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tatumrileyslover · 10 months

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Heads, Hearts, and Hangovers

☆〜Pairing: Amber Freeman x Fem!Reader

☆〜Genre: Fluff

☆〜Word Count: 1.7k

☆〜Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, suggestive language, underage drinking

(Y/n) shuffled through the bursting halls of the Freeman residence, weaving her way through the swaying bodies as if she were swimming amidst a school of intoxicated fish. Scouring towards the kitchen, desperately seeking her girlfriend amidst the chaotic party scene. It was no secret that Amber had indulged in a few too many drinks-not that she hadn't herself-and now she stumbled around clumsily, attempting to lend a hand to fellow partygoers.

A door creaked to her left, a familiar denim jacket caught her eye as she stumbled to the side, eyes meeting her flushed lover as she fought with the stubborn door, juggling a cascade of beers in her arms like delicate newborns, her face glowed spotting her girlfriend through the crowd.

"Jesus Amber, what the fuck- here let me carry some," (Y/n) exclaimed, voice filled with concern and surprise as she reached out to take a few beers from Amber's overwhelmed grip.

Amber, however, shook her head stubbornly, a determined glint in her eyes. "Don't worry (N/n), I've trying to show off for my girlfriend,"

(Y/n) chuckled, her worry mingling with amusement, as she threw her hands up. "Alright, Hercules. But if you drop them, I'm not helping you to clean it up!"

Amber threw her head back in hysterics, stumbling in her tipsy state, bottles clinking together as she reached the kitchen counter, as the bottles tumbled and scattered across the counter, one rogue bottle dared to defy gravity, teetering precariously on the edge. (Y/n) stumbled forwards, grasping the neck before it plummeted to its demise on the sticky, rustic wooden floor, (Y/n) sent her most intimidating glare—which wasn't very intimidating due to her inebriated state—Ambers eyes widened in shock, her mouth gaping like a fish.

Amber regained her composure, grasping the beer bottle from her hands and popping the cap in between her teeth before deftly leveraging her jaw as a makeshift bottle opener. With a determined twist, the cap relinquished its grip, releasing a faint hiss of escaping carbonation. (Y/n) stood there, eyes wide with astonishment, momentarily frozen in a state of disbelief.

"I didn't know you could do that," she whispered, In the cacophony of the crowd, (Y/n)'s voice barely carried, but Amber still heard her. She handed her the beer, as her she opened her own.

Ambers arms snaked around her waist pulling her to her body. Lost in a moment of intimacy, she gazed into (Y/n)'s eyes, discovering a universe of stars twinkling within them. Amber leaned in closer to (Y/n)’s eyes dipping to her glistening lips.

"Yeah? If you think my mouth is impressive at opening bottles, you should see what else it can do."

(Y/n)'s fingers instinctively found the delicate silver heart pendant that adorned Amber's neck, using it as a tether to draw her closer. With a desperate pull, she closed the remaining distance, their lips meeting in a ravenous, passionate kiss. (Y/n)'s fingers found their way into Ambers's hair, gripping with fervent need. Ambers's hand lay on her cheek, her gentle hands caressing her softly, as her right hand rested on (Y/n)'s waist, the ice-cold beer sending shivers up her spine.

A whistle sounded from behind them, Amber pulled away, glancing over her shoulder into the living room, where Chad and Mindy sat watching a Stab movie.

"Get a room, you two!” Mindy shouted in a hazy state, hands cupped around her mouth, to be heard from across the house. Chad was chuckling beside her. (Y/n) whipped her head around, flipping the two off as they made their up to her room. (Y/n) giggled like the love sick teen she was, clutching Ambers hand tightly in her grasp, as they clambered the stairs.

Surprisingly, no horny houseguests had escaped to Ambers bedroom to have sex. Quietly shutting the door behind them, creeping into the room as if they were attempting to be discreet. The muffled sound of music entered the room through the drywall. It’s melodic rhythm and pulsating beats reduced to a muffled haze as it traversed through the walls. Faint vibrations tingled in the air, an auditory tapestry that whispered tales of distant celebration and drew her thoughts towards the lively atmosphere beyond her sanctuary. (Y/n) could feel the floor softly vibrating beneath her.

Amber held her hand softly leading her to the bed to lay down on the bed, the burgundy bedsheets welcomed her like a cloud as she sunk into the mattress. Amber switched off the room lights and lay down next to her, adjusting so (Y/n) could rest her head on her chest, lovingly stroking her hair. She let out a big sigh content with her lover in her arms, gazing up at the glow-in-the-dark ceiling star she had scattered throughout. She used to be terrified of the dark when she was younger, afraid the monsters would come for her, but (Y/n) gave her an extra packet she had for her room. Ever since that moment, no matter where they were, the star would keep them linked, they were written in the constellations.

“I can’t believe we still have these up,” (Y/n) sighed caressing her waist, letting out a delicate giggle she uttered, “Who knew our thing would be luminous ceiling stars!”

Not receiving a response, (Y/n) broke her gaze from the ceiling to connect with Ambers affectionate gaze. No words were exchanged, but the emotions were palpable in their shared gaze. Their eyes spoke volumes, communicating a depth of emotion without uttering a single word. Silent but expressive, their gazes conveyed a tapestry of emotions: love, longing, understanding.

Both of them lay in a state of peaceful contentment, the stars softly illuminating the room, broken by a car's headlights shining in the driveway.

Everything was as it should have been.

Ambers's body tensed up, arms leaving (Y/n)’s huddled body and slamming them flat onto the sheets—startling poor (Y/n) who began to fall asleep—Amber sat straight up, straining her ears, head tilted towards the door, suddenly her head whipped round to face a concerned, confused (Y/n). She could tell by the look on her face, that whatever she was going to say was going to be something stupid, by the shit-eating grin plastered on her flushed cheeks.

“List- (N/n)Listen, it’s our song!” She exclaimed grasping her hands tightly.

“Amber, it’s Pitbull”

“I love this song,” she muttered to herself, she attempted to pull (Y/n) to her feet to dance with her, “Amber it’s Fireball by Pitbull, this isn’t our song?” (Y/n) burst out laughing tugging Amber back to her arms, she resisted.

“It can be!”

“I am not letting Mr fucking Worldwide be the song for my first dance,” Amber paused, arms going limp to her side, “first dance? You want to have your first dance with me?”

(Y/n) looked at her lovingly, eyes scanning her shell-shocked frame, her eyes wide, her eyes welling up slightly.

