Heeeeeey. I was wondering if you could find some shortish fics, preferably less than seven thousand or somewhere around there. Super smutty or super fluffy is fine. But pleeeeeeeeease 😍😍😍 ok I'm done thanks
I am taking this as a challenge, they’ll have to be LESS than 7k! Many shorties seem to fall into the ~8k range so this should be fun. (Also, for more short-ish fics of 25k or less, I’d like to refer to my rec lists here and here.)
Drarry fic recs, less than 7k
• Feel You In These Walls by alpha_exodus (6.8k) Just this once, Harry thinks. Just this once, they’ll kiss, they’ll have sex, and then it’ll be over.Draco hadn’t expected more than that either. But then it happens again, again, and neither of them had anticipated having feelings involved - but they’ve never been able to keep anything casual, have they? (Lovely sweet Drarry, beautifully written, lots of personality for a shortie!)
• Let Me Go on Loving You by firethesound (6.6k) Harry has learned that the perils of living with a potion master include, among many other things, the occasional exploding cauldron. At least this accident involves a lot of orgasms, so. Could be worse. (I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCHHH. The Drarry is amazing, I love the way Harry thinks about Draco and how he doesn’t. want. to. stop. kissing. himmm.)
• Two Gentlemen by hidingfromsomeone (3.7k) This is sweet sweet fluffy established relationship Drarry in which they live together and cook for each other and just can’t keep their hands away.
• Crystal Clear by ICMezzo (6.7k) Harry customizes a snow globe. Draco listens to centaur weather reports. Ron investigates the height of Pansy’s boots. And Hermione knows even more than everything, as usual. (No one signs up for the class for lactating witches.) (I feel like I rec this fic every day but it can’t be recced enough! Draco and Harry’s relationship in this is my fave, they’re adorkable and so so sweet.)
• Falling Stars, Catching Lightning by daftfear (6.6k)
Draco’s talent and skill as a tattoo artist are without equal, but when Potter comes in asking for a custom piece that’ll take several sessions to complete, Draco finds his abilities and professionalism tested.
(Excellent fic, the sexual tension is on point, and the tattoos, so much YES.)
• Muggle ‘Drug Store Items’ by loveglowsinthedark (4.2k)
Malfoy’s interest is caught by a certain Muggle drug store item. (Hint: Flavoured Condoms)
(Probably the funniest and hottest thing I’ve read in a good while.)
• Choices that are made in the moonlight by Teatrolley (4.4k) “Harry never imagined that he’d someday know the feeling of Draco’s smiling lips against his own, or be able to replicate the exact tone of his during-sex laughter in his mind. Even then, he especially never imagined that, were he to ever know those things, he were also to be without them again.” (I cried a waterfall reading this one, it hurt so bad, my poor poor heart.)
• Wascally by dysonrules (6.7k)
Draco finds an ickle wounded birdy in the forest. (This fic is hilarious and absolutely adorable, Draco is so sassy I can’t.)
“Sorry, just going to hang out with the Riots, tonight,” he said.
Fine, Chris Schistad can do whatever the fuck he wants but she doesn’t want him lying to her. She doesn’t want to find his tongue down another girl’s throat at a party when he said he wasn’t going to any.
Eva and Chris aren’t dating. Eva knows that. But lying is another thing.
Why did she take this so personally? Eva could not possibly have feelings for the despicable Christoffer Schistad! Eva is Noora Saetre’s best friend and Noora has taught her that ‘fuckboys’ aren’t worth it.
So, why does her heart crack under the pressure of her feelings when she sees him with someone else?
Why is her mind plagued with the thoughts of her not being good enough as the other girls he makes out with and him not wanting her and her not being good enough for him? Should Eva just stop?
Out of anger, she believes she should slap Chris and end whatever this is between them. But then she tells herself that it’s better to talk it out.. see where he’s coming from. See if there’s a reason?
Eva is still staring at him, from across the room.
He said he was not coming…
Chris’s hands are over a girl, as his lips roughly press kisses to her body. The music isn’t loud enough to block out the negative feelings crawling inside her.
Nothing is enough.
The alcohol coursing through her system isn’t enough. Girl Chris cracking her usual jokes isn’t enough.
She sees red and she sees blue.
Ugh, she thinks. He’s wearing that stupid t-shirt.
The girl drapes across him is playing with the zipper Eva always plays with.
And that’s when Eva looses it.
She’s not even going to apologize for wanting to be the only person who gets to play with that zipper.
And as she’s storming her way to the other side of the room, her feelings finally become clearly.
Eva Mohn likes Chris Schistad and she’s fucked because of it.
Chris wasn’t expecting Eva to be here. he really wasn’t. So, when he felt her hand turn him around, her Eva smell filling his nostrils, he freaks out. The girl he was with left as soon as Eva came.
She knows better than not come in the way of Eva and Chris.
He freaks out completely because she is so going to murder him.
And being Penetrator Chris, he smashed his lips to hers, pulling her jeans clad body to him.
The fireworks are instantly set off between them and, fuck, why?
