#one of their neighbours asks them if they’re going to get married now it’s legal

[praetoravila]

YOU MUST TELL THE WORLD ABOUT YOUR LOLIVE ELOPEMENT💒💒💒💒💒💒

GOD where do i begin. lol.

okay so like they are the married couple of the friend group. like basically as soon as they become friends, they become mom and dad. and the other guys joke that if it weren’t for them being the voices of reason, they would all be dead. which. true.

olive doesn’t think about herself getting married other than in fleeting moments. like yeah, she watches say yes to the dress w her sister, and her, jo and camille giggle over the royal wedding in 2012, but to olive, marriage isn’t that big of a deal.

at least not until she’s halfway through grad school at 25. and a lot of her grad school friends are getting engaged, getting married and she starts wondering if that’s something she wants. her and logan have been together for almost 9 years at this point. everyone keeps asking when they are planning on settling down. and she truthfully doesn’t have an answer. they live together. he’s in med school and she’s in grad school. is that not being settled?

and so they have a conversation about it. truthfully, it’s olive word vomiting at logan, and he picks out the words, marriage, engagement and disappointment and he’s like oh shit. bc he wants to marry her. he does. he’s always been a very traditional guy in that sense. but time has elapsed him, and he’s been so busy with his path to becoming a doctor that everything else has fallen to the wayside. and tells her as much and she’s like yeah no shit dummy.

and so they come up with an agreement. they’re going to elope at city hall in two weeks.

and then they do. it’s them and a neighbour in their apartment complex who just so happens to be there at the right time, and olive’s wearing a $60 nordstrom white dress, and logan’s in a white button down and slacks that he bought for a post btr job interview and within two hours, they are legally married. and they just go on with their lives after that.

but in the mess of it all there’s one problem. they uh. they forgot to tell wren.

and understandably she’s like what the fuck. bc not only did they get married, they got married and didn’t tell her. it’s sets off the most legendary fight between olive and her sister ever in the history of their dynamic. it’s rory and lorelai during rory’s dropping out of yale arc bad.

and logan of course feels guilty bc they should have invited wren. it’s her baby sister who got married. meanwhile olive’s like i am a grown woman now. i don’t need to tell you everything in my life. which okay fair girl but also you didn’t tell your sister you were getting married????

anyways. they make up, wren forgives them and they decide for their one year anniversary of being married that they want to get married again, but this time w a bigger more traditional wedding. joanna (logan’s mom) ends up being their primary wedding planner. wren sobs while dress shopping with olive. the btr boys are logan’s groomsmen. obviously. and to keep them from fighting over who’s his favourite, he makes katie his maid of honour.

happy ever after! oh and uh here’s the lolive wedding pinterest board

[ladyambrosius]

I feel I should mention that the reason the first one is set in a biker bar (and that it’s somewhere Merlin works and Leon drags Arthur to) is because I saw a post not long ago about someone wanting to do a Merlin Roadtrip AU but getting irritated because the UK just does not have enough land to do roadtrips properly.

I don’t know if you live in the UK or not but there’s a whole subculture around motorbikes here. I’m not in it myself, so I don’t know specifics. But I do know there are weekly bike meet ups. And there’s a yearly memorial ride to commemorate the death of one particular biker in my local community that’s been going on for years already. And there’s a lot of tv shows about bike riding, be it the history or different bikes being ridden by the same person or just celebrating the fact the UK has some good roads with some better views that bikers frequent but other tourists just don’t.

And I get it’s not the same thing, because you’re not in a car with your family for hours just driving through the night. But a group biker roadtrip would be the closest you’ll get in the UK probably.

Not to mention that to the resurrected gang it’s probably the closest they’d get to their hunting or adventuring they were accustomed to doing on horseback. Because let’s face it even if they did manage to all get horses the areas horses can even go, compared to a motorcycle on the road, is limited.

So I got it into my head early on that, while both Leon and Merlin might hate cars for the damage they do to the environment, they’d make an exception for motorcycles for the nostalgia. And they probably both maintain their own bikes (plural because I’ve met a few bike people and never met one who stopped at one bike when money wasn’t a factor in the equation) definitely a big hobby for the both of them, and they probably do their own trips planned and such as well. And Leon probably started it while dragging Merlin along also.

And while I’m here talking about immortal and waiting Merlin’s hobbies—immortal and waiting Merlin probably doesn’t have much in the way of official occupation beyond living (with Leon) in a small house on a large plot of land with a vegetable garden and selling the vegetables or jams or whatever at a farmer’s market for money that’s mostly just so the neighbours never ask if they’re struggling. Because you know what, 1500 years is a long time to be an activist and to be waiting and I can’t see either of them maintaining the same level of motivation they had in the show. They’ve probably developed a lot of thoughts about the meaning of life and also set a lot of boundaries when it comes to what battles they fight. There’s no way they don’t have savings, and if they live in the right area not only is their house likely to be a historical build (I imagine they built it themselves) but the walls and hedges surrounding their land would also be historically protected, so they’re not at risk of losing any of it to a road or whatever. Maybe they have horses, and chickens, and a goat or two as well if they have enough space.

for literally no reason at all what job would modern merlin hve (au not reincarnation or whatever) pls help

[aubreyprc]

when I cheated it did

46 - are they really just a friend

summary - during hotch and haley’s separation, he has a thing with Emily. Haley pulls him up about it when he comes to her about the divorce papers and one confession later, he lands right back at emilys door once again.

word count - 2.6k - the way this was just supposed to be the hotch / haley scene and now it’s ?? this is just an example of how unwell i am in my head <33

She always told herself that no matter what she did, who she slept with or who she became she would never be the other woman never be the reason a child never saw their father, never be the reason why a child should grow up the same way she had to, never be part of an affair, yet when she finds herself sleeping with her married boss, she tells herself its okay because he's separated, that its not an affair if his wife left him, that she isn't the other woman if the wife is out of the picture, even if the couple still wear the rings on their fingers, even if they're still legally married.

She tells herself its fine because he and Haley are separated, she tells herself its different because Hotch still see's his son, she tells herself she isn't like the woman her father married after leaving her and her mother because she would never allow Hotch to abandon his family, she tells herself its not an affair, that its not the same, because otherwise the guilt would eat her alive, she tells herself its different because she can't end it, and the minute she allows herself to register that, separated or not, he is married she would have to.

"You okay?" he asks as he steps into the bathroom. He stands behind her, placing soft kisses on her neck as he wraps her in his arms, his hand locking over her abdomen as she smirks at him through the mirror, tilting her head to the side as he began to undo her robe with a playful smirk of his own. Laughing, she leans her back into him, resting against his chest safely as he places a kiss on her cheek.

"Yeah," she sighs contently, lacing her fingers through his own with a raised eyebrow, stopping him from pulling the robe open. He walks them backwards, a smile on his lips as he presses them into her neck, only to be interrupted by his phone and he curses his under breath as he digs through his pockets to find it, still keeping her wrapped up in him with one arm over her waist.

"Hotchner," he answers, winking at her when their eyes catch in the mirror. "Of course, we will be right in." he says, ending the call as quickly as he answered it. "We have a case." he tells her, kissing her cheek before exiting the bathroom, and she simply watches him go, a small smile on her face as her cheek burns from the touch of his lips, has to force herself to remember that this is casual, that they can't that they never will be anything more than what they are now, reminds herself that he will go back to Haley, and reminds herself that if she gets attached, she will get hurt, and pushes down her feelings, refusing to acknowledge the ache in her chest at the thought of this... them being over.

They, of course, spend their nights together in the hotel. He makes sure to get a room at the end of the hall, away from prying eyes and ears and in different cities he can take her hand in the hotel bar when the team have left, he can kiss her softly in the streets in the dark when he sneaks them both out in the dead of night, in different cities when the team isn't around he can pretend their not a secret, she can pretend there are no consequence's and they can pretend its just them.

They make plans to go to her place, the two of them denying drinks with the team for different reasons with a sneaky look to each other that no one notices and they're halfway out of the door when he's served with the papers, and suddenly nothing about them feels the way it had over the last three months and she can only watch him go as the knot in her stomach tightens, can only creep past the team and rush into the bathroom and breathe, leaning her head against the door as she tries to calm down, her heart hammering in her chest while she closes her eyes, taking deep breaths in hope that it will get rid of her nausea. Her mind spins, memories of them flashing in front of her eyes and she wants to scream, unsure of where this leaves them... leaves her.

-

Hotch all but storms out of the office and towards his car, slamming the door behind him as he throws the papers onto the passenger seat, embarrassment igniting in his body at what just happened. He’s their boss and now his personal life will be spreading like wild fire around the office, something he never wanted. He drives with fury, his whole body running on fumes as he thinks back to the look of pity written on all their faces. Yet, that embarrassment changes to something he can’t quite describe, an ache in his gut, as his mind lands on Emily. He curses to himself as he realises he left without so much as a glance in her direction, already hating how he knows exactly what she is thinking, about how fragile her trust is, especially in him, in them, the unsurety of their... situation something that lingers between them whenever they are together, even if it does go ignored.

He wonders for half a moment, why in the same hour he was handed divorce papers, he is far more concerned with Emily, about how she is, about how they are, but the moment ends as he pulls up outside his old home; he grabs the papers, the anger and embarrassment swooping right back in, taking over.

He knocks on the door of the house that just four months ago, used to be his own and waits, taking a breath as the lock clicks.

“What are you doing here?” Haley asks as she opens the door. “Jack’s asleep.”

“You didn’t think to call me before you had divorce papers sent to the office?” he asks, holding up the papers. “Do you know how humiliating that is?”

“I didn’t know where else to send them.” she explains.

“You could have called. I would-"

“I could have called?” she laughs, “Aaron, I don’t even know if you’re in the city half the time. I knew if I sent them to the office, at least you’d find them.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he says, shaking his head, “Not only do you not even talk to me about separating in the first place, but you throw these in my face as well?”

“Will you stop shouting?” she hisses, pulling him inside with his sleeves. “You’re doing to attract the neighbours.”

“I don’t care about the neighbours,” he mutters, throwing the papers into the glass table and turning to face her. “You should have called me.”

“Why?” she questions, “I’ve given you months, to try and fix this, to do something that shows you still care but I’ve had nothing from you, not unless it’s about Jack.” she sighs, “I don’t have anymore time to give you, Aaron.”

“Would it have changed anything? If I’d have tried harder?” he questions.

When she looks to the ground, he has his answer, and all of a sudden he doesn’t feel that guilty about Emily anymore.

“Then I guess it’s a good job I didn’t waste my time trying.” he tells her and she scoffs, shaking her head.

“God you,” she stops, looking at him, “You really don’t get it do you?”

“Get what?”

“That I didn’t just wait three months for you, Aaron. I feel like I've been waiting for you ever since you made Unit Chief three years ago.” she tells him, “It’s like we were never enough for you, you always had to be somewhere else.”

“I was doing my job-"

“Yeah,” she says, “I know. I’m not having this argument with you again.” Haley tells him, “I’m sorry I didn’t call you about the papers, I should have warned you I was filing for divorce.”

It almost seems then that there’s nothing left to say, that if almost ten years of marriage has come down to an argument in the living room of a house he no longer lives in when she speaks again.

“You don’t feel you have anything to apologise for?” Haley questions, and his head snaps up to look at her.

“What?” he says, “Of course I do, I have a lot to apologise for but..”

“But?” she laughs.

“But I’m not going to stand here and take the blame for the fall out of our marriage when we know full well you stepped out months before you walked out.” he tells her and she stares at him with shock.

“You don’t get to throw that in my face,” She hisses at him, “You don’t get to act like you haven’t been— I may have made some mistakes but do not stand there and tell me you hadn't thought about doing the same thing.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Emily..” she shouts, “are they really just a friend?” she asks him, “You must think I’m stupid. And don’t stand here and tell me the two of you aren’t something, I’ve seen the two of you, don’t make me out to be the cheater here.”

“You slept with someone else, Haley. While we were together. This is not the same."

“I needed someone, Aaron. And you weren’t here.” she shouts, “You were never here.”

“So that makes it okay?” he shouts back.

“No.” she sighs, anger boiling beneath her skin, “but how many times do I have to tell that when I cheated it didn’t mean anything?” she asks him loudly. He turns to face her, seeing complete red as they come to blows for the first time since she walked out.

“Well then that’s a waste, because when I cheated it did.” he says back to her, before taking a breath, watching as she nods her head slowly and wipes her tears. "I—"

"I guess you were right then," she says softly, "its certainly not the same..."

"Haley—"

"Don't," she tells him, "do you love her?" she asks, and he drops his head to the floor because he didn't have an answer, he didn't know. The only word he can think being maybe.

"Then there's nothing left to say," she says quietly, "we can't come back from this, Aaron. We were over the moment she joined the team... we were over the moment we both found comfort with someone else." she walks over to him, places her hand in his as they look at each other. “Sign the papers, Aaron. Set us free." she whispers, before smiling sadly and walking away, he simply watches, before grabbing the papers and walking out of the door, drives mindlessly with no destination in mind while he replays the moment his marriage ended once and for all.

When I had cheated it didn't mean anything.

When I cheated it did.

-

He finds himself parking in front of her apartment, as if he had driven there unconsciously and he sighs, closing his eyes as he leans his head against the back of the seat. With a deep breath he composes himself, looks at the papers and gets out of the car, heading into her building with the hope that she would at least just talk to him.

-

She’s in her own little bubble, wrapped up in an old sweatshirt as she stares out of the window, blowing the smoke from her mouth when three knocks at her door spook her out of her trance. She flicks the cigarette out of the window and stands, pulling the jumper down over her shorts as she heads towards the door, looking through the peep hole she sighs as he sees him, leaning her head on the door before she opens it, resting against the frame as he stands in front of her.

“Hi,” she says softly, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” he replies in such a delicate tone she swears she’s never heard from him before. “I was hoping we could talk?”

“What’s there to talk about?” she asks, dropping the side of her head onto the door frame as she wraps an arm around her front.

“Us...” he says hesitatingly, knowing putting a name on them at this stage is risky.

“Aaron...” she sighs, looking to the floor. “Us, is a string of late night hook up’s in hotels across the country, a hand full in my apartment, behind closed doors...” she tells him, “We’re casual sex at best. You have a family, a son, a wife.”

“A wife who’s filing for divorce.” he reminds her, “Please, can we just talk?”

She looks at him, opening the door wider and stepping aside as he walks through.

“Have you been smoking?” he asks as she follows him through the hall.

“I’m not nineteen anymore,” she smirks, “you can’t tell my mother.”

“I never did.” he says with a playful smile of his own, “You were just lousy at hiding it.”

“Yes well, it seems I was lousy about hiding a lot of things.” she jokes, “Do you want a drink?”

“Sure,” he says, taking the beer from her with a smile. “I thought you quit?” he asks her, tilting his head towards the open window.

“I did,” She says, “For a little while.” there’s almost a sadness in her voice, one that makes him stare just that little bit longer at her, noticing that she almost can’t meet his eye. “I guess I’m a sucker for bad habits." she mumbles, meeting his eye finally and he simply smiles.

"What are you doing here, Aaron?" she sighs, "I can't kept doing this dance with you, I—" she stops, shaking her head, "what do you want from me?"

"Nothing," he tells her, "I just wanted you to know that there is an us, that this isn't just casual anymore... that we are something, that we can be something." he adds, looking at her as she stares back at him, hesitance written all over her face. "Give me time, let me get Jack through the transition... and I will come back to you. We can try, properly." he tells her, smiling when she lets out a laugh, her own smile growing on her face. "I'm signing the papers. Not for you. Not for us. But for me. For Haley. For Jack." he tells her, "my marriage was over long before you were became part of the picture. It's time." he says, standing right in front of her and he smiles. "Maybe in a few months I can take you on that date I promised..." he whispers and she smirks.

"You never promised to take me on a date." she tells him softly, and he places a finger under her chin, leaning forward slightly.

"I have now." he whispers, before kissing her. "Give me thirty days." he tells her as they separate, and she laughs.

"Okay." she accepts, "I only eat in fancy restaurants." she tells him as he heads for the door and he turns, smiling at her.

"Noted." he winks, before leaving her apartment, hope building in both of their chests for a future together they can now work for, rather than ignore. 

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Only For You

A/N: My first full Ron fic and my 93rd fic for Harry Potter! I’ve written a drabble before this but I really wanted to write something for Ron! So here it is! It is a load of fluff and cuteness and I hope you all like it!

Summary: introductions and discussions.

Pairing: Ron Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: some swearing but it’s so fluffy!!

Word count: 1.8k

“Love, I’ve met your family before.”

“You have, but you mean something more to me now.”

“Ronald, you are a sap.”

“Only for you.”

“Come on,” You chuckle, elbowing his side gently, “Let’s go meet your family.”

“Let’s go meet my family,” He sighs, ready as he’ll ever be.

Ron takes your hand in his, tangling your fingers together. A shock runs through you; thrilling you. You look down at your joined hands in awe; it feels silly, but you never thought your feelings for the red-haired man would ever be reciprocated.

For months, you pined from a distance – memorising the way he brushed his hair out of his eyes when he was reading a case file intently; heart racing whenever he gave you that lopsided smile or how it thudded wildly against your ribs when he gathered you into his arms after making a particularly strong break in a case that was threatening to go cold.

All the while he was affecting you this way; you had no idea that he was harbouring the same feelings.

The friendship that had formed in your time at the Auror office had turned into something more. You started going out for drinks more after work; destressing was your excuse but really, you wanted to spend as much time as you could with the Weasley before he departed for home.

It changed one night when instead of apparating home to the Burrow, he asked if it was okay if he stay on your couch.

The air between you changed after his question; becoming charged with the feelings you so helplessly felt for the man in front of you.

Ron never slept on the couch that night. He had kissed you outside the door of your flat and from the moment you unlocked the door, clothes were being pulled off and thrown over furniture. Ron ends the night sleeping in your bed with your head on his chest.

Six months later, Ron wants to introduce you to his family as his partner.

The Burrow has always had a warm and welcoming atmosphere. The moment Molly Weasley chose the Burrow to be her family home, her only aim was to make her home a place where anyone could feel welcome and safe.

Seven children later; this was still her main aim.

Molly beams as her youngest son walks through the door. She didn’t say it often enough, but she was so incredibly proud of him and what he has achieved at such a young age. She never expected any of her children to experience the terror and anxiety that she had experienced with the first wizarding war, but all of her children had played a part in the second war. Ron even destroying Horcruxes himself.

It made her overly emotional to think about it.

“Darling,” She gushes, embracing her youngest son, “How are you?”

Love for his mother shines in his eyes as he replies, “I’m good, mum. I’m really good.”

Molly turns his face side to side, “I think you are.”

Molly smiles at Ron one more time before bundling you into a hug. Your arms wrap around her and she squeezes you tightly. “Thank you for coming,” she whispers.

“Thank you for having me,” You reply in earnest.

Molly steps away; adjusting her pinny so it sits straight once more. She fans out her hair, “Go on – everyone is in the living room though I’m sure you’ve guessed that from the volume.”

Ron laughs as he grabs your hand leading you to the living room where the rest of his family are sat talking.

Ginny rushes to meet you when you enter; kissing your cheek, “It’s been so long since we’ve seen you!”

You nod, casting a side glance at Ron, “I know, but I plan on being around more.”

Ginny grins, glancing between the two of you, “Did he get his act together then?”

