#I too was knee deep in the Sherlock fandom | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

girl-next-door-writes · 1 year

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I posted 1,174 times in 2022

274 posts created (23%)

900 posts reblogged (77%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@girl-next-door-writes

@howaboutlunch

@lavenderandvanilla

@vintagevalentinex

@sam-winchester-admiration-league

I tagged 881 of my posts in 2022

Only 25% of my posts had no tags

#join the queue sweetie - 204 posts

#ems character celebration day - 118 posts

#em rambles from the dojo - 90 posts

#ems character celebration - 85 posts

#mycroft holmes - 83 posts

#armitage hux - 64 posts

#dean winchester - 57 posts

#clint barton - 53 posts

#bucky barnes - 53 posts

#dean day - 48 posts

Longest Tag: 110 characters

#except mycroft fandom where i’m that blog that randomly puts stuff out then you don’t hear from me for a while

My Top Posts in 2022:

okay, so this is a little basic but maybe the reader got hurt and spencer is now waiting in the hospital while the reader in surgery

thank you for hearing me out! :)

It had been hours. Hours of waiting and pacing and minimal information. The whole team was anxiously waiting for any news of how you were doing, but since you had entered the operating theatre they had heard nothing.

"This is not your fault." JJ sat opposite Spencer as he tried his best to hold it together. If he hadn't been trying to impress you then he would have read the situation differently. If he had just stopped talking for a moment, had realised that his words were infuriating the unsub rather than calming him, then you wouldn't have done what you did. You had seen the gun raise, had pushed him out of the way, had taken the bullet meant for him.

"Then whose fault is it?" He huffed, trying his best to blink back the tears threatening to fall.

"Spence, this is not your fault, and you know every member of the team would agree with me. All of them." JJ said pointedly, reaching over and placing a hand on his knee.

"What if- what if she doesn't make it? What if I never get the chance to tell her I..." his bottom lip trembled and he stifled a sob.

The truth was, the socially awkward genius had been completely smitten from the moment he met you. A feeling that had only grown the more he got to know you, until he could only conclude that he was actually, completely in love. That was why he had wanted to impress you, had tried to prove himself good enough, why he had placed you in danger.

"You will get to tell her, Spence. I'm betting that, right now, she is in there fighting for the chance to tell you something too. Don't give up on her just yet." JJ gave him a small smile, fully aware of your own devotion to this adorable man in front of her.

A doctor appeared, causing Spencer to practically leap to his feet, his eyes studying the man for any hint of the news he was bringing.

"There were some complications..." Spencer's heart dropped and he had to fight to actually hear the rest of the doctor's sentence, "...but she has pulled through the worst of it. She is weak and resting, but we are confident that she will make a full recovery."

"Can I see her?" The words escaped him before he could stop them.

"Perhaps Hotch should..." Rossi began.

"No. No, I think Spence should be the one in there. I am sure she would rather his was the first face she sees." Hotch gave Spencer a hint of a smile, patting the young man on the shoulder as he made his way to follow the doctor to your room.

Taking a deep breath, he walked through the door.

148 notes - Posted February 5, 2022

Serendipity (or Sherlock)

Characters: Mycroft x reader

Summary: When Mycroft invites you to his parent’s home for Christmas, he didn’t realise he was giving his little brother the perfect opportunity to torture him.

Word Count: 1433 words

Prompt: only one bed

A/N: This is for the marvelous @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek as part of my ‘build-a-blurb’ follower celebration.

He could just call a car. It would be easy enough, call a car to come and get him and take him back to London, or a nearby hotel. Surely there would be a hotel somewhere close with a vacant room, even at this time of year. When he had told his mother that you would be accompanying him home this Christmas, he hadn’t meant it in any romantic way. Not that he didn’t want to be in a romantic entanglement with you, just that he believed you would not wish to be linked to him in such a manner. What he hadn’t been aware of, although in hindsight he should have known, was that Sherlock had been feeding his mother mis-information for weeks until the point he was fairly certain she half expected to witness a proposal on Christmas morning.

“Mycroft, it’s okay, I can always sleep on the floor.” Your voice broke his stillness, bringing him back to the reality of the moment instead of him just staring at his childhood bed. A bed he had never shared, except for the odd occasion where Sherlock had a nightmare.

“Nonsense. You will not be sleeping on the floor!” He frowned at you even believing that was a possibility. “I shall sleep downstairs. The sofa is comfortable enough.”

“With your back? I don’t think that would be a good idea. Plus, it would leave you vulnerable to a Sherlockian prank. Do you really want to wake up with only one eyebrow?” You smirked and Mycroft found himself feeling at ease, despite the awkwardness of the situation.

“Why, when my brother brings friends to family events is he not expected to share his bed?” he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh, can you imagine the conversation between Sherlock and John about sharing a bed?” you giggled and the smile on Mycroft’s lips only grew at the sound.

“That does not help our current predicament though. It isn’t as if the bed is large enough to share comfortably.” He frowned as he looked once again at the single bed, pressed up against the wall with a multitude of cosy blankets over it.

“Well, I’m game if you are. I have to warn you though, my feet are freezing!” You wandered over to pick out your pyjamas from your bag and Mycroft discovered he had lost all ability to function. You were going to spend the entire night squashed beside him in his childhood bed? He was a grown man, but right now he felt like a teenager who had a pretty girl in his room for the first time.

He let you use the bathroom first, then he scurried in there to change and give himself a pep talk. This was not a big deal. Nothing to worry about. Just two friends sleeping in a small space, it just meant you felt comfortable with him, that was all. No need to read into anything.

Taking a deep breath, he entered the bedroom once again. The soft light from the bedside lamp illuminated the room, and he felt his breath catch as his eyes landed upon you, all warm and cosy in his bed, waiting for him to join you. You had taken the side nearest the wall, pushing yourself against it to allow him as much space as you could, but he could tell that you would still be in very close contact.

The floorboards creaked beneath his feet as he crossed the room, carefully lifting the blanket to allow him to join you without letting in any cold air. Once he had slipped into bed, he was surprised when you reached across him and switched out the light. The warmth of your body, the way your breath fanned over his skin for a fraction of a second, had his eyes fluttering closed as he swallowed thickly. No. He had to push thoughts like that away, lest his body begin to react in a way that would reveal his secret longing.

He felt you settle down beside him, felt your breath against his shoulder, and he turned to face you, smiling softly in the dark. It took a few moments for his eyes to grow accustomed to the darkness, but once they had, he was rewarded with a sight he had only dreamed of. Your eyes were closed, lips pouted slightly, your chest rising and falling softly. He was so captivated by you that he reached out, unthinking, to brush your hair from your face, his fingertips ghosting over your skin. The corners of your mouth quirked up and confirmed to him that, despite appearances, you were not sleeping.

“Are you warm enough?” he whispered, his tone hushed and reverent as he tried to find any excuse to engage you in conversation.

“If I say no, what would you do about it?” You smirked, opening your eyes to look at him.

“Fair point,” he conceded, returning your smile as his eyes twinkled a little in the gloom. “How about your feet?”

“What do you think?” You asked before placing your ice-cold feet against his calf.

“BLOODY HELL!” He jumped, shifting his weight a little and nearly falling out of bed. You grabbed him and, for a brief moment, the two of you teetered precariously on the edge of the bed before you managed to pull him back towards the wall, where he landed on top of you. He could feel your body shaking with laughter and soon enough his own mingled with yours.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before.” You giggled, looking up at him with such adoration he couldn’t convince himself it was anything other.

“Well, you haven’t put your bloody freezing feet on my practically bare leg before.” He teased, resting on his forearms as he tried to take some of his weight off you.

“What? Like this?” You asked innocently before wrapping your legs around his waist and pressing the soles of your feet against his thighs.

“Menace!” he shrieked before looking towards the door guiltily. He didn’t want to wake anyone, and he certainly didn’t want someone barging in when he was in this position with you. Your giggles brought a fond smile to his face, and he shook his head as his gaze once again found yours. “I should have bought you bed socks for Christmas. Or perhaps a hot water bottle?”

“Nah, I don’t need them. Not when I’ve got you to keep me warm.” You hum, and Mycroft can feel the heat rising in his cheeks.

“Oh, so you plan on stealing my body heat?” He raised an eyebrow as he smirked down at you, “And what do I get in return?”

See the full post

150 notes - Posted September 29, 2022

I feel this deep in my soul at times.

203 notes - Posted October 2, 2022

Your Hand In Mine

Characters: Mycroft x reader

Summary: Witnessing the death of Mary Watson causes Mycroft to focus on what he feels is truly important to him.

Word Count: 1239 words

Prompt: 😍 mutual pining 🤝 taking each other’s hands during a stressful situation 😴 accidentally falling asleep on/next to each other

A/N: This is for the fantastic @howaboutlunch as part of my ‘build-a-blurb’ follower celebration. I’m sorry that there’s a little angst in this too but Mary’s death felt like the right situation.

Something always seemed to bring you back to him, no matter how hard you tried to keep your distance, to protect your heart. You would remind yourself that he believed emotions and sentiment were a weakness, would give yourself a million reasons why he would never look at you with anything other than mild indifference, and then a situation would push you into his orbit once again. As soon as you saw him, or heard him, all those carefully crafted reasons, your armour against his charms, melted away. Being in love with Mycroft Holmes was futile, you knew this. Unfortunately, your head knowing this did not mean your heart understood.

There had been late nights watching over Sherlock together, the danger nights, where you wondered if Mycroft knew how you felt about him. He was incredibly astute, his deductions as sharp as his brothers, and yet if he had figured you out, he was polite enough not to mention it. There had been lingering looks that you were unsure of, moments where you worried he was going to ask about your affections, but they never came. Perhaps it was better this way.

It had been a few weeks since your paths had crossed. There was so much drama going on within your small circle of friends and searching for the mysterious Ammo had been your focus. Now, here you stood in the dark of the aquarium, trying not to think about the fact Mycroft had changed his aftershave. That detail should not have been something you picked up on as he moved to stand beside you, the crazy woman with the gun should have your focus, but your heart began asking questions you didn’t want the answers to. Was this change because there was someone significant in his life? Had they gifted him this new scent? Did they prefer it?

Mycroft felt you tense beside him. He had maneuvered himself into this position next to you because he felt the need to protect you. It was disconcerting for him, as if he was bound to you somehow. You held him without physically touching him, your presence soothing him when he was stressed, when Sherlock worried him. Having you near helped the rest of the world fade away, helped him focus on what was truly important.

There had been times he nearly told you, almost vocalized these emotions that crashed over him whenever you were together, whenever he thought about you. Part of him wanted to drown in these emotions, wanted so desperately for you to love him, to keep you with him forever, but then he would look at you and see uncertainty and apprehension in your eyes. Had you deduced his feelings? Did you know, and not want him to say something, because then you would have to reject him?

The conversation echoed in the concaved space, strange shadows falling over those assembled creating a rather macabre feeling. Mycroft instinctively shifted his umbrella from one hand to the other before reaching for your hand. Part of him reasoned this action was so he could easily pull you out of harms way if needed, but a larger part of him knew that your touch gave him strength. He wished he wasn’t wearing gloves, that he could feel your warm skin against his.

Your fingers interlaced with his, the soft leather of his gloves gliding against your skin. You had thought you were strong, that you could handle being around him without melting completely, but one simple touch and all that fragile strength was gone. There had been the occasional handshake when you had first met, then the sporadic brush of an arm or leg, but that was as much contact as the two of you’d had. This was…

The gunshot seemed to reverberate as everything went into slow motion. It took a moment to work out someone had been shot, that someone was Mary. You moved forward slightly, your hand still tightly holding onto Mycroft’s, as tears began to stream down your cheeks. John’s heartbreak, Sherlock’s guilt, the anger, the pain, it was almost tangible.

It was going to be a danger night. John’s words had cut Sherlock deep, and when you returned to Baker Street everything felt eerily quiet.

“John?” The dark-haired detective asked from his chair, fingers steepled in front of his lips as he stared unseeing into the middle distance.

“Molly, Greg and Mrs Hudson are with him and Rosie. I thought you might need someone.” You said softly.

“My brother felt the same way.” Sherlock deadpanned as Mycroft appeared carrying a tray of tea and biscuits.

Silence had quickly descended once again, like a vacuum sucking in all sound. Small talk seemed out of place given the events of the evening, and both Holmes boys appeared to have sunk into their thoughts. Mycroft had joined you on the sofa, neither of you wanting to sit in John’s chair. The adrenaline had left your system and the late hour had you fighting your exhaustion. Eventually you gave into it, and before long you had shifted slightly, causing your sleeping frame to lean against Mycroft, your head resting against his shoulder.

