Please give us an update time/day? Waiting anxiously!! : )
I know, and I am sorry, but I really don’t have an exact moment that I know I’ll be able to do it. I’m really glad you enjoyed it enough to anticipate the update but I’m just overwhelmed with things that need doing at the moment. I know, I’m the worst, and I hope the wait is worth it. I’m really sorry!!
I know, I’m the worst, right? Complete trash, with no explanation other than lack of motivation. This week. I mean it this time, and I am really sorry this wait is ridiculous.
PLS post another chapter of Morning After Jill soon! Your writing is great : )
I’m really sorry about the wait, I’ve been on holiday for the past week and the wifi at the hotel was shite - regular posting will resume real soon. Thank you!
When will the next chapter of Morning After Jill be posted?!
Possibly (hopefully) tonight, if not tomorrow! I really don’t want to keeping you waiting too long between chapters, but I have a bit of an eventful week ahead, so apologies if they’re a bit slow to start.
Summary: Songfic: Teen AU where your first love is your lab partner: Jillian Holtzmann. Somehow a study session turns into her taking your hand and demanding adventure. Your destination: Cliff’s Edge.
Words: 2,599
Warnings: Smut!!
A/N: This fic goes from science to smut real quick, be ready.
Read on AO3
When Holtzmann dances, it’s all in her hips. You sit - stiff but amused - on the edge of your bed, watching her celebratory body rolls. You love that her joy is always so exuberant. At the bemused and impressed look on your physics teacher’s face today, she’d gleefully kicked a chair clear across the classroom. Science project title: Scientific Illusions. Holtz’s idea: ‘can hot water freeze faster than cold water?’ Grade: A*. Your personal understanding of the sorcery Holtz pulled: 0%.
What you do understand is that all Holtzmann’s hard work resulted in an A* on your record, so when she grabs your hands and pulls you up to dance with her, you can’t refuse. You let her lead you in some form of Holtz-ified waltz, your music being your classmate singing a song whose lyrics were limited to ‘I’m a genius’, for longer than you should, before reverting back to being the voice of reason.
“We still have to study, Holtzmann.”
Your words do not put a stopper on her dancing. “For what?”
“For the test tomorrow!” You squeal, digging around in your desk draw for your physics textbook.
“Pfffft.” She waves a dismissive hand in front of her face. “Studying is for boys and babies.”
“Holtzmann!”
“Finish the sentence: Every action has an equal and…” She gestures towards you dramatically, her lips curving into an open, anticipatory smile.
“…opposite reaction.”
“Ding ding ding! We have a winner! Congratulations, you are officially a scientist! Ma’am, how does it feel to have earned a PhD in Newton’s Third Law?” She holds out an invisible microphone to you.
“Not that great, considering that’s not even what the test is about.”
She grabs your face with both hands, and touches her forehead to yours. “Studying. Is. For. Boys. And. Babies. Let’s go out.”
“Newton’s Third Law is for boys and babies.” You mutter as she grabs your hands again, chuckling, and pulls you out of your bedroom, down the stairs, out the front door, and into her car.
And now she’s driving, her fingerless gloves pressed against the steering wheel, her curls bouncing with every bump and pothole in the road. Evening paints the horizon pink and gold, and those colours are the perfect combination to give her skin an ethereal glow. A seed was planted when you had been introduced to Holtzmann and all her brilliance after being assigned as her lab partner. In this moment, simple as it is, that seed blossoms into something you can no longer control: a painfully desperate crush. We’re talking ‘holy shit, do me now’ proportions of desperate. If it isn’t her insane intelligence turning you on, it’s definitely the exposed dip in her waist where her crop top ends and her dungarees don’t yet begin.
She’s humming along to the radio, head bobbing. You have no idea where she’s taking you, but you know exactly where you want to go. Speaking in terms of bases, of course. You wonder what she’d make of your feelings. A majority of the conversations the two of you’d had were about science. She’d given away snippets of personal information, but for all her extroverted antics she seemed at heart a private person. She was, however, very flirty, and you hadn’t yet worked out if she was like that with everyone, or if she gave you a little extra.
“Holtzmann.” You say, barely realising you’ve even said it, and struggling to gather your thoughts into a coherent and non-creepy sentence.
“The Earth orbits the sun in a circular path.”
