#Idiots: Sherlock. RUDE!

[fictivesherlock]

For further considerations (I won't be rating like you sorry. Also sorry for the rambling.)

The Science Team: Mysterious. Which science? Do we all get lab coats? Evil scientist style?

Groupchat: Very good. It is like an endless onslaught of thoughts - messages?

Collection: Strange. Are we porcelain dolls? You gathered us? Like Collective, but implies some objectification.

Bunch: Sort of cozy. Like the Brady Brunch? Or a bunch of bananas? Or grapes? Fruity? Fruity system?

Circle: Odd. Are we all pulling chairs up to sit together? Is it group therapy?

Troop: Interesting. Sort of formal.

Lot: British-ism. I can hear which specific alter is saying this. "Oi, you lot!" Passable.

Crowd: Same guy for us. "Ay, you crowd!" Nice. Implies a larger lot though? Perhaps a bit of you're-in-my-way?

Bevy: Antique. Are you from the mid 19s? Implies busy, bustling.

Clique: Snappy. Mean Girls adjacent. But good, implies a level of you're-not-in-on that is accurate.

Crew: Like troop, it implies some seriousness, like we are all set to work on something.

Ensemble: Sort of a flourish. Theatrical. Or musical. Nice.

Squad/Squadron: Sort of formal. Like troop or crew. Or maybe a dance squad?

Weirdos: That's just rude.

Idiots: Could be affectionate, but is also just rude. Come on.

Things to call headmates other than "my Alters"

Headmates: solid 8/10, clearly a system term though

The Others: 7/10 kinda mysterious, not much pizazz

Family: 9/10 yeah replace those sorry ass relatives of yours!

Brothers/ Sisters: 8/10 personally I like calling them my brothers and sister, but tbh kinda sounds like catholic priests/ nuns. -2 points

Roommates: 9/10 Basic like headmates, but phrased in a way singlets understand

Friends: 10/10 Wholesome, although I am definitely not friends with everyone in here

The Voices: 3/10 People gonna absolutely think you're crazy

Greek Chorus: 5/10 It's funny when someone actually knows what you're referring to

Peanut Gallery: 7/10 Similar concept to the above, only more understood by the average person

Backseat Drivers: 9/10 The most correct one on the list, especially said with just a touch of contempt. Might make someone upset

The Collective: 8/10 very ominous, better when talking about the system as a whole singular unit

Comrades: 10/10 Like friends, but commier! Perfect!

Coworkers: 10/10 very accurate representation of how it actually works in here

The Council: 9/10 The Council has decided that it's really entertaining to refer to ourselves like that

Chat: -10/-10 How is it so perfect, yet so awful, yet so awfully perfect?

[cutieebabyy]

avoidance - k.b

summary: y/n and katsuki are best friends, but what happens y/n suddenly realizes her feelings for him and ends up avoiding him, thinking he doesn’t reciprocate those feelings?

(happy ending. suggestive ending.)

catching feelings for katsuki was never on my bucket list. for some apparent reason, my heart chose him. my best friend out of all people. am i crazy for loving him? even though he’s immensely flawed and incredibly rude at times, i find myself enamored with him.

katsuki has never been one for affection, but sometimes he’ll leave me some leftovers of the food he made the night before with a note on it, telling me to eat it before it goes bad. oh, and that time when he got kidnapped by the league of villains and he slept with me in my room for days. there’s also that time when everybody thought we were dating and he didn’t deny it.

am i foolish enough to slightly believe he’s got some sort of feelings for me? probably.

sometimes i catch him staring at me when he tutors me and i notice his walls crumbling, but when he realizes i’ve caught him, he immediately looks away. so, maybe he’s not totally in love with me?

whether he is or not, i cannot be the one to confess and suffer from the possibility of being rejected. so, instead of coming clean about my feelings for him, i avoid him.

i give him the cold shoulder. and i know he notices. or, well, i hope he does.

and i thought it was going amazing. i mean, i avoided him for weeks! although, it was kind of awkward when we ended up in the common rooms alone. or on the rooftop. or on the training grounds.

unfortunately, it didn’t last long.

i’m currently in my dorm, taking some notes with some soft music playing in the background. music helps me concentrate and without ‘suki, i desperately need anything that’ll help me pass this stupid exam.

a knock snaps me out of my thoughts. maybe it’s mina coming to get her headphones back. she accidentally left them here the last time we had a sleepover.

knock.

she knocks again and i sigh. “gee, i’m going!”

when i open the door, mina bakugo stands at my door. he exhales a shaky breath, looking back at me. he looks shocked i even opened the door. unfortunately, i didn’t even know it was him. had i known, i wouldn’t have opened it, no matter how much i truly missed him.

“y/n.” he pushes his way past me and takes a seat on my bed. i scoff, crossing my arms against my chest. “sure, come on in.” i mutter sarcastically, shutting the door behind me.

“what are you doing here, katsuki?” i ask.

“you’ve been avoiding me.” thank you, sherlock holmes. “why?” he runs a hand through his hair, gazing up at me with those crimson eyes.

i shrug. “just needed space.”

“from me?” my heart breaks at the vulnerability in his voice and i instantly regret avoiding him. katsuki has always had a hard time articulating his emotions and even more expressing them, so for him to let his walls down and show me the genuine despair just proves how much he cares for me. “did i do something? look, i’m sorry for giving deku crap again, he jus—“

“it’s not that, ‘suki, and no, you didn’t do anything. i promise.”

“then, what is it? please, help me out here, y/n, because i’ve never felt this way before and i—“ he inhales sharply, rubbing his hand over his chest. i crumble at the sight. i hurt him. in hopes of not getting my own heart broken, i hurt his and now i’ve hurt my own, too.

“oh, ‘suki.” i make my way over to him and wrap my arms around his neck. his head rests over my stomach and he sighs. “tch, i missed you, idiot.” he looks up at me, his ears tinting pink.

“i know. i’m sorry. i missed you.” i rake a hand through his hair. “i just—“

“you just what, hm?” he hums.

“i can’t say it. you’re going to hate me.”

“i could never hate you, y/n.”

a few moments pass of us staring at each other before i decide to finally blurt it out. “i’m in love with you.”

“is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” he pauses. “‘cause you’re in love with me?”

i bite the inner corner of my lip. “uh-huh.” my hand tightens around his hair, but he doesn’t pay any mind to it— not even a wince.

“you idiot.” my heart stops. “i’m in love with you, too. if you’d just told me instead of being a scaredy cat, you’d have known that.”

before i can reply, he reaches up, curls a hand around the back of my neck, and smashes his lips onto mine. he doesn’t waste any time, forcing his tongue into my mouth. i gasp before biting down on his lip. he growls, pulling away from me. “you just made me bleed?”

i don’t apologize nor do i look away from the blood oozing from his bottom lip. “i love you, ‘suk.”

“yeah, yeah. love ya more, brat.”

i chuckle, crashing my lips onto his again, toppling down on the mattress with him.

by the time we’re done, i can’t even remember why i ever avoided him in the first place.

[mayflora-18]

Incorrect CoD Quotes #7

Sherlock, in response to being asked to sneak into Valeria’s house: Okay. Don’t worry, guys. I got your back!

*She steps behind Ghost*

Sherlock: From right here.

———

Laswell: Hey did you call General Shepherd a bitch?

Price: Yeaaahh! He changed the Wi-Fi password!

Laswell: You can’t be-

Nikolai: THAT BITCH CHANGED THE WI-FI PASSWORD!!!!

———

*Something bad and unexpected happens on a mission*

Nikolai: Why didn’t you tell me?!

Sherlock: Well, because I wanted us to fail.

Nikolai: 😑

Sherlock: OBVIOUSLY I DIDN’T KNOW!!!!

———

Graves: Hey, I always get the vibe that you, like, hate me or something.

Ghost: What?! Me, hate you?!

Ghost: …You’re right.

———

Soap: If I punch myself in the face and it hurts, am I strong or weak?

Ghost: Strong.

Gaz: Weak.

Price: A dumbass is what you are.

———

Alejandro: When I first met you, I thought you were weird and annoying.

Graves: …

Graves: And?

Alejandro: And you are.

———

Hadir: Sorry I’m late, I was… doing things.

*pounding footsteps can be heard from behind the door*

Alex, bursting through the door: HE PUSHED ME DOWN THE FUCKING STAIRS!

Hadir: Push is such a strong word. I prefer calling it … giving you a little nudge.

Alex: Oh I’ll give you a nudge when I shove mY FOOT UP YOUR ASS!

Price, covering Farah’s ears: Hey! Watch your fucking language in front of the president!

———

Graves: Yo, what’s that song that goes like, “Despacito”?

Alejandro: Despacito?

Graves: Yeah. What’s the name?

Alejandro: DESPACITO

Graves: …Yeah. What’s the name?

Alejandro, pissed: Dios mío, you’re an idiot!

Graves: Thank you! Alexa, play “Dios mío, you’re an idiot!”

Echo Dot Alexa: Ok *starts playing Despacito*

Alejandro: 😦

Graves 😎

———

Ghost: What happens to the car if you press the break and the accelerator at the same time? Does it take a screenshot?

Price:

Soap:

Gaz:

Roach, wanting to be a little shit: Ye-

Sherlock being done with life: No. That’s it, I’m driving.

———

Soap: Go to bed! It’s 3am. If you don’t you’re going to hate yourself in the morning!

Roach: Jokes on you, I’m gonna hate myself in the morning ✨REGARDLESS✨

———

Sherlock: I don’t want to be a person anymore.

Ghost: … What?

Sherlock: I’m tired of it.

Soap: 😥 Maybe we should talk about this-

Sherlock: I just wanna be a dinosaur.

Ghost:

Soap:

Roach: Me too!

———

*Sherlock walks into the rec room and drops her bag on the floor*

Sherlock: tEll mE wHy tHerE arE 7 BiLlioN peOplE On tHiS DAmN PlaNEt ANd NoT 1 pErsOn hAs A CrUsH On mE!? WhAt ThE HelL UNiveRsE?!!

Gaz, whose been pining for her since the day he met her: what about me 🥺

———

Roach, sleep deprived: All I want-

Soap: Oh no

Roach: -is for for someone to walk up to me-

Ghost: What’s going on now?