Mycroft tensed at the sudden weight, glancing at you in alarm, uncertain what the correct protocol was in these circumstances. You looked so peaceful, your lips parted slightly, and he found himself holding his breath, not wanting to wake you. He wondered if you considered him a friend, or if he was simply Sherlock’s big brother. He hoped it was the former. If he was completely honest, he hoped you considered him more than a friend, but how could that be a possibility when he couldn’t express to you what you meant to him?

You were everything to him, you kept him grounded to reality. There was a very real danger at times that he could get swept up in his work, that he could feel like some sort of God controlling the world. You made him feel like a man, like he was real, like he mattered beyond his mind. That was an odd realization for him, he had always considered himself to be his intelligence, that was the only redeeming quality he possessed, yet you had seen something more.

“You should tell her.” Sherlock’s baritone broke through the silence bringing Mycroft’s attention from your face.

“Tell who?” he feigned ignorance, but both brothers knew it was a pitiful ruse.

“Sometimes, brother mine, letting someone in is worth the pain it can cause. Other people can make you better. You could make each other better.”

“And what do you suggest I tell her? Should I compare her to a summers day? That I carry her heart with me? Shall I count the ways?” Mycroft rolled his eyes, frustrated with the ridiculous conversation already, especially when there was a real danger of you waking up and hearing this.

“So, you have been reading poetry?” Sherlock smirked, noting the red creeping over his brother’s face. “I don’t think she requires a sonnet, just three words would suffice. They are true, after all.”

Mycroft looked back down at you, and he couldn’t find it in him to deny it. He did love you, and that scared him, but being without you terrified him more. Silence once more fell over the room, only this time Mycroft’s thoughts were of a possible future where you slept beside him more often.

223 notes - Posted May 2, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

If You Love Her

Characters: Spencer Reid x reader

Summary: Morgan tries to set up Spencer and Reader in the hopes that all they need to get together is a little push. Little does he know, they’ve been together for a while.

Word Count: 948 words

Prompt: secret relationship, fierce kiss, chaste kiss, falling asleep, only one bed.

A/N: This is for the magnificent @marvellover-12 and fabulous @kalliblast as part of my ‘build-a-blurb’ follower celebration.

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he fell for you; it could have been the first time you smiled at him, or when you understood his random Doctor Who reference, perhaps it was the many times you had playfully defended him against Morgan’s teasing. More likely it was a combination of all the little moments, the shy glances, the brush of your hand against his. Spencer knew that finding the exact moment was not important, he was completely in love with you, and he knew you felt the same way.

The past few months had been like a beautiful dream. Secret coffee runs, elaborate excuses as to why neither of you could join the team for drinks, stolen kisses in the break room. This was all so new, and it had been agreed that you didn’t want to share it just yet. Better to see how things progressed, build a solid foundation before you had the team interrogating you both. Not that your behaviour had gone unnoticed.

Being pulled from his bed to jet across the country was never Spencer’s favourite thing; sleep being quite a rare commodity for him at times, yet here he was. The flight was going to be a long one, and after a briefing and looking over the notes he had found his head growing heavy. Stifling another yawn, Spencer tried his best to keep his eyes from closing, aware of Morgan’s studying gaze on him.

A weight suddenly fell on his shoulder, and he glanced down in surprise, smiling softly when he realised you had nodded off and were now using him as an impromptu pillow. Shifting a little, he made sure you were comfy before leaning his cheek against the top of your head. This wouldn’t be the first time a team-mate had fallen asleep in him, so he figured nobody would be suspicious. As he drifted to sleep, he couldn’t help but smile to himself, feeling reassured by your presence.

Morgan watched the two of you curiously. He was well aware of Spencer’s not so subtle crush on you, hell, he’d teased the boy enough about it. The boy genius seemed to drop iq points around you like a tree in fall, not to mention the stuttering over his words. He had to admit though, that over the last few months, the boy wonder seemed to have got his shit together a little better, though the longing looks across the bullpen and the dreamy smile on his lips had only gotten worse. Penelope seemed convinced that his feelings were reciprocated, but nothing would happen as neither of you was the type to make the first move. No, what you needed was a push; the whole team agreed.

You shifted in your sleep, your arm coming up to rest around Spencer’s waist as you let out a soft sigh. Morgan nudged JJ, nodding at the two of you with a smirk, which was quickly dropped when the two of them witnessed Spencer turn his head and place a tender, chaste kiss to the top of your head. It was a gesture of such familiarity and intimacy that Morgan had to grab onto JJ to stop her letting out an excited squeal. Yeah, it was incredibly cute, but it was hardly a conscious act. It did, however, show promise. Perhaps sleepy Spencer would be more open to making that first move, and that is how the ‘fool proof’ plan came to be.

If felt like the longest day ever by the time the team rolled up to the motel. Early morning flights combined with a full day wading through the horrific atrocities left by this killer meant that everyone was practically dead on their feet.

“I’ve got two doubles and the rest are singles, so fight it out amongst yourselves.” Hotch said tiredly as he grabbed a key to a single room and padded off down the corridor.

“Rossi?” Morgan picked up a key and nodded towards the corridor.

“Seriously? Can’t you share with Spence?” the older man grumbled.

“Oh, hell no! Not making that mistake again.” Morgan chuckled, glancing over at JJ.

“You two don’t mind sharing do you? I just want to talk to Will and maybe do that ‘falling asleep together over video call’ thing?” She looked at you both hopefully and it took everything he had to stop Spencer agreeing immediately.

“Sure, I don’t mind sharing with Spencer. I can always get him to read to me.” You chuckled as you picked up the final key. “Come on then roomie, I get first pick of bed though.”

As soon as the motel door closed, Spencer had tossed your bags into the room and cupped your face with his freezing cold hands. You were about to protest when his lips caught yours in a searing kiss that made your lack of sleep and the temperature of his hands irrelevant. Stumbling over to the bed, still tangled up in each other, it took you a few moments to realise that this room only had one bed.

“Do you think they know?” Spencer asked, looking at you with a hint of concern in his eyes.

“About us or about there only being one bed?” You asked with a growing smirk. “Do you think Morgan and Rossi are having the same conversation?”

“You think it’s a genuine mix up?”

“I think it doesn’t matter. I think that I get to share a bed with my gorgeous boyfriend and the BAU picks up the bill.”

“Okay, but we’ll have to be quiet, we don’t know how thin these walls are.” Spencer grinned before pushing you back onto the bed and resuming his kisses.

2,212 notes - Posted October 5, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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iamthemain-character · 2 years

Note

Hello! I’m like bombarding your inbox I’m so sorry. You can ignore this if you want. Was also wondering if you could do a lestrade x reader wher you’re sherlocks ex. Greg sorta makes sure you’re okay, is always there for you and is a softie like always. Things eventually get relationship like between y’all and as usual sherlock gets v annoyed and starts analyzing everything and figures out you are dating greg. That’s all I have for you. I hope it’s enough for a request! Y’all seriously write for all my fav fandoms thank you 🙏

hi! bombard away, i’m enjoying it! Soft Greg was so adorable to write, I hope you like it! :)

He Led Me To You

greg lestrade x reader, ex!sherlock x reader

Gender Neutral Reader

TW: none, just some heartbreak angst

requested by @danzalladaggers

also i took a lot of inspiration from Taylor Swift’s song “The Moment I Knew” and “Tolerate It” for the whole Sherlock part of this story. I also took inspiration from “Begin Again” and “Everything has Changed” for Greg. :D

Sherlock Masterlist

You should’ve known better than to fall for Sherlock; he was called a sociopath for a reason. While that title might’ve been a bit harsh for him, it was true that he struggled with basic emotions. You were an old friend of Sherlock’s, having met him during an old case. When you developed feelings for him, you were bold and told him. He took it fairly gracefully, asking you out to dinner and giving you a proper date. After that it was just an unspoken understanding between the two of you that you were dating, and that was that.

Sherlock wasn’t really a romantic, but you told yourself you weren’t either. So while you watched your friends receive flowers and go on cute dates, you received odd trinkets Sherlock found on his adventures and take out dinners while doing research. Often you would get pushed out so he could go to his Mind Palace or he would suddenly disappear for a while without a trace. When the detective would come back, he would hand you whatever he brought back and recount the brilliant tale of him solving the mystery.

The days he solved mysteries were the best; Sherlock would be riding the high that comes, and the two of you might actually get out of the house and do things together. There would be a special dinner, or a walk in the park, or going to a movie. But soon enough Sherlock would fall back into his slump and you were back to being the “chill” SO.

And then it was your birthday; your friend’s ended up throwing a surprise party with all of your favorite things. You were the center of attention, but in the way that made you feel good and loved. Your new friends were there too, John, Molly, and even Greg Lestrade. You two had only met briefly, but he seemed like a nice guy and he was honestly fun to be around. Overall it was a perfect night.

Except for the fact that the one person you wanted to be there wasn’t. You had dressed up today and put a lot of effort into your look, and now the person you were trying to impress wasn’t even there. You knew Sherlock had been out of it for the past couple days, deep into a mystery given to him, but he had promised to be there with you on your birthday.

But now the minutes turned into hours and Sherlock still hadn’t showed up. You had blown out the candles and opened presents, and still no sign of your boyfriend. Now as everyone was gathered together to watch your favorite movie, you realized he just wasn’t going to come. Suddenly you felt that you were going to cry, and quickly you excused yourself.

Walking into the bathroom, you looked at your face as tears streamed down your cheeks and dropped down to your chin. Finally you couldn’t keep it together; sliding down against the wall, you sat on the ground and hugged your knees to your chest. Sobs escaped your throat and your shoulders shook as your cried harder. All this time, you had tried to not care, you had tried to be cool, but in reality you did care. Every time you were pushed away or forgotten it hurt, and you wanted to be someone who was loved and adored. But most of all, you wanted a person who would care enough to show up to your birthday party.

Suddenly the door creaked up, breaking your sad line of thoughts.

“Oh, I’m so so sorry to interrupt.”

Looking up, you saw Greg Lestrade’s face peeking around the door. Instantly you watched as his face softened and brows furrow when he saw your tear stained face. He opened the door a bit wider, coming into the bathroom more.

“Are you alright there?”

You tried to nod yes, but as you saw the genuine concern in Greg’s eyes, the pain and tears washed over you all over again. A sob broke free, and you buried your head again. You heard the door click, and suddenly you felt someone sit next to you and put an arm around your shoulders.

“Is this about Sherlock?”

You nodded, unable to form words.

“Oi, that unfeeling basta-“

Another sob escaped you, breaking Greg’s sentence.

“No, no love, I’m sorry. Here, it’s alright, it’s okay, you cry it out.”

And so you did. Greg stayed there, arms wrapped around you tightly as you sobbed your heart out. All the pain and heartbreak from the past 8 months came out, and the whole time the silver-haired man stayed by your side.

Finally your sobs slowly turned to hiccups, and the tears slowed and dried up on your cheeks. You lifted your head from Greg’s shoulder, and he instantly offered a small smile and a handkerchief. You gladly accepted, carefully wiping away the signs of your grief as best as you could. Looking back up, you noticed the fabric of Greg’s shirt was darker from your tears soaking it.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry, your shirt-“

Greg waved his hand as if to wave your apology away. “It’s alright, it wasn’t my favorite anyways, and it’ll dry. Are you alright? It’s not right that someone should cry alone in a bathroom on their special day. Especially someone as brilliant as you.”

Your soul felt so warmed and comforted by your friend’s words, and you found a tiny smile actually gracing your face. “Well, they do say tears are good for your complexion.”

At this Greg threw his head back and laughed; a good, hearty, contagious laugh, and you found yourself laughing along. Together you got up from the cold, tiled floor and walked back to finish the movie. You felt much better, and suddenly it was like your whole world had changed. That night, you didn’t even think of Sherlock again, though another man filled your thoughts.

———————————————————————

The next day you were awoken by a call from Sherlock. Annoyed your dreams were disturbed by the man that had ruined your birthday, you still picked up.

“Hello?”

“Y/n, I’ve got it! I went to the town where the statue first went missing, and then I actually found the man who-“

“The statue case?”

“Yes, anyways he started telling me about he river-“

Finally you were fed up. “Sherlock, I don’t care.”

The person on the other end stopped mid sentence. “Beg pardon?”

“You missed my birthday for that stupid statue case. They told you it wasn’t urgent!”

“Oh yes, I’m sorry I couldn’t make it, but yesterday morning I pieced the clues together! I just had to get there, I don’t expect you to understand, but it was very important.”

