#also this is not hate towards the cc I’m not tagging on him or blaming him for anything he seem like a cool guy I would love to meet

[blackholesun321]

I want to start a chain were we say things that would get us cancelled in this fandom with out being problematic, (because evidently I am as suicidal as a lemming being pushed of a cliff by and unethical film crew, the film crew being my adhd brain on not enough sleep and alcohol,) here I’ll go first...

Georgenotfound, yeah I don’t get it.

[benhardyisdaddy]

Love Of My Life - Part 15

MASTERLIST 

(hello bbys its been a while for a chap so im SORRY but i hope u like this one xoxo also, this pic reminds me of y/n and johns wedding day w roger so im posting it lolol) 

Word Count: 1,532

Dear Roger, 

My best mate. The one person I can go to when I need something, because I know you’ll never turn me away. That’s exactly why I'm writing this letter to you - I need something. I’m dying. You already know that. Everyone does. It’s unavoidable and closer than I expected. My darling, darling y/n will be alone and by herself. Knowing her, she won’t take care of herself when I’m gone. That’s why I need you. Do you remember that night when you drunkenly apologized to me on our wedding night? You were sobbing hard as you confessed your feelings for y/n, telling me how bad of a friend you were for feeling that way towards your best friends now wife. I just need you to know that I was never upset or angry at you. I know exactly how you feel, as I am hopelessly in love with her too. You can’t help who you fall in love with, Roger. That’s why I need your help. I’ll be gone soon and y/n will shut every person in her life out. She will need someone to comfort her and, well, make her believe in love again. That’s why I know you’re perfect for this. Make my wife know what love feels like again. Don’t worry, I have a plan. 

I’m writing letters for her and you will secretly deliver them to her on specific dates, which I have marked down. There’s events that follow with every letter - go with her. Please. Show her that life is worth living, even though I’m gone. Love her, Roger. Love her like you did on the night we married. You’re the only person I trust with this task, because I know you, Roger Taylor. You give 100% of yourself and that’s what she needs. I know deep down in my heart that she will feel the same way. 

The letters are all ready, I just need you to please let me know your answer. I will give you them and the set dates for when you should place them in the mailbox. I’d say I owe you my life, but you surely don’t want that. Just promise me you’ll take care of her in ways I can’t. She deserves every piece of happiness that this world has to offer. I have a feeling you agree. 

Your Best Friend, 

John 

***

Roger knew. He was the one who was sending the letters out to you. He pretended to be as shocked as you when you received them, but he knew. John asked his best friend to woo his wife when he was gone. You couldn’t believe him. This whole time you were guilty for feeling how you felt with Roger and John was the one behind it. You were confused and hurt and sad. If John were here, he’d get a good ear full about what you thought of his little scheme, but he wasn’t.

You were almost to the airport as the words John had said filled your mind. Open your heart. Open your heart. Love again. Love again. You roll your eyes and look out the window, admiring the beautiful scenery that France had to offer. You left Roger all alone back at the hotel and you were beginning to feel bad. All you can imagine now is the look on his face when you stormed past him and out the door. It wasn’t his fault that John involved him in this. And Roger confessed his feelings for you the night of your wedding!? You couldn’t believe that. 

***

FLASHBACK 

***

Mr. and Mrs. John Deacon. You were finally married to the love of your life and you couldn’t be happier. Everyone you both knew were at the ceremony and now they were all together in a large ballroom for your wedding reception. Everyone was drinking and laughing and having fun until someone clears their throat and introduces the newly weds. A large door opens up and out walks the two of you hand in hand with big goofy grins on your faces. Roger was stood in the back corner, finishing his fourth drink. His fourth ridiculously strong drink that burned his throat with every sip. He was happy for you two, more than happy. He just had this tiny monster of guilt inside of him, eating away. He drunkenly walks forward as John kisses you and walks towards a table with drinks. John spots Roger and smiles widely as he brings him in for a hug. 

“My best man!” he says loudly. “Taking advantage of the drinks are we?” he teases, noticing how drunk Roger already is. 

Usually Roger would laugh and spit a jab back at him, but he doesn’t. He just looks at John with sad eyes - showing him that something’s wrong. 

“Roger?” he asks, now worried. 

“Can we talk?” asks Rog, quietly. 

John nods quickly, a frown on his face. He looks around and spots a door to the far left corner of the room. It’s an exit. The boys make their way outside. It’s pitch black, but the full moon helps light up the night. John leans against the building as Roger sits on a step. His head in hung forward as he ashamedly tells John everything. 