You laugh, nodding. Ginny joins you, “I’m glad he did,” She hugs you again before wandering off to find Harry.

A familiar voice whispers in your ear, “What did my sister want?”

You smirk, turning to face Ron, “She’s happy you got your act together.”

“Of course she is,” he says with an eyeroll.

“What are you two whispering about?” Fred shouts from his place on the arm of the couch.

You open your mouth to answer but Ginny beats the both of you too it, “Ron finally got his shit together; they’re here to say they’re in a relationship.”

The twins holler at Ron, smirking through their words. Ron flushes a deep red; you grab his hand, squeezing tightly.

“He got his shit together six months ago if we’re going to be accurate about it,” You state; fingers now entwined with Ron’s.

“Six months? And you didn’t tell us?” George shouts dramatically; a hand on his heart.

You snort, “We were enjoying the time to ourselves, George.”

“I bet you were,” Fred joins with a laugh.

If possible, Ron becomes even redder.

“Heard from Charlie lately?” Ron asks to divert the attention from you.

Bill rolls his eyes at the poor attempt but answers, “He’s still in Romania if that’s what you’re asking, but they’re expanding the enclosure to fit more dragons. Charlie’s thrilled about it.”

Ron chuckles, thinking of his second eldest brother, “That sounds like Charlie.”

Bill nods, “He’d have been here if he could. He’s excited to meet you, (Y/N).”

“I’m looking forward to meeting him too.”

Ron is pulled away by the twins to discuss the legality of a prank they’re thinking of enacting on a neighbouring shop. Ron’s face pales as he listens to their plan and you wonder what the scale of the prank could be. You shake your head; leaving it to Ron to best corral his brother’s adventures and schemes.

You sit down in the only spare seat, next to Bill. He smiles at you politely. “How are you finding married life?” You ask with a smile.

Bill grins, sighing like a loved-up schoolboy, “It’s great. Fleur is incredible.”

“You both looked wonderful at the wedding,” You compliment.

Bill ducks his head, “Thank you.”

You both fall quiet then; eyes darting around the room, taking in the entire Weasley family. Ginny remains sat with Harry; heads close together as they speak about something only those two are aware of. Percy and Arthur continue their debate about a new decree being brought in by the Ministry; it makes you smile as you realise how similar yet how different father and son are.

Bill leans in close, “Ron won’t take his eyes off you.”

You sit up straighter; eyes finding Ron’s from across the room to find that Bill was right. Ron was staring straight at you with an awed look on his face. He knew how well you got on with his family; had met them when you became friends through the Auror Office but now seeing you interact with his siblings as his partner, it made it all the more extraordinary.

You smile shyly at the red-haired man who had stolen your heart within the few first weeks of meeting. Your heart stutters as Ron sends a wink your way and you have to resist the urge to giggle.

Bill snorts under his breath, “School children, I tell you.”

You glare playfully at the eldest Weasley sibling, “I’m sorry who was it that was just gushing about his wife.”

Bill opens his mouth to retort but wisely closes it again. “I thought so,” You quip with a smirk.

Ron makes his way back to you; perching on the couch arm, “Bill not annoying you, is he?”

You chuckle, “Never.”

Ron goes to reply but is interrupted by Molly entering the living room announcing that food is on the table should anyone want any. You rise from the couch, pecking Ron’s lips before leaving for food.

-----------

You apparate back to your flat late in the evening; your hand still tangled with Ron’s. He lets you go when you land back into your living room. His hands come up to frame your face, kissing you soundly for what feels like hours but is only minutes. You smile into the kiss; happy for it to be just the two of you again. You loved his family – adored them even, but you liked to end the night with Ron alone.

Ron parts with another quick kiss to your lips that has you chasing him for another. No-one affected you quite like he did, and he revelled in that fact.

Ron discards his jacket, toes off his shoes, and walks the few steps to your bedroom and throws himself on the bed with a sigh.

You laugh as you lay down next to him, commenting, “I don’t think that went badly.”

Ron shakes his head, “I don’t think it did either.”

“So what’s with the sigh, Weasley?”

“I think mum is going to be buying more bridal magazines.”

“What?” You ask, mouth dry.

Ron sits up, “Not like that! We aren’t ready for that yet! Mum thinks she can see into the future, and she really did adore you tonight. It wouldn’t surprise me if she was already searching for the gazebo to put in the back garden.”

“Yet?”

“What?”

“You said, ‘we aren’t ready for that yet’. Are you going to make me honest, Weasley?” You ask, a teasing note to your voice.

“It’s only been six months,” He laughs awkwardly.

“Don’t worry, Ronald. I’m not asking for a ring; I’m just taking the mick.”

Ron relaxes slightly, “I just didn’t want you to think I was planning for something when we’ve only been together six months. We don’t even live together.”

You bend down, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, “Calm yourself. I don’t expect anything right now.”

“But you do eventually?”

You shrug, “I’m not sure. I’m just happy to be with you right now.”

He tucks his hands behind his head, “I’m happy to be with you too.”

“My parents were together for shorter than that before they got engaged,” You comment in a matter of fact tone.

Ron raises an eyebrow, “I never knew that.”

You shrug, “It’s why I’m a hopeless romantic, I think, Ronald. I’ve seen their love grow and wouldn’t mind some of my own.”

Ron lays down on his stomach, resting his head on his arms, “You wouldn’t?”

You shake your head, “I saw your mum and dad interacting tonight too, Ron. If we’re as happy as them and my parents in the years to come then I think we’ve done something right.”

“In the years to come, aye?”

You roll onto your side, “What? You can talk about our future, but I can’t?”

Ron shifts so he faces you, “No, talk about it all you want but don’t be put off by my smile.”

You groan, “You’re an absolute sap, Ronald Weasley.”

Ron’s arm circles around your waist, pulling you closer to him, “Only for you.”

*******

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @dreamer821 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @the-hufflefluffwriter @figlia--della--luna @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn @summer-writes @big-galaxy-chaos​ @black-lake-confessions​ @annasofiaearlobe​ @imboredandneedalife​ @levylovegood​ @mytreec​ @haphazardhufflepuff​ @teheharrypotter​ @chaoticgirl04​ @accio-rogers​ @msmimimerton​

[loveyhoneydovey]

Dating Sam and Joaquín headcanons

Note: I was trying to write headcanons and I couldn't pick which one of them I wanted to write about, so I was like "why not both?" So here's the result, it's a mess and I wrote this at 3AM, I'm so sorry 💀

All my stories are written with a bisexual reader of colour in mind, but anyone else is more than welcome to read them

Sam Wilson x Joaquín Torres x fem!Reader

Warnings: slight mention of injuries, SMUT (lots of filth i'm sorry)

· listen omg, constant entertainment from all three of you, like one of you is always up to something

· ok so i think it started out with only sam and torres

· they had been dating for a while before they first met you, their new neighbour

· you know how torres was fanboying over sam?? yeah, that was nothing compared to how you felt when you first met them

· like maybe you were struggling with the boxes you were carrying during your move because they were so full

· sam and joaquín were on their way home from their morning jog when they saw you, and what kind of people would they be if they didn’t help their cute new neighbour

· when they first introduce themselves, you’re just grateful to see the people in your new building are nice. You also felt like they looked super familiar

· they could see the gears turning in your head when they’d first introduced themselves. Both theorizing about how long it would take you to realize

· and then after like 2 minutes, it hits you, and you feel so dumb

· you try to remain calm and collected since you didn’t want them to think you were crazy or feel like they couldn’t be comfortable in their own home

· they were super chill too, you noticed joaquín was the more talkative one, while sam was content with letting his boyfriend take charge of the convo

· by the end of it you ended up agreeing to hang out together, you promised them baked goods as a thank you for their help

· you’d totally stuttered a few times, and half the time you were staring at them with heart eyes (which joaquín was not used to but sam was jngercewdc have y’all not seen the way torres looks at him whenever they interact?)

· you end up forming a relationship with them, which eventually morphs into something more

· none of you had ever had more than a partner before, so you were all figuring it out together

· torres would be so chaotic. So organized on the field, yet so clumsy at home

· sam is the one that has his shit together (not always but definitely most of the time)

· and when you start dating them, they quickly realize you’re even clumsier than joaquín, and sam’s like “oh no, there’s two of them now”

· ok let’s talk about the good stuff now

· so many freaking cuddles

· post-mission cuddles are a thing in this relationship

· just the three of you laying in bed, holding each other, tracing patterns on each other’s skin, enjoying each other’s presence

· both of them LOVE having their hair played with. only difference is sam has a bit of difficulty asking for it while joaquín will put his head on your lap and put your hand on his hair

· if they come home with minor injuries, you help them clean treat their wounds. The first time this happened, you only had avengers themed band aids (which torres LOVES), so from that point on you only buy those

· on lazy days, after some lazy morning sex, all three of you like to spend the day baking new recipes and eating them in bed

· joaquín getting whip cream on the corner of his lips and on his cheek

· sam making fun of him before you tell him he also has some on his nose

· sam putting whip cream on your face when you least expect it to get revenge

· tickle fights, they used to team up against you until an elbow was once accidentally thrown and someone got a black eye

· you and joaquín love taking cute pics of sam when he’s not looking. He noticed it eventually but never said anything because he thought it was adorable

· both you and joaquín coming home with stray animals and trying to convince sam to let you keep them

· and of course he’s gonna say yes, you two had perfected your puppy eye technique

· he’s that kind of person who says no to getting a pet, then ends up spoiling it more than you and joaquín combined

· you never need a blanket when you’re around them, especially around sam because they’re always so warm

· movie night dates always ended in the three of you doing anything but watching the movie

· both of them flying you with their wings at least once

· you calling them captain and lieutenant in public to tease them

· messing with them by acting like a fan who’s never met them

· like at one point you buy a poster of each one of them and go up to them and you’re like “i’m a big fan, may I get an autograph”, which makes them roll their eyes

· dude they’re also both so playful. Always cracking jokes and even competing to see who’ll come up with the best joke

· the three of you always know you have a home with the two others, and that you can always openly talk about your problems and insecurities without fearing each other’s reactions

· I think sam is the one that has a harder time asking for help. so you and joaquín are more attentive to his body language and any other signs that might reveal that he’s feeling down

· it breaks your heart because he was always taking care of you, joaquín and everyone else, and you needed him to know he was important too

· you decide one day that the three of you should go on vacation every once in a while, because you’d all been working so hard and deserved a little peace

· (also bc shitless sam and shirtless torres)

· imagine eventually they’d give you their dog tags as a way of proposing 🥺 i’m melting

· you had a little ceremony while on a tropical vacation with your closest friends and your pets and had the time of your lives

· you knew you technically couldn’t legally get married, but that didn’t matter. You wouldn’t have it any other way

NSFW headcanons

· now let’s get into the filthy stuff

· whenever you act up, you usually do it around joaquín, because you knew he’d have a harder time saying no or disciplining you

· and he knew you were using that to your advantage, he saw right through it

· yet most of the time it worked

· sam was more of a no nonsense type of person, so if you wanted to break the rules and act like a big girl, he was going to treat you like one

· sam is the ultimate brat tamer and you can’t convince me otherwise

· as a punishment, he loved making you ride his thigh (have y’all seen this man’s thighs? three course meal), but not letting you cum

· whenever you’d whine or pout, he’d remind you that you brought this on yourself

· while joaquín would try to get him to go easy on you, because he took pity on you and kinda has a soft spot for you

· until one day you made the mistake of pushing him too far

· maybe you’d felt like they weren’t giving enough attention, so you threatened to go get it somewhere else. Maybe you even brought up how you could go to that one friend who had a crush on you (you definitely weren’t going to, but you knew how to push their buttons)

· whether you were planning on following through with that threat of not didn’t matter

· you got the punishment of your life on that day

· he’d edged you for hours, to the point where you were crying and trembling and begging him to cum

· so he made you cum, non-stop

· “you wanted me to let you cum, didn’t you? Now take it like a good girl”

· even sam is SHOOK, now he almost took pity on you

· by the time they’re done with you you can barely remember your own name

· they took you to pound town 😌

· ALSO, you’re all switches, and sometimes you enjoy cuffing one of them or being the one giving out the orders

· I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again, torres has a praise kink and LOVES being called a good boy

· Sam has one as well, but it’s more discreet

· likes being told how good he’s making the two of you feel, how no one else can do it like him

· ok but aftercare with them would be so soft

· you’re all super attentive to each other’s needs and usually know if it’s time for a bubble bath and cuddles or if you want to be held and drift to sleep

· lazy morning sex!!! just the three of you taking your time, exploring each other without a rush and not worrying about the outside world

· if they’re on a mission together and have a bit of free time, expect lots of nudes and teasing

· or sometimes even videos, which you find not fair because they have each other and you’re all alone

· NFJDNVEF imagine you buy them one of those clone a willy kits as a joke 💀💀💀 but you end up actually using them

· you know how they gave you their dog tags? yeah it drives them crazy whenever they’re fucking you or you’re riding them and they see the tags bounce

· especially those times where you’d wake them up in the middle of the night because you had a wet dream and couldn’t wait till the next morning. Where the only light entering your room would be provided by the moon, sometimes shining on the tags they gave you

· … imagine sometimes two of you decide to team up against the third and compete to see who’ll give them more orgasms 👀the loser has to do whatever the winner wants

· Jdfvfds lord this is such a long mess i’m so sorry

· in conclusion, there would never be a dull moment with those two and they’d be the sweetest, gentlest partners

Tags: @bury-my-love-inthe-moondust

[thepromisedbride]

HELLO JESS. BBC GHOSTS ARTHURIAN AU GO (by which I mean the arthurian characters in the premise of BBC ghosts, not the other way around)

REY oh my god i love you for this here we go

So in Ghosts the alive characters are a married couple, right?? Wrong!! Well, not wrong, because yes that’s exactly what Mike and Alison are. But wrong for this version because though I seriously considered having one of the couples as the main characters I then thought “hey what’s more fun than a family!!” and luckily for us (me) we have a ready made family in the form of (drumroll please) The Orkneys!!

The rest is under a read more because I got what some might call “carried away” and others might call “obsessed”

What happens is this: as the Orkney brothers grow up, they rather naturally become separated, until at last Gareth is the last one, at seventeen, living with their mother. Their father (or at least, their supposed father: they all know that Mordred looked too dissimilar to Lot to really be his son, though they never said it) died a while ago, and Morgause could not find it in her to really focus on her children over her job.

The five of them seem to unspokenly care about each other, but in a way where it was clear that they were all waiting to be contacted first.

Nonetheless, when Morgause does die, with Gareth having just turned eighteen and seriously wondering why he had taken a gap year from university, they all show up, and find that they had jointly been bequeathed the old family house in the country.

Gawain has been recently promoted and is now working from home. This meant more time than he usually spent inside his flat, and he had been getting rather claustrophobic. So, after an admittedly short heart to heart with Gareth, who was looking quite nervously towards a future without parents and with no idea what to do, he packs up his brothers in a typically Gawain-like fashion and moves them all out to the manor.

Mordred has been able to see ghosts since an incident in his youth involving a large body of water, an ill-timed trip and a sudden storm. He hasn’t been in water since, but the near-death experience left his with the ability to see those spirits left when their bodies had departed. This is especially unfortunate for him, because half the time he doesn’t particularly want to be able to see living people, let alone ghosts who do not leave when he throws things at them. But he puts up with it enough: there is, beyond all logic, a particular cup he took from Morgause’s house when he left which somehow has three ghosts attached to it, and they happily provide a deterrent for any others.

(It does create a somewhat awkward car journey: he’s being driven by Agravaine, and between the boxes in the back and the only two seats in the front, there’s not much room even for a ghost. Aggs keeps looking at him weirdly when he fidgets, but it’s not his fault that the only free place left is his lap or that Galahad decided that he simply had to see the journey to the house rather than simply confining himself to the cup like Bors and Percival did.)

Anyway, this means that he arrives at the house and immediately sees a crowd of variously costumed figures and tries turning around and leaving. Unfortunately Agravaine anticipates some “young adult hormones” and quickly steers him straight inside.

It takes him a while to finally be alone with the ghosts, who seem to quickly realise he can see them. There are eleven of them in total, though a couple seem to spend most of their time in the little gatekeeper house rather than the main building. He immediately makes a note to avoid Dinadan, who looks at Mordred once and immediately makes fun of his choice in band t-shirts (and like, he’s a ghost, what does he know about bands, it’s like trying to talk to Gaheris—) and Lamorak is instantly relegated to Mordred’s extensive “least liked people” list, which is different to his “disliked people” list. Kay seems kind of mean, which is funny, and Bedivere is responsible enough to try and control the others, but they are clearly “not dating” which honestly Mordred has no time for.

He gets on best with Clarissant, probably, as she’s smart and not too grating but still sweet enough that she likes sitting with him when he wants to be quiet but doesn’t want to be alone. Owain, likewise, has shown him several spaces in the garden for birdwatching or other wildlife (which Mordred doesn’t particularly have used for, but he does appreciate the effort).

Owain is “not dating” a different ghost, Laudine, but in a different way than Kay and Bedivere are “not dating”, in a way that doesn’t get on Mordred’s nerves and lets him acknowledge that Laudine is kind of funny. Elaine doesn’t really talk to him: there’s a river and lake by the house and she seems to prefer it there, or else by the old tower. But she has great stories, and never minds when he really needs a vent, usually about his brothers.

It’s Palamedes and Brangaine who live (in the loosest sense of the word) in the gatekeeper’s cottage. This is very useful, because it means he can set up a little bedroom inside, though it’s mostly for storage now, and sleep there when he wants to pretend he has his own space. He has a strange nervousness that they might see him as a sort of pet, but he’s pretty sure that’s not the case.

Relatively sure.

Not that it matters. They have a clearly delicate history together, one Mordred is not about to ask after for fear that one or both will start crying, but they manage in a sort of sweet domesticity. He’s left the goblet in there for now, because Palamedes seems to enjoy Galahad, Bors and Percival’s company.

And it’s—

Nice.

And then, of course, there is Lancelot. He seems far too well meaning for Mordred to carry on any kind of maliciousness for long, except that for some godforsaken reason he has also decided that Gawain is an ideal muse. He spends way too much time following Gawain around, thinking up sappy poetry about Gawain, or else sighing blissfully out of a window (presumably over Gawain). Mordred thinks that if Lancelot were to ever be able to actually talk to Gawain (physically, he means. Or figuratively? Because even if Lancelot wasn’t a ghost he does not seem to have any cognitive abilities around Gawain anyway) then this image would be shattered. Gawain looks pretty, but so does this waterfall Mordred once read about that falls down into nothingness and despair, or the river stretch that looks like a lovely refreshing swim but actually is an fierce riptide with a 100% mortality rate. Something like that. But the point is that it’s difficult enough with Gawain constantly around without having his admirer hanging round all the time too. Gawain is insufferable already without Gaheris and Gaheris getting to add to their board of “Is Gawain Secretly (Or Not-So-Secretly) a Changeling” with ‘every time he puts something down it always seems to move just within reach when he goes to pick it up’

(If you’re wondering why there isn’t an Arthur, that is a subplot that I just suddenly decided on just now. I was going to have Arthur as a Captain-like ghost but then I was thinking and long story short there’s a tangent here—

It was Arthur’s house. He’s still Mordred’s dad, though here I guess he isn’t their uncle as well, and he left Morgause the house in his will. He heard she was pregnant, and there was a little but if him which knew he could never acknowledge his child but he still wanted to provide in some way. Arthur doesn’t have to be a bad parent.

