#the most important people in Sherlock's life | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daipeanutsaiban · 1 month ago

Text

some family headcanons (in order: van zieks, baskerville, asogi, holmes) not everyone has names yet 🫣💦

i wrote more details under the cut ⬇️ this info can also be viewed under the "tgaa oc guide" in my carrd (linked in my profile).

Holmes

Mycroft: he’s 7 years older than his brother in the ACD canon, but I wanted him to be around the same age as Klint and Lady Baskerville. He and Sherlock are 7 and 15 respectively here. I wanted his hair to be dark and over his eyes so it’d match his cynical attitude that things are about to go bad at any time. Also, it’s a nice contrast to Sherlock’s lightly toasted color, so you could say he got “burnt”. Mycroft usually wears gloves, both because he dislikes touching things directly and because he has a tendency to be dishonest (a classic character design trope - though it’s probably less obvious in a game where almost every character of the upper social classes will wear gloves due to the setting). Mycroft predominantly wears green (next to yellow on the color wheel). Despite his avoidant and anxious behaviours, he has a sharp tongue, and rarely addresses people by their proper title. For someone who wants to avoid trouble, he doesn’t try really hard to fit in due to being a contrarian in that aspect... he’s a genius, but he’s an idiot too (lol).

Sherlock: The most important thing is that he’s recognizable without being dressed identically to his adult self, because he hasn’t come into his own yet (and it would just make no sense). He’s wearing rather nice clothes since the Holmes family belongs to the gentry class, but my friend suggested that his clothes would be dirty often since he’s crawling around trying to “solve cases” all the time, and I really love that idea. His mother is probably despairing about it. Sherlock takes himself very seriously at this age, but of course he says ridiculous things all the time.

Father (unnamed): I wanted the brothers to have a point of reference or inspiration for their creativity with inventions and general resourcefulness, so he’s a toymaker who specializes in automata. Mycroft learned from him for some time until he eventually surpassed him due to his inherent genius, but Sherlock lost interest quickly despite also showing talent. Their father is a friendly man whose work usually keeps busy, and he’s on good terms with his wife. I’m undecided on whether the toy shop should be connected to their house or not.

Mother (unnamed): I really wanted her to look like her youngest son without being an exact replica of him, with a simple and uncomplicated design. She’s a housewife with no other occupation officially, but she’s adept at sewing and often takes on requests from friends and neighbours. She also makes clothes for her husband’s creations, as well as for her children. Will dress up Mycroft and Sherlock in dresses on occasion, sometimes to get back at them for causing trouble and sometimes just to try out designs. Sherlock doesn’t mind it, and neither does Mycroft though he’s annoyed at the “punishment” since it’s usually his brother who ropes him into trouble. Their mother is constantly fatigued by their antics, so I feel a little bad for her (their father is more easygoing, so he doesn’t get as stressed out by their sons). Her relationship with her oldest son was complicated for some time due to his tendency to withdraw from the world, but her youngest helped her understand that his brother does love her in his own ways.

Van Zieks

I tried my best to incorporate angel motifs in their design to reflect Barok’s “fallen angel” motif later in life, hence why his and Klint’s father has white hair for example. The feather lace on their mother’s sleeves was a last minute addition; I think I’ll revisit their designs again soon. Klint wears his hair the same as he does as an adult to keep him recognizable, but I think it’d be funny if when he was very young it was parted on the side and he hated it or something.

Claes: Their father’s name. It’s Dutch and pronounced “Klaus”, but I keep pronouncing it wrong (a little bit on purpose because I like the sound of it spelled out). He has a constant poker face, but he’s actually the most affectionate parent in this entire lineup..! He’s meant to be smiling in the drawing, but a stranger wouldn’t be able to tell. I love characters whose personality subverts our expectations we’d usually have based on their appearance, so he looks and acts very seriously but would rather spend time at home with his family and hates going to work (lol). Also fond of cute, small, and typically “feminine” things, but he keeps that part of him a secret since it’d be frowned upon for a man in this era, especially within the upper class which is all about appearance (his wife is aware of it, though). Maybe that’s why he dotes on his kids so much? He’s very corny as well and has plenty of nicknames for his wife and children, which Klint hated at this age. I also wanted Claes to be the same height as Stronghart, with an imposing build and expression, so that the next authority figure in the brothers’ lives following his death would “fill” the gap he left. But that didn’t end so well, did it...

Evana: Their mother’s name. Similarly to Claes, her personality is meant to subvert her elegant appearance. She’s a complete airhead and once got lost in her own house. Evana is nonetheless stricter than her husband towards her children and puts a lot of emphasis on what is or isn’t proper. She’s in tune with trends and gossip as is expected of a lady in her position, and might come across as superficial to some, but she is very loving. When young Lady Baskerville would visit, she and her future mother-in-law would get along tremendously well (to Klint’s annoyance as he also wanted to spend time with his fiancee but couldn’t relate to most of their conversations). Evana had the most religious faith among the van Zieks, and would encourage virtue, integrity, and nobility of character above all else in her children.

Barok and Klint: Two well-behaved, beloved children. Barok is of course the little darling after all; I think Klint was probably the more rebellious one but became very serious after their parents’ death with all the responsibilities now on his shoulders. That was probably a very lonely period for Barok, until his brother cheered up again.

Baskerville

Primrose (Lady Baskerville): In flower language, her name means “I can’t live without you”. I didn't know this at the time I named her, but it fits the story very well, so thank you to my friend who taught me this! Primrose’s outlook is very unconventional for the era and especially at her young age, but she’s grown disillusioned with her lot in life as well as men following her mother’s death. I wanted her to be the only one in the family to be a redhead to reflect how she’s not fitting the mould with her assertive and brash personality, and how she feels "out of place". Her father dresses her in very impractical, often white dresses to assert his control over her as a form of “love”; to thwart her tendency to sneak out of the house without permission and participate in unladylike activities.

Her and Klint become codependent on each other following his own parents’ passing and promise to marry each other even though Lord Baskerville is set on finding his daughter a suitor with a more stable future.

The woman is her stepmother, and the others are her father and her half-brother. Since I’m working on a project involving all of them, I don’t want to reveal too much about them yet. All I can say is that it’s not a happy home, and no one in particularly close to each other (except the twins, maybe)...

Asogi

Genshin: I imagined he used to be short and got his growth spurt late (shown at around 12 years old here). Genshin looks a lot like Kazuma due to his eyes and nose, but thankfully he has a distinctive hairstyle already. I'd like to think he grows out his hair at around fifteen. The scarf's pattern is meant to evoke snake scales! Sorry for how lazily I drew Karuma here, haha. As for his personality, he has a poker face but I like to think he can be quite mischievous, though not towards his immediate family as the repercussions would be non-negligible. His brother in law, Hiroki, however, is the perfect person to prank since he's both kind and naive. I also imagine it's tradition for every (male) Asogi to dedicate their life to training, though he’d have a bamboo sword instead of Karuma at this age, probably... I wonder how Genshin discovered the hilt trick? If he was a kid or teenager, maybe he hid snacks inside (lol).

Miwa: Genshin’s older sister. She wears men’s clothes most of the time. Being their father’s legitimate child, she was going to inherit the clan despite being a woman until Genshin showed up. With Genshin having the “luck” to resemble his father, as well as being male, their father decided to make him the heir instead. Miwa resents Genshin for taking this chance from her, despite knowing deep down that he is not personally at fault. Still, she is outwardly bitter and dismissive of him, and spites his efforts to become closer to his sister. Miwa is both vain and arrogant while also following a rigid moral code. She distrusts men, most likely due to her father’s treatment, but she also respects her father greatly as a warrior. Miwa displays surprising gentleness towards children and women, namely Genshin’s girlfriend and later wife Yukari. Her abrasive personality mellows out when she becomes a mother herself, but she was unable to repair her relationship with her brother before his death. Since that’s very sad, in modern AUs I like to depict them on better terms.

Hiroki: Miwa’s husband through arranged marriage. Hails from a family of performers; his specialty is traditional dance but he’s skilled in rakugo as well. I wanted a character with a sensitive side, who is in touch with his emotions, to contrast the serious and tense atmosphere of the Asogi clan. Thanks to that side of him, Hiroki gets along well with Yukari who has a similar easygoing and “refreshing” personality. However, Hiroki’s sensitivity creates problems since Miwa is confused by a man exhibiting such behaviours (he’s the type to be moved by beautiful scenery and cry over small animals). Hiroki believes everyone can do good and that most people act from goodness, but for this reason he’s easily tricked- namely by Genshin. Despite amusing himself at his expense (since Genshin is quite clever), Genshin enjoys Hiroki’s company since he’s a very mellow person and doesn’t bring up dreadful topics like inheritance and power and such. Hiroki is surprisingly well-built under his clothes, and his weapon of choice is a naginata. I guess Syoma wanted his son-in-law to be strong..?

Syoma: The central figure in the Asogi household. Still alive during the events of TGAA. A very serious man who accords a lot of importance to honor and tradition to the point it’s stifling. Distant from his children, though Miwa claims Genshin is the favorite. The kind of father to make his children compete to “make them grow”, even though one of them is almost an adult and the other is barely a teenager. Although Genshin was conceived after his late wife’s passing, Syoma sees Genshin as a reminder of his dishonourable actions (mainly due to Genshin’s mother being a prostitute), and thus avoids him despite placing the onus of inheritance upon him. All of that results in a house Genshin doesn’t want to stay in- and contributes to his reasons to go study abroad. In his own twisted way, Syoma loves his children, but he was never meant to be a father, or at least does not know how to parent without a wife’s help (tradition and patriarchy is very much a theme for the whole clan lol). I honestly struggle to write him because the things he says can be very hurtful, especially towards his daughter-in-law. His character is a lot more comedic/nicer in modern AU (think pseudo yakuza with mother hen personality), but so is everyone’s. (it’s very sitcom-like, haha)

Thanks for reading if you made it this far!! This post could be even longer but I decided to spare everyone💗 have a bonus papazieks and children doodle for your time👼💗

176 notes · View notes

undreaming-fanfiction · 4 months ago

Text

Written for @steddieangstyaugust day 4: angst with a happy ending.

Once upon a time, when the world almost ended and didn't, Eddie Munson used to think that surviving the near apocalypse would be the most difficult thing he'd ever have to do in his life. Surely being bitten to death, then resurrected by the big bad, then breaking away from his influence and helping save the world, that must have counted for something, right? He'd earn a happy end through all that suffering.

Well, no. Not really. That's what he learned the second the portal to the Upside Down closed. The lovely people of Hawkins still hated him, he and Wayne had nowhere to live because their trailer split open, and he barely escaped another group of government scientists very much interested in the whole "came back to life" thing.

It was only natural Eddie ran. Why wouldn't he? He brought Wayne only bad luck, even worse reputation, and a bunch of extra expenses. His friends from the Corroded Coffin? Tortured by Jason to find his location. The freshmen he dragged into Hellfire? Also targeted. Eddie's name was a target on the back on everyone he loved and he wouldn't stay long enough for it to put the others in danger. Not Wayne, Dustin…Steve. Steve who confused him as much as enticed him. But Hawkins wasn't the place to explore this forbidden space in Eddie's head.

Indy sounded like a good destination and so that's where he went. He wrote a bunch of goodbye letters, trying to explain, but mostly to ease the pain. I will be in touch once I settle in, he said in them. He was never a good liar, not even on paper.

The whole Upside Down affair had robbed him of everything. His baby, his guitar. His closest relationships. His only proper home. The future he saw with himself and the Corroded Coffin. But he still had his life, so that was something.

He made friends, but not really. How do you make a real connection with someone when you can't tell them anything about the most important event in your life? How do you explain staring at every girl with golden blond ponytail on the street, dreading the moment they turn around because it won't be her?

He would send letters to Wayne sometimes. They would be long, talking about this and that, he would sometimes call too. But he noticed that for how much he talked, the content was empty. He wondered if Wayne noticed too. He must have - his uncle was the most perceptive man he'd ever met. He sent a bunch of short messages to Dustin via Wayne, just to keep him from going all Sherlock Holmes on Eddie. He swore to visit them both one day. Just not today. Or tomorrow.

The only good thing about his life in Indy was the anonymity of a large city and with that, the possibility to explore who he really was. He saved as much as he could and bought a new guitar. It would never be like his first love, but he could get back to music and drive his roommates insane with how out of practice he was. He'd play here and there, become very slightly famous in the local queer community. Sometimes his performances would earn him a free drink, sometimes a kiss. Or if he was really good, company for the night.

Five years in, it was going fairly well, he thought. He wasn't completely broke, he could kiss who he wanted - boys, how long it took him to admit that!, his songs got more genuine. He even wrote a bunch about Hawkins, never naming the place or people, of course, but it helped him work through some stuff. And on some days, he didn't even think much about what and who he'd left behind.

Until that fateful evening when he was scheduled to perform in his frequented gay bar. He sat on his usual stool on the podium with his acoustic guitar, greeted the regulars, and said his usual spiel: "This one is about a very special boy. He wore a yellow sweater, saved my life a bunch of times. Was really badass too. I think he made me realize who I really am, even if he never knew how I feel about him."

He never gave the song a name. He considered "His vest over my bleeding heart", or maybe something like "Keep me like you kept the vest", something with sunflowers, nail bats, perfect hair. Everyone in the bar knew he hated naming his songs anyway, so he took a deep breath and got ready to play.

Only then did he notice a familiar shade of yellow near the bar. And a surprised, but still a smile.

Eddie didn't run that evening. He finished the set, thanked his supporters and fans, and then he found himself sitting next to Steve Harrington, the man from his songs and dreams.

"Everyone misses you like crazy. They still hope you'll stop by, but I get it. I just feel lucky as hell. I didn't think I'd see you again," said Steve and it sounded sad. Like he actually missed Eddie too.

"I didn't think I'd find you in a place like this," responded Eddie. He wanted it to sound more rough, defensive, but his heart betrayed him and it was more of a question. Of a plea.

Steve smiled at him again, and maybe it was Eddie's imagination, but did he shift closer to him? "You haven't seen me in a long time, Eddie. This is exactly the place you'd find me these days. And now…I don't even need to drag Robin with me as an excuse."

Oh. Okay. Eddie could work with that. Licking his lips, he prodded even more. "So…uh. I take it you still haven't found what you're looking for?"

Steve turned to him fully, reaching out for Eddie's hand, and Eddie realized that he might have been wrong. This might be his happy ending after all.

Especially when Steve's lips parted and he said: "I have now."

Eddie would visit Wayne. He'd call Dustin, catch up with Gareth and others. Because he no longer felt like a bad omen. The morning he woke up next to Steve Harrington, with a careful promise of much more than one night, with pancakes for breakfast and talking, so much real talking with no secrets and no lies, he decided that he was ready to stop running. For good this time.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie drabble #steddieangstyaugust #steddie ficlet #not proofread we die like my immune system

187 notes · View notes

lisbeth-kk · 3 months ago

Text

Sherlock fandom.