“False.”
“You little genius, you.” She smirks, her eyes never once leaving the road.
“You’re questions are too easy, I’m gonna fail.” You frown, momentarily side-tracked from your previous train of thought.
“A diode only allows current to flow one way in a circuit. Due to the sensitivity of a diode it must be protected by a resistor and so current stays constant until about +0.7V, where current flow increases rapidly. However, if the voltage is reversed and is raised to a high enough value, current will flow in the opposite direction. What is this value known as?”
“What?”
“PhD revoked. Hoo boy, you are gonna fail that test tomorrow.”
“Holtzmann!”
She grins as she glances at you, no doubt preparing for another quick remark, but you must look flustered, or have some trace of desire still on your face because her jaw, ever so subtly, goes slack, and her eyes don’t go back to the road.
“You good?” She asks you, voice hoarse, and you have to suppress a bubble of laughter because judging by the way she shifts in her seat you ought to ask her the same.
You’re hit with a wave of boldness, so instead of answering her you pry her white-knuckled grip from the wheel and lace your fingers together. She swallows and looks back to the road in time to notice she’s run a red light. You don’t give her time to think about that before you pull her hand between your legs. You’re wearing shorts, and the skin of her fingers feels like electric against your thighs.
She takes a sharp turn onto a backroad, and you swear she’s stepped on the peddle because your heart rate and the speed of the car seem to be increasing at the same rate. She’s untangled her fingers from yours and is palming you through your denim, but the way she’s biting her lip is preventing her from saying anything. You physically can’t say anything because there’s sweat pooling at the back of your knees, and something else pooling in your panties.
She pulls over, hard, and the warmth of her hand at your core is gone. She slams the door upon exiting her car. You worry for a moment, but then she’s there, opening the passenger side for you and helping you out. She squeezes your waist, and as she takes a moment to rest her head on the back of your shoulder, audibly groaning, you take in your surroundings and recognise the trees flanking the road as a pathway to the local lake.
“Holtzmann, where… why…” You let that sorry excuse for a sentence trail off as she slips her fingers under the hem of your shirt.
“Y/N.” She sighs, and then she turns you and pushes you against the car until you have no choice but to hop up onto the bonnet. She stands between your legs and rests one hand behind you, and the other goes straight beneath your underwear. She locks eyes with you as her fingers tease your entrance and her thumb brushes your clit, and she’s fucking smirking as if she has you right where she wants you – right where she’s wanted you all along.
You can’t deal with that look on her face right now, so you wrap your arms around her neck, and she wastes no time pressing kisses to yours. Through hooded eyes you note that the horizon is burning red as the sun dips ever lower. Holtzmann’s teeth graze your ear, and your hips buck against her hand, willing her to touch you harder and faster, but too nervous to ask for it. Her fingers have curled inside you, her thumb still pressing your nub, and you feel that it’s all too soon when you tense, and gasp, and feel, for the first time in your life, the release of orgasm. The red of the sky stays when you close your eyes, and Holtzmann is laughing.
“Too easy, babe.” She pats your knee, and kisses the tip of your nose, and when you open your eyes, you see that she’s stepped away from you to do a series of victorious fist-pumps. “Come on, baby, that was merely the aperitif.” She’s beckoning for you to follow her as she heads towards the trees. You step down from the bonnet on shaky legs, and reach for her outstretched hand.
“How long?” She asks, as the two of you match stride in the forest.
“Huh?” You’re a million miles away, still lost in the explosion of stars that was your first orgasm.
“How long have you…” she gives you a mischievous smile that brings you back to Earth, and grinds her hips, “…wanted my bod-ay.” She enunciates, and you have to suppress the girliest giggle your body has ever produced at her comical tone.
“I…” You shrug and go shy. “I don’t know. I think you’re… cool.”
“You let everyone you think is cool touch you like that?”
You blush. “Just you. ‘Cause I also think you’re hot – no – beautiful, and funny, and really, really smart, and… just… super interesting…” You look at her, hoping she’s not freaked out by your declaration. She’s looking down at her feet, and not smiling anymore, but her grip on your hand has tightened. You’re struck with a jolt of anger that makes you want to knock out anyone and everyone who has ever made her feel less than, because it’s clear now from the nervous set of her jaw (that’s prodding her dimples into place) that she is a private person because she’s insecure. Just when you form the gall to say something heartfelt, and inspirational, her amused smirk snaps back into place.
