#I love them ok? never getting tired of them

[blueblossomrose]

Pleaseeeee I wanna see more on leona from the parent thing 🥺

Course! Here we go!

This post is part of the Twisted Parents Series.

Content: Post-canon, Leona being a tired dad, fem!afab!mc, fluffy.

Comments and reblogs are very welcome ♡

Being a father was never something that really crossed his mind. Dealing with Cheka, and his own childhood problems, made him skeptical about the idea.

MC kind of knew about it, but she was ready to tell him anyway.

Leona was surprised and at the same time not. He wouldn't verbalize about it, but after the wedding, his mind turned to children for the first time.

He wouldn't say it was a desire to have children, but more like a concept, imagination.

Well, now he didn't have to imagine anymore.

In the first few months, he's sounds neutral. He doesn't hate it, but he has confused mixed feelings about it.

He doesn't feel the huge appeal, and deep down that makes him angry and sad.

Because he knows he's probably not making you feel safe, because he knows he is behaving exactly like his own parents, ignorants of love.

He refuses to ask Farena anything at first, but it gets to a point where he's so upset that he ends up venting to him.

Farena was straightforward in pointing out that Leona doesn't need to force himself to be something he's not. That he doesn't need to doubt his own emotions because of other people's emotions.

And after this conversation, he goes to talk to MC. She, despite being slightly confused too, didn't crucify him for it. Leona continued to protect her with all his might throughout her pregnancy.

When MC's belly grows and he feels the first kick, his mental confusion worsened, conflicting feelings hitting each other, and even though he still seemed indifferent... there was something between and MC notice.

When he held the babies in his arms for the first time, however... his gaze, which had been different, changed completely.

He loved those children. There was no way he could hate them.

He was: "I'm not going to let anything bad happen to them."

And MC was: "I know 😊"

He is a tired father, as expected of him. Yet, he's doing well there.

One of the common scenes is him lying on your lap while you fold clothes or do some other activity, and your children on top of him, pulling his ears and tail while he sleeps.

When they are babies, Leona is ok to stay up with them while MC sleeps. He understands how tiring it is. Plus, he likes to feel important when he sees that the little ones fall asleep more easily when they are in his arms.

Many times you wake up with the babies on top of you because Leona put them in bed to sleep with you two.

As the babies grow, you notice more clearly how docile Leona is with his daughter.

As if anything Zuri asked for, Leona would give it to her.

He would play with her dolls wearing a pink dress if she asked.

Which honestly wouldn't be impossible for her to ask for. Zuri is very demanding.

Totally different from Zayne and Sekani. Zayne is calmer, really quiet. Sekani is a shy, very sweet boy, and slightly fearful...

Zayne enjoys playing board games even at a young age. Leona doesn't mind playing with him often. It's pretty funny when sometimes he ends up losing and looks at his 6 year old son like this: 🤨

He compliments Zayne anyway.

Sekani is undeniably more attached to his mother, since he is the type of child who likes to be pampered with affection and MC is always holding him in her arms.

But Leona also showers him with affection (in a more discreet way), so he enjoys being with his father as well. Leona makes him feel safe, so whenever he is scared, Sekani runs to his father.

Despite sometimes complaining, Leona spends a lot of time with them. A lot of time. MC soon realizes that it is him giving his children the affection and attention that he did not receive.

Also, Cheka joins his cousins to go and bother his uncle. He loves having someone to play with now!

Leona having his three children and nephew glued to him 24 hours a day. Okay, maybe I exaggerated. 8 hours a day.

MC often joins in on the fun. When playing tag, Leona is usually quick to catch her because he knows where she usually hides. He will jump on you without mercy and probably scare you, but he will quickly make you laugh with involuntary tickles.

Leona finds the kids easily. And the kids can find you easily when it's their turn. Hide and seek with beastmen is no fun.

At the end of the day, Leona watches you sleeping in his arms along with the children... and he thinks that love and being loved like that isn't bad at all.

[fawninthesnow]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞: Part 2

𐙚 Emperor Geta x Fem Reader! 𐙚 18+

Summary: You are the daughter of General Marcus Acacius. After gaining your fathers blessing to join in at the palace, you run into a familiar face.

Warnings/contains: dom fem, f4m, teasing, pinning, size kink, praise, idealization, obsession, not proof read

Word Count: 2.5k

More on my Master list!

follow & like pls

“[Y/n], I would like to speak with you.” Your mother knocked upon the open door of your bedroom. You sighed aloud, taking off your jewels from the day. She moved behind you in the mirror, undoing your bun and undoing your small braids. “I will not ask why you are restless. I want to apologize to you. I know that…we *may* be more protective of you than-“

“I would call it absurd. This is absurd.” You turned to her, “I may not shop on my own! I may not take a walk by myself. Even as we speak, mother, a man watches!” You point to the guard that stood by your bedroom door. “I seem to never leave this place!”