Roach: -look me in the eyes, put their hands on my face, and very passionately-

Gaz: Kiss you?

Roach: -twist as hard as they can and put me out of my fucking misery!

Price: Roach no

Roach: Roach yes

———

Laswell: John, aren’t you supposed to be on a Zoom call right now?

Price: I got kicked off already.

Laswell: Why! What did you do?!

Price: Well she said, “DoN’t GeT sMaRt WiTh Me!” and I said, “Then what are we paying you for?” and she did not like that!

Laswell: John that’s rude.

Price: …But I’m right on this.

———

Roach: Remember when you guys told me to go to the pharmacy?

Sherlock: *looks at Gaz before looking at Roach* Yess

Roach: Mmm they’re out of my ADHD medication for five days.

Sherlock: Oh my god-

Roach: It’s gonna be a fun week!

Gaz, already leaving the room: I’m going to my mother’s-

Sherlock, pissed that she would have to watch Roach by herself: What happened to “in sickness and in health”, motherfucker!?

———

Sherlock: I’m sorry guys… there’s nothing else we can do. Graves is dying, we’re gonna have to pull the plug.

Gen. Herschel Shepherd: Oh my god… Oh my god…

Soap: Can I do it?

Gen. Herschel Shepherd: What?

Soap: Can I pull the plug?

Gaz: Hey no! I wanna pull the plug!

Ghost: No fuck you! I get to do it!

Soap: This is bullshit! I wanna do it!

Price: NO! I-I’m the oldest, I should be the one to do it!

Ghost: I’ll thumb wrestle you for it.

Price: Fine, let’s go BITCHHH

Price & Ghost, hands together for thumb wrestling: 1, 2, 3, 4, I declare a thumb war!

Gen. Herschel Shepherd: Are you two serious?!

Price: YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE A CHANCE

Ghost: OH, YOU’RE GOING DOWN

Price: NOOO, NO, NO, NOO

Ghost: OHHHHHHHHHH

*Ghost wins*

Ghost: Yess

Price: NO

Ghost: yEsSSSSS

Price: DAMN IT

Ghost: Alright, where’s that plug?!

Soap: Where’s that plug?

Ghost: Where’s that mother fucking plug?!

Sherlock: Do you have ANY respecT?!

Ghost: No, I have 0 respect!

Soap: We have 0.

Price: We have 0 respect.

Gaz: I have nothing!

Gen. Herschel Shepherd: I can’t even believe this!

Sherlock: Yeah, me too. Alright let’s get this show on the road! I got some leftover lasagna at home, and it’s got my name on it!

———

Ghost: Good morning, everyone. God has let me live another day. And I’m about to make it EVERYONE’S problem.

Soap: Good morning to you too.

Price: 🤦‍♂️ I give up.

———

Alex: What do we do when we’re feeling sad?

Farah: Watch a murder documentary and plan out how to do it without getting caught?

Hadir’s soul in Hell: *scared shitless despite already being dead*

Alex: Jesus fuck, NO!

———

Soap: You guys won’t believe what just happened!

Ghost: What happened?

Soap: Some guy from Shadow Company wouldn’t leave Sherlock alone-

Nikolai, maternal uncle instincts kicking in: Excuse me!

Soap: -but she took care of it!

Price, to Sherlock: How’d you take care of it?

Sherlock: Simple. *clears throat* 🎶Row row row your boat, The fuck away from me, Felony felony just tried to test me, And I’m a cause a scene🎶

Nikolai, laughing: That’s my girl!

[fairy-writes]

Hello, can I asked for some headcanon of Mycroft Holmes having a crush on Y/n as the little sister of Moriarty Family, please? 🥺🥺🥺🥺

CRUSHES ARE FOR ORDINARY PEOPLE

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing(s): Mycroft Holmes x Female!Moriarty!Reader

Genre(s)/Tag(s): FLUFF, Crushes

Notes: I did change it to the Moriarty’s older sister instead of younger because Mycroft is in his 30s while they’re all in their 20s, lol

__________________________________________________________________________

Admittedly, the moment Mycroft realizes he has a crush—and on Albert James Moriarty’s older sister, no less—he panics. 

Him? Have a silly little childish crush on you? Preposterous!

Crushes are for ordinary people. And he is definitely not ordinary.

So he does what any reasonable man would do and buries his feelings. 

You were also his secretary, so it would be a conflict of interest anyway.

Therefore, burying his feelings and hoping they would go away would be the logical option.

At least… until Sherlock finds out.

The teasing was relentless.

Somehow, that information got to Watson. 

And in turn, somehow, that information gets to Albert. 

Albert confronts him about said information one day when no one else is in Mycroft’s office.

“What do you intend to do about it?” He asks his superior, who looks up from his paperwork. 

It would take an idiot to realize what he’s talking about. 

“Absolutely nothing. It’s a conflict of interest and completely inappropriate for the workplace.” Mycroft replies, and Albert nods once, a stern look in his eyes. 

“Good.” He says, clicks his heels together, and leaves with a salute. 

His feelings get harder to ignore the more you show up to his office to work. 

He admires your cleanliness and the dresses you wore (you were always dressed immaculately, which he definitely liked). 

He admires your hard-working attitude and how you smile at him whenever you see him. 

It makes his heart flutter and his feelings that much more difficult to ignore. 

Surprisingly, you approach him one day with a request that blows his expectations out of the water. 

“Would you like to go to dinner with me?” You ask, and he drops his pen in shock. 

The object of his affection asking him to such an intimate affair? 

He’s only human after all. It’s only fair that he would be in shock even if he wasn’t an ordinary person. 

Initially, he declines. 

It was a conflict of interest, and while you knew that, it didn’t stop you from asking again. 

“I don’t give a rat’s ass that it’s improper. I like you and would like to take you out for dinner if you’ll have me.” You say determinedly, and he gapes at your vulgar words.

He forgot that you always spoke your mind and said exactly what you felt. Even if it was against societal expectations of women. 

This, admittedly, makes you embarrassed. 

“Sorry. That was rude of me… I’ll go and—”

“Wait!” He stands behind his desk and rounds it to stand before you. 

He’s a good deal taller. You have to look up to meet his dark eyes. 

But he doesn’t mind. 

In fact, he finds it endearing.

And shockingly (maybe not), he finds himself accepting your invitation. 

His heart stutters at the blinding smile that you direct at him. 

It’s beautiful. 

And the rest is history. 

[raina-at]

Sherlock is startled awake by the doorbell.

He blinks himself awake as he checks the time on his phone. It's only a quarter past ten in the evening, but he apparently fell asleep on the sofa in front of the telly. He gets up and shuffles to the door, still a bit groggy. This is why he hates sleeping at odd hours, it always takes him ages to wake up again. But it's been an exhausting day - an exhausting week, to be honest. Winning Bake-Off, starting his own business and getting seriously involved in a romantic relationship at the same time would wear anyone out, he supposes, but that doesn't make falling asleep to EastEnders any less embarrassing.

He slowly makes his way downstais, still trying to get his brain online, and opens the door without thinking about anything in particular.

Unsurprisingly, it's John. He looks vaguely embarrassed as he looks Sherlock up and down, taking in Sherlock's dressing gown and his dishevelled state.

"Oh my god, you were asleep. I should have known. It's late, I should have phoned ahead, rude of me just to show up," John mutters, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, a classic nervous tell.

"It's fine-" Sherlock starts, but John interrupts him.

"No, it's not, you were already asleep, I woke you up, I'm sorry, I shouldn't assume, but I was in the area, meeting Harry for dinner, you know, and I thought about you, and- god this is really bad, just showing up here, isn't it, I'm sorry-"

Sherlock rolls his eyes and decides this has gone on long enough. As endearing as John's embarrassed stuttering is, it's also a complete waste of time and breath. So he decides John has entirely too much breath to waste and needs to do something else with his mouth.

He pulls John into the house, closes the door and pushes John up against it, then kisses him into shutting up. John resists for about a millisecond, then kisses back, winding his hands into Sherlock's hair. Sherlock gets his hands under John's jumper and pulls him closer, letting himself sink into the heady, addictive feel of John's body against his, John's taste and smell and presence. He sighs and feels the stress of the day melt out of him as they kiss and kiss, as he forgets everything except this moment and this feeling and John. I missed you, he thinks, which is ridiculous, because he saw John this morning, but still it's true. And from the way John kisses him back, hungry and wanting, he thinks it's true for John as well.

He finally pulls back and smiles at John, who looks dazed and well-snogged. "Hello," Sherlock says, uncaring that he sounds completely besotted, because that's what he is.

John smiles back, so full of open, helpless affection that it makes Sherlock's heart stutter. "Hello."

"Would you like to come up and have some tea?" Sherlock asks, still smiling like an idiot and still not caring even a little bit.

"Just tea?" John asks, teasing now, fingers playing gently with Sherlock's shirt collar.

"Let's start with tea, and see where we end up, shall we?"

John grins, happy and playful. "Sounds like a plan."

A snippet of happy Bakers for your reading pleasure this evening. Thank you for the tag and the prompt, @notjustamumj, thanks for the tag @calaisreno

I tag @helloliriels @khorazir @jrow @the-reading-lemon

[gregorovitch-adler]

Car

Warning: A bit suggestive.

--

Sherlock and John were walking briskly along the pavement outside Scotland Yard.

Breathing heavily through their giggles, their hands slid into each other's. Quite natural, when it came to them. John interlocked their fingers, making Sherlock turn to look at him. They shared an intense look - with John gazing into his sea-green eyes - but knew better than to do anything at the moment.

John looked away and smiled to himself. Sherlock busied himself by raising an arm to hail a cab for both of them.

The case they had just solved was no less than a nine. Sherlock had been working on it for weeks after having visited the crime scene for the first time.

When he went out of the flat on the second occasion, along with John, they made sure to bring the killer with them to the Yard.

Catching this one was particularly tricky. The killer must have made them run in every nook and corner of Westminster that evening.

In the end, John shot him in the foot and cuffed him like Sherlock had asked him to do.

Sherlock had been able to force the confession out of the killer with the other officers as witnesses.

A cab slowed down at the curb.

Sherlock opened the door of the car for John. His grin still had not worn off.