Incidentally this also solves why the brothers didn’t really know about the house before rather than “Morgause wasn’t a big fan of the country”.)

(OH MY GOD also so Guin isn’t a ghost either bc I wanted her alive. So now she’s an important plot point. She moved into the outskirts of the nearby village because she liked the area but didn’t want to contest for a massive empty house. Anyway she’s smart and despite the problems her and her late husband went through, she does respect him for this. So eventually the Orkneys will have to go for a discovery on the house’s secrets aka there are ghosts and so they will find Guin and discover the Truth. It’s all coming together now lads)

They invite their neighbours over for dinner one night: the house needs some pretty desperate renovating, but it’s now moderately liveable at least and, according to Gawain, this requires a party.

So invite them over he does. The ones to the left, a couple named Tristan and Isolde, though Gaheris swears that when they were introduced in the village Isolde looked completely different, and the ones to the right, Morgan and Vivian. They pass a very pleasant evening, despite the fact that a fox manages to get on the roof.

No one is sure how.

Gaheris and Agravaine are charged with rescuing it, which is by far the stupidest decision Gawain has ever made. However, despite them all living together, the brothers are really not in a brilliant harmony yet, and so Gawain sends those two off whilst he entertains their guests.

The two of them are staring out the window at the fox for a while before Gaheris dares Agravaine to climb up. He doesn’t want to, but Gaheris is his little brother, and if he passes over a dare from him he’ll never hear the end of it. So he climbs out.

It’s a dry night. But it was not a dry day. And the leaves packed on all the footholds are wet and slippery, and Agravaine—

Falls—

And hits the ground, several stories below.

They’re all terrified, of course, regretting every moment they spent apart or arguing. Agravaine is declared legally dead for fourteen minutes, and it is the worst fourteen minutes of any of their lives. But finally— finally— the doctors emerge to tell them that their brother is resting, but is expected to make a full recovery.

Which he does! There are several more doctor’s appointments and physiotherapists scheduled, but eventually he can return to house. (Unsurprisingly, the arguing starts again quickly.)

There is, however, one major difference.

Agravaine can now also see the ghosts.

Mordred, having been able to see them all his life, had not considered this possibility, and thus does not prepare.

Agravaine discovers these new abilities when he walks into a room to find Mordred, pretending to be on a phone call, chatting away with Clarissant whilst Lamorak inexplicably floats nearby. He stares, screams, and blacks out.

When he comes to after a moment he is faced with a lengthy, surprisingly bored conversation with Mordred, and seriously considers blacking out again. Lamorak has not left the room despite his presence being an inevitable disaster, and Agravaine perhaps unsurprisingly decides that He is to be the newest mortal enemy in Agravaine’s list.

(Lamorak is silently gratified that he is on lists for both alive people who can see him, and chooses to ignore the reasoning behind the lists.)

Mordred has been dealing with ghosts for most of his life.

Agravaine has Not.

This means that, pretty quickly, Gawain, Gaheris and Gareth realise something is even more wrong with those two than normal.

And of course they have to come clean.

Gaheris is half convinced that the two have found his conspiracy journal and that this is an elaborate ruse to trick him into confessing love for Nessie or something. Gareth is mostly concerned about the logistics and privacy, though Mordred’s narrated conversations between him and Owain seem to make him much more comfortable with the whole thing. Gawain is genuinely tempted to jump out a window to see if he can join to newly discovered exclusive club of ghost watchers, but eventually decides that it’s too much a risk to his beautiful face.

(Lancelot silently agrees, though it has not escaped his attention that it would be nice if Gawain could actually see him.)

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Haven (4/50)

Summary: They say Resembool is a haven, and they’re right. Lush pastures, quaint country town, farmers’ markets on Saturdays: a bucolic paradise.

But it’s more than that. Resembool is a haven for the runaways, the deserters, the people who don’t want to be found…

The Resembool community knows there’s something odd about Hohenheim, but they’re not going to let that stop them helping him out. This is Resembool after all, a place where no one has to hide and neighbours help neighbours, be they building a fence, chasing a sheep, or trying to save the country from an evil they inadvertently helped release centuries ago…

Or: A series of slices of life in an AU in which Hohenheim never leaves, and several broken state alchemists find hope and home in Resembool.

Rated: T

==

Haven

[1] [2] [3] [AO3]

Four

Summary: Trisha and Hohenheim’s courtship. 

Characters: Trisha, Hohenheim, Sarah

Pairing: Trisha/Hohenheim

==

Hohenheim has never really done what one might call ‘dating’ before. There were a few girls back in Xerxes who had turned his head, and once he’d got his freedom he’d stepped out with one of them a couple of times, but it had never really progressed to anything resembling a proper courtship. 

Since Xerxes, starting and maintaining a romantic relationship hasn’t been one of his priorities. It’s only now that he’s settled in Resembool having made peace with the souls that he’s begun to think that having a family isn’t something that’s completely out of his reach. It’s only now that he’s met Trisha Elric that he’s begun to think about love and romance in a way he’s never done before, and even that only happened after two weeks of Pinako needling him to ask Trisha out because his spark of attraction is most definitely returned. 

Hohenheim has not, understandably, kept up to date with modern romantic practices. He remembers that in Xerxes, the custom was to gift your intended’s family a camel when you asked for permission to marry, but Trisha’s family are all gone and he has no idea where to find a camel in Resembool. Besides, he can’t marry her since he doesn’t legally exist in this country, and despite the fact that he’s fallen head over heels in love with her, it’s too soon to be thinking about anything like that. She knows what he is - everyone in town does - but all the same, there’s no guarantee that she would be happy about it in the long run. 

The only other thing that he can remember from courtship in Xerxes is the preserved figs. They used to change hands between lovers a lot. He can get figs when the traders from Ishval come to the market once a month, and although he doesn’t know how to preserve them, the sentiment will be the same.

So, still not entirely sure of what he’s doing, Hohenheim goes to procure some figs. It must be a tradition in Ishval as well, as the trader gives him a wink and packs them carefully in a pretty box with tissue paper. He gets a bunch of flowers too, Pinako having lamented a few times that Yuriy is in the process of bankrupting himself buying flowers for Sarah. Feeling entirely ridiculous, Hohenheim heads along the winding village lanes to Sarah’s family home, where Trisha has been living since her own parents passed.

Sarah answers the door, looks at the flowers and the figs, and grins from ear to ear, calling back inside the house. 

“Trisha! You’ve got a date!”

“What?” Trisha comes to the door, wiping her hands on her apron. “Sarah, what are you…” She trails off on seeing Hohenheim helpless on the doorstep and smiles. “Hello.”

“Hello.”

“I’ll put these in water for you.” Sarah grabs the flowers and prances away, and Hohenheim and Trisha have barely had time to exchange two sentences about the nice weather that they’re having at the moment when Sarah returns, unceremoniously divests Trisha of her apron and shoves her bodily out of the door. 

“Sarah! My cookies!”

“I’ll get them out of the oven for you.” Sarah shuts the door.

“Sarah!” Trisha sighs, and turns to Hohenheim. “Well, since we’re both here, do you want to take a walk with me?”

Hohenheim gives a sigh of relief at not having to make the first move. He hopes that it’s not too obvious. 

“That would be lovely.”

X

By the time Trisha returns home later that afternoon, her cookies are burned (Sarah cannot bake despite her best efforts) but she really doesn’t care. It was a date. An actual date. With Van Hohenheim. Who, whilst still quite possibly the most oblivious man in Amestris, is now showing a genuine interest in pursuing something with her. After all, he gave her some figs, shyly saying that’s what they used to do back in his homeland and apologising for their not being preserved in honey.

(She decided against trying to eat them in a sultry fashion to gauge his reaction. She thinks he’d probably either have a heart attack or, more likely, not notice at all.)

When he walked her back to the garden gate and she had gone up on her toes to kiss him, he had returned it, hesitantly at first but then a proper, real kiss, a romantic kiss that could not be construed as anything but. 

It continues like this for a few months. Sarah complains that their relationship is moving at a snail’s pace, but Trisha doesn’t mind. It’s a comfortable relationship, and she knows that it’ll take time to get a four-hundred year old immortal Philosopher’s Stone to open up and be willing to take things up a gear. But there are flowers, and figs, and Trisha bakes cookies for him, and things are happy and easy. 

That’s not to say that it’s plain sailing. Trisha knows that it never will be. Van has to contend with half a million voices in his head on a daily basis, not all of whom like her yet and some of whom have been known to throw him off mid-sentence by making increasingly lewd suggestions as to what he could be getting up to with her. Added to that, there’s the undeniable fact that he doesn’t age and can’t really die, and Trisha most definitely does and can. She’s assured him that it doesn’t matter to her, but she knows that it eats at him.

It’s a few weeks after her twentieth birthday that she goes home with him and stays the night, in his bed and in his arms, and a few weeks after that, she moves into that home and that bed permanently. It’s not that she doesn’t give him any choice in the matter, but she’s very blunt about making her desires known and even he can’t misunderstand ‘we’ve been together for almost ten months and I want to live with you now’. Sarah agrees that being subtle would not have worked despite her admonitions at that first bonfire night.

Their life together is beautiful in its simplicity; Van notes that it’s such a change from the complexities of his existence so far. Trisha knows that there are challenges they will have to face together, but she’s content with her lot and joyful in her love, and she wouldn’t have things any other way.

[hillbillied]

(Warning: NSFW, entirely. 18+ smut content. | Ao3 link.)

After the war's end, Andy and Eddie invite their favourite mortarman over for a visit. Eugene agrees to the visit, and some other things.

The ruin of one Eugene Sledge (by pleasure of Andrew Haldane and Edward Jones)

They discuss it at length, the two of them.

Full novel length, chapters upon chapters, with subheadings and notes in the margin. Clauses and subclauses and sub-subclauses are proposed and ratified over the course of many an afternoon. Debates rattle over dinner plates, wild hypotheticals meet very real concerns for thorough consideration. (Which might be deemed a little much for what would probably fold into under five hours of action, including the inevitable water chugging between rounds.)

Their exceptional communication skills and stable relationship certainly allow proceedings to progress without a hitch. They have always discussed their sexual endeavours at length, after all.

Being in the commonly considered ‘sexual deviant’ category of existence means even your most vanilla sex is beyond the comprehendible realms of your white picket fence neighbours. (Not that they have a white picket fence. Theirs is cast iron. And their Boston apartment comfortably on the city lines, not in the suburbs.)

They end up taking no small amount of pride in it. That they can casually discuss exactly what turns them on, slipping further into potential depravity as they open up about themselves. Usually, however, these conversations last all of half an hour before they fall into bed to test their proposed plans. That aside, the process is exactly the same.

Andy says he’d be open to watching Eddie with another man. Or sharing him with another man. Or something to the ‘another man’ effect. Eddie asks him to elaborate.

Ack Ack considers, chews his lip with half-lidded eyes. “Maybe blowing him.” He says.

“Only if ye’ hold m’ hair.” comes the reply on Eddie’s part.

“You want me in control.” Andy deduces.

His aroused smirk makes Hillbilly’s blood boil. What a smart, omniscient cunt. The greatest displeasure? He’s right. That is exactly where his lover wants him.

They chew it over from there. Negotiations last longer than necessary due to constant courtroom breaks, since the prosecution and defence keep getting turned on and needing to take the time to fuck. The most fruitful discussions are never when the topic is spontaneously brought up, but rather at least an hour after, when Eddie’s lit his post-sex cigarette and Andy’s playing with his hair.

Eventually, the green light is given. They’re eating dinner across their humble wooden kitchen table. (Hillbilly’s gravy could drown a dead rat on a plate and it would still taste divine.) They’ve settled on an agreement and want to go ahead with the idea.

“Well,” Eddie says around a mouthful of beef, “Pick your man.”

   This choice is harder than it sounds because it has to be someone they know. They’re an item, sweet and simple. A stranger might get some bright ideas about their place in this scenario. Plus, it’s 1952. Some secrets need to remain under wraps.

Another problem is that the shortlist starts with Burgie.

Eddie’s rubbing his forehead in exasperation, reclining in their frayed armchair. “We attended his weddin’, Andy.” He explains, talking to nothing short of a fool, “Ye’ was with me in the arch a’ sabres.”

That absolute fool is currently pacing across the carpet, tapping his finger against his lips.

“Is it not polite to ask regardless?” Andy muses, pausing in his motions.

He receives an aggravated grunt. Low, drawn-out, and unimpressed.

“Not Burgin, then.” The captain finally acknowledges. The name is mentally crossed from the list, though not before he points an accusing finger his lover’s way, “But you wanted it, too.”

   After a deep, longing pull from his cigarette, Eddie gives the answer they’ve been looking for.

“Sledge.” He says.

The name floats upwards with the smoke. It catches on their small porch roof; one they share with the apartment next door, divided by more iron fencing. He’s sitting on the steps, Andy leaning against the doorframe behind him.

“What about him?” The blond asks. The conversation had previously been about weeding, what to do with all the insects tearing up the captain’s petunias.

Eddie takes another drag.

“He’s our third man.”

   “I know he’s queer,” Andy asks, “Does he know he’s queer?”

‘He’ is Eugene Sledge. The name stuck, dangling over their heads constantly since they’d been stupid enough to mention it. The possibility of their fantasy scenario drifts ever closer.

“By now, yeah.” Eddie says, staring up at their bedroom ceiling. He’s playing with his chest hair, curling it around his finger, “But I bet he ain’t got his dick wet much.”

Lying beside him, Ack Ack smothers his laughter in his lover’s neck. The words ring so horribly true. He reaches up regardless and slaps Hillbilly’s peck. Right on the nipple for that extra sting. The hiss the man emits confirms an acceptable amount of pain, retribution for his mean words. (Honest words but mean nonetheless.)

If they didn’t have sweat cooling on their bodies from a good fuck, the smack would turn Eddie on.

“It’ll be good f’ him.” He suggests instead, not wanting to earn another punishment.

“You think?” Andy replies, propping himself up on his elbows.

“Yeah.” Hillbilly says, “If he’s up fer’ it.”

   Andy writes the letter.

It’s scribbled with barely pent-up excitement and the slightest tremor in his hand. The penmanship is far from pristine, the careful innuendo and wax poetic only legally veiling the message conspired within. The raw arousal motivating the ink is on full display.

He’s absolutely fucking losing it.

Watching from the doorway, Eddie shakes his head. That’s the moment he knows Andrew has been fantasising about this longer than they’ve been discussing it.

He tries to pretend he’s shocked by the realisation.

   “Why Eugene?” Andy asks.

Again, for the fifteenth time. They have, as per, already discussed the reasoning at length. Eddie’s about ready to grab the man by his sweater vest and give him a good hard slap across the cheek.

Instead, he summarises.

“’cause he’s always wanted to fuck you, Andy.” Hillbilly explains, “And I’m about t’ let him.”

   If Eugene’s smart, which he is, he won’t pass up this opportunity.

If Eugene accepts the opportunity, which he does, any nervousness he may have will be proven weaker than his excitement over the proposition.

And if his excitement is that strong, which it definitely feels like, then it’ll be all over his face when he arrives in Boston.

Andy collects him from the train station. Hands in the pockets of his pale slacks and short-sleeved shirt tucked in. He’s wearing a braided belt because it complements the look. He’s gay and he’s about to show this young man a wild time, why not make it special from the start?

He waves at the redhead who steps off the 4 o’clock train from Birmingham. It’s sunny and warm, painting that ginger hair with yellow streaks. It’s very attractive when seen without the sweat and dirt of combat or those ugly helmets crushing it flat.

Not that they haven’t seen each other several times before now. This is the first time, however, that Eugene’s wore his shirt without a tie. Today, the white of his collar is unadorned, handsome beige suit jacket left unbuttoned. Casual, familiar. No formality in sight, which is relieving.

He’s got a green carnation pinned to his lapel.

Andy has to keep his smile from splitting his cheeks. It wouldn’t be polite to wear the satisfaction of victory across the entirety of his features.

   “I should have known you’d be familiar with Wilde’s work.” Andy says, referring to the flower.

He’s driving Eddie’s blue pickup, which they have come to share the use of. Fancy cars are for rich cocksuckers and married couples who don’t have the imagination to use the truck bed. You can’t fuck beneath the stars in an estate.

“It was always my favourite.” Eugene notes. He chews on the bit of his pipe thoughtfully, “Even when I couldn’t place quite why.”

“It’s a fantastic touch.” Ack Ack compliments.

Pleasantly calm, every glance he sends across the cab radiates pride. The young man – just a man, really, but that might teeter on Andy thinking himself ‘old’ and they would be having none of that – has grown so much since ’44.

Eugene’s strong nose and dark eyes will never bleed with unbreakable confidence, for sure. But that’s a favourable trait, it keeps him far from arrogance and the unattractive features that come with it. Yet Sledge is still surer of himself than he used to be. Or perhaps he’s just learnt to hide his self-consciousness. (Really, they’re the same thing.) The only hint of nervousness is the drumming of his nails against the door, resting his elbow out the open window. A touch of trepidation for what’s coming.

Keeping the wheel steady, Andy reaches out and places a hand on his company’s thigh.

Eugene doesn’t flinch as his captain used to expect. (They both distinctly remember how a tipsy and boisterous young lady had ran a hand over Sledge’s ass at Burgin’s wedding. The redhead had jumped high enough to paint the ceiling ginger. And spilt wine all over the poor girl’s dress.)

Good. Better than good.

“I’m glad you could come, Eugene.” With a laugh, Ack Ack quickly clarifies, “It’s always a pleasure to see you, I mean that wholeheartedly.”

Pink colours Sledge’s cheeks, his smile sweet. He’s convinced it’s the truth, should have known that already. That doesn’t make it any less warming to hear.

“I’ll admit I did consider replying in a more-“ He searches for the word across the dashboard, “-reserved nature, so I could visit without fear of gettin’ cold feet.”

The hand on his thigh is reservedly placed nearer his knee. It pats him comfortingly. Andy opens his mouth to speak and assure the young man that his excited scribbles – and the excited scribbled response – are not legally binding. They can enjoy a repeat of prior visitations if desired.

Eugene beats him to the punch.

“But sittin’ here now-”

Those dark brown eyes flutter downwards. Over the steering wheel, that neat braided belt, the front of Andy’s slacks. Sledge’s tongue flashes across his lips, wetting the dry skin. His pipe hovers uselessly, forgotten as his mind drifts elsewhere.

He catches himself enough to speak. His gaze is torn slowly from the fabric over his company’s cock.

“I think I made the right decision.” He mutters. It’s quiet and a little shy, but not unsure.

The fingers on his thigh squeeze happily.

   Eddie opens the door with a grin of true happiness. The sunlight turns his curls that slightest hint of ginger, though it’s nothing on the crop of hair sliding out the passenger side of his truck.

“Eugene Sledge.” He drawls like he can’t believe his eyes, like he isn’t in on the plan. His arms are folded loosely across his chest, “M’ favourite mortarman.”

Jury might be out on that one, prior to this moment. Right now? This is absolutely his favourite mortarman.

“Hillbilly.” Eugene greets with a bashful smile.

There’s a respect lingering there that has already been dropped with Andy. Not that it didn’t take a couple of years’ effort to achieve that, too. They’re steadily working their way to Sledge dropping all pretence from the Marines, the two of them. They are so remarkably close, the title of captain and lieutenant fully thrown to the wind sometime around 1948.

