#I dunno when I'll have it up but I'm hoping by the end of next week

[aruanimess]

Round three, of me endlessly yapping on Reverse AU. I am still VERY new to this.. tumblr asking, notes and whatnot, so.. I apologise if I seem somewhat annoying and bothersome Anyway, less 'bout me, more on blondes! I'm going to try spitballing a few ideas there and there, because I don't have ONE big topic/arc to really focus on, so here we go!

1; Armin being captured after his identity is figured out. There are.. three way's of this going, in my opinion. >First, being that they managed to successfully take him down into the tunnels to capture him, possibly after some convincing by Annie, since he trusts her a lot? (Plus, if Armin sticks around to around S3 when they're all in that Cabin, hiding away from the Military Police and all. I think Annie and Armin would be.. somewhat awkward, between each other. Since, she cares for him, a lot and.. betrayed him.) >Second, same scene where his identity is discovered and remains at the top of the staircase, but more or less breaks down because he doesn't know what is right anymore, he cares for his new found friends, the thought of betraying them crushes his heart, so he gives up and surrenders peacefully. >Third, transforms and makes a run for the walls to dip, which could ALSO go multiple ways, but.. I don't really have much on that. 2; Warriors Reveal, though Armin is now in the midst of it. I cannot see Armin ever betraying Paradis Island and trying to capture Eren (a second time, mind you), now that Reiner decided to reveal their identites to the same bloke he tried capturing too - yikes. Armin could very well try making them surrender, in a subtle way so the situation doesn't escalate, nor turn his own comrades against him. So, he tricks them and everyone. Transforming along the other two to capture Eren, only to fight Reiner along with Eren but obviously ending in failure with Bert's Titan crushing them. On one hand, I think Bert would try getting Armin, though Reiner is too focused on the mission, he ditches Armin and makes a run for it.

3; Armin still gets captured by the Opaki, though he saves Annie from being the one to be captured by it. As fun and simple it would be if she was the one to be yoinked, so they couldn't use the power of the Colossal and rescue her, I decided to go differently with this. While Armin does end up getting captured, he isn't terrified that he can't protect his people, that they need him, without him he'll die. No, he's accepting his fate. They have Annie, they can still blow up the Doomsday Titan and they'll all be fine, he may die but will die at least doing something right for them, finally doing something useful after betraying his friends, and putting his life down on the line, as their Commander.

(I also agree he'd still be the next Commander that Hange would put the title upon, so.. it sorta means a lot, like he finally is one of them in some way? - I dunno, spitballing!) But, ahaa.. Yeah, that isn't happening. Annie is not letting that blonde go, despite they have a clear winning shot here, she is not about to let him die. Not now, there is still more to be said to him, with how she feels. So, the mission of saving Armin is once more! AND, to end it off, I like to think he'd still be suicidal and jump for the Parasite to hold it down along with Reiner, even if there's a chance of him dying from the Colossal's explosion.

I apologise having to read this entire shit-show of ideas in your inbox, I doubt I'll do more to not seem too big of a yapper, but we'll see! I hope everything is going well for you, have a wonderful day/night! Now, I depart. Toodles!

Hello, Rux!!

Please, never apologize for sending an ask! I absolutely love hearing your ideas and I’m very happy to know the reverse AU still resonates with people :D

Okay, now let’s see:

1. I do prefer the second scenario in the staircase scene. Armin at this point has nothing waiting for him back in Marley and as a character he generally prefers ending conflicts with talking rather than fighting so I believe he’d rather strike a deal and resolve this through diplomacy. 

2. Now for the Warriors reveal… we do have to consider that this scene occurs very soon after Armin’s own reveal. Like it’s all happening within three days tops. There’s always the possibility that he’s too busy getting interrogated within an inch of his life to even attend these events. 

Personally, I’m more curious as to whether Reiner and Bertolt would attempt to convince Zeke to launch an operation to “rescue” Armin at that point, or write him off as a lost cause. I think there’s potential for drama and bitterness in both cases. In the first scenario, you have a Reiner who fought to save Armin getting betrayed by someone he considered his friend, while in the second scenario, you have an Armin even more estranged by his peers in Marley, sad and disappointed they never even cared for him. 

3. Here you’re gonna have to forgive me, because I respectfully disagree.

While Armin and Annie would absolutely act the way you described in the event of Armin getting captured by the Okapi Titan, I don’t see why the Founder Ymir would bother to kidnap him. In canon, she only does so because he’s the Colossus and is the only one with the power to stop Eren. So I’m afraid that our girl Annie would have to be the one getting choked by that tongue… (well that was a sentence I’d never thought I’d write xD)

As for the Commander part… I don’t know. On one hand, I do see how meaningful such a gesture would be from Hange, accepting Armin as one of their own wholeheartedly. On the other hand, the idea of an outsider coming in to “save” the Paradisians from their plight and lead them to the truth makes me feel kind of uncomfortable. 

Personally, because I’m a useless bisexual with a one track mind, I’d love to see how Commander Annie could work. At the very least I’d like to consider the possibility of her assuming a leadership role. She’s not an out of the box thinker like Armin in canon, but she is very practical and very decisive when it comes to battle. In another world, raised alongside Eren and Mikasa and not as confined by her father and her circumstances, I can see her developing a keen eye for solutions, maybe not outrageous strategies, but clean simple yet effective and devastating in their consequences plans. She’s ruthless, she’s perceptive and she’s willing to give up her life to achieve her means.

Honestly? I’d love to see it explored.

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Manifessstoss

Stephen King: hey guys aren't you all excited for the next cormoran strike novel? Poe: Barker: Koontz: Lovecraft: King: boy, i sure hope robin and cormoran finally act on the repressed feelings Joanne has hinted at for the previous 7 books! King: i feel like they're due

Poe: just out of curiosity steve Poe: what exactly do you like about those books so much King: well, for starters, they're very very long! King: i dunno, i just find that relatable

JK Rowling: hello children Stephen King: joanne! King: when is your next cormoran strike book coming out?! King: i'm on the edge of my seat! Rowling: sssorry ssteve i've got sssome internet beefss that take priority

Rowling: i don't really write booksss anymore King: but joanne! i need closure on the cormoran/robin supercouple storyline! Barker: oh my god steve stop it you're embarrassing yourself Barker: it's fucking cormorant shrike Barker: have some dignity

Rowling: IT'SS CORMORAN SHRIKE Rowling: YOU'RE SSSAYING IT WRONG ON PURPOSSSE, I KNOW YOU ARE Rowling: well jussst you wait, you'll get yoursss Rowling: your kind is on my lissst Barker: "my kind?" Rowling: yeah i'll get to you eventually Rowling: probably by book 18 or so

Rowling: sssee, in every cormoran sssstrike book, i take aim at a different enemy of the people Rowling: the sssilk worm took on the transss Rowling: the ink black heart sshowed those autisticss a thing or two Rowling: and the running grave finally ended hippiesss!!

Rowling: expect book 8 to fatally sskewer the BIGGESST threat to englissh purity yet! Lovecraft: italians? Rowling: Rowling: no Rowling: acctually Rowling: actually yess tell me more about the italianss howard Rowling: they are kinda ssusss if you think about it

Rowling: but no it's not italianss! Barker: is it fat people? Rowling: Rowling: they're ALL about fat people Barker: oh i see why steve likes these books so much King: well gosh darn it it's just unhealthy ya know?

Rowling: look i'll get around to writing that book eventually Rowling: but lately i've been really busssy writing up these leaflets that ssay "if you want a [transphobic slur] for a neighbor, vote liberal or labor" for kids to pass out before the north birmingham by-election

Rowling: cuz you know labor'sss worked really hard to court me by becoming transsphobic Rowling: but i mean are they really transssphobic enough? Rowling: i posssit - they are not

[dotster001]

Dark End

A/N: Another, For Tuna, custom content end is here! I've tagged everyone from the of tag list, and everyone who voted for this particular end. If you wanna add your vote for the next one, you can do so in the comments here.

CW: Kidnapping, Yandere, manipulation

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Choose Another Ending

You groaned, and lifted your head, your neck aching from resting in that position for so long.

Wait.

How long was it?

The last thing you remembered, you were sipping tea with Jade, and he had said something about 'going home'. You made to stretch, and realized your hands were restrained behind your back. You shook yourself in your chair, hoping the chains were loose, but alas, nothing.

But the rattling was also how you realized you were not on the surface. 

The bubbles around you cleared, and you were met with two pairs of glowing, mismatched eyes. You couldn't help but roll your own as you released a released breath.

"Ha ha, very funny. You guys got me." You were used to the twins…. unconventional….pranks, at this point. You were pretty sure this one was to illustrate how easily you could be gently kidnapped. They'd been telling you to up your security system for months now.

"Heh heh," two voices echoed from the darkness.

"I get the point, I'll buff up security, and let you walk me to classes. Now are you going to untie me, or have I not learned my lesson yet?"

The glowing eyes turned to each other, before turning back to you. You shivered, your gut telling you you wouldn't like the expressions they were giving one another.

"Fu fu, while we appreciate you finally listening to us, that's not what we are here to discuss today," Jade said, his ever present smirk able to be heard in his tone.

The pair of eyes you knew to be Floyd's swum closer to you, bringing his eel form into view. No matter how many times you saw it, it took your breath away. So handsome, and yet so intimidating. But when you got over your initial awe, you noticed him holding a struggling, and gagged, Grim in his arms.

"What's happening here?" You laughed nervously.

"Hmm? Oh! Sealio," Floyd giggled, as though it wasn't obvious."See, he graciously volunteered to work for our family business!"

Jade swam up next to his brother, and gently scratched the top of Grim's head.

"So generous. But we need collateral, just in case something were to go wrong. Namely, you."

The twins looked at you expectantly, and you released another nervous laugh.

"Ha ha, very funny."

Floyd scowled, and Grim winced as his grip on him tightened.

"I don't know how we can be any clearer with you, Shrimpy. We. Want. You."

"Uh…"

You were starting to get the impression that you weren't the one being held for collateral here.

But with the look in their eyes, you should definitely play their game.

"Um, how long would I be collateral?" 

"I dunno, Grimmy what do you think?" Floyd jiggled Grim a little, and you heard some jumbled words from behind Grim's gag.

"Interesting point, Grim," Jade said thoughtfully. "It sounds like he wants to work with us…forever?"

The twins both looked at each other in, clearly mock, surprise.

"That's so cool of you, baby seal!" Floyd hugged him tightly in excitement. "But obviously, Y/N's gotta make some agreements first."

The twins looked at you, sinister grins mimicking one another in perfect synch.

"What kind of agreements?" 

"I'm so glad you asked!" Jade said, pulling out a golden contract that you assumed they had gotten off of Azul. He pulled out a pen, running the top lightly along your jaw.

"We're going to unlock one of your hands, and you'll sign this for us."

"What does it say?"

"Fu fu fu, we'll worry about that part. All you need to do is look into Grim's sad, pathetic eyes, and sign the contract. Think you can do that for me?" It felt like he was saying it to a toddler. But you guessed since you were the one who was so easily gently kidnapped, it was probably necessary for you to be talked down on.

"Okay," you said shakily.

"Wonderful!" Jade swam behind you, and you felt his fingers gently brush your dominant hand, before fumbling with the lock of that particular chain. He placed the pen in it, then firmly placed his hands on your shoulders. Just in case you were stupid enough to get any ideas.

You brought your hand forward, signed the contract, and then…

Huh.

How bout that?

What were you doing here?

Oh, there was Floyd!

And, you could tell from the distinctive cologne, Jade was behind you, massaging your shoulders, and softly kissing along your neck.

How sweet of him.

Sevens, you love them so much.

You just want to be with them forever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever.

And ever.

And ever.

And ever.

And ever.

The End

....

Tag list- @stygianoir @leonia0 @lleoll @eccedentesiast-sapphic @supertmntgirl @cxsmicdustdreams @aethermostbeloved @krystalkiller25 @asmallbean3 @theneurodivergentdummy @candlewitch-cryptic @smilingfox22-blog @phantomgaming1920 @the-dumber-scaramouche @noidonothavetimeforthis @bontensbabygirl @xxoomiii @somany-fandoms-solittle-time @bre99 @stupidsimp @sus0daddy @a-small-tyrant @imlost-sendhelp @mizukiblogs @offpaperponies @names-are-dumb @krenenbaker @dragontamer222 @soapybubbles0 @homestuckotaku @jackalope08

[pseudowho]

idk if you are doing requests right now but i have one!

recently i got rejected from my dream university and all of my friends got in, so may i have a nanami (either adult or teen) comforting the reader about it:(? i'm really sad and upset about it. it can also be for the ones who got rejected from their dream job!

thanks and i love your writing! 🍪 a cookie for you!

Oh baby :c I'm so sorry. You know, I actually have a story for this one...

Feat Reader x Teen!Nanami, aged 18/19.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"I just..." You sniffled, wine drunk and puffy from hours of crying, your phone pressed, sloppy and drunk, to your ear, "I just...know it was the right place for me, y'know? It's not fair. Everywhere else...everywhere else accepted me but the one I wanted. We could have been close. No more travelling to see each other. I'm really sorry."

The silence while you spoke, on the other end of the line, bore gravity, open and warm. A low, slow voice trying to be that of reason.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." Kento rumbled, a year ahead of you and weaving between bustling crowds between classes. "They don't deserve you, frankly."

You sniffled again, pressing your phone harder to your ear as if it would make Kento concrete against you. As if it would bring him to your arms, and your bed, so much less pathetic than crying over the phone. You turned your laptop aside so you didn't have to read the same University rejection email again, and again, and again.

"Listen." Kento pressed, and you heard the crowds fade as he slipped down a quite alleyway. "Listen to me. I'll still come to see you. Wherever you are, we can work it out. I'm...I'm in this for the long haul."

You pressed your fist to your head, eyes closed and your throat thick with tears. "I dunno, Kento, you'll...you'll find some lovely girl. Get fed up with me, I...I get it."

"Not going to happen."

"And if it does, I understand, I--"

"No. You're stuck with me, actually."

"'Stuck with you', what's wrong with you--"

"--how long have you got--"

You laughed, bubbling through your tears despite yourself, and you could swear you heard Kento smiling on the other end of the phone. Another, heavy pause, a mathematical silence.

"...there are other ways. We'll look into...options."

You weren't taking it in, still tangled in your own grief and failures. You sniffled, nodding. Kento's voice sounded pained, reluctant.

"I...I have to get to class. I'm so sorry." You shook your head as if he could see.

"No, it's... I've kept you too long--"

"Not long enough."

God you missed him. You dreamed of a life living in each others' pockets, instead of running into each others' arms at train stations.

"...I love you. You know that, right?"

Your face puckered again, threatening more tears.

"No more crying. And no more wine."

You laughed, pressing the glass to your forehead. "How did you know...?"

"I always know when you've been drinking wine."

Reluctantly, with heavy goodbyes, you hung up, and looked at your glass with a thread of guilt, before pouring the rest of the wine away.

Kento tapped his phone, thoughtful. He looked down to the lecture hall, to his next class. He looked across the student square, to Student Services.

He refused one path, and took the other, grassy and less trodden upon. He sat down on front of an advisor with a tight smile.

"Good morning. I was hoping...we could talk about a University transfer."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Listen, Anon. I'm so sorry. But your life's direction and worth is not determined by anywhere that rejects you. It's determined by the places that accept you, and what you build upon the bricks already there.

You're doing so well. Don't give up. Boyfriend!Kento wouldn't give up on you.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

All Things End

Pairing: Moonknight trio x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: I mean none specifically it's just a generally minorly sad fic lol

Genre: angst & kinda fluff

Summary: Finding out your boyfriend's secret drastically changes the dynamic of your relationship; "And all things end // All that we intend is scrawled in sand // Or slips right through our hands" - Hozier

***

The first time you met Steven was coincidence, a happenstance, courtesy of one of your friends- kind of. They share an apartment building and after visiting her you ran into the anxious history buff in the elevator, or he ran into you. You were already in the elevator, your friend Macy lives on the floor above his, and when it opened for him to get on he walked in without looking up from the papers in his hand and crashed right into you because of course you didn't react quick enough when he came careening in. His papers scattered and he jumped back so far a cat would be jealous.

"Going down?" You asked him lightheartedly, holding the door open button for him.

"Oh bullocks! I- I'm so sorry, I'll take the next one."

"Nonsense, half your papers are in here. Plus it's just me in the elevator. Afraid I'll bite?"

"No!" He shook his head so frantically you'd thought it might fly off.

"Well then get in. We can ride down together and you can pick up whatever it is that had you too enraptured to look up."

"I'm sorry. Again I- I hadn't meant to-" Steven had scrambled to grab his papers as the elevator door closed.

"Hey I get it. When the reading is good it can really take you to another world. No hard feelings." You chuckled. He offered an awkward half laugh in response before silence fell over you.

"Are you new here?" He asked after a moment.

"What?"

"Are you new? In the apartment building, I mean. I don't mean to pry I've just never seen you around before is all."

"Right well that's probably because I don't live here actually, I'm just visiting a friend. She lives above you."

"Oh." He frowned and you couldn't help but tease him a bit at the way he deflated.

"Why? Were you hoping to see me more often?" You winked.

"No!" He'd almost sounded indignant when he answered and then his eyes widened as if he realized what he said only after the fact. "Not- not that I'm opposed to seeing you more often it's just that well- we just met. I have no idea who you are so I can't really say I'm hoping for anything yet. A-again it's not that I'm particularly opposed to seeing you again or anything." He was rambling. You thought it was cute.

