#tw: kissing mention

[xtinyslip]

❝ I mean, we could make out but would that not be entirely distracting? ❞

"YOU SAY THAT LIKE IT'S A BAD THING?" raising her eyebrows. "maybe we could both do with being entirely distracted? just for a little while?" because everyone knew that this quietness wasn't going to last long but maybe they should be making the most of it whilst it did. being with logan was everything that she could have hoped for. not that she thought she was ever going to be in the new dating scene again but it felt GOOD. since when did feeling happy become such a crime? she had to remind herself it wasn't. leaning forward with a grin, she pressed her lips against his. @lcvenderhcze

[afoolandathief]

24, 26, 29 for Casimir

Jane! Thank you for the asks!

From this OC ask game

24. how does your OC handle death of someone they know?

For Caz, not well. If it's someone he doesn't know that well he may try to distance himself, but he will at least try to help those who were impacted (he was the only one in his building who visited his neighbor when her husband died, and even brought her something from her favorite bakery).

If it was someone he was close with, he will probably get blind-drunk and start blaming himself in some way, and begin revisiting all the people he's lost over the years.

26. Least favorite food and color?

Hm, this one was surprisingly hard.

For color, maybe yellow? I think he would look pretty terrible in it and it would remind him of the pretty flaxen color his hair used to be.

For food? Caz always loved food and cooking, and the fact he cannot eat anything but variants of blood and some softer organs really is a tragedy. I think he sees the bagged, over-preserved snack foods Jade eats instead of a home-cooked meal an affront on good cuisine but, let's be honest, if he could eat it he would.

29. When was their first kiss?

I spoke about how Caz lost his virginity a while back but have given less thought to a first kiss. It would have been one of the girls in his village, no doubt, probably in his early teens when he was supposed to be tending to his family's sheep or on the way back from church.

[draw-the-squad-like-this]

Draw your OCs like this

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I was kissing a woman, but turned out she was allergic to mint. I had just brushed my teeth so I wouldn’t have bad breath. Then I witnessed the rest of the events in a comic book format. I think she may have died.

[rvsirene]

My favs from the first half of 2024 ✰

[thesaddestjoysandthesmallestlies]

Haha. I have a funny idea. What if. Instead of you pretending to be in love with me. We actually fell in love. And like. Kissed or whatever. Sofunny. Right? Lol.

[locklylenerd77]

Aziracrow kiss scene analysis

Okay, so we've all seen it.

But what does it mean? Today I'm going to talk about Aziraphale and Crowley's kiss.

Viewpoints

Firstly, there are numerous ways to view this scene, including assault, romance, desperation, and an attempt at communication. I won't be talking about all of these, but I do want to delve deeper into the body language of Aziraphale and Crowley.

It's not "cute".

Firstly, this kiss wasn't romantic, gentle, or tender. Crowley grabs Aziraphale by the collar and basically smashes his lips onto Aziraphale's. It's quite an aggressive kiss, throwing them both off-balance. They sway a little, both of them very still, and neither of them pull away or deepen the kiss. It's obvious neither of them know how to kiss, and I think this makes it unpleasant for them both. We see Crowley holding Aziraphale for quite some time but nothing happens. He doesn't pull away to see if Aziraphale is okay, or use body language to make Aziraphale feel more comfortable. He's got no idea what the purpose of the kiss is, but its the last thing he can do. The kiss wasn't romantic, it was a culmination of the prior 6000 years.

Aziraphale's reaction

Secondly, Aziraphale is very clearly in shock. He gradually closes his eyes and places his hands on Crowley's back. It seems to me that this is him trying to "kiss back", except he obviously doesn't know how, and he's confused and angry at the same time. He looks distressed, which could be because of the situation, but also because he's trying to decide what to do. He doesn't want to hurt Crowley by shoving him away in disgust, or kiss him passionately back. They're both in new waters.