That might prove to be a spanner in the works later. Andy fully planned on bringing those titles back this evening.

For now, though, he focuses on Eugene and Eddie.

“It’s good t’ see you ag’in.” The latter says.

They stand as far apart as the compact space of the porch allows. (Not much, apparently.) They both glance Andy’s way as he shuts the cast iron gate and ascends the steps. He’s carrying Eugene’s suitcase like a gentleman. Now there’s three grown men in a one-and-half-man area of entranceway.

Eddie has to huff out a laugh. He kicks the door open behind him.

“C’mon,” He says, “We’re drawin’ more attention with this tomfoolery than if I’d kissed ye’.”

   It’s a pleasure of an afternoon.

Eugene helps Eddie cook dinner. Andy had insisted on it. A strategic placement of their visitor, if he does say so himself, perfectly aligned so the two can share close quarters. Unpressured by expectations and protected by clothing for the time being. Sledge chops vegetables, unphased as Hillbilly stands behind him, chest against his back to guide his hand.

Their captain sips his tea from the kitchen table. His boys work to cook a meal for him to enjoy, at his instruction, without him lifting a finger. That victory smile returns and this time he can hide it behind his mug.

While he’s certain Eugene will be learning a few things tonight about how to draw submission from a man, there’s no outmanoeuvring a master.

   They eat, they talk. Some of it about the letter’s content and expectations for the evening. Most of it about how Alabama is and Eugene’s new job. About the petunias in the front garden and the pests that are ruining them.

Eventually, they clean their plates away. (Well, two of them do. Andy gets brought more tea.) They retire to the sitting room. It’s small and cosy. Andy takes the armchair, facing the men on the couch so he can actually finish his drink in relative peace.

Eddie sits and reclines against the arm of the sofa, head propped up by his hand. Eugene moves to sit on the other end. His company has different plans.

Hillbilly grunts. A complete and non-verbal ‘no’. Ass halfway to its destination, Sledge is off balance enough that the arm around his waist completely topples him. He’s brought down in the middle of the couch, all but in Eddie’s lap were it not for their closed legs.

They all laugh at the familiar horseplay. It’s short only a ruffle of red hair. (The lieutenant declines that, it’d be too condescending considering he plans on blowing this boy’s mind soon. And blowing him, period.)

“You gonna surprise me like that every time I sit down?” Eugene asks.

“I’m gon’ surprise ye’ a whole lot.” Eddie replies.

Andy hums approvingly into his mug. They both turn his way. It’s a good distraction; the redhead doesn’t notice Hillbilly adjusting their position. Getting comfy with the other man leaning against his chest, his hand coming to rest on Sledge’s hip. A warm hand on warm skin, separated only by thin shirt fabric. His thumb rubs small circles over the ribs he can reach.

“Let that inform tonight’s exploits,” Ack Ack muses, finished with his tea, “Whatever they may be.”

He sets the mug down on the small table to his left, beside the room’s ashtray. Eugene’s raised eyebrow begs him to explain.

Andy obliges. “Eddie can lift me quite easily.” He says, “He could probably break either of us in two. Don’t worry about playing rough.”

Behind his head, Sledge can feel the warmth of Eddie’s grin at the acute description. A strong arm is slung around his shoulder now, no longer content on his hip. The taller man’s hand is running over his chest absentmindedly, brushing his collarbone. Without any conscious effort on his part, Eugene has leant his full weight backward and against the warmth holding him.

“I have every confidence that if he wants you to stop,” Andy continues with a shrug, “He’ll stop you.”

Sledge glances to his right, head turned just enough to glimpse confirmation. At his back, he can see Hillbilly’s smile. His lips brush red hair as he speaks into the young man’s ear.

“He’s right.” is whispered against his skin, “But he’s still bein’ a bastard about it.”

“How am I being a bastard?” Andy laughs.

“Ye’ just are.” Eddie calls across the room.

They all chuckle. If they can’t have a sense of humour about this, there’s no point even attempting the deed. A little comedy won’t kill the mood and can save most faux pas.

During their bit, Eugene’s hand drifts to Hillbilly’s thigh. Testing at first, fingers ghosting over the thick denim of his jeans. Then pressing down, sliding over the fabric close to his knee. It sits there presently, finally building up the confidence to squeeze exploratively.

Those dark brown eyes glance down at his own machinations. Eddie’s hand on his chest slides across his peck, arm around Sledge’s shoulder gripping him tighter.

Andy sits back in his armchair, stretches his back. He’s convinced he can watch this forever. Or however long it takes to play out, at least.

“I want you to know,” Eugene drawls softly, his focus still on rubbing circles on Hillbilly’s thigh, “I’m not the most experienced at this.”

Politely, neither of the other men mention their knowledge of the fact. (Especially not mentioning how the fact may have played into a prior discussion.)

“Experience isn’t particularly important.” Andy says, “Attitude and a little guidance goes a long way.”

His fingers play idly with the handle of the mug at his side. Every pair of eyes are on him, yet he can’t care less. He looks like he can’t care less, cultivates the persona whilst he speaks with absolute authority.

“For example,” Ack Ack explains, “If Eddie were to keep his hands to himself for a moment…”

There’s no ‘if’ present in his tone. The hypothetical is a veiled command, upheld by the man who uttered it with crossed legs and gaze focused nonchalantly on his empty mug.

Eugene feels the rumble in Hillbilly’s chest behind him. That large hand retreats from where it had ventured over his nipple. While still leaning against the tall man, Sledge is no longer held captive in his grasp. (Not that he wanted his hostage situation to end.) Eddie even sits back, arms now slung over the back and arm of the couch, respectively. The heat of his breath disappears from the redhead’s ear.

All without so much as a raise of Andy’s voice.

“Then,” The blond continues, turning to the pair on his own cue, “You can come sit over here, and I can show you exactly what I mean.”

As Eugene stands, he uses the hand on Hillbilly’s thigh for leverage. It’s the last part of him to abandon the couch, sliding his way over to the armchair with all the grace he can muster. His steps are casual, taking their time. An impressive display, complimented by the hands casually slipped into the pockets of his slacks. Like he’s in no rush, can’t care less.

(Behind him, Eddie forces down a knowing smile. There’s no finer flattery than imitation and the young man has always been a fast learner. Copying Captain Haldane, even now, will serve him well.)

Dark eyes meet pale blue for a moment at the armchair crossroads. Andy uncrosses his legs, spreading them wide to he can lean purposefully on his knee. Eugene’s eyes wander back over the front of those beige slacks. The fabric had been just a fraction tense during their car ride. It sits taught in the living room, but it’s not for Sledge to ogle freely.

Andy reaches up and tilts the man’s chin towards his face. Eyes on mine, please.

Eugene’s smile has grown bashful under the gaze of Captain Haldane. He doesn’t reach to touch like he had with Eddie. That stare is intense. It’s too much too soon and Ack Ack can recognise that. Not a problem.

“Unlike our rude associate over there,” Andy teases, bringing some comedy back into the thickness of the air, “I’m going to ask you to sit down.”

“The rudeness was ye’ takin’ that boy off this couch before I was done with him.” Eddie remarks.

He makes no move to leave his position or rectify the offence.

“Can you believe him?” Andy mutters.

The soft-spoken, relaxed-rhetorical disguises the arms he puts around Eugene’s hips. Turning him around without meeting his eyes, acting as he had with the mug. Calm, collected, like it’s nothing of note to him. Manhandling the chuckling redhead to face away, towards Hillbilly. (Out of line with that intense stare, until further notice.)

Pausing his motions, Andy glances up at Eugene. He nods, satisfied.

He then waves his hand across his lap.

“There’s enough space for both of us.” He comments.

Sledge, no doubt picking it up from the bastard tactics continuing across the evening, frowns for a moment. His consideration is definitely not genuine.

“I think there is.” He agrees. Andy beams in response.

Eugene settles down between his legs, the armchair being fairly deep. (It isn’t a lie to say it can fit them both.) Ack Ack adjusts himself with a hum, arms around his company’s waist. Hugging him momentarily to set him just-so.

His forearms withdraw partially but leave his hands to dangle between Eugene’s legs. Noncommittally, tapping the muscles of his inner thighs as if it were the arms of the chair. He’s thinking.

“Mnn, yes.” Andy concludes, “This is much better.”

Orange hues momentarily bring Eddie’s face into sharp relief. His pale eyes are absolutely fixed on the display, flashing in the flame of his lighter. Smoke trails towards the ceiling, unnoticed. His first drag is deep, steeling himself. He scratches his crotch without shame, the denim only failing to tent due to its weight.

The two men in the armchair embrace the staring competition.

“What was I talking about before this?” Andy chuckles against Sledge’s ear.

“Attitude and guidance.” The redhead recalls.

“Right.” It comes out as another laugh.

The captain is enjoying himself and it shows. Far too much for the role he’s playing within their trio, relying on his collected vigour to operate the steering wheel.

“Well, attitude is obviously about a man’s words, his manner, his posture-” Firm hands run up over Eugene’s forearms and onto his shoulders, “Making sure your orders are followed without needing to ever threaten a punishment.”

Those fingers roll the muscles under them, relaxing Sledge’s posture. Who hums instinctively, blush returning as he shamefully enjoys the feeling of his beloved captain massaging him. Doting on him, Ack Ack’s handsome nose gently poking the soft skin behind his ear.

“Not that you should be afraid to mention punishments.” Andy mutters. His eyes trot leisurely over to Eddie before trotting leisurely to Eugene, “Rewards just work better.”

His breathing is perfectly regulated as he moves his lips to Sledge’s cheek. Suspiciously perfect, timed and regimented into slow, deliberate motions of his chest. (Without the heavy cloud of lust on the redhead’s mind, he might have deduced that the captain is reigning himself in purposefully. That his collected aura is but a façade to an equally aroused interior.)

“So,” He whispers, hot and husky against Eugene’s ear, “We could ask Eddie to take all his clothes off and say we’d whoop him if he didn’t, or-”

The sentence is punctuated by a jerk of Andy’s head, turning to face the man on the couch opposite. The motion brings cold air to the skin he’d been breathing on, making Sledge inhale sharply. As if he’d been spanked. He enjoys the sensation.

“Take your clothes off, Jones.” Ack Ack orders.

His tone is grave, terrifyingly level with just enough give to keep it below a threat. A perfect command.

“Can I finish m’ smoke first, Skipper?” Hillbilly asks. He hadn’t waited for an answer, already sitting up from where he’d been reclining and rubbing himself through his jeans. An order is an order, after all.

Andy blinks, raising his eyebrows in consideration. He chews it over but gives no answer. He turns to Eugene instead. The redhead mirrors him, both twisting in their entangled sitting position so they can face each other. Ack Ack waits for his response.

“No.” Sledge says carefully, studying the blond’s features.

Though nowhere close to the dominating tone before, Eddie relents. This isn’t a competitive match. It’s a team game and he definitely wants to continue playing. He crosses the short few paces of the room and leans towards the pair.

The other men watch as he bends before them, head bowing as he stubs his unfinished cigarette into the ashtray beside Andy’s mug. Hillbilly twists the smoke gradually, holding himself in that position, an inch lower than their seated statures.

When he straightens up, he steps back a single pace. Enough that he can move his arms freely without fearing his elbow will whack anyone’s skull as he pulls his t-shirt over his head. He tosses it away dismissively.

Andy can feel Eugene’s chest rise with elation as Eddie’s muscles are brought into the light. Just as Eugene can feel Andy’s erection twitch, against the base of his spine, when the man’s boyfriend undresses for them.

Hillbilly is smart enough to have removed his socks earlier and avoid the difficult chore of tugging them off for an audience. He can smirk freely, letting his heavy belt buckle rattle in the quiet room as he tugs it free. He looks like he’s about to drop it when Andy holds out his hand. His fingers make a come-hither gesture.

Sledge’s chest hitches a second time as the folded leather slaps against Ack Ack’s palm.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” He says, pulling the belt into Eugene’s lap.

Eddie huffs out the ghost of a laugh. Yet he averts his eyes and scratches the front of his jeans, failing to cover the elation and arousal he takes from Andy’s simple gratitude.

“Praise goes a long way, Eugene.” The captain muses.

His hands are slipped under the man’s arms, using one to draw the belt across the palm of the other. All done in Sledge’s lap, the leather falling free to drag across the front of his slacks. Accidentally, of course.

Eddie pops the buttons of his jeans one by one. Eugene fights to draw his eyes away, finally turning to Andy. Whether brewing with confidence or just overwhelmed with lust, it doesn’t matter; he presses his face to Ack Ack’s cheek.

“It’s hard to order an officer around-” He hisses. His breathing is the opposite of Andy’s, uncomposed and erratic as he speaks, “-as an enlisted man.”

Andy sniggers quietly, nodding his agreement. The hand unclaimed by the belt retreats, fishing around in his pocket for a brief moment. It returns to Eugene’s lap in time with the fall of Hillbilly’s jeans. The tall man steps free and kicks them aside.

The removal of his underwear is paused only by his wide grin, shake of his head, and hands landing on his hips.

“Ye’ are a bastard.” He concludes, watching Andy clip a silver bar pin to the collar of Sledge’s shirt.

Two bars joined together, in fact. The insignia of a captain.

“Congratulations, Captain Sledge.” Ack Ack says, “You outrank our friend here.”

All three of them laugh, giggles that rattle their chests and set the final ghosts of tension adrift. You have to have a sense of humour in these scenarios.

“You’re very prepared.” Eugene notes. He’s smiling as he says it.

It’s an accusation rather than a compliment. The blond has to suffer a moment of all eyes on him and not in a submissive sense; in a pointed, silent judgement sense. He’s been planning this longer and more in depth than he’d admitted, even to Eddie.

Not one to let his authority slip, Andy lets his chuckle fade.

Both his hands move in unison, a precise pincer movement on the room. His right reaches down between Eugene’s legs, grabbing a handful of the man’s slacks. His fingers tug towards him, forcing a yelp from Sledge as his cock is squeezed suddenly. Ack Ack’s left hand, still holding the belt, cracks it hard against the armrest. It lets out a distinct smack that has even Eddie’s back straightening.

“Thought I told you to strip, Eddie.” Andy muses, tilting his head up to fix Hillbilly with a small, pleasant smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s being kept waiting.

His hand is moving against Sledge’s slacks as he speaks. Palming his length, feeling it already stiff and yearning under the fabric.

Eddie catches his eye briefly, cheek twitching in that familiar lustful frustration that they both know means they’ve struck oil. His thumbs hook into his underwear and pull them down. He straightens up without another word.

For the first time, Andy has to take a steadying breath. (Hillbilly probably notices, Sledge definitely doesn’t. The former’s lip curls just a touch.) With his hand kneading Eugene’s dick and his own pressed tantalisingly up against the redhead’s ass, the heat is more than even Captain Haldane can ignore. The pleasure of drinking Eddie in is exquisite, every curve of his muscles and colour of his ink, his unsheathed cock bouncing free from his waistband.

He forgets occasionally that the hill country man really can snap the two of them in half. He’s incredibly muscular, built like a brick shithouse. It’s only his height, drawing his limbs out a little lankier, that hides the weight behind his hands.

Andy huffs quietly. Short and soft and barely audible. The exhale allows him to turn back to Sledge, who’s head has tipped back, leaning on his shoulder. The redhead’s eyes remain on Eddie, watching with stricken desire as he grinds rhythmically against Ack Ack’s hand. None of his usual gentlemanly conversation will be escaping him presently.

“Do you want him to suck you off here or in the bedroom?” Andy asks. His lips press hard against the man’s ear, tilting their weight against the armrest.

Around gritted teeth, Sledge manages; “Bedroom.”

“You heard the Captain.” Ack Ack says, nodding Eddie’s way. His grip releases from Eugene’s slacks.

Hillbilly reaches out his hand. Sledge takes it enthusiastically. The taller man leads the way, squeezing his smitten follower’s fingers.

Neither of them catches how Andy exhales, a quiet ‘woah’ blowing out his cheeks as he composes himself. A glance down at his slacks reveals the smallest of droplets seeping into the fabric. He considers himself lucky he’s still hard and hasn’t come prematurely.

He wipes his brow, gets his shit together, and stands up to follow.

[tibby]

Talk to me about Steve and Jonathan going through the adoption process of their kids.

again, lengthy and under the cut:

apologies in advance for this, it is all based on the extremely in depth and complicated post-series universe i’ve created, so it might be a little bit specific.

they get their first kid pretty much by sheer luck. it’s the early 2000s, and they’ve been trying to adopt for a few years, but it’s hard to get a kid and even harder when you’re two gay men who aren’t ~legally~ married. they want one so bad, and both of them cry about it to each other late at night sometimes (both because they want to start their family and it’s not fair, but i also think jonathan has some weird guilt about it, because he’s gay but steve is bi and sometimes his brain convinces him that he’s preventing steve from having a normal life with a woman.) so it’s hard, but they keep trying, and they keep hoping, and keep reassuring each other that it will happen and they’ll be wonderful dads.

they’ve been living in their sweet little house for about a year, but they’re still pretty close with their neighbours from the apartment building they used to live in. jonathan is good at handiwork because he kind of had to learn how to fix things when he was growing up, and steve would love to babysit all the kids in the building. and so a few of their neighbours have their number and know where they live. and one day they get a call from a girl who lived in one of the units a few doors over, a sweet sixteen year old named samantha with a little brother that steve and jonathan would babysit every now and again. and she asks them if they can catch up at some point, and they’re a little confused, but they’re good guys and so they invite her over for coffee on the weekend.

and so samantha comes over, and they make small talk, and it’s all well and good, until she bursts into tears and admits that the reason she’s here is because she’s pregnant and doesn’t want an abortion but doesn’t know how to tell her parents and didn’t know who else to talk to and they were so good with her brother, and she’s just so scared and confused.  and steve and jonathan sit with her and comfort her and reassure her that they’ll help her in whatever way they can, that if it’s something her parents kick her out over then they have spare rooms, and are just generally the kind of stability that she needs in that moment. they’re not even thinking about themselves, they’re just trying to be a support system for her.

and they are! they help her tell her parents, and make sure that she knows that she’s always welcome at their house if she needs to get away or talk to someone else. they just help her out because they’re good people and don’t expect anything of it, and they know what it’s like to be a scared and confused teenager.

but then a few months before the baby is born, she sits them down and is like. Look. I don’t want to keep this baby. But I want it to go to a good home. And I was wondering if you two would be interested.

and steve and jonathan are kind of shocked into silence at first, and samantha starts to worry that she’s crossed a line, and they rush to reassure her that she hasn’t, but is she sure? and she tells them that she couldn’t imagine a better couple to raise her baby than them; that she’s seen how loving they are and how good they are with kids and she wants her child to have that. at which point all three of them pretty much start crying, and steve and jonathan are just....so happy and so so thankful.

and so they arrange everything and help samantha through the last few months and she helps them decorate the nursery and it’s all very sweet, and then in december of 2002, two days before christmas, she gives birth to their first child, a sweet little baby boy.

as for their second child, it’s the standard process. steve grew up lonely as an only child and jonathan loved having a younger sibling, so they both want another kid in the house, and their son has been asking for a little brother or sister lately. it’s still hard to adopt but it’s easier than it was a few years ago, and so they get in touch with an adoption agency and do the interviews and meet the social workers and have their names on the list, and then it’s just kind of a waiting game.

and then in early 2009 they get the call, and it’s less than three months later when they’re waiting for the arrival of their baby girl, a few days after steve’s 43rd birthday. she’s a tiny thing and very loud from the moment she enters the world, and they love her instantly. they name her joy robin, mainly to honour the most important woman in each of their lives, but also because she’s their bundle of joy.

