#“What do you want?” - A Series of Fics and Ficlets

[canonicallyobserving911]

“How I hide my true feelings from others.”

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

New Buddie Fanfic in the "What do you want?" A Series of Fics and Ficlets

The 5th fic in the "What do you want?" Series in now available on AO3. “How I hide my true feelings from others.” - Buck and Eddie return to therapy but they’re both not telling each other about recent events that happened in their lives. Will they finally have an open and honest conversation before it’s too late?

“How I hide my true feelings from others.”

9.6K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences

___________

Here's two snippets from part 5. One includes Eddie in therapy with his new therapist and the other is of Buck in his first session with Dr. Copeland in more than 3 years.

___________

Eddie

Dr. Brandon asks, “Why is Buck in your will?”

“Because I know he’ll fight for Chris the same way I do.”

“But you just said Chris left with your parents even though you didn’t want him to, therefore I’m trying to understand. What does Buck mean to you and Chris? I’m asking because he sounds like he’s very important in your lives.”

After a few moments, he explains, “He’s more than my work partner because we have each other’s backs and we’ve been like that since not long after I started at the 118.”

Dr. Brandon doesn’t push him to keep talking, she just patiently waits for him to continue.

“He’s my…” He starts in a low voice but he trails off because he wants to say Buck’s his everything but he doesn’t believe he has the right to use that word. He sure wants it to be but since he isn’t, he won’t. He’s not naïve and he knows he hides his true feelings about Buck from everyone.

~~~

Buck

Dr. Copeland asks, “Does she work at the 118?”

“No but she did for a few months after the Tsunami while I was on medical leave and uh… she was partnered with Eddie.”

She writes down some notes then she flips back several pages and asks, “Are you and Eddie still work partners?”

“We are but…” He responds and he follows it with a loud exhale.

“But what?”

“I think he’s moving on too. Not from the job… well at least I don’t think he is but he’s moving on with his life as he should be but I think I should be focusing on myself like everyone else.” He replies but the words feel like gravel on his tongue because he doesn’t want to ever leave Eddie Diaz. Also, he’s been hiding his overwhelming and all-consuming feelings for him deep down in his heart for years and he’s afraid if he doesn’t go before Eddie makes things official with Chuck, he won’t survive it.

___________

"What do you want?" - A Series of Ficlets

Currently 5 works completed; 30K Words: Rated; Teen and Up Audiences:  This is a series of “Fics and Ficlets” that I’ll be writing over the course of the next few weeks and my goal is to keep them under a certain number of words. I’m challenging myself to do it this way for multiple reasons but mainly because I want to see if I can write a full Buddie story by including smaller fics in a series in comparison to the multi-chapter fic I’m still in the process of writing titled, “I’m still in love with you but… I needed to learn how to love myself too!” I only have 9 chapters left before I finish it but once I’m done, I’d like to continue writing Buddie fanfics. However, this time I’ll start with my dislike for the way season 7 ended instead of the way season 6 did. Finally, I have a lot of WIPs that I want to finish and I figured I can turn them all into one shot fics or ficlets to build the full story for Buck and Eddie.

Since these ficlets will be posted in order, it’s imperative to read them one after the other. Each part ends at a specific point with a cliffhanger and the next part will begin with the ending of the previous part. Therefore, parts 1 - 4 should be read prior to reading part 5 and the series will continue in that manner until it’s complete.

"You don't know math!" - 3.3K Words; Rated Teen and Up Audiences: Buck is forced to choose while Eddie might be presented with another option.

"Math is a universal language." - 5K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences: Eddie reconnects with an old acquaintance and they spend a lot of time together. However, now that Buck’s single, he finally tries to understand math is a universal language but when he sees Eddie talking to another guy, he wonders if it took him too long to figure it out.

“You know, it’s like that thing when you meet somebody and you just… click.” - 5.1K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences: When Buck comes face to face with Eddie’s new friend; he hates it but since he’s only told Maddie about his breakup with Tommy, Eddie’s still under the impression he’s taken. Therefore, Eddie makes plans to spend even more time with his new acquaintance.

"I can't stop thinking about him." - 8.1K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences: Buck and Eddie are trying to move on but they can’t stop thinking about each other.

“How I hide my true feelings from others.” - 9.6K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences: Buck and Eddie return to therapy but they’re both not telling each other about recent events that happened. Will they finally have an open and honest conversation before it’s too late?

Now Available on AO3

[navybrat817]

Pencil You In

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky thinks you've been working too hard and need a break. Word Count: Over 1.3k Warnings: Fluff, crying, reader is tired, slight insecurities, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Partially inspired by an image the beautiful @bucksangel sent me and life stretching me a bit thin, here's a little ficlet. Lovelies, take breaks. You deserve them and you are more than enough! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You slumped in your chair of your home office as you reread the sentence on the screen for what felt like the hundredth time. Weariness had already settled deep in your bones long before you looked over the document, the words blurring together the longer you stared. Blinking a few times didn’t help as you reached for your mug, only to remember that you had finished your extra helping of caffeine an hour ago. Begrudgingly, you set it down and huffed as if it was somehow the fault of the cup that it didn’t automatically fill itself.

“Almost done,” you whispered to yourself, straightening up so you could do one last readthrough.

It was a long week in what felt like a series of long weeks. Almost every minute of your schedule was accounted for lately and all you wanted to do was relax. People were depending on you though and you could relax over the weekend.

Hopefully.

“You should take a break.”

You didn’t turn around immediately at the sound of Bucky’s gentle voice, but you did manage a smile when you glanced over your shoulder a moment later. He didn’t return the smile, concern swirling in his blue irises. You were afraid to stare into the pool of his eyes for too long out of fear of drowning.

And, god, you were drowning. It would be so easy to reach out and take the lifeline that was his hand. To just admit that you need some time to rest because you were tired. Hadn’t you earned it? Didn’t you deserve a break after the hard work you put in?

But maybe you didn’t deserve it. What you did wasn’t as important as someone like Bucky. You firmly shut the door on that thought before the words could make their way out of your mouth. If he could’ve read your mind and known you thought that, it would’ve disappointed him. Not in you, but whoever made you decide that what you did wasn’t enough.

Because you were always expected to do and be more.

“I will in a few minutes,” you said.

He let out a heavy sigh as he crossed his arms, making you tear your gaze away. You didn’t comment on his disheveled hair, like he kept running a hand through it. Likely because he worried about you stretching yourself too thin. “That was what you said a few minutes ago,” he reminded you, his voice light instead of accusatory.

You shut your eyes in the hopes that the tears wouldn’t come and took a breath. “I really will this time,” you promised, giving the document one last readthrough once you got your emotions under control.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said.

If you wouldn’t take a break for your own sake, you had to do it for Bucky.

“Okay. I think that’s at a good stopping point,” you said, making you saved it before you closed it out. If you lost all of that after everything you put into it so far, you would’ve lost it. Before you could move to the next task on your list though, an alert popped up on your screen. Your heart dropped to your stomach because you didn’t remember scheduling anything else today. You didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity for more. “What is this?” You mumbled before you opened it.

Reading the subject line, you did a double take.

CUDDLE WITH BUCKY

You covered your mouth to smother your giggles. “I don’t remember scheduling this meeting.”

“It’s a good thing I remembered, baby,” he said as you spun around in your chair, sauntering over to you with a smirk as you tried not to laugh again. “It’s a mandatory meeting in our bed. No rescheduling. And I expect it to go the full hour. Maybe longer.”

“How did you manage to set up an alert on my computer?” You asked as he grasped your hands and helped you to your feet, having to steady yourself a bit when your head spun.

At least you remembered to eat. Well, that wasn’t technically true. Bucky brought you your meal earlier because he was the best boyfriend you could ask for.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” he winked before he brought a palm to your cheek, his gaze shifting to something more serious. “But it seemed to get your attention.”

Your cheeks burned as you averted your gaze. “I wasn’t…” you trailed off, an apology on the tip of your tongue. Had you neglected him this past week? Or the ones before that?

Did he think you were a bad girlfriend?

Bucky slid his hand to your chin so you’d look at him again. “Hey,” he whispered when your lower lip trembled. “I didn’t mean anything by that and I’m not upset with you. I don’t think I could ever be upset with you. But, baby, you’ve been working your ass off even more than usual. I’m so fucking proud of you, but you need to take a real break.”

Your eyes burned, but no tears surfaced as he searched your gaze. “But-”

“What is it you always tell me about work?”

“That it’ll be there tomorrow, but we may not be” you answered, sighing. He was right. You couldn’t let work and expectations others set for you take control of your life. “I told you that the last time you ran yourself ragged with missions.”

He brought his mouth to your forehead to kiss it, his scruff tickling your skin. “And now I’m returning the favor,” he said against your skin. “So, come to bed. Lay with me. Just…”

“Be present,” you finished.

No phones. No work. No outside forces interfering. Just the pleasure of being with each other.

“Exactly,” he said, tugging you by the hand. “C’mon. We’re both late for our meeting.”

“Yes, Sir,” you teased, smiling when he groaned.

“This is a cuddle meeting, but it’ll turn into gently fucking you to sleep if you keep talking like that,” he warned you, pulling you to bed a bit faster.

“You say that like that’s a bad thing,” you smiled, gasping as he gently pushed you onto the mattress.

He braced a hand on each side of your head as he leaned down, his breath fanning your face when you whimpered. “Sex after we cuddle,” he breathed, sending a shiver down your spine. “Then we can cuddle again.”

You leaned up to brush your lips against his. “Deal,” you agreed.

Once he maneuvered you to the middle of the bed, his large body spooning yours, you couldn’t stop the tears that came. You bit your lip so he wouldn’t hear your soft sobs, but he must’ve sensed them as he grazed his nose along your neck affectionately and pulled you closer in his arms. You didn’t realize just how much you needed to be held until then.

It was as if all the stress faded away.

“I really am proud of you. Hardest working woman I know and always taking care of me,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your pulse as more tears hit the pillow.

“Because I love you, Bucky,” you whispered. Who wouldn’t want to take care of someone as amazing as James Buchanan Barnes?

“And I love you, too. So much,” he swore to you, turning you in his arms so he could kiss the tears away. The first kiss lingered on your cheek as he let out a shuddering breath. The sight of you crying likely broke his heart, but he didn’t say anything about it for your sake. “So let me be your personal hero today, okay? Let me take care of you and show that you’re more than enough.”

The words were so heartfelt and touching that you were surprised you didn’t melt on the spot. “You already are,” you promised before his lips met yours.

And he could pencil himself in for cuddles and more whenever he wanted.

I'll say it again, lovelies, you deserve breaks and you are more than enough. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[hoshigray]

⋆♱ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 ✮ 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢-𝐓𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 ♱⋆ | a JJK series

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: hi hello!! so like, yeah, this is late bc I didn't plan on doing any kinktober stuff since i got shit irl to do. BUT, after some thought and some creative bursts of energy, I figured "ehh why not." So, I'm not setting the dates as life can be unpredictable, but here are the things I'm doing/have done for the month!! Think of this more like a book list than a prompt list tbh

reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ⋆♱✮♱⋆ transparent edit made by me + header art by yuto sano + fic dividers by the amazing @cafekitsune!!

𝑺𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑻𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒌, 𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑹𝒐𝒐𝒎...

All the material below contains 18+ content, so minors do not interact.

☠︎ = ficlet/scenario | ♱ = fics

☠︎ 𝐁𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 (true form! Sukuna x fem/afab! reader)

☠︎ 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 (dom! Nanami x fem/afab! reader)

♱ 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇[𝐞𝐫]!! (serial killers! Toji + Sukuna x fem! reader)

Next time, look around the area before you say you find a serial killer attractive. Because you’re about to see what mess your words will have you end up in — and your clothes all torn up.

☠︎ 𝐓𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐞, 𝐔𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐞, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 (rigger! geto x fem! reader!)

♱ 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐓𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤 (vampire bf! Choso x fem! reader)

Finding out your boyfriend's a vampire was far from the chill evening you planned with him. But you can't lie, imagining those fangs sinking down on and sucking on your skin....it's kinda hot.

♱ 𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬, 𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 (ex-husband! Toji x fem! reader)

Your ex-husband bringing the kids over for trick-or-treating is one thing; him wanting to spend the night at your place is another. But it's just for the night. There's no way one night can rekindle some old feelings...right?

☠︎ 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 (Toji x fem! reader)

♱ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 (Carrie inspired! Gojo x fem/afab! reader)

Taking a loner like you to the prom was, at first, an easy bet for the most popular kid in school. What he didn't expect, however, is to fall madly in love with you — and how that love brings hell on supposedly the best night of senior year...

This is all the stuff for this month. Thanks for stopping by!

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝑱𝒐𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒄𝒉'𝒔 𝑳𝒂𝒊𝒓?

Would you wish to be tagged? Please lmk in the replies or in my inbox!

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2023 ⋆♱✮♱⋆ These tales have been transcribed and written by the original poster (me). Do not steal, edit, copy/plagiarize, or post any of my works on your own accounts, in or out of this app. Please and thank you.

