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#May prompts
raina-at · 11 months
Text
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.
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head-in-the-shrouds · 4 months
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366 Prompts For 2024:
One word prompts for 2024 (all 12 months) and some alternatives. These are mostly horror / fantasy aimed.
January (31):
Behold
Justice
Oak
Weave
Hook
Waggon
Torch
Jinx
Prey
Must
Lit
Keep
Vanquish
Yarrow
Intended
Tomb
Marsh
Leather
Blanket
Kin
Lordling
Promises
Heath
Rot
West
Under
Sworn
Rusted
Transformation
Quest
Pond
February (29):
Midwinter
Oath
Croak
Blush
Nimble
Malady
Deal
Roots
Willow
Orders
Moss
Lantern
Portent
Lovelock
Mourning
Horned
Keys
Earn
Remedy
Bog
Yearning
Lace
Trunk
Coiled
Linger
Soothsayer
Revenge
Oleander
Revered
March (31):
Metal
Pride
Gunpowder
Inheritance
Master
Brandish
Enchanted
Path
Sacrifice
Tailor
Crypt
Remain
Toad
Understanding
Legacy
Archway
Mirror
Omen
Home
Fur
Dust
Bow
Necklace
Sly
Permanent
Grin
Aim
Nest
Hex
Church
Valour
April (30):
Masonry
Inquiry
Ledge
Years
Hospitality
Clay
Priestess
Sunken
Lavender
Trust
Waters
Guilt
Dusk
Protection
Musket
Castle
Flee
Ancient
Value
Charm
Fever
Penance
Silk
Foxhole
Ornament
Tradition
Meld
Hare
Well
Pest
May (31):
Moonrise
Sea
Wander
Absolution
Bark
Ridge
Crackle
Sacred
Bind
Frozen
Thatch
Naming
Elder
Wealth
Dappled
Reading
Father
Cathedral
Tent
Grey
Payment
Enshrine
Tales
Velvet
Cell
Guide
Dawn
Mines
Riddle
Falling
Clock
June (30):
Vixen
Stolen
Worth
Tar
Alchemy
Fickle
Barrell
Harrow
Pyre
Chest
Worship
Steps
Armoury
Tear
Den
Ladder
Ruins
Bargain
Snake-leaves
Corn-doll
Garnet
Eccentric
Telescope
Antler
Stone
Break
Laden
Tower
Chain
Rook
July (31):
Masquerade
Pines
Mother
Herbs
Limb
Prize
Rescue
Scales
Melody
Shore
Tempest
Appease
Queen
Hermit
Separated
Bear
Righteous
Chimney
Storm
Manipulate
Boots
Apple
Rings
Crafted
Trail
Bleak
Dear-heart
Sanctify
Feast
Gathering
Door
August (31):
Luck
Display
Greed
Autumn
Found
Wildfire
Sleep
Grandfather
Watch
Hidden
Lookalike
Whimsey
Thicket
Runes
Horseshoe
Smoke
Awaken
Gargoyle
Wig
Poison
Thousand-fur
Shatter
Barrow
Tempt
Flag
Mercy
Web
Beast
Candle
Hunt
Serpent
September (30):
Belladonna
Magician
Birch
Reflection
Sight
Elaborate
Captive
Rope
Glass
Decades
Blade
Sorrow
Finickity
Carving
Stag
Fairy-tale
Spark
Blackthorn
Mountain
Century
Fury
Question
Claws
Fangs
Decay
Gift
Shipwreck
Blessed
Harvest
Crown
October (31):
Troll
Vines
Scattered
Prayer
Hatchet
Coat
Fireside
Grim
Sealed
Walled
Healing
Cobbled
Secure
Forest
Blind
Constellation
Shroud
Regal
Helm
Shadowed
Ward
Sinking
Hills
Goldsmith
Silver
Entwining
Soldier
Courtship
Guest
Defy
Crone
November (30):
Bones
Fear
Talisman
Song
Witness
Cloak
Plague
Hearth
Returned
Testament
Ceremonial
Yearning
Written
Silhouette
Gilded
Boundary
Hunger
Stranger
Fiend
Dungeon
Huntsman
Want
Birdsong
Wish
Hierophant
Favour
Dreaming
Coal
Brother
Fields
December (31):
Bottles
Curse
Horizon
Supplies
Wallowing
Hodge-podge
Thorns
Wisdom
Trinket
Warmth
Timber
Honest
Ritual
Welcome
Branches
Disguise
Bound
Gallows
Shield
Window
Finality
Tinder
Starlight
Winds
Bridge
Fortune
Tracks
River
Guardian
Summon
Warmth
Alternative Prompts:
Cunning
Puppet
Hound
Brambles
Eldritch
Garden
Eldritch
Cosmic
Bells
Tainted
Sleigh
Sect
Glowing
Coven
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lisbeth-kk · 10 months
Text
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
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jrow · 10 months
Text
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
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totallysilvergirl · 11 months
Text
notjustamumj's May 3rd prompt:
first kiss (a 221b)
They’d shared a bed before, obviously. Carefully affording each other privacy, preserving a mask of indifference (almost convincing). Neither had ever made a fuss.