“Important? Your case was more important than your significant other?”

“Like I said, I don’t expect someone like you to understand, but-“

You had had enough at this point. “No, you know what, I don’t understand. I don’t understand how someone could get into a committed relationship and not think it’s important to spend time with them. I don’t understand how you think I’m just here at your beck and call, someone to hype you up and tell you how wonderful you are. I don’t understand how you expect me to be happy with a date maybe once a month and then complete radio silence the rest of the time. Maybe you have forgotten Sherlock, but I’m a human, and typically humans have feelings. And maybe “someone like me” won’t ever understand you, but I’m brilliant. And other people do see that. So delete my number, don’t talk to me, I’m done.”

With that you promptly hung up; part of you felt guilty for getting so upset, but another part of you realized you deserved to be treated better. Treated like how Greg treated you last night. With that thought in mind, you picked up your phone again and dialed his number.

“Hello?”

“Hey, are you busy today?”

———————————————————————

That was the start of your beautiful friendship; as it would turn out, you and Greg had a lot in common. The two of you started hanging out more and more, getting to know each other better. You realized that Greg had also left an unfulfilling relationship with his ex-wife a few years ago, so he understood you better than everyone else could. You also shared similarly tastes in movies, food, and both loved dancing (even though you were both horrible at it.) It became a common occurrence for the two of you to hang out multiple times a week, just enjoying each other’s company.

It wasn’t very long, however, that things started to shift. Just hanging out became more like dates, and Greg started randomly bringing you flowers. You spent a little more time getting ready each day, hoping to impress your “friend”. And Greg always complimented you, but his eyes starting following your shape from top to bottom, as if taking you in for the first time. You felt your stomach flip and heart flutter when the two of you touched hands or brushed shoulders.

And that’s how it was for a while, casually holding hands or quick cheek kisses as a greeting. Subtle glances turned into long gazes into each other’s eyes, and an ever present blush stayed on both your’s and Greg’s cheeks. This all came to a climax when the two of you were watching a movie at your home. You both were snuggled up on the couch, when suddenly you both turned and looked at each other. Your noses were practically touching, and you felt your heart stop. You weren’t sure who moved in first, but suddenly your lips were on his. Greg pulled you in by your waist, and you cupped his face in your hands.

Things got a lot more serious after that; still, Greg and you were first friends and you never forgot that. Now you just also shared kisses and cuddles in between jokes and dates. And both of you made sure the other knew just how much you loved each other. Greg was constantly doing little things for you, like taking you out during his lunch breaks or bring home your favorite food. You in turn showered your man with love, always saying goodbye with a hug and a kiss, and leaving notes randomly for him to find. Overall it was a very fluffy relationship, and you felt like you were on Cloud 9.

After a while, the holidays rolled around, and with it, the Christmas Party at 221 B Baker street. You were dreading it, having not spoken to Sherlock since you went to get your stuff back, but you knew it was important to Greg so you agreed to go. He had been so patient, trying to balance working and still being friends with Sherlock while also trying to be an understanding and protective boyfriend to you. The least you felt you could do was go to the Christmas party with him.

You picked out a killer outfit, but you realized it wasn’t in revenge. Greg told you on the daily how incredible you looked (whether you were a mess or dresses up, it didn’t matter), but you wanted him to see you and have his breath taken away. You also wanted to feel as confident in yourself as possible, and with your look you felt just that.

Arriving at the party was a little awkward, but as everyone chatted and shared cookies and punch the atmosphere became more relaxed. Reconnecting with old friends was fantastic, and overall the night was going well. That was until an unfortunate circumstance left you and Sherlock alone in the living room. For a while, the two of you sat in silence, not daring to speak. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was looking at you, so you turned around to find Sherlock’s eyes locked onto you. His forefingers were pressed together and against his lips, a sure sign that he was analyzing you.

“Stop that.”

“No.”

“I said stop.”

“Not until I figure out what’s different about you.”

“I’m happier, that’s what.”

You rolled your eyes and threw back the last of your drink. You hated being underneath the gaze of Sherlock, and mentally you begged Greg to come back and rescue you.

“Obviously, but why.”

“What, I can’t just be happy?”

“You can, but you’re just happy. All night your eyes look around, only to return to a certain point. You stay by Lestrade’s side, and your body subconsciously leans into him. His eyes look over you multiple times, and he seems to like what he sees. Lestrade has not stopped touching you all night, whether it be a hand on your back or arm, or just his knee pressed against yours. Now I’m no expert in romance, but I do believe you and Lestrade have a certain romantic connection of sorts.”

You took a deep breath; it was very impressive that Sherlock noticed all that, but it was also incredibly annoying. “If that’s your way of asking if Greg and I are dating, then the answer is yes.”

Satisfied, Sherlock closed his eyes and leaned back into his chair in triumph. You rolled your eyes again and got up, grabbing your jacket from the kitchen. Just as you were leaving to go see if Greg had gotten the car, Sherlock’s voice stopped you.

“You are happier, happier than I’ve ever seen you. And, I’m glad Y/n. You deserve that much, even though it didn’t come from me, it’s good to see Gray makes you happy.”

For a moment you paused at the doorway. The scar that had hurt your heart for a while finally faded away. Sherlock was right, Greg made you happier than you ever had been before. You loved him.

“It’s Greg, Sherl.”

#sherlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #greg lestrade x reader #greg lestrade #greg lestrade x you #sherlock holmes x reader #taylor swift

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zodiyack · 3 years

Text

Being Married To Henry’s Characters Would Include...

Requested by @cuisinequeen: Hi, I love your work. I was just wondering if you could do a headcanon for being married to Clark Kent/Geralt/Sherlock Holmes/Napoleon Solo

Pairing: Clark Kent x Reader, Geralt of Rivia x Reader, Sherlock Holmes x Reader, Napoleon Solo x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, some references, trashy writing lol

Note: This doesn’t include all of his characters, so my apologies if I misled you with the title. Not all that confident in the HCs so sorry about that too

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @simonsbluee, @darling-i-read-it, @fandom-puff, @thewarriorprincessxo, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @maan24, @beckster07890, @missihart23

Masterlist | Henry Cavill Masterlist

Clark Kent

You know he’s superman, therefore, you gotta expect the unexpected

Kiss: Level 100

helping him keep his identity secret isn’t always easy-

you wanna kiss him even when he’s superman but fuck you need him to remain undetected

but you manage

Little hc of the first few months after getting married:

Clark comes home late after a fight you see on tv

you turned it off before anything else happened, too worried already

he’s beat up

your eyes are red and puffy with tear stained cheeks as you stand and cross your arms.

you bet your ass there were cuddles that night.

Later into the marriage, he still scares you like that, but you’ve grown somewhat used to it and wipe the tears away

He’s protective of you too though

Aight sorry, but the gif is making me addicted to Henry kisses so Imma say it again,

best fucking make out sessions ever

yes, I’m gonna say that for all four.

fuck it, Clark!Kisses HCs

they’re soft half the time, needy the other half

if he comes home from superman duties or you have a run-in with a villain, so on so on, his kisses are rougher, needier, more possessive

bitch, he just needs you to know he’s still alive 🥺😢

Henry in glasses really do be hittin tho.

Stealing his glasses

Calling him a nerd because of the glasses

Probably making it a small joke about superman

Especially with oblivious friends

“I think superman’s a nerd.” “why??” “I just do.”

Having to stifle your laughs every time someone gushes about superman in front of him

Clark has to hold you back so you don’t unleash your wrath of fucking doom upon some oblivious woman who wrote about superman in a news article

She wrote things that would make you jealous, like talking about how she’s curious to his personal life *wink wink* and stuff- you don’t just have a raging fury because someone writes about him

Superman this hoe

You’ve made jokes about how he has to take his ring off when he’s superman, but he’s got a feeling that you’re actually not kidding at all

Exercising with Clark

Cursing him out in breathy pants for being more athletic and cheating with his “alien powers”

he just laughs at you

Ah, the difficulty have having a husband with two identities

When you rant about your husband, it’s so hard not to fuck up and say something about being married to Superman

Forgetting that you’re one of the few who knows his identity

Basking in pride because you’re one of the few who knows his identity

One time, Clark forgot to take his ring off and the person he rescued had known him personally.

He asks where he got the ring-

“What ring?”

“The one on your finger. The wedding ring.”

It felt like his stomach dropped...if that makes sense-

Clark ended up making some random story about finding it on the same plane the guy he rescued was on and that he put it on so he wouldn’t lose it.

The guy still thought he was pretty sus, “why was it on your wedding ring finger then?” but let him off after some time

The guy gave it back to Clark in person, but you had no idea what happened,

so when he gave him the ring, you were watching with the most confused look Clark had ever seen

thankfully, he played it off well and informed you later

He forgot to take off his wedding ring? You “secretly” fist bumped the air- ...he totally saw you though

Geralt Of Rivia

I don’t think Geralt really expected to get married

Jaskier didn’t either-

He’s the only one who stands when the priest asks if anyone doesn’t accept... only to ask how the fuck Geralt got lucky enough to get you

Everyone laughed but Geralt, he just grunted and looked away with a lil’ bit o pink tinting his cheeks

You demand he lets you go on adventures with him

You also wash him after adventures

wink wonk ;)))

Geralt is a stubborn thing

You’re a stubborn thing

Y’all love each other

When I say that Geralt is a confusing husband-

I mean that he confuses the fuck out of you

“don’t do that”

“okay”

few minutes later

“I thought you were doing that-”

“You told me not too...?”

“I don’t recall. Do whatever.”

Minutes later.

“What the fuck!?! Don’t do that!”

He’s hard to read and it bugs you

However, it makes a good game out of it

If he ever introduces you as anything but his spouse, you hold a bitter glare while internally plotting

Before you marry, Jaskier hits on you without realizing that Geralt is interested in you

He gulps nervously as soon as it hits him

You might just use that mistake as a way to get back at Geralt for not saying you’re his spouse

Jaskier pleads you not to

like for real

He’s in tears

CuDdLeS!

Congrats, you have a stubborn manbaby for the rest of however long y’all shall live

Kithes

Geralt is a little distant when it comes to admitting his feelings for you at first

When you’re dating, you’re all over each other

Marriage is that but amplified lmao

Braiding his hair

Teasing him not the wink wonk and getting away with it because you’re his spouse

If Jaskier said anything remotely close to the shit you’ve said, Geralt would probably choke him out

But then resuscitate him cause they’re bros

Seeing the softer side of Geralt

Sure, sex, but getting to know each others bodies? Yes.

Soft!Sleepy!Geralt

His deep n husky morning voice telling you to “get your ass back in bed”

Having the excuse of “because I’m his spouse” anytime you do stuff people are too afraid to do

Jealous bb 1 and jealous bb 2 aka Geralt and Y/n

I think Geralt’s the kind of guy to just pick you up, ignore your flailing limbs, and move you out of the way

He takes shit from no one...well, from you SOMETIMES

Gives in to your requests with a sigh and roll of his eyes most of the time

He was protective of you at first

now he’s PrOtEcTiVe so uh

Basically, number one husband, number two bodyguard

you put yourself first for the bodyguard part, but Geralt doesn’t know that

Sherlock Holmes

He asks your family for their blessing, then asks you-

I can imagine Mycroft just ranting away and Sherlock drops to his knee

“What are you doing?”

He ignores his brother and proposes to you

Mycroft is confused and upset because he wanted to rant about meaningless things and Sherlock decided to change the topic

rude

Being married means constant visits from Enola

Probably being the “second parents” to Enola

Gossip with Enola and Eudoria about Sherlock and him as a kiddo

Kicking Sherlock out of the house for sleepovers with his sister

bet

Helping Sherlock with cases

Dealing with Sherlock telling you it isn’t safe

still being upset when he’s right you know it

Finding Enola and Eudoria with him

Snapping at Mycroft for how he treats the girl and everyone else

Threatening Mycroft by just being a badass bitch and telling him to fuck off every now and then

Long story short, you make Enola laugh and Mycroft scoff as he walks away

He’s a stubborn bean, which now that I think about it- aren’t all Henry’s characters?

While he doesn’t say it much, he loves you

You get paranoid with this character too, as he does work that can be very dangerous as well

When he returns, he doesn’t say much aside from that he’s there now and that he loves you

cuddles with him whispering softly,

“I’m here now.” “I’m safe.” “I’m okay.” “I love you.”

Kisses in public either be quick pecks or minute long for goodbyes, but greetings-

especially after being apart for a while?