[aleximedicusa]

okay, at least a few people are interested, so i’m gonna write out some a very simple rundown of the burke and hare case. 

so, william hare and his wife, margaret hare, ran a boarding house in edinburgh. margaret knew william burke (yes, they’re both named william) from his previous visits to edinburgh, and when the two met again in november of 1827, burke expressed that he wanted to make money as a cobbler, and margaret invited him and his “wife” (not legally married) helen m’dougal to stay in their lodging house and find work in edinburgh. he accepted. 

later that month, william hare approached burke with a dilemma: one of his elderly tenants had died while still owing his rent, and hare needed the money. hare suggested that they sell the body, but there was a carpenter coming with a coffin for the body, which was to be buried at parish expense. once the body was in the coffin, however, hare and burke simply broke it open, removed the body, filled the coffin with bark, and sent it away for burial. afterwards, they went to seek out dr. monro, the professor of anatomy at the university of edinburgh. they asked directions from a student in the area, explaining... fairly openly, it seems, that they had a body for him; the student instead directed them to dr. knox, a private teacher of anatomy whose class had just let out, and burke and hare went to his dissecting rooms. they spoke to knox’s three assistants and explained the situation; these three then told them to come back at night with the body, which they did. hilariously, they gave “fake names,” but the fake names were john and... william. remember how i said they were both literally named william? yeah, shows you the genius intellect we’re dealing with. 

anyway, they came back that night with the body, and knox inspected it, didn’t ask questions, and paid them £7 10s for the body. now, burke and hare hadn’t murdered this first victim, but the large sum of money certainly enticed them to find more bodies, especially with the comment made by one of knox’s assistants that they’d be more than happy to see burke and hare again with the same cargo. so, a-murdering they went.

i won’t go through ever single murder, but i do want to touch upon the later methods of execution. what they did fittingly became known as ‘burking’ — in this method of killing, a person sits upon the chest to compress the rib cage while covering the nose and mouth. this results in suffocation without marks around the neck or the danger of broken noses occasioned by suffocating with pillows. this makes the method of murder virtually undetectable. i still maintain that knox should have questioned some shit, but that’s a complicated issue. anyway. 

to hit fast forward a bit, by the time burke and hare were caught, they had killed sixteen people and delivered their bodies to knox. what got them caught, in the end, was almost exactly a year later, in early november of 1828. they were having a halloween party, of all things, with some guests, and one of the women who’d been with them ended up vanishing. a neighbour was suspicious, and when she ended up discovering the woman’s body concealed under a bed, she went to the authorities. the authorities, not finding the body in the hare lodging house, went around to the dissecting rooms, at at knox’s, they found her. 

the case for murder was tricky. they didn’t really have much to prove that madgy docherty had been murdered at all, let alone by burke and hare. however, since hare was fifteen years younger than burke, they felt they could build a case with burke as the real mastermind, and they approached hare with a deal: turn on burke and you’ll get off without punishment. and hare went for it. he informed against burke, and after a trial, burke was convinced and hanged. his body was then sent to dr. monro, ironically, for public dissection. 

i know this is long, but i promise i tried to keep it as short as possible while still keeping the relevant details. if you want to know more, lisa rosner’s book the anatomy murders is a fantastic place to start for the full story, and owen dudly edwards’ burke and hare is a great investigation of burke and hare beyond just this case.  

TL;DR: two irishmen killed sixteen people to sell their bodies to an anatomist in edinburgh. one of these two was then executed for the murder and dissected too. the end.

[nox-scrie]

Shady Bussines

What do you mean it’s the 27th and I should have posted this a day earlier for the TMA5 Countdown? Sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of recovering my senses from a senseless previous day. Anyway. This is the second day of TMA5 Countdown wow!! The fears were The Corruption and The Buried and because I love that coffin with all my heart I decided to bring it back for another round. No, this one is not corrected either and no, I’m not sorry. I hate rereading my works. It happens. Hope y’all gonna enjoy it though!!

Fears: The Corruption; The Buried brieeef mentions of The Eye

Content Warnings: Death, Paranoia, some mentions of Insects

Rating: Teen and Up Audience

Characters: Jon  “Tired of your shit before you even started talking” Sims, Martin “What even is going on” Blackwood, Jane Prentiss, some mentions of Tim “Love of my life” Stoker and Sasha “WHY WON’T YOU LET ME LOVE YOU” James; also some OCs and one of them appeared in Day 1 too!

Setting: Season 1!! a little after episode 22, with Martin’s time spent in self isolation (hah.)

