch in a while.

This… this you could work with.

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Masterlist

[longhardtransitionreturns]

Twilight Sleep

Colonel Hutcherson's blonde bombshell wife has been making waves in our small town since the moment she got off the train in a bright red pin up dress with more creamy cleavage on display than our poor farm boys had ever seen. Her sea green eyes, red lips, and shapely hips on top of the longest set of gams in stilettos to ever set foot here immediately made her gossip fodder for the bar flies and the busy bodies.

They said she couldn't buy bras off the rack because her breasts were so big. That she sent all the way to New York for her stockings. That her hair was falling out because of all the peroxide she bought to keep her hair a brilliant platinum white.

Either she already had a baby growing in that flat belly of hers when she came to town or Colonel Hutcherson put one in her right quick because it wasn't long before Ashley Hutcherson’s already obscene titties were spilling out of her tops and her belly was growing straight out like a bullet. She wore her dresses so tight the whole town knew the very day her belly button popped from an innie to an outie.

I knew Ashley, of course, because I was her OBGYN. One thing I figured out quickly is there were no thoughts behind those pretty eyes. Ashley was so dumb she could barely string a sentence together and I had to explain to her how her baby was going to come out of her tiny little fuck hole. The look of horror on her face when she realized she was going to have to push a watermelon out from between her legs was priceless.

And that was without me telling her that she had an extremely narrow pelvis and Colonel Hutcherson made such large babies his last wife had labored for 3 days to squeeze a 14 pounder out. She could barely walk for weeks and she was a regular size farm girl.

Ashley was so relieved when I told her about the miracles of twilight sleep I almost popped in my pants right there. She was delighted she’d just go to sleep and wake up with a baby, none of the mess of having to push it out. 

When the time came, Colonel Hutcherson delivered her to my home surgery when her pains were regularly five minutes apart. She was so swollen by that point she was wearing nothing but a white silk robe trimmed with lace over her shoulders. Her pretty face was screwed up in discomfort when I opened the car door to help her out.

Her eyes lit up with relief when she saw me. 

“Oh, doctor, I’m so glad to see you. I’m ready to go to sleep now. I don't like how my tummy feels. It hurts!”

She clutched my arm with one hand and her massive, straining belly with the other as we walked inside. We bid goodbye to her husband at the door and I promised to call him. Her kissed her on the cheek and told her to mind the doctor. 

She shivered when I led her into the delivery room and she spotted the steel table in the middle of the room. Her eyes went immediately to the stirrups.

“We’ll put your legs up there to help the baby come, honey, but first we have to get you ready to go to sleep.”

I coaxed her out of her robe, taking a moment to admire her dark, swollen areolas and how the baby had settled low in her elongated belly. She was so big I had to help her up on to the table. She let out a grunt of discomfort as she lay back and the full weight of her overloaded womb and her massive milk laden tits settled on her small frame.

She was pliant as I strapped her legs into the stirrups but she gasped sharply when I ran my finger through her folds. 

“Let's get you ready, Ashley.”

I didn't bother to explain what I was doing or apologize for the cold temperature of the shaving cream as I spread it over her vulva. She had just a smattering of blonde curls but I ran my razor over them anyway just to have a clean work surface.

“That's a good girl,” I reassured as Ashely moaned through a contraction while I wiped the cream and hair away. She was a groaner but she was clearly trying not to writhe too much in the stirrups.

I let her recover from the contraction while I prepared the enema supplies. When I approached her with the tip of the tube and a bit of lube, I saw fear flash across her face for the first time.

“Where's that gonna go?”

I smiled reassuringly. “We need to clean out your insides to make room for the baby.”

I slipped it in quick, shushing Ashley's yelp of protest, and allowed the warm water to start flowing. She was dumb but quickly figured out what was happening when an urgent pressure started to build in her bowels.

“Ow, ow, my belly, it's too full already! It hurts!” She rubbed the underside of her aching orb, trying to twist to the side to alleviate the pain in her gurgling gut but stopped by the straps on her ankles in the stirrups. “I feel like I need to poop, why are you doing this? Ow!”

I pressed my palm against her pelvis, rubbing firmly. She cried out in protest.

“We wouldn't want you to poop on me or your baby's head, no would we, Ashley? I can't believe you're being such a bad girl. I'm sure the Colonel told you to do as the doctor says.”

Ashley looked betrayed now, scared, in indescribable pain, exposed on a table with no way to know what was coming next or to do anything to stop it.

As if to illustrate the point a contraction gripped Ashely's roiling abdomen and she screamed, full throated, as tears streamed down her face. The agony of contracting with a full bag of warm, salty water in her ass broke any last semblance of composure and Ashley started begging me to make the pain stop.

I secured the catch bag underneath her and prepared the drugs I would need to administer twilight sleep while Ashley screamed and pleaded her way through three more contractions. I realized quickly she would need extra restraints while under because she was tossing her aching body wildly, huge tits swinging. 

When I finally removed the plug the noise the laboring woman made was so erotic I got hard instantly. It was a groan of agonized relief followed immediately by a yelp of pain when yet another contraction closed around her middle. 

Ashley was spent, legs splayed limply, her bowels empty and her ass clenching. The baby had dropped so low by this point she was starting to feel him in her aching hips. She was unimaginably full and the ordeal of the enema had taken it out of her.  After the pain passed, she gathered her composure enough to look up at me beseechingly. 

“Put me out now, please. I don’t want to hurt this bad anymore.”

I had to adjust my rock hard cocktail before moving to her side to slip my special cocktail into her IV. I stroked her face as she started blinking and nodding her head from side to side. I watched as awareness left her eyes and her mouth dropped open with a weak groan.

“Ashley?” I tapped her cheeks, moving her jaw from side to side. Her green eyes stared up without recognition. I reached down and tweaked her engorged nipple and her lips opened to emit a moan of pain.

This was my crowning, pun intended, achievement. I'd perfected a scopolamine cocktail that turns the patient’s brain to mush but leaves her aware enough to feel and respond to the pain of labor in order to be a beautiful, brain dead birthing doll for my and my patron's pleasure.

I left Ashely lying on the bed, contracting now about every three minutes and really feeling it, measuring by her noises, to make a phone call. Then I put an oxygen cannula under her nose, cleaned her up between her legs, checked her dilation, and wrapped her wrists and ankles in towels so there wouldn't be any questions about bruises. 

When John Hutcherson arrived, he looked as eager to get the night started as I was. We'd met during the war when I served as the chief medical officer of his battlefield command. We found out one pregnant local girl later that we shared some frowned upon predilections and now, ten years and a lifetime of experience later, we partake of his wealth and my medical genius as often as we can without raising suspicions.

It's John's wife so, of course, he gets to go first and however he likes. He loses his pants quickly after he walks in and sees her strapped spread eagle, her arms straight out and tied to the table and her legs secured in stirrups. She's screaming through a contraction and oblivious to our presence.

John moves on her like an animal in heat, plunging his generous, throbbing member into her exposed, dilating cunt without any preamble. She shouts as she is brutally and unexpectedly skewered on his cock while a contraction is still ripping through her. He doesn't give her even a moment before he starts pistoning in and out of her so hard her back is slapping up and down on the steel table.

Her titties bounce lewdly, slapping from side to side atop her grotesquely swollen belly, as he rails her with all his strength. I finally go up and hold Ashley’s head to keep in from hitting the table due to the force of her husband’s pounding. Her leaking green eyes are filled with fear and pain but it’s also clear the struggling woman isn’t capable of understanding what’s happening to her. Her world has narrowed to the pain and fullness in her tits, hips, and cunt, and as far as she is concerned, it’s never ending. 

Hutcherson blows his first load when she has an especially hard contraction on his cock. He lets out a surprised gasp and then he’s jerking as he’s milked by his wife’s laboring uterus. Their cries blend in the air, one of utter pain and the other of blissful pleasure. 

When he’s finally able to pull out, his flagging cock plops loose with a squelching sound. His cum mixed with blood and amniotic fluid floods out of her and on to the cloth below. 

The brutal pounding leaves Ashley listless and moaning with a little bit of drool making its way down her chin. It’s part of the beauty of the drug that even though she’s blasted out of her mind, her body is going to push the baby out no matter what. 

Over the next several hours, we take turns playing with her engorged nipples, sucking them to induce contractions. John sticks his hand up her through a couple, shivering with arousal when she cries out and tries to get away from the intrusion. Eventually her agonized sounds change to desperate screeches as transition hits and the contractions become longer and unbearable. We each dip into her a few times while she endures the most painful part of labor and both barely keep from cumming when she clamps down on our dicks and wails. 

It takes her hours to get the baby down but it’s huge in her tiny pelvis and when it gets lodged in her hips, she starts vocalizing low, loud grunts as her body tries to expel the huge head. I almost blew my load too soon when I wedged my dick up against her massive stomach and rolled her hips side to side to help urge the huge load down. 

She screamed bloody murder when it finally crowned and John held it there for a good long while, stroking her engorged clit and easing the head out so she didn’t tear. The body was huge, however, and we had to put her legs as far back as we could to help her deliver the shoulders. Her cries of pain echoed off the walls as I roughly jerked the rest of the body out of her sore cunny. A huge flood of liquid shot out of her bloody slit and she was left with her pussy bared, gaped open and dripping birth fluid. 

I handed the baby off to my loyal nurse who maintained the nursery in the next room and turned back to my friend. He was hard a rock, stroking his wife’s ruined cunny. She was still visibly hurting, both from the sheer size of what just came out and the after birth contractions. 

I climbed on top of the beg, squatted over her deflated belly, and put my dick in between her massive tits. Behind me John let out an erotic groan as he sunk his massive length deep into his wife’s loose, bleeding pussy. It made a nasty squelching sound when he pulled all the way back out and slammed back in as hard as he could. He proceeded to brutally rail his wife’s post birth pussy and I came all over her tits while she flopped up and down on the bed, screaming from the pain. 

The next time I saw Lucy, she was back in her white silk robe, a 17lb baby suckling at her ample breast. She’d reapplied her lipstick but her eyes were bloodshot and she looked like she’d been through hell. She woke up initially screaming about the pain in her pussy and she was still sitting awkwardly, an ice pack on her bruised and throbbing sex. 

That being said, she was thrilled she didn’t remember a single bit of it. She thanked me profusely and told her husband she wanted me to deliver all of her babies. Once her poor little cunny healed, of course. 

Josh and I shared a look over her head. We were already counting down to Ashley’s next labor and delivery. 

[mychlapci]

You know what, yeah. Arcee deserves to turn a nasty mech into her good little wifey. Prowl’s much more tolerable when he’s got three fingers deep in his spike housing begging her to please fuck his needy pussies. His pink panties would constantly be crusty from the lubricants and transfluid he drips into them. If they weren’t wet all the time. Prowl’s aroused so constantly that they just stay soaked. Arcee makes him beg for her spike constantly, and he does it with desperation and tears in his optics.

“Please, mistress,” he sniffles, “my spike pussy feels so empty.” And she laughs at him, swatting at his valve and aft, telling Prowl that he’s a dirty little girl. She knew this would happen. Valves are fairly sensitive and there’s nothing like hitting the ceiling node and watching your partner squirt and scream. But an inverted spike is essentially one giant node, the whole thing alight with sensors and biolights that make getting it fucked almost addicting. Prowl fingers his pathetic little hole while sitting at his desk, both pussies leaking into his panties.

And Prowl will agree to almost anything Arcee proposes as long as she’s fucking his spike while she does it. Her little project grinding their panels together feverishly, drunk on pleasure and promising to wear a skirt if Arcee will just please cum in his sheathe! He looks so pretty in her colors, skirt swishing as he walks and faceplates flushed with humiliation. But she knows he’s leaking under his panel, feeling owned and deliciously submissive. The sex that night is crazy, with Prowl riding her spike while she tortures his sheathe with a vibrator.

“I hope you like your reward,” she purrs in his audial, “pretty girls deserve to squirt.” And then she makes him scream with pleasure, overloading him until he finally does squirt.

She manages to convince Prowl that locking his panels up is his own idea. He can’t just be fingering his slutty pussies at work, Arcee! He needs you to control his panels, mistress, so he can be your good, needy girl. And she agrees, provided the skirt and panties become permanent. The panties he could hide, but the skirt… a quick thrust of her spike into his drooling housing has him agreeing to anything.

From there, it’s easy. Arcee wants a clean girl? Prowl will wear two plugs to keep his panties dry and she’ll use a remote to give him orgasms wherever he is. Leaving him wild with arousal. Arcee wants a sweet little thing? Prowl will let her wash his mouth out and spank his slutty pussies if he’s been naughty. She allows other mechs to masturbate when she does it publicly, making sure Prowl knows how hot everyone finds his crying and humiliation. If they’re real lucky, Arcee will have her freshly spanked good girl lick their spend off of the floor. The one time he refuses her anything, she calls it all off and leaves him high and dry for a week. Panels still locked over his plugged pussies and pretty panties. By the end he’s in tears promising he’ll be Arcee’s good girl.

“I’m not interested in casual,” she tells him, “you can either be my wife or I can unlock you.” Prowl begs for the privilege of being Arcee’s wife, doing his best to convince her he’d love nothing more by fingering his pathetic broken spike and grinding his wet valve on her closed panel.

“Please,” he begs, “I’ll be your good girl, I’ll be your pretty wife. Please give me your spike, I’ll do anything!” Anything? Oh, yes mistress! Well, Arcee’s pretty wife is going to be the perfect mommy. Prowl will be so pretty, pregnant. And Prowl can’t help but overload as she slips her spike into his drenched valve and practically folds him in half.

Her spike kisses his gestational seal with every thrust, and Prowl can’t help squealing and thanking her as he fingers his spike pussy for her pleasure. Overloading while Arcee calls him a greedy girl and fills him with the first load of transfluid. By the end of the night, even if Prowl isn’t pregnant he’s going to look it. And everyone will know who owns his frilly, skirted aft.