HC TIME

He comes home on the train and you’re at the station with his siblings

As soon as he spots you, he sets his stuff down because you’re already running at him

You jump into his arms and kiss him hard, not caring in the slightest about the other people at the station

It makes you smile every time he introduces you as his spouse

You’ve heard it so many times yet it still makes your heart flutter every single time

Napoleon Solo

The amount of times you’ve just dropped everything and walked away because he was being ‘too serious”-

You say something, he takes it seriously, you groan and stomp away

But then you know you can do the same back to him

Napoleon is an all around awesome husband but he’s not going to just pretend to agree with stuff

Will correct you no matter how embarrassed you get

Makes up with kisses or stuff idk

Let me be honest, I don’t know much about writing for Napoleon but he is an icon...sometimes

He’s protective

by that I mean he’s stubborn but really it’s his way of keeping you safe

Would probably lock you in your room even though you’re a, a grown ass adult, and b, his spouse for fuck’s sake?!??!

Doesn’t tell you when something’s bothering him unless he feels the need to

“I’m not a fucking mind-reader, Solo!”

“Neither am I but I still manage-”

He doesn’t mean to make you feel bad, he just- emotions and him aren’t the best of friends

Emotions aren’t exactly friends with most of his characters

He’d much rather just speak with actions than admit anything

Sometimes you worry that he’s just fucking with you

When he proposed, it scared the shit out of you ‘cause you thought it was a joke

Never admits to anything willingly...?

Yeah sorry...Idk, that’s all I got :\

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hope-to-hell · 3 years

Note

I joined horny jail and now I crave a smut where either sherlock holmes or August had an extreme breeding kink pretty please 💕 I'm new to this fandom

Hey @anastasiaxsworld if we add a little electricity, that makes it extreme, right? Anyone? Bueller? Pony, August Walker. Breeding kink, restraints, shock collars, electricity play.

It suits you. Being at my mercy.

August grins and slips into the role like he’s putting on a favorite shirt; he is spread out on the table and he is hard, so hard.

So what do you intend to do with me? Pet.

I mean to ride you like a pony, and when you come I’ll sit on you still, plug myself up with your pretty cock til you can go again. Til I can’t contain another drop of come and it’s running sticky wet all down you.

And oh how he twitches at that. You want to ride me? Have my seed? Think it’ll take?

Quiet, pony. Unless you want me to gag you, too. Wait. Hang on, what about this? You want the shock collar again, gartered all pretty around your thigh?

Yeah, yeah he does; he’s interested, eyes burning dark but he’s gonna have to say it. The yes comes quick and easy; he’s always been one for honesty when he fucks,

(I’ll hurt you, challenge you, but pet. I’ll never lie, not here. Not with this)

and he expects the same in return.

Hey, August. Do you think I’ll be able to feel it through your cock? The electricity, I mean.

Next time you’ll wear it, pet. Then you can see. You’ll clench so tight around me, like you’ll never let my cock go. I’ll leave my semen so deep inside you, and with all your muscles clamping down at once you won’t be able to do anything but take it.

That’s a full-body shiver; he sees it and he smirks but it’s cut short by your knees pressing to either side of him on the padded table, by the way that, as you sink down on him, you press the collar’s switch and hold. And fuck, you’ve seen him in the collar’s grip, but to feel it— every muscle tensed at once, hips lifting off the table, feeling bigger and harder inside you than you thought was possible, it’s— and he is coming, immediately and violently.

Dirty pool, pet, he says when he can speak again.

C’mon. I know you can go again soon. And besides. I want— I want to know you’re fucking your come deeper and deeper into me. Want you to possess every part of me, down to my cells and I—

Christ, pet.

And— I want to have you over and over, want you to fuck me raw and dirty til it takes, til I grow all round with it. Don’t you want to see me carrying your child, to lay your hands on me and know it’s all your doing?

It’s impossible and dangerous and he wants, he wants, he wants with all the desire of a man in his prime, driven by the ancient need to have and take and fuck. And there he is, blood pulsing into his cock again, carving a space for himself inside you and I thought you were going to ride me, pet. What was the phrase? ‘Like a pony.’

So you shock him again. Just a little, just enough to make his hips lift off the table, just enough to make him hiss and groan when it stops. And with every clench and jolt, with every grip of his fingers that leaves bruises on your hips—

Wait.

We need to practice your knots, pet. That was sloppy. I’ve had my hands free since the first shock.

Fuck.

That’s the idea. Now ride me like you mean it. And as you lift and lower yourself he is moving in counterpoint; he drags you down onto him til he feels as though he’s hitting up inside your throat; he is incandescent with need; he closes his hand around yours and

Pet. Show no mercy.

he is holding down your hand around the switch; it is one protracted shock that has him bowed tight enough to break, muscles rigid under your hands and he is coming, he is coming in thick and pulsing waves. And when the collar’s switch falls to the table he’s there with his hands holding you sealed over his cock; semen slips and squelches free, but so much of it remains inside.

And August’s thumbs stroke absently over your iliac crest; when he speaks his voice is deep and wrecked, dark with pleasure and promise. Next time, pet. Next time I’ll bind you over the bench, legs spread and ass up, so I can keep you there all day to receive my come, so I can fill you to bursting and watch the excess slip out of you. This was fun, but I intend to have you completely.

Pet.

#henry cavill #august walker #my fic #mission impossible #august walker fic #august walker smut #mission: impossible fallout smut #mission: impossible fallout fic #august walker x reader #august walker x you

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starleska · 3 years

Note

ratigan for the character thingy? i know nothing about this little guy but he looks interesting

ooh excellent choice anon!!! thank you very much for sending this in - i'd be delighted to let you know a little more about Professor Ratigan ;) also, here’s a great clip of him in action!! so, for context! Professor Ratigan is the main antagonist of the 1986 Disney film 'The Great Mouse Detective', which is in turn based on Eve Titus' 'Basil of Baker Street' book series. The books and film follow the Sherlock Holmes tradition, wherein the protagonist is the eponymous Basil, a mouse who takes on the role of Sherlock Holmes. I'm not too familiar with the books, but in the movie, Professor Ratigan acts as a parallel to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Moriarty. he's a flamboyant, volatile, intelligent rat with a penchant for crime and villainy, and he also 'hates' (see: is very gay for) Basil with a passion. an interesting quirk of Ratigan is that, in the movie, he hates being called a rat, and insists on being referred to as a mouse. now without further ado, here are my answers: how i feel about this character oh lord, i adore him 😳 i have a terrible weakness for villains with excellent dramatic flair, as well as scientists, engineers and characters with high intelligence and arrogance to boot. he's deeply self-centred, believes himself to be the world's greatest criminal mind, and is also prone to invading the personal space of others and violence - qualities which make me weak at the knees. his design is fascinating as his movements are so fluid, and i love that disarming, sharp-toothed grin. not to mention his voice is to die for; Vincent Price delivers an unforgettable performance that makes Ratigan the absolute stand-out of the movie. i think he's the reason so many people adore this movie - he's just a perfect foil to Basil, and one of the great Disney villains 😭😭 all the people i ship romantically with this character of course i ship Basil/Ratigan!!! the tension between these two - whether you consider it romantic, sexual, or something Other in the way of the Sherlock Holmes tradition - is palpable. you can tell these two have a storied history - they behave with each other almost in the way of ex-lovers, and i don't think that's just my queer goggles on;;; (i'm also a filthy self-shipper so the idea of being pinned to a wall by Ratigan is 😳😳😳) my non-romantic OTP for this character like almost all of my f/os, Ratigan/Therapist. he desperately needs some psychological intervention, firstly to work out whether or not all that deep-seated anger comes from his constant maligning as a biological rat. i talked a little bit about this idea in this post earlier, as i love to rub my trans little hands all over everything haha my unpopular opinion about this character you know, i haven't been in the fandom long enough to know what opinions are or aren't popular!! so i'm gonna give this one that's adjacent; personally, i think The Great Mouse Detective's story and pacing were a bit all over the place. especially in the second half, there's a lot of 'empty space' where the plot could have moved much quicker, and it isn't that long a movie in the first place. i do think that the animation, performances and pure charm of concept are what make the film so beloved, rather than the story itself;;; one thing i wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon oh, how i wish we'd gotten more time with Ratigan as a whole!! given his Moriarty parallel, i was hoping we'd see some more examples of his criminal genius. given that his intellect is supposed to rival that of Basil, i would have liked to see Ratigan doing the engineering, or having a scientific moment - instead, he kidnaps Flaversham to do it for him. i understand we needed a reason for Olivia to be there (and she is a sweetie!), but still, there was a lot of undeveloped potential for Ratigan. basically, i wanted to see him flex those big brain muscles more 🥰

#don't look at me it's not my fault he refers to himself as Daddy #thanks so much for this anon it was really fun!!! :3c feel free to send in more folks #professor ratigan #padraic ratigan #the great mouse detective

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dragonnan · 3 years

Text

Sharing Saturday - a List of Fic Recs

I haven’t restricted this to a number but I’m also doing my best to keep it from going out of control, too. I pretty much just have 2 consistent fandoms that I read/write so if you like either the MCU or Sherlock then this is the post for you!

MCU:

Adventures Throughout the Multiverse (Series) by Aelaer Jumping into different dimensions always involves risk. Sometimes you never know what sort of troubles you will run into until you have arrived. Thankfully, alongside these dangers a sorcerer is sometimes lucky enough to come upon unexpected allies.

In which Stephen encounters characters from characters from JRR Tolkien to even his own doppelgänger in Sherlock Holmes. I LOVE these!! Not only supremely clever and lovingly researched but just straight up entertaining as fuck! @aelaer writes some of the best Doctor Strange fic that I’ve read on on top of all that is a spectacular artist besides!

Omertà by HanukoYoukai After chasing down the criminal that took Uncle Ben's life, Peter is found by James Wesley, the right-hand man of Wilson Fisk--a wealthy businessman trying to clean up Hell's Kitchen. Having left a strong impression on the man, soon Peter finds himself working for Fisk, doing an internship for his business projects by day, and catching bad guys at night. If Mr. Fisk wants a few specific criminals delivered to him personally, who is Peter to object? All his boss wants to do is talk, after all, and ever since this internship began, things were finally looking up for the Parkers. Then Peter hears the whispers in the underworld about the elusive and terrifying Kingpin, and somehow there are rumors that Spider-Man is on the Crime Lord's payroll. When he decides to use his own judgement and go against Mr. Fisk's wishes, Peter suddenly finds himself neck deep in mob activity with no means to get himself out. To make matters worse, now Iron Man has Peter in his sights.....

I LOVE her writing - the interpretations of Peter Parker and fantastic and do right by him in a big way. Peter is actually the teenager I expect to encounter - with all of the nuance and emotion that I want to see! On top of that THIS is some top notch Tony Stark - again, very true to canon with his Stark snark intact!

Identity Saga (Series) by KitCat992 An organically developed, platonic slow-burn of Avengers-fam dynamic with a heavy hand of Irondad & Spiderson. Throw in an overdose of whump, a couple of cunning villains and a big-bad hiding in the shadows, and you got yourself this hot mess.

Another stunning Peter Parker writer and OH my gosh if you are an IronDad fan and haven’t read this yet like what in THE hell are you doing?? Strap that seatbelt tight and paste your eyeballs to this series you will NOT be disappointed!

A Twisted Upheaval (WIP) by silentsaebyeok “I’m afraid, Harrison, you’ve awakened a sleeping giant.” Wilson said. “Tony Stark will do anything and everything to protect those he loves. And with your carelessness, it is inevitable that my criminal empire will be brought to its knees. This is your last opportunity, your last chance to get this right. He is on our radar now.” -- The Kingpin runs the criminal underworld. He is the mastermind and the puppeteer. Tony Stark has been trying to find the elusive gangster for years, but with no luck. But then Peter Parker is kidnapped by an agent of the Kingpin’s, revealing the cracks in an otherwise unshakeable organization. Unlikely alliances form and friendships are made as the criminal underworld begins to unravel.

*Smacks my desktop* THIS story!! It isn’t even completed yet but this fic is top level epic! This one, along with Omertà, got me totally hooked on Wilson Fisk interfering with both Peter and Tony and boy does it deliver on those dynamics!!

Sherlock:

Got My Eye on You (Series) by 7PercentSolution These stories cover just about everything from Greg's POV, from the first day they met when Sherlock was 17 through the pre-John years, John's arrival, their work together, the fall and the reunion, covering events in broadcast series 1-3 (and 4 eventually). If you ever wondered why Greg Lestrade was one of the three people Moriarty targeted, this is your answer.

