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#otp: prat and idiot
loopstagirl · 4 years
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Just sitting here sobbing at 5x13. Why did I do this to myself?
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If you ignore the ending, BBC Merlin is basically a fantasy sitcom, and I love it for that
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Current mood: Getting emotionally involved in a gay ship of a show I don't even watch.
spoiler shadowhunters*
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*Malec compilation- s1 to s2. Malec from Shadow hunters- if anyone's watched or read it can you let me know if its good aside from the epic love story I've seen some of. *Spoiler free as much as poss pls bc I've just spoilt some for myself already!*
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shadyscroller2 · 3 years
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stages of christmas
tags: BBC Sherlock, Christmas fluff, mutual pining, snow day, Christmas tree, jealous Sherlock, Harry Watson appearance, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, first kiss 
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Summary: Sherlock and John are spending Christmas together after Mary has run off with David, while carrying David's baby. After that whole fiasco, Sherlock feels pressured to fix things again with John, but how can he do that when Sherlock's more than certainly fallen in love with him?
READ ON AO3
1- A Phone Call
"I'm telling you, Harry," John said, balancing his phone on his shoulder while holding a biscuit. "I don't think I'm going to be able to make it to your house party. I'm spending Christmas with Sherlock this year."
He could hear his sister, Harry, scoff on the other end of the line. "Are you serious?" she said with disbelief. "You're choosing your boyfriend over your own little sister?"
John rolled his eyes insufferably, taking the phone from his shoulder and into his hand so he could speak clearly into it.
"Sherlock is not my boyfriend," John stated firmly. "I've told you that before."
"Yes, I know, I know, you're not gay," Harry said breezily, and John could practically see her wave her hand sarcastically. "Not necessarily, anyway."
"What? Necessarily? What do you mean by that ?"
"Nothing, nothing," Harry was obviously smiling. "It just takes one to know one, you know? Especially since I've read your blog."
John furled his eyebrows. "My blog?" John asked. "What's my blog got to do with anything?"
Harry sighed wistfully as if she was talking about her favorite movie. "It's just so romantic, Johnny. I mean, the way that you talk about him. It's the kind of the way I would have talked about Clara."
John shook his head. "Right, we're getting off topic here, Harry," he interrupted, confused as to why he was even talking about this with his sister. "Bottom line is, I'm spending Christmas with Sherlock. Platonically. "
"Aw, come on!" Harry whined stubbornly. "My party's going to be great. It's on Eastcastle Street. Just a train ride away."
"Yes, I know," John replied noncommittally. "I'll try to make it."
"Right," said Harry in a knowing tone. "That is if your husband even wants to socialize with other people,right?'
John ignored her insinuations this time. "Right, it's just that we were planning on having some of our friends over from Scotland Yard on Christmas Eve. I just don't think that I'm going to have the time."
"Okay, fine," Harry said. "But just so you know, my party's on Christmas Day. The day after yours. So if you're not too hung over on eggnog or some of that delicious whiskey you've got over there, then drop by at the party. We'd love to see you over here."
"I'll think about it."
"Good. Well, I've got to go now, need to get to work. We can talk later, though, can't we?"
John smiled over the phone, a small smirk on the speaker. "Yes, definitely. I'll see you later," he said.
"See you, Johnny."
John pressed the 'end call' button, and he slipped his phone away into his pocket. He drank his tea carefully, looking out into the snow that was falling steadily right outside his window.
2- Winter Wonderland
The snow had stopped after a few hours, leaving a white blanket over the landscape of the street. Cars plowed through, pushing the snow aside, and pedestrians left footprints behind as they bustled around the city with their Christmas shopping. Lights twinkled from shops, and Christmas trees towered over busy ice rinks.
Sherlock rolled his eyes, wrapping his scarf tighter around himself and stuffing his gloved hands underneath his arms.
"Why are we out here again?" Sherlock asked, looking around the park with distaste, and at the snow that seemed to be covering the entire thing like a blanket.
John turned to Sherlock with a slightly annoyed look. "Because we haven't been out of the house in three days, Sherlock," John told him. "And it's just days before Christmas and I want to experience the winter."
Sherlock resisted rolling his eyes in the boredom of it all. "Do calm down, John," Sherlock droned. "Winter will be lasting for ages."
"Not Christmas." John pointed out, looking up at him. "Besides, these lights won't be out forever, and you know that Christmas has got a certain feeling to it. I'd like it if I wouldn't miss it."
Sherlock stuffed his hands into his pockets. He did have to admit that John was right about that. Christmas did have some sort of spirit about it, and if Sherlock wasn't the logical man that he was today, he would almost describe it as magic.
It was the first Christmas after Mary had left John, and had taken her ex-boyfriend (now current) David's baby with her. All that remained of her was the painful bullet scar on Sherlock's chest and an obvious deep pit of regret in John's.
Now less than a year later, John and Sherlock had patched up their friendship, and they had gone on without another word, without another glance at their past. It was as if everything was back to the way it was.
Except, it wasn't.
At that moment, Sherlock looked over at John, who had gone quiet and was looking at the scenery around them. Children were participating in snowball fights, yelling and screaming with glee. Parents looked on, dressed warmly in scarves and coats, smiling happily at their children from afar. Couples walked hand in hand, kicking playfully at the cold snow, and beaming at each other with bright eyes and soft smiles.
Sherlock couldn't hold back a surge of emotion that went straight through him as he looked down at John, strolling through the park. It was something that had been happening quite often for a long time, almost since the day they had met. Something was different about John, something that made Sherlock feel inexplicably drawn to him. And Sherlock dared to think that John felt the same way.
It really was no secret that Sherlock cared for John and that John cared for Sherlock. It had always been some sort of understanding between them. But it was John that would occupy most of Sherlock's thoughts, and it was John whom Sherlock would do anything for.
Sherlock shut his eyes and shook his head at himself, trying to release his stupid thoughts. Stupid emotions.
"Hey, you alright?" John asked, looking up at Sherlock with concern, and it was then that Sherlock realized that he had been staring at John and shaking his head. "Do you want to go home?"
Sherlock stuffed his hands into his pockets. "No," he said. "Let's just get out of the park."
John looked at Sherlock a moment and nodded, stuffing his own hands into the pockets of his coat and walking off of the sidewalk.
