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justatasteofyourpoison · 7 months ago

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The morning after the night before…

(A Hazbin Hotel/Alastor x Fem reader fanfiction)

Part 5

Pairing: Alastor x Fem Reader

Plot: A hungover you speaks to Angel and Husk to try to dig up more information about the Radio Demon’s past ruts…

Warnings: 18+, swearing, alcohol consumption, adult themes, fluff

Word count: 1.1k

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You awoke in a haze, ears ringing, head pounding, face down in the pillow. You turned over with a groan and looked at the time - 11am. “Oh God how much did I drink?” you questioned, trying to make you body sit itself up in bed. After a triumphant effort you sat up and looked around the room.

You noticed your clothes were carefully placed on the chair in the corner, a pint of water sat on your side table and you were wearing your pjamas, things usually impossible for drunken Y/N. Someone must have got you home safely. You took a large swig of water, it flooding your hungover body with life like the desert rain and you could finally start to think. “Only Angel Dust would go to these lengths for little ol drunk me” you thought feeling incredibly greatful to be blessed with such a good friend. “I should go and thank him.” You swung your legs round to meet the floor and paused for a moment “I feel like something happened last night. Maybe some food and a chat would set me straight” you mused groggily.

As you put your dressing gown on and headed to the door you noticed a bow tie that Alastor had accidentally left in your room after a late night rendevouz a few nights back. You smiled to yourself as you remembered the night’s antics. But then it finally dawned on you what last night entailed. Angel Dust was questioning you about your involvement with Alastor and how you were the first girl he’d seen with him. Your gut wrenched. You knew you wanted to speak to Alastor more than anything, but didn’t want him to see you so hungover and disheveled. You decided to freshen up and speak to Angel Dust before facing the Radio Demon…

The toaster popped with a clunky bang and you swiftly chucked the two slices on a plate, no butter today, dry toast and tea was your hangover cure. You exited the kitchen to the lobby and saw that Angel Dust was already sat at the bar. “She lives!” He exclaimed throwing his gangly arms in the air as he clocked sight of you. “She does, just” you said sleepily taking a seat next to him.

“You look like shit toots, glad we didn’t stay out any longer!” he laughed giving you a pat on the back. “Thanks for getting me back safe Angel” you said greatfully.

“Don’t sweat it hun. The amount of times I’ve ended up in the gutter I wouldn’t wish it on anyone” he shrugged taking a sip of his coffee.

“Angel…” you started sheepishly. “We talked last night didn’t we?” you said avoiding his gaze. “I knew this would come up” Angel said coolly “Look Y/N, I’m not gonna tell anyone about you and Mr Creepy Radio Pants” he said in a quieter tone.

“And I really appreciate that” you said genuinely “but, I feel like you let me into an insight about Alastor last night. You said how he never really dated anyone?” you questioned.

“Ah yeah no, he is an enigma when it comes to relationships and sex ‘n’ all that” Angel reflected “that’s why when he started sneaking around with you I was surprised. But you said how he’s in a rut, so I guess a man has needs right?”

“Definitely true” you responded. “But Alastor has been in hell a long time, so would have rutted every year. But you say you’ve never known him showing interest in relieving himself with anyone per say. So my question is - why me now? And what did he used to do while he was rutting?” You said gazing up at the skulls that loomed over the bar ominously. “Don’t get yourself worked up sugar. Maybe he has been off getting his dick wet in the past, who knows? As I said - he’s an enigma. You gotta talk to him sweety.” He said with a sympathetic smile.

“Afternoon folks” a raspy voice chimed. Husk appeared behind the bar and grabbed a green bottle off the shelf before pouring himself a small glass. The sight of alcohol being poured made you feel queasy. “Well ain’t you a sight for sore eyes” he laughed taking a sip of his whisky. “Always love your honesty Husk!” you chuckled.

“You guys have a good night and stay out of trouble?” He said, darting his eyes towards Angel.

“Yeah good fun, some revelations too…” Angel chimed grinning at you. “Angel don’t, please” you whispered, your eyes pleading.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Husk said casually leaning on the bar in front of you and smiling wryly, “that she’s fuckin’ the Radio Demon?”

“DOES EVERYONE KNOW?” You exclaimed a little too loudly before slumping you head down on the bar. Husk placed his face by you head and whispered “Remember my room is next to Alastor’s. If you didn’t want anyone knowing maybe you shoudn’t have been so damn loud!” He stood up and roared with laughter. You felt your face burning scarlet against the bar. “I’m sorry little lady, me and Angel have had our suspicions for some time.” he said pouring himself a larger glass.

“She’s having a crisis cos I told her she’s the first one I’ve seen him sneaking around with. Got her questioning things…” Angel said trying to pull you back up from the bar. Reluctantly, you sat up and faced them. “Do you know anything Husk? Have you ever heard of Alastor rutting and going off with anyone?” you said quietly.

“Honestly, no” Husk contemplated. “The Radio Demon has always been obsessed with power and I should know.” He scowled at the thought of his deal with the Demon. “But no, I’ve never heard of him being interested in sex or relationships or anything. However…” he placed his head in his hand deep in thought. “At certain times of year Alastor had been more volatile, now that I think of it. He would bite at me over the smallest indiscretions and his broadcasts would be more frequent and more terrifying.” A shudder ran down your spine at his words.

“Maybe he was interested in other things. You know what a power crazed fuck he is!” He said with a warning tone.

You didn’t know how to feel after hearing Husk’s words. On one token you loved spending time with Alastor and the intimacy was out of this world. But what did you really know about him? Was your heart just blindsighted by lust and his charm? Did he have sinister ulterior motives? There was no doubt about it, you needed answers…

__________

All instalments:

#Hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #Hazbin hotel writing #alastor #alastor fanfiction #Alastor x fem reader #alastor x female reader #fanfic #Hazbin hotel Angel #Hazbin hotel Angel dust #Hazbin hotel husk #husker #vizziepop

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mysticstarlightduck · 1 year ago

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Incorrect Quotes Tag!

Tagged by the very cool, @rickie-the-storyteller! Find her post here!

This is the link to the generator.

Since the last time I did this, I used my characters from The Last Wrath, this time, I did this tag for my main cast of Tales of Wilted Flowers!

It is mostly platonic, the only ships here are: Rylisan/Eiralis, and Xarian/Lorelai.

Micah, Caladin, Arista, and Neoma'ka are their friends and adventuring companions. Kaellel is Eiralis' estranged older brother and Niven is one of Rylisan's many siblings.

Xarian: Is something burning?

Lorelai (leaning seductively on the counter): Just my desire for you.

Xarian: Lorelai, the toaster is literally on fire.

-----

Kaellel (flying down to camp like nothing’s wrong in the world): Sorry I'm late, I was doing stuff.

Rylisan: YOU PUSHED ME DOWN THE FUCKING STAIRS!

-----

Eiralis to Rylisan: Turn that frown upside-down!

*a little while later*

Eiralis: What are you doing?

Rylisan, trying to do a handstand: You told me to “turn that frown upside-down” but it is not working.

-----

Xarian: I'm going to ask you to be respectful.

Caladin: I will politely decline.

-----

Rylisan: Did you just refer to a knife as a “people-opener”?

Arista (a dhampir with issues): …

Arista: …Should I not have?

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Neoma’ka: While you were caught up in your heterosexuality, I studied the way of the blade!

------

Lorelai: Do you have a self-care routine?

Kaellel: "Keep going bitch,” said to myself in different accents.

Eiralis, coming into the room: Kaellel, no.

-------

Rylisan, stoically amused: Do you need help getting up?

Caladin, after a drunken brawl: Nah, I'm cool down here on the floor.

------

Eiralis: Sometimes I'll start a sentence and I don't even know where it's going. I just hope I find it along the way.

------

Xarian, incredulous:... You’re giving me a sticker?

Lorelai: Not just a sticker. That is a sticker of a kitty saying “me-wow!”

Xarian: …

Xarian: I’m not a preschooler.

Lorelai: Fine, I’ll take it back-

Xarian: I earned this, back off!

-------

Kaellel, eyeing Rylisan with a death glare: It’s not that I don’t trust Eiralis, I just... don’t trust my sister's impulse control. Especially when it comes to you.

-------

Eiralis: *eating a cinnamon roll*

Rylisan, feigning shock: Cannibalism.

Eiralis: *confused chewing noises*

--------

Micah: Now, if I may speak for good-looking people everywhere...

Kaellel, walks past: Only as their rodeo clown.

--------

Lorelai: Neoma’ka, no.

Neoma’ka, cracking her knuckles, walking towards a fight: Neoma’ka, yes.

--------

Lorelai: Why do humans have different blood groups?

Caladin, looking at Arista: So mosquitoes can enjoy different flavors.

Arista: *vampiric hiss*

-------

Rylisan: What can therapy do for me that screaming for 30 minutes can’t?

Niven: I have several questions... Namely why are you like this?

-------

Micah: Maybe the true treasure was friendship all along. But I hope not, because I can’t spend my friendship on new clothes.

-------

Rylisan: You're violent.

Arista: Yeah but I'm also short and that's adorable.

--------

Caladin: I was arrested for being too cool.

Xarian: The charges were dropped due to a lack of supporting evidence.

--------

Xarian: Isn’t it a bit dangerous?

Lorelai: Xarian, please. We’ve been in a lot of unexpected predicaments before and we always escape unhurt.

Xarian: …

Lorelai: Okay, we sometimes escape unhurt.

Xarian, narrows his eyes: ...

Lorelai: Alright, we escaped unhurt once... Then we hurt ourselves on the way home.

---------

Rylisan: Do we have any orange juice left?

Kaellel: *pours the remaining juice into their cup without breaking eye contact*

Kaellel: Sorry, we’re all out.

---------

Xarian: What is the most illegal thing you can do with one gold?

Neoma’ka: Exchange it for a hundred copper, put them all in a sock, and then beat someone to death with it.

----------

Rylisan: Niven, I screwed up, big time.

Niven (downing a glass of wine, done with life): Brother dearest, given your daily life experiences, you’re gonna have to be more specific.

---------

Arista: Now it's time for some witty back and forth banter. You go first.

Caladin: *sobbing*

Arista: Look, my dude, I'm not sure where to go with that.

---------

Lorelai: That was so hot, Xarian.

Xarian: I literally called the person who just flirted with you a degenterate dog and told them I hope they get dragged through the streets.

Lorelai: I'm so in love with you.

---------

Kaellel: You know, Micah, you are the sun in my life.

Micah: Why? Cause I'm smoking hot?

Kaellel: Because it hurts my eyes looking at you. LEAVE MY HOUSE-

---------

Neoma’ka: What do you do for a living?

Rylisan: I exist against my will.

---------

Eiralis: Hey, Rylisan, do you have any hobbies?

Rylisan: Swimming..

Eiralis: Really? That’s cool. I never expected you to-

Rylisan: In a pool of self-hatred and regret.

---------

Micah: As a responsible adult-

Caladin: *chuckles*

Micah:… As a responsible adult—

----------

Lorelai: Wow, that was quick thinking on that phony sacrifice stuff.

Xarian: Oh, that was all real.

Rylisan (interrupts): Wait, you were trying to help them kill us?!

Xarian: Well, If I’m gonna be sacrificed, I’m gonna do it right!

Lorelai:... He has a point.

---------

Tagging: @writernopal, @tabswrites, @cabbojage, @clairelsonao3 and @liv-is.

#writing #writeblr #writers #writerblr #my wips #character writing #my characters #my writing #writers on tumblr #incorrect quotes #tag games!#funny!#wip: Tales of Wilted Flowers

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yournameoneverypage · 3 years ago

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Confessions

Shawn x reader.

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: Drinking/drunkenness, blink and you'll miss it angst.

// * // * //

You rested your head back against the front passenger seat of Shawn’s Tesla and closed your eyes. “I drank too much.” He had picked you up from a girls' night out with your friends. You had been ready to go home before the others and Shawn had told you to never hesitate to call him if ever you should need to.

“Just don’t puke in my car,” he snickered. “We’ll be home in ten.”

You rolled your head to the side and met his eyes as he glanced at you. “You really didn’ have to come,” you said softly.

“Of course I did. I wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

“But your friends...”

Shawn had had a few of his friends over at his place that evening. He had chosen to not drink much himself, anticipating a possible call from you.

“It’s just Brian left. He crashes there all the time.”

“When am I gonna meet ’em?”

“When I’m ready to share you with them,” he smirked.

“’m yours,” you whispered, small smile on your lips, and closed your eyes again.

The thought of you being his made his heart skip.

// * // * //

Once in the elevator, you placed your hand on Shawn’s shoulder for balance and slipped off your heels. You exhaled in relief. “That’s better.”

He took your shoes in his own hand and when the elevator door opened, he said, “Hold on to me, honey.”

You bubbled, “’m not so drunk I can’t walk!”

“I beg to differ. You almost bit it getting out of the car,” he teased.

“You have good reflexes,” you said, wrapping both of your arms around his bicep as you started down the hall.

Stopping in front of your door, Shawn asked, “Where are your keys, Sweetheart?”

“In here. Somewhere,” you mumbled, letting go of him to dig through your clutch.

“Give it here. I’ll find them.” Cell, cash, credit card, dark pink tinted cherry lip balm, a-ha, keys, and, “Condoms? I didn’t think you were that kind of girl.” He smirked, trying to conceal the disappointment in his voice.

“’m not but the twins are,” you giggled.

It shouldn’t have mattered if the condoms had belonged to you. Still, Shawn found himself profoundly relieved.

Unlocking the door and stepping inside, he set your heels on the shoe rack and hung your clutch from a wall hook.

He led you to the kitchen and made you sit on one of the stools at the island. “Let’s get some food in you. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

You watched intently as Shawn cut an avocado, removed the pit, and scooped out the flesh. He mashed it and added small pinches of garlic, sea salt, and pepper and then put two slices of whole grain bread in the toaster.

“I haven’ been drunk since college... "I do stupid things when I’m drunk.”

“We all do stupid things when we’re drunk,” he chuckled, taking a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water.

He was about to pass it to you when you said, abruptly, “I kissed some guy at the club.”

He lost his grip on the glass. It hit the ground with a crash and shattered.

“Shit.”

“Lemme help,” you said, starting to move from the stool.

“No, you need to stay right there while I clean up. I don’t want you to get hurt.” He laid a dishtowel over the mess before retrieving a new glass and trying again. This time he successfully placed it before you, followed by a slice of avocado toast. “Eat.”

You ate dutifully while Shawn sopped up the water and swept up the glass. He found a post-it and wrote:

No bare feet in the kitchen!

He stuck it right where you would see it in the morning. He wasn’t sure if he’d gotten all the slivers.

Shawn polished off the second piece of avocado toast himself while leaning elbows and forearms on the kitchen island across from you. “Finish your water too, angel.”

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you whispered.

He smiled tenderly. “You would do the same for me. Now, come on. Time for bed.”

He followed closely behind you as you made your way to the master bedroom. It would be the first time he had been in your room; he was undeniably curious. He slipped his slides off just outside the bedroom door and crossed the threshold.

It was a stunning space. King-sized, hard maple, canopy bed, likely custom made, with matching bedroom furniture. The bed rested on a large rug which felt ridiculously plush beneath his bare feet. Above the low-rise dresser hung a 50” flat screen television.

Shawn was pulled from his perusal when he heard you apologize. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“I feel guilty.”

“For what?”

“For kissing someone else.”

“You can kiss whoever you want, babe.”

“’cept you,” you sighed. “He wasn’ even a good kisser. Too sloppy. Too eager.”

“Of course he was eager. You are gorgeous. And darling, in this dress...”

“Which I can’t wait to get outta.” You reached behind you and started to unzip it.

“Whoa,” Shawn said, spinning away, flushing.

You giggled and hiccupped. “I’m not gonna get naked in fron’a you! I just need outta this damn dress! Help me!”

He stepped up behind you and moved your hair to the side.

While he slid the zipper all the way down to where it stopped at the dimples above the swell of your bottom, you confessed, "He coulda been your twin. Or maybe I jus’ saw your face in his ’cause you’re always in my head.”

Before Shawn could even digest that, your dress fell from your body to the floor. He groaned softly. You were wearing a blush colored, lace, strapless bra and matching thong panties. He looked up at the ceiling and breathed deeply. This would be an inappropriate time to get aroused, but damn if you didn’t have the most amazing body he had ever seen.

Suddenly unsteady, you swayed on your feet. You reached out to grab the bedpost, almost missing it, but Shawn was there to catch you, again.

He chuckled. “I need you to sit down so I can find you something to wear to bed without worrying about you faceplanting.”

“I should take a shower.”

“In the morning, love. I’m afraid you’ll stumble in the tub and hurt yourself.”

“I gotta’least wash my face an’ brush my teeth.”

Shawn stood beside you, holding your hair back, while you scrubbed your face pink and brushed your teeth. He then had you sit on the chair at your small vanity while he went to choose something from your dresser drawers.

He returned with a pair of white boy short underwear with rainbow hearts all over them and a white racerback tank top.

“I like these,” you said about the boy shorts. “But I don’ want this.” You handed the top back to him.

“What do you want instead?”

“Can I wear your shirt? It’ll smell like you an’ I’d really love that.” He was wearing a simple white button-down.

“You’re lucky I’m wearing a tank top underneath, and that I have a hard time saying no to you,” he chuckled, undoing the only three buttons that were fastened, slipping it from his shoulders, and handing it to you. He then waited on the other side of the door to give you privacy to change.

You exited the bathroom, thankfully seeming to be a little more stable on your feet. He bit softly on his bottom lip; he liked how you looked in his shirt.

“Come on, babe. Into bed.”

You crawled to the very middle of the mattress. He retrieved the brush from your dresser and positioned himself behind you. He gently brushed your hair out before loosely braiding it. That way, should you wake up sick, at least your hair would be out of the way.

When he had finished, you glanced back at him over your shoulder. “Do you really think I’m pretty?”

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known,” he said softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Then why don’t you want me?” you whispered.

He kissed your shoulder and breathed in the scent of your soft, warm skin mingling with the smell of himself from his shirt. His heart began thumping in his ears. You probably wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning, which made him braver than he would be otherwise.

“I want you, more than you can imagine, and that scares me,” he murmured. “You were…unexpected. You walked into my life and turned my world upside down so quickly; it’s making me question everything. I feel unbalanced around you.”

“’m sorry, I didn’mean to.”

“I wouldn’t wish it any different,” he smiled tenderly.