“You’re in love with, y/n?” asks John, trying to understand. 

Roger nods and brings his head up, revealing his tear stained face and tormented eyes. 

“I have been ever since I first met her that night of your date. I hate myself so much for feeling how I do, but I just needed to tell you. I would never act on that, John. Please, believe me. It’s been killing me.” 

“Rog,” says John, sitting next to him. “I’m not angry. You don’t get to decide who you love. I trust you, mate. I can’t blame you for how you feel, I mean look at her.” 

They both laugh and agree with each other. 

“Just know, she loves you as well. We both do. I’m just sorry that this has been bothering you for so long. Don’t ever feel afraid to tell me anything, alright? Ever.” 

Roger smiles and sniffles as he nods. He feels so much better now that John knows. And John not hating him made him feeling even more better. He really did have the best friend ever. 

“Now let’s get back in there and have a blast. Yeah? Let me catch up with you on those drinks.” 

Roger laughs as they stand up. John pulls him forward and hugs him hard once more. Roger holds him close as his eyes threaten to spill. 

“Come one.” whispers John, patting his back. 

They both walk inside and Roger being in love with you was never mentioned again, until now. 

***

You’re boarding your plane and find your seat. You slide all the way over and sit down, looking out the window. You were going back home. Back home to the memories of what was once happiness and love. The last time you felt that was with-

“Roger.” 

Your head snaps over and there in the seat next to you… is John. Your eyes go wide as he sadly smiles. 

“The last time you felt love and happiness wasn’t with me, it was with Roger. You can admit it, love. That’s what I was hoping.” 

You close your eyes and shake your head. 

“You’re not John. You’re not real.” 

“Maybe so,” he starts. “But I’m exactly what you want to hear. Your conscious. The real John would tell you the exact same thing and you know it.” 

You look back over to him and you can’t believe how real he looks. Like he’s really next to you at this moment. You slowly shake your head, tears falling down your cheek. 

“I couldn’t do that to him.” you whisper. 

“Y/n,” he says, making you almost gasp at his voice saying your name again. “I’m dead. Roger’s alive. I wanted this for you. I constructed all of this for you. Don’t give up on me now.” 

“I would never give up on you.” you quietly sob. “Ever.” 

“Then what are you doing on this plane while Roger’s still at the hotel? If that’s not giving up, then I don’t know what is. You have to say it.” 

“Say what?” you ask, not understanding. 

“You have to say it out loud. That you love Roger.” 

“I can’t do that.” you quietly whisper. 

“You have to. It’s what I want.” 

You cry harder for a moment before closing your eyes. You take in a deep breath and calm yourself down. You breathe for a moment and open your mouth. 

“I…” you pause, taking in another deep breath. “I... love Roger.” 

As the words slip from your mouth, it’s like this heavy weight lifted from your chest and you can finally breathe. You exhale and suddenly your eyes fly open. You look over to John and he’s still there with a smile on his face. 

“Now go.” he tells you. 

You smile at him and jump up, grabbing your bag. You apologize to everyone as you make your way off of the plane and to Roger.

Tag List: @crazylittlethingcalledobsession @queen-bunnyears@queengavemeasheerheartattack @fatbottomedboi @lokis-scepter-in-my-pants @rtyler19 @greatdinosaursalad

Perm Tag List: @loudxxstar @iambuckyrogers @babebenhardy @ramimalekrp-roleplayerpage @mautand @rogertayolr @mothermercuryy @basics-andthesimplelife @caterinaborgia @discodeakyjazzyjoe @sheridans-dynamos @bethany-cc @onexlittlespark @idontbelievethiss @having-a-freddie-time @denimmay @bensrhapsody @manuosorioh @writing-in-hell @cupcakehardy @toms-irish-girl @a-kind-of-magik @thesecondlastjedi @dianamarie-has-a-blog @ezmina98 @finnbalortrash21 @frostedsugarcookiemint @yourealegendroger @popcrone818 @wronglanemendes @sj-thefan @borhapqueen92 @httpfandxms @haileylansley @arrozsocarrat @quirkydeaky @vanitysfairr @luvborhap @loveandbeloved29 @vousmemanqueez @hearts-to-the-sky @shewantsthe-youngamerican

[thorne93]

Curious Conundrum (Part 29)

Prompt: You’re John Watson’s sister. One day you decide to visit your brother for lunch, only to meet the infamous Mr. Holmes…

Word Count: 1591

Warnings: language, flirtation, sexual innuendos (maybe? idfk), murder/crime/case related stuff, angst, jealousy…

Notes: Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong Not only did she beta, but I literally couldn’t have written half these scenes without her help. She contributed majorly, even wrote some parts of scenes. I am forever in her debt.