"So where do you want to go?" John asked. "There are shops at the corner over here. We can grab a coffee or something. Warm ourselves up."
But then Sherlock's phone chimed, and Sherlock pulled his phone out from his pocket. A text had appeared on the screen. A text from Lestrade.
An old woman has been robbed on Delancy Street. Everything's been taken.
May need your expertise on this one.
"Who is it?" John asked, looking up at Sherlock from the corner of his eye.
"It's Lestrade," Sherlock replied, snapping his phone shut. "It's a case. Someone's been robbed."
"Maybe we could go. We haven't had one in weeks."
"It's a robbery, John. It's a five at most."
"Doesn't matter. Someone's been robbed at Christmas. I'm going. Where is it?"
Sherlock looked at John, and couldn't help letting himself stare into the other man's eyes. John was so fascinating, so thoughtful; Sherlock found himself having to restrain the urge to pull John in by his lapels and kiss him right there in the snow.
"It's two blocks over." Sherlock finally said after a moment. "Just across the park."
John shrugged his shoulders, a smile coming to his face. "Well, let's go, then. I'll text Greg we're on our way."
3- Oh Christmas Tree
Hours later, after the case, John opened the door into the flat, shaking his head in disbelief.
"No. I don't buy it, Sherlock," John declared. "The woman knows exactly who robbed her."
Sherlock nodded as he shut the door with his foot. "She's hiding something, obviously," he said, and John turned to face him.
"Do you think she's trying to fool us, or...I don't know, maybe just senile?"
Sherlock stalked over to the couch and flopped his entire body down on the cushions.
"No, definitely not, if her wardrobe and her living state were anything to go on," Sherlock replied indifferently. "It's likely that she knows exactly who committed the crime but just wants the attention. I just need time to think."
"Well, while you do that," John said, shaking the keys in his hand. "I'm going out to get a Christmas tree. Our Christmas party's in a few days, and we haven't even gotten around to it yet."
"Our Christmas party?"
"Yes, Sherlock, remember?" John said with annoyance. "We're bringing the Yard over on Christmas Eve. I brought it up to you two days ago."
"Oh yes, I must have forgotten."
"You're a prat, you know that?"
"Yes, I'm aware."
John chuckled. "Right. I'm out. I'll be back in a bit."
As John left the flat, Sherlock closed his eyes, listening for the sound of John's footsteps as they retreated down the seventeen steps of the building. Then the door closed, and John was gone.
Sherlock inhaled deeply. Pressed his fingers together. Closed his eyes.
Then the world faded away.
A couple of hours later, Sherlock exited his mind to the annoying sound of the rustling of leaves, and grunts of struggle and frustration. He quickly sat up, wondering where the commotion was coming from.
Then that's when Sherlock realized that the noise was coming from right there in his living room, and John was the one causing it.
A tall Christmas tree was set up in the middle of the room, with lights strung together at the base, a rope of bright orbs coiled at the floor and wrapped halfway up the tree.
Sherlock tried to hold back from chuckling as he watched John try to stretch his small body to the top of the tree so the lights would reach it. It looked comical, like a little hedgehog trying to climb a tree.
"Come on." John was grumbling, trying to whip the lights upward to compensate for his short height. "Just hang already."
Sherlock got up from the couch, a smile coming to his face. "Here, he said, laughing. "Let me."
John turned around as if startled to hear his flatmate's voice, and he conceded defeat.
"Fine, yes, thank you," John said, handing the lights over to Sherlock. "Just...just twirl it around the leaves."
Sherlock reached his long arms above him, easily reaching, and he dragged it around the tall tree.
"Why did you get it so tall?" Sherlock asked, amusement still in his voice. John let out a laugh.
"I haven't got a clue," said John, holding back a grin. "It looked a lot shorter down at the shop."
This somehow sparked a laughing fit, and soon they were both giggling hard, and it took Sherlock a lot of effort to keep his focus on the lights. The energy in the room immediately felt considerably lighter, and Sherlock's eyes fell on John's.
But then Sherlock's foot caught in the rope of lights that hung down on the ground, and Sherlock tripped, nearly falling forward, dropping the lights tangled in his hands. Quickly, Sherlock tried to lean back to steady himself, but he leaned back much too far. His fingers slipped as they tried to grab on to the mantlepiece.
Then John immediately lunged forward and caught Sherlock in his arms, and Sherlock immediately grasped at the back of John's neck, stumbling on his feet, trying to keep from falling to the ground. John's arms held him tightly.
"Sherlock." John breathed from above him. "You okay?"
Sherlock looked up at him, and suddenly he realized the position that they were both in. John practically had his arms wrapped around Sherlock's waist and torso, keeping him up, and Sherlock had his arms draped around John's neck and shoulders, their bodies pressed flush together.
Suddenly, everything was very quiet, and time seemed to slow down. John visibly gulped, his Adam's apple nervously bobbing as he stared down intensely into Sherlock's eyes.
Then that's when Sherlock realized he still had yet to answer John's question.
"No, no, I'm-I'm fine." Sherlock croaked, and his hands inexplicably tightened on John's shoulders. John cleared his throat.
"Right, okay, good." John rasped. "Right. Let me, um..."
John slowly helped Sherlock to his feet, John's arms still wrapped securely around Sherlock's waist, and Sherlock's still around John's shoulders. Their faces were inches apart, so close that Sherlock could feel John's breath hot on his cheek.
"Thank you," Sherlock said awkwardly, not quite knowing what else to say.
John nodded his head vigorously, suddenly acting quiet, as if he was at a loss for words.
"It's all...fine," he said, looking up into Sherlock's eyes. "Any-" he cleared his throat. "Anytime."
Neither of them moved away, and Sherlock found that he was having a lot of trouble breathing. Because their arms were still around each other, and neither of them had found the need to move yet.
Then the sound of a phone ringing broke the air like a knife, and Sherlock's face reddened. The noise was incessant, like the sound of a screaming child.
"I should...probably get that," Sherlock said, immediately putting distance between them.
"Right, yeah," John said, snapping his hands away as if he had been touching fire. "It's-it's probably Lestrade about the case."
His heart still pounding, Sherlock took the phone from his pocket and flipped it open, and took the chance to walk across the room and as far away from John as possible.