Word Count: ~3670

~~~                                            Shady Bussines

Jon stepped into his office, viewing the piles of unread, unordered statements, and felt another headache forming. He was having none of the former Archivist's shit, not after last night.

There was little light in his office, and he turned off almost all the ones that were still on. The buzzing of the light bulbs was annoying what was left of Jon's sanity, and he wanted to be in the best of his mental capacity when he read a statement he has prepared, one that seemed to be related to Case #9982211.

He slowly dragged himself to his office anyway, putting on his reading glasses that were hung around his neck and tightening his tie. This was his job, and he didn't want to be fired after barely a month of being the Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute because of a pretty bad hangover.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he opened a drawer, the only fucking thing in order in this room, and got a tape recorder out. He sighed, thinking with half a mind to call Martin and ask him for a cup of tea and a Paracetamol. Hah. Good joke, Jon. Not after last night.

He took a deep breath, slowly picked up a lint from his skirt and cleared his throat. Maybe he could burry himself in statements until his headache goes away, and forget everything he has said to Tim last night. Yeah. That sounds like a good plan.

"Statement of Horace Dwayne regarding his experience with a strange coffin, Archway, London. Original statement given October 17th, 2013. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement beginns.

I knew my fiancé's job was not one of the legal kind. There was simply no way a person with no college education can make enough money as to afford as moving in together in our apartment, barely five months after we got engaged. Yet, I never mentioned it, and I think they were grateful because of that.

We first met a few years ago, on a dating app for LGBTQ+ people. It was a casual thing, we just hit each other up when we needed company, and never talked about anything in particular. Until one day, they asked me if I lived in Manchester and I said that yes, I did. They came to my place a few hours after that, rain soaked and bleeding from a wound on their torso.

That was the first time I met Morgan Doe in person, and it was me, clumsily stitching up something that looked like a kinfe wound on their side. I asked for some details, but Mo didn't tell me anything. They just thanked me for taking care of them because they couldn't go to the hospital. I remember ranting about how they should take better care of themselves, and how Mo looked at me in the eye before bending to kiss me. Or maybe I was the one bending. In that moment, though, it didn't matter: we were kissing, and after I started ignoring the wetness of their lips and how they hissed when I climbed on top of them, it was actually really good.

Mo asked me to be their boyfriend a month after that, and I said yes. We moved in my crappy, ranted apartment in Manchester, and lived there for almost a year before I asked them to marry me. I knew that we couldn't get married right away; I was between jobs at the moment, and even though I still wasn't sure what Mo actually did for a living, I knew that they will not be able to afford a wedding in a matter of months

Or that was what I thought then. One day, when I got home from a failed job interview, I found Mo in the kitchen, happily mumbling the lyrics of some song that was playing on the radio. I asked them what got them so cheery, and they just turned to face me and started dangling a set of keys in front of my eyes. Mo kissed me, and said that they managed finally get us a place for our own.

I knew that something was wrong then. I knew that something was painfully, terribly wrong, from how fast they managed to find us a place right after we got engaged, to the glint in their eyes, that mischievious glint, when they shared the news. I tried getting the information out of them, how did they actually manage to find us a place so fast, but Mo just shooshed me and said that I shouldn't worry, because they were going to give me the wedding of my dreams, and the life that I deserve.

A month after that, we were already settled in Archway, London. Apparently the apartment has been pretty cheap because of the loud neighbours, especially a woman who claimes to hear wasps in the attic. The first night we got there, I saw her in the garden of the apartment building, staring at the basement door. Her eyes were bloodshot red and she looked ill. When she turned her face straight towards me, I was too surprised to turn away. I think she smiled, but I don't remember her lifting the corners of her mouth. It felt like she was smiling, though.

I had a job now, in a shopping centre, selling vegetables. It wasn't much, but somehow we never dealt with money problems in our house. It seemed like the money never ended, in fact, and Mo told me more than once that I shouldn't be concerned about that. And I tried very hard to not be, but in the darkest of nights I still remembered that gilnt in their eyes when they showed me the key.

It was an usual evening when the coffin came. I was having my tea and reading a book that has made its appearence in my house, ignoring the weird noises the woman from upstairs, Jane something, made. There was a knock on the door, and I hoped it wasn't that creepy woman asking for some flour. I really wouldn't like to know what she did with it.

But it wasn't Jane. The two men sitting in my doorway were so tall I had to crack my neck to see their faces, obscured by some big caps. They spoke in some sort of accents, probably russian, and said they were from a delivery serivce and they had a package for Morgan Doe. Mo was not home at the moment, and chills were creeping up my back when one of them extended a clipboard for me to sign. I told them that Mo is my fiancé and that they're not home yet. The two men looked at each other, and one of them shrugged. I signed the papers and the two placed the big box in my kitchen, the first room of the apartment, and left without a word. I only assumed that the package was already paid.

I didn't know what it was, but if Mo has ordered something for the house they would have told me. I thought that maybe it was something for work, and that thought made me feel unwell. I called Mo, but they didn't pick up. I only thought they were busy, and I eyed the big box suspiciously. I went back in the living room for my tea, and I got back to the kitchen with it. It couldn't be something from work, I thought, work doesn't deliver such big packages. So I opened the box.

The shock I felt when I saw the wooden box inside, the coffin inside, made me take a step back and stumble into the table, spilling the tea. It was a coffin, an adult sized coffin, and a pretty new one from appearence. Well, except for the words "DO NOT OPEN" scribbled in the wood. That was not the strangest thing, though, but the fact that it was chained up so heavily it seemed to hold a living person, not a wooden box.

I called Mo again. And again. I was so panicked I could barely breath, and they were not picking up. I couldn't afford to leave the room or lose sight of the coffin, who did not move, speak or gave any sort of clue about its origin or its content. I noticed the key attached to the chain, and that image made me laugh. There was a coffin in my kitchen, a chained up coffin, with a key! I was going crazy.

It was almost midnight when I felt like I couldn't stay awake any longer. I took the key and placed it in my back pocket, careful not to touch the wood or the chain too much. If it was a cursed object, I didn't want to be in more contact with it than I already was. Mo still hasn't came back; they do that sometimes, leave overnight, but they always give me a heads up at least a week before. Of course the only time they left without telling me was the same night that a strange coffin, probably with a very weird thing inside, made its way to our home.

I dreamt of bugs slowly crawling their way on my skin, through my ear and inside my brain, bitting and pinching it as if it was a sponge, whispering about the hive, its importance, its puropose. It was a very unusual dream for me, but when I woke up and found out that I wasn't in my bed anymore was even stranger. I was in the kitchen, in front of the coffin, with the key in my hand. The key from my work pants, which are in the drawer.

I never sleepwalked before, and to think that out of nowhere I was not only sleepwalking, but dreaming of bugs and searhing for things in my asleep state was impossible to understand. It was the middle of the night and I took out my phone to send Mo another message, begging them to come home. I don't know how I fell asleep afterwards, but I know that the key was on the nightstand where I put it before going to bed.

Mo came back that morning, and I found them in the kitchen, their back turned to me. They were staring at the coffin, and I slowly made my way towards them, anger and relief that they were okay starting up in my stomach. But they didn't turn towards me, not as I slammed the door on my way inside. They jusy sat there, and stared. It took me only a moment to realize they were crying, and Mo has never cried as long as I know.

They turned towards me, their cheeks stained with tears, and hugged me. There was no word shared between us as we sat there, in front of the coffin, Mo crying softly on my shoulder. I think I understood them better in that morning then I did in the entire time I knew them.

Our lives for the next few days has been like that: staring at the coffin for sometimes hours on end, waiting for it to make a move, and then quietly chatting about what we did that day. We have got used to it, too. Mo placed it in our storage closet that we never even used, and it fit perfectly. Both of us tried to ignore the little tapping from inside when he touched it. I think we both convinced ourselved it was just in our imagination.

When the first rain came, it was during the nighttime. I'm a very heavy sleeper so I usually don't awake unless somebody hits me with something, but the noise from that night woke me up. Mo's side of the bed was empty, and the bedside table's drawer was open, with the key for the coffin missing. My heart skipped a beat, and I ran for the kitchen, bursting through the door.

There was a moaning coming from the storage closet, and the door was opened. As I scrambeled for the light bulb, I realized that the moaning was almost musical. When I turned the lights on, the moaning hasn't stopped, but grew even louder. The door to the wooden casket was open, the light glinting off the chains mockingly.

I took a deep breath, and started screaming for Mo. I didn't dare leave the kitchen, not with the casket open, not when I didn't know where my partner was and if they got in there. I realized they must've been the one who opened it. They might have had went there every night, and this time, with that awful moaning, was too much for them. They gave up.

I'm not sure when I fell to the ground, a mass of sobs and pained screams, covering my ears to stop the sound of moaning, but I know when a knock came at my door. I couldn't move, couldn't leave, and the person must have been so impatient they just bursted through the door. It was the two delivery man, accompanied by a guy with a very common face. I couldn't catch the man's name, too caught in the two delivery men as they closed the casket and chained it up again. The jackets they were wearing had the words "Breckon and Hope Delivery" written on the back.

The moaning only grew louder as they placed the coffin on a trolley to take it down the stairs easier. I barely managed to get on my feet and catch the other man's rain-soaked coat by the fringes of the sleeve.

"Why did you do that to them? How has Mo wronged you?" I asked, and I was not feeling angry, or empty, but rotten. As if my insides have been eaten by insects slowly and only now I can percieve the damage.

"Oh, child. They didn't do anything to me. All that happened was their own fault, their own making." at this the man stopped, gently extracted his hand from my grip, and looked around the apartment. "Nice place you've got here. I'm certain it was worth it."

I moved out the next week, when I started hearing weird insect noises. I never managed to get the door fixed, not that it mattered. The whole building burned up a few days after my departure, and I couldn't help but feel this was the perfect ending."

Jon paused for a few seconds there, thoughts flying around in his head, never focusing on just one. There was so much information here, so many points to connect. It felt like a conclussion was coming, and Jon hated that he wasn't able to see it fully because of his stupid, throbbing headache.

"Statement ends." he said, an afterthought. "Well, this is not only connected to Case #9982211, but may also be related to Case #0161203, the one of Martin's from almost a week ago. If that is true and the Jane who lives in Archway in this case is the same as the one that locked Martin in his apartment then... that would be very interesting, indeed. I should ask Sasha to make more research regarding this case. I... Recording ends."

Pressing the red button to stop the recording, Jon started scrubbing at his eyes before letting out a heavy sigh. It felt like he was caught in a web, all of these statemenets connected one way or another, with him caught right in the middle of it all and yet unable to see where they started and with whom they ended. He got up on unsteady feet and caught the edge of his desk in order to not lose balance. God. He would make his own fucking tea and get his own fucking Paracetamol-

The door to his office opened, and Martin came stumbling in. He was wiping sleep away from his eyes and masking a yawn at the same time with the back of his hand. He was also wearing one of Jon's baggy sweaters he has left in the room of the Archives Martin occupies now. The recorder turned itself on, unoticed by either of the man looking at each other.

"Oh, Gosh, Jon. God. What are you even doing here? It's not even 7 a.m. yet."

Jon didn't even try to mask the scowl on his face when he gave his snappy reply. "Some of us get to work on time, Martin."

Martin stopped wipping at his eyes, his glasses now slightly askew. Jon looked behind him and turned his hand into a fist. Why was he like this?

"Still, the Archives don't open for at least another half an hour. Jesus, Jon, I'm still in my pajamas."

"I can see that." Jon replyed, meaning to be bitter and mean, and hating the softness that managed to slip into his tone. He scowled harder in return when Martin looked down at himself and jumped.

"Ahm... I... my clothes. Are at cleaning. All of them. And you forgot this and I... meant... to give it back to you... not now I mean! But I didn't have anything else to wear and..."

"Martin. Stop making a fool of yourself. It's fine that... that sweater has a hole in it anyway."

"I sewed it." Martin said, matter of factly, his face still red and expression flustered.

"You did?" Jon asked, more surprised than anything, and when Martin started biting his lip Jon looked back at that spot above his head, that was now becoming his favourite part of the Archives.

"Yeah... It was nothing anyway and I didn't want to return it with the hole in it. Not that! Not that I am.. wearing it often or something."

"I said it's fine. The blue fits you better than it ever fitted me, anyway."

Martin looked at him in the eyes, something strong and fierce in his look, and Jon didn't turn his head this time. Neither of them said anything for a while, but then somebody coughed in the doorway and both of them jumped, the moment having vanished.

"Did we intrerrupt something?" said Sasha, sidestepping Martin and leaving some papers on Jon's desk. Tim, who was behind her, remained next to Martin and sent a big grin in Jon's direction. The scowl came back to the archivist’s features.

"No, nothing, what? Of course not. I was just... Jon, why are you holding onto the edge of the desk so tightly?"

Jon looked down at his hands and saw that they were white with effort. He stopped clenching them, and immediately started feeling dizzy once again. Sasha caught him before he could fall backwards, with an arm around his middle.

"Easy there, Jon. Are you okay?"

"Just.. feeling a little ill." Jon said, and Tim let out a bark of laughter that he quickly covered with a caugh.

"Godness, this is just awful, isn't it, Martin?" Tim said, making a show of his words and softly touching his heart with one hand. "I'm certain one of your famous teas would make him all better, don’t you think?"

Before Jon could give a snappy reply, Martin jumped slightly again, as if Tim's words just activated all of his "taking-care-of-people-via-tea" senses. He nodded eagerly and looked over to Jon, who was too tired to scowl in full force anymore.

"And a Paracetamol." Martin agreed, before leaving the office.

"He hasn't even asked me if I want some tea..." Sasha asked, more confused than offended. "What did you do to him during that staring contest, Jon?"

"What?" barked Jon, extracting himself from Sasha's hold and throwing himself on his desk chair. "I didn't do anything to him, thank you very much."

"Oh but there are so many things you'd like to do." Tim said, and anger started bubbling up in Jon's throat as he turned his eyes towards him. "You drank so much last night you can barely hold yourself up now, boss?" he asked, innocently.

"Tim, for the love of everything good on this planet, stop. This is all your fault."

"What is?" Sasha asked, confused.

"Your big crush on Martin is my fault, or the fact that you got so drunk you told me all about it is?" teased Tim, and Jon wanted to get off his chair and throw himself towards him, but didn’t.

"WHAT?" shouted Sasha, and both Jon and Tim shooshed her.

"I don't have... a crush on Martin. I just think that he's a good person, and a good person can't work in this place of horror stories and insufferable people. That would be you, Tim."

Tim laughed. "Copy that, boss. But I'm sure that if you just told him he would.."

"No. And that's final. I don't want to engage in a romantic relationship with anyone, especially not my assistants, especially when there's so much work to do here. I think I just found some important information in Prentiss' case."

"Jon... likes Martin..." mumbled Sasha, probably talking to herself. "You idiot!" she exclaimed, turning towards Jon. "He likes you too! Hell, he almost broke his legs running to make you tea. And wasn't that your sweater he was wearing, the one you lost some time ago, "my favourite article of clothing" or whatever?"

"It totally was." said Tim, ever the helpful.

"So do something about that, Jon! What are you waiting for?"

"For the two of you to get off my office and do some actual work. Leave, now."

Sasha sighed and Tim stuck out his tongue at him, telling him something about how we only have one life and we should make the most of it. As Jon drank the too-good tea Martin has made for him, he admitted to himself that Tim was right and that he really should do something about that. The more persistant thought, though, was the fact that he was never going out drinking with Tim, ever again. He did not see, nor hear when the tape record clicked itself shut back.

[rubyastari]

“THE DISTANCING AND BLOCKING POLICY”

Bored to tears already? Yeah, me too. I’m also fed up with these overly-mentioned terms:

·         Social (and physical) distancing.

·         The New Normal.

·         Self-quarantine.

However, the term ‘distancing’ has given me some perspectives lately:

For starters, last Eid Holiday. You see, in Indonesia, there’s this tradition where families hold gatherings and invite people over for an all-day feast. We visit friends and neighbours.

That’s actually fun, until we get to…small talks. You know, relatives or neighbours asking you some of these questions or comments, year after year after FREAKING year:

·         “So who’s your boyfriend/girlfriend now?”

·         “What? You’re still single at this age?”

·         “When will you get married?”

·         “When are you getting married?”

·         “What? No kids yet? How long have you been married anyway?”

·         “Only one kid? Your little one needs another sibling – at least one or two.” (What do they really know, seriously? They don’t even ask the toddler.)

·         “Wow. You have lots of kids. I’m sure you must be overwhelmed.” (Oh, thank you for the not-so-needed comments.)

·         “All girls? Don’t you want to try to get a son this time?” (As if they can do that the same way they order take-outs from their favourite deli.)

I know, I know. Such rude and intrusive questions/comments, eh? Unfortunately, that’s just how our culture works here. (Well, most of the time.) The sad thing is, many elders still believe that they’re entitled to throw you those lines in public without caring – whether you’d feel comfortable or not. Consider age their legal right. (Yes, it’s my sarcasm.)

In short, you get your feelings invalidated…like, a lot. You must have the thickest of skin or you’ll get into a useless fight.

This year? Thank God. In a way, you might have missed the usual traditions, but at least you didn’t have to put up with such drama. If you had used Zoom for free for a chat with your distant family and relatives last Eid holiday, you had to be effective with the 40 minutes’ session before getting disconnected.

Don’t get me wrong. I try not to hold any grudges here. (Believe me, I seriously do.) I just feel deeply reluctant myself when somebody treats family gatherings as life appraisals between members, comparing who’s already got what and who’s better at this and that…and many more.

The Benefits of Distance                                

Indonesians are generally sociable. Most of us are still tied to our families. We tend to make friends wherever we go. Plenty of us can even turn strangers into friends before turning them again into families too – or at least soul siblings by choice.

In fact, plenty of us still talk to our old school friends as we age. Sometimes it’s about real closeness, other times it’s more about maintaining relations / friendships, just for the sake of it. I know my sister still keeps in touch with friends she’s known since grade school. There’s nothing bad about it at all. In a way, she’s more like Ma.

This is why many Indonesians are still struggling with the idea of #socialdistancing. (Well, unless you’re introverts.) Most of them are not used to being alone and isolated for so long. Unfilled silence gets them anxious.

No wonder some of them have dared break the rules regarding travelling, meeting people, and being in the crowd in public spaces. Aside from the fact that many still have to go to work (or lose their jobs if not), they can’t stand isolation.

However, distance also has its own benefits, though.

For starters, you get to know yourself better – if distance happens to get you really alone. You learn to recognize yourself more, your strengths and flaws. You learn to rely on yourself even more than before, including how to make yourself feel happy.

If you know how to be happy with just yourself, then you won’t feel too sad when no one is around. You reduce your expectations on people, like on how you think they should make you feel.

Once you can do that, you won’t feel too disappointed if they let you down. You’ll try not to take everything way too personally.

 Distancing versus Blocking

Meanwhile, blocking is everyone’s last resort when distancing no longer works. Honestly, I still hate doing this. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve always wanted to get on with everybody.

Of course, as I get older, I’ve realized that it’s impossible. You can’t make everybody like you or feel happy with the way you are, no matter how hard you try. The same thing goes vice versa.

So I started adjusting more to reality and becoming more flexible. I’ve become more pragmatic too, although with the risk of being misunderstood as ‘cold and unfeeling’. I admit that I’m still emotional at times. Still, I don’t want that to ruin my whole day.

There are some people that I’ve already blocked online and offline too. I used to think it was a sign of cowardice, one’s inability to deal with differences.

Now I see that as a way to be much kinder to yourself. After all, your mental health matters too.

You don’t have to put up with everything you can’t really bear. You have the right to choose. If possible, sometimes it’s okay to just step back, distance yourself for a while, assess the situation from afar, or even place some serious boundaries between you and whatever makes you feel uncomfortable or unhappy.

For how long? It depends on how long you need it to be.

 R.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi! I've been craving some lengthy-but-not-too-lengthy friends to lovers johnlock recently, any suggestions? (I'm not usually a fan of AUs, but I'm open to them :)) Thanks so much!

Hi Nonny!

Listen, I’ve a TONNE of Friends-to-Lovers fics! And I’ve been waiting for this ask to come in, so I’m just posting all of ones I have sorted so far! I sort them by length, so you can check out the first couple dozen fics for the ones you’re looking for, and continue on if you’re enjoying it XD I also specifically state if a fic is an AU, so you can skip those ones too :)

FRIENDS TO LOVERS

(fics below the cut)

See also:

T-RATED Pt. 1: Friends To Lovers Fics || [MOBILE LINK]

For a Case Trope 

Fake Relationship / For a Case Part 2

For a Case Pt 3 / Links to Similar Fics 

Meeting the Family With a Fake Relationship 

Married For a Case / Fake Husbands 

Friends to Lovers (Community Recs)

Friends to Lovers (Alexx’s List)

Enemies to Lovers Fic Recs (Alexx’s List)

Enemies to Lovers – Part 2 (Alexx’s List)

When Morning Comes by Youarethelightoftheworld (T, 423 w. || Christmas Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Lazy Mornings/Morning After, Fluff and Angst, Sleepy Cuddles, Domestic Fluff, Cuddling / Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort) – “Sherlock,” says John solemnly, “I’m not sure we can go anywhere today.”

The Basics by wearitcounts (Sher_locked_up) (T, 611 w. || Schmoop, Fluff, Coffee, Kissing, Friends to Lovers, The Morning After) – Morning snogs, and coffee.

New World, Old Words by thedeafwriter (G, 641 w. || Deaf Sherlock, Sherlock Whump, Pining Sherlock, Marriage Proposal, Fluff, Always John) – It was disconcerting to experience. One second, he was laying on the table, breathing in the gas that would make him sleep, the next, he was dragging his eyes open to look around the bright room, trying to wake up.

New Year, New Beginning by DaisyFairy (T, 810 w. || New Year’s Eve, John POV, Post S4, Friends to Lovers) – New Year at a crime scene and John makes a decision.

The Cure for Snoring by Goddess_of_the_Night (G, 1,278 w. || Sleepy Conversations, Bed Sharing, Cuddling, Fluff, Domestic, Platonic / Sleepy Cuddles) – Sherlock and John spend the night in Scotland after finishing a case. The sole Inn in town only has one room left…one bed. This would be fine - if not a bit awkward - if Sherlock hadn’t developed a habit of snoring loudly. John suffers through many hours of sleeplessness before he discovers that skin-to-skin contact stops the noise. Part 1 of Dreamscapes

The Pigeon’s deplorable nesting place by SlothfulSlytherin (G, 1,482 w. || Alternate First Meeting, Humour, Fluff) – Upon returning to London, John Watson took up residence in a mouldy little flat on Baker Street. The flat itself wasn’t all that special or interesting, his new neighbour on the other hand…

Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil by PipMer (T, 1,895 w. || Deaf John, Mute Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, Romance, Fluff and Angst, Character Study, Morse Code, Love Confessions) – John is deaf. Sherlock is mute. There are no two people more suited for each other.