Shawn helped you settle under the covers and retrieved a glass of water and two ibuprofens to set on the nightstand beside the bed. He also moved a small wastebasket to within arms’ reach.

He crouched down to level himself with you and gently asked, “Do you really want to kiss me?”

You exhaled, your words almost imperceptible, “Every damn day.”

He took a deep breath. “If you remember any part of our conversation tomorrow, I’ll let you,” he promised. “Damn the consequences.”

// * // * //

@mendesblurb @benito-mi-vida

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fiction #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x you

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mittensmorgul · 3 years ago

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For anyone interested in long-term residence in the supernatural fandom, please have some observations I’ve made over the decade I’ve been here. Take it or leave it as you will, but I’ve found all of this info useful over the years I’ve been here.

I wrote this yesterday, and it achieved its mission of identifying the sort of folks who would react negatively to it (i.e. a lot of block lists have been updated), so now that it’s been edited for content, it’s going under a cut (because that is how we do things on tumblr in general, unless we have a deliberate purpose for annoying readers with excessively long text posts) for the sake of people who actually do care about the fandom and its history. If that’s not you or your reason for being here, then keep on keeping on with your own thing, I guess. For those who are interested, there’s a lot of fandom resources some of us have been building for years that you might enjoy knowing about.

First off, I’ve been informed by a few friends who’ve read through this for coherency’s sake that it sort of reads like a *shakes cane from porch* fandom grandma complaint, but honestly... I earned this rocking chair and goshdangit imma rock now. So apologies for any “back in my day” vibes or faint aroma of tiger balm this post might give off. Then again, it’s loosely based on a similar post from 2012 so like... time is a flat circle anyway I guess.

1. There is no such thing as “tumblr famous,” unless you’re referring to the hilarious and delightful fic of the same name (please go read it, you will cackle). Posting Hot Takes for imaginary Clout™ on this site is kind of pointless in the long run. Sure you can post solely for the sake of stirring shit and getting notes, but the majority of the folks who do aren’t long term residents of the fandom. They’re just tourists moving through our little beach town for spring break. If you’re actually intent on moving to this corner of the fandom for an extended stay, please bother to really feel out the permanent residents and understand the culture and general mood of the neighborhood. It bears no resemblance to whatever’s going on across town where all the bars and beach parities are happening, and those loud, drunken revelers are, again, gonna disappear back to their regular lives or on to the next party eventually. That doesn’t mean the fandom is dying, it’s just evolving.

(funny how I had several comments implying that I’m just trying to keep the fandom from evolving with this post, because I sincerely do want the fandom to continue on for years to come, and that is impossible without evolution. We can evolve without self-immolating, though. mostly i included point 1 for an excuse to push ancient but hilarious fanfic on you.)

2. Once you post something here, it’s been unleashed to the fandom winds. You never know where it will end up, or who will comment on it or add to it. Remember that time Misha tweeted the link to the Epic Cockles Love Story post? No? It was wild. That was 2012. They all know we’re here, and how to find us if they want to. Please don’t take it to their doorsteps.

Obviously if someone is being a dick on your posts, please feel free to block them, but the whole entire point of this site is to engage people with your posts. Being big mad that someone reblogged your post with comments or supporting evidence, or happy headcanons or “HECK THIS IS GREAT BECAUSE (insert personal story about their experience or whatever else made them Feel Things about your post)�� is frankly ridiculous. If your goal is to avoid any sort of engagement with your posts, then maybe try instagram instead. From what I understand, there is a SPN fandom presence there, and nobody can tarnish your original posts with unwanted commentary. But the ability to reblog with additional commentary is a FEATURE of tumblr that builds community through conversation. Otherwise we’re all just talking to ourselves in a vacuum, and that’s what actually kills fandoms.

(and for the folks who just want to blog how they want to blog and don’t want people to engage on their posts at all, please feel free to block anyone you want, as well... nobody wants to step on your toes, but most of us also don’t want to walk on eggshells wondering if this post is one of the “do not add comments for any reason” sorts of posts, either. This is a huge fandom and most people can’t even begin to keep track of every creator and their url du jour, and what their personal rules might be regarding interaction with their content. Including a “please don’t add comments” note at the bottom of your posts-- and not in your tags that won’t even show up on reblogs, but in the actual body of the post-- would sincerely help avoid any awkward or unwanted interactions, too. At the end of the day, you are in control of your own fandom experience and the block button exists.

For the record, I block zero fandom blogs (which is why I posted this, I wanted it to reach a wide scope... refer to the opening paragraphs as to why).

3. Since this post was partly inspired by a tag I left on that post going around about how “previous tags” mean fuckall on this site (which you can read here), just a reminder that if you like someone’s tags or feel they add value to the post, part of the Peer Review structure of tumblr encourages you to PASTE THEM INTO A REBLOG. If you do this, then at least credit the person who actually wrote the tags! Don’t just copy someone else’s tags into your tags on your reblog of the post without credit either. They were not YOUR tags. (I have had this happen to tag rambles I wrote and someone else got credited with them on a subsequent reblog and it is FRUSTRATING). Just... don’t even bother to write “previous tags” because WHAT PREVIOUS TAGS?! Nobody is gonna bother to chase back the chain of reblogs trying to find where the mystery tags came from, friendos. That way lies madness.

(for the record, since some folks seemed to focus on this point solely, writing “previous tags” on a post isn’t inherently a BAD thing, but for anyone who actually is here for more than one-off shitposting, then it’s sort of a pointless thing in the long run. This wasn’t intended to suggest people who ARE here for one-off shitposting are bad or “doing it wrong,” but for people who might actually want to preserve that hilarious joke or insightful comment. People delete posts and entire blogs all the time around here. Links break. I get that the upcoming generation just shrugs at that and moves on with their lives, but heck... you don’t have to accept that all entertainment is disposable if you don’t want to. There’s a bizarre sort of nihilism plaguing us all about the impermanence of pretty much everything that feels like something we should be fighting against rather than buying into wholesale, even in our escapist entertainment. I’m just exhausted by the complete loss of joy in community.

*shouts from the peanut gallery* IT AIN’T THAT DEEP, JUST GET SOME FRESH AIR AND LOOK AT A PUPPY OR SOMETHING

Yes... yes it isn’t really that deep, but bigger picture in the state of reality we’re all entirely disillusioned with, are we supposed to just give up on everything, including the things we cling to because they bring us a tiny spark of hope that we’re not all just trapped in this dystopian nightmare and things might actually be worth living for?

*peanut gallery clinging to burnt husks of peanuts in a barren peanut field* but this is how we have chosen to cope

Okay... you do you... I feel bad for you but if that’s the case then this post is NOT FOR YOU. AND THAT’S FINE. I honestly do not care if you don’t care! I mean, I’m sorry anyone has to live in a world that drives them to that mindset, but I understand. This post is for anyone who might look at their lives and their choices and think “no wait, I unironically enjoy this and want more from the experience of that enjoyment than I’m currently feeling.” Everyone else can continue with their lives as usual.)

4. CONTENT THEFT IS NEVER OKAY. PERIOD. Things like “credit to the artist” or tagging gifs or images you found on pinterest as “not mine” isn’t actually credit. If you can’t source an image or gif set, DO NOT POST IT! We don’t REPOST (i.e. save an image and then create a new post with it as if it was our own creation). We REBLOG (click the little square arrows and reblog from the actual creator). That goes for gif sets, fanvids, screencaps, meta, fic... everything.

(hopefully everyone here already understands this one, but I felt compelled to include some “these are stupidly obvious” reminders anyway, since this is ostensibly some sort of advice column. This is the equivalent of the warning label on your toaster reminding you not to use it in the bath. Like... duh...)

5. Close kin of item 4 is SOURCE YOUR SHIT.

(for 100% disclosure purposes, I specifically discussed this one in this specific way because of an influx of anon ask messages I received in the wake of the finale. Literally the inciting incident for creating this entire post was what I can only assume was a joking ask about a comment Misha made at a con years ago. Someone actually bothered to take the time to type out those sentences to me. I have no idea what they were expecting in reply, or what could possibly motivate them to send this comment about something so entirely random from, again, several years ago. Just a joke? No idea, but whatever... it got me thinking that there might actually be people who are new to the fandom who MIGHT actually care about the fandom history, and maybe they just don’t know where to go for that info, or how to even begin searching through 16 years of history for things they might actually find enjoyment in, rather than just hauling random out of context garbage out on main and pointing and laughing about it now. People are actually allowed to care about things. It’s not cringeworthy to actually care about things, and you are not alone in actually caring, and there’s this whole big room over here full of people who are thrilled to share in that with you. This post is intended FOR THOSE PEOPLE SPECIFICALLY, so if that is not you, please just continue walking by.)

Yes, I know lots of y’all are new around here right now, but dredging up stuff from years ago that fandom has completely debunked and presenting it as TRU FAX again is just exhausting. We’re not trying to be party poopers, but seriously, we have seen it all and are mostly done with extinguishing bags of flaming dog poop on our front porches for the umpteenth year in a row. I’ve seen a lot of posts that have the same tone as “I saw Goody Proctor dancing with the devil” or “I heard kylo ren has an eight pack” and just... the information is there for anyone who cares enough to find it.

This goes double for “why is nobody talking about this thing I just discovered while watching the show for the first time?!” And, oh hon, we have talked it all into the ground over the last fifteen years. We’re happy you’re discovering it again, but I promise we talked about it plenty when the episodes originally aired. We have such a rich meta history that lots of us have worked really hard to preserve. I encourage you to seek it out, if nothing else than as historical artifacts. The way we have discussed the show has been a 16-year evolution. People have written literal doctoral dissertations on this show. Your shitposts are fun! We love reliving our own experience through fresh eyes, and seeing your wonder at experiencing it all again for the first time! But y’all didn’t invent this fandom in the last six months, either.

Meta Sources and Minerals provided by our friendly neighborhood fandom archivist, @lets-steal-an-archive

Academic books and articles about SPN

A collection of Meta Essays going back to s1 and organized by topic (all of this has happened before, all of it will happen again)

SPN Heavy Meta Archive (s1-3)

Mel’s Dreamwidth archive of meta (s1-12)

Oranges8hands Dreamwidth archive of meta (s1-15, with many similar entries to Mel’s... though ymmv on viewpoint in a lot of these too)

Anyone remember Fandom Wank? Not the concept but the actual LJ... No? Okay have a link to SPN topics that ended up there. Through 2013. We have seen so much... including several fandom containment breaches.

for all your art sourcing needs, please see @theroadsofararchive, the repository for so much fandom art.

need to find a gif of something? canonspngifs is a vast repository of gifsets of the entire series. If the gif you want to use in your post happens to be the first gif in the gifset, in the tumblr gif finder thingy just paste the permalink to that post from canonspngifs (which is easily searchable by episode, character, location, situation, quotes, and sometimes even color and clothing items the actors are wearing... it’s really well organized, especially for tumblr >.>) and the first gif will be automatically linked with credit to the gif creator attached. It makes life easy that way. It’s also convenient when trying to remember something specific but can’t remember what episode it’s from. I’ve used the site to jog my memory before going to the superwiki armed with more specific search results to find episode quotes and references. Or sometimes I just scroll through all the nice gifs for fun, too.

Need a screencap of something and know exactly which episode it’s from? Try Home of the Nutty. You might not find the exact screencap you’re looking for, but they have a complete set of caps of every episode, and it’s an incredibly useful resource for quick reference checks and the like. Just give pages a chance to fully load before clicking on the next one. The site is easily overloaded, but it’s still free to use (and again, with credit... Pretty much every screencap on my entire blog is from HotN unless otherwise credited).

As you can see, this is a fandom built on preserving our history. You absolutely are not required to engage with any of this if that’s not of interest to you, but I can only assume that there are people who would be interested in it if only they knew it existed and how to find it. Well, now they do.

6. A few more notes on tags, and how they work on tumblr. The first 20 tags on your ORIGINAL posts are searchable sitewide, so if you want to be able to find something again, tag that thing first before going on general tag rambles. The only place tags on reblogs are searchable is on your own blog. So you don’t have to put 50 tags trying to get a post seen if it’s a reblog. You’re just spitting into the wind at that point. If you have a filing system for finding things again, then by all means add those tags (again, in the first 20, so they’re searchable), but you don’t need to tag a reblog “destiel” and “deancas” and “dean” and “cas” and “dean x cas” or whatever. Pick one for your personal blog’s filing system, that’s all you need.

(this was only added because tagging and searching on this site is so very broken... I get that a lot of folks don’t care about ever searching their own blogs again for anything, so this one only really applies if you do often find yourself trying to find old posts. If not, then it’s not really relevant. It took me years to work out a decent tagging system, and at the beginning of my time here I never thought I’d end up camping out here for a decade and falling this deep into the fandom, and I regretted my lack of consistent tags only years later when I realized I actually wanted to be able to go back and find specific old posts again. So... for anyone who wants to err on the side of caution, working out a sensible tagging system really helps if you’re here for the long term. I personally tag content by episode, because some of my other general tags are so large as to be practically useless as a search term. But whatever system you choose to file stuff on your own blog, it really only has to make sense to you. And again, if this is pointless advice for someone who has no intention of settling here for the long term. Please feel free to ignore it. I just wish someone had explained it this way to me ten years ago and saved me the hassle of retroactively tagging something like 30k posts... especially now that using the mass tag replacer is the fastest way to get your entire blog deleted... oops? so yeah, don’t use the mass tag replacer either >.>)

7. Tags on Tumblr DO NOT WORK LIKE TAGS ON TWITTER. If you @ someone in the body of the post, it will show up in their notifications (if they’re the sort of person who even checks their notifications... not all of us do. For the record, I generally don’t...), but putting actor or ship names in the tags on a tumblr post does absolutely nothing. It’s not the same as tagging the actor’s twitter account in a tweet. Nobody’s getting notifications about you tagging a post about Jensen here as “Jensen Ackles.” There is a difference. Please learn it. (and don’t take headcanons and ESPECIALLY RPF or otherwise explicit art or fic from tumblr to twitter and tag the actors in it. That’s just... not okay.)

(I have seen the pearl clutchers getting all in a huff about the mere existence of RPF or even explicit content of fictional characters if it doesn’t meet their purity standards, but tagging those things allows people who don’t want to see it to actively avoid that content here. Nobody has a right to tell people their fictional content shouldn’t exist at all, or that creators of that fictional content somehow deserve harassment or threats for having dared to create such “immoral” content, won’t somebody PLEASE think of the children... and no... you do not do that here. Don’t be the problematic behavior you wish to ban from the world. Learn to use tags to protect yourself from, as i have attempted to emphasize here, fictional content you are personally upset by. That’s a you problem, not a problem for the creators of potentially upsetting content that they tag appropriately for.)

8. General formatting stuff: If you’re writing long text posts, visually break them up so people aren’t faced with one long wall of text. The enter key is your friend. Also, if you put long text posts under a Read More break and send people to your blog to finish reading, please ensure that your blog is actually visually accessible (tiny text, or light grey text on a dark grey background, or a visually busy background might be aesthetically pleasing to you but nobody can actually read it. Loads of folks won’t even try. Which is great if you don’t actually care whether people are able to appreciate your content or not, but something to at least consider if you *do* actively want to encourage engagement with your work. Confirm how your blog looks on both mobile and desktop and make sure it’s actually functional in both, too).

And since I mentioned that most of my experience on fandom tumblr has been in the SPN fandom, here’s a bit of a reminder for folks who are new around here. With the reminder that I have been here more than a decade and still feel like a newbie myself sometimes...

This is an OLD FANDOM. There are many, many people who have been at this longer than some of you have been alive. The average age for creators in this fandom is older than you think (I think of my friends in their 30′s as young’ins okay? okay). With that understood, you are responsible for the content you consume and are exposed to. Curate your experience. Ship and let ship. YKINMKATOK. Don’t deliberately expose yourself to content you find upsetting for whatever reason. Tags and warnings are your friends, not targets for you to attack in some sort of purity war. People will ship things you do not like (or in specific ways you do not like), will say things you do not agree with, and will find their happiness in things you abhor. That is not your concern. Find what you do like, and support and engage with it, and ignore (or block, or unfollow) the rest. Tumblr has a feature that lets you blacklist tags so the content you’re trying to avoid won’t appear on your dash.

Remember the paradox of tolerance.

It is not your job in fandom to police how other people enjoy the fandom. It’s not *my* job to police how *you* enjoy the fandom, UNLESS your enjoyment is in actively harming other real human beings in the fandom. If you don’t like their take on the character or the show or the plotlines or their ships or anything else, you don’t need to engage with their posts at all! The necessary corollary to this is that clarifying misunderstandings or correcting factual misinformation is not “policing.”

(this is where the peanut gallery reminds me it ain’t that deep, and I plead with them to put down the social media and find just one (1) thing to actually believe in in this godforsaken life, find something other than disdain and cynicism and spite to live for. If those things motivate you to find a larger cause for yourself, then great, use them to your advantage, but use them to find something that makes you a better person or brings you a modicum of joy and connection to your fellow human beings despite living in a dystopian hellscape of a world)

I have seen a lot of posts lately that are founded on the sort of authority that comes with “I watched through tumblr for a few months and then watched the last three episodes of the series” and as such are just... missing the larger context of the entire show, and are unfounded entirely in canon. I 100% appreciate the new enthusiasm for the fandom that we’ve been living in here for years, and it’s wonderful to see new people enjoying the thing we love. Your headcanons are valid, you are valid, but recognize that your headcanons aren’t canon. All of us finale denialists have accepted this in some measure, so we feel you. We truly, truly feel you. But regarding actual canon, we have a resource for that: the Superwiki. Learn it, live it, love it, as Metatron would say.

(which you could discover he said in 10.17 Inside Man, thanks to the superwiki! accept no substitutes!)

(and again, there have been people who have been involved in fandom for years who haven’t engaged with canon in years, either! You can play in this universe however you choose, BUT FOR PEOPLE WHO ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT CANON AT ALL, WHICH I AM AGAIN POINTEDLY SAYING MIGHT NOT BE YOU, READER, AND I’M NOT SUGGESTING YOU ARE WRONG FOR NOT WANTING TO ACTUALLY ENGAGE WITH CANON, but if you DO want to engage with canon, please have some useful resources. Why do people feel personally attacked by being presented a list of helpful resources? Absolutely baffling.)

