#May Prompts

[friday411]

May Prompts - Apology

Watson is tops in pathology (And more things ending in -ology) Proves again and again As Holmes' partner and friend That haters owe him an apology!

-<+>-

Watson recounts Holmes' methodologies And has other very fine qualities A writer of note That people all quote Who makes all of Sherlock's apologies

Thank you to my muse @ghostofnuggetspast !!

----- See them all on AO3 ----

Thanks for reading, reposting & leaving the love!

Tags in the comments as well. Please LMK if you want on or off the list! @stellacartography @totallysilvergirl @calaisreno @keirgreeneyes @peanitbear

[raina-at]

Letters

Dear John,

Come back.

Don’t get married.

Half of all marriages end in divorce, you don’t want to get married just to get divorced again, do you?

You’ve only known her for six months. That’s nothing. 

Is the sex that good?

Do you really love her?

Do you love her more than me?

Forgive me.

Come back.

Don’t get married.

I love you.

I miss you.

You make me better. Everything is better with you.

You think I’m the special one, but that’s not true. It was always you. You keep me right.

I know I don’t deserve it, but please choose me anyway. 

Come home.

Please.

Sherlock sighs in frustration as he throws the paper to the floor. How is he supposed to do this? 

Every time he tries to think of what he’ll say at the wedding, his heart hurts. His head hurts. Everything hurts. He has a recurring nightmare; he opens his mouth at the wedding and a horrid sort of wailing sound comes out, and everyone’s staring at him because they know it’s the sound of his heart breaking.

He needs help. But the only person who can help him is the one person he can’t ask.

So Lestrade it is.

*-*

Lestrade is surprisingly helpful, and Sherlock manages to write most of his speech with a few pointers from him. Lestrade reassures him that John will be happy, which is the end goal.

Sherlock is about to settle down to his microscope and some interesting slides from a necrotic horse liver when there’s a knock on the door.

Sherlock opens the door to an agitated John, who holds up a sheet of paper.

“Is this true?” he says with an odd, wide-eyed intensity.

“What are you talking about?” Sherlock asks, trying to catch a glimpse of the paper in John’s hand.

John thrusts it at him, and Sherlock’s stomach flips over when he realises that it’s the first draft of his best man speech. The one he threw to the floor. Where a nosy DI must have picked it up and...

He’s going to murder Lestrade with his bare hands.

He looks up at John. “Um…”

“Sherlock,” John says, eyes intent on his. “Is it true?”

“I never meant for you to see this, Lestrade-”

“Never mind that, now,” John says, taking a step closer to Sherlock and gently taking the paper from Sherlock’s hand. “Is it true?” he asks, softly but insistently, looking at Sherlock with an expression that’s almost… hopeful? Surely that can’t be true.

But he doesn’t want to lie anymore, so he nods. Just once.

“Oh,” John says, and surely the lovely smile on his face is a trick of the light. Surely the way he steps closer to Sherlock is all in his head, surely the hands sliding up Sherlock’s arms and cupping his face are a figment of his imagination and surely John’s lips against his have a purely medicinal purpose, breathing life and light into Sherlock’s entire body, his lungs, his heart.

“Oh,” Sherlock breathes against John’s lips as he kisses back.

He’s going to have to do something nice for Lestrade. And he’s going to hold on to that piece of paper. It’ll make a good first draft of his wedding vows.

Thanks for the tag and the idea, @calaisreno , I'm not ready for the fun to end ;-)

I actually wrote something else first, but I think that's going to be the basis for a longer fic, so have another TSoT fix it.

Tagging a few of the usual suspects: @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @jrow @catlock-holmes @totallysilvergirl @topsyturvy-turtely @meetinginsamarra @jrow @thetimemoves @the-reading-lemon @discordantwords and anyone else who wants to play.

[zazuprompts]

Picture ID under the cut:

[ID: A list of prompts in three columns. The background is a desaturated photograph of red spider lilies. The bottom corners have credits on them. The right corner is the credit for the background, which is to Soyoung Han @ Unsplash.com. The left corner is the credit/signature of the blog, Zazu Prompts. The title and prompts are as follows:

May 2024 Prompts List:

Enemy

Vulnerable

Certain

Opportune

Level

Danger

Flag

Murmur

Stone

Retrieve

Close

Agile

Grace

Failure

Sword

Poison

Follow

Faith

Survive

Chance

Cave

Champion

Fight

Surprise

Retreat

Future

Ease

Summon

Gas

Retort

Skull

End ID]

[jegulus-microfic]

Here are the prompts for May 2024!

You can find the rules here and the faqs here.

Still need April's prompts? Find them here.

Want to post to ao3? Find the collection here.

Prompts listed under the cut.

Animagus  

Delight

Rush

Cease

Surface

Strawberry

Allure

Silk

Captivate

Reform

Gentle

Rub

Mischievous 

Bottle

Drive

Mist

Dimple

Paint

Jewel

Barren

Rank

Control

Desk

Over

Fireplace

Fine

Sneeze

Comfort

Tie

Pasta

Insecure 

[hatchetfield-rarepair-week]

May Prompts!!