It's important to note that Crowley seems to release Aziraphale and not the other way round. He's the instigator of the kiss. Aziraphale is breathing heavily afterwards, on the verge of tears, and this signals to the audience that he's panicking slightly. I think this is because it couldn't be more clear now that he and Crowley are in love. There's no room for ambiguity or questioning- Crowley's defined his feelings (and their relationship) now, and through a human action.

Although they were both aware of their love, they were also both comfortable in their relationship, and perfectly happy going on dates, sharing property, calling each other pet names, and hearing others refer to them as a couple (at least, they don't deny it most of the time). To summarise, the kiss wasn't needed. Defining their relationship by human means was unneeded. Aziraphale is upset and disgusted because the action is so unnecessary, so unlike them. Crowley's trying to fit them into a mould as a desperate attempt of preserving the relationship. Crowley's confession might have been a way of indirectly asking for reassurance, or making their pre-existing relationship more physically intimate, but its's not a get-down-on-one-knee "will you go to nandos with me" imogen-from-heartstopper. His confession also clearly doesn't change anything, because Aziraphale doesn't recoil in shock, or even react much. He knows Crowley loves him, but he doesn't communicate that. So Crowley, thinking Aziraphale has misunderstood him, tries again.

Why kiss?

I think it's crucial that we understand that the kiss isn't a confirmation of their love. Crowley has already stated that they could've been "us", and that "he would like to spend" his existence with Aziraphale. The kiss is a reinforcement of what's already been said, and Crowley instigates it because he's trying to communicate with Aziraphale through human behaviours to bridge their contrasting perspectives.

This fails.

Crowley and Aziraphale already know they love one another. The kiss was a "stay with me, I love you" from Crowley, and an "I know, it's more complicated than that" from Aziraphale in response, but neither of them see it that way. Crowley was trying to make it clear how he feels, when that wasn't the problem. Nothing was unaddressed after Crowley's speech, and the kiss was an unexpected and confusing event for them both. Crowley never planned this- their bad communication has just reached a point where he's desperately trying to make Aziraphale understand him using any tool he can.

My thoughts

I think the true function of this kiss is to highlight their dysfunctional relationship. They can't communicate, so they fill in that gap with apology dances, protecting one another, and human interactions like kissing. They're so far apart in perspective and worldview that the only way to communicate is through a common thing they are both familiar with, which is human behaviour.

The reason Aziraphale is so upset, from my interpretation, is that the kiss changes nothing. They're both talking at one another and not listening, not compromising or attempting to understand each other's views. Aziraphale and Crowley both talked the talk, and the kiss is just Crowley repeating his earlier words. Essentially, Crowley's still not listening. They still aren't communicating.

We view kissing as a romantic interaction between two people to show mutual affection. For Crowley, it's not that. It's a final, desperate resort. "This is how I feel, can't you understand? I'm going to make you understand in the only way I know how that I have left!" But Aziraphale does understand, and he agrees. He just wants them to be together under different circumstances because he's in a toxic relationship with heaven and he thinks he can change it for better.

Summary

-the kiss wasn't romantic, it was just passionate

-Aziraphale isn't disgusted, he's confused and devastated because they've failed to communicate again, and they can't reach an understanding

-The kiss doesn't change their relationship, it just defines it, and neither of them really wanted to define it. We see multiple people pressure them into a "relationship", from calling them an "item" to interrogating Crowley about their status (he's not anybody's "bit on the side"!), and this causes Crowley to want reassurance, especially after their relationship has weakened slightly due to the stress of recent events concerning heaven, hell, Gabriel and Beelzebub, and poor communication. He confesses due to not only insecurity, but others changing his viewpoint of his relationship.