4- A Christmas Party
John pulled the cookies out of the oven carefully and closed the door with his foot. Smoke rose up from the baked goods, spreading a delicious aroma around the room. John inhaled deeply, quietly.
"They smell good," Sherlock said suddenly, and John looked up to find him leaning against the doorpost and watching John.
John cleared his throat. "Right, well I hope so," he said. "Our guests are going to be here any moment."
Unable to meet Sherlock's eyes for any longer, John looked away, trying to focus on setting the cookies on the burner.
"Need help?" Sherlock asked, pushing himself from the doorpost and walking over to John. He stood several feet from him, with Sherlock obviously holding himself back out of wariness.
"No, no I'm good, thanks," John said, a little too quickly. "You can...um...just make sure everything is clean for everyone else when they arrive."
After a long moment, Sherlock stepped farther away, walking across the kitchen. John let out a sigh of relief, relaxing his tense shoulders.
It had been like that for the past few days, ever since the Incident had happened. With the Christmas tree.
John hadn't been able to think of anything else except Sherlock dipped in his arms, catching him in just a moment in time, in the middle of the air. After they were interrupted by Greg's call, they had investigated the case together. Since then, they both moved cautiously around each other, as if they were trying not to set off a bomb.
John shook his head in an attempt to free himself of his thoughts, and he pulled out the tube of decorative icing for the cookies. He just wanted to take his mind off of the whole thing.
But as John was unscrewing the cap of the treat icing, he glanced up at Sherlock, who was sitting still with his eyes closed in his armchair, thinking intently. His face was still, smooth, calm, and ultimately very attractive.
John swallowed the emotion in his throat. Why did it have to be Sherlock Holmes whom he was attracted to? Why did it always have to be Sherlock, with his perfect face and his perfect hair and his perfect -
The icing cap suddenly broke beneath John's hands and the tube squeezed, making the contents spill all over the table and just-finished cookies.
John swore loudly and immediately ran around the table to grab paper towels to clean up the mess. The icing had gotten all over the floor, like sticky concentrated soup spreading along the tiles.
Then suddenly, Sherlock was kneeling down on the floor with John, pressing a wet towel in a helpful attempt to mop up the mess.
"Sorry," John sighed, his eyes cast to the floor. "Accident."
"It's fine," Sherlock said, looking up at John briefly.
It was silent after that, the two men just scrubbing the floor as efficiently as possible, trying to get the sticky frosting out of the pathway.
John looked up, stealing a glance at Sherlock for a quick second, and then immediately cast his eyes downwards. He curled his lips as if it would keep himself from saying or doing anything stupid to worsen the tension between them.
After half a minute had passed, John moved to look at Sherlock again and was shocked to see that Sherlock was already looking at him.
John stopped scrubbing. He stared back, his eyes delving deep into Sherlock's intense orbs.
Neither of them moved for a long moment. They were very close to each other, kneeling on the floor on their hands and knees. The silence was deafening; like they each wanted to say something but couldn't.
Sherlock looked at John like he was trying to figure him out, like John was a fascinating puzzle, messing with his mind, trying to find out what John might do next.
John licked his lips, an unconscious move, his nerves buzzing inside of him.
"Sher-"
A loud and obnoxious knock came just then, followed by Mrs. Hudson's high and excited voice.
"Boys! Yoo-hoo!" Mrs. Hudson called through the closed door. "Your guests are here!"
John shut his eyes tightly. "We'll be right there, Mrs. Hudson!" John called back.
He opened his eyes again, and met with Sherlock's gaze, staring back at him hard. Then he stood up, making his way to the door, leaving Sherlock alone on the kitchen floor.
Lights decorated the mantles, and the flat was filled with merry decorations and the delicious smell of cakes and biscuits. Lestrade was standing with Molly Hooper and Sally Donovan, drinking eggnog and hot chocolate, chattering indistinctly by the fireplace.
Sherlock stood to the side, his violin in hand, softly playing Christmas carols over the conversations. His eyes seemed to always gravitate to John, who was smiling and laughing with a pretty new officer from Scotland Yard. She was leaning far too close to John for Sherlock's liking, and her smile was flirty and absolutely disgusting.
Sherlock quickly turned away from John, his body heating up with jealousy, and he could feel his heart sink. He stood facing the window overlooking Baker Street, where the snow was coming down hard, covering the entire road with a thick layer of white.
There was a knock at the door, and John immediately stood up to answer it. Sherlock watched, and he saw the female police officer shamelessly check out John's arse. Sherlock gritted his teeth.
John opened the door, and when he saw who was standing there, his jaw dropped. He opened the door wider.
"Oh my god," John said to the new guest. "You came."
"Merry Christmas, little brother!" Harry Watson greeted enthusiastically. "What, did you think I'd miss Johnny Boy on Christmas?"
John laughed heartily, and welcomed her in. "Everyone! This is my sister, Harriet!"
Everyone immediately gave a loud cheer, crowding around John and shaking Harry’s hand. Most of them hadn’t even known that John had a sister.
Everyone except for Sherlock, of course.
Sherlock watched heatedly as everybody crowded around his own flatmate, and his own flatmate’s sister that wasn’t even that pretty. Sherlock angrily stared, his violin clutched tightly in his hands.
Sherlock crossed the room in record time, swinging his coat over his shoulders.
“Right, I’m going out,” Sherlock muttered to himself, and he rushed forward toward the door.
Sherlock saw Harry come up to him, her arms outstretched. “Sherlock!” she was saying. “Nice to finally meet you! John’s been on and on--”
“That’s nice, get out of my way,” Sherlock ordered her, and he shoved her aside more forcefully than he’d intended. She gave a soft grunt as she hit the wall, and she stared after him with affrontation.
“What the hell?” she bit off, and John looked up.
“Sherlock!”
Sherlock was already out the door by the time John had grabbed his own jacket and tugged it on, running down the stairs as he followed Sherlock out into the snow.
The detective was already stalking down the street and trying to wave down a cab when John came up to him, his fists clenched.
“Sherlock!” John called after him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Getting a cab,” Sherlock snarked. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re being a prat, is what I think!”
“Oh, do calm down, John, it’s not healthy to get so worked up.”
