#sickfick prompts

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

festive prompts

☆ seasonal prompts for creators and roleplay. ☆ contains whump, angst, dark themes. ☆ many of these are open to interpretation, so have fun with it!

Ivy - covered, smothered, engulfed

Star - sharp point(s)

Nice - rewarded

Coal - burns

Toys - unconventional weapons

Card - a threat or a promise

Holly - poison, venom, toxin

Icicle - pierced through

Angel - a sight for sore eyes

Tinsel - adorned

Sleigh - taken away

Cocoa - hot liquid

Wreath - something wrapped around neck

Garland - draped, dangled, hung up

Cookies - bitten, grabbed

Naughty - punished

Caroling - begging for mercy, calling for help

Stocking - bare feet

Egg Nog - drunk or drugged

Chimney - escape attempt

Mistletoe - a kiss, embrace, or kind word

Reindeer - pursued, hunted

Fruitcake - discarded, unwanted

Snowman - chilled to the bone

Ornament - hooked

Evergreen - kept alive

Snowflake - soften or melt

Ice Skates - a sharp edge

North Pole - far from home

Nutcracker - fractures, breaks, sprains

Poinsettias - illness, fever

Candlelight - fading fast

Peppermint - stomach ache or hunger

Jingle Bells - blow to the head, headache

Silent Night - left alone in the dark

Candy Cane - struck, hit, beaten

Gingerbread - dry, dehydrated

String of Lights - bound, tied up

Under the Tree - lost in the woods

Hallmark Movie - happy ending

Wrapping Paper - bandages or blankets

Merry and Bright - rest, relief, reprieve

Ribbons and Bows - unconventional restraints

Baby It’s Cold Outside - bad weather

Visions of Sugarplums - dizzy, dazed, delirious

Roasting on an Open Fire - stifling, sweltering, overheated

[fuunhyde]

FICTOBER 2023 DAY 26!

LEGO Monkie Kid, a short sickfick with Shadowpeach!

Prompt for today: "Honestly, why would I care?"

See ya tomorrow!

=)

[medusapelagia]

31 AU-gust: Two of 2022 prompts (Hanahaki Disease + Surfer)

[This is the last one!!! Thank you so much for staying with me during this experience and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did!]

Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove Characters: Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove, Eddie Munson WT: blood, sickfick, mutual pinning WC: 3804

"What would you like to do when all of this is over?" "Go back to California."

That's what Billy has murmured to Steve on the sticky floor of the Starcourt.

Many things have happened in the meantime.

The world has almost ended, again, someone has been badly hurt, again, they were almost killed, again, but at the end of the day, Steve is sitting on a chair between Billy and Eddie and Max is just a few rooms down.

It's past the visitors' hours and the nurses have tried to make him leave more than once but he hasn't and both the boys have become so distressed that in the end, they decided to let him stay for the night. And the next night. And the next one. Until Steve was absolutely sure that no one was going to die.

"Steve, you should go home." Eddie says while he is writing in the hospital notebook that Steve stole for him.

"Uh?"

"He is right. You have been here for days, Muson here is getting better every day, and Max is only waiting for her leg to heal and she will be home soon."

The only problem is that there is no home.

The trailer park was devastated, like half of the town, so they are keeping Max at the hospital as long as they can. Peak of being involved with Upside Down shit, five stars treatment at the hospital.

"No, I want to be here in case you need something." Steve states and then gets back to the crossword puzzle that he was doing.

"Steve. You stink. You need to take a shower and to sleep in a fucking bed." Billy replies in a stern voice.

He trembles.

"I... stink?"

"You do. You have been here for days without taking a shower or anything. Come on!"

Steve feels something scratching his throat.

"That's what you think of me?"

Billy grins "Don't make it personal! It's just the truth."

Eddie glares at Billy “I think that you should stop it, Billy, before saying something you will regret.”

“He stinks. Can’t you smell him?”

“He has stayed at your bedside for days, Hargrove. And he didn’t complain.”

“Yes, but…”

Steve lifts his hands “Ok, ok, don’t argue. I’ll go home and grab a shower, ok?” 

The tickle in his throat is becoming really annoying.

“Listen, Steve, Hargrove here didn’t mean it like that, you know how he is and…”

Steve starts to cough, and cough. He feels like something is trying to get out of his mouth, like in some horror movie.

He runs toward the bathroom, coughing even more.

He drinks some tap water and slowly the strange feeling starts to fade.

“Are you ok there, big boy?” Eddie calls.

Steve looks at his face in the mirror. He really looks horrible. Maybe going home for the night is not a bad idea. But what if someone takes them away when he is not here? Or if something happens? Or if another creature from that hellish dimension appears out of nowhere?

“Steve?” Billy’s voice drags him away from his thoughts.

“Sorry. Spit just went down the wrong pipe.” he replies, getting back to the room.

He is scared. He is fucking scared that something will happen if he is not there. But they are right. He can’t stay all his life in a hospital room. But at least here they are together.

“Are you scared?” Eddie asks, always too intuitive.

Steve denies it, but Billy grabs his arm and lets him sit on his bed “Your parents’ are still away?”

He nods, silently.

Billy’s hands close in a fist.

“But it’s fine. I’ll go home and I’ll come back tomorrow and…”

“No, no, no, you know what you are going to do? You are going to take a shower, grab some things, and come back here. I’m sure that Billy can convince a nurse to let you sleep here with us.”

“But I’m not sick.”

“You got bitten by interdimensional bats. Who knows what could happen to you!” Eddie replies with a dramatic gesture.

Steve smiles at the performance and then he feels Billy’s hand on his back “That’s better isn’t it?”

And the tickle in his throat comes back.

  ***

 Steve will never know how Billy and Eddie managed to convince the nurse to let him stay, but when he comes back there is a little cot in a corner of the room, and for the first time in days he doesn’t have to sleep on a chair. But that doesn’t mean that he gets a good night's sleep.

 "What would you like to do when all of this is over?" "Go back to California."

 “Steve. Steve!” someone is calling his name and shaking him.

