#Second day of rearranging my entire apartment: quite happy with my new bedroom and I have a lounge/den instead of a living room now
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Day 8: furniture moving affirmations
#Second day of rearranging my entire apartment: quite happy with my new bedroom and I have a lounge/den instead of a living room now#But boy howdy I have moved so much furniture in the past couple days. And I have to move more tomorrow#But it's just the studio that's left so yay?#I wrote detailed step by step lists for how to prepare for and set up the bedroom and lounge (which is great because I kept losing directio#But the studio list is just vague 'keep shit accessible' followed by 'have fun and be yourself#Couch got to its destination alright#Was seriously worried it was a Nick's couch situation when it was wedged in a diagonally vertical fashion in the hallway
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hey Steph, really adore your blog. I saw your ask about s3 and s4 John and his anger. do you have any pics that deal with that? I think his anger is caused by his jealousy. he loves Sherlock and is deeply insecure about S's love for him. I'd love to find some fics that actually deal with all of that. thank you. x
Hey Nonny!!
I DO!!! Been waiting for another ask to finally get this list up and out! Hope you find something you enjoy on this one! <3
ANGRY / CRANKY JOHN
See also:
Jealous John b/c of Other People
Jealous John
Jealous John Pt. 2 and Jealous Sherlock Pt 2
Jealous John Pt 3 and Jealous Sherlock Pt 3
Jealous John and Sherlock Pt. 4
Jealous John and Sherlock Pt. 5
Texts and Tea by JillianWatson1058 (K, 959 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Texting, Humour, Fluff, POV John, Cranky John) – A John who is woken up at 2:30 in the morning is not a happy John. Sherlock, frankly, doesn’t care. He just wants his tea.
And, Usually, He's the One Who GIVES Me a Headache by Cumberbatch Critter (T, 1,315 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, POV John, Cranky John, Headaches, Head Massage) – A migraine is never fun.
Hallucinations can't open doors by Bespectacled dreamer (K+, 1,330 w., 1 Ch. || Reunion, Hurt / Comfort, Friendship, Hallucinations, John’s Wedding, Light Humour) – In which John gets married and Sherlock gets a broken nose.
The 3x John Carried Sherlock, and Once ViceVersa by ShinkonoKokoro (K+, 1,673 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Friendship, Three and One, BAMF John, Sherlock Whump, Worried Sherlock, John Gets Shot) – It happens more than he suspects.
Baskerville After Dark by Ttime42 (T, 1,921 w., 1 Ch. || THoB, Friendship, Humor, Bed Sharing, Missing Scenes, Cranky John, Cuddles) – John and Sherlock have to share a bed at Baskerville. Gen, but can be preslash.
Stay by sussexbound (M, 2,067 w., 1 Ch. || Post TAB, Suicidal Ideation Mention, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Kissing, Love Confessions, Frottage, Coming in Pants) – “Why? Why did you do it? Hmm…?” He takes a deep breath, waits, lets it out again. “Look at me.” There’s no denying him when he takes this tone. “Why did you kill him? Hmm…? For her? After…” A muscle twitches in the corner of John’s eye, and he clamps his jaw down tightly, swallows and sniffs a little before continuing. “For her? After everything she’s done?” “For you.” Before he can even stop himself. Just like that.
Denial Isn’t Just a River in Egypt by satanatemycat (T, 2,107 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Texting, Bored/Cranky Sherlock) – In which John makes a bet with a co-worker. If he wins, she shuts up about him and Sherlock being a couple. If he loses… well, that doesn’t matter, because he won’t lose. Because he and Sherlock ARE NOT a couple. Right?
Nothing Left Untouched by ForeverShippingJohnlock (K+, 2,617 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Romance, Bed Sharing, Oblivious Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Grumpy John, Fluff and Cuddles) – Sherlock rearranges the flat. So what if John's bedroom is now a research library. It's not like John needs a bedroom, he can share with Sherlock. They're friends and John has obviously slept in close quarters with men before and it's not like Sherlock sleeps much anyway. It'll be fine.
Those Days by StillWaters1 (T, 2,663 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD / Sensory Attacks, Caring Sherlock) ��� If Sherlock had danger nights, then these were John's danger days.
Extraordinary by ardenteurophile (T, 2,739 w., 7 Ch. || Angst, Pining, Romance, Second Person POV Sherlock, Pre-Slash) – Sherlock tries to understand his preoccupation with one Doctor John Watson - the one case he can never solve.
BBCSH 'The Comfort of Company' by tigersilver (T, 2,769 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF/Mary, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Bed Sharing, Grumpy John, Touching, Clingy/Handsy Sherlock, Cranky Sherlock, Fluff and Light Angst) – It's a trope that John and Sherlock end up sharing in the same bed eventually and I admit I do adore it unconditionally, along with all it infers as to the lowering of defenses and the heightening of trust. I put forth for your consideration that the notion persists because those who think about these things realize these two men are each in dire need of some good company.
Unquantifiable by 221b_hound (M, 2,799 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Grumpy John, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Pet Names, Texting, Sweet Sherlock, Princess Bride References) – John remains a terrible and foul-tempered patient, but he does try to make up for it with pet names and text message silliness. In the meantime, Sally Donovan visits Baker Street for a hint about the Milverton case, and has to deal with a Sherlock Holmes who can't find words big enough to thank her for saving John's life at the warehouse. For afters, there's a viewing of The Princess Bride. Part 33 of the Unkissed series
Bathroom Accessories by Evenlodes_Friend (E, 3,324 w., 1 Ch. || Sex Toys, Butt Plug, First Kiss / Time, Romance, Horny Sherlock, John’s Patience Wears Thin, Humour, Bottomlock) – John discovers that Sherlock has been playing with some very adult toys in the bath.
After the Bombs by VampirePam (T, 3,337 w., 2 Ch. || THoB AU, Drugs, John’s PTSD, Panic Attack, Nightmares, Caring Sherlock, Cuddles, Bed Sharing, Angst, Hurt/Comfort) – In which the drugs Sherlock used to dose John trigger a severe episode of PTSD. When terrors old and new cause John to fall apart, Sherlock must rectify his mistake and pick up the pieces.
Breakfast, acronyms and brotherhood by Rose de Sharon (K+, 4,074 w., 1 Ch. || TBB Fic, Friendship/Bromance, Hurt/Comfort, Protective John, Fluff) – Set after The Blind Banker: my take of Sherlock and John's conversation over breakfast. S/J friendship, bromance, no slash.
Afghanistan in Baskerville by Amaya Ramiel (K+, 4,357 w., 1 Ch. || THoB Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Drugged John, PTSD / Panic Attack, Hallucinations, Worried Sherlock, John’s Past, Friendship) – What if John hadn't seen the hound when Sherlock trapped him in the lab? What if instead, his very real nightmares of the war had materialized all around him? Trapped and drugged, John can't tell what's real and what's not. How will Sherlock react?
What John Doesn't Know (Won't Hurt Him) by blueink3 (NR [T], 4,392 w., 1 Ch, || S3 Fix It, Pining Sherlock, Snippets of Life, Hurt/Comfort, Scars, Fluff and Angst, Five and One, Hopeful Ending, POV Sherlock) – Five people who see Sherlock's scars before John Watson. But Sherlock's secrets were never something he could keep from his blogger for long.
Overture by Kate_Lear (M, 4,435 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Angry John, Introspection, Dev. Rel., Embarassed / Insecure Sherlock, Morning After, Bed Sharing, Cuddles / Limpet Sherlock) – A short snippet on how John and Sherlock might have got together.
When Your Belly's in the Trench by Morgan_Stuart (T, 4,743 w., 1 Ch. || PTSD, Character Study, Rescue, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Torture, Trauma, Danger, Drama, Kidnapping/Captivity) – The next time that door opens, John Watson will kill the person on the other side.
Given In Evidence by verityburns (M, 5,034 w., 19 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Angst, Drama, Case Fic, Romance, BAMF!John, Submissive Sherlock, First Kiss, Humour) – Coming back from the dead can be a complicated business. With a new case on the horizon, rebuilding a life is one thing... rebuilding a friendship quite another. For Sherlock and John, things may never be just the same...
This Year by DiscordantWords (T, 6,283 w., 2 Ch. || TEH Divergence / No Mary, New Year’s Eve, John’s A Mess, Jealous John, Awkward Conversations, Trapped in a Closet, Estranged After Return, John POV, Semi-Reunion, Angry John, First Kiss, Reconciliation, Clueless Sherlock, Happy Ending) – Last year, Sherlock Holmes showed up at the Landmark with a fake moustache and a bad French accent and threw John's entire life into disarray with two words: "Not dead." This year, there are more surprises in store.
An Interpretation of Viewing Habits by akitsuko (E, 6,653 w., 1 Ch. || Porn Watching, Masturbation, Anal, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Declarations of Love, Jealous Sherlock, Fantasizing, John in Denial / Internalized Homophobia, Bottomlock, Pining Idiots, Sherlock Has No Boundaries, Cockblocking Sherlock) – John watches porn. It's a perfectly normal thing to do.If every video he watches happens to feature actors with remarkable physical similarities to his flatmate, well, that's no one's business but his own. Or: John is in denial, until his infatuation with Sherlock is impossible to deny anymore.
BANG by ElvendorkInfinity (T, 7,016 w., 3 Ch. || Post-TGG AU, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Worried / Scared Sherlock, Alternating POV, Whump, Hospital Recovery, Open Ending) – 'I should warn you,' Sherlock says, his voice steady and his eyes fixed on Moriarty. 'You are sadly misinformed.' And he fires. Prequel to M Is For Moriarty
Stranded by BeautifulFiction (T, 5, 798 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss, Communication / Relationship Discussion, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, BAMF John, Doctor John, Case Fic, Drinking, Huddling For Warmth, Friends to More) – When stranded on a derelict barge at high tide, John and Sherlock reconsider their friendship.
London Gods by a_different_equation (E, 11,092 w., 5 Ch. || American Gods Fusion || Magical Realism, Sex Magic, True Love, PTSD John, First Kiss/Time, Marathon Sex, Sensuality, Genie Sherlock, Human John, Internalize Homophobia, Star-Crossed Lovers, Soul Mates) – Sherlock Holmes is a jinn who does not grant wishes. However, when Dr. John H. Watson, recently returned from the war in Afghanistan, gets into his cab by "accident", it might not even need magic to grant both men their deepest wish: love.
There's So Much Labour Just in Breathing Lately by Susan (E, 12,708 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF / Mentions of S3 Events, Romance, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Grieving John, Mutual Pining, Meddling Mycroft, Therapy, Ambiguous Hopeful Ending, Infidelity) – The dreams he hated most – the ones that left him a sweating, shaking mess when he woke – were the ones in which Sherlock was just Sherlock. Laughing or drinking tea. Sitting across the table from him at Angelo’s eating pasta. Trailing his open hand behind him on the way to the bedroom. “C’mon, John. I’m about to have my way with you.”
Shuteye Shenanigans by Ayakae (K+, 13,263 w., 8 Ch. || Post-TRF, Friendship / Epic Bromance, John’s Nightmares, Angsty Fluff, Bed Sharing, Humour, Cuddles, Taking Care of Each Other, Domestics) – John Watson has never slept with Sherlock Holmes. Never ever ever. And never will, thank you very much. Well, there was that one time, but John didn't count that. It was completely different, just like the second time it happened. And the third. And the fourth. Epic bromance, but it can be read as pre-slash if you wish.
The Palmyra Atoll by elwinglyre (E, 16,609 w., 3 Ch. || TSo3 Divergence / Episode Fix-It, Stockholm Syndrome, Kidnapped John Watson, John Whump, Evil Mary, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Toplock, Limited 3rd John POV) – As John's preparing for the wedding, Sherlock is preparing to have his heart broken, and Mary is prepared to do the unthinkable. Intervention required. Enter Sherlock. Set before Sign of Three with a far different outcome. John is drugged, kidnapped, and left on an island, but not just any old island.
Wonderful, Etcetera. by VictoryCandescence (T, 16,955 w., 3 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Alternate Timelines, Brotherhood, Homophobia, Suicidal Ideations, Mentions of Drug Use, Friendship, Different TRF, Sherlock’s Past, Victor Trevor is Past Boyfriend, Depression, Hallucination?, Love Confessions, Christmas, First Kiss) – Sherlock thinks everyone would be better off if he had never existed, including and especially himself. When he finds himself in a world in which his wish has been granted, he begins to think perhaps even he could be wrong – but it takes an unlikely chaperone to make him not only observe, but understand.
I Think I've Come A Long Long Way To Sit Before You Here Today by ArwenKenobi (T, 18,251 w., 3 Ch. || Grief/Mourning, Passage of Time, Major Character Death, Alternating POV, Sherlock Whump, Pining Sherlock, Hospitalization, Coma, Revenge Murders, Hallucinations, Love Confessions, Brutal Accident, Mystrade, Ghost John) – One year after John is killed Sherlock starts to wonder whether John has actually gone anywhere.
Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...