John tried to calm himself down by biting his lower lip as he got in - to control his own, rather idiotic, grin.

Sherlock sat beside him and slammed the car door shut, before turning to look at John.

John returned his gaze with the same intensity as before, looking at Sherlock as if he were the most precious thing in the world. Well, he was.

The driver cleared his throat pointedly.

"221, Baker Street," they said in unison, without even glancing at the driver.

The car started from there, and for the two of them, the rest of the world had stopped mattering.

Sherlock placed an arm around John, closed the distance, and leaned in to kiss John. Hard.

John made a surprised sound at the back of his throat but grabbed one of the lapels of Sherlock's coat to kiss him back with equal passion.

They normally didn't do this with people around, but John could not care less today.

John had buried his other hand in Sherlock's curls and was tugging them now and then - making Sherlock drop his hand to John's waist, to tighten the embrace even more.

The way Sherlock's plush lips kept pressing insistently against his own - John felt like the luckiest man in London. No, the luckiest man in the world - even though this was decidedly not the first time they were doing this. He would not be able to bring himself to stop this, even if he tried.

Just when he was about to shift his mouth to Sherlock's neck, the driver honked loudly. Bit rude, John thought for a split second, just when the driver honked again.

Realising they were on an empty street, and that the driver was glaring at them through the rearview mirror, the couple broke the embrace, feeling abashed.

Sherlock hadn't let go of John's hand though.

A few minutes passed in complete silence. John was staring out the window, flushed up and aroused.

They had still not arrived at Baker Street.

Suddenly, Sherlock shifted close to John in the backseat again with their legs touching. He leaned into John's ear and dropped his voice to a whisper. "We could always make use of our hands in silence."

John shivered and suppressed a laugh. From the tone of his voice, Sherlock sounded completely serious.

So, that was exactly what they did, during the rest of their ride.

***

Sherlock September Challenge.

Prompt Car by @onesmallfamily

Tags: @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely @lisbeth-kk @gaylilsherlock @lookingforlifeoutthere @keirgreeneyes @a-victorian-girl @peanitbear @missdeliadili @curlyjohnlock @calaisreno

[joanquill]

Introducing their S/O

Because of a forgotten letter, Billy is now left in charge of introducing you to everyone at dinner.

Billy the Kid/Henry Atrim

A/N: Hi! About "How I Got Sent to Another World", I am planning to continue it, but I have no idea when my brain will help me with it 🙃 however, I have added everyone interested in the taglist of the draft :)

Tag/s: Scenario, 500+ words, Fem!Reader, Established Relationship

Warning/s: MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS!

"Would it kill you to learn how to fix your hair?"

"I don't have to since you always help me," Billy cheekily answered, as you brushed his back as best as you could.

You rolled your eyes and slapped a pile of gel onto his head, making him shiver.

"Rude..." he pouted, making you chuckle as you fixed his unruly hair.

"We have finished everything we needed to do, right?" you asked, checking the documents you brought for the nth time.

"Yep! We discussed everything at the Anglo-American talks with Antenna Onii-san, remember?" Billy reassured, looking in the mirror as he fluffed his hair.

As you flipped through the documents, making sure everything was accurate, a small, unopened envelope fell from the pile.

"...Crap."

"Hello!" Billy cheerfully greeted as he entered the room with Mycroft, "Sorry to keep everyone waiting~!"

"No worries, you're right on time," Louis reassured, courtly walking up to the new guests,

"Pleased to meet you, Mister Henry Atrim." Louis raised his hand to Billy, "My name is Louis James Moriarty. My brother has told me about you,"

"Feel free to call me Billy, Louis-kun," Billy replied, shaking his hand with a warm smile.

"Where's Miss (L/N)?" Louis asked, looking around the door for your presence.

"Ah, (N/N)'s gonna be a little late. She's just finishing some loose ends with Pinkerton," Billy answered, perking the ears of other guests.

"Oh? Another lady will be joining us this evening?" Jack asked with a knowing smirk, earning a nudge from Sebastian.

"Yep!" Billy confirmed with an upbeat tone as you rushed to the manor.

"I brought someone that also helped Sherlock and William during those three years," your footsteps echoed in the hallway, catching everyone's attention.

"Speaking of," Billy smiled, seeing you rushing to the room, panting heavily as you hastily fixed yourself.

"This is (N/N)! My loving partner," Billy proudly introduced yourself, making your face flush as you cleared your throat.

"I am (Y/N) (L/N), it is an honor to meet you all," you politely said, bowing your head.

"So you are Miss (L/N)?" Jack started as he walked up to you, holding his hand out as you confusedly placed your hand in his,

"Words do not give justice to the sight of you," he winked, kissing the top of your hand.

"Quit it, old man!" Sebastian warned, pulling him aside as Bonde approached.

"Sorry about him... It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss (L/N)," he smiled, raising your hand to his lips as he kissed your knuckles.

"Master Jack is right, though. You truly are far more charming in person than what you were described as," he added, making you nervously laugh.

"T-Thank you...! I guess...?" you replied, unsure how to react to the attention.

"Isn't she the cutest?" Billy confirmed as he hugged you tightly, making you blush as you tried to look away.

"Too bad, she's already mine!" Billy teased as he showed off the ring on your finger, clasping your hands together.

"Billy!" you shouted, hiding your face in embarrassment as Billy hugged you, hiding your face from the crowd.

"So go find another girl to bother," Billy stuck out his tongue as he shielded you from the men.

"Everyone already knew about your engagement, Mister At- Billy," Louis reassured with an awkward smile.

"(Y/N) already asked us to tell everyone about your engagement, idiot," Sherlock grumbled, walking into the room with a basket of fruits.

"So quit flirting already," Sherlock added, making you sigh.

"Well, this is just the best first impression..."

[steph-schuyler]

hi all!

was rewatching ITH and decided to write a little fic because yk-motivation

type-angst??i guess :)

warnings:mention of death,mentions of harrasment/catcalling

anyway hope you like!

Vanessa Lost

I stood,frozen to my feet as the lights blazed different colours.I felt dizzy from being spun around,a mix of dinner and alchohol making me feel sick.I looked around as everyone continued to dance and my head pounded,my vision blurring a little.

I shook my head and began to walk in the direction of the bar,my heels making a click-clack against the floor.The club was like an oven,and it was jam-packed with people.

“Excuse me..”I muttered as I squeezed myself through the crowd.

“Ay,Vanessa!”I heard someone yell,but it was too loud for me to see who.

Suddenly,the lights went out,and everything was dark.

“Oye,que paso?!”shouted someone in the crowd.My head spun as I heard people scream.Someone shoved me and I toppled over into the crowd.

“Blackout!Blackout!”yelled a man.”No shit,Sherlock.”I thought to myself.What had happened?

“Vino el apagon,ay díos..”shouted a woman melodically.

The whole club was frantic as people waved torchlights.I thought of Abuela Claudia in the apartment..she meant so much to the barrío,but was she alright?

“Usnavi?”I yelled at the top of my lungs through the din of everyones manic yelling.

I heard him faintly shout my name and shook my head.Too far away.He shouted my name again and I yelled back as I pushed through the crowd.

Thousands of pops sounded as someone set off fireworks.I looked up at them and smiled.At least there was lights…

Where the hell was Usnavi?Or anyone?

I caught a glimpse of him and rushed up,pent-up anger and frustration in my voice.He left me!In a hot club,full of randomers who just wanted to get with me for my body!

“Usnavi!”I yelled,frustration in my voice.

“Yeah,Vanessa!”he spun around and I walked towards him.

“You abandoned me!”I spat,justafiably upset.He had just left me there!

“Yo-What are you talking about?”he asked me as I began to walk away,my hair swaying in the cool night breeze.

“Usnavi,all night-you barely even danced with me!”I muttered as I stormed off,shoes clicking against the pavement.

He cut in front of me,looked me dead in the eye.

“Dont make me laugh!I’ve been trying all night!You’ve been shaking your ass for like half of the Heights!”he responds.

I shake my head.So he was exactly like all those other boys,who say shit like that.I’m an idiot for thinking any different.

“Real nice.”I shoot back,poison in my tone.

“You barely gave me a chance all evening!”he retorts.

“What?”I yell.He’s the one going off with that girl,and he pulls that shit!

“Do I get another dance?”he asks me hopefully.

“Im leaving.”I shoot back as I begin walking away.My hair blows in the wind and although I’m frustrated and upset,I have the power.

“Vanessa!”he calls after me,drawing out the E as I keep my eyes ahead.

“I gotta go!”I yelled,my voice staying steady.No matter how much I-If I-loved him,I wasnt going go crack.

“Dont walk away from us tonight.”he yells.Oh,really nice.Who is us?Its just me and him now,the world spinning as we argue.

“I dont need anything tonight.”I mutter,as I begin to walk back to him,up close and personal.

“I can find my way home.”I shoot at him,up in his face.I didnt care if I was being rude,but on the inside I was hurt,and he was too.

“Keep running away from home.”

“Without you!Without you!”

___________________________________________

On my furious walk home,my fingers cross a piece of pink ribbon.I pull more and more out and stuff it in my hand,brain flooded with ideas.

As I reach my apartment I sit down at my desk,my face and desk illuminated by my crappy phone torch.I furiously scribble designs upon designs,nimbly tie bows with my fingers and I smile to myself.Maybe this blackout and argument had its upside.

I tried to push Usnavi and all thoughts of him from my mind as I distracted myself with my work.

And I resent him until I hear the news.

And my heart breaks for him.

____________________________________________

Abuela Claudia’s heart gave out.

The barrío lights up candles,and we raise them to the sky as we sing.I walk alongside Benny,who’s heart breaks for Nina.

“Alabanza..Alabanza Abuela Claudia..”

We gather outside the door and as I look into Usnavi’s tear stained face I cannot feel angry.He stares out on everyone singing Claudia’s praise and shows no signs of happiness.Just pure pain.

We meet eyes for a minute and he looks away.My heart feels like a porcelain statue that has been dropped from the Empire State.He turns away and I shake my head.

We lower our torches and I give a silent prayer to Abuela Claudia.I pray that she went in peace,and that the De La Vega’s and Rosario’s are really,truly okay.