“though you’ll have to propose first-“Ambers's entire body moved at a lightning pace, hands grasping (Y/n)’s face pulling her in for a passionate kiss—which failed miserably—the two girls recoiled in pain as their heads collided, holding their foreheads in a mix of shock and pain.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry— I didn’t mean to, babe, I’m so sorry,” Ambers's eye remained screwed shut, attempting to comfort her girlfriend by caressing her knee—which she now knelt beside in pain—in attempt to apologise for the erratic rush of affection she tried to display when her emotions overwhelmed her.

(Y/n) peeled open her eyes, more concerned for her girlfriend than herself, “It’s ok, baby, you didn’t mean to, I know,” she lightly touched her wrist moving it delicately away from her face, the area on the centre of her forehead being to explode in an aggressive red.

“Come on, I think it’s time for bed, we still have to clean the house tomorrow,” Amber groaned at the thought of having to clean up after the party, letting (Y/n) pull her into the bed beside her, both of them stripping themselves of their clothes to get more comfortable.

“Just so you know, I’d love to marry you someday (N/n),” Amber said while looking intently into her eyes, she placed a soft kiss on her red lips before closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around (Y/n)’s chest to sleep. Placing a peck to the top of her head, (Y/n) surrendered to her slumber.

A loud knock startled the two girls out of their deep rest. The morning sun streamed harshly through the curtains, casting its bright light in stark juxtaposition to the lingering glow of the ceiling stars that had illuminated the room the night before.

(Y/n) sat straight up, her head was pounding and the sunshine wasn’t doing her head much justice, reaching over Amber—who turned around burying her face into (Y/n)’s side, refusing to wake— to get some Tylenol for herself and her clingy girlfriend.

Tara peeked her head in through the small gap in the door, “You guys aren’t naked are you?” Her eyes were screwed shut in case she saw something she couldn’t erase from her mind if she tried.

Amber groaned into (Y/n)’s waist, sending a tickling sensation up her side, “completely nude,”

“Haha, seriously guys, Wes is down there attempting to make breakfast, I’d seriously get down there before he-“ Tara paused, examining both (Y/n)’s and Amber’s faces, “I expected hickeys, but Jesus Christ—what the fuck did you two do last night!”

Amber and (Y/n) both turned to face each other in confusion, the aftermath of their accidental collision present itself, as both Amber and (Y/n) were left with a visible mark etched upon their foreheads. A gentle, purplish-blue bruise adorned the skin, a tender reminder of their drunken mishap from the night before. Its presence, now in daylight, seemed to amplify the slight discomfort they felt.

“Shit!” Amber exclaimed, assuming hers didn’t look any better, (Y/n)’s hand gently felt around her forehead, the feel the extent of the pain. “We hit our heads against each other last night, when I tried to kiss her,”

At the explanation, Tara clutched her side, grabbing the door handle to stop herself from collapsing to the floor, “good luck trying to explain that to everyone!” She scurried off as quickly as she came, leaving the two girls alone once again. Amber shrugged laying back down to sleep, pulling (Y/n) down with her.

“I guess we have another thing that ties us together now,”

Please send in some requests for Scream <3

I fucking love Amber so much, and it was surprisingly easier to write for fxf than mxf, my sapphic side is really slaying today,.

#amber freeman #amber freeman x reader #amber freeman x y/n #amber freeman x you #scream 5 #scream fanfiction #scream x reader #scream #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #mindy meeks martin #chad meeks martin #I love Amber #ghostface x reader #ghostface #scream fanfic #scream fandom #scream franchise #scream 6

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lesbianpepsi · 10 months

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Ultraviolence

pairing: Amber Freeman x Carpenter!Reader, Tara Carpenter x Carpenter!Reader (platonic), Sam Carpenter x Carpenter!reader (platonic)

request: reader misses her ex girlfriend who turned out to be ghostface

words: 1.928k

warnings: mentions of murders, betrayal, longing, mentions of guns, mentions of knifes, angst, basically the events of Scream 5, bad writing

Grief; intense sorrow, especially caused by someone's death.

Everyone in their life has to tackle grief at least once or more. Some are lucky and don’t come across the emotion very often, others are not as lucky. You and your sisters are the unlucky ones.

Throughout your life you’ve experienced a handful of moments that have brought you to grief. Your and Tara’s dad leaving the family after learning the truth about Sam’s father, Sam abandoning you and Tara for five years without any goodbye, your mother never truly present in your life and your love ex girlfriend betraying you and dying that very night.

The last one is still the most painful one for you.

After the entire Ghostface incident in Woodsboro that almost killed Tara, Sam and you, the three of you took off to New York along with Chad and Mindy.

In the beginning it was fine.

You kept yourself occupied with enrolling in college, finding a job and moving into the apartment with your sister. That took you a few weeks until you were fully settled in, your bedroom was decorated and everywhere else was also as perfect.

But then the nightmares started.

Seeing that god awful mask glowering down at you as Ghostface stabbed you in your stomach slowly, chuckling at every cry and plead you made. Every time you remembered that moment you could feel the horrific pain in your stomach as if he was stabbing you again.

You didn’t tell Sam nor Tara about the horrors that haunted you every night, you didn’t tell them either that you began to refuse to sleep, dreading seeing that mask again, dreading seeing her.

Months slowly passed and the nightmares stayed with you as did the longing for your Amber. Not the one you saw on her final day, but the one you went on dates with, the one you told secrets to, the one you loved.

You saw Amber everywhere.

In the mirror whenever you notice that jagged scar on your cheek or the nasty scar on your stomach. Whenever you heard her favourite song being played you could hear her singing some of the lyrics in your mind. The photos on your phone of the old Amber, the ones you refused to delete.

You still kept some of the stuff Amber had given you throughout your relationship. A custom made CD with your and hers favourite song on, a framed picture of the two of you on your first date and even Amber’s favourite hoodie that you “borrowed” from her.

You know it’s not healthy and probably even damaging but whenever you try to throw them out or even burn them you always end up backing out every time.

Months passed as the three of you lived your life together in New York.

Tara refuses to acknowledge the past.

Sam is trying to heal from the past.

You keep thinking of the past.

Tara seemingly moved on and even made new friends, Mindy got herself a new girlfriend, Chad has made so many friends you’ve lost count, Sam has been going to therapy and even started dating again.

Meanwhile you can’t tear your mind away from Woodsboro.

