#jilted john

[sowhatifiliveinfukuoka]

Smash Hits (September 2-15, 1982)

Jilted John - Jilted John (lyrics)

[sonofshermy]

[mickjonesteeth]

[julio-viernes]

Bizarros, nerds, feos, frikis, Jilted John en Top Of The Pops ejecutando su primer single "Jilted John" (nº 4 UK). Bez y Baz. Bernard Kelly aka Gordon the Moron, el "bailarín de manos" y corista de la era punk, memo, muy bien. El cerdo de Jimmy Saville se divierte.

El cantante Graham Fellows: "Bernard era mi 'Baz' realmente, pero también una gran influencia musical, sabía de música pop mucho más que yo, y era una parte muy importante de nuestras actuaciones. Hacía un baile estúpido, un poco de movimiento de brazos y manos, y luego se quedaba en estado catatónico. Incluso tenía sus propios fans y, finalmente comenzó a hacer sus propios conciertos".

[toovirgins]

never not thinking about ‘how do you sleep’ because the concept of writing a diss track and being like *spits* fuck you. you and your chart-topping hits and your loving wife and friends and your dead mom, actually, while we’re at it, and your pretty face and your mass appeal music and that one conspiracy and your secret hidden messages to me and—

[tojisun]

cw: this is silly </3; smut; there’s a smidge of plot but otherwise pwp - d/s dynamics

john prides himself on his patience but you seemed to be testing even that.

he doesn't even know what happened just that one minute you were on his lap, hot lips mauling his own, then next you were off, screaming and yelling at him to go away. demanding that he leave and to never come back.

he had barely gotten a croaked, "what-" before you were slamming the door of the bedroom shut with a definitive click of the lock, effectively leaving him abandoned on the couch with his cock half-chubbed up underneath his pants.

no, really, what.

john wipes his face with his palms, breathing in deeply.

he knew that you were a damn brat. that the way you shyly smiled and tittered when he first met you was deliberate because you were hiding the deviousness underneath all the softness. but john had fucked the brattiness out from hiding; used his tongue and slurped your pussy until its raw because not yet. your soft mewls and quiet whimpers were not what he was after. what he was looking for was-

"fuck me!" you cried out before fisting his hair to tug him up from between your plush thighs. "want it now, johnnnnnnn! want yer cock, want-"

you blabbered on so prettily, all angry and teary-eyed in your frustration, and demanded. god, you are so demanding. so pretty at it too.

but your ire is staggering right now, more so because you were all soft and sweet, warm on top of him, and now you've locked yourself away in the room, leaving his balls all blue and his head throbbing with faint worry and exasperation.

john stands up with a huff and pads towards the locked door.

"baby?" he asks tentatively before rapping his knuckles on the door.

there is silence on your end. john doesn't know if he prefers this over you lashing out.

"baby, c'mon," he says, lust abating to make room for worry. "what is it so i can fix it-"

"go fuck your mistress, john!" you hurl from the other side, your voice muffled by the door and the space in between, but john catches sound of it anyway and feels his whole world halt to a confusing pause.

mistress? what-

"-mistress?"

"her cologne's on you! you think i won't recognize it even underneath all your aftershave?!"

john is-

truthfully, john is lost.

there is no one else - it has always been you. from the moment that you batted your eyelashes at him from across his squad's table at the pub, he was gone. he wanted you then and he continues to want you now - you exist as his cornerstone, the one that grounds him amidst the tides. the better half of his soul.

his beautiful, snarky, teasing, devious of a lover.

no one can even come close, not that he lets anyone even try because it’s either you or death, and nothing less.

so the… accusation makes him bleed. he feels unsteady, like you’ve just jilted him and left him to ruin. john wants to fix this. he doesn’t want to let the insecurity fester or the distrust to unfurl even further. but you smelled someone else on him and john knows you will never lie so he thinks hard, mapping what could ever happen to cause you so much distress-

oh.

oh, how cute.

he remembers now - remembers swinging by laswell and getting pulled into her wife’s hug because it’s been years since he visited. she joked that she thought that he’d died, and he laughed because of how elated he had been at the callout.