“Sounds like you’ve been falling in love with me for quite some time now then, huh?” She winks.
“Holtz-!” You’re cut off as she pulls you close for a kiss. It’s deep, and her body is pressed to yours from chest to pelvis. She’s kissing you as if she’s willing the two of you to merge into a single person. You’re kissing her back as if the science test tomorrow is going to be about her anatomy. Just when you decide your sole purpose in life is to kiss Jillian Holtzmann, and that you don’t wanna spend any time doing anything other than that, she pulls away. The air seems grey, and it might be because the sun has finally gone down, but you think it’s because you and Holtzmann aren’t touching anymore.
You follow her until there’s a small break in the trees, the width of which only allowing single file. The path leads to a setting straight out of a movie: an alcove of trees, decorated with boulders and rocks that lead to the edge of the lake. She sits, and, dazzled, you sit next to her. When she tucks your hair behind your ear the colour comes back; the water is so dark it’s almost black, but it shimmers as a gentle breeze forms tiny waves, and the deep blue night yields a fat yellow moon.
You shift onto your knees to kiss her again, with just as much ferocity as the last time. Your knee scrapes against something rough, perhaps an exposed tree root, and though it hurts, and you think it might be bleeding, nothing could make you want to pull away from her. She’s taken her gloves off, to better feel you, you hope, and her hands are in your hair.
“Do you want me to-”
“Yes.” You breathe, not waiting for the end of the question because whatever she wants to do to you, you want her to do to you.
Her hands slide down to you shorts and she undoes the button, and slowly – tantalisingly slow – loosens your zipper. You wiggle your hips to help her remove the garment. The motion makes you fall back. You both laugh, and you take the opportunity to lay yourself down. Once your shorts are gone, she hovers over you, her hips pressing into yours. You want her to kiss you again, but she hooks an arm behind your back, lifting you enough to tug your top over your head. Then, she stops, taking in the sight of you, sighing in appraisal as her eyes raise goosebumps wherever they look. You reach for her hips, and she grabs both your wrists.
“You’re new to this, aren’t you?” She says, in a way that suggests she’s not. The thought only turns you on more. As you nod, you hook a leg around her torso, trying to gain enough purchase to pull her too you. She lets go of your wrists to slide her hands down your thighs. “Well then, allow me, madam.”
Her lips graze yours, fleetingly, before she trails kisses along your jaw, nips at your earlobe, bites your neck, and then soothes the pain with her tongue. She kisses your shoulder, your collar bone, the dip between your breasts, and then she’s kissing a uniform line from the bottom of your bra to the top of your panties. She hooks her fingers in your underwear, then pauses to look at you for approval. You nod, already breathing heavily and aching for her. She removes them, taking her time sliding them off your legs – which are shaking again. She notes this, and pauses again.
“Are you nervous?” She asks, eyebrows quirked. You nod, and her hand goes to your navel, strokes downwards. “Don’t be.” She whispers. “It’s only me.”
You want to grab her then, and scream at her that the only ‘only’ she could ever be described with is ‘the only one you want to touch you like this’. You do grab her, fingernails digging welts into her shoulders, because her teeth are pinching your thigh. And then her mouth is on you, and her tongue strokes tantalising delineations between your legs, and her hands are smoothing over every inch of you she can reach. You impulsively tug at her hair, because it’s nothing like you’ve ever felt before, and she hums in appreciation.
She slides her arms underneath you to rest your legs on her shoulders, allowing for a deeper and more extensive reach. Your feel helpless, your back gathering dry earth, your hair tangling with broken twigs, and your eyes searching the inky leaves that quiver above you. You’re lost in sensations – Holtzmann’s tongue, her lips and her fingers, the weight of her arms over you, her curls tickling your inner thighs, and it feels as though the night breeze is caressing your skin as lovingly as she is. You imagine yourself replaying this setup in your mind for many nights to come – many years even, because you can’t imagine this moment ever leaving you. Though helpless, and unable to move aside from the occasional twitch and squirm of your hips, you also feel safe, because it’s Holtzmann, and she’s got you, and holy shit you’re on the edge, and holy fucking shit this climax is even better than the last one; your toes curl, and your fists clench, and you really do see stars this time. You think you might’ve whined her name, but you’re not sure until you see the look of pure satisfaction on her face.