Sherlock had this time, though, when John accidentally jostled him awake.
A flailing arm had turned into a band of iron around John’s neck and shoulder. It could be an embrace but it’s a threat, immobilizing and menacing, freezing John’s blood.
He knows that reaction. Even asleep, Sherlock had feared for his life and moved to preserve it. To survive, even it means killing.
Now the arm is softening as Sherlock comes to consciousness, relaxing in minute increments as he realizes where he is, who John is. Finally, his voice blurred with sleep and embarrassment, he mutters, “John. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay. I was, um, hypervigilant when I came back from the war. –That’s what you’ve done, right? Come home to me?”
A convulsive jerk and a gasp, then Sherlock’s hands are on his face, his lips, unbelievably, on John’s cheeks, jaw, temple.
“You know, John. You know I never meant to hurt you. Not then, not now. I only ever—”
Sherlock stops, flailing this time for words.
John takes his face in his own hands and kisses him. “You’re home. You’re back. And you’re never leaving me again, you utter berk.”
ALL FANDOMS WELCOME!
@meetinginsamarra @notjustamumj @calaisreno @lisbeth-kk @raina-at
@iwlyanmw @semiprofessionalmom @starrla89 @anyawen @kittenmadnessandtea @lhrinchelsea @7-percent @bluebellofbakerstreet
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gregorovitch-adler · 10 months
Text
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.
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harringtons-cupid · 11 months
Note
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
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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.
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weirdsciencecamp · 11 months
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I'd like to see David + Potted Plant for the may prompts!
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sheisnotalone · 2 years
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𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐰. 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟
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prompt: strawberries + picnic | prompt list
pairing: wanda maximoff x reader (no pronouns used)
category: fluff~
¯`*•.¸,¤°´✿.。.:`°¤,¸.•*´¯✿¯`*•.¸,¤°´✿.。.:`°¤,¸.•*´¯✿
"Hey stop tickling me" Wanda giggled trying to get out of your lap where she had been sitting in comfortably for the last few hours.
You had driven the two of you out in the fields to have a picnic. The past few weeks had been really stressful and both of you needed a break. The scenery around you was beautiful. Trees shaking slightly in the light breeze, the humming of bees in the air between the beautiful flowers and fluffy little clouds in the sky. The cozy blanket you had put on the ground protecting your clothes from getting grass stains.
While you had prepared some sandwiches and snacks to bring, Wanda had handpicked strawberries from her little garden.
Wanda rolled out of your grasp laying down next to you on the blanked. She pulled you down so she can rest her head on your belly. "It looks like an elephant" she said excitedly. "What?" you chuckled confused. "Look" she raised her hand and pointed to the sky. You followed her movement with your eyes then raising your gaze to the clouds. "That one right there" Wanda remarked excitedly. Then you saw the cloud she was referring to. "It actually does" a smile formed on your lips "and that one over there looks like an alpaca".
This went on for a while each of you pointing out funny little clouds that travelled above you. Both of you enjoyed the calmness of the moment.