When Chris was kissing that other girl a few minutes ago, it didn’t feel half as good as this. So, why?
His lips do things to Eva. It makes her mind fog up, so she’s not even able to comprehend the situation. Her judgements become so clouded, she’d take drugs in an instant, if given.
So, yes, that’s what it’s kind of like to kiss Christoffer Schistad.
Or is it only kissing him? A voice makes her overthink.
But, no! She’s supposed to be furious with him! Yes, that’s what she’s supposed to do.
So, mustering enough strength - Chris makes her weak at her knees- she shoves him off her.
“Eva . .” Chris mumbles, trying to kiss her again. But Eva swats his hands away and then grabs his wrist, dragging him down the hallway, where drunk teenagers are desperately making out.
She quickly pulls him into the - thankfully - empty room.
Not understanding where she’s coming from - except for the fact of her catching his lie - Chris smirks. “I thought that Friday nights were reserved for making out only. .”
“DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE, CHRISTOFFER!” Eva yells, shoving him. “You lied to me! You fucking lied, you asshole!”
Chris looks at her shocked. Tears brim her eyes and he feels something churn him.
Suddenly, Chris understands that feeling as concern. He doesn’t want her crying over him. Especially him. But girls have cried before him . . Iben cried when they broke up but he didn’t approach her.
What is it that Eva Mohn has of him?
“You told me you were going to hang out with your friends,” Eva accuses, her voice much softer now. Her voice trembled as her brain replayed what she’d seen. “I don’t need you, Christoffer.”
And when she said that, it wasn’t one heart that broke . . it was two.
They both feel as if a sudden weight had been dropped on their shoulders and there is a fierce ache spreading across their chest.
“You should’ve just said it, alright. I don’t need you,” Eva says, poking a finger at his chest. “I don’t need you or your stupid lies. You played me.”
And Chris opens his mouth to say something. But his throat feels dry and he hoarsely whispers, “Eva, I –”
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Eva raises her voice a little. “You think you can play me and walk away? Guess what, you can’t! You can’t fucking lie to me and expect I won’t be mad at you!”
“I lied to you for a reason, Eva Kviig Mohn, alrigh’!”
“I don’t need your pathetic excuses right now, Schistad!”
“Oh, really?” taunts Chris, grabbing her waist. He turns their bodies and slams her straight up against the wall, his hips digging into hers. “Didn’t you think there would be a reason for my lying?” His lips are now pressed softly against her jawline.
“Don’t fuck with me, Chris,” Eva hotly whispers into his ear.
“I needed to get away from you.”
“The only way I wouldn’t directly hurt you.”
Eva pushes him away for the third time.
“You fucker! ‘Wouldn’t hurt me’! What? I fucking saw you with that girl and you thought that I wouldn’t directly be hurt?”
“I lied for a good reason, okay!”
“Really? Oh, please, do tell me!”
“Because being around you does things to me! Things I can’t handle! And staying away from you was helping!”
Eva stops, her eyes wide.
Chris has no idea what he said means. He has no idea that he just admited to liking her - implied, of course.
And Eva tries to ignore the jumps in her heart. She tries to ignore the smile breaking onto her face.
Chris is confused. . what did he say?
But before he can have any realisations, Eva’s grabbed the back of his head and pulled him to her. She quickly angles her head and kisses him, trying to help relieve herself of the feeling building up in her heart.
Chris doesn’t think much, on his part. He hoists her up and presses her against the wall. Groaning, he rocks his hips forward, eliciting a well-earned moan from Eva’s mouth. To satisfy himself even more, he repeats the action, earning the same response.
With his hips holding her firm in place, his hands push her t-shirt up and he kisses her right above her heart.
Eva takes her t-shirt off and throws it across the room, not caring. Getting back on her feet, she unbuckles his belt and unbottons his pants. She doesn’t have time to pull them down because Chris steps into the space between her legs and crafts a love bite onto her neck.
“You and me, Eva,” Chris growls, leading her to the bed.
Eva’s heart flips. And he isn’t giving her false hope. No, he’s actually saying something true. And she’s so grateful.
Eva didn’t expect to be the girl to change Chris. She just wanted the countless amounts of good sex. But . . things change.
Just as he sets her down, Eva chuckles, whispering, “Do you have any idea what you’ve just said?”
anyone who has spent 5 seconds around me, ever:
yes, you love drugs. we know. you love drugs so much; they are the light of your life, you love them so much. you just love drugs. we KNOW. you love drugs. you fucking love drugs, okay. we know, we get it. DRUGS. WE GET IT
Hello Steph, hope you're having a lovely day. A crazy thought just occurred to me. What if, when Mary hugged Sherlock on the tarmac, she slipped him something that, together with the drugs he took, has messed with his mind and perception of reality? If she did, odds are the drug is TD-12 (because why introduce it if nothing was going to be done with it?). It would explain some of the craziness of s4, together with TFP taking place in John's mind palace.