“Was the main course to your liking, madam?” Her grin is truly shit-eating.
“I don’t know, Holtz, ‘cause you did all the eating.”
She throws her head back to laugh, and it’s hearty, and you all but melt because she looks gorgeous silhouetted by the moonlight. You sit up, reach for her, and she meets you half away. She rests her forehead against yours, this time touching her nose to yours.
“I, uh,” she sighs “I really like you. Quite… quite a fair amount.”
“I like you quite a fair amount too, Holtzmann.” You tell her.
“Do you wanna be… more than lab partners? By any chance?”
You really can’t help but kiss her, quick and gentle.
“Holtz. I’m yours.”
“Mine.” She repeats, and squeezes the breath out of you.
Summary: You tread the fine line between questioning your sexuality and outright denying your attraction to your best friend and coworker, Dr Jillian Holtzmann. An unexpected, alcohol-fuelled night with said scientist leaves you with no choice but to confront your problems head-on like the grown woman you are. Yes, that means coming to terms with your feelings... whatever they may be.
Words: 2,332
Warnings: Alcohol, angst, denial that anything bad ever happened to Ecto-1, Holtz being mean, Reader being mean, slut-shaming (kinda), smut (kinda), swears, questioning sexuality.
A/N: Kicking off this blog with a probably too angsty, probably too long fic. Hello, everybody. Prompts always open. Shoutout to those of you who clock the shameless SNL reference.
Chapter One: Intervention.
As a long-term cat owner you were used to odd sensations to your face being your alarm clock. Today’s sensation felt like claws to your lip… but blunt claws. You swiped at your own chin in annoyance before forcing your eyes open at a squint. It was a bobby pin. Propping yourself up on your elbow revealed, in fact, enough bobby pins scattered on the bed beside you to build a miniature model of the Eiffel Tower. They were arranged in a yellow brick road leading to a tangle of blonde curls that were partially unravelling in an attempt to escape their signature up-do. Holtz. She rarely slept, but when she did, she did it well. Her current position was a face-down starfish, half hanging off the bed, drooling into her pillow. Your first thought was the usual wave of affection associated with seeing your best friend. Your second was panic.
This was not the first time you’d woken up next to Holtz. There’d been many a movie marathon where you’d passed out on the couch together. There’d been long nights at the firehouse where the two of you had fallen into an exhausted slump over her workbench. There’d been your multitudes of bad break-ups where you’d curled up with her and a hot chocolate, and cried yourself to sleep. This, however, was the first time you’d woken up next to her with hickeys and scratches and smudges of lipstick – her lipstick – decorating your stark naked body.
You stumbled out of bed, knowing she’d be slow to do the same, and followed the breadcrumb trail of your clothes (putting them back on as you went) to the kitchen where you started to brew a coffee. You struggled with the mundane motions of retrieving your favourite mug from the cupboard, and searching the fridge for the one carton of milk that hadn’t yet expired, as your mind worked a mile a minute trying to process the fact that you had just slept with Dr Jillian Holtzmann.
You liked men. That much was clear by the substantial memoirs you could write about the amount of men you’d enjoyed the company of in the past year alone. They’d all ended badly, of course, but the point was: you’d still been into them in the first place. But, you’d be lying to yourself if you ignored the fact that you had caught yourself, at increasing intervals, wondering what it would be like to just… grab Holtz by the hair and kiss her perpetual smirk away. You’d come close too, on those nights when she’d consistently been your post break-up safe haven , to wiping away your tears, lifting your head from her shoulder and closing the gap between your mouths. Or, more subtly, trail kisses from her collar bone to her ear and observing what she made of that. You’d never gone through with it because you’d known it would predominantly be an act of curiosity, and you didn’t want to open that box unless you were sure of your feelings.
“I gotta admit, doll, I wanted us to be sober the first time we did that.”
You nearly spilt you drink on yourself in your haste looking up at her, Jill, frazzled in appearance, but nonplussed in attitude. Her smile only wavered when she saw the look on your face.
“Ohhh.” She breathed. “Baby. Y/N. Don’t look at me like that with those gorgeous eyes.”