All you can do is think about her. Her and her creep of a boyfriend she cheated on you with, her with that gun, her with that knife. It’s just her.

Why can’t you just move on?

_________

On the one year anniversary of the Woodsboro attack you didn’t leave your bedroom until two in the evening, your starving stomach begging you to. You sighed as you slowly rolled out of bed, instantly you got a hit of a cold breeze, you shivered at the feeling.

Walking over like a zombie towards your wardrobe you pulled at the first hoodie you could grab, your heart clenched violently as you noticed who’s hoodie it was.

The hoodie itself was quite basic, a black hoodie with no particular design on it. Just the way Amber liked it. You could only tell it was Amber’s since it had a long bleach stain on it’s right shoulder, something she did by accident when trying to clean the hoodie.

You smiled weakly to yourself as you recalled the day Amber called you in a panic asking you how to get rid of a bleach stain. Tears swelled up in your dead eyes as you stiffly put the hoodie on.

It didn’t smell like her anymore.

You sighed dramatically as you walked over to your bedroom door, slowly pulling it open. Your eyes narrowed as light shined into your face from the opened windows. Lowering your head you made your way to the kitchen without even bothering to look to see if your sisters were in the apartment.

Making a beeline to the fridge you opened it as your eyes glanced over the items inside, you grabbed a container of cranberry juice before you shut it quietly. You could feel your sister's eyes staring at you but you didn’t have the courage to turn towards them.

As you began pouring the scarlet red juice into the glass you couldn’t help but notice it looked identical to the blood Amber’s hands had. You felt bile coming up your throat to which you swallowed back down forcefully, shutting your eyes tightly.

The grip you had on the glasses tightened as you tried thinking of anything else, you only released your grip when you felt a wet substance trickle down onto your hand. You snapped your eyes back open as you stared at the overflowing mess.

“Shit.” You mumbled in a raspy voice as you stopped filling the glass with cranberry juice, placing it on the counter as you grabbed the glass again as you slowly lifted it to your lips to take a sip of it.

You didn’t even bother cleaning your hand as you turned around planning on returning to your room but you got stopped by Sam’s voice.

“That’s her hoodie isn’t it.”

You froze as you felt your entire body stiffen at her words. You don’t know how she knew. Turning around slowly you saw Sam sat on the couch looking tired herself.

You nodded silently as you swallowed the emotions rising up in your throat. “It was her favourite.” Sam didn’t say anything as she stared at you with her dark eyes.

You didn’t say anything as you walked towards her, dropping your drink on the coffee table on the coffee table as you sat next to her. You didn’t look at Sam in the beginning as your eyes stayed focused on your blood red cold drink.

“You miss her, don’t you?” Sam whispered as she broke the silence. Your jaw clenched as tears began spilling from your eyes against your will, you wiped them away furiously as you let out a bitter laugh. “How fucked is that, I still miss the person who killed my friends and tried to kill my family.”

Sam stayed silent as her hand slithered into yours, giving it a squeeze. Your eyes never left the glass of cranberry as you spoke.

“I hate her so fucking much, Sam.” Your voice cracked as you let out a sob. “But I miss her so much. Why did she do that to us, Sam? Why did she betray me, Sam? Why?” Sam wrapped her long arms around you as she pulled you closer to her, you sobbed into her chest as you clutched at her back with an impeccably strong grip.

“Why?” You repeated over and over like a prayer as you sobbed uncontrollably into Sam, your heart hurting as badly as it did this an exact year ago.

You don’t know how long you stayed in that position for. You sobbing into Sam as she rubbed at your back, whispering sweet reassurances into your ears. When you eventually pulled away from Sam your eyes were burned as they burnt slightly from how much you cried.

You swallowed harshly as you looked down in shame. Sam was in the exact same position as you, her ex boyfriend turned out to be a psychotic killer who also went on a killing spree with Amber, but she wasn’t sobbing over how much she missed him.

Sam had moved on.

“You should get rid of the hoodie.” Sam suggested warmly to which you shook your head at, wrapping your arms around your figure as you gripped at the hoodie. “I can’t.” You whispered back as your eyes stayed glued to your legs, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at Sam.

“That was the first thing I did with Richie’s clothes.” Sam opened up as her eyes stared into your side profile, you picked up your head as you turned to listen to her. “Although I loathed him every single fibre in my body, I still loved him for a bit.”

“How did you get over him?” You asked in an almost pleading tone as you rubbed at the texture of the hoodie. Sam’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she smiled at you. “I got rid of everything that made me think of him, and if I did think of him I just reminded myself of what he did to me, what he did to the innocent people of Woodsboro, what he did to my family. Eventually I began thinking less and less of him until the point I stopped loving him. Therapy also really helped me.”

You swallowed as you nodded to yourself, trying to allow Sam’s words to truly sink into you. “She was your first love, Y/n. Those are always the hardest ones to get over.” You smiled weakly as you glanced at Sam.

Suddenly the front door opened revealing Tara who instantly looked over at you and Sam. The shortest Carpenter sister shut the door as she cautiously walked over to the two of you, the second her eyes landed on the bleach stain on the hoodie you were wearing her eyes hardened.

“You still have her clothes?” Tara asked bewildered, her eyes softened as they flicked over the tear marks on your eyes. “Y/n.” She whispered slightly disappointed which instantaneously crushed your heart even further.

“You need to get over her, Y/n. It’s seriously not good for you to cling onto her like that.” You closed your eyes momentarily to stop more tears from escaping your eyes as you dropped your head back down from shame. “Don’t you think I want to get over her?”

Tara scoffed as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re clearly not trying hard enough if you still have her clothes.”

“Tara.” Sam warned instantly as she glared at her younger sister.

Tara threw her arms into the air as she glared back at Sam just as harshly. “What? It’s the truth.” She declared as her eyes gazed back at you, who wasn’t saying anything as you glared down at the floor.

“Tara, stop.” She warned again to which Tara ignored once again.

“Look, I’m really sorry you still miss her and shit, Y/n, but you weren’t the only one betrayed. Sam got betrayed by Richie and Amber betrayed me and you. But I’ve gotten over it, even Sam has gotten over it more than you. But you’re stuck in the past because you’re not willing to move on from it.”

“I know.” Was all you could whisper back as your fingers played with the end of the sleeve of the hoodie.

It hurt you to still love her, but you still loved her.

