#oh well it's been a while and I think there's been a significant amount of new people around

[fettery-fetterie]

GIRL HELP WDYM I REACHED 30 TAGS??????? OMG???? I WASN'T EVEN DONE YET

ANYWAYS 31st: and that compared to a relationship where the communication lines are basically none or very fucking weak then yeah it is an upgrade I think. Idfk I was never in a relationship I'm just picking from the ones I've seen in my life

[rudegizmo]

Where can I find your videos gizmo?

Currently, here !!

ALSOOO check out @diovoppio 's!!

[dcxdpdabbles]

I love your writing so much it’s really inspiring and fun to read so I really want to see your take on this post https://www.tumblr.com/hello-eden/753339474169282560/phantom-is-ras?source=share and this post I love your writing so much it’s really inspiring and fun to read so I really want to see your take on this post https://www.tumblr.com/new-revenant/753407674944831488/i-had-a-crack-idea-of-since-danny-likes-to-do-time?source=share I think it’s going to be really funny to read

I like the second more, so I'll do that one.

The Justice League attempts to summon the Ghost King to establish a diplomatic truce. If things go well, then they will have a good ally in case they ever get into a fight they can't possibly hope to beat.

Things were looking good. They had gathered all the needed materials that had been scattered across the globe, had found the correct summoning ritual, and had Justice Leauge Dark go through with the summons.

Now, usually the, Justice Leauge had plenty of people who could handle diplomatic missions- Diana and Arthur were royalty raised to missions of these natures- but they weren't sure what to expect from the King of Ghost.

According to John Constantine, the king would expect a gift of some kind, but it had to have a significant emotional attachment. Ghosts, or citizens of the Infinite Realms, were beings of emotions, and gifting one something with deep sentimental value would be far more impressive than any amount of gold.

It also had to be the "first" of something to not offend the King.

Diplomatic missions were usually reserved for the more level-head members, but this particular one needed someone with lots of emotions who would be able to keep things from escalating. It was a rather challenging order.

It was ultimately decided that everyone of the original founding members would be present and would each offer a gift. Whoever impressed the Ghost King the most would become their go between.

The day of the summon arrived, and each member held their sacrifice—no matter what John claimed, it felt like a sacrifice—as the portal grew and expanded in an eerie green glow.

Clark had the first tool box set his father gave him.

Diana had her first set of daggers before her sword training.

Bruce had the first drawings of each of his kids made for him.

Barry had the keys of his first car, that he worked on with his dad.

J'onn had the perfect smooth rock he found on Earth when he first arrived.

Arthur had the first seashell bestowed to him by his nanny.

Oliver brought in a picture of him and his first-ever friend (Bruce pretend not to be touched)

Finally, Hal brought along the number pin for his first fighter plane.

John and Zatanna didn't bring anything as neither wanted to be made into contracts bridges with the King. They would do the summons then blend into the background as the King selected the gift.

When the summons connected, the portal flared out a burst of power and sucked it back in just in time for the sound wave to boom in the room. A few of the heroes had flinched at the burst while others stumbled but everyone was quick to straighten as the King flouted through.

In a simultaneous kneel, everyone offers up their items to the flouting figure. They each stand inside a circle that indicates they are making an offering. No one dares to speak, waiting for the King to review the items, eyes downcast.

The King flouts by each circle, slowly looping through the room. A few members's can catch glimps of his flouting feet as he comes near them, stops before them, turning to face each member before moving on.

The room feels heavy, the silence suffocating until the King speaks. "Oh, thank all the Ancients that it's not the crazy stalker."

Who, they wonder, but no one dares more or speaks as the King floats around the lineup again. He chuckles at Diana's, Hal's, and J'onn's offerings. He coos at Bruce's, Barry's, Arthur's, and Clark's, but the one he ends up choosing is Oliver's.

Choose is a....close enough word anyway.

"Wait, I know him!" the Ghost King exclaims, ripping the photo out of Oliver's hand and sealing the contract. The heroes slowly rise to their feet, Bruce hiding his kid's drawings in cape as fast as he can just in case the King changes his mind.

He really doesn't want to give them up.

"That's the Stalker's grandkid!" The King growls flipping the image around to the startled archer. "How are you connected to the Stalker?"

"I'm not sure who this stalker is, your Highness." Oliver hesitates, watching the king's glowing green eyes turn just slightly darker. "If you explain I wouldn't be opposded to helping you-"

"-get rid of him!?" The King gasp, slapping a hand on his forhead. "Why didn't I think of that? Okay, Oliver Queen, I shall complete a contract with you as long as you get rid of my stalker. He's been following me for years, sending me creepy love letters and just basiclly not dying like a good little human. "

He waves his hand, and an image appears above the heads of the heroes. Bruce's eye twitches when a long-time headache appears, making rather odd smothers to the air- likely taken from the King's memory. "This guy started following me around four hundred and twenty years ago. He even bothers humans who happen to look me- examlple A-"

Bruce's eye twitch grows to face spam as Tim's smiling face appears next to the first image. The King doesn't notice, staring Oliver down with an intense sort of craze look in his eyes. "-and frankly I'm getting tired of it. Do we have a deal?"

Oliver considers the flouting image of Ra's Al Ghul, mildly disturbed by the smolder before he reaches to take the King's hand. The moment their hand interlock green flames burst around their linked fingers, and the King's human-like features melt away to sharp teeth, black eyes, and pointy face structer that does not look human at all.

"A soul for a goal. The seal is made. The Bridge was built. Live with the power of the King, but die with the soul of a man, Oliver Queen." The King chanted in various overlapping voices, coming from every direction at once before poofing out of existence. Oliver rips his hand back towards himself, feeling cold to his bones. The green flames float up into the air, transforming into a box.

It lands with an innocent thump in the stun room, as the King's normal voice rings out. "Thanks for the help! I'm excited to be free of the Stalker! You'll find important information about how to get the Stalker to die in the box and other proof of his creepiness. You have a year."

No one moves for ten minutes before John lights up a cigarette, his voice rough with fear and annoyance. "This is why I don't deal with someone of that power level. You'd better make sure you come through with your side of the bargain. Once heard that Lord Clockwork asked a cult to stop sending him wives, and they sent him husbands instead of listening to the fact that he didn't like virgin sacrifices. He removed the village where the cult originated from the timeline and threw them in the Infinite Realms, trapping them forever in the Middle Ages. Even cursed their princess to turn into a dragon for throwing fits when she was the one to recommend sacrificing other girls."

The Justice League glance at each other before Bruce sighs, "I can call my kids. They always wanted to kill Ra's. Especially Tim."

Oliver stares at his hand, watching the fire slowly disappear. "I don't feel safe...."

[eamour]

repetition creates belief.

if you have been consuming manifestation related content for a certain amount of time, this principle shouldn’t be that unknown to you. in both communities, law of assumption and law of attraction this concept has been taught. but why is it so important? it is really that much of significance?

definition.

to repeat means to redo or replicate. with regards to manifesting, it refers to repeating a specific sort of statement which we call "affirmations". therefore, the phrase "repetition creates belief" indicates the repetition of affirmations.

purpose.

repetition is a form of controlled and conscious thinking. it's a way of introducing yourself as well as identifying with your affirmations. with repetition, you regularly remove old beliefs that no longer satisfy you and replace them with beliefs that do serve and also benefit you. ultimately, it's a practice that's supposed to assist you in entering and remaining in the state of the wish fulfilled, persistently thinking in your favour and constantly constituting a new, desired version of yourself while changing old self-conceptions.

thought ➜ act of repetition ➜ belief

although repetition is supposed to help changing self, it’s not the repetition act itself that does. it’s YOU. repetition is only there to guide your thoughts. however, it’s up to you if you accept your new thoughts or not.

logic.

the reason why repetition helps you change and create beliefs in the first place is because through repetition, you form a feeling of naturalness. you build a feeling that becomes habitual, a feeling you can confidently return to, a feeling that's slowly starting to feel friendly and familiar, a feeling you learn to recognise and relate to.

furthermore, repetition leaves no room for opposing thoughts as you direct and dictate which thoughts you want to place your attention and awareness upon. it takes up all the space that was once dedicated and devoted to insecurity, confusion and uncertainty. it naturally defeats feelings of fear and fright while also refuting former beliefs. in addition, you become indifferent to the attainability or achievability of your desires as you cease to classify and categorise them into "realistic" and "unrealistic", "possible" and "impossible" or "logical" and "illogical"

forms.

generally, there are two ways of repetition. repeating (or affirming) from abundance and repeating from absence. in the first case, you declare from a state of acceptance and confirmation. in the second one, you declare from a state of denial and rejection. one is done aware or consciously, the other is done unaware and unconsciously (also "vainly" or from "lack").

the reason why i believe that stating something in vain is inconvenient is because it’s an empty expression, and not embodiment. manifestation is done in consciousness since consciousness is the only reality and consciousness creates reality. there is no underlying sense of identity. no identification. no change of self. and the only thing that can change reality is self. only through a change of self, you can change the world around you.

examples.

repeating one time · "hm, i don’t really know about that…"

repeating ten times · "oh, i'm suspecting i may be right."

repeating hundred times · "yes, i am absolutely correct!"

what felt really impossible and illogical to you at first will start to feel more natural and normal until you have finally accepted it to be entirely true. that’s when it becomes a definite part of your identity and who you claim to be.

with love, ella.

[watarfallar]

Have Some Incorrect Quotes

Scar: I don't know how to tell you this, but... I love you. Grian: That's great, Scar. Especially considering the fact we've been married for 6 fucking years.

Grian: You are the love of my life and I would do anything within reason to make you happy. Scar: I would be happy if you ate, stayed hydrated and got a reasonable amount of sleep. Grian: I said within reason, Scar. How about I murder that guy? Scar: So murder is in reason but proper self care isn't? Grian: Well, duh. What kind of question is that?

Grian: Did it hurt when you fell- Scar: From heaven? Wow, I didn’t think you were such a flirt- Grian: No, I meant when you fell down the stairs. Scar: ... Grian: You just laid there for 15 minutes.

Grian: So you like cats? Scar: Yeah. Grian: *tries to impress them by slowly pushing a glass off the table*

Grian: What are you in the mood for? Scar: World domination. Grian: That's a bit ambitious. Scar: You are my world. Grian: Aww... Scar: Grian: Scar: Grian: OH.

Grian: When you said 'Magic in Bed', I wasn't expecting this... Scar: *pulls out card from deck* Now, was this your card? Grian: Holy moly-

Grian: I’m proud to identify as morosexual. I’m attracted to dumbasses and dumbasses exclusively. Someone asked me what the Spanish word for "tortilla" was once, and now I dream of kissing them under the moonlight. Scar: What kind of animal is the Pink Panther? Grian, already taking off their clothes: God, Scar, you’re so fucking stupid.

Grian: *seductively takes off glasses* Grian: Wow... Scar: *blushes* Haha... what? Grian: You're really fucking blurry.

Grian: I’m in love with you. Scar: We called off the prank war last night at midnight, dork. Grian: I know. Scar: Ah. Okay. Um. Cool. Neat. Very cool. Cool. Cool. Coolcoolcool-

Grian: Valentine’s day is just a consumerist holiday that holds no real value other than drive people insane buying heart shaped chocolates for their significant others and pos- Scar: I wrote you a poem. Grian, already crying:You did?

Scar: Relationships should be 50/50. Grian cooks us dinner while I sit on the kitchen counter looking pretty.

[thecheshirerat]

On TAZ-

Wow that sounds like I’m about to summarize some sort of discourse but I promise I’m not. I guess I’ll say that I really like this show and I will keep listening even if my worst fears come to pass, so keep that in mind!

For reference, I started listening near the end of Amnesty.

I’ve noticed, with the past few arcs- really since Ethersea- the narratives have just… not been fulfilling their promises, so to speak. They’ve been placing a lot of guns that don’t go off. What I mean by that is, the characters are great. Excellent, really. Lady Godwin? HELL YES. Emerich Dreadway? Fuck yeah! And so on! And the settings and premises have been epic- the goofiness and also horrifying nature of Engrave, the mad and thrilling world of Steeplechase- these things are COOL AS FUCK.

and then the actual narratives keep flopping?

And honestly, I notice it most in the endings, because you can really tell when an ending doesn’t land. You feel the sense of disappointment. But with vs. Dracula, for example, I could kinda see leading up to it that the ending couldn’t really BE anything special, because they lowkey didn’t set themselves up for it.

They spent the campaign fucking around in Engrave, finding clues and solving problems and not really experiencing any particularly meaningful character arcs or growth or, idk, forming relationships? So there wasn’t much to pay off, I’m not gonna lie!

Of course it doesn’t feel quite as dissatisfying when you’re in the thick of it, because they’re funny and the stuff is cool and- oh hey! Lady Godwin’s been turned into a werehorse against her will?? that’s got some real potential for a LOT of allegories and exploration of some fun character development! And then it’s kinda played as a joke. And then they do that again and again.

And they actually said that that was a move they made intentionally, in the TTAZZ. I’m not quoting them perfectly here, this is from memory, but I do remember them mentioning that they wanted lighthearted comedy without the burden of real life story stuff. And I get that, honestly, but… it’s not the choice I would’ve made. I do think you can keep a lighthearted tone while also, idk, forming relationships and wholesomely engaging with some amount of emotion. And sometimes going way too deep is funny as a tone shift!

But I digress. One thing that’s also popped out to me is the almost complete lack of any kind of romantic storyline or even references. This becomes obvious if you’re in a fandom because everyone is always dying to ship SOMEONE, and you can tell when people are really getting desperate. I don’t blame them for not wanting to roleplay romance with their family, and I do think stories lacking romance are COOL and SHOULD BE ENCOURAGED!

However if you can’t find ANYBODY to ship together… that may mean you just don’t have character bonds. The growing popularity of the PC polycule is interesting to me; I wonder if it’s partially because

a) none of the pcs have significant relationships outside of their party and

b) even within the party, there doesn’t seem to be much chemistry between any given pair of characters…? I hope I’m making my point well here- the PCs all seem equally close and have more or less the same relationship to all of their compatriots with little distinction, meaning, essentially, no shipping fodder that doesn’t involve just all of ‘em.

Either way, it makes me wonder if I can blame the “Graduation has too many NPCs!” critique. They really stopped giving the parties tag-along main NPCs after graduation, with the exception of maybe.. Urchin? Kodira? Shlabethany? Poppy? and even they get relatively little “screen” time. Steeplechase has great NPCs, I love them to death, but none of the PCs seem to ever have one on one conversations with NPCs or each other that do not explicitly focus on the plot. And I think that’s part of why the characters feel so underdeveloped despite having spent a lot of time with them- because in this character-driven genre, we get very little insight into their feelings or motivations or even their rudimentary backstories.

