“Flat out” - h.s. Part 4

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3



You woke up to Harry kissing your forehead and instantly you realized your back hurt. You were slumped over on your side, twisted like a pretzel, and there was a sticky note stuck to your collarbone as your eyes fluttered open and you saw the hideous yellow thing there as if waiting to see if you remembered what was written on it.

“Hey there,” Harry chuckled, gingerly placing some of your papers and books aside so he could sit on the side of your bed. You groaned and sat up as your bones cracked muscles screamed for attention. Rubbing your desk, you opened your eyes fully to see Harry staring at you with a bemused expression, a mug of coffee in his hands.

You reached out for it and grabbed it from him without question as Harry sputtered, “No wait that’s not - yep, yeah okay yeah sure. Yeah that’s - go ahead. All for you.”

You gave him a half-hearted glare before slowly sipping his coffee, leaning back against your headboard and rubbing your forehead. “What time is it?”

“I figured I wouldn’t let you sleep past ten considering you’re usually up around six and I don’t really understand how regular sleep schedules go, but it’s ten now … so … just wanted to make sure you’re not dead.”

Keep reading

Freebatch fic submission #2

Untitled Freebatch Lying Detective Hug Scene Ficlet
A ficlet for CMA anon who requested it :)

A deep breath.


Steel yourself. Find your center. Block everything else out but you, Ben and the scene. You can do this. You’re a god damn professional.

Martin found himself repeating every self help mantra and cliche he could think of to help himself get in the moment, but nothing was truly working. This was an important scene; it was a pivotal emotional climax for both characters and, in his opinion, the most moving and authentic moment in all three episodes. John would have to open himself up, flay himself at the feet of the best friend he had beaten up in a previous scene. A friend he was blaming for the death of his wife. A friend that he was in love with in a desperately unspoken way.

Even though Mark and Steven had blindsided them by not finally ~going there with John and Sherlock. None of the three scripts had a love confession. A kiss. Something. Anything. The natural conclusion of the story they’d been telling for years was inexplicably absent.

He was still bitter. So was Ben. So they’d resolved to make this scene count at the very least. To show something of the love and connection between Sherlock and John that had been slowly built up over several years, even if the writers had decided to take a bizarre U turn at the end and scrub all that beautiful character development away.

He’d have to be utterly vulnerable here–openly weeping even–while being cradled in the arms of the man his character loved

Played by the actor he loved. Who he was currently secretly shagging.

And of course this would all be done with his current ex life partner and mother of his children, in the same scene, playing his deceased wife come benevolent advice giving ghost.

It was all just enough to truly fuck with his mind on an unprecedented level. And it took a lot to fuck with Martin’s mind, but this was convoluted enough to be the plot of some telenovela.

“It’s ok. Just take a deep breath. You’re gonna be great. You’re always great. You know you are.” Ben had reassured him earlier as they’d broken for lunch. He’d pulled him aside, sensing Martin’s anxiety levels rising by the way he was viciously stabbing his lunch with his fork, and took him into a secluded part of the set to rub his hands up and down his arms and whisper soothingly into his ear.

“I know…”

“Well aren’t we cocky there?”

“I wasn’t finished you cheeky bastard.” Martin had huffed, smiling despite the knot of tension that made it feel like there was an invisible ball lodged at the base of his throat. “It’s just….this is a big scene. It’s gotta be just right considering….well….considering how the rest of the relationship arc played out. I just….it’s gotta be just right. Plus you know how much I hate crying onscreen. I can’t turn it on like you Mr. I-Can-Turn-It-On-Like-A-Faucet.”

Ben had smiled warmly as his hands clenched around Martin’s arms, pulling him flush to his chest before wrapping fully around his back. “You’ll be wonderful. And I’ll be right there the whole time ok? Right there with you.” He’d rested his chin on top of Martin’s and the two had stood there like that in silence.

“I think they know.” Martin had said suddenly, realizing this was probably where most of his anxiety was stemming from. “Amanda and Mark are close and I think…..I think she’s told him. About us. I’ve noticed….looks. And Steven has made a few remarks that…..”

“To be fair,” Ben had interrupted. “I think everyone has known for a long time. Even before anything had ever….happened. It was always pretty obvious.”

Martin had just sighed and burrowed his head into the crook of his arm as if looking for an escape.

“Is that what’s really bothering you?”

“It’s just such an awkward mess isn’t it? And now we have to go out there, the three of us, and pretend that it’s not. Pretend there aren’t hurt feelings, and that we all get along so fucking well and that every single person watching us isn’t whispering behind our backs.”

“Oh they most certainly are. But let’s go give them a performance so amazing that it changes the conversation, ok? If at least for a little while.”

Martin had smiled as he felt a pressure on the top of his head. A kiss that said everything was going to be fine. A kiss that said I love you.


And now here they were, on set, surrounded by crew, lights hot, camera rolling, Mark and Steven huddled in the corner chatting quietly, while Sue was going over some technical aspects with Nick Hurran.

“You’re gonna be fine.” Ben mouthed to him as he looked up from where he was briefly going over the script.

Martin nodded. He could do this.

He saw Amanda enter the set out of the corner of his eye and she strolled over. The two of them embraced and chatted amicably for a few minutes–in the stilted, overly polite manner that all newly split couples did–and he tried to ignore the swooping feeling in his stomach when he saw Mark look up and shoot her a pointed look from across the room.