The Marriage Proposal Negotiation by Goddess_of_the_Night (G, 2,161 w. || Dev. Rel., Possessive Sherlock, Insecure Sherlock, Fluff, First Kiss, Post Mary) – Sherlock hasn’t ever really done anything the traditional way, so of course it wouldn’t bother him to propose to John even though they’re not even dating. And the fact that John is already on a date with someone else when he decides to do it? Tedious.

Hell or High water by bluefire301175 (E, 2,250 w. || PWP, Frottage, Alley Sex, First Person POV John, Case-ish Fic, Mutual Pining, Bed Sharing) – John wants. Sherlock wants. Plain and simple.

Let Go by thisisforyou (G, 2,743 w. || Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Fluff, Anxious / Worried Sherlock) – In the end, separating John’s things from Sherlock’s in the chaos of their sitting room is like pulling a limpet from a wet rock. Especially when the rock is clinging on for dear life, because Sherlock doesn’t want to let go. Short, fluffy h/c Johnlock oneshot.

It’s After That Hurts by jonnyluvssherlock (T, 2,791 w. || City of Angels AU || Fantasy, Fallen Angel Sherlock, Soldier John, Pining Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, Permanently Incomplete Fic) – Sherlock’s an angel stuck as a guardian to danger addict John Watson. Everything is fine until he gets too involved. Now he has to make the choice, eternity alone or one life time with a man who may or may not love him.

Right Foot Red by Irrevocably_Sherlocked (E, 3,089 w. || First Time, Board Games, Frottage, Masturbation, Frottage, PWP) – …ok, it’s juvenile, but at least it’s a game where touching is allowed. And if something more were to happen, well, John can’t say he’d be too upset about that. “What are the rules of this game?” Sherlock asks, the disdain evident on the word ‘game’. “I spin, you do as I say.” John thinks he sees a slight widening of those pale grey eyes at that, just for a fraction of a second, before it is shut down. Oh, this is interesting, he thinks.

The Sweetest Taste In The World by crossroads (G, 3,121 w. || First Kiss, Jealous Sherlock, Fluff, Pining, Friends to Lovers) – The sweetest taste in the world is rarely ever the easiest to come by.

Wish I Was In Heaven Sitting Down by standbygo (M, 3,282 w. || Post-S4, Five Plus One, Missing Scenes, Parenthood, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, Declarations of Love, Fluff, Food, John Whump) – Five times when Sherlock and John ate together, and one time they didn’t. A history of the boys, in food.

Stay by msdisdain (M, 3,561 w. || First Kiss / Time, Angst / H/C, Bed Sharing, Nightmares, Blow Jobs, Anal) – John’s nightmares are nothing new. Sherlock’s inability to ignore them, however, is.

Five Times John Cooked Something with Peas and One First Kiss by 221b_careful_what_you_wish_for (T, 3,915 w. || 5 and Ones, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Cooking / Food, Sick Sherlock, Music, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss) – After John cooks five dinners that slowly reveal their hunger for each other, Sherlock and John finally share a first kiss.

Jukebox by standbygo (T, 3,990 w. || Fluff, Singing/Music, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Hurt/Comfort, Humour, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss) – After the music halls of Sherlock’s mind palace get damaged by accident, John learns that Sherlock never forgets a song. Even the ones he’d rather forget. But the random singalong brings some unexpected benefits.

Tree Topper by May_Shepard (E, 4,017 w. || Christmas Tree, Christmas Fluff, Drunken Shenanigans, Smut, First Time, Friends to Lovers) – Sherlock and John are celebrating Christmas the best way they know how–alone together, with booze. They’ve almost finished decorating their tree, but John is determined to find the best way to top it.

Hope Springs Eternal by QuinnAnderson  (T, 4,054 w. || Friends to Lovers, Pining Sherlock, Vacation, Anxious Sherlock, Love Confessions, Fluff, Requited Love) – John Watson and Sherlock Holmes go on holiday, and Sherlock has romance on the brain.

Overture by Kate_Lear (M, 4,435 w. || First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Angry John, Introspection, Dev. Rel., Embarassed / Insecure Sherlock, Morning After, Bed Sharing, Cuddles / Limpet Sherlock) – A short snippet on how John and Sherlock might have got together.

a violent flash of purple by hudders-and-hiddles (E, 4,749 w. || Sex Toys, Friends to Lovers, PWP, Love Confessions, Porn With Feelings, Embarrassed Sherlock, Anal Plugs) – When Sherlock accidentally drops his towel, he ends up revealing a whole lot more than he’d intended.

Cephalalgia by the_beekeeper_of_sussex (E, 4,979 w. || First Kiss, Frottage, Friends to Lovers) – John is in pain and it’s up to Sherlock to set him to rights by any means possible.

Sleeping next to you by Salambo06 (E, 5,018 w. || ASiB Fic, Bed Sharing, Frottage, Mutual Masturbation, Rimming, Anal, First Kiss/Time) – Based on an Anonymous Prompt: “So, that scene from ASiB when Mrs H has been attacked by the american CIA guy & John, Sherlock & she are in Mrs H’s kitchen when John says “She’ll have to sleep upstairs in our flat tonight. We need to look after her.” to which Sherlock replies with “no”. John of course suggested that because he cares about her safety, but maybe he also did it cause he /wanted/ that to happen. What if they finally agreed on letting her have John’s or Sherlock’s bed & J&S sleep in the same one?“ Part 12 of Tumblr Collection

What Happens in Vegas (is legally binding in the United Kingdom) by  moonblossom (E, 5,051 w. || Accidental Marriage, Friends to Husbands to Lovers, CSI Crossover, Fluff & Porn, Bathtub Sex, Hand Jobs, First Time) – When a case sends the boys to Vegas, John comes out of it with a bit more than he bargained for. Part 19 of Prompt Fills, Remixes, Works inspired by others

Every Little Thing by the_beekeeper_of_sussex (E, 5,066 w. || First Time / Kiss, Fluff, Frottage, Come as Lube, Embarassed Sherlock, Porn With Feelings) – When Sherlock walks in on John making tea wearing nothing but a tight pair of boxer-briefs things get a little heated…physically and emotionally.

Strings by EstherShapiro (E, 5,267 w. || Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Massage, Friends to Lovers, Fingering, Anal, PWP) – Sherlock wakes his doctor up. Was this weird? John was sitting on his bed, late at night, rubbing his hands over another man’s body? That was supposed to be weird, right? Then again, this wasn’t just some man, it was Sherlock. They were so used to each other that John didn’t even think to question it. It wasn’t weird.

Sociopathy and Other Fibs by kinklock (M, 5,314 w. || 5+1, Miscommunication, Humour, Friends to Lovers, Post S3, Love Confessions) – Five times John called Sherlock out, and one time Sherlock returned the favour.

Adjacent by weeesi (E, 5,711 w. || Bed Sharing, Fluff and Smut, Pining Idiots, On a Trip, Frottage) – Sherlock and John spend the night at a hotel in adjoining rooms, and keep finding excuses to visit each other’s rooms, until WHOOPS they’re sharing a bed.

Recovery by thesignsofserbia (T, 5,948 w. || HLV-Fix It / Rewrite, Villain Mary, Pining Sherlock, Major Character Injury, Scars, Self-Hatred, POV Sherlock, Doctor John, Friends to Lovers) – Set after the confrontation with Mary, and Sherlock’s cardiac arrest, John stays at 221B to aid Sherlock’s recovery, forcing them to confront wounds both old and new as they try to heal their damaged relationship.

Just a Touch by MissDavis (E, 6,248 w. || Bed Sharing, Masturbation, First Time/Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Sharing a Room) – John has trouble falling asleep these days. There’s one thing he can do that always seems to help, but he’s stuck in this hotel room with Sherlock and doesn’t think he’ll get the chance. How will he ever find relief and a good night’s sleep?

Five Times John Noticed But Didn’t Really by ScandalousMinds (T, 6,383 w. || Domestics, Fluff/Angst, Bratty Sherlock, Idiots, Pre-Slash, Jealous Sherlock, Love Confessions) – 5 times John (thought) he noticed something peculiar about his and Sherlock’s relationship but really missed the obvious.

The Strait of Juan de Fuca by mightypog (T, 6,400 w. || Vacation, Love Confessions, Friends to Lovers, Canada, Post-TRF, Love Confessions) – Sherlock is back and all seems forgiven, but something is missing between him and John. Their friendship initially appears intact, but Sherlock doesn’t understand why John seems to be slipping away. Finally, in terror, he tries to reconnect with John by taking him to the one place that seems to inspire any emotional interest in John any more: the Canadian wilderness. While there, Sherlock faces his greatest fear.

Better Than Fiction by Irrevocably_Sherlocked (E, 6,813 w. || Pining Sherlock, Sherlock’s Imagination, Masturbation, BJ’s, First Time / Kiss) – …he opens his eyes, but instead of seeing John he is staring at his bedroom ceiling, the pale plaster a startling contrast from the scene in his head. It had felt so real. He can only imagine what the feel of John’s lips would be like, his taste. But luckily for him, he thinks with a smirk, he’s always had a brilliant imagination.

The space between by Salambo06 (E, 6,830 w. || PWP, Friends to Lovers, Masturbation, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Miscommunications, Bottom Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Sexual Fantasy) – “It’s for a case,” Sherlock says as soon as John looks down at his computer. John remains silent for a long moment, eyes moving from the screen to Sherlock, before saying, “You don’t have to explain.” His voice is low, too low, and Sherlock looks at the computer, putting the video on pause. “Lestrade asked me-, no, forced me to find out who’s threatening a famous porn star, and the suspect is among his co-stars, so I only need to watch out for any signs from his partners, anything that might show they’re the one sending those threats and I can move to something else.” “Right.”

Onomatopoeia by aquabelacqua (M, 6,904 w. || First Time/Kiss, Frottage, Dirty Talk, Domestics, Word Kink) – Something is the matter with John. Sherlock is determined to figure out what it is. Mark his words.

The Tip Over Into The Inevitable by ivyblossom (T, 6,894 w. || Grief, Cuddles, Insomnia, Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers) - When his father dies, Sherlock avoids sleeping. Then discovers he can’t sleep at all. John finds a way to help.

where the good things grow by anchors (M, 7,066 w. || Tea Shop AU || Alternate First Meeting, Magical Realism, Gardens, Tea, Friends to Lovers) – "I have a magic garden.” As come-ons go, John’s heard worse.

Drawstring by May_Shepard (E, 7,412 w. || Friends to Lovers, UST/RST, Fluff and Smut, Post-TAB, John POV) – John is bothered by Sherlock’s slowly-falling jim-jams… as in hot and bothered and he is trying to deal with a sexy dishevelled Sherlock while also keeping his pining in check.

Six Dates by avawtsn (E, 7,421 w. || 5+1, First Time / Kiss, Post S4-Compliant, POV John) – A rather accidental 5+1 written for the prompt “is this a date?” Hint: it is.

Correspondence by Cleo2010 (T, 8,031 w. || Letters, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, Dating ) – Sherlock’s been spirited away on a case for Mycroft. Part of the deal was that he and John could communicate via letter until the case was completed. Maybe the cliche is true, absence does make the heart grow fonder. Or perhaps something is growing on the feet in the fridge. Read their letters month by month.

Presence by LostGirl (M, 8,625 w. || Pre-Slash, First Time, Jealousy, Friends to Lovers) – Sherlock has recently noticed a shift in his own perceptions, but he can’t quite figure out when it started.

Bread and Wine and Curry Once a Week by cwb (E, 8,737 w. || Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Stroppy Sherlock, Love Letters, POV John) – Sherlock asks John for relationship advice. Little does he know that it’s him that Sherlock is in love with.

A Lifetime Together by LondonGypsy (M, 8,886 w. || Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Falling in Love, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Pining Idiots, Alternating POVs, Domestics, Retirement) – John and Sherlock falling in love.

Unwasted by patternofdefiance (E, 8,966 w. || Post-S3 / S3 Fix-It, Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Angelo’s, Fluff, First Time, Anal, Cum Play, Flashbacks to ASiB, Mutual Pining, Love Confessions, Bottomlock, Cuddles, Multiple Orgasms, BJ’s, Bed Sharing) – John finds it three months after he’s moved back. He’s on the hunt for something to make for dinner, is scrounging through the cupboards, when he happens upon the graveyard of pasta boxes Sherlock still seems to create when left to his own devices. Behind seven boxes of pasta, all almost completely empty, is a dark-glassed bottle, with a paler coat of dust.It’s unopened. John’s face falls slack when he sees it, instantly recognises it, and for a long moment he just stands and looks at it.

The Newlywed Game: Johnlock Edition by patternofdefiance (E, 9,020 w. || Fake Relationship, Fake Marriage, Friends to Lovers, Humour, Romance, Smut, Case Fic, Self-Esteem Issues) – John and Sherlock pretend to be married in order to be contestants in a Newlywed Game. Of course it’s for a case. Of course it doesn’t stay that way. Part 8 of I Blame Tumblr

What I Hide By My Language, My Body Utters by PixChuu22 (M, 9,047 w. || Fake Relationship, For a Case, Friends to Lovers) - Based on a prompt from Tumblr user thetwogaydetectives - “fake relationship that ends up being so real, they finally realize they are in love.”

The Devil You Know by PipMer (T, 9,300 w. || Friends to Lovers, Romance, Holmes Brothers, Jealous Sherlock) – The Holmes brothers are behaving oddly. John is dazed and confused. In other words, it’s business as usual at 221B Baker Street. Except when it’s not.

Paparazzi by SilentAuror (E, 10,543 w. || Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Post S3) – John moves back into 221B Baker Street after his marriage falls apart and the paparazzi won’t leave him and Sherlock alone about the status of their supposed relationship. Sherlock, of course, never denies it, until one day he does…

Never Have I Ever by hudders-and-hiddles (E, 10,655 w. || Pining Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Drinking Games, Love Confessions, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers) – John and Sherlock tag along for the Met’s weekly night out, where the evening’s chosen drinking game is Never Have I Ever. Sherlock is reluctant to join in until he realizes he can learn all kinds of new things about John, but he forgets that John might learn a thing or two about him as well.

Rainbow Hearts Retreat by PajamaSecrets (E, 11,638 w. || Fake Relationship, Case Fic, Undercover, Fluff and Smut, Bed-Sharing, Therapy, Humour/Crack, First Time) – “It’s a same-sex couples retreat. For those experiencing troubles in their relationship. Consists of group and couples therapy as well as encouraging socialization between the couples. It’s all in their incredibly dull brochure.” “Rainbow Hearts Retreat,” John read. “Sounds… quite gay.”

Iris by slashscribe (E, 11,948 w. || Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Post-S3) – Sherlock does his best to make John happy when John comes back to 221B with his new baby after the events of Season 3, but Sherlock has a track record of getting things wrong in this area. This story is an exploration of their gradual shift from friends to lovers, told from Sherlock’s perspective, full of a lot of pining and lack of emotional awareness.

The Slow Burn by CaitlinFairchild (E, 12,097 w. || Romance, Emotional Infidelity, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock POV) – John smiles, something small and private and for him alone, and Sherlock just…he knows. With a heart-stopping certainty, Sherlock suddenly knows. It feels like falling off the edge of a cliff. It feels like falling off the edge of the world. It feels like flying.

Barricade by stitchy (M, 14,127 w. || Friends to Lovers, Angst, Happy Ending, UST, Mary’s Not Nice) – Sherlock has been struggling to keep his feelings at bay for everyone’s sake. Part 1 of Barricade

Speaker for the Bees by antietamfalls (M, 14,649 w. || Deaf Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Fluff, Sign Language) – It isn’t always easy assisting a deaf detective. Luckily for John, they make a pretty good team.

Hallowed Eve by EventHorizon (T, 14,750 w. || First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Halloween) – It probably wasn’t the smartest idea to let Sherlock choose the costumes for Halloween, but John never considered himself the smartest man in the room, anyway.

Pattern Behaviour by SilentAuror (E, 14,835 w. || POV First Person Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Introspection, Stroppy Sherlock, Light Humour, Friendship, John Takes Care of Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Wall Kisses, Fluffy Angst, Happy Ending) – Sherlock doesn’t even know why he resents John’s dates so much. Until the day he does know. Slight angst, unrequited feelings (but don’t let that scare you off!)

Twelfth Night by yourdykeinshiningarmor (E, 15,139 w. || Fake Relationship, Christmas, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Angst & Fluff, BJ’s, Anal) – John is invited to his aunt’s Twelfth Night ball. Sherlock offers to attend with him as a friendly face among strangers, but John’s family force him to address his true feelings for Sherlock.

Till Death Do Us Part by prettysailorsoldier (M, 15,390 w. || Fake Relationship, Case Fic, Friends to Lovers, Fake Marriage, Christmas, Fluff) – When Sherlock links a recent spree of murder-suicides to a psychologist who specializes in marriage counseling, there’s really only one thing to do: Go undercover as a couple in hopes of drawing the killer out. Faking a relationship seems easy enough, but things take a turn when their real issues start to creep into the sessions, and, all the while, a killer is watching, waiting in the shadows for their chance to strike.

Second Chance by SilentAuror (E, 15,816 w. || Post-Divorce, Friends to Lovers, UST, Romance) – Now that John’s divorce has gone through and the dust is settling, Sherlock thinks that he would very much like to see if there is any possibility of moving their friendship in another direction. The only thing is, he has no idea how to go about doing that…

A Hundred Thousand Ways to Say the Name John by Jberry (E, 16,825 w. || Fake Relationship, Fake Marriage, POV John, Pining John, Cruise Ship, Angst & Fluff, Case Fic) –  John Watson and Sherlock Holmes must solve a case on a cruise ship. To get close to the crew and passengers, they must get married for the case on the Baetica. However, their relationship hits rocky seas both due to the case and internal conflicts. Part 1 of Baetica

Between Friends by SilentAuror (E, 18,036 w. || Post S3, Alternating POV, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Abduction, Awkward Situations / Miscommunications, Porn With Feels, Blowjobs, Pining, Unrequited, Angst With Happy Ending) – Sherlock gets abducted. As John discovers him tied up naked in an empty storage facility and comes to rescue him, Sherlock’s body has an unfortunate reaction which triggers a series of events. John is convinced that everything will be fine as long as they never discuss it. Sherlock isn’t as sure…

When to Let Go by KendylGirl (M, 22,109 w. || Friends to Lovers, Reverse Reichenbach, Sacrifice, Forgiveness, Angst, Love, Implied Drug Use) – What if it were John who had to die to thwart Moriarty’s plans? John’s supposed death shatters Sherlock, and when he returns, it will challenge the pair to forge a path of forgiveness, to peace, and to find a way back to each other. Part 1 of When to Let Go

Ghost Stories by SwissMiss (M, 22,256 w. || Pining, Holmes Family, Christmas, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, First Time) – Sherlock’s parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something.

State of Flux by Atiki (E, 24,655 w. || Sherlock POV, Slow Burn, First Kiss/Time, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Cuddles and Snuggles, Awkwardness, Insecure/Virgin Sherlock, Romance) – John’s marriage is over and he is finally back home (i.e. at Baker Street, where he belongs). Sherlock is awfully insecure and John is awfully hesitant, and they’re both awkward idiots, of course, but they figure it out. Many First Times happen.

To be Loved by You by TwisterMelody (M, 28,775 w. || Angst, H/C, Friends to Lovers, Post-HLV, Infidelity, Character Death, Background Mystrade, Pining, First Time, Romance) – Too many times they had confessed themselves in the darkness, leaving it there, never to speak of it again.  But this is different.  This love deserves the light of day.

Five Times They Kissed for a Case, and One Time They Kissed for Real by fleetwood_mouse (M, 32,406 w. || 5+1, Slow Burn, Fluff / Angst, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers) – A stolen ring! An artful blogger! And many more adventures for your enjoyment.

A Study In Auto-Signatures, Sniper Dolphins, and Sex Holidays by cwb (E, 32,690 w. || Case Fic, Post S3, Evil Mary, Dev. Rel., Honeymoon, Epistolary, Bottomlock, First Kiss / Time, Fluff, Secret Agents, BAMF!John) – John and Mary go on their sex holiday, and Sherlock is grumpy and pining about it. Part 1 of HOT DOLPHIN SEX

Chaperones by MissDavis (T, 34,114 w. || 11 Years Post-S4, Fake Relationship, Parentlock, Disney World, Bed / Room Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, First Kiss, Obsessive Sherlock, Insecure John) – Right. Of course. Everyone assumed they were a couple and no one would question it. John put his elbows up on the table so he could rest his head in his hands. “You want to pretend to be a couple so we can chaperone a trip to Disney World with Rosie’s class and you won’t have to share a room with a stranger?” “Exactly.” Sherlock beamed at him. “Don’t worry about the cost. The Birmingham case last month paid more than enough to cover expenses for all three of us.”

That Partitioning of the Things of Youth by wearitcounts (E, 35,353 w. || Humour and Angst, Post-TRF, Fake Relationship, UST / RST, Friends to Lovers, Jealous John) – Victor Trevor is in town, and nobody’s happy.

Classified(s) by blueink3 (E, 36,153 w. || Wedding Date AU || Fake Relationship, Jealous, PIning, H/C, Idiots in Love, Happy Ending, Mary is not Nice, Escort Service) – Clara’s American father is the ambassador to some such territory that Great Britain probably used to own, but she (and Harry’s undying love for her) is the reason John is getting on a flight at 12:30pm, flying across the second largest ocean in the world, and pretending to be in a perfectly happy, healthy relationship with an undoubtedly perfectly coiffed stranger. See, Clara is not only American (and wealthy to boot), she’s also best friends with John’s ex-fiancée. Whom she’s placed in the wedding party. As Maid of Honor. And John just happens to be Best Man. Bloody brilliant.

The Curious Adventure of the Drs. Watson by ShinySherlock (M, 40,883 w. || BBC & ACD Fusion || Victorianlock, Time Travel / Magical Realism, Friends to Lovers, Love and Kissing, Romance, Body Swap) – What if ACD Watson and BBC Watson switched places…  “Imposter!” Hands clenching the lapels of John’s coat, Holmes shoved him anew. “Yes!” John agreed, nodding, and then grimacing. “Sort of!”

Bloody But Unbowed by BeautifulFiction (E, 43,211 w. || Abduction, John Whump, Mild Torture, Background Case Fic, Friends to Lovers, Post-TRF / S3 Rewrite, Hurt/Comfort) – When a familiar argument threatens to destroy the last remnants of John and Sherlock’s failing friendship, both men are left questioning their worth to one another. Before either of them has the chance to make amends, circumstance intervenes. John is left at the mercy of his abductors, and this time, he’s not sure Sherlock will bother coming to his rescue.

The Case of the Vanishing Pants by SwissMiss (E, 44,025 w. || Five and Ones, Post-TRF, Case Fic, UST, Homophobia, Friends to Lovers) – Five times John and Sherlock lost their pants in the course of a case.

Bedroom Tales by Junejuly15 (M, 49,950 w. || Friends to Lovers, Through the Years, H/C, Military Kink, First Kiss / Time, Romance, Insecure Sherlock, Voyeurism, Post-TRF, Ficlets, Fluff and Angst, Fix-It Fics) – Bedroom Tales is a collection of John and Sherlock ficlets. They are set at various stages of their relationship and are in no particular order. Some are fluffy, some sexy, some angsty, there is hurt and comfort, romance and love. What unites them is that they all play in a bedroom, but not necessarily the one in 221B.

In the Dark Hours by hubblegleeflower (E, 51,639 w. || Friends to Lovers, Unreliable Narrator, Closeted Bi John, Angst, Miscommunications, Slow Burn, First Time, John’s Blog / Epistolary) – John, wounded and silent, drifts back to Baker Street for healing…and then goes home again. He visits, gets more upbeat, chattier, smiles, jokes… and still goes home again. Sherlock wants him to move back in - it just makes sense - but John shows no signs of doing so. This is the story of how John and Sherlock learn to say what needs to be said when they’re both so very, very rubbish at talking.

Lost Without My Blogger by starrysummernights (E, 52,155 w. || Rev. Reich, PTSD, Hurt / Comfort, Fluff / Angst, Psychological Torture, Reunion Fic, Friends to Lovers) – John is abducted and declared dead. How will Sherlock cope without his blogger? How will he react when John comes back from the “dead?” Drama and angst with a healthy dose of romance. Part 1 of I’d Be Lost Without My Blogger

Wars We Fought, Things We’re Not by blueink3 (M, 55,204 w. || Parentlock, Fluff & Angst, Kidnapping, Whump, Post-TAB, UST, Slow Burn, Couple for a Case) –  Five months after John’s world has fallen apart, Mycroft sends the consulting detective and his doctor on a case that neither is prepared for.

31_Days_of_Porn_Challenge_2017 Series by distantstarlight (E, 96,540 w. across 31 stories || Prompt Ficlets, Assorted Kinks, PWP) – A collection in response to the 31 Days of Porn Challenge issued by AtlinMerrik! Thanks for doing that because this has been buttload of fun (that joke never gets old). All stories will be brief stand-alone one-shots.

The Wedding Garments by cwb (E, 105,390 w. || Alternate Future AU || , Alternate First Meeting, Dating / Arranged Marriages, Romance, First Kiss/Time, Heavy Petting, Cuddles, POV Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn / Falling in Love / Dev. Rel., Nervous/Anxious Sherlock, Jealous/Cranky, Hiking, Vacation Homes / Honeymoon, Sherlock’s Family, Horny John/Sherlock, Patient John, Massages, Hand Jobs, Assassination Plots, Hand Jobs / Oral Sex) – This is the story of a young consulting detective who wants nothing to do with marriage and an army doctor who wants to find true love. It’s 2020 post-Brexit England and the British government is encouraging arranged marriages. Candidates meet through state-run agencies and date in hopes of finding love (and tax benefits). Sherlock doesn’t need or want a spouse, at least not until John Watson shows up. Hesitant to give in to his more carnal urges because of the way they derail his mind, how will Sherlock progress toward the more intimate aspects of a relationship? The answer lies in a very special wedding gift.

A Study in Winning by Jupiter_Ash (E, 106,658 w. || Tennis AU || John POV, Dirty Talk, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Happy Ending, Sherlock Speaks French, Switchlock, Wimbledon) – John and Sherlock are professional tennis players and it’s Wimbledon. One is a broken almost was at the end of his career, the other an arrogant rising star tipped for greatness. It should have been a straightforward tournament. It really should have been. How were they to know that a chance encounter would change everything? Part 1 of Tennis