He opens his eyes and Billy’s face is in front of him.

“Billy! Are you ok?” he asks, sitting on the bed and looking at him worriedly.

“Am I ok? You were screaming in your sleep!”

Oh. That.

“I do that sometimes. I’m sorry I disturbed your sleep.”

“That’s not what I meant!” he grumbles “Are you ok?”

Is any of them ok?

Of course not! 

He has nightmares and fears and he is terrified of losing sight of his friends.

He is not fucking ok.

“I’m good. Go back to sleep.”

Billy stares at him in the pale light of the street light for a long moment and then goes back to his bed.

He doesn’t limp anymore as he used to.

“Billy?” he calls.

“Uhm?”

"What would you like to do when all of this is over?"

Billy stares at him in silence and for a moment Steve thinks that maybe he remembers, that he is going to answer "Go back to California."

“Get out of this shitty hospital, find a job, and live my fucking life.”

Oh. Ok. That’s a good idea too.

“Good night Billy.”

“Night.”

Steve closes his eyes but he stays awake for a long time, fighting the horrible tickle in his throat.

  ***

Discharged.

The guys are going to be discharged and Eddie is already planning an entire trip.

“I need to find a fucking job Munson, and you too actually.” Billy complains.

“Naah, you don’t need a job when you have the government money!”

“It will not last forever, soon or later you’ll have to find a job.” Billy insists.

“I will when I need to. Why don’t let me tell you about the trip that I organized? I have found all the most bizarre tourist attractions between here and… California.”

Billy’s eyes shine for a moment at the word, then he becomes serious “I shouldn’t…”

“Come on! Live a little! It will be fun!”

“What about Max?”

“Your little sister will be just fine with the Sinclairs! So, what do you say?”

“Ok. I’d like to see the ocean.”

“What do you say, pretty boy? Let’s go to California?”

Steve turns abruptly toward him “Are you asking him to come?”

The tickles become stronger and stronger until he has to take a paper tissue and cough loudly.

“Are you ok Stevie?” Eddie asks.

Steve, who is giving them his back, sees some blood on the tissue.

That can not be a good sign.

“Fine. I’m fine. I had something stuck in the throat but now I feel so much better.”

It’s not a lie.

The boys look at him worriedly but then they keep talking about the little trip they are going on.

  ***

A petal.

In his fucking tissue there is a petal.

He should show it to Robin, she would probably tell him what kind of flower it is, but the truth is that he doesn’t care. All he wants to know is why he coughed a petal.

He makes some generic questions to his doctor during his check-up but the man knows nothing about coughing flowers.

He doesn’t want to travel with Billy and Eddie if this is contagious, but they already slept in the same room for weeks and no one of them seemed to be coughing flowers.

Maybe they are hiding it, just like him.

“Have you… have you ever coughed flowers?” he asks Eddie while he is filling up the car and Billy is in the bathroom.

“Coughed flowers? What does it mean?”

“Uh? Nothing is just… a line from a song. I thought you knew it.”

Eddie shakes his head “No, sorry, never heard of that. Is that famous or…”

Billy comes back, wrapping his arms around Steve and pulling him up.

“What were the two of you plotting?”

Steve feels the sensation he is too familiar with.

“Nothing. I just have to go to the bathroom.”

“I thought you didn’t need it.”

He frees himself from Billy’s grip “One sec.”

He runs toward the bathroom and starts to cough.

That’s not one petal, these are many, many red petals mixed with blood and spit.

Disgusting.

“Are you ok?”

Billy’s voice calls from the entrance and Steve coughs again, throwing up even more petals.

He keeps coughing petals, struggling for oxygen, and when he thinks he is going to blackout in the stupid stall, the cough finally stops and he breathes again.

“Steve?”

“I’m fine. But don’t pick me up again please.” he replies.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that your stomach was so sensitive.”

It isn’t.

But it’s better than the truth.

  ***

California.

Blue sea, white sand, ocean breeze.

Billy seems like another person while he swims like a dolphin between the waves.

Steve would like to swim too but he is too scared of the flower thing so he stays on the beach with Eddie, waving at him like a parent to his kid.

“You should talk to him.”

“Uh?”

“Billy. You should tell him what you feel.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Eddie studies him for a long moment and then he nods to himself “Maybe it’s too soon.”

Steve has no idea what he is talking about, so he turns his head and Billy is right in front of him, his skin is glistening and he is smiling so brightly that he gets almost blind when he looks at him.

“Are you having fun?”

“I am. Would you like to surf?”

“Surf? Me? I have never…”

“I can teach you! Come on. Put on your swim trunks and let's go!”

“What about Eddie?”

“I don’t think that Eddie is going to like the water. He is like a stray cat!”

“Fuck off Hargrove! And you go, Stevie. Don’t worry about me. Have fun for once.” Eddie replies with a wink.

Steve gets back to the van and puts on his swim trunks and when he comes back, Billy is waiting for him with a board in his hands and another in the sand.

“Come on. I’ll show you.”

Billy takes the board and surfs some little waves, showing off a little, but Steve smiles at him proudly. 

“Who is that freak?” someone asks at his side and Steve looks back at Billy.

His white t-shirt is wet and has become completely see-through, so all his horrible scars are showing.

“He is someone who survived certain death and is riding those fucking waves like a pro!” he rebukes them, and the two guys quickly move away.

“Have you seen me?” he asks, shaking his head like a wet dog.

“I did. You were amazing!”

“Would you like to try?”

He gets in the water.

“Go on, lie on the board, not too forward and not too far, almost in the middle, so you can jump on the board when you catch the wave.” he explains to him “We will start with some whitewater waves. They are the easiest to catch and the more forgiving.” 

Billy gets on his board, showing Steve how to move in the water “First of all start paddling, big long, cupped strokes. Don’t forget to kick your feet. And when you are ready…” he jumps on the board and surfs.

“Easy, right?”

Well, not at all! Steve is quite good at surfing on his belly, but when he tries to stand up he falls every single time.

“You should go. You will have more fun without me.”

