#john price sickfic

[arctichotch]

hey, i saw your send request post, currently im not feeling well so can you write captain john price taking care of sick reader? also they have some cuddles, just a very fluffy fic! thank you!! :D

hey, hope you feel better soon!

(i haven't written anything in donkey's years so excuse the potential mess below)

pairing: john price x gn!reader

warnings: sickening FLUFF, sick stuff nothing gross though, short and sweet

whilst you're here check out my character list and feel free to send me more requests

You felt like your insides were on fire. That your brain was knocking on the backs of your eyes trying to bust out of the confines of your skull. You felt like a sweaty mess and judging by the looks of sympathy you got from your colleagues walking out of your office after your boss sent you home, you looked like one too.

The journey home was a total blur and you nearly collapsed onto your couch the second you got through the door, only just having enough energy to kick off your shoes. You heard the shrill ringing and buzzing of your phone dumped by the door but there was not a single part of you that felt you could go get it.

Your eyes slipped closed, and that was that. One final thought before you fell to sleep - John will not be happy that you went to work feeling unwell this morning...

-

The bang of your apartment door closing woke you suddenly.

Oh shit, you are definitely not in any position to even think of some of the self-defence John taught you, let alone using it.

Luckily, you heard one of your favourite sounds (although as much as the sound was appreciated, it still made your head throb.)

"Love, I'm home."

Shit, he was home. You had a vague remembrance of him letting you know he'd be home from his month long mission and having told him you'd take him out, treat him to dinner.

So much for those plans.

"M'here," You grumbled from your place on the couch. John rounded the couch into the living room turning on the lights, making you squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to alleviate the pounding in your head. "Think m'sick."

"You look sick, yeah. This why you didn't pick up your phone, was calling you. Got worried, love." He knelt down beside you, his knees groaning at the movement.

"You shouldn't kneel like that, you'll hurt yourself, old man."

"Oi, watch it, cheeky." He placed his always freezing cold hand on your forehead. "Could fry an egg on that head of yours. Have you taken anything?"

You shook your head, burying your head into the pillow. "Okay, I'll go get some ibuprofen to try get your temperature down, then I'll get you something to eat. I assume you've not eaten anything, right?"

"Hmphh."

"What would you do without me, eh? Just wither away from the common cold." He chuckled as he moved towards the kitchen.

After he had loaded you up with ibuprofen, some toast and a whole lot of water, he set you up on the couch all tucked up with blankets and the TV loaded up with Netflix, while he took a shower (only allowed to leave after he had promised you with cuddles after he was done.)

When he came out you immediately commandeered him and his attention, snuggling up practically on top of him while watching your favourite show for the billionth time.

"I'm sorry that we couldn't do dinner. I promise this isn't just me trying to get out of paying."

He laughed, his big belly laugh that you miss every single day he is gone. "It's okay, love. I know you're really sick, poor baby."

"I feel gross and sick, and I don't want to make you sick but I really can't think of anything worse than you not being right here."

"I don't get sick, my immune system is undefeatable and you know it. You ever seen me sick, love?"

"There's always time, babe." You slipped your hand under his shirt resting it on his stomach, trying to leach some heat off him.

"You're shaking. You cold?" You nodded and he was quick to pull a blanket from the back of the couch to cover you both.

"I missed you, lots and lots." You said, just now feeling the relief of having him back safe with you.

"Missed you too, love. Hopefully got a few days off now, so I can nurse you back to health." He gave you a big sloppy kiss on your forehead, "I'll take my payment in kisses and cuddles, please. No other currency accepted."

You smiled looking up at him, "I'll see what I can work out."

[karlachismylife]

Thots on how they would react if you got sick?

(totally not self indulgent right now)

Oh no, my lovely spouse is sick :( Get well soon, lovie, and here are some little speedrun headcanons for you ahead of everything, as a treatment!! Beware, there are some NSFW parts under the cut :) So MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT I swear I get so upset every time I have to block some ageless blog. If it's so hard to put your age in the bio, just DO NOT TOUCH THE POST!! I'd rather keep you around to read my SFW pieces than block you altogether.

Okay sorry for yelling, here we go

CW: gn!sick!reader, reader is somewhat being stubborn about getting treatment at some points, sickness unspecified, but I wrote with something cold-adjacent in mind since we're in the cold season, a bit of controlling behavior from Ghost and Price.

Soap is Mister Indulgence. Any cravings you get, be it three kilograms of crisps for breakfast or his Mam's soup you suddenly want to taste at 2 am, he's getting his ass out of bed and runs to the store or puts on an apron to make the soup. You want some tea with sugar and lemon? How much teaspoons of sugar? What, you tried it and turned out you wanted a teaspoon less? No worries, he'll make it again. You wanna binge your favourite show? Listen to "your" song fifty times in a row? Cuddle and nap on his hot chest for eight hours? Whatever you want, bonnie, his Maw always said that good mood is the most important step in getting better, so Johnny would rather die than not keep you satisfied during sick time.

He might not be the most well-versed in medical stuff, but he definitely uses his Mam's knowledge (and she is one wise woman, I tell you) and whatever experience he has himself to get you both real treatment and some homemade remedies. Swears he doesn't get sick (ever, bonnie!) when you try to shoo him away worried he'll catch whatever you have.

Drops sick the very next day you finally are all good again (and behaves as if he's actually dying, even though he has like three times lighter symptoms than you cuz that man has an immune system of a beast).

Ghost is mean about it, cruel and ruthless. At least that's what you tell him when he wakes you up to make you drink some medicine or, even worse, change you out of your sweaty pjs, help you bathe and (this one is almost breakup-worthy betrayal) take you to a doctor. No amount of pleading, whining and pouting can deter him from making sure you're getting appropriate treatment.

Truth be told, he's probably blaming himself, because under his care you should've never gotten sick in the first place. This means he's probably checking your wardrobe and adding some warmer clothes and shoes (no more wearing old sneakers when it's already rain season!) to it, probably inspecting all the food you've eaten recently in case it was bad, proofing all the windows against drafts... and somehow he still finds time to be around you all the time, holding you in your fever-induced sleep, changing cold wet towels on your forehead and caring for you.

Might or might not catch the sickness from you, which reveals that he's an even worse patient than you, constantly grumpy, wrapped in three blankets and trying to put an indifferent face, but so, so pathetic when the fever gets actually high. He will be good if you promise to hold him in your lap and stroke his hair with cold fingers.

Gaz isn't as indulgent as Soap, but he gives you a lot of autonomy and trusts that you know best what treatment helps you. So if you say you don't feel like you need to call a doctor, he won't force you; he'll buy the medicine you tell him to buy, and if he thinks it's not the best choice, he'll just suggest an alternative, leaving the final decision up to you. Also has some homemade remedies ready to go if you're willing to try them, but leans heavily towards scientifically proven treatments.

He definitely tries to keep you if not active (no hikes or something, but maybe little walks around the apartment once the worst wave passes) then at least entertained, and not in "200 episodes of a dumb sitcom watched alone" way. Of course, if that's what you're feeling, get your sitcom fill, angel (he's not one to judge, he is keeping up with like a hundred series somehow), but if you're up to play some games, Kyle is more than happy to. Puzzles, card games, board games - maybe not so much computer games, since he wants you to be mindful of your eyes health, but a little bit? Sure. If you don't wanna play games, he still wants to keep you company so that you don't feel like you're missing out on life alone in your bed.

Probably the one who is the least likely to catch your sickness, because he ACTUALLY never gets sick, that pretty boy possesses some magic, I'm telling ya. Buf if he somehow does, he's the best patient who doesn't even need your help (but will accept it since he doesn't want you to feel guilty and it's just nice). For the three days that he's sick before he's healthier than ever.

Price is also very insistent on you getting proper treatment, but he doesn't go about it in Ghost's stern manner - no, he's a sly, smart dog, he's sweettalking you into thinking half of it is your own idea and he's just there to provide. If he needs to, he plays up his worried behavior and voila, you're already taking your medicine and days off from studies or work, simply because you don't want to worry your John's bleeding heart. Drops casually something like "good thing doc's office is on the way to the base, I can drop you off before finishing that bloody report they're wanting my head for and then pick you up, lovie" - and when you note that you actually don't feel like your sickness is doctor visit worthy, he sighs and tells you that he'll stay with you then. Of course now you have to agree, you can't let him get in trouble with the report simply because you didn't want to go to the doctor!