Home At Last

Sherlock is restless. He hates waiting. Especially when he doesn’t know how long he has to wait. It’s fine when he’s on a case, but not when it’s related to the two Watsons. His patience is stretched to its limits and his skin feels taut and itchy.

“We’ll be around some time in the afternoon on Sunday,” John had said when he last visited.

What Sherlock wants to know this instant, is what John had meant by some time. Was it 1 pm or 4 pm?

He paces back and forth in front of the fireplace and startles when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His curls look like a birds’ nest and that is intolerable. He must look his best when John and Rosie come home.

Did he shower at all today?

The last couple of days have passed in a frenzy of organising, planning, rearranging, and tidying – making 221B fit to be inhabited by three people instead of one. Sherlock doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Everything is in place; there’s nothing more he can do but wait. One more look in the mirror makes him stride to the bathroom.

***

The hot water pours down his body. He sighs contentedly and revisits his last encounter with John.

He’d left Rosie downstairs with Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock’s heart leapt to his throat when he realised that John wanted to talk to him undisturbed. This could mean all sorts of things. He dared not hope for anything positive for his own part, though things had improved between them. John’s hostility and reluctance to even look at Sherlock, had evaporated.

“A stern talking to from Molly,” John explained.

“Oh,” was Sherlock’s response.

What did that mean? Didn’t John know that he needed it spelled out to him?

“You need more data, I reckon,” John said, his lovely smile from before directed at Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded and didn’t take his eyes off John’s face, lest he miss something important, some clue that could enlighten him if John left anything out.

John sat down in his chair opposite Sherlock. He was tense but not excessively so, and Sherlock relaxed a fraction.

“Molly made me realise what I was about to lose. That you wouldn’t wait forever,” John started.

I would wait for eternity if it meant that I would have you back in my life, Sherlock thought to himself, but he stayed silent.

“I’ve been an idiot. Nothing new, really.”

John chuckled but Sherlock couldn’t detect any mirth. Before he could respond, John continued.

“My legendary stubbornness and anger got the better of me. Again. But then I realised that…this, 221B, is the only place I’ve ever felt..it…”

When Sherlock met John’s gaze he saw tears in those ocean-blue eyes, and he knew what John couldn’t say.

“Home,” Sherlock murmured. “From the first time you set foot in this flat, it felt like home.”

“Yeah,” John agreed. “That.”

John’s breath was heavy, and Sherlock didn’t known what to do. Before he could make a fool of himself, John asked the question there was only one answer to.

“Can I come home, Sherlock? With Rosie.”

***

The glee Sherlock felt at that moment, still lingers in his chest. His expectations are great, grand, glorious, and the sensation is utterly addictive. When he hears the familiar steps ascending, Sherlock stands in the doorway, ready to greet the two people he loves the most.

Rosie beams at him and stretches out her chubby arms, chanting “Lock!”

He takes her in his arms and buries his nose in the nape of her neck. A sharp pain makes him yelp a little. The little girl’s tiny fingers have grabbed a handful of hair and pulled hard.

“Careful, darling. You don’t want Sherlock without those beautiful curls,” John says and carefully entangles Sherlock’s hair from the surprisingly strong grip.

Sherlock expects John to move away, so he’s taken by surprise when a strong arm is placed around his waist. John rests his head on Sherlock’s shoulder and exhales.

“Home at last,” he whispers.

Finally, Sherlock wants to say, but his throat is uncooperative. So, instead he pulls John tighter and tries to just breathe.

The trio stands enveloped in a cocoon of bliss and contentment for a small amount of time; Rosie isn’t a patient girl, but it’s enough for Sherlock to create an art installation in the newest wing in his Mind Palace. A wing that is light, kept entirely in pastel colours reminiscent of Turkish delights.

A sign over the door, white with green letters, reads:

The Baker Street Family

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

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @helloliriels

@raina-at @meetinginsamarra @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitch-adler @topsyturvy-turtely

@jolieblack @peanitbear @phoenix27884 @bs2sjh @brandiwein1982

@meandhisjohn @a-victorian-girl @221beloved @ninasnakie @shy-bi-inlovewithregandmoony

@lhrinchelsea @missdeliadilisblog @salmonsown @oetkb12 @jawnscoffee

@gay-ass-bitch

(Tell me if you want to be tagged or removed from the list)

#flash fiction friday #sherlock fandom #sherlock #john watson #rosie watson #johnlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock fanfic #parent!lock #"FFF266 #great expectations

142 notes · View notes

fanboyswhore9 · 1 month ago

Text

The Proposal (Pt.2)~ Sherlock Holmes

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes (Henry Cavill’s version) x Fem! reader

Contains: Henry Cavil, marriage of convenience, childhood lovers, long lost love, TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF

Summary: After receiving the letter, Fem!reader’s family is reluctant about their sudden news for their engagement. And following their wedding day, where family and friends gather to witness their union. Despite Sherlock’s typical reluctance toward emotional expression, he delivers heartfelt vows, revealing how much she has meant to him all these years. The ceremony is intimate, emotional, and marks the beginning of a new chapter in their lives together as husband and wife.

A/N: HERE IS PT. 1 if you haven’t read it already.

A few months before the wedding, she sat nervously in her family’s parlor, her fingers intertwined with Sherlock’s beside her. The letter she had sent weeks ago was the reason for this tense gathering. Across from them sat her mother and father, their expressions a mix of concern and confusion. Her grandmother, ever sharp, was watching them carefully, while her sister stood by the window, quiet but clearly intrigued by what was about to unfold.

Her father broke the silence first, his voice firm but not unkind. “We’ve received your letter. This engagement to Sherlock Holmes—well, it was… unexpected, to say the least.” Her mother, eyebrows furrowed in concern, added, “You’ve barely seen him for years, and now you’re planning to marry? It feels so rushed, darling.”

Her heart pounded, knowing this would be a difficult conversation. She squeezed Sherlock’s hand under the table, feeling his steady presence beside her. He remained calm, his sharp eyes observing the room, ready to speak when necessary.

“I understand why this feels sudden,” she began, her voice steady despite the tension. “But Sherlock and I have always had a connection, even when we were apart. I know this may seem unconventional, but it’s right for us.” Her father leaned forward, his brow creased. “Sherlock is a brilliant man, but he’s not exactly known for being emotionally available. His work is his life. Can you really expect him to make room for a marriage?”

Before she could respond, Sherlock spoke up, his voice low and composed but tinged with conviction. “I understand your concerns, sir, and they are not unfounded. My work has been, and will continue to be, a significant part of my life. But I assure you, I am fully capable of making room for what is most important to me—and that is your daughter.”

Her father looked at him, eyebrows raised, but Sherlock didn’t waver. His hand tightened slightly around hers, a silent reassurance. “I know who Sherlock is,” she said, her voice firm. “I’ve seen sides of him most people don’t. He may seem detached, but he has a heart, and he’s willing to share that with me. We’ve talked about this, and I know what I’m getting into.”

Her mother sighed, exchanging a glance with her father. “We’re only worried because we want you to be happy. You deserve someone who can give you a stable life.” Sherlock shifted slightly, speaking before she could. “You’re right to want that for her, ma’am, but I don’t believe stability lies in a predictable life. I can’t promise an ordinary existence, but I can promise that I will care for her, respect her, and do everything in my power to make her happy.”

Her grandmother, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, her voice raspy but strong. “Love isn’t always about comfort and security. It’s about finding someone who makes your heart feel full, even if the road is rough.” Her sharp gaze shifted to Sherlock. “Tell me, young man, do you love her?” Sherlock met her grandmother’s eyes, and for a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath. He paused, considering his words carefully. “Yes. I do. More than I’ve been able to express properly. But I am trying, and I will continue to try, for her.”

A tear welled up in her eyes as she looked at him, and he glanced at her with a softness few people ever saw. Her sister, who had been standing by the window, finally spoke up, a smile tugging at her lips. “It’s clear she’s thought this through. If Sherlock’s willing to step away from his cases long enough for a wedding, I’d say he’s serious.” She grinned. “Besides, how many people can say their sister’s marrying Sherlock Holmes?”

The tension in the room lightened slightly at her sister’s words, and her father sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re a grown woman, and if this is truly what you want, we won’t stand in your way.” Her mother nodded, though the worry still lingered in her eyes. “We just want to be sure you’ll be taken care of.” Sherlock, his tone gentle but resolute, said, “I will do everything in my power to ensure that she is.”

Her grandmother leaned forward, taking her hand with a surprisingly strong grip. “Then you have my blessing, dear. Just make sure this man understands how lucky he is to have you as his wife, my dear girl.” Sherlock gave a small, respectful nod. “I assure you, ma’am, I do.”

Her heart swelled with emotion, and she blinked back tears, squeezing her grandmother’s hand. “Thank you, grandmother. That means the world to me.” Her father stood, offering her a smile that was both proud and resigned. “Well, I suppose we should start preparing for a wedding, then.” Her mother sighed but smiled as well, standing to embrace her. “We’ll support you, no matter what.”

As her family began discussing the details of the upcoming wedding, she felt an immense weight lift from her shoulders. She had been prepared for a harder fight, but Sherlock’s presence and his words had made all the difference. With their blessing, she knew her future with Sherlock was not only possible—it was right.

When the conversation finally began to wind down, Sherlock gave her a small, almost imperceptible smile. She returned it, squeezing his hand again in silent gratitude. He had been there for her when she needed him most, and they had faced this challenge together. He hugged the woman, shook her father’s hand, and thanked everyone as they were getting ready to leave.

Later, as they left her family’s home, walking side by side, she couldn’t help but feel more certain than ever that this—they—were worth fighting for. And now, with her family’s support and Sherlock by her side, the life they were about to build together felt more real and more promising than ever.

~TIME SKIP~

The morning sun filtered through the lace curtains of the bridal suite, casting soft light on the elegant folds of her ivory wedding dress. She stood before the full-length mirror, smoothing the delicate fabric with trembling hands. Today was the day—the day she never imagined would come, at least not like this.

Her mind wandered to Sherlock. What was he doing right now? Was he calm and composed, as always, or had some of the weight of the moment cracked through his famous veneer? She smiled at the thought. Sherlock Holmes, the brilliant detective who had captured her heart all those years ago, was about to become her husband.

A soft knock broke her thoughts. The door creaked open, revealing her sister, eyes wide with excitement. “You look incredible,” she whispered, stepping inside and carefully shutting the door behind her. She turned to face her younger sister, who grinned and pulled her into a quick hug. “I can’t believe it’s finally happening. You’re marrying him.” “Neither can I,” she replied with a soft laugh. “Are they all here?”

Her sister nodded. “Everyone’s downstairs waiting. Mom and Dad are practically buzzing, and Grandmother is more excited than I’ve ever seen her. Even Enola’s here, which was a surprise considering how much she avoids these kinds of things.”

Her heart swelled. It meant the world that her family, friends, and loved ones were here to witness this day. They had all been such an integral part of her life, but none more than Sherlock. Another knock came, this time more deliberate, and in stepped John Watson, his suit crisp and neat. He grinned as soon as he saw her. “You look amazing,” he said, his voice full of warmth.

“Thank you, John,” she replied with a soft smile. “How’s Sherlock?” John chuckled, shaking his head. “Nervous. He’s doing his best to hide it, but even Mycroft has commented on how much he’s been pacing. And you know Mycroft rarely mentions Sherlock’s emotions, so that’s saying something.”

The sisters both let out a giggles at John’s comment. The thought of Sherlock being anything other than composed seemed almost impossible, yet it comforted her to know that this day meant as much to him as it did to her. John stepped closer, offering his arm. “Ready to get married?” She nodded, taking a deep breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The small chapel Sherlock had chosen was tucked away in a quiet corner of London, intimate and timeless, just the way he preferred. It was perfect—no grand spectacle, just close friends and family, gathered together for this long-awaited moment.

As she stepped into the chapel on John’s arm, she noticed the familiar faces seated in the pews. Her parents were seated near the front, her mother dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief while her father sat with a proud smile. Her sister sat beside them, beaming, with her grandmother, frail but glowing with happiness, gently patting her granddaughter’s hand.

Enola sat just behind them, her sharp, curious gaze locked on Sherlock with a knowing smirk. Beside her, Mycroft adjusted his pocket watch, his stoic demeanor betraying nothing, though his eyes flicked to her with a rare glint of approval. Even Irene Adler, ever the enigma, sat elegantly toward the back, her presence more a nod to Sherlock’s past than any overt support, though she offered a subtle nod as their eyes met.

But none of them compared to the sight of Sherlock waiting for her at the altar.

He was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, standing tall with his hands clasped in front of him, his eyes immediately locking onto hers as soon as she entered the room. His usual detached demeanor was gone, replaced by a quiet intensity that made her heart race.

As John led her down the aisle, she felt the distance between her and Sherlock shrink, not just physically, but emotionally. The years they had spent apart, the unspoken words, the feelings long buried—all of it seemed to dissolve in the space between them.

When she finally reached him, Sherlock extended his hand, his grip warm and steady. For a moment, they stood there, eyes locked, the world around them fading into the background.

“You look beautiful,” Sherlock said softly, his voice rougher than usual, as if he had to force the words past his own nerves. “You clean up pretty well yourself,” she teased back, her voice shaky with emotion.

The officiant cleared his throat, beginning the ceremony, but neither she nor Sherlock seemed to hear much of it. Her gaze stayed locked on his, and for the first time in years, Sherlock’s guarded expression softened. The mask he so often wore in public had fallen away, leaving behind the man she had known as a boy—her Sherlock, the one who had always been there for her, even when she didn’t realize it.

“You may now exchange vows,” the officiant said, his voice cutting through the haze of emotions.

The soft light of the afternoon bathed the small chapel, casting everything in a warm, golden glow. She stood before Sherlock, her heart racing, her hands clasped in his. The world around them seemed to fade as they focused solely on each other, the gravity of the moment heavy in the air.

When the officiant turned to Sherlock for his vows, there was a brief pause. Everyone knew Sherlock Holmes as a man of intellect, logic, and few words. But here, in this moment, he was different—vulnerable, open in a way that only those closest to him had ever seen. And for her, he would make an exception.

Sherlock took a deep breath, his gaze unwavering as he held her hands gently in his. For a second, he hesitated, searching for the right words. Then, in a voice soft yet steady, he began.

“From the moment we met as children, you’ve always seen me for who I am—no illusions, no façades. You never tried to change me, though, heaven knows, I probably could have used some change,” he said with a small, self-deprecating smile. The crowd chuckled softly, but his focus remained solely on her. “You challenged me in ways no one else ever has, or ever could. You were the only one who truly understood me, even when I didn’t understand myself. And when you left for boarding school… I told myself it didn’t matter. That I didn’t care. But it did matter. It mattered more than I could ever admit, even to myself.”

Sherlock paused, his eyes softening, emotion flickering in their depths. “I spent years pretending that what we had was in the past, something forgotten. But no matter how many mysteries I solved, no matter how many cases I took on, there was always something missing. You.” His voice wavered slightly, and he cleared his throat, regaining his composure.