because john could never settle down in his home, finding comfort back in the barracks instead; always twitching, always willing to stay in the desert longer than laswell demanded them. and when the loneliness crept into his heart, laswell extended her home to him. but he didn’t need that balm anymore. he didn’t need the distraction anymore because john, he-

he found home in you.

and kate’s charming wife teased, asking when he’d get to meet you, and john promised soon, hugging them again on his way out. and now, you’ve thought he is going around slighting you like he won’t give you the gun himself and press the barrel on his temple if he ever did.

now, to tell you this…

“baby,” he tries once more, feeling his lips dancing in mirth. “baby, i promise to you - there is no other woman. s’always been you, peanut.”

there is a thud on your end, a tentative beat, only for silence to ring out once more. that’s fine - john’s not done explaining anyway.

“went to laswell,” he says. “her wife cooked lunch f’r us, and then they hugged me on my way out, and that’s it, peanut. there is no one else i’ll be with.” he licks his lips, debating, but the hunger has unfurled and his eyes have darkened.

“there’s no one else i’ll fuck because there is no one good enough to make me forget the way y’feel ‘round me - all plump and warm and, christ-”

john’s prick twitches awake again, remembering the weight of your body as you rode him last night, and how your pudge dimpled with his every manhandling. you gasped and whined, telling him he wasn’t allowed to be too rough like you weren’t being deliberate in your teases, trying to coax him into exploding. into taking over - and he did. he fucked you on your front, pressing your body on the bed with a hand pushing down on your neck as he drilled you for hours-on-end.

yes, there really is no one else for him. jesus, baby, your pussy ruined him for anyone else. you got him pussy-whipped; got him slobbering for a taste, for a dollop of your slick on his tongue.

you are crack on your own - something so divine that he always feels like a devotee when the passion sizzles into quiet shocks; skin twitching, sexes all rubbed raw.

john would have started pawing at his cock, even if he was mid-through his apology, if it wasn’t for the door clicking open until finally, he sees you peek through the small gap.

“y’promise?” you ask.

“yeah, baby,” john replies, and he doesn’t even feel shy at the gravel in his voice; how he sounds all parts ruined and desperate. “let me show you my devotion. won’t you let me?”

you sniff, then, “okay.”

.

it ends with you covered in so much of his spunk - dripping from your cunt, filling your stomach from when he fucked your throat, and even staining your winking asshole.

lord, it even coats your toes, your thighs, your trembling hands.

john really had his way with you, proving that there’s really no one else that drives him this way. he loves you - he’s murmured this to you so much - but you’ve been a brat. you teased and then threw a tantrum so it’s only right that john punished you. that he tamed you, until you are as you are now - body wracked with jolts, your gaze all faraway, and your pussy moulded to his shape.

“i love you,” john sighs dreamily. you can only manage a warbled hum.

cute.

[pricegouge]

price x pregnant!f!reader meetcute drabble i whipped up on my lunch dedicated entirely to the girl at work who's too heavily pregnant to fit her scrubs rn. john price would love you, girl, keep your chin up

The worst part wasn't actually the discomfort of the papery material, nor the cheap elastic waistline which dug into your plush sides and itched like a sonofabitch. It wasn't even the embarrassment of having to track down your lead at the start of your shift and shamefacedly admit that you could no longer fit into your designated scrub pants and ask if he could maybe please find some spares somewhere? (He couldn't, because apparently no one on the team before you had ever fallen ill with a baby in the belly or even just gained a little weight.)

No, the worst part was the noise.

It hadn't been something you'd even considered until you were already barging into your first patient's room, swishing away with each step. Mr. Jeffreys had grumbled in his sleep, eye peeking open just as you'd leaned over him to start your morning check. Enough ruckus, woman. You'd thought he was just being irritable, a common enough occurrence, but then it happened again and again, each new room bringing another grumpy occupant, displeased about being woken up so far ahead of breakfast. Still, you almost preferred that to the early risers, the old biddies who would turn to greet you, already alert, take one look at you with your swollen belly overhanging the thin paper pants they'd made you wear over your reliable leggings, and start cackling loud enough to draw attention from the other orderlies. 