--------

Thanks for reading my essay I have too much free time

[xtinyslip]

"MAYBE SO. doesn't mean i want to go wage war for the asshole like they are." hoffman had been attempting to make matthews useful, he wasn't responsible for what young had done. for once he'd played no part in it but he wasn't losing sleep over it either. as far as he was concerned, no one should be. "this isn't about kramer." no, he seemed content on letting her rot in there which made him believe there was truth behind what hope had told him with this brit story. hoffman didn't exactly feel up for sharing but he sighed, knowing this wasn't going to be let go till he did. "i owe her girlfriend one. i owe her big. young gets out? and we're even. that's all there is to it." young was getting out one way or another and he figured, he'd rather be on the helping side than someone that hope remembered as being against it. this was the smart decision, even if it was the last thing he wanted. "i'm not." but there was always a but and this one he felt was fair. "but." the famous but. "the moment i find out she's crossed a line. that she's against us? she's done. you know she has to be." hoffman didn't trust her and no, there wasn't many people he trusted with strahm because... because he'd let the only other person he'd shown his heart to die. sure, it was in a different way with strahm, it was a different love but he stood by the fact he couldn't live with letting that happen again. "i want you to be happy," and if perez was going to help achieve that then he'd let this go for now. "but i also want you to be safe. last time i checked that wasn't a crime?" the thought of putting trust in more people made him want to grit his teeth. how could he do that? when ever fucker out there was trying to get him behind his back? "i trust you. can that be enough... for now?" his hands moved upwards to grip the sides of strahm's face gently, not being able to help the smile that snuck onto his expression. "SHE'S WAITING." moving forward to press his lips against the others. @lcvenderhcze

[opossumanon]

Asexuality in fanfiction (Please read tags for warnings yall)

The awkward thing about asexuality is that when reading fanfic about a character who's ace, usually the fics I read will either

Make the character not asexual

Has the character be asexual and despises sex (Which leads to that character basically being raped by their romantic interest; seriously this trope happens WAAAAAAAY more often than I'd like)

Maybe occasionally has the character's ace-ness be nuanced, but it only goes as far as "I'm bored by sex but I'm chill with doing stuff to my partner" which only shows one other way to be asexual

This particularly annoys me because I'm asexual. I probably fall into the sex-positive category. The reason I am still ace is because I do experience arousal, I would like to have sexual experiences with others (Wouldn't be the end of the world if I didn't but it's still something I'd like to do), but I don't get "turned on" by other people. Basically if someone who's hot were to walk up to me naked I wouldn't be guaranteed to have a reaction but sometimes I can just be sitting and then suddenly have the urge to do the horizontal mambo. (I know there's probably a micro label for this, I just don't give a shit)

I know my case is rare, I know that aces like me are only brought up to try and excuse asexual erasure (I fucking hate it), but I still can't help but be disappointed that the only options for asexuality (In fanfic) are being 100%, being 0%, being some version of a stone, or being raped.

What about aces like me? What about aces who aren't like me but are still different than the three types listed above?

It's funny too cuz I remember this one fic that had smut between two characters (Consensual and both parties actually enjoyed it), one of which is ace in his original/comic book form, and the writer was all "I feel bad cuz [character] is ace in the comics and us aces get so little rep already" and I'm wondering how the author, who's ace themself, forgot about how asexuality is a spectrum?

You can have an ace character who gets horny and likes sex but just doesn't get turned on by people!

You can have an ace character who doesn't want anything to do with sex 99% of the time, but every once in a blue moon decides they want to roll in the sheets with their partner that night!

You can have an ace character who only gets aroused in specific circumstances, such as how long they've known the object of their arousal for!

Asexuality is such a wide spectrum that includes so much nuance, and seeing fic writers basically spit on it is so disheartening as a writer myself. One of the main ingredients to being a good writer, in my personal opinion, is to be able to take an aspect of your character and explore it/redefine it/expand on it in a way that satisfies the story!!!!

I don't know how to end this post tbh, I just wanna say that asexuality is more than three subtypes and you're allowed to narrow in on certain parts of the spectrum for your character, regardless of how "well-known" that part you're focusing on might be.