Billy shakes his head “Come on. I know you can do it. Let’s try again.”

And they try again, and again, and again, and finally Steve manages to surf a little whitewater.

Eddie is cheering for him from the beach and Billy… Billy is behind him looking proudly at Steve and he loses his balance falling into the water while he starts to cough underwater.

He sees the red blood in the blue of the ocean and a few seconds later Billy is pulling him out from the water.

“Are you ok? I saw blood. Did you hurt yourself?”

But Steve can’t answer. He keeps coughing and coughing and finally, he spit a big red rose.

Eddie gets closer to him and looks at the flower with horror.

“It wasn’t a fucking song, right Harrington?”

Billy stares at the two of them confused, the bloody rose still in Steve's hands.

“What the fuck is happening?”

“Our Steve has been coughing flowers. For a while, I suppose, but he didn’t tell us.”

“Coughing flowers? What the hell does it mean? Is he sick?” Billy asks, holding Steve even tighter.

“I’m not sick. Or, if I am, it’s an unknown disease. I already spoke to a doctor.”

“Not the right kind of doctor.” Eddie replies, sharing a look with Billy.

  ***

California’s hospitals are no different from Hawkin’s. The only difference is that he is isolated and that Owens has done a lot of tests.

His left lung is completely obstructed, and the right one is not so good either.

“There are flowers that are growing into your lungs, Steve. And I don’t know how that is possible.”

“Maybe I breathe a seed or something…”

Owens stares at him behind his mask “I think that you breathed something. In the Upside Down. And now it is growing in your lungs.”

“So what are you going to do?”

Owens sighs, sitting on a chair next to him “My advice is surgery. We might have to remove the left lung but maybe we could save part of the right one.”

“And if it’s too compromised?”

“I think you know the answer.”

He does, but he is not ready to die at twenty-one.

“How long do you think…?”

“One month. Maybe two.”

“Oh.”

“Do you want me to call your parents, Steve?”

“No. They are in Europe. I… I’ll deal with it.”

The man puts a hand on his shoulder and leaves the room.

After a few minutes, he hears some noises in the corridor and he hears Eddie and Billy complaining that they want to see him.

His heart starts to beat faster. How can he tell them that he has only one month, maybe two?

He is still thinking when the door opens and the two of them get in the room.

“Are you ok Steve? What did he say?”

Steve doesn’t answer and starts to cry, and Billy hugs him tight.

“It’s going to be ok, Steve. We will find a solution. It’s going to be ok, I swear.”

“They gave me one month…” he tries to say while he keeps coughing, and coughing and coughing spitting another horribly beautiful flower.

“It’s you.” Eddie says from the other side of the room, pointing at Billy.

“What the fuck are you saying?”

“It’s you!” Eddie repeats, taking away Steve from Billy’s grip.

Steve's coughs subside and then stop.

“What the fuck does it mean?”

“I don’t know but he gets worse when he is near to you.”

Billy lowers his head “I’m sorry. I don’t know how this works… but if you will feel better far from me so be it. I will never see you again and…”

But Steve knows that he has only one month to live and he doesn’t want to waste it being separated.

“No!” he yells “If I only have a month I want to spend it with you. I love you Billy, and I don’t care that you don’t love me back but please, please, don’t leave me alone now.” he cries, still in Eddie’s arms.

Billy kneels in front of him “I love you too and I feel so stupid now. We could have had all the time in the world and now… now…”

Steve doesn’t want to waste any more time so he kisses him and Billy doesn’t seem to care that he still has spit and blood on his mouth.

Billy soon gets control of the kiss, kissing him deeply, almost aggressively, trying to devour him, and Steve lets him take what he wants until he feels the familiar sensation that grows into his throat.

He starts to cough, but the thing is stuck inside him. He keeps coughing and coughing and he feels the flower in his mouth but it doesn’t get out.

Eddie holds his head gently, while Billy grabs the fucking flower and starts to pull it.

It burns, it hurts, all Steve can feel is pain, and before loses consciousness he sees what looks like bloody roots.

  ***

The floor it’s sticky from the monster’s body that melted on the ground.

Billy’s eyes are blurry while Steve holds him.

“Help him! Help him!” Max is screaming in his ear. No emergency kit could stop the blood that is coming out from Billy’s body, but he keeps pushing on the wound, trying his best to keep him from bleeding out on the fucking floor.

“Hey, hey, it will be ok. Help it’s on the way. You just have to wait for a little longer, ok?”

The blond boy spits some blood on Steve’s uniform but he doesn’t flinch.

“Hold on, ok? Hold on. Just for a moment longer.”

Robin is rambling with someone, maybe a doctor but Steve can’t move his sight from Billy’s eyes. He has to keep him here with him.

“Hey, now that you have graduated you can do whatever you want, right?” he tells him, trying very hard to keep his tone calm.

"What would you like to do when all of this is over?" he asks him with a smile.

"Go back to California." Billy whispers, and then he takes a big breath and his eyes close.

“Billy? Billy?”

Max is screaming, trying to shake him but Steve will not have anyone close to him.

“Put pressure on the wound!” he orders and Lucas and Dustin obey immediately while Steve starts to perform CPR.

“We are going to California. Do you hear me, fucking moron?” he yells, while pushing hard on his chest, hearing the ribs fracture “We are going to fucking California and you are going to teach me how to surf. And we will drink on the beach, looking at the stupid sunset! DO YOU FUCKING HEAR ME?” he keeps pushing, and then breathing two times into Billy’s mouth.

It’s the closest thing to a kiss that they ever shared.

“Please, move, we have to…”

But Steve is not listening, he loves that fucking heart and even if he doesn’t love him back he is not going to let him rest.

He keeps pushing, and breathing, until he sees Billy’s chest moving.

“Good job!” one of the paramedics says to him, and then he drags him away while the other starts to work on Billy.

“Are you injured? I suspect you have a concussion and…”

“Billy!” he says, pointing at the boy.

“He is in good hands.”

“Robin!” he looks around and the girl is nowhere to be seen “Robin!” he calls again.

