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callmelola111 · 1 year

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color me purple ♡ part three

✄ - - - - part 1 , part 2 , part 3 - - - - soundtrack - - - - ♡

synopsis: it’s summer and you’re back at camp stillwater. as a counselor you mean serious business and you’ll do whatever it takes for your cabin to come out on top. the only thing in the way of that; ellie williams and her crazy antics.

| 𓆣 | pairing & wc: ellie williams x reader. wc: 3.4k

| ❀ | cw (by part): 18+ themes (MDNI), modern au, fem reader, some angst, ellie and reader fight, sweet love confession, !!SMUT WARNING!! (minors plz steer clear of this fic + dni), swearing, dom!ellie, sub!reader, whipped cream play, slightly public??, fingering (e receiving), oral (r receiving), scissoring (e + r), pet names (princess, sweet girl, baby, etc.), praise, edging kinda, some aftercare (lmk if i missed anything!!)

a/n: hello lovelies!!! i apologize for taking a whole ass week to get out this last part, i was on vacation and not feeling very inspired. finally though, i present a nasty, sweet ending that i hope you all love. so fun to write and read back, like why am i all hot and bothered rn lol. like always, thank you for the support!! ♡~ lola

That night Ellie replayed your words over and over in her head trying to dissect their meaning. Had her player-esque persona finally caught up to her? If so, why did it matter to you?

Through some deep speculation, she began connecting the dots. There seemed to be a real possibility that you liked Ellie as more than a friend, just as she did you. There was no way to be sure though, not unless she asked. But, the task seemed daunting considering it felt as if she had already ruined what she didn’t know was there.

The image of your tear stained face was seared into Ellie’s mind and proved as motivation to confess, apologize, explain. As long as you’d listen she’d repair the damage done to your heart. A tinge of regret hit Ellie as she thought about the meaningless hookups of summer's past. It was her way of dealing with unrequited love. But of course, now that that love doesn’t seem so unrequited, her mistakes have come back to taint it.

♡

The following morning kicked off bright and early. 8:00am to be exact. The sky was pure blue with no fluffs of white to shade from the fury that was the sun. In virtue of the rising temperatures the expansive lake beckoned masses of campers into its waters. Just in time for the kayak relay race about to take place.

Each team lined up in number order spanning across the weathered wood of the dock. At the very end stood teams 11 and 12, you and Ellie heading your rows of campers. With the sting of yesterday's interactions you continued giving Ellie the cold shoulder.

It took everything inside to void your gaze from her, trying to focus on the games, while Ellie lacked the self control to look at anything but you. She studied your glowy skin and the way your sweat gathered at the nape of your neck from the sweltering heat. She took note of the stray hairs that clung to the moisture you produced and the way your brows remained furrowed as you fought every instinct urging you towards her. It felt like absolute torture and although neither of you said a word, there was a mutual understanding of the shared pain. However, before the tension could beat down on you any longer a loud whistle blew, signaling the start of the race.

Each counselor kicked off the relay heading straight for the finish. You slipped into your kayak, gripping onto the red double-bladed paddle that propelled you forward. Ellie’s boat was in line with yours sending aggressive ripples in between the two hunks of floating plastic. The course stretched over 500 meters and as you reached the 400 meter mark you were still neck and neck with Ellie, fighting for first place.

This is usually how it went but something about today was different, something in Ellie’s eye’s hinted towards a more complicated journey towards triumph. She suddenly jerked her boat to the right, straight towards yours. The pointed tip of her kayak rammed into the side of yours rocking it side to side and throwing you off course. Knowing her abilities, you recognized this as a pursuit at instigation.

“HEY FUCK OFF!” you shouted with anger before swerving your boat to the left, hitting hers in retaliation. Ellie continued to push back.

“Oh so now you’ll speak to me?!”

“Are you serious right now? Stop fucking with me Ellie!” You attempted to continue forward, but as multiple racers passed you and Ellie blocked your path, it felt like no use.

“You can’t be mad at me forever!” her voice was desperate rather than angry and this left you baffled at her exact motives.

“Oh yeah? TRY ME!” Ellie took your words as an invitation and used her paddle to scoop at the murky water sending it your way. You screamed in irritation as it hit you right in the face, soaking your once dry body.

Before you knew it, you were rising from your seated position to catapult even more water back at her. Ellie then stood up right with you, continuing the petty fight and reaching across the edge of her floating device to grab ahold of your paddle. At this point the both of you were blinded with vexation playing tug of war with the rod of plastic. Your boat rocked back and forth, more and more violently each time as you began to lose balance. With one last wave of water and the pull of Ellie you both tumbled into the lake in a mess of arms, legs, and curses.

You quickly shot up with the help of your life jacket, now drenched. Screams and laughters erupted along with the violent blowing of Mrs. Campbell’s whistle to halt the race and deal with the trouble you and Ellie caused. The both of you had been sentenced to kitchen duty and expected to sort out whatever drama had ensued. With the weight of your decisions, you were then banished from the lake and sent off to prepare lunch in place of the usual cooks.

♡

The double doors of the mess hall swung open with attitude as you and Ellie waltzed in. The air was shockingly cool compared to the barren heat just outside. Your wet hair became a nuisance as its once cooling effect now left you cold and miserable in the air conditioning.

Ellie led the way into the sterile looking kitchen and you followed in silence. Little words had been said between the two of you since your rage filled water fight. Although now, all rage had dissipated, leaving only feelings of shame and heartache in the air you shared. The silence grew heavy and the things left unsaid began bubbling up.

You reached for a ratty gray apron hanging on the dull walls trying to focus on the assigned task of cooking lunch. Staring at the chipped paint, you fumbled at the strings behind your back trying to tie them but to no avail.

“Uh- do you want some help?” Despite Ellie being the only one in the room, her voice startled you. She inched closer waiting for your permission to assist and you obliged. Ellie’s hands reached to the contour of your waist, gripping the fabric. The brush of her knuckles across the small of your back sent a parade of chills to your skin. Her touch was slow and agonizing. Part of you wondered if she’d purposely made such prolonged contact as she tied the strings into a sloppy bow.

Although Ellie’s duty was done, you both remained still, you facing the wall and her facing your back. She reached once more to your familiar waistline and quickly flipped you around towards her.

“There… all done.” she murmured. In that moment with just inches between each other, eyes locked, you finally felt sure of her feelings, and your feelings, and the fact that you couldn’t keep pretending to hate her. The universe would stop at nothing to bring the two of you together and it was time to surrender. Ellie’s emerald orbs were full of you and only you and she knew she had to say something. If not now, when?

“I’m so fucking sorry. For everything. Please– forgive me.” You collapsed into her body like a house of cards. These were the words you needed to hear. Voice cracking, you called out her name in desperation.

“Ellie-” She urgently completed the other half of the embrace. Your face nestled perfectly into the crick of her neck like it was fate. Pine soap and earthy lake water wafted through your senses as you took in a deep inhale of relief. The following breaths were rocky and unsteady as all your pinned up emotions rose to the surface. Still stuck in Ellie’s crevice you began a gentle cry.

“Hey- hey- look at me. Don’t cry bunny.” She pulled your damp face in the cradle of her hands and guided you into contact with her glassy, green eyes.

“Els, you- you have no idea what you do to me.” you struggled through the vulnerable sentence. Ellie pulled you back into the warmth of her body squeezing you even tighter like she was worried you might float away. Your words sat in the air waiting to be tended to until finally Ellie acted.

“I think I might.” Her answer was like a warm blanket around your heart. You looked up from your sanctuary in her frame and she stared back. You played a cat and mouse game of glances from eyes to lips and pressure rose.

Ellie took a deep inhale and asked the anticipated question, “can I kiss you?” With no time for words you dove into her soft mouth. Your top lip slotted perfectly in between hers, sealing the gap of yearning that had amassed from years of rivalry.

The peck was hard and long. It’s tenderness evoked cries of queer happiness from the both of you. Your tears mixed with hers was an act of love, and a long-awaited one at that. Ellie’s lips began to wander down to your neck and then your collarbones evoking sweet giggles from your throat.

“Ellie- Ellie- enough. We do have to cook, you know.” A disappointing realization but true nonetheless.

“Fine, fine.” Ellie’s kisses halted but you could still feel each one radiating off your skin. Your smile didn’t falter once as you and Ellie whipped up lunch for the campers. Who would’ve thought punishment could be this fun?

♡

After the 12 cabins passed in and out of the mess hall, consuming the meal, you and Ellie followed behind to clean up. After the kitchen was tidied, you both ventured into the dining area to wipe off the tables scattered throughout.

You dipped your sudsy rag into the bucket of cleaning solution and swirled it across the laminated wood. The table was long and wide forcing you to bend over the edge to extend your arm towards the hard to reach parts. Your ass up in the air was like a bright flag waving for Ellie to come over and assist, but not with the cleaning. She snaked both arms around your waist connecting them at your tummy. Her groin then pressed at your hips with reverence. She admired your shape and the way you somehow always slotted perfectly into her.

“Ellieeee…” You drug out her name nice and long, disguising your pleasure with annoyance. She began planting more kisses in the same pattern as before.

“What? Do you want me to stop?” You sat up now parallel with her body, ass still against crotch. Breathy air escaped from your mouth as Ellie gently nibbled at your ear, sending your head into a spin. You gulped out a string of “nos”, adamant about how much you needed her. And how you needed her now.

Your expression of desperation triggered Ellie’s strong hands into action. The 5 digits dragged up the right side of your ribs causing the soft red fabric of your shirt to bunch up, her firm motions stopping at the underside of one of your breasts. Ellie kneaded hungrily at the mound of fat, reveling in your braless form and hardening nipples.

“C’mere, turn towards me. I wanna see your pretty face.” Her request flowed from her blushed lips like a symphony and you quickly obeyed. The table dug into your back leaving a mark as Ellie towered over you in desire like an animal. You tugged at the hem of her blue T-shirt sliding your hand under the linen. You were just as needy. Her abs flexed with the exploration of your eager hands. Wanting more, she leaned in close to deliver the message.

Her hot breath tickled you ear as she whispered, “you wanna make purple?” No matter how hot and bothered the both of you were, Ellie still found time to insert in her stupid humor. The cheesy sexual innuendo made you snicker but only for a moment before you were pulled back into her world of desire.

You nodded fervently to urge the escalation of this interaction, so she scooped you up by your pillow soft thighs and whisked you away to the kitchen. The stainless steel countertop where Ellie had positioned you was cold and left the back of your legs moderately numb. Overflowing with lust, you went for Ellie’s lips but she quickly pulled away before you could reach them.

“Ah, ah, ah.” she tsk’s before dashing away to the large industrial fridge, sending the double doors flying open with her pull.

“Els? What are you doing?” you questioned, feeling the ache between your legs amp up. You weren’t sure how much longer you could wait for her touch.

“I’m hungry.” she answered simply, pulling out a large red canister of dairy. Confusion was your prominent emotion but you didn’t dare to question her methods. Shaking the metal up and down vigorously she ran back, popping off the cap on the way. Your clenched thighs were quickly peeled apart by Ellie as she made room for herself between your dangling legs. In one hand she hoisted up the whipped cream and with her other she took your chin, angling it upward.

“Open.” she commanded. You separated your lips in obedience but it wasn’t enough.

“Wider.” Ellie’s hand cradled your jaw as it dropped even further this time. With this she squirted the milky, white cream down your throat.

“Now swallow,” she instructed until your compliance, “good girl.” A cocky, power hunger smirk painted Ellie’s face as she watched you melt into the palm of her hand. You were sure that the thin cotton of your panties was now far from dry.

“We’re gonna have some fun now... hands up.” With assistance from the girl in blue, you shed a layer of clothing. Your tit’s instantly perked up with the frigid air of the kitchen now surrounding them. Ellie watched in awe as dozens of fantasies played out in her head. It was a struggle just deciding what she wanted to do to you first.

The whipped cream assisted her next steps as she sprayed it across your remarkable chest. You gasped in pleasure at the cold, wet sensation. Drips of white began to trickle down your stomach as Ellie played clean up with the help of her tongue. The pink muscle pressed flat to your sternum collecting a heaping of cream and then venturing back to your own mouth. Teeth clashed and tongues wrestled as the white liquid swirled between the exchange of salvia. You left the kiss just for a moment to let out an urgent mewl. Ellie’s attention was then diverted back to your beautiful, beautiful body. She continued lapping up the sweetness taking time in between to suck on your erect nipples.

“Shit- baby, it got all over your cute little shorts,” she continued, her voice smooth like butter, “we better get these off of you then, huh?” Your bottom lip quivered in sexual agony, anticipating the future promises of friction. Ellie took her built arms and hooked them around the back of your legs. Upon swift movement she pulled you to the edge of the counter, stealing your shorts and panties in the process. Frigid steel made contact with your puffy clit aiding in some sense of satisfaction while you pleaded with Ellie.

“P-please, n-n-need you Els.” You bucked your hips demonstrating the amount of discomfort you were feeling. Ellie played dumb.

“Need what?” She teased your aching cunt with gentle brushes of her fingers at your thighs and you yelped.

“Need your fingers- your mouth- something- pleassee.” The words came out in a long slur but Ellie knew just what you were begging for oh so desperately. Having fun with her little game, she brought back the canister of white fluff, this time dispersing it across the heat you held between your inviting thighs.

Red plump lips belonging to Ellie planted deep into each bit of your flesh before eventually reaching their final destination. Your exquisite folds were glazed in milk and sugar like a special treat waiting to be devoured. For just a few seconds everything was frozen as Ellie was trapped by your fantasy-like beauty. Saving the image to memory, she dove into your crotch like it was her first, last, and only meal. Her tongue swirled through every crevice of you, taking only a few beats to express words of praise…

“My sweet, sweet girl.” , “You’re all mine” , “You taste so fucking good princess.”

Although, her affirmations could hardly be understood over your exuberant cries of pleasure. In your case, sentences were the last thing being formed as your bliss began to reach a fever pitch.

“Close,” you mumbled, “so close.”

Ellie halted all movements, not wanting it to end.