Frankly I love everything I’ve read so far - the stories are incredible and deep and not afraid to dig into hard subjects. There is a wealth of backstory and Sherlock’s younger years and all the hardships he dealt with. I’m especially in love with the OC, Sam - what a treasured character!

It takes John Watson to save your life. by Sparkypip A series of One shots where John saves Sherlock's life in so many ways. Will be updated sporadically as and when I get any time to write. As always I like my characters hurt, so plenty of angst, H/C, whump and bromance (no slash) will ensue. Please comment if you can.

These were some of the first Sherlock fics I ever read and I have been hooked on this writer to this day! SO satisfyingly whumpy and on top of that many of the stories have their own comfort follow up story!!

A Sharp, Dressed Man 'verse (Series) by sgam76

I just love this series to bits and while the author considers is a break from heavier subjects, don’t for one second think that means it can’t take a deep dive into its own mythology nor deliver a freaking spectacular tale! I have loved vampire AU for a long time and this series is pure delight and hits every damn button for me! You want a cool interpretation of vampires? BAM! You want family dynamics to the extreme? BAM AGAIN! You want exploration of creature angst? BAM BAM BAAAAM!!! I’ve already read through these three or five times and I can promise I will do so again!

The Chemist by TheGracefulBlueCat Sherlock returns to Baker Street and faces detox. But he feels too exhausted and bad to go through it fully conscious, so he - once more - uses his mind palace to distract him with an old case. But due to his drug issues and the tension between him and John things don't work as smoothly as everyone hoped they would, confronting Sherlock and all his friends with more of their demons than they would have liked to.

This writer is absolutely on-point with the writing of these characters - especially Sherlock. It was primarily through this writing that I felt I got such a good view of why the interpretation of Sherlock as autistic makes sense - but that it is the only truly logical conclusion. Not to mention the fanart @ceruleanmindpalace (same person) creates will leave you breathless!!

Who You Really Are (Series) by EnglandsGray So very like her, to take something he would otherwise find inconsequential – boring – and transform it into something he couldn’t live without...For Sherlock, after Sherrinford, none of the worlds he inhabits will ever be the same again. He can see a way to rebuild, but he is terrified. For Molly Hooper, strength is something she feels she is losing by the day, but the time has come for her to stand her ground.

Ohhhh my gosh like deep dive right into the pit of angst! And yet so soft and precious. This first story of the series is one that I’m still going through and it is unbelievably rich and welling with delicious plot stuff and relationship and hurt/comfort and just - you gotta read iiit!!!

He Is Different, This One by ASilvergirl How would the Serbian "interrogation" go if his captors knew that Sherlock was neuroatypical and had synaesthesia? This is an alternate version of the scene from "The Empty Hearse."

I mean, how could I not love this fic? For the record I’m still not even a little bit tired of fics that explore what may have happened in Serbia. It is just one of the most unresolved moments in the series - going from that damn beating to him walking in on John like I NEED MOOORE!!! And this fic gives me SO much more than I could have expected! Plus I’m always doubly onboard with a story that depicts Sherlock as neuroatypical.

There are sooooo many more fics I could link!! As it is I’ve been at this for about 3 hours and I’m dropping to the floor. But to see the rest of the stories I’ve loved please check out my bookmarks!

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malereader-inserts · 4 years

Text

End of the Day

Fandom: BBC Sherlock Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Male!Reader Summary: Sherlock knows your routine, so it was a surprised to not see you at the end of the day. Word Count: 1,012

Sherlock lacks emotional depth, it was common knowledge.

He doesn’t understand feelings, he doesn’t know how to cope with feelings that are too loud to ignore. He doesn’t understand what to do when people are feeling in a certain way, especially when it comes to John, even more so, you.

When Sherlock had met you, it was before John, as you lived in the apartment above him. Sherlock couldn’t read you like he could with others, all you did was smile, tilt your head to the side and say “Hi I’m (Y/n), you must be Sherlock Holmes!”

It was almost as if his brain had stopped working, the gleeful smile and bright eyes had thrown him overboard, overwhelmed. You were a ball of sunshine, too bright or he’ll get hurt. But, you were warm and inviting. Sherlock now understood why Icarus flew too close to the sun. But, you were interesting enough for Sherlock to investigate, he found it difficult at first to grasp the basic skills of communication and in ways of developing a friendship. It had caused great amusement in your part of the journey.

Sherlock doesn’t have many friends, but he most definitely considers you one. You know what he does, so it wasn’t surprising when you had found him bloodied up or some sort of crime thing he was into, though the first time you stumble across that - you had to ask if it was part of some weird kink he was into (there was a lot of awkwardness in past few days after that). You were glad that he was making friends at the very least when you met John.

Sherlock knows you to be out of the crime thing, you don’t like associating yourself with that. You rather keep to your career as an aspiring filmmaker, and you have a pretty standard way of living. You leave the apartment in between the times 7 and 10, depending on how busy it is at the office. You come back around 3 or sometimes 5. You feed your cats, who like to visit Sherlock and make yourself dinner for the night. You spend two or three hours doing your work before using the rest of the night doing whatever you want, usually going to sleep around one in the morning.

Sherlock had your routine to a tee, your weekend routine was more spontaneous but Sherlock had a vague idea of what you would be doing. Weekends when you were out with friends or weekends where you’re watching Netflix and ignoring the world. So, he was concerned that you hadn’t returned to feed your cats after five, you hadn’t shown up to return home. In fact, he found you coming up the stairs, cringing at the creaking of the wooden planks, almost two in the morning.

“Where have you been?” Sherlock asked, his sharp tone doesn’t go amiss.

You snap your head up and in the dim lights created in Sherlock’s flat, you cringe to be met by him. You were hoping to avoid everyone until you were acceptable to show your face. But, Sherlock doesn’t miss the disgusting black eye showing around your

“Jesus, what happened to you? Are you okay?” Sherlock asked as you were taken aback with the concern lacing within his deep voice, you were surprised to see

You rubbed your eyes, as you leaned the back of your hand against his chest, “That’s a really loaded question that I don’t have time to get into right now, please just get out of my way.”

But Sherlock stands in your way, you huffed at him as you looked at him. John was asleep and you didn’t want to disturb downstairs. Next thing came unexpectedly, suddenly and strange to you as Sherlock places his hands upon your face.

Tilts your head back to examine the damage, you watch how Sherlock softens, there was a strange protectiveness hanging over you from Sherlock as he softly caresses your cheek with his thumb.

“What happened?” Sherlock asked again, this time there was no bitterness radiating from you as you sigh.

“Bad day at the office?” You asked to humour yourself, shrugging your shoulders, feeling pathetic as you step away from Sherlock’s grip and sat down on the stairs.

With your knees close to your chest as your rest your arm over them, your chin resting on your arms. Sherlock sits next to you, there was silence between you to before you let out an exhausted sigh.

“Went out on a boozy night with the lads,” You started, “got caught up at work and everything, then this mess is just being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Well, I can get Mycroft-.” But Sherlock stops when you shake your head.

“I already dealt with Lestrade and Donnavan, don’t need to bring Mycroft into this,” You rolled your eyes but give him a smile, “Thanks though.”

“Well, anything for a friend,” SHerlock responded as you raised an eyebrow, “What? Of course, I see you as a friend.” You nodded but you didn’t hear Sherlock mutter under his breath, “Wish it was more.”

“Well, you’re a good friend, Sherlock.” You stand up, stretching.

“I try,” Sherlock responded.

You chuckled, “I know, you do, I appreciate it.”

“Well, I appreciate you.”

You stop in your steps, as you look down at him, sending him a tight smile. You pat him on the shoulder, before nodding him goodbye as you quickly go back up to your apartment. Leaving Sherlock to sit by himself.

He has figured a few things about himself tonight. One of them is that he has an overwhelming protectiveness over you, you’re adorable when you’re tired, he has a growing crush that seems to be coming out of hand and lastly, he needs and wants your attention more.

“Oh, Sherlock?” You called from upstairs, Sherlock stood up to come into view, “You’re welcome for breakfast tomorrow.”

“Thank you, (Y/n).”

You nodded awkwardly before shutting your door, missing the adorable smile that you have put on Sherlock’s face.

#sherlock BBC #bbc sherlock #sherlock imagine #sherlock bbc imagine #sherlock x male reader #sherlock holmes x male reader #x male reader

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lisbeth-kk · 10 months

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#FFF209

Sherlock fandom. Sherlock is back, but how to tell John?

On a bench in Regent’s Park

He’s waited for this day for so long. Yearned to be back home. To be safe again. Having Mrs. Hudson fuzz and bring him her baked goods and tea, urging him to eat something. Getting texts from Lestrade with an odd case, maybe an eight. Ignoring his meddling big brother to his wits end and chuckle at it with…

He almost doesn’t dare think about John’s reaction when he walks into the flat. Will he be angry? Oh, yes, if there’s one thing Sherlock’s certain of it’s John’s anger. Being left out of the loop and Sherlock trusting Molly instead of his best friend to fake his own death. Yes, that would get John’s temper to erupt.

How can he explain and make John understand why he stood on the edge at the roof of Barts and seconds later jumped off it? The more he’s thought about it, the crueller and more uncalled for it seems. Then again, Moriarty didn’t give him much choice, did he? Either Sherlock jumped or John, Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson got killed by snipers. So, no, it had to be done. Sherlock would’ve killed himself for real if the three people dearest to him suffered that fate. John in particular.

Sherlock stalls. He craves the scents and all the bric-a-brac that is the core of 221B, but he’s a coward. Just waiting a little bit longer before finding out how his return will be received. Sherlock finds a secluded bench in Regent’s Park where he can take in the other people strolling around. He deduces some of them, but his thoughts are diverted to a subject more important than this game of deductions. John. How to…

Sherlock’s been deep in thought and hasn’t heard the footsteps approaching the bench. His eyes focuses when he hears a hitched breath. Standing before him is John Watson. His eyes are wide, clenched fists cover his mouth and his body trembles. When his knees buckle, Sherlock catches him, and without thinking, he envelopes John in his arms and murmurs soothing words into his hair.

“I’m so sorry, John. If I could have told you, I would. Please believe that. Moriarty gave me no other choice. It was me or you, and you had to believe it to be real, or you would’ve been killed. I’ve missed you so much, John.”

The more Sherlock speaks, the more John relaxes. He can hear muffled sobs against his chest, but Johns arms are now around Sherlock’s waist, and John holds on for dear life. When Sherlock tries to draw back a little, John won’t let him, and Sherlock finally relaxes too. When John speaks Sherlock realises that John’s been standing on his own edge with an abyss underneath.

“I’ve been so lonely since you left, Sherlock. It’s been like it was before we met. My limp’s come back, I barely sleep, I hate being social, because everyone’s so concerned that I’ve grieved you like…like…”

John trails off and looks up at Sherlock with tears in his eyes.

“Like what, John?” Sherlock asks softly and cradles John’s face.

John doesn’t answer. Not with words, but his eyes give Sherlock the answer he’s hoped for. He bows his head and pecks John’s lips carefully. When he moves back a fraction, John’s eyes are closed, and a small smile graces his lips.

“Do that again,” he murmurs, and Sherlock doesn’t need to be asked twice.

@flashfictionfridayofficial

#sherlock fandom #sherlock #john watson #bbc sherlock #johnlock #flashfiction #on the edge

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fandom-imagines · 4 years

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Drunken Murder

Fandom: Sherlock

Pairing: Sherlock X Reader

Warnings: Attempted murder, alcohol consumption

Summary: After an awkward kiss between the reader and Sherlock, he disappears for a week leaving Y/N confused. Conflicted, she heads out for a drink but finds herself in serious danger, will John and Sherlock be there to save the day?

Sherlock and I had been, what I think is, friends for a few years now. We met through my brother, John, and had been semi-close for a while now. Well, about as close as anyone can get to him. And that leads me to where I am now: sat in Johns chair, chin resting on my knees with Sherlock sat opposite me thinking. John was out on another date with some woman I didn’t bother to learn the name of knowing that it would only be a short while that they are together; of course Sherlock knew this too.

Sighing, I gently closed my eyes and began to attempt to sleep. I didn’t get very far before Sherlocks voice interrupted me.

“That was a deep sigh,” He commented, causing me to open my eyes to see him already looking at me, one eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, I guess.” I shrugged, closing my eyes again.

I heard small movement opposite me, but it didn’t bother me in the slightest. I was so used to sudden movements from Sherlock that it didn’t startle me anymore. I only flinched slightly when I felt a cold hand touch my exposed leg, goose bumps rising as it did so. My eyes immediately flicked open, meeting Sherlocks concerned gaze.