“I’m here. I’m here. I’m ok. Let her have a look at you, ok dingus?”

Steve nods.

The only thing in his mind is California.

"What would you like to do when all of this is over?" "Go back to California."

  ***

When he comes back to his senses, the first thing that he hears is a steady beat from somewhere to his right.

He tries to move and he feels someone holding his hand.

“Steve? Are you awake?”

He opens his eyes, his vision is blurred but there is no mistaking those blue eyes.

“Billy?” he asks, his voice is rough.

“That’s me, pretty boy. How do you feel?” he asks, helping him sit and then he gets him some ice chips.

Steve stays still for a moment, waiting for the familiar pain, but when he feels nothing at all he opens his mouth and lets Billy feed him a couple of ice chips.

They are delicious.

“Slowly.” Billy scolds him with a warm smile while he feeds him another chip.

If there is something more taster than ice chips, Steve has never tasted it.

“How do you feel?” Billy asks again, brushing some hair away from his face,

“Good?”

“Is that a question, pretty boy?” Billy says amused, then he gets serious “You gave us quite a scare, Stevie.” he scolds him, holding his hand “I really thought you were going to die in my arms.” 

Steve knows exactly how that feels.

“Sorry.”

“No need to be sorry, but I want you to promise me that if you don’t feel well or something strange happens to you, you will tell me. Immediately.”

Steve nods and when he turns he sees that on his nightstand there are a couple of beautiful flowers with roots.

“Are they…?”

Billy nods “I ripped one from your throat and Owens and his doctors were able to rip the others. You had a seven-hour-long surgery, but there are no more roots or flowers in your lungs.”

“Did they… Did they remove my lung?” he asks, trying to look at his chest, but Billy takes his chin between his fingers looking him in the eyes. 

“No. They just took away those damned flowers.” Billy looks at the flowers for a moment “I wanted to throw them away but Munson insisted that they were beautiful so…”

“They are, actually.”

Billy looks at them with hatred “They would be if they wouldn't have almost killed you!”

“I would like to plant them.”

“Really?”

Steve nods, looking at the flowers. “They are beautiful. And they are the reason we finally found love so… why not?”

Billy smiles at him “When you put it like that…”

“How is our flower boy?” Eddie asks, entering the room.

“Fuck off Munson!” Billy admonishes him.

“Oh, so you are not grateful to me? I’m the one that cracked the case!”

Eddie is always so melodramatic.

Steve laughs and then starts to cough and both Eddie and Billy freeze, waiting for some flowers.

“Sorry. Spit just went down the wrong pipe.” and when they see that there are no flowers they all breathe a sigh of relief.

[tiisshu]

sneezy and cold Jaskier with outwardly annoyed and inwardly concerned Geralt?

“What is the matter with you?”, Came Geralt’s gruff and annoyed question resounated in their small confined space. 

They had been pushing on passed dusk when the sky had opened up and proceeded to dump what felt like a seasons worth of rain on them. Luckily Geralt had located a small cave where he had quickly set a fire and began to settle to weather the storm.

Jaskier sat on the other side of the fire with his arms wrapped firmly around himself as he shook violently against the chill that threatened to sink deep into his bones. 

He sniffled and felt a drop of rain drip down his face to pool at the tip of his nose before sliding down his septum. He hitched wildly before succumbing to the fit with a soft groan. 

Hhh! Hih’isshiew! Hhng!Shiew! …Hh-! Heh’Esssh! Isssshuh! Ughh!

He felt his face burn with embarassment, knowing that the witcher must be regarding him with disgust and trying to figure out the best way to unload the ill bard at the nearest opportunity. 

What he wasn’t expecting was for Geralt to suddenly appear at his side, knelt down with concern flickering in those burnished golds. 

“Are you feeling alright?”. he asked, his voice so much unlike how it was previously that Jaskier wondered briefly if he might be dying. 

“Y..yeah, just… c…cold”, he said with a sniffle,positioning himself slightly closer to the fire. 

A few moments passed in silence while Geralt regarded him with an unreadable expression. After only a moment Jaskier had to look away, keeping that gaze had made him feel… naked somehow. 

He sniffled again, a small cough followed that seemed to boot Geralt’s brain back into gear. The Witcher stood and crossed to their packs to begin unloading their bedding. 

Jaskier watched before he felt the rise of a tickle again and he turned, raising his arm to bury his twitching wet nose in the crook before…

Hh-! Hih’IIISSSSSHIEW! Hnng’GSXXT! ugh… ow…

As he blinked back tears brought forth from the itchy after match of that last stifle he felt the warmth of their combined blankets being wrapped around him. 

He looked up as Geralt took the seat next to him, digging in his alchemy pack. 

“We’ll get you fixed up, any other symptoms?”, the Witcher asked clinically, though the undercurrent of worry was evident in the sideways glances he was giving the bard. 

Jaskier smiled softly, sniffling and trying his best to ease his friend’s worry. 

“I’ll be alright once I’ve warmed up, promise!”.

Geralt looked dubious but cleared his throat awkwardly as he wrapped around Jaskier and pulled him into his own warmth. 

“We’ll see, Bardling”.

[allthewhumpygoodness]

Really in love with the idea of a whumpee being sick with something like measles, where if you get it once you can’t get it again, and nobody in the group has had it before so they all have to stay away for fear of being infected - except for one person who has had it before, and they end up taking care of them

[uweiy]

Original Content Masterpost

because even I can’t find my own damn content on this damned website.