A Quiet Life by DiscordantWords (M, 25,176 w., 6 Ch. || Post S4, Retirement, POV Sherlock, Awkwardness, Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, Minor Character Death, Questionable Parenting Choices, Non-Linear Narrative, 20 Year Old Rosie, Meddling Mycroft, Pining Sherlock, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Angst, Sherlock Whump) – There had been three days of silence and a funeral. Sherlock had the terrible feeling that whatever happened next would depend, entirely, on him.
To Mend Icarus by AlessNox (T, 28,347 w., 14 Ch. || Post-TRF / Pre-S3 Divergence, BAMF John, Anger, Fighting, Sex, Bed Sharing, Stalking, Case Fic, John’s Past, Introspection, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Crime, Mythology, Darkness) – After a case lands John Watson in court, he tells Sherlock that he is leaving. Not understanding why, Sherlock decides that the only way to learn the truth is to investigate his flatmate, Dr. John Watson. Sherlock finds that coming back is not enough to fix all of the damage that he caused by leaving. A post Reichenbach, post reunion re-discovery fic.
Hellfire by testosterone_tea (E, 28,596 w., 9 Ch. || Fantasy / Magic / Mages / Elementals AU || Mage Sherlock, Elemental John, Developing Relationship, Torture, Powerful / BAMF John, POV Alternating, Dark / Blood Magic, UST, First Kiss) – Sherlock is a Mage that gets involved with a case involving Dark Summoning rituals, leading him to John Watson, a man with Berserker blood. The only thing is, Berserkers have been extinct for centuries. And of course, nothing involving Mycroft and his interfering ways is ever simple. This time, even Sherlock may have bitten off more than he can chew.
A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.
carrying up his morning tea by darcylindbergh (E, 34,504 w., 5 Ch. || Post S3, Minor Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Wakes/Funerals, Estranged John, Pining Sherlock, Depression/Insecurity, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Chronic Pain/Injury, Reconciliation, Awkwardness, Loneliness, Scars, Angst With Happy Ending) – His fingers tremble as he dials and he can’t force them steady. Familiar number, even though he hasn’t used it in two years. He isn’t even sure he should be calling it now, but she’d asked. She’d made him promise.
(Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea by DiscordantWords (M, 39,968 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It || Grief / Mourning, Victor Trevor, Friendship, Sherlock is Not Okay, Nightmares/Flashbacks/Panic Attacks, Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John Comes Home) – Baker Street is very much the same. Only different. And Sherlock is just trying not to drown.
Only To Be With You by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (M, 40,768 w., 4 Ch. || Black Mirror / Future AU || Character Death, Future Technology, Sickness/Cancer/Illness, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending, First Person POV John, Pining John, Heart-Wrenching Angst) – I tell myself that next time I’ll come near this same place again. Wait around for the mysterious stranger in his coat to dash past me, hot on the heels of a new criminal in black. I think this all the way back to my Exit, planning where I’ll wait and what I’ll say when I see him. Scheming on how to get his name. It’s only once I reach the Exit Point door that I realize two hours and forty-five minutes have passed, and I realize that this won’t be the last time I Visit. It won’t be the last time at all.
Guidelines by WithLoweredVoices (M, 43,018 w., 15 Ch. || Winglock || Angels, Fantasy, Angst, BAMF! John, War, Jealous Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Jealous John, Falling in Various Ways) – The Good Soldier, one of the oldest and strongest of the fallen, is offered a bargain: to live as John Watson and to Guide a fledgling archangel so that he will stay on the path of good. Of course, Sherlock Holmes has different ideas about his destiny. Fantasy AU. Warnings for violence, occasional gore, and a whole load of hurt and angst.
The Real Great Perfumers by shelleysprometheus (E, 45,355 w., 68 Ch. || Case Fic, Alternating POV, Gay Sherlock / Bi John, Canon Compliant with Divergence at TRF, Friends to Lovers, Oral / Anal, Pining, First Kiss / Time, Dev. Rel., Drugging, Body Worship, Bathing, Love Confessions, Travelling, Bottomlock, Cranky Sherlock, BJ’s, Alternating POV, Jealous John) – The case, this case. This extraordinary, fascinating, scintillating case. A house. Designed entirely by its eccentric owner, built by no less than five hundred expert tradesmen in the heart of Marrakesh. A house that had, seemingly not only driven its owner out, but also to his quite unpleasant death. And a perfumer, a chemist no less, the very thought of the secrets that house could reveal, would reveal was irresistible. Sherlock had to have this case ... and it seems, he also had to have John! Part 1 of the Forethought and Fire series
Inscrutable to the Last by DiscordantWords (M, 48,842 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, Alternate S3, John’s Blog/S3 is a Story By John, Divorce, Marital Difficulties, John is a Mess, Emotional Reunion, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Grief / Mourning, Pining John, First Kiss, Adorably Clueless Sherlock, Nostalgia, Love Confessions, Eventual Happy Ending) – He wasn't Sherlock, he couldn't work miracles. All he'd ever been able to do was write about them.
Impossible to Feign by achray (M, 49,204 w., 12 Ch. || TRF Rewrite / Reverse Reichenbach, Suicidal Ideations / Discussions, Drug Use/Abuse, Mutual Pining, Friends With Benefits, John Accepts his Sexuality, Anxious Sherlock, Meddling Mycroft, Depression, Hallucinations, Secret Agent John, BAMF John, Reunion, Make-Up Sex, Ambiguous Ending) – Sherlock leant forward, his long fingers curving round to grip John’s.“I won’t let him win,” he said, eyes hard. “I will do whatever it takes to get you out.”
The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...
Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."
The Hollow Woman by ScopesMonkey (M, 51,335 w., 22 Ch. || Post-TRF, Major Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Friendship, Family, Angst, Crime, Reunion, First Kiss / Time, Nightmares, Doctor John, Jealous Sherlock, Jealous John, BAMF John, Angry John, Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Villain Mary, Open Ending) – Forced to return to London sooner than expected, Sherlock falls into a case too close to home. Part 1 of the Hollowverse series
A Goose Quill Dipped in Venom by Polyphony (M, 52,748 w., 16 Ch. || Celebrity John AU || Alternate First Meeting, TV Host John, Supermodel Mary, Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Case Fic, First Kiss/Time, Meddling Mycroft, Drug Abuse, Doctor John, PDA, Deductions, POV Sherlock, Toplock, Sexual Tension, Angry/Rough Sex, Hopeful Ending, Asperger’s Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, is called in to a very ordinary although brutal murder. Something is badly out of tune with the whole scenario and Sherlock finds himself becoming more and more obsessed with the crime - and also with the victim.
Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.
Never Change a Running System by Lorelei_Lee (E, 54,246 w., 18 Ch. || Pre-TRF, Romance, Humour, Drama, Sex Toys, Anal, Rimming, Masturbation, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Public Sex, First Kiss / Time, Virgin Sherlock / Loss of Virginity, Accidental Voyeurism, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Experiments, Naive Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Straight With an Exception John, Hand Jobs) – Sherlock discovers his sexuality – with far-reaching consequences for John.
Albion and the Woodsman by Glenmore (NR [E], 54,437 w., 50 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post S3, Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Angst, Family, Drug Use, Depression, Sherlock POV, Light Humour, Reconnecting, Declarations of Love) – Sherlock and John are devastated after Mary Morstan makes her final moves. Sherlock relapses at the crack house, John walks around the world … and a lot happens in between. Parentlock, in the good way.
The Thing Is by TSylvestris (E, 56,743 w., 21 Ch. || Case Fic, Dev. Rel., Anal/Oral, Blow Jobs, Meddling Mycroft, Drama, Romance, Humour, Casual Encounters, Pining Idiots, Possessive Sherlock, Orgasm Delay, Rough / Alley Sex, Public Sex, John Whump, Drugged John, Emotional Love Making, Awkward Relationship, Marriage of Convenience, Switchlock) – The problem with living with Sherlock, John thought, was that you never, never, ever knew the significance of anything. Like your flatmate's nose buried in your hair. Whilst you're in bed. Part 1 of Nitroglycerine
Lunar Landscapes by J_Baillier (M, 57,046 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || S3/TAB Fix-It, Slow Burn Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Confessions, Drugs, Pain, Medical, Injury, Sherlock Whump, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Romance, Secrets, Tragedy, Trauma, BAMF John, Doctor!John, Drug Addict Sherlock, Injured Sherlock, Grieving John, Idiots In Love, Protective John, POV John Watson, PTSD Sherlock, Sherlock is a Mess, Medical Realism) – An accident forces John to face the fact that Sherlock's downward spiral had started long before his flight to exile even left the tarmac.
The Bells of King's College by SilentAuror (E, 64,019 w., 5 Ch. || Post-S4, Missed Opportunities, Angst with Happy Ending, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, John POV, Jealous John, John in Denial, Travelling / Holidays, Virgin Sherlock, Wedding Proposals) – It's only been two weeks since Eurus Holmes disrupted their lives when Mycroft sends John and Sherlock to Cambridge to pose as an engaged couple at a wedding show in the hopes of solving six unsolved deaths...
Hell Sent, Heaven Bound by ConsultingHound (M, 64,381 w, 16 Ch. || Angels / Demons AU || Fallen Angel Sherlock / Angel Cop John, Alternate First Meeting, Slow Burn, Case Fic, John & Lestrade are Friends Before Sherlock, BAMF John, Mind Palace John, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Sherlock Picks Out John’s Clothing, Clubbing / Dancing, Mildly Jealous John, Awkwardness, Kidnapping, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Sacrifice, Worried / Anxious Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Immortal to Mortal) – Ex-War healer and current angelic guard John Watson is not having the best day. He overslept, he’s underpaid, and now there’s someone tagging the Council’s building walls. However things may be about to get interesting: there’s an unusual stranger hanging around (the definition of tall, dark, and handsome), a literal underground cult is brewing, and rumblings are coming from hell. Can he keep his neighbourhood safe, how and why is he being connected to all this, and who the hell is Sherlock Holmes?
White Knight by DiscordantWords (M, 69,840 w., 13 Ch. || S4 Compliant/Post S4, Marriage For a Case, Jealous John, Pining John, Janine / Sherlock Fake Relationship, Serial Killers, Case Fic, Undercover as a Couple, Weddings, John is a Mess, Misunderstandings, Wedding Planning, Jealousy, Drunkenness, Love Confessions, Angst with Happy Ending) – Green. The word green was used to convey a great many things. Illness. Envy. Inexperience. Standing there amidst Janine's chattering bridesmaids, watching Sherlock furrow his brow and study fabric swatches, watching him smile and simper and flirt, John thought it a remarkably apt colour choice. Because he felt quite sick to his stomach, he feared the source of said sickness might very well be jealousy, and he had absolutely no idea at all what to do about it. Or: Sherlock needs to fake a relationship for a case. He doesn't ask John.
Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.
The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm) (M, 72,684 w., 18 Ch. || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sickfic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.
The Monument of Memory by J_Baillier (M, 79,663 w., 14 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It Fic / S4 is Canon, Angst, Family Drama, Guilt, Case Fic, John Loves Sherlock, Complicated Feelings, Mentalism / Hypnosis, Murder, Grieving John, Sherlock is a Bit Not Good, Team Work, Trust Issues, BAMF John, Psychological Trauma, Protective John, Autistic-Spectrum Sherlock, Parentlock, John POV) – A genius traumatised by a past he's only beginning to recall. The psychopath sister that time forgot. A missing woman and a mentalist who may or may not be a murderer. And, in the middle of it all, stands John Watson.
Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater / Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?
Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w., 43 Ch. || Pining, Love Confessions, Rape/Sexual Assault, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock First Person POV, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Love Making, Possessiveness, Depression, PTSD, Kidnapping, Virgin Sherlock, Eventual Happy Ending) – "For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face." Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.
Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”
The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Asexual Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Flashbacks, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Case Fic, Sherlock’s Past, Awkward Conversations, Anxious Sherlock, John Separated From His Child) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series
Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU || BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest
The Cost of a Wish by slashscribe (E, 102,493 w., 12 Ch. || xxxHolic Fusion || Spirits / Ghosts and Magic, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Soul Mates / Fated Lovers, Adventure, Immortal Sherlock, Powerful John, POV John, Frottage, Wish Granting, Angst with Happy Ending, Nightmares) – John has been plagued by a secret his entire life that has made him feel hopeless until he meets a mysterious, seemingly omniscient man named Sherlock Holmes who owns a wish-granting shop. Their meeting sets off a series of inevitable events that will change the course of both of their lives forever.
Two Two One Bravo Baker by abundantlyqueer (E, 114,574 w., 27 Ch. || Military AU || Afghanistan, War Story, Thriller) – Captain John Watson of 40 Commando, the Royal Marines, is assigned to protect and assist Sherlock Holmes as he investigates what appears to be a simple war atrocity in Afghanistan. An intense attraction ignites between the two men as they uncover a conspiracy that threatens everything they’ve ever known, but Sherlock is as much hunted as hunter, and everyone close to him is in deadly danger. Can he solve the case in time to save himself and John? Part 1 of Two Two One Bravo Baker Universe
A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?