“You were always there, in the back of my mind. And now, standing here with you, I realize that you’ve been the most important mystery of my life—one I don’t ever want to solve, because being with you is the answer.”

Her breath hitched, her heart swelling at his words. Sherlock took another breath, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’m not perfect. Far from it. I’ll frustrate you, and I’ll be distant at times, and I might lose myself in my work, but I promise you this: I will never stop trying to be better for you. I will stand by your side, not as the detective or the man of logic, but as someone who loves you—deeply, and without question. You are my equal, my partner, and my heart. And I will spend the rest of my life proving to you that you were never a second thought.”

For a moment, the chapel was silent. Sherlock’s vows, though longer than anyone would have expected, were filled with an honesty that cut through the quiet.

She swallowed hard, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. It was her turn, but it took her a moment to compose herself, her heart so full she could barely speak. When she finally did, her voice was soft. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts, and when she spoke, her voice was steady but full of emotion, her eyes never leaving Sherlock’s.

“Sherlock, from the moment we met as children, I knew you were different. You were always the smartest person in the room, but what mattered most to me wasn’t your mind—it was your heart, even if you never let anyone see it. You’ve always been more than the man of logic and reason people think you are. You’ve been my friend, my confidant, and the person I’ve trusted more than anyone else in this world.”

She paused, her hands tightening around his. “When I left for boarding school, I thought I was leaving behind that part of my life, but not a day went by when I didn’t think of you. I told myself that it was just nostalgia, that maybe I was imagining the connection we had. But deep down, I knew it wasn’t just in my head. I missed you—not just the boy I grew up with, but the man I knew you were becoming.”

Her voice softened, and a tear escaped down her cheek, though her smile never wavered. “Sherlock, you once told me that sentiment was a chemical defect found in the losing side. But standing here now, I can tell you that sentiment is not a defect. It’s what has kept us tied together, no matter how far apart we were. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember, even when I was too afraid to admit it. I love your mind, your brilliance, and your stubbornness, but most of all, I love the man you are when no one else is looking.”

She took a moment, her voice becoming more firm as she continued. “I don’t need grand gestures or flowery words. What I need is you. I need your partnership, your trust, your companionship, and your heart. And I promise that I will give you mine, without reservation. I will stand by you, even when you push me away, because I know that what we have is real, and it’s worth fighting for.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, her eyes shimmering with emotion. “I will love you, not because of who you are to the world, but because of who you are to me. I’ll be your equal, your partner, and your home. No matter what challenges we face, no matter what mysteries we solve together, I will always come back to you. Because you, Sherlock Holmes, are the one constant I’ve had in my life. And I promise to love you for the rest of mine.”

The room was silent, the air thick with emotion. For a moment, it felt as though the world had stopped, as if nothing existed outside the space between them. Sherlock’s eyes softened in a way they rarely did, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

The officiant, slightly overwhelmed by the weight of their words, cleared his throat and continued with the ceremony, though it felt like a formality at this point. When the words finally came—“You may kiss the bride”—Sherlock didn’t hesitate.

He pulled her gently into his arms, his hands cradling her face as he pressed his lips to hers. It wasn’t rushed or fleeting; it was a kiss filled with the years of longing, the unspoken words, and the deep love they had both carried in their hearts for so long. Her hands found his shoulders, holding him close, and the world around them seemed to disappear.

When they finally pulled apart, the room erupted into soft applause. Her family smiled through tears, and John looked at Sherlock with a mixture of pride and amusement. Mycroft gave a small nod of approval, while Enola, though trying to remain composed, couldn’t hide the smirk on her face. Even Irene Adler, watching from the back, offered a quiet, knowing smile.

As they turned to face the small crowd, Sherlock’s hand found hers, squeezing gently. They walked down the aisle together, side by side, hand in hand, ready to face whatever came next. For the first time in both of their lives, they weren’t just solving a mystery—they were building a life, together.

And as they stepped out into the world as husband and wife, Sherlock leaned in, his voice a quiet murmur only she could hear. “Mrs. Holmes,” he whispered, a rare warmth in his tone, “this is the one mystery I’m happy will never be solved.” She smiled, her heart full, and whispered back, “Neither will I, Mr. Holmes. Neither will I.”

#fuck hes so hot #henry cavill #sherlock x reader #sherlock fanfic #sherlock fandom #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes henry cavill #enola holmes #i love them #i want him #i love him #i love it

57 notes · View notes

thoughtlessthinkythoughts · 2 years ago

Text

As we celebrate public domain day and the start of Letters from Watson, I just want to say....

All queer Holmes headcanons are good.

All of them are meaningful to a multitude of people, and everyone finally has free reign to explore them in published works.

And I want to see all of them. They aren't in competition with each other.

I love explorations of what it would be like to be gay in Victorian society and all of the intricate historical connections people make. Both the painful ones and the ones that say fuck it, let's show some joy.

I love when characters are allowed to be bisexual and all of their relationships are treated with respect. I love when Watson gets to love Mary and Holmes, and when this isn't made out to be some competition.

I love aro and/or ace Holmes, and I beg certain corners of the fandom to remember that these explorations are not the same as simply not addressing the subject of Holmes' sexuality. They are so much more, and these interpretations are fundamentally queer. I love explorations of what it means for a queerplatonic partnership to be the most important relationship in someone's life, especially when they don't have the words to explain it.

I love explorations of Sherlock Holmes and gender. Whether it is someone concealing their gender to play a certain role in society or it is an exploration of being trans historically. All possibilities have something different and interesting to say.

Sherlock Holmes and the relationship between Holmes and Watson appeals to so many of us for a reason, and there are so many stories we can tell. There are so many ways authors can now say "I have always seen myself in this. Let me show you why." There is no limit.

I guess what I'm saying is this. Sherlock Holmes is now legally allowed to be kind and compassionate (and treat female characters well).

Here's to fandom doing the same.

#sherlock holmes #letters from watson #the ghosts of fandom wank past have been haunting me #please assume that I support interpretations not mentioned in this post and that I didn't intentionally leave anything out #this isn't based on anything I've seen yet #just some bad memories #I just want to see an old fandom resurrected #without it bringing back the worst of old fandom

1K notes · View notes

queerholmcs · 3 months ago

Text

the mind of moriarty 👑🧑🏻‍💻♟️

I had the absolute pleasure of doing the original "the game is now" escape room experience immediately followed by the new moriarty-centric escape room (as though the first one wasn't moriarty-centric enough?) with @victorianpining and @647763 back at the end of July, and I did promise a full write-up when I came back to my senses at the end of it!

First off, I could not have been more pleased with the experience; I do absolutely recommend giving it a go yourself if you have the chance. Now, if you're in the mood for spoilers, I'll be detailing some thoughts and recollections below the cut. 💙

Just in case the first escape room experience didn't quite convince you, Moriarty is dead. It's very important that you know that going into this. He's the most dead anyone has ever been. He's so dead he "wishes he could die twice!", after all! They have to keep saying it because otherwise you might forget it, you see. Especially after Sherlock had a whole drug trip on a plane to prove how someone might have faked their death in such a manner only to conclusively decide that dear old Jimmy boy is in fact dead.

I'm assuming everyone reading this is already relatively familiar with the first escape room, and the whole bit where the Network is operating under the guise of "Doyle's Opticians," so I won't spend any time discussing that, except to say that we did get a few confused looks from the various Stamfords when we reappeared (after finishing the first escape room and making the choice to stick to non-alcoholic beverages at the Mind Palace prior to the second) to say, "Oh, no, we didn't get turned around or anything. We've just got a second appointment." (You mean to tell me that most people who go do one experience and then just... leave? Without doing the second one the very same day? What an absolutely unfathomable concept.)

The opening puzzles before the "John Watson held at gunpoint" briefing video (which was the same as that used for the first escape room) were particularly fun: you're shown a series of four images, and you have to figure out the pattern of what's changing (being mirrored, one might say?) between each one to choose the fifth of the sequence from a selection. (Ref. 1: Into the Woods: How Stories Work and Why We Tell Them, John Yorke.)

And then you go on to 221B Baker Street for photos and a brief moment of shenanigans, and I must add a note here that the Stamford who was working with us on this round was brilliant, you could tell she was absolutely loving her job, and there was a bit of a spiel about observation and logic and deduction that turned out to actually be helpful in solving the puzzles in the first room. (Shocking, that she wasn't just harping on about those concepts for fun!)

Anyway, Mycroft shows up via video feed, per usual, and introduces the premise of this game: James Moriarty (who is most assuredly dead, by the way, it's very important that you remember that) programmed an AI before he died—"an archive of maniacal data"—and your job, as new (read: expendable) recruits in the Network, is to go into a virtual-reality space called the Nexus, where you need to hack into the AI and replace Moriarty's mind with—well, not yours, obviously, you're "far too, as they say, basic"—but with Sherlock's. But why not use Mycroft's mind? you may be asking. Especially if he's the smart one.—because, dear reader, "One Mycroft Holmes is already too great a gift for this world. Two would be an indulgence." And that's verbatim from Mycroft Holmes as protrayed by Mark Gatiss himself. I am going to haunt him in whatever comes after this life. Still can't believe that you give them money and in exchange they insult you for approximately ninety minutes and at the end you say 'thanks, this was so much fun, I will definitely be doing this again!'

Right before you go into the first room, you are helpfully reminded by Mycroft one last time that "despite what video games suggest, you absolutely can die in the virtual world." Bit of a theme they seem to be harping on! It's almost like they're trying to get you to really believe that Jim is actually dead or something!

(Photos are all from the official 221b social media accounts.)

The first room is a sort of fusion of the pool from TGG with a chemistry lab and a hospital corridor, and also a miniature version of Jim's prison cell from THOB is there. There's a mannequin of John Watson decked out in a Semtex vest in the corner, and you get the usual experience of solving lots of intellectually- and tactilely-satisfying puzzles, which included opening a bordering-on-comical number of lockers. The John mannequin has a key in his hand labelled "007" (classic!) and a phone in his pocket so you can text Mycroft. Moriarty reminds you that he's the good old-fashioned villain in this fairy tale, and that Sherlock needs him or he's nothing, and that John is Sherlock's "live-in ordinary person."

I also particularly enjoyed the little chemistry puzzle in this room—they do give you a periodic table on the wall, so you have all you need to solve it without any prior knowledge, but who goes to a Sherlock escape room without a graduate chemist in hand?

(We also decided after the fact that the gift shop definitely should have been selling packs of the stickers seen on the lockers in this room, one of which was notably a pixel-art TV with a rainbow screen and the phrase "brainwashed".)

The highlight here, however, was definitely the prison cell. There's a letter on the chair that's on Pentonville Prison letterhead and signed by Mycroft and otherwise consists of a paragraph or two of fully redacted text. The walls have a number of fun phrases scratched into them, like "THREE SIGNS IS NOT ENOUGH" and "TOO MANY THATCHERS", which continue to live in my mind rent-free. (Some of the other phrases were helpful hints for the puzzles you had to solve, but those two weren't even relevant for the puzzles, as I recall. They were just bonuses. Specifically designed to haunt me, personally.)

At some point in here, Moriarty—no, sorry; his recorded voice, because he's dead, remember! We're just poking around in his virtual mind! ("Jim recorded lots of little messages for me before he died," anyone?)—insults you over the speakers, saying, "Goldfish, goldfish, goldfish have better recall than you!" (Mycroft Holmes in TEH, "I'm living in a world of goldfish," anyone?)

Anyway, you solve all the puzzles and put the phone you were using to text Mycroft in Jim's prison cell and continue on your way, going further into the mind of Moriarty, in the direction of the "Watson Ward" and "No Sherlock beyond this point" arrows. (Big moment for "there's definitely a reason that every other character in the canon has the initials J(H)W or its respectable inversion JM" girlies!)

Also there's an audio clip of Jim saying "choo choo!" as you leave the room. (Big moment for TFP girlies! I think my exact words were "I am going to kill myself.")

Onto room two! Green lasers everywhere! (They definitely intended you to do a fun little acrobatics situation here but we were content to hit the floor and crawl to find the buttons to disable them.)

After you disable the lasers, you get to focus on the primary puzzle of the room: a wall covered with sketches of people and copies of incriminating evidence, and you have to connect the scarlet thread red strings between each member of the jury and the evidence that Jim was blackmailing them with—you know, from way back in TRF? When the key code wasn't important at all, it was just about knowing someone's pressure points? (There's a Mary who's having an affair and is a lesbian, btw. Just like our mystery corpse in the original escape room, we should never assume someone is straight when there's room for them to be gay.) This puzzle as a whole was really satisfying, I will say, though it did make us wish for either a notepad or a massive whiteboard to make notes on while we solved the little logic puzzles to match the people to their blackmail material. (They could give you little branded notepads and pens to take with you through the rooms, and to keep as a souvenir, like the ones hotels give you! It would be so fun!) This was definitely the puzzle we spent the majority of our time on.

And then you get to the highlight of this room: opening the safe to reveal Jim Moriarty himself—well, a mannequin version—decked out in the Crown Jewels, happy as could be. There's a reminder that nothing in the Tower of London is as valuable as a few tiny lines of computer code that can open any door. And Jim's written a silly little poem of sorts and draws far too much attention to both "the rod of power in his right hand's grasp" and "the Orb" between his legs (and then we were at the Tower of London two days later and found out that that's not just a euphemism, it's literally called the Orb? Unhinged behaviour. And I don't even know who to blame for it now. The "rod of power" bit was all him, though. Could have been normal and called it a scepter!) and you have to figure out a code and (spoilers!) the code is 7437. Which is fine and perfectly normal and I'm sure the vast majority of people who complete that room think nothing of it, but unfortunately, we were not a group of "the vast majority" and so our experience was not what you might call "fine and normal", because Mia input the code and there was a little beep of success of and then she, without missing a beat, went on to say, "Oh, that's so funny! That's the numbers for S-H-E-R," at which point Rebs and I immediately sank to the floor to stare into the abyss while waiting for the next door to open.

So, just to recap: the point of TRF was definitely that there was no code, there was never any code, it was just about knowing people's pressure points and getting them to do what you wanted, but now that we're inside Moriarty's mind it's definitely all about codes and there's a silly poem to draw attention to various things including, but not limited to, the Orb between his legs, and the code that you need from him so that you can go deeper into his mind is S-H-E-R. Yeah. Sure. Why not. This is Fine! What really haunts me is knowing how many people will do that escape room and will never know that that's what those numbers mean. Because why on earth would you?

(Just to prove how normal I am about this, I won't even say anything about a potential parallel between Moriarty's "Orb" situation and the globe on Mycroft's desk under Whitehall. See? I'm not even mentioning it, why would you bring up something like that? No M-theory here, no sir! Not a single trace of it!)

Congratulations, you've made it to the rooftop, where Sherlock jumped off a roof and James Moriarty met his end, and I swear Jim has a line somewhere in there complaining about how hard it is to plan this sort of thing. (Whatever that means!)

