akajohnconyers

[bwskj]

NSFW MDI | jjk x reader

- jjk characters reacting to u asking them on call for a moaning audio -

chars: gojo, nanami, megumi, sukuna, yuuji, inumaki

notes: (text) are you; bulleted + written

tags: honestly just a lot of nsfw stuff, pls x away if ur a minor or uncomfy

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

gojo

— “baby what?”, he laughs amused, “did you just say you want me to send a moaning audio?”

— you can practically hear the smirk in his voice, “ah baby, well i could do that… just not for free. give me something to look at and i’ll make it, how about that?”

output: bro sends a hand held video of him jacking off while sitting on the living room couch. a part of his laptop sitting on the coffee table with your photo/video on it is shown in the upper half of the video, behind the main character that is his thick hard cock. satoru likes talking as if you’re there kneeling in front of him, pretending he’s got your face to tap his dick on before he fully wraps his hand around the girth and starts pumping. he often groans low with the occasional sharp inhales through gritted teeth. eventually, he gets to the point wherein he’s leaking so much pre-cum it’s enough to help him make big smooth strokes over his length. his camera angle ends up wonky sometimes because he’s too zoned in jerking off to you. “fuckkk baby, god you’re so—hot” and “shit… that’s mine, that fucking pussy belongs to me.” he sure loves his dirty talk, “bet you wanna ride this huh, baby? want your tight pussy walls sucking up my cock.” when he finally cums, you can tell he’s trying his best to not hold in his moans (cause ofc that’s what you’re looking for). his thighs tense, spreading apart as his cum shoots up high, loud groans with every shot that spatters all over his bare stomach. he aims the camera down at his messy torso, laying his dick on it as he swipes it across the mess around and on his happy trail. “you better lick this clean off, baby.”

nanami

—“excuse me? a what?” (you repeat yourself)

—hunched over his desk at work, he says, “honey i… don’t do that,” he sounds concerned that you would ask for such thing, “do you need it for… something?” you can imagine the stitch in his brow when he asks this.

— (you reply with a vague and teasing “maybe”) kento lightly huffs, seeming slightly bothered (?)“well, i’m busy right now… just… wait until i get home.”

output: no audio but what did you expect he was at work! not like he would do it though if he wasn’t. instead, on the way home, he’s got one thing on his mind. the thought keeps bubbling up in excitement, making him tap his foot in impatience as he rides the elevator up to your shared apartment. when you hear the jangle of his keys in the doorknob, you spring up from where you’ve been rotting. a smile immediately appears on your face when you see your boyfriend looking even more dashing with the appearance of a man who’s worked hard all day at work. “you’re home, i—“ you’re about to tell him you’ve missed him but he cuts you off when he closes the distance, leaning in and catching your lips with his. he drops his work bag on the floor as the big palm of his hand slides onto your back. he pulls you close, not giving you the chance to speak anymore as his deep hungry kiss keeps your mouth busy. you manage to make at least the sound of, “mphh.. Kento!” when his lips pull back a bit. you can tell he’s trying to hold himself back, his jaw and shoulders feeling rigid when your hands feel over them. “couldn’t wait to get home,” he mumbles when his mouth detaches for a second — basically, yea, he fucks you pretty much the whole night or until you can’t take any more. everything he does is meant to please you; he thrives on giving you, his pretty princess, what you want, feeling fulfilled when he knows he can keep you more than satisfied.

sukuna

— “the fuck? a moaning audio? why would i do that?

— he stretches his jaw, the eyes on his cheeks fluttering a little eye roll. he speaks into the mic at a low volume, “baby if you miss being dicked down just say so…”

— “uhuh yea, keep pretending you don’t want it til you’ve got this cock in your mouth, right? stay put. i’m coming over”

output: no moaning audio. he gets to your place in 10 minutes (how the fuck he got there that quick you’ll never know). when you greet him at the door, mouth ajar in surprise, you can’t stop yourself from cheekily saying, “well, isn’t somebody excited?”

“i wanna know what the bitch who’s asking for an audio sounds like when she gets what she actually wants,” he cockily spits out as he looms over you by the still open door frame.

your eyes widen at his response but you can only stutter before his hand is suddenly holding you by your throat. he welcomes himself in, shutting the door behind him while you almost stumble back into your hallway. your hands instinctively reach to grab at the back of his hand around your neck. not even a second later and his other hand grabs one of yours, tugging it and placing it over the tent in his pants. his fingers sandwiched around your neck begins to squeeze and you accidentally sound out a moan. you can feel his sharp nails pricking your nape. his hand holding yours guides you into palming him. a dark smirk is on his face. “i’m fucking hard. do something about it.”

long story short: he rails you (on your bed, in front of the mirror, doggy style or just backshots in general— he loves pinning your wrists behind you and watching your tits bounce everytime he pounds into you. when you’re on top, he doesn’t even give you the chance to ride him on your own). “how you liking this, huh? sweet little slut. you like this fat cock fucking your stomach? isn’t this better than some shit tease through the phone?”

megumi

— his cheeks warm when he hears the words through the phone, “what’s that?” He asks though he knows full well what you mean (i think megumi would be a secret tumblr user).

— you carefully explain it to him. there’s hesitation in his voice when he says, “oh, i see…”

— alarmed by the way his voice trailed off, you reassure him that he doesn’t have to do it if he doesn’t want to.

— he replies with a slightly stammered okay and the call eventually awkwardly ends with exchanged ‘i love you’s and ‘talk to you later’s

— you feel slightly embarrassed for voicing your request but it’s not long before you forget about it. it was worth a shot.

— that night, while you’re snuggled up in your cozy blanket, you receive a single voice note from megumi with no message attached

— megumi blushes as he stares at the file he just sent, wondering if he did it okay. you don’t know that he jack offed and recorded not even five minutes after your call ended.

output: when you press play you’re immediately met with the semi-distant sounds of megumi’s shaky gasps and breathy low moans. it looks like he sent you a recording of the most interesting part of his session wherein wet stroking sounds are being picked up by his phone. there’s oftentimes soft whimpers that slip through, the noise of his bed covers shifting on his skin almost overpowering it when he gets more and more into fucking his hand (or whatever he’s slotting his dick through). you have to replay it a couple times to make sure you heard right—pride blooming within you when you’re certain he’s whimpering and mumbling out your name. his moans rise in pitch and grow more rugged the closer he gets to his climax. “a-ah… mm—hah.. gonna c-cum,” you can hear the strokes getting faster and the sheets being gripped tight. when he cums, he gets even louder, noisy staggering moans falling out his mouth. you just know his throbbing dick is thrusting up while chasing his high. when it dies down, you can hear soft panting and then the sound of his phone being picked up. there’s a silent pause before his voice comes through low and crisp, “i… hope you liked that.”

yuuji

— “a what audio??”, he laughs, “you’re kidding!” His laugh fades when he realises you aren’t.