In all the other aspects he is absolutely doting and spoiling. Will casually look through fifteen stores until he finds the exact type of natural juice gummies you once mentioned your parents got you when you were sick. Absolutely no smoking around you or even in the apartment - and he also makes sure he doesn't smell too much of tobacco before coming into your room. Will baby you in whatever way you want (yes, he will read you your book aloud) or simply stay at your side to assist you with different things if you're not into that. But god forbid you try to get back to work or studying before John Price deems you recovered enough...

Probably catches the sickness, but pretends he didn't until it's too obvious to deny. Will do all the things he reprimanded you for: try to work, keep smoking, avoid doctor etc.

Hyena!141 bonus: they absolutely cuddle you in their hyena form and do not shift into humans when you need them to fetch something like a pillow or more paper tissues. They're your fluffy cuddle buddies that are there to grumble and purr for you soothingly, keep the chills away and lick your forehead, nape and wrists to cool the fever down. Shove their snouts in different places on your body to check the temperature (no thermometer needed!) and tickle you, give you paw massages if your muscles ache and suddenly get on their best behavior (yes, even Soap). Furry menaces who? Not them, they're the sweetest boys!

NSFW under the cut, once again, minors and ageless blogs DNI or I'll block you (and cry about it!)

CW: gn!reader, oral sex, fingering, brat tamer Ghost (so it's consensual in case I didn't make it clear enough), penetrative sex with Gaz (bottom!gn!reader).

Soap is also number one advocate of "sex is proper treatment", so if you're not feeling too bad and have some energy to spare, he'll gladly eat you out and unleash his oral fixation on you. As treatment, of course. Also maybe because you're so hot that you're practically burning his tongue and it feels as if he dipped his face into the sweetest, freshly-baked pie, when you squeeze his mug between your overheating thighs. He'll do more if that's what you want, but if all you want is to come on his face, he'll lick, suck and rub as much as you need - yes, he spilled in his sweatpants just from pleasuring you and grinding against the sheets, but can you really blame him for enjoying a warm meal a little too much? Will probably compare your "sick" taste to your "healthy" one. No, he does not know what the word "shame" means.

Ghost is reluctant to have sex when you're sick, because, well... you're sick, you shouldn't exhaust your body, because it needs all the strength to fight whatever it is you caught. But once you start getting better (and as a result much, much brattier, since now you have the energy to not just whine and pout, but also to be a little defiant shit), he is absolutely using his fingers to reward or punish you for complying or resisting the treatment. Are you being good, taking your medicine, measuring your body temperature and doing whatever else doctor told you to? Good, you deserve to cum on his fingers, lovie, just lean back and let him do all the work. What's that, you don't wanna drink your medicine, because it tastes bad, and you hid the thermometer? Well, love, he hopes you don't mind getting your temperature checked a little more old-fashioned way. And if you don't like your medicine, maybe having his fingers in your mouth, muffling all your protests, will change your mind. After all, that's what you wanted to achieve by being a brat, didn't you?

Gaz is already the king of gentle sex, but if you ask him to indulge you while you're sick, he'll be as tender as only molten marshmallow fluff can be. Caressing your feverish skin with his soft palms, making sure to avoid possibly hurting joints or muscles, going down on you with his sweet, honeyed mouth before even trying anything else. Can actually give you a perfect massage (even the normal kind) and add some lightweight petting and fingering to it. If you want to have penetrative sex though, he finds the best position (probably spooning, his arm cradling your head so it doesn't spin or hurt, and your body resting without any extreme stretches or strains) and takes you slowly and carefully. Doesn't let you worry about his orgasm at all, but if you feel like cockwarming him, he won't say no, that's for sure :) let him soak in some of that heat directly from you, angel, eh?

Price will probably need the most persuasion to engage with you sexually during your sick time, he is worrying about you too much, so the best you can get is probably his fingers and mouth closer to you already getting fully healthy again. He's just scared he'll go too rough on you regardless of how careful he's trying to be, lovie. But if he ends up catching you masturbating (and failing probably, since you're still too weak for such activities), he'll have no choice but to help you finish, careful tongue strokes and finger movements along with soft grumbling about him "leaving you just for five minutes, and you're already up to no good, love!" Don't let him fool you, he's the happiest man, because he both gets to pleasure his partner and because this means you're getting better.

[itacats]

Through Sickness & Solace (mini-series)

FT: Price x gn!reader

Warnings: being sick (cold), panic cleaning, not cleaning up while sick (?), please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

A/N: The final story in the series will be out tomorrow, but in the meantime, I hope you enjoy this one! Thank you for sticking with me through the journey so far. I also hope you’re all taking good care of yourselves—whether you’re battling the sniffles or just need a little extra self-care. Stay cozy, and I’ll see you at the finale tomorrow!

SUM: A weekend spent in solitude, where illness and loneliness begin to unravel your sense of independence. As the cold sets in, the familiar comfort of being alone turns into a stark reminder of how much you miss the warmth of companionship, especially the presence of John Price. When he unexpectedly returns early from his mission, his quiet care and tenderness help you realize that strength isn’t always about handling everything alone. Through his gentle attention, you come to understand that allowing others to care for you can be its own form of strength.

Simon Riley Soap MacTavish Gaz Garrick

Take Care of Yourself

The weekend had always been your fortress, a quiet retreat from the noise of the world. You'd wrap yourself in thick blankets, lose yourself in the soft glow of a candle, and sip tea while sinking into the familiar embrace of your favorite shows. There was a certain kind of peace in the solitude, a chance to recharge, to exist entirely on your terms. But as this particular weekend approached, a shadow of old memories whispered at the edges—recollections of childhood nights spent alone with a fever, a blanket tucked up to your chin, yearning for someone to sit by your side.

John Price’s last-minute mission left you with a familiar pang of emptiness, though he’d promised to be back by Sunday. You missed his steady presence, but the plan was clear: you’d dive into the weekend with Netflix as your companion, tackling the sniffle that crept in on Friday evening. You’d handled worse before—what was a minor cold? Armed with ginger tea and an iron will, you resolved to ignore the ache in your throat, savoring the comfort of your own space.

But Saturday dawned with a vengeance. The cold sank into your bones, each sneeze and cough wearing you down bit by bit. Determined not to let it defeat you, you bundled up with a box of tissues, a steaming bowl of soup, and settled on the couch. Episodes blurred together as you cocooned yourself, losing hours to fictional worlds as your own grew increasingly dim. 

By the time the afternoon waned, your little sanctuary looked more like a battleground. Mugs of half-finished tea cluttered the table, and the tissues piled up like fallen soldiers in the fight against your relentless cold. You wanted to straighten up, but every movement felt like wading through water, your limbs heavy, your mind fogged with fatigue. The more you stayed curled up, the more the silence around you seemed to amplify, filling the room with an eerie quiet that made you long for Price’s laughter, his calming voice. Alone, the sickness crept into your mind as much as your body, filling the silence with a dull ache.

That evening, as your body curled deeper beneath the blankets, the pang of loneliness returned with a biting clarity. You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the weight of isolation settling over you like a second illness. It was absurd, you thought—you had long prided yourself on self-sufficiency. But in this weakened state, it hit you: independence wasn’t quite the balm you’d once believed. You missed the warmth, the companionship, the ease of leaning on someone else. You blinked back the sting of tears, vowing that by the time Sunday arrived, you’d have everything back in order, even if it took every ounce of strength you had left.

Sunday evening arrived in a flurry of tissues and empty tea mugs, and the mess felt like a reflection of your own struggle. You looked around in dismay as the familiar comfort of your home had transformed into a chaotic sprawl of sickness. Fever settled in like a heavy fog, pressing on your senses and leaving you teetering between helplessness and frustration. Driven by a sudden burst of energy, you threw off your blankets and clambered to your feet, determined to clean up before Price returned. But every step was a struggle, and as you reached for a mug, dizziness swept over you. You felt yourself wobble, the room tilting—

Then, a familiar creak. The front door opened, and there he stood, John Price, his rugged face softening with a mixture of shock and concern. His eyes swept over the scene before him—your unsteady figure, the scattered mess, the feverish flush on your cheeks. Without a word, he crossed the room, steady hands guiding you back to the couch.

“Whoa, easy there,” he murmured, his voice gentle but firm. “Sit down. Let me handle this.” His hands were a steady warmth as he pressed you back into the cushions, his gaze filled with a tenderness that made you want to cry. 

You tried to protest, a weak murmur of “I can take care of myself,” slipping out between coughs, but the fight was slipping away, and you sagged back into the cushions, allowing him to take the reins.