“I know you are angry, but this is for the best!” You squinted with annoyance, throwing yourself onto your bed. “You are a beautiful young woman, [Y/n]! Moreover, you are our daughter! There are people who will want to hurt you.”

“I am aware of your worries, mother, but It is hard to believe the people of Rome know of my name, let alone what I look like!” You rolled over onto your back. Your father, General Marcus Acacius, now leaned on the post of your bed near your mother. “Now, I love you both dearly, but your words do not match your actions and I am tired of being left here to wait and rot! I am not one of your statues, Mother.” You stood in front of them now, your arms folded, and a crossed expression rid your gorgeous face.

To your surprise, your mothers’ hands clasped, and she sadly smiled. Her eyes welled, “Ahh, I am sorry. Y- you are just- you have grown so much.”

You tried not to fold under the pressure. It seemed whenever she got emotional, you found it hard to stand your ground. “Yes, yes, I have. And I want the freedoms of a woman. You say you want me to marry but the only men I have seen in the past few years were your guests, these brute guards and men of the Senate.” You said straightforward, avoiding your mother’s gaze, instead, looking into your father’s eyes.

The man sighed, holding his face in his hands. “What is it that you want?” He asked, officially surrendering to you. In that moment, you wondered if you had done this before on your 19th or 20th birthday.

“I want to follow you, Father.”

“Me? W- no! You cannot. It is too dangerous! Far too dangerous!”

You crossed your arms again and glared at him. “I barely see you as is! You will not let me join your army! You will not let me even speak in public! I want to be called your daughter. I want to follow you!”

Your Mother looked at her husband. She knew you had a point. You had a good reason to be emotional. “I do not know, Lucilla. This is dangerous.” She said nothing.

“That is all I want.” You said softer, close to your parents. “…for now.” Your father sighed.

“I will speak to you again in the morning.” He rubbed his forehead before leaving the room.

You balled your fists, looking away from the door, “Honey.” Your mother took your hand into hers, “It will be ok.”

“Does he hate me?”

“No. No, he could never. He is just tired. Do not stay up too late, ok? I love you.” She let go of your warm palm.

“I love you too.” You said as she left your bedroom. “Will you watch me change as well?!” You asked the guard who bowed his head and quickly left the bedroom.

The next morning, you were awakened by a servant with a tray of dyes for your makeup, with sage and frankincense for your perfume; separated into small bowls. “My Lady?”

“What is this?” You asked, moving the sheets from your body.

“Your father would like you to get dressed. I will do your hair today.” You tilted your head for a moment, rubbing your eyes. Another servant brought in a dress from your mother’s wardrobe from her youth.

“He said yes!?” You jumped from bed and dashed down the hall. The two servants continued to prepare you for your day as you pushed open your parents’ bedroom door. “Oh! Thank you! Thank you!” Your arms wrapped around your father’s waist. He kissed the top of your head.

“You should dress. We leave soon.”

*

Outside the home, you were helped onto your horse. “We will take the main streets.” Your father spoke, “Be sure to stay close to me. It can get crowded very quickly.” You nodded as the two of you, and a few guards who followed, entered the city. The last time you were here, you were being scolded. However, that was two weeks ago, and you never went this far in.

Your eyes flickered around at the stores and market. Children chased each other and women gathered water from fountains. Along side streets, men gambled and shouted. Inside of a cheap jewelry store, a mother bargained. Upon seeing your fathers face, people gathered around the horses, slowing down the group. “Keep your horse forward, [Y/n].” Your father spoke over the crowd. The city was rather overstimulating, and that was obvious. These people were obnoxious in your eyes. To you, this was just your father. Sure, he’s a decorated general, but this was the man that taught you math, dressed you in the mornings, learned how to braid your hair, collected flowers with you, and laid beside you when you fell ill. He was a man. Not a god. “[Y/n]?”

“Where are we even headed?” You asked as guards cleared the way for you and your father.

“To the palace.” He directed to the northeast of the path.

“The palace? Why?”

“I have business with the emperors.” You smirked. Something you adored was snooping. What a place to do so! “After, we can go wherever you please.”

“Sounds like a plan, Father.” Emperor. You hadn’t heard that title in a while. It had been weeks since that clown of a man called himself one to you. You remember that day like it was yesterday. That arrogant, short man. Just the thought him nearly made you laugh aloud. There was no way he would ever be emperor. That scrawny excuse of a man?

When you and your father arrived at the palace, he helped you off your horse; he held your palm, leading you up the steps.

A short man with his arms open greeted your father. Something about his face looked familiar, however, you had never seen him before; for sure. “Acacius! Haha! Hello, my friend!” Your father bowed to him, and you followed suit. “Ahh,” He held his own hands, admiring the face of the young woman standing beside his general. “And who might you be?”