We've got screens playing clips from all thirteen episodes of the show—okay, that might be an exaggeration; I didn't actually check to see if there were clips from every single episode. But there were definitely clips from series four, which is very funny considering how the universe that these rooms seem to be set makes exactly zero mention of John's wife at any point in time. (Hey, hello, hi, it's me who's writing this. Obviously I noticed when there were shots from TFP on those screens.)—and there are computer-code-esque symbols on the walls and Jim is lying dead on the floor and Sherlock is standing on the edge of the rooftop.

Here are some fun facts for you: the gun is still in Jim's pocket. (He's definitely dead, though! You know how you shoot yourself in the head and then return your gun to its rightful place before you politely lay down and die?) And Sherlock's mannequin is wearing the purple shirt of sex a purple shirt, which is a detail that might not be noticed unless you're thoroughly ransacking his every pocket (twice) to check for a missing key, and I was going to say something about how of course he is, because what else would you expect him to be wearing when we're three levels deep in Moriarty's mind and the code to get this far was S-H-E-R, but then I went back and checked and Sherlock is, in fact, wearing a purple shirt at the end of TRF. (Which somehow still doesn't actually negate any of the above, imo.)

Anyway, the first puzzle in this room involves finding a bunch of physical puzzle pieces to solve a puzzle, and figuring out how to unlock doors to obtain all of the pieces, and some of the padlocks use code words that they give you by putting phrases from their "sophisticated and cerebral" merch on the screen and highlighting letters, and some use numbers that you get by solving other riddles, but one of them is a padlock with a physical key and (spoiler!) it turns out that you don't even need to get the key for that one, because there's another way to get the puzzle piece out without unlocking the door at all! (Was his grand daylight robbery scheme a matter of keys and codes, or was it just about knowing people's pressure points and blackmailing them? You decide!)

And then it's time to manage the final task of uploading Sherlock's brain to the AI, which is accomplished by running around hitting buttons while music plays over the speakers to instil a sense of great urgency. You definitely would not want to do this with fewer than three members in your party. This is where they use Jim's line of "Surprise! You didn't think I'd just disappear, did you?" as seen in one of the teaser trailers, and they also plaster every screen with the classic "Did you miss me?" footage that mysteriously appeared on every screen in the country at the end of HLV.

But when you do manage to complete the task, Mycroft's voice comes back to congratulate you, and to sort of threaten you (though that's par for the course when it's Mycroft Holmes we're talking about, I'll admit), and to leave open the possibility of your returning for another job someday. I, for one, cannot wait to see what they're going to do for round three. (Personally, I think it would be very funny if they put one of the rooms on the Demeter for the next one. No rebranding necessary, no discussion of Dracula at any point whatsoever, but for some reason you find yourself on a boat, in cabin number 9, playing chess with the Devil himself Moriarty! What a shocking and unforeseen turn of events that would be!)

(The only real downside of them doing a third room would be that I would then have to make time to do three of these in one day. And that might be a bit excessive. I mean, three eye exams in one day? Someone's definitely going to say something.)

We had a very lovely time at the Mind Palace bar after that, to debrief a bit, and there was a logic puzzle that I still need to sit down and crack at some point when I have a moment. I was personally very pleased to find drinks called "The Diogenes Club" and "The Lying Detective" (both of which I was contractually obligated to order, naturally), and did you know you can rent out the bar for private events? I'm sure I would be very normal about such a situation. (Good job I'm not local to the area, truly!)

This has already gone longer than I think I intended, and I'm sure I could keep going, given the opportunity, but I'll close things out here, and say again that I do absolutely recommend doing the escape room(s) if you have the opportunity; I could not have been more pleased with the experience. My sole complaint is that they don't let you wander back through the rooms after solving the puzzles to have a moment to appreciate all the small details when you're not working against the clock. And also they should send me the scripts, as a treat. Along with any remaining unused video or audio footage. (Moftiss, my DMs are open, feel free to drop the links at your earliest convenience!)

#the game is now #bbc sherlock #sherlock #*mine #@ rebs and mia feel free to chime in if i missed anything of import here!!!#anyway. need to just post this before i go any more insane today dsfsdlfjs #the mind of moriarty

64 notes · View notes

leosficlist · 3 months ago

Text

POST S-4 Getting Together

These fics are about their relationship Post Season 4, which could include apologies and fix-its, or simply fics which acknowledged the events of S4!

Post S4 pt2, Post S4 pt3

Bridges by sussexbound 🔒6.6k words

The silence between them is deafening, interrupted only by the hum of the traffic outside, and the soft click-clunk of the plastic cups Rosie is playing with on the floor beside them. It is the first time they have been alone together, since Sherlock’s birthday. It’s only been two days, but it feels huge, important, like there is a precarious bridge stretched out before them both that they need to at least attempt to traverse.

Nocturne by Atiki 6.6k words

All the most important conversations happen at night.

holding steady by darcylindbergh 12.7k words

“Sitting on a thick wool blanket at the end of a rickety dock side-by-side, legs dangling over the edge, a styrofoam container of wet, dark dirt between them, they’re fishing.”

John knows what this is about. This is about finally figuring it out.

notes: post-everything, no eurus mention, getting away for the weekend

Finally Home by LondonSpirit 🔒 3.5k words

“After the final problem is solved, after everything's resolved, and Sherlock and John have returned to a more or less ordinary life, there's only one ting left to do.

But can they eventually admit what everyone else already knew for a long time, or are they still too blind to see?”

Sehnsucht by unicornpoe 14.7k

Sehnsucht: longing, pining, yearning, craving, intensely missing. An individual’s search for happiness while coping with the reality of unattainable wishes.

John is here now, yes, yes he is. He and Rosie are back home in 221B with Sherlock, safe where they belong... but why is there still a hole deep inside Sherlock, wide and gaping and consuming? Does John feel it too? And what will it take to fill it?

Alternative Facts by SwissMiss 🔒10k words

It was so nice to see they'd finally got things sorted. After all they'd been through, they deserved to be happy. (Or: Five times people imagined what John and Sherlock get up to in the bedroom, and one time we see what they really get up to.)

Six Dates by AvaWtsn 7.4k

A rather accidental 5+1 written for the prompt "is this a date?" Hint: it is.

notes: the first 6 fridays after John moves back in

Whisper To Me by Chrysanthemumsies 20.7k words

Sherlock picks up playing the guitar. John falls more and more in love with every passing day.

notes: John struggling with his feelings, slowly creeping together

Questions and Answers by Pipmer 3.1k

It was useless. What was the point? No amount of talking was ever going to change that John wasn’t interested, and never would be. The only way he would be tempted to pull up house again would be if the practical advantages were enormous, and they just weren’t. Why else would he even consider it?

notes: Sherlock wants John & Rosie to move back in

Once Upon A Time by darcylindbergh 6.5k

It starts with a wish.

In the beginning, John comes home.

notes: fluffy soft warm

Getting On With It by StarlightandFireflies 8k words

“What is it?” Sherlock finally asked, staring into his tea. “Nothing,” John said quickly. After all, he could hardly just come out and say the truth: It’s just hit me again, all this. I’ve realized I’m here, and you’re here, and for some reason you don’t hate me, and yet I’ve got no bloody idea where to go from here. I want to do right by you but it’s hitting me as if for the first time that I’ve no clue how to do that, even though it’s what you deserve. Rated M for chapter 2

notes: "your heart's always been in the right place" "for you John, yes"

Negative Space by Standbygo 8.8k words

John takes a drawing class, but drawing Sherlock has unexpected results.

notes: John’s in therapy, Sherlock goes to John’s art show

Home by liriodendron 2.9k words

Sherlock opens his mouth to ask how he can make the pain go away, but he realizes halfway through that he doesn't know how one asks such a thing, so the only word that escapes his lips is, "John..."

There is a sharp intake of breath at his name, and then John says in a voice like a broken radio, "Take me home, Sherlock."

notes: sex for comfort post-mary's death

Out Of The Woods by SilentAuror

Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

notes: pining Sherlock, miscommunications, then oodles of fluff, love confessions, virginlock, john plots a romantic date

#johnlock fanfic #johnlock post s4 #post s4 #bbc sherlock #bbc johnlock #johnlock rec

54 notes · View notes

neo-my-geo · 1 year ago

Text

Hey gang, it’s your old pal Neo here. If you know me, it’s probably from one of the several very stupid TF2 comics I’ve posted to Tumblr.

However! I am also an English major (unfortunately). One who has read millions of words worth of fanfiction in their life. I have been part of the Sherlock, BNHA, Disco Elysium, and, of course, TF2 fandoms; I’ve been around the block.

The further I’ve progressed into my English education, the more I’ve noticed which mistakes are the most common in fanfiction. Many of them are easily fixable; writers just need to be pointed in the right direction.

“Neo! Does this mean you think people shouldn’t be allowed to post their works online without a background in formal English education?”

Of course not! I can explain why if you’d care to venture below the cut with me!

Yes, I will explain how to use commas.

It’s important to note that this is NOT a post about formal writing. You aren’t writing an essay. Please, for the love of god, do not write fiction like you’re writing an essay.

There are no stakes to writing fanfic. No one is going to get hurt if an author doesn’t know what a dangling participle is. One of my favourite things about fanfiction is that it’s one of the only art forms left that’s done exclusively for fun! You should write what you enjoy, and share what you make with like-minded people.

What I want to do is provide assistance as best I can to writers who want to improve their fundamentals without having to take the same university courses I did. Nobody is going to be getting a formal education to write fanfiction unless they’re ridiculously dedicated, and I’m not expecting that of anyone.

The point I need to stress is that knowing these grammar fundamentals can instantly improve the flow of your writing. Punctuation is a ridiculously important tool for writers, ESPECIALLY in fiction. Commas, semicolons, and full stops (including periods, exclamation points, and question marks) steer the pacing in the reader’s mind; did you notice how your brain stopped for a second after that semicolon? I can show you how to do that.

You may be wondering why I’m going through so much effort to teach all of this to strangers on the internet. The answer is that I enjoy sharing this knowledge with others and helping them grow. By seeing this, my goal is to help you become more proficient at self-editing. Showing this to people who actually want to learn will, hopefully, benefit the community as a whole, and I think that’s very worth it.

Also, while this post is obviously themed around TF2, the points I’m making can be applied to any fiction. Grammar is for everyone, and the church of the semicolon always has room for more initiates.

Also also, as an edit, I should clarify that this is meant to cover the more objective facets of self-editing, which is why I'm mostly covering punctuation. Maybe I'll do another post about using adjectives someday.

With that out of the way, let’s get going!

I’ve teamed up with several English teachers (real ones! One of which may or may not be my mom!) and an editor to gather a list of the most common problems we see in amateur fiction. This post is going to be split into three broad sections: apostrophes, commas/semicolons, and other common problems.

The apostrophe

This section is short, but it holds weight. Other than commas, apostrophes are the most typoed grammatical tool in any fanfiction I’ve edited. This is because, much like the rest of English, the rules surrounding them can be annoying and inconsistent.

Apostrophes have two main uses: possessives and conjunctions.

A possessive is a word that denotes the ownership of one thing over another. The vast majority of the time, this is done using an apostrophe and an S.

There is, however, one glaring exception to this rule, and it’s the bane of my existence.

When denoting possession of an object over something else while using the pronoun ‘it,’ you do NOT add an apostrophe before the S.

A conjunction, on the other hand, is when a writer uses an apostrophe to combine two words. The following are examples of common conjunctions:

What’s (what is)

They’re (they are)

It’s (it is)

Conjunctions are not often used in formal writing. Thankfully, we aren’t dealing in formal writing. Go crazy.

Time for a lightning round of the most commonly mistaken for each other possessives and conjunctions!

Your is possessive. You’re is a conjunction of ‘you’ and ‘are.’ When you can’t decide which one to use, imagine replacing it with ‘you are’ and seeing if it makes sense. If it doesn’t, use your.

Their is possessive. There indicates a location. They’re is a conjunction of ‘they’ and ‘are.’

The comma and the semicolon

You knew it was coming. I knew it was coming. It’s time to talk about commas.

Commas and semicolons are far and away the biggest grammatical hole in the toolset of fanfiction writers everywhere. They’re often treated like the rules surrounding them are complicated and difficult to understand, but the exact opposite is true!

The big issue I’ve heard time and time again is that the rules of commas are often explained through metaphor instead of example; this means that writers everywhere have slightly different ideas of how you’re supposed to use them. The fact of the matter is that, yes, there are correct and incorrect ways to use commas. Knowing when they’re appropriate and when they aren’t is easily the fastest way to bring your writing from looking amateurish to sounding professional and experienced.

In order to know how to use a comma, you must first understand the difference between a dependent and an independent clause.

An independent clause is a section of writing that functions perfectly well as its own sentence. It MUST have both a subject and an action/verb.

A sentence without an independent clause is known as a fragment, and they’re the bane of English teachers with highlighters everywhere.

A dependent clause is a section of writing that does not have both a subject and an action; it does not function as its own sentence.

Now, let’s say you want to combine the two. When joining a dependent clause to an independent clause, the order in which they are placed is crucial to whether you use a comma or not.

When joining a dependent to an independent with the independent clause first, you do not need to use a comma.

When joining a dependent to an independent with the dependent clause first, you MUST use a comma.

Keep in mind that, if one strives for total grammatical perfection, all narrative sentences MUST have an independent clause. This, however, does not apply to dialogue. Human beings do not think about whether what they’re saying is a dependent clause, and neither would the vast majority of fictional characters. Don’t be afraid to break the rules of grammar as long as it’s contained within quotation marks.

Alright, that’s the easy part. Time to learn about joining two independent clauses. It’s semicolon time, baby!

If you join two independent clauses without properly using a comma or a semicolon, it is a run-on sentence. You do not want these in your writing. They’re awkward to read and mess up the flow.

When joining two independent clauses, you can use EITHER a comma or a semicolon. You just need to follow these rules:

If you’re joining two independent clauses with a comma, you MUST use a joining word (and, but, so, etc.) AFTER the comma.

If you’re joining two independent clauses with a semicolon, you do NOT need to use a joining word.

Did you know that a sentence with a comma counts as its own independent clause? This means that you can make a sentence that includes a mix of both without it being a run-on! Just make sure that, no matter what, the semicolon is between two independent clauses.

Still, try not to write more than two clauses in a sentence too often. Sentences with a lot of punctuation are very attention-grabbing, but shouldn’t be overused. Full stops aren’t your enemy and variety is the spice of life.

It’s also important to remember that you should avoid using more than one comma in a clause (with the exception of the rule below). That part loops back to the 'avoiding run-ons' bit.

It’s really that easy!

Commas are also used in informal writing to inject a separate thought or descriptor mid-sentence without breaking the flow by adding a period. This is often used when describing the perspective of a character experiencing something in a story, but not (usually) when using omniscient perspectives.

The final issue I frequently see with commas in fanfiction is in regards to dialogue. Sometimes you end it with them, and sometimes you don’t. What gives?

Well, my friend, the answer is, thankfully, much simpler than the previous section.

When following dialogue with a dialogue tag, use a comma instead of a full stop. If you’re continuing the previous sentence after the tag, use a comma after it as well.