You weren't the first pregnant woman to outgrow her pants, but you were perhaps among the first to have done so in a professional setting. 

At least it got easier the more the day dragged on, quippy remarks coming more naturally to you the more you had them levelled at you in kind. You'd even let a little boy doodle on your shin, an attempt to keep his mind of his mother groaning in pain, attempting to work through a kidney stone. You're fairly sure you're rocking an Incredible Hulk there now, but it was a bit hard to tell with the way the magic markers had bled across the tyvek weave. 

"Missed your calling." 

You frown down at the man before you, thick brows only slightly pinched despite the way you knew his shoulder must be killing him. GSW. Didn't get many of them 'round here, but you'd seen enough hunting accidents to figure out the good stuff didn't always cut it. And this didn't seem like your average misfire, or pulled-shot graze. He'd been the talk of the nurses station when the call had come through to prep for him, bullet taken straight on, center mass. He wasn't from here, didn't seem to know anyone from here. No one believed it was a simple hunting accident, but the authorities had come and gone, sent skittering by a rather severe woman yielding a badge no one had gotten a good look at. No arrests, minimal testimonies. Rumors had sprouted roots, grew too tall too quickly to be believable. You'd heard everything from a jilted lover to some sort of military coup, but you hadn't placed much stock in anything other than the three letters which had remained unchanged on his chart since the moment he'd been admitted, and then later the surgeon's notes.

GSW. Successful operation.

That had only been two days ago. You'd been in his room once before, set about the same task. He'd been fast asleep, the handsome man who's been visiting offering charming but ultimately short conversation. It hadn't bothered you as you'd been in a rush, and you'd known full well the stress loved ones usually felt, trying to ensure the best possible rest for their injured loved ones. 

He had no guard dog today, no one to send you packing when your putzing made too much noise. And now you've woken him, poor man.

"Pardon?" 

Blue eyes blink open, cloudy with pain and the influence of strong meds but surprisingly alert. They flick down to your leg, shoulders tensing a bit as he lifts his head to see properly. "Pretty tree you've made there." 

You can't help but laugh. "Seems I'm right where I should be, then, seeing as that's supposed to be the Hulk. I think," you add once you've earned a smirk.

"Can't even remember what it is you've drawn? You the reason I can't find a comfortable position? Been stealing my morphine?"

"I wish," you sigh, pat your belly dramatically. "But they say it's bad for baby."

His brows lift into his hairline, pain momentarily forgotten as he looks you over again, as if seeing you for the first time. You realize pretty quickly that he's one of those people, the crinkling around his eyes revealing him as the type. It's one of the weirdest parts of being pregnant, the strangers who look at you with awe, as if you've hung the moon. You try not to think too much of it, don't like imagining couples who've tried for years when all you've managed to do was slip up your birth control one time, like a fool. This man isn't wearing a ring, but that doesn't mean much. Most women who carry on after you are single, too. At least he's not trying to touch your belly.

"Is that why you're half way to a paper gown? Come wandering from maternity?"

"Har, har," you deadpan, waving your stethoscope at him although you know full well he's seen it - hard to miss, resting atop your swollen tits. "No, I've simply grown too fat for my scrubs. And I think my lead's having too much fun embarrassing me about it."

He frowns, somehow vaguely patronizing even while heavily medicated. "No spares for someone in your condition?"

"Nope! Apparently I'm lucky enough to be the only fertile little heifer ever on the team," you snark, and then squint at his monitor when his pulse spikes unexpectedly. 

"Sorry," he mumbles - odd - and when you check, you notice some color to his ears. He clears his throat to distract you from fretting, though the softness is gone from his eyes again, replaced by an implacable type of tension. "Perhaps they're simply not used to expectant mothers working so late into their term?" 

Ah. At last, the well-meaning concern. It grates at you worse than usual, the ease and simplicity (albeit annoyance) of your silly morning falling apart in seconds. Perhaps it's that, the whiplash, that has you huffing irritably, mood plummeting. "Well. Someone's got a pay my bills," you gripe, snapping the claw of his clipboard just to work out some aggression. Maybe it's the hormones.