[jokerislandgirl32]

I’ll Forever Love You: A Wild Violet One Shot

@acatinlove Asked this question in response to this post. It’s been a while, but I finally managed to write the piece!

This piece is also a continuation of a question asked by @octoqueen10 a while back regarding Zach and Violet’s wedding proposal. I initially answered the ask with information on their first proposal, the answered ask can be found here.

I’ve had this one shot cooking for quite some time, and I decided to use this as the way to describe their second proposal! I was hoping to get this out on the 10 year anniversary of the proposal, which was September 4th, but I needed some more time with it!

So without further ado…Here is the completed one shot: I’ll Forever Love You: A Wild Violet One Shot!

Summary

“I'll love you until the day I die and even after that...Never, ever, and forever...I'll forever love you, and I can't spend my life without you...”

Zach Varmitech and his wife Violet Virginia Varmitech née Tyler reconnect after a traumatic loss, a month apart, and a near divorce. Leading to a beautiful moment between them, and an important step forward in their relationship.

Warnings

For this one shot a few warnings apply: ANGST, there is a lot of angst in this one y’all! There are mentions of divorce, stillbirth, loss of child, past character death, and hints of pregnancy that all relate back to angst, so please be prepared to jump aboard the angst train. There are also descriptions of depression, anxiety, and general feelings of hopelessness. 

One mild curse word is included. There are references to past alcoholism and mentions of smoking/cigarettes. One kissing scene is described, and the end of the story may be interpreted as suggestive, but there is no explicit or mature sexual references included in this work. Italics are used in a few lines to describe past scenes/memories.

Links

Inspiration Song

The one shot is also heavily inspired by this song, the title comes from this song and this is a line that Zach uses/references in his proposal 🥰.

Feel free to leave feedback! Selfship Taglist under cut!

@sound-traveller

@oh-yeah-salty-goodness

@loganspuppyboy

@bitchywitchheart

@3qu1us-main

@acatinlove

@alastorswifee

@skyliv

@creativegenius22

@genderqueer-bithing

@repony1234

@mailiow

@celestetheseaunicorn

@barnesncavill

@mayixxxmoon

@gui-mauves

@evander2511

@bat-anon

@bejeweled-wahlberg

@mourambles

@espresso-ships

@octoqueen10

@novazentryx

@lovelybakerandconstructionworker

Please let me know if you’d like to be added/removed!

[aroace-confessions]

I don't understand kissing. It's a very gross prospect to me, but I think I want to try it once just to say that I did.

Same with sex, I think. Try it once just to say I did. That way, no one can ever say "But you've never even done it before!" to try and disprove my romantic and sexual identities (aroace)

On the third track, I hate the idea of being touched like that. The touching and the kissing and everything is really gross to think about.

I'm not repulsed by the ideas in general, I just hate the thought of me doing those things. (I have and do still sometimes enjoy the art and writing that cover the topics, just not often)

Submitted 19/08/24

[feyres-divorce-lawyer]

when i finally acquire the ability to spontaneously make people stub their toe, it’s over for you bitches

[gregorovitch-adler]

What Will I Be, Without You?

John had dozed off on the sitting room sofa of his new flat, covered in his own mess. Worn-out, two-day old clothes, stinking with sweat and alcohol.

It had been a year since Sherlock's death. Well, a year and two months to be exact. John had moved out of Baker Street within two days after Sherlock had jumped off the building. He couldn't bear to live in that place anymore.

Not without being reminded of Sherlock in every single particle of that living space.

Not without thinking he saw Sherlock in public every time he stepped out of the house. Not without going through the entire line of thought and regrets.

Regrets about what could have been, if he had been honest about his feelings for Sherlock when he was alive. About how he called him a machine, hours before he committed suicide. All that.

He knew there wasn't any point in living any more, and absolutely not at Baker Street.