Note that a dialogue tag is a short phrase that identifies the speaker. It isn’t a complete sentence on its own.

When following dialogue with an action that does not serve as a dialogue tag, use a full stop instead of a comma.

Other common problems

This section is dedicated to putting specific grammatical errors into words, along with how to solve them.

Not sticking to the chosen point of view

Always choose your point of view before you start. Is it in the first, second, or third person? Is it omniscient or limited? Does the point of view switch during the story?

First person perspective is told as if the POV character is directly describing their experience to the reader. The character uses I and we to describe their own actions.

Second person perspective is told as if the reader is a character in the story and their actions are being described to them. This is the rarest, and the most difficult to write.

Third person perspective is the most common and the simplest to write. The events of the story are a separate entity from the reader altogether and the narrator uses they/he/she/it pronouns for characters.

Omniscient perspective means the narrator of the story knows all, including the thoughts and feelings of each character.

Limited perspective means the narrator of the story only knows what the POV character knows.

Past and present tense

When you decide between writing a story in past or present tense, it is crucial that you do not switch between them unless it is narratively intentional. Reading a past tense story that mistakenly switches to the present tense is like being pulled out of the room someone is telling a story in and suddenly taking part in it yourself. It’s disorienting and gives the reader unwanted pause.

Overly-long paragraphs

A common adage spread by English teachers is that most paragraphs should be at least eight sentences long. This is great advice for beginner essays. You’re writing fiction.

If you have a new thought, start a new paragraph! A concise and well-read single-sentence paragraph is infinitely better than one that drags a thought for too long. Aim to have a blend of paragraph lengths when you write, alternating between the descriptive and the punctual.

Dangling participles

A dangling participle is when a word is used to describe a noun that isn’t actually present in the sentence. Much like how a sentence without an action isn’t grammatically correct, neither is a sentence without a subject.

Malapropisms

A malapropism is when an author mistakenly uses one word or phrase instead of another similar-sounding one. I’m not about to list every single malapropism ever made, but these are the ones I notice most often:

To comprehend is to understand something, to apprehend is to arrest someone, and to be apprehensive is to be anxious or fearful of something bad happening.

Could care less means you do care. Couldn’t care less means you don’t.

A lot means a large amount of something. Alot isn’t a word and you shouldn’t use it.

The only real solution to using malapropisms is to make sure you fully understand any words you use in your writing. Never guess, and make sure you always google it. Having beta readers also helps.

If you made it this far, congratulations! You now know the most common errors in amateur fiction and how to solve them! Thank you for listening to me complain for two thousand words.

The most important thing to remember is that it’s okay to make mistakes. First drafts are always gonna be a little bad. The real key to success is knowing what your end goal is, and how you plan on achieving it. Here’s hoping this was a helpful tool for that!

Shoutout to @salmonandsoup for helping me think of the list of issues to address! You're a real one. Also shoutout to my mom, who doesn't have Tumblr. Also the third person. You know who you are.

#grammarposting #tf2 #grammar #educational shitpost #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #writing advice #fanfiction writing advice #team fortress 2 #tf2 fanfiction #bro your participle is dangling

244 notes · View notes

thalialunacy · 7 months ago

Text

[for the @calaisreno May Promptadoodledoo; land o Goshen, this was a tough one, so thanks for sticking with me]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) 12: family (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31)

Breach imminent

Sherlock groans, shoving his phone between couch cushions and drawing a sleeping Rosie closer to him.

'Bad news?' John asks from his chair. He looks over his reading glasses at where Sherlock is curled around his daughter, and feels affection sting so hard in his chest that he absently rubs at it.

'The worst,' Sherlock answers sullenly

John runs through the likely options in his head, then goes with his gut. 'Your parents are coming to town?'

Sherlock opens his eyes and stares at John, his expression full of surprise, then affection, then shammy casualness. 'I have been a good influence on your deduction skills, clearly.'

John chuckles. 'That, or your brother advised me to clear my calendar and clean the flat.'

'Meddling queen,' Sherlock mutters into Rosie's hair. Then his phone pings again.

I haven't told them.

John doubles down. 'He knows, I take it? About our… development?'

'You are doing very well today.'

'Feelings, Sherlock. I'm good at people and their feelings.'

'Yes, yes, that's why I keep you around. Of course he knows; I let him keep the surveillance up in the stairwell in exchange for having none in here.'

'Ah.' John had suspected as much, though admittedly he had not considered it at the time of the first (very unplanned) tryst. 'Has he told your parents?'

'Apparently not.'

Silence stretches. They've come a long way, but John feels too keenly the risk/reward scenario here, and is undecided.

This time it's John's phone that pings.

It's up to you, of course, but rest assured: they would be inordinately pleased.

John's eyebrow quirks. 'Your parents like me?' he finally says, going for casual but missing, and he knows it.

'You're very likeable.'

'You know, from anyone else that would be a compliment.'

Sherlock doesn't answer beyond a grunt. It's somehow safe to have this conversation in this arrangement, with the comforting stretch of the room and the gorgeous sleeping toddler between them. They're connected, but not so much as to overwhelm.

'How much time have we got, do you reckon?' John asks, almost to the air.

'Far too little,' Sherlock grumbles.

'Right, but from you that could mean three months.'

'Yes, well, seeing as your birthday is in two weeks, but tis the season of primroses so they have to schedule us in between, I'm surmising it to be about three hours, in actuality.'

John snorts. 'That's a bit harsh.'

'No, no, they're beautiful primroses.'

'Hang on,' John says suddenly, running back through what Sherlock has said. 'They know when my birthday is?'

'Of course.'

'They care when my birthday is?'

'Don't be daft.'

'I'm trying, but they hardly know me. And what they know of me is not altogether flattering.'

'I said don't be daft.'

John can't stop a frustrated noise. 'Then explain it better.'

Sherlock opens his eyes, considers him for a moment, then he breaks eye contact and buries his nose in Rosie's hairline. 'They know of my affections for you. And that's enough for them.'

John's breath deserts him for a moment. 'Sherlock…'

'Don't let's make a big thing out of it, please.'

John wants to laugh. It's already literally the biggest thing in his life. 'Alright,' he says instead. 'But... let me be the one to tell them, yeah?'

Sherlock goes very still, not lifting his gaze. 'You'd be amenable to that?'

Sod this, it's been long enough. John shunts his reading glasses aside and stands, listening to his bones crick as he crosses and crouches in front of the two most important people in his orbit. 'Yeah, course.' He presses his lips against Rosie's forehead, then Sherlock's, without hesitation. 'Try and get rid of me.'

Sherlock finally, finally meets his eyes, and John feels so much he wants to tackle both of them and just cocoon for a little while. Tell the world to bugger off.

So, of course, there's a knock at the door. Sherlock groans, and Rosie's face scrunches up in the universal expression of, "How dare you wake me up, you rude creature."

'Three hours?' John says while scooping his daughter out of Sherlock's embrace. She needs a change. Maybe he should use that baby magic and let Sherlock's parents do it, he thinks with a grin.

'I am not in control of all variables, unfortunately,' Sherlock mutters into the sofa, where he's pressed his face.

John's mouth curves into a smirk as he heaves up (bloody hell, getting older is not for the weak) and turns towards the door. He wishes fleetingly that Sherlock was behind him, in solidarity if nothing else.

Then, suddenly, he is, his mouth pressing against Rosie's sleep-rumpled cheek over John's shoulder. He doesn't turn to John, but he doesn't have to. 'Into battle?'

John nods, then reaches for the door.

[❤️]

#May Prompts 2024 #MayPrompts2024 #BBC Sherlock #I had planned on writing something funny based on my quirky family #but we're uh not super quirky right now #It's gonna be MAY 2024

75 notes · View notes

thatsmzbitchtoyou · 22 days ago

Text

The Boss Part 4 -Oneshot

Word count: 1915

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

“I don’t understand why this is a big deal,” Bucky groaned, picking up his work bag and adjusting his suit jacket.

“What do you mean? It’s a big deal in any relationship,” Y/N said incredulously. “Meeting the family is a big step.”

“It’s just Sunday brunch with my sister,” Bucky said, giving her an unimpressed look.

“The sister that I know so little about, other than the fact that she and I have similar traumatic experiences and she’s a designer. Yeah, I’m feeling really prepared,” Y/N replied sarcastically, grabbing her own bag and walking to the garage. Bucky was right behind her, unlocking the car and sighing heavily. Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Why would you need to be prepared? It’s not a business lunch. You just be yourself. I think you both would get along really well,” he continued as he pulled the car out of the garage.

“Sure. We’re out of the house, no more home talk,” Y/N said, trying to shut down the conversation.

Bucky gave her a frustrated glance before putting it in drive and taking off. The drive was silent, which was out of the ordinary. Y/N knew she was being a little ridiculous. It was just a brunch. With his sister. But she didn’t know much about her. And meeting new people, especially people that were important to Bucky, was always nerve-wracking. What if they didn’t get along? What if his sister hated her? What if she saw something in Y/N that Bucky didn’t see and told him he deserved better or should find somebody else? As secure in her relationship as she felt, this was introducing a new dynamic into it, something deeper and more serious between them.

During the work day Y/N was much quieter and curt with Bucky. Her regular friendly, polite banter was gone, and she was getting looks from others in the office. “Are you okay, Y/N?” Steve asked while they were both in the break room getting lunch.

“What? I’m fine,” Y/N said, frowning at him.

He gave her an arched eyebrow. “Uh huh,” he said, unconvinced. “Trouble at home?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. Steve was the only one who knew that she and Bucky were together. “Did he say something to you?” she asked him.

“No. But neither of you are good at keeping a straight face,” he replied.

“Good to know,” she huffed and grabbed her food. “Bye Steve.”

“Bye Y/N,” he sing-songed back at her as she marched out of the break room. She walked out of the office to the hallway leading to the elevators, then quickly veered into the stairwell. She sat down on the steps, using her legs as a tray to eat her food. She just wanted some peace and quiet for a moment as she ate.

“What are you doing in here?” Bucky’s voice echoed through the stairwell as he opened the door.

“Eating lunch,” Y/N said around a big bite in her mouth.

“No shit Sherlock. Why are you in the stairwell?” Bucky asked sharply.

Y/N took her time chewing then swallowing her bite. “Just wanted some alone time. I still have 20 minutes for lunch. I’ll be in soon.”

Bucky watched her silently, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze, focusing on her food and taking another big bite. “This is ridiculous,” he griped, then walked down the stairs enough to be at eye level with her. “Quit acting like you’re this shy, nervous little thing that can’t handle meeting new people. It’s just Becca. I don’t understand why you’re so worried about it.”

“Uh uh uh, Mr. Barnes. We’re at work. No home conversations at the office,” Y/N said, taking another bite. “But that’s good I know her name now.”

Bucky blinked, his jaw tight as he glared at her. “Okay, you’ve made your point. I haven’t told you much about her because I didn’t feel like it was my place. But she’s the only family I have left, and I want the two most important women in my life to know each other.” Y/N glanced at him at those words, seeing how serious he was. She didn’t say anything, and his frown deepened. “So you’ll suck me off at work, but you won’t talk to me about anything personal?”

Her eyes widened at him mentioning their sexual moment weeks before late at night in his office. She glared back at him before standing up. “Don’t be an asshole. You’re the one who said work is work, and home is home. I was just following orders, boss.” She turned to walk toward the stairwell door, opening the door then slamming it shut behind her. She marched back into Bucky’s office, grabbing her things before going back up to the front. Bucky was just walking back in as she came out. “Kamala, I’m not feeling well. I’ll forward Mr. Barnes’ meeting schedule to you so you’re aware of who is coming in and when for today,” Y/N said, tapping the counter to Kamala’s desk.

“Oh, I’m sorry, well get feeling better!” Kamala said, giving her a sad look.

“Thank you,” Y/N said. She gave Bucky a hard look before walking back out of the reception area to the elevators. Bucky was right on her heels.

“So now you’re just running away?” Bucky accused when she pushed the button for the elevator.

“No, I’m taking some time to collect myself,” Y/N said, keeping her tone as professional as possible.

“Y/N–” “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all,” Y/N retorted as the doors opened for the elevator. She stepped inside and pushed the main level floor button.

“How are you going to get home?” Bucky asked, holding the door open with his hand.

“I’m not going home,” Y/N said quietly.

Bucky’s face twisted from frustration to sadness. “Doll–”

“Don’t,” Y/N said, reaching up and moving his hand away. The doors closed on him, his sad eyes haunting her. Y/N gritted her teeth as the elevator moved down, literally biting back tears. When the doors opened she left the building, ordering an Uber. She had given up her apartment months ago after the whole debacle with her ex-boyfriend stalking her, so she had nowhere else to go. But that didn’t matter. The Uber brought her to Bucky’s house, where she ran in and packed a light, weekend bag before getting back in and was later dropped off at a nice hotel. Now seemed as good a time as any for a short vacation.

***

Later that night as she was cuddled in bed in her bathrobe, finishing her last bit of room service dinner, a call came to her room phone. Y/N frowned at the phone, waiting until the second ring before reaching over and grabbing it. “Hello?”

“Hello, Miss Y/L/N? This is Gwen, one of the front desk receptionists?”

“Uh, yes, how can I help you?”

“There’s a man here who says he’s here to see you. James Barnes?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. Of course he knew where she was. She had forgotten that her location was still enabled on the work phone, sitting right next to her on the nightstand. “Yeah, you can send him up,” she sighed.

“Okay, thank you.”

Y/N shifted herself up and out of the bed, annoyed at having to move from her comfortable position. She adjusted her robe and paused the show she was watching on the TV when she heard a knock on her door. She took a deep breath to steady her thundering heart as she walked over, unlocked the door and opened it. Bucky stood there in casual clothes and holding a backpack, a sad expression on his face as his gaze met hers.

They stood staring at each other for a long moment. Bucky swallowed harshly, then took a step toward her. “Doll,” he started. Y/N inhaled deeply. “Can I come in?”

She paused for a moment then nodded, stepping back to give him room to walk in. Bucky gave her a small smile and walked around her into the room. Y/N closed the door and followed him inside. He stood waiting for her, and as she sat back down on the bed she gestured for him to sit on the chair across from her at the sitting area. He quickly sat down, leaning on his elbows against his knees. Y/N didn’t know what to say, so she just waited. Bucky gnawed on his lower lip before sighing.

“I’m sorry, doll,” he said quietly. “I’ve been thinking about it all day, and…I shouldn’t have gotten angry or defensive over it. Meeting family is a big step, so I understand why you would be worried or stressed. I meant what I said, though. You and Becca are the most important people in my life. I just thought that maybe, since things with us have been getting pretty serious, that it was time to introduce you to her.”

Y/N nodded, looking down at her hands. “I’m sorry, too. I just panicked. You’ve given me no reason to be worried or stressed about it, I just…I don’t know.” She shook her head, upset with herself. “And then I freaked out and ran away. I don’t know how to do this whole healthy communication thing. I’ve never experienced it before.”