“This is my daughter, [Y/n].”

“Ahh!” The man yelped with excitement. It was then you noticed the small animal on his shoulder. What is that? You wondered. “She is quite beautiful…mhh.” His eyes fell on your curves.

“Should we speak inside, Caracalla? And find your brother?” Your father asked, interrupting the thoughts of the emperor.

“Yes!”

He led the two of you inside, moving rather awkward without his brother. You looked at your father. “There is two, yes?” You whispered. He nodded.

You stayed outside the room as your father spoke to Caracalla. You leaned against the wall, listening in as they planned on a map. It was mostly your father speaking, and Caracalla feeding his monkey while nodding.

In the hall, the sound of loud shoes moving across the floor caught your attention. You looked over your shoulder. “Do not linger outside of there, servant.”

You frowned, turning your body to the sound of the familiar voice, “Do I look like a servant to you?” You asked, stepping closer, as did he. You face shone under the sunlight. The man stepped back and caught his breath.

“It is you! Yo-“

“Oh, shut up!” he gasped, “What are you even doing here?” You stepped closer and he moved back.

“I am an emperor! Of Rome!”

You laughed as he spoke with a nervous undertone. “Be honest, *you are* a servant, no?”

“I am the emperor! Are you ill?! Can you hear me?”

For a moment, you thought aloud, “But, isn’t the older brother supposed to be…bigger…” You circled around him like prey. He wondered if you had gotten taller since your last encounter. “…more commanding? This is rather disappointing…”

“I have had it with you. What is your business here?! Hm? Who even let you in?!”

You push him into a room across the hall. “Shut up. My father is right in that room!”

“Acacius! General Acacius!” You pulled him with you behind the door and covered his mouth, your other hand on the front of his throat.

“Say another word and I will snap your neck.” You said into his hair. “I guess you are the emperor…but that means little to me. For if my father finds out what you did in that garden, he will have your head.”

“Ahg! I did nothing. It was you!”

“Ha! You stained my dress, tiny! Even so, you speak if he’d believe your word over mine.” It was true, he most likely would not believe the emperor. You had your way with words. You had your way with threats. “Now, what to do with you…” He bit your hand before dashing from the room. You chased him down the hall and stopped him in his tracks. He gulped, looking up at you. “And where are you going?”

“Y- you cannot intimidate me! Not in my own palace!” You leaned down and held him by his chin. “T- these guards! They will stop you!”

“You are mistaken. They do not work for you. They work for my father.” The man gulped before wiping sweat from his brow. “I can do whatever I want with you. We can keep playing chase, sure.” You step out of the way, and he ran down into the field of grass, surrounded by fruit trees and such. You laughed at him, chasing him into the field before cornering him and pinning him to the grass.

“This will not work on me! Very soon, your father will catch you!”

“Oh really?” Your knee pressed between his crotch, pushing on his balls.

“Y- yes.” A feathered moan left his lips. “I- I want you t- to let go! Let go, I say!” You let go of his hands, however, he does not move.

“It seems you like this.” Your finger found its way on the wet tip of his penis, coated in precum.

“I d- do, no, I-” He said rather softly. “A- n- you are a bully! A rude woman! No man will ever have you!” You continued to tease and rub his tip, making it hard for him to speak.

“Is that so?” He bit his lip and looked down at the mess he made on your fingertips. “Look in my eyes, you pervert.”

“I am not a pervert.”

“You are a pervert.” You lean down into his ear, gently kissing and suckling on the skin. “Only a pervert likes getting bullied by a woman in broad daylight. Only a pervert likes having his body exposed in an open field…under a woman.” Your hair dangled in his face; your bosom pressed on his chest as he hyperventilates.

His eyes opened wide, and he rose from under you. “I will not entertain you any longer.”

“Come here…Geta, was it?”

“I-“ He stepped away from you once more.

“Geta.” You say, inching closer. “You are too small; you will never escape me.” He held his crotch, trying to stop his throbbing shaft from its movement. The emperor fixed his toga, only for his crown to fall off his head. He groaned, growing flustered. “Do I make you nervous or something…?” You twirled his laurel crown around your finger. You looked heavenly from his view. He felt as if he had come face-to-face with Venus herself. “This crown means nothing, you know? Do you even feel like an emperor when you wear it?” He did not reply but you knew the answer. As you moved closer, your purple dress held onto your hips and swayed with every step. You placed his crown on your head, “Do I look pretty?” You knew he would agree. You are stunning, how could *anyone* deny that? And with that gold crown over your head? It was hard to believe the gods did not hand deliver you to your parents. “I know what you are feeling…why so shy?”

“Leave me be, woman!”

“Come here, little boy.” You tilt your head, offering your palm, “I will make you feel better.”

“I- I am…the emperor…”

“Sure.”