Prowl is soooo addicted to taking Arcee’s spike up his dumb, drooling little sheathe... he’s do anything for his mistress - parade around in a cute skirt and bra, suck her off in front of other bots so they know who owns him. The only way, the only real way to let everyone know that his holes are her property, is to get him pregnant.

Once Prowl is parading around with his swollen bump, every single bot will know that someone out there owns him already <33

[nathandrakeisabottom]

⋆ Nathan Drake: Domestic Headcanons ⋆

The long-awaited, completely unasked for companion piece to @durrtydawg's Sam domestic headcanons piece. Revel in my self-indulgent, self-absorbed, and grotesquely specific fantasies of getting to call Nathan Drake my house husband. A house husband who jumps off speeding trains with a handgun on the occasional Thursday.

Not only does our pretty boy Nathan Morgan need someone who grounds him— (though that can mean many things; Nate is anything but a one type man)

But for someone who he genuinely believes won’t judge him for who he is

With them, every morning is peaceful and slow 

Will come up from behind before breakfast with a slow grasp at their waist, a delicate kiss he doesn’t break for a good few seconds against his partner's cheek or neck (will literally sigh into it)

And he fucking loves if they do the same for him

Everything is slow and silence and sighs

(He’s rarely so fucking quiet, and he appreciates someone who he feels comfortable finally letting everything go for. His voice gets hoarse with how much he’s always screaming and snarking)

Will shudder more from morning intimacy than straight up sex; if he’s surprised by kisses up his back as he makes some (admittedly, pretty runny) eggs, he'll accidentally drop and shatter dishes like nobody’s business

Speaking of which, only ever gets the cheapest plates/cups because he’s always fucking breaking them (thrift store, preferably)

James Taylor, Norah Jones, Michael Buble, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and (oddly enough) Barbra Streisand for relaxing morning music 

And will white man boogie with a comically bit lip if they quietly, affectionately look at him for long enough 

Speaking of: despite his best efforts, as he starts to wake up, he’ll grow increasingly jokey and self-aware (but soft lil’ earnest boy always comes back eventually)

Will take all the trash and recycling out in one clean go, tucking shit between his bent elbows and under his chin; He’s not afraid of a challenge yes he can fucking do it by himself NO SHUT UP HE’S GOT IT

His partner hears the clang of soda cans falling on the pavement twelve seconds later

A Trader Joe’s BITCH

As much as he loves some sensory overload and a bajillion snack options, big supermarkets kinda overwhelm him

Also they’re always more expensive and this boy is a complainer (and if he can make his partner laugh while he’s dramatically whining, even better)

Literally the man who ACTIVELY LAUGHS at the names of products 

“A Blueberry WALKS Into A Bar? Do you get that? BAR? Oh, that’s goddamn hilarious.”

And then will laugh for a good minute in the aisle; fuck the old people side-eyeing him from the dairy section 

Overbuys groceries rather than underbuys; there’s a lot of food he doesn’t realize has gone bad until it’s actively going into his mouth

Expect to be investing in a good broom, because he constantly needs one

Will open a bag of frozen peas from the wrong side and all of a sudden he’s spilling the entire thing onto the hardwood floor

He just hangs his head with a long, forlorn sigh

God fucking dammit

And huffs before power-walking to the closet

But at least he’s used to it; he’s got a broom in every place he can hide one now 

LOVES to cook, but that doesn’t mean he’s good at it

Probably just likes the theatrics: catch him in double oven mitts and a dozen hand towels at the ready and a novelty apron that says “spooned with love”, “rubs his own meat”, “mister good-lookin’ is cookin’”, or “license to grill”

King of wearing an apron and nothing else without telling; loves surprises and loves giving them almost as much; and will absolutely play coy about it (“I’m just baking out here!! What are you screaming about?”) 

Relatedly, loves stealing his partner’s shirts without telling, especially if they’re too small

“Baby tees are for big, strong babies like me.” “But you’re gonna stretch mine out!” “Heh-heh. Nice.”

Is a fucking sucker for any sort of gender role switch, but also can’t help the flutter in his heart when he sees his partner doing his laundry 

It’s the intimacy of another person touching his clothes and wanting them to be soft for him; loves if they have to reach kinda high to hang them up in his closet, too

Fucking loves to make love to his partner— and yes he loves the phrase “make love”, leave him alone— or hell, do anything to them while the washer is going on heavy duty wash cycle 

Somehow related, but is a hippie at the best of times. Women got off using washing machines before there was anything else and it’s a part of history and now they are too and isn’t it beautiful we’re not all so different isn’t life and history beautiful

Loves smoking weed once there’s a lengthy enough break with his partner, coughs and needs water every time (“nah, I don’t need it” — starts hacking to fucking death)

Loves a local mall trip: J Crew, Abercrombie & Fitch, and REI are his go-tos; he always needs an excuse to go out

“Jeez, is this what the kids are wearing these days?” in any store that isn’t those three

Every time there’s a big ad of a hot guy in a canoe or a girl smiling so hard it looks like her teeth are gonna pop out, he loves to outlandishly mimic their expression to make his partner laugh

Touchy, clingy, whiney 🥺; uses a body pillow and weighted blankets when he has to spend the night by himself

Needs to be the small spoon (at minimum) once a week, otherwise he gets sad and grumpy but isn't quite sure why

“Let’s get some new furniture.” “What? We have Ikea right next door! I can just make it!”

Drills a hole too big or loses the most important screw and has to go buy new furniture anyway 

Adores above all else impromptu massages: whether it’s on the couch or in the bedroom when he’s on his belly watching TV; moans more shamelessly during those than he even does during sex

Those massages often turn into him begging his partner to ride him… or he just fucking falls asleep

By the way, will fall asleep in any position or location you could possibly think of; a habit from his childhood when he didn't have a bed to sleep in

Snores and drools, but not loud or wet enough to be too annoying

2 in 1 shampoo. One bar of soap.

Unless of course he’s all out or… curious about what delicious-smelling shit his partner has; maybe it’s like the reverse of when a dog pees on something to claim it. Something like that.  

Get. him. flowers. His favorites are daffodils.

Really into helping out in his community: soup kitchen, pet shelters, planting trees or veggie seeds for community gardens— and then will abruptly stop because he’s tired and doesn’t feel like doing it anymore 

Until the next summer when he sporadically goes — “You know what we should do?!”

King of late-night karaoke bars (especially if he gets wasted and busts into a weepy song that totally kills the mood)

On the same note, a big musical theatre lover. Wine and dine him!

Loves a dog, wants a dog, needs a dog

Never fucking trains or reprimands the dog but whatcha gonna do

Gets both super shy and vulnerable and horny when he's actively referred to as a “husband” ; loves a good big business partner/house husband roleplay (whether horny or just a joke)

Please, oh god please, do shortform improv with him every time he starts doing a bit

Living with Nathan isn’t always easy, or frankly cheap, but is so fucking gentle and so fucking happy, that you can no longer imagine a world where your life was anything but 🌼💙🗺️

If you hurt him, OP (and Sully) are out for BLOOD.

[blushblushdrabbles]

Story idea for Logan: Anon wants to experience being rescued by Logan. Pretend fire rescue scenario \o/

BEANIEEEEEEEEEEEEE

ok so i am guessing you meant anon as in the MC of the game but i wanna write this as one of our main boys, Anon! XDD

Ok so a plausible cause for Anon to like experience something catastrophic is maybe a fire had started at his home, like a lightning storm had struck his home, overloading the electrical wires in his house, especially where his computers are.

Even though he is a clean freak, his computer room is a bit of a mess, with a lot of hard drives, servers, monitors, you name it. Its got a ton of important shit that he wants to save so here he is trying to save all he can, not worrying about the fire cause fuck that shit.

Logan and his crew finally come to hose down the fire and rescue Anon; Logan comes in and sees Anon trying to save his shit with the flames pretty much nearby and he's like this fucking guy.

Logan is trying to get Anon to get out cause he's literally in danger of getting burnt to a crisp! but Anon is like feck off m8, he needs to save his shit, so Logan practically picks him up like he's nothing, Anon is kicking his feet, while still holding a few of his drives that weren't getting burnt.

Logan's crew finally douses the flames but Anon is sad to see most of his computer room, his computers, his servers and some of drives destroyed. Also Anon wasn't pleased with getting picked up like a baby and carried out hhahah

[pluttskutt]

Okay, so, here’s the thing. Eddie knows trans people. Wait, that sounds bigoted. He has friends who are trans. Queer. Not queer because they are trans but because they identify as trans and queer. Off-topic, doesn’t matter, okay. The point is that Eddie is rollin’ with the LGBT. Not just rollin’ but identifies as gay. A homosexual. Throughout his life he’s had many identifiers—some granted to him by others such as freak—and he’s proud to be who is, which also happens to be gay so he’s proud and out. Always has been. That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s always successful in his pursuits of finding true love or whatever the kids are calling it but he’s out there and he’s doing it.

Except for those rare times he falls so hard for someone it makes him a blabbering idiot and he loses every ounce of self-respect in futile attempts at making them see him because honestly, he’s pretty invisible to the guys he falls for. It sucks, but he can’t change his type and during those times he’s not doing much of anything except pining like a lovestruck puppy.

So, Eddie knows guys. The T and the B and the P and the Q and even the A. You’d think he’s golden then, right? He’s been with guys and others so he knows his way around the letter mafia. Maybe he would be golden if it just wasn’t for that pesky little detail of acting like a fool at any given moment. Like being caught staring at Steve’s chest when he’s wearing a hoodie because he’s not binding and Eddie can’t decide if it’s curiosity or horniness that makes him stare.

(This is a lie. He knows he wants to grab Steve by the counter and do things friends shouldn’t be thinking about doing to each other. Or have Steve do it to him. He’s flexible.)

Robin elbows him in the side whenever he stares, sending him a stare so cold it sends chills down his spine. “Stop being so weird around him or I’m banning you from our game nights. Man, seriously, what’s wrong with you?”

A lot, he wants to reply, but also nothing. So he stays silent, and he thanks Steve for his hospitality and food, and he wrecks them both in Mario Kart because they suck, which is astonishing because they’ve been having game nights since before he got invited.

It’s over too quickly. The match, snacks, the drinks, the night, and he has to leave with Robin because she can’t drive and they won’t let her walk home alone when it’s dark out. He helps clean up while she vanishes into the bathroom and hopes that maybe this is the night he has the guts to ask Steve if they can meet just the two of them and hang out (go on a date) but it never is and he beats himself up over it and tells himself that next time, for sure, but he doesn’t ask and doubts he ever will.

What Eddie knows, he knows well.

But Eddie hasn’t ever asked out an autistic guy before and he’s honestly afraid to do so. Sensory issues are a big part of what’s difficult for autistic people, he knows that much, and he also knows he’s a lot. He’s been told as much by guys he’s dated in the past and most of the time, his a lot is what made them end it. Talking, drama, clinginess, just too much.

“Thanks for the help,” Steve says, not looking at him but at the dishes he’s washing in the sink.

He’s so quiet it’s driving Eddie insane, which is why he can’t ask him out because he’d talk his ear off and cause him to have a meltdown because of sensory overload. Yes, Eddie read up about those. “I heard Robin won’t be here next weekend,” he says, a futile attempt at conversing. As soon as the game vanishes so does their topic of conversation.

“Mmh,” Steve grunts.

Eddie wants to scream. He’s begging the hamster doing all the legwork in his brain on that spinning wheel to think of anything to talk about but he comes up empty.

“She’s visiting her parents and I think she said she’ll be gone a week,” Steve says, just as the silence had taken over the room. He wipes his hand on the kitchen towel, lips narrowed and a scowl on his face like he’s thinking about something bothersome.

“Mhm.” Eddie pushes his hair away from his face and sticks it behind an ear, crossing his arms over his chest. He looks at Steve, watching him as he puts away the garbage from their night. “I’ll take-“

“Do you want-“

They both stop talking, watching the other. Steve smiles and brushes a hand through his hair, which he really shouldn’t have since he just tied a knot on the garbage bag. “You go first,” he says when it’s obvious neither of them dares to go first in case they cut the other off again.

Eddie takes a step closer and grabs the bag. “I’ll take that.” He walks over to the front door because the water is running in the bathroom and Robin’s one second away from joining them and wanting to leave before she falls asleep on the sofa. It’s happened once or twice. He’s pretty sure game nights turned into sleepovers regularly before he joined them.

He looks at Steve and catches his eyes before he averts them. They’re pretty to look at, but Eddie doesn’t get the chance to look into them a lot. Eye contact is difficult for Steve and he doesn’t want to push it. “You up for grabbing lunch then? I know it’s not game night but it can still be fun.”

“Yes,” Steve answers, voice certain and tone steady. He’s nodding with a smile, and Eddie wants to believe he wanted him to ask.