“You think I’m gonna let you cum that easy? No way baby, we still have more fun to be had.” She shook her head taunting you. No matter how much it hurt, Ellie was in control and you clenched hard trying to prevent any further acceleration to your orgasm. You wanted to be the very best girl for your very best girl.

“Come on, let’s take this to the pantry.” She hoisted you up off your place in the kitchen and assisted you there, your slick dripping down the innards of your legs as you walked (it was really more of a wobble and hop).

With a glistening face of your wetness, Ellie then commanded you again, “Lie down for me pretty.” You did so as Ellie stripped herself down, meeting your bareness. She dipped into your form on the cold tile but the heat of your bodies was enough to distract from all the outside factors.

Purple and blue welts appeared across your neck and breasts as Ellie sucked every bit of skin she could in between the wrath of her teeth. With her parallel to you, your hands reached down to confront the mess that was Ellie’s folds.

“So wet.” you whimpered in satisfaction. Knowing how just your sole pleasure could do that much to her drove you mad. You couldn’t help but slip a finger inside her tight little hole, trying to give back even just a sliver of the bliss she gave you. Ellie gasped as you filled her up, releasing the bit of flesh in her mouth that she had been suctioning to.

As much as she reveled in your pleasure, you reveled in hers. More whipped cream squirted between your bodies, mixing with the influx of sweat being produced. After many sloppy, in-and-out pumps of your digits you pulled them out to taste.

Ellie took this as an opportunity to grab your hips, holding them still for her own to align just right. You both began rocking against each other, unsteady at first, but with practice you gained a perfect rhythm. Clits bumped as heaving breaths and loud groans shot through the air. The mess hall pantry has become heaven on earth.

“Fuccckkk, I think I’m gonna…” Ellie erupted and you followed.

“Mmmmm.” Your back arching and her hips bucking chaotically, Ellie assaulted your sensitive ball of nerves with her own. The stars aligned and the angels sang as the both of you reached the climax of your lives. It was euphoric. White flooded your vision as you continued to ride out this high with the girl of your dreams. Sweet, sweet Ellie Williams.

Finally, the ravenous movement and desperate attempts at pleasure caught back up, leaving you limp and fucked out. Ellie lay next to you with a firm grip on your hand, maintaining contact as a sense of comfort and slight fear that if she didn’t hold on you’d vanish into thin air. You rolled to your side scattering gentle pecks on her arms and torso.

“My special girl” you whispered into her skin, just loud enough for Ellie to hear. She smiled at you and then let out a large sigh of release, kissing you back.

“God, you’re sticky. Wonder how that happened??” A stupid little grin was stamped on her face as she teased about the recent sexual escapades.

“Let me clean you up, yeah?” You nodded with adoring eyes. She was an angel in bed and out of it. With a wet rag Ellie cleaned up the sugary, sweet mess, giving an occasional kiss of tenderness. It was all you could’ve ever asked for, and it continued that way for the rest of the summer and many more to come.

✄ - - - - part 1 , part 2 , part 3 - - - - masterlist - - - - ♡

taglist...

@endureher @gold-dustwomxn @alexpritch @4rt3m1ss @robinismywifee @sophlovesbooks @97cityy

(taglist is for all callmelola111 works, if you'd like to be removed just kindly lmk)

389 notes · View notes

cubeshapedlemon · 3 months

Note

hii !!!! I think this is where we request! so I have some ideas for norm (ofc)

first!

yk when vault 32 got attacked ?

what if YOU survived,and hid,trying to defend yourself and surviving by stealing in vault 33 (stole a pip boy to access it) food and other stuff,because u think that every vault got attacked (no communications) so u are always undercover for bad guys,

and even if sometimes rations were low nobody ever suspected a thing or saw you,until norm got charged with giving the prisoners food,and one day in the kitchen he caught u stealin,and he was like « i’ve never seen you around » so you’re scared obv but you open up when u realise he wouldn’t hurt a fly,and because lucy and his dad’s gone,he keeps u in his appartement in secret,stealing supplies for you,letting you use the shower,till you’re ready enough to wander in the vault because it’s safeee! (hes def in love with u)

that’s it bye :3

i finally finished this apologies for the wait🫶 i tweaked the plot a bit and this might be more angsty and smutty than originally expected but in my opinion its pretty good so enjoy and ty again for the request<3

☆ ☆ ☆

Two Slow Dancers

When the raiders first attacked 32, your life was forever changed. Going to 33 gave some insight, thanks to one sad-eyed Maclean

☆ ☆ ☆

Norm Maclean x f!reader

5.1k words

cw and tags: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, piv, oral sex (f receiving), light biting, hair pulling, hickeys, love confessions, non-sexual intimacy, blink an you'll miss it lewd sexual harassment-esque comments (not by norm), brief description of panic attack, brief hospitalization from said panic attack, cannon typical descriptions of violence, parental death, the quickest slow burn you will ever read, gratuitous use of song lyrics in a narratively appropriate way ( i snuck a lyric in from two slow dancers by mitski in there so brownie points to you if you find it)

☆ ☆ ☆

authors note: hey! sorry this took so fucking long! so much stuff was happening plus laziness plus forgetfulness plus life in general so please forgive me! i really enjoyed writing this request and even though i tweaked your original request a bit i hope you still enjoy it! if i missed any misspellings or i missed something in the tags please lmk! anywho if you enjoy this please send me more requests! (info in pinned post) reblogs are greatly appreciated but please don't translate or repost this anywhere without my permission!

I will never forget that day. The sounds of shots ring out, followed by the useless fizz of tranq guns, skulls shattering against the walls with a now all too familiar crack. I lead my life holding onto aspirations and hope, the thought of a husband, children, of reclamation day. How stupid was I truly, to hold out hope for something like that. Gods, I never thought I would have to worry about anything else.

Until that day dawned, I could have fought and died honorably, my mother did, my father did. I never thought I would ever see my father cry. Nothing could have prepared me for the rageful sob that he let out once they got to my mother–the grief that beat through him with gnashing teeth and blood red rage. I could do nothing but follow my father's orders, dragging my mother and hoping somehow, somewhere, we could be safe.

The boiling hot tears in my eyes made it nearly impossible to see. My hands were occupied, trying to stop the bleeding. Nothing was working, every movement and bit of pressure lathering my hands in crimson. I never thought I would know what death looks like; that day I learned several versions of his ugly face. The endless, malice filled stare of my father, the desperate simpering expression of the children. The most memorable of them being the one that covered my mother.

Pity. A pitiful expression, a soft, challenging smile. She wiped my tears, her dying breath a word of comfort to me. “It's ok, you did what you could baby. It's my time, you need to promise me one thing though. Can you do that?” Anything I nod, slipping my fingers between hers. “Save yourself, make me proud.”

So I ran. I hid. I moved quickly when I needed to, stealing whatever I could from them, breaking into whatever room that had what I needed. I started hearing the footsteps less and less. After a day or two they ceased all together. I could wander freely, the click of my boots the only sound.

☆ ☆ ☆

The next few days pass in unimportant washes, each day I discover another body, another busted up apartment, another tragedy. I force myself to move on.

Resources are sparse. The raiders took anything that wasn't directly bolted down it seems. Even that didn't entirely stop them. It quickly became clear that I had no communication with the other vaults, the overseer's computer now a busted hunk of scrap.

Seemingly the only piece of tech they didn't destroy was the control panel to the door connecting us and 33. Oh gods, that means-

They've surely invaded them now too. Against my better judgment, I need to see the proof for myself. With shaking hands I press the button, the door slowly groaning open. A dark hall greets me, the deafening silence of my vault giving the air an eerie tinge that infests every corner of the room. Taking a deep breath, I step inside.

At first, I only hear my own steps. The same sound I have heard for weeks on end. Trudging forward, I start to hear more. Muffled speech, walking, the soundtrack of normalcy. It's not long before I see the creators of this sound. They seem to be true vault dwellers, though I have no evidence that they are. Sure they are wearing the suits of 33, but who knows? Maybe the raiders infiltrated them and decided to take over?

Either way I need to stay vigilant. I'll just do a quick scan for supplies then leave. It'll be ok. I can do this. Following the oddly familiar path I make my way to the pantry. Quickly checking the small glass panel in the door, I see that it's empty. Taking my chance I make my way inside, closing the door behind me silently.

I look at the labels for each of the cabinets. There are plenty of rations, much more than 32 ever had. Certainly more than we have now. Poking around a bit more I decide it's probably a good idea to only grab small amounts. I don't need someone finding me out. Distracted, I don't notice the door click open. That is until I hear the loud rumble of a cart. Drawing my tranq gun, I turn and point it at the unfortunate soul who found me.

Surprise befalls his face, hands going up. The man is rather small. Shorter than me with a slight build. Dark hair plastered into an unnaturally perfect styling. “Who are you?” I demand, my voice deepening as I attempt to intimidate him. He gapes pathetically at me for a few seconds, looking back towards the glass panel in the door, seeing no one in the surrounding halls.

“Norm- Norman Maclean.” he manages to get out, his eyes searching over my expression, looking for something.

“Maclean?” I question, why does that name sound so familiar? “As in overseer Maclean?” That seems to give him some relief, he lets out a held breath, arms sagging slightly.

“Yes! Please don't shoot me,” he says, his voice high pitched, as if he expected me to shoot him then and there.

“Fine,” I say, holstering the gun again. He's probably not dangerous.

Seeing that he lowers his arms, taking a step away from me. His eyes scan me more intensely now, gaze falling on the vault-identifying pin on my collar. Clearly not believing what he was seeing, he backs himself into a wall. “You're- from 32?” he asks, voice quivering slightly, though he was clearly trying to cover it up.

“Shhh,” I chastise, walking towards him, a hand smacking over his mouth in the process. “What's it to you?” He attempts to speak something into my hand, which obviously gets muffled. Moving my hand away he speaks again, in a now quieter tone.

“I thought all of you had died, because of the-” he looks to the side, as if looking at the walls would help sugarcoat his statement. “Raiders,” he completes his statement, crossing his arms defensively.

So he does know about them

“No,” a bitter laugh forces itself out, guarding whatever I had left in me. “I wasn't fortunate enough to.” My face is adorned by a tight-lipped grimace. Looking down I feel tears start to well up again. I force them away.

I look back up. The man's face is no longer defensive, it's almost solemn. His arms now at his side, “I-” he goes to speak, tone sympathetic but whatever pity he had prepared dying on his tongue. “Follow me,” is what he decides on. Wait, follow me? What the hell is he talking about? My internal reaction must have played out on my face, he goes to speak again.

“You need to get some rest, you look like you haven't slept in days.” Wow, rude, although true. “You can stay in my apartment for the time being, I need to tell our council that you're here.” Oh, gods no, what if they kick me out? I broke in! I'm not supposed to be here! My worry kicks up again, the energy filling the room.

“It will be ok, they just need to know, so you don't have to hide.” He places what is probably meant to be a comforting hand on my arm, though he removes it swiftly. Deciding to bite the bullet, I follow him.

☆ ☆ ☆

The door opens with a thunk, a home identical to mine in 32 stands before me, identical to what was in 32. “This is it.” He leads me inside with a hand hovering at the small of my back. Not touching, but just enough of a beckoning presence that I instinctively go. It's so clean. It's practically sterile compared to what 32 has been reduced to at this point.

“Make yourself at home, I'll be back soon.” With his last word, he promptly excuses himself. The home is eerily empty, like something is missing. Typical aspects of a lived-in home are present, dirty dishes, a half finished board game on the living room floor. Something distinct is off about it still.

Though, that is not something that is particularly important right now. Following his instructions, I make myself at home. It's been an unfortunate amount of time that I have been forced to go without the typical luxuries that the vaults provide. The luxuries I will not go without for any longer.

A shower being the first thing on that list. Unfortunately I don't have anything different to change into after, my once perfect blue suit now tinted with memories and rusty red stains. But, it will have to do.

☆ ☆ ☆

About half an hour later, I hear the distinct thunk of the door opening once more. Stepping out of the bathroom I see him waiting for me, what looks to be some folded regulation pj's and a fresh suit in his hands. “They uh, said you could stay with me for now,” he begins, tone nervous, as if I would turn him down in some way. “I grabbed you some clean clothes. I just took a guess for your size.” Letting out a sigh of relief, I walk forward grabbing the carefully stacked clothes from his arms. Our hands brushing briefly as he hands them over.

“Thank you, really.” My tone is much lighter than earlier today, though still firm, hoping that he would understand the honesty in my statement through it. If he believes me he doesn't show it, his eye contact breaking as he gives me a cordial nod. I return it, walking back into the bathroom to change. The smooth cotton of the t-shirt and the slightly loose sleep shorts give a simple level of comfort. He seems to have guessed correctly, almost impossibly so, when it comes to sizing. The basic outfit somehow looking vaguely flattering on my figure.

Stepping out of the bathroom once again I see that he has busied himself in the kitchen, something popping and sizzling in the pan in front of him. He acknowledges me with a slight turn of his head before going back to his task. Walking around a bit more, I find a collection of holotapes. Every genre you could think of, labeled and organized alphabetically.

Choosing a random one I click it into place on the player. With a press of the button a familiar tune fills the air.

…Everybody loves somebody sometime…

“So,” he says, voice raising over the soft playing of the music. “They want to meet you, the council,” he informs, tone conversational yet careful.

“Oh?” I question, walking over to him.

“Yeah, they uh- want to help you acclimate to the new environment and all.” The stove clicks off, turning around he brandishes two plates with a simple meal, handing one to me before walking over to the table.

“I-” he pauses, rethinking whatever he was about to say. “I think they might, make you talk to them. See them at least,” he says, tone careful. Pushing the food around his plate a bit, he takes a small bite. Them.

“You captured them? The raiders?” There is a bite to my words, accusatory and harsh. “You kept them alive? After all they have done?”

“Unfortunately.” His tone has a similar bitterness. At least he understands where I'm coming from. Walking to the table, I sit across from him, taking a few bites from my meal. Each of our frustrations and anger sizzling out slowly in favor of a comfortable silence. Every once and a while he would attempt to make polite conversation. I of course return it, continuing the conversation when I can. He really is quite nice, funny too. Really is a shame I had to meet him under such harsh circumstances.