#amber freeman #amber freeman x you #amber freeman x reader #mikey madison #scream #scream 5 #tara carpenter #sam carpenter #mindy meeks martin #my fanfiction #fanfic #tara carpenter x sister!reader #sam carpenter x sister!reader

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nicklesbam · 11 months

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Hello, could you possibly do a sam carpenter x fem reader where the reader had a nightmare about sam being the killer and then the reader like wakes up like panicked and shaking and it wakes sam up and sam comforts her? If not then it’s totally fine!!🫶🫶

of course

Y/n was walking down town when she heard her phone ring. She checked to see who it was but the number was anonymous. She debated if she should answer the call but decided to do so in case it was one of her friends

"Hello?" She spoke with a soft voice. She heard breathing on the other side of the line. She almost hung up thinking it was a prank call

"Hello y/n" a deep voice spoke. She started to get nervous

"Do I know you?" She kept her composure tight. She started walking down an alley to get to her shared apartment with her girlfriend and their friends

"Oh you have no idea. How's that girlfriend of yours?" Y/n froze on the spot, her breath caught in her throat

"If this is a prank it's seriously not funny asshole" she tried to speak confidently but her voice started to tremble

"I know its not. I want to see what your insides look like" the deep voice spoke maliciously. Y/n started frantically looking around her

"I'm serious! I'm hanging up" she went to press the button before she heard rumbling behind her. She quickly turned to be met with nothing

"You hang up and I'll gut you like a fish!" The deep voice sounded angry and out of patience. Y/n's breath started to speed up

"What the hell do you want from me?" She spoke in fear

"I told you, I want to see" she started hearing the voice behind her, "What your insides look like!" She turned quickly to be met with a Ghostface mask. Y/n tried to turn away and run but the killer caught her arm before she could

The killer revealed their knife in their hand, ready to stab. Y/n knee'd the person in their stomach and as they lurched over y/n tried to make a break for it. It wasn't too long before the killer caught up to her and knocked her to the ground. Y/n looked into the masks eyes in terror that this might be her last day on earth

The killer grabbed the bottom of their mask and lifted it. Their face was uncovered and it was Sam

"Sam!? Why are you doing this!? Please let me go!" Y/n pleaded with tears in her eyes. Sam smirked down at her girlfriend

"Sorry baby, it's time for you to go" Sam spoke with amusement in her voice. Sam pulled the knife back with both hands and the knife cam hurling forward

Y/n woke up with heavy breathing. She quickly removed the blankets from herself and huddled her feet towards her chest. Y/n started crying from fear, she couldn't think about anything else in that moment

Sam blinked her eyes quickly. She heard y/n's sobs and immediately sat up

"Y/n?" Sam asked still groggy. Y/n flinched when she heard Sam's voice, "honey are you ok?" Sam tried to move her hand to y/n's arm but y/n flinched away and looked up to Sam with fear and guilt in her eyes

"Hey, hey. Baby it's alright, it's ok. You're fine. I got you, you're ok" Sam came closer and rested her hands on each side of y/n's face. Y/n couldn't move. Sam moved to lay behind her and pulled her into her chest while wrapping her arms around her

"You're safe, I promise" Sam spoke while lightly playing with her scalp soothing y/n. Y/n clung to Sam's arm on her stomach. After a minute y/n had calmed down

"Are you ok?" Sam asked softly. Y/n didn't say a thing. Sam became increasingly worried

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sam asked. Y/n pondered on whether or not to tell her that she had a dream where the love of her life killed her. Ultimately she decided to or else she wouldn't be able to look at Sam

Y/n softly removed Sam's hands and turned to face her

"I- um had a dream where you were the... k-killer and you went after me" y/n admitted. She could see the hurt and guilt in her eyes. Sam always wanted to protect y/n against the hate Sam got for woodsboro but she couldn't stop it all. Too many people online talk about it for it not to pop up anywhere on your social media

"I would never hurt you y/n. I just want to keep you safe. I'm sorry you got involved in all of this, I never meant for this to happen" Sam apologized. Y/n had a sorrowful look on her face

"It's not your fault Sam. People are just assholes and completely oblivious. You almost died and now you're getting blamed for it. You have nothing to apologize for to me" y/n spoke softly and held Sam's hands. Sam smiled softly at the reader

"As long as you're wiry me I will keep you safe and I would rather it be me than you. I could never lose you y/n" she spoke honestly. Y/n smiled softly. She laid back down on Sam's stomach

"I'm sorry for waking you up" y/n mumbled. Sam huffed a smile

"It's ok, wake me up anytime you need" Sam bent down and placed a kiss on the top of their head

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shiinata-library · 1 year

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Not on the first date

Relationships: John Watson x Fem!Reader

Content: fluff, a little assault but John is here for you

Summary: “Imagine John Watson protecting you because you are the next target on a case they are working on, but then he falls in love with you” from here @thefandomimagine + fake dating

On AO3

Note: What am I doing in this fandom…? Sorry if I write inconsistencies. It's been a long time since I watched the series and maybe John will look a bit like Bilbo.

One rainy afternoon, you went to drink tea at 221b baker street with Mrs Hudson, a long friend of your mother. Apparently, she had forgotten her shawl the last time she came to your mother’s house, and you had to bring it back.

Expect that after the tea, Mrs Hudson asked you to follow her outside her home. Despite your curiosity, you preferred to remain quiet. She led you to the top of the stairs in the same building.

At her first knock on the door, nobody replied. The second time, they heard someone moving, and when she was about to knock a third time, the door opened suddenly.

“Good afternoon, Mrs Hudson,” said a tall man that you recognise as Sherlock Holmes according to Mrs Hudson’s descriptions she already said about him. “Now is not a good time.”

“I’m sure you have a little time for me,” she said with a lot of hope in her voice.

The old woman seemed to know how Sherlock was working since he let her enter. She beckoned you to follow her into what looked like a living room despite the clutter. While you were observing the place, the man didn't hesitate to look at you from head to toe before turning back to Mrs Hudson.

“Sherlock, my dear, this young lady received a lot of menacing letters for months and nobody helped her. I have known her since she was a baby and I don’t want her to be hurt, or worse. Can you do something about it?”

“Not interested,” he said honestly, shrugging. “It’s the police's job. Surely her ex-boyfriend.”

At the end of Sherlock’s sentence, another man walked in the living room from a corridor at the back of the room. He smiled at the sight of the old woman.

“Good afternoon, Mrs Hudson,” he said with a smile before noticing you and nodding. “Good afternoon.”

You replied in the same cold tone he used for you while he sounded warmly with Mrs Hudson. Then, the blonde man resumed as he walked next to Sherlock.