— “wait seriously, you’re into that? like those audios on reddit or something?”

— (“… you know those?” you ask curiously.)

— yuuji gets flustered, he stutters, “i-i don’t—I accidentally came across them once. kinda freaked me out, ngl…”

— (“freaked you out?”)

— “yea, i dunno, never imagined guys to be doing that for a living. and i didn’t know there were girls who especially liked that.”

— (“really… well a lot of girls actually like that. but yea, i guess you wouldn’t really know, cuz you know,” you lightly tease.)

— yuuji rubs a hand over his blushing cheek, “you don’t have to keep reminding me that you’re my first…”

— (he always reacts like this and so you remind him again [you love reminding him], “sorry my yuuji, but you know, i love being your first, especially knowing that my competition is literally THE jennifer lawrence.”)

— you can hear the smile yuuji is trying to keep down, “and your 100x better than her,” (honestly, you just tease him to hear him say this again)

— (“so what about that audio?”)

— “hm?” yuuji didn’t even realize it until now that he’s got a hand over the boner jutting through his boxers

— you quickly reassure him that he can say no if he doesn’t want to. there’s a silence that hangs for a moment in the call, and when you’re about to say something again to dismiss the topic, he starts, “could you… maybe, talk me through it?”

output: you piece together that yuuji’s turned on. “are you… hard rn?” your voice comes gentle through the phone and yuuji grabs his dick stronger through the cloth, pushing his palm against it. he shudders, “m-maybe.” your voice sounds so good.

“are you…” you trail off, but yuuji knows what you mean. he quickly replies, “is this okay? you can tell me if it’s not, i-i’ll stop.” yuuji doesn’t want to stop but he’s stiffened his hand on his dick to try to stop himself from touching further without your consent.

there’s another short pause before you say, “mm, it’s okay, yuuji… you need help?”

“mhm,” he hums, instantly resuming his hand movement. there’s slight guilt when he clears his throat and says, “s-sorry our call kind of—went in another direction, it’s okay if you don’t want to. I can—“

your laugh cuts him off, “sweetie it’s okay. i’d like to help. we’ll hit two birds with one stone since i wanted an audio anyway.”

yuuji blushes even harder. “I… I’ll try to not… hold it in.”

you grin, biting at your lip as you lay in your bed with your phone planted on your ear. “Good… you’ll give me what i want hm?”

Yuuji’s breaths are beginning to tremble as he continues to rub himself to the sound of your voice. “y-yea, for you… i’ll do what you want.”

it gets more serious when yuuji finally takes his dick out his boxers and starts pumping it up and down; it’s almost fully hard. he loves it when you ask him what he’s doing, what he’s thinking about. his moans start off quiet but when you tell him you wanna hear him, his voice breaks and he lets a louder sound come out his throat. “can you imagine your hand as my hand, or my mouth?” you ask him. at this point your thighs are squeezed together and you can feel the wetness pool in your panties. this makes yuuji moan even louder.

after a couple minutes of this teasing dirty talk, yuuji can’t take it anymore and the needy words, “fuh… i… i want to see you. c-can i?” slip out of his mouth.

it turns into a video call after the both of you move to transfer to your laptops. you can see yuuji’s tip peeking from the bottom edge of the screen. his shirt is on and it’s lightly sticking to his skin, likely because he’s starting to sweat. when you turn on your camera, your pretty face comes into view and you’re in the usual clothes you wear at home: loose shirt, no bra, panties. you can instantly tell yuuji’s back to jerking himself, though you can’t see his whole hand or his face at all.

“let me see you, sweetie,” you say, hand digging between your sticking thighs and going over your clothed crotch.

his movement slows, “shit, you wanna see me?” he sounds embarrassed. you nod. yuuji is obviously reluctant, but he listens, repositioning his laptop further so it captures his face and dick in hand. you feel yourself throb at the sight.

it isn’t long before you’re touching your bare pussy in front of the camera, tits out on display. you’re lewd and so is yuuji, now more confidently moaning as he pleases himself to you. between your own sounds, you softly say, “gosh my pretty baby. you’re doing so well,” knowing how your boyfriend is secretly a sucker for praise. yuuji groans, body jerking as his face flushes even redder. “will you come for me?” you say. you’ve got him in the palm of your hand.

yuuji’s a moaning needy mess, the hand not on his dick pinning the hem of his shirt high up. “fuugh… y-yes… yes for you. I’ll come… i’m about to—about… agh—“

yuuji’s hand pumps the tip fast and he cums strongly, head bowing as his hips thrust up and he shoots white. “Ah~ oh~,” he’s shaky and noisy all the way through his high. when he finally lifts his head up to look at you, you’re sweetly smiling (you came watching him cum but he missed it ://). you stare at one another for a moment before the both of you let out (somewhat nervous) laughter.

yuuji pats sweat off his forehead with the back of his clean hand, careful not to have the other covered in his own cum go near his bed sheets. “gosh, you’re good. i’m so lucky to have you.”

you beam. “and i’m so lucky to have such a pretty, handsome boyfriend. you did great.”

he shyly looks away, biting on his lip to suppress a smile, “thank you.”

inumaki

— you text him asking for a moaning audio (unless u want inumaki to go tuna tuna at u on call lmao)

— “?”

— “how do i make that?”

— you send him a voice note explaining what kind of audio it is, making sure to tell him he doesnt have to do it if he doesnt want to

— “…”

— “okay…”

— “i totally thought you wanted to hear me in pain and i was… concerned.”

— (“??? baby pls no?!)

— “thank god”

— there’s a pause in the chat

— “i would send if i could.”

— (“wdym? if you don’t feel comfortable about it it’s okay maki”)

— “no… um”

—(“?”)

— “i don’t really get hard unless ur here.”