*All fics mentioned are directly on Tumblr unless specified otherwise

The Untamed

Gifsets: Wwx and rooftops /Wangxian and jc being done part 1, part2, part3 / Yiling laozu /At Nevernight I wasn't by your side / I broke my promise /Bunny lanterns 🐇 / Lwj understanding the golden core thing

Fanart: Wwx flower boy mini comic / The red undergarnment / Song Lan / It snows / Yanqing and books

Memes: Is this... 🫱🦋🐦?/ Stabbing yourself in the heart /Picture u can hear /Y'all deserved better / Alignment chart / Tag urself (the untamed characters as people in my classroom ft. Stickmen) / The Untamed character generator

A lot of Textposts-y memes:

Wwx introducing himself and lwj / wwx translating lwj microexpressions / he'd marry you if you asked brother / wwx chugging a whole jar of ??? / Wwx no / there is no cure / Jiang fengmian loves his sons equally / lqr at wangxian wedding / wangji this is not allowed / I'm cold / get the hoe / I wasn't drunk / wen Ning is precious / shut UP / good morning :D

The juniors shenanigans: Jin Ling adulting / *sneaking out*/da headbands very precious yes / fairy climbs a tree

Fics

Xicheng Trying to hold on to you (1.6k, hurt/comfort), you confused me with a fucking dog (1.6k, College AU), They were roommates (10k, college AU)

Wangxian: Night of shooting stars (1.3k,Star!Lwj), Those who bleed (600 words, angst)

Other: Dangling Accessories (1.9k JC&Jin ling, Wandering Heart (Yanqing, 1.5k) Mianmian's Education course (Jc &wq, 800words) Alive (wwx-centric, drabble), Ouyang Zizhen at yi-city (<1k)

More detailed Cql-fic masterpost (with summaries) INCOMPLETE. Or read them in the AO3 collection (username Namariae).

Talks and other stuff

Yanqing 😍

The Untamed rewatch

2019 top 10 favourite posts / 2019 top 10 most popular posts

Cql OST / Beyond Control (LXC Character song)

Ask game

Cultivator conferences = disaster

Mriad

Posts: Chuyao being gay / Chuyao still being gay / list of things Lu Yao stole from Chusheng / Seriously so gay / go make me coffee

Fics: Empty space(filled with flowers) / All that glitters (ao3)

The Devil Judge

Beyond Evil vs The Devil Judge

Textposts: Get the fuck outta my house / Noo don't check me out ahaha / the Gaon Judas imagery

Gifs: *homoerotically pushes you against wall*I heard you live alone / the Kang Mansion / undresses you to tend to ur wounds

Fic: Rightful Place part 1 (Gahan)/ Rightful Place Masterpost

Love is Science

What the fuck is Love is Science?

Gifs: Ouwen's oh shit moments / Mark panicking bc gay / Shen Ying imitating a Sloth / that kiss in the gym / Ouwen pretty ✨ / Lee Mark's outfits are bisexualcore / love is in the little things

Memes/Other: Savage Ouwen / u're reasonable but ur friends are dumbasses /

Fic: The Mark/Ouwen sickfick no one asked for (domestic)

Recommendation lists

Top 5 BL shows I like

I have nothing to watch (yes u do)

Other:

Pile of Goop Aoki (Kieta Hatsukoi) / Rainless love in a Godless land / To my Star cooking (To my Star) / The 6 stages of Tumblr / Hanahaki disease prompts(?)

>📺(more or less) Current Watchlist

___

Other interests

Lotr

Viggo Mortensen has chaotic neutral energy

Continued list of things Viggo did

I've only had Frodo for a Day and a half

What do we do When we are sad

Aragorn you go king

(Discussion)Why does Gandalf love hobbits so much?

The Clearest diamonds (Bagginshield, AO3)

Stranger Things / The Sandman

over at @grabyourpillow

[warmblanketwhump]

Hello! May I ask for 💙+🥶 from the winter sickfick prompts, please? 😊

Absolutely! this one’s dedicated to all my fellow people who can’t ever get warm in the winter 💛

💙 cold / flu symptoms | 🥶 chills / shivers

B sniffles and curls up next to the rattling radiator, shoulders hunched and arms wrapped tightly around their knees. On top of feeling like they’re coming down with something, it’s been one of those blustery winter days where they just couldn’t get warm enough.

Earlier in the afternoon, a snowy cold front had moved in and they’d come home from work feeling chilled and achy. They were desperately hoping for a long, hot shower to warm up, but A announced that the water heater had broken that afternoon. So instead, they’d shivered through a three-minute lukewarm drizzle, hurried to dress in their warmest pajamas, and rushed back to glue themselves to the radiator while A watched TV.

“When will the water be fixed?” B’s trying not to sound too desperate, but it’s hard not to sound pitiful when your teeth are chattering. Their hands are still stiff from the cold shower, and they squeeze them once, twice to try and get the blood flowing again before they tuck them under their arms.

“They said it might be working by tomorrow or the day after at the latest.” A gets up from the couch and drapes a blanket around themselves, returning in a few minutes with two mugs of tea, one of which they press into B’s stiff fingers.

B presses the mug to their chest and murmurs their thanks, trying to absorb all the heat that they can, trying not to let the news dishearten them. But they’re cold. A hot shower was the only way they knew how to unthaw their limbs, lest they be frozen solid until April every year. “It’s freezing in here. Can’t we do anything?” B complains as they rub their arms.

“The heat doesn’t go any higher than this. Thanks to the cold front, this is the warmest it gets til next week.” A tosses a blanket B’s way, who eagerly snatches it up and huddles into the of soft fabric. “Guess we’ve just got to bundle up and get through it the best we can.”

After an hour, B’s still frozen. It’s only the early evening, but their bed is the last possible option to help them get warmed up - plus, they’ve been exhausted all day. So they say a premature goodnight to A, pile on every blanket they can find, and crawl under the covers. As they curl into a ball, they’re praying that the bed will be enough.

But despite the three extra blankets, they shiver with chills for half the night, tossing and turning for hours in a desperate bid to get comfortable. They wake in the morning with a headache, sore throat and joints that burn with the slightest movement. Just a cold, they tell themselves as they cough roughly. Just a cold. They push themselves up with a groan, their congested head aching with the change in pressure.

The minute they leave the warmth of the covers, they feel the unwelcome chill of the apartment dance across their skin and curl around their core. B can’t bear thought of changing their clothes in this drafty room, so they pull a thick knit sweater over their pajamas, grab a blanket from their bed, and shuffle to the kitchen, hoping A won’t notice their extra layers.