☆ ☆ ☆

After the meal I offer to clean up out of politeness, he gives a grateful smile when he accepts. The picture was almost domestic, the scent of the sweetpea dish soap and the sound of some old Cooper Howard film in the background. This picture soon became part of a routine. Many would probably question how quickly Norm and I got along, though I don't. After what we have both gone through recently, normalcy is what we crave, and this is about as close as we could get to it.

Days pass, weeks along with them. The comfortable relationship we have formed only continues to get better. The council calls me in every once and a while, trying to figure out what to do with me. Placing me in a job for a while, moving me to another. While my number of attempted jobs aren't quite as impressive as Norm's they're still worth noting. He makes sure to mention this when I start a new one, adding a tally to the board he made on a whim one day.

Eventually they do make me see them. They assured me it would be ok, that I was safe, that nothing could hurt me. They know nothing about hurt. About that pain. Norm, of course, insisted on coming with me. Neither of us knew how much I would need that support.

The walk to the cell was silent. A deafening silence. Far away from the comfortable, peaceful, loving silence I had grown accustomed to with Norm. Getting closer the sounds of fists against metal walls and reinforced glass make themselves known. Peering in, I see them. Not many of them recognize me, nor do I recognize them. Except one.

I will never forget the expression on his face. The pure giddy delight at seeing me again, knowing what he had done. The beady eyes staring me down now, the very same ones that rolled back in almost orgasmic pleasure as he slashed down everyone I had ever known. His face still splattered with specks of the now crusted over blood of my mother. A scar on his neck now healing over, gifted to him by my father.

He walks slowly over to the window, holding eye contact with me as a sneer covers his face. Licking his rotted teeth he looks me up and down leisurely. Assessing me like I'm a piece of meat. I feel Norm tense beside me, his jaw clenching in anger. The raider looks to him and laughs, a loud, hacking laugh. “Come to visit me? Well ain't that just sweet. Your little lapdog there looks like he's ‘bout to burst a blood vessel.”

Truly he did, but he continued to hold his tongue. The piece of shit in the cell just turned his attention back to me anyway. “You know you look just like your mama? Pretty thing she was, your daddy didn't let me take a bite outta’ her but he's not here to keep you safe now is he?” That strikes a nerve, as hard as I might try to suppress it, I can't stop it. My eye twitches as I attempt to force back an onslaught of tears.

Noticing this, Norm places a comforting hand on my back, “We're done here.” His tone is firm, about as close to threatening as he can get. With a small push he leads me back down the hall. Though of course that fucker had to have the last word, lewd comments and insinuations of violence following us. As soon as they dissipated everything came crashing down. My legs crumble beneath me, heart thumping in my chest like I had just run a marathon. My diaphragm crushes my chest from the inside, constricting my breathing further. I hear blood rush to my ears, vision spotting. The last thing I see is Norm, his panicked expression as he holds the back of my head. It all goes black.

☆ ☆ ☆

“Please wake up please.” My eyes slowly flutter open, the familiar voice catching my attention. My back is stiff, the bed beneath me having only a thin mat-like excuse for a mattress. Bright fluorescents blind me, forcing me to turn my head to the side. Then I see him, sitting in a regulation chair, half bent over. Perfectly quaffed hair now rumpled, natural waves making their presence known. A few lone tear tracks are left on his face. His eyes are slightly bloodshot, ever-present bags under them deeper than usual.

“You look awful,” I say, voice still laced with a cotton-mouthed raspiness. That catches his attention, Looking up to meet my eyes, he lets out a breathy laugh. Pulling his chair closer to the bed he clasps his hand in mine, using the other to push his mess of hair off of his face.

“I feel it, good to know I'm giving off the right image.” A small smile works its way onto my face. He mirrors it, squeezing my hand. As much as I enjoyed the peaceful joy of the moment, there is a nagging question hanging in the air.

“What happened?” While my question did dampen the mood, he nods, giving me my answer.

“They said you probably had a panic attack, you passed out and I brought you here.” The memories of what transpired flood back, if not for the comforting weight of his hand in mine, I would have been swallowed whole by them. “They cleared you to leave, if you want to go home.”

Home. I want nothing more.

☆ ☆ ☆

The weeks following my hospital stay, Norm became more doteing than ever. I was not allowed to cook a single meal, make a pot of coffee, or clean up around the house. Really anything he could reasonably convince me of. Not that I was complaining. Something about the recent events must have struck him in some way. While he was always open about his past and the unfortunate things that had happened since the raiders, he truly started to bare his heart to me.

It just makes me wish I had known him longer. It would be a hundred times easier if we were young again. Starting fresh. Though, I could not be happier with how we have gotten to grow together. It's funny how long it took for us to realize our affections for each other. To identify the source of the pang in my heart when he smiled, the swell in his when I laughed.

This all culminated one night. Dinner had been cooked, eaten, and cleaned up. The credits of A Man and His Dog scrolling on the Tv. With a small sigh I get off the couch, turning off the Tv, and waltzing over to the holotape player, putting on one of my favorites.

… I don't want to set the world on fire…

Humming along with the music I walk over to Norm, grabbing at his hands and attempting to haul him up from the couch. “Come on dance with me,” I coo, putting on my best guilt-tripping doe eyes. With a huff, and a sarcastic eye roll he gets up, allowing me to drag him to the open space near the player. “You know,” I begin, grabbing his hand, “to dance you actually have to move.”

“Do I really?” he jokes back, his free hand going to the small of my back.

“Mm-hmm,” I hum, my other hand going to the back of his neck, cradling it as we begin to sway to the music.

… In my heart I have but one desire…

Sighing, I lean closer into him. A familiar ache finding itself in my chest. The lyrics of the song spell it out perfectly to an almost cliché level. Mirroring my own actions, he pulls me farther into him, delicately leaning his head across my shoulder. “Thank you,” I say, my tone is soft, almost unsure.

“For what?”

… I just want to be the one you love…

“For everything, for giving me a place that feels like home.” He makes a small sound of acknowledgement, squeezing me just a little tighter. “For being a person that feels like home,” I tack on, leaning my head against his.

“You don't have to thank me,” he says, almost absentmindedly. “I don't know what I would do without you at this point,” he says, a half laugh poorly covering the honesty in his statement.

And with your admission that you feel the same…

Letting out a hum of agreement, I throw caution to the wind. Placing a gentle kiss to his temple, I allow myself more. More of him, more of what I need. Raising his head from my shoulder in surprise he looks up to me, desire swirling in his eyes. “Please,” he whines, with a laugh I bring my lips to his, pausing just before they meet.

“Don't have to ask me twice,” I joke, finally locking our lips together.

… I don't want to set the world on fire, honey. I love you too much…

He returns my kiss straight away, whining something unintelligible into it. The saccharin sweet taste of Nuka Cola invades my senses. Deepening the kiss I run my tongue along the seam of his lips, asking for permission. Allowing me in, the kiss becomes mostly tongue and teeth. Removing my hand from his I place it on his hip, squeezing I begin to lead him back. My subconscious bringing us down the path to his bedroom.

… Darlin’ I have only one desire. And that one desire is you…

As soon as we are over the threshold of the doorway, both of us are in a rush to feel eachother skin to skin. Boots and socks toed off before either of us could get a breath in. He quickly unzips my suit, forcing the material down and off of me. My hands soon do the same. With a lonesome whine he breaks our kiss, running his hand across my waist he looks up at me with an expression of pure need. “Gods, you are gorgeous,” he professed, placing a languid trail of kisses along my neck and collarbone.

Taking hold of me, he turns us, pushing me back onto the bed. After a moment, in which he looks to be mostly admiring, he joins me on the bed. Scooting back, I lay against the pillows positioned at his headboard. Grabbing his wrist, I pull him up to meet me. One of my hands goes to the back of his neck, pulling his lips to mine once again.

The kiss is slow, passion dripping from the soft pillows of his lips. His hands work their way behind my back, undoing the clasps of my bra. Bringing his hands to my front again, he guides the straps off my arms, returning them to their original position after. Tossing the bra away, his hands busy themselves. Palms run across my stomach, moving up my torso to cup my breasts.

Squeezing softly, a thumb rubs across one of my nipples, the bud hardening to a peak. Breaking the kiss, he moves down my body, leaving light nips in his path until his face is even with my chest. Looking up to me he gives me a pleading expression, clearly asking for permission. With my nod, he quickly gets to work. His warm mouth envelopes one of my nipples, his tongue flicking at it. The sensation causing pleasure to spark, the feeling traveling downwards.

My hips buck up, independent from my body. Though, he pushes them back down with one of his hands. He releases from my breast with a pop, leaving a soft kiss on the side before swapping to the other. Sucking desperately, his hips begin to grind against mine, his hardness pressing against me with the subtlety of a freight train.

The hand that was currently occupied on my hip leisurely trails itself to my core. Middle and ring fingers pressing into the fabric. Finding the thin cotton to already be soaked through, he lets out a hum of surprise, pulling off my breast. He looks up, eyes filled with excitement, the silent question present as well.

“All for you, pretty boy,” I inform, letting out a giggle at how quickly he moves to remove my underwear, tossing it somewhere in the room. With an air of urgency, his hands venture down my body. Though, they stop every inch or so to give an appreciative squeeze. His lips follow the path, leaving a soft kiss or a teasing bite. Once his face is even with my core, he lets out a sigh of contentment.

Pulling my thighs apart, he settles between them, tossing my legs to rest on his shoulders. “All for me huh?” he asks, a teasing tone interwoven into his speech. Looking up to me, he begins his path down my inner thigh, his eyes stay locked on mine the whole way down. Though, he breaks once he finally gets to where I need him most. Breathing deeply, his eyes roll back. Placing a delicate kiss on my pubic bone, at long last, he indulges.

Two fingers move to separate my folds, the wetness there coating them. A satisfied groan racks itself through his body, fulfilling his ultimate need, he finally places his mouth on me. Flattening his tongue, he releases a whine, arms wrapping around my thighs, pulling me even closer.

“Fuck- just like that.” The firm strokes of his tongue start to push me towards the familiar edge. Waves crashing deep inside of me, another round of wetness releasing. His hips stutter into the mattress, his desperation becoming painfully obvious. With a well-timed grind of my hips, he slips his tongue inside of me. The bridge of his nose presses against my clit, the sensation causing me to clench around him.

The waves begin crashing harder, forcing me closer and closer to the precipice. His pace doesn't falter once, edging me closer and closer by the second. My hands tighten, fisting the sheets below me. It isn't enough, bringing one to his head, my nails scratch his scalp lightly before grasping firmly at the roots of his hair. The moan that he lets out against me is sensual, like nothing pleases him more than the light, stinging pain I'm currently inflicting on him.

With a new found ferocity, he moves to suction his lips around my clit, suckling lightly as his middle finger prods at my entrance. It slides in without a lick of resistance, which he seems quite pleased by. He thrusts the single finger in a few times, his ring finger joining it soon after. Curling his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion, the gradual crashing of the waves begins to spark into more.

The tips of his fingers press diligently against the spongy spot inside of me, forcing me to the edge. Sooner than I ever imagined, I was forced off of it. My eyes drag themselves closed, stars exploding behind them. My grip on his hair only gets firmer, which he seems all too pleased about. The consistent thrusts of his fingers and flicks of his tongue working me through it, only stopping once I pull his face away.

The entire lower half of his face is covered in my essence, his expression is divine. Lips reddened and plump, eyes dazed and pupils blown out. “Fuck, I love you,” he confesses, voice thick with both lust and honesty. I don't know if it was his confession, or the pure need for him deep within me, but I pull him up to me. Crashing my lips onto his I taste myself, grabbing at him urgently wherever I can reach.

“I love you too,” I breathe out, breaking the kiss briefly. My wandering hand makes its way down his body, finding the heavy tent in his pants. He whines, hips pressing forward into where my hand is cradled. I pull his head back, forcing him to look me in the eye. “Now fuck me like you need to prove it.”

Taking that as an order, he gives me a quick peck before kicking off his boxers. Reaching forward towards my head, he grabs a pillow, lifting my hips to place it under. Using his already slick fingers, he grabs hold of himself, rubbing the tip against me lightly before easing it in. Inch by inch my core swallows him down until he is buried to the hilt.

He pulses inside me, though Norm is clearly holding himself back. He nearly chokes on his own spit as he steadies himself with my hips. With an impatient mewl and circle of my hips, he gets the message to get on with it. His pelvis smacks into mine, the pace he set being slow, but intentionally firm. His fingers curl into the fat of my upper thighs, the pressure enough to leave bruises. Something that neither of us seem to mind.

He makes a small adjustment in his posture, sliding my hips up just slightly. The small change creates an ocean of impact. The slight upward curve of him now hitting perfectly inside of me on every stroke. My moans uptick, getting louder as they mingle with his own. The exquisite sensation reawakens the crashing of waves. Noticing this change in my demeanor, he moves one of his hands to my center, his thumb rubbing short circles on my clit.

His eyes are half lidded now, glazed over with lust, though his gaze could not be more loving. Giving him a lopsided smile I pull him close to me again, his head now cradled to my shoulder. The proximity gives me delicious access to his neck. Placing a few sloppy kisses, I latch on, my teeth sinking carefully into the flesh.

He lets out a guttural moan, a trail of mindless whimpers and mewls following. Breaking away for a moment I softly lick, soothing the now irritated skin. “P-Please, more- please,” he manages to whine out. His hips stutter for a moment before picking up again, his pace faster now. Smiling against him, I fulfill his wish.

Latching on again I suck a deep bruise into his skin. Moving down, I place another on his collar bone. The stimulation motivating him to pick up his pace even more. Reluctantly he leans back, allowing himself to reach deeper. This new deeper angle forces me to recognize the sparks deep in my stomach, the intensity of them catching up quicker than before.

I go to tell him, though he shakes his head, silencing me. “I know, I am too,” he establishes through a groan. The circles on my clit get faster and sloppier, shoving me closer and closer to the edge as every moment passes. I whine out his name, falling off the edge again.

He follows just behind me, thrusts deep and sure as he pulses inside of me, releasing himself, the pleasurable warmth of it consuming my being. He falls forward, catching himself, he falls to my side. An arm wraps around my waist, pulling me against him, he cuddles into the crook of my neck. A sigh of contentment is shared between us.