I started watching Fantasy High recently and it made me realize a couple things about TAZ.

1) Recently, TAZ has sooo few core NPCs, and it’s weird that the characters aren’t doing more one-on-one purely character based scenes. And that makes it really tough to develop them.

2) TAZ is- and I should have realized this before- one of many good dnd podcasts. They’re probably looking for a niche they can master.

And it sounds like they’re trying to get back to that old “Here there be Gerblins!” energy. They’ve referenced it so many times in recent TTAZZes- they wanted to be job-focused, allowing story stuff to happen organically, so they tried a more open world vibe with Ethersea. They wanted to be less afraid to kill stuff, so they tried playing criminals (and were still afraid to kill stuff). They wanted to be silly and light on character, as they tackled with taz vs dracula. Now they’re trying to bring in the silly cartoon vibe with Abnimals. I think they’re trying to make that family-friendly, funny and goofy show their niche. Something other actual plays can’t be better at them at.

And honestly it kinda makes me sad, that they keep trying to go back to Balance while ignoring everything they learned during it. Because I loved Dust. Because I loved Amnesty. Because I loved Ethersea. I loved these past arcs! But they keep doing their brilliant characters dirty for some reason!!! And i don’t know why!!!!

You know that meme about people who ask questions in movies and then the person responds “Have you ever been to a movie before? You watch them and the information is revealed.” There have been so many times in TAZ recently where information has Not been revealed and if they keep doing it the audience will stop bothering to suspend their disbelief, because the trust just isn’t there.

What is Montrose’s deal? What on earth was Carmine Denton’s whole thing? Tell me more about Zoox’s feelings, about Devo’s past, about Amber’s future. Show me how Lady Godwin feels about the body horror that is her life- like, seriously! WHY DID WE HAVE TO COMPLETELY DISMISS THE OPPORTUNITY TO DISCUSS GENERATIONAL TRAUMA IN MUTT’S LIFE FOR A JOKE??

Do you remember in Steeplechase where the boys were getting medical attention or something- i don’t remember, but they were all in one room and only talking about The Plot. And Poppy literally banged on the door (speaking for both Justin and me, tbh) and was like “does anyone want to share any feeeeelings??” and they were like NOPE! and they moved on!!

like. cmon. you can’t just put a character like montrose out there and then leave them severely underdeveloped to the point that what would be interesting in proper context, with audience insight, becomes confusing and chaotic.

I just wish they would take their stories as seriously as we do.

It feels to me like they don’t believe in themselves, and it makes me sad. Maybe they didn’t get the response they wanted from Ethersea and so they’ve been trying to pivot, hoping to recapture whatever it was that earned them a loyal audience.

Again, I love them. They’re so funny and I’ll keep listening until the day they stop making this show, and when it happens I’ll cry.

But i KNOW they have more in them. Remember the “we’ll grow gills” monologue from Justin in the Prologues? Remember Travis’s SOLID acting with Devo? Or his awesome choice to give Lyndon/Beef a clearly delineated work/irl identity? His excellent narration and prose? Remember when Montrose described being lonely?! Remember all those moments where Shit Got Real and you cared??? The nanofather said some dope shit! dracula and victor and sweater dracula had such a wild dynamic! Clint’s acting in Dust 2- I can’t remember the characters name right now- was ASTOUNDING, I genuinely didn’t know he had that in him and it blew me away!

I’m not referencing Balance on purpose, both because the fandom is way to hung up on it and because I want to prove that you don’t even have to look at Balance, or even Post-Balance arcs, to see this kind of good cool stuff!

GAAAAAAAGHHHH!!! I want them to have fun. But also. We’re starving out here.

[kazuhaiku]

haikus for you!

summary: kaedehara kazuha loves making haikus, especially if they are about you.

warnings: gender neutral reader, fluff, sappy kazuha (like really sappy), he's so in love with you.

notes: kazuha come back when :( i miss him so much

everyone knows kaedehara kazuha as the one poetic guy on beidou’s ship.

whenever beidou visits liyue after long trips in the sea, she returns to liyue bringing back a hefty amount of fish or souvenirs. all of this is not as important to you as the man who boards beidou’s ship.

said man is currently standing right in front of you, a small smile on his face as he holds a paper bag in his hands. “hi, y/n.”

“kazuha,” you reply, a smile also appearing on your face, barely holding yourself back from just jumping onto him and giving him the biggest and tightest koala hug ever. “i missed you so much.”

kazuha, possibly sensing your want to hug him, pulls you by your arms into a tight hug, to which you reciprocate immediately. “did you miss me that much?” he laughs at the tightness of your hold.

“shut up,” you mumble in his chest. “you were gone for too long this time!”

“y/n i was gone for a week. that’s shorter than my other trips.” kazuha says in a matter-of-fact tone.

“that’s still too long!” you whine. “do you have to be out in the sea all the time?”

kazuha smiles, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “it’s what i do as a part of the crux fleet. i know you’re going to complain to beidou but as much as she likes and cares about you, i don’t think she’ll allow me to skip those adventures.”

you pout, but you know he’s right. your eyes then train down to the paper bag kazuha is holding and you point at it. “what’s this?”

“oh this?” kazuha replies. “hm, it’s nothing, really. just a small trinket i brought home from the trip,” kazuha looks at your twinkling eyes and stifles a laugh. “want to see it?” 

you nod almost immediately. kazuha hands you the paper bag, and you can feel how… heavy it is. it’s not too heavy yet not too light either.

the first item you took out is a carefully maintained rainbow rose from fontaine. as far as your flower knowledge knows, the rainbow rose in fontaine means passion and romantic encounters. you vaguely remember lumine telling you that the people in fontaine will only give this particular flower to their significant other or someone they find special in their life.

“aw, kazu,” you cooed. “were you continuously taking care of the plant while you were out at sea?”

kazuha sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “yeah. i wanted to give you flowers since we started dating but i couldn’t find the right one. as soon as beidou told me we were going on a trip near fontaine, i had to get you a rainbow rose.”

you pinch his cheeks gently, giving him a warm smile. the next item inside the paper bag is a carefully wrapped fontaine delicacy, one that you have been talking to kazuha a lot about. “you remembered!”

“of course i did.” kazuha replies. “i got this one the last day we were in fontaine to keep it from going bad. i thank the archons it didn’t go bad on our way back.”

“you’re the sweetest boyfriend ever, you know that right?” you say, and kazuha blushes.

the last item inside the bag is a small piece of paper with words on it. as you are about to unfold it, kazuha stops you. “wait! open this once we go back home, yeah? it’s… kind of embarrassing to have you read it out in public.”

your eyebrows furrow, but you get an inkling that it might have something to do with a love haiku. “okay, i’ll read it later.” giving him a wink, you place the letter back inside the paper bag, taking kazuha’s hand in yours. “well, since you’re back and it’s nearly dinnertime, why don’t we go eat dinner?”

“why are you acting as if you just met me?” kazuha asks, shaking his head. “well then… lead the way, my lady.”

kazuha’s haiku:

The Essence of You

Sunlight in your smile,

Diamonds dancing in your eyes,

The essence of you.

[simphornies]

Hello! Could I please request a Vox x GN! Reader where his crush/ or significant other is very similar to Charlie and how he deals with that? And by similar to Charlie I mean very happy go lucky, chatty, and sometimes just bursts into song for no reason? Maybe even how the other VEEs respond to it too could be mentioned? Thank you!~ :3

A/N: Decided to mix these two requests together since it worked together

Word count: 1.5k (1,546)

Smile! [ Vox x GN!Reader ]

You were constantly the smiling upbeat one in the entirety of the VVV building. Your presence lit up a room as soon as you skipped in them. Every employee looked forward to seeing you everyday and ever since you became an honorary “Vee” the productivity went up greatly. Many compared you to Charlie Morningstar in terms of personality. In fact, the two of you got along well when you met before you worked for the Vees. You were both ecstatic upon realizing how well you two mixed, like soul siblings.

Every single day you’d have little sticky notes with cute drawings on them of the Vees. They would be plastered in the offices and became a sign that you were around and about. It became a little collection hunt and you had even implemented a little game that inspired sinners to make sure they were always doing something. You made sure they’d get a little treat (varied honestly, you once gave a brand new VoxTek phone away) if they collected a certain amount and they’ve reached their quota.

To the Vees, you were too cheery, too kind and too optimistic. They actually hated you at first. You always interrupted anything they were doing and talked for hours. Velvette and Valentino were wary of how “weak” you seemed. But they grew to like you.

Valentino enjoyed how easy you made everyone to control. All he knew was that everyone seemed more compliant after you talked with them. You helped him get more souls and employees. He was the second one that had gotten used to you. He never asked how you did it because he knew he’d be late to another shoot if he talked to you.

You helped Velvette keep her employees in a good enough mental state to really rock the runway the way she wanted them to. You eased their tension with praise balancing out the strict, harsh nature of Velvette. Like Valentino, you helped make them more compliant by talking to them. Velvette liked the songs you’d burst into when you’re inspiring the models right before a show. She was the hardest and last one you impressed. But as soon as you did, the two of you would talk non-stop about all the latest drama in Hell.

Vox was the first one you impressed. The main reason you even started working to begin with. Vox’s sales went up with your charisma. He didn’t really question how you weeded out the worst workers, he never asked. They always just disappear after you talk to them. He never showed it but he loved listening to you talk about anything and everything. He loved hearing your voice, as annoying it was at times when he needed to do work but he loved it. Loved your energy. Everyone eventually did.

So when there weren’t any sticky notes and when the halls were quiet, everyone was on the edge. Velvette tried to talk to you, but you kept walking as you shrugged her off while you were muttering to yourself. Valentino was going to rant to you but you didn’t even spare him a glance.

“Y/N! How are you this fine, hellish morning?” Vox laughs, stepping in front of you. “You don’t seem like yourself today, what’s wrong?”

“Vox. Do you remember our business in the greed ring with Crimson?” Your voice was stern.

“Uh…” He paused to think, “The little red one? With the hat? What about him?”

“Well, he attempted to scam us out of payment and he is here now to negotiate terms.” Your voice shook slightly with anger. “I’m on my way to talk to him.”

“I’ll come with you! I’ve always been curious how you get them to listen more.” He steps aside, clearing your path.

“If you say so.”

He was right behind you as you opened the door.

“Oh finally! Welcome! I’m not in a rush or anythin’.” Crimson said, squinting.

Vox saw your eye twitch.

“Lovely morning, Crimson!” You smiled, sitting across from him. You set out some papers on the desk, sliding it over to him. “You know what you’re here for.”

“Look. I said I’ll pay but I neva said when.” He laughs, “Money’s tight in the family.”

“Ah of course. I understand. Greed Ring and all, however.” You get up, “You’ve been due for at least one payment for the last three months. Those cameras aren’t cheap.”

“Look.” He crosses his arms, an imp behind him wearing a cowboy hat moving up closer behind him as if ready to attack. “You’ll get ya payment when ya get it. You think some overlord and his little pet is gonna scare me? Do you know what happens to anyone that crosses me?”

You cracked your neck and continued to smile sweetly at him.

“Holy rope. Angelic dagger. And I bet you carry six rounds of angelic steel bullets in that gun.” You hum, “Striker, was it? Your little pet’s name? See, here at VoxTek enterprises, we don’t like our funds going into anything that we can’t get our pay back for. You promised us a book in exchange for support, however you haven’t even been close to touching it.”

Vox sipped on his coffee, kinda wishing he had some popcorn.

“Yeah? What’s it to ya? You’re basically a fuckin’ blue blood.” Striker hissed.

“Flattered! But no. Just smarter. And quicker.” You snapped your fingers and shadows held the two imps in place. They immediately resisted to no avail. “Careful! They’re connected to the outlets! Unless you want a couple of fried limbs, I don’t recommend moving too much. The electricity might slip through the hold. Oooh like that!”

A jolt went through them, making them scream. “See. I was just like you. So low in power. But I was smarter. I made a deal. A deal that shared Vox’s power to me.” You giggled, one of your eyes spiraling as you stared at them. “Weapons on the table please.”

Without hesitation, weapons clattered on the table. “Lovely! Thank you. Now, please hold a hand out, both of you.” They mindlessly obeyed.

“You’ll start to pay off your debt. You’ll give me your soul. You’ll never set foot in here again unless you’re summoned. And you’ll never do business with us any longer. Deal?” Your upbeat voice made Vox start to question where you got this behavior from. “It’s a deal or you die, simple choices honestly.”

They shook your hand as a chain wrapped around their necks. They snapped out of it as soon as the deal solidified.

“Wh-what the—” Crimson felt the tug at his neck and growled at you, “You little shit what did you do? Some cheap blue blood magic bullshit?”

“I’m just smarter, quicker. But oh!” You clapped your hands together, “Thank you so much for agreeing to the deal! How lovely of you to cooperate! Now please get the fuck out of my sight!” You grinned.

They were thrown out by security and Vox just looked at you like you were crazy. I mean, you were, but he wasn’t really expecting that. He was intimidated, slightly aroused and even more in love with you.

“When did you—Is that what you do? Where did you learn that from?” He questioned, a little intimidated. "I can't deny that was...kinda hot."

“Oh! I learned it from Alastor, Charlie and Vaggie! Charlie told me to always be kind!” You nodded in approval of her advice, “Vaggie told me to never take shit! And Alastor—”

“Alastor?”

“Yes, Alastor. Alastor taught me to take what I need no matter the cost!” You held your head up high proudly.

“When the fuck did you talk to Alastor?” He glitched.

“Oh like a while back. He mentioned you like once, I looked you up, I thought you were hot. He made fun of me for thinking you were hot. I punched him, and survived somehow. Met you. Made a deal and now we’re dating!”

“Okay okay. Pause. Go back. You learned from Alastor, and you NEVER FUCKING told me?!”

“Oh. Yeah! I tried to tell you once but then you went all singing mode and you’d go on a little rampage or whatever. It got repetitive so I just never told you. Oopsies. Haha. Anyways that’s done! That’s all for today! Don’t forget you only smiled at me like 3 times today!”

You skipped out of the room after giving him a kiss as he was rebooting in the meeting room. You continued your day as always, as if nothing ever happened.

“Ugh what’s with the looks? Why is everyone so tense and uncomfy? Go go! Keep working! You know you guys are gonna get in trouble if you don’t work! You guys know what happens when we don’t meet quota!”