Also, this starts AFTER Season 2, episode 1. I don’t follow all the episodes, but it does follow the timeline and hit some major events : )

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 |  Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 |

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He shot him. Sherlock killed a man.

Not that you could say you blamed him. Magnussen gave you the absolute chills, and you’d worked with serial killers. But now… Now he was being deported out of the country and Mycroft nearly assured you he would be dead within six months.

“Please, I am literally begging you, Mycroft. There has to be something you can do. Surely you can pull some string. I can find a loophole. I mean, he was blackmailing half of London.”

“It doesn’t work that way, Y/N.”

Desperation had enveloped you as you stood in Mycroft’s cold, stoic office, pleading.  

“No, but it needs to! Sherlock isn’t guilty!”

“He shot him, Y/N,” he had reminded as if you weren’t aware of that.

Your eyes had shot daggers at him. “You know what I mean.”

“I’ve done all I can,” he had sworn sincerely, feeling an iota of guilt and sympathy for you as he eyed you.

That was the day after the shooting. You were beating your brains out trying to find some legal loophole to say Sherlock had done it as some sort of self defense, but he didn’t lift one finger. It’d been four days, and in just three more days, the plans Mycroft had managed to get would be flying him off to Eastern Europe. Mycroft said it was an undercover assignment. In other words, fiances were not welcome.

“Are you going to help?” you snapped as you read through one of your law books.

“Hmm?” Sherlock said, his fingers forming a pyramid as he touched them to his lips. He’d been sitting like that for as long as you’d been trying to find a solution. So far you’d only slept four total hours since the crime.

“Sherlock! Are you going to help me try and find a way to keep you here or are you just going to go along with what your brother says?!”

“Why are you panicking?” he asked as he turned to you, a perplexed look on his face.

“I’m not panicking!”

“You are though. You’re perspiring, your leg has been bouncing while you read -- something you only do for really important cases, and your voice is shrill.”

You stood up and walked over to stand in front of him, your hands on your hips. “Okay, maybe I am panicking a little bit. But can you blame me? We’re engaged for less than twenty-four hours and you commit murder.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t a crime,” he retorted, throwing your own words from the last few days at you, his eyes glinting with annoyance.

An exasperated sigh escaped you. You squeezed your eyes shut and clenched your fists. “Fine, you didn’t commit any crime. My point is… Mycroft says you won’t make it back. How the bloody hell am I supposed to feel? We are engaged. We just agreed to have our lives bound. And now you’re--”

“Y/N, need I remind you, we agreed to have our lives bound the moment you said you’d be mine nearly four years ago. The ring I put on your finger is simply a physical representation of a vow we made long ago.”

Tears sprung to your eyes. Frustrated, sad, happy tears.

“Even when you’re being completely logical, and nearly devoid of any romanticism, you still manage to swoon me,” you breathed, impressed and angry.

He looked up at you once more. A look of pity crossed his face as he stood in his blue silk robe and wrapped his arms around you. “I realize it’s not ideal, but… I will come back. Mycroft is a fool and doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“But--but--” you blubbered, the sobs starting to form now.

“Love, stop looking at the books,” he requested, a slight plea in his voice as he held you close.

“But I have to find a way to save you!” you cried.

“You already have,” he cooed as he kissed your head. “Come, I don’t want my last few days here for a while to be with your nose in a book.”

He let go of you slightly to get a good look at you.

Unsure how to respond, you remained quiet.

“Please? For me? Let’s go out and do something, or stay in. I want to do something joyful for the next few days, alright?”

You nodded, wiping your nose on your sleeve, a pitiful sight but he loved you all the same.

“Alright. What would you like to do?” you asked, ready to make him happy, no matter the cost.

“Want to go people watch at our favorite spot?”

“Hot chocolate?”

“Is there any other way?” he said with a coy grin.

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

And so the next few days carried on like that. Talk of Sherlock leaving never graced either of your lips. You spent time out and about, at nice dates, inside the apartment just being together. Every night was spent tangled in the sheets of your bed. You knew he was trying to distract you from it, but part of you wondered if he wasn’t trying to distract himself as well.