As he moved through the room, picking up the mugs and clearing the tissues with a quiet efficiency, you watched him through half-lidded eyes. A warm, unfamiliar feeling spread within you, mingling with the fever’s heat. You’d built so much of your life around the idea that strength meant handling things alone, that needing someone else was a sign of weakness. But watching him, hearing the clink of mugs being cleaned and feeling the weight of the blankets he carefully arranged around you, that belief began to unravel. Maybe, you realized, true strength wasn’t about bearing every burden alone.

A quiet sigh escaped you as Price returned, placing a cool hand on your forehead and adjusting the blankets with a gentleness that only heightened your sense of vulnerability. You felt the weight of his presence settle beside you, grounding you, his warmth a silent reassurance.

“Next time, don’t try to be a hero, yeah?” he said, his voice a blend of teasing and concern. His hand lingered, brushing a stray hair from your face, and you managed a small smile, a spark of warmth flickering within. For the first time that weekend, you felt truly at ease, wrapped not just in blankets but in the simple, undeniable comfort of not being alone.

As you drifted off, his voice murmuring softly in the background, the room seemed to breathe with you—a space no longer echoing with loneliness, but instead filled with trust, quiet companionship, and the kind of warmth that went beyond physical comfort. In his presence, the walls of solitude softened, the silence became a gentle hum, and the sickness felt more manageable. You closed your eyes, letting yourself surrender, not just to sleep but to the knowledge that sometimes, strength lay in letting others care for you.

And there, in the quiet glow of the evening, the two of you settled into a new rhythm—a quiet understanding that, at least in moments like these, you didn’t have to face the world alone.

Here's the current post schedule with some upcoming stories to look forward to!

[iceman-soup]

gn!reader x price

The first time you were poorly around your husband was far too long ago for you to remember; yet you still did. Of course, Captain Price wasn't your husband at that point - it was quite early in your relationship, and you'd only been dating a few months or so, still ploughing through that slightly childish, awkward stage when you were learning about and clingy to one another and at the same time terrified of driving the other away.

It had been Soap who'd sent you to his office, joking about not wanting to get the Plague from sparring. You remember how you'd let out a sniffly laugh despite the illness headache which had only gotten worse from working out all morning. You had dragged your tired body to your boyfriend's office, knocking on the door then opening it without waiting for a proper invitation inside.

"You look good," He'd grinned, abandoning his paperwork at the sight of you. Rolling your eyes, knowing you looked absolutely shit, you'd shut his door behind you, trodding over behind his desk and chair and slinging your arms over his shoulders, resting your heavy head on his and half-heartedly glancing over his documents. "You alright, pet?" His voice had been concerned and soft.

You had hummed vaguely in reply, closing your eyes, a lot more tired and sick than you'd actually realised. "Gotta headache," you'd grumbled, then recoiled at your own nasal voice, "eugh. Sorry."

You remember how he'd spun his office chair around, catching you off guard as he somehow managed to pull you onto his lap ridiculously gently, as if he had taken ten minutes rather than ten seconds to do so. "No apologising. You're sick, I'm gonna take care of you, love," he'd muttered, cradling you and smiling fondly as you laughed at his almost defensive actions.

Thinking about this now, retelling it to John through snivelled laughter, looking up at him sitting up against the headboard of the two of yous' bed. You're lying between his legs, head propped up on his thigh as he rakes a loving hand through your hair. He has the same soft smile on his face as he did all those years ago as he gazes down at you, even with your sore, wet nose and ruffled hair and icky voice.

And when you get tired, when your rambling slows to hummed babbling, he will lie down next to you, help you blow your nose despite your protests, kiss your forehead and hold you close to him, a soothing hand on your back and the other still tangled comfortingly in your hair.

[subjectnr8]

SoapxGhost pt3

"Warmin' yer hands"

There’s an odd feeling of numbness. It’s spreading with a hot touch, from his aching head to his frozen feet. With a groan Ghost sits up in his bed. His head immediately started throbbing. “Faking hell-” His sheets felt wet, he must’ve started sweating during his sleep.

Ghost reached out to the glass of water that always stood on his bedside table. With every sip he got painfully aware of the scratching that had nestled in his throat. Good Gods, what did he do to deserve this? The heat from before started to come back, now spreading in his face, making his eyes watery.

It would take Ghost some more convincing later to finally accept that he is sick, but his symptoms are clear. Headache, sweat, shivers, the heat in his body, the aching muscles. He had a flu. Great, bloody amazing.

Nevertheless, Ghost took in his surroundings and searched for something ,somebody, that could help him with all the pain he was feeling. Painkillers, tea that magically would appear, a warm blanket, Johnny with his fancy flask. But nothing. Ghost’s room was empty and lonely. On most days Ghost appreciated having a room for himself, but now with a raging sickness inside him, he would accept somebodies help without hesitation.

The ache in his head was killing him, so he just snuggled back into his bed and buried his face in his pillows. He shivered. With sheets wet from sweat they were clinging to his aching limps like a second layer of skin. Ghost would have to change them, make himself tea and getting meds for every single complain he had. But he couldn’t. He felt exhausted, just sitting up right now felt like the most intense workout session.

7 am. Training had started half an hour ago. They would miss him, they would look for him. He was sure. Not many in the taskforce had the guts to step into Ghost’s room, let alone remind Ghost that he was late for training. But people like Soap and Gaz, they would burst through the door any second. They would tell him off, making stupid jokes as always. But they would take care of him.

Teary eyes focused on the door. It was hard to rely on others, especially for Ghost. But in order to perform well in the taskforce Price had made it a necessity for Ghost to have at least 3 people he would let close to him. Close as in “I sit next to them during lunch” and “I don’t groan loudly when I am partnered up with them”.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. With a desperate try to flee from all his aching Ghost had fallen asleep again. It was an uneasy sleep, with way too many thoughts running laps in his head. His shivering body was losing liquid and warmth left and right and Ghost could just helplessly lie there and pray for his mates to come find him.

Coughing hurts. While trying to sooth the endless scratching of his throat, Ghost had fallen into several coughing fits. Each cough sending another wave of pain through his body. He felt like whining, like whimpering. Complaining, crying, swearing, God damn why? Why him? It reminded him of a few nights ago. Where he was tempted to dumb all his emotions out on Soap.

He whined, hiding his face under the sweaty blanket. Johnny. Fuck, Johnny what is taking you so long?

There has been a soft knock. Or not, Ghost could be hallucinating by now. The heat in his body made him dizzy, he felt like puking. Another knock, firmer than before. Ghost didn’t answer, didn’t move. In fear of puking or passing out, or was it the sheer exhaustion that took over him? Either way, he stayed hidden under the blanket.

A firm hand grabbed him by his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Simon?” Oh, John. Not the John he was so frustrated about, but he now was in good hands. And that’s all his mushy brain could care about.

Sorry I missed out on training. Apologies sir, I’ll be out in a second. I overslept, Captain.

“Price…” Ghost sniffled, fever making his eyes seem glassy. He wiggled his head out from underneath the blanket so it now only covered his lower half of his burning face. “I-.” With the sight of his Captain he instinctively searched for an excuse. Something that would assure Price that he was fine. That he was sorry.

Price on the other hand didn’t hesitate as he reached for Simon’s forehead, a deep frown forming on his bearded face at the touch of burning, sweating skin. A sigh left the older man as he sat down on Simon’s bed. Ghost gave up on trying to find an excuse, his eyes silently following Price. “I knew something was up with you, but I didn’t expect a full blown flu, Simon.”

The soft usage of his name made Ghost relax. He despised his name, yet hearing it whilst feeling like dying indeed felt… good. Price provided some warmth while going through the typical symptoms of a flu. Ghost only nodded his head, groaning in affirmation every time a symptom applied to him. For a second time Price reached for Ghost’s forehead, letting his hand linger a little longer.