“Do you want some tea?” he asked with a smile.

“No, thank you John,” Mrs Hudson replied politely. “We are not here for tea. I came with a case for Sherlock.”

At her answer, John looked attentively at you. His eyes weren’t as piercing as Sherlock, but they troubled you even so; strangely more than Sherlock. When the old woman resumed, his attention left you.

“Please Sherlock, the police won’t help her and you know it,” she said, starting to lose her patience.

“She doesn’t want help.”

Sherlock’s voice was exaggeratedly tired. He quickly earned a frown look by John, making him understand he was rude. But Sherlock didn’t care about it. Then, maybe it was because of Mrs Hudson’s look or maybe it was the idea of making her upset, be that as it may, he went back on his answer.

“Very well, please sit down on that chair and explain everything quickly to us.”

Sherlock elegantly sat on an armchair and showed you a chair. John also sat down, noticing that you stayed where you were, as he looked at the chair, then to Sherlock. A long sigh escaped your lips before you talk.

“He is right. I don’t need help.”

Your voice was cold, more tired than upset. You knew Mrs Hudson was doing this for you, but you didn’t need it. The letters would end at some point or another.

“Did you wait for me to accept just to refuse? No. Forget it, I already know the answer,” Sherlock took offence. “Just sit down and talk.”

“I’m sorry,” you said as you couldn’t help but smile before his attitude. “No need to waste your time with me. It’s just some death threat letter. I’m sure I’m not the only one to receive some of them. My mother panicked and told Mrs Hudson.”

”My dear,” the old woman started as she walked close to you, stroking your upper arm. “I have never received any. This is not normal. Let’s talk to them about it.”

The discussion was going nowhere. Sherlock was clearly seeing you didn’t want to be here, but now he accepted it for Mrs Hudson, he didn’t want to give up. As for the old woman, she wouldn’t let you leave without you talking to them.

“What about some tea?” John said while nobody listened to him as he stood up and walked to the kitchen.

You followed him with your eyes, a light smile on your lips. This man seemed to be used to this kind of thing. When he came back with two cups of tea, he gave one to the now upset woman and Sherlock who were augmenting together. They took it as if it was absolutely normal and continued to speak, like you were here.

Then, John came back from the kitchen once again with two cups of tea, one for you and one for him. A smile lit up his face as you accepted the cup with a shy thank you. You would be lying if you said that this man didn't leave you indifferent, but you hadn't come for that, right? You had only come to return a shawl by the way…

“So, menacing letters?” John tried with a timid smile, unable to hide that he wanted you to know more about them.

“Yeah, nothing serious. I think,” you replied as you sipped your tea. “M. Holmes must be right. It's surely my ex.”

”Why don't you believe that?” Sherlock asked as he walked to you and John while Mrs Hudsbon only looked at you.

”Well, my ex is not a bad person. I know he wouldn’t do that.”

”Another ex?” John asked, raising an eyebrow.

”Come on, John. She only had one long relationship that ended a few months ago. So, what is written in the letters?”

John frowned but said nothing, leaving you to answer him. While you were looking at your tea, Mrs Hudson joined you and stroked your upper arm again to encourage you.

”Well, it’s just letters with simple sentences like ‘You shouldn’t talk to him with such a cute smile’, or ‘The friend you saw you yesterday doesn’t deserve you’, or hm, ‘Stop wearing that dress or I would have no choice but to make it disappear with you’.”

Then, the silence made your eyes raise to them. Sherlock seemed to think, abandoning you to walk in a circle in the middle of the living room. Mrs Hudson smiled at you, stroking your back. John was looking at you with a serious glare. It was almost scary. When he noticed you started to be troubled, he looked at Sherlock as if he was talking to him by telepathy.

”Do you keep smiling outside or at work?” Sherlock asked, not stopping his circle.

”Yes,” you chucked despite the situation, your eyes turning to Sherlock, then coming back to John as if something about him calmed you.

”Do you continue to see your friend mentioned in the letter?”

”Yes, sometimes. He was talking about a colleague with whom I just go for a drink when we need to relax after work.”

”Do you still wear that dress?” he asked, turning toward you as if he already knew the answer.

A few seconds of silence raised the tension in the room. Even Mrs Hudson stopped stroking your back. You nervously looked at him. He was too serious for this kind of case, right?

”No,” you eventually answered. “I didn't want to provoke him…”

”Oh, dear,” the old woman sighed in a compassionate voice. “You should tell me sooner.”

”It’ll pass,” you smiled, shrugging. “It’s just a dress.”

John was about to say something as he put his tea on the table but Sherlock spoke first.

”It won’t. Wear that dress, go on a date, and the harasser will show up in no time.”

”Absolutely not, Sherlock!” John said in such a hard tone that you jumped. “He sent her death threat letters. He could be anyone. It’s too dangerous and you know it! ”

”It’s the fastest way,” Sherlock affirmed.

”What if he tried to kill me?” you asked, surprising John with your nonchalant behaviour. “Can’t we just let him or her, I don’t even know, forget me?”

”Did he forget you after all those months? No,” Sherlock confirmed it as if he was the harasser himself. “So, wear that dress and go on a date with John, he will protect you if you need it.”

”Wait, what?” John could only say at first, freezing his eyes on Sherlock.

”Take her out for dinner and wait for her harasser to appear. A Saturday night would be good. Are you free next Saturday?”

”I’m not–” John started before Sherlock cut him off.

”Not you.”

Sherlock was waiting for your answer while you were still trying to understand everything he had said. This man talked too fast! They all looked at you impatiently.

”Yes, I’m free but–”

”Perfect! John, take her wherever you want, then take her home. That's it. You don’t need me anymore. I need to go now.”

In a few seconds, he took his coat and left the flat, leaving John with a face of incomprehension until you laughed.

”Sorry, dear. He is always like that,” Mrs Hudson tried to comfort you.

”It’s alright. He’s fun,” you continued to laugh before calming and turning to John. “Don’t worry about it. I will manage it on my own. Enjoy your Saturday night like you planned it.”

Despite your reassuring tone, John didn’t smile. He looked at you seriously, then took his phone from his trousers.

”No, we’ll do as Sherlock said, even if it’s dangerous. Can I have your phone number… And your name? Oh god, we didn’t even introduce each other. I’m Dr John Watson,” he said with an embarrassed cute smile, holding out his hand.