Spring / Caught in the rain / The Nights by Avicii

Soulmate AU / Superpower AU / Till Forever Falls Apart by Ashe and FINNEAS

Breakup / Yearning / Don’t You Dare by Kaden MacKay

Sting / Bloom / Roses are Red (Violets are Blue) by Jon Caryl

Baking / Fancy Dinner / Smitten by Leanna Firestone

Devoted / Giving up / Hopelessly Devoted to You by Olivia Newton-John

Adoption / Kidfic / When We Were Younger by grantperez and Cavetown

[lisbeth-kk]

Surprise

Thanks for the prompt @calaisreno

Revealing a secret

From the very first day, Sherlock has texted rapidly on John’s or his own phone. He rarely calls. He borrows John’s laptop frequently, but only that first time, did he use John’s phone. More often than not, John wonders who’s the receivers of those texts. There’s Lestrade and Mycroft, obviously, but those texts John can deduce. Texts to or from the latter, makes Sherlock huff, sigh, roll his eyes, scowl, growl and curse.

“Oh, for God’s sake!” mostly.

Sherlock’s a virgin when it comes to cursing compared to John.

Sighs, huffs and eyerolls also occur when texts with Lestrade are exchanged, but John’s learned to tell them apart. There’s a certain glint in Sherlock’s eyes, excitement mixed with annoyance, when Lestrade’s the one he’s communicating with.

There’s also Molly, but those texts are easy. Sherlock either beams inappropriately with the thought of receiving body parts from her, or sulks for hours when she refuses his requests.

He never texts Mrs. Hudson.

He always texts John, unless he’s engrossed in a case, which John often is a part of, and there’s no reason for texting when John’s right there, though it has happened. Once. When Sherlock wasn’t aware, or had forgotten, that John stood right behind him. That time, John had been quite stern, loud, and made good use of his curse vocabulary. Sherlock had even apologised.

John supposes Sherlock texts his homeless network from time to time, but that’s about it really. So, how come he texts at any given hour? There’s no need asking the genius. John’s tried. Numerous times. If he gets a reaction at all, it’s often a shrug, a non-committal sound or an eyeroll. When he’s generous, John gets a vocal response.

“No one. No one of importance. I’m busy, John. Shut up. Hm? You were saying?”

No help at all, and John’s curiosity is famous. He’s determined to get to the bottom of this. 

***

After weeks of appraisal, evaluation, and studying Sherlock’s texting habits, John’s befuddled and dumbfounded. Sherlock isn’t texting all the time as John assumed. He’s writing on the note app or sending emails to himself. It was no easy task to deduce those things. Sneaking up on Sherlock and looking over his shoulder while texting was futile. He seems to have a sixth sense when it comes to John. Always aware of his presence. Well, at least while using his phone. So, John’s perfected a side glance manoeuvre, and spotted the mail and note symbols. 

John concluded that Sherlock’s hiding this texting business from John, which makes no sense at all. Sherlock doesn’t do secrets normally. Unless it’s for a case, or he finds it crucial that John’s left out of the loop for some reason. But he always tells John everything in the end, so it has to be something else.

When John thinks back on his days of dating, something occurs to him. Every time John was going on a date, he always said his goodbye’s to Sherlock, and as sure at the sun rises, Sherlock texted furiously at his phone when John emerged from his room dressed for a night out. The same thing happened when John returned from said date. Even if he stayed the night, Sherlock was always present when he arrived home. With just a glance at John, Sherlock started to tap at his phone.

John’s abandoned dating after he realised that no one could ever come close to Sherlock in comparison to his many dates. Being a bisexual isn’t something John’s flagged, but he’s not embarrassed about it. It’s just personal. And besides, John’s always been attracted to people. What gender they are, has never mattered to him. It’ s the person, their personality, the chemistry that counts to John. So, when he finally admitted to himself, that Sherlock was the love of his life, he stopped dating. Sherlock noticed obviously, but for some reason never commented on it. So, John’s conclusion is as follows. Sherlock keeps a diary of sorts, and the sole topic is him, John Hamish Watson. It must be. 

***

“What’s all this for?” Sherlock asks when he returns home from Bart’s.

John had texted Sherlock earlier, asking what he wanted for dinner.

Lasagne or the pea thing?

Sherlock had clearly been occupied and engrossed, if his response was any indicator.

You choose. SH

And now, the kitchen table is filled with lasagne, focaccia, a caprese salad and bottles of red wine. John has a secret to reveal and his plan’s working. He’s managed to surprise Sherlock already, and there’s more to come.

“Nothing in particular. Just felt the urge to cook. It’s been a while, and you seem to enjoy my cooking. Occasionally,” John states.

Sherlock narrows his eyes. Deducing. He doesn’t comment, but seats himself, and John pours wine and gestures for Sherlock to serve himself. They eat in their normal companionable silence, which John sporadically breaks by asking about Sherlock’s visit to Bart’s. Sherlock gestures with his fork and explains about an interesting brain Molly’s let him examine. John loves this version of Sherlock. All excited and knowing that his audience appreciates his conclusions. His rich baritone weaves its way down John’s spine like a velvet fabric. He can feel his cheeks flush.

When they’ve cleared the table, they seat themselves in their chairs, already halfway down the second bottle of wine. John feels lightheaded and a bit tipsy, and Sherlock’s no better. The way he sprawls in his chair, reminds John of a big, lazy cat.