"Shame. I'd certainly be happy to catch a glimpse of you next time I'm around." You winked at him as the elevator finally reached the lobby of the building. He'd been too stunned to respond as you got out of the lift. "See you soon 7th floor." You'd tossed over your shoulder as a goodbye and left him to his own devices.

It would be a while before you saw him again, a month or so before you happened to catch him again. This time on your way up. He's coming out of the elevator as you're waiting for it.

"Ah, you're paying attention this time!" You joke.

"Oh! It's you again." He blinks at you. The two of you swap places, him getting out of the elevator while you get in it. You press the button for your friend's floor.

"Yes. Hi, mister 7th floor. Bye, mister 7th floor." You smile as the doors close. When you reach your friend's apartment you can't help but ask her about him.

"What do you know about the other people in your building?" You ask her.

"Ask whatever question you actually want an answer to." Macy chuckles.

"There's a guy who lives on the floor below you. Curly brown hair, olive skin, brown eyes, about this tall I'm guessing but he hunches over, he's super anxious although that could just be me making him nervous." You rattle off descriptors.

"If you're talking about who I think you're talking about no it's not you, he's always that nervous, at least every time I've seen him. I call him squirrely. I dunno much about him though, not even his name actually, he's quiet and minds his business, seems nice though. He's polite at least." Macy shrugs. "Why do you ask?" Her eyes narrow with a curious smirk on her lips.

"I've run into him a couple of times. He's- curious, so I was just gathering intel."

"Gathering intel? Stay away from him y/n you'll break the poor boy." She laughs.

"I'm not gonna break him!"

"Not on purpose but he's not the type you usually go for, I don't think he can handle you."

"Well, he's been holding up as well as he needs to so far." You say.

"Don't tell me you've already taken a liking to him."

"I dunno if I'd go that far yet we've only spoken twice but he is cute." You shrug.

"I mean- try if you must babes." She muses.

And try you did. Eventually. It was slow going before you even decided to head down that road. You ran into him a few more times first with a teasing line or two each time and ultimately after a series of 'see you around 7th floor's he gave you his name and so you asked him to dinner.

Your first date had been expectedly awkward. Steven was so nervous he rambled through most of your meal which, from anyone else would seem so unattractively self-obsessed you'd have blocked them before you even left the restaurant, but from Steven, it was somehow so charming to see him so animated. Maybe because you know it's a nerves thing and not indifference to subjects other than his own interests.

Several dates later Steven, to your surprise, asks you to be his girlfriend. You're still not sure where the confidence to initiate that next step came from, you always thought you'd be the one asking him to go steady if it got that far, which it did but he made the move. It was a bit rushed and awkward in the way Steven usually is but it worked for him.

"Y/n." He'd been walking you home from a date and stopped you at your apartment building before you could go inside.

"Yes, Steven?"

"We've been seeing each other for some time now and well I've really had fun getting to know you and all so I was wondering, I thought that perhaps at this point you'd consider making it official. With me. I mean only if you'd like to it's not necessary. What we've got going on is good too. I'm okay with-"

"Steven you're rambling." You'd had to stop yourself from giggling at his frantic sentences avoiding your eyes.

"Right. I'm just trying to ask... would you like to be my girlfriend?"

"I would love to." You'd smiled at him and kissed him faster than he could process. He was easy to fall in love with. Charming even through his perpetual awkwardness, caring, funny, and one of the smartest people you know. Everything felt, right when it came to him. You didn't have to question things with him. He made things easy, so easy it was strange to even consider that things would go wrong.

When you woke up in his bed this morning and realized he wasn't beside you, it was more than a little strange. First of all, you know he doesn't work today, it was his selling point in turning your date last night into a sleepover. There's no note and the stillness of his apartment makes it obvious he's not in the bathroom or in the kitchen or anywhere. It's still early too. You turn over possibilities in your head as you shuffle to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face. Just as you complete those tasks and exit the bathroom having put on your moisturizer, you hear the door to the apartment unlock and swing open.

"You're back." You say.

"Yeah hey." The word sounds- wrong. As though, despite your eyes recognizing the man before you, your ears are hearing a stranger's voice.

"Steven?" You frown and he freezes immediately. It's as if he didn't even realize it was you he spoke to. There's a pause, it's only a moment or two but it feels so tense it might as well have lasted several minutes.

"Hello, love, I didn't know you'd still be here." He smiles awkwardly. Something still sounds off about his voice, the accent feels forced, and his tone is awkward in a way that even for Steven is out of place.

"You didn't know I'd still be here? That's- not exactly the greeting I expected." You scoff, crossing your arms. "Where did you go before 9 A.M. on a Saturday? And what is going on with your voice?" You ask. He's still again. It's like you can see a loading screen on his face before he speaks.

"I- uh well," his head tilts suddenly and he clears his throat. "I've been feeling a bit of an itch in my throat and wanted to slip out for some medication, perhaps surprise you by making breakfast even but it appears I didn't return quick enough. I'm sorry, and good morning by the way my darling." Steven's voice sounds better when he speaks again and he walks over to you to wrap his arms around your waist.

"You didn't mention an itch yesterday." You point out.

"I didn't want it to ruin our evening. No need to worry love it's nothing some tea can't cure." He smiles.

"Well, then I'll make you some tea."

"Nonsense, you're-"

"I'm your girlfriend of almost a year, I think there's no problem with making you tea, even if this is." You chuckle.

"Alright, if you insist. Thank you my darling." He smiles at you. Like I said, he makes things so easy. It would be strange to think something was wrong here. Right? You don't want to press the issue but there's a gnawing in the back of your mind that something is not quite right.

A girlfriend?! You've kept a girlfriend from me all this time?! How the hell did you even pull that off? The voice in Steven's head is angrily yelling at him in the reflection of the bathroom mirror.

"You had a wife once upon a time Marc. I think I'm allowed to date." Steven rolls his eyes, he's whispering though- so as to not alert you of the back and forth.

The problem isn't you dating Steven, the problem is I didn't know about her! And she doesn't know about us! What exactly is your plan huh to keep her in the dark forever?!

"You're overreacting."

You have to tell her or it'll ruin whatever thing you've got going on with her.

"No!" Steven shouts on accident, and you gasp at the sound of his voice.

"Steven honey are you okay?" You call looking at the bathroom door from the kitchen.

"Fine, love! Just- uh- dropped something!" He cringes at the not even remotely convincing lie.

Trust me Steven- it's the secrets and the lies that fucked things up with the wife you so conveniently mentioned earlier

"I'm not telling her Marc, none of this is her business. It's hardly mine even. Leave her out of it." With that order, Steven stomps out of the bathroom, taking a moment to calm himself before joining you in the kitchen.

You obviously didn't know it at the time, but that morning could probably be marked as the beginning of the end. After it, you started to notice weird things about Steven's behavior. Sometimes he'd leave suddenly with some half-assed excuse or you'll catch him talking quietly to himself and you can tell he's more tired these days but you don't bring it up. As strange as it all is you want to give Steven the benefit of the doubt. He's never given you a reason not to trust him.

You: Hey Steven, I left something at your place, gonna stop by to get it later tonight.

At this point, you and Steven have keys to each other's apartments so you shoot him a text before you leave work about something you left at his that you need to pick up. You'd gone over to his yesterday after work at his behest and ended up forgetting a flash drive when you left. When you get to Steven's you knock on the door a couple of times but when he doesn't answer you let yourself in. You just need to grab your drive and you'll be out as soon as you find it anyway. The apartment is empty when you walk in and you quickly find the flash drive sitting on the floor by the couch where you'd tossed your workbag the night before upon arrival. When you bend down to reach for it though, you hear a sound from somewhere in the apartment. You startle, you know Steven's not home so you scramble for a makeshift weapon, you think someone is breaking in. You grab one of the many books Steven leaves littered around his apartment and crouch behind the couch, out of sight of the window where you heard the sound come from. The window slides open quickly and you hear the intruder scramble through it, into the apartment. You don't give yourself too much time to think about it as you hurl the book at the stranger who immediately lets out a curse when the hardcover collides with his body. You're not sure where though, you ducked back behind the couch too quickly to see it land.

"Who's there!? I'm not in the mood to kill you but I will if I have to. Just so you know." His voice rings out in the small studio. You grab another book from the coffee table as silently as you can and prepare to chuck it when he inevitably finds you behind the couch. You poke your head around the side of the furniture to try and get a look at him. He's in some sort of costume, a greyish-white full body outfit that looks like it's made of mummy wrappings, and a hooded cape. If not for the fact that he's currently breaking into your boyfriend's apartment you might think it's cool, but under the circumstances, it seems silly and wrong for the situation. Like going to a funeral in a wedding dress, or the beach in a snowsuit. So wrapped up in your internal mocking you miss the moment when he sees you until he says so.

"Shit it's you." He says and you pop up fully because that sounds like recognition though you can't see him you definitely don't recognize the voice.

"Do you know me?" You ask, book in hand still ready to throw it at him if necessary. He holds up his hands in front of him as you watch the suit dissipate before your eyes and reveal your boyfriend, but not. It's his face for sure, you'd know it anywhere, but you'd heard him talk and that was not your boyfriend's voice coming from that body. Not to mention his demeanor is different, even in his placating defensive stance you can tell the man in front of you carries himself differently.

"It's just me. Steven." He says carefully. The voice you hear is so distinctly American coming from your very British boyfriend's mouth.

"Bullshit. I don't know what you are but you are not my boyfriend. What have you done to him?" Your hold on the book in your hand tightens as you prepare yourself to chuck it at the imposter's head.

"Nothing! I swear." He says with a small shake of his head.  "Dammit Steven, where are you?" He grits out so quietly you don't quite catch the words.

"And I'm supposed to believe you?! You snuck into his apartment and you sound nothing like him. I'm pretty sure this is how the bodysnatchers movie works. Except you're really shitty at pretending to be him."

"I'm not a body snatcher." He scoffs.

"Right I'll just take your word for it." You roll your eyes. There's silence for a couple of moments and then something changes in the man's face.

"Darling... put the book down we- need to talk." This time when he talks it sounds exactly like you know Steven to sound. This only further freaks you out at this point and you hurl the book at him, immediately picking up another. He dodges the book you threw, just barely "Y/n!" He takes a step towards you but you hold up a hand.

"Stay. There. I don't know what is going on but if you come any closer I will scream so loud this entire building will call the police."

"Love I would never hurt you."

"How can I possibly know that? Why did you just sound like a different person? What was that... costume? Who- what are you? Is everything you've told me a lie?!"

"No. I am Steven Grant, your boyfriend of almost a year. I work at a museum gift shop. This is my apartment. I have... something called dissociative identity disorder. It means... my mind is fractured in a way. So while I am Steven Grant your boyfriend there is another- consciousness that shares my body. His name is Marc Spector and the uh, costume is his. He does... work for an Egyptian deity when I'm not working or with you. You've met Marc before actually. Months ago when you spent the night and I told you I was sick."

"Work?" You ask.

"Some would probably label him a vigilante of sorts." Steven shrugs.

"Oh." You say.

"Oh? That's all you have to say?" He frowns.

"You've been lying to me for months Steven be glad all I have to say right now is 'oh'." You say.

"I haven't-"

"A lie by omission is still a lie. If I hadn't come here to get my flash drive you would never have told me." You mutter. "I- I need to think. I'll call you." You say turning and leaving the apartment before he can say anything else.

The dissociative identity disorder part of all this you think you're processing very well. That's something you can make sense of, something you already know of and can research. This, part time vigilante business though you- struggle to wrap your head around. Steven doesn't hear from you for a week and it's rough. Marc tries to be there for him as best he can but the anxieties of you never speaking to him again are quite unbearable. Meanwhile you go to work. Like nothing is wrong, you go in every morning and leave every evening, trying to hold onto the things that aren't affected by the information constantly swirling in your subconscious, even when you aren't actively trying to come to terms with it. Steven is entitled to his privacy. He doesn't owe you every detail of everything that goes on in his life, it's not that. You've been together a year and- it hurts to think he still doesn't trust you. That's where your head is. Why else would he keep these things secret for so long?

Before another full week passes Steven has worried himself into an absolute state. Not eating or sleeping through the night he looks even more disheveled than usual. Marc can't stand it anymore and without Steven realizing it has marched the body to your apartment. At least if Steven saw your face maybe- maybe it would ease him slightly, even if you weren't ready to speak to him. The frantic knocking at your apartment door startles you as you sit on the couch. When you glance through the spyhole and see Steven with his messed up hair and tired, sad eyes your heart aches a tiny bit. You open the door with a confused frown on your face.

"What are you doing here Steven?" The words aren't harsh, in fact, they're almost quiet.

"I know you- said you'd call but I can't. I can't keep sitting with all the ways I screwed things up, wondering if you're ever going to speak to me, contemplating just how much you hate me, and- just tell me what to do and I'll do it. How do I fix things between us? I can't stand not speaking to you, not seeing you, not knowing if we'll ever be okay again." His words are frantic and the sentences almost feel jumbled with how fast he's speaking but you hear every desperation filled word.

"I don't hate you, Steven." You say flatly.

"How do I fix this? What do I do to make you love me again?" He asks.

"Do you trust me, Steven? At all?" You ask instead of offering an answer.

"More than anyone I've ever known." He answers so immediately it's almost enough for you to believe it.

"Yet, you keep these secrets that... say otherwise."

"I have no more secrets and- it wasn't just mine. Marc- he doesn't trust easily and he doesn't know you I couldn't- I didn't want to, expose him that way no matter how much I trust you it wasn't just about me. Please, you have to know I didn't do any of this to hurt you. I love you more than anything, you are my world. I can't lose you." Steven says and the look in his eyes makes you look away from him. You can't tell him what you're thinking really, that when people say something is forever either way it ends, so instead you say what will bring him comfort.

"You haven't lost me." You tell him. You don't think he has. You don't want this to be the end. So, you pull him into your apartment and his arms wrap around you so tightly you can hardly breathe. You let him hold you like that on your couch, as if he knows you'll slip through his hands if he lets go. You stay there listening to his heart beating in his chest, feeling the comfort of his arms, the heat of his body against yours, and you let yourself sink into those feelings. Eventually, his breathing evens out and you swear he's fallen asleep and in the quiet of your apartment, you murmur your thoughts out loud. "We didn't get this right but we did our best, and we will again." You say to yourself and you know, deep in your heart even if you can't tell him tonight. You know that all things end.

And just knowing that everything will end should not change our plans, when we begin again.

***

[rocksibblingsau]

Love love love ur ideas!!!!

Do you have any more headcanons for Mount Rageon Branch or Adopted by Bergens Branch?

In Mount Rageon Branch, Velvet and Veneer are still a lil self absorbed and looking for the easy way out of things. They don't wanna do any hard work, meanwhile Branch is all about hard work and doing things for yourself.

Branch sees them fighting over wanting fame and it reminds him of his brothers, so he makes it his goal to help them realize their dreams AND remain close. Since they'd be training from childhood, they'd have a better shot at learning how to sing thanks to Branch.

I can't decide if they actually do end up good singers but if they do, Branch is their manager and there would be a moment where post BroZone reunion they see Branch managing and have JD flashbacks. Branch doesn't get bad like John did about controlling their image, but the sight of Branch taking charge and giving orders for show prep really reminds them of a less than happy time of their lives.

Branch: Alright guys, we're gonna open with 'Fame' and close with 'Watch Me Work'. No, wait. Open with 'Sweet Dreams' and close with 'Fame'. Now go out there and make Mount Rageous history! Bruce: Clay I hope you're also an EMT because I think I'm having a heart attack. Clay: I'm with you bro, this is disturbing to watch.

If they don't go the singing route, Branch helps them discover SOME sort of skill they can make it big with.

They don't call him 'Branch'. Velvet decided his name had to match theirs so they call him 'Vine'. They think it's a funny name since he's always on them 'like a vine'. Branch doesn't really care what they call him as long as they stop rubbing his hair trying to suck out his "singing magic".

When Velvet and Veneer found out about Bergens, her solution was "Just stay with us at all times. I'll hold onto you like the last designer handbag at a flash sale."

If they did encounter a Bergen, Velvet would hit them in the head with her purse that weighs 10 tons.

In Bergen Branch AU, Gristle is ironically the excitable kid while Branch can barely muster any enthusiasm for anything. Some people joke that it's like Gristle's a troll at heart and Branch a Bergen. Gristle doesn't go as apathetic and listless as he does in canon since I believe the catalyst was Gristle Sr telling him nothing would ever make him happy. Since in this AU he was given Branch, he was told that Branch would make him happy, so he still has hope.

When they're older, Branch is a sort of sarcastic adviser to Gristle. Everyone's kind of figured out that even if you can get one over on Gristle, the troll on his shoulder won't be fooled and he does NOT show mercy. Gristle also takes his opinion in pretty high regard about pretty much anything.

Branch also gets pretty comfortable with his concept of mortality and he makes jokes about being eaten by Bergens constantly.

Gristle: I got another letter asking if they can buy and eat you. Branch: At this rate I'd be tempted to tell you accept all of them and watch their faces fall when they realize fifty other Bergens also get a piece. Gristle: Branch. Branch: A peanut sized serving of grey troll. Gristle: Branch. Branch: That'd probably be the one thing that could make a Bergen more miserable than you already are, if that's possible. Gristle: Branch. I'm not selling you to get eaten by fifty different Bergens. Branch: You'd be doing me a mercy and ending my suffering.