[melancholiaincarnate]

so far so good

warnings - none

authors note - hi :P this is my first published acotar fic :3 i mentioned in a post a couple of days ago i wanted to start a series with ficlets about mated azriel x reader who happen to adopt a shadowsinger child named piper. here's the first installment :) i plan on making more so if you have requests for them send em in :D

"okay piper," azriel stretches, an action that causes a swirl in your stomach as his shirt lifts up slightly, revealing the hair decorating his tummy. "ready?"

"i'm ready!" she bounces on her feet, excitement visible on her face. shadows zip quickly around her - faster than you can blink. her shadows are impatient and easily excited, unlike azriel's, who prefer to wait and watch.

"remember, we're practicing winnowing. can you do that?" azriel cracks his knuckles and his wings shudder, then he disappears. he shortly reappears behind piper, and she squeals with delight. "i can't winnow so my winnowing looks a little different than yours but i promise - it's practically the same thing."

"yes! yes! i know! you told me! i can do it, azzy, i swear!" she shouts back at him, shadows twirling at her feet, "it's my turn!"

"alright, alright. it's your turn, pip." he smiles softly at her, crouching down to whisper something in her ear before she shuts her eyes so hard her whole face squishes.

"remember to envision where you want to go." his voice is soft in the child's ear. you watch as he smoothes down her hair as he stands to observe.

piper's body begins to slowly disappear but when she murmurs a "i'm doing it!" her body comes back into focus.

"you have to stay focused, pip." he reminds, giving her a nod. "focus is key."

"focus is key." her small voice repeats, and then suddenly she's at your side.

"hi! wait - woah- hi- hi! i did it! look, i was over there and now i'm over here!" you're sure you've never seen such delight on a single person's face before. "i did it! i did it, azzy i did it! look!"

"good job, piper." his voice is as stoic as ever but pride swims in his veins. azriel assumes that this is why cassian and rhys want children. the pure joy that sits in his chest right now has no match for anything he's ever experienced.

and yet, there's a clawing deep in his mind. it's in his chest, his bones, in the scars on his hand. he feels an attachment to this child - this girl that he and you found in the woods alone. this is not his daughter.

as piper runs off with you in tow, screaming about telling cassia, azriel glances at the scars on his hands. azriel could never think about hurting piper. it'd taken half of the inner court to restrain him from going to hunt down piper's attackers.

piper was not his daughter but he was his fathers son. anger rises through him - how could his father look at his own child and do what he'd done, when azriel could not fathom doing it to a child he had no part in creating?

shadows swarm in his ear chanting incomprehensible words to him. the anger is white and hot and it's so consuming that it sends a throng down the bond towards you.

in return, he feels you tugging the bond, tugging towards you, tugging him towards the light again. he breathes - he is not in that basement. "come, az." you whisper softly down the bond, "please."

and who is he to deny you? he unclenches his fists, steadying his breathing once more before tucking his wings and strolling away from the room as if he hadn't nearly fallen into a pit with no way out.

[cooliestghouliest]

PUTTY, chapter one

(chapter one), (chapter two), (chapter three)

PAIRING: virgin!Eddie/former cheerleader!Reader

SUMMARY: Eddie has a little brother. Eddie’s little brother has a babysitter.

SERIES TAGS and C/W’s: mutual pining, experienced!Reader, inexperienced!Eddie but he’s eager to learn, mostly sub!Eddie, insecurities and self doubt, narcissistic and/or absent parents, jealousy, mean basketball players, hurt/comfort, they smoke weed, eventual smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), uniform kink, dirty talk, foot jobs, hand jobs, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), public sex, sex toys, unprotected PiV. more to be added as this progresses!!!

WORD COUNT: 3.7k+

A/N: hi, my friends!!! this is a rewrite/repost and has been edited for a (hopefully) smoother, more enjoyable read. fun fact that this was one of the first Stranger Things fanfics i ever wrote. it was originally titled She Was Straight From Hell, But You Could Never Tell, and featured Eddie alongside an OC. i’ve changed it to be reader-insert, because that seems to be more in my writing wheelhouse nowadays. this fic will be multiple parts — it begins with backstory, but will eventually branch off into a universe of little smutty ficlets where Reader will corrupt virgin!Eddie as much as humanely possible.

—

Eddie hadn't known about the existence of his little brother until two months ago, when Al Munson showed up in the middle of the night with a small child in tow. Eddie didn't even know his dad was out of prison again, and yet here he was, in the flesh, a little boy with a mop of black curls resembling Eddie's own cradled in his leather jacket-clad arms.

Al was lucky Wayne was working or else this family reunion would have gone south fast.

While Wayne wasn't Al's biggest fan, Al was Eddie's dad, and Eddie would always hold onto as many moments with his father as he could get, no matter how sparse, and no matter how much of a self-serving piece of shit asshole Al Munson truly was.

But Eddie didn’t see it like that. Eddie saw it like this: His dad lived a hard life. His dad struggled with addictions. His dad lost a wife, just as Eddie had lost a mother. His dad tried his best with what he had.

Deep down, Eddie knew these were all just sorry excuses, but he kept that truth tucked away, not wanting to deal with the reality that Al truly only cared about himself.

He already had one dead parent. If he cut his dad out of his life, he’d basically have two.

"When'd you get out?" Eddie asked, stepping aside so Al could enter. His eyes followed the child, brows furrowed. The trailer was always Al's first stop on his freedom tour and the older man had always brought some sort of baggage along with him -- never a little kid, though. What the hell kind of trouble had his dad gotten into this time?

"Few days ago," Al replied, heading for the living room. He placed the sleeping child down on the worn sofa, then straightened and faced Eddie. "Listen, son, you gotta do me a favor. I'm not out long this time. I might've robbed an ATM or two last night. I'm kinda on the lam."

Al didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish at his wrongdoing.

Eddie was used to this. Even when Al was a free man, he was never a free man for long. He didn't think his dad knew how to coexist among non-inmate citizens. Eddie didn't think his dad even wanted to. Prison was a creature comfort for the elder Munson. Eddie wasn't necessarily mad at that fact. He was happy when Al was locked up, because then at least he knew where his dad was. Otherwise, Eddie worried his father would eventually get himself into a situation he wouldn't be able to get out of, and Eddie would really never see him again.

Eddie was also used to Al showing up after months and months, sometimes even years and years, such as now, always asking for favors.

"Who is that?" Eddie asked, pointing towards the couch, not being able to ignore the other human in the room any longer.

"Yeah, that's kinda what I need your help with.” Al rubbed at the back of his neck. "Well, no way to do this other than to just say it. That there's your little brother, Eddie. His name's Oliver. And I need you and Wayne to look after him while I'm gone."

"My... what..." Eddie stammered, face scrunching up. He expected Al to burst out laughing and admit he was just fucking around, and that this tiny sleeping stranger was actually just the kid of a fellow convict buddy. Maybe it was said convict buddy’s turn to rob ATMs tonight, leaving Al the babysitter. Irresponsible. Unlikely. And, turns out, untrue.

With Al's silence, Eddie knew his dad’s admission wasn't a joke.

Eddie was beyond confused now.

"Dad, how... you've been in prison for six years!"

"Conjugal visits," Al answered with a bit of a smug shrug.

Eddie shook his head in disbelief. "What the fuck? Wayne can't afford another kid that's not even his... and I'm in school still, I can't watch him... this isn't... I don't know how..."

But Al was already making his way to the door.

"I know you'll figure it out. I can always count on you, my boy," Al prided, tone cheery as if the favor he'd just asked of Eddie was to give him a quick ride somewhere or find an old family recipe.

Al wasn't acting like he was ditching another Munson offspring off on his older brother. He was treating this like an issue of minor importance, just a little speed bump on an otherwise flat road.

Al Munson was not an upstanding person. Never had been, never would be. Because of this, Eddie shouldn't have been surprised or appalled, but here he was, standing with his mouth agape. Surprised. Appalled.

His dad was out the door with a lighthearted, "See ya 'round, son," and Eddie was left speechless in the middle of the living room.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Wayne got over the new addition to the Munson household fairly quickly.

While he'd been livid at first, calling up all of Al's old friends he'd still had the numbers of to try and find out where his dumb shit of a younger brother was, Wayne eventually became resigned to the idea that he now had another little boy to rear and mold.

What else could he do?

Wayne took care of his kin, especially if they were innocent bystanders and had no say in being born in the first place. He'd raised Eddie, and although he knew the boy had his struggles, he didn't think he'd done too bad of a job.

Eddie never went hungry, always had clothes to wear, a bed to sleep in, and Wayne was the one who haggled Eddie's van down to a reasonable price so the boy could pay for it with his lunch box salary.

Wayne knew about the weed and the pills, but so long as Eddie stayed smart about where he was selling and who he was selling to, he didn't much mind Eddie's unconventional line of work. It helped his nephew stay somewhat social, and Wayne knew how important that would be for Eddie's future. If the boy was nothing but a lone recluse his whole life, he'd probably end up just like Al. Nobody wanted that.

Eddie was just about grown now. Sure, he was rearing twenty and still in his senior year of high school, but Wayne had an inkling that '86 would be Eddie's year.

Wayne had always thought about selling the trailer and buying an RV with retirement money once Eddie was out on his own. He wanted to travel the country for the remainder of his life.

The idea that he'd have to raise up another wild Munson for the next fifteen or so years caused a knot to form in his stomach.

Would Wayne even be around for that much longer? He may have been relatively healthy, and he was only in his mid 60's, but Wayne wasn't an idiot. He knew anything could happen at any time.

Wayne knew he needed help this time around. He figured he could count on Eddie here and there, but Eddie needed to focus on school this year if he planned on finally walking the stage. Because of this, Wayne decided to enlist the help of someone on the outside. Someone with experience.

So, he posted an ad in the Hawkins Post, looking for a full-time nanny for a five-year-old boy to start as soon as possible, and waited for a response.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Wayne didn't have to wait long.

Two mornings following the job post, shortly after he'd returned home from work, he heard a knock on the trailer door.

When he answered, he saw a pretty young thing standing on the front stoop.

"Hi!" you greeted, then immediately began to ramble. "Are you Mr. Munson? I hope it's okay I just showed up... there wasn't a number listed, only an address, and I didn't know if you wanted me to write a response and mail it, but the ad seemed maybe a little urgent, so I thought, hey, what's the harm in just... showing... up..."

You trailed off, feeling silly for word vomiting during your first impression. He was watching you with a small smile, eyes flickering with what looked like amusement, especially as your cheeks began to color to the soft red of embarrassment.

Listing no number on the ad was intentional. He hadn't owned a rotary phone in about ten years, after having tried to cut back on bills, and he knew not just anyone would make the trek to Forest Hills for a potential job offer. He’d figured only committed applicants that wouldn't waste his time would follow through.

"I have a lot of experience," you continued on at his silence, almost as if you couldn't help it, compelled to divulge all the information you could in the first three minutes of meeting. Wayne found it endearing. "I used to babysit for three different families when I was in high school. And I have two little sisters. My mom and dad worked a lot growing up, so I spent a lot of time with them. Didn't get paid, but... I made sure they didn't die or anything..."

From their brief interaction thus far, Wayne knew he succeeded in his method of weeding out flakes. You were obviously serious about the position. He felt he was a decent judge of character, and he'd learned in life that sometimes over-explaining was synonymous with caring.

"Sorry," you said, forcing out a little laugh. "I guess I could have just introduced myself. You didn't really need to know all that." You shot your hand out, giving your name. "I'm here about the nannying gig. Um, obviously. That is, if I didn't already scare you off."

Wayne took your hand in both of his own, shaking it. He placated you with a grin. "It's a lot harder than that to scare off a Munson, sweetheart. Let's go inside and meet Olly."

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Although Oliver Munson was only five, he had a spectacular vocabulary and a limitless imagination. Wayne knew the boy was a little charmer, quite like how Eddie was when he allowed himself to be, when the teenager wasn't drowning himself in existential teenage angst and nonsense.

You fell under Olly's spell almost instantly.

And it seemed the little boy had fallen under yours as well.

Oliver didn't stop talking to you while you were there, and didn't stop talking about you after you’d left, asking when you’d be back and if next time you could take him to the trailer park's playground and maybe you two could watch G.I. Joe or He-Man together afterward.

Wayne had taken your number down before you’d left and had told you he'd be in touch soon.

Later that evening, after Eddie had gotten back from his club meeting at school, Wayne took the trip into downtown Hawkins to use the payphone and ask you if you wouldn't mind starting as early as tomorrow.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

You were far from struggling for money.

Your father was a sought-after criminal prosecutor for the entirety of Indiana. Your mother was a real estate agent for high profile clientele who came from old family money; her father was CEO of a day trading business, and his father before him had been the same.

Although you likely would have never had to work a day in your life and could live a comfortable existence off of inheritance alone, handouts and the humdrum of an All-Play-and-No-Work lifestyle was never a dream of yours. That sounded so cookie cutter, so monotonous, so boring.

You liked to feel a sense of accomplishment. You liked setting goals and reaching them. You didn't want to freeload off of money that was gained from the capitalistic professions your parents were a part of. You wanted to be in control of your own finances and be the author of your own future, not have it already be etched into stone simply by being just another rich kid from Hawkins, à la the likes of the Carver's or the Cunningham's or the Harrington's.

You were ecstatic when you got the call from Wayne, asking you if you’d be willing to start the following day. He left for work at 2PM, so you’d have to be there before then, and would need to plan on staying until Wayne's nephew got home around six.

If you were to be completely honest with yourself, you felt a bit nervous, but the job itself wasn't the reason why that writhing feeling accompanied your excitement.