After some time you felt Wanda shuffle, but before you could say something, she was pushing a strawberry into your mouth. "Wha-" you got out as you swallowed the fruit after having chewed it a bit, but were quickly interrupted by her lips meeting yours. You started kissing her back and she smiled when she tasted the strawberry on your lips. "I love you my little strawberry" she whispered to you before deepening the kiss.
¯`*•.¸,¤°´✿.。.:`°¤,¸.•*´¯✿¯`*•.¸,¤°´✿.。.:`°¤,¸.•*´¯✿
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sapphicmicrofics · 11 months
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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
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hinnymicrofic · 11 months
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May Prompts!
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Secret
2. St. Mungos
3. Ride
4. Family
5. Anticipation
6. Bold
7. Despare
8. Divination
9. Press
10. Flower
11. Restricted Section
12. Diaries
13. Memory
14. Finally
15. Hogwarts
16. Picture
17. Lessons
18. Retirement
19. Smell
20. Station
21. Drunk
22. Grief
23. Phlegm
24. First
25. Letter
26. Home
27. Fight
28. Caught
29. Stuck
30. Cry
31. Perfect
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raina-at · 10 months
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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.
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Heartstopping
Draco pushes the door open throwing his keys in the bowl, Harry hot on his heels. "Why are you being so irrational. I don't care that Flint is an international Quidditch player. I don't want him. I want you! I love you!" he finishes with a huff and is met with stunned silence.
Harry's face goes through a gamut of emotions before he whispers, "That's the first time you've said it."
"What?"
"I love you; it's the first time you've said that to me."
Draco's heart stops for a second before he pulls Harry into a tight embrace. "Oh sweetheart, of course I love you," he whispers wetly, peppering kisses on Harry's face as he proceeds to tell him how much he loves him.
@drarrymicrofic May Prompt #6 - Heartstopping
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lisbeth-kk · 10 months
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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
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jrow · 11 months
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First Kiss
Sherlock doesn’t like babies.
He feels a kinship with young children and their propensity for unfiltered honesty. And the moodiness of teenagers is infinitely relatable. But babies are intolerable. They are completely helpless, not to mention loud and, at times, smelly. Plus, they turn otherwise reasonable adults into absolute fools. Parents seem to develop inexplicable blinds spots related to their babies, thinking them adorable and interesting when they are quite clearly not.
All this to say, Sherlock Holmes generally avoids babies with the same fervor with which he avoids dinners with Mycroft.
Which is why his reaction to this baby is so confusing. This baby seems to break all the rules because she is just as adorable and interesting as her parents claim. This perfect baby whose genetics are half from John.
Perhaps it’s not that confusing at all.
This little girl changes everything and one hour ago, Sherlock would have said that’s a bad thing. Looking down at the little Watson in his arms, it’s abundantly clear he was wrong. 
She closes her eyes and snuggles into Sherlock’s chest, and he can practically feel the surge of endorphins rushing through his body. He leans down and gives her a gentle kiss on the head, painfully aware of John’s soft eyes watching them. No, perhaps it’s not that confusing at all.
I managed to do 221 words :).
I barely made it, but tt’s still May 3 in my timezone! Thank you for the prompt  (First Kiss) @notjustamumj and thank you @calaisreno, @raina-at, @meetinginsamarra and @totallysilvergirl for playing along and inspiring me to do the same!
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zazuprompts · 11 months
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Tip the mod?
Picture ID under the cut:
[ID: A list of prompts in three columns. The background is a desaturated photograph of lily of the valley flowers, surrounded by their leaves. The bottom corners have credits on them. The right corner is the credit for the background, which is to Oceane George @ Unsplash.com. The left corner is the credit/signature of the blog, Zazu Prompts. The title and prompts are as follows:
May 2023 Prompts List:
Torso
Tense
Place
Nook
First
Apart
Sound
Point
Plan
Paws
Strange
Shaken
Waste
Quest
Manage
Noodle
String
Below
Hear
Ghoul
Wake
Cold
Tug
Boil
Waltz
Rider
Feat
Feel
Breath
Horse
Think
End ID]
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