[witchwhodoesvoodoos]

i have this headcanon in stardew valley that seb does community service as much as sam for the most questionable unexplainable shit you could imagine and because lewis is a terrible mayor.

we all know the moonlight jellies event every end of summer, right? it was year 3, i was talking to every folks i lay my eyes on like the social butterfly i am ingame. then i talked to sam and this guy legit asked if the jellies are poisonous because if they aren't he'll fucking yeet seb there to fucking drown idk if the man can even swim let alone stay afloat and lewis will most likely reprimand them for interrupting a special event and it got me thinking how their lives go about when sam is the most random man you've ever met

like can you imagine if one day sam approaches seb and gives him a bunch of freshly uprooted flowers because he finds the colors vibrant and demetrius is in the background panicking about how he shouldn't have picked them because it's illegal and they're poisonous and sam just goes "nah im pretty sure these stuff ain't poisonous" and the next thing you knew his hand is red and seb's dragging his fainted body to the clinic. the moment sam wakes up, lewis is fuming by his side going on about how irresponsible he is and that he and seb will clean the community center for a week and seb will say something along the lines of "why am i with him?" and lewis will make up a shitty reason to end the conversation

i firmly believe that one night in fall, sam asked seb if they could do ghost hunting and seb was like "okay let's do it" mainly because he's bored and doesn't believe in ghosts. so they wore masks and makeshift ghost-hunting equipment and stuff and walked through the town at 3 am in dead silence and darkness and only in their undershirt and boxers because as sam quotes "everyone is asleep at that time and they can just lie straight to bed to fall asleep after everything's over". sam is starting to cower in fear in his first twenty steps and seb just goes "mf this is your idea dont back out now" "there's no ghosts im telling you so pull yourself together" then they reach the bridge and hear the bush near it rustle and make weird sounds. seb does nothing while sam, silently praying, knees wobbling and hands shaking, throws his whole equipment towards its direction and hear it scream. so sam screams, seb screams out of shock, and lewis and marnie emerge from the bush. they had a silent agreement not to talk about it with the way they stare at each other, but boy do sam and seb enjoy picking trash for two weeks.

i have a lot of takes for this hc but everything's overlapping in my mind and i think im on the verge of overloading

[lux-et-astra]

The Sink Session Four Transcript

Session Four: Balanced For Eggs

#INTRO

[MUSIC]

VOICE OVER: Welcome to Sink Systems. If you are new to the service, make sure you start at the beginning. This is not the beginning. A warning. This session contains underwater too much, swearing, panic.

[MUSIC]

NARRATOR: Welcome back to The Sink. Where we plunger your brain’s toilet, unblock your flow.

[SFX: PLUNGING TOILET]

NARRATOR: So you can sleep clean again. It’s been bad this week, hasn’t it? Hot eyes, cold chin, sickness across your neck… we’re really digging in deep now, your dreams are getting worse, all the filth is rising, ready to belch up top. But it can be difficult, can’t it? Mulching around in the dirt, with the toads. In today’s session, we’re going to focus on the positive, so you don’t – overload. We’re going to have a break from what’s bothering you, fish out some sunny times, and splash on some fun, haha! (PAUSES) So you can relax. There’s nothing to worry about here. You’re safe. Let’s try and forget all about that bad guilty business. Let’s forget about what you did. Lovely yellow sun, hot nice wind. Let’s have a go at breathing it all out, instead. It’s a sunny place! Sunny. Yellow. Near the water. Breathe in… you can smell the freshness, the air, the green. Breathe out. You’re safe. Arms outstretched. I’ll count down. Three, two, one.

[SFX: SOMETHING PLOPPING INTO WATER]

NARRATOR: Go.

[MUSIC]

VOICE OVER: The Sink, by Natasha Hodgson. Session Four.

[MUSIC]

#SCENE ONE - COMMON MOSS

KELLY: Oi! What, are you helping me with this or what?

JAKE: No!

KELLY: Oh my God!

JAKE: This is so shit.

KELLY: What!

JAKE: Just wandering around, looking for… what are we even looking for?

KELLY: Check the clipboard.

JAKE: Common moss.

KELLY: Yeah, have you found any common moss?

JAKE: I don’t know! It’s all just… green, it’s a crap bit of lake!

KELLY: If you’ve found common moss, tick it off.

JAKE: I’ve not found common moss.

KELLY: Tick off common moss, I wanna win.

JAKE: I don’t wanna tick things off! It’s raining.

KELLY: The clipboard’s waterproof, Jake.

JAKE: It’s pointless –

KELLY: It’s not, it’s what Mr Forsyth said.

JAKE: What?

KELLY: Finding like, the little species, and the local fauna. If we tick off the most, we get a prize.

JAKE: Springy turf moss.

KELLY: Yeah, it’s nice.

JAKE: Glittering wood moss.

KELLY: Pretty cool actually.

JAKE: Silky forklet moss.

KELLY: Don’t read them unless you can tick ‘em off!

JAKE: Why don’t they teach us, like, what bark to eat when it’s snowing?

KELLY: (UNDER HER BREATH) Stupid.

JAKE: Or, how to find, like, North, using a twig…

KELLY: That’s ridiculous!

JAKE: What way’s North?

KELLY: I don’t know!

JAKE: Yeah, you don’t have a twig!

MAN: (FAINT) Looking for moss, is it?

JAKE: (UNDER HIS BREATH) Oh my God.

KELLY: Yeah, hi. We’re –

MAN: (SCOTTISH) Spotted some of you, uh, kiddie, uh, kiddlywinks with clipboards over the other side of the lake! Said they were looking for, uh –

MAN & KELLY: Common moss.

KELLY: Yes!

JAKE: This is the worst day of my life.

MAN: Nice to have a school project! Pointless, aren’t they. (LAUGHS) Bless you, let’s have a look.

KELLY: Yeah, there’s like, a prize, if you tick off the most – you win, like, a ch– chocolate orange or something.

MAN: Springy turf moss, bloomin’ heck, they don’t ask much from you, do they?

KELLY: Yeah, we wanna win, but it’s –

MAN: Well, thing is, it’s all in the lake, really. All the good stuff. The good moss. I remember my school, we had one with all different animals we were supposed to spot – rabbits, and wolves, little buttery–

JAKE: Yeah, yeah, thanks –

MAN: Little butterflies, and every single one of us came back after four hours. Just beetles.

KELLY: Jake, have we got beetles?

MAN: All we could tick off was beetles!

KELLY: We’ve hardly ticked off anything!

MAN: Better in the lake, that’s where the good stuff is.

JAKE: (SIGHS) Define good.

KELLY: Wait, in the – in the actual water?

MAN: Mm, that’s right, yeah, that’s where it all ends up, isn’t it! All the moss.

JAKE: We’re not going in the water.

KELLY: Wait, hang on –

MAN: Silky forklet moss –

KELLY: Yeah.

MAN: Common moss –

KELLY: Common moss…

MAN: Little, little girls and animals…

JAKE: Yeah, what?

MAN: Silky forklet moss.

KELLY: Wait, seriously?

JAKE: Wait, wait, what was – what did you say about – before moss?

MAN: What?

JAKE: Little girl?

MAN: The girl, yes, well, they looked for her, but, uh –

KELLY: Jake – we, we need to tick things off.

JAKE: Are you joking?

MAN: They couldn’t tick her off, in the end. No one could. Yeah, they looked and looked, but no one could find her.

JAKE: Kelly.

KELLY: What?

MAN: But… if you did – want to win, I mean…

JAKE: What’re you doing?

KELLY: I just –

MAN: That’s where it all ends up.

KELLY: (DREAMLIKE) Silky forklet moss.

MAN: Ay, silky moss, silky girls, I mean, you can’t just go back with beetles, can you.

[SFX: HEAVY BREATHING]

JAKE: Kelly!

MAN: Her parents would be chuffed, I think.

JAKE: Kelly, what’re you doing!

MAN: If you ticked her off.

KELLY: I can’t just go back with beetles, Jake.

MAN: Nice to have a project.

JAKE: Kelly!

KELLY: The clipboard’s waterproof.

JAKE: No!

[SFX: SPLASH, WATER NOISES]

[SFX: STRUGGLING TO BREATHE, UNDERWATER SCREAMS]

[SFX: HEAVY BREATHING]

MAN 2: We need everyone out please, quickly out of the pool.

KELLY: (COUGHING) Fuck. Fuck.

MAN 2: Please, quickly and as orderly as you can. There’s been a small incident.

KELLY: Fucking –

MAN 2: Miss – quick as you can.

KELLY: I don’t – I don’t understand.

MAN 2: We’re just clearing everything up.

KELLY: What’s happened?

MAN 2: They wanted it to be dry.

KELLY: (COUGHING) Wh– what?

MAN 2: It needs to be dry. For the fire.

NARRATOR: Now then, that’s not what we wanted, is it? That’s not a break. We don’t want to go where we’ve already been, back to the mud, not when you need a break. Think of the sunshine, think of the wind breeze, think of the laughter of the little hedge. Nice and easy. And just… let it come in.

[MUSIC]

#SCENE TWO - PARENTS’ RACE

MAN 1: Gorgeous day for it!

MAN 2: Sorry?

MAN 1: Nice day for it all!

MAN 2: Yeah. Yeah, uh, yeah. Thank God.

MAN 1: We were all worried about the, uh –

MAN 2: Yeah, they always promise rain, don’t they?

MAN 1: They love that, don’t they.

MAN 2: Mm.

MAN 1: Done any stretching?

MAN 2: (LAUGHS) Huh. Oh! Um, no, no. Not really.

MAN 1: Oh, nice! Confident, I like it!

MAN 2: Well, it’s… it’s only the parents’ race, isn’t it, doesn’t really matter as long as the kids are –

MAN 1: Bit of healthy competition.

MAN 2: Y– yeah, well, a– as I say, it doesn’t –

MAN 1: I’ve been practising.

MAN 2: (PAUSES) Have you?

MAN 1: Oh yes! Every day!

MAN 2: (DISBELIEVING) Every day?

MAN 1: Three months, twenty eggs a day!

MAN 2: (PAUSES) That’s –

MAN 1: Want to make everyone proud, don’t you!

MAN 2: Well, I mean… sure. But, uh –

MAN 1: I brought a spoon from home.

MAN 2: O… kay?

MAN 1: (CONSPIRATORIAL) It’s balanced for eggs.

MAN 2: What… does that mean.

MAN 1: It’s balanced! For eggs!

MAN 2: Oh. Right.

[SFX: STARTING GUN, CHEERING]

MAN 1: I was actually worried about it a bit!

MAN 2: Huh? I – it’s, uh, it’s happening now, so, uh – why don’t we just get on with it?

MAN 1: I know it’s just an egg and spoon race, but –

MAN 2: Hon– honestly, you don’t –

MAN 1: I’ve got this fear!

MAN 2: You don’t – uh, you shouldn’t be that close to me.

MAN 1: When it comes to eggs, you know, I – I – I once watched my father boil a chicken in an egg.

MAN 2: Okay, we’re getting the ba– we’re getting behind the other dads, I think, because of the talking, and uh –

MAN 1: No no no, it’s just pacing, we’ll catch up. The spoon’s balanced. For eggs.

MAN 2: Sorry, are you trying to put me off?

MAN 1: No, n– my father boiled a chicken once! In its egg! I used to collect all the eggs from the coop in the garden, and one day I collected them and brought them in, and he boiled them.

[SFX: BIRDS CAWING, RUNNING FOOTSTEPS]

MAN 2: Okay.

MAN 1: And then he called me over – you’re going quick now, aren’t you!

MAN 2: Yeah, I’m trying to.

MAN 1: He called me over – ugh – and it turned out, the egg he boiled, it had been fertilised, d’you understand?

MAN 2: (PANTING) Uh huh. I’m really –

MAN 1: The chick had been boiled, in the egg! It was boiled up, all his feathers were white and boiled. We were – meant to go shopping for new clothes, but I was too upset.

MAN 2: I don’t care, really!

MAN 1: We were meant to g– meant to be going to a stereophonics concert.

MAN 2: Please, I just want to – 

MAN 1: We were meant to be going to Milton Keynes shopping centre, to get a new shirt for the stereophonics concert.

MAN 2: Please just stop, will you just stop now?

MAN 1: (SLURRED) And in the middle of Milton Keynes shopping centre, they’ve got an animatronic frog. It burps disgusting bubbles.

MAN 2: Leave me alone!

MAN 1: On the hour! Come back!

MAN 2: Ah! The g– you’ve got – let go of my arm, stop running!

MAN 1: The chicken! It was – it was too hot, it – it, it was too hot!

MAN 2: Leave me alone! What’re you – the race is finished!

MAN 1: Stop running! It needed to be hot!

MAN 2: No! Get off – get off – get off me –

MAN 1: (OVERLAPPING) Hot and dry, hot and dry for the fire!

MAN 2: (STRUGGLING) Susan! Turn the children away! I don’t know where he’s taking me!

MAN 1: Ooh, I’m gonna get you!

[SFX: RUSTLING]

MAN 2: (PAINED) Ah, the spoon is scaldingly hot! How are you holding on to it?

MAN 1: Because it’s balanced! (VOICE CHANGES) It’s balanced for eggs!

NARRATOR: (LAUGHING) Haha, this isn’t relaxing, is it? You need to let go of this, find your sunlight, find your good news, okay? Can’t just let the poison in. You can’t just let it all take over you, can you? You need to stop worrying, you’re going to be fine. You’re going to be fine.

[SFX: WATER FLOWING, SYNTH]

NARRATOR: You’re going to be… fine.

#SCENE THREE - KIDLEYS

[SFX: HEART MONITOR BEEPING]

MECHANIC: She’s going to be fine.

WOMAN: Oh, my God.

MECHANIC: (LAUGHS) Come in. Thanks so much for waiting.

[SFX: DOOR]

WOMAN: Oh my God.

MECHANIC: Yep. So, she’s going to be fine.

WOMAN: Oh, my God. That’s –

MECHANIC: Yep. She’s responding to treatment, vital signs are good –

WOMAN: (OVERLAPPING) Oh, thank you –

MECHANIC: We, we are extremely pleased. So…

WOMAN: Thank you so much.

MECHANIC: Not at all, it’s looking good, she’s a much better colour, and her heart beep is strong. (LAUGHS)

WOMAN: Her…

MECHANIC: Heart beep. So, it’s much stronger now, so that’s… really good.

WOMAN: Oh.

MECHANIC: Um, vital organs are good, um, the stomatch, the kidleys…

WOMAN: Uh, I – I don’t –

MECHANIC: Yeah, we were worried about the kidleys for a little! (LAUGHS) But…

WOMAN: I don’t understand.

MECHANIC: Oh, don’t – you don’t need to worry about the technicalities.

WOMAN: No, I mean I don’t… I don’t think you’re saying… what the words are.

MECHANIC: Oh, no, no, it’s fine, it’s fine, the small infesting, the large infesting, both doing, oh, bloody, really well. The blodder, um – yeah, gal blodder…

WOMAN: Wait –

MECHANIC: Nice, powerful lums –

WOMAN: Wait, could you just explain –

MECHANIC: (EXCITED) For breathing! (LAUGHS)

WOMAN: Where is she?