You had more than ten years of babysitting experience under your belt, and you were eager to get back into a job you actually enjoyed as opposed to trying out different careers to see what stuck and what didn't. Having graduated the spring before, you’d been taking an off year to save up money by working odd jobs around Hawkins to be able to buy your own apartment.

You’d worked as a florist for a few weeks, but it turned out your thumb was pitch black instead of green.

You worked as the personal assistant for a group of lawyers from a local law firm, but it turned out they just needed office eye candy and not someone to actually get any sort of work done.

You worked as a veterinary assistant, but it turned out the job was much more than just petting cats and dogs. You couldn't handle it when a sick animal would come in and there would be nothing anyone could do. Your heart broke more at that clinic than it had your entire life.

You were in between jobs when you’d decided to peruse the classified section of the Hawkins post. There, in the shortest blurb on the page, was a listing for a needed nanny, a full-time position offering negotiable pay.

The next bit was where the excitement wavered.

The listing was published by a Wayne Munson of the Forest Hills trailer park.

That had to be Eddie Munson's uncle. There was no way there were two separate Munson families living in the only trailer park in Kerley County.

You couldn't believe that you’d stumbled across this ad, that the geeky metalhead you’d crushed on since your freshman year of high school had a little brother you could be the potential nanny of.

You were two years younger than Eddie, but that hadn't stopped you from losing periods of time to daydreams about the way the wind ruffled his wild mess of curls on breezy days or the way his band tee sleeves always clung perfectly to the soft muscles of his biceps or the way his cheeks dimpled when he teased the other boys he sat with at lunch.

You’d always wanted to introduce yourself, but you didn't run in the same crowds -- you being on the cheer team and Eddie blasting Black Sabbath in the parking lot after his Hellfire meetings. You could never muster the courage. He seemed so carefree, so full of life, so effortlessly funny. Chrissy Cunningham, your best friend, had spoken to him once or twice and had told you how different he was than what other people said about him. He wasn't scary or mean or threatening, and instead was warm and silly and genuine.

But you knew how the people you spent your time around treated people like him. You knew your group of "friends" referred to him as a freak, a Satan worshipper, and did everything in their power to try to bully him into becoming a shell of himself. Thankfully, he never did -- it was almost as if Eddie absorbed the hatefulness and spent it tenfold by mocking the hilarity of the jock hierarchy that ruled the school, as well as using it to strengthen his own ability to embrace every misfit that walked the halls of Hawkins High.

You never introduced yourself because you were afraid he’d think you had an ulterior motive, that you’d be trying to talk to him as a joke or a prank. You knew the company you kept. You were sure Jason Carver had once or twice suggested you do just that, lead Eddie on and make a fool of him in front of the whole school.

You figured it'd be best to just stay away.

But now, you thought finding this ad was possibly a sign from the universe.

Maybe you were getting a second chance.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Eddie was running late.

He was supposed to be back home half an hour ago to relieve whoever Olly's new babysitter was of her duties, but the campaign had taken a shocking turn and Hellfire couldn't disband until it had commenced.

The night finally ended with Will's character decapitating Dustin's, and Eddie had to thwart an actual attack when Dustin leapt across the game table at Will in a bout of rage. Dustin was small but mighty, and Eddie had to physically wrestle the boy off of Will's neck, threatening to banish Dustin from the next few campaigns if he didn’t chill out. Henderson had huffed and puffed but had admitted defeat and apologized to Will for the attempted murder.

By the time Eddie arrived back to the trailer park, the sun had almost set. He pulled his van into his parking spot to the right of the trailer and shut it off. Stepping out, he swung his backpack over his shoulder, but came to a halt when he heard Olly's scream sound from behind the trailer.

Dropping his bag and beginning to run toward the noise, Eddie's heart fell to his stomach. Horrible images of what could possibly be pulling that sound from his little brother pervaded Eddie's mind. He had an overactive imagination to begin with, and something like this verbal cue only egged it on. "Olly!" he shouted, panic raising his voice. "Olly, are you okay?! What’s going on, where are --"

Eddie came to a halt when he found the boy in the backyard with a huge smile spread across his small, sweaty face. Olly had a fake crown on, one made of twigs and leaves, and he was carrying one of the biggest sticks Eddie had ever seen. He had a blanket tucked into the back of his shirt, the cloth a makeshift cape. A thin piece of metal, probably from one of the cars Wayne and Eddie sometimes worked on, was wrapped around his center, acting as armor.

Olly had just been playing.

Letting out a heavy breath of relief, Eddie noticed your frame just off to the side. His eyes started from the ground up, noting the shiny red Docs donning your feet, moving up bare legs that were covered mid-thigh by a short black skater dress, one that hugged your curves in a way that had Eddie’s mouth going dry.

By the time he reached your face, your eyes were wide with amusement.

You’d been watching as he slowly drank you in. He didn't mean to ogle. He had to shake his head a few times to clear it, and when he did so, the face before him started looking more and more familiar.

"Wait," he started, head tilting. He spoke your name, tone riddled with confusion. "From high school?"

You were about to answer when Oliver cleared his throat, obviously not wanting to be ignored or to have his playtime interrupted any longer. You looked down at the boy, who pointed up to his head at his crown. You got the gist -- Olly wanted the game to continue. You could indulge him. You’d been doing it all day, and honestly you’d been having the most fun you’d had in a while.

You turned your attention back to Eddie, fixing your posture and jutting your chin out slightly. "I don't know who that is," you began, voice lilting. "I am Princess Guinevere of Kerley County and this here,” you brought your gaze back down to Oliver, “is my most loyal servant, Sir Olly of Castle Munson."

Eddie couldn't help the grin that broke out over his face at your announcement. He then took a moment to fully take in the rest of your appearance. You, too, had on a makeshift crown, this one made up of cherry blossoms and daisies. You had a flowing blanket tucked into the back of your dress, cascading down your back like a veil.

No fucking way were you, last year's cheerleading captain and prom queen, standing in his backyard playing fucking knights and princesses with his little brother. No fucking way.

Olly broke the silence by shouting out, "Hey, Eddie! Who are you gonna be?"

Eddie tore his eyes from you to focus on his brother. He pursed his lips to one side in thought, trying to come up with a character. He was usually quick on his feet when it came to creative play, but he had just spent the last three hours DM'ing a month-long DnD campaign. His brain felt shot. He was pulled from his introspective reverie by your soft, suggestive voice — no, sorry — the soft, suggestive voice of Princess Guinevere.

"Wanna be my dragon, Eddie?" you asked.

Eddie wasn't exactly sure why that made his breath catch in his throat.

He nodded dumbly, silent, then forced himself to speak because he didn't want to look totally lame in front of a Princess. "Okay. Yeah, I'll be your dragon."

You graced him with a smile before Oliver's tiny but booming voice cut through the air of the darkening night. "HEY! Dragons don't talk!" the boy stomped his foot and hit his stick against the muddy ground in annoyance.

A laugh bubbled from your throat and Eddie grinned, jumping into a wide-legged stance before outstretching his arms, tilting his head back, and roaring.

[calchexxis]

I think I skipped a few posts, but here it is, the final chapter of Flashbangs & Frag Grenades.

For those who do not know, this story was actually started before Arcane, and so the entire first...third? Of the series is before any of that dropped. When I first started posting this story, there were less than 100 fics under the Lightcannon tag, and by the time it hit 100, I was more than 10% of them. Now, there are over 1,000.

I don't say this to self-aggrandize, even though I know that's what it will sound like, but I genuinely don't know what Lightcannon as a fic-fandom would look like without Flashbangs. The reason I say that is because, and this is not a joke, when Arcane dropped, the only longform Lightcannon fic/series that I'm aware of that was still being regularly updated was mine. Most of the other fics in the tag were short, 1-2 chapters, or ficlets. There are a few standouts like 'Don't Lose My Number' by Starcola and the '100 Beautiful and Ugly Words' ficlet series by Ironstatic.

I think the longest one of the Pre-Arcane Lightcannon classics was Illuminous Duet by Kindredtea, but even that, ironically, had its first chapter posted two weeks after the first fic of Flashbangs: Wherefore Cometh Light.

Jinx has always had a kind of fun appeal to her, but to me, Lux is my girl. It's so strange for me to see echoes of my Lux in other people's fics. It's even stranger to see my personal ao3 tags 'Jinx is crazy, Lux is Crazier' show up in works whose authors I've never spoken to. So that's what I mean when I say, I don't know what the Lightcannon fandom looks like without Flashbangs, because it was here when it really took off, and it continued through the events of Arcane, and onward all the way to today. I think that Flashbangs codified what Lux was 'supposed' to sound like in fandom in the same way that Arcane codified Jinx, and I am proud of that.

For those of you have gotten this far, there is a Audiobook of Flashbangs in production, being professionally recorded chapter by chapter, and uploaded to Spotify and Apple Podcast completely for free, and we are up to the final book in the series.

If you want to donate to the cause, please check HERE.

I can't wait to see what Season 2 brings. I can't wait to see what you all create. I hope that Flashbangs continues to tell its story to all of you, so with that said, cheers.

Because We Have Come To Terms.

[aziraphales-library]

Hi! I love this blog so much, it's a lifesaver! I was wondering if you could recommend any fics along the lines of Angels hearing prayers (Specifically Aziraphale hearing Crowley's prayers) or even the alternative where demons can sense lust and Crowley is very aware of Aziraphale's less than innocent feelings toward him?

Hello! The first thing I thought of was this little ficlet on tumblr, so check that out. And here are three fics in which Aziraphale hears prayers (the first of which is post-series two!) and three fics in which Crowley can sense lust...

Just Called To Say Fuck You I Love You by Sodium_Azide (E)

Aziraphale discovers that being the Supreme Archangel of Heaven, in Heaven, means that one hears direct prayers. He makes this discovery when a lonely and heartbroken Crowley thinks about his angel during a sad wank session. Evocative imagery, yearning, and visceral appreciation and longing for him do a great deal to bring perspective to an angel who felt cornered into painful choices. Fuck this, he's going home.

So Much to be Consoled as to Console by Arokel (T)

“What are you,” Crowley drawled, “the patron saint of queer kids?” A series of lost souls over the centuries who prayed, whether they knew it or not, to the Angel Aziraphale.

The Still of Your Hand by AshCommaMan & EmAndFandems (E)

Six thousand years is a long time to pine for someone. Two thousand years is a long time to have sex with someone. Seven hundred years is a long time to be friends with someone. Eternity is a long time to love someone. It's worth the wait. Crowley and Aziraphale through the ages, as we've seen them - and some years we haven't - having lots and lots of emotionally fraught sex. Following from Rome to post-canon in 177K words.

Delectable by fuchsiaring (E)

Just as Crowley is nodding to himself, resolute in his plan, there’s a shiver in the air, like the way summer heat rolling off the pavement ripples with the swelter of it. Crowley can feel it in his chest, in his veins, thrumming in his bones. He knows this feeling, has felt it a fair few times in his centuries. Lust. -- Crowley senses lust from Aziraphale's flat above the bookshop. What's there to do besides follow the feeling?

In The Garden by kraken_creature (E)

"It started in the garden. No, not that garden. This garden came much later. Having swapped back into their own bodies, Crowley invited Aziraphale to lunch and he, with frustrating good humour about it, smiled and said that Crowley had succeeded in tempting him. And that was it. Crowley felt the familiar itch start in his hands, wanting to touch Aziraphale, wanting to hold him." Crowley spends an awkward time at the Ritz pining and lusting over Aziraphale, completely unable to articulate his feelings until he's compelled to make the first move.

I Was Never Forbidden Fruit by Sevynlira (E)

Sometimes a little miracle can get a lot out of hand. For sure if you have been holding onto it for a few thousand years. Silly angel.

- Mod D

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

once again, we've reached a new year, and while I can't guarantee a new me who might actually release new fanfiction with some semblance of regularity, I can promise that I will keep writing and posting as often as my life allows. I want to thank all of you who read, like, respond and especially reblog my work, and I hope that you enjoy anything on this list you may of missed, and keep enjoying the new work I keep on posting. happy new year everyone!

full content warnings and content can be found on each individual post, and each fic is labelled for length. follow me on bartonstark to find all my fic in one place, or check out my ao3. smut/sexual content: *** personal favourites: ///

BRUCE BANNER:

interlude (ficlet) *** you steal a heated moment with bruce in the lab.

BUCKY BARNES:

keep quiet (ficlet) *** /// against his better judgement, bucky lets you seduce him in a public place.

warm embrace (ficlet) bucky takes pity on you in the cold.

CLINT BARTON:

appreciation (oneshot) *** /// you borrow clint's shirt and he shows you just how much he approves.

make your move (oneshot) /// you discover clint's real feelings for you and dare him to do something about it.

stay still (ficlet) clint comes to your aid after you're injured on the battlefield.

whatever you need (ficlet) *** /// after a mission gone wrong, clint gives you everything you need.

MARC SPECTOR:

bubble bath (ficlet) sometimes, self care includes bubbles.

starving (ficlet) *** marc has alternate plans for dinner.

NATASHA ROMANOFF:

smile (ficlet) you distract natasha in the middle of a meeting.

PETER QUILL:

chilly (ficlet) /// you're not quite used to just how cold it is in space.

rom-com moment (ficlet) *** even a storm can't convince quill to keep his hands -or his feelings- to himself.

STEVEN GRANT:

raindrops keep falling (ficlet) a busted umbrella leads to a meet cute.

TONY STARK:

downpour (ficlet) *** tony has his way with you against a window as you watch the rain.

favor (ficlet) you convince tony to finally get some rest.

ink (ficlet) you surprise tony when he finally comes home to you.

missed you (ficlet) tony wakes you up in the middle of the night.

most people (oneshot) /// tony can't believe you're the kind of person who doesn't like hugs.

pride (ficlet) *** tony takes a lot of pride in what he does to you.

voice of reason (ficlet) in a reversal of roles, tony's the one to convince you to go to bed.

waking up with you (ficlet) *** tony has only one thing on his mind in the mornings.

THREESOMES/POLYAMORY:

ladies first (clint barton x natasha romanoff x reader) *** /// natasha has strict rules when it comes to play.