There's a huff of breath, almost as animated as yours. When you look to make sure he's not aspirating or something, your new friend's absurd mustache is twitching. "Well. That's what Mr. Pretty Nurse is for, no?" 

The phrasing makes you smile, hands gentling as you busy yourself with his monitor. This is familiar ground, at least, a path well-tread which you'd like navigating with a conversational partner who would call you Ms. Pretty Nurse. "Sure," you concede, tapping away at his station to check the trend of his vitals. Steady, even. All night. Like he was practiced at taking bullets. "You ever see him, you tell him he owes me a back log of bills, alright?" In truth, your 'mister' never was a mister, just some guy you'd been trying to blow off steam with. He'd cut and run the second you'd brought up the pregnancy, but you'd decided to keep it after some thought and had never followed up with him, deciding it ultimately was no longer his concern. You harbored no ill will, really, but the dead beat dad was a common schtick, an easy conversational piece when simply shooting the shit with talkative patients. If the worst part about pregnancy was the noisy pants (and the morning sickness, and the belly hair, and the leaky nipples and the -) then the best part was surely the built-in small talk.

"Be sure to let him know," chops murmurs, voice tight. You check his file again, correct your mental dub with his real name, John Price. Traditional, like the neat beard hiding the growing color in his cheeks. When he speaks again, his voice is slightly rougher. "Who did that, then?" 

You think he's pointing to your belly, far too forward, but when you check you see his finger aims lower, towards the art that started this conversation. "Kid over in pre-op. Was upset watching his mom writhing around. Passing a stone," you supply with an exaggerated whisper, as if telling him some scandalous secret.

John grins, soft again. "You'll be good at it, then."

"Pardon?" you ask absently, watching as his heartbeat seems to flutter weakly. 

"Said 'too round for scrubs,'" he chuckles. "Good job, mama."

You scoff, scandalized, but when you turn to him you find he's got that far off look in his eye, a sharp contrast to the lucidity of his speech. That does it. You tut, leaning over him to check his forehead with the back of your hand. And outdated practice, sure, but still useful in a pinch. He doesn't feel overly warm, but his focus has slipped back into that slight haziness, blissed out and vaguely absent, staring a good half a foot below your eyes.

"Mr. Price -," you start but he interjects.

"Just John, love."

"Sure. John. Are you feeling okay?" 

Eyes crinkling again, he gives you an unbearably soft smile, at odds with everything you've managed to glean from his chart. "Never better, doll."

banner by @/cafekitsune

[undying-love]

Beatles biographers saying totally normal things about John and Paul: A compilation

"‘John always used to say,’ Yoko told me at one point, ‘that no one ever hurt him the way Paul hurt him.’ The words suggested a far deeper emotional attachment between the two than the world ever suspected - they were like those of a spurned lover." -Philip Norman

"No matter how much he loved Yoko, the Gibraltar ceremony seems like something close to an on-the-rebound reaction to the loss of his first great love, Paul McCartney." -Chris Salewicz

"Almost in each other’s face, John and Paul quickly gained an unusual closeness, little or nothing hidden. Paul noticed that ‘John had beautiful hands." -Mark Lewisohn

"With Yoko present, Paul McCartney’s reign as Lennon’s princess was doomed.” -Peter McCabe

"John's in love with Yoko," Paul confessed to a reporter from the 'Evening Standard', "and he's no longer in love with the three of us." But for all intents and purposes, he might as well have been talking about himself." -Bob Spitz

'I thought Paul's was rubbish,' opined Lennon, saying that he preferred George's All Things Must Pass. McCartney studied the article with the morbid fascination of a jilted lover receiving a kiss-off letter. -Howard Sounes

“Lennon could have abandoned the (US) immigration case and returned to Britain, and possibly even to McCartney, but that would have meant accepting that his relationship with Ono was over.”-Peter Dogget

"Theirs was a volatile relationship right up to the end, and was fraught with emotional summits and valleys. While the connection between them was strictly heterosexual, it was deep, passionate, and highly explosive." -Geoffrey Giuliano