Employees scrambled around to continue what they were doing. Vox was the first one to meet you and he was the first one to find out you didn’t ease the employees’ nerves, you scared them into submission and he honestly doesn’t even know how many souls you have. He didn’t wanna pry too deep into it. Velvette got word of your tactics and wanted you to show her how it’s done, so you accompanied her to her next meeting.

[shamachan]

Can you do romantic mcxqiu?

Qiu Lin x gn!MC romantic headcanonsꔛ

step 2.

amount of symbols: 3275± symbols

A/N below.

enjoy!

— Actually, it was obvious - their favouritism for you even when they were younger wasn't without any specific reason. You were their childhood crush and it's still present.

— They know that they closed themselves from the others, expect for some of their friends, oh yes they know they're still very well-known. But honestly? It doesn't seem to matter to them now.

— Autumn liked you so much. You'd never know how much they are thinking of you.

— Like, hey, you've been there for them as someone very close for 4 years, not giving any reason to untrust you or doubt you. But that wasn't the main thing.

— You looked out for them! C'mon, you visit their backyard just to talk to them practically everyday! You truly cared and thought about them, they know for sure. And they did it in return in their own way.

— And all of that made Qiu's heart flatter with emotions. They could barely contain them. Their mind was full of all kinds of things - even his notepad didn't help them out. But part of their thoughts become quieter whenever you're with them.

— I think relationship with Qiu is at the same time light, like summer evening breeze, as they definitely know what to do in practically any situation with you and how to communicate properly.

— But it can be as tough as winter cold nights too, when they again go into heavy thoughts about their “I am” and do not want to communicate with anyone at all. They are just become closed to everyone for this period of time, but they'll try and talk to you anyway.

— If someone else will try to get on your way when they're with you, Qiu will act the coldest with this poor person. They don't want this stranger just to be around now. Though if this person is someone who is at least a tiny bit close to Autumn, then they'll spare them.

— So it can be a little hard to be with them, but you know that it worth it and they don't do that on purpose.

— Sometimes they still come to the porch of your house, knock at the door and invite you to walk with them or ride a bike. They want to spend time with you.

— "...Wanna bet that I'd reach the end of the Golden Grove park faster than you?" Autumn would say in the park, already on their bike, smirking confidently at you.

— ...And this way they won't let you go home until the very late evening. But, of course, they won't do it too often.

— Rarely, but still Qiu would let you try to ride on their bike or use their notepad. It matters to them a lot, but you matter so much more.

— It doesn't seem like this, but they really are a soft kid. If you're up for some affection, they're up for it too. They aren't a fan of PDA, but they wouldn't mind if you like it. But if you're affectionate when you're alone with them, Autumn will melt more.

— They wouldn't show physical affection a lot, but they'll certainly support it. You want a hug? Oh, you may hug them all, they're all yours. You want to hold hands? Alright, here you are!

—They won't say many love you's. Qiu totally won't always express their feelings like this! But they would absolutely let you know that you're a "significant other" for them. 100% sure they wouldn't slip it.

— For example, they'll always have your back in any situation, caring and trying to help you, give you some wild flowers from the nearby forest or hand you his special notes.

— Believe me or not, but despite them being popular they have their eyes stay only on you. And that would never change.

— After all, Qiu does loves you. They'll never let you doubt this! Autumn will be there for you. Always.

A/N: Qiu Lin is one of my comfort characters and while writing this i felt how my love for them grows ahhh

BTW SORRY THAT TOOK A LIL LONG.. I'm a little busy these days so yeah!

but I'll definitely write other requests that i have^^

[ipegchangbin]

🏷️ semi-public (locker rooms), sub ! boypussy ! cheerleader ! jisung

POOKIE ANON??;?:?2‼️⁉️

firstly im so sorry for your phone and your bumass laptop i hope that damn bird realizes how distraught i am to not see the usual eyestrain…WAHHH either way though i would like to indulge in these thoughts because i have a lot of Feelings™️ about the picture you painted of lil pathetic cheerleader sungie

so i wrote something quick based on ur thoughts:

there’s just a lot to enjoy about the cheerleader. he always does so well and you think he’s one of the most hardworking, flexible ones in the team. he always perks up at your call, follows your commands, and goes beyond what he’s told.

“yes, captain!” he always says.

that’s why it’s no surprise when he’s bent over the lockers, ass daintily peeking out of his miniskirt, following your commands, and going beyond his breaking point.

or at least it wouldn’t be no surprise, if there wasn’t vibrator on his pretty little clit.

you inch closer and he shivers from the vibrations as well as innate fear.

“oh. playing during game time?”

he’s like prey in headlights. the poor flyer, whose panties were always exposed over your strict captain eyes, finally revealing all of himself to you.

“and why would you be playing by yourself?”

jisung is at a loss for words. he simply tries to hide the toy by rubbing his legs together, but he knows it’s futile; you’ve seen it. you’ve seen his wet panties, maybe you’ve noticed it trying not to drip down to your face during practice.

maybe he was thinking of you then.

you walk closer and separate his legs with one hand, your body so impossibly close to his that he feels so much smaller — he complies with your hand with only minor hesitance. at this point, he realizes that there’s no turning back.

you press the vibrator onto his cunt and it audibly whirrs, the poor boy shaking and panting.

“to play, you need teams.” you press the vibrator further onto his clit. “you need support.” it slides down, but it doesn’t seem to be on accident.

“you need a leader.”

you push the vibrator inside his cunt and jisung cries the loudest he’s ever been.

“a-ah! captain! not there…”

he bucks his legs by the knees and his head spins. he holds onto your hands for support and, as he gushes a significant amount of essence, he moans out your name by accident.

jisung never refers to you by your name out of respect even if he knows it. perhaps he moans it in the hopes that you’ll fuck him like this?

he soaks your hand in his wetness even through his pretty panties, apologizing slightly even if it doesn’t seem to stop.

you tug on the side of his underwear with your other hand. “ji. let me see that pretty cunt of yours.”

he looks up. jisung? you call “ji” that to tease him, as you do with nicknames of your other teammates, but you say his actual name with a cadence that he could only hear in his wet dreams.

“y-yes, captain…”

you laugh. you have to, he’s just too adorable.

you skillfully push his panties inside with one hand while the other keeps the vibrator in his cunt, deepening it and listening to the whirrs intensify as it hits his tight and deep walls.

jisung’s eyes roll back and his head hits the locker behind him but he doesn’t care; he’s losing himself to the pleasure bit by bit. he moans your name again and bites his lip after, but you peck his upper lip slightly.

it sends him to a blissful place, and you can tell by the way he squirts out a little trickle of clear cum from his pussy.

“y/n—i, captain, fuck—can’t think straight,” jisung moans. rolling his hips into your hand, his body begs to hit the climax and simply release.

“oh baby jisung, call me whatever you like.”

but you want to delay it just a bit.

you kiss him again, this time it’s proper and deeper. your lips touch his plump ones with a fluffy bounce and it feels like heaven on your mouth. it doesn’t take long before you snake your tongue across his lower lip, making contact with his shy one, and it feels so good that he—

he doesn’t cum, because you stop kissing him, and he whines.

“i’m not that easy baby.”

jisung doesn’t pout, but his eyes beg instead. it’s a heavenly sight and you wish that he looks at you like this forever — which he does, because it never seems to leave as you tease him relentlessly with your hands. thumb rubbing his clit, fingers pushing his vibrator.

eventually his legs shake and he’s severely out of balance, but that doesn’t stop you from dropping your head down to his crotch.

“ah-ah, how about you keep your leg up like a good boy? remember practice?”

so he lifts his leg above his head, fully exposing his juicy pussy to you.

as if it’s hell sent from heaven, you eat him out while he’s stuck in this position.

the vibrator never stops whirring. your tongue is flicking his clit in critically hurried circular motions. then your lips lock in to suck his clit and it sends jisung over the edge. his walls are being used to the point he’s almost exhausted from pain, fatigue, exhaustion, pleasure, ecstasy.

he’s getting sore from the pleasure and the cuteness is killing you both.

“captain, i need to cum! please! p-please let me cum!”

your mouth leaves his clit with a pop. “oh, and why should i make you cum?”

“please! i’ve been a good boy! please c-captain!”

well, he has. he perks up at your call. follows your every command. goes beyond what he’s told, still keeping his leg up even if he’s about to drop at any moment.

“go,” you let him cum.

he creams all over your fingers and squirts all over your hands and face. his juices are sweet and savory. jisung’s entire body trembles before falling into your arms. you’re careful to not let him drop to the floor even if he’s beyond exhausted.

he makes a mess, your uniforms are ruined, the locker room smells like sex, and you’re both horribly late.

but he’s a good boy to his captain, and that’s what matters to you.

i love you pookie anon maybe ill make something special for u bc i love u and these thoughts very dearly

(cc: @meivida look how much everyone enjoys your boypussy sung prompt everyone say thank you mei for telling me to make jisung boypussy in the first place)

[avengersassemble123]

Gift of remembrance

Pairing: Sanzu Haruchiyo x reader (Bonten arc - slight spoilers ahead)

Genre: Fluff, Heartwarming, (Bonten Sanzu behaviour ig)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Im also planning to gift him the video game he had always wanted and maybe hold a surprise date night for him." Your best friend explained, as she talked about surprising her husband on their anniversary. "Aww (y/bf), thats so sweet. I'm sure your husband would love it." you complimented as we chatted and hung out for a while.

By evening you had returned home as you made way into the bathroom to get freshened up. You then changed into a new pair of clothes, as you went into the kitchen to reheat the food, when you heard your house's door open, signalling your significant other's arrival.

"I'm home." You heard your boyfriend speak, before some amount of shuffling and some moments of silence, before you felt arms wrap around your waist, "Hey baby." you acknowledged as Sanzu buried his face into your neck, as his muffled voice spoke, "Hey babe, missed you" You chuckled, as you tried to wriggle yourself out of his grip, "Had a long day? Go take a shower and tell me about it because you stink of sweat and i just freshened up."

"What if i don't want to?"

"Ill drag you there myself."

"Aww you're no fun, you wound me baby"

You rolled your eyes before pushing him towards you two's room, as he cackled on his way. After he freshened up, you both sat on the living room couch with your dinner, talking about each other's day and today's gossips from both of yours' workplaces, before the topic of your best friend came up.

"-and that's how she plans to surprise him."You finished explaining, as you finish off your food with the last bite, while your boyfriend listened patiently, before a sly grin appeared on his face,

"Well I've done a lot of romantic things for you. How come you've never done anything romantic for me?" Sanzu asked teasingly, poking your waist.

"'i do." You defended, as you whined dramatically.

"Oh yea? Name one."

" I can name a few-"

"Sex doesn't count."

"Oh"

You visible deflated, as you squinted your eyes, thinking what romantic thing have you done for him.

"Well what about the bed and breakfast you had in the beach house you rented from Rindou?"

"Well, technically i took you there, all you did-"

"Yea i know what i did." I stopped him mid sentence, as i slightly felt my face warm, but realising it was not exactly a romantic gesture without 'engagement of bodies'.

"I bet Rindou had to throw out that rocking chair." Sanzu snorted, giggling shamelessly, while you kicked him slightly, embarrassed.

"Hey I can be romantic when i want to." You defended.

"Fine." Sanzu shrugged, "But also not true" Sanzu retorted, teasing you slightly, making you roll your eyes.

"Okay, just you wait and see. I will romance your freaking ass off." you challenged, while Sanzu snorted.

"Hmm, i wonder how a baby like you would actually manage to romance a high profile yakuza member like your sexy partner." Sanzu bullied you, as he got up the couch to wash his plate in the sink, while you gave him the middle finger.

---------

"Well i know its unlikely for me to call you, but thank you so much for taking some time off from your schedule and coming over." You said, as you invited your guest over into the house.

"Well you called the right person fortunately, plus its a real surprise when a person like you is trying to 'seduce' a freak of a being like Sanzu." Kokonoi explained, as he walked in and invited himself over your couch.

"Ok so I've been really struggling with this, and you are the only closest person i know who knows Sanzu well, and has somewhat of an idea on the choices of gifts, than the rest of my options. You know what i mean." I said, as Kokonoi stoically nodded, as he seated himself on the couch, crossing his legs, his arms over it, holding one phone. He brushed his white hair back before continuing,

"Well the quickest way to a man's heart like Sanzu's is thr-"

"Pants. But Sanzu said sex doesn't count." I answered, as i got glasses of wine for both of us.

Kokonoi, looked at you blinking, his lips pursed, before taking a glass from your hand, "Aww you poor thing. You had one arrow in your quiver and you just can't use it." He nodded his head in understanding, while you replied back with a deflated nod.

"Well how about trying to cook something for him?" Well, its kind of hard for both of us to be present at home itself most of the time due to our works, and i wanted to do something different."

Kokonoi breathed out a deep sigh, "If this was some ordinary person, either this would've been easy to give advises, or i wouldn't have bothered showing up in the first place. But this is Sanzu, we are talking about. Nothing is normal with him, making me still hard to imagine that you managed to end up with him of all the people available in the whole of Japan, let alone the world. " Kokonoi sipped the wine, before continuing, "And i also want to see how this surprise and Sanzu's reaction turns out, and if the 'rapid dog' himself is capable of expressing emotions other than for our boss"

"Kokonoi.." i spoke out his name, making him raise his hands in surrender, "No offense sweetie. Anyways back to the topic."

"(NAME), if you truly want to be romantic, then this stuff need to come from withing you."

"I know, but its just so hard, I don't know why."

"I guess its probably because you never had to do this stuff because you're young and beautiful, and men, including Sanzu, must've thrown themselves at you." Kokonoi replied.

You pursed my lips, nodding in understanding before speaking up, "Yea I'm trying to feel sad about it, but i just can't."

"Thought so." Kokonoi rubbed his fingers at the bridge of his nose, "I can see why you two go well together."

---------

You and Sanzu were having a candle light dinner at your place itself, as you both chatted. "Have to say, i didn't expect you to manage this surprise without me knowing. And its coming from you of all people" Sanzu teased.

"Well, only learned from the best, and of course, i didn't forget my promise." You replied back.

As you both finished your dinner, you pointed your fork at him, "Alright Mr. Haruchiyo. Get ready because a crap storm of romance is coming your way."

Haruchiyo dramatically gasped, as he held his chest by one hand, "More romance? Stop it, you're gonna make me cry, sweet cheeks."

You stood up, as you smiled slyly, before walking towards the counter, picking up a small weaved basked.

"Sanzu smirked, as laid back on the chair, man spreading, his one hand on the table, while the other holding his face, rubbing his chin, squinting his eyes at you amused. "You seem pretty confident."

"Oh I am."

You then started dropping rose petals from the basket to the floor, making a path, "Maybe if you'll follow this trail, you'll know why."