“I wear the crown.”

“Fine, take it.” You tossed it back to him. For some reason, it seemed to lose its meaning. It did not feel as heavy as before. It felt cheap, pointless, useless. Was it really a symbol of the gods if a goddess denies it?

“Acacius…he will not be happy.”

“My Father will not know.” You giggled, twirling his hair.

“See?! I knew it! You are a deceiver!” The emperor took off his shoes and ran back into the palace before turning into the room where General Acacius and his brother leaned over the table. He caught his breath. You stood behind the man and caressed his side. He jumped, and whined, “S- she’s-“

“Oh! Emperor Geta.” Your father bowed to the man, and you did the same, smiling at him. “Good morning.”

He looked between you and your father; the resemblances were undeniable. You squinted at him as if daring him to say something to your father. Geta moved away from you. “…proceed with the meeting.” You went back to your place by the pillar, watching him from afar. He felt uncomfortable, hot under his collar. The general spoke of invasion plans to the north of India. Although you should have cared, your attention was set on the nervous mess in front of you.

The meeting carried on faster than you would have expected. The two emperors walked you both to the entrance, exchanging pleasantries. You lean towards Caracalla, and he happily kisses both of your cheeks. Towards Geta, he resentfully kisses your right cheek, “…I will see you again very soon…” You whisper.

He froze in shock, “No. No, you will not.” You smirked and he groaned, kissing your left cheek. “Stay away from me…”

“It was delightful meeting you, emperor Geta.” You spoke so condescendingly, he felt so small, like a peasant when in comparison to you. When you pulled away from him, and climbed on your horse, Geta adjusted his garments, his cock stayed hard throughout the morning. He had to admit that you were some form of a goddess; maybe it was your figure, or your personality, but something within him felt as if this connection had to be holy, divine. His hips ached, and his tip was wet with lust. He would never admit it to you, that would only boost your ego.

This part was a request! (Originally, was a one shot.) Let me know if you all want a part 3!!

Part one on my Master list!

follow & like pls

[koalapastries-writes]

ok last one, im so sorry, i love you, and this has to be done.

drivers reaction to reader graduating from their masters degree 🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪

free reign to pickk but uhhhhh u know my faves 😚

-bear ❤️

no apologising, i love asks and you always have such great ideas!! i love writing them so much. and another congratulations to you for graduating!!!

i'm gonna say blanket statement for all of them: kinda stunned that got that far into schooling? especially because like half of them didn't finish high school

charles leclerc:

sososo proud but genuinely cannot believe you did that much school

voluntarily

would just blink prettily if you tried to explain your actual degree to him

also may not actually know what a master's degree is he's just hyping you up on instinct

not a thought behind those eyes lmao

lando norris:

throws the biggest grad party in the history of grad parties

which is to say

a fucking massive party

probably gets drunker than you do

definitely ends up on a table at some point telling a crowd of people you've probably never met about how awesome and smart and cool you are

has a crazy hangover the next day but still insists on trying to make breakfast in bed for you

literally that "who is burning down my kitchen" "making breakfast for my [bf]" meme

ollie bearman:

has no idea how he bagged someone so smart

boy had taxi driver as his occupation on his official instagram account he does not take himself seriously

he's so unbelievably proud of and happy for you

does question why you're with him when he dropped out of high school for racing

you tell him it's because he's adorable and talented and the best boyfriend you could ever want

and then you get a happy ollie who wants to hug you 25/8 for at least a full week after your graduation

oscar piastri:

very proud

mentions it in any interview he can possibly slip it into

lando is TIRED of hearing about it

his mechanics are tired

mark is tired

everyone is tired

oscar doesn't care

you're his boyfriend, you did something awesome, he WILL brag about it at every opportunity

couldn't love you more if he wanted to (and he does)

fun lil piece of vinnie lore: i am technically a high school drop out.

[wysteriaisapenguin]

Sometimes I think about the Voice and Vessel ships that aren't their respective pairs. So I'm gonna ramble about the ones I really like

Hero and Thorn: I like to think that out of all the vessels, Hero would resonate with Thorn the most. Both of them start off as soft individuals who end up hurting each other after things go south and becoming hostile and cautious. But they eventually reach a point where they are so tired of all the pain and mistrust. Even so, they still want to believe they can make things right and leave together peacefully. Hero always believed in doing the right thing. His compassion is enough to let Thorn know that he truly wants to help her and she can trust him. She's scared of being hurt again and so is he. Now that they understand each other and the pain they've been through, they want to reassure each other that things will be ok between them now. And that's just very sweet to me.