"John was insecure, and when he saw Paul he wanted to look cool. He gave up all his friends for Paul. Aunt Mimi recalled that John jumped around the kitchen when he told her about his new friend. She sarcastically said to John that they were like ‘chalk and cheese’ meaning how different they were. And John would start hurling himself around the room shouting ‘Chalk and Cheese!'’ smiling and laughing. He was fucking in love with him, he adored him. She understood he found the partner of his life." -Thomas Rhodes

“The last week in August, Paul McCartney returned to Liverpool, tanned and noticeably slimmer. In addition to starting school, he came back to begin a relationship he seemed destined for: hooking up with John Lennon." -Bob spitz

“Seeing Lennon focus on Ono rather than him [Paul] was as devastating as it would have been for Cynthia Lennon to witness the couple making love.” -Peter Dogget

[bethanydelleman]

I don't know if you can ever beat a family meal with the Ferrarses from Sense & Sensibility when it comes to awkward relatives. Edward and Elinor, sitting next to the girl who jilted him (Lucy), the brother who stole his fiance (Robert), and then the half-brother who denied his father's deathbed request to help his sisters (John), and the woman who encouraged him to do so (Fanny). Then the matriarch, who declared both of her sons dead, then allowed them to live, and whose favourite child is now Lucy Ferrars (nee Steele)

I can't even imagine.

[wearethekat]

Best Books of 2024

All of my favorite reads from last year!

The Tainted Cup, Robert Jackson Bennett. A Sherlock Holmes-style political mystery about a woman investigating a murder in a truly original secondary fantasy world.

The Warm Hands of Ghosts, Katherine Addison. Haunting story about a woman looking for her missing brother who's trapped in a pocket realm on the battlefields of World War I.

The Square of Sevens, Laura Shepherd Robinson. An ingeniously twisted historical fiction thriller about a woman who was brought up as a fortuneteller in the 1730s recounting her past.

Someone You Can Build a Nest In, John Wiswell. Sapphic body horror gore monster romance that commits to the bit while also somehow being cozy.

Necrobane, Daniel M. Ford. Bisexual necromancer and all-around menace Aelis engages in pulp DnD like adventures as the protector of a rural village. Book 2 of a series.

The Reformatory, Tananarive Due. A Southern Gothic where the real horror is racism about a young boy sent to a prison reform school in the fifties.

Triple Sec, TJ Alexander. Poly romance about a bartender falling in love with a woman—and then realizing that she's into the woman's partner too.

Lady Eve's Last Con, Rebecca Fraimow. Space opera romcom heist about a woman getting revenge on the man who jilted her sister.

Running Close to the Wind, Alexandra Rowland. An absolute souffle of poly pirate shenanigans. Strong character voice a la Gideon the Ninth that you'll either love or hate.

Rakesfall, Vajra Chandrasekera. Let me be honest, I'm not sure I have any idea what happened in this fever dream of a novel, but it was really good.

The West Passage, Jared Pechacek. A deeply strange and original monk book along the lines of Susanna Clarke's Piranesi.

The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System, Mo Xiang Tong Xiu. The most devoted hater of a popular webserial dies mad about it and ends up in the world of the book. A masterpiece of dramatic irony, made me feel insane for at least four months.

Asunder, Kerstin Hall. Another excellent installment in the guy stuck in your head genre in a wild and original fantasy setting.

Dark Breakers, CSE Cooney. A gorgeous collection of interlinked fairy tale novellas set around the same Gilded Age mansion.

Swordcrossed, Freya Marske. An absolute delight of a gay romcom with a large amount of detail about the fantasy wool industry.

[ceilidho]

Kind of interested to know if in your 1800s John story the bride will arrive- just after the marriage tho? Like, John realizing he married a stranger and spanked her??