— (you stare at his message before sending an “oh !”)

— “yea… nothing else does it for me. sorry.”

— (you’re both blushing and stricken by his response. “no baby don’t be sorry TT you don’t need to do this. i can always hear you in person.”)

— “sure?”

— (“yes for sure TT”)

— “:p i’ll make those sounds for you next time if you really like them.”

output: next time you see each other, it starts off as usual. a casual date outside before going back to his place for nightly cuddles and eventually… that. it’s clear inumaki remembers you’re conversation without you having to bring it up. he’s nervous at first (he’s always been pretty quiet mostly because he’s mindful of using his voice), and you see it in his eyes. “just let it out okay? it’s just me here,”

you whisper when you softly kiss under his neck, a little shy as well. soon, when you’re kissing, touching, and sucking him all over, his moans are tiny sharp inhales and whimpers rising up his throat; they come out somewhat muffled because of his closed mouth. since he can’t really risk saying anything, he’ll tell you that he feels good with a hand combing through your hair or a thumb caressing your skin. he’ll buck up into your throat when he cums, his mouth accidentally opening to sound out a breathier vocal moan. when you pull up, wiping your mouth after swallowing, he doesn’t hesitate to pull your face close, kissing you sweetly. you know it’s his way of saying ‘thank you. i love you.”

—— <3

a/n: wrote smth diff today (context: i usually write leon kennedy stuff) these are just my headcanons so i’d love to hear what u guys think! xoxo i had sm fun writing this hehe

also, can u guess who my fav char is? (it’s not the one with the longest part— mb that some are longer than others, idk how to stop smtms)

[sonnyangeluvrrr]

˚୨୧⋆｡first impressions

You’ve been avoiding his texts for three days.

Each message that pops up from him is like a reminder—of how you tripped on your own feet, how you’d misread his joke, and how the waiter had looked at you, slightly baffled, when you’d accidentally ordered two desserts. Not to mention the spilled wine incident. It plays in your head on repeat, every mortifying moment, until you’re sure he's already written you off as a clumsy mess.

You see his name flash on your phone again—another text—and your stomach tightens.

Nanami: “Are we still on for coffee this week? ☕️”

Nanami: “Let me know if you’re around! No pressure.”

Nanami: “Hey, is everything okay?”

You sigh, feeling that familiar warmth flood through you at his gentleness, at how he's somehow still reaching out. But it’s just a matter of time before he realizes. Before he thinks better of it. It’s easier this way, you tell yourself. To just… fade into the background, to let the embarrassment settle without having to explain.

But you hadn’t expected him to show up.

The knock on your door is light but insistent, and your heart lurches. You hesitate, fingers brushing against the handle, already knowing who it is. You open the door, and there Nanami stands, a faint smile playing on his lips as he offers a small wave.

"Hey," he says softly, searching your face with a steady gaze. "I, uh… was worried about you."

You shift on your feet, glancing down, not quite meeting his eyes. "Sorry, I… I've just been busy," you say, voice barely above a whisper, knowing how thin the excuse sounds.

He gives you a look, that quiet, knowing expression he's so good at, and something in it makes your defenses falter. "Really? Busy? Because it kind of seems like you’re avoiding me."

You swallow, rubbing at the back of your neck. "It’s not that. I mean, it’s just…" The words slip out before you can stop them. "I feel like I embarrassed myself on our date. And I didn’t want you to… think about it like that."

His brow furrows, confusion, and something else—something like affection—softening his gaze. "Embarrassed?" he asks, tilting his head. "I thought we had a good time."

You let out a half-laugh, shaking your head, unsure if he's humoring you or if he really means it. "Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure I ordered two desserts by accident. And I definitely spilled wine on you. Twice."

He smiles, and it’s the kind that makes you feel seen like he's not just hearing your words but understanding the heart of them. "So you ordered two desserts and spilled some wine. That’s part of what made it fun," he says, leaning against the doorframe as though settling in for a real talk. "You were being yourself. And I liked that."

His words hang between you, each one softening the tightness that’s been sitting heavy in your chest. Still, the doubt lingers.

"But I just… felt like I ruined it," you murmur, finally meeting his eyes. "Like I didn’t come off the way I wanted to."

He reaches out, his hand brushing your arm in a way that’s gentle, grounding. "Hey," he says, his voice gentle but firm. "I wanted to see you. Not some perfect version. The way you laughed at yourself, or how you were excited about that dessert, or even how you kept trying to wipe the wine off my shirt when I said it was fine… that was all you."

You feel your face heat up, but this time it’s something warmer, something less tangled with anxiety.

"So… you’re not, I don’t know, regretting it or anything?"

Nanami laughs, and it’s soft but real like he's surprised you’d even ask. "Regret it? Not a chance. Actually, I was hoping we could do it again," he says, his tone playful, but there’s that sincerity again, woven into every word.

For the first time in days, you feel yourself relax, letting a smile slip through. "Well, maybe next time I won’t spill anything on you."

He chuckles, eyes brightening. "Hey, I make no promises. Maybe I’ll order three desserts this time. Just to keep things interesting."

You laugh, feeling the last of your embarrassment start to dissolve. And when he reaches out to take your hand, his fingers slipping through yours, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!yoongi (4) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @pamzn @defzcl @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo @ddanasjk @luvismenu @remgeolli @parapiop7 @lil0u0 @crazyovayou @mggv97 @thvgukk @rpwprpwprpwprw

//

when yoongi calls to confirm the results of the blood test, reality hits all over again. 

you’re pregnant. 

his voice was gentle, with the same calm professionalism he uses with all his patients… but it couldn’t mask his genuine warmth as he told you the news. you want to believe he sounded excited but it was hard to tell. you settle for the telling warmth in his tone instead.

hearing it out loud brought a whole new set of feelings—joy, fear, and then something else: the unavoidable question of how you’d tell your friends.

having a clingy friendgroup is not for the weak. 

but having a clingy adult friend group—the kind who carve out time for you amidst career chaos, endless emails, and hectic schedules—is something else entirely. 

they’re the type who know what you’re thinking before you can even say it. the type who catch your tone shifting over text and who will show up unannounced if they don’t hear from you for a day. they mean well, but keeping things under wraps with them is practically impossible.

which is why telling them worries you. 

you can’t hide it.

you know you can’t.

truth be told, you don’t want to. they’re your friends and you love them to death. this baby is worth every second of celebration.

the thought had barely settled before it started to plague you.

how exactly do you explain this to a group of people who work together? who run a whole practice together? a group who’ll want to plan out everything with you, to fuss over you like you’re a ticking time bomb, and who—above all—will probably have a shitload of questions you don’t have answers to. 

they’re the people you’ve shared birthdays with, career changes, heartbreaks, and random tuesday nights. now you’re going to share this news, but there’s no manual on explaining an accidental pregnancy to your closest friends without it sounding like a rom-com gone wrong.

a part of you already know how they’ll react. 

they’d be thrilled, supportive, maybe a little over-the-top. 

and then confused.

yoongi?

as the father?