Actually, this is a theory that I have seen before, at least in regards to Mary sneaking drugs to Sherlock on the tarmac, and one that I kind of expanded upon before. Now that we have this Fuckery Drug in canon, I think it’s possible that Mary may have gotten a hand on some (I speculated here that Mary may have ties to Culverton; in this theory, Culverton created a drug to test on subjects, and I think now that TD-12 was that drug). So yes, I think now that Mary gave Sherlock some doses of TD-12 on the Tarmac, which is what caused Sherlock to go into his fever dream and overdose in TAB, a clue to what is to come for S4. Then, in TLD, Sherlock takes that same drug from from Culverton (I presume TD-12 is some kind of pharmaceutical in this universe, one you can get addicted to like oxy or codeine and need a Rx to get it, ergo maybe Sherlock stole prescription pads from John to acquire this drug? Dunno. Perhaps Mary is still providing it to him through Wiggins), which in turn leads to whatever we’re seeing to become the lie. Sherlock is literally a Lying Detective, because his memories are possibly and most likely falsified because of this drug. NOTHING IS REAL.
I’ve also seen theories that it’s still Tarmac!Sherlock having a dream-ception for another 3 episodes. I think it could be possible, so I won’t rule it out, especially since John doesn’t appear to go through any sort of character growth at all, really, in S4 unless we are thinking that TFP is John’s TAB. And that’s fine, but I’m mostly leaning towards the thought that everything from the start of T6T until the end of TLD is an altered narrative, and the “doctored footage” at the beginning of the first episode is our clue. The second was the titles of the episodes (T6T is originally an old case on John’s blog, and TLD references the “lies”, and then TFP because it’s the first episode title taken unchanged from a canon title, which is the story where Sherlock “dies”). The third is the general fuckiness of the season. I believe some of S4 is real, but most of it is a “mirror” of what is REALLY going on (the truth about Mary’s “death”, John’s own crisis), and then then TFP is John’s TAB, his way of working out how to stay alive and his own struggle with his own self.
I’ve also thought POSSIBLY that S4 is ALL John’s TAB; after Sherlock returns, Mary just kills John and runs off. Stupid, I know but this is my brain trying to understand S4. But mostly, I’m for John’s Alibi, Unreliable Narrator and then John’s TAB.
ANYWAY. Totally rambled on about things you don’t care about. I think S4 is all false memories and alibis and what we see on screen is not actually happening.
Per new 'weed laws' as long as it's not the minor caught with weed that's charged then I fail to see an issue, they're not criminalizing position which was a essential part of the failed war on drugs they're getting tough on trafficking and allowing access to weed at a year younger than alcohol. Experiencing life under bill Blair I'm surprised at how modest the restrictions are.
Also he may not have to pander to cons in the senate he still has to make sure there isn’t anything cons can exploit to get votes when election time comes around.
I respectfully disagree. Also the government is saying it won’t pardon those caught with marijuana possession in the past, and will continue to lock up people with marijuana possession for another year. Those people stuck with criminal records and busted by cops are not gangsters or criminal organizations, its largely youth, poor and radicalized people. So, yes these policies are a continuation on the war on drugs, even when its masked in legalization.
Also 18 isn’t the limit for buying marijuana. Its the minimum that the provinces & territories can set. The provinces and territories can set whatever age limit they want. So I fully expect that you won’t be able to buy marijuana unless you’re 20 or 21.
If Trudeau was serious about not wanting to give the Conservative any leverage, they should have kept their promises on electoral reform. With FPTP on the books, the Cons can use wedge issues to their advantage, giving them the potential of 100% political power with less than 40% of the vote. That wouldn’t happen in a proportional system.
*nonchalantly* Sherlock, do you remember when you got high in college?
Mummy & Daddy Holmes:
*look up* What?!
*hisses* You little snitch! *sighs* Alright, fine...it's true. I had a...drug problem.
*sighs* Oh, William...
*smug* And your stolen science magazines, Daddy. Not the postman.
Mummy & Daddy Holmes:
*glare at Sherlock*
*puts down his cutlery* And I suppose the freak storm of '84 broke the garden swing, Mycroft?
Mummy & Daddy Holmes:
*look at Mycroft, disappointed*
Molly, John & Mary:
*frowning* Sherlock has been sleeping with Molly for eight months.
*chokes on her drink*
Mummy & Daddy Holmes:
*delighted* Oh, my God...
*wide-eyed* Mycroft is living with his PA!
*grins* Anthea? Oh, I like her...
*now standing* Sherlock is planning to propose to Molly on their case trip next week!
*on his feet; quickly* Oh, God, shut up!
Mummy & Daddy Holmes:
*sighs* I love James Dean.
*whispers* Isn't he dead, love?
*reading the recipe magazine* Uh, Mary...I don’t think lamb goes in that pudding.
*pounding the table* I wanna gooooooo!
*rubbing her temples* That’s a lot of information to get in in thirty seconds! *shakes her head* Alright you two... *gestures at Mary and Greg* of course you weren’t supposed to put lamb in the pudding. It was bloody awful.
*mutters* Told you.
*looks to Sherlock* William, why you felt you had to hide the fact that you were in an important relationship is beyond me.