Wraith and Opportunist OR Wraith and Cheated: Ok I might be cheating here since I choose two different voices to pair with Wraith. But I like them both for different reasons! The dynamic between Wraith and Opportunist is just so hilarious (Scary villainess and her loyal bumbling henchman LOL). I love how he tries to butter up to her and she isn't having it at first, but then she starts finding him amusing. And if you let her out, she's genuinely endeared by his support. It's a funny interaction and probably the one nice thing Oppy has ever done for a princess. It also makes sense too since they both have abandonment issues and will do anything it takes to not be hurt again, even if it means they have to hurt others. As for Wraith and Cheated, both are pissed off by the unfair circumstances that they are each placed in (Wraith being cruelly slain as a trapped prisoner and Cheated taking on the role as a slayer with a terrible reward). They take out their anger on each other because they both think that the other made things worse for them. But even so, I like to think this shared feeling might offer both of them to connect somehow. Even if these two aren't willing to empathize with each other, they both know that whatever game they're playing in is "rigged against them". So perhaps, if they were to put their hatred aside and work together, they can both fight for the freedom they've been longing for so long. It may never happen, but ideally it would be an endearing dynamic.

[The next few ships include Pristine Cut Spoilers]

Paranoid and Happily Ever After: We know that Paranoid is usually afraid of the princess, always expecting the worst possible thing she could do to her. But what happens when she meets a princess who just wants to make her happy and is clearly miserable because of it? Despite her initial caution, Paranoid realizes that HEA is just as trapped as she is and urges her to be honest so that the both of them can be free. Sure enough, that urge is what encourages HEA to finally speak up for herself. Perhaps she knows how anxious Paranoid is but still wants her to feel comfortable around her. So she tries to build trust with the voice by being patient and caring towards her. Thanks to this, Paranoid slowly feels less afraid of HEA. Both of these fragile souls know how much it hurts to have their will and freedom taken away, but they can seek comfort in each other now that they are finally free.

Cold and Fury: I really love how out of all the vessels, Cold is clearly amused by Fury (if you get him from Adversary). As a voice who claims to "feel nothing", it would be expected for him to be drawn to someone filled with raw emotion. (WHO'S READY FOR BURNED BRIDGES 2.0 BABYYYYYYYYYY) But then it turns out that he shares something in common with her. Both of them are desperate to feel something, anything. And for Fury in particular, she wants to feel the spark she once had so bad but can't anymore. Once she's taken out all of her anger, once she's done with her agonizing torment, she's left in a sad, lost, and empty state. But Cold is still there. Despite everything, he was able to withstand all the pain. And he too wants to feel something; he just didn't want to do the same thing over and over with Fury. Even if they have both have grown numb to their own feelings, they can still build something together. It's not too late for either of them.

Skeptic and Eye of the Needle: So this is mostly based on the updated ending for EOTN when you free her with Skeptic. Once she's finally out, she is left in a state of confusion. Violence is the only thing she ever cared about and everything outside of that is so new to her. She feels so lost and scared, as if she had long forgotten something important. And that's when Skeptic comes in. He'd be the best one to help her come to terms with her identity crisis. He also knows what it's like to feel lost with so many unanswered questions and he's sure EOTN has a lot of them. So he's willing to guide her towards the answers she is looking for, no violence required. And EOTN would be grateful for this...although this probably won't stop her from wanting to fight him too. (She'd still think he’s a weakling who needs to toughen up and be her equal.) The spark she once had isn't lost yet; she just needs a different approach.

[halfhissandwich]

Thomas feeding shippers:

Logicality: “Oh I love you guys :D here, take this feast, I made it special for you :3”

Logince: “oh yeeeeah you guys exist. Um… here, take this singular piece of bread. It’s moldy.”

Analogical: “ok FINE you guys have been bothering me for like 7 years because you’re “sTaRvInG tO dEaTh” or whatever... wait this is gonna be funny, I’ll give you guys one Christmas cookie, but if you want the rest of the food, you’ll have to give me money >:D”

Loceit: “who are you?”

Intrulogical: “It’s your lucky day! :D You get a singular piece of bread, but it’s NOT moldy! :D”

Royality: “you guys have YEARS worth of food, you can handle me taking 90% of it away. Shut up, eat your bagel, be grateful.”

Moxiety: “here’s an onion. It’ll feed you but you’ll cry in the process.”

Moceit: “Listen, there’s a limited supply of this and you have to share with roceit, so I’ll just give you this—” trips and gives Moceit an entire buffet “OH SHIT”

Intruality: “I’ll be honest, I don’t really know how you got here, but at least I know who you are, take a lemon.”

Prinxiety: “hey. psst. you guys are my favorite. here’s enough food for 20 years. Don’t tell the others. :3”

Roceit: “OH- you guys- hi, um… so, funny story, something happened with your pal moceit, and I accidentally gave them all of your food…”

Creativitwins: “wha— oh right you guys. What’s that? You’re hungry? You like the wholesome brothers content? Um… hey what’s that” makes a run for it “YOU’LL NEVER TAKE ME AND MY ROMAN ANGST ALIVE”

Anxceit: “LISTEN BUD. There’s already enough conflict between moceit and roceit and the other guy, best I can do for you is a piece of salami. Go make a shitty sandwich with logince and intrulogical.”