____________________________________________

Authors Note:Hi all!I hope yall liked this but Ive never really written fanfic before so I hope this is okay <3 I am rewatching ITH so thought I’d write a fic.Drop some requests-working on the Weeks Au fanfic rn :)

[calaisreno]

Love Language

Prompt: Flattery

Sherlock is very good at flattering people he wants something from- witnesses, suspects, people concealing evidence. For a man who pretends to be a sociopath (high functioning), uncomprehending of human emotions, he is surprisingly adept at manipulation. Maybe he considers that part of the sociopath gig. 

Over the years, John has learned to appreciate it when his flatmate insults him. Sherlock is an impatient man who hates slowing down to accommodate lesser intellects. His insults are rude, tactless— because he has no use for tact.

That's why John doesn't mind his insults. He knows Sherlock is several steps ahead of him and doesn't want to stop and explain. His words are honest, not devious. John understands. 

It's a strange love language between the two of them. John calls him a berk for leaving eels in the sink and eyeballs in his favorite mug. Sherlock calls him an idiot for ruining his experiment (the one he borrowed John’s jumper for). John calls Sherlock a git when he refuses to let John treat the bumps and bruises he's received; Sherlock calls John a mother hen. 

These are endearments. They know each other’s foibles, as well as the tender wounds they shouldn’t touch, and avoid them. He'd be nervous if Sherlock flattered him. 

“You’re my idiot,” Sherlock says.

John smiles. “Come here, you bastard.”

221B Ficlet / Read on AO3

@lisbeth-kk @meetinginsamarra @raina-at @bertytravelsfar @momma2boys @jrow @helloliriels @the-reading-lemon @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @elwinglyre @mydogwatson @thetimemoves @jobooksncoffee @lhrinchelsea @peanitbear @gregorovitchworld @7-percent

[specialagentlokitty]

Sherlock x reader - stuck with me

Married Sherlock with reader who's a bit insecure sometimes but he makes her feel happy and comforts her?. - Anon💜

Sherlock knew you signs, he knew all the tells when you were feeling uncomfortable or unhappy with yourself.

You’d avoid him.

Because your scared he’ll see the same things you see about yourself and he’ll just leave you.

Sherlock wasn’t the best at giving comforting words, so when he saw you slinking around the flat, hood up, hands stuffed into your pockets as you scurried to the kitchen.

You were in there for a few moments before you left, making you way back to the shared bedroom before the door closed again.

“Aren’t you going to talk to her?” John asked.

Sherlock looked back down at his laptop.

“No, she refuses to speak when she’s like this.” Sherlock replied.

John sighed.

“Come on Sherlock, she’s clearly feeling insecure go talk to her.”

“I’m aware she feels insecure John, but I know my girlfriend, and she will not speak to anyone right now.”

Sherlock closed his laptop and got up, grabbing his jacket he left the flat.

John had no clue where he went, but he didn’t want to leave you alone, so he stayed in the living room in case you needed anything.

Sherlock was gone for hours, and John couldn’t stay much longer, he had to go home.

An hour after John left, Sherlock came back home, a bag in his hand and he made his way straight to the bedroom.

You were fast asleep.

Sherlock set the bag on your bedside table, and he changed clothes, climbing into the bed with you.

Carefully he rolled you over into his arms, and he sat like that while he read a book.

You stirred, and woke up, feeling Sherlock’s arm wrapped tightly around you.

“Sherlock…” you mumbled.

“Look to your left.”

You sat up, rubbing your eyes as you turned to see the bag.

Curious, you took it and looked inside.

A new book by your favourite author, your favourite snacks and drink, as well as some small teddy bears of your favourite film and game characters.

You smiled as you gathered all of the teddies, placing them on to the bed and set the bag back, leaning your head back on sherlocks shoulder.

“Unfortunately for you, even if you were to be turned into the world most hideous creature, I’d still be in love with you.”

You slapped him lightly, but he knew you were smiling.

“That’s rude Sherlock.”

“It’s true.”

“Would you love me if I was a worm?”

Sherlock stopped reading, turning down to look at you looking up at him.

“Don’t be ridiculous (Y/N).”

“Would you?”

Sherlock sighed, covering your eyes.

He was smiling a little and you knew he was, because that’s when he covered your eyes, to hide the fact he was smiling.

“Of course I would you idiot.”

“Really? I’d be a worm.”

“You’d be my worm, I would build you a house and feed you everyday.”

You snickered a little and Sherlock rolled his eyes at you, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your lips before he pulled away and moved his hand from your face.

He was back to his usual look, book in his hand as he carried on reading.

“You have nothing to be insecure about (Y/N) believe me.”

You hummed a little bit and nodded your head, resting your head down in his chest and took his spare hand in yours.

You laced your fingers together and held his hand close to your chest.

“Sometimes it’s hard…”

“I’m aware, but you’re stuck with me for life now, and nothing you can say or think will get you out of this.”

You laughed a little again.

He wasn’t the best at comforting people, but he still tried in his own way to offer you words of comfort and show you he cared

[anonymousewrites]

A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 2) Chapter Four

Father Figure! Sherlock Holmes x Teen! Reader

Chapter Four: Turbulent Christmas

Summary: Sherlock and (Y/N)'s frustrations with this case grow as Irene disappears for months on end.

            “Eat,” said Sherlock as John put toast and jam down in front of them on the breakfast table.

            “Only if you do,” countered (Y/N).

            “Oh, come on, dear, you’re a growing kid. Eat up,” said Mrs. Hudson encouragingly.

            (Y/N) sighed but obeyed. They and Sherlock both had a weakness for Mrs. Hudson, even if they pretended not to. She was a grandmotherly figure to them and watched out for them even when they were being idiots and not taking care of their health.

            The door to flat 221B opened, and (Y/N) glanced up. Seeing it was Mycroft, they didn’t bother to respond and just went back to eating toast with blueberry jam.

            “The photographs are safe,” said Sherlock by way of greeting.

            He’s not wrong perse, thought (Y/N). Irene is going to keep them safe. She had stolen them back when she dropped off Sherlock’s coat.

            “In the hands of a fugitive sex worker,” said Mycroft with as much dignity as he could muster through his grumpiness.

            “She’s not interested in blackmail. She wants…protection for some reason,” said Sherlock. “I take it you’ve stood down the police investigation into the shooting at her house?”

            “How can we do anything while she has the photographs? Our hands are tied,” said Mycroft, hands tight around his umbrella.

            “Ironic choice of words,” said (Y/N) innocently, causing John to joke on his tea and Sherlock to smirk. Mycroft just scowled.

            “You see how this works—the phone is her get-out-of-jail-free card. You have to leave her alone,” said Sherlock. “Treat her like royalty, Mycroft.”

            “But not how she treats royalty,” added (Y/N).

            John had to put his teacup down. He was going to keep choking if they kept going. A sigh echoed through the room, and everyone froze. It was distinctly feminine and distinctly sexual.

            “Uh, what was that?” asked John.

            “Text,” replied Sherlock, not looking up from his paper.

            “But what was that noise?” questioned John.

            Oh. Irene’s playing a game with him. (Y/N) was tempted to smile. Irene was clever. As long as she didn’t prove to be totally cruel and sadistic, (Y/N) thought they could end up liking her.

            “Did you know there were other people after her, too, Mycroft, before you sent John, (Y/N), and me in there? CIA-trained killers, at an excellent guess,” said Sherlock.

            “It’s an absolute disgrace,” said Mrs. Hudson, bringing more toast to encourage (Y/N) to eat. She had learned that once they were eating, as long as they didn’t stop, it was pretty easy to keep them going for longer. Otherwise, (Y/N) would go back to ignoring their needs and focus on the case. “Really, sending your little brother and a teenager into danger like that. Family is all we have in the end, Mycroft Holmes,” reprimanded Mrs. Hudson.

            “Oh, shut up, Mrs. Hudson,” snapped Mycroft.

            Mrs. Hudson gasped, and Sherlock, John, and (Y/N) all exclaimed, “Mycroft!”

            Mycroft cringed at their glares and looked at Mrs. Hudson. “Apologies.”

            “Thank you,” said Mrs. Hudson primly. Sherlock’s phone sighed again, and she frowned. “Oh, that’s a bit rude, that noise, isn’t it?”

            Sherlock glanced at the message and put his phone back without answering. “There’s nothing you can do and nothing she will do as far as I can see,” said Sherlock, continuing his conversation with Mycroft.

            “I can put maximum surveillance on her,” said Mycroft.

            “Why bother? You can follow her on twitter. I believe her username is ‘TheWhipHand,’ ” said Sherlock.

            “Yes. Amusing,” said Mycroft sneeringly. His phone rang, and he stood. “Excuse me. Hello?” He walked into the hall so (Y/N) and Sherlock couldn’t listen in like they’d like to.

            John cleared his threat. “Sherlock. Why does your phone make that noise?”

            “What noise?” asked Sherlock, acting oblivious.

            “That noise—the one it just made,” said John.

            “It’s a text alert. It means I’ve got a text,” said Sherlock.

            “Your texts don’t usually make that noise,” said John.

            “Someone decided to personalize their alert sound, apparently,” said (Y/N).

            “So every time they text him—” John was punctuated by a sigh from Sherlock’s phone.

            “Evidently,” said Sherlock.

            “Bond Air is a go, that’s decided. Check with the Coventry lot. Talk later,” said Mycroft as he rejoined them.

            (Y/N) cocked their head. Looks like Mycroft and his government are up to something. Sounds important. They filed the information away for later use if needed.

            “What else does she have?” asked Sherlock, again focusing on Irene. Mycroft pretended to not understand. Sherlock folded the newspaper. “Irene Adler. The Americans wouldn’t be interested in her for a couple of compromising photographs. There’s more.”

            (Y/N) nodded in agreement. They had figured out the same theory with Sherlock. “Something big is coming, isn’t it?” Does it have to do with Bond Air or whatever Mycroft is doing? They did not voice that final thought. It had no factual basis, just intuition. Mycroft was almost always involved in at least five classified operations, so there was no telling what in particular this could be about.

            “Irene Adler is no longer any concern of yours,” said Mycroft. “From now on you will stay out of this.”

