i may have just overdone it a bit

Public Scenes

@mizjoely gave me the prompt:

22. I don’t know why I married you. 23. Have you ever lied to me? 24. If I trip over one more of your shoes, I’m throwing them all away. 25. Aren’t you supposed to be the adult?  Any of them or a combo - my additional challenge is to use the same prompt(s) for Warstan and Sherlolly?                                           

I did the Warstan.  Now here’s the Sherlolly.  Incidentally for the rest of you guys waiting on your prompts, I see you. These ones just took forever.


He was walking but not running because running would make him look suspicious to the cranky gunmen watching him.  Then Molly Hooper appeared on the horizon like a glimmering beacon of… like a thirtysomething woman who was reliably helpful and had a store of useful medical knowledge, and nothing else.

Sherlock needed reliable helpfulness at the moment, so he dipped his head down to her ear and whispered, “Molly, I apologize, but I need to make a very dramatic scene here and so I’m afraid I will have to-”

The slap made his ears ring.  And Sherlock had to admire the intensity with which Molly screeched, “You… filth.  I don’t know why I married you. I could deal with the boozing and the gambling but now… the whores?  Rot in hell, you bastard.  Rot…in… hell.”

She was wasted in pathology if this was a sample of her acting talents.  It hadn’t been Sherlock’s plan, but it worked. They were able to walk easily out of the shopping center, her haranguing him all the way, him glum and hangdog and just incidentally carrying a stolen microfilm cartridge whose contents would send three members of Parliament to prison.


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2

Work had been atrocious. As soon as you finished with one file, another flew onto your desk. The person handing you the file demanding that they get done asap. Being buried underneath so much paperwork, you’d forgotten to grab a decent bite to eat, that is why you were eager to get home and unwind with a glass of wine and an homemade meal.

The first thing you picked up upon entering was the smell of pasta sauce, peeking your head around the corner into the kitchen, Mac had a “kiss the cook” apron and a focused expression as he bent over the counter reading what you assumed was a recipe.

“You might want to keep an eye on the sauce, don’t want it to burn”. Instructing Mac who jumped up to stir the sauce and turn down the high heat. Taking off your blazer, you chuckled at the sight of your boyfriend. Mac looked disheveled, sauce on his mouth and several bandages wrapped around his fingers. “Babe, I thought we agreed that I’d do all the cooking?”.

If you were being honest, Mac wasn’t the greatest cook. He tired, bless his heart how he tried. However, more often than not a home cook meal turned into takeaway.

He pouted, “I wanted to surprise you. Besides, I can follow a recipe and things have been going pretty good here”. Turning his head towards the messy kitchen. “For the most part”. He added.

Wiping away the sauce from his bottom lip, Mac looked ready to pounce when he watched you lick it away. “You’re lucky that I’m starving. Why don’t you finish dinner and I’m going to get cleaned up”.

20 minutes later

Dinner had been set on the table with Mac lighting a candle as you approached. It smelled amazing, however, what it tasted like was a whole other story. Mac beamed with proud as he severed the pasta dish.

Sitting down in his seat, he took a sip of his wine. “Now, you can be honest, okay. I won’t get offended if my girlfriend doesn’t like my cooking”.  He assured, waiting for you to take the first bite.

Placing the pasta in your mouth, the first bite was full of salt and not much else. And you presumed that Mac over did it with the salt quantity. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, you simply smiled.

Mac was already half way through the dish, when he noticed that you’d barely touched anymore on your plate. He frowned, “You hate it”. It wasn’t posed as a question, more like an observation and a somewhat accurate one.

Setting the fork down, you bite your lip. “It’s not that I hate it, Mac”. Trailing off, not knowing what to say next.

He stood up, clearing away the table even after you tired to explain. However, Mac wasn’t listening and turned his back to you as he placed the dirty dishes in the sink.

Rubbing his back, you kissed his shoulder. “Mac, I love the effort you put into the dish. It’s just it was a bit too salty, that’s all”.

You heard a sigh escape his lips. He spun around. “I guess we’re going to be having takeaway tonight”.

Sliding into his arms, Mac’s hands rested on your lower hip. “I’m sorry that I hurt your feelings”.

He snickered, “I forgive you. But you weren’t wrong, I may have overdone it with the salt”. Giving you a quick peak on the cheek. “How about I go order from that Italian place you love so much?”. He asked, grabbing the phone and the takeaway menu.

“Sounds perfect”. Walking into the living room you couldn’t resist teasing Mac, so you teasingly called out. “But tell them to go easy on the salt .

Shaking his head, he dialed the restaurants number.

As Mac waited for someone to pick up on the other line, he quietly mumbled to himself. “Why did I have to try and cook, now I’m never going to hear the end of this”.