… what, when, where, and why?

not that he’s a bad guy or anything but simply because there were no (obvious) moments that led up to this…

regardless, it’s like you can almost hear jimin’s gasp, feel jin’s bear hug, and imagine hyemi tearing up before tackling you in her usual affectionate way.

they’ll want to be there for every step of this (probably more than you can handle) but that’s the beauty of having friends who genuinely make the time… friends who go out of their way to show up—not just when it’s convenient but because they want to. they’re the type who, as adults, choose each other over and over again despite life’s demands. 

you all take pride in being involved in each other’s lives—big moments, small moments, and now…

this moment.

but exactly how much is there to be proud of when you explain how nasty you and yoongi were with each other?

how this mess could’ve been avoided if you didn’t beg for him to creampie you?

yeah…

that’s a tough one.

as you’re still trying to figure out how to break the news, your timer dings.

you pull the last tray of brown butter oatmeal chocolate chip cookies from the oven, the warm smell of melted chocolate filling the kitchen. you set the tray down with a sigh, hoping a night of stress-baking will take the edge off. but before you can even start on another batch, there’s a knock at your door.

before you can think to answer, hyemi is already pushing it open, holding an expensive wine bottle aloft like a trophy, her eyes alight with excitement.

“hyemi—”

“wine night!” she grins, crossing the room without hesitation, snagging a cookie from the cooling tray as she pushes the wine bottle toward you.

you catch the label and gasp. a prized chateau margaux. the kind of bottle she probably saved up for weeks (or borrowed namjoon’s credit card) to buy.

“you did not…” you say, eyes wide.

“oh, but i did,” she giggles, giving you a wink. “thank you, namjoon.”

you shake your head, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “i knew it.”

“well?” she nudges the bottle toward you. “what are you waiting for? let’s open this and—”

you hesitate, trying to find the words. “i… i can’t tonight… or for the next few months.”

her smile falters. she clutches the bottle closer, looking genuinely wounded.

“w-wait, what? but—i fought namjoon for this, you know? and you’ve wanted this bottle for forever!”

“hyemi, i have to tell you something—”

“are you breaking up with me?” she jokes, only half-serious as she takes another bite of her cookie.

you roll your eyes and grab the cookie back from her hand, taking a bite yourself.

“it’s not you, it’s me.”

she laughs, swiping the cookie back with a shrug. “so what is it? and holy shit, these cookies are insane—”

“i can’t drink.”

“why? you’ve gone to work hungover before.”

you struggle to find the words, fingers tightening slightly around the bottle in your hands.

“no, it’s not that. it’s… different.”

hyemi’s brow furrows, her eyes narrowing as she peers at you, picking up on your hesitation. “what? don’t tell me you’re on some sober cleanse or something.”

“no… hyemi, i…”

“i mean if you are, i totally support you. i just think there’s too much good wine in this world and not enough time—”

“i’m pregnant.”

hyemi’s jaw drops, her eyes widening. her mouth opens and closes in shock, but before she can get a word out, there’s a loud crash behind you both.

you whip around to see the rest of the guys standing at the doorway.

jimin is frozen, a shattered wine bottle at his feet, red liquid pooling across the entryway as he stares at you in wide-eyed disbelief.

your eyes lock with yoongi’s, who stands in the middle of the group, his expression soft and steady as he takes you in. he tilts his head, just slightly, a quiet, unspoken reassurance passing between you two. you can feel your heart hammering, cheeks burning as you try to focus on anything other than his gaze.

the silence stretches for a beat too long before taehyung breaks it. 

“mommy?”

this isn’t exactly how you pictured them reacting to the news. 

as you sit on your couch, the atmosphere feels heavy. they’re in disbelief, and the only way they know how to process it is by falling into their medical roles.

nam joon and jin, being the doctors they are, sit close to you and begin a quick physical assessment and blood pressure test.

nam joon carefully rolls up your sleeve, a comforting smile on his face that softens the tension in the room. 

“just relax your arm for me,” he hums, positioning the cuff around your upper arm. his fingers brush against your skin, and you can’t help but notice how professional he is, even amidst the whirlwind of emotions flooding the room.

“you’ve been feeling okay, right? any nausea or dizziness?” he asks, focusing intently on the task at hand.

“tired. sleepy. think i’m nauseous the most, though,” you admit. “i throw up… like every other day.”

he nods, squeezing the bulb to inflate the cuff. “that’s completely normal.” he pauses, glancing up at you. “are you okay? emotionally and mentally?”

you nod, glancing around the room. “i’m fine.” 

your eyes meet yoongi’s.

he’s seated directly across from you, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, fingers interlaced. he’s watching you intently, with his usual cool indifference masking an intensity in his gaze. yoongi’s quiet presence anchors you, even though he says nothing.

should he say something?

what does he even say?

you don’t know.

he doesn’t know either.

as the cuff tightens around your arm, you take a deep breath, catching the supportive glances from everyone else nearby. their chatter fades into the background as nam joon’s focus brings you back to the moment.

“okay, let’s see what we have here,” nam joon murmurs, watching the gauge as the cuff slowly deflates. “hmmm. your pressure’s a little high but good overall. are you stressed?”

“a little right now,” you exhale. “guys, this is too much—“

“did you just do a home pregnancy test or go to the doctor?”

you freeze.

“oh shit,” taehyung calls from the doorway. he’s just been helping jimin and hobi clean up spilled wine. “screw the pregnancy test stuff—i wanna know who the babydaddy is.”

from the back, you hear jimin and hobi laugh as they finish picking up glass shards. taehyung raises a teasing brow. 