I can definitely get used to this.

#fallout #fallout tv series #norm maclean #norm maclean smut #norm maclean x oc #norm maclean x reader #norm maclean fanfic #norm maclean fanfiction #fallout fanfic #fallout smut

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giggly-squiggily · 2 years

Text

A Series Of Deductions (Moriarty The Patriot)

Welp, here it is folks. I'm officially a William/Sherlock shipper! (is anyone surprised?)

Heyo everyone! I've been making good strides with Moriarty lately- both with the manga and anime- so much so that I've finally got the inspiration to finish this fic! Credit to a lovely friend of mine here that helped me bring this fic to life! I hope y'all like it as much as I did writing it!

CW: Drinking

Summary: Through a series of accidental turned intentional events, William finds himself in quite the peculiar situation

It wasn’t uncommon to find William James Moriarty among the common folk.

Despite being an aristocrat with the privilege to spend his time at the finest gentleman clubs, the young professor made it a point to frequent the smaller pubs and shops around town.

Some would say they were simply convenience- most were walking distance from the university, perfect for a drink after those late nights grading.

Others said he enjoyed the people- anywhere you looked he was chatting up the locals, sharing advice for their various problems and learning little bouts of gossip around town.

Both statements were true, along with other factors.

“Ah, late today, Professor? And here I was starting to think you’ve grown bored of our evening meetings.” Sherlock grinned around a cigarette as William sat beside him, a tad breathless from the run. “Winded too. That excited to see me?”

“Oh hush…I hadn’t intended it, but it seemed sleep got the better of me.” William confessed, a small blush staining his cheeks as he ordered his usual from the bartender. He needed to sleep more; how unprofessional would it be if one of his students found him passed out at his desk, ink staining his cheek?

Not to mention the dream he had while sleeping…a certain long haired detective invading his dreams like a virus.

“Pfft, you, sleeping at your desk? Oh man, I wish I was there!” Sherlock laughed like a child, slapping a hand on the bar as he threw his head back in mirth. “Remind me to swing by the classroom one of these evenings- I just might catch you. Do you talk in your sleep? What secrets would you share, I wonder…”

“You’re dreaming yourself now, Mr. Holmes.” William shook his head with a small laugh, taking his drink. He was grateful for the large glass; he hoped it hid his mortification at the thought of Sherlock finding him in such a state. “Though if you’re interested in sitting in one of my lectures, you’re free to do so. I’ll be sure to adjust the lecture plan so you can keep up. Does basic addition sound good?”

“Cheeky, aren’t ya?” Sherlock huffed, reaching out without thinking. His finger jabbed William’s side, twisting some upon contact. “And after being late! I’d outta-”

“Heeh!”

Both men froze, Sherlock’s eyes wide in surprise as William’s face flushed a pretty shade of red.

“What was-”

“Nothing.”

“Certainly you’re not-”

“You’re imagining things.”

“Professor…” Sherlock started to grin once more, eyes dancing. “Don’t tell me, you’re ticklish aren’t you?”

William stared him down, debating on how he’d go about this. Denying it would only prompt further investigation, while admitting to it…well, that’d also lead to investigation.

My, he was- to put it in the most Moran-esque way possible- screwed.

His options limited, he finished his drink, slipping his pay plus a tip to the bartender as he smiled at the detective. Leaning against the bar casually, he told him only one thing.

“Catch me, if you can, Mr. Holmes.”

Sherlock’s shocked expression was a blur as he bolted from his seat, evading tables and flying out the door before anyone could react. Behind him was wind as he ran, a laugh breaking free from his voice as he heard Sherlock yell something inaudible after him. He felt like a child at that moment, running away like how he ran from Jack with his brothers when lessons proved to be slow. It was exhilarating.

It was only when he got halfway home did he realize he completely forgot about his schoolbag.

~~~

“William, we have a visitor.” Louis’ expression was grim, as if he encountered a rather large spider while tidying up the manor. “Or I should say, you have a visitor. I have a pest.”

“Ah, so Mr. Holmes learned of our address?” William struggled to fight down the laugh in his voice at his brother’s dismay. “I believe I know what business he has with me. I’ll meet him at the door, no need to set anything out.”

“If you’re worried I’d poison him, you shouldn’t. Imagine the mess that’d leave.” Louis tsked, shaking his head in disgust. “We’d never remove the stains.”

“Glad to know you're prioritizing the estate, brother.” William smiled as he stood, making his way towards the door. “We’d never survive without you.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d find a way.” Louis waved him off, hiding the flattered smile on his lips with a turn of his face. “Go now before he decides to scale the windows.”

When William arrived, Sherlock was standing alone at the door, William’s schoolbag in hand. “Morning, Professor.” He greeted with an easy grin, nodding at the man’s dressing robe. “Seems you’ve slept in today.”

“Oh this old thing? I prefer staying comfortable for as long as possible, that’s all. No need to dress up for grading.” William eyed his schoolbag curiously; there were no indications someone tried to pry it open, and everything seemed as intact as it was the other day. “You brought my bag?”

“Yeah, couldn’t just leave it there after you took off like a bat out of hell.” There was no resentment or anger in his voice. Sherlock sounded far too amused by the whole ordeal as he held up the bag, wiggling it some. “Come now, take it.”

“I really should apologize, Mr. Holmes. That was rather unsightly of me.” William shook his head as he walked over, taking the bag in question. “Not to mention rude. I’ll avoid leaving so abruptly in our future meetings.”

“Future meetings? You still want to meet up?” Sherlock sounded surprised. William couldn’t tell you why that oddly hurt.

“Apologies, I shouldn’t assume.” William smiled tightly as he stepped back, bag in hand. “Thank you for bringing this to me, Mr. Holmes. I’ll take my leave now-”

“Hold on, hold on! You’re as quick with your assumptions as you are with those feet.” Sherlock waved off his goodbye, making the blonde pause. “I’d still like to meet with you, evenings have never felt more fun, you know? Given Watson’s constant nagging of my habits and Miss Hudson going on about the rent or my latest experiment-which I’ll have you know went completely…” The detective cleared his throat when he realized he was rambling. “Point standing; I’d like to continue these evening meetings together…if you’ll have me.”

“My, bashful aren’t we?” William chuckled, even as that last bit of phrasing made something in his chest unravel. “Of course, Mr. Holmes. I’d like that.”

They stood in the hall for a moment more, quiet as they both looked for something to say. This was feeling less and less like a short meeting between men and more like two children declaring their love. William grasped at something to say, but came up blank. Instead, an idea he’d been nursing came to light.

“Well, I should be off then? Same spot at the bar as always, ol’ chap?” Sherlock nodded, turning to the door and heading out.

“Mr.Holmes, before you go. Answer me this?” William called out to him, making Sherlock turn. “Yesterday you inquired about my own sensitivities. I wanted to ask..are you perhaps ticklish?”

It was brief, but a flash of panic Sherlock’s eyes before melting back into a thoughtful expression. That was all William needed to confirm his suspicions. “Am I now? Well, Professor.” Sherlock grinned as he made his way out the door, eyes dancing. “You’ll just have to find out for yourself, won’t you?”

With that, the door clicked shut, leaving William standing there a tad breathless.

“Evenings with Sherlock Holmes?” Moran’s voice cut through his surprise, making him turn. “So that’s where you’ve been?”

“I’d give it a month.” Bonde nodded beside him, something knowing in their expression.

“Half of that, given how direct William is.” Moran shared a grin with his companion.

“If you two are so eager to snoop, might I inquire about your mission details?” William asked cooly, taking small satisfaction in the way they squirmed. “I take it you two haven’t actually gotten to it yet, have you?”

“Heading out now, Will!” Moran reassured, moving past the blonde with Bonde on his heels. “When you hear from us again, we’ll have information for days!”

“Yes. Oh, and William.” Bonde turned one last glance at him as they passed, eyes glittering. “He’s rather fond of brandy. Takes any immediate worries right off his mind. He’d be more focused on…important things.” They winked just as Moran dragged them out the door, leaving a wide eyed William standing by once again, this time his cheeks a tad pink.

~~~

It wasn’t long before the whole tickling thing became part of their evenings together.

Occasionally, without much warning, Sherlock would find ways to poke and prod William’s side whenever they sat at the bar together. It was never longlasting- short little jabs that briefly shocked him back to reality if he started to space out or grew lost in thought. The detective would giggle like a child whenever he did it, the soft sound unfairly charming.

Of course, William wasn’t the type to take such jabs without a fight. It hadn’t taken long before he started returning the favor, sneaking little prods and pokes into Sherlock’s ribs whenever he walked by towards his seat or on his way out. It never failed to get quite the reaction from him- Sherlock would all but fly out of his seat, cheeks dusting a bright pink before his glare melted away into something William couldn’t quite describe.

Their silly game didn’t remain at the bar. In cases they ended up taking together by chance or the impromptu meetup on trains or parties, they had found ways to subtly jab at each other. Never during important times of course, but rather during the quiet hours when stress was lingering. The blonde would be lying if he said he didn’t find the little pokes reminding him of Sherlock’s presence comforting. It was a nice way to step out of the Lord of Crimes mindset and into his own. Into “Liam” as Sherlock would put it.

Accidental meetings turned into more commonplace like the bar, and before long it wasn’t unlikely to see London’s most prominent detective side by side with the bewitching Mathematician; the two of them laughing about whatever as they wandered home, Sherlock pink from alcohol and William all but dragging him back to his home. If rumors existed regarding the details of their relationship, William didn’t know. He preferred not to think about that. It was bad enough his fellow crime consultants were wagging brows at him and tossing out offhanded advice regarding Holmes (and of course- Louis scowling at the name); the idea of the whole town whispering about it…

“Oi, you’ve gone quiet, Professor.” A poke to the ribs brought William right back to the dark streets of London, the smell of cigarettes and cologne floating beside him. “Tell me- what’s on your mind, ol chap?”

“You’re rather drunk, are you?” William asked with a laugh, steadying a swaying Sherlock with one hand. “I told you not to down that last Brandy.”

“Sorry, love. I’ll be sure to listen to the Misses next time.” Sherlock grinned, yelping on a laugh when the blonde shoved him. “Wow, you’re strong, Liam!”

“No, you’re just out of it.” He scanned the streets, creating a mental map in his mind. Without a carriage, the walk to Bakers’ street would take all night. Not to mention the earful they’d both get from Miss Hudson. Deciding to risk the wrath of his brother, William took Sherlock’s arm in his, pulling him along towards home. “Let’s go. You can sleep on the couch tonight.”