*to Mycroft* And the swing was pretty obvious, son.
*darkly* Don't think you've gotten away with the drugs, either.
Sherlock & Mycroft:
*bow their heads*
*smiles, holds Molly's hand* Molly, sweetheart. You’ve been sleeping with him all these months, stayed through the drug problems...
*rolls his eyes*
*beaming* Well, I don’t know what to say. You’re a wonderful human being.
*blushes* Thank you.
No! Thank you! *hugs her; turns to his sons* Sherlock, Mycroft! I don’t know what I’m going to do with the pair of you!
his family has been pure long before the world had any concept of purity - surviving, no, thriving on the idea of corruption as the means to remain on their pedestal. it’s a clever sort of wandless magic, really, one that has afforded him the name to hold court in back alleys and hotel ballrooms. and so he smirks, and smokes his contraband cigarettes, and beds girls to piss his father off. but even he knows that you can only want what you are not yet capable of losing.
There was just something about stealing that gave Jack an adrenaline rush, like a drug coursing through his veins which he craved whenever the mood suited him. It wasn’t that he needed money, or that he’d had a bad upbringing. He was just addicted to stealing and therefore found it very hard to stop.
So it was there, that when he was stood in this guy’s apartment, having broken in through his door (which funnily enough hadn’t been hard to unlock) he felt the rush again. His heart rate picked up and he could feel his whole body tingling with excitement. This was going to be a fun raid indeed.
He looked around at the goods and realised that there was actually a lot of nice things in this guy’s apartment. Fancy technology that he found himself quite fond of and therefore, felt the urge to take it.
Jack wandered into the living room and found consoles that seemed pretty expensive, shoving them into his bag before venturing into other rooms. When he couldn’t find anything appealing in them, his next guess was that there would be good things in the study.
Being as quiet as he could, the Irishman wandered up the stairs and entered the study, looking around and realising there was a whole recording studio in there. Filled with cameras and computers and games. The rush came back full force and again, he began to fill his bag.
What he didn’t hear though, was the sound of footsteps approaching the study.
Unbeknownst to Jack, the owner of this home had been woken up by the sound of floorboards creaking and had gone out to investigate and it was now, that he was about to be busted by them.
After shoving another camera into his bag, Jack heard the sound of the door opening but before he got time to turn around, he felt hands grab him and pull him out of the room. He screamed with shock at first and then tried to escape, attempting to squirm away but it seemed this homeowner was incredibly strong.
He was thrown into what he guessed to be their bedroom and he fell against the floor roughly, hearing the door be closed behind him and locked. The light turned on and he spun around, staring at the person who he’d been stealing from.
There was no doubt in Jack’s mind, that this person happened to be unbelievably attractive.
“So there was a burglar in my house, should have known to get my locks changed..” The person said smugly, arms crossed against his toned chest as he looked down at Jack with an almost scarily-calm expression on his face.
“Let me go, I’ll leave without yer stuff if yeh jus’ let me go!”
It seemed that this stranger had other ideas. They walked over to him and then grabbed him again, pulling him up off the floor before he was shoved onto the bed quite roughly, grunting as he hit the mattress. “What the fuck are yeh doin’?!” Jack yelled, feeling annoyed.
The stranger snorted and then pulled out some zip-ties from a drawer near his door, going over to Jack and snatching hold of his arms, it was here that he tied him to the bedframe, Jack tugging at the ties angrily as he still tried to escape.
“Let me go yeh crazy bastard! I didn’t take anythin’! It’s all still there! Let me go!”
“I’ll let you go and I won’t call the cops.. If you do something for me in return..” The sheer deepness and sincerity of the other man’s voice caused shivers to travel down Jack’s spine and he had no idea what he meant by ‘do something for me in return’.
But if this was Jack’s only ticket to freedom, it looked like he might have to just give in and let this weirdo do what he wanted him to do. “Fine, if it means you’ll let me go. Then I’ll do it..”
It was then that Jack felt like he was going to regret his words for the rest of his life.
He watched as the stranger wandered over to him and then sat down on the bed, one of his hands resting on the Irishman’s knees much to his bewilderment since he had no idea what was going on.
“My name is Mark by the way, just so you’ll have something to yell..” Jack’s eyes bulged as he stared at the other man, feeling his stomach begin to knot and twist as he was beginning to realise what was going on here.
The hand on his knee began to move upward and Jack felt himself begin to panic, pulling on his ties again. “Oh god please don’t.. Please” His once angry tone disappeared and was replaced with begging, Mark looked at him confused.
The younger man swallowed thickly, still panicking. “Please don’t rape me, please.. I didn’t mean t’ take yer stuff, I-I’m addicted.. I can’t help it.. P-please don’t rape me, I’m really sorry”
Mark’s eyes widened in response to Jack’s outburst and he looked around the room and then back at Jack. “I’m not going to rape you, what made you think that?” The Irishman nodded his head at the hand on his thigh, hinting it to him. The other man started laughing, patting the area.