God, he’s gorgeous!

Determined, John jumps right in before the doubt hits him.

“So, I think I’ve deduced something about you,” he says, looking intently at Sherlock.

“Have you now?” Sherlock drawls, his voice low and a bit hoarse.

That voice does things to John’s body, which he must suppress. At least for the moment. He clears his throat.

“I think so, yes. Do you remember all the times I’ve asked you about your texting?” John inquires.

“Yes,” Sherlock answers, his body suddenly tense.

Took him by surprise there!

“Well, I’ve given it a lot of thought, and lots and lots and lots of investigating,” John says with emphasis.

Sherlock sits stiff as a rod in his chair now, blinking rapidly.

“John, please don’t. I…um…”

This is not what John had planned. He didn’t want to make Sherlock uncomfortable. He slides out of his chair and crouches down beside Sherlock’s chair, leaning a hand on his knee.

“Sherlock, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” John says quietly, squeezing Sherlock’s knee.

Sherlock doesn’t answer. He’s closed his eyes and his lips is just a thin, straight line. 

“I’m flattered, you know,” John continues, stroking Sherlock’s arm now. “I never thought you felt…um…that I mean that much…”

Sherlock opens his eyes and grabs John’s hand desperately.

“Don’t play with me, John!” he warns, tightening his grip on John’s hand.

“I would never do that, Sherlock. Playing with people’s feelings is not a thing I approve of.”

When he sees the look in Sherlock’s eyes, John decides to act, and prays that he’s not reading the signs wrong. He rises, climbs into Sherlock’s chair, straddles his thighs, cradles his face and kisses him softly. A moan escapes Sherlock before he moves his arms and closes them behind John’s waist. They kiss and kiss until their lips are swollen from the pressure. Sherlock looks totally debauched, a sight John never thought he would be so lucky to see.

“We’re two idiots, aren’t we?” John says, smiling down at Sherlock.

“Mm,” Sherlock agrees. “Surprises aren’t really my area, but I find that I’m quite fond of this one.”  

I've always wondered about all his texting myself, actually...

@totallysilvergirl @missdeliadili @raina-at @meetinginsamarra @topsyturvy-turtely @peanitbear

[leffee]

Day 19: Instrument

"Is this seat taken?"

"...That's my lap, Vinnie."

"I'm aware."

Sunil rolled his eyes playfully and instead of replying reached his arms out to put Vinnie sideways on his lap himself before his eyes returned to the screen.

"So, why'd you want to sit here with me? You don't like history documentaries." Sunil wrapped his arms around the other who made himself comfortable by wiggling in place.

"No reason, was just bored." Vinnie shrugged, wrapping his arms around the dark neck.

"Mmmhhhm," Sunil hummed in fake thoughtfulness. "Alright, if you say so."

For a few minutes there was silence between them aside from the noise coming from the TV. Sunil’s eyes were on the screen while Vinnie snuggled up close to him. However, the peacefulness ended when Sunil felt his boyfriend nuzzling his neck slowly. He wasn't sure quite why, but... something prompted him to act.

He quickly tightened his hold on Vinnie and lowered him, practically dipping him in this unusual position. 

"Sunil? What's up?"

What happened next? Sunil started rapidly planting kisses all over Vinnie's head, face, neck, sometimes even going lower for the collarbone.

"Hehey what's the bihig idea?" Vinnie insisted and squirmed a bit, but he couldn't stop the absolutely delighted giggles that were continuously escaping him, his legs kicking lightly.

"Nothing." Kiss. "It's your own fault." Kiss. "I know well," kiss, "this is what you were looking for when you came here." Kiss. "So don't even try to protest." Kiss. 

"Whaaaat, no it’s not," Vinnie tried to object nonetheless, his right eye closing as another kiss was planted right under it.

"I said don't." 

Gradually over the minutes the kisses slowed down although never ended, Sunil still wanted to watch that documentary after all. Fortunately, the kisses didn't stop fully and Vinnie? Despite his verbal oppositions he kept leaning into each and every one of them, sometimes even brushing his hair aside to provide access to different spots.

They kept it up for a while until Sunil decided to readjust his grip on the one on his lap. His hands moved from Vinnie’s back to his sides, digging into them firmly.

“I-”

“Eep!” Vinnie practically jumped in Sunil's grip and when that didn't free him, his body tensed up a bunch. He bit his quivering bottom lip that was, but it didn't prevent the corners of his mouth from turning upwards.

“Vinnie, what happened?” Sunil’s expression shifted to one of concern. “Did I hurt you? Do you have a bruise here? I'm sorry,” He let out quickly.

“N-no, I'm not… hurt,” Vinnie stammered out, his voice rising in pitch with each word, “b-but actually I-I want to g-go now.”

Sunil did almost release him until he caught sight of where his hands were. Oh… oh!

“Hmm, no, I don't think so. You seem cozy here. You especially appear to find this,” He dug his fingers more, “quite amusing!”

“Eiee!” Vinnie jumped again, this time not trying to hide his laughter. “Suhuhuhunil! Nohohoho!”