Realistically she probably took his money and ran but I also think it’d be fun if she decided to show up like moonnnthhsss later after you’ve been married to John for quite awhile and you’ve grown to really like him (I think it’s also funny if John just never believes you when you say that you weren’t there to marry him; he thinks you’re just too ashamed for almost jilting him) and it just pisses you off. like you hiss at her to find some other man to trick and slam the door in her face when she shows up. And that’s around when John finally figures it out, but it mostly amuses him. His little docile wife finally showing her claws. Probably fucks you extra rough that night or makes you ride him to show him that he’s yours.

[sonofshermy]

[orcboxer]

I finally finished reading Whiskey-Four by John Louis and it was easily a 9/10.

Cyberpunk interactive novel where you're a disabled ex government assassin who gets abruptly reactivated and assigned to a case where a corporation is up to some apocalyptic bullshit and you gotta stop them. Also your jilted ex lover is in town and they're obsessed with you after you shot them nine years ago and they're gonna be really inconvenient about it.

The writing is excellent, the characters are memorable, there are some genuinely hilarious moments, and the action is intense (tho it drags on a bit too much for my taste in the third act). Also it seems very much inspired by the worldbuilding of the Warp in wh40k, if that's your bag. No orks unfortunately but there is punching so one outta two ain't bad.

Anyway John Louis is my favorite IF author and he absolutely killed it with this one

[bluebellofbakerstreet]

A-Z Sherlock Fan Fiction Tropes Bingo

Many thanks to @swissmissing for creating this bingo card! Because I'm like that, I decided to go for a blackout bingo! And because, even as I was typing these, I kept thinking of more wonderful fics that would fit the brief, I hope to fill in my bingo card again. Writers are amazing and deserve to be lauded, and I have left off so many amazing fics and authors. Besides, we all need fic recs. 💙

AU/Amnesia The Murder of Emory J Amat by chriscalledmesweetie. Sherlock and John in 1920's AgathaChristieLand. It's a WIP but is currently updating weekly. (52k, T)

BDSM/Bodyswap - Certain Skills by NoStraightLine. John expressly told Sherlock that if he stole his gun again he’d get the fucking he was asking for. Sherlock “Boundaries Are Boring” Holmes stole John’s gun. (3k, E)

Crossover/Crack - Repo Men by Anyawen. In which Mrs Turner's married ones are James Bond and Q. Q is kidnapped; everybody is a BAMF. (7k, G)

Domestic/Disability A Building of Bridges by pengke. Alternate first meeting. No one would ever send Sherlock in to defuse a stand-off; but on one unlikely day, that’s exactly what happened. “Congratulations, Lestrade,” he called out sarcastically. “You’re traumatizing a war veteran.” (11k, G)

Established Relationship/Enemies to Lovers - Interview by bluebellofbakerstreet. In which the boys are in an 80's punk band, and are being interviewed by Rolling Stone. (2k, G)

Future/Fluff 50. Be You - No one Else Can by KittenKin. John's had a bad day and Sherlock doesn't know how to help. They both feel better at the end, and you will, too. (1k, G)

Gen/Genderswap - The Art of Communication by stillwaters01. Lestrade is receiving odd texts from Sherlock; he reads between the lines and brings help. (2k, T)

Historical/Humor - Acceptable Behavior by bbcatemysoul. Sherlock isn't really sure why John wants to shag him, but he's certain that if he's careful to behave properly about it, John can be persuaded to keep doing it. (3k, M)

Illness/imprisonment -  Radioactive Trees in a Red Forest by Maribor_Petrichor. Harrowing account of John's battle with mental health issues and addiction after - you know - everything. (280k, E)

Jealousy/Jilted - Hungry by LipstickDaddy. John can't figure out why Sherlock is being so nice to that new guy working with the yard. (7k, G)

Kids/Kink - The Alchemy of Sea Glass by reveling_in_mayhem. Salt and air and sand surrounded their little party of three. Crashing waves, gull cries, and the exhilarated exclamations of an excited three-year-old served as the soundtrack to a day filled with blue skies and bright sunshine. (22k, E)

Long/Love Triangle The Edinburgh Problem by snorklepie. “A nice holiday, just a bit more...murdery. ” John said drily. “Yes! The best kind of holiday!” Sherlock beamed. “So we won’t get bored!” (152k, E)