The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w., 37 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball
The Adventure of the Silver Scars by tangledblue (NR [M], 142,458 w., 41 Ch. || S3 Fix-It, Post-HLV/ Post-TAB / Canon Compliant, Case Fic, No Baby, Angst, Humour, UST, Slow Burn, Angry John, Reconciliation, Not Nice Mary / Leaving Mary, Dependent Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Caretaker John, Fist Fights, It’s An Experiment, Virgin Sherlock, Dancing, Drugging, John Whump, Pet Names, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Scars) – It’s been thirteen months since Mary shot Sherlock and John finds he’s still pissed off about it. Sherlock had thought everything was settled: John and Mary, domestic bliss. But when John turns up at Baker Street with suitcases, the world’s only consulting detective might not be prepared for the consequences. A new case. Some old scores to settle. Certain danger. Concertos, waltzes, and whisky.
The Lost Special: Family Matters (As Do Relationships) by ShirleyCarlton (M, 144,688 w., 40 Ch. || S4 Fix It Fic / Meta Fic, Unreliable Narrator, John’s Mind Bungalow, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Demisexual Sherlock, Holmes Family, John Whump, Gay Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Drug Addiction, Parenting, TFP is a Nightmare, Virgin Sherlock, Slow Burn, Minor Character Death, Switchlock, John’s Past, Sherlock’s Past, Eurus, Love Confessions) – Sherrinford is not really the name of some high security prison. That was just a figment of John’s frantic coma dream. And Eurus is not actually Sherlock’s sister. That’s just something random she said to John before shooting him. Sherlock and John were never actually estranged. That was just their act to cover up what really happened to Mary – or Rosamund Moran, as her real name has turned out to be. Sherlock does have a secret sibling, though, and his name is Sherrinford. After finally eliminating Moran – though in a rather dramatically different way than they had envisioned – and exposing the truth about Eurus, John encourages Sherlock to delve into his past and to find out whether the reasons to keep Sherrinford away from Sherlock were the right ones, and to discover what really happened in 1981. Along the way, Sherlock and John gradually, finally, stop keeping each other at a distance, and eventually become a proper family of their own.
Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.
Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.
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Kombatants and a clumsy S/O (aka: Oh shit I just dropped my sandwich on the floor)
This idea for some headkanons came from a silly chat with @gojihime99, and I just had to write something. Also I’m suffering from pretty horrendous PMT this month and occasionally, amongst the anger and annoying fits of sobbing, I become even more clumsy that normal. I’ve almost fallen down the stairs so many times in the last 2 days that I have no idea how I haven’t seriously hurt myself. This includes Erron Black, Johnny Cage (mention of Younger!Johnny but focused on Dad!Johnny), Nightwolf, Bi-Han, Kenshi (yes @malicedragoness, I finally included him for you, sorry it’s not full on filth), Kabal and Kano (again Kano is last so if you don’t like him you can ignore the end). It’s aiming for humour and fluff, with a hint of smut. Hope you like :D It’s quite long so do keep reading after the cut! Erron Black: This man has the reflexes of a magician. He’ll be relaxing with you, an arm slung around your shoulders, one hand stroking through your hair, whilst his other hand will be dancing a coin across his knuckles. You’re not complaining, talented fingers are very useful after all, but it’s unfair that he never seems to drop anything or even have to concentrate on making sure he doesn’t spill his drink when he’s carrying it, your drink, a bowl of snacks, and some napkins because it’s inevitable that you’ll spill said drink at least once. “Noooooooooo!” Erron appears in the doorway, thumbs hooked into his belt, feet crossed nonchalantly and a massive smirk on his infuriatingly sexy lips. “What you dropped this time, darlin’?” “Sandwich.” He snorts and saunters away, spurs jingling, the noise only half covering his low rumbly laughter. Sexy bloody bastard. Well the floor is clean, he knows you drop stuff occasionally (all the time) and so he takes time to mop the floor, all so you can take advantage of the 5 second rule. And he mops topless because it means you’ll get all hot and red and then your clothes will fall off and you’ll both end up fucking on the kitchen worktops. “Noooooooooo!” This time it’s Erron yelling and you running into the bedroom. There you find Erron sprawled on the bed, his smirk even smirkier. “You ok?!” “Looks like I fell on the bed. Gosh darn it.” His smirk curls into a predatory grin that sends a deep aching pulse to your core. Ugh. Stupid sexy bastard. Then ‘oh nooooo’ you’ve fallen too. And your clothes soon fall to the floor. Gosh darn it. Keep reading for more idiocy after the cut...
Johnny Cage: Younger!Johnny has no time for clumsiness and will roll his eyes whenever you trip up the stairs (how is that even a thing? Surely gravity should stop that? Stupid science). He’s a bit of a twat, let’s be honest. It’s when baby Cassie comes along that he experiences his own clumsiness for the first time. Being woken countless times a night and surviving for months on little to no sleep turns the once smoothly graceful man into a stumbling mess. It also shows him how dangerous a home can be and after he’s tripped over a dropped baby bottle seemingly 100 times in one night that he calls in his PA and has the apartment (Penthouse) baby (and sleepy Dad) proofed. Dad!Johnny is a much more understanding and kind man. “Noooooooooo!” Johnny runs into the kitchen, hair wet from the shower and sticking up in every possible direction, towel flapping, fists held in front of him, his entire body radiating green light. “You ok, baby?” You’re speechless, scared and he’s now worried. It’s after a good few minutes of him searching the kitchen, spouting off threats of serious bodily harm that you find your voice. “I’m sorry, please don’t be angry with me I didn’t mean to I’m sorry please don’t Hulk-out!” He’s puzzled at first, and kinda worried you’re unwell. that’s when he notices the green glow lighting up the kitchen. His face flushes red and he’s so damn adorable that you can’t help but pull him into your arms, and when you finally get him to tell you about the ‘glow’ you just about die with happiness. You wake him up the next morning wearing all the green clothes you own. “You ‘Hulking-out’ now, sweetheart?” “It’s my way of glowing, you know, cos I love you too.” Maybe you didn’t need to dig out that ill fitting green shirt, because he has that off you in mere seconds, and everything else you’re wearing. Neither of you leave the bedroom until you really need a sandwich. And he offers to make it this time. Nightwolf: He’s not one to comment on any clumsiness, that would be mean and the last thing he’d ever want to do is make you feel uncomfortable or ashamed of something you can’t really control. If you repeatedly drop or squish things he’ll rearrange his home to make it easier for you to move without bashing your hip into the edge of the table, repeatedly. He’ll think about why you might be clumsy, are you not paying attention, or is the table possessed by an evil demon who likes to watch you hurt yourself on it’s sharp corners? Maybe you’re overly stressed by your job? He wants to help, he wants you to be happy and besides, if your hip is sore then that might get in the way of rolling about naked together in the forest and that is not ok. “Noooooooooo!” Nightwolf runs into the kitchen in the most heroic way, hair loose and majestic, an axe tightly held ready to vanquish whatever is making you shout. He finds you pouting at a happy Kiba licking at the floor. “Are you alright, my love?” When it comes out that you’re sad because you dropped your sandwich on the kitchen floor and Kiba snaffled it in one big bite, Nightwolf is stunned. He puts down the axe and pulls you into his arms, stroking your back and trying oh so very hard not to laugh. “I’ll make you a new one, and we can go outside and watch the sunset whilst you eat it.” Nightwolf is the best. Especially when he’s butt naked and howling with pleasure into the night as you ride him, sandwich forgotten and uneaten in the picnic basket he put together. Bi-Han: The man can move as silently as smoke and as fluidly as water, so honestly, your clumsiness does annoy him. But he does admire that you don’t make a big deal (usually), that you clean up any mess, and you don’t ask him to modify his home to suit you, rather you accept you’re going to bash your hips against the edge of the table, or hit your head when you open a cabinet when looking for his secret chocolate supply (he’ll deny he has one). If you’re living together or at least spending time together out of bed, then he has actual feelings for you, so accepts your clumsiness as part of you, and wouldn’t dream of asking or trying to get you to change. He loves you as you are, clumsy dork or not, and you love him just the way he is, a big scary (sexy) assassin. “Noooooooooo!” Bi-Han saunters into the kitchen. He’s an exceptionally skilled assassin, he can tell if there is someone else is in the house, and it’s just you, and from the sound of it, you’ve dropped your sandwich. He leans against the doorframe and watches you sulk. “You’re cute when you pout.” You have to stomp over to the fridge to hide the smile that tries to erase your pout. When you find you’ve had the last of the cheese you really do pout. Bi-Han just grins that infuriating gin of his and nods towards a bag on the table. Inside is cheese, crisp salad leaves and your favourite bread from your favourite bakery, all the way over the other side of town. He knew you were running low on supplies and didn’t want you to go hungry. You reward him with a long lingering kiss and don’t even mention the blood smear staining the bag. Best not to. Plus Bi-Han has his hands under your top and you’d really rather not distract him from that. Kenshi: He would never deliberately intrude upon your thoughts without your express permission, but sometimes, especially if you’re thinking hard or are emotional about something, your thoughts project too loudly to ignore. There are also times that Kenshi feels he has to read your thoughts, for example if you’re upset or he’s genuinely worried about you. Your clumsiness confused him at first, he’d hear shrieks or thuds, you’d wince if he pressed against a bruise as his hands explored your body, and it took him breaching his own rules on telepathy and reading your mind to see what really happened. So he was relieved to find that you were not in danger, no-one was hurting you or making you anxious enough to lose focus and hurt yourself; you just lost focus on your surroundings, weren’t spatially aware of your own body or were paying attention to something else enough to walk into the wall, again. “Noooooooooo!” Kenshi strolls into the kitchen as the sandwich levitates off the ground and back onto the plate you’re holding. “My hero!” You squeak and rush to hug him. He’s a fantastic hugger so you barely need an excuse to wrap your arms around his wiry frame. The sandwich starts sliding off the plate again so Kenshi calmly hovers them both onto the table to let you hug him tighter. “Was this just a ploy to get me in your arms?” You laugh and hug him tighter. “No, but would you object if I tried it in the future? Or we can just pretend I’ve dropped my sandwich and you can still be all handsome and heroic and save me from possessed food?” His laughter is silenced by your lips pressing to his own and hands that tug at his crisply pressed shirt. His smile is too beautiful not to kiss. Kabal: Not only is he a speed demon, but he’s graceful as well. Quite how he can zip around at speeds so fast Sonic would be jealous AND manage not to knock anything over and avoid pedestrians is frankly unfair. At the start of your relationship he’ll zoom around moving things out of your way, but after you explain it feels overly protective and nannying, he stops (unless you're in serious danger). He understands your need to feel free, to grab onto any small chunks of personal freedom that you can, and admires that you can accept your ‘flaws’. He does tease you about it if you bump into something, but gently and with a smile, and he knows you can’t resist his smiles, so it’s doubly good, right? “Noooooooooo!” He’s there before you finish groaning out your frustration. “You ok?” “Dropped my sandwich.” He can’t help but laugh. “And there was me thinking it was a monster. Kinda hoped it was a monster so I could show off and slice it into pepperoni so you’d swoon and offer me anything I wanted for being your saviour.” “Oh, is that how it is?” You grin and grab a hold of his shirt, tugging him to press against you. He raises an eyebrow and grins, eyes sparkling. “You want me to get on my knees and show you how grateful I am for you rescuing me from the big bad sandwich?” It’s after you both breathlessly get to your feet having rolled around on the kitchen floor, that you notice what happened to the sandwich. Kabal jokingly offers you the bum-flattened bread. You both end up on the floor again when you tell him you’d rather eat his ass. Kano: Drop his stuff and he’ll get pissed off, drop your own and he’ll laugh. And if you drop food then he’s fully into the 5 second (or minutes/hours) rule. Food is food, and when you grow up dirt poor then a little bit of floor on your sandwich isn’t enough to throw it away. If you’re in a casual/fuck buddy thing with him then he’s not going to see you enough to witness your clumsiness, but once he develops feelings for you and wants you around, he finds pretty much everything you do cute and lovable. “Noooooooooo!” Kano barrels into the kitchen like a sexy (sexier?) crocodile Dundee, knives out, tits out, red eye glowing menacingly. He’s used to all manner of fuck off deadly shit in Australia, and in Russia you may not have ‘death on eight legs’ or Jaws waiting mouth open in a puddle, but you do get bears, wolves, and angry bastards who’ve run out of vodka. “You ok, love?” You pout and point to the floor. Your meticulously made sandwich (and you’d been thinking about it all day) lay on the floor. “Well, whilst you’re down there, love?” His grin is filthy and despite the horrendous line, you laugh. “Oh no, think it’s my turn, don’t you?” “Don’t have to ask me twice.” For a man his size he is far faster than you’d imagine, and he has his tongue inside you before you can really catch your breath. He even gives you the bigger half of the sandwich afterwards. He’s a softy really.
#Erron Black#Johnny Cage#Nightwolf#Bi-Han#Kabal#Kano#Mortal Kombat#Mortal Kombat Headkanons#Mortal Kombat Headcanons#Younger!Johnny Cage#Dad!Johnny Cage#noob saibot#OG Sub-Zero#Sandwich
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Puppy eyes make everything paw-ssible - Part 4
Pairing: Sarawat/Tine (2gether the series)
Summary: Retraces the journey of how Charlotte came to be the most beloved member of the Guntithanon/Teepakorn household.
Chapters: 4/6 (although each part can be read as a stand alone).