“I’ll be back in 30, I need to do a checkup on my boys out there, but I’ll send a nurse in to do a check up on you. Until, keep on fighting, son.” Price rose from bed and put Ghost’s balaclava down on the bedside table. Ghost hadn’t been wearing his beloved masked and had not noticed at all. With a groan he turned over again to try and find some more sleep. Having Price here was oddly comforting, yet, when wasn’t it? Price spread this weird feeling of comfort and safety, similar to the warmth Soap always emitted. But with Price it was more… fatherly.

you can find pt4 here >:)

[ao3feed-superbat]

Flufftober 2023

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/7OWnjiM by AetherMoose All fluff all the time with characters from DC, Marvel, CoD, and RDR2! Words: 202, Chapters: 1/25, Language: English Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games), Marvel, DCU, Red Dead Redemption (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Task Force 141 Ensemble, John "Soap" MacTavish, John Price (Call of Duty), Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Nikolai (Call of Duty: Modern Warfare), Roy Harper, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Slade Wilson, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Wade Wilson, Peter Parker, Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith (Red Dead Redemption), Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Stephen Strange Relationships: John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley, John Price/Simon "Ghost" Riley, Roy Harper/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, John Price/Nikolai, Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange Additional Tags: Holding Hands, Hugs, First Kiss, Kissing, Sharing Clothes, Napping, Massage, Scenting, Cooking, Sickfic, Dancing, Bathing/Washing, Texting, Love Letters, Cuddling & Snuggling read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/7OWnjiM

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Flufftober 2023

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/fgAI0tZ by AetherMoose All fluff all the time with characters from DC, Marvel, CoD, and RDR2! Words: 202, Chapters: 1/25, Language: English Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games), Marvel, DCU, Red Dead Redemption (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Task Force 141 Ensemble, John "Soap" MacTavish, John Price (Call of Duty), Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Nikolai (Call of Duty: Modern Warfare), Roy Harper, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Slade Wilson, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Wade Wilson, Peter Parker, Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith (Red Dead Redemption), Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Stephen Strange Relationships: John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley, John Price/Simon "Ghost" Riley, Roy Harper/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, John Price/Nikolai, Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange Additional Tags: Holding Hands, Hugs, First Kiss, Kissing, Sharing Clothes, Napping, Massage, Scenting, Cooking, Sickfic, Dancing, Bathing/Washing, Texting, Love Letters, Cuddling & Snuggling read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/fgAI0tZ

[ao3feed-sladedick]

Flufftober 2023

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/YVK3trH by AetherMoose All fluff all the time with characters from DC, Marvel, CoD, and RDR2! Words: 202, Chapters: 1/25, Language: English Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games), Marvel, DCU, Red Dead Redemption (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Task Force 141 Ensemble, John "Soap" MacTavish, John Price (Call of Duty), Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Nikolai (Call of Duty: Modern Warfare), Roy Harper, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Slade Wilson, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Wade Wilson, Peter Parker, Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith (Red Dead Redemption), Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Stephen Strange Relationships: John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley, John Price/Simon "Ghost" Riley, Roy Harper/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, John Price/Nikolai, Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange Additional Tags: Holding Hands, Hugs, First Kiss, Kissing, Sharing Clothes, Napping, Massage, Scenting, Cooking, Sickfic, Dancing, Bathing/Washing, Texting, Love Letters, Cuddling & Snuggling read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/YVK3trH

[halfmoth-halfman]

John Price

a designer dress from heaven and your dirty wedding ring (angst/fluff/series) - masterlist

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

a little small talk, a smile, and baby i was stuck (fluff) - When Soap mentions the new medic, Gaz doesn’t think much of it.  we're meant for the flies (angst/zombie!au/gazfest entry) - Five years later, you still aren’t used to the stench of decomposing flesh and rot that forever lingers in the air. and i think i'm gonna love you for a long, long time (fluff/gazfest entry) - The wedding for one John MacTavish is a simple, beautiful affair. forever is mine with you (fluff/gazfest entry) - Kyle's new neighbor moves in the day after New Year's. chamomile kisses (sickfic/fluff/gazfest entry) - It’s a ritual the two of you have. one more night i wanna be with you (leave it up to you) (fluff/gazfest entry) - All it took was one night. the willow maid (fluff & angst/fairytale!au/gazfest entry) - There were countless names for it. A glowing, white flower that blooms for one night with enough potent magic in a single petal to keep you safe and sated for the rest of your life.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

the little things series (fluff/angst) - Five times Soap questions the relationship between Ghost and the 141’s Medic, and the one time he gets an answer. daisies and daffodils (fluff/mild angst/follower celebration) - You picture your own home, lying in bed as you watch Simon cradle a child that looks just like him to his chest, a soft lullaby drifting from his unmasked lips to your son’s ears- a secret just between the two of them.

[granada-brett-crumbs]

It’s been a while since my last extensive fic rec list, and there’ve been so many new, great, lovely and amazing fics since then that it was about time to make another list, so, here it is, enjoy!

Also a HUGE thanks to all fic writes, I love you all :’)

1K - 9K WORDS

A Combination of Events by ColebaltBlue, G, 3k: There was no one moment when John Watson realized he loved Sherlock Holmes, but rather just a combination of events in the summer of '95.

Acts of Caring by takingoffmyshoes, G, 1k: “Outside, the frigid rain continued undeterred, but in our home we were far beyond its reach.” Domestic and lovely.

An Evening of Deductions by Brynn_Jones, G, 1k: Holmes and Watson spend a pleasant evening with some violin music and deductions. 

As if the World Should Roll Itself Out Like a Cloak by earlybloomingparentheses, G, 4k: Watson feels deeply for Holmes, but what it is he feels is less than clear.

A Taste of Honey by methylviolet10b, T, 3k, sickfic: A failure to observe leads to a successful deduction. Holmes POV.

A Very Ordinary Man by Garonne, T, 6k, casefic, established relationship: The disappearance of a lonely, middle-aged clerk prompts a fit of wordiness on Watson's part. Not that Holmes objects...

Broken, Mended, Mine by janeofarc, G, 2k, angst with a happy ending: Old wounds are reopened in the aftermath of Holmes' nearly disastrous experiment with the devil's foot root.

Christmas Observations by methylviolet10b, G, 4k: Mycroft's Christmas Eve observations on Holmes and Watson relationship, over the years 1881 - 1894.

Courting Sherlock Holmes by A_Candle_For_Sherlock, G, 5k, sickfick, first kiss: It was, in all probability, the fault of the flowers. The title says it all :>

Dr Watson's Unpublished Stories by Stavia_Scott_Grayson, series, G, 5k, 2 works: Stories written by Dr Watson only for the eye of his friend, Mr Sherlock Holmes, while they were apart.

Idée fixe by nowstfucallicles, G, 1k: He does not know what to begin with it. It is too grave a thing to be treated as a mere distraction, too tenacious to be dissolved in tobacco smoke. What does one begin with an idée fixe? With a mind bent towards one single thing. —An extraordinary take of the first kiss trope, brilliant!

Ignorance of Instinct by NimWallace, G, 1k, first kiss: In which Sherlock Holmes chooses to ignore his instincts thrice, and once he does not.

I’ll Change That Name With You by hoc_voluerunt, G, 2k: Holmes may have no regard for his own health, but friendship still cuts both ways, and emotions may run deep in an intellectual man.

In darkness, I call your name (and you, mine) by a_different_equation, T, 2k, first kiss: There are several aspects to Watson’s personality. When the good doctor and the loyal friend are not enough to keep Holmes from craving his seven-percent-solution, Captain John Watson reappears and orders an outing to London's Hyde Park.

Inertia by ColebaltBlue, M, 6k, retirement era: Sherlock Holmes has moved to Sussex without a word. Months later John Watson is asked to a visit and after stumbling into something he never expected to see, they finally say something to each other that took them two-decades to be able to say.

Ingredients of Love by a_different_equation, M, 2k, established relationship: To cheer up his Watson, Sherlock Holmes surprises him with making a cake in the kitchen of 221B. Something sweet, something extra. A tale about so much more than Victorian baking.

Instruments of an Art by keep_calm_and_ks, G, ficlet: “It is Nature’s practice to induce the attraction of two unlike bodies, and I am nothing if not a strict follower of the laws of Nature.” Holmes’s reflections on his love for a certain Dr John Watson. Sweet.

In the Shadow of Mount Sikaram by orchid314, G, 2k: There was a great heart that beat at the centre of things. A look on Dr. Watson’s time in Afghanistan, beautiful and melancholic.

Love is Blind by Artemis (Citrine), G, 1k: Holmes & Watson from Mrs Hudson's pov and a glimpse of her past history. Lovely!

Lovers in a Dangerous Time by Goddess_of_the_Night, G, 1k, established relationship, angst an fluff: An unpublished account of the time Holmes and Watson investigated the murder of a gay couple, and it reminded them just how dangerous their own love is.

Mentor by gardnerhill, G, 2k, established relationship, canon story The Adventure of the Crooked Man: It takes a wounded subcontinental soldier to help a wounded subcontinental soldier.

My Dear Doctor by apliddell, G, 4k, established relationship, canon story The Dying Detective: After the painful events of the Reichenbach Fall, Holmes could never again deceive Watson into thinking he would lose him.