plaything (tony stark x marc spector x reader) *** /// you invite an old boyfriend to help teach your new one a lesson.

SERIES:

just to be nearby (peter quill x reader) *** /// months after the battle of earth, peter is still wallowing in his loss of gamora. he begins to find comfort in you.

just to be nearby

closer still

to ashes chapters (full series, this year's chapters in bold) *** /// after the snap, you volunteer to track down clint and bring him home. instead, you join him on his mission for blood and find yourself growing closer to him... prologue - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30 - 31 - more coming soon

tag list: @lovely-dreamer19 @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink @s0ftness @castieltrash1 @drakelover78 @queenoftheunderdark @fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13 @lol-you-thought @sebbystanlover-vk @trekkingaroundasgard @mikariell95 @csigeoblue @abrunettefangirlnerd @babyblues915 @aar-journey @moistpotatobear @bellamyblakemorley @diesinspanishbcimhispanic @sentimentalalien @agustdowney @akumune @xxboesefrauxx @ccbsrmsf1 @patheticallysentimental @loki-is-loved @blue-chup @darsynia @katsies @youralphawolf72 @maenji @rhymesmenagerie @gwianasky @melaclintbartoncorner @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @marvelwomen-simp @bombardia @bellarkeselection @hollymac79 @dragon-chica

[sissylittlefeather]

Hi Sissy! If it’s not too late, could you do a Fic of Elvis based on the song “Help Me Make It Through the Night?” Like Elvis and you know you’re not good for each other, but you can’t stay away. Can develop into smut but if you’d prefer not, that’s okay too! If it’s too late, I completely understand! Thank you! 😊

@peaceloveelvis Hi! Definitely not too late! First of all, this is one of my most favorite songs. I actually have a series planned to go with this song later, so stay tuned. But also, I haven't written anything without smut in a LONG TIME. This one came out this way and I might revisit it to expand on the smut later if there's interest, but I kind of like it without it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this ficlet!

Help Me Make It Through the Night

Warnings: none really, cussing, mentions of sex

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

Elvis has been a part of your life since you met him during his Timex special with Frank Sinatra. The only thing you did more than make love relentlessly was fight endlessly. The nights were hot, but the mornings never failed to conclude with both of you yelling and at least one of you crying. There was no end to the way you loved each other or the way you managed to drive each other insane. There was always something to fight about and you left each other every time swearing you'd never be together again. But somehow, you'd end up in the same place and before you knew it you were naked in an elevator or in his backseat or in a bathroom or a hotel bed in some sketchy by-the-hour kind of place. Even after he got married, you didn't stop. Your pattern of fucking and fighting stayed the same.

In 1969, though, you had a particularly spirited tryst that ended with both of you saying things you regretted almost instantly. But you were both too stubborn to admit it, so instead you threw a shoe at him and screamed at him to get out and he called you a name and swore he'd never end up in your bed again. This time, the pain you caused cut so deep that you both insisted you'd never give in again. It was over, for real this time. The hurt was too much to make the good times worth it.

So, you did what any self-respecting woman would do. You married someone else.

When he heard about it, he broke an end table and all the things sitting on it in a fit of rage and jealousy and something else he was afraid to admit.

On your wedding night, you cried yourself to sleep with your new husband snoring quietly next to you in the bed.

Then, in 1971, you find yourself walking down the street and come upon a loud and frantic crowd. Your curiosity gets the better of you and you look to see what all the commotion is about. The crowd parts like ill-meaning clouds and he looks up at just the wrong moment.

His blue eyes pierce you straight through to your soul, even from across the street. Something inside you jumps and your hand goes to your throat. Memories of every time you've ever been together slam into you like a freight train and you're somewhere between ecstasy and wanting to die. By the look on his face, you can tell he's experiencing something similar. Everything inside you is screaming at you to go to him, but you feel the cold little ring on your finger and know that you can't. You turn and walk away as quickly as you can. He fights to get away from the crowd around him, but by the time he does, you're gone.

******

You're pacing the floor of your living room when the phone rings. Even several hours later, you haven't recovered from your encounter. You pick the phone up aggressively, annoyed to be distracted by the call.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Presley would like you to meet him tonight at the Presidential Motel at 11pm." Your blood runs cold.

"Why?" The line clicks with no answer. He's left the ball in your court and you hate it. You won't meet him. You just won't. He's impossible.

But at 10:45pm you're in your car. You've spent the last several hours trying to remind yourself of all the reasons you hate him. You finally decide you're going to see him just to tell him that you don't care what he says; you were serious last time. This is not a thing anymore and it never will be again.

At 11:06pm, you sit in the parking lot of the motel, a battle raging inside you.

"This is stupid." You mutter, finally getting out of the car. At the desk, you ask which room Mr. John Burrows is staying in. The clerk tells you and you stomp towards his room getting more and more angry as you walk. The nerve of him to think he can just summon you like this.

You pound on the door with every ounce of rage your body can contain flowing through you. The door opens slowly and your heart skips. Why does he have to look so good?

"You came."

"What the fuck could you possibly want to say to me?! The last time you saw me you called me a whore and said you'd rather swallow a knife than see me again. So, whatever you have to-"

"I miss you."

"You... what?" He speaks again slowly and deliberately.

"I miss you." It feels like your stomach has fallen to your kneecaps. "I'm lonely, honey."

"Call your wife."

"Will ya just... no. I want you."

"Have you forgotten-"

"No, I haven't. And I'm sorry." He's never apologized to you before. You stand in stunned silence just outside the door.

"You're-"

"Sorry. Yes. Now, will you come in please?" You stand there completely lost. Finally, he grabs your arm and drags you into the room, shutting the door behind you.

"What the hell, Elvis?!" He pulls you close to him and presses his lips to yours. For a second, you melt into him. Then, you remember why you were mad and pull away angrily.

"No, I'm not-" He pulls you in again, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you more deeply this time. You fight to get away, but he holds you tightly. Eventually you're able to escape his grasp and you push him backwards. He goes to grab you again and you slap him across the face. Your hands go to your mouth in shock and he looks at you stunned.

"Oh god, I'm-"

"I guess I deserved that." He walks to the bed and sits down. "You actually hate me, don't you?"

You stand there for a few seconds before sitting down beside him on the bed.

"No. I don't. But we said this was done."

"I know. I'm just... I'm alone, honey. And I miss you so much it hurts worse than being with you." You look at him, but he won't meet your eyes. It comes to you that he must be pretty desperate to put himself in this position.

"You're alone?"

"You know how it gets for me. There's people everywhere, but I just... I miss you."

"Why me?" He rolls his eyes and looks at you finally.

"You gonna make me say it?"

"Yes. If you want me to stay here, then-"

"I love you. I've been in love with you since I met you. You're the only one I want when I feel like this and it's been so long-" You reach out and put your hand on his knee and he looks down at it, setting his on top of yours, gently wrapping his fingers around yours.

You're used to these vulnerable moments from him. They're what has brought you together over and over throughout the years. So when he breaks down and sobs, you pull him into your arms and hold him without thinking. Somehow you end up lying in the bed with him cuddled tightly against you, head on your chest. You stroke his hair and hum quietly. This is a familiar position for the two of you and you've missed it more than you care to admit.

Eventually, his breathing evens out and you realize he's fallen asleep. You kick your shoes off and snuggle in to spend the night. As angry as you were, you can't deny him what he needs because the truth is you love him too and you always have. You kiss his forehead and hold him tightly. You've missed this too.

******

In the morning, you make love and it's sweet and sensual and exactly what you've both been needing. And this time you don't fight. Somewhere in the year you were apart, you grew. The love that you have is more important than anything that might separate you.

And as you lay naked together, the world opens up for you. He talks about leaving his wife and you decide your husband will be better off without you.

Will it happen? Will you finally find a way to be together in a way that works for you both? You don't know.

But you made it through this night together. Something tells you that you can make it through anything now.

******

The end?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

[raina-at]

Self-rec Thingy

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. spread the self-love ❤

Thank you for the tag, @calaisreno and @weeesi

This is surprisingly difficult. I shamelessly admit that I like all of my fics, otherwise I wouldn't have posted them ;-)

So. Favourite five.

I'll start with Spare Parts, my Sci-Fi AU. I loved writing this fic, and I love the worldbuilding, I love the hostility of the environment and the resilience John and Sherlock show to not only survive, but thrive in a hostile world. It's set in the 24th century on Titan, but of all my AUs, it's actually the most canon compliant, ironically. It's also me going into the meat and bones of what Reichenbach meant for Sherlock and John, and my thoughts on why Sherlock did what he did. (it's also probably my most underappreciated fic in terms of effort versus response, but I love it, and that's all that matters ;-))

Next up is Nothing Gold Can Stay, a fix-it for S3. I carried this idea with me for months, and the fic came out in little bursts of hundred-word-snippets (in stark contrast to the sequels, which flowed out of my pen in a matter of days), but I'm really happy with the end result. I also always wanted to write a series of short fics that hang together, and this was the starting point for the series that I will continue, promise, as soon as life isn't quite as crazy. My plan is to continue the series as a sort of parallel to S3, but let's see what life does to me over the next few months.

Since this is about fics I like best and not necessarily underappreciated stories, it would be remiss of me not to honour the bakers here. Bakers with Benefits is by far my most popular story, and I like it a lot. It was great fun to write (I grin like a loon when I re-read the cake war chapter), and I love revisiting them in ficlets (which should be obvious, given how often I do it ;-)) They're so much fun, and they're so comforting. I love writing established relationship with them, because you can just throw whatever at them and you absolutely know they'll get through it together.

It almost feels unfair to my lesser-loved stories to pick my fic with the most kudos here, but, well, I really like it. Don't Read the Last Page is probably the most realistic life with a child fic I've written (and parts of it are directly ripped from real life), and it has one of my top three favourite conversations between Sherlock and John I've ever written in there (and also probably my second favourite first kiss).

So the last one is really hard, because like I said, I like all of my fics. But just for the sheer joy of writing it (I can't describe how eager I felt to "spend time" with this fic when I wrote it), and for the love of theatre and Jane Austen that's always in my heart, I'm picking my theatre/Persuasion AU Take Two. There's fics you struggle with, fics you labour on, and fics that take over your body and just pour out with sheer joy and creative flow, and this fic was definitely the latter. It also has PINING!, and I love me some good PINING!

Tagging @helloliriels @jrow @meetinginsamarra @lisbeth-kk and @blogstandbygo , but if you see this and want to do it, consider yourself tagged!

[tennessoui]

18) waking up with amnesia au pretty please! I was delighted with how many of the prompts you've already done, it was a really fun bingo!

Best friends sibling = band au

knocking on the wrong door = actually name of the fic

Nanny/single parent au = Nannykin

Etc etc etc!

hello hello this was sent january 10!! hope you still want some waking up with amnesia au! this just demonstrates how long i can hold onto a prompt i have every intention of completing

(from this prompt list) (& this is the waking up with amnesia au prompt fill i did a few years ago when i first reblogged that prompt list!)

(3.5k)

(warnings: angst but not incredibly sad. more like. here there lies some future manipulation/mind fuckery because of angst established in this ficlet but not resolved in this ficlet but would be in the future)

(also warning: vader)

It is somehow both the hardest and easiest part of the day, every time. 

It is easy to let his feet turn in the direction they beg to go during all his waking seconds. It is easy to allow them to lead the way. It feels as if a great and crushing weight has been lifted from his shoulders the moment that he sees the pillars standing sentry at the entrance of the Halls of Healing. It is so easy to give into his body’s desire to allow it to find its other half.

It is almost harder to stay away, to pretend to be the respectful and poised Jedi master he masquerades as during those long moments of the day that he is not by Anakin’s side.

But what is infinitely harder than journeying there or keeping his distance is arriving. Is what waits for him within the Halls.

“How is he today?” he asks the moment he sees a healer—it does not matter which one these days. They must all know him by now, know the series of questions he demands answers to.

This time, the man he finds is healer Ramak, at least, one of the primary specialists on Anakin’s case. Rarely can Obi-Wan corner him. Ramak is incredibly busy both within the Temple and outside of it. He has numerous priorities. 

Obi-Wan really only has one priority. Often this puts them at odds. 

“Ah,” Ramak says, adjusting his robes. “Master Kenobi, hello.”

“Yes, hello,” Obi-Wan says. And then, “How is he today?” In case Ramak has missed his question.

“He is much the same, Master Kenobi,” Ramak replies. “As he was yesterday.”

Obi-Wan swallows. The words get stuck in his throat for a moment and he has to force them up past his teeth. “What does…what has he remembered?”

Healer Ramak’s face slides from reluctantly indulgent to pitying. It would grate against Obi-Wan’s rather impressive sense of pride if he did not already know exactly how pitiful he is. 

“Memories are not stored within the mind chronologically, Master Kenobi,” Ramak says carefully. Obi-Wan has heard this before. Obi-Wan could recite this speech. 

Obi-Wan listens to it silently anyway. Perhaps this time, Ramak will find the correct combination of words to explain his loss to him in terms he can understand. “Uncovering them again is not simply a matter of starting from the beginning of his life and moving forwards. We cannot simply recover and present him with all of his memories from age nine, from age thirteen, to now.”

Obi-Wan can feel a muscle tick in his jaw and he crosses his arms. Another healer crosses behind him, jostles him in their hurry to get to another patient. Differing priorities. 

But Obi-Wan only has one.