”Oh, hm, I’m just Y/n Y/l/n,” you said, unable to hide your surprise knowing he was a doctor, as you checked his hand. “Are you sure about Saturday, because I can–”

”I’m sure,” he confirmed, still smiling until he realised he hadn't let go of your hand yet. “I’m, hm. If Sherlock told us to do that, we should do it.”

”You seem to have a lot of trust in him,” you smiled. “Well, alright. Let's plan a fake date during the week. I hope I won’t bore you too much.”

Hearing him laughing at your joke reassured you. The first impression of him was cold, but he seemed more kind than you thought. After exchanging your numbers, you went back home, trying to convince yourself it will just be a fake date to find your harasser. But no one has forbidden you to enjoy it, right?

During the week, John sent you several messages. At first, it was just to choose a restaurant together, then you both planned a whole afternoon together with a temporary exhibition in a museum and maybe going to watch a film if you have time.

”John? Are you listening to us?” Sherlock sighed as they were in a murder scene while Inspector Lestrade was explaining what he knew.

”Yes. Hm, no. I’m listening now,” John said as he put his phone away with a smile.

”I called you for ten minutes.”

”Oh, sorry. I was, hm, busy.”

”You’ll see her in two days. I’m sure she can wait half an hour before you answer her.”

John didn’t need to tell him, it was so easy for Sherlock to understand who he was texting. John avoided his glaze still smiling as he tried to focus now on the case even though he was still thinking of you.

You missed not wearing that dress. It was one of your favourites and it was very comfortable. With comfortable shoes since you will go to an exhibition, you left your flat to join John who was waiting for you outside.

Before opening the front door of your building, you checked your letterbox and found a new threatening letter as you used to receive: “I don’t know who you’re texting every day but you should stop it. Don't even think about dating it.”

When you left the building, you looked around. John joined you with a smile, but he quickly noticed something was wrong. It was too bad because his smile was the best thing to forget what you just read. After explaining the new letter, you tried to smile, hoping that fake date won’t be too dangerous for you or for John.

”It’s a lovely dress indeed,” he gently said, making you blush and laugh with his exaggerated tone. “When we’ll find who is behind all those letters, you can wear it more often.”

”I hope so,” you shyly started, tucking a strand behind your ear. “Ready for our fake date?”

”Absolutely!” he confirmed it with a nod, reminding himself it wasn’t a real date.

Dating Dr John Watson was fun and interesting. Between his anecdotes with Sherlock, his remarks during the exhibition and his casual conversations, you didn't have time to be bored. The afternoon passed more quickly than you realised, as the dinner in a simple and cosy restaurant.

Despite trying to convince yourself it was a fake date, you had a good time with him and when he walked you to your place, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Of course, you didn’t show it, continuing to smile and laugh until you arrived in front of your building. Forgetting everything about the letters, John brought you out of your waking dream.

”Finally, nobody showed up,” he said, trying to look discreetly around. “Maybe it’s not a stalker. Just someone who sends letters. In truth, I’m glad nothing happened.”

I don’t want to see you hurt, almost escaped from his lips as his eyes came back to you with a smile. Now, you were both thinking the same thing: What should we do now?

Sherlock didn’t tell you what to do after that, or what if the letters’ writer didn’t show.

”I hope he won’t try to kill me tomorrow morning,” you said in a laugh, trying to lighten the mood despite John remaining serious.

”Maybe we could try…”

John avoided your gaze as if he was to say something horrible. You give him time to speak again but he seems lost in thought.

”Do you want to provoke the harasser?” you said after understanding what he thought. “A kiss?”

His eyes immediately came back to yours, making you blush by their intensity. If only he was kissing you for another reason…

As he looked up and down several times from your lips to your eyes, you decided to do it yourself. As you slipped your hand on his cold cheek, you stepped toward him and kissed him softly, savouring his lips when you could. They were cold but so soft.

It was impossible to hide your embarrassment after that, so you avoided his eyes with a chuckle as you stepped away.

”Usually, I don’t kiss on the first date,” you joked, making John laugh too.

”Too bad, because it was sweet.”

John’s thoughts went out on their own and his cheeks turned very red when your eyes widened toward him. If you both didn’t hear the steps next to you, he could have said something, but it was too late. A tall man stopped next to you, looking at you with a furious expression.

”Alex?” you asked, recognising the man who was working at the same place as you. “What are you doing here?”

You barely ended your question that John stepped quickly between you and the man. Nevertheless, he didn't react quickly enough.

The knife Alex was holding had already hit John before he could stop it. Then, in a few moves too quick for you, he made him drop the knife and tackle him to the ground. Once he was holding him firmly and sure he wasn’t trying anything, he asked you to call the police.

After the police’s intervention which you had to go to the police station and back, John wanted to walk you home again. It was now late, but he left you no choice. So once you were in front of your building again, you didn’t smile anymore.

”I’m so sorry for what happened,” you sighed as you were rummaging in your bag for your keys. “I was stupidly hoping this won’t happen but…”

”It’s absolutely not your fault,” John said with a smile, trying to comfort you even though he didn’t know how to do it.

”At least, we’re not injured. It could be worse,” you finally laughed as you looked at him.

Your eyes eventually arrived on his jacket, at his upper arm. There was an opening, and your hand moved faster than your mind. As you touched his jacket now opened with a big opening, you gasped.

”Oh no, I'm sorry. I didn't see that his knife had cut your jacket. I'll pay you back.”

”It’s nothing. My job was to protect you, so I prefer it was that rather than you.”

Why was he so nice? Alright, how could you stay in contact with this man?

When you were trying to find a reason to see him again, you realised his jacket that you were still touching was strange. You looked better at it and John winced a little.

”Don’t tell me he also cut your arm with his knife?” you exclaimed, your voice echoing in the empty night street. “You should tell me! Oh, I can let you leave like that. Follow me home, we'll disinfect it.”

Maybe John should remind you he was a doctor, but the opportunity to spend more time with you was impossible to refuse. He followed you inside your small but cosy home and in a quick time, you were both sitting on your couch. After he removed his jacket, he also removed a side of his shirt, showing a not so deep cut.

You silently cleaned his wound and took care of it while John was looking at you. If you weren’t as much focused on his arm as you were, you could notice how his eyes were already full of love for you while you both knew each other for just a week. It was unthinkable, but his heart was beating on his own every time you were doing something for him; smiling at him, looking at him, speaking to him, even sending a message to him.