My Greatest Joy and Privilege by apliddell, G, 2k, post-Reichenbach, first kiss: Watson solves Holmes, and then Holmes solves Watson. Absolutely lovely.

Not Again by Etaleah, T, 2k, hurt/comfort: During the Adventure of the Dying Detective, Holmes deceives Watson about being at death's door yet again. This time, Watson snaps.

No Simple Fate by ingridmatthews, G, 1k: Watson is hurt and Holmes is taking care of him - possibly definitely with bonus cuddling. Post The Adventure of the Three Garridebs.

Obliging Sherlock Holmes by baronwaste, T, 2k, first kiss: “It would oblige me greatly if you would kindly kiss me.” Sweet!

Pride & Providence by janeofarc, G, 5k, angst and fluff: Holmes and Watson return to Baker Street after the arrest of Colonel Moran and deal with the aftermath of Holmes' dramatic return from the dead. Lovely!

Strangers by rachelindeed, G, 1k, character study: Mycroft Holmes seems to hold the world at arm's length, but appearances can be deceptive.

The Creeping Men by okapi, E, 3k, Holmes/Watson of course, but also Lestrade/Gregson, crack: Six paths cross in Regent's Park at midnight. *waggles eyebrows*

The Better Part of Valour by rachelindeed, T, 7k, The Greek Interpreter fixit:  Mr Melas considers himself a coward, but more than one man's courage comes with complicated cracks.

The Disappearance of Dr. John Watson's Trouser by tremendousdetectivetheorist, M, 4k, established relationship: When Watson notices he is missing a pair of trousers and questions Holmes about their disappearance, Holmes guides him in a long search for them —putting Watson’s observation skills to the test and making him do the legwork—while never leaving 221B.

The Doctor's Doctor by Ophelia_j, M, 7k: A friend from Watson's army days arrives in London, at the moment when Holmes and Watson's relationship is about to fall apart.

The Incident with the Bicycle by Garonne, G, 2k, established relationship: We know Holmes can ride a bicycle, but when exactly did he learn?

The Matter of Cake by Nibblesofflesh, M, 3k, established relationship: Holmes decides to try his hand at baking a cake, and Watson quite likes the look of Holmes in an apron. Sassiness, silliness, and sexiness ensue.

The Quiet After A Case by Small_Hobbit, G, ficlet: Holmes has solved a case, and so he and Watson head back to Baker Street. A look at their relationship from Watson's POV.

The Science of Touch by cndrow, T, 2k, angst and fluff, post Reichenbach:  Watson is somewhat surprised to find his dearest friend still suffering as much as he from their years-long separation. But is that all that troubles Holmes, or is there something deeper?

The Unusual Comma in the Middle of a Completely Ordinary Phrase by Goddess_of_the_Night, G, 2k, first kiss: Holmes gets called away suddenly to solve a case and writes letters to Watson keeping him informed. Two of the letters contain an unfamiliar comma in the middle of a very familiar phrase. Watson frets over what it’s supposed to mean, if anything at all.

Travelling Issues by Random_Nexus, T, 2k, lots of fluff: Watson and Holmes do a lot of travelling in a short amount of time and Holmes seems to have a problem with something, but Watson has to figure out what it is, because it looks like it might mean the end of their relationship.

Your Sweet Hue by orchid314, G, 1k: Glimpses of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson over four seasons and four decades.

10K - 30K WORDS

An Ideal Husband by PlaidAdder, 22k, T, case fic: Irene Adler is back in London and has returned to the stage, starring in Oscar Wilde's play An Ideal Husband. Violet Hunter ("Copper Beeches") is in London, working as a governess for an aristocratic and dysfunctional family. Holmes, Watson, and Violet are all in the audience on opening night; and they are soon all embroiled in an intrigue involving Irene Adler, Godfrey Norton, Violet's employers, and a diamond brooch in the shape of a snake. Watson and Violet Hunter take turns narrating a story chock full of double-crossing, cross-dressing, and Oscar Wilde.

Dearly Beloved by mistyzeo, M, 20k: set in an alternate timeline where gay marriage is legal in Victorian England, Holmes and Watson get married while drunk and, of course, later a lot of misunderstandings ensue before they finally get to talk.

His Name Is John Watson by ampersand_ch, E, 19k: A summer's idyll in Sussex. Holmes and Watson seek some peace and quiet. But that's not as simple as they imagine.

Holmes' Mistake by pandapony, E, 13k, hurt/comfort: Sherlock Holmes rarely makes mistakes. But the one time he did, Watson paid the price. Now, as Watson heals from the assault, their dynamic has changed. Is Holmes' new behavior stemming from guilt, or something deeper?

If we make it home by blaetter, E, 24k, post Reichenbach: Two years after Holmes's death in the Reichenbach Falls, his elder brother comes to a grieving Watson with what seems to be a case. Watson finds a surprise waiting for him in Berlin.

Injury by The_Cool_Aunt, G, 9k, domestic fluff: “WANTED— Temporary MAID OF ALL WORK, for two gentlemen and housekeeper. Live out. No laundry. Good personal reference. Apply 221B, Baker Street, after twelve.” Doctor Watson delves into the details of domestic life at 221B.

Postcards by okapi, E, 10k, established relationship, fluffy smut: After a series of domestic calamities, Watson & Mrs. Hudson flee on holiday. Holmes writes postcards to Watson. 

The Answer to a Question by A_Candle_For_Sherlock, T, 22k: These are the stories behind the story we know: what really happened to Watson's marriage, and what made him follow Holmes to Reichenbach; what secrets were hidden in the mountains, and what a dead man wrote to the man he left behind. 

The Disappearance of John Watson by CCNSurvivor, T, 22k, angst with a  happy ending: Returning to London after the hiatus, Holmes is eager to share with Watson what truly transpired in Switzerland. But Watson has fled the city, driven out by the grief for his friend and companion, as well as the recent loss of his wife. Now it is up to Holmes to chase after him, following what little clues a series of letters provide.

The Old Pawnbroker by mightymads, M, 18k, established  relationship, hurt/comfort: When a concise telegram arrived to Baker Street, Watson took Holmes along to dispel Holmes’s ennui and distract him from cocaine. Such was the beginning of the case which made the doctor remember things he’d rather forget.

To Join These Men in Holy Matrimony by A_Candle_For_Sherlock, 10k, established relationship: “Sherlock Holmes is a contradiction, an enigma, a force; at once the most generous spirit and the most self-contained man I have ever known. I've known more of him, I think, than anyone on earth. Yet for years I'd learned nothing about his boyhood, nor his fears, nor his future hopes, nor his father’s name. I never felt it as a lack until I knew he loved me.”

40K+ WORDS

Arte Regendus by Violsva, series, 9 works, 60k: A series of stories about relationships and mysteries and secrets and people being in love and people talking to each other and people not talking to each other and people hurting each other without intending to and people working as hard as they can to not hurt each other. It has sex and drugs and angst and romance and adventure and interior monologues and case solving and pretentious classical references. It covers 1881 to 1894 in ACD canon.

Missing Pages by PlaidAdder, series, 22 works, T, 78k: a group of interlinked short stories which tell the story of how Holmes and Watson really came to be separated at the Reichenbach Falls, and how they found each other again. Each story is in the form of a document, which tells us something about that story that was changed or suppressed in Watson's published account of it.

Sherlock Holmes and the Adventure of the Invisible Prism by CCNSurvivor, T, 56k, case fic, post Reichenbach: “In the year 1895, however, it so happened that Holmes and I became involved in not one but two cases of blackmail; the latter of which has never been spoken of since, for it was fraught with a danger which threatened the illusion of normalcy we had so desperately carved out of the ruins of our relationship since his return from the Reichenbach Falls a year prior. And yet it was of that case I often found myself thinking, as it carried some personal significance to both Holmes and myself and drastically changed our lives.”

[a-candle-for-sherlock]

Hey, do you know of any good, short Victorian fics? (Like around 1,000 —15,000 words?) either way, thanks! 😘

Goodness, yes! I know so many. Let me see what I have saved.

What is Right, and What is Easy(1k, NR, blackmail, established relationship) by @gardnerhill. “ ‘As for my reputation–’ He waved a hand as if dashing away a fly. ‘I have pleased to keep my amours private, as would any English gentleman. But if my good name now rests solely on the price of an innocent man’s life, it is time to lose it.’ ”

Wintry Morning, Victoria Station(1k, T, secret vows, established relationship). “The scope of my senses had shrunk to encompass only the little patch of platform in which Watson and I stood, separated by a mere two feet of air. He was grinning into his mustache, his eyes crinkling up into lines of joy.”