“okay but seriously… didn’t know you wanted a baby that bad, ___. could’ve just asked jungkook to help you out.”

yoongi straightens, shooting taehyung a sharp look. “alright. we good here? you guys did a quick physical and checked her blood pressure—”

“your babydaddy is clean, right?” jimin chimes in, feigning seriousness. “___, i hope he’s worth the labor and delivery.”

“oh my god. shut up,” you say, rolling your eyes.

it’s then that you glance at hyemi, who sits on the other side of the couch with jungkook. the two of them are stress-eating your cookies, crumbs dotting the space between them.

hyemi, chocolate smeared at the corner of her mouth, raises a brow. “is this why you’ve been so sick?”

“yeah,” you nod. “i got the confirmation yesterday.”

“yesterday?” her eyes widen, and she sets down the cookie, scooting closer to you. “oh my god, ___. this is huge! congratulations!” she grabs your hands, her excitement lighting up her face. “we’re happy about this, right? you want this?”

before you can answer, she wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. you let yourself sink into her warmth, feeling the tension unravel.

“yes, i want this. ahhh! don’t make me cry,” you whisper, fighting back tears as you pull back, smiling through it. “god, it’s the pregnancy hormones.”

“already?” she gives you a small, amused smile and wipes at her eyes, fixing your hair. “i’m just so happy for you, ___. you’re going to be the best mom. seriously.”

“as long as her blood pressure stays stable—”

hyemi swats at him. “nam joon, shut up, yeah?”

yoongi lets out a quiet chuckle, leaning back with his hands in his pockets as he watches everyone swarm around you. though he’s giving his usual cool exterior, there’s something in his eyes—a soft, almost possessive gleam that’s hard to miss.

from the corner, jungkook sneaks in, sliding a little closer to you. 

“so,” he begins with a grin, “guess i’ll have to start calling you a milf now, huh?”

yoongi stiffens, jaw clenching almost imperceptibly, his eyes narrowing at jungkook. the tension isn’t lost on you as jungkook’s shoulder brushes against yours, and yoongi shifts in his seat, his gaze hardening in a way that feels oddly protective.

“so, seriously… who’s the babydaddy?” taehyung drawls from across the room, folding his arms with an amused smirk. “he’s clean, right? or should we head to the clinic and run a few tests? just to keep you and baby safe… big news and all, so we’re just trying to make sense of it.”

“god, you’re all insane.” you huff.

“maybe let ___ breathe,” yoongi mutters instantly. his gaze flicking between you and jungkook with a faintly annoyed look. “yah, she just confirmed she’s pregnant. that’s it.”

“that’s it,” you sigh repeating him. then, feeling a small wave of relief. “and honestly, why are the nurses in this room so immature? who can i report you guys to?”

jimin, taehyung, and jungkook laugh. 

“our bosses,” they reply in unison, completely unbothered.

the warmth of their support fills the room. 

as you soak in the moment, hyemi’s watchful eyes drift to yoongi.

he’s now casually seated beside you, close enough that his knee brushes against yours. every now and then, his hand lightly hovers by your arm or shoulder, his touch lingering just a little longer each time. hyemi tilts her head, something slowly clicking in her mind.

“wait a second,” she says, raising a brow. “yoongi… did you know about ___’s pregnancy before the rest of us?”

the room quiets, all eyes shifting to yoongi. before he can answer, jungkook—oblivious to the weight of the question—leans forward. 

“oh shit… is that what her blood test was for at the clinic? i might’ve accidentally seen the paperwork but didn’t peek—thought she was low on iron or something.”

silence falls over the room, each of them piecing things together. one by one, their eyes dart between you and yoongi, confusion shifting to surprise until jin’s eyes widen with realization.

“…wait,” jin’s voice is soft but full of shock.

yoongi keeps his gaze steady on you. 

his expression softening as he takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. his thumb brushes over your knuckles, a small smile tugging at his lips. it’s subtle but full of meaning, and you feel warmth pool in your chest, despite the tension.

then taehyung breaks the silence, his eyes wide, mouth slightly open as he points at yoongi with dawning realization.

“...daddy?”

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Interference Part 2

Prompt: You run to your FBI neighbor when you and your boyfriend get into a fight.

Part 1

You shut your laptop with a frustrated sigh and crossed out the last address you had written down on your pad of paper. The last two days you had been searching for a place to rent, only to be turned down due to your bad credit or limited income. You didn’t have the privilege of asking your family for help, most of them had shunned you once you got into your relationship and the few that did still speak with you were in no position to lend you money.

Your phone rang again for the 3rd time in 30 minutes, a blocked number popping up on the screen. You had ignored it the last 2 times for the fear that it was your boyfriend, but he should still be in jail with no chance of making phone calls, right?

Deciding it wouldn’t really hurt to answer it, you slid the call open and instantly regretted it once the familiar devious voice spoke to you.

“Hello bird,” he greeted with fake sincerity, using the pet name he made for you as a jab at your eating habits. The fear shot through you just as hard as the other night, rendering you speechless.

“I’m out baby. I’ll be home soon and we can sit down and talk about everything. Hopefully you were able to get the house cleaned, it was a mess the last time I was there.”

He didn’t get a chance to say anything more before you ended the call. Anxiety and fear began creeping into your body, making you scramble to grab a luggage bag from the closet before shoving some clothes, toiletries, and your laptop in it. Running into the living room, you peeked out of the curtains, hoping to see Aaron’s car in the driveway. No such luck.

So grabbing your keys, you left the house, not even bothering to lock it and threw your luggage into the backseat of your car. You tore out of the driveway and down the street like a bat out hell, unsure exactly how far away your boyfriend was. As reckless as driving 50 in a residential was, you took your chances of being pulled over and put as much distance between you and that house before dialing Aaron’s number at a red light.

“Hotchner,” he answered professionally from the other line.

“Aaron. He got out. I don’t know how, maybe his mom paid his bail. He called me and said he was on his way to me.” Your words were fast and frantic. You would've continued rambling had Aaron not stopped you.

"Y/N. Just take a deep breath for me, alright?"

The light turned green and you did as he instructed, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, it doing very little to calm your frazzled nerves but appreciated it regardless.

"Now do you have anywhere you can go, maybe a friends house or family member? Somewhere you'd be safe?"