Bucky stood and walked to the bed, sitting next to her. He slowly reached a hand out and gently grasped her hand closest to him. “It’s gonna take practice, for both of us. And we’re going to mess up sometimes, like today. But I, I love you,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I don’t want to lose you over something that we can fix. So…can we just try this again?”

Y/N smiled. “Yeah.”

Buck smiled at her. “Okay. So, I was thinking about inviting my sister to Sunday brunch at that bottomless mimosa place you love. Would you be okay with that?”

Y/N squinted her eyes teasingly. “So…officially meeting the family? That’s kind of a big step, don’t you think?”

Bucky huffed a laugh. “Yeah, it is. But it’s a step I wanna take with you.”

Y/N’s cheeks were starting to hurt with how hard she was smiling. “Okay,” she agreed.

He smiled brightly back at her. “Awesome. You’re gonna love her. Her name is Becca. She’s older than me by two years. Very smart and artistic. She designed my house, you know?” He joked, winking at her.

“She did?” Y/N joked back. “Wow. And she must be really pretty if she looks anything like you.”

Bucky blushed at the compliment. “You tryna sweeten me up?” he smirked.

“Maybe a little bit,” Y/N said, turning to face him more. She lifted her free hand and traced it up his arm holding her other hand to his shoulder then across his chest. “I love you,” she said quietly, leaning over and kissing his shoulder.

Bucky smiled softly at her. “I love you, doll.”

She glanced at the backpack he brought. “Did you pack up some stuff just in case I let you stay?”

“Yep,” Bucky said shamelessly. “I can’t really sleep without you.” He suddenly pushed her back onto the bed and tucked her into his side. “Thank you for agreeing to meet her.”

Y/N smiled. “I’m sure it’ll be great.”

#marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes oneshot #oneshot #part 3 #fluff #bucky barnes x reader #request #ask #anon ask

35 notes · View notes

tearwolfe · 6 months ago

Note

could u info dump abt the puppy detective au?

pretty pwease

(no joke i just like reading that type of thing ruikasa is cool)

I LOVE INFODUMPING I GOTCHU!!!!

so the AU takes place in a world where most people are "monsters" in a modern setting. this means that any common type of monster has accommodations! vampires can purchase blood from stores (with ID), there's comfortable forms of restrainment for werewolves during their crazed period, etc. humans DO exist, but are pretty uncommon. rui used to be a human until he was turned into a werewolf. how was he turned? i'll figure that out eventually.

tsukasa is a vampire who works as a detective or private investigator of sorts. he dresses like that because he is dramatic and wants to give a sherlock holmes-ish type of vibe, despite the fact that that is Not his time period. you know tsukasa. he has rui help him with cases! rui's got a good nose, and an even better brain, so he's often the one to come to conclusions, while tsukasa does the groundwork. they stick to smaller, sillier cases (such as finding lost cats, investigating cheating scandals, etc.). once i figure out a storyline, i do want them to start making discoveries about Something Big and Bad but i need to figure out what first..

as per my usual ruikasa AU, rui and tsukasa's relationship is Vague. do they kiss? yes. do they hold hands and cuddle? yes. do they consider themselves boyfriends? well. they have more important things to think about right now! everyone pretty much knows they're an item.

when it comes to vampires in this AU, human blood is best for them (nutritionally, and keeps them fuller for longer), but they can get by on other monster blood. human blood is more expensive in stores since it's harder to come by. rui is a werewolf. but you know what rui USED to be? a human. he's still got the Human Vibe to him so tsukasa is LUCKY. he still buys blood when he needs to so he doesn't bleed rui dry but. you know these two..

werewolves transform during the week of the full moon each month. during the majority of the week, they are still fully capable of controlling themselves and can go about daily life. however, during the day OF the full moon, they lose control and can become quite dangerous. tsukasa locks rui up in their apartment closet to keep himself and rui safe.

rui is selectively mute, so he doesn't really talk much unless he needs to or if it's for a bit. he's fluent in sign language, and tsukasa is currently learning. nene is also fluent in sign language.

nene is a siren and rui's childhood friend. she has a fishlike appearance— gills, fins, and the like— but only grows a mermaid tail when submerged in water. she can walk around on land fine unless she falls into a body of water, then it takes a little while for her tail to turn back after she's dry. i'm still working on her role (and emu's, i need to figure out what monster she is still).

as for other characters.. they exist, but i'm still thinking about it. akito and ena are both blood werewolves, and saki is also a vampire, but that's about as far as i've thought of. i'll be marinating on it whenever i need new characters...

(i think it would be funny if mafuyu and tsukasa were exes. wouldn't that be splendid? i love relationship drama).

#ask #puppy detective au

49 notes · View notes

seeingteacupsindragons · 10 months ago

Text

Love the way William looked at Sherlock and went, "Oh, I like him." And so of course that meant casting him in his little self-insert Robespierre fanfic play. Because all his favorite people have roles in it! The play is the most important thing in his life. So Sherlock gets to be in it, because that's what William does for people he likes. And he likes Sherlock so much, Sherlock gets the lead role!

How sweet of him, to give someone the lead role in the play that he has poured his entire soul and life into!

Except that Sherlock has no interest in being an actor or being in the damn play.

William is so extremely neurodivergent. The way he expresses affection is so strange.

#Yuukoku no Moriarty #Moriarty the Patriot

109 notes · View notes

sidekick-hero · 1 year ago

Text

Will you cleanse me with pleasure?

(steddie | 8.4k | explicit| AO3)

A little something for @steves-strapcollection birthday 💜

Gerry, I already told you how much I appreciate you in our DMs so let me just wish you the happiest birthday here. Please never change because true passion and authenticity are so hard to find and knowing you is a pleasure I wouldn't want to miss.

Summary:

People are always saying that the only way you really get to know your partner is when you move in together.

Steve has always dismissed those people. He already knows Eddie inside and out. He knows Eddie's favorite mug (the Garfield one his Uncle Wayne gave him), what food he eats when he's sad (Mac'n'Cheese because that's been his comfort food since he was a kid), where that little scar on his forehead came from (he fell out of a tree trying to rescue a lost kitten which Steve brings up every chance he gets).

Steve thinks it’s safe to say that he knows everything important about Eddie when they finally decide to move in together.

Everything, it turns out, except that Eddie sneaks out of the house in the middle of the night at least once a week.

CW: Tentacle Sex, Monsterfucking, Tentacle Monster Eddie, despite these tags this is one of the softest things I've written. It's a love story 🥰

Special thanks to @yournowheregirl for feeding me ideas and cheering me on like the amazing friend she is, @scarcrossdlvrs for being so sweet and encouraging me and beta-ing this baby as well as @stobinesque for finding mistakes like Sherlock Holmes

People are always saying that the only way you really get to know your partner is when you move in together.

Steve thinks it’s safe to say that he knows everything important about Eddie when they finally decide to move in together.

Everything, it turns out, except that Eddie sneaks out of the house in the middle of the night at least once a week.

Maybe he doesn’t know Eddie that well after all.

To be fair, he hasn't known Eddie that long either. Even for Steve, the way they fell in love with each other so quickly came as a bit of a surprise.

Part of the surprise is that he fell so hard, so fast, for another man because Steve had never dated one before. Sure, he had definitely thought about it. A lot. He definitely suspected that he wasn't exactly straight, thinking back to all the hand jobs he'd traded with fellow jocks and friends after basketball practice or behind the bleachers. But for most of his adult life he had been in a very committed and, at least in his mind, very loving relationship with a woman.

Until said woman broke his heart.

The breakup had been painful and Steve had just needed to get away from it all. So, in a spur of the moment decision, he packed his shit and moved halfway across the country from Hawkins, Indiana to Derry, Maine. Here he rented a quaint little house on the outskirts of town near the local lake, where he also used the basement for his physical therapy practice.

He was definitely not looking for another relationship at this point.

Of course, within the first month in Derry, Steve met Eddie, who turned Steve's already upside down life around a few times for good measure.

Steve's Beemer was already old when he drove it several hundred miles for the move. But here, with roads that can hardly be called that, it had started to give him real trouble. So he took it to Munson and Son Auto Repair in town.

The shop itself did not look like much, with the paint already peeling in places. The door to the office was locked, but he could hear noises coming from the garage section of the shop, so that was where he went. He expected to be greeted by another one of the gruff, flannel-wearing older men he had come to associate with many of the businesses here in town.

So he wasn't at all prepared for the mouth-watering sight of a man lifting wheels onto a metal track in nothing but work pants and an old, faded gray t-shirt.

The guy was about Steve's height, with shoulder-length curly black hair, broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist, and a muscular back that moved under his gray t-shirt as he lifted wheel after wheel. His arms were covered in tattoos, more black than skin, moving over lithe muscles. His legs were long, not exactly thick, but the way they bent and stretched easily with the added weight told Steve they were strong, too. Steve couldn't help but imagine them wrapped around his waist or his head.

Clearing his suddenly very dry throat, Steve got the man's attention, and when he turned around, Steve knew he was screwed.

His face was beautiful. It was long, with high cheekbones, a wide and full mouth, and the prettiest brown doe eyes Steve had ever seen. They'd looked even bigger with how wide they'd gotten as they fell on Steve, clearly surprised by his presence. Steve didn't miss the way they had roamed over his body appraisingly. Nor did he miss the way Eddie had flirted with him outrageously, with no respect for personal space, once he had gotten over his initial surprise.

Twenty minutes later, Steve walked out with an appointment for the next day and Eddie's number.

And even though the appointment was rather depressing, with Eddie telling him that it would be best for Steve to say goodbye to his Beemer because it was only going to get worse, it was still one of the best things that had ever happened to him. Because that very same day, Steve went out on his first date with Eddie to go shopping for a new car. It was the most fun he had in a long time.

The day ended with Steve buying a new Jeep and fucking Eddie in the back seat on the shore of Devilfish Lake. What better way to christen the car, Steve had thought as Eddie rode him to oblivion before there were no more thoughts, just breathless whimpers and moans of their names.

Steve is pretty sure that he was already half in love with Eddie at this point.

The thing is: Steve has never been one to take things slow. It's not in his nature. He's a shoot first, ask questions later kind of guy. A trigger-happy heart beats in his chest, and when he falls, he falls hard.

That's why, after barely a year of dating, he asks Eddie to move in with him.

Not that he hadn't wanted to ask earlier. No, Steve had thought about moving in with Eddie the first morning they woke up together. The morning light had streamed in and danced across Eddie's features as he slept peacefully in Steve's bed, his dark hair a wild mess and his cheeks flushed with sleep. Steve knew he wanted to wake up like that every morning.

He’s really proud of himself that he still managed to wait almost 11 months before he couldn't stop himself any longer. By this time they were sleeping at each other's houses all the time. Most nights were spent at Steve's because while Steve was living on his own, Eddie was still living with his Uncle Wayne.

Eddie had told Steve about growing up with his uncle because his parents had died when he was very young. He said he didn't remember them and that Wayne had always been like a father to him. It's a sentiment the old man seems to share, as he once told Steve about naming the shop and that Munson and Nephew never quite sounded right. Wayne decided to call it Munson and Son instead, explaining that as far as he was concerned, Eddie was his son. Eddie tried to hide it, but Steve had seen his eyes shine with emotion when he heard Wayne say those words so casually.

Steve really liked Wayne, and they hit it off after an initial wariness that Steve couldn't quite explain. Eddie told him that his uncle was just very protective of Eddie, who was not exactly popular around town, and that it always took him some time to trust strangers.

Wayne had watched Steve like a hawk for months. That's why Steve had decided to talk to him first about moving in with Eddie.

He had been nervous as he went up to Wayne and told him that he was going to ask Eddie to move in with him. Steve wasn't asking for permission, but he knew how much Wayne cared about Eddie, so Steve assured him that he would do everything in his power to make Eddie happy.

Wayne had put his hand on Steve’s shoulder and told him that he knew Steve cared about his nephew and that Eddie deserved someone who would do that without question. And then Wayne said the same thing Steve had heard too many times already: that the only way to really get to know your partner is to move in together, and that Wayne hoped Steve was ready for that.

When Steve asked Eddie to move in with him a week later, he thought he was ready. Hell, he thought there was nothing he could learn about Eddie that would really surprise him.

As it turned out, he was wrong.

Eddie had been hesitant when Steve asked him to move in. They were lying in bed, both naked, their skin still glistening with drying sweat. Their legs were intertwined and Eddie's head was resting on Steve's chest, his fingers dancing lazily over Steve's skin. There was cum cooling on Steve’s belly and he knew it would start to flake soon, but he was also basking in the afterglow of another mind-blowing orgasm and too content and satiated to move.

So when Eddie sighed wistfully and told Steve they had to clean up because he had to go, his work clothes were at home, and his alarm would go off in 5 hours, Steve didn't even think.

"Move in with me." Steve said, not even a real question. He felt Eddie tense in his arms for a moment before his fingers continued their dance over Steve's ribs and sides.

Marking the passage of time by the frantic beating of his heart and the racing thoughts in his mind, Steve figured it was at least half an eternity before Eddie asked, "Are you serious?”

Steve had tightened his grip on Eddie, his hand reaching for Eddie's and intertwining their fingers. "I've never been more serious. I want you to have your things here so you don't have to leave. I want to wake up next to you every morning and go to sleep with you in my arms every night. Move in with me. Please."

As he heard Eddie's sharp intake of breath at his words, Steve realized that a simple "yes" would have been enough. He didn't regret saying what he did, though.

Just as he was about to ask Eddie if everything was all right, if Steve had gone too far, if it was too much, Eddie pressed a kiss to Steve's chest, right over his trembling heart.

"Do you have any plans this weekend? I think I might need some help moving."

The move was a quick one, with Steve's jeep and Eddie's van and Wayne's help, it only took two trips to get Eddie settled into Steve's house. The rest of the day was spent barbecuing with Wayne in Steve's backyard, drinking beer and just talking. And when they said goodbye to Wayne, Eddie had taken his hand and led Steve up to their bedroom and laid Steve out on their sheets and made love to him, even though they hadn't said the words yet.

Steve had never been happier.

That had been two months ago, and for most of that time things had been perfect.

He knows that Eddie had been a little nervous at first that their different temperaments or rhythms would clash, with Eddie being a hyper ball of energy, sometimes unfocused and prone to insomnia and late nights, while Steve enjoyed his quiet times and early morning runs. But they work well together, mindful of each other's habits, needs, and boundaries, and willing to talk things out.

So why would Eddie not talk to him about the fact that once a week he would sneak out of the house in the middle of the night and come back at the crack of dawn smelling like lake water?

Steve waited for Eddie to come to him, vowing to be patient and give Eddie his space. He knows that this is Eddie's first serious relationship and that Eddie is used to doing his own thing without asking permission or telling anyone what he's up to.

But it's been weeks, and while Steve doesn't really think Eddie would cheat on him, he's still worried. It's not normal to leave your house, your bed, your boyfriend in the middle of the night, only to come back hours later without saying a word, is it? It confuses him and leaves him feeling off kilter, because why wouldn't Eddie just talk to him? He even brings it up once, says something off handed about Eddie's insomnia and if he ever goes for a walk or something when he can't sleep.