The Ill-tempered Patient(1k, T, sickfic, love confession). “There was amusement in his eyes. ‘Take care not to indulge me too much, John. I may take advantage of you.’ ”

Mon Cœur(1k, T, love confession, established relationship). “You must know that there is nowhere I would rather be than here with you, my boy.”

The Secret Flower(1k, T, pining, sickfic, love confession) by @blaetter. “In the more fanciful days of my youth, I would have thought the love, settled as it is now deep in my chest, would devour me from the inside out. And I would have let it.”

Nocturnal Illumination(1k, G, domesticity, pre-slash) by @thespiritualmultinerd. “At last I stole a glance at Holmes. His profile was lit by moonlight like an actor by the stage light, flawless from the heavy brow to the sharp chin. His eyes imitated the stars.”

Glad With Our Carols(1k, G, Sussex joy, established relationship) by @oldshrewsburyian. “He looked up at me over his toast. ‘That is exceedingly gratifying,’ said he; ‘I should be sorry indeed to think that I had entirely lost my ability to astonish you.’ ”

A Man of Great Character and Better Humor(2k, G, Sussex joy, established relationship) by @sanspatronymic. “Holmes leaned to press their foreheads together, their faces close, the arms on Watson’s hips sliding into an embrace. He nuzzled his nose against the curve of Watson’s cheekbone so sweetly that when he muttered, ‘Tough luck, old man,’ it was positively comforting.”

Broken, Mended, Mine(2k, G, addiction recovery, friends to lovers) by @darlingdetective. “ ‘I very nearly killed you this morning, Watson,’ I said softly, shame prickling up through my skin and leaving beads of sweat on my clammy forehead. I trembled lightly, and longed for the heady rush of cocaine which would have fortified my courage. But the fragile, wounded bravery of a man barely holding his head above water was all I could manage, and so it would have to do.”

Obliging Sherlock Holmes(2k, T, domesticity, first kiss). “ ‘I have heard of such things in tales from the Orient, of course,’ he said. ‘But Watson, are you suggesting that in civilized countries such a thing is also possible? Men, forming couples with other men?’ ”

In the Shadow of Mount Sikaram(2k, G, epistolary, Afghanistan, pre-meeting) by @gailbsanders. “What would it be like had his mother still been alive and he could write of these things to her? Would she have shrunk from them?”

The Incident with the Bicycle(2k, G, growing intimacy, established relationship). “I took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know what you – that is to say, this isn’t something we’ve ever discussed before, but for my part I’d quite like to remain your friend and – and companion for many years to come.’ ”

Ingredients of Love(2k, T, domesticity, established relationship) by @a-different-equation. “I looked in his beautiful eyes, and there I could read the truth in plain, simple words: he saw me wallowing and wanted to cheer me up. He was afraid of the demons that plagued my soul, demons, he knew far too well. He loved me.”

Le Beau Gent sans Merci(2k, T, post-case conversation, friends to lovers). “I smile but dare not turn to face him. Such gentle words combined with the precious sparkle I have so often observed in his dark eyes when he stands in front of the fire would certainly undo me. Heaven knows what sort of nonsense I might say to him!”

The Science of Touch(2k, T, grief recovery, friends to lovers). “ ‘It is difficult to ask for your advice, as it concerns you. I’ve two critical paths before me, both with great risk involved in each. I cannot decide.’ ”

In darkness, I call your name (and you, mine)(2k, T, addiction recovery, first kiss) by @a-different-equation. “When we meet at the door, I comment: ‘Good.’ It is uttered warmly, yet a bit briskly. Holmes’ cheeks getting a lovely flush of pink is a welcome sight after all the paleness.”

Dr Watson’s Stories: Plain Tales from a Plain Man(2k, NR, pre-slash, unrecorded case, thinly veiled love confession) by @artemisastarte. “Lay your head on my breast, my dear fellow, and we shall watch the moon rise, and Orion wheel about the sky. But do not be afraid: however long we are parted, I will always seek you out.”

Two Shoes for a Hat(2k, G, Downey ‘verse, first meeting). “His gaze held a glint of approval buried under layers of distraction. He was not ungrateful. But he had the look of a man who had dangled from innumerable windows at the hands of innumerable thugs, and I suspected this incident did not rate among his most memorable.”

In Fire(3k, G, Downey ‘verse, casefic, near-death, near-confession) by @educatedinyellow. “Beside me, Watson bent over as if winded, bracing his hands on his knees. After a minute, he straightened up, a subtly different man.  He tucked himself away beneath the familiar air of determination that he had worn carefully at twenty-nine, naturally at thirty-seven, and luminously at fifty-three.”

(more under the cut, this got long)

A Taste of Honey(3k, T, sickfic, near-death, pre-slash). “I had long since ceased to think of Watson as an invalid, or anything other than a reliable companion, a constant source of strength, support, and occasional pawky humor. I certainly never considered him fragile.“

His Heartbeat A Lullaby(3k, T, PTSD recovery, grief, friends to lovers). “Watson, I won’t say another word. But you’re wrong, you don’t have to be alone in this. You’ve done a great deal for me, and it is never an inconvenience to help you - quite the contrary, my friend.”

Buried Alive(4k, G, Downey ‘verse, casefic, pre-slash) by @drjohnhwatson. “ ‘He will come, Mr. Holmes,’ Mary said firmly, ‘Because he loves you,’ and Holmes shut his eyes.”

As if the World Should Roll Itself Out Like a Cloak(4k, G, coming out, love confession) by @earlybloomingparentheses. “My eyes traveled from the day’s paper to the man who sat beside me, reading and re-reading a letter, unaware that his presence was the source of my continued and consuming joy.”

My Dear Doctor(4k, G, casefic, canon fixit, established relationship) by @captain-liddy. “I took his armchair while he warmed himself at the hearth, and when he turned to find me in it, he only shrugged up his shoulders and perched himself on my knee.”

O Paradis(4k, T, Reichenbach, bittersweet love confession) by @plaidadder.  “ ‘To be apart from me,’ Watson concluded, ‘is precisely what Mary wants. I am not doing her any harm by staying by your side.’ ” 

Wedded Bliss(4k, M, closeted pining, friends to lovers). “Good grief, Holmes, when will you finally give the matter up? I don’t even want to marry. I have never wished for a woman in my life!”

I Am the Girl for Her(4k, G, femlock, first meeting) by @sanspatronymic. “In the light of the fireplace, the angles of her face sharpened and had given her a regal look, which reminded me for all the world of the portrait of Caesar Augustus. What fit occupation was there, I wondered, for this Lady Caesar in our modern world?”

Pride & Providence(5k, G, post-return reconciliation, friends to lovers) by @darlingdetective. “I am still angry, Holmes, but I meant it when I told you this afternoon that I never was happier to see anyone in my life—dear God, I missed you so.” He smiled faintly and placed his hand over mine.

He Stayed at Home(5k, T, sickfic, established relationship) by @acdhw. “‘Good Lord, you’re burning up,’ he muttered grimly, helping me to change. ‘John, we need to send for one of your professional brethren.’ ”

The Thieves’ Den(6k, T, casefic, love confession, first kiss). “ ‘Come on,’ he found himself saying at various points through out the day. ‘Come on, wake up, Watson.’ He even went as far as to take his hand, clasping at it tightly as if he could call him back just with his touch. ‘I need you with me.’ ”

Love is to yes series (7k, T, post-case discussion, friends to lovers) by @daisyfornost. “I wish that my skill at description could match my powers of observation, for the succession of changes that overcame John’s face as understanding dawned was wonderful and terrible to see.”

The Adventure of the Glad Outlaw(7k, T, casefic, pining, friends to lovers). “I felt the quick touch of his warm lips, slightly abrasive from the wind, on my own.  He pulled back abruptly. ‘Holmes,’ I said in surprise, ‘what was that?’ ”

Private Friends(7k, T, Watson tries a little poetry, established relationship) by @gailbsanders. “I believe a case of Dr John Watson has come over me, now that I think of it. Is it treatable, do you happen to know, or shall I perish?”

Rope Burn(8k, T, casefic, racism/homophobia, friends to lovers). “John,” my friend said, looking so close and yet as distant as the moon, “If you knew something about me that would make others recoil in disgust and speak my name with derision, would it change how you viewed me?”

Bloody Cornwall(8k, M, trauma recovery, friends to lovers) by @mistyzeo. “ ‘Nothing’s the matter,’ I said. My cup of coffee barely shook in my hands.”