“The couch? Oo, I really pissed off the Misses tonight, huh?” Sherlock’s tipsy laugh filled the empty streets as they carried on.

~~~

“Huh. Nice place you’ve got.” Miraculously- Sherlock seemed to sober up almost immediately upon arriving at the Moriarty Estate. Lying across the offered couch, he snuggled in more with a content hum as William brought water and bread. “No surprise a nobleman such as yourself would be living in something so tasteful. Not a single foul odor in the air.”

“Thank you. My brother- along with our housemates- we take care of the place well.” William gestured for him to sit up, offering the water first. “I’d say drink this, but from what I’m seeing, you’re rather oriented.”

“Heh, don’t be fooled by a man’s cover, Liam. I’m definitely buzzed.” Sherlock took the glass, gulping down the contents with a single swig. The bread came and went nearly as fast. “Thank you- That should keep me going a while longer.”

“Right…I’ll bring you a sleep robe and a blanket.” William nodded, turning to go. “Stay put-” Arms suddenly came around him, pulling him back into a broad chest. “Whoa-Mr. Holmes, what are you doing?”

“Liam, I’ve told you. Call me Sherlock.” The brunette grinned in his ear, sending shivers down the blonde’s spine. “Why rush off to bed? You and I’ve got unfinished business.”

Dear lord he couldn’t mean-

“While I’m flattered by the offer, I’d rather we not do it here in the main room.” William started to gently undo the arms around him, a tad irritated when they didn’t budge. “Poor Fred- he tends to get rather hungry at this hour. I’d hate for him to witness something unsightly.”

“Oh I’m sure he’d witnessed this before. Unless you mean to tell me your companions never saw you so…vulnerable?” Sherlock teased, the hand around his waist moving to lie flat against his stomach, fingers poised. Only then William understood what he was intending.

“My word, you’re truly a boar, you know that, Mr. Holmes?” He shook his head with an embarrassed laugh, mentally scolding himself for thinking…why had he been thinking that? “I’m starting to understand now what he meant-” The fingers against his stomach curled, pressing inward and sending a sharp bolt of ticklish electricity up his core.

“I’ll have to ask who “he” is later. For now, our business.” Sherlock carried on clawing gently, deeply satisfied at the way William pressed his mouth flat, squirming in his arms. “You said, if I recall, “Catch me if you can, Mr. Holmes.” Now I have. Come on Liam, we both know you’re ticklish. Why bother hiding it?”

“It-It’s not a mahhahtter of thahaht!” William grunted, grabbing the wrist around his middle as Sherlock started tracing circles with his fingers. “Everyone’s asleheheep! Yoohohu’ll wake thehem up!”

“I won’t- I’m barely speaking over a whisper. You on the other hand.” At this, Sherlock brought his free hand up, gently squeezing against the spot on William’s waist he knew was ticklish. “Are rather loud when giggly. Try not to make too much noise now, dear Liam.”

“Yoohohohu scohoohoundral!” William swore, one hand pressed over his mouth to muffle the noise as his other batted at Sherlock’s. Squirming against his lap, he felt like a child again- Jack gathering him up when he refused to take a break and tickling him until he gave in. It was both comforting and embarrassing- he was so incredibly thankful said man wasn’t up right now. Who knows what little secrets Jack would let slip had he seen such a sight? “Shehhherlock, doohohohn’t!”

“Don’t what, Liam? Don’t stop tickling you? I suppose that’s what you want me to do, right?” Sherlock laughed softly against his back, hands carrying on their playful assault. “You know how I know this? Deduction. If you really wanted me to stop tickling you, you’d tell me so outright. Instead, you’re barely fighting me off. You and I both know I’m barely holding on to you. All you need to do is stand up, and it’ll be all over.

“But you won’t. You won’t because you're enjoying this. I can feel it, Liam. You’re far too relaxed to be someone who despises tickling, and you’ve even given me more spots to try.” Sherlock ran his hand up his side, giving William’s ribs a proper tap and earning a muffled squeak. “The out remains though. If at any point you grow uncomfortable, just say the word and I’ll retract my hands immediately.”

“Hohohohohohw thohoohoorough of yohoohohou wihihihth yohoohohur deheheheductions!” William gave up on trying to cover his mouth, both hands grabbing Sherlocks wrists as they wormed up and down his ribs, leaving little tickly presses at each pass. Soft giggles and squeaks whispered around the room, somehow still quiet enough not to alert anyone. “Hoohoohohohwehehehhver, yohohohohou fahhahahailed to fahahhahctor in soohoohohmething!” “Have I now? What would that be?” Sherlock asked with a grin.

“Yohooohohou’ve fohohohohoorgohohohohotten abohohohohut your ohohohohown wehhehehaknehehehehhess!” With that, he shot a hand down to Sherlock’s leg, squeezing only once.

“AH!” Sherlock squawked, slapping a hand over his mouth just as William slapped his own on top, creating a double layer of flesh. They looked around, waiting for a sound. When nothing came, they met eyes, William raising a finger to his lips.

Sherlock puffed against the hands, eyes squinting as he shook with laughter. William barely fought down his own mirth, ducking his head against his arm as Sherlock’s muffled giggles tickled his ears. “Whahat are wehehee, chihildren?” William gasped out as Sherlock howled in their hands, slapping his leg. This only made William laugh harder, covering his face with his free hand. “Stoohhop, stop- we’ll wake the hohohuse!”

“The house is already awake.” A new voice made them jump, twisting around to find a sour faced Louis glaring. His hair was a mess, and he wasn’t wearing his glasses, but it didn’t take long before an assumption crossed his face, turning his glare into a look of shock. “S-Sherlock Holmes?”

“Well, would you look at the time; I better head home now!” Said detective stood, nodding at the brothers politely. “Thank you so much for having me tonight, Liam. Louie.” The nickname earned him a scary look. “Your brother has been the most gracious host, but alas- it’s time for me to part-”

“It’s 2 in the morning.” Louis cut him off, his tone like ice. “No carriages run this late.”

“I’ll find a way.” Sherlock grinned, growing increasingly nervous. Louis cut his eyes to William once before turning back to the detective, shaking his head.

“The spare room is down the hall and to the left. Make yourself comfortable.” Sherlock seemed frozen by the offer, eyes wide and mouth gaping like a fish. “Breakfast is served at 8. If you’re hungry, stick around. If not, be gone by then.” He gestured, sending a nodding Sherlock on his way. Once he was out of the room, Louis turned to his brother. “Will.”

“Louis-” He began.

“Quiet.” He cut him off, shutting his brother up. It was rare for Louis to take on such a tone with him. Usually he reserved it for Moran. “Listen. You are my brother, and I love and respect you with my entire being. You know that will never change.”

“Louis, I don’t understand-”

“I am not some closed minded fool, Will. I know there are many types of love out there, and I’m happy you’re finding yours.” Louis carried on, pointedly ignoring his brother. “That said, Sherlock Holmes? Of all the men you could fancy, why him?”

“What…What, no, Louis!” William flushed as red as his eyes, mortified. “You got it all wrong-”

“Told you.” Moran smirked up at a just as amazed Bonde by the door. “Half a month.”

“That was three quarters at least.” They argued. “I win by default.”

“No way-”

“Can someone tell me why Sherlock Holmes is in our bathtub? Albert asked, understanding in his eyes as he looked at William. “Ah. Nevermind.”

“Who ate the last bread roll? I was hungry.” Fred appeared, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Louis, do we have any scones left from this morning?”

“I’ll make some.” Jack called from the kitchen, earning a chorus of voices ranging from “Oh that won’t be necessary, Jack!” to “Don’t let that old man cook, he’ll poison us all!”

William only held his face in his hands, suddenly very tired.

What a night.

Thanks for reading!

#MTP #william james moriarty #sherlock holmes #tickle #tickle fic #fluff #Sherliam #This was originally gonna be short #it got long #whoops!#They're in love #even if they won't acknowledge it #kjakrkjaerkjaejkr

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demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 1 year

Text

@allvalley100

Prompt: Wildcard

Friendships: Demetri & Miguel & Eli (ft. Sam & Yasmine)

So I saw this week's prompt, and all I could think of was the IASIP episode where they try to sell gas door-to-door XD CW for pretty explicit sexual mentions that were...pretty inevitable, considering the source material XD Also CW for some (lighthearted) sexism, although it's kinda played for comedy/absurdity.

This a 6-parter--600 words total! Takes place in S4 or S5, when the entirety of the OG loser trio are fighting against Cobra Kai.

***

“As the brains of this operation, I think—”

“You’re the brains?” Miguel sounds a little heartbroken. “I thought I was the brains.”

“No, no, you’re the looks!”

“So…I’m not smart?” Miguel looks even more crushed.

“It’s not that!” Demetri gestures frantically, trying to salvage the situation. “You’re the looks, I’m the brains, Eli’s the wildcard.”

“I’m the wildcard?” Eli lights up. “That’s fucking awesome!”

“It’s the iconic formula, right?” Demetri grins. “Can’t fail with it. The Scooby Gang never did!”

“So…by not playing into that dynamic, we’re limiting our potential?” Miguel looks intrigued.

“Exactly. Can’t mess with a classic.”

“So Cobra Kai’s plowing us in the ass, right?”

Miguel’s dubious. “Don’t know if I’d put it like that—”

“Their stupid merchandise! Their flashy ads!” Demetri scoffs. “They’re ruining our lives with their synchronized kicks and their rotten ass-plowing hearts! As the brains, I’ve concocted a plan that involves oiling our asses and doing a little plowing of our own.”

His accompanying gestures are met with concern.

“Not gay sex,” he clarifies.

“Oh, good! I was sorta worried.” Eli sounds almost insultingly relieved. “What did you mean?”

“Gentlemen…” Demetri smirks. “We’re going to sell more merch than Cobra Kai.”

“We’ll need a bank loan to order and print the merchandise. I’ll spin the proposal to sound sensible, and Miguel’ll sit there looking pretty…and possibly providing sad puppy-dog eyes if needed.”

“This plan sucks.” Eli scowls. “I don’t get to do anything!”

“Untrue!” Demetri retorts. “You’re the wildcard—you sit there looking unhinged. Like you could snap should our proposal be rejected.”

“Like this?”

Although Demetri appreciates Eli’s reluctance to re-awaken The Hawk, a little pout isn’t very wildcard-esque.

“Pretend the bank left Miyagi-Fang a bad Yelp review. You’re plotting revenge.”

Ah. There’s that slasher smile.

“That I can do.”

As Miguel presses the gas, his eyes flick between Demetri and Eli.

“What the hell happened?”

“Eli tried showcasing the merch with karate moves, and we kicked our first potential customer in the face. She called the cops.”

Miguel groans.

“Demetri, you said this plan was flawless.”

“Hey! I did exactly what a wildcard would do!” Eli protests.

Miguel sighs. “So Demetri as the brains isn’t working, so I’ll be the brains and Demetri can be the muscle.”

Despite himself, Demetri blushes.

“You…think I could be the muscle?”

“Yes, sure, if it means I make the plans from now on.”

“Don’t you see? That’s why the plans weren’t working! We were operating on an incomplete crew!”

Miguel gestures frantically at Sam and Yasmine, whom the boys have doggedly hunted down in Forever 21. When Miguel unexpectedly changed course to the Valley mall, all Demetri and Eli could do was confusedly follow their new leader.

“Sam’s the muscle,” Miguel explains. “I’m the looks, Demetri’s the brains, Hawk’s the wildcard. It’s a full set!”

“You’re going to steal my only shopping buddy?” Yasmine complains. “Moon’s in the Maldives all week!”

“Come along!” Demetri says brightly. “We still need a Token Useless Chick!”

Demetri loves being the brains again.

“Sam, once we kidnap Kyler, beat him up until he confesses to some Cobra Kai felony.”

“My pleasure.”

“Miguel, use your puppy-dog eyes and sweet-talk the cops into giving us reward money for turning Kyler in.”

“Will do!”

“Yasmine, continue being useless and complaining about everything.”

“Ugh.”

“Reward money goes toward making merch, and—hey, what’s with the brakes?”

“I CUT THE BRAKES!”

Eli’s shriek fills the car.

“WILDCARD, BITCHES!”

The Sentra’s evacuated in seconds, albeit with much screaming and cursing. But let it never be said Eli Moskowitz doesn’t commit to the bit.

#allvalley100 #demetri alexopoulos #demetri cobra kai #miguel diaz #eli moskowitz #hawk #sam larusso #samantha larusso #yasmine cobra kai #cobra kai #cobra kai season 4 #cobra kai season 5 #also yes Dem Eli and Miguel have Miguel drive Eli's Sentra when they do stuff together #mainly because Dem and Eli bitch about each other's driving but they're both cool with Miguel's XD #you know I'm right #(although Demetri talks everyone into letting him drive later because he's The Brains. Supposedly.)#tbh Yasmine's the only girl in the cast who I can (jokingly) call useless and not feel terrible about it XD #Like I could never call Moon useless!!! I could never live with that guilt!!!#Yas tho? Like I love her (or my incredibly detailed concept of her) but #strictly speaking...what does canon Yasmine actually add to anything??? Validating Demetri sometimes???#Eli can do that plenty well on his own akjdlish #as can Miguel and Sam and Dem's other friends for that matter!#also I realized while rewatching the iasip that Mac is the unholy fusion of Eli and Demetri #like the cockiness??? the false confidence in how smart he is??? the obsession with working out??? the gay denial???#he's like if you take the worst of both of them aiudhousbyf

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geesevillain · 2 years

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can’t sleep. little drabble. fuck me.

cw: mdni, gender neutral, yandere themes, stalking, suggestive language, reader romanticizes yanderes

Obsessive infatuation.

Not quite love, but still passionate, nevertheless.

You were obsessed with the concept. Going out of your way to consume media of all kinds to get a small taste of it. From watching yandere-esque anime to listening to yandere audio to reading creepy fanfiction of your favourite characters.

It polluted your thoughts and refused to go away.

“There’s something romantic about a person that will do absolutely anything for you,” You stated. “Wanting you so much that they’re willing to hurt people just to show how much they love you? Taking pictures of you when you go about your errands because they thought you looked nice?”

“That sounds like stalking and murder to me.” Your friend, Layla, mumbled. She took a sip from her coffee and glanced up at you. “It sounds fucking creepy if I’m being honest. If Tiff hurt you just to get to me, I wouldn’t find it romantic. I especially wouldn’t find her taking random ass pictures of me romantic. Shit sounds fucked.”

You rolled your eyes at her words. “It’s different for me. You wouldn’t understand.” You picked up your fork and played with the cake in front of you. You took a scoop of frosting off the top, debating on eating it, before placing the utensil back down with a sigh.

“And I don’t understand, hon. But as long as you stay safe, you can stay interested in whatever the fuck you want, okay?” Layla placed her hand on your own, giving it a little squeeze. “I really do care for you, love.” She winked at you, quoting the show that brought up such a discussion.

While it had been four years since its release, you were rewatching ‘You’ with your friends for the third time. That being your third time, and they’re first.

“I fucking hate you.” You shook your head at her words with a little laugh.

“And here I’m confessing my undying love for you.” Layla feigned a hurt expression, placing a hand over her chest.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too.” You rolled your eyes at her dramatic act before standing up and stretching. “It’s been fun, but I should probably get going. Exam’s tomorrow, so sleep is very much needed.”

Your friend stood up from her own chair, brushing off imaginary crumbs that may have fallen onto her lap. “I should get going too. Tiff and I planned a movie night tonight, and I still have to pick up some things for that.” She picked up her bag from beside her chair and hugged you. “It was nice seeing you, hon. Good luck with your exam.”

“Thanks, Lay. Enjoy your movie night, and tell Tiff I say hi.” You waved at each other before going your separate ways.

You wanted to tell her why you felt the way you did, but it wouldn’t have done you any good. Layla wasn’t into what you were, so she wouldn’t understand.

Obsessive love was something unconditional. They love you for who you are at your core. They’d never leave you because you were all they needed and vice versa. It was sweet in a fucked-up sort of way.

Plus, it was a way for you to get shit done. Imagining someone watching your every move and thinking about how proud they’d be to see you complete your assignments early or do your household chores motivated you. Hell, it even helped you get to bed at a reasonable hour.

Which is what you were planning on doing now. You shuffled through your clothes, looking for a comfortable t-shirt to sleep in. Once found, you took off your dirty shirt, throwing it across your room onto your desk chair. You slipped out of your jeans and tossed them in the same direction as your shirt.

You powered your pc down before flicking your light switch off and walking over to your bed. You had a long day and were ready to go to sleep.