“Are you okay?” He asked, something out of character for him.

“I’m okay.” I smiled slightly, too aware of his hand still resting on my bare knee to form a coherent sentence.

Okay, so maybe I did have a s m a l l crush on my tall, curly-haired friend but that’s all it was.

A small crush…

…That had been going on two years.

Yes, a small crush.

Sherlocks hand gently patted my leg, telling me to stand up which I did. As I did so, Sherlock turned away and grabbed something I couldn’t see. Once he returned, he passed me some of his long pants.

“You’re cold.” He commented as he did so.

“Thank you.” I mumbled, watching him turn around allowing me to change in private.

What a gentleman.

I quickly changed into the grey pants. I was already wearing Johns jumper meaning the upper half of my body was warm.

I tapped Sherlock on his shoulder, alerting him that I was done. Once he spun around, we made eye contact before his eyes scanned down my body. When his eyes reached mine, he gave me a small smirk along with a nod of approval before turning around to go sit back in his chair leaving me to do the same.

The two of us sat in a comfortable silence for around twenty minutes, Sherlock doing whatever Sherlock does and me sitting with my eyes closed.

Surprisingly, the thing to break our silence was Sherlock himself who had let out a big sigh.

“That was a deep sigh,” I said, mimicking his earlier words.

Opening my eyes, I noticed him staring at me, an unrecognisable look in his eyes. He quickly stood up.

“Sherlock?” I asked, “Are you okay?”

Sherlock ignored my question and began walking towards me leaving me confused.

“Sherlock?”

Another step.

“Are”

Another.

“you”

And another.

“okay?”

He reached a halt, kneeling in front of me, once again placing his hand on my, now clothed, knee. His eyes gazed up into my own, a vulnerable look filling them.

“Sherlock?”

Suddenly, his lips pressed against my own, my eyes widening.

I could taste the smoke of the cigarette he had smoked previously but some sort of… spice? His lips were slightly chapped but nice to kiss. His hand still rested on my knee, both of mine moving to lightly grip his shoulders, playing with part of his hair at which he let out a small hum of approval at, evidently enjoying the physical contact.

Our lips moved in sync for a few moments before we both parted for breath, maintaining eye contact despite my initial shyness.

“What was that about?” I whispered, feeling his hand still resting on my knee.

“I don’t know.” He replied, quickly hopping to his feet, grabbing his coat before dashing out of the door.

I had returned to my apartment around twenty minutes after the whole incident. Originally, I had waited at 221B in hopes of Sherlock returning to tell me what the hell had happened. Of course, this didn’t happen. It was probably an experiment to him. Either that or he knew of my feelings and wanted to make fun of me.

Despite my mind being flooded with thoughts, I somehow found myself falling asleep, still wearing his pants.

It had been over a week since I had last seen Sherlock. Occasionally John had been over to my apartment, but no Sherlock and no mention of Sherlock. Part of me wondered whether he had told John about what happened but the more reasonable part of me knew that he wouldn’t have due to my brother’s protectiveness over me.

I don’t know why or how but I had somehow ended up going to a bar with my friends. I hadn’t told anybody where I was going other than the friends I was going with. Thinking about it, I probably should have told John I was going out so that he wouldn’t worry if he went to my apartment and I wasn’t there but oh well.

While my initial plan was to just hang out with friends for the nigh and maybe get slightly drunk, I was somehow extremely drunk and chatting up some random man I deemed attractive at the bar. This chatting up then lead to him leading me into a back alley, something that my drunk self didn’t realise was suspicious. Well, I didn’t realise it was suspicious until I was pinned against the wall with the silver of a blade pressed against my throat, slightly digging in, not enough to draw blood but hard enough to cut off oxygen to my brain.

It wasn’t until I was about to pass out from oxygen that I heard a deep voice yell my name.

“Y/N!” The voice screamed, quickly followed by rapid footsteps and the heavy panting of someone who sounded like they had run all the way across London as, for all I knew, they very well may have.

Before my brain could realise, the man was pulled from me and on the floor and I was in the arms of my saviour and I slowly fell to the floor.

“Easy, easy.” The voice whispered, holding me tight, “I’ve got you.”

I awoke the following morning in someone’s bed, immediately making me panic as I recalled the previous nights event. It wasn’t until I looked around the room to spot a photo of Sherlock and Mycroft that I realised it was Sherlocks bed. This made me relax a little bit before the confusion hit which was shortly followed by the intense need to be sick.

I darted at the speed of light to the bathroom, throwing myself onto my knees, beginning to be sick. I realised that my hair was in my face and reached to tuck it behind me, but I was beat my someone’s large hands. Initially I believed it to be John and was about to thank him before my eyes widened at Sherlocks voice.

“Easy now.” He said, slightly sympathy in his voice as he did so.

I had never seen, well felt, him be this soft. The way his hand was gently holding my hair while the other patted my head was odd? But a nice type of odd.

“Are you okay?” His deep voice asked once I had finished throwing up.

He leant over me to flush the toilet, handing me a towel to wipe my mouth with.

I nodded.

“Thanks, Sherlock.”

“Anytime.”

The two of us stood in an awkward silence before he broke it.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” He asked quietly, looking intently at me, almost as if he hadn’t been avoiding me.

“I remember going to a bard, getting drunk, talking to some man and then going outside.” I began, to which Sherlock nodded, “Then he pulled out a knife and was going to stab me, at least I think so, and somebody saved me.”

“That somebody would be me.” He cleared his throat as my eyes widened.

“You?”

“Yes me, do keep up.”

“Sherlock, if it wasn’t for the fact you saved my life, I would totally be angry at you for saying that.” I said, trying to keep a straight face but failing as a smile crossed my lips surprisingly followed by his own lips rising.

“Thanks, Sherlock. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” I thanked him, pulling him into a tight hug which he shockingly returned, patting my hair with his hand.

“Probably die.” He stated bluntly, making me pull away and hit him gently causing him to chuckle.

“I’m being serious you meanie.” I huffed, crossing my arms in feign anger.

“You know you love me.” He said, my eyes widening as he did so.

“How do you-”

“It was obvious from the way you looked at me.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry though, I feel the same.”

How did he say that so casually while I’m stood here looking like a tomato?

“You do?” I asked, at which he nodded.

“Of course, would I have kissed you if I didn’t?”

“Maybe? Could be an experiment.”

“I’d never do that to you, Y/N. Not when I love you.” He said softly, placing a gentle kiss in my hair.

“I-I love you too, Sherlock.”

“I know.”

“Shut up, you ruined the moment.”

#Sherlock #Sherlock x reader #Sherlock imagine #Sherlock imagines #BBC Sherlock #BBC Sherlock x reader #BBC Sherlock imagine #BBC Sherlock #BBC Sherlock imagines #sherlock holmes #Sherlock Holmes x reader #Sherlock Holmes imagine #Sherlock Holmes imagines #Sherlock fanfiction #Sherlock Holmes fanfiction #sherlock fanfic #Sherlock Holmes fanfic

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thewollfgang · 3 years

Note

What are your top 5 fics? (From any random)

there is no possible way I could limit them to five, especially from any fandom. So I’ve taken your typo in spirit and given you some really Random Fandom recs.

when the highway takes me by paxlux (Teen Wolf, M, 1/1, post-apoc AU)

It’s been a hundred days.

a more perfect Union by scifisis (Sleepy Hollow, M, 4/4)

In which Abbie and Ichabod’s partnership is assessed, debated, and then eventually amended. A transition in four acts. Spoilers for the season 2 finale. Complete.

Of Monstrous Shape by RosaLui (Daredevil, M, 1/1)

“Put me in the ring,” Matt said. His glasses were cracked like a spider’s web, and in the shifting shadows it looked as if he was raising hackles in disgust.

“The House doesn’t profit from quick deaths,” said the jailor.

A Secret History of Salt by Teaotter (Leverage x CA: Winter Solder, T, 1/1)

Her face softens into something he can't read. "We stole you, you see, and we're not going to give you back."

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by JoeLawson (Hawaii Five-O, E, 1/1, Mer AU)

Detective Danny Williams is not what Steve expected.

[+ bonus recs]

Sic Gorgiamus Allos Subjectatos Nunc [series] by etothepii (Sherlock x Addams Family, T-M, 3 works, Addams AU)

"Sic gorgiamus allos subjectatos nunc. It's the family motto." "What does it mean?" "We gladly feast on those who would subdue us."

The Art of Running by pprfaith (Fast & Furious, M, 1/1, Genderswap AU)

The first question to ask any runner: 'Are you running from, or toward?' Or: The life of a girl named Brian.

Grains of Sand by AmberPenglass (Mass Effect, T, 10/10)

Shepard wakes, only mostly not dead, too soon while in Cerberus clutches. She escapes, and is chased to the only place she can hide; Omega. No team, no supplies, no information, no armor, no funds. To survive, she makes a deal with a quarian salvage dealer, only to discover that same dealer has something in common with her in a certain turian vigilante acquaintance.

Collapse The Box by pagination (Batman Movies, G, 1/1, Magical Realism)

When John Blake scribbles a quotation on a brick wall one winter morning, he's just trying to win a little luck.

What he doesn't expect to get is a reply.

after all by lupinely (Elementary, G, 1/1)

Sherlock almost takes her hand, then decides against it. “Joan,” he says instead, and then gets down on one knee, never looking away from her face.

Joan stares at him. “Are you serious?”

#fic rec #fic rec list #random fandoms #asks #Anonymous

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wickednerdery · 4 years

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Title: The Guest Author: @wickednerdery Fandom: The Night Manager Pairing/character: Jonathan Pine/OC Rating: Teen Summary: “Damn son, you fine as Hell!” Notes: This is something that’s been bouncing in my brain for, like, almost a year (on-and-off)…still not sure I have more than snapshots, but it finally came out onto paper just now lol!

Previous Chapter

They return in the same silence they left, comfortably shared, then depart into their own worlds once more. Kay focuses on running her hotel, Pine on being its guest. They exchange looks on occasion, smiles when they both see Mrs Regan, but otherwise make no contact. The days drift on lazily, peacefully.

Jonathan makes his way out for lunch in the town square when he hears fast, sloppy, feet approaching. He turns to see a girl near the same age as Danny with a large, nervous, smile.

“Hi.”

“Hello.” He waits, seeing her sway in attempts to build up courage.

“I’m May.”

“I’m Jonathan.” Smile turns up corners of his lips. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, May.”

“You’re tall.”

He stifles his laugh so as to not embarrass her. “Thank you.” He continues to wait.

“Umm…can you, uh…help me get the beach ball?”

“The beach ball?”

“Yeah, I was, we were, kicking it outside and it, well, you know, got stuck.”

“Where?”

“On the grill-house, where they cook the pool food. I think it’s...” she shrugs. “I don’t know, caught on the gutter or something.”

“Ah, yes, well, I can certainly try.” Even he has to climb on a nearby barrel to get atop the shed that serves as grill-house, but he’s able to find the ball instantly. As he goes to collect it, pinned between gutter and smokestack, he sees a small sack tucked in the shadows.

“Did you find it?” May calls out when he goes silent too long.

“...Yeah...” He tosses the ball off the roof to her. “I’m just...thinking maybe I can fix what it got snagged on.”

“Is something broken? Should I tell my mom?”

“No, no.” God no! “Let me just...clean a bit of debris real quick. Then your mom won’t have to do it herself.”

“Okay.” May squeezes ball, testing its inflation level. “Weird...”

Pine crouches, taking sack and opening it. “What’s weird?”

“Mom just cleaned the gutters yesterday.”

“Mmm...” Jonathan pulls out two passports. One real is real, the other a passable, though not great, fake. He reads the original: Ricardo Jiménez. Then the fake: Ricardo Hernandez. It’s not a stretch to consider this who the men were looking for.

“Mr Jonathan, are you okay? Are you stuck too?”

He shoves the passports back into the sack, returns sack to its hiding spot, with a small laugh. “No, I’m all right, May.” He heads down, from roof to barrel to ground. “I just wanted to be sure. Hardly point in leaving a job half done, is there?”

“You sound like my mom.” It’s not an insult, but not quite a compliment either. “She says you have to finish what you start.”

“Does she now?”

“Yup!” May bounces ball off her knees with her steps. “Hey, can you...not tell my mom about the ball thing? I already got dinged for forgetting to lock the pool. At this rate I’ll never get my own phone.”

Jonathan smiles down at her. “Your secret’s safe with me, May.”

“Thanks, Mr Jonathan!” Any hope of speaking longer with the girl is dashed as she runs to her friends triumphantly displaying the ball to them.