(also: words have definitions. “Canon” is a specific thing, meaning in this case “the finished media product that aired on television.” Anything beyond those limits is secondary canon (think: john’s journal, which is not canon but canon adjacent at best...), word of god (i.e stuff said by the writers and showrunners), or headcanon (which includes actor commentary-- they may have helped create the show with their acting choices and whatever, but they are not in control of the story overall). If there’s something you dislike about actual canon, you can reject it and supplement it with your own theories or preferred outcomes-- that’s basically what fanfic is-- but that doesn’t make your theories canon (much to all our dismay, that’s just not how any of this works. This is not to invalidate how anyone engages with the show or the fandom, just trying to clarify what seems to have been a source of unintentional misunderstandings. Your theories do not have to be “canon” to be legitimate interpretations.)

***I am setting this section apart, and did make a separate post of just this following information, because this is where we go from being relatively chill about different parts of fandom choosing to interact in different ways and you do you and blog however you want, to “hey can everybody please understand that the way you are interacting with this specific material might be harmful for specific legal reasons, and stating that you do not care about the consequences of your actions does actively make you the asshole here...” Okay, now that we have that understood:

The spnscripthunt collective has been steadily acquiring new scripts (which are posted in full on the superwiki for everyone to enjoy, for free). The language around how some folks are talking about these scripts is... concerning. For very real legal reasons, actually, and not because we’re feeling precious about the collection and don’t wike it when meanies use them in shitposts.

-First off, these scripts are not “leaks.” They are all verified and legally purchased (or gifted, in some cases, but still acquired entirely above board. we didn’t whack anyone over the head in a back alley for these scripts, or swipe them out of someone’s trailer on set).

(in case anyone was unaware, these scripts are the copywritten protected property of Warner Brothers. So yes, how we use them and share them with the fandom could have legal repercussions. We present them as a collected resource of fandom history which SHOULD fall under Fair Use doctrine, but this is untested legal water. Insinuating that the scripts are somehow not entirely legally obtained, or that posting them for public access involved less than 100% transparent and entirely legal transactions is incredibly concerning.

Once again for the peanut gallery, if you don’t care about any of that and are just having a good time with it, at least be mindful of the work and expense a large group of people have gone through to acquire and present the content you’re all too eager to exploit for cheap thrills. Some of us do actually care and are not exactly comfortable with the fact that others don’t seem to care about burning it all to the ground. We can’t force you to listen or behave as we’d hope you might, but at least be aware of the potential consequences of your actions. All we’re asking is for you to not be the douchebag who sets the whole neighborhood on fire with your illegal fireworks display. Is that too much to ask for? more on that in a second, first... a psa)

-If you see a script for sale and are unsure if it’s legit (or believe it might already be freely available in our collection), please feel free to ask us for advice. Our goal is to make as much of our fandom history available to the entire fandom, and we absolutely do not want anyone shelling out money for stuff you can already find for free.

(seriously, we’ve seen a bunch of resellers cropping up selling printed versions of the scripts we bought and uploaded for everyone to enjoy free of charge, or scripts that are otherwise of dubious origin. We’ve been at this for years now and know what’s actually out there. We don’t want anyone to fall for a scam if we can help it)

-Also, the usual reminder that the scripts we acquire ARE NOT NECESSARILY THE FINAL SHOOTING DRAFTS. In fact, the majority of scripts in our collection are NOT. Changes are made daily to scripts, even during filming. Comparing a Production Draft (white pages, effectively the first “final draft” of what usually becomes a series of drafts before filming wraps) to a much later revision (say... green or goldenrod revisions, several of which we DO have in our collection for comparison) and how those earlier drafts often differ wildly from the aired version versus how similar a much later green draft is to the aired version, for example, can teach you a lot about the television writing process. The link above to the superwiki scripts page has a nice little explainer about how this process works.

Differences between our posted scripts (many of which are white drafts, aka FIRST complete drafts, which will likely go through multiple rounds of revisions before filming even begins) and the aired version of the show are not all “acting choices” or a director or editor just cutting whole scenes on a whim. It’s insulting to everyone involved in production to suggest that’s the case.

(and yeah, fine... whatever, make any sort of posts you like regarding how those changes came about, but at the very least understand that it’s not actually the truth about how any of this works. Don’t care that that’s not the truth and want to make the posts anyway because shitposting is fun and that’s the extent of your sense of humor? FINE! You’re entitled to do that! But at least you DO know the truth now, and hopefully so do the people who engage with your posts. Deliberate ignorance isn’t cute, smooth lions notwithstanding)

There’s probably a whole other post to be made on fandom tagging etiquette, but again I don’t really use the tags enough to know what’s going on with that whole situation. I’ve also probably left a lot of stuff out, so please feel free to add things I’ve overlooked.

Thanks also to @trisscar368 and @thayerkerbasy for help compiling this, too. They were kind enough to escort me through the park to feed these pigeons. Now I need to take them out for ice cream. :’D

So I guess welcome to the neighborhood. Make yourself at home, but like... try not to trash the place while you’re here. Some of us live here by choice, lol.

#this blue hellsite (affectionate)#fandom problems #kinda wish i'd made this post six months ago but here we are i guess lol #long post #now edited for the people who are actually personally invested in the fandom #thanks for participating in this little experiment and I hope this version is actually informative to those who are interested #meaning there's a lot more links to stuff and explainers and whatnot...#and one last reminder that for folks just swinging through for laughs absolutely none of this applies to you #if you are legit interested in fandom history and preservation as we move to the post-canon world then hopefully this is useful to you

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lauras-collection · 4 years ago

Text

✮ electric love | part 2 ✮

Harrison Osterfield x fem!reader | fwb!roommates au

|| Masterlist || Series Masterlist ||

Summary: Living with your best friends Tom and Harrison is all fun and games until one drunken night alone with Harrison, you give in to your attraction to him. You tell yourself you should leave it at that, forget about the night you spent with him and move on to not ruin your friendship, but neither of you can stay away from each other. So without considering the possible consequences, you make a deal. But how are you supposed to keep your shenanigans from Tom? And how are you supposed to not break the number one rule of an arrangement like this: do not fall in love.

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ [fingering, protected sex, riding], a smidge of angst, reader and Haz being horny idiots again, but this time sober.

A/N: For the record, I know pubs aren’t usually open that long, but my favourite Irish pub in Brighton is open until 4am on the weekends. so I imagine Tom working there :D

Hope you like it!!

Feedback is always appreciated ❤️

It’s still dark out when you wake up, and it takes you a few seconds to realise where you are. You blink a couple of times and when the coffee table still littered with cans and empty bags of crisps comes into view, the evening before comes back to you, and you realise that Harrison is still laying behind you, his arm wrapped around your waist.

Panic starts to creep up your spine, and suddenly you feel like you’re trapped. You sit up quickly, not even bothering if it wakes Harrison up. The blanket falls from your frame, and you realise you’re still naked.

This can’t be happening.

You pull the blanket back up to cover yourself as Harrison starts mumbling incoherently. Patting the coffee table, you try to find a phone, you don’t care if it’s yours or Harrison’s, you just need to know what time it is.

“What’s going on?” Harrison asks, rubbing his eyes as you finally feel the sleek surface of a phone display underneath your fingertips. You lift it up to see the time, it’s just after four in the morning, and if you were slightly panicked before, it’s kicking into high gear now. Tom will be back any moment, and there’s no way you’ll let him walk in on this if you can prevent it.

“We fell asleep.” You stand up, dragging the blanket off of Harrison’s body, but he doesn’t seem to mind. For a moment, you’re distracted by the sight of him in his boxers. His pecs and abs illuminated by the moon shining into the window. With a small shake of your head, you turn around and start to scramble your clothes together. “Tom will be back soon, we need to get out of here.”

Harrison finally gets moving and, for a while, all you’re able to hear is the two of you shuffling around and your heartbeat drumming in your ears. You rack your brain as to how to handle this situation, what to say to him.

You’re still standing there, the blanket wrapped around you, as Harrison pulls on his sweatpants, his shirt hanging over his shoulder.

And then you just stare at each other for a long moment.

“I’ll just—“

“So do we—“

You both start talking at the same time, the air around you filled with awkward tension. And you hate it. You can already feel a headache coming on, and you want to just fall asleep and forget what happened.

Not that it was bad, that’s not it at all. It was amazing. But you don’t want this to change anything between you and Harrison. You love your friendship the way it is, you won’t risk ruining it with sex. Except… maybe you’ve already done that.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” You mumble, and without waiting for a reply, you dash towards your room and quickly close the door behind you.

You let out a deep breath before getting rid of the blanket and finally putting your clothes back on. You know that you need to get some sleep to counteract this hangover, but there’s no way you’ll be able to.

You feel disgusting, you’re covered in dried sweat, Harrison’s scent is all over you, and it does nothing to ease your anxiety. You contemplate taking a shower, but when you hear the front door close softly, followed by Tom’s footsteps moving around the flat, you know that will have to wait until the morning.

It’s been a week since you slept with Harrison and you can’t stop thinking about him. While you caught yourself fantasising about him every now and then before you crossed the line, now you know what it feels like to be touched by him. To be completely consumed by him. And with every day that passes you crave his touch even more.

Getting a taste of him did nothing to soothe your longing for him. On the contrary, it made it worse. So now whenever he’s close, whether that be him waiting for his toast to pop out of the toaster while you’re making a tea, or him sitting next to you on the sofa, your mind goes places it shouldn’t while thinking about one of your best friends.

It’s frustrating. You don’t have the time or the energy to find someone to hook up with to fuck Harrison out of your system. That’s probably what got you into this predicament in the first place, to be honest.

And the fact you still hadn’t really talked about what happened was eating away at you. There just hadn’t been the right time to bring it up. It’s been a stressful week for both of you with work and uni assignments, and if you had a few hours of spare time Tom was always around. You couldn’t just say ‘Hey Harrison can we talk about that thing that happened?’ Without Tom getting suspicious. And the last thing you wanted was him finding out that you and Harrison had sex on the sofa while he was at work.

It isn’t really awkward between you two. You still act normal around each other, it’s almost like nothing changed if it wasn’t for that underlying tension that always fills the air when you’re alone with him.

You delete the last paragraph you’d written for your essay with a groan. It didn’t make any sense anyway. Taking an English Lit class for extra credit sounded good when you first started the semester because with Harrison being an English Lit major you had someone you could ask for help right here living with you.

The irony of your situation makes you laugh. You contemplate quitting the class altogether, but there are only a few weeks left in the semester and all of your work so far would’ve been for nothing.

So you push all your confusing feelings to the side, close your laptop and pick it up. You don’t have to look far to find Harrison. He’s sitting in the living room, feet on the coffee table while scrolling through his phone.

He looks up when you let yourself fall next to him on the couch. The corners of his mouth lift into a smile and he locks his phone as he turns his body to you.

“What’s up?”

This is the first time you actively search out Harrison’s company since that night and you feel a little guilty that you’re doing it because you need his help.

“Can you help me with my essay?” You give him your best puppy dog eyes. “It’s for English Lit and everything I write seems dumb.”

The look in Harrison’s eyes gets a little softer as he nods his head.

“I’m sure it’s not dumb” He reassures you “Let’s see what you’ve got” He reaches his hand out for your laptop and you give it to him after unlocking it. His eyes flit over the screen as he reads over the measly excuse of an essay you’ve written. You can’t help but think how pretty his profile is.

“When’s it due?” He asks casually and you have a feeling he won’t like your answer.

You glance at the time on your laptop display, almost ten at night. “In two hours?” you press your lips together as Harrison’s head whirls over to you.

“Y/N! Why didn’t you ask for help sooner?”

You obviously can’t answer that question honestly, so you shrug your shoulders and say, “I wanted to do it on my own, but I’m incompetent so it didn’t work”

“You’re not incompetent!” He insists. “Look, what you’ve got so far is pretty solid, we just need to build on it.” His fingers fly over the keyboard as he starts to work on your essay.

As he types, he explains what he’s doing and occasionally asks a question. And an hour later your essay is ready to be handed in.

“Thank you so much for your help,” You say after you successfully sent the essay to your professor.

“Don’t mention it” He places his hand on your knee, giving it a squeeze and your breath catches in your throat. Images of the night you spent with Harrison start flashing through your mind as your eyes lock with his. He looks as taken aback as you feel, but neither of you dares to move.

The warmth of his hand is burning into your skin and you hate that just one touch from Harrison is enough to get you so worked up.

You clench your thighs together subconsciously and when Harrison's eyes leave yours for a second you know he noticed. The air around you is tense, thick with anticipation as his hand slowly moves up your leg. His eyes are boring into yours and you try your best to keep calm but your breathing is already heavy.

You don’t dare to say anything. As unsure as you are about what Harrison is thinking right now, you don’t want to ruin this moment.

His hand slowly moves further up your leg until his fingertips reach the hem of your shorts, then he pauses. Your heart is beating out of your chest and you know he’s giving you the time to say something. To tell him to stop. But you don’t want him to stop.

Biting your lip you give him an almost imperceptible nod and then his fingers slip under the fabric. You spread your legs a little allowing him to move closer to your heat and when his fingertips brush against your panties both of you take in a sharp breath.

“You’re soaking,” Harrison whispers, almost in awe.

“Been thinking about the other night a lot.” You say and lift your leg that’s closer to him until it’s laying on top of his, giving him more access.

“Yeah?” he asks, his thumb gingerly pressing against your covered clit. “Me too”

A moan falls from your lips and you reach out your hand to grab his forearm. Harrison stops his movements for a moment until you squeeze his arm.

“Keep going” Your voice is already hoarse, the pulsing between your legs almost unbearable. Harrison licks his lips, then gently moves your underwear to the side. And then his fingers are moving through your slick folds.

You throw your head back with a groan. You’ve been dreaming about his touch for the past week and there was nothing you could do to satisfy that craving. Nothing but being touched by Harrison again.

“That feel good?” Harrison murmurs and places a kiss on your shoulder.

“So good” you breathe, you’re hot, your blood rushing through your veins and you can already feel beads of sweat starting to build on your forehead. “More” You mewl, tightening your grip on his arm.

Harrison hums and then you feel him entering you with his fingers, the heel of his palm pressing against your clit and it’s almost enough to make you cum right then and there.

Harrison starts slowly moving in and out of you, his fingers slightly crooked, looking for that one spot. When you let out a moan and dig your fingers deeper into his forearm he knows he found it and continues to rub against it.

Your whole body is covered in goosebumps, your muscles tense as you throw your head back and lift your hips in an attempt to get closer to him. Harrison starts trailing kisses up your shoulder and neck and when he starts sucking on your sweet spot there, you’re a goner. Your pussy starts clenching around his fingers as your orgasm washes over you. You barely make out Harrison humming against your skin.

When you come down from your high, Harrison’s fingers are still inside you, moving ever so slowly as to not overstimulate you. You’re a long way from overstimulation though.

“Need you” You press out between groans, while you enjoy Harrison’s kisses and his fingers pleasuring you, it’s not nearly enough.

Harrison removes his hand and you find yourself pouting, but then he lifts his hand, your arousal shining on his fingers along with his ring. And then he puts them in his mouth, licking them clean with a hum, his eyes fixed on you and it might be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Let’s take this somewhere else.” He whispers against your skin before scooping you up. You let out a small squeal and wrap yourself around him tighter. “Your place or mine?” His hot breath hits your ear and while waiting for your answer he trails some more kisses on your neck.

“I don’t care.” you manage to say and moments later Harrison kicks a door shut with his foot and lays you down. You’re surrounded by dark blue bedsheets and Harrison’s scent. Without any hesitation, Harrison gets back to covering your neck with kisses. His hands moving under your shirt pushing the fabric up your body. With one swift movement, you get rid of the shirt, now laying in front of him in your bra and shorts.

The way Harrison is looking at you makes shivers run down your spine.

“You’re so fucking sexy, Y/N,” Harrison mumbles, his fingertips trailing over your newly exposed skin. Arching your back, you push yourself closer to him, your need to feel him reaching a new high.

As soon as Harrison’s taken off his shirt, you run your hands over his toned torso until you reach the waistband of his grey sweatpants. He tenses for a second and lets out a shuddering breath when you tease your fingers under the fabric. You need to bite your lip to keep in the giggle that’s threatening to fall from your lips at his reaction. You never thought he’d be this responsive to your touch.

While Harrison leans down to nip at the soft skin of your neck and collarbones you reach into his boxers and wrap your hand around his cock. Harrison lets out a low groan, his hot breath hitting your skin.

He’s hard and heavy in your hand, and the thought of him inside of you again makes warmth pool between your legs. Harrison curses when you slowly start to stroke him. He rests his forehead against your shoulder as if to collect himself, his soft curls tickling your skin.

And then he lifts himself up enough so he can look at you, his eyes dark.

“You sure about this?” A tiny voice in your head is aware that sleeping with Harrison again, this time sober, is crossing a line that can’t be uncrossed. But haven’t you already crossed that line last week when you told him to fuck you? Right now, you don’t want to think about that, though. All you want is him.

Your mind is quickly distracted from all of these thoughts when you take in the sight of Harrison on top of you, and you nod eagerly.

“Yes. I need you.” As if to emphasise your words you tighten your hand around him a bit, making Harrison groan.

“Fuck”

You let go of his cock and place your hands on his chest “Are you sure about this?” As much as you want this right now, you won’t do anything he isn’t willing to do. You don’t want him to feel pressured just because you need a release, and you need it from him.

“Yes. Fuck yes. Just… gimme a second or I’ll cum way too soon” He lets out a strained laugh and you can’t help but chuckle as well. While Harrison hovers above you, you bury your hands in his hair, slightly scratching his skull with your fingertips, causing him to let out a low moan. It’s not the first time you’re doing this. Whenever you feel like he’s stressed or upset about something it’s a sure way to make him feel better.

“I love it when you do that.” He hums before leaning down to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

He starts placing kisses on your neck, his hands moving back between your legs. Your hips buck up the moment his fingers touch your clit.

“I think a second is over” You pant out while he draws lazy circles on your sensitive bud. You can already feel the coil in your stomach tightening again.

Harrison lets out a laugh before pulling his hands away to take off your shorts.

It doesn’t take long for both of you to completely undress and him to put on a condom and then he’s positioned between your legs.

You run your hands over his arms, his biceps bulging as he hovers over you. Has he always been this muscular?

You have no time to further think about that because in the next moment he’s placing his hand on the back of your knee, spreading your legs wider before lining up his cock and pushing into you.

You throw your head back at the feeling of finally being filled again, digging your fingertips into his back as he bottoms out.

“You feel so good.” He murmurs and then starts rolling his hips into you. One of his hands is holding your hip as he picks up his pace.