"Ohh rose petals. Well now I'm just more excited for my girl's surprise." Sanzu said, whistling, slightly impressed, as he stood up and started following you.

As you led him towards both yours bedroom, he was met with a candle lit decorated room, "Wow baby, you really are pulling all the strings today."

You then set down the basket before picking up the wrapped gift placed on the bed, before gesturing it towards him, "Ok so i gave this a lot of thought, and i found something that might show you how much I love you."

Sanzu took the gift from your hands, before tearing the wrapper off and seeing the content inside it. His eyebrows slightly furrowed for a second before returning back normal, "Oh wow.."

"Its the ring which you had been eyeing for a while when you had spotted it randomly while you were out on a mission, and had told me about it that day, and i know how you like these kind of stuff, so i just thought maybe i could gift you something like this." You said with a smile, while you waited excitedly for his reaction.

Sanzu raised his eyebrows as he nodded and opened his mouth for a few seconds, before looking at you and giving you a smile, "I-its great. Thank you baby." He said, as kept on smiling, and looking at his gift.

You looked at him with confusion, as you had known him long enough to know something was wrong with his reaction. Even if Sanzu was Bonten's No.2, only few people could figure him out enough, if not all, and that included his boss Mikey, his brother Takeomi, and now you. His reaction could fool anyone, but you had dated and known him long enough to know.

Your smile deflated, before your hands fell to your side, as your tone changed, "What?"

"Nothing. I love it sweet cheeks." Sanzu said, as he held the gift in his one hand, while he wrapped his other hand around your waist, his face nearing yours, as he gave you a seductive smile. But you knew him better.

"No. Something's going on." You said, as you looked towards the gift, "Whats wrong with it. I remember you saying how you liked the ring when you had spotted your target wearing it, and that it would look better on you."

"You're right. I did say that. And here I am loving it. Especially since its a gift from you." Sanzu replied, not wavering from his stance and his usual demeanor, but then you felt him slightly furrow his eyebrows, pursing his lips, "...And that when i was returning to the headquarters a few weeks later, i spotted the same exact model in a jewellery shop...and i bought it."

You closed your eyes and faced the ceiling, groaning in frustration, as you let yourself out of his grasp and sitting on the bed dejectedly, "Oh my god...I'm the worst."

"Hey no baby, its really thoughtful." Sanzu said as he quickly set the gift beside and and reached towards you.

"No its not." You said, as you felt guilt fill you inside, "I mean, whats thoughtful is that everything you do for me." I said, my voice slightly quivering, as Sanzu sighed, as he knelt down on his knees, facing you, as he cupped your face with his one hand, while the other held your hand. "Its true baby, i did like your gift, and I'm glad that there is actually a person who cares for me like this in the whole world."

"No, its not better. Even if you work for such a dangerous organization, you still do things for me, while here I am, not even worth it, You know what, here-" You say as you stood up and went towards the closet, as Sanzu stood up.

You removed a box from your closet as you set it down on the bed, as you picked up one thing after the other. "Look here it is, here's the plane tickets you bought me when i was too poor to fly back home to visit my family, here's a necklace you got me before we were dating, and the rose you left in my windshield..just because-"

Sanzu looked at you, as you kept on ranting, as he stared between you and the box which contained all the gifts he had given you, even before and after dating.

"A-and here's the letter which you wrote me to confess your feelings after visiting me numerous times in the coffee shop i frequented regularly, all the pages of it."

Sanzu silently looked at you, too serious for his usual demeanor, matching the attitude he would have when he would be sober and in meetings with the bonten executives.

As you held and looked through the pages, Sanzu silently spoke up lowly, "I can't believe you saved all of this stuff.."

You looked up, as you looked at him in slight surprise, "Of course i did...Its you."

Sanzu stared at you for a few seconds, before reaching towards you and hugging you tightly, before kissing you lovingly, which you reciprocated with the same intensity, before breaking the kiss and hugging tightly.

"That is the most beautiful and thoughtful thing anyone has done for me, and it means a lot for me." Sanzu said, as he kissed your shoulders, still hugging you tightly while you chuckled.

You both stayed like this for a while, basking in each other's presence and warmth, before separating a while later.

Sanzu's eyes gazed at the box, a tint of smile on his scarred lips, before looking at an object in confusion, "Is that a pregnancy test?"

"Oh yea, just the first one. I didn't save them all." I shrugged, making Sanzu shrug in agreement, before diving for a kiss again, making you both fall onto the bed backwards.

[kichiyosh1]

A not so silent apology

modern au! scaramouche x reader (hurt/comfort)

Nothing could deter his pride as a person, but he'll be damned if you keep ignoring him when he is in desperate need of your presence.

It wasn't unusual for arguments to occur in your relationship, but what WAS unusual was for you to slam your bedroom door right in his face and then continue to spend the rest of the day ignoring him. He understood you were still mad at him, so out of the goodness of his... very being, he left you alone. It was alright the first few hours until he called you down for dinner.

_

A boiling pot of your favorite meal sat atop the stove, and before it is a man with his hands on his hips, glaring at the rising bubbles with his eyebrows scrunched together in deep thought. You weren't always like this, heck, this was the first time you reacted that brashly to one of your guys' petty arguments. Well, perhaps you thought of the matter differently from what you used to, which is what ended up with him having to prepare such an extravagant meal just for you. His way of apologizing. So caught up in his thoughts he failed to hear the ringing of the doorbell, and a sneaky little figure going down the stairs.

_

"Y/n! I seriously think you're taking this a tad- no, you are taking this too far." He'd been calling out your name for ages, the food had gone called and you still refuse to answer him when he was right. damn. there. infront of your guys' shared bedroom. The tapping of his foot became more erratic, a new worried look finally taking over his former features. Were you really going to do this all night? aren't you hungry? fine, twisting the door knob he made it his very mission to drag you down those flight of stairs if it meant you could atleast fill your stomach, even if you were still mad at him.

To his suprise, he was met with an empty room, and the faint scent of "Take out? since when did-" in the trash were a few boxes of cardboard and a plastic cup, the sight made his stomache churn and his chest tighten. His first thoughts were how dare you choose take out over his obviously much more better cooking, but his initial thoughts were, if you went to such lengths— was it more than that you were mad? did you hate him?

Before he knew it a single tear slipped past him, and then another, it was frustrating seeing your significant other act this way. Anyone could deduce from the lights coming from the guest room and the lack of your pillow on your shared bed you've settled on sleeping in the next room.

It took him awhile, a long while before he could see straight again.

He's drawing the line at this, and with shaky fingers he dialed the one number he'd never imagine calling in his state of mind.

ring, ring, click!

'It's yah boy Childeee! ho-'

'...'

The ginger was caught off guared by the sound of whimpering and aggresive, (from what he could hear) wipping of tears on the other line

'the sound of your voice is grating.'

'Hey, you're the one who called! And you can't say that when you're the one sounding like a kicked puppy off the side of the streets— anyways, what's wrong?'

'Just- meet me xxxxxxx in an hour and *sniff* no questions'

Oh he had many, but with how shaky and the amount of voice cracks it took for scara to finish those few sentences he silently agreed.

click! beep beep

_

You hear loud suffling outside your door and to make sure you weren't hearing things, you took a peak outside a little while when the suffling dissapeared, and the sight shocked you.

A mountain of purple flowers(which was just a boquet) was layed on the floor, across your ceiling were balloons atatched to a string with the typical 'i love you's' and 'i'm sorry's' written on some of them, and right next to your door was a human sized cat stuffy that oddly resembled the man next room. A pang of guilt hit you when you see the container of chocolates neatly wrapped with a red ribbon. You could recognize those chocolates anywhere, despite Scara's distaste for sweets, that never stopped him from baking some for his beloved.

Now you couldn't possibly think of going back to sleep without properly talking to him first.

'Unbelievable' It only took you a step through the door to step on one out of the many crumpled papers that piled up next to scara's desk, his arms folded over his head accompanied by soft snorring. After placing a blanket over his shoulders, you uncrumpled the first paper.

'It's toture when you're right there infront of me, but I am unable to reach you...'

'I know I have a shitty personality, but I didn't mean to drive you off...'

'You mean the world to me, in fact the world doesn't hold anything compared to you...'

'I will be shoving that meal you left cold yesterday down your throat, but before that I need you back in my arms...'

'You don't have to forgive me right away, and even if you still don't, I wont complain, but please, please look at me again...'

'I love you, I love you so much that each second you act like I don't exist it hurts more than any deep wound I've ever recieved.'

'These gifts are only the beggining. I don't plan to apologise with only using material things, I'll make it up to you using all that I know...'

'I miss your hugs, your kisses, your smiles, your everything! but most importantly, you.'

' I promise I'll be better, to be more patient with you, to care for you...'

Those were only the few, but they were enough, you got the message he was never able to express out loud.

'I'm sorry'

A smile finally breaked through, a smile Scara would have killed to see if he wasn't already passed out, most probably dreaming of you. You wouldn't want to worry him any further, so you replied with a message of your own, neatly placed right under his head.

_____

My love,

Had I known you'd been going through all this, and that, because of me— I feel horrible, both of us were in the wrong, but it I was the one that handled it immaturely. I should apologize aswell, I'm sorry, and Thank you for going through such lengths for me. Had the roles been reversed I'd do the same as well, but, there really was no need for all that. A simple "I'm sorry" would have done the trick, but knowing you, that'd be the same as swallowing acid down your throat haha. When you wake up, I hope we can go back to how things always were, I miss you to you know. Don't forget, no matter how many times this might happen in the future(hopefully not) I will always continue loving you.

Your dearly beloved,

Y/n

_____

You transferred back to your shared bed and Scara woke up bawling his eyes out again, quickly tackling you in a death grip hug and burying yourselves further under the covers

Oh and childe was passed out on the couch. 'This is the last time i'm helping him with his love dilemna, brat couldn't wait until morning when the sun was high up in the sky...'

_

Im so sorry if this is such a messy concept of the word vomit that happened in my brain :'>

[rebelliousstories]

That’s My Sister

Relationship: Sean Renard x Reader, Monroe x Monroe!Reader

Fandom: Grimm

Request: No

Warnings: Brief Strong Language, Fluff, Light Angst

Word Count: 3,540

Main Masterlist: Here

Grimm Masterlist: Here

Summary: Bringing home your significant other for the holidays is always stressful. Even more so when you are a wesen, with another wesen coming, and a Grimm to top it all off!

Love is like death, it must come to us all, but to each his own unique way and time, sometimes it will be avoided, but never can it be cheated, and never will it be forgotten.

The spice shop was gorgeous this time of year. Smells of nutmeg, cinnamon, and juniper with just a hint of pine filled the room. Lights strung up along the banners and shelves. There were not enough to distract or take away from the business, but it added just enough of Yuletide cheer to the area.

“Rosalee? Are you in?” Someone called out into the shop. She looked around in wonder as she waited for the person to appear.

“Hey, it’s my favorite Monroe. What can I do for you?” Said Fuchsbau emerged from the back, dressed in a cozy cardigan.

“Don’t let my brother hear you say that,” the Blutbad teased, “but seriously. I’m looking for a gift for my boyfriend and was wondering if maybe I could poke around and see what I could find?” Her timid tone, and now shy demeanor intrigued Rosalee as she watched the woman.

“Oh. Your mysterious boyfriend that we have yet to meet. I’m sure we could find something. Tell me a little bit about him.” Breathing a sigh of relief, the Blutbad relaxed and went back to her usual self.

“Well, he’s super sweet and oddly loaded. Which makes it difficult to buy him a gift because if he wants something, he already has it. I just- I want this to be good because it’s our first Christmas. But he does like tea when he’s not working to wind down. So maybe something to do with that?” Her rambling encouraged the other woman to begin scouring the shelves for something that might peek her interest.

“Is he wesen? Just incase I give him something poisonous.” Rosalee stopped to look at the sister in her shop.

“He’s half zauberbiest, if that helps.” She offered, to which Rosalee confirmed that it did, in fact, help in her search. But all the while the Fuchsbau’s thoughts were racing as she tried to think of anyone who was half zauberbiest. It was not a very common type of wesen, especially if he’s half.

“Aha! This might do the trick,” she pulled something from a shelf in a glass container, “it’s a calming blend. Rose, chamomile, lavender, mint, and green tea. It’s delicious and should help calm him down from stressful days.” The other woman’s face perked up, and she excitedly followed Rosalee to the counter, where she began to dispense an amount to take with her.

“So this boyfriend of yours, are you bringing him to dinner tomorrow night?” Rosalee tried to sound nonchalant, but her curiosity was eating away at her.

“Maybe. We’ve only been dating a few months. I’m just worried about my brother going off on him.” She pulled out her wallet as she continued to speak.

“I mean, the last time I was dating someone, Roe went full Blutbad on the guy and I could never get a date after that. This is the first guy I’ve dated in years, and I really like him. I don’t want to mess that up.” Taking to leaning against the counter and watching the Fuchsbau measure out the tea and square it away, she continued her lament. Rosalee looked up at her future sister-in-law.

“Look, I get it with your brother. He can be a bit intense. But I will keep him on his best behavior. Is that why you don’t want to introduce them?” She asked, ringing up her family discount for the tea.

“Yeah. That last guy, he looked at me like I was a freak after my brother woged at him. Haven’t been able to get over that stare since. And then he told every other wesen at our school to stay away from me and my ‘psycho’ brother. Never wanted to hurt a Hundjäger so badly in my life.” Placing some bills on the counter, she grabbed the package of tea from the woman, who held her hand gently.

“Bring him to dinner tomorrow. Juliette and I will make sure everyone is on their best behavior. There won’t be a repeat of that.” Rosalee reassured the Blutbad in her care. The other wesen nodded, and placed a hand on top of the other.

“I will, Rosalee.” They both smiled, and let each other go. As the female Blutbad left her shop, the Fuchsbau could not help but let her mind wander as she began to clean up a little bit. Did she even have zauberbiest come into the shop? It’s so hard to tell sometimes, let alone if they are half. All at once, Rosalee had a revelation. She knew who it was.

“Oh no.”

Meanwhile, in the precinct Nick watched from his desk as his captain seemed preoccupied with his phone. It was an unusual behavior which is why it drew the young man’s attention.

“What are you staring at so intensely, Nick?” Hank asked from his desk right next to him.

“It’s the captain. He’s been on his phone more and more today.” The detective pointed out.

“Maybe he’s making plans for Christmas dinner tomorrow night. It’s not a crime for him to be on his phone to make plans Nick.” He tried to explain the behavior away, but Burkhardt shook his head.