Previous parts : Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3
Notes: Because we all know Sarawat can be a dramatic little shit, and Tine can be the reasonable one, have this installment. Bonus Earn cameo because I needed her sassy self somewhere in this fic. No actual puppy eyes in this one, because Charlotte is too busy sleeping and making her father panic.
Sarawat refuses to take his eyes off of her.
Since Sarawat entered back into the apartment and immediately noticed the lack of Charlotte greeting him excitedly at the door, his eyes instantly made it to the lying form of his dog, currently laying on her mat like she has been for the past 15 minutes since he came home, and he refuses to let her out of his sight yet, worry pitting in his stomach and the only thing keeping him sane being the small movements he can see her belly make with her breathing.
He knows he’s being stupid right now, and that it’s very likely that nothing is wrong, but he can’t help the worry that is piling in his stomach and he can’t stop his heart from beating fast in his chest.
Ever since Charlotte had come home with them, there hadn’t been one day where she hadn’t been at the door to greet him or Tine as soon as they made it back. And the fact that today she’s just laying down, seemingly sleeping… Let’s just stay that Sarawat is worried, to put it mildly.
It’s probably nothing, and it’s very likely that Charlotte is just resting but… What if it was actually something ? What if something is wrong and she’s not ok ?
He moves quietly, laying down on his front on the floor just in front of her dog pad so he can observe her tiny belly moving up and down, and stays there until he hears the front door opening.
“Hello ! Uhm… Wat ?” he hears Tine ask wearily.
Sarawat knows he needs to be careful about how he says what he’s about to say to Tine. He loves Charlotte, and he doesn’t want Tine to be unnecessarily worried or scared if this is just him over-reacting. Still, he’s also kind of freaking out right now and seeing as Tine knows a lot more about dogs than he does, he needs to share his concerns with him so that they can take action if needed.
“I think Charlotte might be dying,” is what he settles on saying, and he hears Tine’s gasp from the door, as well as someone sighing.
Ok, maybe that was a bit overly dramatic. And so much for not worrying Tine.
“Sarawat, she just looks like she’s sleeping to me. What are you even going on about ?” Tine asks him from the door after a few seconds of silence, which he has probably spent looking at Charlotte to check that she was actually ok.
Sarawat doesn’t feel comfortable letting Charlotte out of his sight yet, so he answers back without taking the time to turn towards Tine.
“She could be sleeping. Or she could be dying. What are we going to do Tine ?” he asks, his voice breaking in the middle of his question, panic beginning to pull him under.
“So I’m going to let you deal with that situation then,” he hears another voice say sarcastically, and he turns towards the door, surprised to find Earn there with Tine.
Before Sarawat has the time to answer, Tine turns to Earn, a betrayed look on his face.
“But he’s your best friend, you can’t leave now !” Sarawat hears him say indignantly.
“He is, but he’s your boyfriend. And that definitely trumps friendship. I’ll come and talk to him about our new song tomorrow. So have fun dealing with his meltdown ! My perfect, sweet and sane Pear is waiting for me at home,” he says with a mocking smile, before turning around and leaving.
Sarawat frowns and watches her back get smaller as she walks away. He wonders what song she wanted to talk to him about, but he quickly pushes the thought away from his mind. He doesn’t have the mental power to deal with it right now anyway. Yes, he is aware she’s mocking him, but Charlotte might be dying and there are priorities to have in life.
He turns back to Tine when he hears his boyfriend sigh, and close the door, before he makes his way closer to Sarawat.
“Okay Wat, what’s going on? She’s just asleep,” he says, amusement clear on his face while he sits on the floor next to Sarawat, crossing his legs to make himself more comfortable.
“I know it may be ridiculous, but she’s barely moved since I came back home. As soon as I cross the door, Charlotte is usually on me in a second and today… What if something is wrong with her ?” he asks, eyeing Tine from where he’s still lying on the floor.
“Wat, babe…” Tine sighs. He ruffles Sarawat’s hair, causing him to scrunch his nose, before he goes to do the same to Charlotte.
Charlotte is obviously not in the mood to be bothered by her owners right now, since she lets out a small yap at Tine interrupting her sleep, before wiggling on her mat, rearranging herself so she’s facing away from Tine and Sarawat.
When he sees her turn around on the mat and hears her small lively bark, Sarawat feels relief rush over him, and he drops his entire body, forehead resting on the floor.
“Had you not roused her to check she was ok ? You know she’s a dog and not a baby, you can in fact wake up her to check she’s okay if you’re worried,” Tine tells him, laughter evident in his voice.
“God, I’m such an idiot,” he sighs, and he hears Tine let out a small laugh. He hadn’t wanted to disturb her in case she really wasn’t feeling well, but in hindsight, Sarawat can’t believe how much of an idiot he’d been, instantly panicking instead of calmly checking her out.
“Not an idiot, just a worried dog father,” Tine teases him, and Sarawat turns his face towards him to frown.
“She’s a dog Tine, not our daughter,” he scoffs.
“Want to tell me why your brain skipped all the logical explanations like the fact that she was sleeping, and jumped straight to ‘our dog is dying’ ?” Tine asks, completely ignoring his previous comment.
“I don’t know,” he sighs in answer, before he lifts up a bit, rearranging his body so he can lie down on his back, still on the floor, but with his head in Tine’s lap this time. Much more comfortable.
One of Tine’s hands immediately starts caressing his hair and scratching his scalp, and Sarawat feels his heartbeat start to slow down for the first time since he came home earlier.
“I’m just…,” he closes his eyes, not quite knowing how to express what he feels exactly. How Sarawat, in his life, has had few people or things that he’s loved truly. How opening up their home for Charlotte has meant someone new for him to love, and therefore someone new that he could lose. How ever since he got with Tine, and now that they have Charlotte, he’s been the happiest he’s ever been in life and that means something has to give eventually, right ? Because that’s not how life usually works out for Sarawat.
He’s still trying to figure out how to voice all of this, but it seems like he doesn’t need to because he feels Tine’s lips on his forehead, his boyfriend pressing a soft kiss there before he caresses his cheek.
“I get it Wat,” he says softly, and it’s true that Tine does know him better than he knows himself sometimes nowadays.
The words prompt Sarawat to open his eyes back up and stare at him.
“But you know, sometimes, things work out. Think about what you always tell me. Our life is a movie, right ? Well this is finally us having our happy ending, our Marley and Me moment.”
“The dog dies, in Marley and Me,” he ends up reminding Tine, recalling his boyfriend bawling his eyes out for hours after the movie ended when they watched it when they first got together a couple years ago.
“God, when did you get this cute ?” Tine laughs in answer, bending down to press a kiss to Sarawat’s pouty lips. “Then think of our lives more as like… Beethoven, rather than Marley and Me.”
Sarawat stays silent for a few seconds, mulling things over. In a way, he has to admit it does kind of fit, with Tine being as excitable as the kids in that movie, and him being as reticent as the father in the movie, before eventually falling in love with the dog too.
“Charlotte looks nothing like that dog,” he ends up saying to be contrary, and he sees Tine shake his head fondly.
“Sarawat, everything’s going to be fine, and I promise right now, Charlotte is just sleeping after having stayed up all night to wreak havoc in our living room,” he consoles him, and Sarawat does have to admit he has a point. Destroying all 6 of their kitchen rolls during the night certainly did take some time, after all.
He looks up at Tine and nods in acceptance, reassured by his boyfriend’s words, and Tine smiles brightly back at him.
“By the way, seeing as Charlotte is asleep right now…” Tine starts to say. “I do seem to recall saying I would make it up to you when Charlotte kept interrupting us a couple weeks ago,” he finishes with a teasing smile.
It takes a couple seconds for Sarawat to recall the scene and understand what his boyfriend is implying right now, but as soon as he does he sits up from his perch in Tine’s lap and jumps to his feet, offering his hand down to Tine to lift him up as well.
“Let’s go,” he says excitedly, prompting Tine to laugh again.
“Who knew I actually had two puppies in the house ?” Tine mocks him, while he follows Sarawat who’s pulling him towards their bedroom. “I swear if you had a tail it would be wagging back and forth right now.”
“Shut up nuisance, and come quickly before she wakes up,” he replies, pulling Tine in the bedroom after him and closing the door. “And I hope you appreciate the restraint I’m displaying right now, holding off on the ‘tail’ innuendos after you left this one wide open.”
“Saraleo !” Tine exclaims, falsely outraged, before he is cut off by Sarawat’s mouth landing on his, preventing any further words from leaving his mouth.
Now that he’s reassured about the fact that Charlotte will indeed be ok, Sarawat can think of much better ways they can occupy their dog-free moment rather than talk. And with the promise of Tine making it up to him…. Well. Let’s just say Sarawat hopes Charlotte stays asleep for a little while longer.
#sarawat x tine#saratine#saratine fanfic#2gether fanfic#saratine fic#2gether fic#emi writes#emi's writing#this is a little ridiculous#but no one who actually watched sarawat's dramatic self pre-tine can say this is ooc
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Life as a Super Powered Omega Sucks (Chapter 2)
read on ao3
Masterlist Here
The hotel room they holed up in once they arrived in Russia was…to put it lightly, complete shit.
It made sense to send Peter, a young adult clearly not from the area, and Wade, a man with a very distinct appearance that could easily be used to identify him, to a location that would be lucky to have a working security camera. That didn’t mean Peter still wasn’t grossed out by the dusty front desk, or the rat he saw running around when he first entered the makeshift lobby. The process of checking in under fake names and swiping the card allocated by SHIELD seemed to stretch on forever.
Wade was conversing with the woman at the front desk in Russian that sounded fluent to his untrained ears, so Peter couldn’t follow along. He busied himself with drawing patterns into the floor, mimicking the path he would have to take in a few days time through the super-secret building no one would tell him anything about. He had more questions, wanting to make up for the time he was spacing it during the meeting, but only he and Wade were at this particular location over the next few nights.
Natasha had taken Clint and Bruce with her to stay with a trusted individual somewhere in the city. Mr Stark, Sam, and Steve were at a SHIELD location too classified for even Spider-Man and Deadpool to know about. Scott had apparently been sent to another run-down hotel. While his role in this portion of the mission was vital, he was being put on reserve until further notice. Peter was offered a spot with Natasha at the home, but it would have been too difficult to keep his identity under wraps, so he instead opted to stay in the same hotel as Wade- Which may or may not have been a mistake.
Eventually, the receptionist forked over two room keys, pointing off down the hall and relaying two numbers in Russian. Wade passed them to Peter, who flashed a polite smile, and started down the hall with their backpacks slung tightly. They searched the doors until they found 118 and 119, pausing just outside.
Wade fumbled with the cards, sticking one in each hand at random, and shoved his arms behind his back. “Pick one.” He teased, a surgical mask drawn up over his lips and his hoodie pulled tightly around his face. Peter had, of course, seen his skin over the 4 years they had known one another, but the mercenary was still sore about his appearance and preferred just to keep it concealed.
“I want this one.” Peter placed his palm against room 118, 119 having a suspicious red stain drawn over the carpet that looked like there had been attempts at shampooing it out for years. “Which arm is that?”
“Don’t take the fun out.” Wade whined.
Peter let out a groan and tapped Wade’s left arm. He produced both arms and opened his palms. Inside his left hand was the key to 119.
“Sorry, baby boy. Better luck next ti-”
Peter swiped the key to 118 from his right hand and scanned it. The door clicked open, and Peter pushed it open with a smug grin.
Wade stood dumbfounded, watching the events unfold as if the devious younger man had stolen his first born. Finally he shut his mouth and straightened up, sliding his own card to gain access to his room. “I guess some people really do get everything they want. Just know, if I find bed bugs, I’m sleeping in your bed.”
“It can’t be any worse than your pigsty back in New York.”
“Hey! My pigsty has class.”
“Goodnight, Deadpool.”
Wade looked like he wanted to say something else, but decided against it and disappeared into his room. Peter quietly locked himself in his own, turning to face the small space he would call his for the next few nights, or however long this piece of intel gathering took. It was small, as he expected, barely the size of his bedroom back in his own apartment. There was a queen-sized bed stuck in the center of the room and a small, ancient television placed opposite on a dresser. The bathroom was mostly made up of a square shower and a toilet spanning on one wall, the toilet continuously running silently. It wasn’t terribly dirty, at least, as Mr Stark had been sure to book them the most expensive rooms, and paid extra to assure they got fresh sheets.
Peter wasn’t feeling the best, likely just plagued by nausea after the bumpy plane ride over, and he was more than ready to crawl into bed and catch up on the sleep he had missed. It was somewhere around 3 or 4 AM here, which meant it was still dark outside for another hour or so. So the web-slinger pulled off his civilians, then his suit layered on underneath, and set them all in a neat pile in one of the dresser drawers. He didn’t remove his web-shooters, just in case, and pulled on the single pair of pajamas he had brought, before crawling under the covers that were way too light for the October morning. He soon found a comfortable sleeping position and closed his eyes. Anxiety over their crunched deadline was still bruising his brain,but he didn’t want to agonize about it now. All he could trust was that the skill of the group would make up for the difficulty of the mission, and they’d be in and out by the weekend.
*
Peter awoke shivering.