Dukexiety: Thomas puts Mr. Fuzzy on the table. “Silly little fella :) … no he IS your food, I’m scared of you guys”

Dukeceit: “OH FINALLY I AM SO TIRED OF ROCEIT AND MOCEIT AND ANXCEIT AND THAT OTHER GUY— go sit with logicality, you can eat some of their food :)”

[holmesianlove]

Chapter 24 -  Pudding

The next morning, John was in a good mood, working in the kitchen. The evening with Sherlock had been quite lovely in the end, just the two of them, alone together. He realised he hadn’t finished speaking to Sherlock about the case, though. Sherlock had been to see his brother, hence he'd needed the ice cream too, but didn’t say why. So when Sherlock strolled in to find the mess surrounding John, his face a little horrified, John already jumped in to distract him.

“Was he mad?” John asked.

“Who?” Sherlock looked confused. 

He was already dressed. Looking nice for this time of morning. Perhaps he was about to go out for the day. Should John have checked if they had a case first? Had John forgotten something they were doing entirely?

“Mycroft. Was he mad that the case wasn't as exciting as he had hoped? You didn’t say.” 

“Oh. He'll get over it,” Sherlock said with a flippant hand gesture.

“Did you still get paid, though?” John turned to ask.

“Yes, we got paid,” Sherlock corrected.

“Good,” John said, nodding as he worked. 

“What are you doing in here, then? It smells amazing,” Sherlock sighed, walking in and looking around. Every surface was a mess, all covered in bowls and flour, and spices.

“I thought I'd cook a Christmas pudding. I found my Nan’s recipe.”

“Really? You've never done that before,” Sherlock said, surprised.

“I was feeling inspired by all the sweet goodness on our trip,” he said with a laugh. “Well, actually, I also promised Molly I would bring… something to the party.” He grimaced. Sherlock was not thrilled about having to go in the first place.

Sherlock flashed him an annoyed look.

“I know. I know. And you wanted to get out of going. I know.”

Sherlock went straight to the kettle to make tea. 

“Anyway, I agreed to bake some cookies - simple enough. And then, when I was looking through my recipes I found the pudding recipe and I thought I’d make that just for us... to have, before you go away for Christmas.” John looked around him at the mess and suddenly felt overwhelmed. 

“Can I help?” Sherlock asked, noticing John's distress.

“You ah… you want to help?” John asked, looking surprised and nervous at the offer.

“Yes, John. I want to help. Put me to good use. Just let me have a tea first.”

“You’re not doing anything today?” he checked.

“Nope. Free as a bird,” he said with a smile. He grabbed his tea and moved over to a chair placing his cup on the one corner of the table that was clear of cooking paraphernalia.

“Ok. Sure. Here, put an apron on or that posh shirt of yours will get ruined.” John handed him an apron from the cupboard and then set about trying to organise the chaos a bit, now that he had someone else involved in it. Once Sherlock had finished his tea, John passed him a bowl with dough in it and a rolling pin.

Sherlock still managed to make wearing an apron look sexy. It irritated John - making it hard for him to focus. He set Sherlock to rolling out dough and pressing the biscuit cutter into it, making different Christmas shapes and placing them on the tray for baking. For a while they worked in silence, just concentrating on what they were doing. John mixed his soaked fruit into the bowl of dry ingredients and got the pudding mixture sorted.

“This is nice. I feel like we usually don't share in the cooking together,” he said finally.

“I’ve made you cook too often,” Sherlock rushed to reply.

“It's alright. I don't mind doing it so long as you don't mind my terrible cooking,” John laughed. 

“Your cooking isn’t terrible.”

“Well, I’m not a terrible cook. I don't know, I just assume you are more accustomed to nicer food.” John blushed at the admission. His basic cooking kept them alive, he supposed. It was sustenance, but it wasn’t fine dining.

“John, we get takeaway when I’m in charge, or when you’re tired. When you make time to cook, it means something. To me, at least.”

“Well, I appreciate that. And that you don’t, you know, make fun of my cooking. I'm sure you can cook too.”

“Yes, I can, and I have done so on occasion, but when my brain's busy and my body's tired, I struggle to sum up the energy. My brain often doesn't have room left to think about what I want to cook, or what I could cook, or what I should cook… or if we have the ingredients… or when I'll have time to go to the shops to get the ingredients. You just have this ability to look at what's in the fridge and make something up. I can't do that.”

“You're a chemist!” John exclaimed. “I would have thought potions would be your specialty.”