“It is like…” Ramak trails off, thinking. “Picture the rain. What do you think of?” It is much too transparent, what Obi-Wan thinks of when he thinks of the rain. He thinks of Anakin as a youngling. The ashes of Qui-Gon’s body had not fully cooled before the skies of Naboo had broken open in a torrential downpour, and the boy, padawan braid that was both his and Obi-Wan’s newly weighing on his shoulder, had escaped from the palace in Theed, ran outside with arms raised up in wonder.

“When you think of rain, you do not recall your memories chronologically,” Ramak says kindly, as if he understands where Obi-Wan’s mind has gone. “That is to say, you do not immediately think of the first time you experienced it. Our minds store memories based on their significance to us, the meanings they hold for us, which makes mind-healing to this degree incredibly difficult. Not to mention, not only was Knight Skywalker stripped of his memories, tortured, and indoctrinated, he was held for several months. Long enough for new neural pathways to form, new connotations and memories to take the place of the ones he lost.”

“Master, please,” Obi-Wan says. When he holds up his hand to forestall the other man’s words, it is shaking slightly. “Please just tell me.”

Will he recognize me? 

Will he hate me?

Will another day go by where he does not know me?

“He has a long way to go yet,” Ramak says finally, lifting his hand to stroke over his beard. “His time as Vader left scars—”

“His time captured,” Obi-Wan interrupts. “He was a hostage.” Ramak looks at him. Anakin, kidnapped by the sith, without his memories, trained to be deadly and taught to Fall, was more than a hostage. They both know that. Everyone in the galaxy knows the dangers that Darth Vader represented to the Republic.

Very few know that Darth Vader was Anakin Skywalker. It had been a terrible surprise. It had been the sweetest sort of relief too, to find him at all.

“Yes,” Ramak finally allows. “His time as a hostage left innumerable scars, Obi-Wan. Even after he regains all his memories, he will have a long journey ahead of him.”

“How is he?” Obi-Wan repeats, even though it is rather rude to cut the healer off. “How is he today?”

Ramak hesitates for a moment and then another, and his Force signature tenses as if at war with itself. “He requested to see you,” he finally says. “We’re not sure that’s a good idea.”

Obi-Wan’s breath catches in his throat. The Jedi saved Anakin Skywalker from the Sith five weeks ago, and though Obi-Wan has spent each of those days trekking from his quarters to the Halls of Healing and back, accousting various healers and Council members alike, desperate for any information they can give him…he has not yet been able to sit beside Anakin. He has not been allowed to talk with him at all.

It is for the best. That is what he’s been told and that is what he must believe. It is for the best. Anakin does not remember him. He remembers the word master—he does not remember that he used to say the same word with respect. With affection. He does not remember Obi-Wan at all.

He remembers his master, Sidious. He remembers his master on Tatooine. He does not—Obi-Wan doesn’t understand why he cannot remember him. 

Anakin has never once asked to see him. 

“I want to see him,” Obi-Wan says immediately, turning towards the wing where they are keeping Anakin. 

“Master Kenobi, it is not a good idea,” Ramak says, but it does not matter what they think is a good idea. It is what Anakin wants and it has been so long since Obi-Wan has been something Anakin wants.

Something of what he’s feeling must flash across his face, because the healer sighs and rubs at his forehead as if he finds the whole ordeal incredibly trying. 

“I will not hurt him,” Obi-Wan says quickly, and Ramak shakes his head, dropping his arms to his sides. 

“That is not the concern, Master,” he replies, but his shoulders have slumped. His forehead is wrinkled, but his Force signature has relaxed. He has given in. Obi-Wan has won. “I—”

But Obi-Wan has won. And so he has already stepped away, intent now on seeing his padawan. He leaves the healer behind where he stands, pushing through the doors of the wing and finally—finally to Anakin’s room.

He’d been so volatile at first, when he was still Vader. The Jedi rescuing him probably felt more like being captured. Without his memories of the Order, of the Temple, of Obi-Wan, he’d Fallen so quickly as far as anyone knows. Sidious had taken him and twisted him and when he was found again, he’d fully believed in the Sith doctrine. He’d killed two Jedi before he was subdued.

So when he’d been brought into the Temple, into the Halls of Healing, they’d outfitted him with Force suppression cuffs. Given him his own room in order to protect the other patients.

Obi-Wan knows he still wears the Force bracelets and collar, but there’s knowing and then there’s seeing.

The seeing part takes his breath away. It looks so wrong, Anakin, his Anakin, wearing the cuffs and the collar. 

Anakin, his Anakin, with yellow eyes watching him intently from the moment he enters the room.

“Anakin,” he murmurs, a reflex. The sounds are punched out of him.

He is thinner. His hair is greasy. There are dark shadows under his eyes. The skin around the collar is red, rubbed raw. He looks a thousand times older. Guant and hollowed out as if the captivity and the Darkness has leached away all of his youthful energy.

“Master,” Anakin says reproachfully. And it sounds—it sounds so much like him, like Obi-Wan’s Anakin, that he has the rather ridiculous urge to cry. Master, master.

“How are you feeling?” Obi-Wan asks, though it is a useless sort of question. He isn’t sure what to do with his hands. What to do with his tongue. He suddenly cannot remember the last time he asked Anakin how he was feeling. It was never a phrase that was part of their lexicon—for so many years, they shared a training bond. Obi-Wan was able to ascertain his padawan’s emotions with a gentle Force touch across the planes of his mind. More often than not, he was telling Anakin to search his own feelings. He was not asking him to interpret them for Obi-Wan’s sake.

Now though, their bond is severed and Anakin does not recognize him as anything more than another Jedi, another man who he once called master, and Obi-Wan stands across the room from him and does not recognize him either, save for all the ways that he does.

“Surely they have been giving you updates,” Anakin murmurs. “I know you have visited every day.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says because he will not lie to Anakin. He doesn’t think he remembers how. It has been—so long. Since he has last seen him. It is all he can do to stay standing now. To keep a respectable distance between them. To not fall to his knees. To not stumble forward and take Anakin’s hand in his own.

“What have they told you?” Anakin asks, and he tilts his head slightly. His golden eyes are as disconcerting as they are beautiful. They’re his. They’re his eyes, set in his face, and Obi-Wan has missed that face for so long. For months. He’d thought he’d never see it again, and he is just now realizing that he has no defenses left against Anakin. None at all. The boy could ask him for anything and he would fight to the death to give it to him.

The Force is in flux in the air around them, bucking up, riled, in a way Obi-Wan usually interprets as danger. But the Force could be screaming a death knell and Obi-Wan, in this moment, would only be able to hear a sweet cry of wild joy.

Anakin, this is Anakin. This is his Anakin and he is here. Back—partially. Back, incompletely. But back. Obi-Wan…he’d stopped hoping he’d ever get him back.

Instead of answering his question, he presses the backs of his fingers against his mouth to try and stop their shaking. Every day he has walked here, accosted the healers, demanded to know the latest. And he has never once realized how incredibly difficult it would be to lay eyes on Anakin. How incredibly difficult it would be to maintain his composure, to hold himself in. 

Anakin’s eyes glow gold, but Obi-Wan’s eyes are that of a starving man. All he can see is honey.

“Come here, master,” Anakin says, reproachful. “Did you not miss me?”

The words move him forward where his own feet could not. “Of course I did, Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispers. Hoarse, too hoarse. Too trembling and old, but it has been so many months. He had thought him lost forever. Dead and gone and one with the Force, and for the first time in his life, that had given him no comfort.

Anakin holds out his mechno hand, palm up, fingers slightly crooked. He’d built them that way on purpose, Obi-Wan remembers. At fourteen, he’d broken his index and middle finger in a duel, bones shattering under the blow of another padawan’s sabor. A lucky hit, an unlucky outcome. Though they’d healed near perfect due to bacta, they’d always remained slightly bent out of place. When he lost his arm to Dooku five years later, he’d fiddled with the replacement until the mech digits tilted the same familiar direction.

Obi-Wan stares at them, caught up in the tide of the memory.

Had Vader ever looked down at his mechno hand and wondered about the imperfection? Had he thought to fix it once he had the time? Had he spared a thought for the black spots in his memory, the cavernous gaps in his past?

His fingers fall to rest against the sensors of the mech tips. They’re sensitive enough that he can see Anakin shiver at the touch. 

“Did you not miss me, master?” Anakin asks again, and his hand closes around Obi-Wan’s tightly, pulling him forward another few steps.

Obi-Wan nods, then shakes his head. Yes, he missed him. No, missing—missing is not a vast enough word. 

“You asked for me,” he hears himself say. “Do you—what do you….”

Do you remember me?

You must. You call me master. And you want me close.

But they pulled the memories of the word master from your mind days ago, and you hated me then. You did not want me near you. What has changed? What have you remembered?

“I wonder if they would treat any patient like this,” Anakin says. He uses his hold on Obi-Wan to pull him even closer, til his thighs brush the edge of the bed. “If it is the war that makes me special, if it’s my own power. Or if it’s you.”

Obi-Wan tenses. Him? He doesn’t—

“They’ve tried everything they can think of to trigger my memories of you, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Anakin says. When Obi-Wan tries to move back, take a step away, find the air in the room to breathe, Anakin tightens his hold and pulls him forward until the only option is to either topple over onto his padawan’s chest or sit on the bed at his hip.

He sits.

“They debated for many days, you know,” Anakin says. His mech thumb begins to sweep over the inside of Obi-Wan’s wrist. “If they should trigger the connections my mind has made to the word master. It’s a weighted word for Anakin Skywalker. Surely you know that.”

“I do,” Obi-Wan says carefully. When he tries to breathe, he can only do so shallowly as if his entire chest has shrunk to half its capacity.

“He was enslaved before he was a padawan,” Anakin explains as though Obi-Wan has not spoken at all. Maybe he hasn’t. For the past several months he has not been able to speak to Anakin aloud, could only talk with him in his mind—could never hear a reply. Perhaps he has forgotten how. “They were worried that after ten years studying under you, after two years fighting side by side with you, my strongest connotations to the word master would still be to slavery.”

Anakin ducks his head slightly, tilts it to the side to give Obi-Wan a small, private grin, as if the healers’ concerns are so unfounded that they are amusing. As if the concept that something could outweigh Obi-Wan’s importance to Anakin is so foreign and preposterous that it’s funny.

His smile knocks into Obi-Wan’s chest like a punch to the solar plexus.

“But they decided to risk it,” Anakin says. His voice is light as a feather. Airy and unconcerned. “Perhaps they should have started with smaller things. A light saber. A braid. A pear. A planet. But they wanted to re-establish my firmest conneciton to the Light as quickly as possible. And they thought that was you.”

Obi-Wan holds his breath, eyes leaping from their connected hands to the yellow of Anakin’s eyes. He has still fallen. He has not been healed. He is still—he is still—

“So they gave me back my masters,” Anakin pitches his voice low. “All of them, though I suppose I remember Sidious well enough. But they gave me back the Toydarian. And they gave me you.”

“They said you did not want to see me,” Obi-Wan whispers. “Why, Anakin, if you remember, why would you—”

“Because I hate you,” his padawan says as if it’s the easiest thing in the galaxy. “Because they could give me back Master Kenobi, but wherever Anakin Skywalker kept his love for you, it was not in your title. He hated your title.”

Obi-Wan flinches back so violently that his forearm slips from Anakin’s grasp. Before he can move from the bed completely though, his padawan’s hand lashes out and curls around the fabric of his tunics. 

“No,” Obi-Wan says because he must deny this—he cannot stand to hear it and not deny it. No, Anakin—there was love there, in the way he pronounced the word master. The way he looked at Obi-Wan: admiration shining in his eyes when he was younger, cooling off over the years into acceptance and affection. They had their arguments. They had their—misunderstandings, but Anakin did not resent him for his role in his life as his old teacher. His master. “You’re wrong.”

“He hated it more than he hated his actual slave master,” Anakin murmurs. Lightly, airily. As if his words are not landing devastating blows on all of Obi-Wan’s softest spots. “Do you know why?” “I don’t believe you,” Obi-Wan whispers because he doesn’t because he can’t. Because he’d have known. Because this is Anakin, this is his Anakin, but there are still cavernous dark spots and gaps in his mind. This is not entirely his Anakin. He is still missing things. Thousands upon thousands of memories and moments and learned contexts and—

“I think you know why,” Anakin says as if he has not spoken. Funny, as Obi-Wan had thought he was screaming.

“I assure you I do not,” he snaps, spitting the words out as quickly as he can so that his voice cannot break between the syllables.

“Because Anakin Skywalker believed til the day he died that if you had not been his master, you would have allowed him to kiss you. To take you. To be taken by you. Don’t you remember, Master Kenobi?” Obi-Wan tears himself away from the bed, from the boy in it. Just a boy. Not a man. Not when he was seventeen and drunk for the first time, slinging his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck and pressing his face into his chest, whining and begging and pleading—and not when he was eighteen either, bold and staring at Obi-Wan's lips, not when he was nineteen, on the verge of his Knighting ceremony and demanding to be given into.

Just a boy, just his boy. But never—never anything else. 

“Like I said,” Anakin but not Anakin murmurs. Anakin, but Vader too. “Wherever Anakin Skywalker kept his love for you, they have not yet been able to find it in my mind. I can only assume he loved you at all.”

Obi-Wan flicks his eyes over the familiar face, the beloved face. The stranger’s face. If it were anyone else sitting before him, he’d have a retort already on his tongue. He’d have raised his shields, gone on the offensive. There are few people left in the galaxy that can land a blow on him, and many have tried.

But this is not anyone. This is Anakin. This is his Anakin and this is something for which he has no defenses prepared.

“How ashamed did you make him feel for loving you, master?” Vader asks, tilting his head in cruel curiosity. “That he compressed all of it into something so small that a whole Temple of healers have been unable to find it?”

“Don’t call me that,” Obi-Wan snaps and this time he does not get the words off his tongue quick enough. His voice breaks in the middle of the demand, ribs cracking and parting to reveal the heart of him. “Not if—” not if you do not know what it means for him. For me. For us.

“Why not?” Vader says, and he raises his flesh hand to tuck a piece of greasy hair behind his head before allowing his fingers to fall to rest against his collarbone, ghosting against the Force suppression collar around his neck as if it’s a diamond encrusted necklace. “After all, am I not wearing your chains, master?”

[canonicallyobserving911]

"What do you want?" - A Series of Fics and Ficlets

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