So he'd moved out. Having spent the time of his life with Sherlock for a year and a half, after they'd met, had made him somewhat hesitant to actually to take his own life.

That didn't mean he didn't consider that every now and then. The gun sitting on the coffee table probably had a lot of things to say.

A few hours later, the morning light from the outside hit his eyes and they fluttered open. He must have forgotten to draw the curtains last night.

His head was throbbing with pain as he got up. He winced and held his head in his hands. Must be the hangover from yesterday.

He felt disgusted and sluggish, the smell of sweat and alcohol making his nose scrunch. He turned around to drop his feet on the ground to get up slowly. To go on with yet another dreadful day.

When he looked up, a tall figure dressed in dark clothes greeted him. A man with curled hair, sea-green eyes and an impeccable dress sense. He was holding a bottle of tablets and a glass of water in his hands.

John startled and sat back as he stared at him blankly. The man looked strikingly similar to Sherlock, John thought, as he reached for the gun that he'd left on the coffee table yesterday.

"That would be hardly necessary, John," he said, holding held out the bottle and the glass to John. The voice was unmistakeably Sherlock's. John would know. "You should take these."

John's jaw dropped. He felt some dizziness, and he didn't remember the next few moments or probably hours.

*

John's eyes opened again and he found himself lying on the sitting room floor, covered with a blanket and a pillow beneath his head. He winced as Sherlock sprinkled some cold water on his face.

"You okay?" Sherlock asked, placing a hand on John's left shoulder.

"You... aren't you..." John was suddenly bolt upright on the floor as he stuttered. "You were dead! I saw it happen, I was right there! How... Sherlock, what the hell!"

Sherlock gazed at him for a bit and lowered his eyes. His lips were compressed too. "I'm sorry, John. Forgive me."

John opened and closed his left hand trying to process all the things he was feeling. His hangover wasn't helping. He massaged his forehead with his hand.

Sherlock Holmes was alive.

John still remembered how he wished Sherlock would stop being dead when he was performing his burial.

Not just that day. John kept hoping (begging) for it to happen every single day since then. He thought about nothing but that only yesterday.

Just another day of his live since Sherlock died.

John knew how impossible it was, but he kept asking Sherlock - who resided in his mind, heart, soul, every part of his body - for the same thing: to stop being dead. And Sherlock was alive after all!

His whole body lightened up from within with joy.

But he dimmed again almost as quickly as he'd lightened up.

A whole year of his life had passed by, grieving for nothing. Everything he went through, all alone, was in vain.

John hissed and grabbed his head with both of his hands.

"Please take this. You're clearly not okay and -"

"You don't bloody get to tell me what to do!" he shouted, aggravating his headache some more. "You leave, make me grieve for more than a year pointlessly, I'm left here feeling like a bloody idiot, and you break into my flat pretending none of that happened? Now you're sorry? Perfect!"

John hissed in pain and snatched the bottle of pills out of Sherlock's hand.

John swallowed a pill and drank the glass of water that Sherlock had placed on the coffee table, before he had sat back defensively.

He got up from the floor and went straight to the bathroom to brush his teeth and take a shower, leaving Sherlock behind in the sitting room on his own.

He spent the whole shower cursing Sherlock mostly in his mind (and a bit out loud) and going through a plethora of conflicting emotions. The whole time they spent together, after all they'd both been through, did that mean nothing to Sherlock? Not as much as it meant to John, apparently.

He scoffed bitterly as he continued to wash himself. Sherlock had probably gone to an adventure. Maybe the case was unusually complicated this time. Or, who knows, he probably solved a lot more than just one case during his time away.

Why didn't he let John accompany him then? Was he really that useless to Sherlock? At least he wasn't dead now.

No. Screw that.

John got out of the bathroom and slammed the door of the attached bedroom. He was getting dressed as quickly as he could, planning to head to the kitchen to make himself some tea and breakfast, all while ignoring the hell out of Sherlock. Probably this would make him leave John's flat.