“It wouldn’t be healthy if I punched you in the face right at this moment.” John snapped back. “Now apologize to my sister!”
“Why would I?”
John huffed a sharp breath. “I thought you were better than this, Sherlock.”
“Well, clearly, you were wrong. Like you usually are.”
John gritted his teeth. “Where is all of this coming from?”
“It really doesn’t matter, does it, John?” Sherlock glanced at him. “But then again, I suppose you already know what that feels like.”
“Shut up, Sherlock.”
“No, it seems like this Christmas really painted it out for me. You would rather chat up a storm with that cat-owner police officer than with me, and invite all of these people to our flat without really planning ahead.”
“Sherlock--”
“Do you know what your sister has been up to yet today, John? Because I could tell from the smell of the pubs of London all over her coat, clearer than her severe case of halitosis that’s been brewing in her horrid mouth for years. I can see her recent and disappointing affairs through her poorly groomed hairstyle, and the sloppily-wrapped presents in her gift bags.”
“Sherlock Holmes, I’m warning you--”
“But your sister is just the beginning, isn’t it? No. Because you never saw it. You never see any of it. I’m the one that’s the genius, and I never needed you John. There’s nothing wrong with me, because all I want this come Christmas is for you to be gone!”
The words came out before Sherlock could think, and he wanted to grab himself and stop himself before he could say another word. But it was already far too late.
John had frozen right in his spot, his face completely lax and devoid of emotion. Sherlock could recognize John’s soldier complexion anywhere, and Sherlock realized that he’d really made a grave mistake.
“Fine.” John finally spoke. “Fine. If that’s how you really feel, Sherlock. I’ll go.”
“John--”
“No. Don’t.” John held up a hand. “You’ve really gone too far this time, Sherlock. Not to worry, though. I’ll be gone by Christmas morning. Then you can get your bloody stupid holiday wish.”
Sherlock watched as John walked back into the flat, and he couldn’t help but flinch as the door slammed shut after him.
5- Merry Christmas
Sherlock sat alone in the dark flat on Christmas Day, the sun setting behind him as it slowly sunk into the horizon. He sighed, bringing the cigarette closely to his lips.
John, as promised, had left as soon as the sun rose on Christmas morning. He didn’t bother to take his presents with him, or to give any to Sherlock. It was an empty flat all day as the holiday passed by.
Sherlock blew out the smoke calmly as he lay in his chair, staring deeply at John’s empty one. He traced the pattern with his eyes, studying the unique color and appearance like he did when John was there.
But it was no use. Sherlock’s mind kept returning to his estranged flatmate, the one that he had ultimately driven away.
It was wrong. It was so wrong.
Sherlock sighed heavily, feeling his eyes become warm with moisture.
All he ever really wanted was for John to be happy, and he hated himself for getting so carried away. If only he wasn’t in love with John Watson, he wouldn’t have been so scared and let his emotions overcome the power of his mind.
The realization hit Sherlock so hard that he let out a gasp, and his eyes flew open as if he was just shot.
Oh god. That was it.
He was in love with John Watson
Sherlock drew his hands to his face in absolute frustration and pity for himself.
How could he have been so blind?
Sherlock jumped up to his feet, shrugging on his coat again, bounding down the stairs as he tugged it on over his shoulders.
Sherlock had to tell him. He just had to. That was the last thing he’d do before anything else could occur. Sherlock had to tell him.
The cold air slapped Sherlock in the face as he opened the door, and Sherlock could only lift a hand against the strong wind as he made his way down Baker Street.
He pushed people aside as he rushed down the sidewalk, his coat billowing behind him as he panted with exertion.
“Eastcastle, Eastcastle…” Sherlock muttered to himself. “The street. Must find the street.”
He must find John.
Sherlock ran through the streets of London, fighting past fast-going cars threatening to run him over, and ‘DONT WALK’ street signs flashing in his eyes.
He didn’t care. He couldn’t care less.
Only John was what really mattered.
Sherlock searched left and right, his eyes scanning the entire sidewalk area, looking for that one address.
Then he found it.
The address number glowed on a big red door, decorated with just a simple wreath and ornaments that complemented the otherwise bland object.
Sherlock took a deep breath, carrying himself over to the door. He wasn’t even sure what he was meant to do; he just knew that he didn’t want to spend another Christmas moment without his John.
Sherlock rang once, anxiously. Then he rang twice.
Three times.
Then he resorted to knocking.
The door finally flew open, making Sherlock’s heart jump with soaring hope.
“Right, is John there?” Sherlock asked.
It was a woman standing at the door, no older than twenty-five, looking at Sherlock like he had grown five heads.
“Um, well, I don’t know a John,” said the woman. “Unless you’re talking about Harry’s little brother?”
Sherlock nodded. “Yes. Yes that’s him. Can you just...tell him that Sherlock’s here to see him?”
“Margaret, what’s the commotion out here…” Harry looked once at Sherlock and quickly pushed him away.
“Harry, wait, please.”
“Sherlock Holmes. You’re not welcome here.”
“I know, I know, and I apologize for shoving you—"
“Shoving me?!” Harry shouted. “Give me a break! I’ve gotten worse from Johnny when I stole his action figures when we were little rug rats!”
“Then what’s—"
“I’ll tell you what you did, Sherlock!” Harry interrupted with a sigh. “You broke my brother’s heart.”
“I what?”
“He loved you, you know,” Harry responded. “And then you go and you say all those mean things to him, and you expect him to forgive you so quickly?”
Sherlock looked down at the ground. “I don’t expect John to do anything more for me.”
Harry looked at him incredulously. “Then why are you here?”
Sherlock inhaled sharply. He looked at Harry.
Then his face fell as John came into view, looking between Harry and the door, his eyes landing on Sherlock.
John and Sherlock stared at each other for what felt like ages, leaving Sherlock with nothing to do but forget what he was meant to say.
“Sherlock, answer her,” John said, his voice soft. “Why are you here?”
“John, I…” Sherlock paused. He swallowed. “I‘ve just got something to tell you and I’ve got to say it quickly.”
John ushered. “Go on, then.”
Sherlock looked to Harry, and she nodded. Harry left without another word.