“I think yes.” Sunil grinned. “I wasn't even planning to tickle you, it's not my fault that you're so ticklish you jump at every touch! You’re reacting to each of those touches like a cute little instrument, making beautiful noises for me to enjoy, so deal with the consequences.” And so, he continued. 

“Nohohoho, Sunil, plehehease!” Vinnie tried to wriggle out even more, but just as he thought he felt his opportunity to escape, Sunil skillfully pinned him underneath himself. As he sat on Vinnie's thighs and pushed his hands against the couch with his own, he took in his victim's now panicked expression.

“W-wait, Sunil, seriously, stop.” Vinnie was already giggling nervously.

“And why should I?” Sunil challenged.

“Cause…” Vinnie's eyes darted all around the room, “you will miss the thing you were watching.” He gave his biggest and undoubtedly nervous smile.

However, Sunil simply changed his grip to now hold both of Vinnie's wrists down with only one of his hands, sat up straighter, and pressed the pause button on the remote.

“No, I won't.” He smirked at the frantically trashing Vinnie and without further ado pushed his free hand under his shirt, now wiggling his fingers on Vinnie's ribs. 

And as the “unfortunate” tickle victim continued letting out out snorts after snickers and wheezes they both knew Sunil wouldn't stop all that soon.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It kindaaa fits the prompt word? Eh, Vinnil fluff for the soul.

Doooon't go wasting your emoooooooooootions

[jrow]

Surprise

Sherlock shoves his hands in his pockets. His leather gloves may be stylish, but they are doing nothing to protect his fingers from the January chill. He quickens his pace, pushing past a few infuriatingly slow pedestrians before he finally makes it to the tube station. But getting inside doesn’t improve his mood in the slightest. It’s loud and stifling and Sherlock finds himself regretting even getting out of bed this morning.

 He could just turn around and go home. He doesn’t have to pick up Rosie at school today. He could text John and say something came up and it would be fine. Sure, Sherlock usually picks up Rosie on Tuesdays, but John has the day off since he had to cover that shift unexpectedly last Saturday. John could easily get his daughter and Sherlock could go home and do some experiments. Or just crawl back into bed away from everything and everyone.

It's been a terrible day all around, although Sherlock isn’t exactly sure why. He’s been in a mood since he got up this morning, from the moment he checked his mobile and saw that he didn’t have any messages from John. Sherlock hadn’t assumed John would spend the whole day with him, but he thought he’d at least get a message.

Sherlock feels his mobile vibrating and pulls it out immediately.

I’ll collect Rosie today. Thx. J

“Fine,” Sherlock says out loud, shoving his mobile back into his pocket with far more force then necessary. He scowls and turns around to head to the exit. Apparently he’ll be going home after all.

 XXXXXXX

“Sherlock, is that you?” Mrs. Hudson asks, popping her head out of the door to 221A. Sherlock briefly considers ducking outside again with some excuse about why he can’t chat, but it’s started raining and he’s already taken off his coat. Hopefully Mrs. Hudson will just say hi and then let him be. He’s not sure he can handle his landlord’s insistent blabbering.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock says, through gritted teeth as he makes his way towards the stairs. “If you’ll excuse me, I really have to—”

“I was hoping you could help me with a lightbulb, luv,” Mrs. Hudson interrupts, opening her door wide. “Won’t take a tick. I’d do it myself, but my hip is acting up. Just in here.”

Sherlock sighs and follows her in. It’s not like he has anything better to do. And besides, how long could changing a lightbulb really take?

XXXXXXX

Changing the lightbulb is followed by replacing the batteries in the smoke detectors, which is followed by fixing a cabinet door, which is followed by moving the fridge to see if Mrs. Hudson’s bracelet fell behind (it didn’t). Sherlock doesn’t emerge from her flat until more than an hour after entering, mood soured even further. Plus, now he’s hungry as Mrs. Hudson didn’t even bother to offer him a single biscuit.

Sherlock slowly climbs the stairs to his flat and finally acknowledges the infuriating truth. He feels sorry for himself. Like a mere mortal. He’s received a single paltry text from John today and all it did was take away the one thing he was actually looking forward to (seeing Rosie).

As if to mock him, his mobile chooses that moment to moan, indicating the annual text from The Woman. He steadfastly ignores it and pulls open his front door. God, Sherlock hates his birthday.

“Surprise!” Rosie yells, reaching out to hug his legs. She must have been standing right behind the door waiting for him. “Happy birthday, Lock!” She lets go and points towards the sitting room. “Daddy picked me up early and we decorated!”

Sherlock can’t stop the growing smile as he takes in the space in front of him. The sitting room is filled with about a dozen helium-filled balloons (each with a face drawn on), several streamers dangle from the mantle, and at least 20 homemade snowflakes (at least he thinks that’s what they are) hang from the ceiling. And in the middle of it all stands a sheepish looking John Watson, holding a chocolate cake (also clearly homemade).

“Happy birthday, Sherlock,” John says quietly, a faint pink appearing on his cheeks. He’s wearing his best jeans and shoes, along with his only decent jumper. He looks incredible and Sherlock allows let’s himself stare. Although John looks embarrassed (and maybe a touch nervous?), he holds Sherlock’s gaze and, for a moment, Sherlock forgets to breathe.