Yet now, all of you stood on a tarmac as Sherlock was being ripped away from you yet again. All distractions had faded away as if they were a mirage and the cold reality was punching you in the gut.

You wanted to say something to him, but you couldn’t stomach saying one word to him. It hurt too much. You knew if you opened your mouth, a slew of heartbreak would hit you like a truck.

Sherlock said goodbye to Mary, then your brother, and finally, you. Mycroft refused to let you on the plane because he believed if you knew where Sherlock was going you would find him and escape with him. He wasn’t wrong.

You’d been biding your time, trying to find something to say. Something heartfelt, something funny, something clever. Anything for him to remember you by, but no words came.

“So… Here it is.”

“Mhm,” you hummed through tight lips.

“Well, do go ahead and start planning the wedding. You know how I hate all of that sentimental rubbish,” he requested formally.

Your eyes cast a cool glare over him. “I won’t plan a wedding that won’t happen.”

He nodded slightly. “It will happen.”

“Please, Sherlock, don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you begged, anger and desperation lacing into your voice.

“Very well then. How about a promise I can keep?” He stepped up to you and put his hands on your shoulders. “I promise to love you for the rest of my life, and that I will do my damndest to make sure the god-awful sentimental wedding of your dreams happens.”

A familiar sting touched your eyes.

“Sherlock,” was all you could get out before you threw your arms around him and cried into his neck.

“Come now, I don’t want my memory for six months to be of you blubbering,” he said. You nodded and pulled away, clearing your face of all evidence.

“Right, sorry.”

“A smile?” he asked, his own dazzling on his face.

Your heart betrayed you and you obeyed his gentle request. Anything Sherlock Holmes wanted of yours, was his. Your smile, your laugh, your joy, your heart -- all belonged to him. Unfortunately for you, you knew he would be taking it with him when he left.

“That’s my girl. Come on, it’ll be like a vacation away from my incessant ways.”

“I love your incessant ways,” you mumbled, knowing he was just trying to cheer you up.

A knowing smirk graced his expression. “I know.”

“Brother mine!” Mycroft called and the two of you glanced over to him. He made a face that said ‘Wrap it up’. Sherlock nodded in understanding and turned back to you.

“Keep an eye on him, for me, will you? And your brother.”

“Brother patrol, got it.”

“And yourself. Don’t let my absence consume you, please? Do this for me?” he begged.

You nodded, trying to keep a little bit of a promise for him. “I’ll try.”

“Thank you. Well.. must be off.”

“Yeah…”

He leaned down and placed a long, loving kiss to your lips. A kiss that you never ever wanted to end. He broke away all too soon and looked down at you with adoration.

“See you at the altar?” he asked.

“I’ll be the one in white,” you cornily responded. With that, he took your hand in his, gave it a slight squeeze, then started to walk away. The two of you held hands until he was out of arm's reach, your fingertips barely touching. He dashed onto the plane, his brother giving you a strange look.

“You alright?” John suddenly asked from behind you, making you jump a bit.

“Yeah…” you lied as your eyes glued to the plane. “I’m just fine.”

The three of you stood back away from the runway, watching as the plane got in position and took flight. Every inch it moved towards its destination felt like another punch to the throat and gut. You stood between Mary and John, trying to hold yourself together as best you could.

For the most part, you did splendidly, until the plane was out of sight, and Sherlock couldn’t see your face, you broke down. You fell to your knees, your face in your hands. John and Mary instantly tried comforting you.

But no amount of words, consoling, or hugging would replace the giant hole that had just been ripped into your heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Forever Tag:

@cocosierra94

@essie1876

@magpiegirl80

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked

@iamwarrenspeace

@marvel-imagines-yes-please

@superwholocked527

@missinstantgratification

@thejemersoninferno

@rda1989

@munlis

@thefridgeismybestie

@bubblyanarocks3

@igiveupicantthinkofausername

@kaliforniacoastalteens

@feelmyroarrrr

@kaeling

@friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo

@damalseer

@heyitscam99

@yknott81

@sorryimacrapwriter

@glitterquadricorn

@xxqueenofisolationxx

@little-dis-kaalista-pythonissama

@bittersweetunicorm

@alyssaj23

CC tag: @disneyoncerlover815 @ultrarebelheart @tngrayson@clairese1980 @ladyblablabla  @molethemollie @lareinedususpense007