Block it all out. All of it. Gone.

He closed his eyes briefly, took a few deep breaths, and when he opened them he saw nothing but Ben, standing on his mark and looking at him with nothing but love and encouragement in his eyes.

And he finally felt at peace.

“You guys ready?” He heard Nick call out and he saw Ben look to him and raise his eyebrows in question. Martin nodded in return, moving over to his mark, and watched as the Sherlock mask slipped over Ben’s features.

“Yep ready.” Ben called out, and everyone sprang to life.


The tears were hot as they rolled down his cheeks. They almost felt like they were burning tracks into his skin and his stomach wanted to lurch in sympathy. He had done emotional, crying scenes before but it had never felt so raw, so visceral. The tears had come easy to him this time. He hadn’t expected it, but as he cupped his face in his hands he knew he wouldn’t have to work hard to get them to come. All the anxiety, sadness, tension and joy of the last few confusing months—more like years—of his life coalesced into something profound and, for the purpose of the show, spellbinding.

On set, in front of a dozen cast and crew, and under the guise of being John Watson, he found himself having something of a catharsis.

“It’s ok.”

He felt the warmth of Ben’s body moving into his personal space.

“It’s not ok.”

He felt Ben pulling him to his body, his obscenely large hands coming up to grasp his neck and stoke up his arm to his shoulder. His head was rested gently on top of his, and though they hadn’t practiced this, he found it was exactly the same hug Ben had given him backstage. It was so natural, so them.

It was bloody perfect.

“No but it is what it is.”

Martin pressed further into the warmth of his solid form, taking all he could get before they yelled cut. Truer words had never been spoken–it is what it is. Their relationship. Their secrets. The awkwardness and mess and everything.

But it would be ok. They had each other.

Thank you for getting this to me so quickly! It’s wonderful and makes The Hug Scene even more emotional. CMA Anon, here you go!

commission fic #2: staying in

next commission fic is for @cooper-klebba, who requested grown up connverse pregnancy fluff. this got a little deeper than you might be expecting as I thought more about what it would mean to these two to be parents, but I also laughed more while writing this than anything else out of the week’s batch.

“So here’s the thing,” Connie says to the assembled Crystal Gems, two hands in the small of her back and the latest floor plan for the addition in which the newest addition to the family will live rolled up under her arm, “my mom says I shouldn’t come on any more missions until after the baby is born. And even if she’s not actually our doctor, I have to admit she probably knows what she’s talking about.” Connie’s been a live-in member of the team since she finished up her Master’s degree and popped the question to Steven the day after graduation without surprising anyone, without fuss, and pointedly without diamonds (he still cried when he said yes). Now that they’re both in their early thirties (and almost looking it, in Steven’s case) excitement for a first grandchild has been high on the human side of the family for a while now. On the gem side, the attitude is more along the lines of…open-mindedness.

Keep reading

Steven Universe Headcanon Corner: Sapphire what the FUuUCK

So a lot of fandom has settled on Sapphire being The One Who Has Her Shit Together Every Day All The Time with Ruby being considerably more erratic. Which is fine! I’ve read dozens of fancomics to that effect and found them to be pretty cute!

But canon has shown that Sapphire tends to get so absorbed in the future that she neglects the present, with the implication that this is somewhat of a regular behavior from her.

So just picture for a second: Sapphire getting so caught up in her visions that she’s constantly doing shit like leaving her purse in restaurants and Ruby’s the one always going “Sapphire wait!” and whenever they pack for the beach or something Ruby’s always bringing a million or so extra items in case Sapphire forgets something and she usually forgets something. Is there even the slightest chance that Sapphire will forget sunscreen? Ruby is going to pack all the sunscreen in the house because Sapphy’s gonna need sunscreen. Because let’s be real: Ruby’s baseline state is Worry and she doesn’t even need to be able to magically divine the seventeen different ways you can die a bloody death just by walking up the street to the doughnut shop to give herself an ulcer worrying about it, and when Ruby worries about something, she doesn’t just worry, she acts on it. by packing all the sunscreen in the house and then burying you in it when you tell her you need some sunscreen.

“Sapphire why are you only wearing one shoe.”

“I was beckoned inexorable hands of fate.”


“And then I forgot about the other one.”



“Sapphire how is it that you can plot the best possible time to get the premium cable package based on what a meteor shower’s doing three galaxies from here but you can’t think to but on BOTH shoes BEFORE you leave the house??”

“Can’t you see? This is clearly the will of the universe. I am fated to be a one-shoed deviant who embarrasses you in public for all of eternity. It is inevitable.”

“Sapphire what the FUuUUCK”

parv-parv-parvity-parv  asked:

Parvis pressed his hand against his head as he staggered between the trees, dark eyes scanning the shadows for signs of movement. /Stop this now. I'll give you some of my own./ the voice resonated in his head before he growled, "Enough. Yours won't suffice this time Steven." Out of the corner of his eye, Parvis spotted a flash of colour and drew in the sweet scent of blood laced with magic. Perfect. With a sharp grin on his face, Parvis slipped between the trees, stalking the new found girl

Fiona had been on her usual forage for herbs, a smile plastered on her face as she crouches down to examine a couple of plants strewn in between the trees. “How lovely,” she hums with delight. “These will be perfect!” She gently plucks the different assortment of herbs from the ground and places them into the woven basket she had hanging on her right arm, unaware of the stalker she had gained amongst the trees.