With an almost painfully slow saunter she made her way to the barstool next to you, sat down, and took a swig from your coffee, never once taking her eyes off you.
“Holtz,” was all you managed to say, at barely a whisper. You were used to her compliments. They were off-handed, because she flirted with everyone. Now, things were different. Now, her calling you ‘baby’ recalled memories of her sighing that very word between your legs.
“I don’t believe for one second that I was that bad.” She raised a hand to brush your hair behind your ear and you flinched. You immediately felt like you’d kicked a puppy because in that moment you saw nothing but hurt in her eyes. For the first time since you’d known her, Holtzmann had no comment to fix the awkward silence that followed.
“Holtzy,” your voice sounded small and pathetic, “I’ve never been with a girl before. I don’t even know if… that’s what I’m into. You know I’ve been with-”
“-yeah, yeah. Every guy in New York at this point, if my calculations are correct. But look how that’s turned out. You ever think maybe there’s a reason you can’t hold down a boyfriend?”
“That’s not fair.” You were genuinely taken aback. You had never heard her say anything like that before, and you could see that she instantly regretted it. All you gathered from her reaction was that she was way more romantically into you than you originally thought.
Well, fuck.
Of course, you then did the only thing a socially awkward person could do in that situation; you stood up, knocking the barstool with your hip, and muttered “I have to go.”
“Y/N, don’t.” Holtz stood too, almost as frantically as you, as you backed towards the front door.
“It’s not… I just need to get changed before work… and stuff… I’ll see you there.”
“Let me give you a lift.”
“No, it’s okay.”
Before you could garner the implications of the conversation, you were hailing a taxi, with the TV screen in your mind forcing you to watch an instant replay of all the events that followed last night’s bust. A celebratory drink at the bar was standard after busts, but this was a particularly big bust, with particularly high stakes, and a particularly nasty set of ghosts. The intensity of drinking had a direct correlation to the amount of success you had, and this was flat out party time. Holtz was a lightweight at the best of times, so you vowed to keep an eye on her; especially after she’d almost decked a guy who’d tried to get handsy with you. Three Corona’s later her arm made a permanent resting place on the back of your chair, her knee occasionally bumping yours. It was after the second shot that her fingers started to methodically graze your thigh, drawing a pattern that worked itself higher and higher up your leg until you had to grab her hand before it invaded your panties. Not that you found yourself entirely opposed to the prospect, you just didn’t want “remember the time Holtzmann made you come right in front of us” on the girls’ shortlist of banter material.
Your efforts may have been fruitless anyway, because when Holtz announced to everyone that she needed to go to the bathroom, and all but ordered you to come with her, the girls (plus Kevin) all shared a knowing look.
You didn’t realise how much the drink had gone to your own head until you found yourself stumbling enough to be grateful when Holtz grabbed your hand. Then, you struggled with the fluorescent lights in the bathroom, and the glare from the mirror, and after Holtzmann kicked everyone else out of the stalls she cupped your cheek in one hand, and your waist in the other, and you kissed her before she could even say anything. Her hands found their way under your skirt again and she would’ve taken you then and there if you hadn’t of pulled away and reminded her that four of your friends were waiting for you, and probably timing your absence for future reference.
Except, when the two of you got back to the table, they were getting ready to call it quits on the night. Patty chauffeured, doing rounds in the Ecto-1 until Kevin, Abby and Erin were all safely home. Ever knowing, she sensed that you were crashing at Fort Holtzmann for the night. And crash you did. You wanted to hit pause on the replay because with the following images of the two of you too engrossed in each other to turn on any lights, and her undressing you as if she was unwrapping a present, and you being so damn glad to be that present that you let her put her hands, and her mouth, and – oh god –her teeth wherever she damn pleased, it was suddenly very hot in the back of the taxi. The internal battle between shame and arousal seemed way more intense when you had a driver chewing your ear off about his beloved daughter and every detail about her little league involvement. You practically threw the money at him, and took the stairs to your apartment two at a time, all the while thinking about how before you passed out last night, you felt three excruciatingly vivid sensations: an unfamiliar bone-deep satisfaction, sweat sticking the sheets to your skin, and Jill caressing a gentle line from your hip to your ribs and back again as she whispered sweet nothings – or, heck, sweet somethings – against your neck.