Gristle: Branch I need you to help me with the audit. Branch: *lays on his palm* Eat me. Gristle: Later. For now you have to help me. Branch: F***. Branch: Is this how you derive joy? Making trolls do your paperwork? You're the only Bergen in the world who would make me do taxes instead of eating me. Gristle: You complain too much and it ruins my appetite. Branch: Has any troll ever not complained? Do you think on Trollstice we were all jumping for joy? 'Yippie! Death!' Gristle: I dunno, try it next time and we'll see if it works.

This trait scares and unnerves other trolls. Poppy asks him to stop once they befriend Bergens because she's worried they'll take offense and "They're our friends now, not troll-eating monsters. That's in the past."

"I'd like it to be in the present so I don't have to listen to another musical number."

[fuxuannie]

❥ . until the end, forevermore

✦. synopsis — stargazing with leon brings a sense of comfort and room for laughter, however oddly enough, it leads to a conversation that you or him needed to hear.

✦. love mail — 💌 ignore the 100th layout change pls i'm very indecisive ;_; eeuuueeuu... i really like soft leon can u tell uwjehejr I REALLY HOPE PEOPLE LIKE THIS i love it sm personally

✦. tags — fluff, comfort-ish, ooc.. possibly, soft leon, re4 remake leon, idk what i was doing with this, g-neutral reader, one tiny suggestive joke doesnt rlly matter

Laying uncomfortably in a patch of grass and staring at the sky wasn't exactly LEON's idea of a fun time, but when he's actually there in the moment - he doesn't realize how calming it really is. It's been a rough couple of days.. weeks, years - life. Something as simple as stargazing, it made him feel at ease.

Of course, you holding his hand next to him and hearing to your heart-warming laughter was an added bonus.

"Look, I don't know how much longer I can pretend I can see the shapes you point out and not think you're crazy." Leon teased, turning his head to you as your eyes were still fixated on the stars. You don't reply, but he doesn't complain, gives him more time to admire you.

Sometimes he feel like he doesn't do it enough, spending his time to look at you, then on the other hand it feels like it's all he ever does. You're the first thing he sees when he wakes up and the last person on his mind as he drifts to sleep, he's so inlove with you but never in a way that it hurts, but that it lets him feel at home.

You make him feel like he's home.

"You know you're supposed to be gazing at the stars, right?"

He's so lost in thought that he doesn't realize you've turned to face him, a look of warmth that he always sees in your eyes. "Well I've found myself something prettier."

"Corny."

"For you, always."

You chuckle a little at his one-liner, squeezing his hand as you do. It's always the little things that you do that make his heart race.

You then spoke;

"I had a weird thought." "Oh? In public?" "Shut up."

"This life.. it's really screwed us over."

"Yes, it has."

You move a little closer to lean your head on his shoulder, looking back up at the stars that seemingly shone brighter just for this moment.

"I think in our next we should just become like.. I dunno, cat owners."

Leon smiles.

"Nah.. You sound stupid."

...

"I'd rather have a dog."

You gasp in fake offense, jolting up immediately. "How dare you-" But he easily pulls you back in, landing on his chest as his arms wrap around you and essentially trap you in the most comfortable way ever. You're about to protest, but he adds;

"I promise that in our next life, if your little.. ideas about reincarnation are real, then I'll love you as I did in this life and the lives after that. Because for however long there is a (name) and Leon, there will be (name) and Leon. That's how it works, I don't make the rules.

You blinked a few times in surprise, but eventually nuzzle against his chest. "You stole that one from a book you read?"

"I hate reading."

"Idiot."

"It means it came from my heart you asshole!"

[gracies-baby]

Could you write a friends to lovers with Gracie? I would read anything! Thank you! 💕

Of course I can! I’m so sorry for the long wait and I hope you enjoy!

Movie Night Confession

(Gracie Abrams x Reader)

——————————————————————————

"What movie are we watching tonight?" Audrey asks her best friend as Gracie walks around the kitchen getting the snacks ready as she and Abby sit in the living room.

"I dunno. Whatever Y/n wants to watch" Gracie replies as she walks back to her couch, snacks in hand.

"C'mon, she's just gonna wanna watch twilight again. I love it but there's only so many times I can watch that movie" Abby whines as her cousin sits next to her.

"Yeah Gracie, there are other ways to show her you love her than letting her choose the movie all the time y'know. One of them being telling her" Audrey speaks while stealing some snacks from her friend.

"I'm not telling her anything. She doesn't need to know"

"Well she's gonna know when the album comes out. I mean, come on, who else would you have written the blue about? She's gonna know it's about her"

"You guys don't get it. If I tell her, everything would be different. Our whole dynamic would change and I don't think I can handle that" Gracie rambles before she's cut off by Abby.

"Gracie, we know you have this fear of commitment but Y/n's so good for you. And she's completely in love with you, everyone can see it"

"Y/n is not in love with me. We're friends. Nothing more" Gracie corrects before they hear a knock at the door.

"That's her. You guys will not repeat a word of this to her. I mean it" She answers the door only for Weenie to jump at the girl on the other side.

"Hi Weenie! I missed you too!" Y/n says with a soft laugh that causes Gracie's cheeks to turn pink.

"You know who else I missed? Your owner! Hi Gracie" She says as she turns towards the taller girl, enveloping her in a hug.

"I missed you too" The brunette whispers as she pulls the shorter girl closer to her, relishing in the moment.

"So.. are we gonna watch twilight tonight?" Y/n asks with a wide grin as she pulls away from the hug.

"Yeah, obviously. Everything's already setup" Gracie replies with a smile reserved just for Y/n.

"Great! I just need to get a drink and then I'll be right there!" Y/n replies as Gracie walks back to the living room.

"Did you just smell her hair?" Abby questions with a laugh.

"What? No!" Gracie's face turns bright red at the accusation.

"Dude, you totally did! You're down bad!"

"Shut up!" Gracie exclaims as the shorter girl walks into the room, giving the group an odd look.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"No, nothing at all! Ready to start?" Gracie replies as the girl takes a seat next to her. Gracie presses play on the remote as Y/n cuddles into her side. She feels Abby and Audrey smirk at each other as she wraps her arm around Y/n, pulling her closer.

When the movie ends, Abby and Audrey are asleep while Y/n and Gracie are still cuddled up, watching the credits.

"Gracie? What are we?" Y/n asks suddenly as she looks up at the brunette.

"Huh? What do you mean? We're friends" Gracie chuckles in response.

"But we could be more. I don't want to be just friends with you. And I think you want more too" Gracie stays silent as she looks at the girl in shock.

"Or I'm just totally reading this all wrong. I'm sorry, I-I have to go" Y/n quickly grabs her stuff before rushing to the door.

"Y/n wait!" Gracie grabs the girls wrist as she reaches the door.

"No, I can't be here right now-" the shorter girl is cut off when she feels the brunettes lips gently push against her own. Y/n closes her eyes and wraps her arms around the taller girls neck, pulling her closer as Gracie's arms wrap around her waist.

"I’ve been waiting for this for so long” Gracie sighs as she pulls away.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Y/n asks with a big grin.

“I didn’t wanna mess up what we had! I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. I would have been with you any way you wanted me”

“Well, I’m waiting” Y/n responds as she looks up at the brunette.

“Y/n, I love you so much. Please be my lover?” Gracie asks, smiling when she hears the girl giggle at her Taylor Swift reference.

“Of course I will! Took you long enough” Y/n replies as she wraps Gracie up in another hug, wide grins on both their faces.

“Fucking finally! Can someone else start picking movies now?” Abby teases as she and Audrey watch the scene in front of them with wide smirks.

[starlightshadowsworld]

My thoughts on Bsd chapter 117

Spoilers below

I knew it!

Well not really but I knew Bram being here had something to do with Akutugawa. That's his godamn coat.

... Wait nooo.. Nooo! Fuck you don't make me watch Bram die again.

Aya trying to mean to lessen the blow. Bram feeling like he failed her. The flashbacks to his daughter...

"One day I'll carry you on my back"

Devastating how dare you.

Honestly considering how seriously Akutugawa keeps his promises, this seems like a good idea.

Ayyy Kunikida!

I do love how we're leaning into making Fukuchi some eldritch horror. Because fundamentally he should not exist.

Because it goes against everything. He is not of this world, of course his very existence fills you with dread.

I didn't think one look would take out Junichiro tho.

Kunikida filled with absolute terror and still having the strength to say what are you, fuck he's so cool.

Oh... Fukuchi can talk. Kinda ruins the vibe a little tbh but okay that's a choice.

"I am all. I am none." I am justice. I am the night. I am Batman.

I agree Kunikida what is going on at this airport? Everyone in Bsd talks about shit going on in the Train station but that is nothing compared to whatever this is.

Public transport man don't use it in this universe. Or any transport to be honest.

I love that Fyodor's just standing here not saying a word like okay fine you can have this one.

Ohhh ohh why did he sneak up on him ahhh nooo. Also you can't see one of Kunikida's hands and I am concerned.

Oh yeah this is the first time anyone in the Agency but Atsushi and Fukuzawa have dealt with Amenogozen.

Someone really should've told the others this fucker lives up to his name as the space time sword.

Atsushi you might wanna go the other way, whatevers going on there isn't looking so good.

Thank you Kunikida, see why don't we all just pack up our shit and leave.

"Tanizaki when I give the signal use your ability to escape"

You know this means whatever comes next is going to have everyone be like erm actually it could just be Junichiro's special ability.

Asagiri knows this fandom to well.

... AHHH!!!??!????? WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK

KUUNNNIIIKIIIIIDAAAAA!!!

That better have been Junichiro's ability I swear to God nooooo! OHH AND ATSUSHI GOT THERE TOO LATE

Whyyyy why would you do this?!

Ohhh his hands are melting I'm like actually crying.

I feel like this itself is a sign that those killed by Amenogozen can come back because no one dies in this series. Because there's no way Asagiri would just kill Kunikida off... I hope.

Atsushi grabbing Junichiro out of harms way like that must've been the hardest decision to make to go.

"Fantastic move"

He's so proud of them.

Very confusing statement from Fukuchi that this blade shouldn't be able to harm Kunikida(?) as it stabs him. I don't know what this line means, if it's meant to mean anything.

Literally paralleling lines to when we thought Kunikida died in the helicopter soo... I dunno what to think anymore.

Also during the helicopter thing, Kunikida essentially told Junichiro that he was in charge... And now Junichiro's had to watch him maybe die again.

The shot of his notebook on the ground is just foul.

Atsushi no it's not you're fault!

I share the sentiment Junichiro I really do.

... THE SWORDS ABOVE HIS HEAD WHATF THE HELL?!

And it ends.

I don't think they'll get Junichiro too but Atsushi was alone in the epilogue.... Oh no.

[j-eryewrites]

The Great Game (I)

Part 19 of the Arbitrary Lives of the Occupants of 221 B Baker St.

Word Count: ~12k

Previous | Next

SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTER LIST

Warnings: Canon typical violence, explosions, injuries, angst, Mycroft is Mycroft, Sherlock is Sherlock, murder, bomb threats, kidnappings, language, mentions of serial killers and murder (let me know if I have missed anything)

Author's Note: Man, this was such a long and fun chapter to write. After all, y'all did ask for full-course meals, so I present to you this chapter! NGL there will be mistakes...but I wanted to get this out as soon as possible. Lots of fun and angsty stuff happens, and I'm warning you again, it will get worse, but it will be so good when everything comes together! I hope you enjoy! I always appreciate reblogs and comments! I love hearing from you all!!

Sherlock was busy, or at least, he was trying to be. Busy meant his mind couldn’t stop to rest and if he didn’t have time to rest then it was a guaranteed way of avoiding everything: Y/N, feelings, boredom, feelings again, and then of course Y/N. That always how his thoughts seemed to run these days, both starting and ending with Y/N. 

“Just tell me what happened, from the beginning,” Sherlock sighed. 

It was a dreary place, the prison, and exactly like anyone would imagine: Gray, cold, and dreary. Yet this prison was where Sherlock’s next case was, well, he hoped so. 

“We'd been to a bar – a nice place – and, er, I got chattin' with one of the waitresses, and Karen weren't 'appy with that, so... when we get back to the 'otel, we end up havin' a bit of a ding-dong, don't we?” The man, named Berwick, sitting across from Sherlock explains. He’s in an orange jumpsuit which makes sense since he’s in prison. From a quick glance, Sherlock can tell he’s nervous with the way his hands fidget and flail around as he narrated his story to convince Sherlock to take the case. It was an argument already bound to fail, something Sherlock knew from the moment he sat down. 

“She was always gettin' at me, sayin' I weren't a real man!” Berwick exclaimed. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes as his ears bled from the misuse of words. “Wasn't a real man,” the consulting detective corrected.  

“-What?” Berwick asked. Everything on the man’s face told Sherlock that he did not have a clue as to what he was correcting. 

“It's not "weren't", it's "wasn't", Sherlock duly noted. 

“Oh.” Berwick’s voice got small. 

“Go on,” Sherlock said. 

Berwick nodded his head. “Well, then I dunno how it happened, but suddenly there's a knife in my hands. And, you know, me old man was a butcher, so I know how to handle knives. He learned us how to cut up a beast.”

Sherlock winced. “Taught.”

“What?” Berwick asked again at Sherlock’s interruption. 

Sherlock leaned slightly forward in the cold metal seat. “Taught you how to cut up a beast.” 

A tiny vein bulged out from Berwick’s forehead as his hand motions got more frantic. “Yeah, well, then-then I done it.”

His shoulders slumped and Sherlock fell back into his chair with disappointment. “Did it.” 

Berwick shoots out of his seat and slams his hands on the table between him and the detective. “Did it! Stabbed her... over and over and over, and I looked down and she weren't…” Sherlock eyes flashed with disapproval. “...wasn't movin' no more...anymore.” 

Sherlock nodded and at least he didn’t have to correct Berwick anymore.  

Sitting back down Berwick drew his hands together to plead with Sherlock. “You've gotta help me. I dunno how it happened, but it was an accident. I swear. You've gotta help me, Mr. Holmes!” 

With a deep breath in, Sherlock stands from his seat and begins to walk away from Berwick. 

“Everyone says you're the best. Without you, I'll get hung for this!” Berwick cried. 

Sherlock’s footsteps halted and he briefly looked at his shoulder. “No, no, no, Mr. Berwick, not at all. Hanged, yes.” Then without another word, Sherlock left to try and find another case to keep him busy. It was the only thing he could do if he didn’t want to think of her at all. 

_____

A sigh escaped the young woman’s lungs. It was a full body experience: her spine sunk, her shoulders slumped, and her head fell into her hands. She hurt everywhere, but what hurt the most was her heart. 

“I don’t know what to do anymore, John.” Y/N confessed to her friend next to her. She was on the brink of tears.  

By the inflection of her voice, John could tell there was a serious disturbance in Y/N’s character. Sitting a little straighter, he placed his right hand on her back, giving it a rub. “Start from the beginning,” John said, even though he already had an idea as to what placed Y/N in that particular mood. 

“I…I’m not really sure. I thought I had it under control. We were friends and I–”

She was going on a rant. Y/N tended to do these things when expressing herself. It was as if she could never find the right words, so in her mind, as long as she kept talking, maybe the right words would just come. 

“Y/N. Breathe,” John calmly stated. He was right. She did need to breathe, and so she did. “What did Sherlock do?” John asked. He thought that maybe a more direct question would help Y/N along. 

“He–He did everything and nothing,” Y/N explained. Her fingers tightened their hold on the strands of her hair as John patiently waited. After a particularly long exhale, Y/N finally answered. “He kissed me. He kissed me, John. I kissed back, because–” She faltered. 

John finished Y/N’s thought. “You like him.” 

With glassy eyes, Y/N peered up at John. He was one of her greatest friends since she came to England. He was there for her through thick and thin. He was a friend for life. “Yeah,” Y/N muttered. 

John sensed a hesitancy in the woman. “But…?”

Y/N sat up and glanced to the side. Her eyes trailing the other visitors of the park. She watched as people played with their dogs, children ran with glee, and old women gossiped. “He pushed me away. He left me there in that room and has hardly acknowledged that I exist since we got back. John, he’s…pushing me away and I don’t know why.” 

At that moment, John wished he could see into the great detective's mind. He wished every and all secrets that had ever crossed Sherlock’s mind would now be visible to him, just so he could ease Y/N’s pain. But he couldn’t. He was sure no one would ever know what happened inside Sherlock’s mind. So instead, John said, “I’m sorry.” Sniffling, Y/N replied telling John he didn’t need to apologize, but John just shook his head. “No, you need to know that what’s happening to you isn’t fair. When I say sorry, it’s to say you aren’t alone in this. I’m here for you, Mrs. Hudson is, hell, I’m even sure Lestrade would be willing to lend a shoulder for you.”

“Thank you,” Y/N said in a whisper. 

A peaceful silence fell over the two of them. The park bench was the perfect place for them to get away from the chaos that was Sherlock. On the park bench, they could think without being criticized and feel without being judged. Both John and Y/N cared for Sherlock, but sometimes, they needed to be cared about too. They needed to not feel alone and ostracized from the brilliant mind that was their friend. 