At first, in his dreary mind, he assumed it was due to the cold and wrapped himself tighter in the blankets to try to calm his tensing muscles.It took all of 10 seconds to realize he was instead overheating under the poor excuse of a comforter, the scratchy material making him increasingly uncomfortable. He opened his eyes to the sunlight filtering in through the curtains, temporarily blinding him.
The world seemed too bright, and Peter's skin felt clammy under his clothing. He forced his eyelids shut again to try to fall back asleep, his dreams seeming a lot more comfortable than the present. Minutes passed, and Peter was unable to slip back into slumber, but rather was noticing just how… unbearable the world was beginning to feel. His stomach hurt, feeling like he got punched in the gut and his organs rearranged, leaving an empty hole in the center of his abdomen. His senses, which were usually dialed up to 150%, now felt closer to 300%. Everything felt way too loud, from the birds chirping outside his window to the baby crying down the hall. The baby’s cries made Peter’s stomach tightened, and he noted, with sudden panic, that moisture had begun to form between his legs.
“Oh shit. ” Peter started out of bed, now acutely aware of the fact that his temperature was burning. His voice was breathy, the foundation of his vocal chords tighter than usual. “Shit shit, shit. Not now! It’s the first day!”
The poor young man tumbled from the bed, his feet caught in the sheets, as he stifled a cry of surprise when he hit the floor. He crawled the remaining distance to his backpack and tore it open. It was only Wednesday. His heat was almost always on time. Why did it come so early?
But then he smelled it- The alpha pheromones radiating from the room over. They were much easier to pinpoint now, stronger than they had been just the day before. Wade had pushed his body into heat, and Peter simultaneously wanted to beg for his attention and beat the shit out of him for it.
He realized he was spacing when another wave of heat started to wash over him, making him moan under his breath, jarring him from his thoughts. Peter ripped his clothes out and scattered them on the floor, locating his box of syringes and his vial of heat suppressants. He fiddled with the needles and tubes for a few minutes, his trembling hands making this task quite a bit more difficult, until he finally got the correct dosage and sunk the needle shaft into his thigh. Pressing on the plunger sent a cold liquid into his muscle, and once the barrel was empty he let the used syringe fall to the floor. Gradually, his muscles began to relax, and he could feel his breathing returning to normal.
It was fortunate that he had woken up just before his heat had entered full swing, but he couldn’t deny the entire room stunk of omega now. Peter managed to find his scent blockers and doused his fingers in the murky ointment, rubbing a generous amount over the scent glands under his ears. With the area now smelling a lot less like a panicked omega in heat, he set to work on deodorizing the room. He cracked the window to air out the space, but kept the curtains drawn, to make his exact location unidentifiable if the wind didn’t carry his smell far enough. The sheets were pulled from the bed and thrown into the shower, doused with enough water that the slick left on them wouldn’t be terribly obvious. Next went his pajamas bottoms, but he kept the shirt and tucked it back in his bag. Somehow he was working diligently, while he was still recovering from the condition he was in not 10 minutes before.
Even so, Peter’s mind was definitely preoccupied on another issue. It was day 2 of their 5-14 day mission. He had packed enough heat suppressants to last him a week, but using them any longer than 3 days was considered dangerous. Not only that, but the longer he put off his heat, the harder it would hit when he let it come. He needed to find a length of time he was guaranteed to be away from the group, to ride it out, but finding an alpha to shorten it was completely out of the question.
He could possibly tell Mr. Stark to see if he could be temporarily sent home...but the risk of his identity being found out was too high, and he would likely be scolded for not being honest in the first place- Maybe even kicked off the Avengers for good. Dealing with health issues seemed like the most sound possibility.
For now, Peter just needed to get replacement sheets and ask the hotel staff if they had a spare candle he could borrow. Checking his clock, he’d only been asleep for 2 hours, which meant Wade might still be passed out. He prayed for that fact as he gathered up his sopping sheets and carried them down the grimy hall towards the lobby.
The receptionist was less than happy to see he had soiled them this quickly, the housekeeper even more annoyed looking, though they quickly changed their tune when Peter promised to leave a hefty tip if they kept the charge for new sheets off their bill and kept a clean supply for him throughout their stay. He left with a greyed out flat sheet and a topper with holes, but it was better than a slick-stained set, so he gratefully spread them out over his mattress and lit the candle on the dresser. Now calmer, he eventually managed to crawl back in the bed and attempt to get an extra few hours of rest, wanting to be ready at any moment whenever they needed him again. It took almost no time at all for his sleep-deprived form to pass out again, lulled into a much more restful dream now that his heat symptoms had been dealt with for the time being.
*
7 PM. It was 7 PM according to the clock plastered on the wall, they had already been in Russia for 17 hours, and Peter still hadn’t gotten a text back from Mr Stark or Steve on his burner phone. He wouldn’t have been so inherently frustrated by the radio silence if he was even sort of updated on plan, or if they were still mid mission. However, it was already growing dark outside, and Peter had been sitting tensely in wait for them to call on his help. The hotel room that was supposed to feel like a mini-vacation had started to seem more like a prison. The only plus side was that Peter had powered his way through one essay and two written assignments, leaving him with book readings that were too difficult to focus on when he was so anxious.
So he busied himself mindlessly watching some Russian soap opera on the poor quality TV, checking his texts every 2 minutes to be sure he didn’t miss any sort of an update. Still nothing, he determined as he flipped open the lid of his cheap pay-as-you-go cell.
Did they actually need him at all?
He was reeled from his thoughts by an insistent knocking- or rather, banging seemed to fit the sound better- obnoxiously from his door. Peter knew who it was before he had even made it halfway to the door, the thin walls giving him full access to unintelligible chattering transpiring from the mercenary’s conversation with himself. According to what Wade had told him in a fit of honesty, they were two voices he could hear clear as day, one a more honest version of himself, and one completely belonging to some ‘mad’ guy. Peter didn’t really understand it, but he had learned not to question matters that related to Wade unless it was required.
Peter clicking the deadbolt prompted a ‘ shuddup’ from the hallway, and then he opened the door to see Wade clad in a Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts that covered way too little for the season. Peter drew his eyes slowly down the line of his body, and then back up to his grinning face half-hidden by a large-brimmed hat, looking unimpressed. “Festive.”
“I may have only heard the part about ‘vacationing’ and ‘Los Cabos.’” Wade returned with the same dumb expression trapped on his lips. “ Vamos a desnudarnos y tumbarnos en la arena. ”
“I don’t think they even said anything about vacationing.” Peter couldn’t help the smile working itself onto his face, trying his hardest to stay sullen but not doing a very good job at it. He ignored his dirty comment, leaning cooly up against the door frame. “So? What’s up? Why’d you come bother me?”
“I don’t know about you, sweetums, but I am absolutely starving. And I know you can out-eat me by a mile, so there’s no way you’re not going crazy with hunger cramps by now. Let’s go get food.”
The mention of cramps made Peter wince in memory that his heat was impending and he’d have to give himself another dose of suppressants in… about 6 hours, due to his quick metabolism, though it was perfectly timed with his stomach growling in response to the thought of food. He hadn’t eaten in almost a day, and it was definitely taking a toll on his body. Wade snickered triumphantly at Peter’s involuntary reaction, making heat crawl up his neck. “I guess I’m a little hungry.” He mumbled, shifting awkwardly on the balls of his feet. “I didn’t bring any money, though.”
“Lucky for you, Iron Dick gave me a wad of cash before we got off the plane.” Wade waved around an envelope presumably of Russian currency, as if they weren’t probably surrounded by criminals in other rooms keeping their heads low. “We passed by a cafe on the way in to the hotel, and I’m really craving some blinis right now. So hurry that tight ass up and grab your jacket so we can go.”
Peter really had no choice in the matter, and he had been desperately wanting to get out of the hotel room that had begun feeling way too cramped anyways. He hummed a resolved ‘mmkay’ and shut the door on Wade to give him the chance to get his stuff together. He also grabbed a jacket as suggested, not wanting to turn into a spider-sicle before he’d even gotten the chance to be a real part of the mission. He made sure to stuff an extra syringe in his pocket just in case, along with his burner phone on the off-chance someone decided to reply back, and shut his window tightly.
Most of the omega scent had been wafted out into the cold, and the candle had replaced it with a cheap smelling spice. Peter struggled not to remind himself of the fact he was going out with Wade, unmasked and vulnerable, before his anxiety could talk him into feeling awkward about the entire situation. He made his way back to the door, shut and locked it,and looked back up at Wade’s eager eyes. “So...what’s blini anyways?”
“Baby boy, I’m about to blow your mind wide open.”
Peter came to find out the town they were staying in was called Scherbinka, and it was a lot smaller than New York. About 266% smaller, if his math was right. The business fronts were colorful, compared to the overcast weather blanketing the night sky. Wade had noticed Peter was shaking through dinner- mostly due to the cold and somewhat due to his heat symptoms numbly pulsing through his body- and had blanketed him with his leather jacket that was twice his size. It hung loosely off his shoulders, but it kept him warm, especially on their walk back to the hotel.
“This city is kinda boring, huh?” Wade commented as he turned another alley, passing by rows of houses interrupted every so often by small businesses or motels. “They could have at least stuck us somewhere cooler. Like actually in Moscow? The escorts there are pretty cute.”
“You want to go to Moscow just for the hookers? Not the art or theatre?” Peter snorted, pulling the jacket just a little bit tighter around himself. The fall really had a bite to it, and the sun sinking behind the hills only accentuated the weather.
“Hey, sex work is a valid career, Pete. Back off, hater.” Wade stuck his hand obnoxiously in Peter’s face as he swatted it away, claiming his space again. “Anyways, I’ve been to Moscow for jobs like 6 times. I could give you a pretty good tour of the city; the good and the bad.”
“I’ll have to take you up on that offer some other time. If we went there now, you’d blow the whole thing.” Peter grinned, turning to look up at him.
“What do you mean? Also, don’t make me make a joke about blowing anything right now.” Wade gasped in dramatic hurt.
“You don’t exactly blend in.” Peter murmured, but he could see the edges of a disappointed frown dragging Wade’s lips down, and he self consciously pulled the brim of his large hat further down his face. “But that’s not a bad thing.” He rushed out, not wanting to give Wade the wrong idea. “Your tacky clothes and drama queen act fit you. You like being the center of attention.”
Wade instantly brightened, the hop returning to his step. “You got me there. That I do, sweetums, that I do.”
They continued on their quiet walk through the suburbs, bumping into each other every so often with growing force to try to knock one another off the road. Peter couldn’t help his grin and a small laugh forcing its way up his throat when he nearly knocked Wade on his ass, but the man looked completely happy playing along.
“This is nice.” Wade blurted out suddenly, drawing Peter’s attention up to him.
“What?” Peter asked through his breathy snickering, watching Wade fix his shirt that had been coated with dust.
“Hanging out. With you.” Wade murmured, stretching and bringing his arms up above his head as his muscles pulsed. The action had Peter feeling like he was staring too long, so he forced his face forward and added a bit more focus in his steps. “Don’t get me wrong, angel, I love any time I get to bring you back to my apartment, but you only chill with me because of our other halves. It’s cool that we can just get dinner together, y’know? Nothing hanging over our heads or some evil mutant dude about to bust down the Empire State Building so you have to run off. Just two gal pals.”
“I never really thought about that.” Peter frowned, his eyebrows knitting in concentration. Now that Wade had mentioned it, they didn’t typically spend a whole lot of time together outside of ‘work.’ “I guess I just always considered us friends either way. You definitely bother me over text enough.”
Wade didn’t respond, and when Peter curiously glanced up at his face he saw a weird expression in place. Maybe embarrassment? It was a funny look on the otherwise cocky man, but he didn’t comment.
They walked a bit longer in silence, the street lamps lighting up their dirt path home, gravel crunching under their shoes, the cold biting at Peter’s nose and ears and turning them red. He briefly wondered if Wade experienced the same sensations, or if his healing factor gave him infinite body heat, before he heard him cough at his side.
“Thanks.” He finally croaked out, and that ended their heart to heart for the night the rest of the way to the hotel.
#spideypool#alpha wade wilson#omega peter parker#spiderman#deadpool#my fic#iron dad#marvel#fanfiction#abo
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my hero // yoon dowoon // au
anon requested this: hello! can i request for a community police officer!dowoon of day6 and he falls in love with a girl (you can make it up!) i know i sound greedy, but do you think you can mke this kind of long? i wanted to save this idea for my favorite writer!
enjoy my dear <3
yoon dowoon x reader.
words: 3.4k.
genre: fluff, mentions of crime, but basically all cute things.
You looked at the shattered glass littered around your feet with tears in your eyes. Everything you had spent the last eighteen months of your life working towards gone with the smash of a hammer against glass, bookshelves having been pushed over or destroyed, and the entire contents of your safe - and hard earnt money - gone. It was so devastating to see it all shattered before you that you were barely processing the police officer speaking to you.
“Miss y/l/n?” the officer said, his curly hair blowing in the summer night’s wind. He had introduced himself to you earlier, but you had forgotten his name immediately - in fact, you weren’t sure you ever caught it, after being in shock from seeing this catastrophe.