            “Oh, will we?” questioned Sherlock, standing and picking up his violin.

            “Yes, Sherlock, you will,” said Mycroft. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a long and arduous apology to make to a very old friend.”

            “Do give her my love,” said Sherlock as he began playing “God Save the Queen.”

            Mycroft rolled his eyes and walked out the door with Sherlock playing louder to ensure he heard it the entire way to the street.

l

            Unfortunately, Mycroft was right. For months, there was no hide or trail of Irene. She didn’t try anything, didn’t demand anything for her information, and didn’t even cause any scandals. Finally, Christmas arrived, and things remained (relatively) peaceful in 221B as they celebrated.

            Christmas lights and a tree laden with presents lit up the room, Lestrade stood in the kitchen doorway with a glass of wine, and Mrs. Hudson was grinning and sipping eggnog as Sherlock played “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.” (Y/N) lay on the couch with a candy cane, humming along to the music.

            Sherlock finished, and Mrs. Hudson clapped. “Lovely! Sherlock, that was lovely! (Y/N), you should play!”

            “Maybe a little later, Mrs. Hudson,” said (Y/N).

            “Anybody like some tea?” said John as he and his newest girlfriend ((Y/N) couldn’t remember the name) entered the room. He set down the platter of tea and biscuits.

            “No, thank you, Sarah,” said Sherlock.

            (Y/N) considered. They weren’t certain that was her name. But they were smart enough to not try and get it wrong.

            Sure enough, John’s girlfriend’s face fell. John interrupted, trying to keep everything was going worse. “Uh, no, no, no, no, no. He’s not good with names,” said John apologetically.

            “No, I can get this,” said Sherlock. “No, Sarah was the doctor, and then there was the one with spots, and then the one with the nose, and then…who was the one after the boring teacher?” (Y/N) shrugged.

            “Nobody,” said John’s girlfriend sullenly.

            “Jeanette, then!” said Sherlock. “Process of elimination.” He smiled falsely.

            John glared at him before guiding Jeanette away before more went wrong. A knock sounded at the door, and Molly walked into 221B.

            “Hello, everyone!” said Molly awkwardly. “Sorry, hello. Er, it said on the door to just come up.”

            “Oh, everyone’s saying hello to each other. How wonderful,” said Sherlock as everyone began hugging and shaking hands and chit-chatting.

            “It’s nice to see you,” said Lestrade, handing Molly a glass of wine.

            “Yes, thanks. I wasn’t expecting to see you, either,” said Molly. “I thought you were gonna be in Dorset for Christmas.”

            “First thing in the morning, me and the wife. We’re back together. It’s all sorted,” said Lestrade.

            “No, she’s sleeping with a PE teacher,” said Sherlock.

            (Y/N) sighed. Ever since Irene disappeared, he had been testy and acting out by saying his deductions, rude or not, whenever he felt like it. (Y/N) might not have been good at social norms either, but they could tell people were beginning to be annoyed by it.

            “Sherlock,” hissed John, putting on a smile when Molly turned to him.

            “And John. I hear you’re off to your sister’s, is that right?” she asked conversationally.

            “Yeah. First time ever, she’s cleaned up her act. She’s off the booze,” said John.

            “Nope,” said Sherlock. (Y/N) nudged him with an unopened candy cane to make a point.

            “Shut up, Sherlock.” Luckily, John was used to him.

            “I see you’ve got a new boyfriend, Molly,” said Sherlock. “And you’re serious about him.”

            “Sorry, what?” said Molly nervously.

            “In fact, you’re seeing him this very night and giving him a gift,” said Sherlock.

            Yeah, she’s giving you a gift since she has a massive thing for you, thought (Y/N). “Sherlock—”

            “Shut up and have a drink, Sherlock,” said Lestrade, trying to push a glass into his hands.

            “Oh, come on. Surely you’ve all seen the present at the top of the bag, perfectly wrapped with a bow,” said Sherlock, gesturing to Molly’s bags of gifts. “All the others are slapdash at best. It’s for someone special, then.” He picked up the gift in question. “The shade of red echoes her lipstick either in an unconscious association or in one she’s deliberately trying to encourage. Either way, Miss Hooper has love on the mind. The fact that she’s serious about him is clear from the fact she’s giving him a gift at all. That would suggest long term hopes, no matter how forlorn, and that she’s seeing him tonight is evident from her makeup and what she’s wearing. Obviously trying to compensate for the size of her mouth and breasts—” Sherlock abruptly stopped as he read the tag of the present.

            “You always say such horrible things. Every time. Always. Always,” said Molly tearfully.

            Sherlock softened. He considered Molly a friend, and although he was very bad at being friends with people, he didn’t want her to cry. Again, he was acting out because he had no news on the Irene case. “I’m sorry. Forgive me,” he said. He stepped towards her. “Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper.” He kissed her softly on the cheek.

            A sexual sighed rang out, and everyone unused to it jumped. Molly looked panicked. “No! That wasn’t—I didn’t—!” she cried.

            “No, it was me,” said Sherlock casually, picking up his phone.

            “My God, really?” exclaimed Lestrade.

            “My phone,” corrected Sherlock.

            “That’s the fifty-seventh from today,” remarked (Y/N). “What is she saying that you’re not replying to?”

            “Excuse me,” said Sherlock, distracted. He walked to the mantelpiece and picked up a red-wrapped gift with a black bow before disappearing into his room. (Y/N) and John exchanged looks. That was odd, even for Sherlock.

            (Y/N) followed him to his door and knocked. “Can I come in?” they asked.

            “Yes,” said Sherlock.

            (Y/N) opened the door and stepped inside. Sherlock was sitting on his bed with the open gift on his lap. Irene’s phone was in his hand. “That’s hers,” said (Y/N) matter-of-factly.

            Sherlock nodded. “Just told Mycroft that they are gonna find her dead tonight,” he said.

            (Y/N) furrowed their brow in surprise and a little regret. Irene had been an intelligent woman, and if Sherlock said she was going to die, then she most likely was. And it was unfortunate.

            Sherlock stood. “They’ll take her to Bart’s when they do. I’ll identify the body.”

            (Y/N) nodded. “I’ll go with you.”

            “No,” said Sherlock.

            “No?” asked (Y/N), hurt that they couldn’t go.

            “No. Dangerous people are involved. They may be waiting out there. Tonight, stay here with John. I’ll be back quickly,” said Sherlock.

            “Oh. Alright,” said (Y/N). “Merry Christmas, Sherlock…”

            Sherlock’s eyes softened. “Merry Christmas, (Y/N).” With that, he was gone.

            (Y/N) followed him with narrowed eyes. “John, get in here!”

            John walked in. “What, what is it?”

            “Sherlock thinks Irene is dead and is going to the morgue,” said (Y/N), pulling out one of Sherlock’s drawers.

            “Shit,” cursed John. “It’s a danger night, isn’t it?”

            “He’s been clean pretty much since he took me in,” said (Y/N). They sighed. “But that doesn’t mean he’s perfect. And if it’s not cigarettes, it’ll be something else.”

            “We’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything,” said John. “And he’ll be working, too.”

            “I know, I just…Sherlock doesn’t have good coping skills. And I know I don’t either.” (Y/N)’s brow creased. “But I don’t want him to get himself hurt.”

            John’s gaze softened. They’re trying so hard to protect him, and they’re just a kid.

            “I’ll help you look,” said John.

            And while the party continued outside and eventually dwindled, (Y/N) and John searched through Sherlock’s room. Finally, the door of 221B opened again. Sherlock had returned.

            He walked into his room, sullen. “I hope you two didn’t disrupt my sock index.”

            “You know we didn’t,” said (Y/N). “Is…Irene actually dead?”

            “Yes,” said Sherlock, voice clipped.

            “I’m sorry,” said (Y/N), trying to be comforting.

            Sherlock sighed and caved seeing the worry in their face. “(Y/N)…I’m not going to relapse. I won’t scare you like that.”

            “You sure?” said (Y/N) quietly. “You respected Irene. And she’s dead. I know you’re hiding that you’re not alright.”

            “You’re right,” admitted Sherlock. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to relapse.” I’m not going to put you through that worry and anxiety. Not my kid.

Taglist:

@stilesstilinskiforlife-blog

@im-making-an-effort

@ilse235

@schrodingers-intelligence

[miracles-and-butterflies]

[Reincarnation AU - karaoke night]

Dolores: If we have to listen to you two sing Suddenly Seymour again, can you at least sing it properly?

Isabela: We are singing it properly.

Dolores: No, you aren’t. Luisa is clearly singing to Mirabel. She’s practically sat on the piano stool with her, for a start.

Luisa: We’re hugging, it’s part of the song. It’s a sweet moment of understanding, prima.

Dolores: Mirabel’s not part of the song!

Luisa: That’s really rude, just because she’s playing the piano doesn’t mean she isn’t part of this song.

Dolores: You’re an idiot.

Dolores, turning around: And you! You are dressed as a plant sat in the washing basket on the other side of the room!

Isabela: No shit, Sherlock. Plants don’t walk.

Dolores: YOU’RE MEANT TO BE AUDREY I

Isabela: Bitch, if I’m any of the characters in Little Shop of Horrors, I’m clearly Audrey II.

Dolores: Then singing this song doesn’t make sense!

Isabela: Your face doesn’t even make sense!

Dolores: Oh real mature!

Isabela: oH rEaL mAtUrE!

The voice actors, on video chat, watching all this drama unfold: 🤦‍♀️

[moriartyluver]

ARE YOU MINE PROLOGUE

"SHERLOCK GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!"

The ravenette sat down on decaying, dusty sofa with a sigh.

"Yeah whatever," He rolled his eyes "You guys know this is my place anyways, don't get too cocky, (name)"

"Isn't this your mother's basement?" John asked from across the room.

(Name) chuckled "I'm surprised your brother hasn't forced you out yet."

Sherlock's brother, Mycroft, was about 7 years older than him and currently working for some government office, although Sherlock described him to have a much more important job than his brother would admit. He even saved him as "The Government" on his phone contacts.

"Oh believe me, come autumn, I'll be gone thanks to that idiot," Sherlock muttered angrily

"Anyways," James interrupted "We did pretty good at that last gig. I think we made about two hundred pounds in total, right (nickname)?"