“Fuck, I love your cock.” You mewl out, causing Harrison to chuckle darkly.

“I know you do. The way your pussy was dripping just at the thought of it spoke for itself”

Your walls tighten around him at his words and you arch your back, spreading your legs further.

“I wanna ride you.” You say, and it only takes Harrison a few seconds to react. He pulls out of you and easily rolls over so you’re on top of him.

Harrison’s hands are on your hips, helping you balance as you sink down onto him, before moving to your waist as you try to find the best angle for yourself.

You gasp when the head of his cock strokes a particularly sensitive spot and, just like last time, your reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by Harrison. His face breaks out into a smile and his hands cup your breasts, playing with your nipples. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you groan.

You feel the tingling sensation start to spread through your body, getting more intense with each of your thrusts.

“I’m close”

“Yeah? Need me to make you cum?” He has the nerve to smirk up at you, his curls falling into his flushed face. You can’t help but notice how beautiful he is like this. He would be even more beautiful if he wasn’t being such a tease right now, though.

“Yeah, I’d appreciate it” You grind out. It’s not like you couldn’t take matters into your own hands (literally) but you know Harrison is able to take you there. If he can do it drunk he shouldn’t have a problem sober. Hell, he did it earlier on the couch. And you’re going to take advantage of someone else making you cum for a change. Who knows when you’re going to get the chance again?

“I’d love to watch you make yourself cum while riding my dick, though.” He grins. When you glare at him he bites his lip and returns his hands to your hips. “Maybe another time.”

And then he tightens his grip on you, holding you in place as he starts thrusting up into you, still at the perfect angle. You have to place your hands on his chest to support yourself as he pumps into you, your tits bouncing with every movement and then suddenly he wraps his lips around one of your nipples.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry, you’re only seconds from finally being pushed over the edge. And then his finger finds your clit and you’re done for.

Words that don’t even make sense fall from your lips and you just barely notice Harrison’s words.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy like that. Coming around my cock.” His words are strained as he keeps fucking into you, chasing his own release “Look at you. So good. Fuck.”

And then you feel him twitch inside you before he releases into the condom with a guttural moan.

Spent, you fall onto his chest. Both of you breathing heavily. After a few moments of catching your breath, you pull off him and let yourself fall next to him.

“So, that happened again.” You say, staring at the ceiling while Harrison disposes of the condom. Now that the fog of desire has lifted and you can think, more or less, clearly again, you realise that this was probably not the smartest thing to do.

Harrison lets out a chuckle as he joins you back on the bed. He’s laying on his side, his head propped up on his hand.

“It did. How are you feeling about it?”

You turn on your side as well to face him.

“Not to blow up your ego or anything but I don’t remember the last time I’ve had sex that amazing.”

“You don’t remember last week?” There’s a smirk on his face, so, with a roll of your eyes, you throw a pillow at him.

“I remember.” You narrow your eyes at him. “But I mean before that. It’s been so long.”

“Yeah, same.”

You never thought you’d find yourself in bed with Harrison. Have you thought about it? Yes. But you never thought it would actually happen. Let alone twice. And you never in your wildest dreams would’ve thought you’d be so… compatible? Even in long-term relationships you had in the past, it took a while for you and your partner to get to know each other's bodies.

But with Harrison, it seems like everything just comes naturally. Your bodies so in tune that it just works.

An idea starts forming in your head.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Harrison is your best friend for a reason. Sometimes, he can read you like a book.

You bite your lip. “I don’t know. You might think it’s stupid.”

“I won’t think it’s stupid.” He pauses for a moment. “OK, maybe I will, but I promise not to laugh.”

“That’s not really reassuring.”

“I’m sorry.” He smiles. “Please tell me.”

You play with your fingers, plucking up the courage to tell him.

“So we both agree that the sex is good, right?" Harrison nods. "And we both don’t really have the time or want to, like, hook up with random people, right?" Another nod from Harrison. "So wouldn’t it be… convenient if we—“ You wave your hand between the two of you.

“If we—?” He raises his eyebrows. He’s gonna make you say it, isn’t he?

“Sleep with each other. A friends with benefits agreement if you will. No strings attached. No obligations.”

“Just sex?”

“Just sex.”

You hold your breath waiting for Harrison's answer.

A/N: Oooh, what will Harrison’s response be? I think we all know lmao. I hope you liked it! I’d love to hear your thoughts!

electric love taglist: @blueraindrops // @spideyssunshine // @defensive_sarcasm17 // @captainbucky13 // @frenchfrostpudding // @the-fan-18 // @hotforharrison // @osterfieldvol6 // @castawayclaires // @littlebookbengal // @bigbootyjudys-blog // @abcxrandomx // @74limelight // @lolooo22 // @justsayk // @mountainsforwords // @t-hollanderr

everything taglist: @spidermanlondon // @duskholland // @tutuabby28 // @missevrythingg // @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh // @thenoddingbunny-blog // @emilykjh // @clara-licht // @hollandfanficlove // @calltothewild // @crybabyalexxx // @hazardosterfield // @calsthomas // @quaksonhehe // @sinisterspidey // @thirzaholland // @tombrina // @outshineallthestars // @serendipitous-amor // @soincredible // @trustfundparker // @writertoo18 // @viagracex // @skamlover200 // @wonderlandfandomkingdom // @wehavetomakeourheartssitstill // @thearchersupremacy // @itstaskeen // @camimndess // @allyz // @technosoot // @fanficscuziranout // @parker-hollandx // @givebuckyhisplumsnow // @dangerouslovefanfic // @ertherealrose // @i-married-a-pineapple // @miraclesoflove // @bi-girlwrites-2000 // @seasidetom // @katcontrreras // * * // @fallingforfics // @destinedbooklover // @parkerpeter24 // @selfcarecap // @moonphoric // @just-a-littlebit-of-everything // @emistrash // @badreputationlove // @turtoix // @haloxmendes // @anjalika03 // @iamsherloki-wholocked // @the-fan-18 // @white-wolf1940 // @aidinniram // @heyhihellowhatsup0 // @blackbat2020 // @keithseabrook27 // @annathesillyfriend // @hoodpankow // @practicallylivesonline // @keithseabrook27 // @millennial-teenybopper // @beautifulrose0809 // @parachutepanties // @jamiealenaa // @hallecarey1

harrison osterfield taglist: @hjoficrecs // @lolychu // @hazardosterfield // @hollandbroz-n-haz // @emilyg453

series taglist: @softholand // @svturtles // @cloverrover // @goodgirlgonetom // @justafangirlduh // @thegirlwiththediary // @beyond-the-ashes // @parkerbunny // @bearsbeetsbarnes // @keithseabrook27

#harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield fic #harrison osterfield smut #harrison osterfield series #harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield scenario #harrison osterfield fanfic

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aliypop · 3 years ago

Text

Gone But Not Forgotten

Wordcount: 1,569

Rating : Angst / Fluff

A/N : I’m back after a lot of stress I’ve managed to come back to do fic’s with my ghostbusters oc and afterlife . I wrote it on Grammerly so excuse the errors

Tag: @herosneednotapply @bohohoh-itsmagic

"I loved him more than anything in this world, and he's dead because of-" Alexandra stopped in her tracks, eyes focusing between the mess of the broke down Victorian home and the unfamiliar face of a woman older than her daughter. Short blonde hair furiously moving around with the movement of its bodily owner. Boxes scattered everywhere as well as books maps and. "I can't believe he kept that damn toaster..." Alexandra muttered under her breath. As the floorboards creaked, there stood a PKE meter pointed at her neck.

"Who are you, and how did you get in our home?"

"I should be asking you the same thing." Alexandra chuckled, "Well, the who are you part that is..." she began to walk past the younger woman, eyes peering through her glasses, taking in every detail that was simply Egon.

"Well, are you going to tell me who you are before I...I... blast you with this dumb thing."

"Names Alexandra Morgan. or Doctor Alexandra Spengler." she then chuckled, "And that's a PKE meter. The only damage it could do is alert you of a specter..." her boots clicking against the rotting floorboards, "Now your turn..." tipping her hat to look back at the young woman,

"I'm Callie... "

"Just Callie?" she asked, "No last name?"

"No, just Callie..." the other woman stared, her hands starting to tremble.

"Out of all my years of Teaching, I've never met anyone who didn't have a last name..."

"I found something of Grandpa Spengler's. Can I keep it." both Callie and Alexandra looked towards the steps as there stood a girl who was the spitting image of the man she had always adored, "Of course, Phoebe, just uh don't get hurt..." Callie sighed, the tone of a concerned mother. Alexandra knew that all too well, but what she wanted to know was how the hell was there a grandpa Spengler she didn't know about:

Alexandra knew about the one drunken night that Egon and her got into: He had disappeared for a while left her alone, and that's when it hit her.

"Oh..."

Oh, was right, here she was moments away before Zuul would arrive, at her dead husband's home amongst her stepdaughter and step-grandchild?, This was indeed weirder than Egon and slime. "Is something wrong?" Callie asked, noticing the expression on the older woman's face. "I'm sorry he wasn't in your life... hell, he wasn't in mine or Adisa's much after 2004, Egon, ran down here, but luckily she was in college by that time, and I was starting to grey..." she sat in the dusty rocking chair, she could feel the air shift as if he made his presence known,

"I'm sorry, what?" Callie asked,

"It wasn't that Egon didn't care ... he just had this theory in his mind and-"

"No, I know about that... I mean you and my uh?" Callie stood like a deer in headlights. "Father, yes, of course... Egon, we met in the winter of 85? or was it 84," Alexandra " 84, the year I lost everything, well not everything..." she smiled, watching at how attentive Callie was she hadn't even noticed Phoebe who was by the steps listening,

"Do you know a man named Ray Stanz..." she asked, her round glasses crooked on her face, nose covered in the oh-so-familiar gunk of Proton pack oil and rust. "Do I, Ray, and I was practically best friends as Kids. He's the one who told me your grandpa died..." Phoebe only gave her a quick nod turning on her heels before the gears in her mind began to spin.

"So you're a ghostbuster, did, you know Grandpa Spengler, which means you could help with..."

"I was his wife-"

"Alright, it's been a great time talking to you, and I think you should go-"

"Call it fate, call it luck, call it Karma, but I believe everything happens for a reason," Alexandra gave a wink to Phoebe.

Alexandra took her exit as the oh-so-familiar sound of the Ecto - 1 siren rang from the dirt driveway. "I assume that's another one of my grandchildren..." she chuckled, her brown skin reflecting in the eerie moonlight. Leaving Callie to steam as if she were a boiling tea kettle, "I don't believe in fate!" she shouted as the woman walked off the dirt path and into her parked 89 Mustang. Just two hours out of the small town was a motel surrounded by dirt and a few gas stations, that as Ray put it, happened to have Twinkies.

Sitting in the dimly lit room of Peters sat the Ghostbusters, and a pacing Alexandra understood by aggravated shrieks. "How bad was it..." Winston asked as Alexandra shot him a glare worse than Proton stream to the hand.

"Alrighty, then that's all I need to know... Ray, do you wanna give it a try?"

Ray looked up from his book as he turned to face the storm that was Alexandra. He knew the hurt in her eyes, the same look he saw when he told her that Egon was dead. "It can't be that bad, Alex... Remember when you caught Egon with the slime."

"THAT IS NOT THE SAME THING, RAYMOND!" Alexandra growled, her hand balled into a fist. Peter caught it as he sat her down. "You know, as the Pschologyist and handsome one of the group, I think I can handle this little lady."

"Venkman, I may be old, but that does not mean I can't throw you."

"You know, if you and I worked out in college, I'd find that attractive."

"Peter... shut up."

A hue of purple flashed by her eyes as every word Peter said went out the other ear. "Do you smell something..." she asked, stopping Peter in his track all while Winston and Ray were already suited up,

"Where's it coming from."

"The dirt farm...They're in trouble..."

"Who? " Both Peter and Winston asked, following the leads of Ray and Alexandra.

Trevor, Lucky, and Podcast had all tried their best with Phoebe in the lead proton pack on her back and a spirit guiding her movement until she heard a voice shout, "Why don't you pick on someone your own size!" Alexandra, Peter, Ray, and Winston stood in front of the Ecto-1 both Phoebe and Zuul turned to face the team.

"Are you a God..."

Eyes on Ray as he nearly broke a sweat for an answer the team chanting him on. "Come on, Ray, please..." Ray stood in complete thought, frozen at the beauty of Zuul. "Ray!!" Winston shouted.

"YES!" Ray shouted, a bit irritated and possibly from his hearing slowly leaving him. Before they could even blast, The sounds of old bones cracking could be heard amongst them as they struggled to stand. "God... how did we manage this in our 30's..." Alexandra mumbled her hand on her Neutrona wand, hearing a bit of a giggle from the younger counterparts surrounding them.

"Alright, let's blast this one!" Peter smirked. The harmonized buzzing of Protons had begun, and in a long but well-deserved, flash Zuul had almost been beatable. Standing next to them was Phoebe, who was accompanied by "Egon..." Winston glanced at him, his ghastly hair was white, and he had grown a very handsome beard before his death. But it had only made Alexandra wish they had the last goodbyes to each other.

"I knew you'd come back," Peter said, watching as they led Zuul into the trap.

"We missed you, buddy." Ray smiled, watching as Podcast held the trap in his hands.

"Hey, about earlier..." Callie mumbled, looking at Alexandra a bit sheepishly. "Water under the bridge." she winked, feeling a cold tap on her shoulder as Callie nudged her to turn around. "I better check on Mr. Grooberson. " Callie began to scratch the back of her neck. Standing before Alexandra was Egon, a look of shame in his eyes that wished he had told her everything sooner. "I know..." she reached to touch his face as he leaned into her embrace, something he didn't do much. "They're a lovely bunch," she mentioned standing next to him. Sighs escaped her lips as Egon pulled her close into a side hug. Flashing lights came down the street as another fleet of Ghostbusters out of their Ecto, a young woman a few years younger than Callie, had emerged as Trevor approached them.

"Who are you guys..."

"We're the Ghostbusters. I'm Adisa Spengler an-"

"And you're late." Alexandra chuckled, looking up at Egon.

A few days had passed as Alexandra had sat in Egon's makeshift lab, her hands fidgeting away. "Spengle's sweetheart... could you lean the light over here? " she asked as it shifted, fixing her old proton pack. She could see Trever and Podcast with Peter and Ray on Ecto -1 duty while Callie and Phoebe and watched her work, "Your father and I aren't gonna fix these ourselves, you know." she mentioned, still looking down, "You too Adisa"

"So how long are you planning to stay ma, I mean Ms. Alexandra."

"Mmm... Let's see, Egon, what do you think?" Alexandra asked as Adisa chuckled, "He knows you're thinking two weeks ..." she smirked, "I can translate from the afterlife if you were wondering Callie," she shrugged.

Callie laughed, "It gives us time to get to know each other, I guess."

"Mhmm... Besides, I promise out the pair I'm the fun step-grandmother."

#alexandra morgan #ghostbusters 1984 #the real ghostbusters #ghostbusters afterlife #new stuff #new fanfic #ghostbusters x oc #egon x oc #spoiler #ghostbusters #ghostbusters fanfiction #ghostbusters fandom #we're back

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amyscascadingtabs · 3 years ago

Text

the way you keep the world at bay for me

post-the set up, a.k.a jake taking care of hungover amy, hungover amy taking care of sad jake, and mac caring mostly about himself because he’s a baby 😌

read on ao3

Jake doesn't get a lot of sleep that night, and for once, it's not even Mac’s fault. It's not even due to the pizza parlor simulator game either, although he does play a couple of rounds when Amy's finally snoring next to him after ranting to herself about the babysitter’s club for a solid ten minutes, but not even that can fully distract him from the dull sense of doom that's made itself at home deep in his chest.

This is bad. Holt wants to see him tomorrow, and Jake knows there will be consequences. There has to be. There should be. He made a mistake, and he's going to get punished for it, and there is nothing he can do but accept his defeat. He already knows what he has to do; the nerve-wracking thing is the fact that it's still hours away, and his brain is spinning too fast for sleep.

He really wishes he could talk to Amy. She's sleeping on her stomach with her mouth open, arms straight out to the sides like she’s trying to push him out of bed, but he still can’t be mad at her. He hasn’t seen her this drunk since before she got pregnant, and he’s seriously worried about the hangover she’ll be sporting tomorrow, but he also knows she did it for him. Because they’re a team. Because she trusts him, sometimes even when it turns out he was wrong.

He wrongfully arrested someone. The sentence keeps repeating in his head, appears pasted in bold font on the inside of his eyelids if he tries to go to sleep, and displayed in luminescent letters on the ceiling of his bedroom when he gives up and opens his eyes again. He should have known better, has learned his lesson time and time again since his early days of constantly glorifying his job and letting his impulsivity get the best of him, and he still made a mistake.

He just wants someone to tell him it doesn’t make him a bad person. If only Amy wasn’t so drunk he’s scared to wake her up right now, Charles wasn’t so devotedly biased in all questions involving Jake’s role as a detective, and Mac wasn’t, well… so completely unable to grasp any of the concepts involved in the question.

Amy lets out another mighty drunken snore, and Jake hopes she will consider it a testament to his love for her that he doesn’t voice record it. He turns his head instead and picks up his phone to go back to the pizza game. Maybe just a few more virtual customers will be able to lure him to sleep.

He must have fallen asleep eventually, because when Mac does start babbling to himself over the monitor, the morning sun is shining through the windows, and Amy’s stopped snoring. She’s only moaning uncomfortably to herself now, and Jake’s guessing from her strained grimace that the headache has kicked in hard.

“I’ll get you coffee and aspirin as soon as I’ve checked on Mac,” he whispers to her with a kiss to her neck, and he thinks he sees the hint of a smile as she reaches out for him in what’s probably an attempt of a pat on the back, but ends up more of an unintentional slap to his butt. Or maybe she’s still drunk, and it is intentional. It’s hard to tell.

Mac may have no clue about what’s currently going on with Jake, but at least it’s impossible not to smile when he hauls himself up and rocks back and forth on unsteady feet in excitement over the fact that someone’s coming to get him. He greets Jake with that wide grin that shows off all of his four teeth – two up and two down, and they’ve kept everyone up at night for weeks, but they’re so pearly white and cute so maybe it was worth it – and a laugh that’s been Jake’s favorite sound on Earth since the first time he heard it.

“Good morning, bud,” Jake tells his son as he lifts him up in his arms. “What do you say we get you a bottle and mama some coffee? Hmm?”