Together they hoped that maybe one day, they could find solace in Sherlock. That one day his brain wouldn’t come in the way of his heart and soul. Maybe together, all three of them, Sherlock, John, and Y/N would never feel alone again. 

_____

Being welcomed home to the sound of gunshots wasn’t exactly what John and Y/N had planned on but expected altogether. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” John scolded Sherlock the second he reached their flat. 

There Sherlock sat in his chair. His knees rose higher than the cushion he sat on. One hand hung lazily over the side, and in the other he held a gun. Still in his pajamas from the night before, Sherlock briefly glanced over at John. “Bored,” he enunciated. 

“What?” John asked. He couldn’t hear Sherlock clearly with the last gunshot echoing in his ears. 

“Bored!” Sherlock yelled before raising his arm to fire another shot. 

“No!” John cried as he saw another whole form in the wall. 

“Bored! Bored!” Sherlock bellowed again. Each time he said the word, he took another shot at the wall of his apartment. 

“Sherlock!” Y/N yelled as the gunshot rang throughout the apartment. Then pinching the bridge of her nose, she held out her hand to Sherlock, waiting for the gun. When he reluctantly placed it in her hand, she mumbled to herself. “I thought I hid all the guns…” 

“You didn’t hide them very well, Y/N. You have a tell.” Y/N shared an exasperated look with Sherlock, who ignored her. “Don't know what's got into the criminal classes. Good job, I'm not one of them.”

John ground his teeth together. “So, you take it out on the wall!”

“Ah,” Sherlock shrugged. “The wall had it coming.”

Feeling the peace, he received from his time with Y/N vanished, John decided to change the subject. “What about that Russian case?”

Sherlock got up from his seat and marched over to the couch before plopping down as if it was his bed. “Belarus. Open and shut domestic murder. Not worth my time.”

John fought the urge to roll his eyes as he made his way over to the fridge. “Ah, shame!” Opening the door, he continued. “Anything in? I'm starving. Oh, fu…” John muttered. 

Y/N whipped her head around to look at John. “John, what is it?” 

“It's a head. A severed head!” John felt like crying now. 

“A what?!” Y/N responded. “A head?” She walked over to the fridge and felt her stomach turn. “Oh god…Sherlock.”

“Just tea for me, thanks,” Sherlock said at the sound of his name. 

Now John rolled his eyes. “No, there's a head in the fridge!”

“Yes,” Sherlock replied.  

“A bloody head!” John flipped his arms into the air and then shut the fridge door. 

“Well, where else was I supposed to put it? You don't mind, do you?” Sherlock asked. 

“Of course, he minds, Sherlock. Just look at him. Where’d you get it from anyway?” Y/N questioned. 

 Without sitting up from his lying position on the couch, Sherlock answered. “I got it from Bart's morgue. I'm measuring the coagulation of saliva after death.”

Muttering curses and pleas, John turned away from the fridge and found a seat in his armchair. He quickly pulled his laptop into his lap and opened it. 

“I see you've written up the taxi driver case,” Sherlock commented. 

Y/N clenched her eyes shut at the memory of that case. 

“Er... yes,” John replied. 

“A Study in Pink. Nice!” Sherlock said and John wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or a mark of disgust and disapproval. John hoped it was a compliment. 

“Well, you know, pink lady, pink case, pink phone,” John explained. “There was a lot of pink. Did you like it?”

“Um... no,” Sherlock stated. 

“Why not? I thought you'd be flattered," John said. 

“Flattered?” This irked Sherlock. Sitting up from his seat he turned to look at John. There was a flash of hurt within his eyes as he recited John’s post. "Sherlock sees through everything and everyone in seconds. What's incredible, though, is how spectacularly ignorant he is about some things." 

John was supposed to be his friend, yet he wrote something so harsh. It was something Sherlock knew well and that plagued his very being. It was the one of the reasons he had left her in that room. He had left Y/N there making his lips grow cold from wanting her. He knew he was ignorant in the ways of love. The very ways that Jim, her boyfriend, was able to give. Afterall, he was perfect, and Sherlock was not. 

“Now hang on a minute. I didn't mean that in a…” John tried to explain.

“Oh, you meant "spectacularly ignorant" in a nice way! Look, it doesn't matter to me who's Prime Minister…” Sherlock barked. He was angry and hurt. He was angry at himself for kissing her. He was hurt by John. He was hurt that he couldn’t love Y/N. However, Sherlock couldn’t say that. At least not now, so he released his anger, frustration, and fury through another source.  “...or who's sleeping with who... Whether the Earth goes round the Sun…It's not important.”

John was shocked. “Not impor...?! It's primary school stuff. How can you not know that?”

“Well, if I ever did, I've deleted it," Sherlock spat. 

"Deleted it?” Y/N questioned. 

“Listen. This is my hard drive,” Sherlock pointed to his mind. “And it only makes sense to put things in there that are useful... really useful. Ordinary people fill their heads with all kinds of rubbish, and that makes it hard to get at the stuff that matters. Do you see?”

“But it's the solar system!” John exclaimed. 

“Oh, hell! What does that matter?!” Sherlock began to rage. "So, we go round the Sun! If we went round the Moon, or round and round the garden like a teddy bear, it wouldn't make any difference. All that matters to me is the work. Without that, my brain rots. Put that in your blog. Or better still, stop inflicting your opinions on the world!” 

Without a word, John opened the door to the apartment and left. His footsteps seemed louder as they pounded on the wooden staircase. 

“Where are you going?” Sherlock demanded. 

“John…,” Y/N called out. 

At the sound of Y/N’s voice, John turned around. “Out. I need some air.” He saw the look of pity on her face, but he knew in her eyes there was understanding. Suddenly, he bumped into something. He quickly glanced at the source and found Mrs. Hudson. 'Scuse me, Mrs... 

“Oh, sorry, love!” She chuckled. 

“Sorry,” John apologized before heading down the rest of the stairs and out the door. 

A mix between a sigh and a groan left Y/N’s mouth as she watched John’s disappearing figure. She whipped around to Sherlock and sent him a glare before busying herself with things in the kitchen. 

Mrs. Hudson entered the room and took one look at her grand-niece and Sherlock. “Ooh-ooh! Have you two had a little domestic?” There was silence after her comment. Quickly, Mrs. Hudson changed the subject to John. “–Ooh, it's a bit nippy out there. He should have wrapped himself up a bit more.”

Sherlock huffed and bounced out of his seat before stepping to the window. His long fingers drew back the curtain to watch John cross the street below. “Look at that, Mrs. Hudson. Quiet, calm, peaceful.” Sherlock sighed. “Isn't it hateful?”

“A little quiet and calm won’t kill you, Sherlock,” Y/N hissed over her shoulder. 

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed on the young woman’s figure. The look wasn’t one of distaste like Mrs. Hudson was expecting. Instead, Sherlock’s blue eyes seemed to be longing for something. Mrs. Hudson softly smiled to herself. She knew that look well. Afterall, it is the very look all the young men in her romantic dramas had in their eyes when gazing upon their love interests. 

“Oh… Oh, I'm sure something'll turn up, Sherlock. A nice murder – that'll cheer you up,” Mrs. Hudson said. 

Sherlock glanced away from Y/N. “Can't come too soon,” he muttered. 

Mrs. Hudson smiled fondly at Sherlock and Y/N. Her mind began to flood with ideas on how to bring them together when she noticed new holes in her walls. “Hey. What've you done to my bloody wall?!” Sherlock’s smirk did not go unnoticed by Mrs. Hudson or Y/N. “I'm putting this on your rent, young man!”

Then, just like John had left, Mrs. Hudson returned to her flat. 

Sherlock was still standing by the window. His back was now turned to Y/N, but even so, she could still sense his ever-cocky smirk. 

“Don’t.” Y/N’s hand’s stilled as her voice pleaded. 

“Don’t?” Sherlock asked. His body now faced her. 

“Don’t,” Y/N repeated. She sent him a warning glare. 

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock began to approach her. “I’m bored,” he said with a precise enunciation. 

Y/N scoffed and took a few steps closer to Sherlock. “That’s not an excuse, Sherlock.” She raised her hands in frustration before dropping them by her side. She was now standing only a few steps away from him and his captivating blue eyes. Y/N shook her head and turned away towards the window. “You’re not the on–”

There it was. A deafening roar that broke the conversation as a sudden explosion ripped through the air. The force of the blast shattered the frail windows of 221B with a thunderous crash. Shards of glass were sent flying in every direction: down onto the streets below, on the wooden floor of the apartment, and deep into the skin of Y/N and Sherlock. The two of them were thrown off their feet with such a force that sent them flying. Furniture toppled over and the walls seemed to tremble with the shockwave of the explosion. 

Alarms blared, smoke filled the arm, people screamed, at least that is what Y/N would have heard if she could hear. Her head was ringing, screaming, pounding, and bleeding all at once. She felt immense pain coursing through her body as she tried to push herself off the floor. Then there was Sherlock. He hovered above her. Y/N’s dazed eyes watched the fear in Sherlock grow. His mouth opened and closed over and over. She couldn’t hear him. 

Meanwhile, Sherlock felt powerless as the fear and vulnerability washed over him. One minute he was conversing with her and the next her they were on the floor. It was the blood he saw first. The dark red liquid spilled from where the shards of glass imbedded themselves into her skin. He crawled over to her, and said the only thing he could, her name. Sherlock said it like a prayer and a plea. Then she moved, the pain evident in her face as she tried to sit up. The sight of her moving did little to stop Sherlock from rushing to her. He pulled her in close and into the safety of his embrace. 

The tremors in the 221 B Baker Street stilled and the kicked up dust fell back down to the floor. There they would sit, Y/N and Sherlock, holding on to each other like a life line. If they were to let go, they were confident they’d both break into a thousand pieces. So, there they would sit until the sound of police sirens and ambulances came cascading down the street to the rescue. 

______ 

The scent of old leather and perfume filled John’s nose as the light of the morning flooded his senses as the curtains drew back with a sharp screech. 

“Morning!” Sarah’s voice called out cheerfully. 

John winced as he sat up. He carefully turned his head back and forth, finally discovering where his pain came from, his neck. “Oh, mor... Morning,” John groaned. 

Sarah chuckled. “See? Told you you should've gone with the lilo.”

Shaking his head in refusal, John replied, “No, no, no, it's fine. I-I slept fine. It's very kind of you.”

“Well, maybe next time I'll let you kip at the end of my bed, you know,” Sarah joked. 

Smiling John, continued on with the joke. “What about the time after that?”

Sarah rolled her eyes playfully before reaching to turn on the telly.  The news flashed onto the box-like screen and the clear voice of the anchor woman spoke out. “Experts are hailing it as the artistic find of the century. The last time…”

For a moment, the two of them focused their attention on the telly to see if there was anything newsworthy before tuning it out as the morning background noise. 

“So, d'you want some breakfast?” Sarah asked. 

John sighed before turning back to look up at Sarah. “Love some.” 

Patting her hand on John’s shoulder, Sarah began to walk away. “Yeah, well you'd better make it yourself, 'cause I'm gonna have a shower!” 

Now it was John’s turn to roll his eyes with a hint of amusement. With his neck still horrifically sore, John decided he could wait a few minutes before starting up breakfast, instead, he turned his attention back to the telly. His hand took up the remote and turned up the volume. 

“...it fetched over twenty million pounds.  This one is anticipated to do even better. Back now to our main story. There's been a massive explosion in central London. As yet, there are no reports of any casualties, and the police are unable to say if there is any suspicion of terrorist involvement.”

Suddenly a dreadfully familiar street flashed upon the screen. It was Baker street, but not the street he had left the night before. No, this street was in disarray: Broken glass, ambulances and police cars, debris, fires, the list went on and John couldn’t bear to look at the screen any longer. 

“Sarah!” John yelled. He could hear the sound of water pouring out of the shower head. 

“Police have issued an emergency number…” The television continued to play. 

“Sarah!” John yelled again. His voice now echoed throughout the apartment. 

“...for friends and relatives…” The news broadcast interrupted. 

“Sorry! I've got to run!” John said before he dashed out the door hailing a cab to Baker Street. 

____

Panic coursed through John’s veins like blood. Even so, John still remained the polite gentleman his mother raised him to be. “'Scuse me, can I get through? 'Scuse me.” 

For the aftermath of an explosion there were an awful lot of people. Some of which John believed were intrigued by the destruction as if it was some sort of entertainment. 

“Can I go through?” He asked impatiently once he reached the police line. The officer standing guard shook his head. “I live over there.” John frantically pointed to the 221 B Baker Street and the officer reluctantly let him through. 

Nodding his head to nearby officers, John weaved between the chaos finally coming to the black door. It was truly a sight for sore eyes. Immediately, John opened the door, and darted up the stairs. “Sherlock. Sherlock!” John called out to his best friend. 

There was a sharp pizzicato note. Sherlock sat unamused in his chair with an annoyed expression plastered onto his face. His violin was still in pristine condition as he plucked the strings. 

“John,” Sherlock acknowledged. His attention was elsewhere. 

“I saw it on the telly,” John said out of breath.  “Are you okay? Where’s Y/N?”

“Here…” the woman groaned. She was holding an ice pack to her head. “...and I’m alright.”

John’s brows creased at her disheveled state. “Sherlock?” 

Sherlock blinked, bringing his attention to John. “Hmm? What? Oh, yeah. Fine. Gas leak, apparently.” He played another note of annoyance on the instrument and turned back to John's chair. John tilted his head in confusion, the chair was occupied. “I can't,” Sherlock said to the person in the chair. 

"Can't?” It was Mycroft. John would recognize that voice anywhere.  

“The stuff I've got on is just too big. I can't spare the time,” Sherlock explained. His eyes narrowed as they glanced over at Y/N. “Maybe ask your spy.”

Y/N let out a defeated sigh and clenched her eyes shut. “Sherlock… for the last time–” 

“Am I wrong?” Sherlock interrupted as he lowered his violin.  His grip on the bow in his other hand tightened. “You are under my brother’s employment afterall to…spy on me.” There was a nasty tone in his voice that made John shudder. 

“What?” John asked. His eyes darted between Sherlock, Y/N, and Mycroft for an explanation. 

“John, did you know Y/N took my brother’s deal? The very one you were offered when you first moved into Baker Street?”

“No, but–”

“She’s been spying on me ever since,” Sherlock spat. 

“Sherlock,” Y/N pleaded and the sight forced Sherlock to turn his gaze away from the woman. It hurt more than he thought it would seeing her like that, but he had to. She had hurt him just as much by conspiring with his brother. 

Mycroft rolled his eyes at his younger brother’s antics. “Oh, never mind this usual trivia. Sherlock, this is of national importance.”

The sound of Sherlock’s violin picked up again. “How's the diet?” He asked his brother. 

“Fine,” Mycroft said. He turned to John who was still standing in the entrance of the apartment. “Perhaps you can get through to him, John.”

“What?” John asked. 

“I'm afraid my brother can be very intransigent,” Mycroft noted and he flashed a tense smile on his face.  

“If you're so keen,” Sherlock questioned, “why don't you investigate it?”

Mycroft shook his head, the smile was still present on his face, but it was anything but pleasant. “No, no, no, no, no. I can't possibly be away from the office for any length of time – not with the Korean elections so...well, you don't need to know about that, do you? Besides, a case like this – it requires... legwork.” He eyed his brother’s long legs. 

A flat note rang in the air and Sherlock’s jaw tensed. “Sounds like a perfect job for Y/N.”

Y/N’s teeth dug into her lip leaving an iron taste in her mouth. “I’m getting a migraine,” she whispered. The growing ache in her mind could be from a matter of things; The recent explosion, how Sherlock had held onto her for hours after the event and now wouldn’t even look at her without disdain in his glossy blue eyes, or the increasing stress levels caused by her newly discovered feelings for the consulting detective. It all was growing too much and she felt like she’d drown in the sea of it all with no one to save her. 

“How's Sarah, John? How was the lilo?” Sherlock abruptly asked his friend.  

“Sofa, Sherlock,” Mycroft corrected. “It was the sofa.”

Sherlock widened his eyes at his brother’s word. “Oh yes, of course.”

Meanwhile John was still trying to process Sherlock’s new animosity towards Y/N, the explosion, the presence of Mycroft, and how they knew he slept on the sofa. “How...? Oh, never mind.” Sherlock’s and his brother’s skills still amazed John despite the lengthy time he had known them. However, being on the receiving end of such skills wasn’t quite so delightful. 

Mycroft shuffled around in his seat and his posture began even straighter, if that was possible. His calculating eyes fell on Y/N. She had made herself small. Her legs were drawn in close to her chest and her head rested on her knees. Her eyes casted aside staring at one of the only undamaged spots on the wall. They were filled with utter misery. Mycroft felt like he should pity her, but he had better things to be worrying about than his brother’s sweetheart. It was obvious to Mycroft what his brother felt for the young woman and it wasn’t ideal. Sherlock was supposed to be free from all the trivial stuff that is accompanied by love, but it seemed no matter how hard Mycroft worked, the damned thing still snuck into his brother’s life and it appeared like he was partially to blame. Afterall, he had paid the woman to check in on Sherlock. 

“Sherlock's business seems to be booming since you and he became... pals.” Y/N’s shoulders tensed as she continued to ice the injury on her head. “What's he like to live with? Hellish, I imagine,” Mycroft mentioned. 

“I'm never bored,” she replied.  