Five Miles From Eastbourne(8k, M, casefic, Sussex joy, established relationship). “Still handsome – devilishly so – and lean, as much as ever.  A fleck of grey now at his temple, a line or two across his brow, but still as sharp, almost as vigorous, as the first day that we had met.  More human?  Yes.”

Cameo(8k, T, magical realism, soulmate AU, love confession). “Watson swallowed past a sudden thickness at his throat. ‘Holmes,’ he said. ‘I would rather have you alive and away from me than dead in the room next door.’ ”

Perfect Pitch(8k, T, magical realism, soulmate AU, friends to lovers). “I still, curse my thickness, did not come to the correct conclusion. But at least I recognized that it was simply the purest form of love.”

Some Gentle Dove(8k, T, miscommunication, Sussex joy, established relationship). “Watson nodded and turned the page, trying his best to appear unaffected by my praise, though I caught the trace of a pleased smile below his mustache. He is not terribly good at keeping a straight face, my John, but his attempts are utterly bewitching.”

Something To Retire To(9k, T, miscommunication, ace Holmes, relationship negotiation). “I did not want to be alone as I grew old. I wondered, with some desperation, if Holmes would mind if I moved into the cottage next to his.”

The Incident In The Room With The Red Curtain(9k, T, casefic, demi Holmes, friends to lovers). “When I got up to my room, I sank down on my bed and put my head in my hands, taking a long breath. He’d known. All these years, and my second most tightly-wrapped secret was no secret at all.”

That Which is Hidden(10k, T, casefic, pining, Mycroft interfering kindly, friends to lovers). “I do think in this particular matter, however, you have allowed your fear to cloud your judgement.  Doctor Watson does care for you, my dear Sherlock, and you would be a fool to let him marry another.”

SomeFurther Notes on the Roylott Matter (11k, T, casefic, canon fixit, friends to lovers). “Watsonenjoys speaking of souls. He believes in them, and so he must, for hisown is so very present.”

If you love these, most of the authors have more work on AO3!

And some of my own fit the bill too:

Ridiculous(1k, G, epistolary, accidental love confession). “Why Holmes Is Ridiculous: Being a list of his oddities, which I am keeping for my own amusement, or possibly for blackmail. I will add to this whenever fresh proof comes to hand.”

Notes On A Love Story(4k, G, Holmes reads Dorian Gray, friends to lovers). “Holmes, you could not shock me past acceptance. You could not lose my respect over a thing like this. I would sooner cut off my own hand than raise it against you, whatever secrets you hold.”

Poets Lie(5k, G, pining, canon retelling, first kiss). “He’d thought the impulse long conquered. Now he saw that time had only distilled it. To touch a loved face tenderly–it was such a simple thing to be so entirely out of reach.”

Holmes, Voiceless(5k, G, pining, friends to lovers). “He was with me daily, from the time of his illness often hourly; he required my aid; he blushed at my praise; he demanded my attention; he delighted, baffled, needled and provoked me. His effect on me grew absolutely terrifying. I could not think, I could not be rational.”

Courting Sherlock Holmes(5k, G, sickfic, accidental courtship, friends to lovers). “I had meant only to do him justice for twenty years’ goodness to me. I had believed I had loved no one in all my life. I had never wondered why.”

My Private Affairs(6k, G, pining, jealousy, friends to lovers). “Holmes was not a man to hint. I was not accustomed to any kind of caution between us. I had a sinking feeling I’d missed something essential.”

To Join These Men in Holy Matrimony(10, T, family crisis, established relationship). “The whole thing seemed miraculous to me, and yet to anyone’s eye we would have appeared the same as ever. Only behind closed doors, and in the quiet of the night, was everything new.”

These and the rest of my canon-era writing are here on AO3. Thanks for the ask!

[aswithasunbeam]

Salamanders and Solemn Vows, a Lams fic

[Also on AO3 here]

Summary: Hamilton may have had one too many at Von Steuben’s latest get together. Thankfully Laurens is there to help him through the worst of it.

A sweet Lams sickfic set in Valley Forge

March 1778

Loud snores filled the dark quarters when Hamilton slowly peeled his eyes open. He squeezed them shut again against the dull pounding in his head, and he had to swallow twice before he could produce any saliva in his dry mouth. The sour taste of half-digested beef and alcohol lingered on his tongue.

His memory felt patched and blurry. He vaguely recalled a dimly lit parlor and the din of unintelligible chatter and laughter. Von Steuben’s party, he remembered. The Prussian’s way to poke fun at their miserable lack of supplies, now that Greene had taken over as quartermaster and a light appeared at the end of the proverbial tunnel. Torn breeches were the price of admission; Hamilton had met the demand easily, picking the thread out of his most oft mended pair.

The roar of approving hollers when a match produced flames atop the strong spirits, he remembered more clearly. “It’s called a Salamander,” one of Von Steuben’s aides had explained in his ear, voice raised to be heard over the noise of the room. How many had he tossed down last night?

His mind felt too fuzzy to think properly. He rolled over, intent on curling up and going back to sleep, only to find his course blocked by another body. Laurens, he recognized distantly. The abruptly aborted motion had set his stomach churning. Saliva, so hard to produce only moments ago, suddenly flooded his mouth. He shot up and kicked his feet over the side of the camp bed, stumbling instinctively around the trunks and other beds crammed into the small room towards the chamber pot shoved in the opposite corner.

Nothing came up, even though the stench emanating from pot worsened his nausea. The rapid movement and dry heaves only served to turn the dull pounding in his temples to a more intense throbbing. He moaned softly as he rubbed his palm over his forehead and tried to take a steadying breath.

A hand landed on his shoulder blade, and he startled badly. Whipping his head around, he could just make out Laurens in the darkness. He’d been so caught up in his misery, he hadn’t heard him approach. “You’re all right,” John whispered.

“I thought I was going to be sick,” he rasped, waving his hand at the chamber pot in an attempt at explanation, not awake or sober enough to realize John likely couldn’t see the gesture in the dark.

“I doubt you have anything left in your stomach.”

His face went hot with embarrassment as he understood this wasn’t the first time John had comforted him through his nausea tonight. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

John’s hand soothed down his back. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I can’t remember much of the party. How badly did I embarrass myself?”

Laurens breathed out an amused little chuckle. “You actually seemed fine all night. It wasn’t until we left that I realized how bad off you were. You stumbled in a mud puddle on the way back to headquarters, and when you were down on all fours you started getting sick.”

He groaned. “Did anyone else see me?”

“Just me,” John assured him. “Everyone else was still at the party, or already back at headquarters. I helped you back here when you were done and put you straight to bed.”

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “You’re too good to me, Jack.”

“You’d do the same for me,” Laurens replied, shrugging off the gratitude. “You need help getting back to bed?”

He nearly refused, but when he tried to push himself up under his own power, his head spun dangerously. “Mm, please,” he requested, reaching out to steady himself on John’s shoulder. John’s arm wrapped around his back securely as he lead him back to the camp bed in the corner.

As he collapsed on the half-stuffed, threadbare mattress, he heard Laurens cross the room. Water tinkled softly into one of the pewter cups they kept near the wash basin. Laurens maneuvered easily back to the cot, sat beside him, and urged him to sit up. “Come on, Ham. You need to drink. You’ll feel better.”

He pushed himself up on his left forearm with a low moan and reached out with his right to take the cup. The water did help a little, washing the foul taste from his mouth and stilling his belly somewhat. “Thank you,” he whispered again.

“Shh,” Laurens hushed him. One of John’s cool hands soothed over Hamilton’s forehead, paused for a moment, then combed his hair back from his face. “Go back to sleep.”

He obediently curled back up on the mattress, already fast asleep by the time Laurens returned.

**

The morning gun sounding reveille woke him next. His headache felt much worse in the hazy light of dawn. He pushed his face fully into his pillow to try to block out the light.

“Up, my boys,” Harrison called, his booming voice accompanied by the rustling of papers as he began handing out assignments for the day. “That includes you, Ham.”

“We’re sure he’s still breathing, right?” he heard Tilghman ask with clear amusement.

He groaned into his pillow to prove he remained among the living. Tilghman laughed. How could he be so cheerful so early in the morning? Especially after last night?

“Go easy on the lad, Harrison,” Meade urged in his distinctive Virginia drawl. “We’re all a bit slow moving this morning.”

“And whose fault is that?” Harrison retorted.

“Hammy?” John’s voice was softer and closer. A hand landed on his back again, rubbing gently over his shoulder blades and down his spine. “Are you all right?”

“Mm,” he hummed, shifting so he could peel an eye open and shoot Laurens a weak half smile. “I think I’ll survive.”