“Bah,” Mac repeats. Jake decides to give him the benefit of the doubt and say it means he agrees on the bottle.

“Bottle, exactly. You're so smart,” he says, booping his little nose and smiling as it makes Mac giggle. “Let's try another one. Dada.”

There's a tense moment of them both just staring at each other, and then finally, his son goes,

“Bah.”

“One day,” Jake says with a sigh as he carries Mac out of the nursery. “As long as you say me first, okay? We’ll get there. We’ll practice.”

He puts Mac in the high chair while he tries his best to work the coffee machine and the bottle warmer at the same time. It's trickier than to be expected on almost no sleep, but at least he manages to pour the breast milk from the freezer bag into the bottle and not into his coffee this time. He's only made that mistake once (fine, maybe twice, and he kind of liked how sweet it tasted but he's never gonna tell anyone), but he suspects Amy's never gonna let him live it down. He gets Aspirin from the medicine cabinet while he waits, and puts a couple of slices of toast in the toaster. His own day feels already pretty much beyond saving, but at least maybe he can improve Amy's.

Though, when she stumbles out of the bedroom, still in her pajamas with her huge glasses and hair on end and looking like she's either seconds from being sick or going straight back to sleep, he worries whether she might just be beyond saving, too.

“How are you feeling?” He asks as she gives him one drained look before walking up to the couch and face-planting on it with another pained groan.

“I think I might be dead.”

“That's called a hangover, babe. I think you used to be familiar with the concept once upon a time, but I guess it's been a while.” Jake grins at Mac, who only reaches his chubby hands out for the bottle out in response. “Toast?”

“Do I have to?”

“It's going to help.”

“Fine.” Amy pushes her head off the pillow to look at Mac. “He's not drinking the milk I pumped yesterday, right?”

“I poured that out for you. I know they say moderate amounts of alcohol are fine, but, well, you were speaking British.”

“Good call,” Amy mumbles as he puts the coffee, aspirin, and toast down in front of her. “See, this is why I married you.”

Jake just hums, but he does smile to himself as he goes to grab his own cup of coffee.

“I wish I could call in sick to work today,” Amy says between bites of toast, and Jake looks up from where he’s absentmindedly brushing crumbs off the countertop while finishing his own. “My head feels like it’s going to explode.”

“I mean, you did very much go through contractions while managing an entire precinct during a blackout once. You could think about that?”

“No, this is worse than giving birth,” she states confidently, and Jake has to try very hard not to laugh. “Don’t tell my past self I said that. Or my future self if I ever give birth again.”

“Yeah.” He grimaces. “I’m pretty terrified to go, too.”

“Why?”

“Because yesterday? All of it?”

“Ohh.” Amy sighs. “Right. Maybe we should both just stay home.”

Jake’s about to tell her how much he wishes that was an option when Mac drops the finished bottle against the tray, immediately starting to twist in his seat. Jake unclasps the belt and lifts him out before he manages to rock the chair – that kid’s shockingly strong – and Mac immediately crawls away towards the walker. He doesn’t use it to move yet, but he’s been pulling himself up with it for over a month, and the anticipation is high every time he lets go with one hand only to sit back down on his booty the next second. Sometimes Jake could swear his son does it for attention. At least Mac doesn’t seem to have inherited his impulsivity, Jake thinks, and then he’s back to beating himself up in his head.

“I just don’t know why I did it,” he mutters as he sits down on the floor next to Amy’s head on the couch. She nods slowly, and Jake takes it as a sign she might actually be able to listen to him now. “I should know better, right? These are, like... the kind of mistakes I used to make. I thought I’d gotten better at this kind of stuff. Smarter. Less impulsive. Less of a bad cop. But instead I arrested and tailed an innocent man, all because I thought I had a gut feeling and thought I was being set up.” He shakes his head. “I guess that FBI jerk was right about gut feelings.”

“You’re a great detective,” Amy says without missing a beat. “A lot of the time, your gut feeling is right.”

“That doesn’t excuse it. I still shouldn’t have done it.”

“No.” Amy sighs. “You shouldn’t have.”

“It sucked.”

“Yeah. It did. But there’s nothing you can do to change it now.”

“Do you think I’m a bad person for it?” The question comes flying out of him, and Amy frowns.

“Why would I think that?”

“Because it was a shit move! And because I’m definitely gonna get suspended for it, and that’s going to lose us money. And then we’re not going to be able to save as much for Mac, or pay for his baby music class or baby gymnastics. And then he’s going to end up broke and untalented and it’ll all be my fault, and then you’ll be ashamed of me and leave me and I’ll die sad and alone in a ditch.”

“And you don’t think you’re spiraling just slightly right now?” Amy asks. The smile on her lips is one of amusement, and it humbles him, bringing him out of his cycle of self-pity.

“I don’t know. I didn’t get a ton of sleep last night.”

“I don’t think you’re a bad person,” she says, and that does make him feel a bit better. “I think you made a really stupid mistake. There's no getting away from that. I’m not happy about it. But… I know you'll take responsibility for it. That’s already a whole lot further than a lot of people care to go.”

Her fingers brush through her hair, calming him as she speaks. The hangover has made her voice a little scratchy, Jake notices when she's this close. It reminds him of mornings after long evenings out before they were parents, a time that always feels far longer ago than it was. Sometimes he thinks everything before Mac might as well be another lifetime.

“And we'll work it out if you do get suspended,” Amy continues, talking over the obnoxious melody playing from a toy Mac has found. “It's not great, of course. But we can save lots of money on daycare if you stay home with Mac. That helps.”

“Like a paternity leave,” Jake says. He does like that thought.

“Oh yeah.” Amy laughs. “You’ll be just like one of those hip Scandinavian dads who get to stay home with their kids because they live in countries where they don’t hate people for having kids. And you two can go to all of the cool classes and playdates together. You’d be the sexiest dad at baby swim class for sure.”

“Wouldn’t I also be one of the only ones?”

“Good point. Make sure to mention your wife a lot. But hey, Mac’s going to love it.”

As if wanting to confirm Amy’s point, Mac crawls over to Jake and tries to climb up on his knees to sit in his lap. He does this sometimes when he’s playing on his own; retreats to their arms for a hug or a quick cuddle, only to try and wriggle out of their grip and go back to whatever it is he’s doing in the next moment. Jake thinks it might be one of their son’s sweetest qualities. Mac rests his head against Jake’s chest, almost hugging him like that, and he wonders, not for the first time, how a person that’s not even one year of age can make every other issue in the world seem so insignificant. Even if it's just for a moment, it's a pretty damn good moment.

Fueled by the most powerful motivation of all – their son’s love and attention – Amy sits down on the floor too, patting her knees.

“You want to come to mama, Mac?”

Mac squirms for a moment in Jake's arms, and Jake lets go of him. Using the couch as support, for a second it looks like he’s almost about to take a step toward her. Both parents gasp in anticipation, and it must confuse him, because he reacts by giving Amy a shocked look and sitting right back down on his butt. Jake laughs as their son crawls away again, heading for the soft building blocks outside the playpen.

“He's such a tease.”

“He gets that from you,” Amy says, and Jake huffs in mock-offense. “Are you sure we shouldn't just stay home from work?”

Jake thinks of his upcoming meeting with Holt. He's been fearing it for so many hours now, and he's starting to wonder if the anxious anticipation might just not be worse than the meeting itself. He already knows what he has to do; the only thing left is to rip off the band-aid.

“I don't think it will make anything better if we don't.”

“Yeah.” Amy sighs, closing her eyes and leaning on his shoulder. “I love you.”

“Love you too. And you should probably shower and put on makeup unless you want everyone to know exactly how hungover you are.”

“I know you're right, and I hate it.”

Jake grins and strokes her hair before getting up from the floor. “I’ll go get Mac ready for the day.”

“Jake?” Amy calls out before he can leave for the nursery with Mac in his arms, and he turns around. Her voice is still a little hoarse.

“Yeah?”

“It's going to be okay, babe. We’ll figure it out.”

Jake brushes his fingers through Mac’s already unruly curls. He thinks of playground dates, the storytime for toddlers their library holds every Wednesday, and how much time he’ll have to make sure Mac says his name first now. Then he thinks of the bigger image; of daring to set a good example for this child, even when it's hard. If he wants the world to be a better place for his son, he's going to have to start by taking responsibility for his own actions.

“Yeah. I know.”

For the first time that day, he dares to believe it.

#my writing #b99 #b99 fic #i put / bc tumblr doesn't do line breaks anymore clearly #anyway. this is late and not my best it's been a Week but i really wanted to write something so. here is Something <3

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transsergio · 3 years ago

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Emotions That I Simply Do Not Have (Read on AO3)

Chapter 1/3 - More Like A Relapse

Penemily + Hotchreid / Mature / 1893 words

Hotch and Emily have a drunken night together that Emily wants to forget, but Hotch can't let go. She and her girlfriend Penelope make a plan to get him out of their lives.

There's a brief paragraph describing Emily's dissociation in this chapter.

This started out as a parody of H*tchniss but then I got really into it. Hotch is pretty out of character and I'm picking on him this entire fic. There is no actual Hotchn*ss involved, which is why I didn't tag the ship, and because I don't need to fight with straight people today.

Emily’s head loathes her. She’s been hungover before, obviously, but this is something different altogether – she’s half-naked and her memory has completed ghosted her. There was tequila, she guesses, maybe vodka, shots, Hotch was going to give her a ride home because there’s something dangerous about a wasted agent wandering the city at night; snippets that don’t explain much beyond the ache hammering at the center of her skull.

At least Emily knows where she is. This is her apartment, her bedroom, her matted skin and grimy oils. The sheets reek of alcohol, so maybe she spilled some, or maybe it’s been sweat from her very pores. She’s missing a bra and she forgot to close the blinds last night. Only, she never forgets. It’s muscle memory. Did she…open them at some point?

The sink is running in the kitchen. And her toaster oven is beeping. Oh my god. She brought someone home last night. Hotch never would have left her in a cab with a stranger. How could Emily have picked someone up between the curb and her front door? She was a flirty drunk, but in no way smooth.

Emily moves on a slow incline, craning her body into an upright position. She winces. Sunlight beams directly into her eyes. It’s been a minute since she remembered exactly why she kept the windows covered. She pushes the duvet aside and swings her long, bare legs to the floor. They’re not bruised (yet), so she must’ve remembered to skip the stairs and go for the elevator this time. She’s tumbled down them before. Penelope made her promise she’d wear shin guards the next time she went out, Emily remembers, laughing under her breath.

Penelope, who definitely did not go home with Emily last night. She couldn’t have. She implemented a strict curfew after spending three consecutive nights in the batcave – bed by eleven, sharp. Unless Emily made a distress call sometime in the night. Emily scrunches the sheets between her fingers. A distress call, something like, “Come help me puke into my toilet for an hour and a half,” would bring Penelope running. Well, not running, but speed-walking, half awake. And it would be too late for Penelope to get home, with no one to text that she made it safely (except everyone else in the BAU, but that wasn’t the point). The point was, it could be her in there, popping Toaster Strudel in for the both of them.

Emily wobbles to her feet and kicks her crumpled slacks from her path. Oh, there’s her bra, launched to the other side of the room. She runs her fingers through her hair and hopes she made a difference, though it’s unlikely. Feet shuffle over her wooden floors, and someone opens and shuts the fridge door. Penelope uses fridges, coincidentally. That very well might be her.

There’s a cough, a low clearing of the throat. Emily stands upright like she’s been called to duty, and palms her forehead. Her headache makes it clear it did not like that. The cough does not sound like Penelope. Fear drains the strength from Emily’s limbs. Please, dear god, tell her that’s not a man.

Emily wants to crawl back into bed and have nothing to do with whoever’s in the other room. She wants to huddle under her covers and listen until the front door opens and shuts and it’s safe to emerge. She wants to have been sober last night. Instead, her phone vibrates on her dresser. Emily hadn’t realized that when it reverberates against the wood, her cell sounds exactly like a jackhammer, but she does now. She hears the same sound echoing in her kitchen.

Emily lunges for the text, from Garcia alerting them to a case, and slams all one hundred of those tiny Blackberry buttons to make it shut up, shut up, shut up. The bedroom door swings open.

“Two murders in Kentucky, looks like,” Hotch says. What? No.

Emily rubs her eyes with the backs of her hands. They come away streaked with dried mascara flakes and last night’s eyeshadow, but Hotch is still there. He’s standing in his boxers, a white undershirt, and five o’clock stubble. He doesn’t flinch at the fact that Emily is bare-chested in a pair of black boyshorts. This is bad. This is so bad.

Hotch says softly, “Can I…” Can he what? Can he call later tonight? Can he leave a toothbrush here? Can he have a drawer for his pajamas? “Can I get my shirt, please?”

“Oh.” Emily steps aside. His blue button-down is in a wrinkled pile beside Emily’s nightstand. Should she cover herself in the meantime? Would that make it weirder? He’s already seen what he’s seen, after all. The thought makes Emily gag.

“I’m going to get ready in your bathroom,” Hotch tells her. He makes too much eye contact. “There’s toast in the kitchen for you, if you want any.”

“Great, thanks.” Emily is tightlipped and dedicated to looking anywhere but his face. That leads to his boxers, and his dick inside his boxers, and the knowledge that they clearly had sex, and Emily might need the bathroom first if she didn’t vomit everything out last night.

Hotch disappears, and so does Emily’s presence in her physical body. She autopilots herself into her clean clothes, grips her dresser and stares into the mirror above it. C’mon, Emily, come back down to Earth. She tries what her therapist taught her in high school, focusing on a texture, on the feel of the woodgrain under her hands. How could she have come so far, a continent away, and still need the same techniques for the same problems? Hotch was an exercise in self-loathing and misery. Only this time, that exercise would be staring her down for extended periods of time while they mutually hunted killers.

Hotch reenters in the same suit he wore last night. Did he seriously have to wear a suit to the team’s night out? He couldn’t loosen up enough for a polo shirt and golf pants?

“Look, I understand if you don’t want to see me again in this capacity,” he starts. “But I had… a great time, honestly, and I’d be open to another meeting.”

Emily’s eyes are dead. “No, thanks.”

“You’ve decided already?”

“Yep. I’m good. See you on the jet.” Emily yanks the bedroom door open. His cue to leave. He takes it, if not wearing the look of a kicked puppy.

He makes it into a cab, and the cab leaves, and clears her block, and turns the corner. Emily stays for another five minutes just to be sure the car doesn’t loop back around, looking for a second chance. She washes her face clean and falls to her mattress. This will only take a second – she stabs her face into her pillow and screams. And one more time. And maybe a long one, just to be sure. Emily comes to work that day hoarse, unbathed, and willing herself into another life.

A month later, they’re gathered at Haley’s funeral. Hotch gives a beautiful speech, and Emily’s all but forgotten the number of texts she’s received since their hookup. The sheer volume of “Thinking about you.. do you like Thai food?” and simple, two-word messages like “Good work..”, alongside “Hey. Horny?” are a thing of the past, at least for today. Maybe not tomorrow. Emily doesn’t really know how grieving works. She does, however, know what it feels like to want.

She ushers Penelope into a storage closet while the rest of the team (plus Kevin) is at the funeral reception’s buffet. They’ll make up some story about going to the bathroom and try to defuse JJ later, assuring her that she wasn't left out intentionally. Right now, life is for living.

Emily’s lips move across Penelope’s jaw, her neck, her chest. She presses them to Penelope’s like she’s made of china, set on keeping Penelope’s lipstick intact. Penelope grips Emily while her own wrist is between her teeth to stifle her sound. Emily is gasping for breath when her fingers reach for the button of Penelope’s sweater. She is desperate to have her undone.

“Wait, wait,” Penelope huffs, putting an arm’s length of space between them. Her chest is heaving. “I can’t do this here, not today.”

“Today is why I want to do this,” Emily counters.

“We have time.” Penelope’s voice breaks. She fusses with her little hat and rights it atop her hair. “We have time that Haley didn’t –”

“How do we know?” Emily interrupts. “It could be me next. You’ve already been shot once before, and I just can’t… I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with you on the fringe of my life.”

Emily wipes a tear streaking down Penelope’s cheek. Before Penelope can reach for her compact, Emily passes her hers. She says, “I don’t mean we have to do anything right now in… what is ironically a closet,” Penelope laughs and dabs at her makeup, “but I want you. And seeing you with Kevin today, having to be next to you while he holds your hand? It’s maddening.”

A quiet passes. Penelope sniffles and the crowd outside makes somber conversation. Penelope whispers, “I’m scared.”

Emily closes the distance between them and cradles Penelope in her embrace. “I know; so am I. Can we be scared together?”

Penelope nods into the crook of Emily’s shoulder. They sway in the warmth of one another, in the cramped haven that is shelves of industrial cleaner and mop buckets.

“So what do we do?” Penelope asks. “Should I break up with Kevin, or tell him the truth? Neither option feels, uh, super-duper.”

Emily snorts some of the hat’s feathers from her nose. “If you want to be outed, I think telling Kevin he’s your beard is a great idea.”

“Stop. Kevin wouldn’t do that.”

“Penelope. He’s a man. He’s going to feel used, emasculated, and plenty bitter. I don’t see a reality in which he doesn’t out you.”

“I know, I know, but I don’t think Kevin’s like that. He’s sweet on me.” Penelope further buries herself in Emily. “On the off-chance that he would, though, I guess I’ll dump him.”

Emily hums in agreement. They keep themselves safe in their darkness a little longer, resistant to go out and face the mourning. Emily’s heart is busy fluttering, anyway. She and Penelope might remain a secret, but this is officially more than a hook-up. It’s all Emily could dream of when she stormed Penelope’s batcave the morning after Hotch. When she spun Penelope around in her desk chair and strung their mouths centimeters apart – a question and a dare all in one. Penelope leaned through the divide and they were kissing, slow and tender but driven by a force that urged them on. Emily had wanted Penelope for so long, but that morning, she needed her.

When they return to the team’s table, Kevin is at Penelope’s side. Emily puts her focus on Morgan, on caring about Hotch’s well-being, anything but Kevin’s soft, drooping face. It’s like his skin could slide right off at any second. No, Emily will ask what they can do, will let the team explain that their power extends to waiting Hotch out, will squeeze Penelope’s hand as they leave for their next case in Nashville.

#penemily #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #aaron hotchner #cm fic #criminal minds fanfic #cm fanfiction #mine

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supercalvin · 5 years ago

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I'm in a similar boat. Thanks for making things a bit easier! 16M for Merthur?