You closed your eyes, envisioning your own yandere watching you from the crack in your blinds. The crack itself hadn’t been intentional, for the apartment came with shitty blinds that you didn’t want to fix. Nevertheless, it still helped with your fantasies.

You hugged your pillow close to your chest and let out a sleepy sigh. You snuggled closer to your pillow and continued your daydream until sleep overtook you.

A small clicking sound brought you out of your slumber. You looked around your room, eyes closed halfway and mind foggy. You weren’t completely awake, but you didn’t need to be to see what awaited you.

A figure stood by your now-open bedroom door. They stared down at you, their body going stiff as they froze their movement.

Your heart started to race in your chest as you blinked hard a couple of times. There was no fucking way you were seeing what you were. That wasn’t a real person. It couldn’t be a real person. You rubbed at your eyes, hoping the black figure would go away, but it just got closer.

You jolted up from your bed and grabbed at anything you could use to scare them away. “Stay the fuck away from me.” You choked out. The room was silent aside from your outburst, the only sound coming from your rapidly increasing heartbeat.

“I’m not going to hurt you, dove.” The figure spoke. “Besides, I thought you liked this.” They continued to approach you, not stopping until they reached your frantic form. “In fact, I know you like this.” They reached towards you and cupped your cheek. Their skin felt cold against your own.

Tears began to flow from your cheeks as you stared at the person in front of you. “If you leave now, I won’t-”

“I won’t be leaving.” The figure tsked. Their hand dropped to their side as they continued to look down at you. “I’m here to spend time with what’s mine.” They crawled onto your bed, their taller figure engulfing your smaller one. “You’re so tense, dove. What’s wrong?” They stroked your cheek, smearing your tears in the process.

Your trembling form remained quiet. You had thought of this scenario many times, but never did you expect it to be so scary. “You’re fucking with me, right? Lay sent you here to fuck with me?” You looked up at them with hopeful eyes. “That’s what it is, isn’t it? I told her some stupid shit, and she wanted to show me how it would actually be. Honestly, she’s smart for that because I would’ve continued my delusional infatuation with fucked up characters if not for this.”

You tried to push yourself away from the individual beside you, but they only tightened their hold. “Listen, I get it now. You can let me go and tell Lay it’s all good now. I’m done with this shit."

“That friend of yours didn’t send me here." They murmured, words laced with venom. "I loved you since I first saw you. I tried time and time again to get your attention, but it never worked. I looked into you, dove, and saw the type of people you romanticized. Coincidentally enough, that’s me.” They ignored your shaking form and continued to speak. “I’ve watched you from that tree every night, and you never cease to amaze me. It was as if you knew I was watching you, so you put on a little show for me. Taking your shirt off in a teasing fashion and sticking your ass out when you went to lie down. It was all for me, wasn’t it, dove? You knew I was there, so you wanted to tempt me to come inside.

“And come inside I did. At first, I was too nervous to, but then it became a bad habit. Sleeping next to you every night was like my own slice of heaven. It seemed like you enjoyed it too. Especially since you’d curl up into me, either snuggling into the warmth of my chest or pressing that pretty ass of yours against me.” They cupped your cheek once more before placing a light kiss against your forehead. “Since you like it so much, I don’t know why you’re acting all afraid now.”

The more they spoke, the more terrified you became. This wasn’t the first time they had broken into your house, and it probably wasn’t going to be the last time either. “Please, just-”

“I’m not fucking leaving, dove.” The figure growled out. “You should probably get some rest now, after all, you have an exam in the morning. Lie down next to me and relax before I take more drastic measures.” They pulled you down to lay beside them and hummed when you complied. “I’ve always wanted to fall asleep next to you, at the same time, I mean.” They stroked your hair trying to lull you to sleep.

You remained still, eyes dipping to a close and your heart still beating rapidly. This wasn’t what you wanted at all. Well, it was, but you didn’t want it to actually happen. There was a fine line between delusional fantasies and reality, which you never wanted to be crossed.

Your vision blurred, and hot tears streamed down your cheeks. They wouldn’t hurt you - you knew that - but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t hurt others on your behalf. What if they already did? Their expression seemed to darken when you brought up Layla. You hoped to god they didn’t hurt her. She didn’t deserve to be injured or even killed because of this fucker.

You wanted this to end. You wanted them to go away. You never wanted this. Fantasies are fantasies, and you wished they let it stay that way.

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #male yandere #male x reader #female yandere #female x reader #male reader #female reader #gender neutral reader #yandere drabble #yandere oneshot #yandere scenario #geesevillain

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fictionkinfessions · 2 years

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If a fictive splits off one of your past life kins, is it also a fictive of you?? Since they split off your past life and not source

#fictive #splitting cw #open questions #?#not confessions #mod party cat!#i'm singlet so like uhm erm idk dont look at me #*forms stray cat j esque mochi ball*#also pls dont feel pressured to answer if anyone doesnt want to

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doomsayings · 3 years

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hi i saw your quote comparatives text post and it made me devour tender is the flesh in like 3 days and i need more to read like it.. do you have any other books similar in genre/style/taste that youd recommend? id love to hear everything

hi there!!! im so glad you liked it, tender is the flesh was definitely one of my favorite books I read this year <3

The Vegetarian by Han Kang has some interesting ruminations on meat and has that extreme, bleak feeling cw for sexual assault in this one

Wounds: Six Stories From the Border of Hell by Nathan Ballingrud is horror anthology I really enjoyed recently! Though most of it is about supernatural horror, the last story The Butcher's Table, had a couple of cannibalism scenes that reminded me a lot of Tender is the Flesh!

Confessions of a Flesh-Eater by David Madsen is about a cannibal chef, with some very decadent and disturbing prose. Very Hannibal Lecter -esque. cw for some explicit sexual assault

Love of the Wolf by Hélène Cixous is a short essay that deals more with romance and cannibalism.

Books of Blood by Clive Barker is another horror anthology, mostly supernatural but it is also very preoccupied with flesh and meat. From this one try Midnight Meat Train

Though I have to say none of these are exactly like Tender is the Flesh; there's something very extreme about cannibalism on a factory scale, its all very nihilistic. Not sure how many people will agree with me but I actually consider Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) to be very thematically related bc of the dehumanization/factory farm/social commentary.

Cannibalism aside, if you are looking for extreme nihilism and bleakness on par with Tender is the Flesh, I often go back to this letterboxd list though i can't vouch for everything there, approach with caution. My favorite extreme 'hopeless' movie is probably Martyrs (2008)

#HONESTLY...approach all of these with caution general horror cw #sorry i dont have anything else more specific!! any of my mutuals or followers if you have something to add please do!!#also if you need more specific triggers for anything let me know ill try my best #asks #tender is the flesh #slabs of meat for satans plate #mine

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bansheeoftheforest · 3 years

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One-shot request!

Cat-shifter au where Jekyll likes to spend time with the Lodgers as a cat without them knowing it's him. However, he really likes to spend time with Griffin and the lodger likes spending time with the society's small feline. Henry actually has a really big crush and much admiration for Griffin but doesn't have the courage to actually tell him. So he settles with being a cat to spend time with him. However, he gets a surprise when Griffin confesses to cat!Henry about his crush on him not knowing that he is sitting in his lap.

THIS TOOK SO LONG OH MY GOD BUT IT'S DONE!!!! IT'S HERE!! :D

———————————————————

Title name: A Dream Come True.

Wordcount: 3930

Summary: Griffin had always been fascinated with cats, practically everyone knew how the felines flocked to him. If one Henry Jekyll just so happened to take advantage of that, who could really blame him?

Relationships: Griffin x Jekyll.

Au: Catshifter au, Catshifter!Jekyll.

CW: Cursing.

———————————————————

The Society for Arcane Sciences was a gigantic place. Everywhere you turned, there would be a myriad of new pathways and corridors and hallways and rooms that eagerly called out for you, tempting you to come closer and get lost in the labyrinth that so many scientists called their home. Skeletons of long-extinct creatures, mechanical wonders beyond the physical limitations, plants from distant lands; all of it riddled the crowded hallways and parlors like stars over a night sky, making the Society feel all the more wonderful. Mesmerizing, even the tallest of men would feel tiny in comparison to the echoing rooms and bombastic oddities. But not Henry, oh, no, Henry was far too used to the Society. This was his home, this was his hunting ground, this was his territory. A proud territory, that was.

Tiny paws trotted over the cold marble, feeling the cool sensation travel up his fluffed paw pads and sending soft shivers through his tiny, lanky body. He had enough fur to make up for the slight chill of the morning, he could surely have slank his way into one of the open-fire parlors for a quick snooze if he had so wished, but he was a cat on a mission... Perhaps not one he was proud of, no, but that’s why he preferred to remain in his feline form for the entirety of his journey. He was not ashamed of his catty nature, no... But he had to admit that he was not proud of what he was using it for. It was a gift, he had to admit. It was a rare blessing to be born with the ability to shapeshift into a cat, one he had inherited from his parents, grandparents, great grandparents, and everyone before that. It was a rare gift he was now using for his own advantage, one he was now using to gain the sympathy and attention and praises of the Lodgers. After all, they did not know about Henry’s little ability. They did not know that the brown tabby they all loved and had informally adopted was really their founder in disguise. They did not know that the cat they snuck food to, bought beds for, and played with was theirs leader. They did not know that the kitty that they were babying was Dr. Henry Jekyll, and he preferred to keep it that way. He preferred to keep them in the darkness, a nice and niche little metaphor for the fact that he --human or not-- could see perfectly well through the empty blackness. The Lodgers hated Dr. Henry Jekyll, but they loved the stray tabby that wandered around the Society, whom they had been fighting to name for ages. Henry heard nothing of it, no, he did not focus on what they wished to call his cat form. He soaked up their attention and their love like a sponge but he had to admit that there was one Lodger he was... Much more affectionate with.

Griffin was known as a bit of a cat whisperer around the Society. He had a knack for always calming the feline or feline-esque animals that resided within their walls, and similarly, the felines seemed to flock to him like moths to a gaslamp. Henry... Henry hated to admit that he was one of them. It was purely accidental at first, of course. At one point he had just aimlessly wandered through the Society on one of his little patrols around the perimeters, but then Griffin had spotted him, he had seen Henry’s lanky figure and scooped him up and fed him and brushed him and cuddled him and oh... Henry’s heart ached for the albino man now. It always had. Something about that fluffy, snowy hair and permanent sneer got Henry to swoon, no matter how much he didn’t want to admit it. Sideways glances and accidental touches... Feeling Griffin’s eyes on him did things to Henry that he did not want to admit. After Robert, after Morcant, Henry had reserved himself for the empty, lonely life of people like him, he had reserved himself to not act out on the... The hidden desires and lustful temptations but god... Griffin was making it so difficult. Such immaculately soft skin, irresistible grey eyes, fiery temperament, and yet hidden kindness and love... Oh, it was all too much for Henry. He had fallen, he had fallen hard, and yet he refused to admit it, not only for the fact that they were both men... But also because it was Griffin. Griffin, one of the most temperamental of the Lodgers. Griffin, one of the most problematic and troublesome of the scientists that Henry had to cater for. Griffin, one of the few that would not have hesitated to spit in his face after the entire ordeal with Frankenstein... Griffin, one of the Lodgers.

He was sure that Griffin did not like him at all, and yet his heart continued to ache for one of the few he could not have. So, Henry did what he did best; he enjoyed his desire in secret, he enjoyed it while he ought to have done more important things, he did it while he ought to dismiss his feelings rather than give in to them, he did it while he ought to know that what he was doing was horribly wrong and that he should stop... Perhaps that’s why he preferred the simple form of the brown tabby that now peered back at him when he looked down into the shiny marble. Feelings were so much simpler as a cat. There was no guilt, there was no shame, only selfishness, greed, enjoyment, amusement, and everything Henry tried to repress as the model of propriety he had come to be.

He quickened his steps, soon his trot turned into more of a sprint. The soft chill of the cold December morning was starting to nip through his thick coat, yet it felt like it took ages before he even arrived by the labs. He had been a sickly kit, and albeit he had been loved and well-taken care of by his parents and his littermates, the consequences of his past illnesses and his role as a runt had never really disappeared. He was lanky, and his long, fluffy coat was much thinner than really was healthy... The fact that he often forgot to take care of himself did not help his meek state, making the cold bite through more than it should. Perhaps that’s why he was so eager to escape the freezing, empty corridors to instead bask in the body-warmth of the man he had so shamefully fallen for, it was probably the only time he could get it. Griffin had a soft spot for cats, he had a bit of a problem with feeding and nursing every stray cat he got his hands on back to health, he seemed to have gotten particularly fond of the brown tabby that had begun to watch him tinker in his lab... It only got Henry’s heart to ache more, ache like the moon ached for the stars and the sun. It hurt, it hurt to know how Griffin merely liked him when he did not know who he really was, and it hurt to know that Henry was so desperately reaching for something he couldn’t have... And yet he was weak, he could not stop himself from indulging, he could not stop himself from seeking Griffin out and draping himself over his lap, he could not help but to purr and melt as Griffin’s cold, lanky hands would brush over his fur and tsk once he found mats or scabs to testify to Henry’s poor tattle-tale self-preservence. Henry was not sure if it was the soft sighs of concern, the small scoldings of Henry’s need to take care of himself, or if it was all the physical attention that he got from Griffin that made him come back over and over... But the longer he stayed in his feline form, the less and less shameful it felt.

It did not take long for the Society to begin to sprout to life; soon Lodgers came wandering through the corridors, carrying machinery or conversing with someone who did, and yet Henry did not stop to accept the pets that many of the Lodgers offered once they spotted him. He slank past and continued on his merry way, at some point he ran past Griffin’s actual cat, who seemed to be on their way to raid the kitchens and harass Rachel for food. Neither stopped to acknowledge the other with more but a raised tail in greeting and a short touch of noses, both considered themselves far too busy to stop for something more, so soon they parted ways, and yet Henry hesitated. He watched the blond cat happily trot down the staircase for a bit, wondering if he should take the cat’s departure as a sign that Griffin was busy, or if he shouldn’t let his nerves throw him off his little quest. Whatever worry that begin to overtake Henry was quickly thrown off as he shook the thoughts off of him and leaped forward, remaining in a sprint until he arrived in front of Griffin’s door.

The door was closed, and yet Henry could clearly hear the albino man tinkering around in there. At least he hoped and assumed that it was Griffin and not Dr. Maijabi... It could be both or either, as they shared a lab.