He selects a hole-in-the-wall for lunch, somewhere he can collect his thoughts without distractions from touristing crowds. It’s full of locals, most taking sandwiches to-go, as they grab a quick meal. Some give him a glance, recognizing an outsider, but most don’t bother. Most are too busy to get back to work...lunch is a busy time, robust in customers.

Pine reviews what he knows. He knows two men were aggressively looking for one of Kay’s male guests, suggesting he was dangerous to her. That helping him could pose a legal risk to her. Given what he found today, it’s not a stretch to assume Ricardo is the man they were looking for. It’s also not a stretch that think Kay is, in fact, not just protecting, but helping, the man. The question remains...why?

Is Kay being played? Threatened into helping? Or is she in on whatever it is that makes Ricardo a wanted man? The little he knows of the woman makes it unlikely she’s gullible enough to be conned. She’s strong, yes, but her daughter could be a weak point, a lever for Ricardo to pull. He’d like to think she’s not in on it, but he’s no longer in the habit of trusting others...not even single mother’s running coastal inns. If he just had a bit more information, maybe he could sort through it all better.

Pine pulls out his mobile, scrolls contacts, pauses at Angela’s entry. But then what? Burr’s British intelligence, not American, and he’s supposed to be out of the business. The life. What does he say? Yes, I’m reentering the world, but would you mind terribly tracking down a man who may or may not be involved in illegal activities at my hotel in the States? Also, look up the woman managing the hotel, if you could, please? “Bloody idiot,” he mutters to himself, stuffing phone back into pocket and collecting things for the receptacle.

“Fuck yo!” The woman exclaims as she bounces off his chest.

“Terribly sorry, are you all right?”

She’s rubs her forehead. “Ya’ll never look for them bitty girls, do you?” Looking up, frown goes to grin. “Damn son, you fine as Hell!”

Jonathan nearly snorts a laugh at what may well be the most American way someone’s complimented him. “Thank you.” It comes out automatically, instinctual politeness kicking.

“How ‘bout a few drinks on me? Literally, if you play your cards right.” She shrugs. “If I play my cards right, am I right?” He goes to speak, but she carries on. “No, no, don’t break my heart, just pretend I didn’t say it at all. How about a Coke though? One for the road, so I can tell my cuz I bought a hottie Brit a drink instead of blowing my shot all over him.”

“I’m afraid I’ve already had a pop, thank you though.”

“Damn.” She tries another tactic. “Well, I’ll be at Squall’s End, if you change your mind. Nice little bar. Gotta in with the owner, so I can slide you a freebie, if you’re up for it, Shakespeare.”

Interest truly piqued, he smiles. “How about I buy you a drink here and we go up there together?”

“Really?” Grin brightens, then fades to wariness. “Wait, you staying there?”

“Precisely.”

“Ah, shit...” the woman shakes her head. “Nope nope, sorry, my cousin’s gotta strict ‘no hittin’ on the guests’ policy for my ass.”

“Your cousin is the manager, Kay, then?”

“Oooo, already on a nickname basis with her, huh? She must like you, but then she’s seen you...heard that devastating voice of yours...” The woman fakes a swoon, then carries on. “I’m Qi. But it’s with a q, instead of c-h, because my parents wanted to ensure a hundred people mispronounced my name before I entered first grade. So...Who’re you, Shakespeare?”

“Jonathan. Jonathan Ashland.”

“Parents didn’t even have the decency of naming you something like Neville or Mortimer...Lucky devil.” Qi takes a deep breath, then lifts brows. “I still want that cola, Jonathan, but now it’s a ‘friend, size-up-the-guest’, cola instead of a come-on cola.”

“Of course.”

...Perhaps Qi has some answers for Pine, she’s certainly open and chatty enough.

“Okay, get me my soda and prepare for interrogation, Mr Darcy.”

“Darcy?”

“Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, Pride and Prejudice, keep up, Sherlock!”

Another one out and, this time, with a surprise new character, haha! Not sure if Qi will be around a lot or just a little bit - I do know WHY she’s here though - but she’s already making me laugh, LOL!! She’s younger than Kay, obviously way bolder and flirtier, but she’d just say she speaks the truth, haha! I’m hope May came out okay...she’s nervous and I don’t generally write kids so they’re not really my strong suit to start, lol! And I should have a masterlist for this tale soon, so yay, lol!

(Gifs found on Google, adjusted by me!)

Tagging Who Might Care: @lady-crowned-with-stars @holykryptonitekitten @ultrarebelheart @chibiyanai @beccaliciooouuusss @michellearel1 @sweetfictionalworld @lukeevansandjdmobession @lokilvrr @rizzo87 @alexakeyloveloki @wintertink @moonfaery @annievvv7 @creedslove @wadeyouwitch @cassadius @tarithenurse @kellatron55 @coppercorn-and-cauldron @iwasbusybeingdead

#jonathan pine #the night manager #pine x oc #fanfiction #OC: Kay #OC: May #OC: Qi

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galactic-academia · 5 years

Note

#42 please. i’m pregnant. shy reader ksjddjksk. love u

Mmmh what a good idea! here we gooo

Rating: G

Category: F/M

Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)

Relationship: Sherlock Holmes/Female Reader

Tags: Shy Reader, Cute Sherlock, Pregnancy, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Request, Humor.

Words: 1145

Notes: I’m not a native, please, forgive my mistakes. Gif is not mine. I hope you will enjoy it

Masterpost | Ask | Guidelines | Sherlock (BBC) Masterlist

Ok, there was a problem. Y/N wasn’t often ill, it was very uncommon, but she was able to take care of herself. But this time, no matter the medicines she took, no matter the diet she imposed to herself, she was still nauseous several times a day. When se found herself unable to smoke a well-deserved cigarette without feeling the strong desire to immediately throw up, she was sure there was a problem somewhere. No sickness had ever disgusted her with nicotine and since she wasn’t stupid at all she had a big clue about what was going on. She just needed to be sure.

Bringing together all the courage she owned, Y/N made a trip to the drugstore. Asking for a pregnancy test to the druggist had been a little difficult, she had been blushing madly and stuttering, but it had been nothing compared to the few minutes she had had to wait after having pee on the tab. She had never been so happy Sherlock was away on a case, he would have become mad with all the stress emanating from Y/N. Time to check the test. Oh.My.God.

How do you declare to one Sherlock Holmes you’re pregnant with his child? Ok, ok, keep calm, breath in, breath out. Y/N had to figure it out.

Despite being all clumsy with feelings, Sherlock was, indeed, a very cute and loving man. So, she couldn’t just throw him the test in the face. That would have been easier, but he deserved the best in the world, so the best he would have. Maybe she could buy a pair of baby slippers and let them between their two pillows in their bed? That would be cute, but Sherlock wouldn’t discover them until going to bed and Y/N would become crazy waiting for him to find it out. In fact, he would immediately notice something was unusual with her girlfriend and they wouldn’t get to bedtime without Y/N confessing. No, bad idea. What else? Mmmh… She could write him an enigma to make him guess she was pregnant? Well, it was a very cute idea, but, if Y/N was clever, she wasn’t a genius like Sherlock, so the enigma would probably be far too much simple to solve for the Detective. Of course, she could think about one or two tricks to have him on the edge for a few hours, but all the setting up would be a trial to do with the steady need to throwing up. Too much complex. Maybe she could wait until the next time Sherlock asks her to sing and sing only lullabies? Sherlock loved to listen to her singing, and he would understand she wasn’t singing only for him, this time? But she would have to wait until he asks her, and, again, he would guess before that. No, no, no! Think Y/N! It’s not every day you tell the love of your life you’re pregnant, it’s a f*cking occasion that must absolutely not be missed! Ok, the simplest is always the best, isn’t it? Y/N had a little shopping to do.

A few hours later, Y/N was back to the 221B with something wrapped in a white gift wrap and a deep purple bow. When she closed the door, she heard pacing on the first floor. Sherlock was home. Without thinking anymore, she went upstairs as fast as she could. She couldn’t wait to kiss his lover, to hug him, to give him his present. To tell him. There was nothing Y/N loved most than seeing Sherlock happy. Nothing.

“Hey, Genius!”

“Hey, love. I was wondering where you were.”

Y/N put her bags down and held out her arms to Sherlock without even removing her coat. He smiled and hug her, kissing her hair.

“Is everything Ok? You’re all tensed…”

Crap… Happily she didn’t choose a way to tell him that involves some waiting, everything would have been screwed up so fast…

“Everything is all right, I… I have a present for you…”

“For me? Why? It’s not Christmas, it’s not my birthday… Damn! Tell me it’s not an anniversary I forgot! Is it an anniversary I forgot?”

Seeing Sherlock like this made Y/N melt. And people thought that Sherlock Holmes had a heart of ice… How far, far, faaaar were they from the truth. Hanging her coat to the hanger, her own heart in her throat, she just said:

“No, nothing like that, don’t worry. Just… Just open it.”

She handed him the package and looked at him while he was unwrapping his gift, finally discovering a black t-shirt saying “Best Dad Ever” in a fancy writing. And then… Nothing. Sherlock was blankly staring at the t-shirt, not moving, not speaking not breathing. Y/N started panicking. Why did she buy him a t-shirt? He NEVER wore t-shirt! That was so stupid! A t-shirt saying “Best Dad Ever”? Please! How cliché was it? How kitsch! He wouldn’t love it, he would find it ridiculous and be disappointed. She definitely should have throwing him the pregnancy test in the face. She had ruined everything… Nevertheless, eyes watering, Y/N found the courage to say, in a shaky whisper

“Sh… Sherlock… I’m pregnant… You’re going to be dad…”

“… I know.”

“What?”

Sherlock had looked up from the t-shirt, he was now staring at Y/N. He was flushed and wearing the biggest smile she had ever seen. Slowly, he fell on his knees, taking tenderly Y/N in his arms, whispering quietly in her ear

“I know. I know since last week, when I saw you frowning in front of Chinese food which you love so much but eating a vanilla cupcake while you don’t usually like vanilla. And you have been sick at least once a day since last week. You’re never ill, except for a cold twice or third times a year. I knew but… I also knew you would want to announce it to me, that it would make you happy. I was expecting something like baby slippers or a pacifier with my cup of tea in the morning. T-shirt I didn’t, but… My, I love it!”

“Cute and loving”? God. What an understatement it was… Y/N couldn’t stop crying, she was so happy her heart would explode, and she saw, between two tears, Sherlock pulling away, removing his purple shirt and putting the t-shirt on. Smiling tenderly, he kissed her tears away before carrying her bridal style to the couch.

“Right, listen there, Mummy, I don’t want you to leave the couch except to go to bed or to the bathroom, ok? You want something you tell me. You’re creating life, it’s already a full-time job, no disturbing.”

Best Dad Ever. Nothing could be more right in this world.

***

Thanks for reading

#sherlock imagine #Sherlock #sherlockholmes #sherlock BBC #sherlock x reader #imagine #Headcanon #sherlock headcanon #fanfiction #sherlock holmes x reader #request #benedict cumberbatch

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raeofalbion · 5 years

Text

Rules: List 5 quotes from various fics you love and link to the fics! Quotes can be short or long. Tag as many people as you want! (tagged by @leafenclaw - thanks so much! :D)

tagging: Idk who I follow and who follows me who hasn’t done this yet, so, if you want to do it, go for it and please tag me so I can see!

Okay, so I’ve decided to twist the rules a little and use this as a rec list for my current top five Sherlock fics and my top three Fable fics, in no particular order, so people who follow me for either fandom have something to go through. Under the cut because...long.

BBC Sherlock

Inevitable Destruction by @jimswestwood (formerly Dionysisch)

(Ao3; Sheriarty) Bored, Jim invites Sherlock into his home, Sherlock decides to stay. — It’s a beautiful 4 part oneshot series that deals heavily with existentialism and wanting, framed in an almost elegant, bordering on philosophical light. Oh and it makes me cry. It makes me cry a lot.

Sometimes it would hit him so hard it became painful even to breathe. The meaninglessness of it all. It all dissolved into the same ephemeral prettiness of clouds, of smoke, of things that could fascinate but hold no substance at all, vanish at the touch. The air in his lungs, the wall he kept staring at. Himself. The words flowing through his brain. Nothing. Just a casual connection, weak strings giving intolerable heaviness to sounds and letters. In the end, the more he repeated something, the more he realized emptiness. Sounds rolling in his mouth numbing his palate, as he took another mask, another voice, another self - an evocation of something he forgot along the way, and in which he forgot part of himself.

Bored, bored, bored. Bored.