“Good! “ Mycroft beamed, this smile resembled something a bit more real. “That's good, isn't it?”  Suddenly he stood up and handed a file to John, whose hands unconsciously held onto it. “Andrew West, known as Westie to his friends. A civil servant,” Mycroft explained, “found dead on the tracks at Battersea Station this morning with his head smashed in.”

John opened the file and took a quick peek at the crime scene photos. “Jumped in front of a train?” He guessed from the gruesome scene depicted in the photos: A man lay dead with his eyes wide open next to train tracks. He shook the imagery from his brain before peeking up at Mycroft. 

“Seems like a logical assumption,” Mycroft muttered. 

John recognized that tone. It was the same one Sherlock had when he made an incorrect observation. “But...?”

"But?” Mycroft encouraged. 

“Well, you wouldn't be here if it was just an accident,” John promptly said. It was the best response he could muster until he had something more. It was better to be vague than incorrect.  

Mycroft smiled at John’s words. “The MoD is working on a new missile defence system, the Bruce-Partington Program, it's called.” John nodded. “The plans for it were on a memory stick.” 

“That wasn't very clever,” Y/N added, the small comment brought a bit of light into her eyes. 

“It's not the only copy,” Mycroft told the woman. 

“Oh,” she apologetically said and the light was gone as fast as it came, replaced by sorrow.  

“But it is secret. And missing.”

“Top secret?” John asked, already knowing the answer. Afterall, Mycroft was the British government in person. 

“Very,” Mycroft replied. “We think West must have taken the memory stick. We can't possibly risk it falling into the wrong hands. You've got to find those plans, Sherlock. Don't make me order you.” 

“I'd like to see you try,” Sherlock challenged. A cunning smirk grew on his face as his eyes were lit with a defiant fire. It raged on as he stared at Mycroft.  

“Think it over,” Mycroft tensely said, moving his gaze from his brother. It was not a fight he would win now, not with Sherlock still aggressive from his latest discovery. “Goodbye, John. Goodbye, Y/N. See you very soon.”

Sherlock huffed once his brother disappeared from view before he raised his bow with strict accuracy and began to loudly play the same phrase of music over and over. 

“Why'd you lie?” John had to yell over the music. “You've got nothing on – not a single case. That's why the wall took a pounding. Why did you tell your brother you were busy?” 

“Why shouldn't I?” Sherlock shrugged. He brought the bow close to his face, pretending to examine the thin horse hairs strewn together. 

“Oh! Oh, I see. Sibling rivalry. Now we're getting somewhere,” John grumbled. “What happened between you two?” John pointed between Sherlock and Y/N. 

Sherlock just glowered in response. Y/N pinched the back of her neck letting out a defeated exhale. 

“He found out I took Mycroft’s deal to check in on him.”

“A spy. You’re a spy,” Sherlock spat. The fire in his eyes in his gaze from Mycroft’s presence diminished. John knew Sherlock was furious at his brother, not at Y/N. She was the ‘spy’ but it was Mycroft who was truly at fault in Sherlock’s mind. His blue eyes shivered as they admired Y/N. John internally smiled knowing a physical one would only gain Sherlock’s annoyance. He could see the reflection of yearning in Sherlock’s ocean eyes. They often say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, and now John felt like he could truly see inside Sherlock’s soul. It was battered and bruised from the years empty from the light of sentiment. Now, with Y/N in view those bruises had faded, no longer an angry blue and purple, but a warm yellow. He was healing in her loving presence. She made him feel safe. Sherlock didn’t have to say it, John already knew. In his mind, John recalled all the times she was there for him, holding his hand or shutting down any harsh comment aimed in Sherlock’s direction. The longer Sherlock gazed at Y/N, the warm feeling in John’s heart only grew stronger. Sherlock was in love with Y/N. But Sherlock was an idiot. Love was strong but Sherlock’s lunacy appeared to be stronger.  

“No, I’m not. I’m just a messenger for a concerned brother,” Y/N replied. “And for your information I took the deal before I really even knew you. I wouldn’t even think about–” 

Sherlock played the strings louder. 

“Agh!” She groaned in frustration. Then Y/N clenched her hands into fists and raised them into the air before pushing herself off the couch. She brushed past John with a sad look in her eyes that made his heart suffocate at her predicament and in the blink of an eye the sound of her apartment door slamming shut echoed throughout the building. 

“Are you happy with yourself?” John angrily questioned Sherlock, but Sherlock ignored John’s presence. Instead, the consulting detective had discarded his violin and now occupied himself with his phone. 

“Sherlock Holmes,” he said over the phone. “Of course. How could I refuse?” With a click the call was over and an inferno of intrigue was lit in his blue eyes. He whipped around to face John. “ Lestrade,” Sherlock explained. “I've been summoned. Coming?”

No, John wanted to say. His anger at Sherlock’s actions and the disheartened state he consistently had been leaving Y/N as of late made him want to run and comfort her. John wanted to grab Sherlock by the collar and scold him for being so blind. He wanted to pry open Sherlock’s heart and deliver it to Y/N. He wanted them to no longer hurt. There were so many things John wanted for his two best friends. Yet John knew if he went to Y/N, Sherlock would tag along only resulting in more hurt for the two of them. It was in his nature for Sherlock to find Y/N. No matter how much the infuriatingly intelligent man wanted to deny it, he was drawn to her, seeking her out wherever he was. “If you want me to,” John defeatingly said. 

“Of course,” Sherlock replied as he flicked the collar of his coat up. “I'd be lost without my blogger and—” He didn’t finish his thought, but it didn’t take a genius to know who else he was going to say. It didn’t take cunning and wits for John to figure out that Sherlock would be lost, and is lost without her, his Y/N.  Yet here was Sherlock leading himself astray when he knew all paths would lead to her, and for once in all the time John had known Sherlock, he knew the man was truly insane. 

_____

Greg Lestrade was supposed to have the week off. He planned on taking a nice trip to visit his mother and father in the countryside and take a break from Sherlock Holmes and everything that seemed to follow the man. Greg was supposed to get some sleep for once in his life and maybe enjoy a few home-made meals instead of take-out dishes and frozen dinners. This time off seemed too good to be true, and it was. Rather than spending quality time with his elderly parents in the home of his childhood, Greg sat in his office filled to the brim with case files. The phones hadn’t stopped ringing since the explosion the other day. It was getting annoying, and now Sherlock had arrived, Greg’s workload got even bigger. 

“You like the funny cases, don't you? The surprising ones,” Lestrade asked Sherlock. It was a rhetorical question. The strange cases were always the ones Sherlock solved for Scotland Yard. 

“Obviously.” Sherlock rolled his eyes. 

“You've love this. That explosion... Where’s Y/N?” Lestrade peered around Sherlock and John hoping to catch sight of the third companion. He had only known the young woman for a few months, but she soon became ingrained in the chaos of it all. A slight frown appeared on his face, when he realized she was absent. She was the only glimpse of normal he could find around here, and now she was nowhere to be found. 

“Traitor,” Sherlock muttered. Lestrade sent John a questioning look to which John only shrugged. 

“Alright…anyways, that explosion–” Lestrade continued. 

“Gas leak, yes?” Sherlock phrased it more like a statement than a question. 

“No,” Lestrade corrected. 

Sherlock looked puzzled. He was hardly ever wrong. “No?”

“No. Made to look like one,” Lestrade explained. 

John’s eyes widened. “What?” He felt a pounding in his chest. It was an animosity he had never felt before, and it only grew stronger with each hit. Someone had purposefully hurt his family. His best friends. His home. 

“Hardly anything left of the place except a strong box,” Lestrade said. “A very strong box and inside it was this.” He raised up an envelope. On the well-kept paper, the name ‘Sherlock Holmes’ was carefully scribed. 

“You haven't opened it?” Sherlock questioned. He eyed the envelope with intrigue. The same anger in John was a light in Sherlock.  

Lestrade shook his head. “It's addressed to you, isn't it? We've X-rayed it. It's not booby-trapped.” 

“How reassuring!” Sherlock replied, his voice full of sarcasm. He snatched the envelope out of Greg’s hand and held it close to the light. His eyes narrowed as he observed every detail about the seemingly simple letter.  “Nice stationery. Bohemian,” he noted. 

“What?” Lestrade asked. 

“From the Czech Republic,” Sherlock specified.  “No fingerprints?”

“No,” Lestrade replied. 

Straightening up, Sherlock lowered the envelope. “She used a fountain pen. A Parker Duo fold, iridium nib.”

"She?” John repeated. His tone was full of disbelief. 

“Obviously,” Sherlock said. He was a man of few words today. His mind was elsewhere. The explosion, the gas leak was purposeful. He was a target, and so was she. Y/N. He had to keep her safe. It was a foreign feeling, his mind being filled by his desire for her safety rather than the thrill of the case, and no matter how much Sherlock fought it, the desire only grew stronger. 

“Obviously!” John grunted in defeat. Without a warning, Sherlock tore the envelope open revealing the contents inside. A block of pink slipped out the envelope and sent John into a shock. “But that... That's the phone. The pink phone.”

“What, from the Study in Pink?” Lestrade wondered with eyes just as wide as John’s. 

“Well, obviously it's not the same phone but it's supposed to look like…” Sherlock mumbled before tilting his head to face Lestrade. “The Study in Pink? You read his blog?” 

“Course I read his blog! We all do. D'you really not know that the Earth goes round the Sun?” Lestrade genuinely asked and a wave of vile snickers echoed throughout the office. Sherlock’s shoulder’s tensed and his hand ached for the comfort of another–Of Y/N. Sherlock wished she was there, but he couldn’t–no shouldn’t be wishing for that. Sherlock closed his eyes; everything was all too complicated.  

“It isn't the same phone. This one's brand new,” Sherlock noted once he returned his focus to the present case. 

“Someone's gone to a lot of trouble to make it look like the same phone,” John mentioned, and he looked over Sherlock’s shoulder at the device. 

“Which means your blog has a far wider readership,” Sherlock muttered, and John gulped. John was proud of his work, but knowing a criminal who meant his family harm was reading it was almost too much to bear. 

Turning on the pink device, the screen came to life and an automated voice spoke. “You have one new message.” Then five beeps followed after. 

“Is that it?” John asked after hearing the beeping.  

Sherlock frowned, but then a photo appeared on the tiny screen. “No. That's not it.”

“What the hell are we supposed to make of that?” Lestrade gasped looking at the photo. It was a room: practically pristine with everything cleaned and stored away. In all honesty, it looked like something out of a housing catalog. “An estate agent's photo and the bloody Greenwich pips!”

While Lestrade threw a fit, Sherlock found his voice stolen away. His lungs collapsed as his eyes scanned over the photo. This feeling was one he hadn’t felt in awhile. A feeling he hoped to never feel again. The very one that encapsulated his soul the night in the museum during the Blind Banker case. As he looked at the picture, Sherlock realized that he knew this place, yet it wasn’t the place that brought a momentary lapse in his composure. It was where the photo was. “It's a warning,” Sherlock whispered. 

“A warning?” John asked. 

“Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips, things like that,” Sherlock explained. “Five pips. They're warning us it's gonna happen again. I know where that is. Let’s go.” With shaky hands, Sherlock pocketed the phone. 

By the time John had processed Sherlock’s words the man had already left Lestrade’s office. “H-hang on,” John called after Sherlock. “What's gonna happen again?”

When Sherlock looked back at John, there was the terror of uncertainty reflected in his eyes. Cases like these typically excited Sherlock, making John doubt the fear in Sherlock’s eyes. Sherlock was hardly ever scared.  Yet Sherlock’s response only confirmed John’s observations. Sherlock Holmes was terrified. 

____

“Mrs. Hudson!” Sherlock bellowed the moment he returned home to Baker Street. In tow followed John. 

“Yes dear?” Sherlock felt a slight feeling of relief when Mrs. Hudson peeked her head out of her apartment. The elder woman’s eyes smiled at the young detective until she locked onto his trajectory, and she stepped out blocking his path. “No, Sherlock. She doesn’t want to talk to you–” 

Sherlock brushed her aside. “The door's open,” he announced to John.  

“Oh! Men!” Mrs. Hudson said wringing her hands in the air with frustration. She caught sight of John. “Make sure he doesn’t do anything–”

“Stupid?” John finished. “I’m way ahead of you Mrs. Hudson.” Then quickly he ran after Sherlock to Y/N’s apartment.

There was a loudly hissing sound when they entered. Bjørn was furious with the intrusion of Sherlock Holmes and so was the cat’s owner. He growled as Sherlock strolled into Y/N’s apartment like he owned the place. His strides were long and quick as he approached the closed room in the back of the flat: Y/N’s spare room.

“Christ Sherlock! What are you–” Y/N gasped as the man intruded into her home. Her patience for Sherlock was running thin. 

Sherlock stopped in his tracks at the sound of Y/N’s voice. He stood frozen ignorant of the angry cat. His eyes only saw one thing, Y/N. The fear and anxiety that had piled up on his journey back to Baker Street dissipated at the sight of her. Now that he gazed upon her, Sherlock knew he couldn’t live without her in his presence. It was if his eyes were crafted to only look at her. In this trance, Sherlock stood watching her as the confusion appeared on her face. 

“Sherlock, what’s going on?” Y/N asked. Just as her voice drew him into her spell, her words pulled him back out. 

“He's a bomber, remember," John cautioned everyone as he appeared in Y/N’s doorway. 

“Does anyone care to fill me in on anything?” Y/N looked around at the two men. None of them answered. Sherlock, now free from her spell, turned back to the spare room. He trekked over to the door and swung it open. 

It was a neatly organized room despite the cardboard boxes shoved in the corner. The walls matched those in the living room. Everything had a place, except for one thing. In the center of the room sat a pair of shoes. Shoes that hadn’t been there before. 

 “Sherlock what are you doing?”  Y/N hurried on after him. “Why are you–how’d those get there?” 

“That’s exactly my question.” Sherlock stepped away from the door and approached the shoes. He carefully took a step closer and closer until he deemed the shoes no threat. 

“They’re shoes,” John muttered. “Are they yours?” 

“Not mine. I don’t even know how they got here,” Y/N whispered. “Now do you mind explaining things to me. What about the bomber?”

Before any of them could answer Y/N, the phone in Sherlock’s pocket buzzed. He quickly retrieved it, placing it on speaker. 

“Hello,” A soft voice said followed by ragged breathing. 

“Hello?” Sherlock replied. 

“H-hello... sexy,” the voice said. There was a sniffle. The voice, whoever it belonged to began to cry.

“Who's this?” Sherlock demanded. 

A sob from the phone echoed around the room. “I've... sent you... a little puzzle... just to say hi.”

“Who's talking? Why are you crying?” Sherlock listened as the woman over the phone continued to cry. 

“I-I'm not... crying… I'm typing....and this... stupid... bitch... is reading it out.” 

Y/N gasped and raised a hand to cover her mouth. She had seen many things working with Sherlock. Being held hostage was something she knew well. It was an experience she never wished on anyone, and an experience she’d never be able to forget. John felt Y/N’s demeanor change and offered his hand as comfort. She gratefully grabbed his hand squeezing it tight as she fought off the terrors of memory. 

“The curtain rises,” Sherlock whispered as if he was connecting the dots. 

“What?” John wondered.

Sherlock shook his head. “Nothing,” he responded.  

“No, what did you mean?” John urged Sherlock to answer. 

“I've been expecting this for some time,” Sherlock said. Y/N’s hand squeezed John’s tighter. The sight made Sherlock tense. 

“Twelve hours to solve... my puzzle, Sherlock” the crying woman read. “...or I'm going... to be... so naughty.” The call had ended. 

“So, who d'you suppose it was?” John was the first to speak after the concerning call. 

“Hmm?” Sherlock quizzically raised his brow up. His mind was still focused on Y/N’s hand in John’s and not his. 

John blinked. “The woman on the phone – the crying woman,” he mentioned.  

“Oh, she doesn't matter.” Sherlock waved his hand as if to brush away the anxiousness John felt for the hostage. “She's just a hostage. No lead there.” 

Y/N released John’s hand and her jaw hung open with shock. “Sherlock! John wasn't thinking about leads.”

“You're not going to be much use to her,” Sherlock shrugged. 

“Really? Sherloc–” Y/N scoffed.

“I need a lab,” Sherlock mumbled before walking out of the room with the shoes in hand. “Come on, Y/N! John!” 

Taking in a deep breath, Y/N and John shared an expressionless look. They were worried with all of this new information. What did Sherlock mean he was expecting this? What about the bomber and the shoes? There were too many questions and little to no answers to be found. With the look, an uneasy feeling made their stomachs churn. They felt sick, but there was no turning back now. A case needed to be solved. A woman’s life was on the line as well as the potential for more tragedy and destruction. 

“We’re coming Sherlock!”

____

John paced around the lab with his arms crossed over his chest. “Are-are they trying to trace it, trace the call?” 

“The bomber's too smart for that,” Sherlock boredly said before holding his hand out.  “Pass me my phone.”

“Where is it?” John asked as his eyes darted around the room looking for the small cellular device. 

“Jacket,” Sherlock replied. John’s shoulders slumped. Sherlock was wearing his jacket. Biting the inside of his cheek, John reached for Sherlock’s pocket. 

“Careful,” Sherlock cautioned without taking his eyes away from the microscope.  

John rolled his eyes as his fingers carefully brushed over Sherlock’s phone. “Text from your brother,” John announced. 

Sherlock let out a disappointed grunt. “Delete it.”

“Delete it?” John questioned. 