"What do you want?" A Series of Fics and Ficlets - This is a FANON series of “Fics and Ficlets” that focuses solely on Buddie. Unlike CANON, they'll actually talk so they can discuss the things they've left unsaid over the last 6 years. Hopefully, season 8 will include a narrative for them instead of IT BEING FILLED WITH TM'S (SHOWRUNNER) REWRITTEN AND MADE-UP STORYLINES FROM OLD MOVIES 🙄.

"What do you want?" - A Series of Ficlets

Currently 6 works completed; 41.4K Words: Rated; Teen and Up Audiences

"You don't know math!" - 3.3K Words; Rated Teen and Up Audiences: Buck is forced to choose while Eddie might be presented with another option.

"Math is a universal language." - 5K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences: Eddie reconnects with an old acquaintance and they spend a lot of time together. However, now that Buck’s single, he finally tries to understand math is a universal language but when he sees Eddie talking to another guy, he wonders if it took him too long to figure it out.

“You know, it’s like that thing when you meet somebody and you just… click.” - 5.1K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences: When Buck comes face to face with Eddie’s new friend; he hates it but since he’s only told Maddie about his breakup with Tommy, Eddie’s still under the impression he’s taken. Therefore, Eddie makes plans to spend even more time with his new acquaintance.

"I can't stop thinking about him." - 8.1K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences: Buck and Eddie are trying to move on but they can’t stop thinking about each other.

“How I hide my true feelings from others.” - 9.6K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences: Buck and Eddie return to therapy but they’re both not telling each other about recent events that happened. Will they finally have an open and honest conversation before it’s too late?

"We need to talk." - 11.4K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences:  After Eddie and Buck decide to take a weekend road trip to El Paso, TX to visit Chris, during the 12-hour drive, they talk about a lot of things they’ve left unsaid.

__________

This is a series of “Fics and Ficlets” that I’ll be writing over the course of the next few weeks and my goal is to keep them under a certain number of words. I’m challenging myself to do it this way for multiple reasons but mainly because I want to see if I can write a full Buddie story by including smaller fics in a series in comparison to the multi-chapter fic I’m still in the process of writing titled, “I’m still in love with you but… I needed to learn how to love myself too!” I only have 9 chapters left before I finish it but once I’m done, I’d like to continue writing Buddie fanfics. However, this time I’ll start with my dislike for the way season 7 ended instead of the way season 6 did. Finally, I have a lot of WIPs that I want to finish and I figured I can turn them all into one shot fics or ficlets to build the full story for Buck and Eddie.

Since these ficlets will be posted in order, it’s imperative to read them one after the other. Each part ends at a specific point with a cliffhanger and the next part will begin with the ending of the previous part. Therefore, parts 1 - 5 should be read prior to reading part 6 and the series will continue in that manner until it’s complete.

Parts 1 - 6 are available on AO3.

[boyfridged]

hello! can i request some Jason centric fic recs?

this is actually such a difficult question. in spite of years spent reading jason-centric fanfics, it is very rare that i find something that i genuinely enjoy. still, i do have some favourites that i go back to.

beneficiary by @sirsparklepants (1/1, 2k)

my favourite post-death jay fanfic. it's such a beautiful, bitter-sweet conclusion to his legacy.

untitled by @pendulum-north (1/1)

this is a very short ficlet. absolutely riveting language, as expected of a poet. my favourite take on the canon divergence that is bruce dying instead of jason. would sell my soul for north to actually write more on it.

what the living do by Anonymous (1/1, 6,5k)

stunning. perhaps my all-time favourite. jason believes he's dead. dick takes him on a road trip.

complications by JHSC (1/1, 6k)

i want to tell you so badly why i adore this fanfic but that would spoil the conclusion. so instead i can just tell you that it contains my unpopular agenda for jason's character development.

the (family) doctor's appointment by smleeish (1/1, 4k)

i have some qualms with the minuatiae of this work but this sickfick surprised me with the depth of the character study. the conclusion is so beautiful in the way it gets to the core of jason's values.

jet black crow by starknjarvis (series, 2/2, 19k)

i normally avoid sex-worker aus so please do know that this had to really impress me to be found on this list. the main reason for which it winded up here is a conversation jason has with bruce in the second installment.

the clay steals the clay by zipadeea (1/1, 2,5k)

just give it a read. a haunting... fix-it. i think about the usage of catholic themes in this fanfic often.

PLUTO. by orpheusaki (@damianbugs) (1/1, 22k)

a huge reason for which i love this one so much is the thematic similarity to the earth-51 arc in countdown. there's such good understanding of what made jason who he is as the red hood & his relationship with batman as the symbol and with bruce as his father.

things that make it warm by one_step_closer_to_death (@hopeworth) (1/1, 4k)

my favourite jay & dick fanfic! if you've been following this blog for a while, you know i am very particular about their relationship. you also know that i believe in jason's need to reconnect with his childhood and that dick should be a part of it, and this piece delivers that in the sweetest way.

of broken, blazing wings by FrEShAVocaNoob (44/44, 190k)

before i get to the praise, i have to say that this fanfic does talia very dirty and that i am not a fan of how it deals with mentions of jason's childhood & his robin days. however, it is also 190k of jason having a perpetual mental breakdown and it follows canon event starting from the lost days and finishing with countdown. it has great pacing and an admirable balance of being plot-driven and the focus on character development. jay is so painfully young and lost. i also really enjoyed dick's attitude. it's a riot and an emotional rollercoaster. i will never recover from it.

compulsory (shameless) self-promotion:

leave no trace, a ficlet on ouroboros.

black out days, a lost days au which is not a story at all. about talia, jason, the need to mythologise and staying away.

and my wip robin (vol 2): future nostalgia, a jay lives au that is to contain follow major batman plotpoints such no man's land and murderer/fugitive.

[roseharpermaxwell]

do you have any shorter drarry fics that you would recommend to a new drarrier? under 10k and preferably explicit? thank you!!

Pausing my RWRB reading (I have an ask about firstprince fics too and I’m working on it!) to answer this, which is the nudge I’ve needed. I’ve done this for Dramione before (under 5k), but I especially love tempting readers to Drarry. 

Short works are the unsung heroes of fandom. They don’t get enough love, which makes me so sad, because you definitely don’t always need 100k to deliver a stunning story. These are your bedtime stories, your palate cleansers, your individual serving sizes of serotonin. It’s okay to enjoy these even if you only read slow burn 100k+ fics, I promise. Live a little! 

This is a sampling of some amazing favorites, but I’m always reading new things and will add to it regularly. If you find something you love, I know the author would love to hear it, and so would I! Take a deep dive into their work to find other gems. 

Bite-Size Drarry - Under 10k (Part One) below:

Draco Might Die by @ghaniblue. G, 515. Draco’s first day as Hogwarts’ new Charms professor was an unmitigated disaster.

This Heart on My Sleeve by @lou-isfake. M, 1.1k It’s a hopeless ordeal, all at once: I am never going to be rid of him; I am never going to have him; it is always, always going to hurt.

Nick of Time by @mosrael. M, 1.1k. Draco Malfoy is ready to sacrifice everything for the man he loves. Will he find what he's looking for in the nick of time?

Reaching out, reaching up by @softlystarstruck. M, 1.3k. Harry Potter is a good lay. Draco wishes that fact was all he had taken away from the situation.

Dicking Draco Down by @lqtraintracks. E, 1.3k. It’s not a tease. It’s all prep. It’s necessary. Harry is, to be unsubtle about it, hung.

Weakness Leaving by @p1013. E, 1.3k. He's nineteen the first time he asks Ginny to hurt him during sex, and he's a day older than that when she tells him this isn't working. He's twenty when he goes to his first kink club and finally gets what he needs.

RAPTURE CLOSE, FIND JESUS by softlystarstruck. G, 1.4k. “What’s rapture?”

“Huh?”

“What’s rapture?”

“Dunno. Why?”

“There was a sign a while back. You were messing with the radio. It said ‘RAPTURE CLOSE, FIND JESUS’. All caps.”

true things by @hogwartsfirebolt. M, 1.5k. All Draco's ever known is how to guard his heart. But Harry sneaks in, anyway. A love story.

Threshing by @academicdisasterfic. E, 1.5k. For Draco, following fate was the easy part.

I Knew You by @phoebe-delia. NR, 1.5k. A series of ficlets based on the songs "august," "cardigan" and "betty," from Taylor Swift's album folklore.

Like You a Latte by hogwartsfirebolt, @peachpety. M, 1.6k. Harry Potter has mastered the skill of creating latte art. Or so he thinks until his muse and crush—Instagram influencer Draco Malfoy—shows up at the Weasley’s caf.

Take that ride by @andithiel. T, 1.6k. It’s been three weeks, six days, 19 hours and 37 minutes since Draco fell into Harry’s bed the first time and they still haven’t talked about it.

Because You Called the Wrong Person, But He Was Into It Anyway by @gracerene. E, 1.7k. Draco has called the wrong number. Harry doesn't mind one bit.

Homebound by academicdisaster. M, 1.8k. After escaping England, Harry and Draco try to find a new home. 

The Dog and The Drunk Slytherin by academicdisaster. T, 1.8k. After learning Harry wants to get a dog, Draco gets very drunk and decides to do something about it. In a very normal way.

All Hues in His Controlling by @wolfpants. E, 1.8k. Harry’s gorgeous at thirty-five, but his beauty as a young man leans closer to pretty, almost strikingly so. “Eighth Year,” Draco murmurs in wonder. “This is you in Eighth Year.”  -   Harry caters to Draco's very particular set of kinks when he uses magic to de-age himself.

Truth’s Day-Star by wolfpants. E, 1.8k. Draco’s stares had started off curious but soon turned arch. He sometimes plays with Harry’s hair while he does it, his body spread out in his chair like liquid silver, all long, pliant lines. Harry, meanwhile, sneaks looks like they’re forbidden. Bless him. Doesn’t he know how much I want him to look at me like that? -  The world is miserable and so is Sirius. But is he really imagining all of this tension between Harry and Draco?

(you) find me when the lights go down by @beyondtheclose. T, 1.8k. Harry can hear footsteps on the stairs behind him but doesn't bother turning to look. There's only one person likely to follow him out here at this time of night.     "Potter," comes the crisp voice, easily recognisable as Draco. "You do know that most sane people, especially those who spend every waking moment complaining of being cold, would cast a warming charm. Or at the very least grab a sweater. Not spend every night attempting to turn into an icicle." - What makes someone a ghost? Because if it's dying, Harry's got that covered.

That life can change by @gallifrey1sburning. M, 1.9k. Maybe that’s why I started hanging out with Malfoy. Two major benefits: it pisses people off, and he doesn’t expect anything from me. We mostly just drink and lie around on the carpet listening to music. A story of two boys slowly and quietly falling together.

Game…Set…Malfoy by @nanneramma. M, 1.9k. Harry teaches Draco a new game. Draco plays dirty.

Pissing for England by @moonflower-rose. M, 2k. They're sharing a flat as part of an Auror training exercise, but if Ron can't learn to piss more quietly, they may not make it out alive.

Aching with Want by @nv-md. E, 2k. Draco loves Harry, and would do anything to make him happy. When the cold wakes Draco in the middle of the night, he gives Harry everything he wants...everything he's too scared to ask for.

Obliviously Ever After by @gloivy. M, 2k. Harry Potter isn’t gay. He just likes to shag Draco Malfoy now and again.  OR: Five times Harry obliviously denies the feelings blooming between himself and Draco, and the one time he admits it.

Fixation by @dorthyanndrarry. E, 2.1k. Harry was back to staring at Draco again.

“Harry’s just fixated,” Hermione said absently, “They do that, the two of them.”

“I’m not fixated,” Harry said, frowning faintly, “I’m just… enjoying the view, sort of thing.”

“When do you get tired of the view then?” Ron asked flatly, “Beeeeen a month now, mate.”

Willing Blood by lq_traintracks and @the-starryknight. E, 2k. Seven days together, years ago; seventy-four hours and thirty-eight minutes trapped in this house alone; and now one chance to stop himself from draining Potter dry. Will Draco take it? Will Harry let him?

Truth be told by @tenthousandyearsx. E, 2.3k. Playing Truth or Dare with the Slytherins had been a terrible idea. Being pinned against a wall by Malfoy while still on bloody Veritaserum was... well, hot as hell, and more than Harry thought he'd ever get, to be perfectly honest.

Drive, Draco by @Erebeus-roxy. M, 2.4k MCD. I got my driver license today, but you're not around to see.

You Can Make My Night by @devilrising. M, 2.4k. Draco has never been to a place like this; an underground, queer speakeasy. There are men everywhere, dancing, drinking, talking. He can't believe he gets to be a part of this.

Or: how Draco Malfoy meets Harry Potter in a bar in the 1920s

Rocking Rodeo by @coffeedrgn87. E, 2.5k. Draco loves the rocking rodeo...what else is there to say?

In a Jam by peachpety. T, 2.6k. When the boys go blackberrying at Michaelmas, Draco discovers that magic and berries don’t mix, and all Harry wants is to snog him. If only Ron would let him.

Just Talking by @cavendishbutterfly. T, 2.6k. Harry's been trying and failing to talk to Draco for ages. It's hard, since he fancies him. It's easier to text about it. Even when he's right across the table at pub night. Who knows? If Harry's funny enough, maybe someday Draco will like him back.

Unspoken Affection by @janieohio. E, 2.6k "Sometimes, when you smile, I swear I hear music, then I realise it’s just the beat of my heart in my ears...Come back so I can dance."

Harry finds a stack of post-its, and what starts as simply leaving Draco a reminder with a bit of romance turns into a lifetime of memories.

Fledgling by @tackytigerfic. G, 2.7k. Two young dads meet at a farmers market. They exchange parenting tips, longing looks, and root vegetables.

Feral by @drarrily-we-row-along. M, 2.8k. Of the two of them, people would say Draco was the scary one; he knew categorically more jinxes and hexes, and he was absolutely ruthless. Harry tended to hold back a bit, he chose spells that wouldn't permanently injure.

But in this moment, after Harry had covered Draco with the shield, Harry went absolutely feral.

At wand point by tenthousandyears. E, 2.8k. Harry should not be so turned on by being held at wand point by Draco Malfoy... yet here he is.

proven lands by @oknowkiss. E, 2.8k. The thing about circles is, they always end at the start.  OR: A story about falling in love at the end of the Earth.  (told in 31 microfics -- this is the "director's cut")

And the music plays bitter, plays sweet by Andithiel. M, 2.9k. He doesn’t know why he does this to her, why he can’t leave Draco Malfoy be. After the first time he promised himself it wouldn’t happen again. For a long time it didn’t. But Draco had become an itch he needed to scratch; the memory of him rutting against Harry all consuming, making him lose focus, making him want another taste. And another. And another. Until all he could taste was Draco, on his tongue, on his skin, all around him, ever present. Never leaving.

Life has a firm grip by @shealwaysreads. M, 2.9k. Harry and Draco don’t get older, but they do get wiser. (Vampire!Draco, Master of Death Harry)