MECHANIC: Oh, do you want to – see her?

WOMAN: Uh, I think – uh, yeah.

MECHANIC: Yeah, no, it’s a really good – okay, uh, yep, come on, quick quick, quickly then!

[SFX: DOORS]

WOMAN: Sorry, wh– what – why is it quickly?

MECHANIC: Yes, well, that is the… that’s the only other little thing…

WOMAN: What?

MECHANIC: Well, um… just at first, obviously, we weren’t, we weren’t quite sure what we were… dealing with, lots of things we hadn’t seen before, with the – you know, the beep, and the kidleys, and –

WOMAN: (INCREDULOUS) The – the kidleys?

MECHANIC: Yeah, well, exactly, the kidleys, absolutely, but now… well, it’s all become – it’s – she’s very powerful now, she’s – she’s a liver!

WOMAN: She’s a – she’s a liver?

MECHANIC: Yes, very determined… very determined to… live.

WOMAN: I – I’m sorry, I don’t –

MECHANIC: Yeah, so she’s been asking for you –

WOMAN: Well, I – I don’t know –

MECHANIC: Oh, she’s been demanding it! She’s strong now, all the metals, that’s, uh… that’s the other thing.

WOMAN: Wh– what do you mean, metals?

MECHANIC: Well look, I’m, I’m no expert…

WOMAN: Aren’t you?

MECHANIC: And in some ways, you really should have just taken her to a hospital, so!

WOMAN: But that – what – no, I –

MECHANIC: (OVERLAPPING) No, no, look, look, love, I’ve done what I can, but, you know, the garage is –

WOMAN: The garage?

MECHANIC: Yeah, look, well we’ve got cars waiting, is the thing, love, y’know – you’ve brought in, what, a flooded radiator? I mean, it’s wet, horrible, but… you know, I’ve got a Volvo waiting with truncated mats, I don’t really know about your stomatch, these kidleys… I’ve done what I can.

WOMAN: Please, I don’t understand.

MECHANIC: Oh, but she is powerful now, she is a much more powerful– that’s the main thing. She’s dry. She’s as dry as anything.

[SFX: ENGINE STARTS]

WOMAN: (TREMBLING) Oh my God. Megan? Meg–

MECHANIC: (LOUDLY) I’ve installed a radio! Just a nice little… little feature! Won’t charge extra, obviously.

[SFX: ENGINE RUMBLES]

WOMAN: (CRYING) Oh my God!

[SFX: POWER TOOLS]

MECHANIC: (CHEERFUL) Hop in then!

[MUSIC]

WOMAN: No!

[SFX: TYRES SKIDDING]

WOMAN: Please, please, no. I don’t –

MECHANIC: (FAINT) Come on, you’re the only one she wants!

WOMAN: I – I know.

MECHANIC: Don’t you want to get in?

WOMAN: W– I don’t – 

[SFX: CAR HORN BEEPING]

WOMAN: I don’t know –

[MUSIC]

[SFX: ENGINE RUMBLING, HORN BEEPING]

[SFX: WATER RUNNING, THUNDER CLAP]

[SFX: STRUGGLING TO BREATHE UNDERWATER]

[SFX: GASP]

MAN 1: Miss, I need you to get out of the pool, alright?

WOMAN: (COUGHING, SPLUTTERING)

NARRATOR: Nice and sunny, think of the sunshine.

WOMAN: Leave me alone!

[SFX: WATER, CRYING]

MAN 2: Come back! The spoon’s balanced for eggs!

[SFX: WET FOOTPRINTS]

NARRATOR: You keep letting it in, don’t let them in, okay? Just run, don’t let the poison catch you up!

MAN 2: Come back!

NARRATOR: Picture the sun…

MAN 2: (SCREAMING) Stop running!

NARRATOR: Picture the breezes, picture the sun, the sea, the birds, the birds, the birds. The scarecrow.

[SFX: SYNTH]

#SCENE FOUR - BIRDMAN 3

JOHN: (ECHOING) Jim, did a Birdman come to your school?

[SFX: TAPPING/KNOCKING]

JOHN: (ECHOING) Jim, did a Birdman come to your school?

[SFX: BIRDS CAWING]

JIM: Yeah. He was a bird, wasn’t he?

JOHN: Yeah. A big duck.

JIM: Yeah.

JOHN: With black eyes and a big black tail.

JIM: He was just a big duck! And it was weird, that no one –

JOHN: Yeah, at the time, even the teachers didn’t…

JIM: That is so weird.

JOHN: And in the dream, he’d…

JIM: Yeah, he’d get close to you, wouldn’t he, because – actually.

JOHN: That was the weird thing, wasn’t it? That’s what you didn’t realise at first.

JIM: He came to you in your dreams, he wanted you to see. He was just – a bird.

JOHN: Yeah, he was.

JIM: And… so were you, now.

JOHN: Bad owl.

JIM: Yeah.

JOHN: But the thing is, you didn’t realise at first, but he hadn’t come to scare you, had he?

JIM: No, that’s the thing, that– that’s what you didn’t realise.

JOHN: You didn’t realise, he hadn’t come to scare you. He’d come… to warn you.

[SXF: SYNTH, SLAMMING]

JOHN: Bloody hell!

JIM: Are you alright? What’s happened? Jesus, are you – are you burnt?

[SFX: HEAVY BREATHING, WET FOOTSTEPS]

JOHN: Look! Jim, look! Out there!

[SFX: WATER SLOSHING]

[MUSIC]

#SCENE FIVE - HUFF AND PUFF

MAN: I’ve got a story. This time we were at school, we were in the playground, in the middle of the chalk swirly snail, when Year 4 wanted to play wink murder. We were helping Mr Forsyth with Year 4, because Debbie the dinner lady usually helped, but she left early on Wednesday to teach Debbie’s Disco Dancing lessons. All her girls had to get ready for the competition and needed to practise the, um, what do they call it? The sexy hip dance. Mr Forsyth said, in his big voice, “right, who knows a story for Year 4?”. And Jess put her hand up, and said “I know the story about pigs!”. Mr Forsyth said, “three little pigs?”, and Jess said “yes, the tiny pigs!”. And then Small Amanda fell into the pond, because her ears aren’t balanced properly. Mr Forsyth said “those bloody ears!” and went to fish her out, and we were all left just looking at Jess. She said, and I remember this, “once upon a time, there were some tiny pigs”, and Small Oliver said “can we do wink murder now?” and Jess said “no! These pigs are very tiny. The first pig was one of the smallest pigs, and she wanted to make a house out of straw. The straw was all dry and pinchy, and it didn’t take long for the big, bad bird to see it. The big, bad bird shouted ‘I’ll huff, and puff, and burn your house down!’. And he did.”

[SFX: CHILDREN CHEERING]

CHILDREN: (ECHOING) I’ll huff! And puff, puff, puff! And burn your house down!

MAN: Oliver said, “that’s not right!”, and Jess said “yes it is!”, and Oliver said “it’s not a big bad bird, it’s a big bad wolf”, and Jess said “I’ll put you in the pond if you say that again.” (PAUSES) “Then,” said Jess, “it was the second small pig’s turn. She was even smaller, and she wanted to make a house, and this time, she made it out of straw. The straw was all dry, and when she opened the cupboards, there was just straw inside. And the big, bad bird came, and saw the straw house, and said ‘I’ll huff, and puff, and burn your house down!’”

CHILDREN: (ECHOING) I’ll huff! And puff! And burn your house, burn your house, burn your house down!

MAN: The story stopped for a second, because Small Amanda was here now, and she was wet in her leotard and wanted to talk about her ears. Jess said, “no! There’s no time for Wet Amanda! There’s only one pig left, and this was the smallest pig out of all of them. She made a house, and this time, she made it out… of straw. She was so small that when the big, bad bird came, he couldn’t even see her, and he was confused. He said, ‘I– I’ll huff, and puff, I’ll burn your house down!’. And he stormed into the house to try and find the smallest pig, and he never came out. No one came. And he couldn’t jump out. The fire consumed him, and feasted on his bones.”

[SFX: CRACKLING]

MAN: I said, “what happened to the smallest pig?” and Jess said, “sometimes it’s better, when they don’t come back.”

CHILDREN: (ECHOING) Burn your house! Burn your house! Burn your house! Burn your house! Burn your house! Burn your house! Burn your house! Burn your house! Burn your house! Burn your house! Burn your house! Burn your house! Burn your house! Burn your house! Burn your house! Burn!

MAN: Amanda was late for Debby’s Disco Dancing, but, she couldn’t do the sexy hips dance very well because of her ears, so they did the competition without her in the end. Sometimes it’s better when they don’t come back.

[MUSIC]

[SFX: CHILDREN CHEERING]

NARRATOR: Sometimes it’s better when they don’t come back. (PAUSES) We tried to get away from it. But it's too near the surface now. The truth wants to find you. I guess it's time to separate what you dream, from what you remember. Next time, sometimes it’s better when they don’t come back.

[MUSIC STOPS]

NARRATOR: Sleep.

#POST SESSION

VOICE OVER: On Session Five of The Sink.

NARRATOR: Things are starting to repeat, starting to recur.

MAN: Jesus Christ, Amy, it’s a fundraiser, okay? We’re supposed to be raising money to stop apes from attacking pumas by mistake!

AMY: They’re hungry, they are, they are bored…

NARRATOR: The truth won’t stay down. It’s rising, rising, rising, to the top.

WOMAN 1: Either I climb up some stairs, or… I’m attacked by snakes.

NARRATOR: It’s hot on your gums.

MAN: You have to just leave it. Some monster is not coming to get me.

[MUSIC STOPS]

WOMAN 2: (FAINT) Three… two… one.

[MUSIC]

VOICE OVER: The Sink is written by Natasha Hodgson, and produced by Andy Goddard. It stars Alice Lowe as the Narrator, with Jason Forbes, Celeste Dring, David Elms, and Natasha Hodgson. The music was written by David Cumming. The executive producer was Victoria Lloyd. It was a BBC Studios production for BBC Sounds.

[whitherwordswither]

Logs from the Starfields, II

Captain's Log #0.02:

Turns out the planet I wanted to go survey is a bit out of range. And a bit over my current level of expertise. Which is a shame. I wanted to get out there a ways. Away from folks. Guess that will have to wait, eh?

So I decided to head back to one of the first rocks I dropped down on. (Y'know. The one where I accidently blew up the spacers that wanted my ship.) I scanned a few things there and I really hate not having all the data once I start collecting it. Might as well mosey on back and tidy up! But wouldn't you know it. Not two seconds in to orbit and I get a hauler buzzing up my comm line with a warning. Saying shit's gone to shit in the nearby Altair system. Altair II specifically. Sounds like some folks in dire need of help against more brutish spacers.

Now. We're all out here trying to do our best. Why do folks gotta try and ruin everything by murderin' and bein' all fuck-headed like? I don't understand it. You get farther workin' together for a common goal, don'cha? …Well, I ain't got nothing better to do right now. Besides, I could use the loot. And helpin' folks is a thing I enjoy. So I guess I'm headin' in to that mess. It's just like maw always used to say: "Plans change, sometimes often. You just need to know when to roll." -- So I rolled.

Helluva lot of blockheads murdering up this research outpost. I don't take kindly to that. I drop out of orbit and insert myself in to this shitshow. The facility is pretty large. Definitely took a beating. They'll be cleaning this up for a long while. I help myself to whatever the dead spacers are carrying and… well. It's chaos in here, so I also help myself to whatever looks valuable around the facility. Ain't like whoever is left alive here is going to know it's gone.

I find some survivors and make sure they can keep on survivin'. That's always a good feelin'. Once I got the outpost cleared, they mentioned a sister camp had gone dark. And since I'm the only organism with a ship… welp. More helpin' ain't never hurt no one. E-specially if you're good up on meds and sandwiches!

It was a bit of a trek, even after touching down closer to the camp. Cold as the Ice Queen's balls, too. I'll definitely need to get myself some better environmental protection when I'm able. But that's a future-me thing to do. Right-now-me has a good handful of goons to take down. Nothing a few well placed projectiles from a distance couldn't fix. But dang if it ain't an encore they're after! Soon as I made sure the surviving scientists were good to go, the folks back at the main facility are yammering for me to get on back to 'em. More shit for the fans. So, up and down again we go.

The compound is swarming with spacers, eager guns blasting. No wonder they were hollering for me. I help clear out two dropships worth of reinforcements. And they still got more spacer ass that needs roasting! This time, they've got eyes on ships near Altair I and V. Three vessels in orbit near each planet. Well. Can't leave a job unfinished, can we? Gonna need a long drink after this, I can tell… (A nice flavored decaf coffee, or somethin', mind ya. I gave up drinkin' the heavy stuff a while ago for personal reasons. And regular coffee gives me awful nauseous jitters. I ain't got time for that.)

I take my ship up and make the rounds. Nasty fire fight. If I was any less capable at the helm I might've had a real bad time… but I make do. Barely. Guess I got a little luck on my side. Ain't comin' to see ya yet, maw!

Once I'm finished plucking worthwhile components from the wreckage I plop back down on Altair II just to make sure everything is decent like. And it is. We're all grateful to be alive. I wish 'em well and haul my loot-overloaded ass back up in to the stars and make a bee-line for New Atlantis.

Time to get some repairs, some sleep and… see how much cred we can get for this junk.

End log.