John watched her leave, his brows wrinkling as he tried to put two and two together. “I don’t understand Sherlock. I thought that…”
“I was wrong, John.”
Sherlock looked at him, and John looked back in shock. He stepped down from the door sill, closing Harry’s door behind him.
“Well that’s new.”
“Just...please, let me speak.”
“Okay.”
Sherlock walked closer to John, trying to gauge his flatmate’s expressions. The snow fell around them like a flurry of ice, surrounding them until they were the only ones left in the world.
“John, listen, um…” Sherlock paused. “For a long time now, you were always considered my only friend. And for that I appreciated you, because you helped me with everything that I worked for. Even if you were just an average goldfish.”
“Jesus Christ, Sherlock,” John said rubbing his face. “Can’t you just say you’re sorry? Something that actually means something? For God’s sake, cut to the point, without leaving me—”
“I’m in love with you.”
John froze in place, looking up at Sherlock in absolute shock. Sherlock shifted into his feet, staring into John’s eyes with sheer desperation.
“What did you just say?” John croaked.
“I said,” Sherlock repeated softly. “I’m in love with you. John. Watson.”
“What?”
“It’s a bit of a revelation, I know,” Sherlock whispered. “But I realized it today when I had spent all of Christmas with myself and all I could think about was having you there.”
“I can’t believe this.”
“I know.”
“You’re in love with me?”
“Obviously.”
John let out a disbelieving laugh, and Sherlock chuckled too, a burst of air from his nostrils. He looked at John tenderly, furling his lips in anticipation.
John whispered, “I don’t know what to say.”
“I understand if you don’t want to see me again.” Sherlock murmured towards him. “I just realized that it’s Christmas, and it’s more of a time for miracles than any other time, so I just thought—”
“Sherlock, shut up.”
John grabbed his face and kissed him, making Sherlock startled as he stumbled on his feet. He felt John’s hands come around to steady him, and Sherlock kissed back, his arms coming around John’s torso.
The kiss was deep and cold, with John’s lips taking full advantage of Sherlock’s lavish and supple ones. Sherlock moaned into his mouth, clutching on to John’s jacket to assure himself of reality.
John was the first to break for air, and Sherlock gasped for breath. John laughed, his hands curling into Sherlock’s hair.
“You really do love me, then, don’t you?” John asked, looking up at him.
“Yes.” Sherlock said desperately. “More than I can express.”
“Well, then,” John huffed a laugh. “That’s the best news that I’ve heard in a long time.”
“So you do—"
“Yes, you bloody prat, I’m in love with you too.”
Sherlock kissed John again, chasing the laughter from the shorter man’s lips. John wrapped his arms completely around Sherlock’s neck, drawing them both closer. Sherlock grinned against his mouth, and John let out another laugh.
A couple of minutes passed by as they both finally made up for lost time in the middle of the empty sidewalk, with Sherlock wrapping them both in his long coat, and John burrowing himself into Sherlock’s chest.
It was a while before they pulled apart, and they finally noticed the rest of Harry’s guests staring out of the window with tears in their eyes, cheering hysterically.
John blushed, thoroughly embarrassed, watching Harry cheer harder from the open window.
“That’s my brother!” Harry cried, throwing her arms up in celebration. “That’s my brother, I tell you!”
Sherlock laughed too, grabbing onto John’s hand, and feeling incandescently happy.
6- Epilogue
“TWENTY-EIGHT! TWENTY-SEVEN! TWENTY-SIX!”
“Sherlock, it’s starting!”
“You don’t have to shout, John, I’m right here.”
“Well sometimes you’re bloody easy to miss.”
“Impossible, John, especially since I’m tall enough to hang you on the bloody Christmas tree.”
John rolled his eyes lovingly at the detective next to him, and Sherlock smirked down at him, leaning down and pressing a small kiss to the doctor’s lips. John chuckled against him.
“Oi! Get a room!”
“People do eat in here, you know!”
John grabbed a piece of his sandwich and hurled it at Greg and Harry, who immediately ducked to miss it. They laughed as they continued to sip their eggnog.
“Save it for New Year’s, John,” Sherlock scolded, but his face was wide with a smile, his eyes shining like the Christmas lights in front of them.
“Make me, you prat,” John laughed, his hand pressed against Sherlock’s back.
“TEN! NINE! EIGHT!”
“SEVEN! SIX!”
John then leaned forward, feeling Sherlock look down at him, feeling John whisper the rest of the countdown against Sherlock’s lips.
“Three...two…”
Sherlock smiled, and he finished it with a soft breath.
“One.”
“HAPPY NEW YEAR!!”
John leaped forwards, allowing Sherlock to catch him in a hug and kiss him, both of them laughing into it like a couple of children. Both of them had tears in their eyes, but they’d never, ever say so.
“I love you.”
Sherlock grinned happily. “I know.”
Harry started singing first, and then Greg followed, in singing “Auld Lang Syne” at the top of their lungs. The rest of the guests immediately joined in, swaying to the music.
“Should old acquaintance be forgot…”
“And never brought to light…”
Sherlock leaned his forehead against John’s, closing his eyes as he basked in the man’s warmth.
“Happy New Year, John.”
“Happy New Year, Sherlock.”
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fluffypotatey · 3 years
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For the OTP Asks: 44, 46 for Merthur, please?
Oh ho ho! Again, sorry I didn’t get to it until now
44.  What are their nicknames for each other?
Wart is a classic for Arthur but that’s Morgana’s nickname for him, and everyone just started using it. However, Merlin’s nicknames consists of prat, dollophead, [insert vegetable]+head, his royal pratness. And, if he is feeling generous or drowsy, he calls Arthur love or sweetheart (Arthur always combusts for those). Arthur’s nicknames are idiot, darling, honey  (if he’s in a teasing mood), and lovely.
46. Who initiates kisses?
Merlin does. Arthur is way too shy to just kiss his boyfriend. Hell, even hugging people he needs an excuse for himself. Merlin does not care for excuse. He will kiss Arthur and they will kiss or so help him. Arthur loves it anyway.