“Nah, don’t worry. It’s nothing like that, I just think you’re cute is all.. Thought I might as well try and flirt with you” Jack looked at him blankly and shook his head, feeling annoyed again. “Are yeh fuckin’ kiddin’ me? This is the worst time t’ flirt! Yeh tied me t’ the fuckin’ bed ya doof!”
The older man snorted at his response and started laughing again, moving his hand away and standing up above him. “Yeah, guess you’re right about that.. But are my flirtations working?” There was a small pause before Jack spoke again.
“I mean, yeh are pretty hot.. But I am not appreciatin’ bein’ tied up I can tell yeh that..”
Nodding his head, Mark grabbed a pair of scissors and carefully cut the zip-ties, freeing Jack’s wrists so that he could move again. “Thank you, yeh didn’t have t’ do that ya know..”
Mark just shrugged his shoulders, sitting on the bed again next to Jack. He was looking at his quite intently, which caused the Irishman to blush much to his embarrassment.
“So uh.. What were yeh plannin’ to make me do in return fer yeh lettin’ me go?” Jack asked intently, rubbing his wrists and sitting up fully next to Mark as he shuffled closer, feeling curious.
There was another pause between them and Mark seemed to avoiding looking at him, Jack rolled his eyes and pulled at his shirt sleeve, attempting to get the guy’s attention. “Come on, might as well tell me and assure me that yeh weren’t gonna rape me..”
His head shot around to face him and his eyes were wide, almost in shock that the Irishman was still hanging onto the idea that he’d even consider doing that to him.
“I.. I just thought maybe we could make out.. You’re pretty attractive and I felt like maybe I could get some intimacy.. Haven’t had any for almost two years”
Jack sucked in a breath and raised his eyebrows at him, surprised and also sentimental for the man beside him. “Aw dude, that’s gotta suck. Yeh do know that strip clubs and shit exist?”
The older man snorted and shook his head, feeling humoured by Jack’s funny comment. “I don’t really like going to places like that. Plus I feel I’ll be judged there because it’s not really the female strippers I’m into..” Mark blushed lightly, playing with his hands while the other man stared at him.
“I mean.. We could make out.. If yeh really want t’.. I don’t really have a problem with that” Mark’s head snapped up and his eyes almost seemed to resemble that of a dog who had heard someone shout ‘walkies’.
The Irishman nodded his head, grinning cheesily at him as he moved even closer. “Maybe..” He shifted closer, leaning in to Mark’s ear. “..Maybe it could become more than jus’ makin’ out too.. If ya would like that..”
When he moved away, he saw the way that the American was looking at him, a devious smirk on his face.
“Yeah.. I’d like that. By the way, you never told me your name..”
Jack leaned in and kissed the older man on the lips. “My name is Jack, just so you have something to moan later on..” He whispered against his lips, carding his hands through his hair.
“Thanks for the heads up..” Mark murmured, kissing him back as he slowly lay him down on the bed.
Safe to say, Jack never did leave Mark’s house that night.
This is a fluffy little story for all you wonderful Sherlollians who have kept me going this past year as I’ve delved into the world of writing fanfiction! Thank you.
‘We’re almost an hour late, John! Hurry up!’ The moment John
brought the taxi they had commandeered to a sudden and screeching halt, Sherlock
jumped out, John on his heels. He glanced up as they began running, only to
freeze in horror at the man sprinting across the car park toward them, murder
in his eyes.
‘Vatican Cameos, John!’ Sherlock cried out and hastily
pushed John back toward the safety of the car, securing the locks for good
‘William Sherlock Scott Holmes!’ Mycroft’s normal cool
composure was gone as he thundered across the car park, bellowing all the while.
Sherlock knew he could easily overpower Mycroft, but he was currently sporting
several bruised ribs and his head throbbed from the seven sutures John had stitched
across the cut in his forehead.
The British Government was on the warpath and he slammed his
hands on the window, his eyes alight with the icy fire that toppled nations. ‘Get.
Out. Of. The. Car,’ he bit out. ‘Now!’
‘I rather think not, brother dear,’ Sherlock replied. ‘Molly
prefers me in one piece.’
‘You are late, covered in what appears to be the blood of
three different men, and should probably have those ribs bandaged,’ Mycroft
growled. ‘I should be the least of your worries when Molly does get ahold of
you and finds out you took that case yesterday when she asked you not to.’
Sherlock swallowed thickly.
‘Now, are you going to come willingly, or do I send out the
security detail to break the window and drag you out?’ Mycroft threatened and
stood back. ‘Might I remind you that the photographers would be delighted to
have evidence of the Great Sherlock Holmes being dragged into his own wedding.
Molly, though, will be less than thrilled. Especially after you’ve already left
her waiting for 43 minutes…’
Sherlock scrambled to pull the lock up and threw himself
from the car. But his beeline for the church, and his bride, was briefly
impeded by Mycroft’s fist connecting with his face.
‘Son of a-!’ Sherlock exclaimed, clutching his eye. ‘Bloody
John shot Mycroft a practiced glare before tugging Sherlock
toward the church. ‘Just add it to the list of injuries we can address after
you say ‘I do’.’