“See that?” He called attention to a certain quirk of the face. “He’s smiling. There’s no one in his life that he smiles genuinely for anymore. I think he’s got a girlfriend.” Nick said finally in disbelief.

“If anyone needs a good woman to keep him grounded, it’s definitely the captain. Just be happy for once and don’t profile the man.” Griffin shook his head and turned back to his files, prompting his partner to follow suit. But their attention was called away again as the captain’s office door was flung open.

“Where are you going?” Hank asked, watching the man move fast; it was as fast as he would move if they were on a case.

“Oh, I need to go pick up something for someone. You two should go home, and enjoy Christmas Eve with your families. I’ll see you later.” And with that, he was gone. The two detectives sat there, dumbfounded.

“I’ll be damned; the captain has a lady.” Hank muttered to himself, stopping his work for a moment. Checking the time, Nick stretched his back while standing from the chair.

“Alright, you heard the man. Let’s get out of here. Hey, see you at dinner tomorrow night?” Burkhardt asked of his partner. Griffin nodded and followed suit; both men grabbing their jackets from the back of their chairs in order to leave.

“You know it. I’m not one to turn down a free meal.” Hank joked, stepping out into the parking lot of the precinct. The men said their goodbyes and made their ways home.

In the Calvert-Monroe household though, a full blown argument was about to boil over. They had been going at it since the subject was brought up at dinner. It had lasted from the appetizer, all the way to clean up before dessert.

“All I’m saying is that I would like to meet her boyfriend before he comes over. What if he’s a lowen?” Monroe complained, handing washed dishes to his girlfriend.

“Do you honestly think your sister would date a lowen?” Rosalee countered, drying off the plate to stack.

“You’re right. Still,” he continued, “I just don’t want her to date someone that’s just going to break her heart. I mean, all the guys in high school she liked were totally not for her.” The Blutbad paused for a moment, and rested his soapy wet hands against the sink. Setting down the towel, Rosalee wrapped her arms around her boyfriend and cradled his face.

“She really likes this guy, Monroe. Don’t go over board. Besides, he’s not the worst choice for her.” Turning back to the task at hand, it took the man a second too long to process what the Fuchsbau had said.

“Wait, do you know who she’s dating?” Monroe questioned, watching Rosalee’s face take on an air of faux innocence.

“Maybe. Maybe not. She didn’t explicitly tell me who it was. I just worked it out from what little she did tell me.” She began to place her dishes away, but it seemed that Monroe was not yet done.

“Come on, who is it? Who is she dating?” But the woman said nothing.

“Rosalee.” He growled out in a warning tone, to which she finally faced her boyfriend and rested her hands on her hips.

“The only thing I will say, is that you have met him before. That is it. Now, cake?” Rosalee went to retrieve the chocolate cake from the fridge, leaving Monroe there in the kitchen.

“I’m gonna be kept up all night now.” He complained, but followed his girlfriend into the dining room to have dessert.

The next morning, was a morning of rest. Christmas had come, and everyone was preparing for the festivities that would soon come. Sneaking out of her shared bedroom, a Blutbad began to make breakfast for her lover that was still asleep in their bed. It still astounded her that she could even call this place, this bed, this man, her’s.

Vegan sausages were being fried, toast, pancakes, and several smaller side dishes covered the counter in the kitchen. It continued to shock her at how far vegan alternatives had come as she put the fake eggs in the pan to scramble. As she cooked, two strong bare arms wrapped around her waist. A kiss was placed to her head from behind as the mystery arms relaxed.

“Good morning. It’s not often that I get breakfast made for me.” The voice grumbled out, still thick with sleep.

“Who says this is for you?” She teased. Making sure that nothing would burn, she turned briefly in the man’s arms to come face to face with him. Sage green eyes gazed lovingly into her own, but shut momentarily as they met for a kiss. Her lips molded to her own, and reluctantly she pulled away from the beautiful shirtless man before her, in favor of ensuring their breakfast would not be wasted.

“It’s almost done. Want to go ahead and start putting food on the table?” One last kiss was pressed to her head, along with a squeeze at her waist, and he was off. Soon, the whole table was littered with food.

“Thank you for making this.” He commented genuinely, holding her hand over the steaming food. Suddenly, she hoped up as if a light bulb went off in her head, and she made her way to the kitchen. When she came out yet again, a mug was in her hands this time around.

“What is that?” Came his question, taking the mug and maneuvering it next to his other cup of coffee.

“It’s one of your Christmas presents. Try it.” Sitting down, she watched with bated breath as he brought the mug to his lips, and took a tentative sip. His face lit up and he eagerly took another sip.

“This is delicious. What is it?” Another question, and he was reaching for her hand once more.

“It’s a tea blend from a friend’s shop. I thought it’d be nice to help you wind down after work.” She explained, happy that she was able to get one of two correct.

“This is wonderful. I genuinely appreciate this. Let’s eat though. You went through all this work.” And with that, they dug into the food that littered the table before them. It was not too much longer before they sat themselves on the couch, and enjoyed each others company with presents to either side.

“Here you go.” The man placed a rather heavy wrapped present in her lap, and watched her with eager eyes. She tore into the paper, and leveled her boyfriend with a look as she saw what she had.

“Really, Sean?” Her tone was dry, and she tried to fight the smile coming onto her face. However, with her boyfriend sporting one himself, it was rather hard.

“What? You could always use another book, and I thought you might enjoy the stories.” Said man tried to explain away.

“You gave me a collection of brothers Grimm fairytales!” She exclaimed.

“And you’re not wanting to read them?” He leveled her with another look, which made her shrink down into herself.

“Yes. I’m going to read them.” Muttering under her breath, she placed the book to her side and grasped the other box that was next to her. She placed it in her lover’s lap, and awaited his reaction. Sean gently unwrapped the present, and opened the box that was in his hands. His face dropped in surprise, and his eyes danced over the present he had.

“Do you like it?” Timidly, she inquired. There was no telling what his reaction was going to be. Sean’s hand reached in and pulled out the small object that was awaiting him. It was a ring. Tiny and unassuming, which described his lover but that was not what caught his attention. It was what was on the inside of the ring. An inscription dated September 23rd of that year; their anniversary.

“You don’t like it? It’s fine if you don’t. I just thought maybe you would. I can take it back though if you don’t want it. I’m sure I could at least get store-” she never finished her rambling, because her boyfriend had surged forward and captured her lips in his. They remained locked in their embrace for who knows how long, but she was pushed against the couch in the midst of it. Alas, they pulled away for some much needed oxygen.

“Do you like it?” She repeated her inquiry.

“I love it.” He replied, breathlessly. Helping her back up, Sean allowed her to slip the ring on to his left pinky finger. On the outside, it just looked like a simple silver band, but the fact that he knew that there was that inscription inside made it feel like a known secret. And it was all his.

“This is funny actually.” Sean reached behind him and found the box next to him once more. She was confused as to what he was talking about, and took the box gingerly from his hands. Opening, she let out a small chuckle as to what was inside.

“Now, now, you still have to get my brother on your side.” Once again, she was teasing him. He chuckled as well, but pulled the ring from the box.

“It’s a promise ring.” Sean slipped the ring on to her right ring finger. The emerald in the center, with the silver surrounding it instantly drew her eyes to the sparkling stone.

“This is going to turn some heads at dinner tonight.” Her mind could not help but think about what was going to happen.

“I’ll be right by your side.” Drawing her into his arms, Sean pressed a kiss to her head, and cradled her close.

A few hours later, the couple was dressed up and ready to leave. One last spray of perfume and the jewelry was placed on her body before they left for the evening. Her leg could not stop bouncing as they neared their destination. Sean reached over and held her thigh in hi grasp, which allowed her to calm down just enough. He parked on the side of the road and helped his girlfriend safely exit the car onto the icy sidewalks. They walked up to the door with stained glass, and she took a deep breath.

“You can still back out, you know?” She tried to tell her boyfriend, but he just held her by the shoulders and looking into her eyes.

“I’m not scared by meeting your family. It’s going to be fine.” Sean tried to reassure her.

“Alright. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” And with that, she knocked. Just a moment later, the door opened and revealed a festive looking Fuchsbau.

“You made it!” Rosalee cheered, hugging her boyfriend’s sister close. Letting go, she turned to face the man standing next to her.

“Captain.” She greeted politely, and held out her hand for him to shake.

“Rosalee. It’s good to see you again.” This confused the Blutbad standing between them.

“You know each other?” She wondered aloud. Renard and Rosalee looked at each other.

“I think you’ll find a lot of the people here have met each other at least once.” Rosalee responded cryptically. She pulled them in and out of the cold, before taking their coats to their spare room. The couple wandered through the house and found where the rest of the group was hanging around. She got to watch Sean’s eyes take in her brother’s Christmas decorations that littered the room. The sheer amount of tinsel, lights, and fake snow that was around the house was enough to make even the most Christmasy person take a step back. There was a pause as everyone stopped to stare at the couple.

“You’ve got to be joking.” Monroe stated, setting down his beer. Nick, Juliette, and Hank all turned to face where the Blutbad was staring.

“Captain? Nice to see you?” Nick drawled out confused, and followed his friend’s motion.

“Roe, everyone, this is Sean. But I’m guessing that you all know each other.” She was looking around at the rest of the guests.

“Oh, you’re dying now.” Rounding the corner at an incredible speed, there were shouts as Monroe grabbed the collar of Sean’s more casual sweater she had convinced him to wear instead of his suit. He shoved the zauberbiest against a wall, narrowly missing some decorations as he woged. By this point, Nick and Hank were trying desperately to pull him off of the man, while Juliette and Rosalee were holding and shielding the other Blutbad.

“What are you playing at? What do you want that you feel the need to date my sister?” Monroe growled out, eyes no longer human but red and black and unearthly.

“I am not dating her for a plan. I love her for her.” Sean held up his hands in surrender.

“Roe, let him go.” His sister growled, stepping out from behind the women. The man in question turned his head and let the woge fade back into his skin

“This man is not who he says he is. He’s a royal, little sis. He only told you he loves you to find a way to fit into his plans. Whatever they are.” The longer he spoke, the angrier his sister became.

“I know he’s half-royal, Roe. But that doesn’t mean that Sean doesn’t love me. Now get off of him.” Fully woge out, she grabbed her brother’s arm and threw him back enough to create some distance. The three men that were currently in front of Sean were replaced by one angry Blutbad woman. Her woge disappeared as soon as it came, and she checked in on her boyfriend.

“It’s been lovely seeing everyone, but if this is how it’s going to be, we’ll be leaving.” She said after whispering to Sean for a few moments. It shocked everyone in the room. Rosalee went to reluctantly grab their coats, while everyone else stared at Monroe with pointed glares.

“Wait!” The Blutbad called just before the couple left the party. Sean was helping her into her coat when they paused. He was entirely following her lead on this, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable or unwanted.

“I’m- I’m sorry, okay? You’re my sister and I’m always going to be protective of you. But you are an adult so I need to accept your choice. I’ll tone it down just, please, stay for dinner?” He was keeping his eyes on his sister, who returned with a less believable stare.

“You’re allowed to ask him three questions about our relationship, and three about himself. That’s it.” She replied, allowing Sean to once again, help her out of her coat. Rosalee took it back and happily went to set them on the bed once more. Monroe pulled his sister into a bear hug in the foyer of his home. When they pulled away, Sean stepped up to properly greet the Blutbad.

“You hurt my sister, I’ll break my pledge.” Monroe stared the half zauberbiest dead in the eye as he shook his hand. Renard brought out a smirk, and shook the man’s hand firmly.

“I’m slowly starting to realize the amount of people who will hurt me if I hurt her, including her.” He replied smoothly. The couple were pulled back into the fray easily. Everyone was laughing and eating, and in general, just having a great time. Looking at each other over their glasses of wine, and plates of food, Sean gave her a small wink, and held her hand. With the other, he thumbed a small velvet box the was in the pocket of his slacks. Perhaps next Christmas she would be more than a girlfriend. He needs to get through to her brother first.

[heich0e]

the heart is but a winding road p.2 - shouto todoroki/f!reader (1.8k) fluff, pro-hero shouto todoroki is not good with kids (lying), natsuo is the most big brother that ever big brothered, someone pls give the poor assistant a raise, i truly believe that shouto hyperfixates on random things for a few weeks at a time and you cannot change my mind, also i promise the 𝓇𝑜𝓂����𝓃𝒸𝑒 is coming.. i just need to set the mood first.

p.1 - YOU ARE HERE - p.3 - p.4 (upcoming)

“What was I like when I was five?” 

“Uh, dunno? Guess you were kinda—hey!” Natsuo doesn’t even manage to finish his thought before something (apparently very pressing) on his end of their phone call distracts him. “Aoi! You little—get down from there! Motherf—“

Shouto listens to the chaos unfold with a completely unchanging expression.

“Tou! Talk to your uncle for a second. Your brother's gonna break his neck!”

There’s a scuffle, and before Shouto can so much as protest there’s a little voice greeting him on the other end of the line.

“Hi Oji-chan!” Touma, Natsuo’s 7-year-old, says cheerfully after having evidently been handed the phone.

He hears a little giggle and the sound of his brother squawking incoherently somewhere in the distant background on their side of the call. This is immediately followed by a series of very loud crashes and a panicked string of words which, even in his limited knowledge of childrearing, Shouto's fairly certain kids are not supposed to hear.

“Hello,” he greets his nephew curtly. “If your father’s busy, I can—”

There’s a bit more shuffling, some disgruntled grumbling and laboured panting, and then Natsuo is taking the phone again.

“Sorry, sorry,” the older man says breathlessly, and Shouto stares up at the ceiling over his sofa blankly. “Oh, okay, what were you asking about?”

“Me. When I was five.”

“Oh, yeah!” Shouto’s brother laughs. “Dunno. You were round, I guess? And pretty squishy.”

Shouto rolls his eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

Natsuo laughs, loud and carefree like he always does. “Well, what did you mean, then?”

“What kind of stuff did I like?”

There’s a thread hanging from Shouto’s sleeve, and he fiddles with it while he speaks with his brother. It’s distracting, but he can’t quite grip the troublesome string to pluck it loose since he’s using his other hand to hold the phone to his ear.

Natuso hems and haws as he mulls Shouto's question over for a bit. “Soba and chewing on things, mostly.”

“I liked chewing on things when I was five?” Shouto’s reply is flat and unamused. He shifts to hold his cellphone between his shoulder and his ear as he lays back against the cushions of his sofa, snapping the string off easily once he has the use of both his hands.

“Yeah, you were always bite-y,” Natsuo replies simply.

The youngest Todoroki sighs. He rolls the thin bit of thread between his fingers for a moment, watching how the ends split and fray, then flicks it away disinterestedly.