OTP Asks
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tolkienlockian · 3 years
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Arthur for the ask thing
So sorry I'm answering this just now. I have so many unanswered Asks in my Inbox, but it's just that I'm planning on answering them and then something always come up in between
Give me a character and I will answer Ask here
So, without further ado
✨ Arthur ✨
Why I like him
Where do I start. He's the Once and Future King and he has some amazing moments that prove his potential as a great ruler, he genuinely cares for the people of Camelot to the point that he was ready to sacrifice himself for them. He is capable of having fun and enjoy the small, casual moments with his knights and Merlin, behaving as one of them and not above them as their Prince or later King.
Why I don't like him
He has the potential of some amazing character development and to free himself from Uther's manipulations both in regards to his abilities and to his view of magic. But just when we see said character development, the writers take it away in the next episode, to the point where he still needs Daddy's approval even three years later (and as much as I enjoyed The Death Song of Uther Pendragon, this part really disappointed me)
Favorite episode
I'm between The Poisoned Chalice and The Sword in the Stone - Part 2, so I'm choosing to talk about The Poisoned Chalice because, in my opinion, it's the first episode where Arthur truly shows that he's willing to do anything to help Merlin. He risked his life for a lowly servant whom he didn't know that well yet, and he did so against Uther's demands on top of that.
Favorite season
Again, I'm between season 1 and season 4, so now I'm gonna talk about season 4, because it's the season we see him become King and go through all the confusion, self-doubt and later confidence. We see him overcome Agravaine's manipulation and Morgana's schemes and come out stronger in the finale.
Favorite line
"I don't want you to change. I want you to always be you." This is it. The moment Arthur overcomes everything he was raised to believe about magic, the moment he sees and accepts Merlin for who he really is.
Favorite outfit
Wooow, that's a good one. He looks amazing in armor, not gonna lie, but my favorite outfit will be his red shit with the brown vest over it. It makes him look so relaxed and casual while still maintaining his regal looks.
OTP
*tries very hard not to start rambling about Merthur until tomorrow * Because these two were BORN for each other, they went through thick and thin while always being each other's constant and believing in each other, and it's a love story that lasts until the modern days where Merlin waits for his King's return.
Brotp
Arthur and Leon. Apparently, Leon has known Arthur from their childhood, making him Arthur's oldest friend beside Morgana. Leon is a very healthy presence in Arthur's life, he knows Arthur very well, and he's loyal to a fault.
Headcanon
Hmmm... One came to me just now. Arthur loves spending time alone in the royal gardens. He discovered little hiding spots there when he was little and he's escaping there whenever he feels the burden of being the Prince/King. He may not run away to become a farmer, but the gardens give him the brief escapade he needs.
Unpopular opinion
Hmmm, not sure about this one, I'm not even sure if it's an unpopular opinion, but I think that Arthur, deep down, actually suspected that Merlin has magic from a very early point, but buried it. At first it was denial ("Merlin can't have magic, nope, no way, this bubbly idiot can't have magic"), and then he pretended not to know in order to protect him. I know he said "I would know" during the magic reveal. Maybe he buried this knowledge so deep inside that he suppressed it. Maybe he wanted to give Merlin one more chance to take it back because magic was still outlawed in Camelot.
A wish
That we could see Arthur repel the ban of magic and actively unite the lands of Albion as the Once and Future King. Alternatively, my wish is that he comes out of that lake and gives Merlin all the hugs and cuddles.
An oh-god-please-don't-ever-happen
Not gonna lie, that's my reaction every time I watch the finale and the moment comes for Mordred to stab Arthur 😝😝😝 In all seriousness, though, I wish that Arthur wouldn't have said to Merlin "I thought you were the bravest man alive... Guess I was wrong."
5 words to best describe them
Dollophead, Once and Future King
My nickname for them
I sometimes call him His Royal Pratness 😂 Otherwise, I use one of Merlin's endearments, like "clotpole" or "dollophead"
Thanks for the Ask, and sorry for the long text, hope you'll like it 😊😊😊
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mxstyassasxin · 4 years
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Draco Malfoy for the ask thing! (Unless you already have gotten him, then Neville Longbottom) 💙
Hey, nonny! I haven’t done Draco yet so I can answer that one for you 😊 Thank you for asking <3
Favourite thing about them:
That he realises how much shit his family is in (read: has gotten him and Narcissa into) by the time Half Blood Prince rolls around and starts to resist and change. At least that’s how I read it. Like, it’s clearly a struggle for him, trying to deal with that mission on his own when it’s the last thing he wants to do, and I love how that’s portrayed in the movie. Then obviously Deathly Hallows happens and he doesn’t identify Harry and he doesn’t try to kill him in the Room of Requirement. And then (canonically) he marries Astoria despite his parents’ feelings about her attitudes to blood-status, showing that he’s realised the error in his own prejudices.
Least favourite thing about them:
That he was a blinkered, entitled, prejudicial prat before the above realisation happened. And that, even after he was able to see how bad things had become, he didn’t ask for help.
Favourite line:
Just because I’ve read Cursed Child recently, how about this description of Crabbe and Goyle – “Two lunks who wouldn’t know one end of a broomstick from another.”
And I can never get over the pain in – “I haven’t got any options! I’ve got to do it! He’ll kill me!”
brOTP:
I’m afraid I’ll have to go to fanon for this one and say Theo, Pansy and Blaise. Theo as the childhood friend that he reluctantly lost touch with under his parent’s demands and shot wary, apologetic glances at across the common room while at Hogwarts. Pansy as the best friend who would happily slap him when he was on the verge of doing something stupid and hated seeing him tear himself apart. And Blaise as a later-in-life enabler; a behaviour that Pansy absolutely hates because it means she has to tell Draco off even more for generally being an idiot.
OTP:
Well this is difficult for me! I started out reading Drarry fanfic and fell deep into that hole so Harry x Draco will always have a large piece of my heart. But I was persuaded to try reading some Dramione and fell in love with Draco x Hermione, too. They’re both very separate in my mind. I read them for different reasons and when I’m in different moods. I imagine Draco having two possible paths/ways of finding redemption after Hogwarts and find them in both Drarry and Dramione.
nOTP:
Ron, Ginny or Luna. I headcanon him developing a really valuable friendship with Luna that their other friends cannot begin to understand, so I could never ship them. Dron I just find weird and I think there’s an animosity there that they wouldn’t be able to get past. And Ginny, she becomes his partner in crime for teasing Harry and that’s the only sort of positive relationship I can see them having.