Magical Realism/Major Character Death Left by LifeonMars. John Watson is left-handed. He’s tried not to let it affect his life, but as any Lefty knows, that’s almost impossible. (45k, M)

NSFW/Next Gen. Warzone by abundantlyqueer. Three smutty stories that pick up where the first two episodes left off. (13k, E)

Omegaverse/Only One Bed - Scars Don't Lie by CumberCurlyGirl. The prospect of going undercover as husbands to a couples retreat is just too enticing to refuse. (33k, M)

Parenthood/Platonic The Man With the Cartier Frames by JRow. Sherlock's top priority is The Work, just as it's always been ... in between trips to Putney to help with Rosie, collecting Rosie from school, and preparing for Rosie's sleepover at Baker Street. (32k, T)

Queer/Quest Dance With Me by TotallySilverGirl. Sherlock's queer quest for johnlock requires dancing, and some help from Sally Donovan. (28k, E)

Retirement/Road Trip - The Winter Garden by Callie4180. As Sherlock nears the end of his career, he's given the gift of a cottage in Sussex. The honey from the beehives out back is amazing. Almost...magical. (31k, T)

Soulmates/Slow Burn Soul Mate by Mottlemoth. Mystrade. The words appeared on Mycroft's arm aged fourteen. He's now lived with the unfortunate words all his life, not certain that he even wishes to meet his soul mate if that's how the man talks. (4k, T)

Teen AU/Time Travel - The Curious Adventure of the Drs Watson by ShinySherlock. What if ACD Watson and BBC Watson switched places? (40k, M)

Undercover/Unrequited - Last Call at the Homesick Pub by Chryse. During the hiatus, Sherlock is both undercover and suffering from unrequited love. (3k, T)

Vampires/Villain POV - Nine Tenths of the Law by bendingsignpost. John knows what's his - of course he'll kill for it. (Modern vampire AU) (18k, M)

Whump/Werewolves When Your Belly’s in the Trench by Morgan_Stuart. The next time that door opens, John Watson will kill the person on the other side. (4k, T)

Xenomorphism/Xmas - Ghost Stories by SwissMiss. Sherlock's parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something. (22k, M)

Zombies/Zoomorphism - Aim for the Head by Breath4Soul. Sometimes you don't really find yourself until everything has ended.A fic about finding love, healing, and purpose after everything has gone to hell. Still a WIP, but worth it. (44k, M)

[zablife]

[watchinghallmark]

Coming to Hallmark Channel in May! 🌷

More Hallmark+ exclusives will be premiering on Hallmark Channel along with some new movies to start off the month!

Hats Off to Love - May 3

Stella designs hats and fascinators for socialite Rosalind and meets her son Christian who's training a horse to compete in the Louisville Derby. Starring Ginna Claire Mason, John Clarence Stewart and Holly Robinson Peete.

The Jane Mysteries: Murder at Moseby - May 8

Jane goes undercover at her alma mater to help her college boyfriend solve a crime he may have witnessed years ago – during the annual Edgar Allan Poe Festival. Stars Jodie Sweetin and Stephen Huszar.

Love in the Clouds - May 10

Reporter Brooklyn travels to the Balloon Fiesta to meet hot air balloon pilot Jared, who offers romantic balloon rides but is closed off to love himself. Stars McKenzie Westmore, Paul Greene, Gail O'Grady and Lorenzo Lamas.

Love on the Danube: Love Song - May 17

Fellow cruise passengers, Sarah and Jack, play matchmaker with their music loving widowed parents, as they cruise down the Danube visiting European cities. Starring Nazneen Contractor and Wes Brown.

Love on the Danube: Royal Getaway - May 24

A jilted art gallery manager takes her honeymoon cruise solo and meets a charming prince posing as a European gentleman, who shares her passion for art. Starring Jessica Sipos and Dan Jeannotte.

Love on the Danube: Kissing Stars - May 31

Savannah, a publicist, reluctantly works with Tripp, a celebrity who is having trouble connecting with his fans, abroad a cruise promoting his latest film. Starring Sarah Power, Brendan Penny, Kathryn Drysdale and Catherine Disher.