Eddie said no, lying to Steve’s face.

So when Steve feels Eddie leaving his arms and their bed again one night, he decides to follow him.

Eddie moves so cautiously, careful not to wake Steve. It is a shame for him that Steve has always been such a light sleeper. With his eyes closed and his breathing deliberately even, Steve listens as Eddie gets dressed and gently closes their bedroom door behind him. He smiles to himself as he hears the telltale creak of the loose stair that Eddie never manages to avoid, and the smile grows even fonder as he hears Eddie cursing softly to himself.

Steve follows him as soon as the front door closes, only slipping into his favorite pair of gray sweats and a hoodie he steals from Eddie before dashing after him. On his way out of the house, he notices that Eddie has left his car keys behind.

Slipping out the front door, Steve looks around, trying to decide which way Eddie most likely went. He remembers the smell of lake water on Eddie, so his best guess is Devilfish Lake. It's a short walk from Steve's house, no more than ten, maybe fifteen minutes on foot if you knew the shortcut behind the last house on the road.

And sure enough, there on the dirt road behind Mrs. Benson's house, a few feet in front of him, he sees a dark figure that must be Eddie. His long legs take wide strides, carrying him down the road fast.

For someone who claims to hate running, or any exercise for that matter, Eddie is surprisingly fit and hard to catch.

Which is good, because Steve wants to know what Eddie’s been up to before he talks to him, so Eddie can't know he's here yet.

Steve tries so hard to stay out of Eddie's sight that it takes him a minute to realize that he has actually lost sight of him. One moment he was walking in front of Steve and the next he's gone.

Shit.

Walking faster, he thinks about just calling for Eddie, his plan be damned. It's not exactly cold, but the nights here do get chilly, and in his haste he forgot to put on his shoes before he ran after Eddie. He just wants to go home, preferably with his boyfriend, and curl up in bed. And tomorrow they have to sit down and talk, because -

Before Steve can finish his thought, he hears a loud splash coming from the lake. It sounds like something big hit the water, something like a human body.

Eddie's body.

Eddie, who told him he couldn't swim when Steve asked him to join him for his morning laps in the lake.

It's not even a conscious decision when he starts running toward the pier, his legs pumping as fast as they can.

"Eddie!" He calls, his voice frantic. "Where are you?"

The ground changes beneath his feet, the earthy soil of the path giving way to the wooden planks of the pier, and his bare feet carry him almost all the way to the edge before he stops. His eyes search the lake for any sign of Eddie, but the water is still beneath him. Small waves lick at the wood of the pier, but the surface is flat and unbroken, with no trace of him.

"Eddie!" He shouts again, cupping both hands over his mouth to carry his voice over the lake. Fuckfuckfuck. Every minute he wastes calling for him, Eddie could be sinking deeper and deeper to the bottom, slowly drowning...

His hoodie hits the ground next to him and his sweatpants follow. Steve’s going to go in and the only thing they're going to do is pull him down as they get soaked with water.

He steps closer to the edge of the pier, arms raised above his head, ready to jump in when Eddie's voice stops him.

"No!" Eddie yells. "Steve, stop!"

Startled, Steve does.

Instead of jumping in, he scans the lake with his eyes until he sees Eddie's head above the surface, floating in place, the water around him barely rippling. He must be at least 700 feet away.

"Eddie? What are you doing? Are you hurt?" He asks, his voice lower than before, his tone confused. Eddie doesn't seem hurt, but why would he be in the water if he can't even swim?

Although, with the way he's still floating in place, it looks like he's doing just fine in the water. But why would Eddie lie to him about not being able to swim?

Steve wraps his arms around himself, a shiver running through his body. The air is cold as it whispers across his bare skin.

"I don't know what's going on." He hates how small his voice sounds.

Eddie makes a sound of distress and before Steve can blink, he's so much closer, just a few feet away. Steve didn't even see him move. Above them, the moon is full and bright in the night sky, its light illuminating Eddie's beautiful face. It looks pale in the cold light, his eyes huge and sparkling, somehow seeming even bigger than they usually are.

"Steve." He breathes out, a look of pure heartbreak on his face, and Steve has no idea what it all means, but it scares him. Eddie should never look like this, nervous, almost afraid. But most of all sad. "Please, Stevie, go home. You're shaking."

Steve takes a step toward him, but Eddie puts more distance between them immediately. Again, he moves too fast for Steve's brain to register. He’s now right on the edge, his weight balanced precariously on his heels, and Eddie is looking at him from way too far away for Steve's comfort.

"Not without you." When Eddie doesn't move, Steve adds, "Please. Just...come home with me? We don't even have to talk right now. I just... want to go home with you."

Another shiver runs through his body and he sits down on the edge of the pier, his knees tucked into his chest and his arms wrapped around them. He won't leave without Eddie. Steve doesn't even know why this is so important, but something in him feels that he has to stay, has to go with Eddie, otherwise he will lose him.

This time, as Eddie swims toward him, he's slower than before, almost hesitant, ready to bolt at Steve's first move. It still looks faster, more fluid, than anyone else he's ever seen swim. And Steve has been captain of the swim team for years.

He waits with bated breath for Eddie to approach him, and this time Eddie comes even closer. But he still leaves enough space between them that Steve can only see his head and neck where they stick out of the water. Something tells him that if he jumped in now, Eddie would be across the lake in seconds.

Looking into Eddie’s wide eyes, Steve sees so much emotion in them that his heart aches in his chest. He's also almost certain that the wetness on Eddie's cheeks isn't just lake water.

"Eddie?" Steve tries again when it seems like all Eddie can do is look at him with his hauntingly sad eyes. Steve wants to take him in his arms, run his hand through his hair like he always does when Eddie is having a bad day, and tell him that everything will be all right. They will figure it out, whatever it is.

He wants to tell Eddie he loves him.

"I'm so sorry, Stevie. I... I can't. Please go home, I promise I'll be there soon. But I... You have to go. I can't lose you, so you have to go."

Nothing about this makes sense to Steve, but Eddie sounds like he's in pain, his voice cracking. This time Steve is sure he sees tears on his face. There's also something desperate and wild in his eyes, like he's genuinely afraid of... of Steve.

"You're scaring me, Eddie. I don't know what's going on, but I can help you. I want to help you. Please. Talk to me."

Eddie swims even closer (more like glides) and Steve slowly lowers his legs, unfolding himself until his feet rest in the water beneath him. The water is surprisingly warm, the late summer days still clinging to it.

Steve can see something dark moving in the water beneath him, but he doesn't pay much attention. It's probably a fish or an eel. As far as he knows, nothing dangerous lives in these waters.

"Stevie..." Eddie starts again, his eyes searching Steve's and there is so much naked longing on his face. "I can't. I couldn't survive if you thought I was a freak like the rest of them, that you would be disgusted with me." Eddie's eyes beg him to understand, to not make him do this, to save them both. "You'll hate me. Or worse. You'd be afraid of me.”

"I could never hate you, Eddie. Or be afraid of you. Only ever for you." He takes a deep breath, thinking about finally saying those three little words that have been on his mind for months. He never said them before because he was afraid it would be too much, too fast.

That he would scare Eddie away because he knows Eddie has some baggage, that he can get skittish and overwhelmed at times with their relationship. Steve is still surprised that Eddie agreed to move in with him, if he's being honest.

But maybe it's time to let Eddie see the depth of his devotion to him, even if he can't say it back yet.

"Eddie, I -"

Something touches his leg, stopping him in mid-sentence. Something alive. It's firm, feeling smooth and warm against his skin as it slides from his heel up his calf to his knee, a soft touch, almost like a caress.

"OhmyGod." Steve whimpers as another joins the first, gently exploring his other leg, going as far as his thigh, and he has to force himself to look down. When he does, it's just in time to see two long black vines wrapped around his legs before they disappear as suddenly as they had appeared.

"What the -"

"I'm sorry," Eddie cuts him off, sounding horrified, staring at Steve's legs with an expression somewhere between horror and...shame?

Eddie has put some distance between them again. Steve looks from Eddie's face to his own legs and back to Eddie, slowly beginning to put the pieces together. Eddie's reluctance to come closer, his fear that Steve might hate him or be afraid of him, the black vines that only appeared when Eddie came closer.

"Eddie...what's going on? Were those, those things yours?"

He wishes he could take back the word "things" as soon as he says it, because Eddie pulls back again, his face shuttering, and Steve hates himself for putting that look on Eddie's face.

"It's okay if they were, I promise. I was just... surprised, is all." Steve tries to reassure, his hand reaching out to Eddie, desperate to get him to come back, to get close again. Let Steve touch him.

What he doesn't expect is Eddie's harsh laughter at his words, bursting out of him as if he couldn't help it. It almost sounds like a sob to Steve.

"It's not okay. You don't... you have no idea." Eddie's hands are buried in his hair, his frustration in every line of his beautiful face. His hands look different, Steve notices. Darker, shimmering in the moonlight, and his fingers look longer somehow.

"Steve, I'm a monster." Eddie almost spits out the word monster as if it's something vile. The words sound painful, spilling from him like from a freshly opened festering wound.

A monster. That's just... Steve doesn't even know. Laughable. Because Eddie, his sweet, goofy boyfriend, a monster? The same guy who fell out of a tree trying to save a kitten. Who still spends every Sunday with his Uncle Wayne, even hungover and sleep-deprived the few times he and Steve have gone to the nearest town for a night out. Eddie, who reads to Steve when Steve can't sleep and plays him sappy love songs on his acoustic guitar. The man who holds his hand when they fuck and looks into his eyes with every thrust, who kisses him when he comes, every time. That same guy is supposed to be a monster?

"That's not true." Eddie snorts derisively, but Steve continues. "You're not a monster. You're just Eddie. My Eddie. You always will be." Steve sees Eddie move again, incremental movements that bring him closer to Steve. "Nothing will change who you are."

His expression carefully blank, Eddie comes even closer. But Steve knows him, knows his face and all its many expressions better than his own, and he can tell that there is hope glimmering in his eyes.

"You mean these won't change who I am?" He asks Steve, showing him exactly what touched his legs earlier. They are not vines, but tentacles. Many of them, varying in thickness and length, all black and smooth as they break the surface and hover around Eddie. Steve can't help the sound that slips from his mouth, too surprised to catch it before it falls out and reaches Eddie's waiting ears, confirming all his worst fears.

Eddie laughs again, the sound just as joyless and harsh as the first time. "I knew it. Of course, this changes everything. Who would want to be with someone, something, like me?"

Eddie is so quick to assume the worst, to believe the worst, that Steve can't keep his voice from rising in frustration.

"I do, okay? I fucking do. They just caught me off guard. You gotta let me get my head around this for a second. I wasn't expecting... any of this when I followed you here, and I should be allowed to take a second."

He looks into Eddie's eyes and realizes how much closer he is again. This close, Steve can see more changes: Eddie's canines are longer where they nervously gnaw at his lower lip, his eyes are bigger, darker, than before, and his skin is paler, almost reflecting the moonlight. There's something different about him, but at the same time, he's still Eddie.

"I want to be with you. Tentacles or not, human or not. You're still Eddie. You're still the man I love."

Eddie gasps at Steve's words, obviously not expecting to hear those words from him. Especially now.

"Stevie..." he breathes out, reverently, and once again he moves faster than Steve's eyes can follow. He stops at Steve's shins and his hands touch Steve's ankles tentatively, as if he's still not sure if he's allowed. His tentacles seem to have no such qualms as they slide up Steve's calves again, and Eddie curses as he pulls them back.

Steve somehow misses them already.

He reaches out and sighs in relief when his hand finally touches Eddie, running through his wet curls.

"I love you, Eddie. All of you. Every single appendage." Steve adds the last part with a playful grin, and it elicits a smile, however small, from Eddie.

"Are you...sure?"

Instead of answering, Steve bends down, his hands cupping Eddie's face as he pulls him into a surprisingly sweet kiss. Eddie still tastes the same, his lips soft but firm against his. Eddie's tongue teases along the seams of Steve’s lips and it's warm and wet as it slides into his mouth, exploring it with a single-minded devotion as if it's been months instead of mere hours since their last kiss.

Steve can't help but moan into it and he feels Eddie's fingers digging into the flesh of his thighs in response. More and more tentacles have begun to creep up his legs as Eddie loses himself in their kiss, and Steve feels them teasing along his bare skin. Like Eddie's tongue, they feel warm and wet as they slide along his skin, some kind of fluid on their insides making the glide easier. Still, some of them get stuck to his skin with their suckers and it feels like Eddie is giving him hickeys on his thighs. Steve wonders if they'll leave suction cup shaped bruises.

It feels strange, not like anything Steve's ever felt before, but it's not unpleasant. It's just a lot. They seem to be everywhere and every touch, every caress, every suck sends another thrill through him. Steve is used to Eddie's hands as they map and explore his body until Steve is a withering mess begging to be touched, fucked, anything. Everything.

It feels like that, but more.

One of the tentacles finds its way between his legs, teasing along his shaft where it still rests mostly soft against his thigh, and he gasps into Eddie's eager mouth. The sound makes Eddie pull back, apologies already spilling from his lips, but Steve's hand on the back of Eddie's head keeps him from pulling too far away.

Their faces are still close as Steve whispers in the sacred space between them, "I...like it. Them. They feel good."

Eddie searches his face for any trace of a lie, but he finds none, because Steve is not lying when he says he likes the way they feel on him. He wants to feel Eddie's tentacles on every inch of his body, he wants them to wrap around him and hold him tight. He wants to touch them with his hands and find out how smooth they really are.

"Can I join you in the water, Eddie? Wanna be closer."

Steve presses another kiss to Eddie's stunned lips and that's enough to spur Eddie into action. His tentacles slowly begin to wrap around Steve, surrounding him on all sides as they pull him closer to Eddie. He wraps his own legs around Eddie's hips and feels the base of the tentacles somewhere on Eddie's lower torso. His hand is still on the back of Eddie's head, the other wrapped around Eddie's shoulder.

Their mouths are only inches apart and the world has stopped on its axis, waiting for them to take the final step, to fall somewhere from which they cannot return.

"You sure you want this?" Eddie asks, giving him one last chance to back out, to change his mind.

Steve has never been more sure. "I want you."

The tentacles on his body tighten and Eddie pushes forward into Steve's arms, wrapping his own around Steve and pulling him into the lake.

The water surrounds him on all sides, warm against his cold skin, and he tightens his grip on Eddie, trusting him to bring them both back to the surface. And Eddie does, their heads breaking through the water at the same time. Steve blinks the water out of his eyes and is rewarded when Eddie's face comes back into focus. He's still looking at Steve like he's not sure if this is okay, still worried that Steve will realize at any moment that he's in the arms of a monster.

Steve cups Eddie's face in his palm, his eyes soft as he looks at his boyfriend. "I want you, Eddie. I love you."

Turning his head, Eddie presses a kiss to Steve's palm. He looks back at Steve through his lashes, and Steve can see all the love he feels reflected back at him.