He’s brought back to reality by Rosie, pulling him into the sitting room. “Cake!” she yells, happily. “Daddy says we can have cake before dinner!”

“That’s right, Rosie,” John says, bringing the cake to the kitchen. “It’s a special occasion. Worthy of celebration.” He puts the cake down on the table. “I hope,” he adds, in a whisper. It’s quiet enough that Sherlock is fairly certain he wasn’t supposed to hear.

The cake is delicious, the company is fantastic, and Sherlock has already decided it’s his best birthday ever by the time Mrs. Hudson appears in the doorway an hour later.

“You boys ready?” she asks.

John grabs the back of his neck and clears his throat. “Yeah, yeah, thanks.” He directs his attention to Rosie, who is currently making even more snowflakes (and getting little bits of paper everywhere). “Rosie, be good for Mrs. Hudson, okay? We’ll be home before bedtime.”

“’Course!” she says, before sticking her tongue outside the side of her mouth and continuing to work on her latest masterpiece.

“We’ll be fine,” Mrs. Hudson says, coming in and sitting at the table. “I’ve already ordered her pizza. Now go.”

John nods and rises from the table before pulling Sherlock up too. “Come on,” he says. Now John is definitely nervous. Why?

Sherlock furrows his brow and follows John downstairs. “We are going out to dinner?” he asks (stupidly), as John pulls on his coat.

“Yeah,” John says, grabbing the back of his neck again. “Angelo’s.” He looks up and gives Sherlock a soft smile. “Happy birthday.”

“Angelo loves Rosie, why isn’t she coming?” Sherlock asks, taking his coat off the hook.

John doesn’t answer, instead asking a question of his own. “You were surprised by the decorations, weren’t you? And it was a good surprise?”

Sherlock tilts his head to the side and then nods, slowly.

“Good,” John says, before turning and opening the door. He squares his shoulders and turns back towards Sherlock. “I hope it’s not the only good surprise today.” He reaches out and grabs Sherlock’s hand, bringing it to his lips and giving it a gentle kiss.

Once again, Sherlock forgets to breathe.

“Come on,” John says, tugging on Sherlock’s hand but not letting go. “We have a reservation and … and there’s something I have to tell you. Something I have to ask you.”

 ....

Written for the prompt “Surprise” (thank you @calaisreno!) I had no idea where to end this one, but I have run out of time so it ends here. Apologies for the typos that I am sure exist, I didn’t get a chance to proof. I’ll tag @raina-at since she’s been a rockstar at completing all of these and a few other writers who might be interested @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @keirgreeneyes @lololollywrites @aquilea-of-the-lonely-mountain

[gregorovitch-adler]

Nightmare

"Shall we go over together? It has to be together, doesn’t it? At the end, it’s always just you and me!"

--

Sherlock woke up with a start. His breath hitched in his throat and he could feel a thin line of sweat forming on his forehead. He could still feel Moriarty's shrill voice ringing in his ears.

When he turned in his bed and became aware of the fact that John was lying next to him, fast asleep, he sighed heavily in relief.

John. John under the duvet with him, completely naked. His golden lashes resting on his face; his mouth soft and quirked up a bit from the corner.

Sherlock ran his hand through John's ash-blond hair. It was soft and dense beneath his touch. Sherlock felt a small smile forming on his own face, and he swallowed, being reminded that he was living his dream life.

Sherlock thought about the two years he had to spend away from John, being forced to keep him in the dark. He shuddered. Technically, in the eyes of the general public in London, Sherlock had died together with Moriarty on the day when he was blackmailed into jumping from the rooftop.

All of this was obviously a lie.

Sherlock was unable to believe that he still got a chance with John, to be able to do this with him everyday. Waking up next to John, beginning and finishing his day with John by his side.

Anyway, Sherlock was thrilled about his new lifestyle as the new reality for him, nowadays.

He and John were together. Always. It was always the two of them; now, and for the rest of their days.

Sherlock placed his arm across John's waist and pressed a kiss on his cheek. John was still sleeping, but the faint smile on his face was unmistakeable.

✧༺♥༻✧✧༺♥༻✧✧༺♥༻✧

Prompt Together and Always by @calaisreno

Tagging: @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely @gaylilsherlock @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @peanitbear

AN: Thank you for tagging me, and thanks everyone for reading my drabbles/ficlets for the May prompts this month, even though I'd joined in late. Hope you liked them all, and hope you keep reading my stories in the future.

[harringtons-cupid]

1,17,32 Joseph Quinn?? 🫶🏼

This is for my partner, spending 5 days without them for the first time in 6 months.

🌷May Prompts🌷 | KO-FI

Joe pulled into the local strawberry picking field, he used to take you at the beginning of your relationship. You had not been in a long time, the sight of the field filled you with joy.

Your face lighting up excitedly as he parked next to the gate, there were a few people scattered across the land but they weren’t interested in the strawberries. Not like you.

His hand in yours as you carried your handwoven basket, the strawberries were weaving between wild plants at the side of the path.

It wasn’t long before the basket was filled up, you wanted to pick more but Joe reminded you that they would get squished if you tried to fit more than the baskets worth.