You had opened your little bookstore cafe eighteen months ago, and had slowly been building a strong relationship with the customers. You had your daily customers, those that came in one or twice a week and those who you had seen once or twice but remembered.
Fortunately for you, you’d been able to purchase the flat above your bookstore so were easily able to manage the store. You had two part-time teenagers that also worked here after school to cope with the rush of customers, and you had just built your life around things that you loved the most - coffee, and books.
Which is why you had fallen in love with your job. So to see your little business in ruins, quite literally, before you, was heartbreaking.
“Dowoon I think she’s still in shock,” the second, taller officer with bright blond hair and a namebadge that read Park Jae Hyung. You finally looked at the younger police officer in front of you, reading his name badge. Yoon Dowoon. It definitely matched what his buddy was calling him, so you took that sense of normality at least.
“Hello,” you say sheepishly, wiping the tears from your eyes and shivering. The wind, whilst warm, was very fresh and bitter against your skin, and along with the shock of what had happened to you, you were beginning to shiver. “Is this real? Or am I dreaming?”
“Unfortunately this has happened,” Dowoon says, putting the clipboard under his arm to give you his jacket. “You need to wear this before you really go into bad shock and we have to call an ambulance, y/n. Is it okay to call you that?”
You nod, sheepishly putting your arms in his warm jacket and sinking into it’s warmth.
Dowoon leads you away from the mess of the bookstore to talk you through the paperwork about what has happened. You know that you are numbly answering questions for the time being, probably giving a really poor recall of what actually happened.
You had been woken up by the sound of smashing, but had assumed it had probably come from some drunk’s stumbling out of the bar a few streets away. It wasn’t until the alarm in your apartment started ringing that alerted you of an intruder downstairs. You had called the police immediately, who had told you to remain hidden upstairs until they were called to the scene.
Unfortunately the thieves had gotten away with all of the money in your safe and happy hearts, leaving your’s shattered.
“Now, I’m asking as your local community police officer, and as a friend, are you okay?” Dowoon asks, resting a hand over yours as you fiddle nervously with a loose thread on his jacket. You look up at him, half hidden behind your unbrushed bed hair and still shivering slightly in his jacket and your pyjamas.
“I’m scared,” you mumble, “what if they come back for more? I don’t have anything more other than some coffee beans and last year’s paper backs. They took everything else.” Dowoon smiles sweetly at you, removing his hand to maintain an air of professionalism.
“Fortunately for you, people like the burglars here tonight tend to avoid attacking the same place multiple times. They know that police officers will be on patrol in that area, and therefore will avoid it or they could risk getting caught,” Dowoon explains in a calming tone that really helps to settle your raging anxiety. Jae, his partner, is chatting with a neighbour of yours who had acted as an eyewitness to the incident from their bedroom window.
You just wanted to be in your bed. Safe, warm and happy. You didn’t want to have to worry about money now, or how on earth you were going to keep your business up and running with the front of the store as damaged as this. You’d give anything to just be back to normal.
Why did this have to happen to you?
“People tend to do the worst things to the best of people,” Dowoon says, answering your thoughts then chuckling softly as you realise you had been mumbling out loud. “It’s okay, when I’m nervous or scared I tend to do the same thing and talk out loud. It annoys Jae endlessly.”
You have to share a quiet giggle with the sweet officer, because you know he is trying his best to put you at rest. He settles for making the most of the conversation as Jae finishes getting details from your neighbour, making you thankful - you weren’t the greatest at maintaining conversation at the best of times, and that didn’t usually involve times when you were drowning with anxiety.
“Jae, can I speak to you for a second?” Dowoon asks, leaving your side with a polite smile to speak to his friend. In this time your neighbour wraps you in a hug, telling you how sorry she is about this and that she is happy to help in anyway she can. You just thank her and wait for further news from Dowoon and the situation.
“Okay, so Dowoon and I have both decided to park the police car about a street away from here tonight. Obviously we are on call so if we are called away, we will have to move, but until our shift ends tomorrow at seven o’clock, we are happy to stay close by in case of anymore trouble,” Jae explains to you, Dowoon smiling proudly at being able to get his friend to agree to this.
“Thank you officers,” you said, finally being allowed to walk through your destroyed bookstore to head upstairs to your little flat. Before you disappear to hopefully grab some more sleep, you had Dowoon back his jacket, thanking him personally for tonight.
“It was just... scary,” you say, beginning to ramble now, “and I don’t handle surprises very well. So thank you for being so prompt and calming.”
“As your local friendly neighbourhood Spiderman, it’s my job,” Dowoon replies once Jae is out of earshot. You raise an eyebrow at his choice of words, but he just nods at your Spiderman pyjamas bottoms and makes you blush. You had completely forgotten that you had thrown those on before you went to sleep that night because your usually night clothes hadn’t dried, and you were too lazy to wait.
“At least you’ve got a stellar sense of humour,” you say sarcastically, making Dowoon laugh loudly. Jae raises an eyebrow from the police car’s front seat, making Dowoon blush now and wish you a goodnight before running after his friend.
---
You were extremely tired as you had started work this morning. You opened at your usual nine o’clock starting time, refusing to let last night get the better of you. Yet there was this uneasiness about everyone who entered the store, like you had done the unspeakable.
Yet you were pushing on as well as you could, with your brightest smile that you could muster in this time.
It was now about midday and the busiest time of your day. Today the customers had been especially nice with leaving tips in your small tip bucket, or purchasing that extra sweet treat to add more money into your tills. You definitely couldn’t complain about the genoristy of people today so far, even if all their eyes and their words were heavily dripped in sympathy and sadness.
The busy lunch hour passes fast, and soon you are back to tidying the last of the mess in the bookstore. During these hours no one really enters the shop, sometimes the occasional book worm looking for a good read. However there isn’t much left for them to look at, so again they just leave a nice tip in the collection pot and leave.
You finish rearranging what books you have left just before the slightly busier after school hour starts. Usually this is when one of your two coworkers come to help, mostly with the influx of studying students or tired mothers. However you had told of them to stay off today as you figured it wouldn’t be incredibly busy and you’d be able to manage.
What you hadn’t expected was your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman to show up.
He walks inside the store with a sad look in his eyes, but that softens as he sees that you’ve tidied up. Dowoon glances around the shop and looks for someone in particular, and his eyes skip right over you at first - this is probably because you aren’t sobbing into his jacket, wearing childish themed pyjamas and your hair has been washed and put into a smart ponytail. That and the bags under your eyes from your rough night have been covered with half a bottle of concealer and thick powder.
“y/n,” he says with a smile, walking over immediately and definitely attracting the attention of the customers in the shop. His hair is messy and curled, his eyes still foggy with the remaints of sleep and clothes rumbled from being thrown on last minute, however you can’t help but feel your heart lift. “How are you?”
“Tired,” you say, making him chuckle as he stands aside, letting you serve another young man buying coffee. The customer stands there somewhat awkwardly as you chat with Dowoon.
“You’ve tidied a lot in here,” he says, indicating to the empty bookcases but clean floor.
“I read online that smashed glass everywhere and paperbacks not on the shelves is awfully bad for business,” you say, cracking a joke and making his small smile turn into a big grin. As you hand the customer his drink, Dowoon places an order for a hot chocolate, but you refuse to let him pay for it.
“Dowoon, please. The tips today have been very generous, one drink isn’t going to break my bank,” you say as you turn on the kettle. “Besides, after last night I owe you one.”
“It’s just my job,” he says, leaning on the counter beside you as you take a seat behind it and hand him his drink.
Dowoon stands there and happily drinks his drink whilst catching up with you. He isn’t entirely sure why he came back here, but after tossing and turning all morning because he couldn’t sleep, he figured he should probably do something with his day rather than waste it completely.
But then again, he hadn’t intended to end up here. He had just been aimlessly walking around city, and found himself pulled towards you. He just couldn’t help but walk inside and check that you were okay.
But now that he was here, he didn’t want to leave.
Eventually you ended up making him a second drink, and this time he insisted on paying for it. The afternoon was quiet for you, and you ended up shutting on time unlike usual. Dowoon wasn’t ready to leave your company just yet, but he didn’t know what had come over him as he asked you out for dinner.
“There’s this amazing chicken place close to where I live and I think you’d really like it there,” he said, before realising how weird that sounded. “Of course, you don’t have to come- I guess if you just wanted to get your mind off of things-”
“I’d love to come, Dowoon. Give me twenty minutes to change and I’ll be back down again,” you say, running upstairs to get into something nicer. You figured that you wouldn’t dress up in a pretty dress and heels, but you wanted to make a nicer impression than last night had.
Opting for a simple skirt and shirt, you grab your bag and jacket before running back downstairs. Dowoon had remained standing at the counter where the two of you had been before, looking around the little store in awe.
“Did you make all of this yourself?” He asks, smiling when you nod in response. “This is so... wonderful. It’s lovely in here.”
“Growing up I never really knew what I wanted to do,” you explain as you lock everything up tightly. Dowoon watches you move around the shop, shutting the wooden blinds you have on the windows - they were there originally for the aesthetic, but now they are actually necessary - and pushing all of the chairs under the tables. You checked the floor and upon inspection, figured you could get away with sweeping it tomorrow. You were too excited for hanging out with Dowoon to wait any longer. “So after school I went travelling for a little while, and came across a similar style bookstore in London. I decided to try and impliment it back here, and so far everyone has loved it.”
“It’s so amazing,” he says with a smile, “you have a very good fashion sense.”
“Thanks?” You say with a laugh, finally heading towards the door with Dowoon follow you like a lost puppy. As you look up he runs his hands nervously through his hair, definitely more awake and now running on excitement and hot chocolate rather than two hours of sleep.
The two of you walk side by side down the street, maintaining conversation very easily. It has been such a long time since you’ve held this level of conversation with a boy, especially one as cute as Dowoon. You can’t help but fall in love with his big brown eyes, his messy hair, the energy he has when talking about his hobbies.
You find out that he actually really loves music, and has an incredible passion for it. When he was in school he used to play the drums, and his partner Jae used to play the guitar. The two of them had played together in the school band, and stuck together since then.
“I still play them sometimes when I have time,” he explains, kicking the ground as he walks. “But that isn’t very often.”
“I think it’s really cool,” you say, making him blush under his thick curls. “Like, super cool. I’ve never known someone who can play the drums, that’s awesome.”
“Well now you do,” Dowoon says with a grin, holding the door open for you to the restaurant.
True to his word, the restaurant does serve some of the best chicken you’ve ever had. It could possibly rival even your father’s chicken, and that is the thing you miss most from home. Every time you travel back into the country side you have to have it, and bring home as much of it that you can. Yet this restaurant has you thinking of home, and feels you with warmth or happiness.
Or perhaps that was just being around Dowoon’s bright personality.
Because for the whole evening he was just glowing with life and happiness. He spoke with such enthuasiasm as well, and would crack so many jokes that you were often bent double at the table. After the meal as well he insisted on paying for the food, leaving you no choice but to keep quiet as he handed the waiter the money.
And to top it all off, he walked you home like the gentleman he was.
“I had a really good time tonight,” you said with a smile, brushing your hair behind your ears and blushing. “I would love to do something like this again. It was really special.”
“Me too,” Dowoon says, handing you his phone for you to put your number in his contacts. “I think you are really awesome, and I’m glad we got to check out that place. I won’t lie to you though,” Dowoon says, making you freeze. You had a horrible feeling he was about to tell you he was married with two kids, or only hung out with you tonight out of sympathy. “I’d never been to that place before, so I’m glad you tagged along.”
“Dowoon!” you exclaim, making him laugh. “That’s not funny, I can’t believe you!”
“But the important thing is we had a good time,” he says, taking back his phone before you can play-hit him with it. “And I would love to do it again, somewhere we know we will love.”
You just snort in response to his comment, before hugging him briefly and wishing him a good night. As you run upstairs to your apartment and climb into your fluffiest pyjamas, you can’t stop smiling. You were definitely giddy with excitement, and drunk on his smile.
And you could not wait until next time.
---
eek i hope you enjoyed it hunny! most of my fics are between 1.5k to 2k so this was definitely a longer one for me :) also favourite writer afasfgbafg you make me cry that’s so cute ilysm!!
requests are open!
#kpop#kpop writing#kpop au#kpop request#kpop imagine#kpop scenario#kpop fluff#kpop fanfic#day6#day6 writing#day6 au#day6 request#day6 imagine#day6 scenario#day6 fluff#day6 fanfic#yoon dowoon#dowoon#dowoon day6#dowoon x reader#dowoon fluff#dowoon fanfic#park sungjin#sungjin#sungjin day6#park jae hyung#jae#jae day6#youngk#youngk day6
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#library #fluff #madam pince (kicking them out)
Prompts: @bleeding-fandom-heart Author: @queenofthyme
Hermione and Ron weren’t in the library like they said they’d be. It wasn’t surprising, really. They were always sneaking off or running late these days. Harry stopped asking where they’d been after the fifth bout of giggles he’d received in response. He was happy for them of course, but it did leave him feeling a little bit lonely at times. Like now. He’d actually have to study (rather than play noughts and crosses in the margins of his Potions textbook with Ron).