"It was a children's birthday party. We were playing at one of those soft play centres." She said, narrowing her eyes

"What's wrong with that?" John questioned, his hands wrapped around a couple of drumsticks.

(Name) turned to face him with a glare. "Don't you get it? We have a serious issue with our band image, you dumbfucks."

"Hey no swearing! My mum's up there!" Sherlock warned "And for your information, we are not changing the name!"

"How are we calling our band 'The Baker Street Boys' if our lead singer and guitarist is a girl? It's stupid!" Scoffing, (Name) stood up. "See? When I started this band, I wanted to do something, y'know? Follow my passions, be a little rebellious and make a name for myself, for us!" She said, picking up her brown electric guitar "Instead, we're playing for little kids and using cheap ass instruments like some third rate garage band! Our other guitarist is a mummy's boy who tells people off for swearing, our drummer doesn't even like rock music and would much rather listen to some Frank Sinatra or The Beatles than literally any rock band or something with a little flavour for once, and our bassist doesn't even play the bass! Not to mention the shitty name!"

"The Beatles isn't that bad..." The drummer muttered to himself.

"Oh shut it John." (Name) snapped "My point is, that we don't act like a real rock band! We're just some losers who play instruments and have no purpose in the music industry! I mean, have any of you been on tiktok recently? It's full of wannabe popstars making shitty music and trying to sound like every other artist. I don't want to be following every other quote unquote artist who just makes songs that even rival Dixie Damelio in lack of creativity!"

"She has a point." James agreed with a nod

Her scowl shifted to a determined smile "I have a few ideas on how we can up our game a little and actually be influential, like The Sex Pistols-"

"Yeah but they kind of fell apart pretty quick." Sherlock pointed out "Their singer couldn't sing, their bassist probably killed himself and their guitarist was illiterate."

"And they still made better songs than whatever bullshit you've been cooking up, Sherly." (Name) argued back, pulling out a little notepad from a pocket in her red leather jacket. "Anyways, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I have a few ideas so we can actually make a name for ourselves. First of all, John, stop dressing like a grandpa and put on some eyeliner or something. Same goes for you two," She said, looking at James who was sat cross-legged on the floor, and Sherlock in the sofa. "Sherlock, you dress like a roadman and that's when your mother isn't dressing you. Stop letting her buy you hideous clothes. James, your outfits put Harry Styles to shame. Get rid of those damn shoes."

"But my shoes make me look taller..!" James frowned

"Stop being a whiny bitch." (Name) glared "Second off, we need to start writing out own songs. I've mostly got that covered but I'd like a bit of input every now and then." She turned a page "Number three.." She trailed off "Right, we need to start expanding ourselves a little more. I know we're all loser introverts but if we socialise, we make connections. If we make connections, we can get gigs at proper places and possibly get better venues. I might look into getting a social media manager but I'll just open a tiktok account for the band when I get home, an instagram would work too."

"I thought we didn't want to be tiktok artists?" Sherlock asked with a raised brow

(Name) shook her head "That's different, Sherly. It's just free promo, super easy. It's not like we're singing 'ABCDEFU' or something. I'll just record band rehearsals or announce gigs and stuff. We can probably get at least a few thousand followers. I'll make a spotify too while I'm at it." She took her guitar bag, slinging it over her shoulder. "Alright, band meeting's done for now. I'm gonna go back home before my parent's start wondering where I am. Thankfully, it's not that late though.." She looked at her watch. It was only 3:35pm. She'd come home later before and now that it was summer, it wasn't getting dark as fast. She turned on her heel, walking towards the basement door "Bye!"

Upon returning home, (Name) had noticed it was quiet. Too quiet. She shrugged it off though, returning to her bedroom to hide her guitar under her bed or something, but when she had swung the door open, she heard some whispering, and found her parents stood in her room, all her hidden albums and vinyl's and other music stuff scattered around her now mess of a room.

"What the hell..?" She murmured, stepping over the Arctic Monkeys CDs on her bedroom floor, dumping her cheap guitar on the ground

"Care to explain all this, young lady?" Her father asked, holding up a vinyl in his hand. His voice had an angry undertone which made (Name) chuckle nervously.

"Why are you looking through my room?" She asked, thinking of excuses to defend herself

"That's not your business." Her mother chimed in "Since when did you have all.. this? What else have you been doing?"

(Name) swallowed, approaching her parents in an attempt to take back her record player from beside her father. "It's nothing."

"Nothing?" Her father clenched his teeth, pointing to her guitar on the floor "Don't tell me you're some sort of musician now! What else have you been hiding?"

"Oh nothing," (Name) said sarcastically "Just some heavy drugs, obviously. Now leave me alone!"

"Can't we at least talk about this? What about university? You know you can't make a living out of this!" (Mother's name) exclaimed, pain evident in her voice

"Can we skip to the arguing now if you aren't gonna leave? It's just a hobby I swear, and besides, being in a band's the only thing I like anyways!" She yelled, gathering a bunch of albums in her arms

"You're in a band? A rock band? With who?!"

"None of your bloody business." She stated coldly "Can't you just leave? This is so counterproductive!"

"The only thing counterproductive is this little fantasy of yours, (Name)." Her father opened up an album, inspecting it as if it was something illegal "You're smart. I don't see why you're wasting your time like this! And with rock music of all things!"

"It's not just rock." (Name) muttered "There's some Lana Del Rey mixed up somewhere here too.."

Her father opened his mouth to speak as he stepped back, but before he could utter another word, a harsh crack could be heard echoing throughout (Name)'s bedroom.

"What was that..?" (Name) whispered, then her mouth flew open in realisation as she looked down at her father's foot "Dad! You have got to be shitting me!"

Her father himself was surprised, but instead of admitting his mistake, he tried to make it seem as though it was intentional, a way of teaching his daughter a lesson. "Y-Yeah.. well that's what you deserve for lying to your parents!"

He had stepped on her guitar, breaking it fairly easily. She had known it was cheap and terrible quality, but the guitar did it's job ad that's all that really mattered, but now it was broken. How could she be a guitarist if she didn't have a guitar anymore?

"(Name)-"

Her parents tried to call out to her, but she was gone. (Name) walked out the room, grabbing her bag and jacket before slamming the door, tears welling in her eyes.

It had been half an hour since she left the band meeting, so reasonably, there was the possibility that the others were still at Sherlock's place, considering they didn't have parents restricting what hobbies they could and could not have. She ran to Sherlock's house, which was only a few minutes away, knocking on the door and wiping her tears with her sleeve.

"(Name)? You're back?" Sherlock said, answering the door

Another voice, with an American accent, followed. "(Name)'s back?"

She smiled as the rest of the band crowded at the door. "Yeah, change of plan. We're going to town now, I need to pick something up from Q's"

"I thought you said Q's cost too much?" James asked curiously

For those of you unfamiliar with British shopping culture, in city areas, there's usually a big shopping centre in the middle, a bit like a mega mall but alot more scattered. Most just refer to it as a 'city centre' or more simply 'town' even though it doesn't make much sense. The streets are busy, with the occasional musician playing a guitar or something and the smell of cigarette smoke is everywhere. These shopping centres are quiet useful, especially in big cities like London, because you can find pretty much everything, everywhere.

Q was a music shop in 'town', run by a German bloke called "Von Herder", but naturally, it was quite expensive, especially because of how good the instruments sold there was, and as an unemployed teenage girl (that's debatable considering she's 18), (Name) couldn't afford to buy a certain guitar she had been dying to buy since she had seen it months ago, hence the surprise of James.

"I'll negotiate my way to a lower price, I'm sure it'll be fine." (Name) smiled, althought she doubted she could.

Sherlock shook his head "No you're not. We have that money from the gig, I think two hundred quid should be enough, after all, you broke your last guitar. I think you deserve it." He offered as they all walked towards the bus stop

"Oh no, really," (Name) waved her hands in protest "It's fine. We said we were gonna split the money equally anyways. I don't want you guys missing out on money too!"

"Yeah well, we only got all that money because of your skills." Sherlock argued back "If you don't have a guitar, we can't make more money and The Baker Street Boys are done for without our lead guitarist."

"Fine," (Name) sighed, before pausing in her tracks "Wait how the hell did you know I broke my guitar?!"

Sherlock had been known for being good at reading people and his deductions were almost always spot on, so (Name) shouldn't have been so surprised

He put a finger to his chin, faux thoughtfully "Hmm... let's see." He mocked "You come to my house again after leaving half an hour prior, and you looked like you were trying not to cry, but your sleeve was stained. Not to mention, most obviously, you want us to come with you to town to buy a guitar?"

Rolling her eyes, (Name) hit Sherlock's shoulder as they, along with John and James, boarded a red bus "Yeah yeah whatever, maybe was a bit obvious."

After about an hour of looking for Q's amongst crowds of people, (Name) eventually found it, although by now, she had spilt up from her fellow bandmates because James had pushed Sherlock into a Victoria's Secret lingerie display and (Name) had ran off, pretending not to know them.

She walked into the store, a nirvana song blasting in her headphones. She looked around for the guitar, browsing around as she attempted to decide which colour she wanted. She picked up a dark red guitar, and it had felt as thought it was meant to be. In fact, she could hear a harmonious piano melody playing in her head.

Wait.

The sound of those piano keys was actually not in her head, but was coming from a grand piano on the other end of the store..?

Taking off her headphones, (Name) looked in the direction of the music. It was Tchaikovsky's Swan lake and whoever was playing it didn't even miss a note. It was, in a sense, perfect. Even (Name) couldn't play guitar that good. Surely, whoever was playing must have been a professional piano player.

At the piano however, she something even more beautiful than the music the stranger was playing. A young man with (very soft looking) blond hair and unique red eyes, concentrating on the keys as his fingers moved in sync to the melody. He looked like he was written by Lana Del Rey, which was rare.

(Name) smiled, walking towards to stranger in an attempt to make some small talk, seeing as Von Herder seemed to be busy behind the counter.

"Wow, you're really good.." she muttered in awe

The stranger perked his head up with a polite smile, almost radiant. "Thank you."

His voice matched his appearance and piano skills, just as elegant as he was. Clearly, he was raised in a wealthy family somewhere in London, probably one of the rich areas like Kensington or Chelsea.