You took the longest shower of your life when you got home. By the time you got out your skin was red raw and wrinkled. You knew you’d be at least an hour late to work, but you were too preoccupied to care. You threw on your comfiest, and least attractive, clothes, hoping that your appearance would deter anyone, anywhere from trying to talk to you.
But, of course, nothing could deter Patty from probing where her friends were concerned.
“I don’t know what in the heck is going on between you guys, but y’all better fix it.” Was shouted at you as soon as she saw you.
“Patty. What are you talking about?” You’d thrown on sunglasses right before you left, hoping they’d conceal any emotion on your face. You’d also bought a coffee on your way in, just because it gave off the illusion of a laid-back individual.
Patty Tolan had a superpower that allowed her to see through sunglasses and accessory coffee.
The look she gave you said she very clearly was not buying a single ounce of your bullshit. Unreasonable, you thought, considering your prices started as low as you’d give her twenty dollars.
“Holtzy hasn’t said a single damn word since she stepped through the door. She’s currently doing science way more intensely than I have ever seen her do, and you and I both know full well that sure as shit means something. She’s like… in a science coma up there. She’s doing some serious science meditation. She’s two chemical reactions away from evolving into her final form: pure science itself. What happened last night?”
“Did you guys kiss?” Erin asked, and she and Abby joined the line of defence against you. The other two looked at her with a mixture of amusement and something that might have been pity.
“Nothing happened last night- okay yeah,” you backtracked at the disbelieving looks on their faces, “stuff happened last night – that I am not gonna talk about, but, I mean, there weren’t any problems last night.” They all stared at you expectantly, and when you didn’t continue, Patty crossed her arms. “It was this morning that sucked.” You muttered.
The three of them, synchronised, pulled out chairs at what you guys considered the dining table, and sat down in various poses of intrigue.
“I swear to god, Y/N, if you tell me that last night you got so drunk you slept with Holtzy, and then rejected her this morning, I am personally banning you from any form of alcohol until you take at least six corrective classes on impulse control.” Patty frowned. You couldn’t bear the look of disappointment on her face when your silence confirmed her hypothesis.
“God damn it!” Abby slapped her palm on the table so hard you were surprised she didn’t flinch. “We were all rooting for you!”
“What are you talking about?” You questioned.
Abby rolled her eyes and cupped her mouth. “Hey, Kevin! Get in here!”
“What’s crack-a-lackin’, boss?” He appeared, look rather much like she’d interrupted something important. He’d been absorbed in filing his nails when you’d walked in, so you guessed his self-manicure wasn’t quite finished yet.
“Could you help us out by telling us the relationship status of Y/N and Holtzmann, please?” Abby probed.
Kevin sighed, and folded his arms dramatically. “Yeah. They’re married – and I’m still pissed I wasn’t invited to the wedding. I would’ve made a superb flower girl. I’m an expert at flower arrangement, you know? Is that it? Can I go?”
“Yeah, dismissed, Kev-o.” Abby smirked. When he was gone she looked at you. “You see?”
“No, what?”
“He thought you were married!” Her tone was exasperated.
“He also thinks Hide-and-Seek is a sport.” You deadpanned.
“Technically,” Erin piped up, “it could be. He’s not as dumb as he seems.” She nodded, matter of fact, and Abby scoffed.
“No, he is as dumb as he seems, but he has great intuition. Sometimes.”
“The point is -” Patty raised her voice above the debate that was about to break out between Abby and Erin. “- everyone here has sensed the romantic tension between you and Holtzy since the first day you got here.”
“Everyone except you.” Abby pointed at you in a way that made you feel like you were being scolded by a teacher.
“And we’ve all watched you go through a string of asshole boyfriends, wondering when you were gonna finally woman-up and address your feelings for Holtz. We thought last night was it. Evidentially, she did too.” Patty continued.
“With all due respect, maybe everyone should just stay out of my business.” You sighed, and started to head towards your office.
As you turned to leave, Patty had the final, deep-cutting word.
“Girl, I love you like a sister, but I think you’re being selfish and childish right now. Please wake up, or it’s gonna get real awkward in here. For all of us.”
blakekathryn
kianamaiart
theartofmadeline
areudirty
origamiaround
janainaart