He opened the door to go to the kitchen.

"John." Sherlock called from behind as he followed him. "John? John, listen to me!" his volume was getting higher.

John was not going to respond. He put on the kettle and looked for some eggs in the fridge.

John couldn't help wonder one thing though: why was Sherlock back now, if he thought John's presence in his life was that useless? What was the point?

Maybe Sherlock needed his expertise in his current case. Yeah, fuck that. He wouldn't even think of helping Sherlock after this.

"John, can you hear me? How long are you going to pretend I'm not here?" Sherlock's tone had become indignant. The audacity! "It's not like I'm invisible!"

John didn't even turn around. "Well, you were. For more than a year. Until yesterday." He kept his voice as cool as possible, suppressing his rage.

He took out the eggs and grabbed a pan from one of the cabinets and began to cook.

It must have been two whole minutes of silence in the kitchen while John watched the things he'd put on the stove. He served those eggs on a plate before pouring some tea in his mug.

He set the things on the kitchen table and sat down to eat, as though this was just any other day, and he was the only sign of life in that dark, lonely flat.

He could feel Sherlock's gaze on his face tangibly. Probably he was waiting for John to make eye contact with him. John shifted in his chair a bit.

Part of him wanted Sherlock to get the hell out of here. Part of him wanted the man to stay.

John sighed as he kept looking at anywhere but Sherlock in the room.

"Fine. If you're going to be like this..." he trailed off began to look here and there for his coat.

John's head snapped up. "If I'm going to be like this? Me? Sherlock you utter-"

"I did it for you," he said, looking at John in the eye with earnestness.

John scoffed as he continued to eat.

Sherlock shook his head with his brows knitted. "I'm not lying. Moriarty had appointed three snipers, threatening to kill three people who were the closest to me. You, Mrs Hudson, and Lestrade."

John looked up at Sherlock again with his lips parted.

"His only condition was that I jump off the building. The keycode that I'd deciphered - it was fake. He told me those three snipers could be called off only by him. And then he shot himself in the mouth."

John placed the silverware on the plate. If Sherlock was to be believed, then... Oh God.

"You tell me. What was I to do then? I could either go ahead with Mycroft's plan that involved faking my death, or I could die for real and never come back. Did you really want the latter, John?"

"Jesus, no! Sherlock, I didn't... I thought you were - I thought you'd gone on with an exciting case or something. An adventure. Without me," he dropped his voice a bit in the last sentence. His stomach gave a pang of guilt.

"Why would I do that?" he asked, with a genuine-sounding confusion in his voice.

John shrugged. "Because you thought I was useless. Maybe you didn't need me anymore."

"Don't be ridiculous," he said and drew a chair for himself, taking a seat across from John on the table. "I always need you."

John swallowed as he picked up his fork again. He wanted to reach out for Sherlock's hand. Not now. "There's some more tea in the kettle," he said instead.

Sherlock waved this off. They gazed at each other and, if John wasn't imagining, there was surely something else he could see in Sherlock's eyes apart from the obvious frustration.

Something that probably reflected John's own feelings for him.

John cleared his throat. "What happened after that? Where did you go?"

"Many parts of the world. Russia, China, and India were some of them. I was trying to dismantle his network from its root. My last location was Serbia, before I came back to London, finally. It took me unexpectedly long to get out of there..." he trailed off and swallowed as he looked away.

"Why?" John took sipped his tea some more.

"Never mind."

"Sherlock," he warned and gave him a hard stare.

Keep me in the dark again and I might actually punch you in the face.

Sherlock seemed to have read his mind, because he looked up at John and took a sharp breath. "They captured me in a confined place. Worse than an average jail. They tied me up. Whipped me, starved me to death, and if I would dare to doze off, they'd whip me some more. I had to live with the smell of my own human waste for a whole month." Sherlock bit his bottom lip.