"No, I'm serious. Tchaikovsky is rolling in his grave out of jealousy right now." She said, somewhat nervous "Like if he came back to life and saw you out doing him with his own song, he'd kill himself and die again because of how jealous he’d be, that's how good you are."

The stranger's smile widened in amusement and she could've swore she heard him laugh a little. "That's certainly an interesting way to put it. Do you play any instruments, too, by any chance?"

"Well obviously, if I'm in an instrument shop, I'd hope so." (Name) nodded, gesturing to the piano. "I'm a bit of all rounder. I can do piano, drums and base, but I'm more of a guitarist myself."

"That really is extraordinary.." He complimented "I myself can only really play the piano. I've played a bit of violin too but it wasn't to my taste, honestly speaking."

"You still play really good though. Are you a professional or something?" She asked curiously

The blond shook his head, still smiling "It's just a hobby of mine. I'm more suited to mathematics but I admire the beauty of the piano..the intricate mechanisms..the sounds it's makes..it's an art, if you will."

"Yeah, I get that. It invokes emotion in people, I mean most social movements and revolutions were influenced heavily by music, like anarchism and stuff." She trailed off, then spotted Von Herder back at the counter "I..uh..play in a band. It's not very good but I want to make changes like that too..y'know?"

Surprisingly, he nodded understandingly. "I'm sure you're band is much better than you give it credit for. Do you have a name yet? Perhaps I could-"

"Oh lord, not you again..!" A German voice exclaimed upon spotting (name) "What did I tell you, girl? I'm not trading you the guitar in exchange for an autograph!"

(Name) groaned "That was James idea, not mine, Herder!" She turned to the stranger who had been cut off "We're called The Baker Street boys but Sherly — he's the other guitarist — and I keep arguing about it because I think it's stupid that we're called the Baker Street boys when I'm clearly not a boy, so every time anyone asks, I just say we're called the coke whores even though I don’t do coke and I don’t think anyone in the band does, actually maybe Sherly does I don’t know. I told you the actual name though so that was kind of stupid."

"I see..That's a...lovely...name." The blond smiled, although (name) could tell he was a little taken aback by h the abundance of information. He looked over to the counter. “Are you familiar with Mr Von Herder?"

(Name) nodded, picking up the guitar she intended on buying "Yeah, the band and I come by here sometimes to look at the instruments. James, my friend, bought a bass here last week, but I think he's sick of us by now. Speaking of, I should probably buy this before he accuses me of an attempted robbery." She walked towards the counter slowly, waving at the blond

"Nice talking to you, stranger!"

A/N: omg first chapter. I only started working on this fic yesterday but the ideas been marinating in my brain for a while icl. At least a few months. Anyways maybe that stranger will get another appearance who knows 👀

[m0th-t33th]

i love sherlock holmes and fucking hate bbc sherlock . please rant about "id be lost without my favourite blogger"

OHHHH MMY GOOOD LORD. OKAY. FUUCK DUDE.

ok. ok. so. the change from 'i am lost without my boswell' -sherlock holmes, a scandal in bohemia to 'i'd be lost without my Blogger.' -bbc sherlock, the great game makes me SO MAD.

so. in a scandal in bohemia its been like... a While since holmes and watson have been together, yeah? cuz watson got the wife and whatnot. and generally, holmes is a bit stand-offish. just a bit weird, kind of rude and whatnot. watsons a bit.. unsure, of where he stands with holmes most of the time because of it. so. when he says the Best Line Ever, its holmes like.. actually being nice. and actually wants watson there. (plus also, keep in mind this is like.. not THAT long after theyve met. watson doesnt have the proper vibe on holmes yet)

and it doesnt stop with that, either. he gets PHYSICAL with watson. making him stay. and says to the client, who was a bit iffy with having watson there, 'no. you talk to both of us or you get no help.'

so. he clearly wants watson to stick around, yeah? 'i am lost without my boswell' is clearly him being genuine, yeah?

now we look at bbc sherlock. (horrible, by the way)

whats the context. um... sherlock was taking the piss out of mycroft (???) and is bored or something. gets a phonecall from lestrade saying they have a case, so he gets up and grabs his blazer or whatever. he asks if john is coming. john responds with 'of course. if you want me to?' uneasy. probly doesnt think sherlock actually wants him there (why would he? sherlocks forever pissy at him and fully just acts like he hates him. insults him and everything) and sherlock responds with.. 'id be lost without my blogger.' ok. in text it seems... fine? bit weird but... fine, i guess. HOWEVER. watch a clip of his line delivery.

he sounds... sarcastic. as if hes taking the piss a bit. 'id be lost. without my Blogger.' doesnt sound sincere. and yeah, ok maybe this is cumberbatch butchering the line but like.. if we even Look at the past interactions between sherlock and john?

sherlock insults john, pretty much always calling him an idiot or something similar. not ONCE has he been kind to him. he doesnt NEED john to be here, either. he doesnt have to talk cases out with him - sherlock doesnt have to talk to ANYONE. he just has to talk out loud (hence the skull). all john does when joining sherlock is just... stands there. he just fukcing stands there and calls sherlock brilliant and Thats It.

whereas, in the books, holmes really does benefit from talking things out with watson. he needs someone to bounce off of, and i doubt the inspectors were very helpful with that, given how they run off with the stupidest solutions (a study in scarlet - rachel) plus, im pretty sure watson being a doctor is actually helpful, too.

so. when sherlock says the phrase 'id be lost without my blogger' hes just... taking the piss. hes not using it as a secret way to be kind. its just.... nothing. to him. sherlock doesmt even LIKE johns blog. doesnt like him typing up cases either, i dont think.

and like. he hasnt. been without john, either. this line makes no sense with how its used in the show. hes saying he would be lost without john but he... wouldnt be. he has no reason to htink he would be, either. [points back to the fact john does fuck all while on cases] he has no reason to say this. if he was without john, hed still get cases done. if anything, hed probably get them done faster because hes not whinging about how stupid john is.

again, in the original story, holmes says this AFTER hes already experienced working cases without watson again, and we quite easily get the impression that it fucking sucks - working cases without watson. he wouldnt be extremely eager to have watson join in on this case if he didnt care that much, if he thought he could do it on his own.

but with bbc sherlock, sherlock hasnt worked a case solo since meeting john, because they fucked with the timeline. this episode came BEFORE the episode based on the story where the damn fucking line came from, for fucks sake. so sherlock has literally no reason to think hed be lost without john.

so its clearly just a piss take. and you can Tell with the tone of the clip, too. its just. [PUNCHES THE WALL]

fuck dude. 'i am lost without my boswell' has so much love and care shoved into it. holmes CLEARLY cares about his friend watson and he MISSED HIM. HES SO EAGER TO HAVE HIM BACK FOR A CASE LIKE COME ONNN.

and they ruined it. fucking ruined it by turning it into a sarcastic piss take of 'id be lost without my blogger' like FUUUCKKK OOFFFFF. SHUUT UUPPPPPPP, NO ONE LIKES YOUUUU.

god. um. anyway. yeah. thats my rant. bbc sherlock pisses me off so bad and its kind of insane! this is only ONE of my big boy complaints about the show, too. like christ dude. its so bad.

i need everyone who watched bbc sherlock to go back and actually read the original stories because fuckign hell. they are pure GOLD compared to the complete and total bullshit that is the show.

[kirishwima]

Bet on me, baby - Part 4

Fandom: Obey me!

Pairing: Mammon x Reader

TW: Slight mention of violence (?), a lot of repressed mutual pining, lol

…..

Time moves slower on summer days.

You can’t prove it, not really, but you can feel the time trickle, like molasses oozing out of tree bark, sticky and sugary like the summer heat sweltering across your forehead. 

The bookshop you worked part-time at was far too old to house a decent AC system. As such, you did what you could with the little fan in the corner of your register, the one that Ari, the owners’ big white cat, was far too preoccupied with trying to throw off of the counter, blocking the cool conducted air from ever reaching you.

You sighed in defeat, picking up one of the dozen piles of books in front of you to begin restocking them.

Your shift neared its end, the gentle light seeping through the big wooden windows facing the street of this hidden bookstore now lower, tinted pink.

The day’s been lazy thus far, only having to deal with the occasional customer coming in, an busy mom asking about the latest Colleen Hoover book, a student or two buying books relating to their courses-you distinctly remember one buying a self-help book, along with a ‘Happy Birthday Mom’ card, which you couldn’t help but chuckle at.

And of course, your regular customer, the one that will come into the shop once a day, without fail, if not more.

He nods towards you from the corner he’s sat in, a pile of books bigger than the one you’re carrying in your arms surrounding his frame as his green eyes are glued to the pages of the one book he’s got propped open on his lap, blonde hair obscuring your view rom the expression he’s currently sporting.

"Hey, we’re closing soon", you remind him as you start shelving the books in your arms, "If you’re gonna buy something, do so within the next 10 minutes or I’m not ringing you up."

Your words made him pause his reading, shifting his attention towards you.

"Now, is that how you treat loyal customers like me, Y/N?" He grinned, carefully shutting the book in his arms-you noticed how he placed a bookmark in it, one he pulled out of his pocket. You can’t help but wonder how many more he might have in store.

You laugh, shaking your head at him affectionately.

Satan’s a loyal customer, sure, but he’s also a dear friend, one you always bonded over literature with.

He follows you to the register as you head back, the heap of books in his arms so tall you can’t even see his face as he sets them down for you to start ringing them up.

"So, I met your brother yesterday", you start.

Satan huffs a laugh. "Judging by that sour look on your face, I take it it wasn’t Beel or Belphie. It can’t be Lucifer either, since you wouldn’t have been so casual about it, and  nor Asmo’s or Levi are in town for the week so…Mammon?"

"Excellent deduction, Sherlock" you huffed, "as if you didn’t already know he’s my project partner. I swear, he’s just-he’s so-ugh!"

You rant to Satan about yesterday’s horrendous meeting with his brother, appreciating his silence as you vent and he nods along, empathetically.