[tielt]

Ramble about data and personal space

data-whore and I’ve migrated OS a lot lately and my memory is bad so I’ve been working through some robots that just scan for dupes I’m trawling my bash mostly which is usually a bad idea to use git to store but every time I switched from osx (corp) to Linux machine learning to windows I’d copy my scripts and it got to be literally 100s of thousands of lines of code I refuse to look at cause it’s mostly forgotten copies of nothing useful but some stuff I’ve put a ton of work into and don’t want to toss the mess of it. You can convert a function to hex pretty easily so anything in my current configs can be scanned for and tossed. Bigger things can be shasum so it’s a lot of tokenization and I would just throw it all out if I hadn’t spent so much time on certain things. I felt like it would be faster, but it hasn’t panned out that way. Mostly it’s meditative for me right now to be cleaning things I didn’t have time for before. I loose track of days at a time zoned tf… Thinking a lot about PDA I wish they’d have named it another acronym that one is already overloaded. I fit the profile but I don’t feel I understand what being human even is like when I try to grapple pathological demand avoidance there is this obvious line of you aren’t killing people or singing the song that never ends at passing neighbors. When I do things I mean to do them, I just don’t have the pieces of what that will feel like exactly till it’s done. Hi I’m human how are I doing 24k dialup chrrrrrr chchh. I typically understand the first few branches of consequence but it never really feels that way In hindsight where I feel blind as a bat. The medical student syndrome is really potent on TikTok for me it’s always good to mind the is it disrupting your ability to operate. I’ve had a long break till recently from drinking, but it’s nice having a end of the day swill and some uninhibited fun but life is strange. please don’t try to socialize with people who are head-phoning. I rarely listen to music at home I do this certain days because I literally don’t want to hear it at that moment and that includes complements. I have a really wide range of types of days, this really should be obvious culturally at this point. Im not speaking to tumblr people there, y’all have a lot of lee way to me because I’m offline mostly and when I’m not I am choosing to be here.

Decent strat I do is 7z keeps to backup location, unzip to new workspace/archive location digest every sorted checksum (sha256 as a sqlite db key in my case). Purge every other copy. The first step (what is keeps and how to sort it) is brutal cause repeating the process is worse. Yeah my memory is a mess. 😭🖤🕷️

[13feathers]

I guess I'll start by saying. It's a windy day on the coast of new England ,

the sun is planning to set soon and I'm only working three days this week due to thanksgiving. So I'm kind of looking forward to a four day weekend. But to be honast. Part of me is not.

I used to be happy. Lately I haven't.

I tried to find a mental health advisor, therapist, shrink, call them whatever you want. But that became more of an issue due to scheduling and working a full time job. Nothing ever lined up. Wether it was the shrink or the times available or both...

I'm not suicidal. I'm actually pretty sane. And that'll be understood I guess , by you...the reader ...after a little time and words.

I've just been dealt a load of shit over an extended period of time. And I need to vent. I need to get it out. I couldn't keep up with downturns. So I started watching psych professors on line to try and figure out alot of what's going on in my head.

Beleive me. I'm not one to look outwardly for help with my mental state. I've always tried to hold it together. Beleiving whole heartedly that I could figure it out on my own and proud. Very proud of the fact that I got through alot of a hard life sanity intact.

But now I find myself in a bit of a depression. And winter's setting in.

I'm not scared. I just want out. I want me back. The real me. Not this tired , down, version. The happy, fun loving, charasmatic, artful, soulful , unabreviated version that I used to be.

So I'm gonna write. Cause that's what I do.

I'm a songwriter. A writer of prose. A terrible speller. A social drinker of words and concepts and ideas , be it brilliant, blatant, or foolish. As long as they're fresh to the ears or attacked from new angles.

To calm the ruminating thoughts in my head recently. I thought back on a book I read long ago. And recently re read. Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance.

In it the writer describes mechanics as not art. But the opposite of art. Rational thought. The equations add up. If you do this and follow specs then it works. What's supposed to happen. Happens.

Hear me out.

I'm a songwriter. And at the moment , My emotional state is unregulated. Songwriting and writing in general, used to be the tool I used to vent all of that emotion out of me. But I've gotten overloaded.

I've tried to write. But the subject matter gets too deep and disgusts me to write about it. It's become more rhuminating , arguing with ghosts on a page I'd rather leave blank.

So I needed something to do that only allows rational thought.

My brother was a crack head back in the 80's. Man he put my family, my mom and me through hell with the stealing and lieing and waste his life had become back then.

I might go into detail about that time later but for now let's just say it was bad. Especially after just losing our father a couple years previous at 45 yrs old. I was 15 at the time. 17 when my brother got really bad with the crack.

but one day. Something changed.

He wanted to get clean.

We were planning on selling the only house I ever knew and my mom planned on fixing it up. My brother needed to keep his mind occupied on something other than drugs.

He'd sleep all day but at dusk he'd wake up. And he'd knock on my bedroom door. C'mon he'd say. We're gonna paint the stairwell , or were gonna put a new run down in the living room or were gonna put lolly collumns under that sag in the kitchen floor and I'd get up. And I'd follow him to whatever job we were doing that night. And I'd stand there. And watch.

Oh it didn't start out that way... I had every intention of helping but see , my brother had this way of wanting to show me how to do things. That meant even if I knew how to do things better than he did sometimes. So I'd watch. And by the time he was done explaining how to do the job. He was finished with it. So , there ya have it. I watched.

See my brother didn't need any help. He was strong as a bull and knew as much as anyone about building and remodeling. All he wanted was for me to stand there. And listen.

In the beginning there was alot of showing me how. Sometimes silence, ... That's when I knew he was in his head and the craving were bad. But then he'd start talking again. And that's when the realness of why I was there entered the picture.

He'd try to teach me how to do things. He'd talk and I'd listen and he'd tell me stories and spew what we referred too as useless knowledge. But sometimes. He'd tell me things. Things he needed to admit to someone. Admit to himself take responsibility for things out loud hold hiself accountable for wrongs How much crack he'd do. How he started in the first place , the stuff he'd do when he was on it or for it. Those were hard nights to listen too. when he finally realized he needed to get sober. it was his way of atoning for the guilt of it all. And I was the one who he confided all that too. But he needed that rational thought. That zen work. That kept his mind from rhuminating on his addiction. And that's why I'm writing this.

He went on to marry his highschool sweetheart who stuck by him through his bullshit. And he had four kids with her and raised them all with her.

Me and my bro used to build motorcycles. We built everything actually. Starting from when we were young. Go carts turned into bicyles then minibikes turned into motorcycles then cars, then crack....... For him. And he was there. But gone for a while. When he got clean. Bikes came back into the picture. Harley's BSA's Norton's, triumphs, we built em. Even a few cb 750s in savior frames.

My dad was a master mechanic and a songwriter / musician. Me and my brother kinda got that from him. My bro, he was the master machanic who dabbled in playing guitar. I was the songwriter with bands who dabbled in machanics.

I really not sure if I'm rambling , I'm really not sure if anyone's gonna want to read this anyway. But I need the release so I'm taking it. But to try to tie this all up and bring it back ......

We lost our mom to matastisized breast cancer in 2011. I was her caregiver. Just as she was the caregiver for my grandmother and my great grandmother before her.

In summer of 2020 , after I had just gotten out of a very bad relationship with an abusive gf I lost my brother to a heart attack. 3 months later I lost my sister to closet alchaholism.

I thought things were looking up last year tho until my last relationship also turned sour and ended pretty badly.

All of that kinda sent me on a downward spiral of depression with pretty much my entire support group now gone.

And then , in October of this year I lost my niece. My brothers daughter. Who's only 4 days younger than my own daughter.

It's alot. But like I said. I'm gonna try to write myself better.

So upon realizing I'm in over my head with my head. I needed a little zen work, rational thought, something to do outside of the constant overthinking so instead of home improvement. I decided to start building a vintage motorcycle. You'll be seeing the work on here eventually. It's the first build by myself. Without my bro telling me I'm doing it wrong.

And the second part. I need an ear. Someone to listen. Or at least an abyss to scream into... And that's where you come in....

So I might throw in some words, maybe elaborate and write myself through some of the feelings I have about these things I've written tonight. And maybe even a few songs.

For now I think I'm done for the night.

And thank you very much for reading.

[justyouraverageficwriter]

Orange ~

Sana x M Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst(?), Smut (eventually)

WC: 4631

Chapter 3: Bare and in full display.

Sana --

Settling down into her chair, Sana opened the computer right away. Her credentials were written on a post-it note attached to the screen, with a reminder to change her password immediately. When that was done, she scanned the room and remembered all that happened yesterday. In what she considered a miracle, she got the job even though she fumbled at almost every turn. She was early, way early. It was her first day and with nothing yet to do, Sana decided to take a tour of the room, it was going to be her office as much as yours. She noticed that the room was well organized. Sana was reminded of your place, simple but cozy and clean. Her mind unconsciously wanders to what unfolded that night and the things that might have happened that she didn't know. 

Her attention was caught by a lone picture on top of your desk, dismissing the memories. A pretty woman with a young boy together. Sana was sure the boy was you, and assumed the woman was your mother. Her thoughts drifted to the idea that of her mom and she could not deny her loneliness. She thought about her family and how they are doing, especially her mom. Strong as ever, she snapped her thoughts and decided to go back to her chair. Her little tour was over. As she turned around, she saw this handsome man right in front of her. Sana was completely not expecting to seeing you and she felt like being caught red handed even if she did nothing wrong, well except maybe for looking at the picture. Due to her shock, she instinctively took a step back and stumbled. Losing her balance, she expected to fall but she was pulled instead and wrapped around your arms. She was really close to you. Your arms around her waist that restrained Sana from falling backwards. As soon as she realized what is happening, she lifted her head only to see you smiling. Sana thought that time has stopped.

"I see that you're early." Sana was released from the arms around her and tries to hide her reaction by fixing herself.

"Good morning, Doc. I'm sorry I did not notice you going in." She was obviously blushing.

"I have an early meeting with foreign doctors online." Moving towards the desk as if nothing happened.

Sana's mind was on a race. She never expected to be that close with her boss. Well not sober at the very least because up until today, she did not know every detail when she passed out the night she got wasted. She was heading for her chair and saw the gift she had for you. Adding another thing to her already overloading mind, making her oblivious to the other noises around her.

"Ms. Sana!" A voice louder than any sound in the room.

Sana immediately looked at you.

"My order. Americano. Iced."

Sana was receiving an order and she knew she did not hear that order as it was given the first time. Dropping off all tasks queued in her mind to process the only important thing to do. Sana nodded and immediately head out of the office. Unfamiliar to the hospital's neighborhood, she did not know where is the nearest coffee shop or if you have any favorite. Settling to a stranger's recommendation, Sana arrived at the Café Marcus. She noticed it was busy so she was assured that it was not a bad place. The sky was starting to darken when Sana entered the coffee shop and lined up to order.

It was when she reached the counter that the rain poured heavily. Sana looked outside after issuing her order to the waitress. She realized she did not even bring an umbrella; the rain was too heavy to run for it. Sana's next plan was to call and inform you, however she also realized she did not bring her phone with her; and even if she did, she did not have your number. Settling to her only choice she decided she will be winging it and will run under the rain. A few minutes passed, her name was called as her order was ready. She picked up the iced coffee and immediately head for the door. The rain managed to pour heavily than earlier. Stepping outside she froze on her steps, confused of what is happening.

Reader --

The call was now ongoing. One doctor was saying something you really did not care. You noticed it was pouring rain outside, and your mind was becoming uneasy yet again. However, this time it’s not just the usual things that ran through your mind that made you scared of a heavy rain, you were also thinking about your secretary. You noticed right after she left that she forgot her phone, and failed to bring her coat at the very least. Judging from all your encounters with her, Sana sometimes if not all the time shows a lack of better judgement. You were sure she'll going to make a run even if it makes her drenched from the rain. There is nothing else to do but fetch her. You knew already that the orange haired girl has been making you things your mind played little to no part in deciding. And now you were at it again, even if it meant going through one of the biggest fears in your life.

"Gentlemen, my apologies. There's an emergency here I have to take care of. I'll catch up with anyone of you later. Thanks!"

It was a convenient excuse to step out of the call. It was not completely a lie in your opinion, and besides it was getting hard to focus on the topic discussed with your mind full of memories you could not forget. Stepping outside the hospital with an umbrella and her coat, you realized Sana could be at any coffee shop. However, you decided to push through and head to one of the busiest coffee places around the hospitals vicinity.

"I'm really going to kill you if you’re not there." You said in bated breath.

When the drops started to bounce off the umbrella as you stepped into the rain, your grip tightened on the handle. It was to some sort of control to your shaking hands and also to not let go of the only shield you have from the pouring drops. Slowly you walked the path towards Café Marcus as if every step took a day from your life. On the last crossing, you were already shivering not because of the cold but because of fear. But seeing the sign of the busy coffee place right across the street, you were assured that you'll eventually make it. Crossing the street, you saw Sana getting ready to make a run. You were right about it. You've stopped her in her tracks and she was wearing her signature confused reaction.

"Get back inside, Ms. Sana!" You handed the coat to her.

"It's so sweet of you to come and pick me up, Doc." She said coyly which you find new.

"It's going to be the second time today that I'll be repeating myself. And I don't like repeating myself just so you know. Inside."

Sana frowned like a kid denied of a candy. She headed back inside while you wrapped your umbrella on the machine right at the entrance. You followed her in, shaking after you notice the pouring rain again. She was looking at you, observing every move. You asked her what drink she want. You knew she realized that the question was more of an order instead of an offer, she picked a hot coffee almost reluctantly. You ordered her to find a seat for the two of you while you bought a drink for her. Minutes later you were heading to the table Sana secured. It was a bad idea as you were shaking with the coffee on hand. Handing it to Sana, you could not hide your involuntary movements and you knew she noticed it.

"How about your meeting Doc?" It was not the question you expected. You were expecting to be queried about why your hand is shaking.

"I stepped out of it. And it's not because I need to fetch you. Don't get me wrong." You partly lied.

Sana smiled at your reply but did not answer. Silence followed instead. For minutes you both drank your beverages while looking outside quietly. You are really shaking now, and your mind was filled with unpleasant memories. Out of nowhere, you felt something. It was Sana, and she was now holding your hand.