16. Reincarnation AU + M. Amnesia

Yeah, everything is kind of up in the air right now. I’m taking it one day at a time. I hope these little ficlets are at least somethingto distract everyone for just a bit.

Prompts (or any prompt) ��+ Ficlets

***

Arthur was showing his new Personal Assistant around the office, seemingly a normal enough thing to do. Arthur off-handedly pointed outa photo of the company’s opening day, a grainy sepia photo that hung across from Arthur’s office, when things got weird.

“Oh I remember that year,” Merlin said, “Really hot summer, to be honest.”

“What do you mean, ‘oh your remember that?’” Arthur stared at his new Personal Assistant. “This company was founded in 1898.”

“Oh yeah, sorry, forgot I hadn’t told you yet,” Merlin said with a funny crooked smile, “I’m a RS.”

“A what?”

Merlin tilted his head, “An RS? You know, a Reincarnated Soul?”

Arthur wondered how surprised he looked, because he felt alittle stunned, to say the least. RS cases were rare. So rare that Arthur hadnever met anyone with a reincarnated soul. In fact, he was positive that everyone he knew had never met someone with a reincarnated soul. He was certain if he played the degrees-of-Kevin-Bacon game, that even then, he wouldn’t find someone with a reincarnated soul. And Merlin had just said it on the first day of his job as it was normal.

Merlin’s smile slipped a little, “Is that alright? You can’t sack me for magic-discrimination.”

Arthur shook his head, snapping himself out of it “Of course not, Merlin. It’s just that I have never met- Nevermind. It’s fine. Let me show you the break room next.”

Arthur had never looked into RS cases before. He had neverhad a need or a want before. His father had been anti-magic, so Arthur hadn’t grownup with much of an education on magic, let alone rare forms of magic. After a month of working with Merlin though, he found himself diving in the deep hole that was RS magic, because Merlin kept saying the wildest things.

‘I miss the taste of bananas.’

‘That song was absolutely brilliant and literally no one remembers it, and I hate that.’

‘I’m so glad we invented the internet. Do you know how many stupid things I used to believe?’

‘One of my mums was kind of a hippie and after that lifetime I never went back to eating meat.”

‘That sesame seed oil thing was never a good idea, Linda. An appeal to ancient wisdom is a classic fallacy and you should know better.’

‘When you’ve been married as many times as I have, you learn a thing or two.’

Arthur was getting so many weird pieces of information about Merlin and he had no idea how to process any of them. His curiosity was killing him, but he was positive it was rude to ask that many personal questions of your employee. So he continued living in ignorance.

All the while, Merlin became one of his closest friends. (Arthur was a bit of a workaholic. He denied this on several occasions but thefact that his PA was one of his closest friends did not help his case.) Despite seemingly being on opposite ends of every kind of spectrum, they got along well.They often went out for drinks after work, and Merlin had gotten in the habit of going on a jog with Arthur on Saturday mornings and getting a coffee afterwards.

Besides the weird tidbits that Merlin dropped every once anda while, Arthur didn’t learn much more about Merlin’s other lives. But he did learn a lot about Merlin’s current life. He was young, single, and just moved to London for this job. He was a vegetarian, volunteered at a magical-creature shelter, and cried at any kind of sappy commercial or film. He grew up in a small village, was raised in a magic-positive household, and he was bisexual.

Arthur could not have been more different from Merlin, and yet, he couldn’t help but find that he was falling arse over tit for him.

It all came to head at the company’s annual charity ball. Merlin was dressed in a navy blue suit with a white scarf draped over his shoulders. On his lapel he wore a small triskelion pin and his tie clip was in the shape of a dragon. He looked stunning and Arthur was suddenly hit with how absolutely gone for him he was.

“Evening,” Merlin said with a small smile, “You look nice. And you made it here on time without my help, so it’s a miracle really.”

Arthur smiled and passed Merlin a glass of champagne, “Really,Merlin, I am your boss. You should be nicer to me.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Merlin’s eyes strayed to his suit, and Arthur saw the exact moment he noticed the pride flag lapel pin. His face froze and he looked up at Arthur with an analytical look. “Nice pin.”

“Thanks,” Arthur’s throat felt tight, “It’s my first time wearing it.”

Merlin nodded, “Ah, I see.”

“Yeah,” Arthur shrugged, trying to put distance between himself and this awkward moment.

The rest of night went smoothly, no one else commented onhis pin, which was a bit of a relief. He may or may not have drank more than planned in celebration of it going smoothly, which was always a bad idea.

Merlin pulled Arthur into the car, “Jesus, you weigh a ton. Can you please use your own legs?”

“’m no’ fat.”

“Didn’t say you were, prat.”

Arthur laughed, his head leaning on Merlin’s shoulder, “You always call me a prat.”

Merlin was silent for a while, but Arthur didn’t notice because his drunken mind was focusing on not puking.

“How many times have you been alive?” Arthur slurred, “I know I’m not supposed to ask, but I can’t stop thinking about it. Did you meet anyone famous? Were you anyone famous? Were you always named ‘Merlin?’ We’re you queer in your other lifetimes too?”

“Arthur,” Merlin sighed, “Let’s just get you home, alright?”

“Do you not want to tell me?” Arthur pouted, “Do you not like me?”

“Jesus Christ, why do you always get really flirty or maudlin when you’re drunk? It’s such a weird dichotomy, honestly.”

“Have I been drunk with you before?” Arthur stumbled as Merlin pulled him out of the cab. “I think I would remember that.”

Merlin was silent again, but Arthur’s drunken brain needed to focus on getting up the stairs. Suddenly, they were in Arthur’s flat, andMerlin was handing him a glass of water.

“Thanks,” He drank it all in one go, already realizing he was going to hate himself in the morning.

He had been right, of course. He woke up on his couch thenext morning and remembered all the weird questions he had asked Merlin, and immediately regretted all of it. But there were a few things that stuck out tohim.

He was jolted out of his thoughts when he heard his toaster ding and the shuffle of feet. Merlin appeared in the doorway.

“Coffee,” Merlin sat down next to Arthur. “Toast. Paracetamol.”

Arthur stared at Merlin, surprised to see him in his flat, before he took the offerings without complaint.

“Feeling better?”

Arthur nodded, studying Merlin closely for a moment. “Last night… last night you said I’m always flirty or maudlin when drunk.”

Merlin’s face flushed and he rose quickly, “Oh, you know,” He laughed nervously, taking Arthur’s empty plate and trying to dash into the kitchen. Arthur grabbed his arm, stopping his flight.

“You’ve never called me a prat before.”

Merlin avoided his eye.

“Why did I say that you always call me a prat, when I don’t remember you ever saying that?”

Merlin bit his lip.

“Am I still drunk?” Arthur asked, his heart rate rising.

“No,” Merlin gave him a small apologetic smile.

“Am I…?” Arthur shook his head, “Why am I remembering things about you that didn’t happen?”

Merlin sighed, “I’m not really supposed to tell you. You’re supposed to remember on your own. I only started remembering you specifically after I started working for you.”

“But, I am…I am…”

“A reincarnated soul? Yes.” Merlin smiled, “Took you awhile. Sometimes it does.”

Arthur had to sit down. “And I knew you? Once before?”

Merlin gave him a funny smile and Arthur blanched further, “More than once?”

Merlin actually laughed, which made Arthur feel even more off kilter. Merlin said, “I’ve known you in every lifetime, Arthur. And Ireally should wait until you get more memories back, but I want you to knowthat I will find you in every lifetime after this.”

Arthur looked up at Merlin, a small hysterical laugh escaping his lips. “Fuck. And I was worried about asking you out.”

Merlin smiled, “You still have to woo me, love. I’m not that easy.”

Arthur laughed again, “This is insane. I want to kiss you. Have we kissed before?”

“Not in this lifetime, and that’s all that matters.” Merlin leaned forward, and pecked a kiss on Arthur’s cheek. “Come on, let’s get you some more food and we can weed through your memories.”

Arthur leaned forward, tilting Merlin’s head back and giving him a proper kiss, a shock of electricity going through his system that he hadnever felt before. It felt like he had kissed Merlin a million times before and like it was his first kiss all over again.

Merlin smiled at him, “Well hello there.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes, “Why am I remembering you in a feather hat?”

Merlin just laughed.

***

Prompts (or any prompt) + Ficlets

#merlin fic #ficlets #merthur #merthur fic #merlin #kdm103020

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the-fiction-witch · 4 years ago

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lets Have Faith In Barbie

REAL LIFE: SCANDAL COUPLE: TBS X READER RATING: FUNNY AF

"Welcome to todays Bullshit ladies and gents!" Y/n smiled in her kitchen "I come to you today from my wonderful kitchen, with a camera set up... are you proud of me?" she smiled leaning on the counter top of the island "Today we are doing something someone suggested to me On the wonderful twitter page that was, and I quote 'Bake something while drunk' so... Here I am two bottles of Rose and half a bottle of vodka and Here I fucking am!" she smiled "It would have been a full bottle of Vodka but someone stole it while I went to pee" she laughs "now you may already noticed that I am in focus and have good lighting for my set up, Now you may be asking yourself did I buy a new camera? Did I get some skills" she laughs "and the answer is no. I just got myself a man slave" she smiled "Who - god damn it what are you- okay I have my little action camera here so I'm showing you the veiw I'm getting" she says as the camera changed seeing Thomas sat behind her camera set up on a tall kitchen chair drinking from a bottle "God damn it Thomas!" she yelled "is that my Diserano?"

"Yes" He smiled as he put the bottle down

"You little fucking sod! that was not for you"

"It was in the alcohol cupboard I was told to get drunk so... the fault is yours for not checking on me"

"what I have to check on you every ten minuets?"

"I can not be left alone" he says "Like a baby with a toaster"

"Are you a baby thomas?"

"I'm your baby"

"You can tell I'm slightly more sober then he is. Actually correction I am more used to being drunk then Thomas it" she laughs as the camera went back "Now! the thing... we are making cakes. But I thought due to... the drunkenness it probably wasn't the best idea to be doing it from scratch because. Okay I'll be honest I don't know how to do it anyway. so I got a box mix"

"Owww Box mix"

"Yes today we are cooking with the wonderful lady herself, With Barbie" she says putting a bright pink box on the table

"You're just as pretty as barbie y/n"

"Awww thank you Thomas. we are very drunk right now. You can tell because we are being nice to each other" she giggled "If we are drinking the diseranro then... gimme" she says as Thomas handed it to her his arm only just making it into frame "ahhh thank you my man slave" she smiled starting to drink

"What does Barbie say?"

"Barbie says we need two eggs, two... Two Of Thomas!"

"Hu?"

"It says Two TBS of water, so... how many water are you thomas?"

"Uuuuuuuhhhhhhh... I would say I'm a cup"

"A cup? what cup?"

"The cup in your cupboard that says the funny thing." He says

"The funny thing ?" she laughs going into the cupboard and getting a mug "The one that says my dicks not to small you have a large Virginia"

"Yes! I am one of those of water" He smiled

"Okay, and we need... nothing else just water and eggs. Ohh but you can put on barbie special sprinkles"

"I want Barbie sprinkles"

"Those are sold separately"

"God damn Barbie... What a bitch" He says "I wanted Sprinkles"

"I'm sorry sweetheart"

"I'm no longer excited for this activity"

"I know, How about since the sink is over there... and the vodka is here. I'm replacing water with vodka"

"I don't think barbie will like that?"

"Ohh pleasse Barbie is shot gunning a bottle of Smirnoff in the dream house every time Ken comes home and tells her he's leaving to have an affair with the Bratz dolls" she laughs filling the mug with vodka "And he'll be back because none of the other dollies have a dreamhouse, A Pony, a hot tub and a convertible." she says throwing the vodka in a bowl with the cake mix

"Ken is a sugar boy"

"He is. and he knows it bitch"

"Next throw an egg in!" she laughs literally throwing an egg into the bowl "But I should probably remove the shells" "Eh? make it a stabby suprise" he suggested

"Okay... stabby surpises" she smiled "We must now mix!" she laughs getting a wooden spoon

"Is this the same spoon that... did the thing?"

"No thomas thats upstairs"

"I see... Mix that bitch"

"Yeah! Mix that bitch, Or be a bitch" she says starting to mix the bowel "Are you a bitch thomas?"

"Fuck you y/n you're a bitch!"

"Fuck you thomas"

"Fuck the world"

"Fuck everything on the planet today"

"Are you okay y/n?"

"I need more rose..."

"We don't have anymore rose"

"But I need it" she whined

"Well you can't have it"

"But I want it"

"You can have vodka" "I don't want vodka"

"well we can't go get more becuase... neither of us can drive"

"I can call jack he can get us more wine"

"Don't bother jack to bring you more wine y/n"

"Do you have wine in your house?"

"No... I have beer"

"Can i have a beer?"

"No"

"Thomas!!" she whines

"Noo!" He whines back

"I think it's mixed enough... its... cake mixish"

"How long did barbie say to mix it?"

"She says five to nine minuets... but I think barbie is full of shit"

"To be fair, she can't bend her arms so mixing probably takes much much longer" He laughs

"That's true" she laughs getting a tray and pouring the mix in "Now barbie says... we need ten to fifteen minuets in the oven at 200" she reads

"Let's have faith in barbie"

"Yeah. Lets have faith in barbie and do as she says" she smiled "Would help if I turned the oven on"

"did you not preheat it?"

"I did not"

"Did barbie tell you to preheat it?"

"Barbie is a exact copy of a call girl doll sold in the fifty's. I don't have to follow her adivce"

"Is she?"

"Yeah Built Lilly, she's a call girl comic in Germany and they made dolls which is what barbie is based off and almost directly copied from"

"Ohhh history"

"Indeed, History" she says putting the cake in the oven "Now! we make icing, do you want to help?"

"yes!" He smiled appearing on the camera "Hi" He smiled resting a head on her shoulder sucking a lollipop

"where... where did you get that?"

"I found it"

"Don't eat things you find thomas"

"It was on your table?"

"Ohh okay, Can I lick it?" she asks and he nods taking it out his mouth offering it to her and she licked it "Ewww! Lime lollipop" she complained getting the icing mix and putting it in a bowl even if it fluttered everywhere as icing sugar always does thomas playing with some that missed the bowel "Now as again we need water but the sink is over there... why not some vodka" she laughs pouring vodka into the bowl

"Y/n? I drew you A heart." He smiled having drawn a heart in the icing sugar

"Awww thank you Thomas" she smiled giving him a hug as she mixed "Its a nice heart"

"What does barbie say we do now?"

"Barbie says when the cake is done... put icing on it... then eat it"

"Barbie is not very instructional"

"she is not your right Thomas" she says before a jump cut away and the cake was out of the oven on the table and y/n was throwing icing on it "Is it a good cake thomas?"

"It's lovely"

"You wanna eat it?"

"No I do not"

"Why not?"

"Becuase... I don't wanna die y/n"

"don't be a bitch thomas" she says cutting two peices he took one and she took the other "barbie says they are scrumptious deliciousness"

"Lets try then the scrumptious deliciousness" He says they cheered there cake and then each took a bite and even in the drunken states the regret and horror was written across there faces "barbie Lied to us."

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shishinoya · 5 years ago

Text

anagapesis | Akaashi Keiji

anagapesis —

anagapesis (n.) no longer feeling any affection for someone you once loved

request | “ hiiii!! can i req akaashi or nishinoya angst? thank you! “ — anon

summary | You loved him. Loved him so much that you could never fathom the idea of losing him. You were in pain, but all that mattered was that you loved him.

pairing | akasshi keiji x reader

genre | pure angst

word count | 1.5k words

You couldn’t understand how you ended up in this situation. With aching feet, that were cut and bruised from the absence of your heels, and a tear-stained face, you struggled to find the keys to your dorm. Wiping away the hot salty tears from your swollen eyes, smearing your already running mascara, your teeth had to sink deep into your lower lip to prevent any sobs escaping your lips. You jerked the doorknob open, which was already so damaged from your roommate’s drunken pulling and attempts of tugging

The sight of your dorm only made more tears to fall. Piles of stained dishes, covered in layers of dried food residue, stood in the sink. Clothes scattered themselves around the floor, with no one bothering to pick them up and do the laundry. Wrappers and loose sheets of notes, wrinkled and torn, could be found in any corner of the room. What a mess.

You could feel your lungs being crushed and the air was being sucked as you fought to breathe through soft whimpers. A cry got caught in your throat causing the sound of aggressive coughs to bounce through the quiet dorm. Your brows furrowed, fighting against the immense pain washing over your weakened state while your body trembled from a mix of anger and sorrow. You’re a mess.

Your vision was blurred when you stumbled towards your room. It was the sole cause for your hand to knock down a cup from the kitchen counter, only for it to fall and shatter. But you didn’t care. The pain from the bits of glass digging their way into your skin and leaving wounds that would definitely leave scars could not compete with the suffering you were experiencing. Tripping over your own feet, you found your way to your room, forgetting that there was a trail of blood following your figure. You didn’t even bother to close the door before diving into the unmade bed. Oh, how much you wanted to curl into a form that was so small and insignificant that maybe it would make you disappear from your current state. How you longed for times to go back to the happy and safe moments. You craved for those loving arms to pull you, to hug you, to make you feel, but all you were met with were cold pillows and sheets. There were no messages or calls from your phone; no one asking if you were alright or where you were. It made your cries just a bit louder.

It had been days since you stumbled home in a fit of tears. Your roommate, Yua, was starting to grow worried about your health and well being. She noticed the blood and panicked, but not wanting to intrude on your privacy. She had knocked on your door and was only met with the ticking noise of the toaster. Sighing, she cleaned up the mess and waited for you to come out of your room. But you never did.

Pain shot through your head as little stars emerged in your vision. Swallowing - though with the lack of water or food it felt like sand gliding along your throat - your frail hands ached. You hardly moved from your position days prior. Your clothes were creased and the tear stains were more noticeable than the smell. Eyes so swollen it was difficult to open, but you managed.

“(Y/n)? Are you awake?” You heard a soft knock as a hushed voice called for you. When you didn’t answer, your roommate decided that enough was enough. She slightly opened the door and the crack of light was harsh on your eyes. You could hear the clatter of plates which indicated that she brought you something to eat. But you had no appetite. Nothing could fill you. Nothing but him.