takes one to know one by hogwartsfirebolt. M, 2.9k. I watched him go through many. Months after our groups merged, after I was forced to think of him when I thought of the word “friends”, I became used to it. I learned his moves, learned what desire looked like on his face.

Secretly, between the shadow and the soul by @teacup-tai. T, 2.9k. The thing about surrender is that once you accept the unavoidable rhythm of change, the surprising uncontrollability of life, and the astonishing inevitability of feelings, it is easy.

like the sun came out by academicdisaster. E, 3k. Harry realises that Draco loves him, and it's like waking up. 

the shape of memory by hogwartsfirebolt. T, 3k. Harry's brush with death has left consequences. Thankfully, Draco is there to help him navigate the uncertain waters of his mind.

Mens Rea by lq_traintracks. E, 3.1k. Mens Rea: the mental element of a person's intention to commit a crime; or knowledge that one's action or lack of action would cause a crime to be committed.

 “Draco Malfoy, how do you plead?”

 I’m super fucking guilty.

Together Like This by shealwaysreads. E, 3.1k. Draco attempts to prove to himself that he doesn’t deserve what he wants. Harry proves him wrong.

drape me in your warmth by softlystarstruck. M, 3.1k. Malfoy, even quiet as he is now, is the only thing that manages to shine through the fog of Harry's mind.

Nothing Compares by @maesterchill. T, 3.1k. Working in the International Auror division doesn't exactly lend itself to Harry finding love or having any sort of relationship, what with all the unsociable hours and catching bad guys and never being in one location for more than a few days. Not to mention the permanent fixture of his partner, Malfoy.

So, how does a song about lost love end up being the thing that helps Harry find love, in the location he least expected it?

Waited for This by @phdmama. E, 3.1k. Malfoy’s been working out, Harry ruminates, as he stands by the kitchen sink and drinks his first coffee of the day in preparation to go open the cafe. Probably doing his squats. Harry should ask him about his routine. Except then Malfoy might think Harry has been staring at his ass. Which he definitely has not been. It’s just… hard to miss when Malfoy is bent over the display case unloading his muffins and mini pies and cookies and whatnot.

Harry is only drooling over the croissants, not Malfoy and his posterior. And biceps. And eyes.

I Fall On Grass by tackytiger. T, 3.1k. Harry loves his garden, and he loves his sons, and he also loves— Well, he definitely feels something for Draco, who is currently distractingly topless under a pear tree. The language of flowers isn't much good when it comes to big declarations, though; Harry needs to find the words to tell Draco just exactly what he's been feeling all these years.

Market Saturdays by @iota. M, 3.2k. In which Harry is an accidental part-time cheesemonger, Draco is an organic farmer and they fall in love. Not an AU.

I Swear I'll Keep You With Me by @dodgerkedavra. E, 3.2k. Harry Potter doesn't mean to drop the Snitch in Malfoy Manor. In order to get it back, he makes an Unbreakable Vow to keep Draco Malfoy with him. It's the chandelier's fault, really.

emerald and lace by icarusinflight. E, 3.3k. They're expensive and elegant - like Draco - and Harry just wants to touch them. He gets to.

Salt and Sauce by @onbeinganangel. T, 3.3k. Sure, of course he knows how you take your tea. But does he know your chippy order?

Enjoy the Silence by shealwaysreads. M, 3.4k. Draco stops speaking, gets some tattoos, and discovers that Harry’s happy to be quiet with him.

Even the Night by tackytiger. M, 3.4k. I'm so bad at this. Two boys meet on a rooftop. Read and find out more. Featuring lots of cigarettes, a Midsummer sky, close encounters in a bath, and plenty of fireworks.

Countdown to a Life by tackytiger, E, 3.4k. A balcony, first kisses, December to December. A little story of building up a life together.

Half Awake by academicdisaster. E, 3.4k. Talking is hard, and kissing is easier. And so is everything that comes after kissing.

A Shorts Story About Love by onereader. E, 3.4k. House-sharing with Slytherins, student life, magic weed, and short shorts. Harry's life at university might be strange, but he wouldn't change it for the world.

Continued in Part Two!

Give the authors some love! I also adore hearing if you found a new favorite fic or author.

I’ll be regularly adding to this, so if you’re seeing this as a reblog, feel free to check my Master List of Recommendations for the most current list. If you see yourself and you’re not tagged, or I've got a broken or misdirected link, please let me know!

[ultimate-shipper-trash-blog]

Pt 1.5 of my little one-shot ficlet (maybe turning into a series)

The last time Lydia saw her dad she was four years old.

Everyone knew the story of Steve Harrington. Rich athlete turned good guy, left his family for a bunch of randoms he met around town. Eventually moving out of town with the town freak, if you asked around you got a different reason why.

If you asked Lydia you'd hear that her parents were in love. Still are since her Pa never moved on.

Lydia only remembers a soft smile, hair that resembles her own, and can sometimes still feel the warmth in his hug.

When Lydia was five years old Steve Harrington loses his battle with Vecna but succeeds killing the fucker once and for all. He's a hero. His family has lost a member.

When Lydia is 25 she is surrounded by her family, commonly referred to as the party, on her wedding day. She stares into the mirror, seeing a reflection of her father staring back at her.

"I wish he was here" she states

"We all do, you know I miss him more than anything in the world" her Pa lays his hand on her shoulder, tears welling in his eyes, a streak of gray is seen across his wild hair.

----------

Then Lydia wakes up on a couch.

She doesn't know what to do. She doesn't even know much about the Upside Down. But she does know how it played out. She knows the steps. She knows she wants to see her dad again. So she does. She can hear him from outside the door complaining about something.

"Steve, you have a visitor" she can hear her Aunt Robin whispering, trying to remain calm.

"In the back room...?"

Lydia gasps. She hasn't heard his voice in so long she forgot what it sounds like. Tears well in her eyes, her body shaking.

"You can't miss her...she's the one in white"

"...right"

The door slowly opens up revealing the face she's seen haunting her her entire life. The face she dreamed of seeing again.

"Hello?" He asks quietly, taking in her appearance, shocked "I don't know who put you up to this but-oompf"

He's knocked down, Lydia's arms wrapped around him as she sobs, laughter escaping through. She pulls off of him slightly taking in his shocked expression, the way his eyes softened just a bit when he sees her.

"Are you ok ma'am?"

Ma'am? Ma'am right ok, she's older than her dad that's fine that's totally cool ok ok ok.

"Ma'am?"

"RIGHT!" she clears her throat "right. Yeah I'm fine. Sorry about" she gestures to their current position "all this"

She doesn't think he's blinked once.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" He sounds worried.

"This is gonna be a long story."

------

Author's note:

See the thing w time travel is that you do one thing it changes everything right? So obviously she can't just flat out say "hey I'm your kid btw you're in a relationship with a guy you just met 6 months ago blah blah you died period." So my brain is trying to figure out how to do the rest in a polite fashion. Think about sitting someone down and explaining "Hey you're my surrogate" too. I'm deciding whether to go the surrogacy route or the adoption route.Obviously, next step would be to bring in her Pa and the party yay!

Let me know if you like this! I love interactions :)

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi!! Love your acc, it's really useful for fics <33 I was wondering if you knew any fics that elaborated on the morgue scene (the one where john beat up shrelock) bc i always felt it was very brushed over in the series and frankly i think it needed to be elaborated on more.

Hey Nonny!

Ahh, yeah, I think I've been asked this a few times and I've just not ever posted a proper list. So because I need a list for this week, here's all of my TLD-adjacent fics I found doing a tag-search AND from old replies to other asks! Hope you enjoy, and add your own if you have them, friends!

TLD FIX-ITS / AFTERMATH of TLD 

BOOKMARKS

Bridges by sussexbound (M, 6,602 w., 1 Ch || Post-TLD / S4 Fix It, Love Confessions, Mending Relationships, Moving Back In, Pining Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Past Abuse, Shaving) – The silence between them is deafening, interrupted only by the hum of the traffic outside, and the soft click-clunk of the plastic cups Rosie is playing with on the floor beside them. It is the first time they have been alone together, since Sherlock’s birthday. It’s only been two days, but it feels huge, important, like there is a precarious bridge stretched out before them both that they need to at least attempt to traverse.

The In-Between by blueink3 (M, 10,679 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Parentlock, Fix-It Fic, Canon Compliant) – Beginning in a Chinese restaurant and ending at the bottom of a well, what about the moments we didn’t see?

Drawn to Stars by Silvergirl (E, 109,272 w., 60 Ch. || S4 Compliant to TLD / TFP Doesn’t Exist, Sherlock’s Italian Adventure, Sherlock/OC and Johnlock, Jealous John, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, First Kiss/Time, Idiots in Love, 3 Part Story, Slow Burn, Inexperienced Sherlock, Bottom Sherlock, Introspection, Multiple Alternating First and Third Person POV, Separation and Reconciliation, Emotional Love Making, Love Confessions via Letters, Angst with Happy Ending) – After the Culverton Smith case Sherlock is clean, working, and looking for a romantic partner—since John has told him that’s what he needs. Shame John didn’t mention he was interested in that role himself, before Sherlock went off to Rome with a gorgeous Italian copper to try to fall in love and become a complete human being.  Part 1 of the Drawn to Stars series

MARKED FOR LATER

toasting to grief by slylyaddictedtostories(T, 181 w., 1 Ch. || Poetry || Post T6T / TLD, Missing Scene) – John mussing over a drink about (missing) Sherlock and everything (he) they lost

Reconciliation by standbygo (T, 221 w, 1 Ch. || TLD Missing Scene, 221B Ficlet, Fix it Fic) – A missing scene from S4E2, "The Lying Detective". The hug was beautiful, but I wanted to add to it. My mother once said to me that you can forgive on your own, but you need to reconcile together.

My Heart Beats For You by jalexandria (M, 1,212 w., 1 Ch. || Hanahaki Disease AU || TLD Divergence, Angst, Non-Canonical Character Death, Sad Ending, Drugs, Pining Sherlock, Hurt John, Death Fic) – Things go very, very badly when John makes a horrible mistake.

Sherlock chooses himself by thewallflower07 (G, 2,035 w., 1 Ch. || Post TLD / No TFP, No Parentlock, Dialogue Heavy, Sherlock is a Mess, Sherlock and Feelings, John is Not Good, Angst) – Sherlock is a physical and emotional mess after John beats him bloody during the Culverton Smith case. He visits his therapist, who tells him to be selfish for the first time in his life. When John appears with his daughter and asks him to move back, Sherlock has to make a very difficult decision.

Reasons Wretched and Divine by Anyawen (G, 2,218 w., 1 Ch. || TLD Fix-It, John Has Issues, Admissions, Apologies, Explanations, Conversations, Emotions, Injury Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Fic, Drama & Angst, Declarations, Suicide, Assault, Marriage, Death, Drug Use, Guilt) – In the aftermath of Smith's arrest, John faces his anger and his regrets, exposing his vulnerabilities to Sherlock. They find ways to heal together.

Antiseptic by LipstickDaddy (G, 3,599 w., 1 Ch. || S4 / TLD Fix-It, Unseen Moments, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional / Psychological Abuse, Mutual Pining, Love Confessions, Protective Mycroft, Protective Greg, BAMF Mrs Hudson, Requited Unrequited Love) – What did John hear on that secret tape from Culverton’s hospital?

It Is What It Is by SpookyPorg (T, 3,874 w., 1 Ch. || TLD Fix It, Angst, Hug Scene, Love Confessions, Pining, Happy Ending, Making Out, Grief, First Kiss / Time) – After the very traumatizing events at the hospital, and John's heroic last-minute rescue, Sherlock is recovering at 221B. Doing his part to keep Sherlock under strict supervision, John pays a visit to his old flat for the first time in months. Reconciliation leads to confession.

The Tragedy Of Us by LipstickDaddy (G, 3,898 w., 2 Ch. || Post TLD, Angst, Romance, Tragedy, Hurt / Comfort, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Miscommunication, Requited Unrequited Love, Ambiguous / Open Ending) – John reflects on his relationship with Sherlock while the man is convalescing in hospital— twice.

wires Series by highfunctioningsociopath (M, 5,000+ w. across 2 works || Series WiP || Post T6T / TLD, Angst, Hurt / No Comfort, Loneliness, Mind Palace, Survivor Guilt, Mental Health Issues, Drug Addiction / Abuse, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Sherlock POV, Missing Scenes, Introspection, Psychological Trauma, Abusive Relationships, Grey Mary, Withdrawal, Depression, Self-Esteem Issues) – The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, after all. It just so happens to be lined with self-destruction.

I Want to Hear You Say It by LollipopCop (M, 8,000 w., 2 Ch. || TLD / S4 Fix It, Suicidal Thoughts, Heavy Angst, Love Confessions, Suffocation, Crying, First Kiss, Pining Sherlock, Happy Ending) – Instead of making Sherlock say he doesn't want to die, Culverton Smith forces Sherlock to repeatedly confess that he loves John before his death.

The Waning of Withdrawal by LoloLolly (E, 8,248 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TLD Fix-It, First Kiss, First Time, Mentions of Abuse, Mentions of Alcoholism, Mentions of Drug Addiction, Sexual Identity, Panic Attacks, PTSD, Sherlock's Scars, Bed Sharing, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Grief, Guilt) – Sherlock holds a weeping John in his arms and… does something that will forever change things between them. For better or worse. He fears the latter.

Slowly Suffocating by meet_me_in_samarra (M, 9,500 w., 7 Ch. || TLD Fix It, Suffocation, Hurt / Comfort, Whump) – Getting suffocated took some time. Enough time for Sherlock to ponder what went wrong. Hopefully also long enough for John to arrive and rescue him. Culverton Smith applied more pressure, impatient to turn Sherlock into a dead thing. A continuous story written for Whumptober 2023, following the 31 prompts for each day.

And Then There Were Two by NimWallace (T, 10,194 w., 20 Ch. || Post S4, Mutual Pining, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Angst, Grief / Mourning, Mystery, Cults) – It's quiet at Baker Street. Too quiet. It's been a year since Mary died, but only a few months since the events of the Final Problem, and Sherlock and John have fallen into a state of despairing and monotony. So when a case involving a vicious cult on the English Country side appears, they quickly jump to go undercover as Sean Harmony and John Wales. But how can Sherlock keep a delicate John from breaking? And how can John come to terms with his love for his detective? Most importantly, what really happened the night of the Final Problem?

The Death and Resurrection of a Beekeeper by shiplocks_of_love (M, 12,922 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || TLD / S4 Fix-It Fic, Sherlock’s Retirement, Sussex / Seaside, Brief Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Emotional Trauma, Angst with Hopeful Ending, Estranged Friends to Lovers, Partial Epistolary, No Eurus) – Sherlock escapes London for a quiet, solitary life in Sussex, exhausted after the whirlwind of drama following Mary’s death. One day, a letter arrives.

A Midnight Clear by khorazir (T, 13,120 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas-Carol Inspired || Post S3/Post-TLD / TFP Doesn't Exist, Christmas, Angst, Fluff, Pining, Canon-Typical Violence, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Magical Realism) – It’s Christmas Eve, and Sherlock is working. Because that’s what he does. He doesn’t need Christmas, or holiday cheer, or even company. He’s fine on his own, thank you very much – until a series of strange encounters on his way back to Baker Street makes him reconsider.