A doesn’t comment, but their eyes don’t leave B as they nibble away at the plain toast on their plate, shoulders hunched and drawn up to their ears, fist tightly gripping the blanket around their shoulders as they cough roughly into their elbow. They grip the tea to their chest like it’s a lifeline, the only true heat they’ve felt in hours.

“You okay? You look…kinda rough.”

“Didn’t sleep well last night,” B says, just as a shudder ripples through them. They don’t mention the aching bones, the burning feeling in their chest, or the fact that the brief walk from the bedroom left them winded. They try to focus on A as they chat about the impact of the winter storm and all the roads it shut down, how their works would both be closed for the next few days, but their vision swims with color and they can barely track more than a sentence at a time.

After breakfast, they take their temperature and find that they’re hovering barely over 100 degrees. Even with the chills and aches, they're sure it's just a simple cold - nothing worth worrying A about - but the low-grade fever still makes them shivery and miserable.

But barely sick with a cold doesn’t warrant a whole sick day. Heck, they’d even worked straight through the flu one time, and they’d been fine. Besides - they’re always freezing in the winter. What does it matter if it’s from the cold air or the fever? So even as the bitter outdoor wind blows through the cracks and seeps into their bones, they resolve to carry on with their day and get some things checked off their list. No use wasting a perfectly good snow day.

They try to spend the morning doing odd tasks around the apartment - folding laundry, tidying up, that sort of thing. B thought moving around would warm them up, but it only serves to sap what little body heat they had and turns their hands and feet to blocks of ice. Their stiff joints ache with every movement, and they walk around hunched over and shuffling like they aged 50 years in one night. Worse, their vision is beginning to swirl again, and the tickle in their chest is turning into a rattling cough.

By mid-morning, they’re wrapped back up in a blanket on the floor in front of the clanking radiator, a knit hat pulled over their tousled hair, an extra pair of socks on their feet. They’ve even got fingerless gloves on their hands as a last ditch effort to thaw them out - but they’re still chilled. After a cold, sleepless night, they’re desperate to crawl back into bed and get some warmth back in their bones, but then B would notice something was wrong, and they don’t want to make a fuss-

“B, you’ve been huddled in front of the heater all morning. You sure you’re okay?”

Caught.

B nods, unable to trust their chattering teeth to allow them to speak properly. Just a few more hours, and I can get warm. Just a few more hours. But before they can think of continuing the charade, a full-body shudder betrays them and they burrow deep into the blankets, casting a guilty look up at A.

Pity instantly floods A’s face. “Love, you’re shaking….you’re really not feeling good, are you?” A’s voice trails off as they kneel at B’s side, placing their hands around B’s. “B, your hands are like ice.” Instantly B feels a hand cupping their clammy, feverish forehead, then resting there for a moment before wrapping back around their cold hands. “And you’ve got a fever.”

“Just a little one. Barely over 100,” they protest softly, stifling their weak cough.

The realization floods A’s face, and B knows in an instant they’ve made a mistake. “So you’ve had the chills all morning? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It’s just a cold,” they whisper. “I’ll be fine.”

“B, you can be sick with ‘just a cold.’ Honest.” A’s eyes are earnest as they lift B’s chin so their eyes meet. “You’re freezing, and that’s reason enough not to push yourself.”

B shakes their head and lowers their eyes. “It’s not a big deal. I didn’t want to worry you.”

“B, listen to me.” A’s bracing B’s shoulders with both their hands. “You’re not feeling good. That’s a big deal to me. If I’m making a fuss over you, it’s because I want to, okay?”

With that, B nods and lets their forehead fall against A’s chest, a floodgate of exhausted sobs bursting forth as they cling to A, crying from lack of sleep, from the cold, from just feeling so weak…

“Shhhhh. I know. I know it’s cold.” A wraps themselves around B and pulls them into a hug, rubbing big circles on their back until their sobs slow, cradling them in their lap like they’re a little kid. B could stay like that for hours, but A pulls away and guides them to the couch before wrapping another blanket around them and heading to the kitchen. “Just a minute,” they call over their shoulder, “I’ve got an idea.”

In a minute, B hears the whistle of a teakettle and they groan - the warmth is nice, but they’ve drank so much tea in the last 24 hours that don’t think they can stomach another cup. Which is why it’s a shock when, a few minutes later, A brings out a bucket full of water with steam wisping from the top.

“If your feet are warm, the rest of you will feel warm. Not quite a shower, but it might help.” They kneel next to B’s bundled body and wrangle the socks off their feet before easing their toes into the tub, and B could cry at how blissfully warm it feels.

“You warm up here - let me take care of a few things.” A darts away before B can ask any questions, so they just huddle in their blankets, let their eyes fall shut and bask in the long-craved feeling of heat. They’re awakened a while later to the feeling of A drying their feet and slipping wool socks over their toes, then gently hoisting them up to carry them to bed. As they enter the bedroom, B notices that their sheets are no longer a rumpled mess - did A change their sheets?

They get their answer as their blanketed body is slipped under the covers - not only did A change the sheets, but they must’ve stuck their blankets in the dryer beforehand, because they’re all fluffy and and warm. Their chilled body is flooded with indescribable warmth, and for the first time in hours, they’ve stopped shaking so hard.

“A, you didn’t have to….”

“Of course I did. Snow days are meant to be spent curled up in a warm bed.” A spreads an extra blanket over B and squeezes their shoulder, then lets their hand slide back up to B’s forehead. “Besides, it’s no good if you get cold when you’re trying to fight something off.”

B doesn’t have the strength to argue with that. They curl deeper into the blankets, feeling sleep tugging at the edge of their vision. “Stay with me?” They sneak a hand out from under the blankets and tug weakly at A’s sleeve.

A smiles and laces their fingers with B, rubbing a circle on the back of their hand with their thumb. “I think I could be persuaded.” A slips under the mountain of blankets and pulls B’s head onto their chest, propping them up so they can breathe easier. “Warmer?”

“Mhmm.” And that’s all they get before B slips back into warm, blissful sleep.