As you wondered back to the car, Joe squeezed your hand tightly. Smiling at you softly, you were reminded of the first time you and Joe went strawberry picking.

It was cooler, most of the strawberries had been picked as his hand brushed against yours. You were nervous, he noticed it in your breath.

Wondering the scarce fields of strawberries, the sun hit the back of your head. He gripped onto your arm, stopping you in your tracks and picked a few strawberries for you.

Placing them into the free basket that were at the entrance, you gasped in delight before leaning over to him collect more.

The car was warm after sitting in the summer sun, the windows were down as Joe sped down the back lanes of your town. It wasn’t long before he parked up outside your favourite cafe, already knowing what you would order.

He leant forward and kissed you, glancing back at the car before heading inside. The sun bounced off the window as you rested into the chair, the music played softly throughout the car as you waited.

Closing your eyes for a moment, just as the car door opened. Joes brown eyes were illuminated in the sunlight as he leant over with your coffee, it was hot.

He knew where to go next, the first spot where you sat with him. The top of a mini hill, overlooking the city as you sat there with your coffees.

You felt happy, the memories flooded back throughout the day. You had skipped down memory lane with his hands in yours.

[friday411]

Thank you Fearless Leader!

@CalaisReno once said in a chat That "Just writing at random's old hat! Join our May prompt, It'll be a great romp!". I accept your challenge - that's that!

-=<+>=-

See what you've done @CalaisReno? You rallied us 'round and said "Go!" I've been blown away By these Prompts of May Thank you so much for running the show!

-=<+>=-

A big bouquet of thank yous to all the other writers and our faithful readers! You guys are awesome!!

----- See them all on AO3 ----

Thanks for reading, reposting & leaving the love!

Tags in the comments as well. Please LMK if you want on or off the list! @stellacartography @totallysilvergirl @calaisreno @keirgreeneyes @peanitbear

[raina-at]

In Vino Veritas

Sherlock remembers having heard this somewhere, that wine brings out the truth.

He doesn't know if that's remotely true, but it does seem to have brought out something.

Moments ago, John's hand was on his knee, and the soft firelight painted him golden and warm. Moments ago, Sherlock felt all the ridiculous affection he has for John well up in his heart and spill over. Moments ago, he smiled and put his hand over John's.

Things got a bit blurry, after that, and now...

Now John is straddling him in his chair, John's hands are buried in his hair and they're kissing. Snogging, really. There's lots of tongue, and it's sloppy and imperfect and Sherlock wants to die, it's so good. John feels absolutely divine pressed up against Sherlock, and Sherlock lets his hands wander all over John's back. John tastes of whisky and desire, of forbidden fruit and every long-denied sensory pleasure.

John tastes of whisky.

John is drunk.

Sherlock is drunk.

Sherlock pulls back and pushes John away. "Stop."

John pulls away and Sherlock can see him blink himself back to reality. He looks at Sherlock, messed up and mussed from kissing and devastated. "I'm sorry," he mutters. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I know you don't... I don't know what I was thinking."

"You're drunk," Sherlock points out. "And so am I."

"I'm sorry," John says again, looking at Sherlock with such sadness, such heartbreak. "I'm sorry, I know you don't do this, it'll never happen again, I'm-"

Sherlock puts a finger over his lips. "You're drunk," he says, softly, because he can't let John go on thinking that Sherlock doesn't want this. He wants this more than his next breath. But he wants it to be real, and not just some drunken lark. "You're engaged. I can't..."

The expression on John's face is difficult to read, but his smile is soft and delicate and lovely. "And what if I wasn't? What if I was single, and stone cold sober and came back and kissed you again?"

Sherlock swallows, meeting John's hungry, hopeful eyes. "Then..." he says, leans up and presses one soft kiss to John's lips.

John smiles. "I have to go now."

*-*

Sherlock has a monstrous headache. He fell asleep on the sofa, in his clothes, and he doesn't quite remember everything that happened last night. But he does remember John kissing him. Or him kissing John. He's a bit fuzzy on the details. But he remembers hands in his hair and hungry eyes on his, and he remembers telling John he won't take John drunk and horny. He'll only take him sober and fully aware of what he's doing.

He makes himself tea and toast and drinks about a litre of water. Then he sits in his chair and contemplates his life choices. He doesn't feel very good about most of them right now.

The door to 221 opens and closes.

Sherlock would recognise John's tread on these stairs if he was deaf, blind and stupid. Well, he feels pretty damned stupid right now, but there's nothing wrong with his senses whatsoever.

He stands up, prepares himself for the inevitable. A gentle rejection, a plea to forget this ever happened. Or an angry accusation, a demand never to speak to John again.

There's a knock on the door. Tentative and hesitant.

"Come in," Sherlock says roughly, his voice not entirely recovered from the dehydration of the alcohol. At least that's the reason he gives himself for how unsteady his voice is.

John opens the door. He looks at Sherlock, an unreadable expression on his face. He takes a step closer. Another step. Another, until he stands right in front of Sherlock.

"So what were the criteria again?" he says, with a small, hopeful smile. "Single, and sober, and here?"

Sherlock feels his lips stretch into a smile as he feels the knot of anxiety in his stomach dissolve into relief and happiness. "Something like that."