Mycroft stalked after them, rubbing his sore knuckles and
hiding his sigh of relief that they had eventually made it. Molly had been
relatively calm, but her cool had been breaking as the hour progressed and no
one could reach John or Sherlock. He was rather fond of his sister-in-law-to-be
and giving Sherlock a black eye for nearly standing her up was only a small
Molly paced back and forth, the skirt of her white dress swishing each time she turned about. Her
bottom lip was nearly raw from gnawing on it and she was fast losing hope. She
wasn’t sure whether to be angry about Sherlock sneaking out the night before on
a last-minute case or worried about him being missing. For now, she settled on
‘I’m sure they’re fine,’ Mary assured her. The Matron of
Honor was trying to be the rock for them both, but with her husband also
missing, she was in the same state as Molly.
Molly barely acknowledged her tries at reassurance, moving
on to twisting the folds of her dress in anxiety. Their increasingly melancholy
thoughts were interrupted by a clamoring out in the hall. Mary stood and went
to look out, her entire body sagging in relief when she saw Sherlock and John
‘Ah, it appears our boys have arrived, though in far worse
condition than when we left them.’
Relief flooded her body. He was okay. He was alive.
And he was late.
Molly gathered her voluminous skirts and marched out the
door, letting her anger loose.
‘Molly, he can’t see you before the ceremony! It’s bad luck!’
Mary cried out and tried to block Molly’s way.
‘I don’t give a damn about superstition,’ the bride replied
and pushed past, zeroing in on her husband-to-be. His back was to her as his
father and John tried to put his rumpled appearance to rights. With each step
she took, she more clearly saw the damage her husband was trying to cover and
felt her anger begin to fade into horror.
John noticed her first, over Sherlock’s shoulder, and nudged
his friend. Sherlock turned around in surprise and Molly gasped at his face,
her heart dropping. Dirt covered and sweaty, he had a long cut above his left
eyebrow that looked to have been hastily sutured and his right eye was
beginning to show signs of swelling. Dropping her skirts, she raced the last
few feet and launched herself into his arms, uncaring of the dirt and blood on
his clothes against her white dress. He caught her with one arm, keeping the
other tight across his torso, and let out an oomph when she collided with him.
Tears pricked her eyes and she sniffled against his
shoulder. ‘Are you okay?’
He pressed his face into the curve of her neck. ‘I am now.’
‘W-what happened?’ She pulled back and cupped his cheeks,
examining the injuries he’d sustained and noting the way he held his ribs.
‘Just some overeager drug lords looking for a new home base
in London. Nothing to worry about,’ he reassured her. Smiling smugly, he added,
‘Well, not anymore. Their injuries were much more substantial, if I do say so
Molly’s eyes hardened and she stiffened in his arms.
‘Oi, mate,’ John interrupted. ‘Not the time to be an
‘Ah, right.’ Sherlock’s smirk softened to a sheepish grin
and he turned on the puppy dog eyes as he looked down at his unamused bride. ‘Forgive
me for being a bit tardy? And for sneaking out to take a case after you asked me not to?’
Molly breathed in deeply and tugged him down to face level. ‘Yes.
But you’d better make the rest of our lives worth it.’
‘I certainly intend to.’ Sherlock chuckled, his smile pained
as his ribs protested the action.
With a kiss to his cheek, she stepped away with a smile. ‘Go
get cleaned up so we can move this wedding along.’
He pouted and followed her. ‘Don’t I even get a proper Glad
You’re Not Dead kiss first?’
‘Nope. If you’d been on time, we would already be married
and sneaking away for some ‘alone time’ in the nearest closet,’ she quipped
Sherlock groaned as he watched her sashay away, the back of
her dress dipping to her mid-back and her hair piled high on her head, giving
him a delightful view of the sensuous curve of her neck.
The door clicked shut behind her and he whirled about to the
gaping onlookers, furiously rubbing the dirt from his face. ‘Get me another
the counter is filled with rows of white, like soldiers standing at ready across the battlefield waiting for their orders: to fight, to die. across, on the front lines, iago kicks back and leans with all the grace of a monster against the mirror. it reflects him, pale and ghostly and cadaverous.
he is nothing. cannot match othello’s lithe grace in battle, how he is the fire beneath his subordinates heart ready to jump before the gun goes off. othello thinks he is almost handsome when the lights are dim.
iago hates him. so he lines the bathroom with lines of pulverised crystal, like shattered stars that promise, promise, and lie. his tongue only needs to do half the work when othello’s pupils are blown like black holes that swallow nightmares.
you see, the thing is, i don’t doubt her but i must be sure
his nose pressed between the intoxicating white, and pale grey —— the marble of the counter emptying with a snort. you’re right in wanting to be sure, it is your right
they pass the bottle of tequila between them, the transparent liquid wiped with the back of their hands; iago feels his senses ignite like a monstrous green supernova. but maybe you should be wary, about cassius—— his fingers guide othello’s face against the counter.
have another, just another and another and another.
you see, othello might command soldiers in the field but here was iago’s little battalion under the glaring lights —— exposed, with its rows sacrificed for a greater cause. she might look like a dream but might be your nightmare
the violence ignites, fist tearing at the collar of his shirt, and iago remains unmoved(the lick of fear bites his spine with its rows of pale teeth)cassius —— he couldn’t —— othello slurs the words, tongue clumsy under the strain of keeping itself in check.