Random headcanon:
He always wanted a pet as a child and would ask his mother about it on the rare nights that she put him to bed herself. She always said they would have to ask his father whose answer was always no. “The Malfoy heir doesn’t have pets.”
Unpopular opinion:
I like Astoria. I think she was good for Draco and exactly what he needed. I think he absolutely adored her and worshipped her and in no way thought he deserved her. Some of my absolute favourite fics, whether they’re Drarry or Dramione, are ones set later in life after Astoria’s death and Harry or Hermione’s divorce. It also means we get the adorableness that is Scorpius Malfoy.
Song I associate with them:
Without You by Westlife – specifically about baby Scorpius. It’s so adorable!
Favourite picture of them:
This one by @ectoheart because Draco in a suit is just everything! And so is baby Scorp.
Or this emotional piece by @dankou because it shows what I think he has to struggle with so perfectly. 
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buggerup-busters · 5 years
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right so here’s the Will part to @loukinglass ‘s ask :)
Why I like them -  he’s so much fun when he’s doing his cocky smug flirty thing! But from early on you could tell there was more to him than that, and when he’s doing the sad emotional bits I really relate to his story, probably more than to any other character.
Why I don’t - this boy is literally so terrible half the fandom believed the plot was going to be he’s been magicked into being terrible. I couldn’t physically interact with him for more than 1 minute at a time in real life.
Favorite scene - when they’re in the vents and he’s like ‘haha time to casually overshare about my shitty family it’s fine’ and then all his classmates hate him and he’s like having a breakdown but then he stands and fights and!! But seriously, I nearly cried at work when the one where he jumps down got posted, I just found it really powerful, silly as that sounds. Favorite line - like every time he flirts with Knotty (”You’re lucky you’re very forgivable”) but mostly “It’s difficult to mope around you, you know” it’s so tender and soft and he’s realising someone really does care! Oh, and not specifically the line, but I adore when in prison he twirls the spoon at Knotty’s nose and says something like ‘I love talking about myself’ while leaning on the bars Exceedingly Casual and Knotty goes all blushy :3
Favorite outfit - >:) i want those awful clothes Eliza gave him (I’m still a fan of the purple from the flashback though, also can I count topless on the basis that I think it’s the first all comic)
OTP - GarbageKnot all the way! I’ve been shipping it since his first few pages but I’ve started to have hopes it’ll be canon? Either way, I’ve got fic planned! They complement each other really well, I love their dynamic and although I think Will’s flirty with everyone I think he is catching feelings for Knotty :3
Brotp - lol I mean there aren’t that many options here, obviously I love him and Knotty as friends too but his brief one-on-one interactions with Eliza (I love when she measures him up) are a lot of fun, and of course there’s the latest page! I’m looking forward to seeing more of those two together. 
Head Canon - he’s the oldest of a couple of siblings, but by quite a bit, the others are just kids
Unpopular opinion - I see a lot of comments saying it’s his own fault he’s in trouble because he’s an idiot and self-absorbed but I really think it’s too harsh. Flack is ruthless and manipulative and Will was obviously isolated and used to people having a low opinion of him. Flack made him feel useful and wanted and special and he’s only 20ish, even if you’re aware you’re being manipulated it’s a hard thing to resist. His worst crimes are being a prat in general and presenting work that wasn’t all his, which do not warrant everything happening to him. 
A wish - I want to see him cute and flustered over Knotty :3
An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen - getting hanged D: (or Will/Eliza it would be too weird)
5 words to best describe them - terrible, loudmouth, flirty, lanky, disaster
My nickname for them - my boy, my son, baby boy, That Boi and most importantly:
Garbage Man
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roryqpotter · 6 years
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30 day OTP Challenge: Watching a Movie
“Well, isn’t this just… adorable?” Mycroft said, waking Sherlock and John up.
John couldn’t help the embarrassment that took over and the need to get out of the bed. Just their luck that Mycroft had caught them like this; John was sure he’d never hear the end of it. However, when he tried to get out of the bed, Sherlock pulled him back in and held onto him tightly in a possessive way. It seemed Sherlock was trying to rub the situation in Mycroft’s face.
“And to what, dear brother, do we owe the pleasure of this visit?” Sherlock asked.
Mycroft sat down in one of the uncomfortable hospital chairs and leaned his umbrella against the wall.
“We were able to recover the missile plans you so carelessly offered to Moriarty.” Mycroft said with a sneer. “The fact that you would so easily give them up to that man is… disgraceful.”
“We eliminated the threat, Mycroft. You said yourself that there are copies of the missile plans and Moriarty said he could have obtained them easily. You might need to do more background checks, brother dear, as he had moles in every branch of the government.”
Mycroft could never see past the end of his own nose. Of course he didn’t much care that Sherlock almost died, all he cared about was the missile plans. It made John wonder how these two were as children, and also give a swift punch to the face.
“As ever, you have been reckless, and you almost took Doctor Watson down with you.” Mycroft said with a slightly raised voice. “When you are released from intensive care, I will make sure-.”
“You aren’t going to do anything to Sherlock.” John cut in. “Now bugger off.”
John could not deal with the Holmes rivalry right now. He had been strapped to a bomb only 48 hours ago, and had sort of gotten together with Sherlock. This was also a case of Mycroft trying to be a controlling older brother. As a younger sibling, John understood the ‘well-meaning but overbearing’ sibling situation since Harry was like that a lot when they were kids. It came in handy when dealing with bullies, not so much when John wanted to do something his sister didn’t approve of.
Mycroft looked shocked that John had snapped at him, almost as if John shouldn’t have dared to shut him up. It seemed the power went to his head then. John merely sneered at the elder Holmes, and he could practically feel the smirk on Sherlock’s face. Mycroft cleared his throat and sat back in his chair with an air of arrogance.
“Are you aware of how powerful James Moriarty was?” Mycroft asked.
“Enlighten me.” Sherlock said.
“If you will sit up and stop acting like a child, I’d be happy to.”
“No, the doctors said I shouldn’t be on my back at all until the blisters have cleared. I am afraid I am doomed to be on my side or front until I am released, and I highly doubt you would want to see my backside during a conversation such as this.”