"No," you spoke. "I don't have any friends and most of my family disowned me when I got into this stupid relationship. The rest of them live on the West Coast."

There was a pause of silence as you felt him thinking over the phone. Most likely figuring out the easiest way to get rid of you and your problems.

"Alright. I have some down time before my meeting in an hour. Why don't you come by and we can figure out a plan. I'll send you the address, just take the elevator to the 4th floor."

A second later you felt the buzz of your phone from the incoming text message. "Ok. Thank you so much Aaron. And I'm so sorry for taking up your time." Tears threatened to fall but you held them back.

"Don't be sorry, Y/N. I want to help you. Don't worry, we'll get this all sorted out. Just text me when you arrive."

"I will," you replied before you both said goodbye and hung up. You put the address in your navigation and drove mindlessly through traffic, so many thoughts going through your head it made you want to scream.

The address wasn't too far from your own homes, arriving there in less than an hour and heading into the very drab looking building before taking the elevator, texting Aaron that you had arrived on the way up.

You had just made it to the front desk before seeing Aaron headed in your direction, giving the receptionist a small smile. "She's with me Lonnette, thank you."

You waited as Lonnette printed your visitor badge and handed it over with a friendly smile before following Aaron through the floor, passing by glass offices and cubicles. You were quiet, not really in the mood for small talk which you felt he sensed and didn't bother saying anything as he lead you up some stairs to an office that you presumed was his by the gold name plaque on his desk.

"Have a seat, please," he offered politely, closing the door and walking over to his side of the desk. "Would you like something to drink? Water? Coffee?"

You shook your head. "No thank you. I appreciate the offer though."

He unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat down, moving some files to the side. "So I'm genuinely surprised to hear that he's out of jail. You said you think his mother bailed him out?"

"Yeah. I don't think she knows anything about what happened but whenever he asks her for money, she just sends it to him. I think she feels guilty for never being in his life so giving him money when he needs it helps her feel better about it." You rung your hands together, anxious about the whole situation as well as being there, talking with a man that was pretty much a complete stranger, bugging him for help.

"And he called you afterwards, telling you that he was on his way? Did he seem upset?" His tone was curious as if trying to get every piece of puzzle to fit perfectly in order to build an accurate idea of who your boyfriend was. It made sense considering his profession.

"I don't know. He's really good at hiding his anger until he snaps. He was talking like nothing had happened and we were just going to go back to normal." Your head whipped towards the open window blinds where someone was just walking by, Aaron noticing your jumpy behavior immediately.

"You're safe here. No one knows anything about what happened except you and I," he reassured you, making you relax just a little. "I don't think he'll be out of jail for long though, at least until he sees the judge for arraignment. I will personally see to that."

His words brought you a bit of placidity and hope as you still wondered why he would go through such lengths to help you out.

"I do have a small flat not far from here that I use occasionally for late nights at the office when I don't want to drive all the way home. You can stay there for now, until you find a place of your own if you'd like. Completely up to you, I don't want you to feel pressured."

Your eyes looked up from the floor to meet his, surprised by his offer.

"I- uh. I couldn't impose on you like that-

"You wouldn't be. I barely use it anymore, I prefer to be at my home with my son whenever I can."

Son? He has a son. Of course he does. He probably also has a wife or at least a girlfriend since you didn't see a ring on his finger. The thought of him with a son didn't bother you, in fact it only gave you more of a reason to trust him.

"If you're sure you don't mind," you said, trying not to sound too excited, relieved that you wouldn't have to go back to your boyfriends house. "Please let me pay some sort of rent or something though. It's the least I can do."

He shook his head no, his expression soft and nonchalant. "Don't worry about it. You're gonna need the money for your new place. Just promise me that you won't contact him or go back to that house unless you have some sort of escort, preferably by law enforcement."

You could be my escort.

You nodded in agreement, ignoring your thoughts.

“Alright then. I can send you the address and give you the keys now. I'm not sure if the fridge is stocked but feel free to add or throw anything away. There is a washer and dryer there so you can wash the sheets and anything else you need." He pulled his keys from his desk drawer and removed a ring with a single key on it, holding it out for you.

You took it gratefully and stood with him as he buttoned his suit back up and checked his watch.

"Could I at least make you dinner or something?" you blurted, not sure where such confidence came from. "I mean, I just want to do something for you in return for your incredible generosity." You couldn't stop the blush from burning your cheeks, your words successfully embarrassing yourself.

A small smile played at the corner of his mouth, showing off just the slightest sight of dimples. "I'll be with my son tonight but maybe we could grab a coffee sometime tomorrow."

You smiled back, more than satisfied with his offer and followed him out of his office, feeling a few stares from people but avoided eye contact. Aaron walked you back to the receptionist and even had her add you as a contact so visiting would be an easier feat.

"Thank you again Aaron," you spoke, the anxiety you had been feeling for the last few hours, finally beginning to dissipate. He answered with a friendly nod and you entered the elevators. Once the doors closed and you were completely alone, you took in a deep breath. Maybe everything was going to be ok like he said.

[arimiadev]

spooky visual novel recs that just came out in the past month!!

now that the awards ceremony has happened, I can openly talk about the visual novels I liked from Spooktober VN Jam, an annual game jam for making Halloween-themed visual novels (which I happen to judge entries for)!

each of these spooky indie VNs came out at the end of September and were made in just 1 month. some are scary, some are cute, but they're all made with love so go give them some love 💜

Märchen Line

Embrace the indomitable human spirit by serving in the First Among Father's Voyager Armada- The Bravest of The Brave, who venture out to liberate the Milky Way from the True Enemy. Serving as a Soldier means embracing infinite potential. With the blessing of His Runes, you will grow stronger, smarter, faster and braver in a few weeks than you have in your entire life. All that growth comes with responsibility, and you will be expected to pay your civic dues- but luckily each Soldier is assigned a Valkyrie to help them manage their priorities. Train your stats, build your relationships, and be all you can be...or push past the galactic narrative and seek a deeper understanding of humanity's true ranking in the galactic hierarchy. 

Pippa and Your Phantasmal Problem

Ms Ester's beautiful and neat house has been mysteriously wrecked in the past few weeks and nobody knows why. Patches of dirt on the carpet, things gone missing, and all sorts of mess keeps happening around the house. The police was called to investigate, a priest was invited to bless the house, and a group of ghostbusters was hired (they were so expensive!) and none of them found anything. How useless! If this problem isn't solved by the time Ms Ester returns from her short trip, she'll kick you out. You have to find someone who can help: anyone will do, even this unreliable looking, self-proclaimed witch you just randomly met.