"And what did you promise me in return?" John asks, his smile now tender and happy and positively glowing.

"This," Sherlock says, and leans down for a kiss.

Thank you so much @calaisreno for the tag and the prompt. Thank you so much for giving us prompts and writing lovely, beautiful, brilliant ficlets every day. 😍😍😍

PS I kind of hate myself for not doing a "It's a truth universally acknowledged" beginning, but I do owe you all two ficlets (I skipped two days), so I think I'll do a bonus one with extra fluffy Bakers.

Tagging a few people: @lisbeth-kk @keirgreeneyes @jrow @peanitbear @meetinginsamarra @thetimemoves @catlock-holmes @discordantwords @topsyturvy-turtely @helloliriels @fluffbyday-smutbynight and anyone else who wants to play.

[magicalmonthlyprompts]

The Smuttening - May 2024

It's a dice roll prompt game! Each column has five prompts, with 6 being a free choice (so if you roll a 6, you get to choose whichever prompt you want)

Each chart comes with 5 categories: location, kink (two BDSM ones included), item (based on the monthly theme), a line of dialogue, and one of the five senses

You roll the dice for every category, leaving you with five prompts altogether to create something steamy.

How you interpret your prompts it totally up to you! Fic, art, dojin, moodboard, you choose the medium that's best for you.

Open to any and all fandoms, as long as the characters involved are 18+.

Use #smuttening or tag the page if you post it on Tumblr!

Happy creating! ~Muse of Mystery

[weirdsciencecamp]

I'd like to see David + Potted Plant for the may prompts!

[sapphicmicrofics]

Prompts will be written out at the bottom of this post!

New upcoming prompts for our HP Sapphic Microfics!

Just like for April, these prompts can be taken and interpreted every which way you want. You do not have to stick with what might be the most straightforward association, and every individual prompt post will include a few suggestions to get you started.

All these prompts can be combined with other events (as long as they also allow you to combine prompts), such as @microficmay, @sapphicmarauding and @hp-flowers.

You are still allowed to write for any of April's prompts, too!

The rules for this event can be found here, the previously submitted fics are all here and in this collection on AO3, and if you want to search them by ship you can do so here!

Sapphic Microfics is hosted by @hpsaffics, whose discord server holds a specific channel where these prompts and the incoming fics are excitedly discussed, so if you're looking for people to talk about these and the rest of April's prompts with, check them out! (The server is 18+, keep that in mind!)

Prompts:

Sunset

Punch

Joint

Locket

Hormones

Collarbone

Detention

Cauldron

Doubt

"It was worth it."

First Kiss

Tolerate

Nargles

Proposal

Motorbike

Concert

Undressed

Murder

Lipstick

Memory

Strangle

Pottery

Daffodils

Rational

Snake

Perfume

Cherry

Bruises

Library

Insatiable

Dear Diary

[lisbeth-kk]

Clues

Thanks for the prompt @calaisreno and the tag @raina-at

Sometimes you need a push.

“You’re going to lose him, you know,” Molly says earnestly.

Sherlock just huffs, focusing on the fingernails on the corpse they’re examining.

When they’ve concluded, Molly continues the one-sided conversation.

“He’ll get tired of waiting. You must know how he feels about you by now, Sherlock. It’s totally obvious, but he’s not exactly…”

“Gay, you mean,” Sherlock snaps at her, puts on his Belstaff with his usual flaunt and exits the morgue.

He gets a text from John in the cab.

Ordered sushi. Can you pick up a few bottles of wine on the way?

Consider it done. SH

He gets some funny emoji in return. A blue-grey two headed thing. When he searches the emoji bar, he finds it next to the lungs. Maybe John’s just touched the wrong one, though none of the other emojis stands out, if you don’t count the inner organs like heart and brain.

Sherlock starts to ponder Molly’s words after he’s stopped for wine. Losing John. Just two words but the meaning of those words is something Sherlock can’t think about without getting nauseous. And then it’s the other thing Molly mentioned. How John feels about him. Sherlock knows John loves him. As a friend, but it stops there, doesn’t it? Has John ever shown interest in Sherlock in a more romantic way? If so, he's hidden it well. From Sherlock at least. There have been no clues. Perhaps Molly just sees what she wants to see. That must be it. She’s a romantic soul, and clearly wants Sherlock to have what she has with…Peter? No, Patrick…Paul? Never mind. 

***

They’ve eaten and finished one bottle of wine. John’s eager to open a second one.

“You’ve got excellent taste in wine, Sherlock,” John beams as he struggles with the cork.

“Need a hand with that?” Sherlock offers amused.

John’s getting tipsy, and it’s a state Sherlock can appreciate. When he let’s go of his Britishness, John gets all affectionate and flirty, and sometimes Sherlock craves that. Craves John’s attention. His indisputable admiration. The aftermath of such events can be devastating for Sherlock. When John apologises, gets awkward, goes for long walks, and dates for several weeks. Tonight though, Sherlock decides to push John a bit. He’s gotten a bit tipsy himself, and Molly’s words refuses to leave him alone. What if John feels…

“There!” 

John interrupts his train of thought when he finally manages to open the wine bottle. He grins at Sherlock.