His thin lips part slightly, tongue darting gently over scabs of a tormented nature, sign of a certain carelessness betraying a polished image in all its destructiveness. “Bored,” Jim repeats, again. Just a murmur. Gentle, quiet, making sure not to disturb the non-existent life in a bubble of static silence. It makes him think of grey, grey dullness, something like quicksand but gripping at his brain and his heart and paralyzing him until he cannot breathe and exploding into a million pieces sounds like the most tolerable image. Scattering himself like cosmic dust. He wonders if, in that case, he would give life to other stars or just decay. Once more.

Not Until Then by @jamlocked

(Ao3; Sheriarty, Sherlock/James Moriarty) After Sherrinford, Sherlock goes to see Jim’s brother. What follows is in no way straightforward. — There was a three-way tie for me between this fic, Daemon, and Between Shadows and Sunlight, but this fic. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve read it and I still can’t say for certain what I think is really happening. It’s gorgeous, elusive, and I love how much it makes me think. Jam’s a master at well-crafted, incredibly twisty plots and I’m just...endlessly fascinated by this one.

Sherlock watches his chest stop moving. David’s head tilts a fraction, like he’s listening to a far-off sound. And then…

…and then, his left hand moves to his left knee. It’s an instantly familiar gesture, one burned into Sherlock’s hard drive. Every other thought falls away. Sherlock feels his eyes widen and his mouth drop open, a gasp stuck behind his teeth. The cold, the silence of the country, the light of the windows, all melt to nothing as he watches David ripple his fingers (beats like digits) over his bent leg, pushing a slight emphasis on the roll of his thumb.

For a few seconds, he can’t breathe. His eyes snap up to David’s face - and it is David’s face, it is, but all he can see is Jim. Jim sitting there with his eyes closed and his hair a mess, slumped in exhaustion but still, always, drumming his own beat. Except that wasn't his beat, that was theirs. He knows of no one else who ever saw Jim make that move, and there’s no reason anyone ever should. That was part of their game.

He whirls to the side, back into darkness. His shoe makes a noise as it shifts on the gravel, but it barely registers. He blinks rapidly, playing the movement back, checking he saw what he thought he saw, not just what he wanted. Why would he want that? (Except wasn’t that his secret hope, wasn’t he sad when he realised he was wrong?) He doesn’t want that. It was just…

Logic. Logic. They’re brothers. He doesn’t know what characteristics they shared, and he doesn’t know when they last talked. There are any number of explanations; indeed, they’re lining up in his brain, each one ready to squash down the live-wire burst of shock. Coincidence (rarely so lazy), or wishful thinking, or his brain overlaying a strong moment from his past onto something innocuous.

Sherlock breathes out, and looks back through the window. David is rinsing the plates at the sink, ready for the dishwasher. Just a too-thin, tired man. Sherlock calms himself, and walks back around the house to let himself back in. He has to see this through. He has to know what he’s doing here, and then there’ll be no need to come back.

To What End? by collaborativesheriartyparty

(Ao3; Sheriarty) Texting, drinks, and...something more. Unique. Possibly dangerous. Definitely addicting. — I don’t know what to say about this series that someone else hasn’t already said but gods, they (the writers) are so good. There’s a depth and a complexity and a lovely, wonderful vulnerability to how both of them write their respective characters and watching Jim and Sherlock’s relationship unfold feels incredibly intimate and, at times, like I should have given them a bit of time alone. It’s fantastic. <3

Sherlock had a funny way of getting revenge, of paralyzing his enemy. Jim appreciated it. Why do with effort what could be done with a whisper? The nights he’d dreamt of the detective had transformed his mornings, either giving him a renewed sense of patience or a real urge to get creative in his ventures. Jim had wanted to give Sherlock every chance to notice him, and chase him down. If Sherlock slipped cuffs on his wrists right now with a ‘gotcha’, would it be worth it? Yes. “I think…” Jim murmured, his tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips and, oops, brushing Sherlock’s lobe in the process, “that you should be texting John.” How he managed sing-song just now was a bloody feckin’ wonder. Maybe because he only took John so seriously. “Telling him you’ll be home…soon,” Jim continued, tone back to a distracted drawl, and took another deep inhale of Sherlock, his leg almost brushing the other’s now. To Jim, they were the only people in the bar right now, in the world. His eyes had closed, and it took every effort to keep his hands off Sherlock. “Instead of starting something you don’t want to finish.” He’d intended warning, but somehow it had turned out sounding like a challenge.

Circadian Disruption by @like-the-direction

(Ao3; Sheriarty) They are many things--brilliant, determined, enemies, lovers, human only in looks--and, if Molly has any say in it, soon they’ll also be free. — It was a tie for me between this series and Corpus Callosum--both invoke similar levels of internal joyful screaming, but I seem to recall CC being recced recently, so I thought it might be a good idea to rec this one. And oh, gods, what to say about these fics. They’re so incredibly well written--the prose is beautiful and feels impeccably well-thought out. There’s so many layers to everything that it’s impossible for me to read without finding myself just sitting there, wondering. And crying. This one makes me cry, too.

“Do you dream of waterfalls?”

Sherlock pauses mid-step.

“Waterfalls,” Moriarty says, hushed, “and a precipice. You, and me.” There is something in his voice, a quiet heartbreak, and it cracks ever so slightly when he asks, “Do you dream of falling?”

Slowly, Sherlock turns. Moriarty is deadly serious when he meets his eyes.

“Victorian clothing,” he goes on, while the image - the recurring dream Sherlock has had since the day he met James Moriarty face to face - begins to form in his mind’s eye. “Me, all in black. You, wearing that fucking--”

“Deerstalker,” Sherlock says in unison with him, unsure what is happening, but feeling in his bones that it is significant, important somehow. Moriarty nods a bit, and Sherlock slowly continues, “I...refer to you as--”

“‘Professor,’” Moriarty finishes with him, and Sherlock is dimly aware of his pulse rising as he makes his way back toward Moriarty at the ledge. His adversary’s eyes briefly appear wet, but it’s difficult to tell in the light. Moriarty says, “We stand at the cliff’s edge, and I ask you something. I ask, ‘Shall we--’”

“‘Shall we go over together?’” Sherlock whispers with him. They are standing so close. Sherlock can see his reflection in Moriarty’s eyes. “Why do you know that?” he asks faintly, looking between his twin reflections. “How could you know that?”

“You tell me, Detective.”

It’s a test - Moriarty knows, certainly he knows - but Sherlock thinks he may, as well. “It...wasn’t a dream.”

dinner by @very-trivial

(Ao3; Jimcroft) Mycroft Holmes is a dangerous man--mysterious, isolated. Sherlock and Jim are convinced he’s secretly a top government official, but they can’t begin to comprehend the scale of his power. To clarify: Mycroft Holmes is a food critic. — This fic never fails to cheer me up. It’s lovely and the descriptions of food, as well as the character interactions, are so amazingly spot-on. Jim and Sherlock’s insistence that Mycroft is a scary government-man is surprisingly funny, particularly alongside Mycroft’s worry that they’ll figure out what his job really is. Also, the end is oddly heartwarming? The whole thing is just really good.

“You’re a crit-”

A hand slapped over Jim’s mouth.

Despite everything Jim now knew about Mycroft Holmes, in this very moment, he looked scarier than ever.

“I’ll tell you everything, but not a single word passes through your mouth - not now, not ever,” the man hisses, sotto voce. The silencing hand did not relent one millimeter as he pressed on. Jim was starting to regret seating them in a corner booth away from prying eyes.

“If my identity so much as appears as a rumor on the D-list food vlogs , I will make sure you never eat in this town again. You’ll never be able to order curry without wondering if the dish has been tampered with. Maybe poison, maybe they just spit in it. I have clout in this world, Jim Moriarty, and you don’t. You put my name out there and I will use it . I have friends in high places, sir , and they owe me favors. I’ve made careers, I’ve launched veritable nobodies into international stardom. Don’t think for one moment you’ll ever be able to set foot into any decent restaurant again if you cross me. You'll live off cheap instant noodles for the rest of your life. Not even the good Korean kind.”

Fable

The Sergeant by deadpan riot

(FFN; m!Sparrow & Reaver) Reaver returns home from Samarkand to find Sparrow has usurped his home. Oh, and Sparrow has a new pet. — First things first: I adore deadpan riot’s Sparrow; our Sparrows are somewhat similar, so it makes this fic (well, actually series but the series isn’t up in full) a really easy read for me. This fic balances out the ridiculousness and hilarity of poorly-paired roommates (with a pet balverine) and the solemnity and almost depression that comes from everything that happens in Fable II and all the choices one makes but still manages to keep the story lighthearted and well-paced.

"Did you know, my dear boy, that that beast of yours has, in fact, retained a marginally functional knowledge of the human language? Illiteracy aside, of course…" Reaver toyed with one of the bottles nearest him, watching the hero through his bangs. Smiles had again gone to try his luck at bottle roulette.

"Well, yea, I guessed as much since he does tend to listen to me…But what the hell are you two doing?" Sparrow was now coming down the stairs, prompting Reaver to stretch languidly across them.

"Whiling away my time banished to the foyer, what else?"

Sparrow stopped on the step above Reaver, eyeing the pirate, the bottles, and the general disarray of the room at large. "So 'whiling away the time' includes turning all the pictures upside down as well?"

Reaver cast a glance at the reversed paintings. "As a matter of fact it does, oddly enough."

Snow and Stones by Lilith Encodead

(FFN; f!Sparrow/Reaver) Reaver hears rumours that someone new has taken control of Bloodstone only to find Sparrow and a cursed snowglobe waiting for him. — Considering I prefer platonic Sparrow and Reaver fics, you might be surprised to learn this is my favourite Fable fic of all time. And it kills me that it’s not complete. Lilith creates such an amazing atmosphere in here and there’s such a gravity to the fic that everything, even the lighter moments, just seem to carry a lovely weight to them. The way she writes Sparrow and Reaver is gorgeous too, and I just...Lilith, wherever you are, please??? finish??? fic??? D: Please???

"I'm not going to play your stupid little game." she sneered slowly. "If you want answers - look around."

Reaver did not move. He did not speak. Then, ungraciously he eased his grip, before giving his pistol one last shove into her head. Her fontanelle was knocked back into the stone Cullis Gate, as the force reverberated through her skull. With an aching head and blurred vision, Sparrow watched him rise up and survey his surroundings.

Reaver examined the hauntingly empty area briefly, before looking straight back at Sparrow, as if averting his eyes from something disgustingly gory. Around the two of them were the smashed remains of once mighty stone ruins covered in ivy and surrounded by dandelion weeds. Jagged lumps of stone nested the Cullis Gate, depicting faded carvings of the Old Religion bleached by sun and faded with time. A standalone rock archway stood crumbling in front of them; beyond which was a chalky white path leading down to the town.

Every water, every cell, of Reaver's body could sense a foreboding danger through the archway, down the dusty path, and back to his past.

"This is a trick." he insisted. "An elaborate deception fabricated by a vindictive Will-user."

Sparrow remained sat on the Cullis Gate, knowing that Reaver would knock her down again if she gave another dissatisfactory answer.

"Its not." she said simply, as if talking to a child that should know better. "You know it's not."

That Which Moves the Stars by ingresviolin

(Ao3; f!HoBW/Reaver, f!HoBW/Ben Finn) Beatrice, empath and princess, embarks on a quest to find her missing father shortly after her mother’s death. — It’s still in early days, but there’s something very charming and curious about this fic. I love that the quest is mainly research-based so far and that all the characters have a wonderfully defined depth and clarity. I’m so curious and excited to see how it all comes together in the end.

"You look very young for being very old," Beatrice whispered at a nearly inaudible level. Her mother and Logan did not catch the comment, but both men at the table did. Reaver glared at her with the same menacing expression as earlier that day, but his eyes were darker than before. Beatrice felt an internal prickle of excitement: her favorite feeling.

She didn't need to touch Reaver to know he was upset, but as his glare darkened her excitement turned to fear. She could see her own image in the darkness of his pupils, as well as the glowing flames of the fireplace behind her. And she could have sworn to Avo that the two were not separate, but that the Beatrice-shaped homunculus at the center of the tiny conflagration in his eyes was being burned alive.

#thanks for the tag!#memes #fic rec I guess #very long post #sorry this took so long I wanted to reread my favs to make sure I was getting my actual fav fics/lines #there are so many fics I wanted to put in here but couldn't because of space #I'm sure some people will be surprised by my Fable fic choices buuuut...yeah #the Fable ones were hard though; I have too much history with some of these writers #maybe one day I'll do a proper rec list #leafenclaw

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