"I love you too. So much, you have no idea. I was so scared of losing you. I hated keeping this from you. I'm sorry, I shoulda trusted you -" Eddie begins to babble, the palpable relief coming off him in waves turning into a nervous energy that Steve is already all too familiar with.

"Shh, it's okay. I know."

A particularly adventurous tentacle wraps around his waist and Steve can't help himself, he has to touch it. His fingers run along the smooth and surprisingly warm flesh and Eddie whimpers softly in his arms.

Oh.

Steve grins at Eddie and he knows his face looks smug as hell as his fingers continue to stroke along the flesh of Eddie's appendage.

"They're, uh... they're sensitive," Eddie stutters, his cheeks gaining some color in the still bright light of the full moon above them. His tentacles really seem to have a life of their own, for while Eddie seems embarrassed by his reaction, his tentacles demand more of Steve's attention.

Another joins the one wrapped around his waist and Steve lets go of Eddie completely, still blindly trusting him to keep them both afloat so he can use both hands to explore their texture. They seem to writhe under his attention, as does Eddie, his hands clutching Steve's back, his nails leaving welts on his skin.

"Fuck," Eddie moans as Steve's finger runs over one of the suckers attached to his stomach. "It feels like you're touching my dick, ohmygod." Steve feels Eddie's hips moving between his legs, subtle thrusts that he can't seem to help.

Steve wants to see how Eddie reacts when he takes one of his tentacles in his mouth.

"Has no one ever touched them before?" Steve can't help but ask, feeling a strange sense of possessiveness over this part of Eddie. Neither of them were virgins the first time they had sex, but this is somehow more intimate. Something that should only belong to Steve.

Eddie bites his lip, trying to hold back his needy sounds and shakes his head.

That won't do.

"I want to hear you say it, baby. Has anyone else had their hands on your tentacles before? Or am I the only one?" Eddie's still biting his lips with those fucking prolonged canines, and Steve wants them on his body, marking it, brandishing him as Eddie's. He thumbs at them, gently prying Eddie's mouth open. " C'mon, lemme hear you."

Another whimper breaks free and with it the thing Steve wanted to hear so badly. "Just you. No one else. Only you."

"Good. They're mine."

Eddie's lips are on his with a hunger he's never felt before. It's like Eddie's trying to crawl inside him, their kiss all teeth and tongue, wet and dirty and so fucking perfect that Steve thinks he could come from that alone.

"I love you so much," Eddie pants into his mouth, unable to stop kissing Steve for more than those few words. Warmth spreads through Steve's body from the way Eddie kisses him, from the sound of those words coming out of Eddie's mouth and from the way he sounds so fucking reverent when he says them.

As Eddie loses himself in their kisses, his tentacles become more and more adventurous. They're everywhere, on Steve's thighs, his waist, between his shoulder blades. One is curling across his chest right now, it's suckers on his nipples, sending electric jolts of arousal straight to his achingly hard cock. Another plays with the head of his weeping cock, spreading more of that slippery liquid on it, and it's tip teases his slit, causing Steve to whine into Eddie's open mouth.

Eddie must have noticed the same thing. "Shit, you're bleeding. I didn't mean to..."

Steve is licking over his lip to pick up the red droplets when the tentacle that is still resting around his neck moves again, it's tip prodding at his bleeding lip. The tentacle also brushes Steve's tongue and some of the clear liquid drips onto his tongue. It tastes sweet, almost like honey, and before Steve knows what he's doing, he closes his lips around Eddie's appendage and sucks it into his mouth.

The taste of it explodes over his taste buds and Steve feels his head become light again, almost as if he's floating. He doesn't even realize that he's licking and sucking on the flesh in his mouth until he feels Eddie's hands fall to his ass, grabbing it hard and grinding his thick, hard cock against it as high-pitched moans and whimpers continue to pour out of him.

There must be something in the fluid coming from Eddie's tentacles, some chemical that makes Steve feel drugged, his body lax and his mind hazy with lust.

"SteveSteveSteve," Eddie almost chants, and nothing has ever sounded sweeter to Steve's ears than his desperation. His own cock is trapped between their bodies and he hitches his hips to get some kind of friction, but it's not enough.

"Fuck me, Eddie. Fuck me with them, I need them to fill me up, please." Steve begs around the appendage in his mouth and he feels more fluid squirt out of the suckers, almost like a cock dripping pre-cum. This feels like sucking Eddie's cock, the way the flesh throbs in his mouth, warm and thick, but also different. Heady and addictive.

Steve's hands wrap around the girth, forcing it in and out of his mouth until more of the sweet liquid comes out and fills his mouth. He moans around it, wanting nothing more than to be stuffed full of Eddie's cum.

As if they can hear his thoughts, another tentacle joins the one in his mouth, making his jaw ache as they pry it open so they can both fit inside. Then a third, thinner than the other two, begins thrusting in and out between them. It goes deeper and deeper with each thrust, hitting his soft palate and teasing his throat until it opens for it.

Liquid collecting along the flesh begins to drip down his throat, relaxing his muscles further as he chokes on the thick tentacles filling his mouth. A broken moan gurgles up his throat, the vibration of it enough to reward him with more thick spurts from the tentacles in his mouth.

While his mouth is being stuffed, the rest of Eddie's appendages are not finished with him.

Eddie's hands are still gripping Steve's ass tightly, not moving so much as holding Steve in place as his tentacles continue to explore and worship his body. The one that's been teasing the head of his cock begins to slowly jerk him off, its grip just the right side of too much but the pace maddening. Steve wants to thrust into it, but more tentacles have joined those around his waist and chest, and even more have wrapped around his thighs, effectively tying him down and restricting his movement.

"Fuck, you should see yourself, so beautiful, so perfect. I can't believe we could have done this the whole time." Eddie sounds as out of it as Steve feels, his voice raspy and so low Steve can feel it reverberating through his body.

Steve realizes that the tight coil in his groin is ready to snap, his muscles trying to tense despite the relaxing effect of the tentacle's pre-cum in his system.

Just when he thinks he can't take it anymore, Steve feels another tentacle slide along the sensitive inside of his thighs. It slips between his legs, forgoing his cock to wrap around his balls, squeezing them tightly enough to stave off his impending climax.

He tries to whine around the thick flesh still fucking in and out of his throat, and comes out sounding muffled and desperate.

Eddie shushes him gently. "Shh, sweetheart, I know. I know. But I thought you wanted me to fuck you and I could tell you were already ready to make a mess between us."

Another muffled whimper.

"You still want me to fuck your needy hole, stuff it until your belly bulges with how full you are?"

The groan that fights its way past his mouthful sounds pained, the mental image almost enough to make him come anyway, no matter how much Eddie squeezes his balls.

It's Eddie's turn to look smug. "Thought so. I will be so good to you, sweetheart. You'll get what you want, I promise."

The tentacle that has been squeezing Steve's balls loosens its grip and slips behind his balls to his taint, stroking along it with just enough pressure to slowly drive him crazy. He wants it to go further, to sink into him, his hole clenching around nothing in needy desperation.

It doesn't. Instead, he feels the tip of a thinner one nudge his hole, spreading some of its liquid over it. It's the sweetest kind of torture when the tip dips inside him, stroking his opening, relaxing it and lubing it up at the same time. Preparing him to take more, so much more.

Steve feels Eddie's grip on his hips loosen and the tentacles holding him down follow his lead, allowing Steve to move again. "It's your show, sweetheart. You can play with them however you want."

The tip pushes deeper into him, the flesh inside of him hardening, ready for Steve to fuck himself on it. He pushes down and feels it sink deeper, his muscles giving way easily. He begins to undulate his hips, slowly fucking the appendage in and out of him.

It's maddening, not nearly enough, and he whines unhappily.

Eddie's hand comes up and cups his cheek, thumb stroking along his cheekbone. "Another one?"

Steve nods, his eyes pleading. He wants to tell Eddie to give him two more, he doesn't care, they've taken it slow enough. But his mouth is still full, and he loves the way the tentacles gag him, forcing him to communicate by whimpering and moaning.

Thank God Eddie doesn't need words to know what Steve needs.

He feels another tentacle pushing at his hole, its tip also slipping in with ease. But the further it sinks in, the thicker it gets, stretching him further and further around it. With the added girth it definitely rivals Eddie's thick cock, the feeling of them spearing him open just as good.

Until the tentacles start to take turns fucking him, no set rhythm or rhyme to it, keeping Steve on edge the whole time. The slick squirt from the suckers must be dripping out of him by now and he wishes they were somewhere dry so he could feel it. As it is, all he can feel is the thick flesh going into him like a knife sinking into butter, and before his next whimper has finished crawling up his throat, Eddie is sinking another thick one into him.

There is no teasing this time, just one smooth thrust that causes Steve to throw his head back in ecstasy.

"Oh my God, Steve, you're perfect, so perfect, I love you so much, the way you just take them, driving me crazy, I'm so fucking close," Eddie sounds almost delirious with lust, like Steve really is driving him crazy, making him feel so good he's about to lose it.

The thought makes him clench around the tentacles inside him, desperate to make Eddie feel even better, to make him feel as good as Steve. His tongue begins to rub along the suckers on the underside of the ones in his mouth and he can feel the spurts of pre-cum getting thicker, their taste even sweeter now. He drinks it down greedily, its effect on him not fading.

Steve's hands let go of the appendages in his mouth and instead search blindly for Eddie's hands. When he finds them, he laces their fingers together and grips Eddie's hands tightly, signaling that he's close as well. He brings their joined hands to his stomach, untangles the fingers, and presses Eddie's palms against his skin.

"Fuck, I can feel them." Eddie sounds awed, and when he looks up at Steve, there is an expression of naked hunger on his face. "Think you can take another one?"

For Eddie, Steve would take another ten.

He really wants another one too, the feeling of being stuffed to the brim is intoxicating, the constant pressure against his sweet spot and the way the sensitive nerve endings at his entrance feel overwhelmed again and again with every thrust stretching him wide. He's never been so full, never felt like this, and he already knows they need to do this again.

He nods, his fingers entwining with Eddie's once more, his palms resting on the backs of Eddie's hands. As Eddie slowly enters him with another thick limb, he chokes on the overwhelming sensation. His hole clenches almost painfully around the intrusion, the circumference almost too much, even with the relaxing effect of the tentacle's fluid, and Steve whimpers.

Before the sensation can become unpleasant, the tentacle around his cock quickened its pace, adding to the pleasure and overriding any discomfort Steve might have been feeling.

The tentacles in Steve's mouth pulse and writhe, the pre-cum squirting from them overflowing his mouth, dripping from the corners and running down his chin. He can tell that Eddie is close, too, and Steve knows he's holding back because he needs Steve to come first.

As if reading his mind, Eddie whimpers brokenly. "Steve, fuck, you feel perfect around me. God, I wish you could fuck me right now, your perfect cock inside me as I fuck you with my tentacles, my cock rubbing against your belly bulge."

It's Eddie's words, the picture he paints, that pushes Steve over the edge and he comes in thick spurts between them. His inner muscles clench rhythmically around Eddie, his girth almost too much to handle.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck," Eddie chants, and Steve feels him coming everywhere.

Eddie's hips buck up, forcing his cock between Steve's cheeks and it jerks against him as Eddie comes in thick spurts. They quickly dissolve in the water, but he can feel their warmth.

Even more overwhelming is the feeling of his tentacles squirting thick ropes of cum into his mouth and ass. It's so much that it keeps spilling out of his holes, filling him to the brim with Eddie's release. Their hands are still joined above his stomach and Eddie stares at him in shock as Steve's belly expands even more.

"Stevie, fuck, look at you. So beautiful when you're filled with my cum, your belly feels so big," Eddie sounds like he's having a religious experience and Steve is not far behind. In his mind he can see how his hole will be gaping when Eddie pulls out and he knows he will feel the way they just fucked for hours, if not days. The thought causes another thin rope of cum to spurt from his already softening cock.

Eddie carefully pulls his appendages out of Steve's mouth and ass, mindful of the overstimulated flesh. They slide out easily with the way Steve's whole body is limp after his release.

Once they're out of his body, Steve sinks into Eddie's arms like a puppet whose strings have been cut, letting Eddie hold his weight. Eddie's hand comes up and runs through Steve's hair, his chest rumbling with the soothing sounds he makes against Steve's head.

"That was..." Steve begins, but he doesn't even know how to finish the sentence, feels like there are no words in the English language sufficient to describe how he feels.

"The best thing that ever happened to me," Eddie suggests, and Steve hums in agreement. "You are the best thing that ever happened to me, Steve." Eddie adds, planting a kiss on Steve's ear. "I never thought anyone could want me, love me, knowing what I am."

This causes Steve to leave his comfortable resting place against Eddie's neck and look into Eddie's eyes as he says, "I think I've been in love with you since we christened my Jeep. I wanted to tell you that first morning you made us burnt toast for breakfast. But I was so afraid to tell you because I thought it was too much. That I was too much."

There's sadness in Eddie's eyes, and Steve doesn't know if it's for Eddie or for Steve. Maybe for both of them. They've both been so afraid to show the other who they really are for so long.

Eddie's lips find his in a kiss that is almost painfully soft, just their mouths pressing their love into each other's bodies, their tongues writing their devotion on each other's souls. When Eddie pulls away, his eyes are as soft as his kiss.

"You can never be too much, Steve. The way I want you? It scares me sometimes. No matter how much you want, how much you need, how much you love? I'm meeting you every step of the way."

Tears form in his eyes at Eddie's words, and his heart beats so loudly in his chest that he's sure Eddie must hear it.

"Marry me."

Steve surprises them both with his words, judging by Eddie's eyes, which are as wide as his own must be, but he doesn't take them back. He just adds, "Not today. Or tomorrow. It doesn't even have to be this year or the next, but someday I want you to be my husband."

The way Eddie's arms tighten around him should be answer enough, but his heart still soars as Eddie presses kisses all over his face, each one accompanied by another breathless yesyesyes.

It's only when Steve starts to shiver in his arms that Eddie stops peppering every inch of skin he can reach with kisses.

"You're cold," Eddie says and Steve can't help but laugh.

"Brilliant observation, Sherlock. How come you're not?"

Eddie just shrugs, "No idea. I don't feel the cold as much when I'm like this. It would suck in the winter otherwise."

This makes Steve pause. "You come here in the winter too? But the lake freezes over."

“Don’t I know. Wayne is helping me clear some of it off further down the shore so I can get in easier. I can show you next winter. For now we should get out. "

With that, Eddie swims them closer to the pier and helps Steve up onto it, because Steve's legs still feel like jelly. As Eddie lifts himself out of the water, Steve sees his tentacles in all their glory for a moment before they retract back into Eddie's body. His hands also return to their normal color and shape, and his face loses that otherworldly look.

He's just Eddie again.

Steve can't wait for the next time they can do this. But for now, he just opens his arms and Eddie immediately steps into his warm embrace.

"Let's go home, my love."

#steddie #steddie smut #steddie fanfic #steve x eddie #stranger things fanfiction #my writing #nsft #mind the tags

175 notes · View notes