The Ashes on the Ground by 221Beloved (M, 13,545+ w., 5/22 Ch. || WiP || Post-TLD, Miscommunication, Pining, Depression, Angst with Happy Ending, POV Sherlock) –What happens after? After the fire has burnt down and left nothing but ashes? Roughly two and a half years after what happened at Smith's hospital, things have settled. But have they really? Or is it all still hovering. And what if someone whirls up the ashes again? An old acquaintance. Can something new arise from cold ashes? Something stronger?

Entitled by Ranowa (T, 14,023 w., 2 Ch. || TLD Timeline, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Use, Paternal Lestrade, John’s a Bit Not Good, Sherlock is a Mess) – Lestrade draws a line, because he knows Sherlock won't. 

Hope is a Subtle Glutton by isitandwonder (E, 15,753 w., 1 Ch. || No Johnlock, Sherlock/OMC, Racism, Aftermath of Violence, Happy Ending) – This is a story about Sherlock Holmes finally finding love and the happiness he deserves - just not with John Watson.

Angry Men by FawnHickory (M, 16,975 w., 16 Ch. || WiP || Post TLD Morgue Incident, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Self Examination, Big Brother Mycroft, Past Abuse, Sad Sherlock) – Greg gave John some things to consider in Destroy Him. John faces some uncomfortable truths about himself. Part 2 of the A Good Man and An Angry Man

What It Can Be by amaruuk (T, 18,310 w., 1 Ch. || Post TLD, Healing Friendship, Mutual Pining, First Kisses, Cake) – "Which is why we're all taking it in turns to keep you off the sweeties." With the help of his friends, Sherlock is healing from drug overuse and physical injuries. He is also trying to salvage his friendship with John with the hope that, perhaps, they can make it something more.

Hot Water Bottle by khorazir (T, 18,436 w., 1 Ch. || Post TLD / TFP Doesn’t Exist, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Communication, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Autumn, Bed Sharing, Developing Relationship, First Kiss) – A case in one of the remotest corners of the Lake District, a storm, an inn, a broken boiler, a room with two beds but only one hot water bottle, and two men who have a lot to sort out between them – all of this makes for a night to remember.

Contrition by sussexbound (E, 18,556+ w., 5/? Ch. || WiP || Post-S4/TFP Didn’t Happen, Rosie Doesn’t Exist, T6T/TLD is Canon, Year After TLD, Light BDSM, Soft Dom Sherlock / Sub John, Punishment, Light Bondage, Light Masochism / No Sadism, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Tenderness, Aftercare, Forgiveness, Edging, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Mutual Masturbation, Hand Jobs, Anal Fingering, Rimming, Frottage, Communication, Sexual Negotiation, Sexual Tension, Spanking, Head Injury, Anal Sex) – “You’ve been tense ever since we got back, itching for a fight, all your usual tells, but why…?” The truth strikes like lightning. “Oh… Oh! You’re not angry at me. Not this time. Well—maybe a little. But mostly, mostly you’re angry at yourself. Why? For falling behind? For not being there in time. For not taking Wilkes down fast enough?” Sherlock waves a dismissive hand. “It doesn’t really matter.” He lifts a finger to his swollen cheek and cut eyebrow. “You blame yourself for this. And you offered to fix it. But I wouldn’t let you, and… But that’s not what you really want, anyway, is it?” John looks stunned, a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming lorry, frozen, waiting for the lethal strike. “You don’t want me to let you help. At least not right away. No. What you want, what you really want is—punishment.”

The Nearer Your Destination by Silvergirl (E, 18,949  w., 6 Ch. || Post-TLD, Established Relationship, Wedding, Venice Honeymoon, Parentlock, Jealousy) – After a December wedding, Sherlock takes John to Venice for a February honeymoon. It's absolutely perfect, up until the moment he hears John growl, "What the hell is Zanardi doing here?" Part 4 of the Drawn to Stars series

Repentance by LollipopCop (E, 19,782 w., 2 Ch. || Post-TLD/Post S4 Fix It, Not TFP-Compliant, John-Centric, Angst, Self-Loathing, Hugging, First Kiss/Time, Rosie, Love Confessions, Crying, John’s Issues) – John cannot understand why Sherlock even wants to look at him after the horrible way he acted, and his guilt is destroying him. Why doesn’t Sherlock snap at him, scream at him, treat him the way he deserves?

The Slings and Arrows of Outrageous Misfortune by Sherlockwatsonholmesblog (M, 20,455+ w., 4/7 Ch || Post TLD, Five Stages of Grief, Estranged Friends to Lovers, Implied / Referenced Suicide, Self Hatred, Slow Burn, Emotional Trauma, Recovery) – There seems to be something tragic in a friendship so coloured by romance, for they have loved each other immensely. However, Some Days, love isn’t enough. Sherlock and John persevering, as always.

Becoming Us (A reunion in three parts) by addicted2hugh (E, 23,207 w., 3 Ch. || S4 Fix It, Pining Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Sherlock, Hurt/Comfort, Protective John, First Time, POV Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Light Parentlock, Bottom Sherlock, Self-Harm, Drug Addiction, Sherlock is a Mess) – After watching Mary's last message, Sherlock and John try to be the "Baker Street Boys" again. Rebuilding the destroyed flat is the easy part. Will they manage to rebuild their friendship as well? And what did Mary mean when she said: "And if I'm gone, I know what you could become."?

Danger Nights by khorazir (T, 23,591 w., 3 Ch. || Post-TLD, Friends to Lovers, Mentioned Parentlock, Pining, First Kiss/Time, Winter, Folklore, Wales, Spooky Elements, Bed Sharing, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Spooky Elements) – According to folklore, the nights between Christmas and Twelfth Night are the most dangerous of the year. During them, the Wild Hunt rides, and ghosts and demons come out to haunt unsuspecting and misbehaving folk. An investigation of a series of strange occurrences leads John and Sherlock to Hay-on-Wye on the Welsh Marches, to face ghosts weird and ancient as well as close and personal – and perhaps to start the new year on a more hopeful note than the previous one.

the silence of your words by dyingofangst (E, 27,326 w., 6 Ch. || Post TLD / TFP Isn’t Canon, Case Fic, Estranged Friends to Lovers, Kidnapping, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Angst with Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Bed Sharing, Night Conversations, Self-Esteem Issues) – Three years after John decided to distance himself from Sherlock, Rosie is kidnapped and John asks for Sherlock's help. But they're not what they used to be, and even if they learned how to heal on their own, there are still many things left unsaid between them, things they'll have to put aside to focus on finding Rosie, while both hoping it's not too late.

under the burden of solitude by subtext-is-my-division (E, 27,947 w., 5 Ch. || S3/S4 Fix It/Post TLD, Angst, Grief/Mourning, First Kiss, Mentions of Rape, Hurt/Comfort, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Fantasies, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Suicidal Thoughts Mentions, Five and Ones) – Five times they shared a bed platonically, and one time they didn't.

Entangled by missselene (E, 29,044 w., 13 Ch. || Original Male Character, One-Sided Johnlock, Online Dating, Lonely Sherlock, Dancing, First Kiss, Oblivious John, Dev. Rel., Jealous John) – Sherlock knows John will never return his feelings. So what if he decided to look for love elsewhere? Part 1 of the Sherlock & Sanjay series

Lessons in Astronomy Series by CaitlinFairchild (E, 31,164 w. across 3 stories || Angst, Post S3, Grief/Mourning, Mildly DubCon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Physical Abuse, Oral/Anal Sex, Unrequited Love, Pining, Sibling Incest (No Actual Holmescest), Masturbation, Accidental Voyeurism, Drug Addiction, Romance, Dev. Rel., Trust Issues, Happy Ending) – In a different time, a more naive time, Sherlock thought he was the star and John the satellite, circling him in worshipful orbit. He knows now that was never true. John was always the sun, bright and fierce, and Sherlock was the pale, cold moon, his only heat coming from the light he reflected. And then his sun went into supernova. Moriarty said he would burn him and he has, and John is the fire, his rage and grief incinerating Sherlock, burning the heart out of him in the end, turning him into nothing but cinder and ash. And now the supernova is collapsing, a black hole born where there was once warmth and heat and love, and Sherlock is being pulled down, down past the event horizon, into the endless frozen void where nothing can ever escape.

A Case for Domestic Propinquity by SilentAuror (E, 32,308 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TFP / Post S4 Fix It, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Domesticity) – As Sherlock and John renovate Baker Street with Rosie underfoot, Sherlock can't help but wondering how he could possibly convince John to just stay indefinitely... [TRANSLATIONS: 中文-普通话國語] | Русский]

Afghan Bullets, Beards, and Unlocked Bedroom Doors Series by addicted2hugh (E, 38,761+ w. across 2 works || WiP || Post-S4, Bearded John, Porn With Feelings, Friends to Lovers, First Time, Virgin Sherlock, References to Canon, Flashbacks, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Drug Use, References to Suicide, Grief/Mourning, Top Sherlock, Reunion) – Set after series 4. The boys are living together again, and John's new style drives Sherlock crazy. He's trying to keep his besotted heart and over-excited libido a secret, but John has other plans. Lots. Of. SEX. And love.

A Thing With Peas by khorazir (M, 39,5537 w., 3 Ch. || Post-S3/Post-TLD/TFP Doesn't Exist, Fluff and Angst, Communication, Demisexual Sherlock, Asexuality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Idiots in Love, Friends to Lovers, Developing Relationship, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Parentlock, First Kiss) – Sherlock does the laundry. John cooks a thing with peas. They talk. Finally.

Limerence by SherlockWatson_Holmes (NR, 41,763 w., 17 Ch. || S4 / TLD Fix It, Character Death, Drug Use, Slow Burn, Angst with Happy Ending) – Limerence (noun); The state of being infatuated or obsessed with another person: typically characterised by a strong desire to maintain a relationship with the object of love and have one’s feelings reciprocated. S4 fix-it, starting on the tarmac.

Nocturne by SilentAuror (E, 47,927 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4 / S4 Fix It, Trauma, Bed Sharing, Friends to Lovers, POV John, Sherlock Whump) – When Sherlock is injured at a crime, an avalanche of suppressed trauma opens up. John ends up moving into his bedroom to ward off the nightmares, hoping against hope that this arrangement can last indefinitely. This is a story of nights spent together, trauma recovery, and John finally learning some truths long hidden.

The Night Is Darkest by missselene (E, 48,461 w., 8 Ch. || Post-TLD, Extremely Dub Con, S4 Rage Monster John, Insecure Sherlock, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexual Exploration, Healing, Self Care, Self Acceptance, Sexual Exploration, Casual Sex, Gentle Sex, Sherlock/OMC, Threesome with 2 OMCs, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Communication, Internalized Homophobia, Relationship Negotiation) –  Sherlock Holmes would do anything for John Watson... and that includes letting John do whatever he wants to him. What would it take for Sherlock to stand up for himself and finally start taking care of his own needs?

Borrowed Ghosts by DiscordantWords (M, 57,216 w., 10 Ch. || TLD Divergence / TFP Doesn’t Exist, Minor Lestrolly, Pining Sherlock, John’s a Mess, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Ghost Mary, Guilt, Forgiveness, Drinking, No Hug Scene) – In the aftermath of the Culverton Smith case, John spent one painfully stilted afternoon hanging out with Sherlock. He counted the minutes, finished his tea, and left for home without ever clearing the air between them.And once he'd left, he found it very hard to go back.

Lost In A Good Book by khorazir (M, 68,552 w., 6 Ch. || Magical Realism / Discworld Elements || Post TLD, Miscommunication, L-Space, Developing Relationship, Parentlock, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Bookshop) – After chasing a criminal into a poky second-hand bookshop, John and Sherlock find themselves not only stuck in the building, but in L-space itself. With things still raw and unsettled between them after the events surrounding the Culverton Smith case, this adds another dimension to their predicament, which not only constitutes of finding a way out of the shop (while avoiding getting murdered by the criminal), but also to finally address the issues between them.

This Would Make You Happy? by Ranowa (M, 71,217 w., 10 Ch. || Post-TLD Fix It, Past Viclock, Past Sherlock/OMC, Therapy, Protective John, Drug Use, Pining, Autistic Sherlock, Angst with a Happy Ending) – John, more than anything else, wants Sherlock to be happy. Sherlock, more than anything else, wants to make John happy. These two goals are not as in sync as one would think.

"Merry Christmas" I wrapped it up and sent it with a note saying "I love you" by starrysummernights (E, 135,132+ w., 30/31 Ch. || WIP || Post S4, Slow Burn, Mary is Not Nice, Christmas, Fluff, Smut, Angst, Parentlock, Past Torture / Rape) – John has moved back into 221B with his daughter Rosie after Mary was killed, but things are not exactly comfortable between him and Sherlock. After everything that has happened, they are trying to become friends again...and maybe something more. What better time than the Christmas season?! Takes place after TLD.

Limitless Ocean by angel-loving-star (M, 150,730+ w., 21/36 Ch. || WIP || Post-TLD / S4 Fix It, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, John's PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Sherlock Whump, Alcohol Abuse, Past Drug Addiction, Fluff, Parentlock, Coming Out, Nightmares, Panic / Anxiety Attacks, Dissociation, Alternating POV, Suicidal Ideation, Self-Harm Ideation, Internalized Homophobia, Closeted John, Angst, Insomnia, Domestics, Cuddling / Snuggling, Gay Sherlock) – Sherlock is recovering from the Culverton Smith case. But there are some things that time or body can't heal. When John and Rosie unexpectedly move back in 221B the day after Sherlock's birthday, nothing is as it used to be. Both he and John are treading on thin ice. It is only a matter of time until the first cracks appear. Until they begin to sink into the freezing waters of the ocean beneath, and are forced to face their demons, each other, and what has been lurking in the dark for far, far too long. Until it is only them, the promise of sky above the surface, and the limitless ocean flooding into their hearts.

The Chemist by TheGracefulBlueCat (M, 158,385 w., 46/? Ch. || WiP || TLD Fix-It, Drug Use and Withdrawal, Hurt/Comfort, Doctor John, Protective Mycroft, Sick Sherlock, Medical Procedures, Grief/Mourning, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Nightmares, Mental Health Issues, Victorian Sherlock, Asperger’s Sherlock, Sherlock Is Not Okay, Papa Lestrade, Drunkenness, Autistic Sherlock, Synesthesia, Insecure Sherlock, Angst, Sick Fic, Case Fic, Asylums) – Sherlock returns to Baker Street and faces detox. But he feels too exhausted and bad to go through it fully conscious, so he - once more - uses his mind palace to distract him with an old case. But due to his drug issues and the tension between him and John things don’t work as smoothly as everyone hoped they would, confronting Sherlock and all his friends with more of their demons than they would have liked to.

Radioactive Trees In A Red Forest by Maribor_Petrichor (E, 280,251 w., 73 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-S4, Suicidal Ideations, Alcohol / Rx Drug Abuse, Coming Out / Bisexual John, Seizures, Past/Referenced/Implied Child Abuse, Hallucinations, Rehab, Celibacy, Sobriety / Relapse, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Psychological Trauma, Nice /Not Anti-Mary, John’s POV, Parentlock, First Time, Angst, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending) – John Watson is what happens when a man can no longer see a reason to go on. John Watson is what happens when a man starts to let go. "It is what it is." John Watson is what happens when what "it is" becomes too much to bear. This is a story of the life, death, and resurrection of John Hamish Watson.