(he need another row) he thrusts iago away from him, ignoring the dulled out grunt of protest. cut another.
iago’s green eyes are the colour of emeralds, their shades and warm tones spilling his monstrosity, but in this moment othello is too lost to notice as he watches iago’s hands cut he white once more.
Are drugs illegal where you live??? Weed is illegal in my state but I wanna start smoking so bad. It helps with my anxiety and the sleep!!! Omg I sleep so so sooo well.
Yes most drugs are illegal, I live in California so the majority of recreational substances are highly illegal. We have like 22 prisons here… tons of drug-related arrests :( very abusive system imo.
Weed however is now legal in California for recreational use :) Which is great because I often smoke in my room and right outside is a cop’s house and I keep forgetting weed is legal and having mini freak-outs when I look up from drug use and see a fat cop car 100 feet away from me.
Weed helps me a LOT and I am SO glad my parents understand that for me it is highly medicinal. I won’t lie that I enjoy a buzz now and then but at this point I’m so tired of being high that smoking is turning pretty much in to a chore
You woke up early, really early. You wanted to make sure when John appeared you would have your apartment in check. You hid one bag of weed in between two kitchen counter’s lockers but the other two you put in a plastic bag on the kitchen table for John to get rid of. Just so he believed you. You brushed your teeth, combed your hair and made sure you looked as healthy as a horse, a weird saying but it would have to do. You almost tripped on a door step when you heard your doorbell ring. You hurried to open it and without checking who it was let the door fly open only to be faced to face with Sherlock Holmes.
Sherlock’s eyes didn’t say a thing, his whole face was blank, but you had an idea what was going through his head. He did his best not to show how disappointed and irritated he was. John had told him. But he swear he wouldn’t say a word to Sherlock.
”Mo-morning…” You stuttered, stepping back as surprisingly Sherlock stepped into your apartment, rushing past you and said the same to you with a stern voice.
Right behind came John, who earned a nasty glare from you. He followed you into your flat and you closed the door behind him. Even if you had been a little distracted by the fact Sherlock was here you still noted how beautiful the weather was. Sun was shining and had already come up from the horizon.
”Where is it?” Sherlock called from your living room.
”Where is what?” You snapped back, he had been rude to you and you wanted to return the favor. It was a surprise that he even greeted you.
Sherlock’s face appeared from the living room’s door way to the hallway where you and John were still standing in. Sherlock’s brows furrowed and he stated ”The drugs. This is a drug bust isn’t it? So where is it?”
Your own expression mirrored Sherlock’s, your brows knit together and with a displeased frown on your face. ”In the kitchen.” You told him and then he disappeared. You turned towards John, still scowling and your arms crossed over your chest. ”Why is he here?”
”He wanted to come. He actually insisted to come.” John said showing no remorse. He sifted his weight from left to right. He appeared to feel uncomfortable but still in charge of what was going on. It irritated you.
”You promised you wouldn’t tell him.” You reminded coldly.
”Well, I didn’t have to. He deducted it.” John crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking you. He lifted his chin up, looking down on you before continuing. ”Besides it’s better this way.”
”Better?” You couldn’t keep your voice down. ”How is it better?”
”He would’ve found out soon enough anyway. And believe me it wasn’t pretty when he did.”
”Yes. I’m sure.” John assured Sherlock when they entered their flat. ”Now how did it go? Did you solve it?” John tried to change the subject, but Sherlock knew he was hiding something. And he wouldn’t let go that easily.
”Yes I did, it was the neighbors who did it, now as I just said, are you sure?” Sherlock’s eyes were fixed on John. He kept trying to read him, but he couldn’t find any clues on him. He had to try something else.
”Yes, as I said, I’m sure. Everything is fine.” John chuckled, nervous. He had to be nervous. There was something he was hiding. Had (Y/n) said something? About him maybe? Had she found someone else he was interested in? Had he waited far too long to make a move on her? Had John told her something about him that made her not want him? No, there couldn’t possibly be anything he had done to make her think otherwise. Or was there? He never understood normal people. Well, (Y/n) wasn’t normal. A bit smarter than John anyways.
Sherlock followed after John to the living room, up the stairs but the second he got there he felt a deja vu got through him. There was something in here that was different. Something that was the same but not usually. It was the smell.
Sherlock walked further in the living room, his eyes wildly looking for something. John’s chair. There was a (h/c) strand of hair on the back of the chair, this meant she had sat there. Sherlock went towards the chair, John watching while Sherlock studied his arm chair. It was like on a crime scene.
”What are you doing?” John finally asked, making his way closer to his roommate.