She placed the plate of eggs and toast on your nightstand before peeling away your covers. She gasped and placed a hand over her mouth once she caught sight of you. Hair tangled and oily from the neglected care. Your skin was pale and dry with the cracks on your faded lips. And your eyes. Those eyes that she thought were so confident, so admirable, were now dull and lost any joy. You only flashed a glance at her, returning to your pathetic state.

“(Y/n)... Please. You’ve locked yourself in here for days. You’re going to die if you don’t come out!” She tried to reason you, but it was futile. How could you go on knowing that he wasn’t coming back? He didn’t call after you. He didn’t explain. There was nothing more that he wanted with you. He so easily disposed of you.

When words didn’t reach you, Yua tried physical methods. She tugged on your arm, trying to pry you away from your thoughts. You let her drag your body. It seemed like everyone found it easy to treat you like a plaything.

“Do you- want to talk about it? She asked through grunts. What were you to say? Your brain was too muddled that forming words was difficult. “Please go take a shower at least. You haven't’ even changed out of your clothes. I’ll take care of everything else, just please.” You knew you were being selfish. Your roommate was trying to do everything she could to keep you alive, while you were bathing in self-pity. So you did the one request she asked you. Placing your feet on the floor, your head suddenly started to spin and you had to grab her arm for support. Your other hand went to grip the side of your head as you tried to maintain your balance. She held your shoulders, a bit frantic. You waved her concerns away and made your way into the shared washroom.

Not even bothering to look at yourself in the mirror, you barely stripped your clothes off. Turning on the tap, you allowed the ice water prick and pellet themselves all over your sore body. You stood there, just basking in the feeling of the water. You couldn’t think. All thoughts leaked from your ears and down the drain along with the frigid water.

By now, you were dressed and looking at the mirror. Maybe he was right to choose her over you. Maybe you didn’t deserve him. You were drowning in these self-deprecating thoughts when a knock pulled you from your trance.

“(Y/n)?” You hated the way your heart was beating. You hated how that tone made your palms sweaty. You hated how he was here. “(Y/n), I know you’re in there.” You swallowed hard. Why was he here? Why now?

“Just leave.” It was forced and raspy. They were your first words in a long while.

“Don’t be like this.” You could hear him try to open the door.

“Don’t come in. I don’t want to see you.”

“Why are you being like this?” You could hear the hurt in his words. You shook your head and your pent up frustrations were boiling.

“You know exactly why.”

“If this is about the other day, look. Hear me out.”

“Why the fuck should I listen to you?” You snapped. “Did you not realize that I was there when you went off with some other bitch? Why didn’t you stay with me? What could you possibly say, Akaashi.” You spat out his name. How love had made you so blind; so blinded by this man’s actions. You hated him. You hated him for cheating on you. You hated him for the pain he caused you. You told yourself this over and over but just couldn’t believe them. No matter what he did, you couldn’t stop yourself from loving him.

“We were drunk, (Y/n).” You know that tone. That tone where he ran his hand through his soft black locks whenever you two argued. “Please stop this and just talk to me.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You’re being a child.”

“I don’t care about your reasoning. If you were drunk, why’d it take you four days to come visit me?” Your question was met with silence. That’s what you thought. “No calls, no texts. Why’d you even bother coming today? I don’t want to hear your bullshit.”

“I know you don’t mean that.” He said so matter-factly that it made the hairs on your neck bristle.

“So now you want to act like you know me. Well, you don’t.” That was a lie. He knew everything about you. Your insecurities, your beliefs, your fears.

“Right now, your voice spewing fake shit is making me sick.” You loved how soothing he cultivated his words. His statements were music and you enjoyed every song he played.

“I don’t want to see you.” You desperately wanted to touch the face you yearned for; to gaze in those captivating blue eyes.

“Just go.” Please stay.

“You know what? Maybe I shouldn’t have came.” You searched for any signs of regret. A slight hint that he didn’t mean it. But there was nothing. You heard the lingering sounds of his feet leaving and you fell to your knees, a hand slapped across your mouth.

You didn’t hate him. You loved him and hated yourself for loving him.

114 notes · View notes

shyvioletcat · 5 years ago

Note

More Rowaelin firefighter au prompts: Rowan uses Aelin’s shower for some reason and Aelin overhears him singing in the shower and thinks that he has a lovely voice (and tells him that hehe)

All right my friends... I did not hold back on this. I was cracking myself up.

Materlist

~~~~~

When Aelin woke up she had a moment of panic when she couldn’t move. Then she realised why.

Drunk Rowan had cuddled up to her while they slept. With him under her covers all barriers seemed to be removed and he had not only shifted over to her side of the bed but had also tangled his limbs with her held her against his chest.

Aelin supposed she was not wholly innocent with her arm draped around his bare waist and her head on his chest. Aelin also supposed this didn’t feel too bad and may have laid there longer than she should have, relishing in the comfort of it.

But Aelin had things to do. So as carefully as she could she extracted herself from Rowan’s embrace, grabbed some clothes and left the bedroom.

~~~~~ Rowan struggled to open his eyes. He already could feel the headache building behind his eyes. He’d overdone it last night and thank the gods he didn’t have to work today. He stretched out and froze, remembering who’s bed he was in and froze. Opening his eyes he looked around and saw he was alone and resumed his stitching.

When Rowan rolled over he saw a glass of water and a couple of aspirin on the bedside table, which he quickly downed. He felt like death and he needed a shower desperately. He got out of bed and looked down and saw he was wearing clothes that weren’t his. Confused Rowan just left the bedroom. Aelin was nowhere to be found.

Rowan considered the walk to his apartment and it just seemed a little too far at the moment. He couldn’t function properly without a shower. So with Aelin out he decided he might just use hers then he’d be a human being again.

~~~~~ As Aelin entered her apartment she could hear the shower going. The space was so small it was hard to miss. She dropped her groceries on the kitchen bench and pulled out her prize find with a wicked grin.

She was unpacking the rest of breakfast when she heard another sound. It started soft then got louder.

“I just wanna take my time

We could do this, baby, all night,'Cause I want you bad

Yeah, I want you,”

Aelin stopped what she was doing to listen. Rowan was singing in the shower, and he wasn’t holding back either.

“Slow, slow hands

Like sweat dripping down our dirty laundry

No chance

That I'm leaving here without you on me”

Gods, he was good. The deep baritone of his voice was full and velvety but there was slight huskiness to it.

“I know

Yeah, I already know that there ain't no stoppin'

Your plans and those

Slow hands

Fingertips puttin' on a show

Got me now and I can't say no

Wanna be with you all alone

Take me home, take me home”

Aelin stopped. Rowan had started to sing with renewed fervour. And his voice combined with the lyrics he was singing and the fact he was naked in her shower right now... Aelin suddenly felt a little too warm as his words conjured up certain images.

“Fingertips puttin' on a show

Can't you tell that I want you, baby, Yeah!Slow hands

Like sweat dripping down our dirty laundry

No, no chanceThat I'm leaving here without you on me

I, I know

Yeah, I already know that there ain't no stoppin'

Slow hands”

Rowan stopped singing and then turned the water off. The sudden silence had Aelin moving again, quickly getting breakfast on so it didn’t look like she’d been standing around listening to the naked man in the shower sing about sensually moving hands.

~~~~~

After his shower Rowan felt like a person who was mostly alive. There was still a slight pounding in his head but it was bearable. Luckily, Aelin kept some spare towels under the basin on a shelf.

He admired how well Aelin kept her apartment despite the less than desirable lodgings. But she had nice little touches here and there, knick knacks and decorations that made the place homey. Once he dried off he slipped on his borrowed pants and stepped out of the bathroom while drying his hair.

He heard noises in the kitchen and stopped, pulling the towel from his head.

“Oh,” Rowan said as he saw Aelin slicing something at the kitchen counter. She was dressed in a tank and leggings, her cheeks slightly flushed, he assumed maybe she’d gone for a run or something. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Aelin said with a smile that usually meant she was about to say something to provoke him. “Especially if it means I get my own personal concert. You have a very lovely voice.”

Rowan felt his cheek heat. “You heard?”

Aelin just nodded, grinning like a fiend. “I got a you a hangover breakfast if you’re interested.”

Aelin turned and put something in a pan that started sizzling. Bacon. Definitely bacon. Rowan debating the offer for a moment, whether he should stay or not. But then shrugged. Why not?

“Sure. Thanks,” Rowan started walking towards the kitchen.

“You wanna put a shirt on, hot stuff?” Aelin quipped over her shoulder.

Rowan’s face kept burn. He went to the bedroom picked up the tshirt he wore last night, it was a bit stale but it would have to do. When he came back out of the bedroom Aelin was still at the stove cracking eggs. Rowan sat on the stool at the bench.

Aelin slid a spatula under the eggs to stop them from sticking. “It wasn’t that I minded. I was just being considerate of your modesty.”

Rowan huffed a laugh, “Thanks.”

The toaster popped and Aelin places the slices before she turned around to face him, eyes bright. “You’re welcome.”

Rowan stiffened. She was planning something. He knew it. Exactly what, he didn’t know.

Aelin went about getting the rest of breakfast and Rowan just waited for the axe to fall. But Aelin just got out what they needed for bacon and egg sandwiches. When she was done there was toast, eggs, bacon, cheese, a few relishes and mushrooms set out on the bench. They made their sandwiches, working casually around each other as the got what they wanted from various plates. Aelin even came to sit beside him once she’d made hers.

“This is great, thanks,” Rowan said after he’d taken a few bites.

“Breakfast food I can do. My waffles are the best but not as satisfying as bacon and eggs after a night out,” Aelin explained. “Why were wasted last night anyway?”

Rowan finished his mouthful. “We had our fitness test yesterday. We all passed by miles, and I keep my 2 IC position.”

“That’s great!” Aelin said. “You know I think that calls for dessert.”

Aelin got up off her stool and went into the fridge and placed two green toffee apples in front of Rowan. He looked at them confused.

“I used to love green toffee apples how did you -“

Oh. Oh holy rutting gods.

Aelin was grinning like a cat who had trapped the mouse in her elaborate plan. Rowan’s face felt like it was on fire.

You look yummy he’d slurred last night in his drunken state.

Oh gods.

“Um...” Rowan rubbed at his face.

Aelin hadn’t stopped smiling.

“Would you know what else Drunk Rowan did?”

Rowan didn’t. He really didn’t. “No thanks,” he mumbled.

Aelin unwrapped her toffee apple and licked it. “Mmm, yummy.”

Rowan put his head in his hands and Aelin cackled. Then she patted him on the head.

“Alright. Alright. I’m done. Go home Sober Rowan. I’ll see you tonight.”

~~~~~

Slow Hands by Niall Horan was the song Rowan was singing.

Tags: @tangledraysofsunshine // @nalgenewhore // @highqueenofelfhame // @galyxsy // @fucking-winchester-trash // @literary-licorice // @http-itsrebecca // @highladyofthesith // @aelinfire-bringer // @soup-that-is-too-hawt // @sleep-and-books // @3am-reading // @average-girl-at-best // @but-she-was-aelin-galathynius // @rowaelinforeverworld // @alifletcher2012 // @westofmoon // @tswaney17 // @mydarlingfireheart // @rowansfirebringer // @chocolate-eating-bitch-queen // @vanilla28 // @fireheart-of-your-dreams // @enquires-state-building // @im-not-rare-im-rarr // @your-high-lady // @mariamuses // @ttakeitbacknoww // @queenofxhearts // @vi0let-femmes // @kindofawalkingpoem // @sleeping-and-books // @armixers-unite // @velarian-trash // @queenofxhearts // @princess-galathynius // @heroesofterrasen // @ladyofstoriesandmusic // @unassumingsodalovesherbooks // @empire-of-wildfire // @brittneym15 // @camerooonchiu // @worldoffae // @mybbyfeyre //

#striking matches #firefighter au #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction

333 notes · View notes

razielwriter · 4 years ago

Text

Lockdown - A short horror/thriller story

Recording date not found. Author Unknown. Located in the Chainwell Tor Research Facility Database. Log 1.

M: So… It looks like we’re in here for the long haul…

(Pause)

M: I think I heard somewhere that, to avoid going crazy on submarines, sailors get themselves into routines. It’s been nearly two weeks since… Well, it couldn’t hurt, I guess.

M: I started out slow. Ease myself into it, you know? Having breakfast, getting in some exercise, checking the security monitors. Still nothing. Not even cats. And cats get fucking everywhere. You know how long it’s been since I’ve seen a pigeon? Fucking… ages man. I mean not ages, but like… It’s crazy.

M: I did find a rat, though. Found him in a box of shreddies. He kept making this horrible scratching noise. It’s okay though. I fucking hate shreddies. I’ve decided to name him Jason, for obvious reasons. He now lives in a little cell I managed to rig together. He seems happy. Still likes to bite me, bloody nuisance.

M: I started going through the boxes. Some of the stuff was… Weird. I’ll say it, it was weird. I mean, who packs a Furby? In an emergency bunker? I mean who looks at Gods mistake of a children’s toy and thinks “yes, this will get me through the end of the world”. Its fucking creepy, is what it is. I’ve left it in a corner, next to the toaster. If it turns around, I’m out.

M: And now I’m talking to you. Like you’re a person. Like you care about any of this. Like you won’t outlive me by a decade, assuming, you know, the electricity stays on and nothing springs a leak.

M: But… that’s it. That’s my day. Fucking bollocks, that.

~~~

Recording date not found. Author Unknown. Located in the Chainwell Tor Research Facility Database. Log 9.

M: I decided to go exploring today. Started making a map of this place. Goes on forever. Found some cool shit, though. Greenhouse. Supply room. Hell, even found someone’s stash of porn. Truly, the essentials.

M: Coolest thing, though. I found a radio. Not one of the digital ones. Like, 80’s to 90’s shit. Looks like it was used to broadcast. Bit old school, but I think I can get it set up again. I’m hoping someone, out there, might have had the same idea. Maybe they’ll come rescue me.

M: Anyway, my day. Yes, that’s what you really want to know about. Um… Had breakfast, did exercise. Fed Jason. I swear, he’s getting fat. Picked out a book to read. “Lord of the Flies”, cheery I know. But it only seemed appropriate, given the circumstances.

(Sigh)

M: God, I sound like a dating profile. I mean, dating a computer wouldn’t be that bad but, I hate to say it, I just don’t think you’re my type. We can still be friends though. Get a pint from time to time, smile awkwardly at parties. Then you and your boyfriend will have a fight one night, and you’ll call, just wanting a friend, but we both know it’s more than that. We have one drunken night of passionate love making. But we never talk about it.

M: Ooh, that’s the timer. My steak and kidney pies ready.

~~~

Recording date not found. Author Unknown. Located in the Chainwell Tor Research Facility Database. Log 15.

M: God, that Ralphs a nark. All that “… eyes that proclaimed no evil” shit. He’s so preachy. I bet, if he had access to the internet, he’d be just as “innocent” as every other boy his age. Then we’ll see who’s so golden.

(Chuckles)

M: Same as usual. Breakfast, exercise, security cameras, tended to the greenhouse. The potatoes are coming along nicely, and the sunflowers. I’m surprised. I thought they’d need more, you know, sunlight. But halogen will have to do. I can’t exactly go and clean the windows from the outside.

M: Then I went to feed Jason… I don’t know if I should call her that anymore. Turns out he is a she. And she had babies. Tiny little pink bodies, all squirming and squeaking. Their eyes aren’t even open. Never seen a baby rat before. They’re kind of gross, but also kind of cute.

M: Went to check on the radio for a few hours. Calm my nerves a bit. It’s not every day you become a dad to five little rat shaped testicles. Thought I heard something at around seven, but it turned out to be nothing. I think it was just, like, a World War Two radio play, or something. Shooting and shouting, you know the sort.

M: But that’s it for today. Now for some good old-fashioned alone time… As if I haven’t got anything else.

~~~

Recording date not found. Author Unknown. Located in the Chainwell Tor Research Facility Database. Log 26.

M: Okay, lets get this shit over with. Woke up a little earlier than I would have liked. Damn scratching. I think Jason might be getting some cell mates soon, if I find the culprit. Had breakfast, did exercise, all that good stuff. Fed Jason and the Ratgonauts. Their skin has gone darker, so that’s good… I think… I don’t actually know. God, I wish I could ask someone. Anyway, tended to the greenhouse. Then I went to check on the radio. And, fucking hell, that’s when the interesting shit kicked in.

M: I heard someone. Out there. I’m sure of it this time. I wrote down the words. Hold on… Mm…

(Paper rustling)

M: Fuck, where is it? AH! Here. The signal was a bit shit, so I didn’t get all of it, but this is what I’ve got.

M: To anyone out there… Please… Keep… My name is Sophie. I’m in… To anyone still out there, if anyone is still out there, I am here. I am still alive. But I don’t know how long I can last. Please, if you can hear me, my frequency is… That’s where it cut out.

M: I knew it. I fucking knew it! I knew I couldn’t be the only one left. And if I’m picking up on her signal, Sophie can’t be that far away! I guess I’ll have to keep flicking through the radio signals until I find her again. But I’m gonna make dinner first.

~~~

Recording date not found. Author Unknown. Located in the Chainwell Tor Research Facility Database. Log 31.

M: She… She fucking ate them. I… I can’t…

(Pause)

M: It was normal. Breakfast, exercise, all that bollocks…

(Pause)

M: I thought it was quiet. I thought that was a bit weird. Usually, when its feeding time, Jason starts squeaking and running around… Fuck. Maybe I wasn’t feeding her enough. Maybe I needed to let her loose from time to time but… She ate them. They were gone when I looked in and I only realised when I found the tail… All five…

M: Anyway, yeah, did some gardening… Checked the radio… Nothing…

(Pause)

M: I don’t know why I’m fucking crying over rats. I kind of wanted to… But she’s the only other living thing here, except me…

~~~

Recording date not found. Author Unknown. Located in the Chainwell Tor Research Facility Database. Log 39.

M: It’s quiet without the babies. Fucking little bastards waking me up at three in the morning with their scratching but...

(Pause)

M: Got breakfast, did exercise. It’s weird. Never thought I would have, like, muscle and shit. I’m more beer belly and pork scratchings. Who would have thought it?

M: My sunflowers are doing really well. Never thought I’d like courgettes, but, you know what? They’re not that bad.

M: I think Jason got out in the night. Or maybe it was someone else that ate the rest of my lasagne. Yeah I’m looking at you, baby eater.