“What’s all this about, anyway?”

There’s a significant amount of racket on Natsuo’s end of the call, but Shouto suspects that’s a fairly normal thing for his older brother’s home. What with two kids and more pets that Shouto can keep track of, there’s always pandemonium happening whenever he stops by to visit. He can’t help but think it’s a miracle that Natsuo managed to find anyone who would willingly subject themselves to that, let alone a partner as normal as the one he married.

“Nothing really,” Shouto mumbles. “Just curious.”

“Well, Yumi would remember that stuff better than I do anyway,” Natsuo chirps. “You could always ask her!” 

“Yeah, thanks,” Shouto nods even though he knows his brother can’t see the gesture. 

They end the call with vague plans to meet up for dinner the following week, though these plans often end up getting rescheduled or completely forgotten about in the stir of their busy adult lives. Once the line disconnects, Shouto is once more left staring up at the boring beige ceiling of his living room.

His apartment is always just a bit too cold. It’s been that way since the day he moved in. His hope in choosing such an upscale domicile had been that he wouldn’t run into issues like this one; it was newly constructed after all, and cost enough that things as simple as climate control shouldn’t be a problem. But no matter how much he fiddles with the thermostat, no matter the time of year, there’s always a chill that seems to linger in his quiet home.

He blinks up at the ceiling and listens to the pitter patter of rain outside.

It’s been raining for days now, with only the occasional break in the downpour that never lasts more than a few hours. His last four patrols have ended with him towelling off in the changing room at his agency, using his quirk to warm the terrycloth before he ruffles it through his drenched hair. His costume is fairly well-insulated, and repels the rain, but he still always feels so soggy by the time he gets home.

Suddenly, he thinks about a little yellow raincoat, and the thump of rubber boots.

Truthfully, Shouto’s not sure why he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about that strange encounter from a few days prior. The little boy in the yellow raincoat and the ill-fated, crumpled receipt.

Maybe it’s because he can’t remember the last time a kid was less excited to meet him. 

Maybe it’s something else.

Shouto’s expensive sofa creaks as he pitches himself upwards, reaching out towards the tablet he’d left resting on the edge of his coffee table. He unlocks the device, and realizes he’d left it open to a news article about the Recycling Hero he'd been reading earlier in the day.

He’s been reading a lot about Reductro lately—just about any resource he can find. News articles online, press releases, pamphlets that environmental activists are handing out on street corners. Hell, half the hits on the the guy's Heropedia page from the past week were probably thanks to Shouto.

Just earlier that very day he’d even placed an order online for a copy of the Recycling Hero's newest book.

Reductro, Shouto recently learned, has dedicated his life’s work to inspiring meaningful environmental changes around Japan; he uses his quirk that is capable of breaking down plastics and other complex carbon compounds (as well as his doctorate in Ecology and Environmental Science) to make significant improvements to the climate and the country. The man has a way of speaking that’s neither overly sanitized nor pedantic and inaccessible; kids love him for his exciting way of talking about the environment and why they should care about it, but he's equally capable of putting on a suit and addressing a crowd of adults. Above all else, he seems to be truly passionate about the work that he’s doing–a conclusion Shouto has inarguably come to through his extensive research, and by watching just about every video he's managed to track down online.

He hates to admit it, but the guy is kind of… really cool.

He gets why Naoyuki was so obsessed with him.

Shouto taps around the surface of the tablet for a moment, pulling up an article about a documentary that Reductro is in the process of producing about microplastics. He scans through the article—making a mental note to look up when it will be coming out and see if his secretary can get him an early cut of it—when an image at the bottom of the article makes him pause. It’s a recent photograph that, according to the caption underneath, was taken only a few weeks prior when Reductro was giving a presentation at a local elementary school.

A little voice rings in the back of Shouto's mind, from a rainy day not unlike this one.

“He came to my school last week and he helps to get plastic outta the ocean!”

Naoyuki may have been a bit of a menace, but he was well-intended. And ultimately Shouto has him to thank for opening his eyes to the prestige of the Recycling Hero.

He stares at the image lighting up the screen in his hands for a moment, his eyes scanning over the name of the elementary school a few times as an idea begins to take shape.

He reaches instinctively for his cellphone.

“Good evening, Shouto-sama,” Shoto’s assistant and secretary, Takahashi, answers on the second ring—just like he always does. “Are you well?”

“Hi,” Shouto greets the man in a relatively abrupt manner, brushing off pleasantries for the sake of saving time. “How hard is it to find a kid?” 

There’s a few beats of silence as Shouto’s question lingers over the line.

“Such as a missing person’s case?” Takahashi-san finally responds, though the usually proper and eloquent man sounds uncharacteristically baffled. 

“No,” Shouto shakes his head. He thinks about his next words carefully. “If i know where a kid goes to school and his first name, could you track him down?”

“Track… him down?”

For all the hard-fought takedowns Shouto has made in his career as a hero, he sure is losing this battle.

“He’s not a criminal or anything,” Shouto explains, and Takahashi hums understandingly, but it sounds sort of like when an adult is placating a child. “I met him in the street the other day."

"I see."

Shouto knows he still doesn't get it, and he wracks his brain for a way to make this whole situation make sense, even though it doesn't.

"He’s… a fan.”

Lying is bad. Shouto knows this. He happens to pride himself on knowing the difference between good and bad, as a matter of professionalism. But Naoyuki is a fan, for all intents and purposes.

Just not his.

“Oh,” Takahashi-san sounds more at ease now with this half-truthful revelation, “very well. I don’t suppose it would be all too difficult to find the child’s information. I'm sure the school would be willing to forward contact information for a legal guardian if your office were to reach out on official business.”

“His mother," Shouto replies immediately.

“Pardon?”

“He, uh..."—Shouto fiddles with the tablet in his left hand—"The little boy. He was with his mother when I met him. She’ll remember me.”

“I see. Please forward me the name of the institution and I’ll reach out to the school administration first thing in the morning.” Takahashi has always been exceedingly competent, since the first day Shouto hired him. He’s a bit stuffy, and Shouto’s pretty sure he’s never seen him smile, but the young hero strangely admires the man's no-nonsense sort of antiquated way of doing things. “I assume you’re looking to send some sort of gift. Perhaps a signed poster? Some merchandise?” 

“Yes,” Shouto says, nodding. Then he pauses. “But not mine.”

“Oh?” the man on the other end of the line—who Shouto now realizes is likely at home during his off-hours that he rudely interrupted—sounds puzzled again. 

“Takahashi-san…” Shouto stares down at the tablet in his hands, still open to the article he’d been reading before he picked up his phone to make this call. “Have you ever heard of the Recycling Hero?”

[sandcobangevent]

Unforgettable

by @keirgreeneyes and @tiredmilkshake

Chapter 1

“Seriously, I can’t believe my luck. We go off, have these adventures, meet celebrities and then get to share it all with people through the podcast—and he makes the most amazing dinners after we’re all done!”

“This is Sherlock Holmes you’re talking about? The same Sherlock I introduced you to?” 

“Yes, Mike. The very same. I mean, he doesn’t cook immediately. Usually he collapses for–oh, once it seemed like 24 hours, though he might have gotten up while I was sleeping at some point.”

“And you’re saying he cooks? That’s the bit that’s surprising to me. I mean, I thought he had a thing about pasta.”

“I mean, we do have pasta every so often. But like, he made this fantastic sauce with capers the other day.”

“That’s...surprising, yeah. Well, I guess maybe he’s changed a mite.”

“What’s that mean?” 

“He didn’t used to, in uni, that’s all.”

“Well, everyone changes, don’t they?” 

“I’m not sure Sherlock Holmes does.” 

“Is that a crack about his autism?” 

“No, no, I’m not criticizing him. Just, he’s unique and always has been.”

“Yeah, unique and pretty amazing, I’d say.” 

“Agreed. You two are good for each other.”

“Some people might even say we have a rapport.” 

“He really does seem happier now, actually. So, yeah, he does seem different.” 

“Right. Well, Mariana just texted me that there’s a mess of chicken parmesan a certain unique detective and chef made that is waiting for me back at Baker Street, so I think I’ll say cheers and catch you later.” 

“Have a good night, Watson, and tell Holmes hello for me.” 

“Will do.” 

Chapter 2

“Watson, what’s that smell?”

“Why are you asking me, mate? You’re the one with the sensitive honker. Shall I go back to the flat for Archie? I wonder if he’d be an excellent sniffer dog, you know, like those dogs that work for a living? I mean, he’s no German Shepherd, wouldn’t really be much good at roughing up the bad un’s. But he does like to give things a sniff or two. And a slobber. Yeah, well, I guess he might be good at a crime scene if we needed somebody all glommed up with snot and saliva.”

“Watson—that’s utter nonsense. Crime scene dogs require keen senses and are given intensive training. Archie’s much better at what he’s good at: giving someone’s leg a good time at the park.”

“Hey—he did that one time, and no one ever lets up—”

“As I was saying, something smells different, about your person. What is it?”

“Oh, well, we were talking about making that mushroom and camembert frittata, and I happened to see a nice thing of camembert at a shop and so I thought I’d just pick it up and..”

“Well, its scent is so strong I think that even Archie would be distracted by it if he was here, much less a genuine detection dog.”

“What am I supposed to do with it, then?”

“I don’t know, but please take it out of here. Perhaps Inspector Lestrade can put it in her car.”

“Oh, no, Holmes, you’re not stinking up my squad car with that smelly old cheese.”

“Right, well, if no one wants me and my smelly old, delicious cheese around, I’ll just take us outside and let you do your detecting on your own.”

“What’s that, Watson? Wait, wait, there’s something here we’ve been missing…”

“So, do you want me to go, or should I linger here with my great smelliness messing up your investigation?”

“Wait–Stop!! Fire, fire!!”

(Screams break out, there is the sound of gunfire and breaking glass.)

Chapter 3

“Sherlock, it’s alright, mate, we caught him.” 

“Yes, well, after he’d wounded two police constables, destroyed significant amounts of evidence with that fire, and all this from a hidden place within the very crime scene that we had been investigating. And we caught him all thanks to you, by the way. Timely use of that disgustingly reeking round of cheese you had on hand to distract him while I tackled him. Good job, Watson.” 

“Well, cheers, mate. Wasn’t exactly what I was planning, but I’ll take the praise. I still can’t figure why he did come out. He had a doozy of a hiding place all set up, what with that false wall and cozy little room he’d set up for himself.” 

“That’s just it, Watson. When we entered the galleria, my immediate impression was that there was something wrong about it. The dimensions. But I didn’t follow through on my deductions. And look how much devastation has occurred.”

“Sherlock, mate, go easy on yourself. You couldn’t know he’d go all batty hearing us talk about sniffer dogs. I mean, turns out he’s phobic about pooches? You can’t predict this kind of thing. We all have our things, and there’s no reason why anyone, even you, should be able to pull a guess about something like that out of the air.” 

“No, Watson, that’s just not true. And I never ‘just pull something out of the air.’ The signs were there. The thefts had commenced after the renovation project was completed. And even the canine connection should have been apparent to me—the owner of the art gallery has a pair of identical toy poodles, and the disappearances of these priceless minature pieces never happened on days when the dogs had been on site.” 

“Toy poodles, miniature sculptures, she does really have something about tiny things, doesn’t she?” 

“It was part of her aesthetic, Watson. Along with her charitable philosophy, all the proceeds went to provide building funds for tiny houses for people without permanent dwellings. Now her gallery is in a shambles, the work of established and budding artists in this field who had been featured there, destroyed. And all because I lost sight of what I’d immediately grasped when I entered the space. But I was distracted and forgot to follow up on it, John. It’s just unbelievable. I forgot. ”

“Hey, hey, it happens to all of us, Sherlock. You may be amazing and brilliant, and often what seems like miraculous, but you’re also quite human. But whoa. I might need a moment here, I think that’s the first time you’ve ever said my given name. Wait. Sherlock? Where are you going?”

Chapter 4

“Thanks for going through this mail, John. I’ve taken care of the bills, but there’s so much of this kind of thing” (sound of papers thwacking down on a counter) “and I can’t tell if it’s just junk or if there are some legitimate inquiries in there.”

“No problem, Mariana. They’re so sneaky with their envelopes these days, those spammers. And there’s no podcast to edit right now, so I’ve nothing better to do.”

“Any change in Sherlock?” 

“No.” (Heavy sigh.) “It’s been the same since that case. He’s shut himself up in his room and won’t talk. At first he was at least playing his violin, screeching away at it all night. But now that he’s stopped that, I’m even missing that. At least I knew he was alive in there.” 

“I’m sure he’ll snap out of it, eventually. I mean, hasn’t he before?”

…

“John?”

“I wouldn’t know actually.” 

“You’ve never seen him go through this?” 

“Well, you met him at just about the same time that I did, so your guess is as good as mine.” 

“Oh, that’s right! You two are so close, I forget that sometimes. You seem to have always been together.” 

“I can tell you, it did not feel like that right away. First couple of nights in the flat with him, I was afraid I’d become a murderer myself.” 

“Then he could have come back and cracked the case!” (laughter) “He would have liked that.” 

“Yes, I expect he would, at that. If anyone could come back from the dead and solve his own murder, it would definitely be Sherlock Holmes.” 

“Well, what can we do to help him cheer up? Maybe we’ll find a nice juicy mystery in here and that will get him feeling better.” 

“Maybe. But I already sent him a few leads from the email account, and he just told me to delete them all.” 

“That sounds pretty bad.”

“I know. I’m pulling my hair out. I wish I knew what would make him feel better.” 

“What about what he does to show his appreciation for us?” 

“You mean cook him something? I couldn’t, he’s like a world class chef.” 

“No, he’s really not.” 

“What do you mean?”

“He’s been teaching himself to cook.” 

“There’s no way—wait, why do you say so?” 

“Who pays the bills around here? I’d noticed that there were certain charges happening frequently, paid to a Youtuber who runs private courses on cooking.”

“On the company card?”

“Yes, but neither of you had said anything about it, or sent me receipts.” 

“And we both know how important those receipts are!” 

“Yes, I think I made myself very clear on that after you two took that client out to rollerskate sushi and came back with absolutely nothing by way of documentation.” 

“Yeah, I think I’m still paying off that outrageously expensive saki we drank out of little warmers on the harness they gave me. But it was so very good.” 

“Huh. Perhaps it’s a good thing that you lost those particular receipts.  Anyway, I asked Sherlock if he knew anything about it. He refused to tell me anything, just issued me a repayment and said I shouldn’t worry, there wouldn’t be any more charges. It was all sorted out, so I never ended up mentioning it to you. But did he tell you anything about it, John?”