"Jesus!" he exclaimed in a whisper. He looked down at Sherlock's slim forearms that were placed on the table. He wished to reach for them, but didn't, for some reason. His heart was on fire with anger. "How did you escape?"

"Mycroft showed up," he said briefly. "He managed to set me free. And now I'm here."

"When did you come back?" he asked, knowing nothing else to say.

"Three days ago."

"Why didn't you come here then?"

"I was in hospital the first night."

John nodded, blinking a bit with a strange, stinging sensation in the corner of his left eye.

"Then I was thinking of ways to meet you in person. Explain myself to you," he said and paused for a bit. "John, I know you've been through a lot. But I wasn't out there having fun without you either," he said in a cautious tone, sounding quite gentle.

"I know! Or I know now, at least." John swallowed and got up from his chair, his eggs forgotten on the plate. He went around the table and stopped behind Sherlock. "May I see?"

"John... I don't think-"

"Please?"

Sherlock turned around to face John. He nodded and got up from his chair to take off his suit jacket.

He unbuttoned his shirt slowly and shrugged it off, revealing his sculpted upper body and a completely battered back. Black and blue. Some blisters had appeared, too, on his lower back.

"Jesus Christ," John whispered and felt his eyes welling up. John wanted to find all of those arseholes and kill every single one of them. "You did all that for us?"

Sherlock began to put on his shirt again silently. He tucked it in his trousers. "For you, mainly," he said, in a quite tone.

John couldn't take it anymore. He placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder, making him turn around and placed his arms around Sherlock's neck. He tried to be careful about his wounds.

Sherlock stiffened for a moment but then he relaxed as he placed his arms around John's waist.

They didn't speak for a long moment. John closed his eyes and sighed.

He turned a bit to breathe in Sherlock's perfume and his natural scent from his jawline and neck, enjoying his proximity for as long as he could.

Their arms were wrapped tight around each other and for the first time in a whole year, John felt alive again. John was living in the moment like anything.

"I'm sorry," John said, breaking the silence in the room.

"What for?"

"For assuming the worst about you," he said in Sherlock's ear, with his nose touching Sherlock's cheek. "For reacting like this when you returned."

Sherlock hummed.

"Who else knows about this?"

"Molly and my homeless network."

"Molly?" John's heart sank.

"She helped me with the plan along with Mycroft. It was only possible because Moriarty deduced the very specific people who were the most important to me. She was excluded from the list." Sherlock cleared his throat. "You were the first person I decided to meet as soon as I was discharged from the hospital after coming back to London."

John sighed in relief, feeling bad about jumping to conclusions again.

Another moment of silence fell in the room. Their breathing was synchronised.

Sherlock turned to face John, who did the same at the same instant. Their eyes locked with their noses touching.

Unsure of who initiated it but now John's mouth was on Sherlock's, and they were kissing. John placed one of his hands through Sherlock's curls and deepened the kiss as Sherlock tilted his head a bit.

They parted after some time and stopped for breath. The way Sherlock looked at him was setting John's whole being on fire with all the things he felt for Sherlock at the moment (always had).

"John," he breathed. "Since when?"

"Always. You?"

"Same." Sherlock leaned in to close the gap between them again.

John gasped with relief and kissed him back, trying to express everything he felt for Sherlock through his fervent kisses.

They found themselves moving to the sitting room. No one broke off the kiss, not until they both sank in the sofa, with John on top of Sherlock.

John moved his mouth along Sherlock's jawline and planted kisses along his neck, getting familiar with what that beautiful, long neck felt like at last.

"I always need you," Sherlock said, repeating his statement from before. "You'll never be useless to me." He grasped for John's jumper around his shoulders and held him tight.

"I see. Thank you for telling me," John said when he stopped kissing him. They looked at each other in the eye again. "I need you too. Right now."

Sherlock furrowed his brows. Then his eyes widened. "Oh."