“Missile plans are out of the country now,” Sherlock noted. “Nothing we can do about it.” 

John huffed. “Well, Mycroft thinks there is. He's texted you eight times. Must be important.” He turned the phone around to flash Sherlock the screen. Sherlock didn’t look up from the microscope. 

“Then why didn't he cancel his dental appointment?” Sherlock muttered. 

“His what?” John asked. His eyes widened and he peered back at the phone. How had Sherlock known?

As if sensing John’s doubt, Sherlock began to explain. “Mycroft never texts if he can talk. Look, Andrew West stole the missile plans, tried to sell them, got his head smashed in for his pains. End of story. The only mystery is this: why is my brother so determined to bore me when somebody else is being so delightfully interesting?”

John just stared at Sherlock before reluctantly deleting the text messages. 

Immediately after the messages on Sherlock’s phone disappeared, Y/N’s phone buzzed. “Sherlock. He’s texting me now.”

Sherlock looked up from the microscope at Y/N. “Then maybe think next time before agreeing to my brother’s antics. Now shut up. I need silence.” He winced at his words upon seeing the pang of hurt in her face. He wasn’t planning on them coming out so harsh, yet they were already spoken. 

“Really?!” Y/N scoffed. All the pain in her expression vanished and was replaced with an unknown yet terrifying look. John shivered and he was glad he wasn’t on the receiving end.  “Alright then! John. I’m off to the bathroom to cool down before I murder him.” She reached for her coat, before stomping out the door. 

Once the door had clicked shut, John turned to Sherlock. “Try and remember there's a woman here who might die,” he hissed. 

“What for?” Sherlock impatiently said.  “This hospital's full of people dying, Doctor. Why don't you go and cry by their bedside and see what good it does them?” Sherlock didn’t give John’s stunned expression any thought as the machine next to him beeped. “Ah! He exclaimed. 

Suddenly a young brunette entered the room with an adoring smile on her face. “Any luck?” Molly asked. John felt relieved at her presence. 

“Oh, yes!” Sherlock replied, his mouth still hung open waiting to say more until the door opened once more. 

It was a young man. “Oh, sorry. I didn't…” He nervously glanced around the room.

“Jim! Hi!” Molly beamed at the man. “Come in! Come in!” She waved him in and lovingly placed a hand on his shoulder. “Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes.” She introduced. Sherlock barely spared a glance at the man. “And this is John. And thi…where’s Y/N?” Molly wondered. 

“Bathroom,” John replied before sticking out his hand for Jim to shake. “John Watson. Hi. Funny, Y/N’s boyfriend has the same name,” He commented looking between Molly and Jim. John had actually never met Jim yet, he was always too busy with work or Y/N. Not that John really minded. However, he noticed a flinch in Jim’s expression at the mention of Y/N, but it was gone before he could read further into it. 

Jim chuckled and ran his hand along the back of his neck. His dark brown eyes scanned the consulting detective who was still staring at the screen of the computer next to him. “Jim’s a common name…,” he said to John. Then Jim turned to Sherlock. “Uh Hi. So, you're Sherlock Holmes. Molly told me all about you. You on one of your cases?” He pointed a shaking hand to the objects captivating Sherlock’s attention. 

“Jim works in I.T. upstairs. That's how we met. Office romance,” Molly proudly grinned as she adored her boyfriend. Her cheeks flushed a light pink. John smiled at the sight.  

“Gay,” Sherlock coughed. 

The smile on Molly’s face flattered. “Sorry, what?”

“Nothing,” Sherlock shook his head. He removed his eyes from the microscope. “Um, hey.”

“Hi.” Jim’s face flushed even redder than Molly’s. He stuck out his hand for Sherlock to shake, only knocking over one of the tools off the counter. “Sorry. Sorry!” He apologized. He twirled around placing the object back on the counter. “Well, I'd better be off. I'll see you at the Fox, 'bout six-ish?” He told Molly.  

“Yeah!” Molly smiled. Her eyes trailed as Jim's figure turned to leave the room. 

“'Bye.” He said to her, giving her a swift kiss on the cheek. 

“Bye,” Molly whispered back.

“It was nice to meet you,” Jim said to Sherlock and John. 

John replied for both of them. “You too.” And then Jim was gone. 

The door clicked shut “What d'you mean, gay? We're together,” Molly growled. 

“And domestic bliss must suit you, Molly.” Sherlock sarcastically said. “You've put on three pounds since I last saw you.” There was a bitterness in his voice. He hated it. He hated how Molly was happy. He hated how his name was Jim. It all reminded Sherlock of her. Y/N. He couldn’t have her because of her damned boyfriend. Y/N. Y/N. Y/N. Sherlock wanted to scream. 

“Two and a half,” Molly corrected. 

“No, three,” Sherlock stated. Molly’s jaw clenched and her eyes grew watery. 

“Sherlock…,” John warned. 

“He's not gay. Why d'you have to spoil...? He's not,’ Molly denied. All joy in her face was replaced with sadness. 

“With that level of personal grooming?” Sherlock scoffed.  

“Because he puts a bit of product in his hair? I put product in my hair,” John said. His tone was protective as he stood up for Molly. 

“You wash your hair. There's a difference,” Sherlock noted. “No-no – tinted eyelashes, clear signs of taurine cream around the frown lines. Those tired clubber's eyes. Then there's his underwear.”

“His underwear?” Molly’s voice broke. 

“Visible above the waistline – very visible; very particular brand. That, plus the extremely suggestive fact that he just left his number under this dish here…” Sherlock lifted up the bowl Jim had knocked over and there sat a small slip of paper. Jim’s number.  “...and I'd say you'd better break it off now and save yourself the pain.”  Sherlock tossed her the paper as a waterfall of tears fell from Molly’s face. She ran out of the room not a moment later. 

_____

Bathroom. Y/N and Molly

Women building women up. 

Cultural differences. Y/N loved discovering them as she progressed through her new life in London. But now, as she stands in front of one of the mirrors in the public bathrooms, she can say she found a cultural similarity, crying alone in the women’s bathroom. 

Y/N found herself to be releasing tears more often than she thought. It was both a terrific and terrible thing; Terrific because she could express herself without any judgment, horrible because she was doing it more. However, what was worse was because all the tears came from a single source, Sherlock. 

Sniffling, Y/N wiped the latest of tears falling down her cheeks. The tiny droplets were leaving noticeable streaks down her face and her hand eagerly erased them. Less evidence for Sherlock to notice. 

Suddenly the door swung open, startling Y/N. She jumped back and instinctively turned her face away from the door. Her cheeks flushed red as she hoped her eyes weren’t as red as she thought they were. However, all signs of embarrassment fled when she heard a muffled whimper beside her. 

Correction. Bathrooms were the perfect place for women to cry together. 

Turning her head to view the addition to the bathroom, Y/N saw Molly. It took the young woman to remember her, but Y/N could recall the few times they had met before. Each time dealing with a case.  More tears crept into Y/N’s eyes as she saw Molly hunched over hiding her face with her shoulders. 

“Molly?” Y/N whispered. She stepped towards the other woman wondering if she should put her hand on Molly’s back to comfort her. She decided against it. 

Molly jolted up at the sound of her name. Her fist clenched tightly around a small sheet of paper in her hand. “Huh? Oh, Y/N. Um, sorry about…” Molly wiped her tears feeling embarrassed until she saw Y/N’s. “You too?”

Y/N nodded, wiping a few more tears away. “Are you alright,” Y/N found herself asking. 

Shaking her head, Molly glanced down. “My boyfriend is gay. He just–” A sob broke her train of thought and Molly almost collapsed to the floor if it weren’t for Y/N’s gentle hold. 

“Men suck,” Y/N muttered as she held Molly helping stand up once more. 

A light chuckle left Molly’s mouth at Y/N’s words. “They really do. Here I thought he might be nice, but he just used me to get his number to Sherlock and then he went and did his thing, you know,” Molly motioned with her hands when words no longer seemed to find her.

“When he deducted you?” Y/N finished. Molly could only nod before breaking down again. Y/N frowned. She had seen firsthand Sherlock’s deducting abilities. He never held anything back for the sake of accuracy. Oftentimes he’d forget one key factor, feelings. Y/N had yet to be on the other end of Sherlock’s observations. She was sure John had something to do with it; he was always protective of her when it came to Sherlock’s judgment. However, Molly was never spared. “I’m sorry,” Y/N whispered. 

“It’s not your fault…” Molly began but Y/N cut her off. She stood Molly up right and looked into her watery eyes. 

“No, I know it’s not, but sometimes it's nice to know you’re not alone when it comes to Sherlock.” Y/N smiled, and Molly’s eyes widened. 

“He’s made you cry?” She asked.

Y/N somberly nodded. “A lot actually.” Saying those words made more tears appear. 

Molly looked at Y/N with confusion. “But he’s…I thought he…well, he always looks like he’s…” she mumbled nervously. Raising a brow, Y/N urged Molly to continue. “Why would he make you cry when…I thought he was in love with you.”

Y/N froze. “What?” 

“It’s obvious. At least it is to everyone. Sherlock really likes you,” Molly said. Tears no longer fell from her eyes. 

Her heart jumped at Molly’s words. Sherlock. Love. Obvious. “Really? Because it doesn’t feel like that.” If anything, Y/N thought Sherlock hated her now. It was as if she could never do anything right anymore after that night in the hotel. Even her need to breath made Sherlock tense. If he was in love, he sure had a strange way of showing it. But just the idea of Sherlock being in love with her washed away all sadness. It filled Y/N with hope. 

That was the other great thing about women crying together in bathrooms, they built hope together. You never left the bathroom sadder than when you entered it. You always emerged revived. It was the power of women. Something that was the same all over the world. 

“I’m sorry,” Molly whispered, and Y/N knew Molly was saying it for the same reasons she had said it to her. They weren’t alone. 

They stood in the bathroom chatting with each other for minutes longer. Each word only gave the women back strength they thought that they had lost. Soon, they could stand on their own. Their cheeks were no longer wet, and their eyes were no longer puffy and red. They were ready to face the world once more. 

_____

“Sherlock. What did you do?” Y/N hissed as she entered the lab. Her talk to Molly only made her even more infuriated with Sherlock. 

Sherlock immediately knew what Y/N was talking about. “Just saving her time. Isn't that kinder?” He smiled. 

Y/N’s eyes ticked. 

"Kinder? No, no, Sherlock. That wasn't kind,” John said. “He announced rudely to Molly her boyfriend was gay,” he explained to Y/N. 

“I know, I heard all about it in the bathroom as she was crying. Sherl–” Y/N scolded. 

“Go on, then,” Sherlock interrupted. His gaze was on John as he raised his hand to the shoes on the counter. 

“Mm?” John stared back at Sherlock confused. Y/N’s mouth hung wide open. A fly could have flown in and out and she wouldn’t have noticed. 

“You know what I do. Off you go,” Sherlock clarified now looking at the shoes. 

“No,” John shook his head. “You hurt Molly, and then interrupted Y/N. I’m not–”

“Go on,” Sherlock insisted. Y/N began to curse in the background. 

John angrily placed his hands on his hips. “I'm not gonna stand here so you can humiliate me while I try to disseminate…”

“An outside eye, a second opinion. It's very useful to me,” Sherlock sarcastically smiled. 

“Yeah, right!”  Y/N huffed. 

“Really,” Sherlock repeated. His tone was calm and serious. 

John bit his tongue as he stared at Sherlock. “Fine,” he grumbled before moving onto the shoes. “I dunno, they're just a pair of shoes. Trainers.”

Sherlock nodded. “Good.” 

“Umm... they're in good condition. I'd say they were pretty new... except the sole has been well-worn, so the owner must have had them for a while,” John continued. “Uh, they're very eighties – probably one of those retro designs.”

“You're in sparkling form,” Sherlock praised. It struck John’s pride just right to keep him talking and the focus off of him and Y/N. “What else?” 

“Well, they're quite big, so a man's,” John noted. His eyes glanced at Sherlock and then to Y/N as they watched him. 

“But...?”

“But there's traces of a name inside in felt-tip,” John said. “Adults don't write their names inside their shoes, so these belonged to a kid.”

Sherlock was beaming now. “Excellent. What else?”

“Uh... that's it," John muttered. His hand flopped to his sides as if to further express the point. 

“That's it?” Sherlock was disappointed. 

“How did I do?” John asked like he was a child being tested on the colors of the rainbow. 

“Well, John; really well,” Sherlock began. John softly smiled. “I mean, you missed almost everything of importance, but, um, you know…”

Y/N saw red. “If you’re so wise then Sherlock, show us what you’ve got.”

“Gladly,” Sherlock smiled at her, taking a bow with his head. “The owner loved these. Scrubbed them clean, whitened them where they got discolored. Changed the laces three... no, four times.  Even so, there are traces of his flaky skin where his fingers have come into contact with them, so he suffered from eczema. Shoes are well-worn, more so on the inside, which means the owner had weak arches. British-made, twenty years old.” 

“Twenty years?” John questioned. 

“They're not retro, they're original. Limited edition - two blue stripes, nineteen eighty-nine,” Sherlock explained. 

John shook his head. “But there's still mud on them. They look new.”

“Someone's kept them that way. Quite a bit of mud caked on the soles. Analysis shows it's from Sussex, with London mud overlaying it.” Sherlock peered at the shoes. 

“And how do you know that?” Y/N asked, stepping closer to the counter with the shoes. 

“Pollen,” Sherlock smirked. “Clear as a map reference to me. South of the river, too. So, the kid who owned these trainers came to London from Sussex twenty years ago and left them behind.”

“So what happened to him?” John wondered. 

“Something bad. He loved those shoes, remember. He'd never leave them filthy. Wouldn't leave them go unless he had to. So, a child with big feet gets…” Sherlock trailed off and his eyes bulged. “Oh.”

“What?” Y/N and John eagerly asked. 

“Carl Powers,” Sherlock whispered. 

John and Y/N looked at each other as if they had missed something. “Sorry, who?”

“Carl Powers, John,” Sherlock said. The annoyance in his voice was noticeable. 

“What is it?” Y/N found herself asking. 

“It's where I began,” Sherlock muttered. “Nineteen eighty-nine, a young kid – champion swimmer – came up from Brighton for a school sports tournament; drowned in the pool. Tragic accident. You wouldn't remember it. Why should you?”

As Sherlock relayed the story, something deep within Y/N had risen. “Carl Powers…huh.” She whispered to herself. The name felt familiar in her mouth. She couldn’t place why. 

“But you remember,” John noted. 

“Yes,” Sherlock replied. 

“Something fishy about it?” John asked. 

“Nobody thought so – nobody except me,” Sherlock explained. “I was only a kid myself. I read about it in the papers.” 

“Started young, didn't you?” John jokingly said. Sherlock ignored it. 

“The boy, Carl Powers, had some kind of fit in the water, but by the time they got him out it was too late. But there was something wrong; something I couldn't get out of my head.”

“What?” Y/N wondered.  

“His shoes,” Sherlock said. 

“What about them?” John looked at Sherlock stare off into the distance. 

“They weren't there,” Sherlock pushed himself out of the chair and stood up. “I made a fuss; I tried to get the police interested, but nobody seemed to think it was important. He'd left all the rest of his clothes in his locker, but there was no sign of his shoes...until now.” 

Sherlock had put on his coat in an instant before moving towards Y/N. With each step he took toward her, the ache in his chest lessened. “Right. Y/N with me.” His hand reached for hers wrapping around them so tightly she wouldn’t be able to escape. He didn’t care if she was pissed at him. All he cared about was keeping her safe. She could only be safe when he was with her. His observant eyes would keep danger away. He would keep the monster from twenty-years ago far away from her. The very one who broke into her apartment. The very monster who was warning and taunting him. “John, go deal with my brother.”

John stood dazed as he watched Sherlock drag Y/N behind him. They were gone before he could give Sherlock his reply. “Uh…fine.”

_____

It wasn’t often Mycroft got visitors. Although, to be fair, all his visitors were invited, so they weren’t technically visitors. “John. How nice,” Mycroft said. It said more to be socially acceptable than from joy that John had visited. “I was hoping you wouldn't be long. How can I help you?” Again, another trivial social phrase. Mycroft knew exactly why John was here, however being the British government required such pleasantries that his brother could afford not to have. 

“Thank you. Um, well,” John looked around Mycroft’s office. It was exactly as he expected. The office was practically decorated. The walls only had two paintings, each on opposite sides to create a sense of symmetry. There were a few chairs and of course a desk. Everything else was empty space. Mycroft was a practical person, a trait sometimes shared by Sherlock (barely).  “I was wanting to... um, your brother sent me to collect more facts about the stolen plans - the missile plans.”

Mycroft raised a brow up skeptically. “Did he?” 

“Yes.” John nodded before moving his eyes to look at a small notebook with questions and notes about the case. “He's investigating now. He's, er, investigating away,” John corrected. “Um, I just wondered what else you can tell me about the dead man.”

Leaning back into his chair, Mycroft began to answer John’s questions. “Uh, twenty-seven; a clerk at Vauxhall Cross – er, MI6. He was involved in the Bruce-Partington programmed in a minor capacity. Security checks A-OK; no known terrorist affiliations or sympathies... Last seen by his fiancée at ten thirty yesterday evening.” 

“Right. He was found at Battersea, yes?” John noted, “So he got on the train.” 

“No,” Mycroft replied. 

John looked up from his notes. The scribbling with his pen stopped. “What?” 