Harry plonked his books down (ignoring Madam Pince’s ominous Shhh from across the library) on an empty table squeezed between two shelves of books, happy for the privacy. The Hogwarts library was similar to the rest of the castle in the way that it had a mind of its own. The tables and bookshelves were constantly rearranging themselves and each day there would be a new configuration. This was Harry’s favourite so far. No one would even know his table was there unless they were specifically looking for it, or for a book on the spiritual properties of Flobberworm, which sat nestled on the shelves behind Harry’s head.
He opened up his Potions textbook and considered playing noughts and crosses with himself before sighing and flicking over to chapter seventeen to read up on the brewing process of Veritaserum. Apparently, it wasn't enough to make the potion, they had also been assigned to write an entire essay on the method before even attempting it in class. To make the whole thing even more unappealing, they weren’t even allowed to keep the potions once they were completed. Harry could do with some Veritaserum, he thought. He’d chug a whole flask, take a walk around Hogwarts and finally tell everyone what he really thought. “If only,” he whispered to himself.
“If only what?”
Startled, Harry looked up quickly and found Draco Malfoy peering around a bookshelf at him. He frowned. This was the first time he had heard Malfoy talk all year. They'd been avoiding each other mostly, looking away when they caught the other staring (which, admittedly, was often) and keeping a wide distance as they passed in the corridors.
Draco looked at him expectantly, remaining half behind the bookshelf as if afraid to come out any further. Harry realised Draco was still waiting for an answer. “Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “It was stupid.”
“As stupid as this?” Draco asked. His hand went to the cuff of his sleeve but then he pulled back and just pointed at his left forearm instead. Harry understood all the same, although he couldn’t quite get Draco’s tone. Was he joking?
“No,” Harry said slowly, “I guess not.”
“Then I’m in no position to judge you,” Draco said, his face impassive. It was impossible to understand the tone of the conversation they were having with Draco doing that. Harry was used to identifying Draco’s various scowls and glares but this was devoid of any tell.
What the hell, Harry decided. “I was just thinking that it might be nice to be dosed up on Veritaserum so I’d be forced to tell everyone the truth all the time.”
Draco took a step out from the bookshelf and the faintest smile flickered across his face. “Is Harry Potter a liar?” He asked.
Harry couldn’t tell if it was a genuine question or a jibe. He wished Draco would give him some clue. “It’s not that I’m lying,” he answered carefully. “It’s just that I’m not always telling the full truth.”
Draco stared at Harry for a moment – far too long a moment, Harry was starting to sweat – and then pulled out the chair across the table and sat down. He propped his chin on his hands. “What’s the full truth?”
Harry was a little taken back by the directness, and still not sure of Draco’s intentions. He couldn’t think of an answer. “I don’t know.”
Draco smiled properly then. It was teasing, but not in a cruel way. It was the kind of way that made Harry feel like he was in on the joke. “You want everyone to know that you don’t know.”
Harry laughed, surprised that the sound had been elicited by Draco of all people. His once sworn enemy. “If I had Veritaserum, I wouldn’t have to know what I wanted to say, it would just come out.”
“I don’t think it works like that. You still have to know,” Draco said, tilting his head thoughtfully and blinking through eyelashes Harry only just realised were strikingly long. “I know what I’d say to you.”
“What?”
“A lot of things. Many that I definitely won’t be saying without Veritaserum.” Draco dropped his hands and let his eyes fall to the table. There was a slight blush on the edges of his cheekbones that made Harry curious. “There is one thing, though, that I’ve been meaning to…” He trailed off and looked back up at Harry seriously. “I’m sorry,” he said. “For the big things. For the little things. For everything I’ve done that’s made your life harder. For every hex and for every line of ink in this stupid mark on my arm. I’m sorry.”
Harry blinked back at Draco in surprise. It was not what he’d been expecting. Not after months of silence. And now Draco was looking at him, waiting for a response, and Harry didn’t know what to say.
Draco dropped his gaze back down to the table and– “I like your eyelashes,” Harry blurted out. Loudly.
Draco’s head snapped back up. He and Harry both flinched when a heavy Shhh, courtesy of Madam Pince, floated their way.
“Excuse me?” Draco whispered, staring at Harry strangely.
Fuck. “They’re long,” Harry said because it was the only explanation he could think of. Inside, he was screaming at himself for opening his mouth at all. He felt his face heating up. Why had he said that?
Draco laughed (and another Shhh came their way). It was light and high-pitched (the laugh, not the shhh), and nothing like Harry expected Draco’s genuine laugh to sound like. He had never heard it before.
“I don’t think you’re cut out for Veritaserum,” Draco said.
“Why?”
Draco smirked but there was no cruelty in it. “If you blush like that just from telling me you like my eyelashes, then you probably won’t be able to handle the things a truth serum makes you say.”
The way Draco said it, it was like he knew. Instead of asking the obvious, as Harry could only imagine the horrible circumstances in which Draco would have been fed the potion, he asked: “What kind of things?”
Draco hummed for a moment – a pretty sound Harry also hadn’t heard before – and then said: “All kinds of things. Simple things, like eyelashes, but other things too. Fears and anxieties you’re used to keeping hidden. Debased things you usually only think of in the dark. Desires you convince yourself you don’t feel but you know you do.” He shrugged as if to take away from the seriousness of what he was saying. “If the Veritaserum allows you say it aloud, then it’s something you already know.”
Harry felt himself unconsciously leaning into Draco over the table. He stopped himself before he went too far. Draco’s words made him curious. “Debased things?” He repeated. “Like what?”
Draco didn’t say anything for a moment. He looked to be thinking carefully. And then: “I like your hair.”
Automatically, Harry lifted a hand to his head and pushed back his hair at the mention. Draco’s eyes followed the action. “How is that–“
“I won’t answer that,” Draco interrupted. His lips quirked upwards. “At least, not without Veritaserum.”
Harry tried to imagine the implications himself but thought better of it when a number of images appeared in his head too inappropriate to entertain in a library. He shuffled in his seat. “I like your cheekbones,” he said.
Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise but replied quickly. “I like the green in your eyes.”
“I like the sound of your laugh,” Harry shot back.
“I like the way you fly.”
“I like your hands.”
“Shhhhh,” whispered Madam Pince’s voice from a distance.
“My hands?” Draco repeated, lowering his voice. They both looked down at them.
“They’re elegant looking,” Harry explained lamely. Draco’s fingers were long and delicate and his hands looked like they’d be soft to hold, albeit a touch boney. Not that Harry was thinking of holding Draco’s hands. He’d just happened to notice is all.
When Harry looked up, Draco was already starting back at him, although Harry could have sworn Draco was looking at his lips in particular. He stuck his tongue out and swiped it across his bottom lip, and Draco’s eyes darted right back down. Harry could feel his face heating up again. If he really was dosed with Veritaserum, he’d tell Draco–
“I’d really like to kiss you right now.”
The words were Harry’s but they fell from Draco’s mouth.
“Me too,” Harry said quickly.
Draco smiled, warm and soft at every edge, and he leaned across the table, taking Harry’s face in his hands. Harry was right – they were soft. Harry leant forward himself – he couldn’t let Draco do all the work – and pulled his hands up onto the table to lift himself up a little. In the process, he accidentally knocked his Potions textbook to the floor with a loud ka-plunk, but he wasn’t particularly concerned; his only thoughts were of Draco and how those lips would feel against his. Would there be sparks? Electricity? Heat? He was feeling all those things in his body just from the anticipation alone so he knew it had to be something more.
He closed his eyes as their lips grew closer and braced himself for the impending magic. And sure enough, when his lips met Draco’s, it was an instant flash of magical energy. He’d never felt so charged in his life. But it only lasted a second. Because as soon as their lips met, they were ripped apart.
Harry fell backwards with the force and toppled backwards over his chair. He looked up to find Madam Pince standing above him, wand raised. “This is a library,” she whispered, a look of horror on her face. “A place of study. It is not your bedroom.”
Harry nodded quickly, scrambling to his feet. He could see Draco doing the same on the other side of the table.
“Get out of my library. Now,” Madam Pince said venomously. “And pick up that book!” she ordered, eyeing Harry’s Potions textbook on the floor.
Harry hastily grabbed it, shoved it into his bag and after a quick side-eye to Draco to make sure he was doing the same, made a run for it. Harry was surprised, but not unhappy when Draco slid his hand in his and they ran together, Draco’s laughter in his ear.
“And no running in the library!” Madam Pince yelled out after them.
more like this l @queenofthyme
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I love your fic about blind!Light 😍 Can you pleaseee write a continuation fic/headcanon about hope proposing to her and their marriage? Pleasepleaseplease...? XD
original fic
total nano count: 25880/50000
Themorning of their third anniversary, Hope veered from his usualroutine.
Hesupposed that for a typical couple, this wasn’t really a notablething, but when your girlfriend – the love his life, really – wasblind, routine was expected. Typically, they’d wake up around thesame and he’d make coffee while she took Odin, her guide dog,outside. If they had no other plans for the day after that, he’dusually make breakfast and they’d laze around the kitchen.
Moreoften than not, though, he had to go down to the coffee shop he ownedand take care of things there. Most of the time she and Odinaccompanied him and they’d wait for Serah to come in for her usuallyraspberry mocha.
Thismorning, however, he crept out of bed as quietly as possible andquickly took Odin out himself so that they wouldn’t have to worryabout him later. Once they were safely back inside his apartment, hepeeked in the bedroom to make sure she was still asleep and then wentto make coffee and breakfast.
Well,it wasn’t so much making asit was arranging things on a tray. Hope mused that maybe he should’velearned how to make crepes by now, since they were her favorite thingto have for breakfast. Hopefully he’d have time to learn.
Atleast…having more time with her was the plan, anyway.
“Lightning?”he murmured as he stepped into the bedroom, trying not to jostle thetray so he could surprise her. There were definitely benefits tohaving a girlfriend who couldn’t see when it came to catching her offguard…in a good way, of course.
“Hmm?”Her eyes fluttered open, though of course they didn’t quite focus onanything. Still, her face glanced in his general direction, and asalways, his heart did this weird little stutter in his chest. “Whatare you doing out of bed?”
“Oh,y'know.” He grinned and carefully set down the tray.
Apparentlyit wasn’t carefully enough, because she frowned in confusion when heslid back into bed. “What was that?”
“Situp a little more.” When she did, Hope sat right beside her, theirthighs pressed together, and set the tray on their laps. “Breakfastin bed, that’s what.”
Lightning’sfingers traced the edges of the tray, placing everything in her mind.Her lips quirked into a confused little smile when she felt thecrepe. “Is this what I think it is?”
“Yeah.I special-ordered them at the bakery last night.”
“Huh.”She carefully broke off a piece and ate it, humming in contentment.“What’s the occasion?”
“What,I can’t be nice to my girlfriend?” While that was truth, there wasalso a special occasion…she just didn’t know it yet.
“Notthisnice,” she teased. “Plus, you can’t stop smiling. I can hear itin your voice.”
“Whatcan I say? You just…” Hope smiled again, his voice softer. “Youmake me really happy, Light.”
Sheturned her head more towards him at the words, her lips curvinggently. He closed the space between them before she could even closeher eyes, a little shocked at himself that this was their first kissgood morning.
Notthat they lacked for kisses in general, but still.
“Drinkyour coffee,” he said when they’d pulled away. “You don’t want itgetting cold.”
“Youknow me so well.” She chuckled, feeling for the mug and holding itup to her lips, sipping from it as fluidly as any sighted person.
Thewords struck a chord in Hope’s heart.He, well, hopedthathe did know her as well as he believed. Three years was a long timeto be with a person, and even with the rough patches before they’dofficially gotten together, he couldn’t remember ever being happier.It was a feeling he wanted to cling to for the rest of his life.
Hehoped she’d agree.
Afterthey finished breakfast, she turned her head to silently ask foranother kiss, which he happy obliged. “Do you need to go down tothe shop today?”
“No.”Hope had purposely given himself the day off and taken care of enoughso that Noel would have no problems running the place for the timebeing. Not that Lightning knew that. “Why? Did you have somethingin mind?”
“Notparticularly.” Her hands carefully reached out and he met herhalfway to lace their fingers together. “I just think it’d be niceto spend the day with you. I guess that breakfast in bed put me in agood mood.”
Yessss.“Ican’t say no to that.” He leaned in for another kiss with a smile,brushing their noses together in warning before their lips met. She’dtold him many times that it was fine to take her by surprise when itcame to a kiss, but he preferred to be considerate. “Actually…”
“Hmm?”
Andit was was, one of the most nerve-wracking parts of today. Lightningwas so perceptive that he was sure she’d instantly see through hissuggestion somehow. “I found a new song you’d be able to play. Ialready marked the keys. Wanna try it out?”
Luckily,she didn’t seem to think anything was strange with his suggestion.Instead, her face lit up in that way it only ever seemed to aroundhim. “Sounds good.”
“Great.”He breathed out a sigh of relief. “I’ll take care of the dishes,okay?”
“Someone’sbeing helpful,” she teased. Dishes were usually her doing.
“Yeah,yeah. Just for today.”
Shewas still laughing under her breath as he took the tray and headed tothe kitchen to load the dishwasher. The chore was juuust menialenough for his nerves to come flaring back again. What if she thoughtthis was stupid? Or didn’t want anything to do with him after this? He didn’t think that would happen, but if three years of being withLightning had taught him anything, it was to assume nothing.