between each beat are words unsaid by darcylindbergh, hudders-and-hiddles (T, 107,998 w. || Epistolary, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Angst, Happy Ending) – On their wedding night, John and Sherlock gift each other with the things they each said when the other could not hear, the things they each put down where the other could not see: a collection of writings that illustrate the way their love for one another has grown over the years. Part 1 of between each beat

Midnight Blue Serenity by BeautifulFiction (E, 151,907 w. || Friends to Lovers, Gay Bar / For a Case, Drugs, Pining, Case Fic, UST) – When Sherlock infiltrates a club in order to track down a serial killer, his altered appearance is enough to make John question his assumption that Sherlock is beyond his reach. However, is he the only one who appreciates his flatmate’s charms, or is Sherlock at risk of becoming the next victim?

A Fold in the Universe by darkest_bird (E, 152,869 w. || Omegaverse / Prime Universe Crossover || OmegaJohn / AlphaSherlock, First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Established Relationship, Angst, H/C, Dub Con, Humour) – Alpha Sherlock and Omega John are in a relationship. Prime Sherlock and Prime John are not. So what happens when a freak fold in the universe switches one John for the other?

Mise en Place by azriona (M, 161,004 w. || Restaurant (Kitchen Nightmares) AU || Sherlock is Gordon Ramsay / Celebrity Sherlock, Restauranteur John, Harry Plays Prominent Role, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, Cranky Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Slow Burn) – John Watson had no intentions of taking over the family business, but when he returns from Afghanistan, battered and bruised, and discovers that his sister Harry has run their restaurant into the ground, he doesn’t have much choice. There’s only one thing that can save the Empire from closing for good – the celebrity star of the BBC series Restaurant Reconstructed, Chef Sherlock Holmes. Part 1 of Mise en Place

The Gilded Cage by BeautifulFiction (E, 326,887 w. || Omegaverse || Omega Sherlock / Alpha John, Friends to Lovers, Dub Con, Reproductive Rights) – In a world where Omegas are the property of the elite Alphas, locked away and treasured by those wealthy enough to buy them, John never questioned his flatmate’s secondary gender. Sherlock Holmes was an Alpha through-and through. Wasn’t he? A chance discovery turns the world on its head, and John is left grappling to come to terms with Sherlock’s past as events conspire to threaten their future.

[brightly-painted-canvas]

hey!!! i loved the hogwarts!au and i couldn't help myself. do you have more headcanons? like subjects they like the most or excel at? the "blood status" (muggle-born, half-blood or pure-blood)?? or the things the school remember them for (like i picture babe never being able to remember the password of their common room... bc chaos child)? thnks! it was GREAT!!

Hey! I’m finally getting back to you.

I’m always thinking about this au in the back of my mind so here are some other headcanons and replies to your questions:

- yes of course Babe forgets the password to the Gryffindor’s common room. He usually argues with the Fat Lady about knowing the password and just not remembering it right now until someone comes to the rescue (usually Bill Guarnere going ‘What the… Babe? Seriously? AGAIN?’ all the time)- once it was Malarkey’s turn to get the Hufflepuff’s sequence of taps on the barrels wrong (he was high on a sugar rush after a trip to Hogsmeade) which resulted in him, Skip and Penkala running around the basement corridors drenched in vinegar- talking about sweets: you wanna buy Liebgott’s silence? Give him chocolate frogs (procedure tested and approved countless times by George Luz)- favourite subjects: it’s no secret that most Slytherins excel in Potions, but Toye, Snafu and Hoosier are also top DADA students (and professor Speirs would never admit it not even under torture - except he maybe mentioned it to Lip one or a thousand times already - but deep down he’s proud of his little snakes);Sledge and Christenson are History of Magic maniacs, so much that professor Haldane already suggested them to pursue a career as historians and won’t shut up about their brilliance ever (and there’s just so much ‘I wish I could just adopt them’ talk Hillbilly can take before he attempts to strangle him with some dangerous plant he keeps in the greenhouse);everybody loves studying Cares of Magical Creatures mostly because everybody likes professor Lipton so much. Top students of this course are Tab, Bull and Webster (the latter mostly interested in aquatic creatures);everybody, on the contrary, hates professor Sobel with a passion and professor Sobel seems to reciprocate the sentiment. When first year students have their first flying lessons and come back with a month long suspension per person, you can hear principal Sink’s enraged “SOOOOBEEEEEEEEEL!” resonate all around the castle;once the students managed to lure professor Sobel inside the Forbidden Forest with the help of Luz’s favourite voice modifier spell, convincing him it was an order from minister of magic Horton. Sobel got chased out of the forest by the centaurs. Legendary.Transfiguration is not an easy subject, but professor Winters manages to keep it interesting and everyone is glad for it. It’s also common knowledge he might look stiff and serious but deep down he’s a softie who dotes on all his students equally;(your theory about professor Dike never showing to classes and the students predicting his absence all the time without fail? Brilliant. Perfect. Outstanding.)more under the cut!

- blood status: I haven’t thought much about it, but I think I’d love if the students where all mixed up and didn’t care one bit about their friends and classmates being muggle-born or half-blooded or pure-blooded… the common sentiment is ‘eh guys we’re all in this together: I don’t care if magic has been running in your family for ages or if your father is a muggle train conductor, if you got Potion notes you’re not sharing with the rest of us you still a hoe’;yes, even in Slytherin there are mixed-blooded students and no one gives a shit (especially because you wouldn’t mess with, say, Snafu mentioning he’s the son of a witch and a muggle or him and Liebgott would immediately swing their clubs at you) (you would also be hit with Lieb’s club if you called Webster a mud-blood so just… don’t) (rule number one: don’t be an asshole about blood status)- tiny digression about ships: Burgie falls in love with the school’s librarian the day he finds out he forgot to do his Ancient Runes homeworks and sprints to the library looking for cheat sheets Leckie has mentioned existing… he ends up without the cheat sheets (’Bob why the hell would you suggest me to get things that are in the restricted section? And how do you know what’s in there in the first place?’) but with a date;speaking about Leckie, he and Vera have been neighbours and friends since the day they were born but he never showed to her the letters and poems he’s written all through his life about how much he’s in love with her. Until one day Webster accidentally publish one of them on the school’s newspaper. Vera eventually figures everything out and they get together (Webster may be scarred for life by their first reactions at his mistake but no one really cares anyway);speaking of Webster, he and Liebgott have got the most excruciating and annoying ‘odi et amo’ kind of relationship the school can (or can’t, depending on opinions) handle: they’re always arguing, but they’re always together;the only other couple that match their weird display of affection are Sledge and Snafu… sometimes they get along perfectly well, some other times Eugene has to hide in the Gryffindor’s common room to escape Snafu’s teasing or absurd requests (’Look at ma eyes, Sledge! I’m dying!’ ‘Shut up Shelton, you just ate a weird flavoured Bertie Botts’ bean!’);everyone is convinced miss Lemaire (a part-Veela from Belgium) and ‘Doc’ Roe are a couple until at a Christmas dinner Renée invites her girlfriend. After confirmation that the nurse apprentice is single, everyone (but especially Guarnere and Buck) try to play matchmaker between him and Babe. It’s soon obvious that they are extremely difficult subjects to match (cute, oblivious and awkward being the main issues);there’s not really a ship going on between Lena and John, it’s just that John ships himself with Lena so much. He’s the ultimate fanboy (hope he succeeds in asking her out!);on nights when Nixon wanders around the school completely shitfaced, he usually talk to the castle’s ghosts about his unrequited crush on Richard Winters. On nights when Dick finds Nix sleeping on the floor of the main hall and has to drag him back to his room, the ghosts just shake their heads and go ‘unrequited love my long dead ass’;as an unwritten rule, it’s not allowed to talk about how professor Speirs and professor Lipton have been (legally!) married for years.As always, there are more to come!Let me know if you have other questions or requests :)

[darth-tella]

The Escape

Written for @creativebec who prompted me with “You want me to what?”

This was supposed to be a fluffy fic, but my muse took a left turn at Albuquerque and never looked back!

Also tagging @doctorroseprompts

Read on AO3

Ten/Rose Teen and up 

The Escape

“You want me to what?” Rose asked, staring King Axolm down. The king smiled at her benignly which made Rose tremble with rage even more. The things this man had done, the slaughtering of innocents to gain his position of power without even a bat of his rather long eyelashes, it all made her sick to her stomach.

“You are to marry me at sunrise. Was that not made clear to you already?” Axolm reached out ran his finger gently down her cheek causing Rose to swallow down the bile rising up her throat. How she wished the Doctor was here with her. But no, he had to go get himself captured and thrown into the prison deep down in the bowels of Axolm’s sprawling palace with no hope of escape. Rose could see the sonic screwdriver tucked into the breast pocket of the kings fancy tunic like he won a medal or something. And now, she was to become the King’s prize. There was a tradition on this planet that the ruler must always marry an off-worlder at the beginning of their reign as a show of good faith to neighbouring planets and star systems.

She had to think fast. The sky was getting lighter by the minute, so sunrise was happening soon! Rose bit her lip as she tossed every single bad idea out of her head just as soon as it entered. Then it dawned on her. This marriage had to be legally binding so it would be accepted by the people of this planet. They were real sticklers for rules and regulations, even if the King wasn’t.

An idea suddenly dawned on her, and she almost laughed. Could it really be so simple? She just hoped the Doctor would forgive her for it.

“Well, you can’t marry me because I’m already married!” Rose declared. Axolm narrowed his eyes at her.

“The Doctor?” He spat. Rose nodded emphatically. “He can’t be your husband if he’s dead. He’s already slated to be executed during our wedding reception.” Rose held her ground. She wasn’t about to tell him that it wasn’t so easy to just kill the Doctor. Worse come to worse, she knew he’d regenerate. She hoped it wouldn’t come down to that.

“You sure you want to do that? He spent all day yesterday fortifying the Eastern quadrant of the city. Those people aren’t big fans of yours already and they’re ready to fight. Do you really want to risk that?” Rose’s heart was pounding against her ribs as she blatantly bluffed to his face. She took a step forward and boldly pushed Axolm in the chest. “Well, do you?”

“Makes no difference to me. They’ll be crushed under my heel for their insolence!” He sneered. Rose took a step back, wringing her hands together and worrying the cuffs of her dark blue jacket. She hung her head in defeat, her bottom lip wobbling.

“Can I just see him, then? One last time? Just let me say goodbye.” Rose pleaded, tears streaming down her face. Axolm lapsed into silence for a long moment as he considered. Finally he nodded sharply and Rose was led down into the prison.

–

The Doctor paced in his cell. It was cold, dark and also home to some large species of rodent that they didn’t seem to have any interest in keeping under control.

How did it come to this?  He thought to himself. All he had wanted to do was have a nice, relaxing day out with Rose. Triox Prime was famous for it’s beauty and old world charm despite being quite technologically advanced. But the TARDIS just had to land them during the planet’s bloodiest civil war!

He ran his hand through his already mussed up hair. There were two guards keeping watch who were unfortunately loyal to the King, and there was no convincing them into letting him go. He couldn’t even see their faces behind their dark glass masks built into their helmets so he felt like his usual method of talking his way out would be pretty much impossible. He was pretty sure he could override the lock, but the controls were on the far side of the room and they already confiscated his screwdriver and gave it over to the king.

His only hope now was Rose. But if what he overhead the guards talking about earlier was true, she was due to be married to King “Arse-olm” come sunrise!

Would he be forced to watch? The whole thing stabbed at his hearts and he felt a jealous rage building in his chest. How dare he use Rose as a pawn in his sick game! Traditions be damned, Rose was being forced to do this against her will and the thoughts of what the King would force her to do afterwords made the Doctor want to shed his pacifist ways and kill him!

He began counting the ways he would do it, and he was up to number 98 when he heard a door open nearby. The Doctor didn’t bother to look up. The guards were probably just changing shifts.

“You have two minutes to visit with your husband.” One of the guards intoned. “You may speak with him only through the bars.” The Doctor’s head snapped up and he ran over to the cell’s bars when he saw Rose approaching.

Wait, did that guard just say he was her husband?!? The Doctor had no time to process this as she wordlessly stepped up to the bars, raised herself on tiptoe and kissed him soundly on the lips. He stood there stunned for a fraction of a second. The last time Rose kissed him like this, she had been possessed by Cassandra. He flicked his tongue out to taste her, to see if he could detect any hint that this wasn’t his Rose. Her mouth opened beneath his with a sigh, an invitation to his probing tongue. He pulled her closer despite the bars between them. There wasn’t a shadow of a doubt in his mind that this was his Rose as she was making it perfectly clear that he was her Doctor as her tongue began to dance with his.

He tried to break off the kiss so he could talk to her, but she only pressed herself closer to him. He could sense the increase of adrenaline in her system. Her fear and desperation. He gentled the kiss somewhat, trying to pour as much comfort in his touch as possible. Finally she pulled away panting harshly and took a half-step back.

“I’m so sorry.” Her voice cracked with emotion and the Doctor’s hearts both broke at once.

“That’s my line,” he cracked a ghost of a smile which she didn’t reciprocate. He liked his lips, still tasting her strawberry lip gloss. “I suppose you don’t have a plan on breaking me out of here?” He hung on to that sliver of hope. Rose pulled her hand out of her sleeve – he had noted that she worried the cuffs of her sleeves when she was scared or nervous – and reached out and took his hand. It took every shred of his willpower to stop himself from grinning like an idiot when he felt a familiar object press into his palm. He let go of her hand and brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek, straightening his arm enough so her gift easily slid down into his sleeve. He gently pulled her close once more, and Rose got the hint and kissed him again. He mouthed a ‘thank you’ against her lips before she pulled back.

“I love you.” Rose’s proclamation warmed the Doctor from the inside out. His throat swelled shut with emotion and he could feel the sting of tears behind his eyes. He knew how she felt already, but hearing her actually say the words was something else entirely. He vowed once they escaped he’d be able to tell her in return. For now he just gazed into her eyes. They weren’t out of this yet, there were so many ways the next few minutes could turn pear shaped, so he just said:

“Be brave, Rose Tyler.”

She nodded, pressed her lips to his once more, turned and walked away. He watched as she disappeared down the hallway, then focused his attention back to his surroundings. His cell was quite open concept, except for one blind spot. On the wall perpendicular to the bars lay the toilet facilities, such as they were, and to his delight a small privacy screen. It didn’t hide much, but he was glad this species did offer some dignity to their prisoners. He walked over and stood like he was about to relieve himself. The sonic screwdriver slid out from it’s hiding place in his sleeve and into his waiting hands. He looked about, acting like he was shy about peeing in public, but was expertly changing the settings on the sonic.

He glanced at the guards. Electronics in the helmets. Brilliant. There was no need for cameras in here, the helmets recorded everything. He figured it should be easy enough to short out and render them unconscious. He tilted the screwdriver so it was pointed at them but still hidden from view and activated it. The result was instantaneous! Sparks of electricity arched from one place to another for a few moments and the guards fell limply to the floor. Making another adjustment to the screwdriver, he stepped away from the wall and trained it on the door controls. The Doctor held his breath, and hoped it wasn’t deadlock sealed. The panel made a small chime and the cell bars retracted back into the ceiling.

He wasted no time as he sprinted as quietly as possible down the same hallway Rose had just walked down, part of his brain just now figuring out why Americans called his style of shoes ‘sneakers’. She only had one guard with her, who seemed oblivious to what happened to his mates. His helmet also erupted in a shower of sparks before he dropped to the floor. Rose spun around and fell into the Doctor’s waiting arms. He crushed her to him and spun her in a circle before settling her back on her feet.

“How’d you get the sonic?” He asked, grinning from ear to ear. She just shrugged modestly.

“Oh, y’know you pick up a few things growin’ up on the estate. And Jack may have taught me a trick or two.” She gave him that tongue touched grin of hers, and the Doctor zeroed in on it now knowing exactly what it can do. He only just resisted the urge to kiss her again. They had to keep moving. He grabbed her hand and ran down a nearby hallway off the main path, hoping it would lead to a way outside.

“Dead end.” The Doctor hissed through his teeth. The sound of voices filtered down from the main hallway.

“I’ve been gone too long.” Rose realised. The Doctor found another door and quickly soniced it open, poked his head in and quietly giggled in glee. He looked back over at Rose.

“You’ve seen Star Wars, right?” He asked.

–

“I seriously can’t see a thing.” Rose groused adjusting the helmet on her head. The Doctor had fixed their comlinks in the helmets so no one else could eavesdrop on them. He had stumbled upon a locker room full of guard’s uniforms and he and Rose quickly dressed up in a couple of them, eternally grateful that the palace employed more than just males. The Doctor quickly emptied the contents of one of the rucksacks guards carried around into a bin and stuffed their original clothes inside. Rose was quite surprised that he had even pushed his usual modesty aside and got changed right in front of her. It wasn’t like they had much choice. She felt like time was sort of against them.

“You sure they’re not gonna look for us in here.” Rose asked for the third time in so many minutes. The Doctor shook his head.

“That door was exit only before I opened it.” He explained finally. “You ready?” Rose gave herself one more quick look over and nodded at him. The Doctor surprised her again when he grabbed a couple large guns off the wall and handed one to her.

“You hate these.”

“Yes, but we need to blend in. Now remember: back straight, head forward, and walk with purpose. We’re on the lookout for a couple of alien fugitives and are under orders to investigate their ship.” The Doctor rattled off.

“You mean we’re just gonna leg it to the TARDIS?” Even with his face covered by the dark glass mask, Rose knew he was smirking at her.

Got it in one. Now, allons-y.”

They walked out of the door at the far end of the room. Thankfully, the corridor outside was empty, but as soon as they reached the grand hallway they quickly blended in with the crowd of other guards who were looking for them. The only way Rose knew which one was actually the Doctor was because he adjusted her helmet’s HUD so it would outline him with a thick green line. She bit back a giggle. This was so ridiculous! No one paid them any mind as it just appeared they had joined the search.

Rose nearly stopped in her tracks when she heard Axolm’s voice booming from somewhere nearby to find and execute her and the Doctor. But she just focused on following the Doctor. She shuddered at the stray thought of what would have happened if Axolm never agreed to let her go see the Doctor. She would have been his wife by now and she doubted he would’ve had any qualms about violating her on her ‘wedding night’.

“Rose, come on.” The Doctor’s voice rang in her ears, and it was then she realised she had stopped walking. Panic had gripped her and she was nearly hyperventilating. Fear turned into rage. How dare he think he could treat someone like that! She looked down at the gun in her hands.

How did you take the safety off this thing?

“Just breathe.” The Doctor’s voice cut in again, “One step at a time, love.” Those words snapped her back into reality, the endearment catching her off guard. She pulled herself together enough to keep going. Thankfully, they hadn’t landed the TARDIS too far away, and less than twenty minutes later they were home.

Rose ripped off her helmet and threw it as hard as she could. It ricocheted off one of the roundels and clattered to the floor. She didn’t even register that the Doctor had already taken them back into the time vortex. He pulled her into his arms and Rose clung to him for dear life.

“I thought about killing him too.” The Doctor murmured into her hair, “I might have done if he actually hurt you.” Rose pulled back to look him in the eyes, gasping at the intensity she saw in them.

“You really would have.” She made it a statement instead of a question. The Doctor cupped her face, his thumbs gliding over her cheekbones.

“You have no idea how precious you are to me, Rose Tyler. I’m afraid that one day I am going to snap, all for the love of you. We made it today but…” He snapped his jaw shut and took in a shuddering breath, “I’m so hopelessly in love with you.”

“What about that whole ‘Curse of the Time Lords’ thing?” Rose asked.

“Just my way of saying that I can’t bear to lose you like I almost did today.” Rose’s breath caught as the Doctor brushed the tip of his nose against hers. “I just want to lock you up in here, and have you all to myself. But I’m afraid that would make me just like him.”

“There’s a difference, though: I want you too.” Rose closed the scant distance between them and kissed him softly. “You’re not going to lose me for a good long time, Doctor.” He opened his mouth, most likely to protest but the words died on his tongue the moment Rose nipped at it after she sealed her lips over his.

[somekindofgutterrat]

Hey kids are you ready for my monthly depression rant until I can afford a proper therapist? No? Great

So update from the last one, I ditched those cunts and now I have new friends so that’s all good BUT my mental health is back in the shitter

I’m pretty sure I mentioned last time I was off school for 2 months because my anxiety was crippling? Yeah guess what’s back. I haven’t gone to school in 2 weeks which I’m panicking bcus like what if I can’t get back in. It’s 2am and I should be asleep because I’m meant to go to school in the morning but like I’m having 800 mental breakdowns and panic attacks. I can’t do school tomorrow and my mum said it’s fine and so did my doctor but I still feel like I’m letting everyone down. And I know the sooner I go back to school the better. I stopped going to school again because my teachers assumed that because I’d been back for a while I was ok and my triggers were gone. No obviously not so I kept getting called on in class which caused panic attacks. So I went to office area thing to ask to go home because like walls closing in, felt like I was dying. They said no which if you read my last rant is the biggest trigger (being trapped) and I also had the flu so like I was ill and it was all shit. This happened a few more times but I didn’t let it phase me. Until my maths teacher got angry, he was yelling at the entire class, slamming desks and shit. Which isn’t necessarily bad for most people except that’s exactly what my abusive father did all my life up until mere 2 1/2 years ago. So uhh instant triggers and flashbacks. Almost had a panic attack but I held it in. Until I got home and had a massive mental breakdown YEET

And uhhhh that’s not even the biggest thing. My father obviously doesn’t live with me because ya know he was a piece of shit (but he’s getting better, he still trying to fix his homophobia and racism, I made him buy me Bianca tickets and that made him a lil uncomfortable but If he wants to get better he gotta deal with it). My siblings are all in their 20s so they’ve moved out, and are either married with jobs and houses or in uni. So that leave just me and my mum right? No. She has a really high paying and good job that she loved like 300 miles away and she’s been working there for like 17 years so she doesn’t want to quit obviously. So she travels there every Monday and back every Thursday. This used to be fine when I lived with my dad because he’d look after me. But when we stopped seeing him it still wasn’t a problem because my sister was still at school so she looked after me. But in September she went to uni leaving me. Just me. I’m 15 years old and I live alone. Now obviously that would be illegal so every night I sleep at my neighbours house making it legal because I have an adult with me over night. But shit when I tell you this gets lonely. I cry on the daily about this bull. Like I’ve never felt something as painful as this. My best friend dating the only person I ever liked and had liked for 4 years and he even liked me back and then having to go on holiday with them? It was nothing in comparison to how lonely I feel, day in day out. My mum could take a job here but it wouldn’t pay nearly as high and she doesn’t have a degree so she can’t get into a good job very easily. Meaning we’d have to rent an even smaller home (and this place it tiny) and I’d have to give up my pets but I couldn’t, they’re my world. We’d just about be able to eat. Which yes is much better than some people’s situations.

I just don’t know how long I can go on like this, my mum keeps saying the loneliness will get better but each week it just gets more and more painful. Ik I sound like a privileged little white girl but I gotta let this stuff out. I tried writing it on my notes just to get it out but it still felt pent up? So idk I just need to release it into the wilds of tumblr. Well done if you made it this far, have a sticker. Sorry for being super depressing YEET