[siren-of-agony]

Okey, actual introduction post time!

I'm Lea, 29.

I'm never able to actually make short posts, so i'll put most of this under a read more, but here's the summary: I like most tropes so I can't promise that anything will not appear here, but I will tag original posts. I LOVE making playlists did quite a few whump playlists already! I'm also slowly trying to upload some of my writing!

My two Masterposts so far: Duochromatic - (The Taste of Fear)

I have been lurking in the tag ever since I first found it, and have also daydreamed about what I now know are whump scenarios my whole life.

I'm honestly not super picky and like most stuff, so trying to pick my fave tropes feels not rly possible :D like the uquiz by @royalwhumpness told me, I like 'general hurt/no comfort' (i do like comfort, but only when it shows the hardships of actually healing from trauma)

I do however, apart from tropes, love:

Memes, this will not stay serious

Women. I'm a big lesbian, and I just love women in all roles and all narratives, as long as it isn't misogynistic. Also, I'll tag everything w lady whump.

Making playlists! I love music, and I love to use them to daydream, so I make tons of playlists!

I don't really have any absolute nope-tropes, but there's some stuff I'm not a big fan of, so you won't see a lot of this here:

Sickfick/Medical whump etc (if there's anything medical, it will probably be me repackaging my rants about my own body as whump recs :D)

Pet stuff (if, then only the "after" part, since I'm just a bit fan of healing from trauma of ALL kinds)

legal slavery or anything too "society" based, I like it more... personal

non-humanoid creatures getting whumped. If it feels closer to an animal than a human it's just not my deal

People dying (like fine if they're side-characters, fine if it's faked death, fine if it's close to death, just no main character death-death)

Here's a more comprehensive list:

(whump tier list made by @snuffhimout and @coldresolve, click to make it readable)

Also extra shout out to @for-the-love-of-angst and @dont-touch-my-soup for just being wonderful and being my friend even if I just disppear of the face of the earth regularly

Also, some of the blogs which writings and prompts finally convinced me to make this blog so I can finally reblog and comment and like your stuff were @painsandconfusion @hurt-the-innocent-ones @quickhatchwhump @its-getting-worse @trope-appreciation-tuesdays @whumpwillow @patheticlittleguy and honestly, quite a few more, so thank you for that!

I will always tag my original posts with everything I think I should, if I forget sth, pls let me know! I will TRY to tag reblogs but uhhh I'm super forgetful, so be warned.

My pinned post has all the important links!

[steverogershasmyheart1]

Hi guys, I am on holidays now and since I have a lot of free time on my hands now I wanted to write some fics by prompts and requests. If you’re into marvel and like some of these things please send me anything you would like to see written. <3

topics i like/would write about

-peter parker whump, fluff, sickficks

-iron dad and spider-son: fluff, whump, basically anything 😋

-peter dealing with aftermath of nwh events

-superfamily (steve x tony w/ peter son / pepper, tony, peter & morgan)

-bisexual/gay peter (i ship peter & mj and also harley & peter)

- i can write smut but would have to be aged up of course ( strictly NOT peter and tony or any other gross ships)

basically i’ll write anything peter parker related, iron dad and spider son related and am happy to explore any other things y’all might suggest.

my a03 is steverogershasmyheart btw :)

[katierosefun]

I'm in love with ur fics ESPECIALLY sickficks!!

what about "shh, shh. I promise I'll stay here" for cw Obi-Wan and Anakin? (bonus: forehead or temple kisses pleeeaase??) 🥺❤️

aaah, thank you for the kind words, anon!! // from these prompts 

lowkey like...part 1 of this prompt 

Anakin looked up when the door opened.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked, putting down the datapad. “Everything okay?”

Obi-Wan just clung to the doorway. He stayed there for a moment, and Anakin was beginning to wonder if maybe his former master was just…sleepwalking when suddenly, Obi-Wan rushed for the refresher.

Anakin blinked. He hadn’t expected that, but then he heard knees hitting the ground, followed by heaving and retching sounds that echoed past the refresher door.

Anakin hurried over to the refresher and found Obi-Wan shaking, his hands just barely gripping the edge of the toilet bowl.

“Get out,” Obi-Wan said, his voice ragged. “Anakin—”

The rest was lost as Obi-Wan heaved over the toilet again.

Anakin smelled the vomit a moment later. He knelt down next to Obi-Wan and patted his back. Obi-Wan coughed a few times, his grip on the toilet slackening. Anakin just waited through it all, alternating between rubbing Obi-Wan’s back and keeping him from giving out.

While Anakin did that all, he couldn’t help but notice how much narrower his former master’s frame was. How much more easily he seemed to sink under Anakin’s hand. Anakin closed his eyes, thinking about the state he had found Obi-Wan back…before. The cuts and bruises on his face, then his neck…

Obi-Wan groaned, lifting his head.

“Feeling better?” Anakin asked. He lifted the handle, flushed.

Obi-Wan fell back on his haunches. Even though Anakin knew it wasn’t possible, Obi-Wan looked even slighter than he had a moment ago. His chest rose and fell unevenly, and when Anakin drew him away from the toilet, Obi-Wan flinched.

“Didn’t…” Obi-Wan swallowed, winced. “Mean to—”

“Like you had any control over that,” Anakin said. He lifted his hand to Obi-Wan’s forehead. Obi-Wan closed his eyes briefly. “You’re burning up.”

Obi-Wan drew back. “I’ll be….”

Anakin waited for the next word—fine, but it never came.

Anakin just looked at Obi-Wan. “I’m getting you water,” he said.

With that, he stood up. He walked out of the refresher, headed into the kitchenette. He found a glass, filled it with cold water. When he returned to the refresher, Obi-Wan was leaning against the wall, his eyes closed.

He looked exhausted.

Anakin sat down next to Obi-Wan and passed the water.

Obi-Wan’s hands shook. Anakin guided Obi-Wan’s hands instead, and when he finished drinking, Obi-Wan coughed again.

“Do you need—” Anakin started, but Obi-Wan shook his head.