Asigh escaped him as he left the kitchen and crossed the room to sitat the piano bench. Having one had been pretty much mandatory whenLightning had moved in with him, so he’d basically had to rearrangehis entire living room. It was kinda nice, though, since it meantthat the both of them could get used to a new space together. Atleast moving things around had forced him to clean and now he madeevery effort to keep things exactly as they were so Lightning had noproblems getting around.
Heglanced up when he heard Odin’s paws padding across the floor,smiling as the dog shuffled to the kitchen to eat. Seconds later,Lightning emerged, looking beautiful as usual.
“Blueshirt and black skirt?”
Shenodded, making her way towards him, her hand held a bit out to theside. Typically, she didn’t like using her cane, never mind insideher own house, so they’d devised their own ways to help her getaround. “I thought so.”
Hopesmiled when her fingers brushed the piano and he tappedher hand, guiding her to the bench. It was comfortable, familiar. Hesincerely hoped he wasn’t about to ruin it. “You look beautiful asalways.”
Sherolled her eyes. The expression was so perfect that sometimes hewondered if she’d perfected it before she’d lost her sight. “You’rebiased.”
“Maybea little.” He grinned and brushed their noses together beforestealing a kiss. Another. And another…
“Quitdistracting me,” she murmured, pulling away, but even her unfocusedgaze was smiling. “I came here to play, Estheim.”
“Ifyou say so.” He tried to laugh, but it came out a little weak. Ohgod, his palms were sweating. Good thing he’d already marked the keys– using their tried and true method of masking tape so Lightningcould feel them easily – or he never would’ve been able to pullthis off. “We’restarting at the F chord.” The real song started a bit later thanthat, but this was a way to…ease her into it. Yeah.
Lightning’sfingers drifted soundlessly over the keys until she’d found onemarked with masking tape. She pressed down, smiling as one lone noterang through the air, and then slowly continued. Hope occasionallycovered her hands with his to guide her to the right notes, but shewas doing quite well by herself. As usual.
Themelody started out as asoft little tune that spoke of promises. It was something you couldlisten to for hours, he thought, because there was nothing about itthat commanded you to concentrate on every note.
Unlikewhat was coming next.
Hopetook a deep breath as he guided Lightning’s hands to the next keys.She tilted her head at his sharp intake of breath, but obedientlyplayed where he asked, the melody flowing into something else.
Thetune was unmistakable.
Dum,dum, da-dum…
Hewatched her the whole time, taking in how her brows furrowedslightly. Luckily, she didn’t seem annoyed – just more confusedthan anything. Even though he could just telltherewas a question at the tip of her tongue, she kept playing until thelast note faded andthere was a buzzing silence.
“Hope,”she said, turning her head in his direction. Somehow, she managed tostare directly into his eyes. “That was the wedding march, right?”
“Um.”He cleared his throat, glad that she couldn’t see him reach into hispocket. “Yes.”
“Why?Are we playing this at some wedding?”
“No.I mean, we won’tbe, because that’d be weird. I think. I don’t know.”
Shenarrowed her eyes. “What are you - ”
Herwords were cut off when he gently took her hand and placed an openbox in her palm. Carefully, he guided her other hand to feel the ringthere. It was different from a typical engagement ring – this onewas a platinum band molded into the shape of a rose with a smalldiamond in its center. Lightning didn’t wear much jewelry, but he’dwanted this to be completely unmistakable, so she’d never confuse itwith any other ring and could describe it by touch in an instant.
“Light,”he murmured when her eyes widened in realization. She knew exactlywhatthis ring was supposed to be. “Will you - ”
“Yes.”
“…”He blinked a couple of times. “What?”
“Youheard me.” She was smirking now, but the wonder in her expressionhadn’t faded. “Do I need to repeat myself?”
Thenerves that had been knotted in his stomach all morning finallyunraveled. “Maybe you should let me finish the question,” heteased.
“Areyou going to go down on one knee?”
“Idon’t need to. I’d rather see eye-to-eye with you.” She rolled hereyes at the bad joke, but that didn’t deter him from leaning in andbrushing his nose against hers. “Lightning Farron,” he murmured.“You make me the happiest I’ve ever been. I want to feel this wayforever with you.”
Sincehe already knew her answer, Hope gently took the box that was stillcurled in her hand and plucked the ring from it, carefully sliding itonto her ring finger. It sparkled there perfectly. “Will you marryme?”
Lightningflexed her fingers a few times, getting used to the feel of the ringthere. She touched it with her thumb, like she needed to make surethat it was real. He couldn’t blame her.
Eventhough he already knew her answer, the smile on her face spokevolumes. Still, he heard it again before she tilted her head andcarefully sought out his lips.
“Yes.”
#Anonymous#hopelight#hoperai#hopurai#hopelight fic#i can't believe i wrote that original fic 3 years ago wtf#but i was looking through my inbox#and this just jumped out at me haha#I HOPE IT'S CUTE???#YAY????#and it was enough to push my nano count over the halfway mark#which is more than i thought i'd do#so hell yeah go me#and it felt nice just to write some fluff ahaha#FLUFF FOREVER
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Men and Their Money: The Male Friend
Men and their money became a subject of study for me after many years of dating and many years in the work force and, more importantly, after many years of having male friends.
It took many years to understand how men value money. It took a few more years to learn how men value their friendships with women. Then, after one male friend, I vowed to never "maintain" a friendship with men again. I learned that my male friends were even cheaper with me than my boyfriends.
Differences Between Men and Women
My understanding about men and the differences between men and women, took me many years to fully comprehend. I grew up in an age when men and women were just starting to be friends which did not imply also being lovers. Friends were friends. Many years ago, I believed that men and women could be friends and, therefore, did not have to be sexually involved to be supportive of one another. I believed they could be friends and, thus, not lovers. Friends meant companion in arms willing to share every day struggles and rewards.
My friendships with men typically developed through mutual acquaintances, men from work or men that I had dated but never quite made it to a romantic encounter with. They were the ones I enjoyed being with, but not the ones I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. They were the men I was intellectually compatible with, but not necessarily socially compatible with. These feelings were often true for them as well as me. We just hadn't connected at all levels.
I also tended to become friends with a few chosen men after one or the other of us found ourselves on the losing end of a previously romantic relationship and, therefore, we were more interested in mending a broken heart than starting a new flame. We commiserated and talked about our past relationships with members of the opposite sex, probably as a way to heal our wounds or as an attempt to understand where we had failed so we might do better the next time. We shared details about our past experiences, our past relationships and our hopes for a better future. I thought we were compatriots in the search for self. I have since learned this is not the case.
Friendships and Money
I have since learned that even in platonic relationships, men associate money with everything. They define themselves with it and it shows by how much money they spend on themselves and on others. It is easy to discover how high one ranks in a relationship with a man based on how much money he spends on the relationship. This is easy to understand when dating a man; it shows by how much he spends on dinner. It is easy to understand as a wife; it shows by how much he spends on the wife compared to how much he spends on himself. It took me longer to understand how men use money with their female friends.
Men understand this is relation to other men and they understand it in relation to women. The problem is that the women have a different understanding of how men value money and, therefore, how men spend or share their money to define how important someone is to them.
Men, for example, will buy their male friends a beer to show how much they care. They will buy them a ticket to a football game if they consider them their best friend. They will bring a six-pack of beer when they arrive at a male friend's house, but never bring a bunch of flowers when they visit a female friend - even when they are arriving for a free, home-cooked meal. They will buy dinner for a male friend, but only go "Dutch-treat" with a female friend. They are careful not to give a romantic gift to a female friend. Men rarely give gifts that go beyond bringing the bottle of wine to dinner or a six-pack of beer for an unannounced visit. The beer is for them. This is done on the assumption that I do not have their favorite brand stocked in my refrigerator when they choose to stop by and share their current girlfriend problems with me. It never occurs to them to bring me my favorite beverage. It never occurs to them to buy me dinner, just so they can talk. The men I have been friends with have been particularly careful to avoid ever buying me a gift. One male friend was even so rude as to borrow money from me to take a woman he had just met out on a date. He was interested in her and, therefore, wanted to impress her. He needed my money to do it. Yet, this same "friend" had never taken me to dinner despite the many years I had known him and the many meals I had cooked for him.
After acquiring a quick loan from me, this particular "friend" called me to let me know how his Saturday-night date had gone. He was a talker and did most of the talking every time we met or he telephoned. He talked all night, all day and called several times a day to - talk. Sometimes, he called me five times a day just to keep me informed about his day.
One day, he called to tell me about the "wild weekend" he had spent frolicking around his bedroom with the girl he took out to dinner. He talked for hours telling me about how the dinner date turned into an all weekend event. I heard about how pretty she was, how old she was, how many siblings she had and even how good she was in bed. He was quite enamored with this particular female and their many hours in his bedroom. He spent an entire evening telling me all about it. He was a little low on cash following his divorce and this was the first woman he had taken out since his wife left him. This is why he needed a loan. He had been spending most weekends with me talking about his ex-wife while I cooked him dinner and rented a movie for us to watch. The new woman was now the topic of conversation, instead of the ex-wife. I was happy for him. It wasn't until many months later, when I needed to borrow money from him, that I understood the difference between how men value relationships with women compared to how women value relationships with men.
Borrows but Refuses to Loan
It was months later before I really understood the truth about this particular male friend. It happened when I called to borrow gas money, pending receipt of an unemployment check which was when I had planned to pay him back. While on the telephone, he questioned why I needed it and proceeded to tell me that he was too busy to help me out because he was taking his "girlfriend" to the grocery store. The new "girlfriend" was the same woman he had borrowed money from me to take to dinner and the same woman he had spent the wild weekend in bed with. After he learned that I was calling to borrow a couple of bucks, he told me that this wasn't a good time to call and asked me to call him later. He was even so arrogant as to suggest that I might be more frugal with my expenses.
Cheap Advice
His suggestion that I might be more frugal with my expenses was the last straw. It was the last straw because these words were from the same man who used to spend most weekends with me eating my home-cooked meals, watching movies I had rented and going home with "care packages" I had prepared. He used to cry on my shoulder about his divorce. I heard every story about his marriage, his divorce, he previous wife and even all former girlfriends. I knew everything about him. I had even heard all of his stories than most wives hear from their husbands. This was the same man who could out-talk any woman I have ever met. However, now that he had a new "girlfriend," he was too busy to talk. He was escorting her to the grocery store. How nice. He never escorted me to the grocery store.
Post-Divorce Behavior
Now, months later, after his divorce was final and he had a new girlfriend and a new job, he no longer had time for me. He was no longer in need of my friendship and even went so far as to give me monetary advice. Previously, he was quite interested in moving in with me to become my new roommate when he was facing homelessness; yet, years later, when I needed a place to stay, he wouldn't even let me into his apartment. His explanation for this particular change of behavior was because, as he explained, he "didn't think his preacher would approve of a single female in his apartment." He had found Jesus.
I was astonished and angry. This was a man I met at work. We had shared similar jobs and had worked at the same company. He used to call me more often than a telemarketing professional trying to make a sale. Furthermore, he was the one who did all of the talking. This was before he met and married his second wife. I was the "friend" he searched for after the second wife sent him packing. I was the friend who listened to his stories, listened to him cry, listened to him. I was the friend who was there for him. I was the friend who invited him over for a home-cooked meal, a shoulder to lean on and someone who would listen to the same sob stories time and time again.
Yet, this is now the same person who wouldn't let me into his apartment when I had previously been there several times before. I was even the one who rearranged his living room furniture for him when he had to replace the marital house with a one-bedroom apartment. He was overwhelmed with the new place and just couldn't cope with the thought of where to put his furniture. I understood. I helped him arrange his furniture, waited while he hooked up his television and tried to make the new apartment feel like home. He was devastated. I understood. I helped. I consoled. I was there for him. Needless to say, he and I are no longer friends.
Friendship Ends
After my friendship with this man ended, I vowed to never have another male friend. I was tired of listening to their whining about their broken marriage only to watch them spread their wings with the next new flame. I wasn't jealous of their relationships with other women because I had not wanted a romantic relationship with them in the first place. I grew tired of hearing their stories while still doing all the cooking. Yet, when they got back on their feet, they always found money to take a new woman on a date, but still too cheap to buy me a meal or thank me for the effort I spent to help them heal. They didn't want me to get the impression they were dating me, so they were careful to explain that if we went to dinner together, I had to pay my own way. It wasn't so much a matter of money; it was a matter of appearance. They didn't want to lead me on. Separate checks meant separate lives.
My male friendships seem to end when they no longer need a friend. They never worry that I might need a friend. My male friends quickly disappear after they find a "friend" who will give them "benefits." The new female friend usually provides the sexual benefits of the relationship and, hence, ranks higher on the scale of priorities as to where he will spend his time and money.
The moral of the story, it seems, is that men and women cannot really be friends. They think differently with competing interests. Without a romantic or sexual motivation, most men are content with the emotional support they get while male-bonding at work and, thus, time and money are once again the scales used to determine if the relationship has more value than the time spent to nurture it. There is always a costs/benefits analysis to every relationship.
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