“He never breathed a word about this to me.”

“I was worried it was some kind of scam he’d been caught in, that he was embarrassed to admit about.”

“Yeah, I can imagine that he would be pretty quiet about something like that. Should we be worried that he’s got some kind of gambling issue?”

“No. Not at all.” 

“So you did figure out what it was?” 

“I did.” 

“Did a little detecting of your own?” 

“Indeed.”

“How did you get it out of him?” 

“I had noticed that the charges were paid at about the same time each week.” 

“So you spied on him!?” 

“No, no, I wouldn’t want to invade his privacy.” 

“He bloody well does mine all the time. Do you know, he sat in the loo for fifteen whole minutes while I was in there, quiet as a mouse in the shower stall, while I’m shaving, clipping my toenails, taking a wee, moisturizing, have a nice little chat with myself…”

“Wait, moisturizing? John, I had no idea you had a beauty routine.” 

“It’s not a beauty routine. It’s just good for my pores. It’s self-care.” 

“That’s very wise of you, John.” 

“Oh sod off.” 

“What did Sherlock do?” 

“Well, he startled me half to death he did. I was just giving myself a little pep talk in the mirror, reminding myself that everyone starts somewhere. Einstein didn’t pop off about E=MC² first thing. He had to do a bit of maths, a bit of calculus, a bit of physics first. And I was sure to get better at this whole podcast thing as time went on.” 

“So, how did he startle you?” 

“Oh, right. He hears me saying that and comes out with ‘You’re quite right, Watson. Even Einstein was a beginner once.” Of course, then he tells me how Einstein taught himself maths and physics, earned a PhD at the age of 26 while publishing four ground breaking papers in those fields. ‘But Watson,’ he says ‘he’d failed an entrance exam once and had to struggle on, so don’t give up.’” 

“He’s just trying to help.” 

“Right, I know. And the funny thing is, it did help.” 

“Even if he scared you to death?” 

“Yeah, I think he was just there because he wanted the company. After I calmed down, I didn’t mind, actually.” 

“See, you are close.” 

“Well, if we were, wouldn’t I know how to cheer him up?” 

“You’ve got to start somewhere.” 

“Yeah, if only I knew what made him happy.” 

“Oh! That was the whole point of my story. Sherlock was teaching himself to cook. For us.” 

“Wait, so the Youtuber—”

“Correct, they were private classes on cooking.” 

“Oh, wow. Now I really want to help him out of this.” 

“Right.” 

“Okay. Well, I have heard something recently that may help.” 

“What?” 

“An old acquaintance of his said he had a thing for pasta.” 

“Like, the penne he keeps asking for?” 

“He’s been asking for penne?.”

“Yup. He texts me when he knows I’m going to shop or put an order in. Penne and tomato sauce. That’s all he’s asked for…” 

“Since that case. Okay, well. If he can learn to cook for us, I can learn to cook for him.” 

“Do you think you need to take a class to cook pasta?”

“To make the best pasta ever tasted? Yes, absolutely.” 

(Laughter) “You think you’re going to be able to make the best pasta ever?” 

“Yes, because he deserves it.” 

“Well, perhaps we can count this as a work expense, since it is meant to help him be able to get back to working again. Just–”

“I know, send you the receipts.” 

“Bingo!” 

Chapter 5

“Watson?” 

“Yes, Sherlock.” 

“What is that?” 

“That, mate, is a plate of my very special beef crumble and mushroom lasagna. I used wine to sauté those mushrooms, just like you did with that risotto you made two weeks ago–”

“And you want me to eat this?” 

“Well, I didn’t put it on your plate because I want you to throw it at me. What do you think?”

“Are you being serious, Watson?” 

“Yeah. Should I not be?” 

 “Well, I regret to inform you that I am unable to comply.” 

“You’re not hungry then?” 

“No, no, I am quite famished.” 

“Then, what is it? I thought you liked pasta?” 

“You thought I liked pasta?”

“Yeah. I also rather thought you didn’t like repeating yourself?”

“I was repeating what you said, Watson. I never said I liked pasta.” 

“Well, all you’ve been eating is that penne stuff lately, and I heard you did like it, so–” 

“Who exactly did you hear that from?”

“Stamford. Said something about you liking it back at uni.” 

“You’ve been digging into my history at university?” 

“Whoa—wait a mo’ there, that sounds way more sneaky and spy-y than what happened. We were talking about you—” 

“Oh, you were talking about me, and my eating habits when I was a student? I hope you feel enlightened now.” 

(Sounds of a chair pulling back, then cabinets being opened, water running, and a pot being settled on the hob.) 

“Sherlock… I’ve done something to upset you, haven’t I?” 

“Please, Watson, I am quite hungry, as I said. Thank you for your gesture, but I’ll be quite fine with my penne." (Sounds of a fridge door opening.) Wait, where’s the jar of tomato sauce I had in the fridge?” 

“Ummm, well, I sort of used it in the lasagna.” 

“Did you use it or not? It appears to have vanished.” 

“Yeh, it’s gone.” 

(Sounds of a chair being pulled out and Sherlock sinking back into it.)

“How about butter? I always love a bit of salt and butter on my pasta when I’m not feeling quite the thing.” 

“I suppose that will be acceptable.” 

“No, wait.” (Sounds of footsteps and a coat being grabbled.) “I’ll just pop down to Tesco and get a couple more jars of the sauce.” 

“Really, Watson, there’s no reason–”

“There really is. I wanted to make something special for you and all I did was end up ruining your dinner. It’s easy as pie to make it right. Just let me, okay?” 

“Well… I will enjoy the dish much more if there is sauce. Just the plain, however.” 

“No mushrooms? Peppers? Spicy red pepper with paprika?”

“Watson, I was feeling grateful but now you’re becoming tedious.” 

“Gotcha. Plain tomato sauce coming up.” 

(Sounds of feet running down stairs, followed by a door opening and being slammed shut in the distance.) 

(Sounds of fingers drumming on a table. A chair is pulled back, a lid removed from a pot and replaced. A long suffering sigh.)

(Sounds of a voice humming. Water starts to bubble.)

“At last!” 

(Sounds of jumping up from a chair. Pasta shakes in a box, and cardboard is torn open. The sounds of pasta being poured into a pot of water, just as a door is thrown open in the distance, slamming into a wall.)

“What is going on?!” (Mariana’s voice sounds distantly, coming up from the front hall of 221 Baker Street.) 

“Oh, sorry Mariana. Can’t talk.” (John’s voice is closer, as though he’s made it up a few stairs.)

“Is there a case?” 

“No, no, something much more important. Dinner!” 

(Sound of Mariana sighing.) “Dinner? You had me worried, John.” 

“Can’t chat, water boiling. ‘Ta.” 

(The sounds of feet clattering up the stairs sound, and then rapid breaths, a bit wheezy.) 

“Got ‘em! Here you are, mate. (A gasping breath ) Fresh from the Tesc. I believe these are from 2024. A very good vintage, if I do say so myself.” 

“Watson, you are being ridiculous. There is no particular advantage to having tomatoes packaged in this year over any other. The processing of the sauce makes it highly homogenized. One batch will taste much like any other.” 

“Yes, but if it came from last year, or the year before, it might well be off, so you’d likely not want to eat it, yes?” 

“Perhaps. But all this talking isn’t going to get me fed anytime soon.” 

“Oh, sorry, ‘course. Here we go, let me just—” (Sound of a pan clattering.)

“Please—let me. If you don’t mind. I just want to heat my sauce and eat in peace.” 

“Sure thing. Yeah. Well. Maybe I’ll just see if Mariana wants to eat some of this lasagna.” 

“Excellent idea.” 

“Well, alright then. I guess I’ll just go.” 

“Mm-hm.” 

(Sounds of Sherlock humming as John’s footsteps recede.) 

Chapter 6

“John! This is sooo delicious. Is that white wine I’m tasting?” 

“Yeah. Yup. ‘Tis. The mushrooms.” 

“Mmmm…. Thank you. This is really quite good. I wouldn’t have expected—” 

“No, guess you wouldn’t. I really put my back into it.” 

“That class really paid off.”

“Hmph. Yeah.” 

“Well, you don’t seem very happy with it. Aren’t you going to eat some?”

“I dunno. My heart’s not really in it anymore.” 

“Because Sherlock rejected it?” 

“He didn’t— It’s not that Sherlock rejected me—” 

“Whoa–whoa–whoa. I didn’t say he rejected you.” 

“The thing. The pasta. He didn’t..,well, I suppose he did reject the lasagna. But I thought he liked it!” 

“What exactly was it that Stamford said?” 

“Something like he had a thing for pasta at uni.” 

“That’s pretty vague really. There are a lot of types of pasta. Why did you think he would like this dish?”

“It’s all fancy. Like he’s been making for us. I figured he was down about the case, and not up to cooking something big. So, I thought I’d do it for him.”

“And, at any time, did you actually ask Sherlock what he wanted?”

“...” 

“I take that is a ‘no’?”

“Erm—” (Whistles.) “Correct. I did not ask him what he wanted.” 

“He’s been pretty clear. He wants tomato pasta. Penne.” 

“But this is clearly so much better.” 

“To who, John? To you?” 

“...” 

“Go talk to him.” 

“He just threw me out of the kitchen. I doubt he wants to talk to me right now.” 

“Was he angry about it?” 

“A little bit.” 

“Then all the more reason to talk. Maybe you need to apologize, maybe not. Find out.” 

(A big sigh.) 

Chapter 8

Summary:

John and Sherlock talk, and peace prevails.

Chapter Text

“Hello Watson! I’m feeling much better. Did you and Mariana enjoy the lasagna?” 

“Yeah. I’m glad to hear that. We did. And I’m sorry—” 

“What for?” 

“For...assuming you’d want the lasagna.” 

“That was odd.” 

“Are you still upset that Stamford and I talked about you?” 

“No, not really. I am a bit surprised.” 

“It was nothing bad. Honestly, I wasn’t trying to get some kind of intel about you.” 

“Well if you had been, Stamford wouldn’t be a terribly useful informant. You might try Victor next time. Or my brother. He’s well informed about most things and could detail quite a bit of my likes and dislikes from those years. Although, I’m not sure how useful any of that information would be to you, truly.” 

“No, Sherlock. I’ll not be asking Victor, or your brother. If I want to know what you were like at uni I’ll ask you.” 

“Hm. Well, I might prefer it if you do ask one of them. Not the best memories of that time.” 

“Oh. Was it…hard for you?” 

“Well, I didn’t graduate, and I had only one friend, and I never talk about it unless forced to do so. So that might tell you something.” 

“Jeez. Oof. Sorry, mate. I didn’t realize how bad it was.” 

“It was rather stressful.” 

“Oh! Is that why the pasta?” 

“Watson, that question makes no sense. There is not really a why relating to pasta. There might be a when, or a how. But why doesn’t make much sense for such a generic food stuff.” 

“No, I don’t mean all pasta. I mean your pasta. I take it you ate penne a lot in uni. And you’re doing it now again?” 

“Mm. Well, I did go through a phase where the tubetti lisci was my preference, but I’ve come to feel penne is superior once again.” 

“Is this something that makes you feel better when you’re out of sorts?” 

“Ye–Perhaps. It doesn’t exactly cheer me up. It’s more that it’s dependable.” 

“Because it’s always the same?” 

“Because it’s straightforward. There’s no surprises in it. I know I like the taste, and the texture, and I know that each bite I’ll have will be 100% what I want.” 

“No squishy mushrooms. No odd little nuggets of something.” 

(An unhappy grunt.) “Do we really need to talk about those things. I just had a very satisfying dinner.” 

“Oh, I’ll stop. ‘Course. But, so when you made those dishes for Mariana and me, was that just because you thought we’d like them?”

“No. Well, I did make them because you had indicated you liked those particular meals, but I chose the ones to make you’d both talked about that were also appealing to me. It’s a lot of effort to cook something like that, I’d like to enjoy it as well.” 

“I’m quite glad about that. I would have been sad if you’d been making it just because we wanted it but you hated the thing. I misunderstood, and thought that was the way you liked to eat, but were, maybe too depressed to have energy to cook it.” 

“I haven’t had energy to do that kind of cooking. I’m not depressed about the case.” 

“You’re not? You’ve been moping about, and turning down cases. Looks like depression to me.” 

“I’m considering.” 

“Considering, if you want to continue?” 

“More considering how I can avoid that kind of issue again.” 

“Mate, ya’ can’t.” 

“Well, that’s very reassuring.” 

(A half-bitten off laugh.) “I’m sorry. I’m not saying you’re a failure. I’m saying you’re human.” 

“But I’ve never had that kind of error creep in before.” 

“Never?” 

“Well, perhaps not never…” 

“You will be tired. You will be hungry. You will be sick. You will miss something.” 

“Unlikely.” 

(Chuckling.) “Once or twice. Here or there. You’ve said I’ve helped you out now and then, what’s that if not maybe not having it all 100% in your noggin.” 

“But I have your help now. And Mariana’s.” 

“And we’re extremely human as well.” 

“Oh, I know. Watson, you do realize that you snore, don’t you? You might wish to take your naps up in your bedroom.” 

“Thanks for that. I never got complaints in the barracks.” 

“That is because everyone snores or something, and in that situation there is no real remedy, so what do you expect?”

“We’re getting off track here. This is not about my sleeping patterns.”

“But you will nap in your room?” 

“Sure, fine. Whatever. But are you feeling depressed?”

“Perhaps.” 

“Well, I’d like to help. Somehow.” 

(Sherlock takes a deep breath and releases it with a sigh.)

“You are, Watson.” 

“By making you lasagna that disgusts you so much I can’t even talk about it and making you think that I’m spying on you by chatting to your old friends?”

“Nooot really either of those things. But you are here. And you tried to do something nice. That is greatly appreciated.” 

“Glad to. On both counts.” 

“And you are dependable.” 

(A chuckle.) “Like your next bite of manky pasta?” 

“It’s not manky. You’re not gross.”

“I’m simple then? Like a tubal li-whatever you called it?” 

“Tubetti lisci. No. You’re much more like a penne. Smooth, durable, but with a bit of a nice point at each end. A little bit of texture, a little bit of bite. And you take the sauce so well.” 

“I have no idea what any of this all means. Is that good?” 

“Excellent, Watson. You may not have the complexity of something like your lasagna there, but I always know what I am getting, and I always know that I will like the next bite.” 

“Aw, thanks.” 

“And I am very glad you made the lasagna.”

“Even though it made you want to sick up?”

“It didn’t.” 

“Admit it, it did a bit.”

“A bit.” 

“But you’re still glad?”