“No, funnily enough. At least, I don't do that with food, so much as actual chemicals. Not advisable for the kitchen.” 

“Yeah, all right, genius,” John teased. "Hasn't stopped you running experiments in here, has it."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. His experiments on the kitchen table were always a source of heated conversation. “But honestly, John, that's a skill. I can follow a recipe and I've cooked some very fancy, very impressive things when I was younger, but I'm following someone else's recipe with ingredients they've told me to buy. You can just improvise and I am constantly in awe of that.”

“Okay, that makes me feel a little bit better. Keep going with the compliments.” He flashed Sherlock a grin and his eyes sparkled with joy.

“I really like that one you do with the… with the minced meat?”

John laughed. “Mystery mince?” 

“Is that what you call it?” Sherlock chuckled.

“Yes, but it's just a bunch of stuff from the cupboard. It's just a mix of herbs and leftover veg and mince on toast it's not rocket science.”

“Well, I like it.” Sherlock lifted his chin defiantly.

“Good to know.” John chuckled to himself. “It feels good to know that I can still impress a genius.”

“You are a physician, John, you're not an idiot.”

“No, I know. You're just… very intimidating.”

“Me?” Sherlock looked shocked.

“Yes. You’re very—“

Sherlock’s brow creased as he watched John. Was that really what he thought? Was that why he was so nervous all the time? 

“You're very scathing sometimes... very unforgiving of people who you think are stupid. And I am prone to a lot of stupid things. So…” He looked down at his bowl, suddenly embarrassed he’d said anything.

“Oh, John, you're not even close to the idiots we see the rest of the time. You are an army surgeon. Are you seriously suggesting that I would think that you are stupid?” Sherlock asked.

John thought about it, and while they occasionally called each other idiot, he knew it was more in an affectionate way, somehow. A term of endearment. He’d used it on Sherlock too, and Sherlock Holmes was no idiot. He never meant it like that. “Well, I suppose when you say it like that, it sounds silly.”

“Perfectly ridiculous,” Sherlock said. He went back to working the dough. “John, maybe I’ve never said it to you directly. But you are one of the smartest people I know. I happen to have one of the fastest, most complex minds in the world. The skills I have are not are not particularly usual for the average human. So sometimes it seems like I expect everyone to be like me, but I know that I'm peculiar. You might have a more normal brain in comparison, but you are highly intelligent, highly accomplished. You have skills I've never even dreamed of having… to open up a human? To cut them open and understand what you're looking at? And fix them? At that level? Fascinating,” he sighed. “I find you fascinating.” 

John was lost for words. Sherlock had certainly never said that before. “I just always thought you lumped me in with the rest of the idiots.” He blushed.

“John, I wouldn't let you live here with me if I thought you were stupid. Quite honestly. You should know better than that.” He tilted his head and gave John a look of disbelief.

“Well, thank you, that's all the Christmas present I need.” He smiled at Sherlock and his friend looked back at him.

John was always fascinated with how Sherlock’s eyes changed colour, like a mood ring. Depending on his mood, or what he wore, his eyes shifted. And right now they were the most beautiful blue, while they were looking at John. Stunning. He didn’t mean to but he licked his lips nervously, lost for words. “Looks like you’re… ah… out of dough. Why don’t you pop those trays in the oven. Set the timer for eight minutes,” he said, returning his focus to the task.

He set about getting the pudding on to boil and then began making the icing for the biscuits, as Sherlock churned out more biscuits like a professional. Those violin-skilled fingers manipulated the dough and the biscuit cutters in a beautiful choreography that John kept finding himself watching. He was always rough and clumsy when he made them.

When the timer went off, Sherlock jumped up excitedly, and grabbed the tea towels to pull out the first tray of biscuits, eager to see how his handy work had gone. When he turned there was no bench space.

“John… if you could just…”

John’s thoughts were a million miles away. Sherlock, meanwhile, had grabbed both trays - one in each hand. So his hands were full, and the heat from the trays was burning through to his fingers now. 

“John!” Sherlock said more forcefully.

John spun around in a hurry, lifting the spoon out of the bowl, which managed to flick green icing across onto Sherlock’s cheek. He snorted and then realised the situation. “Sorry,” he laughed. “Sorry. Here, let me help.” John moved to the bench and frantically shifted his recipe pages and a used bowl and put down some cork board to take the heat of the trays. “Sorry,” he said again.

Sherlock dropped both trays down, and let the tea towels drop to the floor as he shook his hands out. The heat had worked through to his fingers but not enough to burn them.

“Are you alright?” John asked.

“Yes, sorry, I should have thought about the bench space…”

“No. My fault,” John said then smiled. “Come here.”

Sherlock’s brow furrowed.

“I got… icing…” John moved to Sherlock and reached up his thumb, to wipe the icing away.