BAD MANORS

On Friday the 13th, your plans for a spooky Halloween night are dashed when you show up alone at the escape room reserved by your friend. You consider going home when a handsome stranger offers to accompany you. Maybe the night is saved after all… Or so you thought.

MAMA

One day, you’ll thank me. After all… mother knows best. Today’s the first day of HimeCon, a Yuri convention. You’re attending with your girlfriend who’s a vendor in the artist alley. At the convention, you receive a text that ends up changing… everything. You find yourself back in your childhood home, except this time, something’s amiss— and you’ve got to escape. She’s always w̶̨̠̟̳͚̮̫͒͒̏̏̌͑͊̒́̂̈̀̓̒͘͠ā̷̧̠͎̤͖̝̠̯͎̎̇͒̋͑̾͑̑͂̂̽͐͂̄͘̕̕͠͠͝t̷̢̙̦͖͙̹̪̠̳̰͛̓̇̀̂̾́̉̍̈́͌̇̔̑͝ç̷̥̮͓͔̣̆̀̆̔̈́̈̀͋͛̓̈͐̕͝h̵̢̧̹̲͇̭̥̰͎͖͇̎̓͒̎̂͑̽͒͑̓͗͗̕̕͘͜͜͝͠͝͝ͅi̸̛̝̳̳̠͇͍̓͒̈́̑́̒̓̊͐͒̆͘͝ͅͅñ̶̢̡̨͓̥̞͉͓͚̞̞̞̲̤̹͙͍̙͛̋̏͗̍̽̇̒̅͊͜͠ͅg̸̪͇͋̓͋̍̈́̇̽̿̑̋̏̏̈́̋̾̋̃͘ͅ you, isn’t she?

Elfin National Park

Come on down and see the ever changing sights of our forest. We have places for the whole family. Just please remember for the safety of you and your family to stay within the designated zones.

MAD LAB PARTY

Being a serial killer is hard when some crow decides to tamper with your bodies. Solution? Kill another and meet your ‘fan’ in the act?! It’s October 31st, and you are dragged out to a haunted house attraction with your friends despite the mysterious ‘Jack-o-killer’ running around, murdering strangers in gruesome and eccentric ways. Bodies ranged from being found taking the place of a scarecrow to being carved and their guts replaced with pumpkin seeds. You, however, didn’t worry about getting killed. You knew exactly who the murderer was. Problem? You knew for sure you didn’t kill them like that.

CANIDAE

The moonlight illuminates the animal that lies within everyone. Will you embrace it; or fight back? On Halloween, a gang of teenagers in animal masks head out to set off fireworks and drink with their friends. Unfortunately, nothing ever goes right for you. As the night grows darker and pranks turn to violence, your friends start to change. Will you?

Killer Chat!

A reporter by day, an aspiring writer by night: you've been asking all the important questions on the dark web.  Like, how do you bury a body? How do you kill someone with a crowbar with the right angle to cause blunt-force trauma? What's the best way to hide from law enforcement? If you're to write a good crime book, this is how you'll do it. Suddenly, ERROR! UNKNOWN invites you to a server... with a warning. "don't be so obvious smh You're Gonna Get Caught". ... It's a serial killer chatroom. You may be slightly fucked.

Spirit Driver

From the everyday passenger to the horrors of Halloween, Spirit Driver is a short, casual conversation simulator where your choices can affect the fates of people and spirits alike. Remember, your choices have consequences. Good luck!

Let's Watch Steamboat Willie

Two film nerds sit down for a comfy evening watching old movies. Next up is Steamboat Willie, and they quickly take to bickering. By the time the cartoon is over, one of them will be dead.

Shut-in Vampire

Oh no! Mayu’s in a pinch! She’s woefully behind on paying the rent, and her scary landlady, Miss Himemiya, has issued an ultimatum. Mayu needs to earn ¥100,000 by the end of October, or she’ll be kicked out! Being evicted from her home would be bad enough, but Mayu has a secret: she’s actually a vampire. Mayu hasn’t been a vampire for a full year yet, and the church is keeping close tabs on her to ensure she’s been behaving herself. According to the stone-faced Sister Juriel, it’s the church’s standard policy to execute all vampires without a fixed address, lest they start roaming the streets causing chaos. If Mayu can’t pay the rent in time, she won’t just wind up homeless: she’ll be executed! What’s a fledgeling vampire to do?

Epimutation

Spencer, a former investigative journalist, lives in a small bunker with six other people who have also managed to stay alive after a viral outbreak brought the world to ruin. They're attempting to adjust to this new normal, until they stumble across some notebook pages written by a scientist documenting the infection. Make life or death decisions, form bonds with your fellow survivors, and attempt to unravel the mystery behind the outbreak.

Not My Body!

First you wake up in somebody else's ugly house in somebody else's ugly body, and then you find another person tied up in the closet? This isn't fair at all! Why do you have to deal with this?! It's not like you put him there! And what's going on in your own body right now, anyway…?

that's all of my recommendations for now, but with over 270 entries there's plenty more indie Halloween-themed visual novels for you to try!

[sandcobangevent]

Unforgettable

by @keirgreeneyes and @tiredmilkshake

Chapter 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that mean?” 

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

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

“I’m not sure Sherlock Holmes does.” 

“Is that a crack about his autism?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will do.” 

Chapter 2

“Watson, what’s that smell?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait–Stop!! Fire, fire!!”

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

Chapter 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 4

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

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

“Any change in Sherlock?” 

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

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

…

“John?”

“I wouldn’t know actually.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sounds pretty bad.”

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

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

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

“No, he’s really not.” 

“What do you mean?”

“He’s been teaching himself to cook.” 

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

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

“On the company card?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. Not at all.” 

“So you did figure out what it was?” 

“I did.” 

“Did a little detecting of your own?” 

“Indeed.”

“How did you get it out of him?” 

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

“So you spied on him!?” 

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

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

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

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

“That’s very wise of you, John.” 

“Oh sod off.” 

“What did Sherlock do?” 

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

“So, how did he startle you?” 