“He had an Oyster card…” Mycroft said. “...but it hadn't been used.” 

“Must have bought a ticket,” was John’s response and he went back to jotting down some notes. 

“There was no ticket on the body,” Mycroft corrected. 

John stopped again. “Then…”

Mycroft had grown a bit impatient. His back straightened and he leaned in the direction of where John stood. “Then how did he end up with a bashed-in brain on the tracks at Battersea? That is the question – the one I was rather hoping Sherlock would provide an answer to. How's he getting on?” He smiled letting John know he knew what his brother was actually doing. 

“He-he's fine, yes. Oh, and-and it is going…” John hesitantly gulped. Despite it all he hid his nervousness well. “...very well. It's, um, you know – he's completely focused on it.”

_____

Sherlock was, in fact, not focused on it. With his thumb tucked under his chin and his pointer fingers in front of his lips, Sherlock focused on Y/N. Well, he was thinking of the case, but each thought about the case was broken up with thought of her. 

The woman in question was making tea. She had to keep her hands busy so she wouldn’t accidentally strangle Sherlock for dragging her along and giving her no explanation. Even so, she had tried talking to him about everything: the kiss, the case, their relationship, Carl Powers, and the shoes found in her apartment. Each attempt was met with silence. All Sherlock seemed to do was stare at her. She found it unnerving as his careful eyes trailed across her face and body. 

“Poison,” Sherlock muttered. 

“What?” Y/N placed the teapot on the stove. Her eyes flitted over to Sherlock who was still gazing at her. 

“Clostridium botulinum!” He exclaimed before jumping out of his seat and pranced over to her. He had begun his dance. The one Y/N hated to admit she enjoyed watching. It really was beautiful how Sherlock twirled around the room as the ideas came to him. Each step entangled with new observations from the case. “It's one of the deadliest poisons on the planet! Carl Powers!” 

“Wait, are you saying he was murdered?” Y/N asked for clarification. Her eyes floated around the room finding Sherlock’s figure as he approached her. 

“Remember the shoelaces?” he smiled and she thought that this was her Sherlock. The intelligent, lively, and caring man was back. She could see it in his eyes as he looked at her. She had missed that look. She had missed his eyes on her. Once her Sherlock had returned, Y/N also felt herself return. 

“Mmm,” she nodded letting Sherlock know she was following. He was close now. Just as close as he had been when he held her after the explosion. 

“The boy suffered from eczema,” Sherlock beamed. “It'd be the easiest thing in the world to introduce the poison into his medication. Two hours later he comes up to London, the poison takes effect, paralyzes the muscles and he drowns.”

Her stomach jolted at the proximity, but she longed to be closer. “What – how-how come the autopsy didn't pick that up?” 

Instinctively Sherlock’s hands found the sides of her face. His cold fingers were warmed by the heat in her cheeks. “It's virtually undetectable. Nobody would have been looking for it. But there were still tiny traces of it left inside the trainers from where he put the cream on his feet. That's why they had to go,” Sherlock whispered. His nose brushed against hers. They were so close. He could just–

“So how do we let the bomber know…” Y/N wondered. 

Sherlock licked his lips and then let his hands grow cold once more. “Get his attention…”

“Mmm-hmm,” Y/N stepped in closer just as he stepped away. The distance remained the same.

“...stop the clock,” Sherlock said. His blue eyes trailed over hers before coming to rest on her lips. The very lips he had kissed so fervently not so long ago. He could still taste her on his tongue, but it was faint. The sweet intoxicating flavor plagued his mind and he knew he was addicted. He had to have more or else he’d waste away in withdrawal for the rest of his life. 

“The killer kept the shoes all these years,” Y/N said. Her breath was heavy weighing down her lungs. The air she exhaled was exhilarating. 

“Yes. Meaning…,” Sherlock muttered. 

“He's our bomber,” she finished. 

Before they could lean in closer and ease the ache in their souls, the pink phone buzzed. 

“Well done, you,” the woman cried. “Come and get me.”

When Sherlock stepped away from Y/N, the pain in his chest grew a million times worse. “Where are you? Tell us where you are.”

_____

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_____

[justagalwhowrites]

Some insight

Hi Besties!

I hope everyone is having a wonderful week and that life is treating you well! I'm going to stash the rest below the cut because it's just some of me kind of blathering about my life for a bit and how that might impact posting and I feel like it's just awkward and long and I don't want to make anyone feel like they need to read it? I dunno. I love you though!

Hi again! I wanted to let folks know that, because of some big changes in my work life, I might be posting less for a bit.

I'm trying to get my life into balance but it's hard. They've started a new cadence of in person work at my office and I have a long commute (which I didn't really factor in when I got this job 3+ years ago because they said we'd likely only ever be in one day a week at most in the future and now I need to be in the city an hour away at 8:30 a.m. three days a week.) I really should not complain, I know there are plenty of people who work harder jobs for less money that are always in person BUT it's already been a huge hit to my quality of life. Just trying to get through laundry this week is stressing me out. Normally, I do it in the middle of my work day because I can move the wash around between meetings and then put it all away at the end of the day or the next day during lunch. I've now been doing laundry since Monday. I hate it. I'm tired all the time, I'm emotionally exhausted because - while I am a corporate girlie - I work in comms and PR, so there's definitely a certain expectation for attitude and how I present myself. I get home from work and I'm just burnt out and I feel like I have no time. On top of that, I'm getting less quality time with my husband (we used to have lunch together most days during the week since he's fully remote) and my office is very "modern" AKA no privacy, so I don't really feel comfortable writing there, taking away the break time I used to use to put some words down.

I'm hoping that I'll find a groove (or another job that lets me be fully remote) sooner rather than later and I can settle into what life looks like for me now and I'll stop being so drained and just frustrated at the end of the day.

Ultimately, I'm HOPING I can find a posting schedule that works for my two ongoing fics where I publish a chapter of each every week and maybe a drabble or one shot here and there, too? But it may need to be only one chapter a week going up or who knows.

I'm not sure yet. I'm just tired. And I have to get up and do this again in the morning and I'm genuinely dreading it.

But I am working on a few things. I'm hoping I can get something up on Friday and something else this weekend.

I'm sorry for not being more consistent, especially lately but also just in general not keeping pace with where I was at like a year ago when I was writing Lavender and Beskar Doll. I appreciate you still being here.

Love you ❤️ very very much!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being friends with someone my roommate didnt like?

ok this might be long but here we go. Last semester I had a roommate who I liked pretty well, and we had a mutual friend, H. At some point, roomie got mad at h because h had apparently outed someone as schizophrenic.

H is not exactly anti-weed, but she is very adamantly against it for herself and anyone else at risk of psychological complications from it. My roomie was smoking with someone who h knew to be schizophrenic, so h told the group that they were smoking with about her concerns. I don't really agree with the way h went about this, but I'm ashamed to admit I sort of forgot to bring it up with her.

Later, h told me that roomie was avoiding her, and we talked about her possibly apologizing and why it was something roomie was particularly sensitive to.

[I'm afraid there's something missing here, maybe something more that I did to drive roomie away. I dunno.]

Roomie began to avoid both of us, but I didn't realize that it was on purpose and I was probably forcing myself into conversations with them because of that. Eventually, roomie started to move out of our room without telling me. Somewhere towards the beginning of this, a mutual friend? of ours made a joke about them looking for a new roommate. I asked why their books were all packed up, they told me it was because they'd be taking them home for thanksgiving. I thought ok, sounds like a lie, but I'll give them the benefit of the doubt. I truly had no idea why they would be moving out. I gradually went a little crazy watching them sleep in another room and pack all their stuff up, all the while saying nothing to me about it. I finally asked them about it, and they told me yes, they were moving out. Problem is though I think they might've been upset about something already when I asked about it? But they said they were fine so I accepted that as the truth. Again, I dunno. I think I was rude during this interaction but sadly can't remember anything I said besides yelling maybe the start of a sentence and then cutting myself off.

They moved out the next morning. I offered to help, they asked me not to. I was really upset and, stupidly, decided to take it up with them. That evening when I asked if we could talk, they openly rolled their eyes at me. I know it's stupid and probably the most asshole-y thing in this ask, but that drove me crazy. I said some shit, I don't remember what, but part of it was that I was "disappointed" in them. I don't know what that was supposed to be but it was NOT what I wanted to say. They, understandably, were really mad. I left and, too soon, texted them an apology. They replied, not rudely, telling me they don't want any contact with me, but also said, and I'll paraphrase, that they knew h had told me some things (probably referring to the possible reasons they moved out) and [my] friend is one of the reasons [they] left because they like to lie. This really hurt me because I still have no idea what this was about.

Later on, I'm not sure how much later, I was talking to h while roomie and their friends were in the next room. h was saying some things about the situation that I thought were a little extreme. I don't totally remember the order of events but it somehow ended up that roomie was yelling at h and they said something about h "creeping on transmasc freshmen." H is a trans woman and a sophomore, we are college students. I have a vague idea of who this might be referring to, if not myself or my roomie, who I don't think identifies as transmasc, but h had led me to believe that things ended amicably with this third party.

Anyways this story doesnt totally fit the aita format but I just needed to write it all out. If you're involved in this story, please know I'm trying not to be mad abt it anymore which is why I'm submitting it here, I'm hoping to be told why i'm TA or NAH.

What are these acronyms?

[misc-obeyme]

First Aid for Beel

What! Another daily chat scene so soon?? Yeah, I dunno, I should be working on my book but man sometimes I just gotta write some fluff, ya know? Anyway, I wanted to do a scene for Beel that wasn't about food, so here's this. I'm not sure how I feel about it, but I don't think it's terrible? Anyway, Belphie's coming up next.

GN!MC x Beelzebub

Warnings: injury, blood

BEELZEBUB MC, could you bring me a first aid set?

MC Did you get hurt?

BEELZEBUB Yeah, I took a fall during club activities. I was hoping you could bring me some bandages and an antiseptic solution.

MC I'll head over straight away!

BEELZEBUB Thanks. But it's not a major injury, so there's no need to rush. I wouldn't want you falling down and getting hurt as well. I'll be waiting.

You were in the House of Lamentation when you received Beelzebub's message. Even though it said not to rush, you did anyway. The idea of Beel being hurt in any capacity was stressing you out. You ran to the bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit, nearly colliding with Levi on your way back out. His shouts of protest didn't even register as you made your way to the front door.

You burst out of the House and started immediately toward RAD. You knew he was likely still out on the field behind RAD, where the sports teams did their various practices after school.

When you got to the field area, you looked around and it didn't take you long to spot him. There were certainly a lot of groups of demons around, most of them engaged in some kind of physical activity, but Beel's orange hair made him easy to find in any crowd. He was sitting down on the grass, watching the others as they went through various drills.

You made your way over to him, moving through groups of demons as you went. Some of them looked at you askance, but most people had probably figured out what you were doing there. Even if they hadn't, you didn't care in the slightest.

You finally reached Beel's side and dropped down beside him in the grass. He was wearing a practice uniform - black shorts and a black t-shirt with the RAD logo on it.

"What happened?" you asked, setting down the first aid kit next to you.

Beel smiled when he saw you. "MC. Thanks for coming. I just got scraped up a little. It's not a big deal."

Beel turned slightly so you could see his leg.

You gasped and reached out, your hands hovering uselessly over the injury. It was much worse than you had been anticipating. There were three deep large cuts going down Beel's leg from knee to ankle. The edges were jagged and they were seeping with dark blood. It was slowly running down the side of his calf, dripping onto the grass.

You looked up at him, eyes wide. "Beel! You said it wasn't a major injury!"

"It isn't," Beel said calmly, tilting his head in confusion.

"What happened?"

Beel rubbed at the back of his head. "I tripped over Gamigin and it startled him so much, he went into demon form. He's got some long claws and he tried to grab onto me to stop himself from falling, too. We both ended up falling."

You took out the antiseptic and frowned. Would the bandages in the first aid kit even be enough to deal with this? You glanced at Beel, who looked completely unbothered, then applied the antiseptic to the wounds as well as you could. Beel didn't react, only watched you.

"This may not seem like a big deal to you," you said as you worked. "But an injury like this would be very painful for a human. So you have to understand why I'm concerned."

"But I'm a demon, not a human," Beel said. "It's just a scratch to me."

You sighed, finishing with the antiseptic before moving on to the bandages. You wrapped them around Beel's leg, keeping them tight enough to stop the blood flow, but not so tight that it would be painful. Though you realized you could no longer be certain about Beel's pain tolerance levels.

"There," you said, as you tied the bandage. "That should be okay."

"Thanks, MC," Beel said. He blushed a little. "I really appreciate you coming out here to help me."

You sighed. "Of course I'll be here when you need me."

You weren't looking at Beel, your eyes still on his injured leg, your fingertips running along the edge of the bandage you had applied.

You were surprised to feel his arms around your shoulders. "It's okay, MC," he said. "You don't have to worry so much. I don't like seeing that look on your face."

Although you knew there were plenty of other students around to see, you returned Beel's embrace. You had to get on your knees to hug him properly, considering his large size. You nuzzled your face into his neck and sighed.

"I can't help it," you said. "I don't like seeing you hurt."

Beel chuckled, a low rumbling in his chest that somehow put you at ease. "I know, but I'm going to be okay. I have you to take care of me."

You leaned back, your hands on Beel's shoulders, his on your waist. You smiled at him, though you knew the worry was likely still visible on your face. You pressed a light kiss to his lips, then stood up.

"Can you walk? I think it's time to go home," you said.

You offered him a hand. He took it, but it was obvious he didn't need your help to stand.

"I'm all right," he said. "I can stay-"

"Absolutely not!" you interrupted. "You're coming home with me right now."

"But-"

"Don't argue," you said. You picked up the first aid kit and started off of the field toward home, tugging Beel along by his hand. He paused to grab his bag, which likely held his equipment and usual RAD uniform.

He seemed content to let you lead on, but you noticed the way his hand tightened around yours. You kept your fingers threaded with his as you began the walk back to the House of Lamentation.

You were halfway across campus in an area with few people and many trees when Beel stopped. You turned to him immediately, concerned that his leg was more painful than he had realized. But he just pulled you toward him, wrapping his arms around you. His bag had been dropped at his feet.

"I meant what I said, MC," he said quietly, his eyes locked with yours. "You really don't have to worry so much. It's a minor injury for me, just like I said."

You smiled. "You can say that until you're blue in the face, but I'm going to worry about you all the same."

Beel blushed then, a soft pink dusting across his cheeks. You kissed him again and this time, you lingered a bit before pulling away, your hands clasped tightly as you continued on your way home.

others in this series:

Mammon | Barbatos | Solomon | Lucifer | Simeon

Leviathan | Asmodeus | Diavolo | Belphegor | Satan

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - City Girls Part 5/8

The plot is twisting is all I can say about this chaotic chapter. 😮‍💨

Reader plays for the Man City girls academy. She struggles a bit but gets Ruben to mentor her. The the two don't hit off despite having many things in common. It all gets worse when Reader eventually catches feelings for Ruben.

Enjoy!

"You did what, with who?"

"Sshhh! Can you be any louder?"

You peered down the long line of girls before passing Ester the ball. She passed it on to the next person since coach had the team playing tiki taka for today's morning session.

"But Y/N, isn't Ruben...?"

"It doesn't matter what he is." You whispered. "He freak out on me right after and told me to leave his apartment."

"Well, can you blame him? This could end his career."

"Don't be so dramatic. Yes I'm in the academy but I'm not a minor."

"Does it matter? It's inappropriate. People might think he's been taking advantage of you since you met through the private lessons he's been giving you. Ruben could be suspendend from his team and so could you Y/N."

"I dunno." You muttered. "It seemed like something else was bothering him. Maybe I did something wrong?"

"Did he enjoy it? You know...until he kicked you out?"

"I think so."

"And did you...enjoy it?"

You thought back to that night. Ruben had seemed hesitant at first. And the ointment...so awkward.

"Y/N?"

"But then it wasn't...awkward. It was nice, just the two of you, kissing and humping.

"Y/N?"

Ruben seemed so eager to please you, not giving you a chance to return the favor.

"Y/N?"

"Yes!" You blurred out. "I enjoyed it."

Taken aback, Coach looked to Ester then back to you. "Well I'm glad you enjoy my training session Y/N, but that's not what I asked you?"

"I'm sorry coach."

You hadn't notice him blow the whistle. All the girls except for you and Ester had scattered from the line, leaving the field. Training was over.

"What was it you asked me, again?"

He sighed. "I said, it's best you head to the cafeteria and get yourself a snack before the first team start their session."

"I'm training with the first team?" You gasped joyfully.

"Yes, now go on. I've been putting in a good word for ya'. They won't like it if you're late."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you coach.

I won't disappoint you."

He laughed. "I am as hopeful as you are. Good luck."

"Can I come too?" Ester asked.

"I'm sorry Hofman, not this time?"

You looked at her remorsfully. "I promise to bring you som eggs on toast from the cafeteria."

Her smile was crooked. "Thanks Y/N and good luck. I'll see you back home."

You went your separate ways. By the time you got to the main building your stomach was aching for something to eat. To your luck the cafeteria resembled any five star hotel with a continental breakfast. You rushed to grab a plate since you didn't have much time. You piled on all your favorite foods and extra portions of protein. Ruben told you that it was possible for coach to let you play football the way you wanted to, you just had to get bigger and stronger. That starts with upping your calory intake.