“Some more wine, gorgeous? You’re glass is empty,” John states and concentrates while pouring wine into both glasses.

Did John just call him gorgeous?

John’s never called him anything like that before. Git, twat, idiot, and his name in all variations, but never endearments. Could that be a sign, or is John too inebriated to notice what he’s said? He needs more data.

“You seem happy today. Any particular reason?” Sherlock prompts, fishing for clues to John’s odd behaviour.

John clears his throat and blushes a bit. It’s quite adorable.

Adorable! Since when did he start using words like that? Too much wine probably.

“I just…um…realised something,” John begins, not looking at Sherlock, instead seems to find his socks quite fascinating.

Sherlock waits for John to continue. It takes a numerous amount of time. When he speaks again, his voice is almost sober and there’s a hint of captain Watson in his stance.

“I’ve decided to stop dating,” John exclaims.

Sherlock’s heart skips a beat at that. Molly was right. He’s going to lose John. Stop dating means that John’s found a woman he wants to settle down with, get engaged to, marry, have kids with. It means John’s leaving Baker Street. His brain buzzes and Sherlock’s afraid he’s going to black out. John has apparently continued talking, but Sherlock hasn’t heard a word. Three words are playing in his mind making him want to vomit.

I’m losing him!

***

Sherlock feels warm, steady and familiar hands on his knees. Thumbs stroking, soothing. John’s voice soft and concerned, now forming coherent words.

“Hey. You alright, Sherlock? What happened? Didn’t you hear me?”

Sherlock blinks rapidly and John’s face comes into focus. His blue gaze has a lovely expression.

Of course it does. He’s finally found the love of his life!

He closes his eyes. Can’t stand to see all that joy directed at a person that’s not Sherlock. His eyes prickle. He can’t cry in front of John. Pinches his thighs to redirect the pain and focus on that instead of the ache in his heart. He knows he’s failed miserably when he feels John’s hand on his cheek.

“Look at me, Sherlock. Please don’t panic. I can…um…just. Damn, I got the clues wrong, didn’t I? Sorry.”

John withdraws and Sherlock’s suddenly cold, bereft of the warmth of John’s proximity. He opens his eyes. John’s standing by the window, a hand over his eyes, silently cursing himself. Sherlock walks over to him, uncertain how to proceed.

“John. What did I do wrong? I’m sorry. I should’ve congratulated you, but I was caught off guard. Didn’t observe.”

John looks over at him incredulously.

“What?” he asks.

Stupid! Stupid!

Sherlock pulls at his hair in frustration. How can he fix this? 

In the end he doesn’t have to. John, wonderful John, his conductor of light, his beloved John solves the puzzle.

He closes the gap between them, takes Sherlock’s hands and squeezes.

“I should’ve known you would go offline and draw the wrong conclusions at that outburst. It was stupid of me. I’m sorry. I was just so damn happy. No, Sherlock, don’t,” John says when Sherlock’s about to withdraw his hands.

“I’m rubbish at this aren’t I? The thing is, Sherlock. The reason I’m giving up dating, well, it’s you.”

John looks up at Sherlock, his feelings laid bare. His eyes are so full of…it can’t be, can it? Love? Surely Sherlock’s mistaken.

“John?” Sherlock whispers.

John lets go of his hands and cradles his face instead, his thumbs stroking his cheekbones. Sherlock closes his eyes and revels in the unfamiliar sensation.

“Look at you,” John murmurs. “So beautiful.”

The awe and affection in his voice, makes Sherlock shiver. He opens his eyes, feeling brave, desperately hoping he’s read the signs correctly. When their eyes meet, Sherlock knows. Knows why John’s giving up dating. It’s written all over John’s face. He lowers his head, reasting their foreheads together.

“You love me?” Sherlock asks shakily.

“God, yes, Sherlock,” John says and beams at him. “Can I kiss you?”

Sherlock doesn’t answer, but acts. He places his hands on John’s shoulders and finds John’s lips with his own. Soft and tender kisses turns deeper, and Sherlock feels like his body’s filled with fireworks. It sparkles all over. In his stomach, thighs, calves, arms, fingers, and god, when John runs his fingers through Sherlock’s hair, he moans with pleasure.

“Jesus,” John whispers reverently. “Your voice!”

***

It turns out that the two women closest to John and Sherlock had taken matters into their own hands. Both Molly and Mrs. Hudson were at their wits end when it came to the clueless men. Mrs. Hudson had warned John with more or less the same words Molly had used to get Sherlock’s attention, and in the end, it worked out perfectly.

“Witchcraft,” Sherlock mutters once he and John had compared stories.

“Well, I prefer to call it magic, my love,” John says gleefully and traces his fingers down Sherlock’s naked body.

“You’re one to talk,” Sherlock gasps as John’s fingers find his nipples.

John laughs in a low, wicked voice, and Sherlock shivers in anticipation. Witchcraft or magic, he doesn’t care. He makes a mental note to buy the two women flowers or… 

“Focus on me, Sherlock,” John whispers, and Sherlock’s nothing but obedient.

Cunning women working their magic on the boys. The story almost wrote itself when that idea emerged in my mind.

@totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @topsyturvy-turtely @peanitbear @missdeliadili