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

“He’s just trying to help.” 

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

“Even if he scared you to death?” 

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

“See, you are close.” 

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

“You’ve got to start somewhere.” 

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

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

“Wait, so the Youtuber—”

“Correct, they were private classes on cooking.” 

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

“Right.” 

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

“What?” 

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

“Like, the penne he keeps asking for?” 

“He’s been asking for penne?.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, because he deserves it.” 

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

“I know, send you the receipts.” 

“Bingo!” 

Chapter 5

“Watson?” 

“Yes, Sherlock.” 

“What is that?” 

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

“And you want me to eat this?” 

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

“Are you being serious, Watson?” 

“Yeah. Should I not be?” 

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

“You’re not hungry then?” 

“No, no, I am quite famished.” 

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

“You thought I liked pasta?”

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

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

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

“Who exactly did you hear that from?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeh, it’s gone.” 

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

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

“I suppose that will be acceptable.” 

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

“Really, Watson, there’s no reason–”

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

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

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

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

“Gotcha. Plain tomato sauce coming up.” 

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

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

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

“At last!” 

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

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

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

“Is there a case?” 

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

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

“Can’t chat, water boiling. ‘Ta.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excellent idea.” 

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

“Mm-hm.” 

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

Chapter 6

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

“Yeah. Yup. ‘Tis. The mushrooms.” 

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

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

“That class really paid off.”

“Hmph. Yeah.” 

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

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

“Because Sherlock rejected it?” 

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

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

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

“What exactly was it that Stamford said?” 

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

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

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

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

“...” 

“I take that is a ‘no’?”

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

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

“But this is clearly so much better.” 

“To who, John? To you?” 

“...” 

“Go talk to him.” 

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

“Was he angry about it?” 

“A little bit.” 

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

(A big sigh.) 

Chapter 8

Summary:

John and Sherlock talk, and peace prevails.

Chapter Text

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

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

“What for?” 

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

“That was odd.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh. Was it…hard for you?” 

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

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

“It was rather stressful.” 

“Oh! Is that why the pasta?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Because it’s always the same?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m considering.” 

“Considering, if you want to continue?” 

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

“Mate, ya’ can’t.” 

“Well, that’s very reassuring.” 

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

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

“Never?” 

“Well, perhaps not never…” 

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

“Unlikely.” 

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

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

“And we’re extremely human as well.” 

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

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

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

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

“But you will nap in your room?” 

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

“Perhaps.” 

“Well, I’d like to help. Somehow.” 

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

“You are, Watson.” 

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

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

“Glad to. On both counts.” 

“And you are dependable.” 

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

“It’s not manky. You’re not gross.”

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

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

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

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

“Aw, thanks.” 

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

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

“It didn’t.” 

“Admit it, it did a bit.”

“A bit.” 

“But you’re still glad?”

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

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

“Are you feeling better now?” 

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

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

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

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

“Is that why you did it?”

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

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

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

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

“Right.”

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

“Why are we talking about geese now?”

“Forget it.” 

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

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

“Unlikely.”

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

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

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

“Please.” 

______

Check it out on AO3 too!

[owlf45]

As annoying as it probably would be, I wonder if AO3 would allow special HTML to prevent copy-paste of my works. There are ways around it but it might just deter lazy content thieves

[sketchy-tour]

I'd like to think that Dandy in their scarecrow costume actually seems to attract crows instead of "scare" them.

The whole time they're in their getup, a crow or a few follow and linger around them. At first startling Dandy at the begining of their Halloween celebration and eventually they just sort of get used to them.

[masterfuldoodler]

girlbossed too hard.... unless...

[loving-jack-kelly]

jack in third grade with a crush on davey teasing him on the playground bc he doesn't know what else to do with the weird emotion.

jack in middle school realizing that it's a crush and not knowing what to do with the weird and now terrifying emotions so he stops talking to davey altogether.

jack in high school feeling like shit for ghosting somebody he used to be close with but not knowing what to do about it now that it's been four years and they're about to graduate and also he still gets weirdly sentimental and also butterflies when he hears davey laugh from across the room.

jack in college texting davey happy birthday because he can't think of a better way to restart a relationship that pretty much ended eight years ago and he misses home and misses familiarity and has never forgotten davey's birthday since the first time he learned it in elementary school.

[analyzingadventure]

so that picture of gatomons egg falling gave me two thoughts. first: wow her shell is sturdy

and second: what would happen if a digiegg was cracked or smashed. i know some were broken in the corrupted village of beginnings but would they be re-reborn? do you think the eggs could heal from a crack or if it would just not matter

I mean for all we know, the DigiEggs could be literally indestructable (until they hatch), the shell is meant to protect the data of the forming Digimon until it is ready to be born after all, so maybe it could be Sturdy As Hell. The destroyed eggs in the Village could've been just a side-effect of the Village's destruction. Like the rebirth mechanic isn't tied as much to the eggs as it is to the Village itself, it is where Digimon data goes to be reborn. So if you destroy the Village and its ability to spawn DigiEggs, that alone could result in not just the end of egg spawning, but also a spontaneous destruction of the remaining eggs. Or maybe Piemon went stomping on the remaining eggs for funsies, who knows

OR maybe the eggs aren't indestructable, and Tailmon's egg just conveniently landed on something soft that broke the fall, or maybe she was a viable baby and just hatched on impact. I don't think she would've survived otherwise, it would make sense if DigiEggs kinda worked like normal eggs; the baby takes it time until it's ready to be born, if it's completely broken before the baby is viable (/the data is ready to form as a Digimon), the baby dies

That said, the data would probably just restart forming in another egg. Or maybe the egg would just start healing, why bother with making a whole new egg shell when you could just reform the pieces of the egg that still remain (if there are any)

[heyitslapis]

Ok

[paris-geller-was-straightwashed]

'I just don't believe in/understand it!' well unfortunately for you I just don't stop existing as an agender person bc you don't believe in it. I'm not fucking tinkerbell.

[greentypewriters]

today i spent an absurd amount of time making my wii remote work with windows so i could play fear and hunger with it. and it was worth it

[robertsbarbie]

i love all the emotion in alana springsteen’s songs and while i can feel them i never feel sad while listening to them

[mxdotpng]

the zestiria anime fixes and also messes up many things at the exact same time its actually kind of impressive i have to salute them for it