The Start of Something Good

Request: Hi! I love your writing, and I saw your requests were open, so… Could I request a Sam x female reader where Sam gets drunk and very clingy and it’s just very fluffy? Maybe morning after confession of feelings and smut? Whatever you’re comfortable with. Also, I just read A Little Too Real, it’s amazing! Can’t wait for the next part :D

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word Count: 1685

A/N: So I know this took a long time, but I think this turned out good. I really loved this idea and I hope to get some more requests in the future. There’s no smut (I don’t write it) but I hope that this was sort of what you were looking for anon.

Warnings: Talk of alcohol, fluff

Tags: @fangirl1802

Originally posted by samgirlsclub

READER’S POV

It’s was about time that we had a night off. Everything was just a little too stressful and it all added up. So me and boys decided to go out, get drunk, and maybe take someone home…someone who lived outside the bunker… unfortunately.

When we walked into the bar, there were plenty of people who had already gotten a head start on the “get drunk” part and so we found a booth and started our catch-up.

I sat in the middle of the two Winchesters and we waited for a waitress to come over to us.

“So, what can I get started for you?” She asked.

“We’ll start with a round of beers.” Dean said.

“Coming up.” She sauntered away, just like she was trying to get Dean’s attention.

“You know we don’t have to hang out here. I don’t know about you two but I’m exhausted.” I said, hoping to change their minds, or just one.

“Y/N we came out to have some fun, blow off some steam. You’ve got to hang out longer than five minutes.”

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NanoWriMo 2017 Pt5

Prompt 5: “Why? Just… Why?”

Happy went and brought the bags into the club house while I got to waddle behind him. I was supposed to avoid excess stress and movement. I told the doctor though that wasn’t going to happen. I was finally at the door to the club house and noticed that people were staring at me. I glanced around trying to figure out why and saw Happy.

I just went in ahead of Y/N to put our bags in my dorm that way she could relax and keep calm. I didn’t want her stressing out any more than she probably already was. I hurried back to the main part of the club house intending on getting back to her. Helping her into the building and to somewhere to sit. Yet here comes Sasha, she was a tanned, dark cherry colored hair, deep hazel eyed crow who couldn’t understand I had an Old Lady. An Old Lady who didn’t take kindly to crows latching onto her man. “Hey Happy. Want to get together later?” she asked like I would ever dream of stepping out on my lady, let alone in the same building as her. She placed her hand on my arm, trying to lean on me. I leaned back trying to get away, but before I could shove her off, “Get the fuck away from my man!” came Y/N’s voice.

Why? Just… Why? I questioned myself before heaving a sigh and yelling across the club house. Yes, I was making a scene. Yes, I was stressing myself out. But right now, I really really didn’t care. I don’t know how I could make it any clearer to this girl. Stay away from Happy. He is mine. Not yours. Mine.

Before getting pregnant I would’ve gladly kicked this girls ass. Right now, it wasn’t exactly possible. I was settling for yelling, even if it was bad for my health or so the doctor keeps telling me. “You have no right to be asking someone in this club house to meet up later, especially with children around. You never know what ideas you could be giving them. Not to mention that it is inappropriate. This is not the time to be whoring yourself out to whoever wears a kutte. This is a time to be grateful that you are cared about, they you are here. Because honey, here you are safe. Right now, though, don’t bank on that safe part. The minute I can your ass is mine. And trust me I can make your life a living hell in the meantime.” She finally stepped away from him, looking like I stole her puppy, but I didn’t care. I was heaving a bit now, having a hard time catching my breath. The baby was playing to bongos using my lungs. I placed one hand on my bump and one on my chest realizing what I had just done. I wasn’t supposed to be getting worked up, or overdoing it physically. I think I may have done over done it on both.

I watched Y/N put the crow in her place, but the second she stopped yelling and I could get around the crow. I moved towards her fast. She had overdone it we both knew it. She was supposed to be on bedrest, not handling crows like she wasn’t pregnant again. “Alright Y/N. Why don’t we sit down and take some deep breaths alright?” I said not caring about my reputation right now. Caring only about Y/N and Ryan. I lead her to the couch where a few people jumped up, Gemma came over quick with Tara right behind her.

“What happened?” Gemma questioned. Tara was trying to check Y/N the best she could without any equipment.

“Sasha” I grumbled. Turning back to Y/N without elaborating. Someone else could fill her in.

anonymous asked:

Can u just say this blog is so great and I can't stop scrolling through it???? Like help I've read so much???? Anyways can I get uhhhh Todoroki scenario? Fem crush has a fire quirk that is very powerful, but tha quirk it burns her heavily if she goes overboard/overused? Her and shouto run into villains with the class but she panics to protect him and ends up with plenty o burns?? Fluff plsssss

“You know how dangerous it is for you too over use your quirk.”