A deep breath as he got closer, a short second of doubt passing before he finally unveiled his claws and dragged them against the hardwood.

Nothing.

He tried again, this time continuing with the scratches, over and over again, yet it did not take long until he heard footsteps coming closer, soon he felt and saw how the door handle turned. He narrowly managed to get all paws back on the ground before the door opened to avoid tripping, yet he very well could have fallen once seeing the man in front of him.

Standing on the other side of the threshold was the very man he had been hoping for, Griffin; his hair was ruffled and his tinted glasses were askew, his apron missing and the sleeves of his shirt pulled up to his elbows, said shirt was untucked and the top of it remained unbuttoned. He looked like a bit of a mess, and yet it got Henry’s heart to beat faster. He watched the other man rub his eyes, strangling a yawn before he looked down on the floor.

Henry really should not have gotten so happy watching Griffin’s lips twist into a smile.

“Oh, hello.”

It didn’t even take a second before Griffin crouched down and began to stroke his slender fingers over Henry’s fluffy head, thumb going to scratch the cat’s cheek as he melted against the man. Henry felt his entire body vibrating as the purrs began to build up, he felt his dilated eyes closing, yet soon he felt the thin fingers closing around his body. His eyes opened just in time to watch as the object of his affection raised him off of the ground and held him against his chest; nose and mouth nuzzling into the fur on top of the tabby’s head, breathing in the earthy scent of the warm fur. Henry had to admit that his body tensed for just a second, yet it was soon replaced by the overwhelming sensation of pure bliss. He felt Griffin’s slender fingers nudge through his fur and against his skin as the pale man just stood there, savoring the feeling of holding the small feline against him.

Henry closed his eyes, he was sure he would have been able to fall asleep right then and there, in Griffin’s arms, thoughts melting away and becoming useless in comparison to the pure glee of being held by the man who held his heart in his hands.

He didn’t necessarily notice as Griffin finally moved his face away from the cat’s fur, instead hastily closing the door behind him, stumbling down the packed lab space until he came to a lone door. Henry could vaguely hear a soft hum coming from behind a few bookshelves, but before Griffin could disappear behind his bedroom door, the source of the voice came into Henry’s view. Maijabi’s face popped out from behind the bookshelves, and the older man watched his lab partner and the tabby in his arms for just a moment, his humming having stopped once he spotted them.

“Back to bed already, Griffin?”

“Yeah.”

“But you just got up! Did you even eat?”

“I’m tired... And yes I did.”

Henry vaguely saw how Maijabi raised his eyebrow, yet he seemed to shrug to himself before his humming picked back up. Henry watched him disappear behind one of the many mirrors in the room, right before Griffin opened the door and slank back into his own bedroom.

It was a modest place, Henry had to admit, but he had never heard the grumpy man complain about it. The walls, like most walls in the living quarters of the Society, were a shade of warm, pale orange. Under the window rested a messy desk filled with notebooks and paper that reeked of spilled ink, upon the windowsill rested a healthy mint plant. A hastily done single-bed was placed against one of the sidewalls and on the opposite side stood a few bookcases. A red, fluffy rug laid square on the floor, a few more healthy plans bespeckled the otherwise humble room. A lone door by the bookcases would lead into a bathroom, as made apparent by the door that currently stood ajar and the light which had not yet been turned off inside of the washroom, and yet the layout of the bedroom was one Henry had gotten quite familiar with during the last few months.

Griffin made a bit of a beeline towards his bed, once his knees hit the bedframe he made a spin and landed with his back on the mattress. Henry was laid on the other man’s chest as Griffin propped his head up against the pillows, nuzzling into the soft covers that laid under him. It only took a few moments for Henry to adjust, yet soon he felt his head resting atop the bare skin of Griffin’s collarbone. His sensitive nose could pick up on the residues of the musky cologne that Griffin often graced over his pale skin, it smelt dull and yet Henry couldn’t help but let his nose wander over the pale skin. It smelt like a mix between blackberries and whiskey, a composed harmony that felt so calming, the scent was calming. Henry felt his chest rising and falling, he felt his entire body vibrate with every single purr that escaped, he had not felt this content for ages.

He could stay here, on Griffin’s chest, basking the body warmth and smelling his cologne and feeling his hot breath tickle his fur, and he’d be content with his existence. Feeling Griffin’s skin against his cheek and the slender fingers brush through his coat was merely a bonus he would always savor. Always, always, as long as he had it. He felt guilty, of course, he really did. He felt guilty for manipulating, deceiving, taking advantage, and yet he couldn’t stop. He felt guilty, but he didn’t feel bad. He felt guilty, but not enough.

Thin, lanky, callused hands brushing through his coat, brushing over his skin... Henry just wished he could always have it. He wished he could have it when he was human. He wished he could have it whenever he wanted it. He was selfish, he wanted more, the worries that previously plagued him were already disappearing.

“Y’know... You remind me of someone.”

Griffin’s raspy voice was low, murky from the way his neck was bent by the pillows and an arm he kept behind his head. His eyes were closed, his tinted glasses hanging low over his sharp nose. His lanky hand was still running over Henry’s fur, yet soon he cranked an eye open to look at the tabby cat.

“I don’t know what it is but you just... Remind me a lot of... Someone I really like.”

Henry’s gaze did not leave Griffin’s face. He saw the way the pale skin got tinted with a soft red hue of blush, the way that Griffin moves his eyes away from the feline on his chest and over his bedroom as if to scold himself for what he said.

Henry sat still, listening. Whatever feelings of worry and jealousy would have plagued him had long since melted away for the favor of the much less complicated assumptions of a cat. Instead of feeling his tiny body bursting with anxiety, instead of fearing the worst, instead of assuming that Griffin might have figured out, he sat still. He titled his head, almost in a dog-like way, as if to invite Griffin to continue.

Griffin cleared his throat.

“It’s stupid, you can’t even understand me... You are just here for the cuddles.”

There was a short, bubbly laugh at the end of his sentence, and yet it still remained short-lived no matter the way Henry’s tiny heart began to beat faster. Griffin seemed to want to hold back, as if the mere thought of opening up to anything that would actually listen scared him greatly, and yet it only seemed like every moment of not rambling got his body to burst with energy. Previously so calm and tranquil, exhausted, Griffin was aching to open his mouth and move his tongue and just talk.

Henry sat still, invitingly encouraging Griffin to do what his body wished.

It seemed to be enough of an invitation for Griffin, who seemed to physically relax a little bit. If the tabby on his chest couldn’t even understand him, what was the harm of just... Having someone to talk to? Someone to just... Unload on? Someone that could listen? The tabby couldn’t even understand him... What harm would there be in just getting his feelings out, feeling like someone was listening?

What harm would there be if Henry actually listened?

“There is this... Person-- man, I guess...”

Griffin was quick to correct himself. A cat could not feel judgment in the same way another human could, a cat would not judge him for his liking for men, a cat would not care, a cat couldn’t even understand him.

“He is... He looks a lot like you, but human. Brown hair, amber eyes... Although I doubt he is so starved for affection as you are. I’d like to imagine you’re both just as sweet, though.”

Griffin scooted up in his bed, forcing Henry to move away from the warm strip of skin by his collarbone, and yet Henry quickly found that Griffin’s lap was just as comfortable. The exposed skin from where his shirt had ridden up by his stomach helped to soothe the feline’s move. Tender, vulnerable skin radiating warmth and heat. It felt wonderful, he almost didn’t notice the shift.

“I... I don’t really think he has noticed me, though. I doubt he ever would. He doesn’t seem to... I dunno, like me very much. I guess I can’t blame him, I haven’t been all too kind to him lately...”

Oh, oh no, the words were sinking in. The words were slowly getting processed, Henry didn’t like it. Oh, oh no, Griffin, he... He couldn’t be... Could he? The description was flying far too high over Henry’s head, yet the realization slowly hit him.

Was Griffin in love?

No, he didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want to believe it at all, his heart was already clenching, and yet...

“He is really sweet, though. Even if I doubt I’m his favorite, he is still so... Kind and caring. I guess it hurts a bit more to know he’s probably like that with everyone but... When he comes by the lab to check-in it just feels different and unique, y’know? For a moment you forget that it’s his job and that he doesn’t do it because he... He likes you the way you do.”

Was Griffin in love with one of the lab safety personnel? Oh- wait... The Society didn’t have those, and they hadn’t been inspected since the place was set up...

But... Who could it be otherwise?

“I’m honestly ashamed to admit that I’ve fallen for Henry fucking JEKYLL out of all people. Out of everyone in the whole wide world... It had to be him I had to fall for... But I guess I can’t have been the only one... I have seen how people swoon for him on the streets...”

Henry was almost sure that Griffin could have heard as the marble finally found the right slot in the feline’s brain.

No, no, he must have heard wrong. He MUST have heard wrong. He was IMAGINING it. He must be imagining hearing Griffin say his name-- he couldn’t have, right?

Griffin sank down in his bed again, his two hands came around Henry’s chest and picked him up. The cat dangled in the air, Griffin watched him closely, tiredly, and then he moved the tabby to the spot right next to him. Griffin moved to his side, curling around the cat, his hand never leaving the feline’s fur.

“It’s so stupid... Henry fucking Jekyll... But I guess I shouldn’t complain. It could have been worse... Maybe.”

Second time. Second time he mentioned him by name, second time he mentioned him at all. He did say Henry Jekyll. He did say his name.

To assume he was talking about someone else with the name Henry Jekyll would not only have been ignorant, but downright naive as well. Yet assuming-- accepting that it was him that Griffin was talking about felt just as... unacceptable.

Griffin... Liked him.

Griffin liked him. Griffin liked Henry like Henry liked Griffin.

It felt surreal, so sinfully blissful, and yet... As Griffin so softly sighed, took off his glasses and placed them on the small bedside table by the side, and as he gently held the tabby cat closer to his chest... Henry could not say that he didn’t feel absolutely enamored.

“Don’t tell anyone about what I just told you, yeah?”

Griffin’s tired chuckle was quick to break through the comfortable silence that lingered in the room, his small joke seemed to have been much more to amuse himself rather than a serious attempt to keep the tabby from chattering, and yet Henry knew he... Couldn’t really hold himself to that promise. Not technically, not necessarily.

After all, in a few hours... When Henry, in his human form, would come around for his little check-up with Griffin... What harm would there be in taking advantage of what he had been told? What could possibly stop him from giving in, for reaching for what he wanted, knowing there was actually a chance for him? What harm would there be in taking advantage of what he had been told, if he didn’t tell anyone else?

Neither knew, yet both Jekyll and Griffin fell asleep right next to each other, both longing and dreaming about the other, soft skin and gentle touches and sunny smiles and chapped lips. A dream previously so far away for Henry, a dream seemingly still unreachable for Griffin. A dream that, in just a few hours, would come true.

A dream come true...

——————————————————— Support this oneshot on Ao3! <3 ———————————————————

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gra-sonas · 4 years

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Roswell, New Mexico’s Michael Vlamis sat down for an exclusive interview with HypabIe, and we got into everyone’s favorite alien love triangle.

Michael Guerin has a lot on his plate in Roswell, New Mexico season 2. His brother died, his sister’s husband died, he’s trying to resurrect the aforementioned brother, he’s learning more about his mother, and he’s trying to pretend that his hand wasn’t miraculously healed. And you thought your 2020 was off to a rough start!

We’re not sure how the guy is even finding time for romance, but we’re so, so glad he is. While struggling through things with his long-time-love Alex Manes in season 1, he also found a connection with Maria DiLuca. In season 2, it looks like he’s chosen to give things a shot with New Mexico’s most beautiful bar owner.

Of course, my first question was about Malex. Are things really over? What’s to come for them? “In a romantic sense, yes, this is the end for now,” Vlamis confessed. “But we actually had more scenes together this season than in season 1 where we really get to work on our friendship, which I think is what we really need.”

That’s probably not what Malex fans wanted to hear, but there’s still hope. If you read to the end of the interview, Michael Vlamis reveals his favorite Malex scene from Roswell, New Mexico season 2, and it sounds like a really good one!

Also, Vlamis revealed his three favorite songs to get into character as Michael Guerin. They are the incredibly fitting “Buckskin Stallion Blues” by Amy Annelle, “Mamas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys,” by Waylon Jennings, and “First Day of My Life,” by Bright Eyes! If you don’t remember, that’s the song that Michael and Alex shared their first kiss to. *swoon*

Hypable: Often, different romantic relationships bring out different sides of people’s personalities. What’s your favorite thing about Michael with Maria versus Michael with Alex?

Michael Vlamis: I think with Maria he feels safe. I think with Alex there are moments of him feeling safe when they’re intertwined and in the bed and a couple moments we saw last year, but really he’s never feeling safe. Yes, his hand’s heeled now but he’s still wearing a bandana to hide that. First of all, because if anyone in the town pays attention to that they’re going to be like, “how did his hand get heeled?” but also that bandana is a reminder of the pain that he’s gone through in his life, and that pain, unfortunately, is directly correlated with Alex.

You might see a little bit of a softer side when we see Guerin and Maria coming together, and that was really fun to play. Everything’s okay. This is fresh, this is good, this is kind of my new home right now where I can come back to.

Hypable: What can you tease about Guerin’s journey to find his mother in ‘Roswell, New Mexico’ season 2, and how both Maria and Alex will be involved in that?

MV: Yeah, so over the whole season I really spend time trying to break that story and figure out what happened, which is just helping me figure out who I am, what’s my self-worth, and just kind of piecing together why I am the way I am and trying to piece together a family. Because yes, I have Isobel and Max…well, I had Max, but I never really felt like I had a family. Over the season, we’re trying to uncover this mystery of where my mom really disappeared, especially Alex. Was she in Roswell, for a little bit of time before she disappeared? Did she ever make contact with anyone?

It was fun to go back to the 1940s, early 1950s and see what life was like in Roswell back then. With the costumes and the set decorations there was a lot of fun to be had on set with that. As I am unveiling the story we see that story unveiled in the flashbacks. That was really cool.

Hypable: Isobel and Max have both begun to explore the breadth and potential of their powers. Will your character be doing the same in ‘Roswell, New Mexico’ season 2?

MV: Not exactly. Michael is playing a little bit of the victim card. He’s just been punched on his whole life, and taking a beating. And now, he lost his brother. It’s like when you go through a break up, right? You don’t care about anything else, you just miss that one person. What he’s thinking about right now is escaping, so he’s not trying to get his powers any stronger because part of him probably wishes he was just a normal guy who didn’t even have these powers. Then everything would be so much easier and they wouldn’t have had to kill a bunch of girls and stage a car accident and deaths. That’s all stuff that he doesn’t want. He was a good kid who was off the college, and then all of a sudden this changed his whole life and he’s just been kind of dealing with that ever since.

Hypable: On top of missing Max is he feeling any kind of pressure to take on Max’s role as the traditional big brother?