John couldn’t help a small chuckle that escaped him from Sherlock’s rebuttal. Mycroft sneered at his brother, and leaned forward in the chair.
“James Moriarty’s network spreads internationally in 54 different countries. His crimes ranged from assassinations, money laundering, smuggling, sex trafficking, and as you had seen, consulting those who needed assistance in criminal behavior. I am here to give you fair warning and defenses against those who would want to harm you to avenge Moriarty’s death. One man in particular would be determined to kill either of you to make that happen.”
“A lover of some kind?”
“Partially, but-.”
“Just have your assistant send me the details. Or better still, send one of your mindless agents out to take down Moriarty’s network, you live for ordering around subordinates after all.” Sherlock sniffed at the end of his statement to make a point. “Now leave us be.”
John was actually thankful when Mycroft left the room in a huff. He would not be able to take much more of the animosity between Sherlock and Mycroft. However, he definitely needed to know what the hell had happened between Sherlock and Mycroft to make them act this way toward each other. This wasn’t just normal sibling rivalry, and John had a right to know considering they were sort of together now.
“Alright, what happened between you two?” John asked.
“Mycroft’s very being happened.”
“I’m serious. If this thing with us is going to work, you need to be honest, not just a drama queen.”
Sherlock sighed against John’s neck.
“It would be a waste of time if I told you, John.”
“Come on, you’ve been fighting with him since we met, I should have a right to know.”
Sherlock didn’t say anything for a moment, then mumbled,
“Promise me you won’t laugh.”
“Why would I laugh?”
“You’ll want to when I tell you.” Sherlock shifted so that his back was to John, which only made John want to see his face more, so he turned over so that he was facing Sherlock’s back. “As Mycroft is seven years my senior and both of us were incredibly intelligent children, Mycroft started his studies before myself. He had become obsessed with geography (most likely the start to his desire to be in government), and insisted that the maps shown in schools were irrevocably wrong. He started to research everything he could about every country in the world and drawing out an intricate world map.”
“So schools don’t teach the right map?” John inquired.
“The map commonly taught is the Mercaders map which has countries that were less developed at the time of it’s creation being smaller than their actual size.”
“Huh. The more you know.”
“Anyway, I was not privy to this information and insisted that his map was rubbish. He showed me all of the information, and… I was wrong. He held it over my head for years for whenever I made a mistake.”
Mycroft… teased Sherlock for being wrong? Seriously? True, John didn’t know about incorrect maps being taught at school, but Sherlock was just a kid. Was it not possible for Mycroft to have a sibling that wasn’t 100% informed? Apparently the ‘big brother complex’ still applied to even the smartest of children since to this day, Mycroft definitely thought he was smarter than Sherlock.
“There were other incidents that caused my dislike for him.” Sherlock continued. “He would repeatedly show off in a way that would make me look like an idiot, and therefore people would start comparing me to him, asking ‘why can’t you be more like Mycroft’ or banal things of that nature. Whenever I was right about something and he was wrong, he’d say, ‘Don’t be smart Sherlock, I’m the smart one.’ His ego became so important that he started student government organizations so that he could order subordinates around, and now he does that in an official capacity.”
John didn’t know what to say to that. Normally with someone he was dating (well, technically they hadn’t been on a date yet), he would cuddle them or give them reassurances that they were ‘better than that’, but this was Sherlock, he didn’t do emotional reassurances. Maybe changing the subject would work.
“So… why didn’t you push me away or something like that when Mycroft found us.”
For this, Sherlock actually turned back around to face John, and had a triumphant smirk on his face.
“My brother is perpetually single and I wanted to indicate to him that I am capable of finding a romantic companion. He claims that because he is in a world of goldfish, there is no one who could possibly be his match, therefore I couldn’t find one either.”
“Prat.” John said playfully.
They just stared at each other for a moment, not saying a word. They were observing each other in a way, but it was… a comfortable silence, which was odd. Usually Sherlock couldn’t stay silent unless he was either sulking or thinking, yet this felt so natural. Unfortunately, it started to become uncomfortable, so John cleared his throat and turned over to find the telly remote.
“Do you want to watch a movie or something?”
“It would be minimally better than being here alone without anything to occupy my mind.”
They put on some bad romantic comedy on the telly, but just watched it. Thing was, since Sherlock wasn’t allowed on his back, he had to stay on his side… so they resolved to cuddling in a way where Sherlock had his arm over John and laid his head on the soldier’s chest. John could feel his cheeks heat up at the first suggestion of that position, but he went along with it.
About halfway through the movie, John just felt like he needed to tell Sherlock that he was allowed to set the pace. There was something about the way he was ‘relaxed’ that told him that Sherlock was uncomfortable with all of this. He might have been out of his comfort zone just to be nice.
“Sherlock?”
“Hm?”
“You know, you don’t have to cuddle if you don’t like it.”
“If you are observing how I am slightly tense, it has nothing to do with boundaries.” Sherlock said. “It is simply how I cannot lay on my back for any extended period of time.”
Liar, John thought. He never thought of physical comfort before, so maybe… was it about emotions? Maybe Sherlock thought he was unsure about this relationship they were starting up. That seemed likely since no one ever talked about men or women he dated in the past. Or maybe he was afraid it would change things between them. It was hard to figure out, so John just went for it.
“You aren’t pushing anything, you know.” John admitted. “Whatever this is, I want to go along with it, and it doesn’t have to change things that much at home.”
He could feel Sherlock relax a bit from that. It seemed that he was spot on with what was bothering him. Was Sherlock really that insecure when it came to romance? He did say he had been in relationships before, so what was so scary about this? Was there a backstory to why he didn’t date?
John would find out soon enough.
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loopstagirl · 4 years
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Onto 4x01 and there are so many deep and meaningful moments in this one. Not sure I ever realised how many!
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But can we talk about Mikasa and Armin smiling with adorably fond exasperation at their husbands being giant morons.
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This screenshot cured my malaise. My skin is cleared and my crops are flourishing. All is well now.
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loopstagirl · 6 years
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I can’t be the only one who thought of this...
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loopstagirl · 6 years
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loopstagirl · 6 years
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loopstagirl · 6 years
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I’m going to be at your side, like I always am.
Protecting you.
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loopstagirl · 6 years
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