Right now, Todoroki was busy taking care of your badly burnt arms, after you had went a little overboard while fighting a villain.

You hissed as Todoroki cleaned the wounds. 

In hindsight, you really shouldn’t have overdone it as much as you did, but back in the heat of battle, it seemed like the best option.

Todoroki had gotten pinned one way or another and it was up to you to help him. Your strong romantic feelings for the said asymmetrical boy may or may not have put a bit more ‘fire’ behind your attacks.

You looked down at your arms, littered with red marks. You watched as Todoroki wrapped the gauze carefully, his steady hands never faltering.

“I know… it’s just…”

You paused, taking a deep breath.

“I just didn’t want to see you get hurt.”

Todoroki tied off the bandages, before taking both your hands in his own.

“I understand that, but I don’t want to see you hurt at my expense either.”

He let his right hand brush the hair from your face and rested it on your cheek.

“Promise me you’ll try not to go overboard anymore?” he asked hopefully.

You gave a weak smile.

“I’ll try. As long as you promise not to get into dangerous situations so often. Deal?”

Todoroki smiled softly.

“Deal.”

this-forgotten-place  asked:

*Curtsies* Shakespeare question: Do you think Benedick and Beatrice had some sort of romantic backstory? Thoughts on the couple in general? Favorite B&B adaptation? I've just finished a Shakespeare comedies class and these two stuck with me.

*Curtsies* It’s implied. Lines like “he wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat” (1.1) and especially “Indeed, my lord, he lent it  [his heart] me awhile; and I gave / him use for it, a double heart for his single one: / marry, once before he won it of me with false dice, / therefore your grace may well say I have lost it” (2.1) suggest that they have some kind of romantic history which ended unpleasantly. I have to admit I’m just a bit tired of Much Ado (it’s the Hamlet of the comedies; i.e., way overdone) but it’s hard not to love Beatrice and Benedick. They’re all the fun of Kate and Petruchio without the abuse. Not sure what B&B stands for here? But I have to admit I did really enjoy the recent Joss Whedon adaptation. 

Meaning Of Christmas

Originally posted by causeitbangs

Meaning of Christmas
Day Sixteen 
25 Days of Christmas

You groaned making your way outside toward the backyard. It was about two in the morning and the blaring light from your window was driving you insane. There was absolutely no reason for it to be that bright outside. As you opened the sliding door you gasped at what had become of your yard. “Joon Kyung what the hell is this?” You called out to him seeing him on the roof. “And will you get down from there please?

He climbed down the ladder in his Christmas sweats and hat, a proud grin on his face. “You don’t like it jagi?” he gestured toward his work.

He managed to turn your backyard into a winter wonderland. You loved Christmas, absolutely adored it. Every year you did the whole tree and lights routine, but Joon Kyung was an all or nothing type of man. He made sure that there was the biggest Santa money could buy on your roof. The biggest and brightest lights all of your house, even a 25ft Christmas tree outside. “This is insane”

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#No R-Agrestes.

A/n: Based on that silly drabble where Marinette lies and Adrien knows…oh and Felix is his older brother. Please blame @miraculousturtle for this.

Ch 1. Why you lying mmmm oh my god, stop fucking lying.

She doesn’t know how she gets herself into these intricately woven fuck-ups. Really she doesn’t.

It doesn’t make them any less painful, the embarrassment of it all eating away at what little pride she has left. She can feel it chipping slowly, devolving into a faded strange thing that she would do anything to protect.

These situations are not made any better by Alya’s overly excited encouragements. She chides Marinette, whispering cliched things like ‘You need to get out more.’ and ‘Come on, you’re only (insert age at the time here) once.’

It is a testament to Marinette’s poor judgement how often these sayings sway her decisions. Through the years from high school up until now, she’s found her lack of discretion something to be worried about…and yet somehow, it always works out.

So it’s how she finds herself here, in a particularly isolated little copse of the Agreste house, rehearsing last minute excuses and lies. She hides behind a particularly enormous porcelain vase with gilded floral designs, hastily scrolling through a list of abbreviated facts on her cracked phone screen. (Another story for another time.)

Marinette lets the words form just barely on her lips, muttering past the din of a thousand casual conversations all woven through with the sweet sounds of a saxophone and lilting piano. It’s a little odd that Nino would perform at this kind of event, since jazz is hardly his usual MO, still she is anything but ungrateful. Sneaking her in under the guise of a sound technician helping out with his equipment had been his birthday gift to her. A bit belated, but she’s been waiting for an opportunity like this for a lifetime.

The chance to meet her one and only inspiration…her idol…the man who threads a thousand colors and brings designs to fruition with a mere flourish of his elegant hands. A man who single handedly built up his brand…whose humble beginnings, like hers, started with a beat up sewing machine and faded sketchbook.

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