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"As I say, I don't often find myself jealous of Sherlock. But despite your damage you're really an exquisite specimen, John Watson."
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Virginia and Bill Laying on a Bed, P-E-G-G-I-N-G by cutaneousmarginalpouch
Fandoms: Masters of Sex
31 Dec 2019
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I mean, it's on the label.
Bill gets strapped like he's always deserved.
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It turns out Virginia's never had a pap smear. Lillian gives her one.
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He's tired of looking in the mirror and seeing a stranger- the beard he'd grown in the Russian prison is long and scraggly, uncomfortable and itchy, and he's ready for it to be gone.
The bathroom at the hotel they were staying in was fairly nice; the government had gotten them significantly nicer digs than the crap motel in Alaska, a place with continental breakfast and endless hot water and sheets without stains. Joyce was humming softly in the main room, mindlessly flicking through channels on the television as she stretched out on one of the queen-sized beds.
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Crimson Blaze by her_ladyships_soap
Fandoms: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
16 Nov 2022
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“Mycroft,” Greg said, numbly angry. New York? Right now? “No.”
“I’m afraid that this is not a request, Detective Inspector.”
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When a situation spirals out of hand, Mycroft is forced to take drastic steps. The safety of his nearest and dearest is vital. And those nearest and dearest inexplicably include one silver-haired Detective Inspector.
Slow burn, friends-with-benefits-to-lovers casefic.
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The Veiled King by MiraHerondale, Pacha (MiraHerondale)
Fandoms: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
14 Jun 2025
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Bilbo has lost his memory after getting knocked out in Ravenhill, and is found by Thranduil. He’s taken to Mirkwood, unconscious still, to be treated. Upon waking, he discovers he has no memories of the previous year.
Unaware of this development, Thorin and his heirs lie recovering from their wounds and confined to bed rest. Free of the gold madness, the King orders them to search for Bilbo, as the brave burglar is still counted among the many who have disappeared during the fight. Despite this, they find no trace of Bilbo before a terrible snowstorm forces them to abandon their task and accept what they believe to be the hobbit's fate.
The King Under the Mountain mourns and, in the meantime, Bilbo sleeps.
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Bill and Gini return to the rocking chair with great results.
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The moon shone brightly on the garden, the colours of the roses now muted blue-greys like pebbles along the shore. A shiver ran down his spine as the hairs on his neck tingled.
“Hello?” he said. Looked to the left and the right. Not a soul. “Who’s there?” His grip on the umbrella handle was clammy.
A foghorn bellowed in the distance. Clouds crept over the moon’s face, casting long, gauzy shadows over the garden.
Mycroft stepped back, and shut the door. He tried to quell the racing of his heart as he stood there, listening.
“I’ve been waiting,” the man said, his voice as rough as waves hitting the rocks.
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Boromir spared no effort playing in the snow, so now it's Aragorn's turn to warm him up. (Comic)
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When Baron Mycroft Holmes violated the Law of Hospitality and angered a goddess, he was cursed to live his days as a beast. No longer fit for polite society, the baron spends his time lamenting his foolishness. At night, when his self-pitying routine becomes too much for even him to withstand, he sneaks down to the gambling hall for a bit of distraction.
It's a crime to traffick people, but when he wins a boy, he finds these idle days are over. Gregory Lestrade is more than he seems, and it could be that he's hiding a curse of his own.
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There was the elk, the snow, the man who stood beside him, and the tremendous crack that opened and spilled forth decades of tumultuous feeling. Now returning to London, Mycroft vacillates between precise control and wild, volcanic urges. As he navigates newfound thoughts and emotions, he enacts a plan no one expected and ends up where not even a Holmes could have predicted.
Series
- Part 2 of Craquelure
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Mycroft knows DI Lestrade wants him- wants him on his knees and over his desk, specifically. When an excuse to offer himself presents itself, Mycroft realizes there's a chance he's wanted this all along as well.
A 2020 Fandom Trumps Hate Auction piece!
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Mycroft is a sculptor who creates a beautiful statue of a man. He might even be a little in love with the figure... in love enough to make a wish that he might fall in love with a man like the statue.
So... where did his statue go and who is the man in his kitchen, making him breakfast?
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In which a few misconceptions about a previous night need to be corrected.
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Tommy’s taking them to the mess hall when Joel spots her.
The willowy figure is hauntingly familiar, but it’s impossible. She never made it out of Texas- never made it out of the overrun hospital they drove past, his heart collapsing in his chest, Sarah sobbing in the backseat and calling out for her mom.
“Tess?”
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Joyce and Hopper spend an impromptu date night together in a motel before they fly home to their kids.
Takes place during the two missing days at the end of 4x09.
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"You know how beautiful you are?" he asks, and Joyce feels her cheeks heat as she ducked her head. But Hopper's fingers are gentle against her chin, drawing her gaze back up to his, and she tipped her head at him, curious.
In the near year and a half they'd been together, Joyce had gotten fairly decent at reading Hopper's expressions. They were mostly the same as before she'd flown to Russia and saved his life and kissed him- but there were new ones as well. Ones so full of open fondness she felt a little dizzy when she thought of them, or ones so scorchingly hot when he watched her ride him that even briefly conjuring the memories of them had her cheeks flaming red as a tomato.
"You're thinking," she murmurs, and Hopper chuckles, knuckles dragging gently down the curve of her cheek before he tugged her closer, kissing her slowly as his fingers sunk into her hair. Joyce melts into the kiss, fingers splayed above his heart- she pulls back, a teasing smile on her lips, when she feels it thundering beneath her palm. "Why's your heart so fast, Hop?"
He just looks at her, expression a little lovesick, and Joyce finds her own heart picking up speed.
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Behind the safety of his closed door, he ripped into the box. The plastic blister-pack contained a dark purple toy shaped like a two-tiered Christmas tree. The website had suggested it was for ‘intermediate users’, but he’d never been ‘beginner’ about anything in his life—why should this be any different? Although it was, worryingly, larger than he’d expected.
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Greg realizes that he's gay at middle age
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There's an itch under Joyce's skin.
It's been a long few weeks- three failed crawls had led to decreased moral from the entire group, and everyone was on edge. El kept pushing herself too hard, too far, too fast, desperate to do well enough for Hopper to bring her along, and Joyce could see the way the girl's edges were beginning to fray. And Hopper was quieter- tenser, his shoulders high and drawn and his jaw clenched.
Joyce's fingers find Hopper's as they trudge back towards the tunnels; he looks down at her, his fingers instinctively lacing through hers, a question in his drawn brows. She offers a small smile.
"Let's take a break," she whispers, and Hopper's head tipped to the side, adorably confused. "The kids don't need us for a bit. Let's…take a break."