Then, his hand raised up as he tried to swallow his saliva with difficulty. As you finished your bandage on his arm, you felt his fingers slipping on your cheek, stroking it gently. As you raised your head, a smile eventually appeared on your lips, warming John’s heart even more.

”Do you want to kiss me for real this time?” you asked, hoping you correctly understood him.

”Yes, please!” he hurried to say as if you could come back to your proposal.

Leaning to you, his lips easily found yours. This time you had the time to taste them. They were so delicious, warm, and soft. You could stay like this for hours.

When John put his other hand on your waist and he felt your warmth, he wanted to deepen the kiss but his phone rang for a short time. Too curious to know who was texting him at this hour, he stopped the kiss, looked at you with an apologetic, cute smile and took his phone. After reading the message, he put his hand under his chin and read it again.

”Is there a problem?” you asked, worried.

”No, it’s, hm. It’s Sherlock,” he laughed, finally looking at you. “He told me to stop kissing you and go home because he has solved our current case.”

Now, John wasn’t the only one to laugh. You had quickly understood his friend was special but you also found him fun, especially when you saw all the faces John did when he talked about him.

”Now that I think about it, I was surprised that he proposed this fake date…” Jon sighed, still smiling, understanding only now Sherlock did it on purpose.

”How about doing the opposite of what he asks for a short while?” you asked with a mischievous smile. “And then, join him, of course.”

John didn’t hesitate to drop his phone and kissed again, pulling you against him. Something in him wanted to stay like this with you, but at the same time he knew Sherlock was waiting for him. Reluctantly, he slowly detached his lips from yours and pressed his forehead against yours with a smile.

”No kiss on the first date, hm?”

”It seems I can make an exception for you.”

John chucked before kissing you once again. Then, in a hurry, he got dressed back. He walked to your door while he promised you a new date when his case will be done. A real date, this time.

#sherlock bbc #john watson x reader #john watson #martin freeman #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff

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sidneyprescottswhore · 1 year

Text

MASTERLIST

SCREAM

* smut

• fluff

all x afab reader im so sorry

___________________________________________

SIDNEY PRESCOTT

LET THEM WATCH YOU *

TAKE ME ONE MORE TIME *

SIDNEY PRESCOTT HEADCANNONS *

SIDNEY HUMILIATING YOU *

MOMMY KINK W/ SID *

GETTING CAUGHT BY JILL*•

SERVICE TOP!READER *

SPANKING KINK*

WHAT NAMES SHE LIKES TO BE CALLED*

OVERSTIMMING SID*

FUCKING SID UNDERNEATH THE TABLE*

PRAISING SID*

DADDY*

YOUR FIRST TIME*

SIDNEY PRESCOTT HEADCANNONS 2*

SIDNEY PRESCOTT WHO:*

SAM CARPENTER

SMUT PROMPT LIST*

SAM CARPENTER WHO:*

G!P SAM*

MINDY MEEKS MARTIN

MINDY MEEKS WHO:*

AMBER FREEMAN

AMBER FREEMAN HEADCANNONS*

AMBER FREEMAN WHO:*

AMBER X JILL X READER*

G!P GHOSTFACE AMBER X READER*

JILL ROBERTS

GETTING CAUGHT WITH SIDNEY*•

JILL ROBERTS HEADCANNONS*

SMUT PROMPT LIST*

7 MINUTES IN HEAVEN*

JILL ROBERTS WHO:*

AMBER X JILL X READER*

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must-be-mr-boggins · 1 year

Text

The first week of a new semester is always a nightmare because I feel like I answer all the ice-breaker questions like this.

#bagginshield #bilbo baggins #the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #thorin x bilbo #lotr #books #movies #fanfic #tolkien #kiliel #peter jackson #dwarves #elves #thilbo #fili and kili #book #martin freeman

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aljedd · 6 months

Text

Chapters twenty-one and twenty-two are up! Things are coming to a head now!

You can read here:

#bbc sherlock #sherlock fanart #digital art #digital fanart #sherlock fandom #sherlock holmes #benedict cumberbatch #john watson #johnlock #martin freeman #ao3fic #ao3 writer #ao3 link #ao3 fanfic

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luna06newman · 3 months

Text

Sherlock bbc headcanon

(Set a couple months after The Final Problem)

It was an unspoken agreement between Sherlock and Mycroft, that despite all of their childish feuds, they cared about each other. No one needed to know that, though.

One day, when he was 16, Mycroft brought Sherlock into his room and said they needed one day a year to meet up and exchange information about their lives. Of course, they had the habit to spy on each other, and could deduce almost everything, but this would be a day to be honest and say out loud things they both already secretly knew.

The day would be December 1, which was a strategic date to allow a reasonable wrap up of the year, but not too close to holidays, so in case people found out about it (no one ever did), they wouldn't think it was some sort of brotherly compassion brought up by that the despisable "holiday spirit".

And so, every year, Sherlock and Mycroft met in the agreed place. Even when Sherlock was "dead" in Eastern Europe, they still had their meeting. This year, however, they decided to go for a classic at Mycroft's house. But Sherlock didn't show up.

This couldn't be good. None of them had ever missed it, no matter what.

When two hours had gone by since the agreed time without a sign of Sherlock, Mycroft knew what he had to do. Sherlock wouldn't be at Baker Street, obviously, nor in any of his classic hiding spots, because he knew Mycroft knew all of them, so it would be useless trying to hide from his brother in any of them. He would be in the only place no one knew about. Well, at least that's what he thought.

So when, that night, Mycroft showed up at the short and dark path through the graveyard where his brother had been "buried" so many years ago, where the detective went to think when he couldn't find peace anywhere else, Sherlock was absolutely furious.

Mycroft slowly approached the path surrounded by trees. For a moment, he simply observed Sherlock from afar. In his usual clothes, the younger brother paced the ground, hands behind his back, speaking to himself. That was certainly odd. If Sherlock was there, it could only mean he had something rather important to think about, so why wasn't he doing it in his mind palace? This could only mean there was something blocking his thoughts, some thing he couldn't get out of the way. That theory certainly matched his annoyed body language.

But Sherlock carried on walking round and round like a broken CD, repeating the same thing over and over, until Mycroft had had enough. He silently left his spot behind a tree and walked into Sherlock's visual field. "Good evening, brother, mine."

Sherlock froze, stopped staring at the floor to face the red haired man, and his face immediately contorted into a half annoyed half mortified expression. "Fuck you, Mycroft" he blurted out.