Laurens pressed the back of his hand to Hamilton’s forehead again. Hamilton frowned lightly, and reassured him, “I’m fine, Jack.”

“I know,” Laurens agreed, though his smile looked strained as he rose from the bed.  

Harrison heartlessly yanked on Hamilton’s blanket as he strolled passed the cot. “Up, Ham.”

He reluctantly sat up, and he waited a moment for his vision to right itself before he placed his feet on the floor. A towering stack of papers slapped onto the mattress beside him. He squinted at the writing on the top of the page, his head swimming as he tried to make out the words.

“I’m never drinking again,” he muttered as he pressed a hand to his pounding head.

Tilghman and Meade both snickered.

Harrison gave him a fatherly pat on the shoulder, but remained firm. “Learn life lessons on your own time, my boy. We’ve work to do.”

He bit his tongue to keep from pointing out that he hadn’t had his ‘own time’ for nearly two years now. Instead, he pasted on a smile and assured Harrison, “I’m fine, really. I can work.”

“Here, Hammy, fresh clothes,” Laurens said softly. Giving up the attempt to read the documents beside him, he glanced over and saw John had pulled a clean shirt, breeches, and stockings from his trunk for him.

He gave John a grateful look and started to pull off the muddy, torn clothes he’d slept in.

“I’ll save you something hot at the table, Ham,” Tilghman promised, halfway out the door with his own stack of papers tucked under his arm. Meade and Harrison both followed him out.

He’d do almost anything for a cup of hot coffee, but he knew he’d be lucky even to find weak tea. It would have to do, he supposed. The thought of anything more solid turned his stomach. He glanced over at Laurens, who had collapsed back on his forearms on the bed, already fully dressed with his own work neatly piled beside him.

“Aren’t you going down to breakfast?”

“I’ll wait for you,” Laurens shrugged.

"All right." Hamilton smiled a little as he tugged his shirt over his head, the white linen hiding his face and overtaking his vision. He could feel John's eyes on him as he changed, and he wished he felt well enough to properly enjoy the sensation.

**

Hamilton slumped a little further over the document he was copying and allowed his eyes to close for a just a moment. Two long oak tables had been pushed together to create one large working space for Washington’s aides, and the heaping stacks of papers that laid upon them awaiting attention obscured Hamilton’s view of the entryway. The parlor was unusually quiet for late afternoon, with Tilghman, Meade, and Harrison all off attending to other duties. Laurens had just disappeared to an unknown destination as well. Hamilton relished the brief snatch of quiet.

He felt a good deal better than this morning, but a dull headache and a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach lingered stubbornly. He still hadn’t managed anything more than tea, which was so weak it was basically just hot water. Given the amount of teasing he’d endured all day, he knew he looked about as good as he felt.

“There you are. I almost couldn’t see you behind all those papers.” John’s voice startled him into a more upright posture, and his eyes flew open to see him peering over the towering stacks with a bowl of steaming stew in hand. “I brought up some food for you. You need to put something in your stomach.”

He wrinkled his nose in distaste. Laurens chuckled fondly and set the hot stew beside Hamilton, patting his shoulder companionably as he resumed his own seat. Sighing, Hamilton stirred the watery broth a few times, raised the spoon to his lips, and blew gently to cool the stew before swallowing it down. He paused for a moment to ensure it settled with no ill effect, then repeated the motion.

The bowl was half empty when his stomach started to protest. He pushed the food away and sat back, drawing in a deep breath through his nose. Shouldn’t he be feeling better by now?

“Why don’t we take a walk?” Laurens suggested. “The fresh air will do you good.”

Hamilton frowned at the towering stacks before them.

Seeming to intuit his thoughts, Laurens added, “All this will wait.”

He smiled at John. “All right. A walk sounds nice.”  

They both pushed back from the table and set off through the back door, shoulders bumping as they wandered down the muddy path away from camp. The sun had already sunk low in the sky, but enough daylight remained to see their surroundings. Grass had finally replaced the heaps of snow that had buried them for months, and the remaining trees, too skinny to have bothered cutting down during the harsh winter, had started to bud. Hamilton’s head felt clearer in the cool spring air.

“I feel like a fool,” Hamilton confessed as they walked. “I can’t believe I allowed myself to become so inebriated.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” John consoled.

He laughed softly. John could be too forgiving of his follies sometimes. “Whose if not mine?”

“You didn’t drink that much, Ham,” John said, his eyes trained on the path before them.

“Clearly I did,” he argued, his voice still light.

“No, you didn’t,” John repeated, his voice taking on a sharp edge. “I was with you all night. You’re just…you’re still so thin, Hammy.”

He looked down at himself, noting, not for the first time, how loosely his uniform still fit. That he remained underweight was hardly his fault. He’d lost too much weight during his near-fatal fever just a few months ago, and provisions were so scarce in camp that he had no hope of reaching full strength again.

He glanced at John and noticed how tense his expression had grown. “I’m all right, now. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I always worry about you,” John retorted. “You were so sick, Ham. I read the letters you sent to Washington. I hated that you were so sick, and I couldn’t be there to help you. I was so scared that you weren’t going to come back.”

Hamilton hesitated, not sure how best to give comfort. Honestly, he’d thought he was going to die, too. The fever had overwhelmed him, burning through him so intensely he’d felt like he was being cooked from the inside. Violent, unbearable pain had throbbed in all his joints, and his limbs had felt numb and tingly. He’d have sworn on his life that his mother was in the room with him during the worst of it. Though he’d never told anyone, as he’d sunk deeper into the fever and away from the pain, the knowledge that he was dying had been something of a relief. If only John had been there with him, he might have died content.

“I’m all right now,” he settled on repeating. He tried to catch John’s eye, but he was still looking down at the path, so he let his gaze drift out to the horizon. The sky had turned a brilliant pink as the sun sank lower. The scraggly trees were shadowed, their still nearly bare branches reaching up like black fingers, starkly contrasting with the bright color beyond.

Into the comfortable quiet, he added, “I didn’t realize you were still so upset about me getting sick.” Although, giving it a moment’s thought, it shouldn’t have surprised him. John had been so tender and caring when he finally made his way to camp. Even though he’d been deemed healthy by the doctors, John had insisted he take it easy for a few days, and drafted their fellow aides to help shoulder the burden so Hamilton could rest a little longer.

John had sat by his side for days, reading aloud and inventing ridiculous stories. The sound of his voice in the quiet quarters, the back of their hands pressed together, remained one of his most treasured memories.

John raised a shoulder slightly. “Of course I am. I lo—I mean, I really care about you.”

A smile blossomed across Hamilton’s face at the unspoken word. John had never said the word aloud, but he could sense it in every interaction. Leaving things unspoken had never been his talent. “I love you, too, Jack.”

John paused on the path suddenly, finally meeting his eye, and demanded, “You can’t leave me. Not like that. Not without saying goodbye. Promise me.”

He vowed softly, with no hesitation, “I promise.”

John’s arms snaked around him and tugged him close. He wrapped his arms around John in return, resting his chin on John’s broad shoulder. The embrace was warm and firm, a peaceful oasis in the horror of war. Hamilton grabbed a fistful of John’s worn uniform jacket as he squeezed him closer, trying to commit the feeling of John’s warm weight in his arms to memory.

**

 Not until years later, alone in his office with a crumpled paper, damp eyes, and a broken heart, does he realize he never demanded John vow the same to him.

Note: research for this fic primarily based on posts from ciceroprofacto and revolutionary-pirate here on tumblr. Regarding Hamilton’s hangover in March 1778, see this post. For James McHenry’s poem describing a morning among the aides, see this post.

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Flufftober 2023

by AetherMoose All fluff all the time with characters from DC, Marvel, CoD, and RDR2! Words: 202, Chapters: 1/25, Language: English Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games), Marvel, DCU, Red Dead Redemption (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Task Force 141 Ensemble, John "Soap" MacTavish, John Price (Call of Duty), Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Nikolai (Call of Duty: Modern Warfare), Roy Harper, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Slade Wilson, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Wade Wilson, Peter Parker, Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith (Red Dead Redemption), Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Stephen Strange Relationships: John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley, John Price/Simon "Ghost" Riley, Roy Harper/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, John Price/Nikolai, Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange Additional Tags: Holding Hands, Hugs, First Kiss, Kissing, Sharing Clothes, Napping, Massage, Scenting, Cooking, Sickfic, Dancing, Bathing/Washing, Texting, Love Letters, Cuddling & Snuggling via https://ift.tt/fgAI0tZ