"Please, can we...?" John trailed off, painfully aware of the tightness in his jeans now.

"John," Sherlock began, clearing his throat and shifting back on the sofa to look at him properly. "Let's not, I'm afraid."

"Oh." John shifted too and they were both sitting on the sofa now, facing each other. John cringed at what he was going to do. He was now getting soft. "Sorry. I shouldn't have -"

"It's not that," he said and took both of John's hands in his own. "You don't have to apologise."

"But what's the problem?" John wanted to know. "D'you think it's a bit too soon? I'll understand." He shrugged.

Sherlock shook his head. "There's no problem. I've never done this before with anyone," he said, gesturing between the two of them. "Never wanted to." He looked away and inhaled deeply. "And never will."

John frowned. "You don't want a... relationship, then?" (Please no.) "Still married to your work?"

"What? No, of course I want that! But not the other thing, what you wanted to do with me a moment ago."

"Oh." He looked down at the space between them.

"I've always been like that. Don't think it's personal."

John looked up at him again. Then he tried to recall the term he'd heard (or read) on the internet in passing for people like Sherlock. Asexual, probably.

Once he remembered that, everything fell in place for him.

John nodded in understanding. He stopped feeling anything negative after that. "That's okay," he said and pulled Sherlock in his arms again.

They arranged themselves a bit and John was lying on the sofa on his back, with Sherlock on top of him.

"Do you still want me?" asked Sherlock, with his face buried in John's neck.

"Of course, I do!" John pulled him closer and kissed him on his cheek. "With you gone for a whole year, dead - at least in my eyes - I was lost. Worthless. Feeling like a vegetable. A rotten one. I used to think about taking my life every other day."

"John!" Sherlock turned to look at him, alarmed.

"Why do you think I have my gun lying around, otherwise?"

"Don't do that again. Don't even think about it. Just, please," he rambled, gripping John tight around his waist.

"I won't anymore. I promise. But just saying. I'll never stop wanting you."

Sherlock kissed him on the forehead and smiled against his skin. "Neither will I."

John sighed in contentment. He could stay on the sofa all day with the love of his life.

"Let's move back in to Baker Street. I can't let you live like this. Please."

"I will. Move back in with you, I mean."

They gazed at each other, with John's heart brimming with fondness and love, and began to kiss again. Softly and slowly this time. There was no rush, after all.

They had the rest of their life to love each other as much as possible.

--

Tags: @helloliriels @gaylilsherlock @gaypiningshit @totallysilvergirl @lisbeth-kk @jamielovesjam @a-victorian-girl @topsyturvy-turtely @keirgreeneyes @peanitbear @inevitably-johnlocked @catlock-holmes

[thesaddestjoysandthesmallestlies]

I bring a kind of “anything can be romantic, sexual, or platonic if you want it to be (with consent)” to the function that aphobes don’t really like.

[xtinyslip]

“i heard you were making your way around people -- kissing and making up? i thought i would save you the trouble in seeking me out and i would come to you myself.” was lynn expecting him to kiss her? no, but she liked to screw with him regardless -- it was almost as rewarding as a kiss would be. if not more or so she told herself. should she have entered his home without him there? probably not but she wanted to make an impression tonight. besides, she was bored -- it was her night off and she couldn’t spend another night back to back listening to amanda. it felt like severe punishment and so... she would come and get under john’s skin instead. apart from her job, it was her favourite thing to do. “well? i’m waiting.” @lcvenderhcze

[flordellums]

"Call my father, house at flames, my corpse in the stairs, I will never die, I will never die, I will never die"

"But I fear, this news could not wait; Princess Yona... Has left this world."

BECAUSE SHE HAS BEEN REBORN AS THE ONE WHO WILL KILL YOU, COUNT YOUR DAYS YOU BLONDE BITCH- (affectionate)

If we don't get a second animated season after I don't know how many decades I will have to make it myself and that sounds like a nightmare, PLEASE-