Hi there, I'm Jamie, and it's a pleasure to meet you.
I am frequently active in the Whoniverse and in Sherlock, sometimes take jaunts into Glee and am occasionally discovered wandering around Buffy and Harry Potter.
I live for Rupert Graves, Darren Criss and Benedict Cumberbatch and sometimes I spam ice cream. Welcome aboard :D
Title: All You’re Giving Me Is Friction
Pairings: Primarily Sebtana friendship. Eventual Brittana and Seblaine.
Summary: AU future!fic in which Sebastian and Santana are each other’s wingman/lady.
Author’s Notes: Brittana-centric. Have this long overdue chapter!
Collaborating with this lovely lady and will be continued on her blog.
Sebastian manages to enter the gym unrecognized. Well, as far as unrecognized as one in an Armani tux can. At least no one from the goddamn public school had stolen his watch yet. He tips his black fedora as he files through the dancing bodies. He came here for one purpose and one purpose only.
A girl in a sinfully short dress and red lipstick.
Not super ‘cest-y, but pathetically cute and ridiculously short. (Seriously, this is like… less than four hundred words — champion drabble artist, right here.)
Foreign diplomatic policy: always unpleasant, belligerent and exceedingly dull, and certainly more than enough to make his mind wander — however impossible that might have seemed. And although Mycroft very rarely lost focus, his disinterest in the material at hand wasn’t so sufficient that he caught the quiet shuffle of Sherlock’s feet in the corridor just beyond his bedroom door.
Mycroft’s younger brother possessed a cat-like grace that allowed him to drift silently between places. It would have been a lie to say that Mycroft wasn’t envious, but at that moment he would have settled for Sherlock’s obstinate refusal to comply with any task that couldn’t keep him entertained.
What he wouldn’t give for his brother’s willful impertinence.
olivethebreloom replied to your post: olivethebreloom replied to your post:…
Try John’s POV wholock- Sherlock finds a mysterious fob watch he can’t seem to trace the origin of?Gads. *rubs hands together*
Words: 1,938. Rated: T (violence)
Oh my gosh this thing is genius, I wasn’t expecting the end at all, and the POV is perfect.
Greg didn’t get a lot of nights to sit on the sofa, watch some telly, and drink a beer or two (or three, maybe, what the hell). It was the job. It used to be the marriage, but that fell through, what with the job and all. It was all right, though. It’d been a few years. He was closer to fifty than he’d ever privately believed would happen. He was also in a serious relationship with the British Government, which he had been surprised to find out was 99% comprised of one Mycroft Holmes (the other 1% was, well, everyone else, with the percentages reflecting how much work each of the two parts did).
But the relationship didn’t get in the way of the job. The relationship had a strange, roundabout way of making the job easier, whenever Greg made sure that it wasn’t allowed to make the job more difficult.
Like tonight. His mobile rang, and Greg answered with his typical, “Lestrade.”
“Gregory, I’m so glad I caught you,” Mycroft said breezily. ”It’s about Sherlock.”
“No,” Greg said flatly. He could feel the tentative mists of a mild drunkenness dissipate. It felt an awful lot like disappointment.
“I’d just like you to—”
“Baskerville,” Greg said, and listened to the lovely, stunned silence.
“Gregory.”
“Mycroft.” Three beers it was, then. He held the phone between ear and shoulder as he worked at the bottle cap.
“That’s our safe word,” Mycroft said, still sounding a bit stunned. A bit flustered, maybe.
“So it is.”
“You’re supposed to use that—”
“Baskerville,” Greg said again, and grinned when Mycroft fell silent once more. ”I’m well on my way to pleasantly, tiredly drunk. I’m not chasing your brother ‘round the city or enticing him into any sort of action with the promise of a puzzle or three. Furthermore, you are not doing either of those things either, because you are going to join me as soon as you are able to tear yourself away from the office.”
After a long moment, in which Greg listened to Mycroft’s breathing because he couldn’t hear when people were thinking—something both Holmes brothers claimed they could, oddly enough—Mycroft finally said, “Very well.”
“Hurry up, or I won’t be up to much more than falling asleep on you,” Greg said cheerfully, and hung up.
SO CUTE.
Does anyone have any good recs for porny Brittana oneshots please? :D
(inspired by this post, because UGH IT WAS LIKE A PROMPT WAITING TO HAPPEN)
Sherlock bursted back into the flat and saw John sitting in his chair reading the newspaper.
John locked his gaze, and just sighed.
“Hello,” John said.
“John, I’m so sorry, I-“
“Sherlock,…
Staying alive, it’s so boring, isn’t it?
—
As promised, fishnets!kink fic.
Enjoy.
hot damn, Shawn.