Sherlock took a long whiff over the chair, his eyes flew open and he made a sharp turn. He gazed over the carpet, there were muddy but dried foot prints on it, but it hadn’t rained in days. So (Y/n) had been on the other side of the London these past few days.
”If nothing is going on then do enlighten me, why does it smell like you have been having a quest reeking of marijuana?”
”Oh boy…” John scratched the back of his head, his eyes fixing on the floor and then back to Sherlock. ”You see I kind of promised (Y/n) not to say anything to-”
”You’re not saying anything, I’m just assuming what has been going on, but even if you did promise her not to tell me don’t you think it’s your job to tell a patient’s family and friends if something is wrong?” Sherlock tried his hardest not to snap. He stood his back straight and arms behind his back, he hadn’t even taken his coat off.
”Yes, yes it is.” John felt a bit embarrassed for trying to hide something like this from his best friend. Form his best friend who obviously had feelings for the ’patient’ they were talking about.
”Out of all people!” Sherlock kicked a table from next to John’s chair. It flew over, crashing on the floor loudly. Sherlock walked around the room, his fingers twitching. He walked back and forth with his head lowered, like head as a third leg. He was cursing and muttering but John couldn’t make out all what he was saying. ”Why didn’t she tell me? Why didn’t she want to tell ME?” He hissed through gritted teeth.
”She knew how you would react.” John said calmly, trying not to provoke his friend into another rage quit. Sherlock gave John a confused look. Then he rolled his eyes and sighed. ”This is one of those emotional things, right?” John nodded, but then furrowed his eyebrows. ”I’m this situation is considered to be one of those emotional things too.” He made sure to press the word this.
”Why wouldn’t she tell me?” Sherlock repeated but this time he was asking it from John, not himself.
”Because she likes you.” John laughed. ”That’s what people do. They protect their loved ones by not telling if something is wrong.”
”That’s stupid.” Sherlock noted.
”Yes. It is.” John nodded. ”Very stupid.”
”She needs a way out.” Sherlock muttered when he had calmed down a bit.
”Yes, that was my plan all along. That is why I told her I’d be visiting her in tomorrow morning.” John explained, but kept his distance from his infuriated friend.
”It’s not just that. We have to do more. Going into her house and getting rid off the stuff doesn’t end it.”
”It’s nice that you know.” John said sarcastically smiling. ”But what can we do?”
”Oh I have a plan.” Sherlock said with a smirk.
BACK TO PRESENT
”We better follow him.” John said and nodded at the living room. You agreed, following John while he walked through your living room, towards your kitchen.
You noticed Sherlock had taken look of the stuff in the bag. It was now placed close to the edge of your kitchen table and the bag had been opened. He hadn’t even closed it fully. Now Sherlock was on his knees on your floor and went thorough the kitchen cabinets.
”What are you doing?” You snapped.
”There’s always a cache.” Sherlock muttered, his finger going over the doors and opening every door that was able to be opened.
”They’re all in the bag. There is no more! Get up!” You snapped again, giving a soft kick to the bottom of his shoe.
”I know there is a hiding in here somewhere now shut up (Y/n) and do not make this worse than it is!” Sherlock snapped over his shoulder. It was then that you realized how hard it was for him. He had to deal with his problems but not for him, for you. And the worst was, the problem wasn’t his it was yours.
”There.” Sherlock gasped, his fingers ripping one of the lockers front off, it was one for the lockers that didn’t open because the front of it fell off all the time. It was a perfect place to hide your stash, well John Watson wouldn’t had found it that is.
”Are you serious?” John looked at the bag in Sherlock’s hands. It was a rather full one and it hadn’t been not once opened. Sherlock gave the bag to John, taking his phone from his pocket and starting to text.
”Who are you texting to?” You asked, your eyes dancing between Sherlock and John. John kept looking at the bag while Sherlock tapped the screen of his phone. After you heard the sound that told you the text had been sent Sherlock turned to you with a smile.
”There.” He said, then letting the smile disappear as fast as it appeared. He walked next to you, taking the bag from John’s hands and the one on the table. ”Try now and go buy some more.” He said.
”What did you do?” You asked.
”I just sent a message to my homeless network to get in touch with me if they see you even near a drug dealer.” Sherlock took a threatening, intimidating step closer to you, towering you and continued. ”And believe me if I hear even a word of you I even considering buying any, I will be there and I will stop you.”
”You’re an ass.” You hissed which Sherlock answered with a sly smile.
”You provoked me by not telling me.” He hissed back.
”Okay, I’m taking these.” John announced, snatching the bags from Sherlock and walking past you two. This didn’t make you back away from the staring contest, but it took Sherlock off guard, his eyes looking for the lost drugs. Had he really wanted to take them for himself?
”Also I’ll head back to Baker Street, getting rid of these” John said lifting the bags in his hands. ”so if you want to come with me Sherlock, come now, other vise please don’t try to kill each other.” And with that he left.
”Aren’t you going after him?” You asked.
”No, because I think we need to talk.” Sherlock said seriously.