"You know what Doc, I was also afraid of the rain when I was a little kid."

You were quite surprised how she knew it was the rain. Maybe it was obvious but that idea of skinship did not concern you right now. What stood out to you was the comfort you felt by the hand that held yours.

"We all have our fears right? I may not know the story behind your fear of rain, but it's going to be okay. It will stop soon."

Usually you take away your hand at the first attempt of someone holding it but you know it was not the usual with her. You managed a smile and cleared your throat.

"Do you want to know?"

Her eyes gave away her shock. You knew she did not expect you to be that willing to share and honestly you did not either; but you feel like sharing it. You haven't talk about it to anyone except for Tzuyu. Maybe that comforting hand wrapped around yours was the reason.

"If you're willing to share Doc."

Sana held your hand tighter and gave you a reassuring smile after she noticed you trying to compose yourself to share a very personal story. Her attention was now fully on yours, waiting for you to start.

"It was dark times. The family has fallen apart. It was inevitable really because there has not been a single day in my life as long as I can remember that some small argument will not quickly turn into shouting matches for my parents."

You paused for a moment. Maybe it was harder to share than you thought. You haven't done this before. However, after finding the strength, you continued.

"My father brought home a child. Basically confirming all talks of him having extramarital affairs. That was the breaking point for my mom."

"One afternoon, after a day at school. I got home to see the house lonelier and emptier than usual. At first I thought maybe it was just the heavy rain outside. Just like any kid after a long day, I just want to see my mom and check on my mother. I went to her room and-"

The story stopped. You realized you could not finish it. Your breath hitched as your eyes swelled tears. It was still too much for you to handle. Thankfully, Sana did not press you further. 

"I could not even imagine how hard it was for you. You are bright so I know you already know this but I am sure your mother is extremely proud of what you have become. And she does not want you to suffer from the memories."

Her words of console were as generic as it can get but somehow, it did what it was supposed to do. She was right, those were also the words you always tell yourself but receiving them from someone else was different. You felt assured that those were not just a product of wishful thinking, that someone else thought that way too. You became comfortable, too comfortable that the hand holding felt awkward.

"You can let go of my hand now." You snapped back immediately to being that cold boss.

Sana immediately removed her hands and smiled widely. She was blushing again. You stood up as the coffees were emptied. Sana clumsily stood up and struggled to follow you.

"Were going back now Doc?"

You did not reply and continued to walk to the exit. Opening the umbrella, you expected her to walk on your side to share since you only got one. You took two steps into the rain and realized Sana was not with you. You turned around to see her still standing on the edge of the shops roofing. You were already dealing with the fear inside and she was not helping.

"Are you coming?"

You noticed her getting ready to run towards the gap between you so you promptly went back to where she is.

"Don't tell me you're going to make a run for it." You said coldly and almost annoyingly. In fact, you knew she was going to. She responded with her shy but cute laugh. You noticed she was still clutching her coat in her hands so you took it and wrapped it around her, helping her wear it. You offered your arms for her to cling on, inviting her to walk beside you. You were shaking still because of fear but it was not as bad as before.

"You didn't have to do all of this Doc." Her words are soft.

"I don't want you to be sick on your first week that’s all Ms. Sana. We got of paper works to do."

You managed to elicit a frown of disappointment from Sana which warmed you up inside.

"Call me Sana, and thank you still for fetching me."

"If I hear a word from other people about what I disclosed to you earlier, I know for sure it was you."

"I am clumsy Doc, but I can keep secrets."

"Yeah, you are clumsy."

"But you hired me still."

She was right and you have no comeback for it. You chose not to and contented to spend the rest of the journey back to the hospital in silence. 

Sana --

Sana managed to end her first day successfully. She somehow felt closer to her boss after you shared a personal matter to her. Even with the lack of details Sana understood that something bad happened to your mother on that rainy day causing you to associate that memories to the heavy rain. Sana managed to give you the gifts she prepared and was also introduced to the whole OR team after the surgery you performed that day. Sana found them friendly and being the bright and positive woman she is, Sana felt right at home with them. 

Everything inevitably fall into a pattern as days gone by. Sana mostly spends her day with everything her job description asked her to do. With her background as a medical student plus her positive attitude, you did find her really capable albeit clumsy. Sana always spends lunches with the members of the OR team, and was invited to a couple of drinking sessions after work. Saying that Sana enjoys her work is an understatement, she was having a blast. She may have promised to not be near anything hospital related before but it seems her fate and the medical field were already intertwined. Both of you did not know that a month has already past.

Receiving her first salary, Sana decided to have a little celebration and invited her workmates to have a little drink off work.

"Are we not going to invite Doctor (YN) again?" Sana asked the group.

"We are not even sure if that guy drinks, Sana-yah." Jun Han replied.

That's right. They always left you uninvited with their drinking sessions because for one, they think you're too intimidating to be with. Two, they do not even know if you drink in the first place, no one dared to ask. Sana brought that up the first time she got invited and the answer was always the same. Of course Sana know you do drink, it was in a bar that you first met. She just could not tell that whole story to the rest of them.

"I'll ask and invite him if he said he does drink, is that okay?"

There was no reply.

"Come on, there is nothing that alcohol could not soften. Even the most intimidating man." Sana argued.

"All right Unnie, you planned this out so I don't see any reason to object. And besides, Doc (YN) has been smiling a lot more lately." Dahyun answered in behalf of the team. There seems to be no objection. Sana considered the matter was settled.

--

Being back at her desk after lunch break, Sana waited for an opportunity to ask and invite you. Luckily she did not have to wait long after you pulled up from your chair to head out.

"Doc, do you have plans later?"

"Why?" Sana received a cold reply.

"We're kind of planning to go out for a drink after shift, I was wondering if you want to come?"

"Well that's new. You don't even invite me for lunch, now you all want me to have drinks with you?"

Sana was speechless with your answer. She did not know what to make out of your reply. Sana ever the positive did not lose her resolve.

"Well I think talking over drinks is the best way to start being friends with the rest of your team, Doc. They have been working under you for almost two months now and I noticed you have not even spoken to any of them that is not work related."

Sana knew she got you. It was clear to her that whenever you paused for a moment to formulate a witty and cold comeback, she already won. And she has been winning many times ever since she started working as your secretary. Finally, she heard a sigh.

"Promise me one thing, Sana. Don't get drunk too much."

A wide grin was drawn across her face because Sana was sure that you will be coming. And with that thought in mind, the day rolled almost immediately.

Reader --

You all decided to just take a walk from the hospital to the place they frequently visit. It was starting to look like a triple date. Dahyun and Sang Hun were talking with themselves while the engaged couple have their own conversation as well. Which leaves you and Sana to converse between the two of, which you found comfort since you have been sharing the office with her for a month now. After a ten-minute walk, you arrived at the place and secured a table.

The drinks started immediately after you filled your stomachs. The atmosphere was a bit awkward at first since you noticed the group except for Sana did not know how to act around you outside the hospital; but after a couple rounds of somaek, the atmosphere started get light. They started to ask you questions about yourself and you indulged to answer. It turned out to be just the setting you all needed to break the intimidation and awkwardness you feel respectively.

Jun Han even said how it's an honor for him to be learning under you and you told them how easy it was to worked with them and admitted that you handpicked them because of potential. And there was Sana who just enjoyed watching all of you.

"Are you okay?" You asked her.

She looked at you with a soft and caring gaze. And you admitted she looked really beautiful with it.

"For a guy who look really cold on the outside, you talk too much you know."

There was a playfulness in those lines. You thought of an answer but did not had to chance to say it after you got dragged to a conversation with the rest of them. After a couple more rounds, you all decided to call it a night, Dahyun was starting to talk to herself. Jihyo meanwhile started a get a little too touchy with her fiancé. The guys are still sober so you decided to partner up to make sure the ladies get home safely. Well as expected, you got to be with Sana. She was a bit tipsy but able to stand and walk. As the other pairs went to their respective ways, you and Sana walked back to the hospital to get your car.

"You got to tell me what happened that night, Doc."

You were caught off guard by the question. Maybe it was the alcohol's influence that gave her the courage to ask because it's the first time she brought it out even you work together for a month now.

"Do you really want to know?"

"Was it you who undressed me?" You expected a yes or a no as a reply, you were not expecting her to go to that question directly.

"It was me, yes." You initially thought of a white lie to save her from embarrassment but you realized there will be no point in doing that.

"Did you like what you saw?" Her eyes are full of curiosity. Your jaws dropped as a response.

"I took no pleasure when I did that. I just have no other choice that time because I could not have Tzuyu in the house that early."

Sana pursed her lips. You did not know if it was from disappointment or relief.

"Thanks (YN)!" She then grabbed your arms and scooted closer to you.

It was the first time you heard her call you with just your name and dropping the doctor prefix entirely. You expected that you'll feel disrespected. You are boss and employee after all but it was the complete opposite. Butterflies are on your stomach and you want to be called with just your name again.

"You have got to start and call me like that if we're outside the hospital."

You reached the car and promptly opened up the passenger seat for her to climb on. The drive towards her apartment were uneventful aside from you having to discuss the whole story in detail. Some of it was really shocking for her. 

--

The car stopped at the front of Sana's apartment. You got out of the car first to open the passenger side to guide Sana on her way out. You shielded her head and took her hand wtih your left. She stepped out and stood next to you, when suddenly she closed the remaining gap between the two of you and tiptoed to plant a quick kiss on your cheeks.

Your mind seems to malfunction as you grasp for any words to say. Sana flashed a big smile to you and did not give you any chance to speak.

"I'll be going inside. Thanks for taking me home." She dashed towards the stairs and leave you alone standing. When she reached her door, she turned around. You were still glued to where you are.

"What are you doing? You can go home now." Sana was laughing at your expense. Clearly amused.

You still stood there unable to decide what to do. On one end of your mind, you were ready to just accept the kiss and call it a night, while to other is telling you to still be with her and find answers to the question you have. Eventually your legs started to move and you took the stairs. You did not want this night to end yet. Sana was half curious and half expectant of what you planned to do, but she did not have to be curious anymore. You hooked your arm across her waist towards her back and pulled her close. You looked at her. With your bodies very close together you can feel her heartbeat, or maybe it was yours. There was nothing left to do now than to completely seal that distance as you cup her cheeks and kiss her on the lips.

You felt Sana's weight on your arms, as if she melted under the kiss while her back arched. Her lips were soft and sweet. The kiss was intimate and loving. You communicated whatever feelings you have for her through that kiss and you felt the same as she reciprocated. She like you as much as you like her. You were sure on that moment, if you could live by just kissing each other you both will prefer that. As your lungs required you to breath as you both eventually did, the kiss ended. Both of you just looking at each other, conversing on each other's eyes.

"Admit it, you like me from the start." She is really good at teasing you and you somehow are powerless to deny it.

"You have absolutely no reason to hire me after being late. I see how you strict you are with it comes to time."

"Maybe!" That was all you managed to reply.

"Do you still stand with what you said earlier? That you took no pleasure when you undressed me?"

You lied earlier. Of course you did, who would not marvel at the sight of Sana in her underwear. It was just so embarrassing to admit. She has the body that was delicately molded by the gods. Smooth, flawless milky skin. Long and thick thighs, and to top it all off the most beautiful of faces. Everyone would probably kill to be in your position that night. But you managed the temptation. However, only God knows how long will you be able to keep it that way given that Sana was showing that she has a naughty side in her. It was a mystery to you how can a woman be so cute and bubbly on one side, and being able to switch seamlessly to this naughty and seductive side on the other. She was biting her lip while she waited for an answer to her question, adding further to the sexual tension that was quickly filling the air. 

You gave up on all thoughts and just decided to kiss her again. However, she blocked your attempt by putting a finger on your lips.

"You're illegally parked on the road." She pointed to the car with her eyes.

You knew she did not do it to kill the mood because of how playful she sounded. She was just letting you handle the problem and think for a solution yourself. You love and hate her for it. You let go of her as if you're going to just give up. You can clearly see disappointment spelled across her face which you completely expected to be her reaction. However, before her spirits were completely deflated, you held her hand and pulled her again towards you.

"Do you want to spend the night in the penthouse?"

You saw Sana's face light up again as she nodded without hesitation. You both wasted no time and get on the car. On the way, you are both euphoric. No one knows the status of the relationship you now have. You have not talk about it yet. What was clear is that you belonged to each other. The trip was a breeze and both of you took the elevator immediately, each of you could not wait to get your hands to each other. The elevator dings which only means you reach your destined floor.

In the mix of inebriation and the absolute high of feelings properly given and equally received, you and Sana were giggling. Stepping inside the penthouse, you were free to do whatever you want. All limits forgotten. 

---------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Well I guess the smut will start next chapter. I am kind of nervous if I can translate into words the kind of smut my mind was planning. The fancams and content from the comeback has given me inspiration though so we'll see where it goes. Thanks for taking a time off your life to read. Stream Talk that Talk.

[lokidokieokie]

The “L” Word

Summary: You and Benedict had only been dating for three months when he had to leave to film for Sherlock. Three months later and he still hadn’t come home; you missed him like crazy. The nightly calls were the only thing that got you through the day. And, after one particularly draining day, you accidentally let the “L” word slip...

Pairing: Benedict Cumberbatch x Reader

Warning(s): fluff overload (I didn’t know I was capable of writing this much fluff), Benedict being all cute, adoring pet names, some naughty words 🫢 (whose really surprised at this point?)

Walking through your front door to a cold and empty house was sadly the new norm for you. Ever since Ben had left to film the latest season of Sherlock, everything was just...off. Your home didn't feel the same without him.

Entering your home felt weird without the welcome home kiss that Ben would give you; sleep was hard to come by without his loving arms draped around your waist; and how were you meant to get through the day without his little cheeky messages?

Nothing was normal anymore, and God you missed Ben. You longed for the day he would come home, so you could sleep in his arms again--for the day that everything would become normal again.