“Well, you and Mariana enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

“Yes. We really did. Well, she did. I wasn’t really feeling it. My appetite was a bit off after making you so cranky.” 

“Are you feeling better now?” 

“I am. And I am feeling a bit more hungry.” 

“Then why don’t you heat some up. I’m thinking I may have a second helping of my pasta and it might be...nice to eat with you, too.” 

“One re-heated plate of lasagna coming up.”

“It’s nice that even though I am not feeling up to doing something for you both, I can still enjoy seeing you have something you like to eat.” 

“Is that why you did it?”

“Well, of course. I didn’t cook things you didn’t like to watch you get sick on them.” 

“No, I mean you wanted to see us like the food. And even if you didn’t make it, it still makes you happy.” 

“Why did you want to make the lasagna for me, Watson?”

“Ah. Yeah. Same reason. See you happy. Right.” 

“Right.”

“What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.” 

“Why are we talking about geese now?”

“Forget it.” 

“I’d rather not forget something else presently.” 

“Oh. Sorry, wrong turn of phrase. Suppose it might be nice to forget about the case though. Or uni.” 

“Unlikely.”

“At least you won’t forget me, or Mariana anytime soon.” 

“That is true, Watson. I find you both, rather unforgettable.” 

“Cheers. Want me to heat that up for you, too?”

“Please.” 

______

Check it out on AO3 too!

[flieslikeamoron]

Hi! For the first sentence game:

"You want to try that again?" he asks.

Sorry this took a while, but it turned into a whole thing. This is like 2.5K. Not really explicit, but there are some boners and stuff of that nature.

---

“You want to try that again?” he asks.

“I don’t need your pity,” Steve says sourly. “I’ll take my stupid three.”

“It’s not pity.” Eddie laughs and waves a hand, generous as a king. “You have advantage.” 

“You get to roll twice,” Dustin says. “And take the highest.”

“I know what advantage is, dipshit.” Steve rolls his eyes as the number comes up.  “A whole seven.” He makes a whoop-di-doo motion with his finger.

“Your persuasion check fails.” Eddie leans forward threateningly over the screen in front of him. “The guard rings the alarm bell.” A chorus of groans rise around the table. Eddie grins, shifting into the growling scream of a wrestling announcer. “Rrrrolll for initiative.”

___

Steve comes out of the kitchen with a garbage bag in his hand after the kids have all gone. The little shits leave a disaster area of junk everywhere they go: half eaten pizza crusts, scribbled notes, mysterious piles of crumbs that don’t look like anything Eddie actually saw them eat. Steve reaches across the table to pick up a paper plate. He ditched his sweater halfway through the game, a bit of chest hair peeking out of the V of his polo. Eddie blinks and looks away. He sweeps all the miniatures off the table into his old ammo box with a clatter. 

Steve sets the garbage bag down and snatches the box from Eddie’s hand. He glares at Eddie and starts organizing the haphazard jumble. “Come on, man. There’s a system.”

“I have my own system. It’s called not having OCD.”

“It’s called not being able to find the ones you need next week.”

“What are you, alphabetizing them?”

“Like I know their names,” Steve scoffs, holding up a furry, long-fanged monster. 

“Bugbear,” Eddie says.

“Nerd,” Steve says fondly. Like he didn’t spend four hours at the table tonight. Lately Steve has become, if not a weekly player, at least a recurring guest star. He likes to gripe and act like it’s such a chore. Like he’s doing Dustin a favor. Or humoring Eddie. Being supportive of his nerdy-ass hobbies. Giving up his oh so busy Friday night.

Eddie knows better. If he really hated it, he wouldn’t play. If he really hated it, he wouldn’t keep his character sheet updated. Wouldn’t cover the back with careful notes of the names of each NPC the party meets, bits of lore. 

No, Eddie is onto him. Steve gets pushy about his XP in that competitive jock way he has about him. Just as excited about beating one of Eddie’s traps or monsters as the kids. That lit up glint in his eye every time he reminds Eddie he’s immune to charm or poison, like he’s getting one over on him. He’s having fun. And Eddie-

Well.

Eddie came to terms with the fact that he’s horny for his straight roommate long ago. That maybe he even has a fucked up little crush on the guy. But the really fucked up thing is Steve spends a pretty significant amount of time sweaty and shirtless around Eddie, and watching him total up his damage, not forgetting to add his bonuses, is somehow hotter. 

Steve glances up from the minis. Whatever’s on Eddie’s face must be a doozy because his eyebrows knit together briefly. But then he smiles. God. The way a smile looks on him. He starts talking about the stat boost he’s going to get when he levels up. He talks about it like he’s been borrowing Eddie’s Player’s Manual on the sly. Hair drooping down over his forehead and that smile on his face and that polo tight against his chest. Eddie wants to jump his bones so bad, it feels like someone punching him in the dick. But in a good way.

“I could put it into strength or charisma,” Steve is saying. “I was thinking charisma, so I could get that plus two.”

“That’d almost catch you up to real life.”

“You think I have a plus three to charisma?” Steve cocks his head, half smiling, half curious. Like he’s trying to figure out if that was a joke or an actual compliment. This is where things get dangerous. Being around him makes Eddie feel almost feverish: too hot, fuzzy headed, all wound up with wanting shit he can’t have. And he’s around him all the time. 

The problem with Steve is he doesn’t act like any straight guy Eddie’s ever known. Most straight guys treat Eddie kind of like he’s contagious. Not making a big deal, just… Leaving space. It’s fine that you’re gay, but don’t touch me. It’s fine, but don’t put it in my face. Don’t make it too real. It’s fine, but- It’s the kind of thing that makes Eddie want to push. Get up in a guy’s space, press right against that uncomfortable but. It’s almost a game. Pretty dangerous game, he knows that. Poking at the violence most guys have in them. But Eddie likes the fuck you of it, the little bit of fear in that step they take back when he gets too close. 

Steve though- Steve doesn’t back down from anything. Not monsters, not an argument, not even a guy hitting on him. No matter how hard Eddie pushes, he hasn’t found anything that can make Steve blink, take a step back. When Eddie leans into his space, expecting him to flinch, he just slings an arm around Eddie to pull him in even closer. If he touches Steve, Steve touches him back. And Eddie can say the most insane shit. Flirty shit, blatant shit. Steve just plays along. Like it’s all good fun. 

Is it really Eddie’s fault if he forgets himself sometimes? Starts running his mouth way too close to the truth? What is Eddie supposed to do when Steve takes all Eddie’s big boys and sweethearts with a pleased smile? What is Eddie supposed to do with the way Steve sprawls out on the couch after a date? Lays his head in Eddie’s lap and plays with Eddie’s rings while he talks about whether this girl gave good head or why he doesn’t think that girl will work out. 

This is the kind of shit he’s dealing with, okay? Just the other day Steve came out of the bathroom, nothing but a towel around his waist. And Eddie leaned in to smell him. Look, he’s very aware of how weird that was. But he’d been half asleep, and he’d just- He hadn’t been thinking. It happens kind of a lot with Eddie, actually. He doesn’t think. Maybe that’s why Steve didn’t step back, or give him a well deserved push. Didn’t even look at him funny for doing something objectively weird. Objectively fucked up. He laughed and yanked Eddie in until his nose was squashed into the warm curve of Steve’s armpit. Steve’s hand wide on the back of Eddie’s head as he pushed Eddie’s face in there, tight. 

“Take a big whiff,” he said, like he didn’t care that Eddie was pressed up against his bare skin, body to body with Eddie’s hand curving around his waist, brushing against his back. Like he didn’t care that Eddie’s hard dick was obvious against his thigh. 

When he let Eddie go, his gaze flicked down to Eddie’s boner. Just as obvious. Making sure Eddie knew he’d noticed it. A teasing lilt to his voice as he said, “Bathroom’s all yours.” Practically inviting Eddie to jerk off. Practically inviting Eddie to think about him while he did it. And Eddie did. Not for the first time, or the last. 

What is he supposed to do with any of that except want Steve even more? Sometimes he wishes Steve was just a little less- Cool with it. Not that he wants Steve to look at him with that “It’s fine, but-” on his face. It would be easier though, in a way. If Steve didn’t let him get so close. Didn’t let him press his grubby face up against the glass, so close to what he wants it’s hard to remember he can’t have it. 

Steve turns to Eddie with his fist propped under his chin. “Tell me about my charms,” he says. “What is it about me exactly that makes me so damn charismatic?” Voice playful, flirty. Dangerous. 

If there’s one thing Eddie knows how to do, it’s bluff. Hey, just joking. You can take a joke, right? “That face, mostly,” he says, putting a palm right into it, pushing Steve away with his cheek turned. Steve lets Eddie move him with an easy laugh. “And your modesty, obviously.”

“Fuck off,” Steve says, still laughing. He moves farther down the table to dump another plate in the garbage bag. He reaches over to gather up a few dice, pausing over the blue one he used during the game. He holds it up, turning it between his thumb and forefinger. He looks over at Eddie, his dark eyes catching Eddie’s. Catching Eddie staring. Eddie quickly busies himself with rolling up his battle map. 

“I don’t think I had a single roll over ten all night.” Steve gives the die a toss down the length of the table, flailing a hand as it comes up a four. “I think it’s weighted.” 

Eddie snorts. “It isn’t.”

“You gave me a weighted die. You’re a goddamn cheater.” He hides a grin behind the accusation, but Eddie plays along as if he’s serious. Who’s Eddie kidding? Half the fights they’ve had, Eddie picked on purpose just because it was fun. Riling each other up for the hell of it.  

“I’m not,” he says. “I’ll prove it.” He plucks the die off the table and shakes it in his hand. “If I roll above a ten, you have to clean up this mess.”

Steve glares, flapping the garbage bag in his hands around in front of him like a matador cape. Annoyance is his second hottest look, in Eddie’s expert opinion. Indignant color on his cheeks, eyes bright. Eddie wants to bite the petulance on his lip. “I’m already cleaning it up.”

“Yeah, but I’m helping you,” Eddie says. “You have to do it by yourself if I win.”

“Doesn’t sound like I have much to lose.”

“Shut up, I’m helping.” Eddie performatively drops a plastic cup in Steve’s bag with a bow.

“That cup wasn’t empty,” Steve huffs. “How many times do I have to tell you to dump it in the sink first. Now it’s going to leak probably and I’ll have to…” Eddie tunes the rest out. Steve’s right, he has heard it before. He rolls the die down the table with a flourish, holding up a finger in Steve’s direction like “wait a sec” and watching as it lands on a fifteen.

“Not a cheater,” he said triumphantly. “And not helping anymore.”

“One good roll doesn’t prove if it’s weighted or not. It’s about the patterns.” Steve rolls again. A two. He motions to it with attitude in the sweep of his hand.

“Fine,” Eddie says. “I’ll go again. How about I roll above a ten two more times, or hey, let’s make it three, if you really want a pattern. If I win, you have to do my laundry.” 

Steve rolls his eyes. “Like you’ll follow through if I win.” 

Eddie places a dramatic hand on his heart, his voice going shocked. “You’ve besmirched my honor.” 

Steve breaks, a laugh cutting through his frown. He gives Eddie a skeptical “go ahead then” tilt of his chin. Eddie rolls. An eleven. He walks backward from one end of the table to the other, to pick up the die where it landed. Makes sure to bump into Steve as he passes. “Pardon me, big boy,” he says sweetly. Steve pushes him into a stumble, but he turns sharply like a flamenco dancer. Arm coming up above his head as he slings the die back down the table. Seventeen. A shit eating grin. Another walk down to the end of the table. Another bump. He can feel the daggers Steve is glaring at him itching hot between his shoulder blades. He tosses the last roll over his shoulder without looking. 

“Blow me,” Steve mutters. Eddie turns to see the thirteen on the die. Steve’s delicious, disgruntled face. Grumpy is such a good look on him.

“If you roll under a ten again, I will.” 

Steve’s eyebrows rise. 

Jesus Christ, Eddie needs to wire his goddamn jaw shut. Steve hesitates on the edge of a laugh. It was a joke. Obviously. Whether it started out there or not, Eddie will make it a joke. But there’s something about the way Steve is caught on the edge of not sure if Eddie was kidding.

Eddie can’t resist a little push. He flashes his teeth. “Scared of a blowjob?”

“You’re serious?” Steve says cautiously.

“Why not?” Eddie shrugs. “It’s just sucking dick. I like dick.”

“Yeah…” Steve says. “But it’s… My dick.” 

Like Eddie hasn’t lovingly built a shrine to Steve’s dick in his mind. Like he doesn’t prostrate himself before it basically every time he jerks off. Eddie’s hard as shit right now, his whole body tight with wanting, his blood fizzing, just because Steve hasn’t shut him down yet. Can’t he feel how desperate Eddie is for him? It feels like it’s pouring off him in waves, like ripples of heat off asphalt in the summer. 

“Or it’s your mouth.” Eddie’s smile goes sharp. Just a little push. “If you lose.” 

Steve flushes, his eyes huge. “You would want that?” 

Jesus. Why hasn’t Steve shut him down? Why is he still playing along? It isn’t too late. Eddie can still play it off as a joke. But the way Steve’s looking at him- Steve doesn’t back down. Not from monsters, not from a dare. Would he really… Maybe he would actually let Eddie do it. “And then what?” the small rational part of him that tries to keep him from fucking himself over asks. He pays just as much attention to it now as he ever does.

“I’ll make it easy on you,” Eddie says. “You roll low, just like you have every roll tonight. You can have advantage, even. Triple advantage. Three chances. Get one roll ten or lower. I’ll give you the best blowjob you’ve ever had.” It’s not so much a bet anymore, as an offer. Eddie begging behind the thinnest pretense. Please, please let me suck your dick.

Steve still hasn’t said no. He stands there with the die in his hand instead of telling Eddie to fuck off. Looking at Eddie so close, this heavy, searching gaze that makes Eddie feel like he’s one snarled knot of heat from his throat to his balls. Steve notices Eddie’s hard-on, that heavy gaze lingering for a long second. He’s still looking at Eddie as he throws the die. Eddie can’t quite bring himself to look away, listening to the rattle of it until it stops. 

Eddie has to look. Has to know. 

A nineteen. 

Fuck. He looks back at Steve. “You want to try that again?”

Steve is bright red as he shakes his head no, his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. There’s no hesitation in him now. He keeps his eyes on Eddie, as he sinks down to his knees. 

---

These have been helping me get back into a writing habit, so I’ll keep it open if anyone else wants to play. The original rules of the game are you leave an ask with the first sentence of a fic, and I’ll write the next five sentences. But the rules I made up are I just write as much as I want. Five sentences minimum though.