“Not going to vomit,” Obi-Wan murmured. “Just…”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t seem to want to finish his sentences at all, Anakin noticed.

“Okay,” Anakin said, setting the glass on the floor. “We’ll see about that fever then…”

“You shouldn’t—” Obi-Wan’s head lolled towards Anakin. “Go—you’re…tired too.”

“And leave you here?” Anakin asked. He looked away. “I’m not doing that again.”

“Anakin…you didn’t leave.”

“I did,” Anakin said to the floor. ‘Or…I let them take over.” He looked at Obi-Wan. “Don’t argue with me on this one. Point is…” He nodded to Obi-Wan. “I’m staying here. So don’t try to talk me out of it.”

Truthfully, Anakin thought that Obi-Wan would argue with him more.

Obi-Wan just closed his eyes. His head sank to Anakin’s shoulder, and Anakin paused.

Did he just…Anakin looked down at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan was sleeping.

Anakin sighed. He turned back around. He would wake Obi-Wan eventually and actually do something about the fever—maybe force him to take a bath, which he could probably use after…everything.

Anakin looked back down at Obi-Wan. He leaned over, kissed him once on the forehead. Obi-Wan didn’t stir.

“I promise I’ll stay here,” Anakin said quietly. “You can count on that, Master.”

[whumptober]

Hey! Up to you guys if you want to publish this or not, but for the anon that found this year's prompts a little too Intense, I thought I'd suggest Comfortember. It's a similar idea, but for November, and the focus is more on hurt/comfort (with plenty of room for sickfick, etc.). Again, totally up to you if you want to publish this! I think it's really cool what you guys are doing here, and I get that advertising another event might not be your thing. But I thought I'd mention it. <3

That sounds like a fantastic event and we are more than happy to publish this so everyone can hear about it!  Good luck to you and everyone participating!

[luvvewan]

Obi-Wan & Qui-Gon H/C “Fever” Prompt Excerpt

He’s not sure how sick Obi-Wan has become; Qui-Gon first noticed the dull gleam in his eyes on the transport to Spethe. Jedi typically neutralized illnesses quickly. Obi-Wan had not paused from his preparations for this mission, and Qui-Gon would not have permitted the lapse.

Sometimes, their life is harsh.

Perhaps most of the time, the Jedi Master muses. At one point, Obi-Wan kneeled in an alleyway and vomited, and Qui-Gon wondered if he needed to leave him behind. But with a dangerous, unpredictable convict, Qui-Gon couldn’t risk losing his backup. Worse, if they could sense Klar, it meant Klar could sense them, and he would not abandon Obi-Wan to be found by a ruthless executioner.

Obi-Wan had straightened, wiped his mouth and looked at his Master. A wordless confirmation, and they began their pursuit anew.

Qui-Gon watches Obi-Wan pull at the unfamiliar collar of his civilian clothes. Their weapons are concealed, and Obi-Wan’s braid is coiled up and pinned tight against his ear. His skin is flushed. It is getting dark. Klar is likely getting tired, he wages.

Obi-Wan needs to sleep, but they cannot. Night is their chance to close the gap. They’ve been lucky so far, in that no additional victims have been claimed.

Yet, the Master reminds himself. He cannot risk innocent lives for the sake of his apprentice’s comfort.

But eventually they must pause, when the sky darkens, outside a ramshackle neighborhood. Their personal resources are not limitless. Qui-Gon’s joints burn along with his throat, and he drinks deeply from a water skin after handing another to Obi-Wan.

He notices Obi-Wan drinks much more slowly, and then coughs into the crook of his arm.

—from tender sickfick fever prompt, suggested by @itsglumblebee

[granada-brett-crumbs]

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

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

1K - 9K WORDS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

10K - 30K WORDS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

40K+ WORDS

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

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

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

[katierosefun]

I'll never get enough of ur sickficks 😭❤️

"dreamer" for obi & ani?

I'm still weak for forehead/temple kisses so maybe u don't mind adding some? only if u r comfortable with that!!

of course, anon!! thank you for the prompt!! // from these prompts

dreamer: anakin talks in his sleep.

Obi-Wan thought that Anakin had finally settled in sleep, but now he woke to twisting, thrashing sheets.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan murmured, lifting his head.

He found Anakin quickly—his eyes still closed, his lips moving in just barely restrained whimpers. Under the dim light drifting from outside, Obi-Wan could make out the beads of sweat collecting on Anakin’s forehead. The fists clutching the sheets. “Don’t—please, can’t—can’t lose them—”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan repeated. He sat on the bed, shook Anakin’s shoulder. “It’s only a dream—only a dream—”

Anakin let out a short gasp, his eyes opening. For a moment, neither Obi-Wan nor Anakin did or said anything: Anakin’s chest just rose and fell, rose and fell in short, frantic bursts.

Obi-Wan reached for Anakin’s wrist, found the pulse thrumming there—too fast. Eyes too bright, his whole body too warm.

“Here,” Obi-Wan said quietly. He pushed back Anakin’s hair, counting out the seconds between each inhale, exhale.

“’wan—” Anakin’s brow furrowed. He lifted his eyes up to Obi-Wan’s face. “I—”

“Sh,” Obi-Wan murmured. “Sh—it was only a dream.”

Anakin let out a small sound, his eyes fluttering back closed. Obi-Wan squeezed Anakin’s wrist and leaned back against the bed, still listening to Anakin’s breathing, even after they finally evened out.

And when they did even out, Obi-Wan looked back down at Anakin. His former apprentice’s eyes were squeezed shut, his face still set. But the breathing had eased, and Obi-Wan was willing to take that first.

Obi-Wan let out a short breath. He started to let go of Anakin’s wrist, but Anakin let out a small sound, his head jerking towards Obi-Wan.

“I’m still here,” Obi-Wan murmured. He leaned over, planted a quick kiss on top of Anakin’s sweaty hair.

Anakin, eyes still closed, at least seemed to register that. He relaxed, head still turned towards Obi-Wan—but at least there.

Obi-Wan held Anakin’s wrist through the night.