The older brother chuckled and rested his weight on his ever present black umbrella. "What is it that annoys your mind so clearly much?" A theory had started to grow and his mind. "Would you be so kind to tell me or am I to be forced to deduce it?"

Sherlock hadn't stopped walking round; the only difference was the cigarette he now flipped between his fingers after picking it from his coat's pocket - apparently the first one to be considered, since there was no sign of used ones or ashes around. Still, Mycroft hoped his brother wouldn't actually smoke it.

"Are you here for your annual meeting? I didn't go to your house, I obviously don't wanna have this conversation. How the hell did you even know I was here?"

"I am smarter than you, Sherlock, remember that. Now, answer my question."

"Fuck off." He made a dismissive gesture.

"We have an agreement, you know." Mycroft stepped closer, slightly irritated but trying to stay calm. "One you are not to break. Besides, this is not only a day for honesty, but for kindness as well, so, although I could rudely deduce whatever it is that bothers you, I won't. And I also won't take your offenses personally."

Mycroft breathed deeply, and Sherlock had finally stopped walking and was now staring at his brother. There was no anger in his look now, like a minute before: it was only confusion and... even fear? All the possible irritation in Mycroft's mind melted down at the sight of the pain in his brother's eyes. As much as any of them tried to keep the enemy-brothers facade (which didn't really work anymore - everyone close to them knew the truth already, but they still bothered to do it), they couldn't bear see each other suffer.

"Come here, William." Mycroft said, surprisingly, gently, and Sherlock, reluctant only on the outside, approached him for a hug.

And just like that, Mycroft-the-British-government-Holmes and the famous consultant detective Sherlock Holmes disappeared. For a moment, they were simply Myc and William, so many years before.

Still on the embrace, Mycroft gently took the cigarette from Sherlock's fingers and threw it far away. "This does not agree with you anymore."

Sherlock didn't protest. He only sighed, tired, and vulnerable.

"Affair of the heart, then?" The older man, patted Sherlock's back. Without an answer, Mycroft continued "Dr. Watson?"

Sherlock shook his head and chuckled, but not like it was funny: like he felt confused and lost. He pulled back from the hug and walked half a dozen paces away from Mycroft before squatting down and staying there. His head hanging low, he angrily ruffled his hair and yawped as loudly as he could.

"I'm a fucking ridiculous man!" he screamed, without moving. "I can't get John out of my head, and the worst part is, I don't even want to!" he got to his feet, and Mycroft painfully realized tears streaming down his brother's face. "Please, convince me again that caring is not an advantage."

The red haired smiled slightly and shook his head. "I will not do that, Sherlock. You know deep down none of us ever believed this. It was all to protect you after Redbeard."

"Then protect me again!" Sherlock begged, walking towards the older man. "These feelings are too complicated and I don't stand a chance with John. The second he realizes I care for him that way, it's gonna be heartbreak all over again! Because I know that's not reciprocate!"

"What?!" Mycroft crooked his head in this belief. "What do you mean you don't stand a chance with him? The man has loved you since you've met and he's clearly bisexual. Of course it's reciprocate!"

"He loves me as a friend." Sherlock cried. "And if I tell him I feel more I will mess everything up!"

"Sherlock, you're obviously out of your mind." He emphasized it, noticing how much the feelings were messing up Sherlock's thoughts. "John loves you just as much as you love him. The way he looks at you! Everyone notices that, and..." Mycroft hesitated. Kind words didn't come to him naturally, but he needed to make Sherlock feel better, so he focused on all the love he had for his little brother to bring the words out. "you deserve to be happy and cared for! John must be dying to tell you the very same, but fearing as well that it's not reciprocate, and you two are only wasting time you could be together! So if you don't direct your self immediately to Baker Street and tell him how do you feel, I will be forced to make sure he knows it another way."

Sherlock wiped away some tears, impressed by Mycroft's speech. He almost dared to say it was touching. "What if it fails?" He asked, pouring out the fear in his heart.

"I was there for you before, I'll be there for you again." He paused. "But it won't fail, I'm certain. And I'll be there anyway." Mycroft said, reassuringly, and Sherlock had to purse his lips into a smile. The older brother put an arm around the younger's shoulders, offering him a lift to Baker Street.

After a silent couple minutes in the backseat of the car, with an entire plan for John laid out in his head, although excited and nervous, Sherlock's mind was slightly clearer, allowing him to notice a detail in Mycroft's recent speech.

"Mycroft," he called the man sitting by his side "you said everyone notices the way John looks at me. How could you possibly know that?"

He hesitated. "I don't know it, I simply assumed it. Even ordinary people notice this sort of thing."

Sherlock squinted his eyes towards his brother. "Hmm, nope. Tell the truth."

Mycroft looked up and sighed. "Since it's still December 1, I suppose I have to." He took a deep breath and faced Sherlock again, his eyes switching between his brother and the floor. "I, too, have been struck by the affairs of my own heart." He cleared his throat. "So I have been dedicating some of… my time… and attention… to a particular person."

Sherlock was absolutely incredulous. Jaw dropped. He had a million questions and even more deductions going on, his brain working at the speed of light as if it had never been completely taken and blurred by the Watson-question. But only one thing mattered now, and he didn't even had to ask.

Mycroft rolled his eyes, knowing perfectly well the main thought on his brother's mind. "Lestrade." He answered the implicit question.

Sherlock laughed as hard as he could, and an intense red crept up Mycroft's cheeks. "Really, William?" He had just been so welcoming to his brother, comforted him so nicely, how dared him make fun of such a special thing?

But the younger man didn't answer answer with words, nor he was making fun of the red haired. It was trully comic to think of this couple: the serious and clever British government himself and the street smart outgoing DI, but he was unbelievably happy for his brother; Lestrade was a good - and apparently charming to his brother's taste - man and Mycroft was probably very much in love to be dating him, so as the detective gradually stopped laughing, he just hugged Mycroft, resting his head on his big brother's shoulder.

Mycroft accepted the gesture, understanding Sherlock didn't really mean to make fun of him - otherwise he would have made himself very clear with sharp words. He tenderly caressed the hand the dark haired had around him, and just like that, they were Myc and William again.

What do you think? Let me know!

- Luna

#sherlock holmes #bbc sherlock #johnlock #john watson #sherlock x john #i am sherlocked #sherlock fandom #sherlock fanfic #mycroft holmes #mycroft bbc #benedict cumberbatch #mark gatiss #martin freeman #steven moffat

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