The only thing getting you through this was the nightly phone calls; at least you could hear his voice before you fell asleep. But trying to occupy your mind until then was always a challenge.

Today's method: cleaning and decluttering the house. Hopefully that can occupy you long enough.

At exactly 8 o'clock, your phone began blasting the Sherlock theme tune causing you to drop your broom as you bolted towards it; narrowly missing tripping over the ottoman to get to it.

"Ben!" You excitedly exclaimed.

You could practically hear him smile through the phone, "Hello, Love."

"How's my favourite high-functioning sociopath doing today?"

Ben laughed, "He's doing alright, but he wants to know how his favourite girl's big presentation at work went today."

Conversations with Ben were pretty much the highlight of your day. You got to hear what shenanigans that cast of Sherlock got up to, he got to hear about the weird guy at work who sat at a table across from his tie and talked to it during lunch. It was pretty much just pure and utter nonsense that made you miss him that much more.

"I miss you so much, Darling."

You sighed softly, "I miss you too, Ben."

“How is it already eleven o’clock? It feels like I only began talking to you ten minutes ago.”

"Time flies when you're having fun, Benny." You giggled at his groan, he did not like that nickname.

"One day I'll give you a stern talking to about that nickname."

You rolled your eyes, "Sure you will, Benny, sure you will."

He sighed, "In all seriousness though, I've got to get to bed. Can't have Sherlock being even grumpier than he already is tomorrow. Good night, Love."

"Good night, Ben. I love you-" You quickly cut yourself off.

Shit. You just said the "L" word didn't you? This was not a conversation meant to be had over the phone. It wasn't something that should've been brought up at all.

Curse your tired self!

"Darling? Did you just-"

"I said nothing, good night!"

And with that, you quickly ended the call and practically threw your phone across the room.

That was not how the conversation was meant to go.

Grumbling to yourself, "This calls for some wine."

The sound of the doorbell continuously ringing roused you out of your somewhat peaceful sleep.

Who in the world would be ringing your doorbell at 3 in the morning?

Slowly clambering your way out of bed, the noise didn't cease.

"Cool your tits, I'm coming!"

Grumpily trudging down the stairs, you swore to all Gods out there that you would kill whoever was on the other side of that door.

Angrily opening the door you began scolding whoever it was, "Do you have any idea what time it-"

You were cut short by a pair of familiar lips dancing with your own. That was not something you were expecting when you opened your door at 3am.

"Ben? What are you doing here? It's 3 in the bloody morning."

"I don't like the way our conversation ended."

You anxiously began playing with your fingers. "It ended how every conversation does, with a good night."

He tsked, "You were never a good liar, Love."

You sighed, "I didn't mean to announce it like that. It kind of slipped-"

He smiled, "I love you, too."

You jerked your eyes up to meet his. "You do?"

He cupped your face in his hands, "You have no idea how long I've waited to tell you those three words. I wanted to make it all special, going out to a fancy dinner, maybe a walk around Hyde Park? Just something special where I could declare my undying love for you, Y/n."

A tear slipped down your cheek and you lightly chuckled, "I'm sorry I ruined that plan."

He shook his head and wiped your tear away, "You didn't. I couldn't have imagined a better way for me to tell you that I love you, Y/n. I practically did the whole running through the airport cliché. As soon as you ended the phone call, I kind of just stood there with a goofy smile on my face; Martin had to knock me out of my daze. As soon as he did, I bolted towards my car and drove the three and a half hours to get here. I needed you to know I love you."

You gave him a soft kiss, "I need you to know that I love you, Ben."

He gave you the goofiest smile possible. "Say it again, please."

You giggled, "I love you, Benedict Cumberbatch."

He pecked you on the lips, "I love you too, Y/n L/n."

That night, you finally got to fall asleep with Ben's loving arms wrapped around you; and you had never slept better.

Don’t know how I feel about this...but oh well :)

Find my masterlist here!

[super-unpredictable98]

The Eighth Child (~TUA AU~) - Season 3

Chapter 5: You Give Love a Bad Name

Warning: Strong language, mild sexual content, mention of drug abuse, death, a tiny bit of gore (non graphic, mostly just mention of blood), child abuse

(The Eighth Child Masterlist)

"Heavens to Betsy, what did you do?" Klaus asked as soon as he saw the bodies. I have no idea why he seemed so surprised when I had just told him the pair of them died... Well, I might've forgotten to mention they died in the lobby. "Did Viktor go full Carrie again?"

"Hey, don't be a dick," I scolded in a hushed voice.

"We didn't do this," Allison gestured to the gentleman next to them and I immediately recognized him.

"Harlan? Oh you look great, remember me? Vicky from Dallas?" I tried to come closer, but he held his hand up, a clear sign for me to back off, so I did. "It's okay, I see you're having a bit of a sensory overload... You don't have to talk, I can read your mind. You did a good job, thank you for defending my siblings."

"Don't come near me please," he asked as Viktor tried once again to approach him. 

"I just wanna make sure you're okay. You can talk now."

"I can do lots of things now."

"Who is creepy grandpa?" Klaus pulled me aside next to our other siblings.

"It's Harlan, babe, the little boy Viktor used to care for in Dallas," I explained quietly, I was pretty much used at this point to Klausie being so out of the loop all the time.

"Oh shit, you're right," Alli agreed. 

"Didn't he get rid of all the kid's mojo when he did that... Thing?" Klaus asked, shimmying his shoulders as if he was possessed. "What's he even doing here now?"

"Who cares? He saved us from the Sparrows," Diego nodded towards the bodies and I immediately grabbed one of his knives. "Hey! What the fuck are you doing?"

"Sorry, just borrowing," I chirped, kneeling by Jayme's side. "Hey Klaus, do you have that little vodka bottle from the minibar?"

"Right here," he held it up, it was still half full so he drank the rest and handed it to me. "What are you doing?"

"Getting some of that good stuff, I need more Jayme juice," I carefully opened her mouth, sticking my fingers in there to feel where her venom glands were located so I could make an incision and take them out. "Right here you little beauty!"

"Ew! And I'm the gross one?" Klaus winced as he watched me carefully drain her glands of the black liquid into the bottle and shove them back into her throat as if nothing happened. 

"What? It's not like she's gonna need it!" I closed the bottle and shoved it in my pocket. "This thing is divine, you have no idea."

"What are you doing?" Sloane suddenly screamed, horrified.

"She was already dead, I didn't kill her!" I held up my hands and dropped the knife which Diego quickly grabbed to clean. "I violated her body just a little bit, but I didn't kill her!"

"Give me that!" she tried to grab the bottle, but I held onto it like Gollum. 

"Sorry, Elphaba, but there's no way I'm giving this up."

Without another word, she ran the other way crying and Luther gave me the dirtiest look I've ever seen on his face. 

"Wait... You were having sex with her? That is so gross!" I announced a little louder than I intended. 

"You got a live one, Luther!" Diego screamed, rushing after her while I quietly joined Klaus once again. 

"You just stole saliva from a dead body... God, that was badass," he squealed. "Gotta share some of that with me, alright? I never tried it."

The first thing I did as I walked into our room was unscrew the cap and take a little drop of the black liquid in the bottle, spreading it on Klaus' forehead. At first, he pretended to gag and winced in disgust, but as soon as the liquid disappeared from his skin, his face changed completely.

"Oh shit!" he giggled, laying in bed while I changed into some normal clothes we ended up buying during our shopping spree. 

I watched him trip for a couple of minutes until he sat back up agape. "Holy fuck, this is amazing!"

"What did you see?" I asked, tossing him a change of clothes before locking the bottle up in the safe hidden inside the wardrobe.

"We were on our honeymoon in Brazil," he grinned and I closed my eyes to be able to see what he saw. "You were wearing that swimsuit from earlier and we were hooking up at the beach... It was heaven."

"That is so cute," I leaned in to kiss him. 

"What did you trip about the first time?"

"We were in our 20s and having a birthday party, you looked absolutely gorgeous and everyone was there, but you kept saying all these dirty things in my ear..."

"Oh, so like I do all the time," he teased, buttoning up his yellow shirt. "We should probably tell someone about that big ball of light in the basement... That could be dangerous."

"Yeah, just tell Diego, that chismoso will have everyone knowing in no time," I suggested, fixing my hair before opening the door to leave. "Come on, let's find him."

I could hear D's thoughts, he was very angry at Stanley for... Setting the lobby on fire with a molotov cocktail? Oh my God, that was such a classic Diego move! I could see him doing that as a kid, he had no right to be mad at his son for doing it. 

He kept trying to push that narrative that he was the most responsible 12-year-old on the planet, but I remember quite well that he would destroy everything with his knives, I don't even know how many times I accidentally got hit in the eye by one when he was still practicing. 

"Most of it wasn't even my fault, it was the man! The octogenarian!" Stan tried to argue.

"I don't give a shit where he grew up, alright? You're gonna clean because no one-" Diego started, but Stan wasn't done.

"And you're just mad cause you got your ass kicked by a floating cube!"

"That's it, you're grounded!"

Klaus and I couldn't keep from laughing. I was still intrigued by the fact that my brother didn't know what the word octogenarian meant, his son must've gotten Lila's brains. I hate to admit it because she creeps me out, but she's a smart little cookie.

"What are you two laughing at? You were conveniently absent when all this shit went down!" Diego turned to glare at us.

"We were talking with dad," Klaus said, doing a flourish with his hands.

"Don't move an inch," he pointed at his kid before pulling us aside. "Did you ask him about the mother shit?"

"Yeah," I looked over his shoulder at Stan, I don't know why but every time I saw him I felt the urge to pinch his cheeks and spoil the shit out of him... it was my first time meeting any niece or nephew so I guess I was little blinded by his cuteness.

"What'd he say?"

"That he didn't kill them," Klaus sighed heavily.

"And you believed that?"

"I don't know, it's hard to say, the Sparrows have got him all doped up like a... Like a me! Not even Vicky could read his mind properly, she said it was foggy."

"Anything else?" 

"Yes! The basement," I nudged my fiancé's arm.

"Yeah, that luggage room where we used to huff paint! Do you recall ever seeing this blinding orb of light?" Klaus asked. 

"Now we're done," Diego patted him on the back and turned on his heel.

"No, Dieguito! It's true, I saw it!" I called, but he was already distracted by Chet bringing one of those housekeeping carts.

"Chet, my love," Klaus immediately ran up to him. "I need to talk about that wedding reception I mentioned the other day, what is the closest date you have available and how much would that cost?"

"Aunt Vicky, can you talk to dad so he won't be so mad at me? I didn't do anything, it's true! I just had a little accident with a bottle, but the old man was the one who killed those two. Please, auntie? Please?" Stanley asked, probably sensing my weak spot for him. 

"I saw what you did, with the molotov cocktail... So it wasn't nothing," I cocked an eyebrow, but he wrapped his arms around me, surprising me with a hug. "I'll see what I can do, okay? Let me talk to your dad."

"Here," Diego handed the boy a bunch of keys and a list. "When you're done here, you're gonna clean every room on Chet's list to pay for this mess."

"Hey, D... Do you think that's really the best course of action? I mean he had an accident with the fire, he could just clean up the lobby and move on?" I suggested. "He won't do it again, right?"

"It doesn't matter, Vicky, you're too soft with him! If you really love your nephew so bad, you and Klaus can babysit him today."

"Nooo, why can't you do it? We have wedding stuff to plan! We have to do it before the whole world goes to shit," Klaus whined.

"I have to babysit Luther in case Allison pops off again," Diego explained.

"Wow, Luther manages to ruin my life even indirectly," I shook my head. "It's my fucking wedding!"

"You're ruining their wedding and my day, you should eat shit!" Staley shouted as his father left. "You two are having a double wedding?" he asked.

"No, we're marrying each other," Klaus huffed, pushing the cart towards the elevator.

"Aren't you siblings?" 

"Not biologically, and not legally anymore, dad disowned all of us."

"Fucking white people..."

"Hey young man! Do not talk to your aunt like this! She's not white, she's 100% Latina. Born in Latin America, she's basically the girl from Ipanema."

"Except I was born in Copacabana," I mumbled. "But he's right, I'm not white!"

Okay, maybe it wasn't ideal that we had to follow Stan cleaning rooms all day instead of tasting cakes and choosing our menu, but I was still willing to make the best out of it. I wanted to know everything about the last 12 years when I wasn't around my nephew. I never knew I liked children, but maybe if Klaus and I did a good job that day and by a miracle we escaped the end of the world again, we could think of having our own one day.

It wasn't so bad watching him... At least we didn't have to deal with the stupid Sparrows, Harlan, or Luther's stupid crush. Out of everyone, we might have gotten the best job of all. 

"Ew, what are you doing?" I watched as Klaus tipped back a little bottle of mouthwash.

"What? You made me drink the last of my vodka to store your Jayme juice, now I only have this," he said, inhaling sharply. "By the way, you missed a spot, kiddo."

"Well, you missed a spot on your face and I'm not complaining," Stan snapped back.

"Excuse me! Respect your uncle," I asked firmly. "I know you're grumpy because you have to do this, but we all had better things to do, no need to take it out on him. We had to deal with punishments way worse than this one when we were your age."

"That's true, one time I got six months of laundry duty, six fucking months, just for pawning one of my dad's stupid priceless artifacts from Mexico," Klaus scoffed. "Turns out it did have a price, dad, and that price was 35 dollars for meth, thank you very much."

"I'm so grateful you still have all your teeth..." I sighed, remembering how horrible it used to be to take care of him when he was on meth. "And I'm glad you're clean, mostly."

"Laundry duty doesn't seem so bad," Stan shrugged.

"It is when you know what your brothers do into their socks," Klaus chuckled. 

"That didn't include you?" I teased.

"No! Most of the time I just used a tissue or licked it off like a civilized person!" 

"You licked it off?" Stan recoiled, but laughed.

"It's my own, what's so gross about that? You don't see people reacting like that when someone sucks on a paper cut and tastes their blood," he elbowed me. "Now I don't really do that anymore, I have your aunt to clean up the mess."