Sherlock froze at the action and watched John intently. John’s only focus seemed to be on the icing splatter, but he moved his thumb slowly, deliberately across Sherlock’s cheek, pressing ever so slightly to wipe it off. John’s eyes were suddenly captivated by the little freckles on the rise of Sherlock’s cheek, just above the icing, and the trail of colour it still left on his skin. Without meaning anything by it, without thinking, he moved his thumb to his own lips and sucked the icing away. Sherlock’s pupils dilated at the suggestive gesture, which John had apparently done unconsciously.

“Green,” John said quietly, with a smile, as he moved away, back to his stirring.

“Hmmm?” Sherlock hummed in question, words escaping him in the moment.

“You have green on your face. Finally I have my revenge,” John said with a cheeky smile.

“Oh.” Sherlock’s lips formed a circle as his brain caught up. “Oh right, yes. Ha!” He tried to settle his brain and bring himself back to his task. John hadn’t meant anything by it all. Just friendly teasing. He bent down and grabbed the towels from the floor and set about moving the biscuits silently to some cooling racks so he could place more biscuits on the trays, then get the next batch in the oven.

He turned and without thinking, he used the tea towel to flick at John’s leg. Revenge indeed.

John spun around, icing covered spoon in hand, in shock. “Oh it's like that is it?” he teased, his brow shooting up, recognising the threat of a food war.

“It could be like that,” Sherlock said, raising his brow as well, pausing to see what John would do.

They both started giggling at themselves, and Sherlock adjusted his grip on the tea towel, as if he was ready for battle. John walked closer to stand right in front of Sherlock, spoon poised, spine tall ready for the challenge. But something in Sherlock’s eyes changed when he got that close and all of a sudden the tension between them shifted. John’s smile dropped and he couldn’t take his eyes off Sherlock’s. They were trying to say something without words and John so wanted to hear what it was. He wanted to believe that the things racing around his own head might be reciprocated in his flatmate. In his friend. His best friend. His eyes searched Sherlock’s face for answers, but he wasn’t giving anything away. Sherlock’s eyes had shifted to that shade of blue again, and he was watching John just as closely, but the message wasn’t transmitting loud enough. John couldn’t read it.

Sherlock bent ever so slightly forward and John sucked in a quiet breath, suddenly feeling like Sherlock might actually kiss him. Maybe he was feeling the same, maybe this was the moment that would change everything. He didn’t move, he didn’t dare. What if he bridged the distance and Sherlock had not intended to do that. He would never survive the humiliation. He froze to the spot.

"John, there's something I..."

And then the timer startled them both. Sherlock pulled back and the tension shifted. Sherlock pushed past John and opened the oven to remove the next batch of biscuits and the whole moment was gone.

John stood staring into the void in front of him where Sherlock had been, trying to reconcile what he thought might have been happening, what had Sherlock wanted to say, and what did it all mean?

Posting early as today will be busy for me. Merry Christmas Eve to you all! Thanks for the support and comments and for following along. Hang in there! The next few will lead you to your resolution!!

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[seeminglydark]

Drawing comics all day so here’s a little cool down smooch

Caro and Johnny are from my webcomic Mil-Liminal 💜

[unpersoniverse]

Skén:nen sá:sewh

as promised, here's Precious boy™ getting kissed by Precious wife™ because he deserves all the love in the world :cc

translation: Get home safe

[lemongogo]

they should get to kill each other at least twice .i think

[todayisafridaynight]

[sketch reward]

[frosted-woods]

i haven't read anything in 3 months. there are like 5 books i should be reading for uni. at least 10 things i said i'd draw first. my headphones refuse to work. my graphic tablet pen seems like it's going to die any second. i can't go to bed at humane hours. i think i ended up a little frustrated and with this guy all over my canvas??

oh and happy ace week. that's so swag.

[lale-txt]

heartbreaking! one of your favorite artists makes fun of y/n fics!

[mars-ipan]

some postgame doodles for pride month

[uncanny-tranny]

A really sinister aspect into how people view children and parents is the idea of children being a replaceable commodity.

I've seen this in the way people talk about parents who have lost children but have surviving children... "Oh, at least you have other children," as though a child is just an interchangeable tool, a machine that dispenses what you want from it without it being sentient, whole, and feeling. The fact that people say that in order to comfort somebody shows, to me, how deep this mindset is engraved in people's brains: children are interchangeable items, and they do not fundamentally matter.

[seaofreverie]

I'm back and Guys they played my favourite song they played where your eyes don't go and they played spy and last wave and the darlings of lumberland and let me tell you about my operation and

[name-doggo]

One thing I really wish the FF Community would Stop doing is Removing All Nuance from the Parents in Those Stories in order to Make Them Abusive Supervillains who Never Loved their Kid.

Like... In the Four Years I've been here, and for how Small the Community really is, you'd be surprised how many Times I've seen it-