M: The Furby woke up today. I was just making some coffee and it fucking laughed at me, this demonic screeching noise and wiggled its fucking ears. So I did what any other self-respecting person would do. Took it and chucked it at the wall. It broke. I still have no idea how it did that. Couldn’t find a battery or anything. Gives me the creeps just thinking about it.

M: That’s… that’s not the only thing though. Fuck, I really have been out here too long. I… well, I woke up at about 1 am. Nightmares, nothing new there. I went to get myself a drink and… I think I saw something. Outside. It was sort of like a shadow, but not really. Too solid for that. And… teeth. At least, I think they were teeth. They looked like teeth.

(Sigh)

M: Fuck, I need a drink. I found a bunch of booze in the back. I know I promised… but he’s gone now. Who cares about soberness anymore, right?

~~~

Recording date not found. Author Unknown. Located in the Chainwell Tor Research Facility Database. Log 40.

M: The scratching. I think Jason’s getting kind of frustrated in the night. I keep waking up to the sound of scratching.

M: Ah… yeah, sorry. Day, yes. Um… Breakfast, exercise, feeding Jason. Sorry, I haven’t slept… at all, really. That damn scratching and… God, what was in those booze? Feels like my brain is being squeezed by an angry nun.

M: Anyway, that’s about…

(The radio is heard)

Prof S Taylor: Hello? Can anyone hear me?

M: What…? Holy shit… Um… Hello? I mean, fuck, yes! Me. I’m here! I can hear you!

Prof S Taylor: Oh my God. Finally. Hi.

M: Hello.

Prof S Taylor: I… Um… Right, no time for the gushy stuff. I’m Sophie. Professor Taylor, I should say, with the research team. Is Sargent Foster there?

M: Sargent Foster?

Prof S Taylor: You are in the bunker, right?

M: Yeah but, um, I’m not Foster and… Its just me here. No one else.

Prof S Taylor: What? Who are you, then? Name and rank, soldier.

M: Easy there, mate. I’m not a soldier. Its… It’s a little complicated.

Prof S Taylor: Whatever. We’ll talk about it more when I get there. You have supplies?

M: Yeah, sure. But not much.

Prof S Taylor: Fair enough. The higherups probably closed the whole valley in case... Has anyone attempted to contact you?

M: Nope. Only you so far.

Prof S Taylor: And its just you there? What happened to the others?

M: I… I have no idea. I thought you could tell me.

Prof S Taylor: Humm… Still, I’m on the other side of the valley. I’ll be stopping off halfway. There’s another bunker, there should be a few others there. I think their radios defective, though. Haven’t been able to get in contact. I should be with you by the end of Tuesday.

M: Wow, days still exist then? Wonder what else I’ve forgotten? Tell me, do people still shake hands anymore, or do we spit in each other’s general direction, or something?

Prof S Taylor: Oh, so you’re a comedian. That’s… something, I suppose. Listen, just sit tight. I’ll be there soon.

M: Okay. My names Matt by the way.

Prof S Taylor: That’s good to know. Nice to meet you Matt. I’ll be there soon.

(Radio is turned off)

M: … Wow. Just… Fucking wow… I should probably tidy up a bit.

~~~

Recording date not found. Author Unknown. Located in the Chainwell Tor Research Facility Database. Log 45.

M: Okay, I’m sure somethings wrong now. Jason… She’s gone missing. And that… I saw it again. I… I fucking saw it! I know I did! I’m not going crazy, right? I can’t be?

M: Jason got out. I was looking for her and… The window. I saw it out the window. Its jaw was huge, large enough to eat a German shepherd whole. And its teeth were wet and glistening. It looked like… like a cartoon skull. No lips. No nose. Just black, rubbery skin pulled back over that massive jaw and tiny skull. And the body was thin. I could see every rib and organ through the skin. And skinny legs. The arms were fucking crazy, though. Like, long and muscly. I think it walked on them…

(The radio is heard)

Prof S Taylor: Matt? Matt, you there?

M: Shit. Ugh, yeah, yeah I’m here. Where are you?

Prof S Taylor: At the other bunker. Matt… I’m not gonna make it.

M: What do you mean?

Prof S Taylor: They… They’re all dead. And I know it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have trusted it to behave. I should have stopped it.

M: What? Sophie… Are you talking about the thing with the teeth? And the weird arms?

Prof S Taylor: You’ve seen it then. The Scratcher. That’s what the office wits liked calling it. Stupid name. But… I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry. My suggestion is get out while you can. I’ll stay here, draw it to me. That should buy you some time.

M: Sophie... How far away are you? I’m sure I could reach you…

Prof S Taylor: There’s no time for that. I can see it through the trees. It shouldn’t be long now.

M: No…

Prof S Taylor: Just… Promise me one thing. If you get out, find Roshni Laghari. She’s a teacher in London. She… Tell her I loved her to. I never told her, but I did. Will you do that for me Matt? Please?

M: Y-Yes. I’ll do that.

Prof S Taylor: Thank you Matt. Thank you.

(Radio is turned off)

M: … Shit. I should never have come here. I… I really shouldn’t have… Where’s my bag?

~~~

Recording date not found. Author Unknown. Located in the Chainwell Tor Research Facility Database. Log 98.

M: I hear him. I hear him. He whispers to me at night, like the prophecies of an angry God. But I have not lost my way yet. I see him for what he is. A pig’s head. And I am the flies. I am the flies.

M: I found her today. He threw her through the greenhouse glass. My Jason. Poor Jason. I’ll tell you something, though. She was tasty. Can of beans and some whisky. Got to be careful. Don’t have too much left…

M: For fuck sake will you quiet. I hear you. I hear you all the fucking time you grinning bastard. I hear you when I sleep. When I wake up. Stop… Stop laughing at me! How you like it if I did it to you?

(Proceeds to laugh for one minute and thirty-two seconds)

M: See, I laugh at you devil. Scum. See how you like it. Because I’m not opening that door. Not for anything. Not for…

M: No. You… You can’t say that. It was… It was an accident. IT WAS AN ACIDENT! I couldn’t stop it. It wasn’t my fault. If anything, it was yours. All your fault, poor, pathetic monster. You’re the reason! You’re the reason they’re dead, not me!

M: What… What’s that?

(Gun shots)

M: Ha, they’ve come for me. They’re here for me. Yes! Take that fucker!

(The door is blown)

M: Yes! Aw man, you have no idea how good it is-

(Gun shots)

Unknown: All clear. Witness neutralised. Send in the clean up team. And send in the roundup team outside.

~~~

End of transcript. Report compiled by T. R. Fisher.

Professional recommendation that these files remained closed to public consumption for the foreseeable future under paragraph W, subsection 26 of the DPA of 1927.

Files not to be removed from The Vault without express permission, upon fear of grievous bodily harm or legal prosecution.

#horror #short story #thriller #short horror stories #short thriller

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fandom-necromancer · 5 years ago

Text

Fight of love and reason

This was prompted by the super awesome @aurea-b! Enjoy! Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900

'Nines? I have to- have to phhhh. Phhhhhhh. Phhcking tell you something!' 'Yeah, Gav, go for it!', Tina cheered the man who was barely holding himself together half laying on the table. 'I... I... I...' 'You?', Connor helped out giggling. 'Shuddup!', Gavin shouted, before getting back to finding words. They had been so clear just minutes ago, but now his brain was just a mass of alcohol induced idiocy. 'I... I don't phcking hate you!' He grinned like a madman, looking at Nines expecting an answer. Nines chuckled next to him. 'Big announcement for you, Gavin, but I knew that already. I think it's time I bring him home, he had enough. Before he starts telling us Kamski is his big brother.' 'He is?', Allen asked, and Hank nodded laughing. ‘'Tis true...' 'Well, we know who inherited all the intelligence then...' Nines was working on getting Gavin to his feet and ignored the nab at his partner. There was no need to defend him, he reminded himself. Gavin was rather intelligent, just not in the way he talked or handled other persons and that was perfectly fine. 'We'll see each other on Monday then', the RK900 said before taking his leave, Gavin hooked under. 'Take care!'

It was something of a blur how he had gotten into the car, but now that Gavin was alone with the android in an enclosed space, his sight was clear as day again. Why hadn't the android answered with the right words? What had he said just minutes ago? Ah, shit that hadn't been what he had meant to say... 'Hey, Nines?' 'Yes Detective?' 'Where we driving to?' 'I'm bringing you home. You are inebriated and the headache tomorrow will be bad enough.' 'Oh, that's nice', he lulled and forced his last braincells to think about what he wanted to tell him. It was something he couldn't say when sober but needed that perfect stage of drunk but sane for. That stage he had far passed already. Nines halted the car not much later, helping Gavin up, who only got back to full awareness when he was laid on his bed, tucked in like a child. 'Nines, I really have to tell you something!', he said in a last attempt, but was shut down immediately: 'Sleep, Gavin. Sober up and tell me on Monday, okay?'

Of course, Gavin, didn’t tell him on Monday. What he wanted to say to him was… ridiculous at best. The damn android would laugh at him, tell Connor and the whole world and they would all laugh at him together. Okay, no, that wouldn’t happen, but it would be what he would feel like when Nines rejected him in his usual factual and polite manner. Because there was no way he would say yes. No way he would want to be friends afterwards, too. Gavin knew he was overthinking again, staring at his empty coffee mug just not to look into this face, this perfectly modelled android face… No. He couldn’t tell the man when sober. It would be a challenge doing so when drunk. Maybe he just wouldn’t do It at all and wait until his feelings subsided.

‘And then the asshole tried to kick me!’, Tina cried out pretended to be deeply hurt by the memory. ‘But then Chris here’, she elbowed the man in the side, heavier than expected apparently, because he immediately folded in on himself holding his side. ‘Chris came to my rescue! I swear, if I was interested in men, that would have been such a moment.’ Laughter branded over the group and Gavin felt weirdly detached all of sudden. He had cut back on the drinks, planning to really talk to Nines this time. He just had to let the alcohol melt his damn walls down, so he could finally do it. He even annoyed himself already, being trapped in that endless loop of wanting and denying himself over and over again.

‘Hey, how about drinking games?’, Sixty proposed. ‘You can’t even drink!’, Tina claimed and looked down on her glass. ‘But you can. And seeing the most advanced organic species on the planet get positively wasted is always amusing to watch.’ Tina shrugged and nodded: ‘Good enough of a reason for me. Chris? Gavin? You up?’ Well, so much for staying abstinent this evening…

‘Niiiines… Have I ever told you, you are beautiful?’ He was half hanging in the android’s grip, looking up to him as he closed the door to his apartment behind him. ‘No, you haven’t. And I won’t count this in either, Detective, you are drunk.’ ‘Nah, you can count that shit in. People are more honest when intoxicated’, Gavin slurred, shuffling off to the bedroom. ‘I believe humans are just more talkative and not really themselves in that state, Gavin. You are the best example. You are far more likeable when you are not throwing curses at everyone unfortunate enough to be in hearing distance.’ ‘Aw, cooome on! You like that, deep down!’ Weren’t Gavin so drunk, he would have seen the slight blue blush rising up on Nines cheeks. ‘You should sleep, Detective.’ ‘Don’t wanna… Wanna tell you something. Come a bit nearer!’ Surprisingly, Nines did, just slightly turning his face not to get spammed by analysing prompts of the man’s breath. ‘‘M gonna tell you a secret. But don’t tell anyone!’ Nines nodded, smirking. ‘You smell like a new car. I like that smell.’

Yep. Again, not what he had wanted to say at all.

‘Shots! Shots! Shots!’, Tina was chanting much to Gavin’s chagrin. ‘Nah, go wild Tina, but I’ll stay with beer.’ That had the whole table’s attention on him. Tina, Chris, Allen, Sixty and Nines were all staring at him as if he had just pronounced to never swear ever again in his life. ‘What? I have something important to do this evening, okay? I can get drunk, but not too drunk.’ ‘Gav, you getting boring?’, Tina asked disappointed. ‘No, just today, okay?’ Sixty sighed. ‘Don’t worry, Allen will play along.’ ‘I’ll do what?’

Again, Gavin had drunken a bit beyond that line of control. But he was still able to think and maybe that was just the right amount to finally throw his brain away and talk to Nines. The android sat next to him in the car again, driving to his apartment. Their drive had been silent, but somehow Gavin wanted to break it. He just didn’t know how to. In the end it was Nines: ‘I appreciate you drank less today.’ ‘Yeah?’ ‘Yes. It has me less worried about your prolonged lifespan.’ ‘Awwwww, so youuuu are worried about meee?’ ‘Forget what I said, you should drink even less next time.’ ‘Come on, admit it. You like me drunk.’ ‘I don’t… I don’t appreciate you playing with your health. But it’s true your personality becomes a bit more bearable.’ ‘Heh, good point, toaster’, Gavin laughed, as Nines parked his car. 'You need me to help you up there?', Nines asked, and Gavin nodded. Partly because it was easier to talk to him when he was with him at home, partly because he really needed the help. Walking a straight line was a challenge.

They walked up to the building and took the elevator this time. Stairs would have been a bad idea in this situation. They entered Gavin’s apartment and Nines already guided him to the shower. But other than normal days, Gavin struggled. ‘Gavin, please. You can’t go to bed like this. You smell of booze and sweat.’ ‘Noooo, Nines, I gotta tell you something! Really do it this time!’, Gavin near whined. ‘Don’t worry, drunk you already told me I look good and that I smell nice, I don’t think I can take any more compliments.’ ‘Fine, I’ll shower. But you will be there when I get back, right?’ Nines sighed. ‘I will be, Gavin. I’m going to feed the cats for you.’

Gavin hurried to the bathroom, dropping his clothes to the ground to jump under the stream. Shit. Now was the time to do it. He had to confront Nines once he was finished. But how? Nines, look at me, I’m your boyfriend now! No. No, no, no, no! Phck. Hey, I got a mad crush on you since forever. Too phcking direct! Hey Nines, all the time I told you we had to talk? I wanted to say I love you but was too much of a chicken-shit to do it. Yeah hell no. Goddamnit. He punched the wall, knocking some bottles of shampoo down in the process. Phck. ‘Gavin? You okay in there?’ The man sighed upon the worried call. ‘Yeah, everything is fine. Won’t take much longer!’ He let the bottles lay on the ground and held his face into the stream, wishing it could wash his thoughts away. Just be spontaneous! You have asked out people already, this is no difference! Except it was. That had always been just hook-ups, this with Nines was… real.

He walked out of the shower, rubbing himself dry and put on something comfortable to sleep. As he walked outside, Nines was standing at the door smiling at him carefully. ‘Are you okay? Your stress levels are exceeding…’ The android let the tone ring out at Gavin’s stare, misinterpreting it dearly. ‘I’ll, err… I’ll take my leave then.’ ‘No!’, Gavin was quick to call out and sounded all too eager, too. Maybe that did it, because the RK900 closed the door again. ‘I mean, err… Would you like to stay for a bit?’ ‘Why?’ ‘Oh, just… You know. Talk a bit? Watch a movie? Only if you want to, of course.’ Nines was thinking, but then nodded. ‘Okay, I’ll stay for a bit. What do you want to talk about?’

Ah shit, this was the moment now. All in or run away again? No, there was only forwards now. Else he would never do it. He closed his eyes and pressed out whatever came to his mind in record time: ‘HeycrushatmeItalkyourlovenow!’ Phck. Nines’ LED quickly changed to red, the android closing in on Gavin to grip him by the shoulders. ‘Gavin, everything alright? Did you hit your head in the shower? Is this a seizure?’ ‘Nines, no’, Gavin just sighed weakly. ‘I’m just super bad at this.’ ‘Calm down, okay?’ The android guided him to the sofa and sat down next to him. ‘Calm down. What do you want to tell me?’ ‘I want to- Ah, goddamnit Nines, swear you won’t laugh at me?’ ‘Never.’ ‘I… I think I love you.’ He wanted that to be the only thing he said, but as the milliseconds ticked by his thoughts ran for their lives, thinking the shortly stretching silence was equal to deep appal and disgust. ‘I mean, kinda ever since you came into the precinct you were smoking hot and you know, I like tall dudes, but you were also terrifying at first, so I just thought this was my end, but then we got partnered up and I got to know you and I found out I really, really liked you and I-‘ ‘Stop.’

It was as if Nines had ripped out his heart and held it in his hand now, inspecting it to try and figure out whether to hold it dear or let it drop to the ground laughing. But of course, he wouldn’t be so cruel, right? This was Nines after all. ‘Gavin. I need you to take a breath. All these times when you drank and told me you needed to talk to me, this was what you meant?’ ‘Yes?’, Gavin answered weakly, the word itself just another insecure question. ‘Fuck me…’ It was spoken under his breath, not supposed to be heard, but the apartment was silent and had Nines just sworn?

‘So, err… What do you say? Am I a total idiot? Because that would be totally okay with me, if you don’t feel the same I can just push this shit down, we can still be friends, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable and-‘ ‘Shut up, Gavin, please.’ Oh yeah that was just the worse, why couldn’t Gavin just let it be? He had just sabotaged everything dear to him. Nines looked him in the eyes and grinned. ‘I mean, yes, you are a total idiot, but that I knew before. I never would have thought for you to feel the same.’ ‘Wait, what?’ ‘I… Ever since becoming a deviant I started to really feel… I mean, emotions were there since the beginning, but… It just gets so much more real once it isn’t just simulated but real. And I always felt guilty, because you didn’t like androids and you didn’t ask to be partnered up with you and… I think – I know – I’m in love with you, too.’

‘Wow. Okay, that’s super cool!’ Gavin knew his cheeks had to be a deep red, but he still couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. ‘But you aren’t just saying that, are you? You mean it?’ ‘I mean it.’ ‘Then why didn’t you say something?’ ‘Why didn’t you say something, Gavin? I never expected you to fall for me, so I felt guilty feeling like I did. I weighted our friendship more important to risk it this easily.’ ‘God, we’re both total idiots, then.’ ‘Just another thing to share’, Nines answered and laid his arms around Gavin, carefully as if testing the waters how much he would allow. But as Gavin didn’t do anything to stop him, he basically melted against him, holding him closed murmuring: ‘I imagined doing this for so long…’ And Gavin raised his hands too, to let them meet in Nines back, resting his head at the android’s collarbone. He would never admit he had this fantasy too, along with many others. Because this shit felt too good and words just couldn’t do it justice. This was perfect.

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #Gavin Reed #RK900 #Gavin's last two braincells: Listen don't you phyk this up we need to conquer this man! So here is the plan now let's think how to-#Gavin - drunk: Yeah I got this!#Gavin - drunk and an idiot: time to keysmash!

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