MV: One hundred percent. Their whole lives Max was always the hero and I think in a way, Michael, looked up to him for many years. But then when Max made the decision to cover up the murder instead of letting ourselves be exposed, I don’t think Michael Guerin wanted that. He’s a selfless guy for the most part, and he means well. I think he wanted the truth to be out there. But yeah, he’s going to struggle with that a lot and just figuring out what his new role is now especially with Isobel.

For instance, he didn’t wanna be at the church [for the funeral]. The only reason he showed up at that funeral was for his sister, so he knows deep down he has to step up and be this kind of hero savior thing, which he freaking hates. He doesn’t want that responsibility, but he knows that it’s his time to step up and play that role.

Hypable: Could college still be on the horizon for Michael Guerin?

MV: I think that’s one of those things that’s gone now, but I do think that he would take his talents and put them towards something bigger. If he’s ever able to fully escape living in hiding and the kind of prison that they’ve built around their lives. I think as time progresses, he’s going to continue exercising his talents and his mind and stepping up and not letting that all go to the wayside. But right now, he’s not thinking about that at all.

Hypable: Is he still eager to get back to his home planet, or did meeting his mom change that drive?

MV: I think it definitely changed the drive a little bit, but I also think with her being gone, and him knowing that she existed, it gives him hope. Maybe there are other family members or there’s another community of aliens still living somewhere and thriving. So yeah, I think it was definitely a deterrent. And that’s why you see him in these first couple of episodes. He seems like a guy who’s given up with the way he’s treating people, especially Maria. And also just how dirty he is. I mean, they made me so filthy this season…in like a CW hot way though.

I’m a dirty, dirty man who’s just a little hopeless right now. But yeah, as time goes on, he reels it in and tries to figure out why he’s here. Why is anyone here? Is he supposed to go home? I don’t know, I think that is all going to depend on how this season plays out, and also where his love interest is. I can see him getting his heart broken and just leaving the planet for sure, but I don’t think he really wants that if he could have that true love that he’s longing for.

Hypable: Are there any character dynamics that you got to explore more of in ‘Roswell, New Mexico’ season 2 that you were excited about?

MV: Oh yeah, it was fun doing more scenes with Michael Trevino (Kyle Valenti) this year. Obviously we’re working together to save Max. We only got a few scenes last year towards the prison shots at the end of the season where we were really together. Aside from that, it was just like me giving him a dirty look and pushing him off Alex in the flashback episode. It’s been really fun to work with Trevino just because he’s another guy who, like Nathan Parsons and Heather Hemmens, they’re pros. They’ve done this before. They’ve done eight seasons of a show.

Trevino was in my exact position where a show just comes about and changes your life. It’s really cool seeing how he navigate a set. Also, we just kind of mess with each other all the time. I mess around with everyone, but when it comes to Trevino, he’s such a confident man’s man. He wears really cool clothes, works out all the time, has a six pack no matter what he eats, so we just shit on each other. We shit on each other all the time. That dynamic really comes through when we’re working together as well.

[...]

Hypable: What are you doing to stay sane in this crazy time of self-isolation, and what do you think Michael Guerin would be doing?

MV: You know what, I bet I’m doing similar things to him. We have all these cinder blocks on a bonfire we built in our backyard and we’ve been taking those and making a home work out set up. So I’m doing prison workouts right now in my backyard, and I feel like that’s very Guerin-esque. Also, during this quarantine I’m eating healthy, I’m on a cooking routine with my roommates and that means that I’m feeling better about myself, so like Guerin, I’m just taking my shirt off all the time.

Hypable: Finally, do you have a favorite moment from Malex and MiLuca in ‘Roswell, New Mexico?’

MV: eah, I do. I’m going to focus specifically on season two. I was really, really proud of that last scene where me and Maria kissed at the end of episode two. That was a really cool scene to do. And actually, what was so interesting about that is in the episode I said “I’m sorry” to her, but it wasn’t written. Carina MacKenzie, our showrunner, came out and was like, “listen guys, this is working great. The chemistry, the passion, the love, the heartache, the hope, everything is there. But Guerin was just all over some girl in the bar in front of Maria. This is bullshit, he needs to apologize.” And so she was like, “Vlam, do you want to try working in an ‘I’m sorry,’ right around this moment?” And I did that, and I think it kind of changed the whole scene. That one little line. It made you remember that this guy is a good guy, he’s just caught up in something that he’s having a hard time wrestling with right now.

With Alex, there’s a moment at the end of the season that I actually asked the director for another take. I have so much pride as an actor, I’m just so hard on myself, I never do stuff like that. But in this one moment, I knew how much the scene meant and I asked for another take and something really special happened internally with how I was feeling. In that moment, locked in with Alex. I’m not saying if it was romantic or whatnot, but there’s a scene at the end of the season that was probably my favorite and it’ll be a lot of fun to watch too.

If you’re looking to see more of Michael Vlamis outside of his regularly scheduled Monday night appearances in Roswell, New Mexico, you can check out his recently released three-part series on michaelvlamis.com! Making it is a hilarious (and extremely well shot) series about a baby-faced Michael Vlamis and his friends trying to “make it” in Hollywood.

He decided to release the series in response to the increased demand for entertainment due to the COVID-19 quarantines. “It’s a digital series making fun of this industry, and everything that we go through.” The first episode tackles an audition process that I’m guessing is shockingly similar to his experience with Roswell, New Mexico, complete with cowboy hat and “Magic Mike abs,” but presented in a way that will make you laugh…and maybe also make you slightly nauseous. Check it out!

~ HypabIe

#malex #michael guerin #alex manes #michael vlamis #rnm spoilers #rnm cast interviews #roswell new mexico #will we ever get a tyler interview about alex?#really (*really*) would like to have one with him for a change

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bluephoenixdruidicprincess · 4 years

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Supernatural 15x20, Carry On -- Review

Alright, we’re at last here. I can’t believe it. And what a waste of time that episode was! It seems “the finale” did indeed keep to task with the rest of the season, in a season of “meh” episodes, the finale continued to be a “meh” episode. Actually, I can’t even really call this a finale. Last week’s episode was the finale, this episode was the epilogue, a very subpar fanfiction-esque epilogue. And I make the fanfiction comment with a very heavy heart. I love fan fiction, I love that we can continue the stories we love through fan fiction and sometimes, a lot of fanfiction can be better than its source material. But also, sometimes, fanfiction has a tendency to be one-note. Fanfictions have a tendency to focus and hone in on one aspect of the story and tell just THAT story and the epilogues in these fanfics usually reflect that. Very one-note, only give regard to the main thing they honed in on the story. And there’s nothing really wrong with that but the weight of the story does feel less and kind of empty, the story doesn’t feel fleshed out and so in the epilogue, you don’t really feel a sense of closure and that’s what this episode felt like...and the series finale for a legacy show like this shouldn’t feel like that.

But let’s cease with the rambling and get on with this. There will probably be spoilers, So definitely if you haven’t seen the episode yet and you don’t want to be spoiled, skip this post. Although granted, I don’t know how you’re online reading this and also have somehow managed to avoid spoilers. Teach me your ways, please!

As I’m sure most of you are aware, the finale isn’t great. It’s not even really a particularly strong episode. I felt things watching it and even cried a couple of times but that’s because my sensitive ass will cry at anything even slightly tear-jerky. I definitely understand why a lot of the fandom doesn’t like this episode. But also unfortunately, I’m not too surprised that the episode turned out like this. Disappointed but not surprised. When you think about how networks operate, it makes sense. Though our fandom is big and vocal, all that matters to the CW execs is that people come back to the CW. Now granted, some of us may be forever turned off to the CW because of this incident but those numbers aren’t going to mean anything to the CW. Because as large as we are as a fandom, the general audience is much larger and that’s who the CW execs are trying to keep. The general audience, a lot of them aren’t going to be paying attention to the finer story beats, to the subtext, to the meta, to the foreshadowing. No, the general audience just wants something that’s mildly entertaining they can turn the tv onto while they cook dinner or wash the dishes or whatever. It hurts but this finale was not meant for the fandom. It was for the general audience. And if I take my fandom goggles off, I can see how this finale might be satisfying to the general audience who don’t really have too big of an investment.

But also looking at this episode from a critical standpoint, I can also tell this episode is empty, its lacking in emotion. And I say this as the girl that cried mid-way through this episode. Because while I was crying and I was sad for Sam but then I was also happy for Sam, even though I was crying through these moments, I also wasn’t feelaing anything beyond the base emotion of happiness for a character or sadness for a character. When a story makes me get emotional I’m crying because of all sorts of conflicting emotions and I’ll forever go back to those tear-jerker moments whenever I feel like I need a good cry -- Tommy’s death on Arrow, Jenna’s death in TVD, Fred’s death in Angel, the Season 2 finale of The 100. All of those things not only made me cry because I felt things for the characters but also because there was a story element that reverberated inside of me, something about it made me feel alive and glad to be alive so I could experience it. So while I was crying for Sam’s loss of Dean, while I was crying tears of happiness when Sam was finally living the life he always wanted, the story felt empty to me and I couldn’t truly be happy with what I was feeling. And when it comes right down to it, while this finale meets all the basic standards it needs to in order to be a finale, that’s all it does. There isn’t anything special about it. It makes callbacks to how it began, it has just enough nostalgia to get by and it creates an ending for the characters. But that’s all it does. It meets the bare minimum to be a finale and I”m disappointed in that. I haven’t been loving this show for a few seasons, really since season 12, but I still kept on hoping the show would pull itself together long enough for at least a memorable season finale. As bad as they were, I will still always remember the finales for Game of Thrones or How I Met Your Mother. Supernatural’s finale was so uninspired, I don’t even really care to remember it.

But let’s talk about what happened in this finale. First, some good points. I liked that we did see Sam openly mourning Cas and Jack. My Sastiel heart lived for that. And I’m also very happy Sam was able to live the life he wanted. I’m also very happy that Cas is not still stuck in the Empty, however, I do admit that if he was broken out so easily, it really kind of detracts from the initial sacrifice he made for Jack and for Dean and Sam.

Things that I did not like, that essentially things were just kind of the same as in Season 1. You know, Sam gets his apple pie life but I kind of wish there was a little more of spark to that kind of life. Like this was something we talked about my blog a long time ago about a possible endgame for Sam but let’s say the Winchesters did kind of open like an organization for hunting monsters. Like, Sam could handle the legal aspects of something like that. He could go to law school and he could represent victims that were put in tough situations because their bodies were possessed or their on the line for a crime they didn’t commit because no one believes that a monster killed their loved one. So I just kind of wish we had gotten kind of a catch to Sam living his apple pie life. Living that life, doing what he always wanted to do, but also still helping people the way that Sam feels he needs to help people. So I wish we’d kind of gotten something more along those lines. I also don’t like that it takes Dean actually dying for Sam to feel like he has Dean’s permission to finally live that life. At first, I was going to feel sorry for Dean for dying in such a dumb way, but screw that. Dean put all of his self-hatred and baggage and dragged Sam down with him and made Sam feel like crap for even dreaming about something different. So Dean, you and that rusty nail deserve each other. I don’t even want to ship you with Crowley anymore. The ship you deserve is with Rusty Nail.

So uh, let’s talk about Dean now and the return of Jenny the Vampire. I completely forgot she existed. But yeah, she was a thing but she’s so loosely connected to Dean and Dean’s character arc, it’s like, there’s a lot of other monsters that would make more sense for Dean to die at the hands of. Like in Season 7 I believe, when Dean killed Sam’s friend in front of her son and he told the son that when he gets older, feel free to come after Dean. That would make more sense and have a kind of literary weight to it. Dean’s death would’ve been the result of his own actions and decisions years prior when he killed that woman on a whim. Dean and Sam could’ve come back from the vampire nest, after dropping the boys off, maybe they stopped at gas station to get some food and as Dean is walking around the corner to a bathroom, that’s when the now grown kid pops up in front of him and as Dean has a flashback to the kid and what he did to that kid, the kid stabs him in the heart like Dean did to his mother.

Now the two brothers ending up in heaven together and presumably spending eternity together, while this may be a wincest or bibros wet dream, to me, I don’t know, it kind of feels pathetic. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love my brothers and I absolutely would go to the ends of the earth for them and I will mourn their deaths, but I also don’t want to be defined by them. I don’t want to feel like they’re so intrinsically a part of me that I need them in order to be truly happy or completed. While it might be nice to see them when I go to heaven, I would hope that I had grown to a point that there are also other things to me that are important that I would like to experience in heaver, you know? Plus, this whole ending feels like a slap in the face for what the show is most well-known for: found family and “family don’t end in blood”. The finale basically says, yes, family does end in blood, my blood is my soulmate basically. And I don’t really like that.

Let’s talk about Cas and I don’t even have to be a Destiel shipper to be angry about how Cas was treated. I understand what they did in 15x18, and it does make a certain amount of literary sense, but considering there was no sense of closure to the act and it really kind of falls flat. And it makes you think, “so if what Cas needed in order to be truly happy was to admit that he loved his family” well, didn’t he already do that back in season 12? So it just kind of makes 15x18 feel kind of pointless. Yes, 15x18 was something that needed to happen for Cas and it made literary sense but that was only the first part of what his ending needed to be. The second part of his ending was hearing it back. Not necessarily a love confession from Dean (you all know Destiel is a thing of the past for me, I don’t ship them anymore) but what Cas needed to hear back was that his family loved him. We know they loved him but his own insecurities stopped him from truly feeling and believing it. And that’s the part the show missed and that’s what makes 15x18 fall flat and it makes Cas’s character arc feel incomplete.

And also, it’s really sad to think that Sam never got to say goodbye to Cas. That’s something that Sam must feel very unresolved about and why he just lets the guilt eat up at him about it. My Sastiel heart needs one more final SamCas heart to heart.

But I think that’s all I got for this episode. What grade would I give this episode. A big solid F-...I ‘m just kidding. It wasn’t that bad but nor was it anything great either. As I mentioned, the finale did what it needed to in order tom meet the bare minimum requirements for a finale, so honestly, I’d probably give this episode a D+. It meets the standards but it also doesn’t execute them very well so I don’t feel comfortable giving it a C.

#spn 15.20 #spn 15x20 #spn carry on #sam winchester #castiel #anti dean winchester #because I wasn't very nice to dean in this review

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