"Slow down Rio or you'll choke on a sausage."

The mountain of food on your plate turned alot of heads as you made your way through the cafeteria. Not to mention the banter it caused when you joined some of the girls on the first team at their table.

"Are they starving you at home?" A girl joked.

"Chloe, be nice."

"The food here is just so good." You said, which was half the truth. Somthing told you to keep you intentions of gaining weight to yourself.

"Are you jokin'? No one fancies british cuisine. What do they serve in Brazil, cockroaches?"

The girls laughed.

"Chloe." The captain groaned. She was nice. Stephanie was her name. She always made sure that you felt included the times you played with the first team. She had been the one to wave you over to join the girls for breakfast. However, at the moment, you regretted not having ate before you left the house this morning. Now you had to hurry, doing so by stuffing your face with food before heading back out. But as you went to dump your tray, you bumped into something solid on your way out of the cafeteria.

"Sorry." You blushed, but quickly stiffened seeing who you had bumped into. "Oh, Ruben. Hi."

"Hey."

"H...how's it going?"

He was accompanied by a friend, perhaps his teammate. Either way, Ruben didn't find it necessary to introduce the two of you. Fortunately his friend was raised well enough to greet a stranger.

"Bernardo." He shook your hand. "But you can call me Ruben Dias personal wingmam."

You smiled. He was funny. At least he had more humor than Ruben, who looked to want to be anywhere else but there, with you."

"We should...." He muttered, pointing somewhere towards the foodline in the cafeteria.

You were disappointed. And you wanted to ask Ruben if you were still training later this afternoon, or had what happened between you change things?

"I'll see you." He said, which practically answered your question. The two of you went your separate ways. You had a lump in your throat stepping back onto the football field.

"Pass the ball Rio!"

There was a clear differences in quality when it came to playing with the women's first team. They trained with a higher tempo than the academy and included more drills during their training sessions. It was a slight adjustments for you, but not too difficult.

"Come on Y/N, at least keep up the pace!" Their coach shouted.

"Uh-oh." You stopped running. A twinge in your stomach had you place a hand to your belly as you stood in the middle of the football field.

"Come on Y/N, keep it moving!"

You tried to move, but every attempt to take another step seemed to trigger something from deep within. Somthing on the verge of erupting. The pain was sharp and intense, and it all seemed to be spreading throughout your entire body.

"Y/N, you okay?" Their coach blew the whistle, pausing the game.

You tried to shake off the pain, but it was no use. You doubled over, clutching your stomach, letting out a bubbly groan. The players gathered around you. "Um, I think she's gonna...."

Hurl.

Throw up.

Vomit.

Whatever word best described what came out of you. It was warm, blending easly with the grass on the pitch. The other players ran away, screaming in terror. Their coach was the one to help you back to he main building, to the infirmary where you now sat in shame, waiting for Ester to come and pick you up. Your head banged against the wall as you sat on the sickbed, almost tuning out the sound of a light knock on the door.

"Ester?"

"It's me?"

Your back left the wall, seeing Ruben appear in the door. He stepped into the small room, shutting the door behind him.

"I heard what happened. Bernardo and I were just on our way out when..."

"Great." You sighed. How would you ever live this down?

"What happened, were you sick?"

He was truly concerned. Strange, you thought, since Ruben had given you the coldest of shoulders for days, not responding to any of your calls or text messages.

"Can I get you anything, water, ice...?"

"How about a toothbrush and a mint?"

He frowned.

"And a rocket. Yes." You smiled. "Something to take me off this planet immediately."

"Come on, Y/N." He approached where you sat on the bed. You hated yourself for making him room to sit down next to you. Nevertheless, that's what he did, sympathetically bringing his hand to your back, rubbing it. "Anyone can get sick." He said.

You squinted your eyes in pain, his sympathy along with the embarrassment, was all too much. "The first team are never gonna let me play with them again."

"Come on Y/N, don't say that."

"But it's true Ruben and it's all your fault."

"My fault." Ruben sat back, eyebrows furrowed. "What did I do?"

"You told me to get bigger so that I could dribble." You hissed.

"And what exactly did you do to achieve that?" He asked curiously.

"I stuffed my face, of course."

Ruben threw his head back, laughing.

"It's not funny." You groaned. Although the crinkle that appeared in the corner of his eyes when he smiled was simply a sight for sore eyes. He wiped a tear. "Y/N, I never told you to stuff your face. Do you know how dangerous and damaging that could be for your body. There are far more healthier ways to gain weight."

"Well, how was I supposed to know that? You're the expert and wouldn't even return my texts."

"Y/N." Ruben's hand got off your back, leaving a missing feeling. He stood. "I never meant for any of this to happen."

"What exactly? You giving me the greatest orgasm in my life, just to show me the door right after?"

"Y/N."

"What Ruben? If you don't have anything else to say to me I suggest you leave." You lowered your head. "Maybe then you'll know what it feels like."

"I'm sorry." A set of warm hands went to tilt your face. Ruben's brown eyes were staring back at you with the deepest sincerity. "Like I said, I never meant for any of this to happen. I was never meant to fall for you Y/N."

"What?" You must have been mistaken.

Ruben smiled. And for a moment he looked hesitant but then his lips grasped yours in a soft yet exciting kiss. You grinned once his face pulled away from yours.

"What?" He asked.

"Do it again." You whispered.

He chuckled, but leaned in to peck your lips once more, planting an additional kiss on top of your nose.

"So...does this mean we're still on for this afternoon?"

Ruben sigh was heavy. "Like I said Y/N, I'll gladly help you become a better football player, but whatever you and I have ends here. I have a girlfriend and she can't find about what happened between us."

You felt cold, drained from all the warmth in your body, including the blood that paled your face. "Y...you have a what?" His hands still held your face, but with a swift tugg you had him remove them.

"A girlfriend Y/N. I'm sorry to have to tell you like this but like I said, what happened between us was never supposed to be. Besides, I could get in alot if trouble with the club, not to mention the media if they ever found out."

"I can't believe this." You sighed. Ester was right. You were such a fool.

"But don't worry. If we keep things professional between us I can still...."

"Get out."

"What?"

You spoke too low. Ruben didn't hear you. And so you took a deep breath. "I said, get the fuck out of here. Out of this room and out of my life."

"Y/N?"

"Now, Ruben, I mean it. Get the fuck out!"

"Y/N, let's not....we can still be together just not...."

You hopped off the bed. Furious that Ruben would get to see you cry. "OUT!" You shouted, escorting him towards the door. Unlucky for you he didn't get far. In the doorway as the door came ajar, stood Ester, her head turned to the side, flashing you an eavesdropping ear.

"Ester?" You frowned. "What are you..."

She perked up. "I'll tell coach."

"Ester?" You said, with a graver tone.

"Don't try and make excuses, I already know that the two of you are sleeping together." Her voice was unsteady. Ruben looked to you, rightfully confused. "And who are you?" He asked bluntly.

"Your worst nightmare." Ester said, with a glare you had never seen on her before. It was eveil, desperate and deceiving.

"Ester please, you don't know..."

"Schluss mit der Scheiße, Y/N." (Cut the shit Y/N.) "I already know that the two of you are fucking, you told me so yourself."

"Why are you doing this?" You asked,  desperate to know how Ester, your friend,  could dare threaten everything your family has worked so hard for you to achieve.

"I deserve to play with the first team." She said. The words sounding childish and timid coming out of her mouth.

"But..." You stuttered. "If that's all it is..." Why hadn't she spoken to coach or simply work harder, you thought.

"Don't you see." She laughed. "With you on the team, the brazilian football protégé from the streets of Rio, I'll never get a chance." To your suprise Ester was crying. "I am already overseen by coach simply because I got stuck with you as my roommate. Now I've got to hear about you going on and on about some guy who clearly is only interested in fucking you."

"Okay, that's it. I've heard enough." Ruben had thought to do the right thing to let Ester explain herself. But the more he did, the  more he let her talk, the more he saw how much it hurt you, and so he put an end to it. "Let's go." He said, grabbing your hand, leading you out of the infirmary. Ester was left behind, along with her half hearted threats.

"Ruben whatta....Where are you taking me?" You felt like vomiting again and you had a throbbing headache.

"Minha casa. Você vem para ficar comigo." (My place. You're coming to stay with me.)

"What?"

"I'm not letting you stay with that girl, whoever she was. She was clearly out of her mind."

"But Ruben I can't." You tried to tugg your arm free, however Ruben was way too strong. He barley budged.

"Y/N, please don't fight me on this one. You can stay with me, I have a spare bedroom."

"What about your girlfriend?"

He froze. In the midst of pulling you out of the main building, Ruben froze. The grip he had around your arm loosen a little. He ran his free hand down his face, tired, perhaps of arguing. "Like I said Y/N, I'm partly responsible for this mess. Just trust that I'll take care of it. I want to take care of it. But for now let me take care of you."

[oodlyenough]

dw empire of death

spoilers ofc

hm. like many RTD finales, a bit of a mixed bag. i feel less certain of my overall thoughts than last week (which i thought was a blast, tbh).

the good: i'm... pretty happy with the ruby mom reveal. this whole mystery box set up turning out to be "she was just a scared young woman who couldn't raise her baby", an ordinary woman mythologized by ruby and the doctor over the season, etc, is an extremely RTD solution. and as a fan of his stuff I liked seeing that... well... pivot to his roots as opposed to her being part of the pantheon or something (which I admit I did wonder about myself).

the *idea* of her pointing at the sign to name the baby is nice, I like the meaning of it and what Ruby takes from it, but it is a bit of a clumsy set up. very dramatic pointing, ms miller.

also as much as i was dying to see what the screen said lol i DID love the character moment of ruby stepping forward to offer the name to sutekh, only to smash it, and then clip his collar (lmfao btw). i thought that was a nice character moment for ruby. in that moment i thought perhaps we'd never find out the answer, and that would be something ruby sacrificed for the greater good. i wasn't sure how satisfying that would be and I guess I'll never have to find out bc it's not what happened lmao, but it is where i thought we might be headed.

i liked seeing the gloves and the rope from TCORR come back. i like surprise tools that will help us later :)

loved the memory tardis from the time window and the use of that tales from the tardis set. how cool.

loved the time window playing clips of classic who that's so fun. mel's moment with six's outfit awwww. and i'm sure i missed some of the namedrops of planets etc that fifteen was going on about but i liked the ones i caught. shan-shen! oodsphere!!

i thought the effects of the dust wave and the insta-crumbling was pretty good and spooky

i really like having mel around! i hope we get to see her cameo again

the mixed bag:

'the death wave is eating memories and going back through family trees in reverse' is pretty cool as a concept, i thought. where i think this hurts the resolution a bit is that in the moment i thought, "ok, well, ruby's "safe" because there's the Mystery, there's no family tree for it to climb!" but like... there was. does sutekh need to personally be aware of your family tree to kill you?

i really liked the moment of fifteen and ruby watching louise outside the coffee shop, and i really liked the moment where ruby sits down across from her and then the barista calls the name ruby and they have this look. i ... kind of found myself wishing that it would stop there? i mean, i'm happy for ruby, and i think "ruby found her bio fam and now ruby and her big family are together" is a nice ending for the character. but there was something so emotional and bittersweet about that split second of wondering and connection between the two, and ruby having that choice to make...

the goodbye between ruby and fifteen was lovely. millie gibson is so good her big watery eyes make me so sad. i've enjoyed the two of them together and i think they have incredible chemistry as characters and actors, like, what a team of besties. i'll miss ruby on the TARDIS. but ... only 10 episodes, a couple of which didn't feature them much at all... a bond that didn't get super developed on screen ... I dunno. Left me wishing we got more from them through the season.

I do know we'll see more of Ruby next season, so I'm excited for that. an s4 Martha situation. but then I also worry about Varada Sethu's character getting development time too...

the not so good:

killing off rose, kate, etc in the first minute removes stakes, because while you might worry about characters like cherry or carla who won't necessarily stick around when ruby leaves or whose deaths will impact ruby, you know rose and kate are not going to stay dead permanently. also very infinity war (derogatory) where there was the same issue -- no these characters won't stay dead and i'm not going to humour it lol

rose temple sweetie it was nice to see you stand in the background and not speak. what was that about. she FINALLY got all of two lines. it just felt like she didn't serve a lot of purpose in this ep. I mean I liked seeing her but she did not do anything to the story in either part of the ep

the solution of "death kills death" was a bit goofy lol but it's doctor who the solution is always goofy. i didn't care too much about that i guess. but it was goofy

i really think we could've used a more decisive scene with carla and ruby. carla seems to understand ruby's desire to know her bio fam and be supportive of it and that's lovely. obviously ruby loves carla and vice versa. but i think it would've been nice to have a moment of on-screen explicit acknowledgment between carla and ruby that there might be weird feelings there, that louise isn't replacing carla, something like that.

related to the above, the Doctor says Ruby redefined the way he thinks of family, which is a huge thing to say, but I don't feel like I ever saw that happening on screen. it COULD have. all the pieces are there with foundlings and foster care and adoption...

[the-solar-system52]

DAYCARE ATTENDANT IN HELP WANTED 2

FUCK YESSSS!! I REALLY THOUGHT RUIN WOULD BE SUN AND MOON'S LAST MAJOR APPEARANCE BUT NO!! NEW TRAILER IS OUT AND ITS TIME TO ANALYSE!!!

WE FINALLY GET TO DO ARTS AND CRAFTS WITH SUN!! This seems to be a puzzle mini game where you make Paper Pals!! I'm guessing, if you mess up the Paper Pal, you get jumpscared (probably by Moon) or it could be a time trail. It does seem weirdly DARK in the clip for Sun to still be here, but maybe that was intentional? Or not.

(those red doors seem to have lightbulbs on them, maybe there's a mechanic where we need to stop the lights from going out?)

Edit: I have even more evidence to suggest that the lights will be a feature in this minigame! In the one clip, if you slow it down, you can see the lights flicker and the screen you are using switch off!

I bet this is the electricity going out, and if that happens, Moon will jumpscare you! A lot of HW minigames have a "do this task but also stop this thing from happening so you don't get jumpscared" like the mangle vent repairs, so this makes sense!

NEXT UP WE GOT THE CAROUSEL MINIGAME! Not much to say about this one, since Dawko already uploaded him playing it, but this is significantly higher quality! Moons animation is different, and more things could change from the Dawko version considering the fact that it was only a playtest and wasn't finished yet. I'm very excited to play it!

(I hope they upload the carnival music in better quality if they release the soundtrack for the game. that shit SLAPS)

Ok so this is a weird one. We seem to be training the endo (who has a VR HEADSET on) with a moon-themed memory card game. At first, I thought this would be in the daycare because of the background, but in another clip, we see the camera pan over and we are actually in the daycare-themed room in the endo section all the way back in security breach!

Moon has always had a weird unexplained connection to the endos. Broken endo parts in his room, Moon merch and Daycare structures in the endo basement thing, and even evidence of a scrapped area of the endo section that Moon was supposed to appear in. (There was an unused soundtrack and unused animations, check out the Lost Bits YouTube video on SB for more info)

I'm excited to see if they will explain more as to why these connections are here. Is Vanny using Moon to train the endos to do her bidding? I dunno, but I'll be waiting to find out.

Last image i could find is this. It sure is a sun, dunno if its actually connected to Daycare Attendant Sun or not. The way this shot is framed makes it look like a dark ride?? That, or the player character has the weakest flashlight imaginable.

But if this IS Daycare Attendant related, then it'll most-likely be the intro for the Paper Pals minigame! Still, UNREASONABLY dark if this is a sun-centric minigame, there's no way the dark won't be part of the gameplay mechanic in this.

If anyone recognises this specific structure from anywhere in the pizzaplex please tell me!!

Edit: There's also this weird glitch-transition effect when it cuts to DJ Music Man, what's that about? Reminds me of the BB World Arcade Game a little bit.

Ending thoughts:

So before we get too excited, let's not forget about Help Wanted 1. The minigames were just that, MINIGAMES. They weren't even canon, and depending where this game takes place in the timeline, I don't think these are either.

I mean, these are DCA normal models! Where we left him in the story they were:

In their RUINED models.

And 2. Eclipse! And therefore non-hostile.

And even if this takes place BEFORE Ruin, how on Earth would Moon be at a CAROUSEL? In Help Wanted 1, the game was made-up by Fazbear Entertainment to make light of the rumours going around about Freddys, although they were based on real events, the Glamrocks aren't ACTUALLY in the Sister Location basements. I'm not saying there's NO truth to the minigames, but we shouldn't accept everything they tell us at face value.

BUT that doesn't mean we won't get ANY Daycare Attendant lore crumbs. Firstly, we may possibly get voicelines in the minigames, if they don't decide to just reuse old ones.

Secondly, it's possible this game will have something similar to the Help Wanted 1 Tapes. Secrets outside of the minigames that tell us more about the canon lore! Bonnie, The Glamrocks, DCA, and other loose ends from SB may be mentioned through these secrets!

Thirdly, what I just said may be made more likely if the "we play as Cassies dad" theory is true. If Cassie takes after her dad in having sympathy for the animatronics (which I think she does) then he will probably have something to say about all the stuff Fazbear Entertainment has done to the animatronics. Especially since he WORKS there.

EITHER WAY I AM SO INSANELY EXCITED!! Unfortunately, it comes out on December 14th and I won't be able to play it till Christmas so TAG YOUR SPOILERS EVERYONE!!!