"Yup. That's Mammon. A pedantic idiot with zero emotional intelligence-or any intelligence really, with his heart set on money, sex and pranking Lucifer”, he laughs, 'Still...he's not that bad. He can definitely give off a bad first impression, and he's foul mouthed and loud, but..he has a good heart. He doesn't show it but he cares, a lot more than he lets on."

He peers back up at you, his previous soft small smile lost from his lips. "Tell him I said any of that and I WILL send you to an early grave."

You roll your eyes, already used to Satan’s antics by now. 

"Fine, fine! I won’t breath a word. And I guess I’ll give your rude brother another chance, for the sake of our grades at least." 

You pick up the last of his books, bring the scanner over to it as it beeps.

"So…wanna know your total? I think you just broke last months’ record"

Satan grins. Pulls out a black Amex card out of his mystery-content-pocket.

"Hit me with your best shot." 

You scoff.

…..

The chime bells beside the store’s door jingle as a pair of footsteps starts making its way towards you, where you’d been dusting off some of the shelves in the forgotten corners of the bookshop.

You’d been so caught up in cleaning and chatting with Satan, who’d offered to keep you company until you finish up, that you’d forgotten to lock the front door.

"I’m sorry, the store’s actually closed right-"

You turn to face the man that just came in, trying your best to not let your expression sour. "Oh", you utter, "hi."

Mammon’s stood there, a sheepish smile on his face, an arm awkwardly scratching at the nape of his neck.

"Yeah, hi."

Satan doesn’t miss the tilt of your lips at the sight of his brother, eyeing the two of you with an odd look.

"Nice of you to show up on time", Satan greets with a nod, his expression back to that of his normal chaotic mischief. 

"Yeah" Mammon starts, walking past Satan to stand across of you, "didn’t wanna get the shit slapped out of me again."

Satan shrugged. "You left me no choice", he said, "You were acting stupid."

Mammon turns to him, lips snarled.

"So ya’ had to slap me?! My face was red all day! All. Day! Y/N can vouch for me-wasn't it red when you met me?!" 

You’d already started making your way towards the register-maybe if you physically distanced yourself from this conversation the two of them might just…forget you were there? You sighed, not wanting any part in this brothers quarrel-yet got dragged along into it regardless. Something inside you told you that this wouldn't be a one time occurence either, if your previous experiences with Beelzebub and Belphegor were anything to go by. 

"Well…yeah, it was red when we met" you hesitantly agreed.

Satan rolled his eyes. "Well, was I in the wrong? He would've stood you up had I not knocked some sense into him. It's not like he's some damsel in distress. He can take it" he shrugs. 

You frown at that. You know Satan well, and are well aware that he can get...explosive. He's been nothing but kind to you, but you've seen people draw the short end of the stick with him, and it was never pleasant. Still, he'd mellowed out significantly since befriending you, seemingly taking your advice to heart. 

"Satan, we talked about this, Many times actually. No matter what, violence is never the answer. Especially with your own family."

You steal a glance towards Mammon who's staring back at you wide eyed. You quickly put two and two together, but halt your thoughts before you begin to sympathise with the man that did, evidently, nearly stand you up.

"Thank you for worrying about me and not letting Mammon ditch our appoitntment but...I think you should apologise to your brother for slapping him. Being family doesn't excuse violence. Nothing does. You know that."

You look to Satan expectantly, a silent conversation running between you two that Mammon isn't privy to as he stands dumbfounded in the middle. 

Whatever it was, it seems you’d won your silent argument as Satan sighs, turns to Mammon with his fists clenched.

"Fine. Sorry I hit you Mammon. It was wrong of me. Though you were wrong too for being an asshole."

That's...something, you guess. More than Satan would ever admit by himself, at least. You smile at him, proud of how far your friend has come-you still remember the day you’d first met Satan, how rigid his posture was, ready to fight anything and anyone in his way.

"Mammon, what do you say?" You turn to him, already far too used to being a mediator in this meddlesome family.

Mammon sighed. 

"Thanks for apologising, I guess. And….I guess I was also an ass for planning to ditch. ‘M sorry too, I guess"

Figuring that’s as good as you’re gonna get between the two stubborn men, you clap your hands, shifting both their gazes towards you.

"Great! With that settled, I’ll be heading to the back to store my work clothes-Mammon, if you can give me 5 minutes, I’ll be ready and we can head out."

You smile at him and something in his gut twists, an odd, profound feeling and yet…he doesn’t mind it. Not really. 

He nods, just as you turn to Satan.

"Need any help carrying all of that?" You ask, nodding your head to the paperbag stacks he’d picked up, barely containing them all in his embrace.

"I’ve handled worse" he says, "I’ll manage."

With that Satan walks towards you, bags in tow, as he leans close and whispers something Mammon can’t hear from his spot a few feet away, tucked between the rows of bookshelves.

What he does hear, however, is the sound of your laughter, loud and wondrous, his mind racing to catch up with the way your face lights up as Satan shifts away from you, a small foreign smile on his brothers face.

Satan doesn’t turn to Mammon, merely leaves-though he does heed a warning before letting the store’s door fall shut behind him with a jingle.

"Hurt them and I’ll make your life hell, brother."

Mammon gulps.

He had no idea you’d gotten so close with his brother. Had no idea Satan could smile like that, that you could…

Never mind. That’s not a train of thought he wants to follow. Not now, at least. 

You remind him you’ll be ‘back in a sec’ as you vanish somewhere behind the register counter, leaving Mammon alone to look to the dust particles swirling where the sun filters through into the shop.

You make quick work of removing your work apron and the t-shirt with a woven label of your name on it, changing swiftly into your own casual clothes, grabbing your backpack and heading out of the store, locking each door behind you as you usher Mammon outside and double-check you’ve properly locked the front door.

Mammon’s silent as you do so, only the warmth of his presence on your back reminding you he’s still here, comforting in a sense you don’t dare indulge in.

You turn to him, tilt your head as you catch an odd gleam in his eye-the moment you notice it it’s gone, his face schooled into a forced scowl.

"Well…what do you say we head to that coffee shop I told you about? It’s only two blocks from here, and usually quiet enough we can work undisturbed."

He shrugs and you take that as an approval. Or as a ‘whatever, ugh, let’s get this over with’. You can never be too sure when it comes to Mammon, apparently.

With a nod you lead the way, his frame lagging a few steps behind you.

"Hey…thank you for coming on time today. I do appreciate it" you speak up after a long moment of pregnant silence, the awkwardness stifling your lungs.

Mammon sighs.

"Yeah, no problem. I guess…you were kinda right, yesterday. We both gotta get this project over with, and I don’ wanna fail this class again."

That…catches you off guard.

"You what?!"

Mammon halts, turns his face away from you-not quick enough to hide the deeper shade covering his cheeks and ears.

"It’s a stupid class! With a stupidly annoying professor! He gave out a group project last year too, and the guys I had to work with were-" he sighs, runs a hand over his face. "Nevermind. I just didn’t do well on the project, okay. I’m sure it’ll be fine this year."

You ponder over his words for a while as you continue to walk, a small grin slowly forming on your lips.

Mammon pouts at the sight.

"What? What are ‘ya grinnin’ at?!"

You shrug. 

"Nothing, nothing. I just don’t think you need to worry this year. I don’t know what happened with your previous group, but so long as you’re paired up with me, we’re gonna work our asses off to get the best freaking results we can."

You turn to him triumphantly, and something about it-it makes Mammon smile. Not that pompous grin, or his mischievous look from before, something soft and genuine, and paired with the fading sunlight atop the city, the blinking lights of closing stores behind him, the faint glow of the street lights-

Something about it makes your heart skip a beat.

In this light, with such a smile, he’s…beautiful.

"Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. We got this" he says.

You shake your head, hasten your pace.

"Let’s get going. The sooner we get to working on this thing, the better."

You’ll be damned if you let these thoughts catch up with you.

*****

Y/N, the champion of the ‘YOU CAN’T CATCH ME GAY THOUGHTS’ race :)

-masterlist-

[ll-again]

This might sound weird, but am I the only one who's a little bummed that there weren't many BBC Sherlock people writing Moriarty/Sherlock? I'm prob just biased because I love an Enemies/Lovers scenario, especially when they are both geniuses. Also BBC Moriarty is a fun little guy and I love to read stuff featuring him.

it is cool to be weird you should do that as much as possible

2. 'the narrative foils should kiss' is something every fandom needs more of, there is literally never enough of this

3. one thing you need to understand about me is that i am frothing at the mouth rabid 24/7/365 over the idea that Sherlock and Jim should be put in more SituationsTM, romantic or otherwise. look at this live footage of the sheriarty plotraccoons patting their little raccoon hands all over my braincells:

Sherlock and Jim had SUCH a good dynamic in the show and then Jim gives it all up to, what, just die? rude! unconscionable. the absolute betrayal. jail for canon for 5000 years!!

i want to see them getting 99s and holding hands after an afternoon of solving a crimes. (did Jim commit the crimes? probably! how else is he supposed to get Sherly to buy him an icecream i ask you)

i want Jim breaking into 221B very drunk and very 'supposed to be dead actually' to inform Sherlock that HE is Sherlock's one true nemesis and this CAM fellow has got to go, and OKAY FINE SHERLY maybe Jim will not just murder his rival for Sherlock's ... uh, rivalry. maybe he will just ruin him financially instead that's more fun anyway hmpf

i want Sherlock's No Good Very Bad Day where he solves a very nasty case but the bad guy is too rich to face the consequences of his actions and Jim rocks up in a stolen car with a suspicious muffled thumping coming from the trunk and says "get in loser, we're going to a secondary location"

(okay i confess i really just want a Jim and Sherlock Leverage-ification where they join forces to run psyops on billionaires it would be SO GOOD)

i want a Sherlock/Jim rivalry that gets so out of hand Mycroft is obliged to head up an international task force consisting of 6 intelligence agencies across 4 countries, IMF, a terrorist organization with whom they have a temporary truce, and a Sebastian Moran Who is Very Tired and Needs an Antacid on a mission that spans two years of absolute failures until Molly Hooper gets fed up and shoves the two idiots geniuses into a supply closet with a bottle of lube and a box of condoms and tells them to get their shit sorted

i just think they deserve all of the shenanigans and -- BBC Sherlock fandom, this is for you -- it's never too late to make more sheriarty content, that's all I'm sayin