"Don't say that!" I laughed, giving Klaus a playful shove. 

"Sound like you two got into a lot of trouble when you were my age," Stan commented.

"Oh, tons!" he shared a look with me. "Truancy, larceny, arsony... You know I lot of the stuff we were doing wasn't even illegal at the time, have you heard of Klaus' law?"

"I was not as much of a trouble maker-" I tried to save face, but of course my lovely partner in crime wouldn't let me.

"No no no, you were just better than me at hiding it, your aunt crashed her first car into a fire hydrant not two minutes after getting it, she stole your dad's knives so many times, she planned most of the sneaking out, she got us all hooked on Brazilian telenovelas that we had to hide to watch, she kept all of my weed and smoked with me..."

"Klaus!" I yelped.

"Well, it doesn't matter. Half of the time I was just trying to piss off my dad, Luther, Diego, or Ben," he drawled, pulling me into bed and trapping me against his chest.

"Yeah, oppositional defiant disorder," Stan muttered. "At least that's what my shrink calls it."

"Go on..." Klaus narrowed his eyes.

"It's typically associated with an argumentative, aggressive-"

"Irritable mood?" I finished and our nephew nodded.

"Antisocial, risk-seeking behavior, and impulsivity."   

"Ding-dong, who's at the door? Me!" Klaus stared at me wide-eyed at the realization. "I have that! It feels so good to put a name to it. So all the drugs, and the manipulation, and my cult..."

"You had a cult?" 

"It was the '60s babe, everybody had one. The point is all that was a reaction to my father and his obscenely high expectations of me! And then after dad, Vicky left which only made me go deeper into that hole, then I had Ben haunting my every move."

"Who's Ben?" 

"Ben is your other uncle who died when we were 16," I sat up. "He's alive in this timeline but it's not our Ben, so fuck him, he might as well be dead."

"Come on, focus, Vicky! If I set this room on fire would it be fulfilling?" Klaus sat up as well, piquing the interest of our crazy nephew who immediately reached into his pocket for his lighter. 

"I don't know. If I was to act out right now, who would it even be in opposition to?"

"Chet, who is the last person you should be opposing right before our wedding," I warned, scared he might want to test out that theory.

"You're right, maybe this whole new timeline thingy is a blessing in disguise, except for Stanley obviously..."

"HEY! He has feelings, Klausie, he's our family! We don't say that about family," I chastised. "He is a blessing, look at his little face!"

"To you, not Diego... But maybe now I can have a normal-ish relationship with our cold emotionless father. And you're not legally my sister anymore, so who's to say anything about us? We're like best friends who grew up together, childhood sweethearts, nothing more."

"I like the sound of that," I bit my lip, too wrapped up in my own head to notice Stan stealing a bunch of small objects from the room, but luckily my 'childhood sweetheart' noticed.

"Hey! Ay ay ay!" Klaus pointed, making a sound that clearly translated to 'stop that'. 

"Come on!" Stanley protested.

"No! Put it back!" he yelled, tsking at him as the boy put the car keys back in place. "All of it, please! Yes yes."

"I thought you were supposed to be the fun uncle!"

"I know me too..."

"That was so hot," I whispered in Klaus' ear. "You being responsible just turned me on so much."

"Can I just keep one thing?" Stan asked after emptying his pockets.

"Alright, you can keep the panties, if you work fast! Aunt Vicky needs my attention," he clapped with a smirk.

—————————————————— 

After that open conversation the two of them had, things got surprisingly easier and a lot more fun. Klaus finally seemed to accept Stan as part of the family and enjoy his company as much as I did. We were great babysitters! 

"Go faster! Faster!" Stan screamed as Klaus pushed us down the hall on that cleaning cart. 

"Coming through!" He shouted, having way too much fun with that until he stopped, seeing the one door at the end of the hall different from all the others. "White Buffalo Suite... Squirt, make with the key on this one, chop-chop."

"Let me check... Nope, this room isn't on the list and I'm definitely not gonna clean a room that isn't even on the list."

"White Buffalo, why does it have that name?" I jumped from the cart to check the door.

"I could pick the lock, but Diego took my switchblade," Stan frowned and so did I, hearing him call his dad Diego, but I guess after 12 years it would take some getting used to.

"Yeah, stand down," Klaus cracked his knuckled and his neck as if preparing for battle. "I once had to pick a lock with my teeth while partially paralyzed on Quaaludes. Oh man, that was an evening... All right, keep a watch out for me."

"This just gets hotter and hotter," I murmured to myself as I watched my fiancé get on his knees to unlock the door, I could almost see that ghost of young him prying open the door of the lab at college to steal the laughing gas that the odontology majors kept in there.

"Huh... Five founded The Commission," I blurted out after visiting our sibling's thoughts to pass the time as we waited. 

"What?"

"Nothing, keep going. That thing in the basement we saw, I think it's called a Kugelblitz."

"Name makes sense... Got it!" Klaus finally opened the door and winked when he saw the horny look on my face. "Having deja-vu, Liebling?"

"You have no idea," I entered the room and looked around. It was way bigger than any other room, much more colorful and luxurious as well. A huge buffalo head decorated the salmon-colored wall and everything was perfectly clean even though the lights were on, indicating someone must've been using it.

"Oh my God! Looks like friggin' Indiana Jones in here!" Stan ran inside. "Whoa! A pachinko!"

While he was distracted with all the stuff the room had to offer, Klaus was enthralled by that buffalo head, so I closed my eyes to enter his mind and see what he was thinking about. 

I wasn't surprised to find he was remembering a white buffalo painting we saw at dad's new office. It was very hard to miss, and it had to mean something, it would be too much of a coincidence for that room and that painting to have the same exact theme. Maybe dad knew something we didn't.

"Hey, come on, chop-chop Stan," I heard Klaus' voice. "Gotta see a man abut a buffalo-"

But before he could finish that sentence, I heard the sound of a projectile being shot and my fiancé groaning in pain. I opened my eyes to find Stan holding a speargun, a spear had been shot and went straight through Klaus' chest, landing on the wall where the pachinko machine was. 

I ran to take him in my arms, drenching my dress in his blood. Klaus was shaking and trying to stand, but his legs gave out, bringing me to my knees with the weight of his body as I let out an ear-splitting cry.

"Oh shit, the wedding," were the last words Klaus uttered before his final breath and I sobbed uncontrollably, holding him close to my chest. 

"Aunt Vicky, I'm s-s-sorry," Stan stammered, still in shock.

"Sorry? You're sorry?" I stood up, taking the gun from him before he could cause any more destruction. "YOU KILLED THE PERSON I LOVE THE MOST IN THE ENTIRE WORLD!"

"It was an accident, aunt Vicky!"

"Don't call me aunt, you little shit!" I slapped him before I could stop myself and he fell, crawling away from me. I immediately regretted doing that to a child, but it was too late to take back, just like Klaus' murder.

He looked at me with such terror, his nose bleeding and his cheek reddening, but to me it was not enough. I wanted to hurt him, I wanted him to suffer as much as I was suffering. He took from me the only thing I had left, the only person that made me truly happy in all these 33 years of life. 

"He was my everything! He was my world and you took him from me!" I screamed. "I never wanna see you again, seu filho da puta! I fucking hate you! Eu te odeio, seu desgraçado!"

"P-please don't hurt me!" he begged with tears rolling down his face, which only made me angrier.

"YOU HURT HIM! YOU HURT ME! Go get your father now! Get out of my sight before I kill you with my own hands," I rushed back to my fiancé, to embrace him and stop myself from doing something I'd regret even more. "Klaus was right, you're not a blessing, you're a curse, you fucking demon spawn. I wish your mother never had brought you into this world. Now go, get out!"

[may-b-a-u-shewritestoo]

The feeling is mutual | | Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader | |

A little fluffy 2 part series that I wanted to drop real quick to get back into the swing of things, I hope you like it! It feels good to be back but I’m terrified. I feel like a little deer in headlights! Feedback is most welcomed ALWAYS. ✨

PART 2

Summary; You’re both profilers, analysing behaviour and making connections. So why is it so hard to read each other?

Includes; mentions of sex, mentions of being on period, mention of serial killer unsub (if you know what movie i’m referencing then I love you), fluff! ✨

Word count; 1.2k ✨ (second part will be longer! this is just a little part 1 to see what y’all think)

“I literally want nothing more right now Spencer but I can’t.”

Stood in the break room at work, you mixed the sugar into your coffee and sighed at the very eager colleague beside you.

For a few months now, you’d been having a physical relationship with Spencer. No deeper or hidden feelings had been discussed, you guys were friends who had needs, and those needs could be met by each other. Nothing but trust, friendship and safety with a side order of good sex.

However, Spencer was usually good at keeping things subtle; he’d at least wait until you were both off and out of work to pursue things further. But not today. He’d clearly woken up with a motive. Which was apparently to be inside you by the end of your shift.

Unfortunately for him it was that oh-so-wonderful time of the month and as much as you debated it in your head the second you saw the dark desperation in his eyes, you were not in the mood for all the effort of cleaning up after. Especially not at work.

“You called ME last night, Y/N. It took all of my self control to NOT to get in my car and take you until sunrise.” Spencer grew closer to you, his attitude not remotely intimidating because of the whiny tone in his voice. He was right, you’d been particularly needy the night before; calling him up and breathily whispering down the phone in an attempt to get him to come over. But you both had an early start so you eventually changed your mind.

You just giggled and sipped your drink, misjudging how hot it would be.

“Ah you - stupid fu-‘ Immediately grabbing a bottle of water from a mini fridge below the counter, you took a gulp to soothe your throat.

“I’m just saying, what’s suddenly changed in 16 hours and 42 minutes that’s so drastic?” Spencer looked down at you, ignoring the entire hot drink charade, but having a genuine concern on his face for something else.

Rolling your eyes and standing up to speak to him properly, you took a hold of your coffee cup once again and attempted your most serious face.

“First off, I’m allowed to change my mind. Secondly, I got my period this morning and - no, before you even attempt to convince me ‘oh it’s fine’ I’m not in the mood. Now get your blood rushing back to the right head because I do believe we’ve got a case.”

***************

The unsub was suspected to be a woman in her mid to late 30’s, using a technique similar to that of Ted Bundy and Aileen Wuornos. So far the team had deduced she would lure the victims with seduction at local bars in the area, pretend to be extremely drunk in order to attract creeps and when they took her home she would kill them.

The plan would be for Derek to go undercover at a bar that all the victims had attended and hopefully find the unsub. But first they all needed rest. They’d been working from 8am, after landing at 7am, and now it was 11pm.

Hotch had agreed everybody needed to recuperate and get together around midday the next day, as he knew the unsub would only be out and preying from late evening.

The hotel you guys were staying at was actually pretty luxurious considering the urgency and location. Hoping to share a room with Tara or Emily so you knew you would get some sleep, you grabbed your bags and headed up to see your roommate.

Keying the card and gaining entry with a jolly beep, you noticed it was still dark. Had you been lucky and scored your own room? Flicking the lights on, you let out a frustrated groan when you saw him sitting against the headboard.

A smug grin stretched across his face before it dropped back into that familiar pursed concern look.

“I didn’t do this to annoy you Y/N, I just wanted to spend more time with you. I can switch with JJ.” Spencer began to shuffle off the bed and you just tutted and put your bag down.

“No, stay. I’m not mad. At least not annoyed mad. I’m frustrated. But not with you. I’m just-“

“Y/N.”

Tiredly dragging your palms down your face, you opened your eyes to finally make eye contact with the poor man who was victim to your hormones.

“I’m sorry. I’m just miserable.” you walked around to the side of the bed where Spencer sat on the edge. His eyes followed you, watching your face in an attempt to profile whatever you were thinking. His hands came up to rest at your sides, thumbs stroking lightly across your hips.

“Do you want me to leave so you can get some rest? You’re tired, I can tell.”

“Don’t profile me Spencer.” you chucked lightly, your own hands coming to rest over his. He smiled softly up at you, waiting for your answer.

“Stay please.” Matching his gentle smile, you looked over at your bag before looking back at him. “I need to shower and then I’ll be right in okay?”

Spencer nodded and leant to reach just beside you, where his bag sat on a chair. You knew he was getting a book out, so that he would distract himself while waiting up for you; the one thing you admired and got excited about was falling asleep next to him.

******************

“Do you always do that? I’ve never noticed it before?” Spencer asked quietly into your ear.

You were cozily tucked into his neck, one hand resting against his chest and the other squished between your bodies. Legs entwined with one another, you were absentmindedly rubbing your foot up and down along his. It was a comfort for you, you mostly did it to yourself when you were sleepy.

“Mhmm.”

“It’s cute. Are you anxious? Or stressed? It’s actually a very common limbic response to anxiety, it releases endorphins so you know, you’re essentially giving yourself a massage.” Spencer rambled onto the top of your head, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine.

“ ‘M not stressed. Not anymore.” you hummed into his neck, snuggling in closer than you thought possible. You could feel his pulse quickening slightly against your cheek, hear him swallowing with nervousness as you readjusted yourself; throwing a leg over his hip and latching onto him like a little koala. “Calm down Spence, I’m just getting comfy.”

“Sleep well Y/N.” He spoke so softly it almost lulled you into sleep. His breathing settled as yours did, the arm he had wrapped around your shoulder holding you tight. His other hand drawing lazy lines up and down your spine as he too adapted a comforting stimulation that was going to send him off too.

Spencer couldn’t help but think about how perfectly you slotted against his body, how much you felt like home. The sharp but sweet scent of your shampoo overloaded his senses and bypassed the oestrogen-filled attitude, the drop in energy and the rise in other types of tension. He would do anything you asked him to. But he was sure you didn’t know that. He was even surer that he wouldn’t tell you. Instead, he would appreciate the seconds, minutes and hours you spent together and let his mind drift off onto what the next day would bring him.