To Show You a Night
Sherlock's never had an orgasm before. John crafts a solution.
"I forgot how badly I wanted to fuck yourmind.”
Rated: NC-17
Word Count: 3,731
Fic by songlin
Read it here

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Love Begins

@theartofmadeline
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2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
taylor price
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Claire Keane
YOU ARE THE REASON
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almost home

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

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NASA
Stranger Things

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@fanficbookshelf
To Show You a Night
Sherlock's never had an orgasm before. John crafts a solution.
"I forgot how badly I wanted to fuck yourmind.”
Rated: NC-17
Word Count: 3,731
Fic by songlin
Read it here
The Art of Seduction (Series)
Sherlock ran a website called The Science Of Seduction, on which he gave advice on the best ways to get laid, wrote blog entries detailing the results of his various sexual 'experiments' and generally contributed to the stereotype of 'every gay man is a sex-mad playboy'. John avoided the thing like the plague.
Rated: NC-17
Word Count: 97, 206
Fic by flawedamythyst
Read it here
Sterek + pining
Can’t Be Hateful, Gotta Be Grateful
Desperate But Not Serious
Disambiguation
Even Unto Death
Game On
Hour of the Wolf
How to Seduce An Alpha
I Had to Take You and Make You Mine
I Want Sugar in my Tea
Inevitability (About Damn Time)
It’s Been Like Years Since It’s Been Clear
It’s Not Fratricide (because he’s my cousin)
Mating Habits of the Domesticated North American Werewolf
Not Like Bond & Moneypenny
Nothing Like the Sun
Patterns of Intention
Permanent Fixture
Put Out the Fire (but not the one in my heart)
Romanze in F Major, Op. 85, for viola and orchestra
Seems To Me It’s Chemistry
Show Me The Way Back Home Baby
Sideways and Slantways and Longways and Backways
That Stalky Thing
They’ll Take It All
To See Heaven in a Wild Flower
Violets Are Blue
Way to a Man’s Heart (is through his stomach)
White Blank Page
You Know How Much I Hate Waiting Around
Lead me to the Truth
John didn’t mind following two steps behind: two steps behind Sherlock was still miles ahead of everyone else.
Rated: G
Word count: 8,946
Fic by Lavellington
Here
breakable
~*~
He’s laughing at something dumb on the tv, head pillowed in Derek’s lap when he hears Derek’s own huff of laughter. It makes him start, sit up, Derek’s hands falling away from where they’d been buried in his hair. They sit staring at one another for a moment and Stiles opens his mouth, feels the words come bubbling up—
“I—”
“We should stop seeing each other,” Derek says stiltedly. His face has shut down in a split second, eyes dead and fixed on a point over Stiles’ shoulder.
Read More
I'm Alone Again
Something was seriously wrong.
Or, the story where Stiles never existed. (But he did. He really did, and he had to figure out how to get back. He had to.)
Rated: NR
Word count: 7,983
Fic by IAmNotLost
Here
Left
John Watson is left-handed.
He’s tried not to let it affect his life, but as any Lefty knows, that’s almost impossible.
Rated: M
Total word count: 45,153
Fic by lifeonmars
Here
Any Amount of Sense
(Or: Five times people thought Sherlock and John were dating, and one time they didn't.) Wherein John and Sherlock have been dating for a long time, almost as long as it takes to figure out that they are. John only slightly regrets his simple pleasure at Sherlock’s scarf when he spots Sally’s sidelong glance at him, one eyebrow raised at his scarf in -- completely wrong -- knowing.
Rated: M
Total word count: 5,083
Fic by preromantics
Here
MadLori's Performanceverse: collected links
Performance in a Leading Role is my favorite fanfic ever, and I hadn’t realized how many extras in this universe MadLori had posted. I think this is all of them so far:
John’s Video Diary, Part 1 (with bonus illustration from sketchlock!)
John’s Video Diary, Part 2
The Green Room (a brilliant/evil April Fool’s joke — not canon)
Teaser for the sequel
A Night To Remember
Ask John and Sherlock — Tumblr questions answered by Performance John and Sherlock
Hey this person made a thing which is handy! Thanks!
More Things Than Are Dreamt Of
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. - Hamlet, Act 1 Scene 1
In which John is (reluctantly) a wizard, Mycroft is (apparently) omniscient, and Sherlock is (surprisingly) oblivious.
Rated: M, M, E
Total word count: 37,928
Fic by 1electricpirate
Here
So, for future reference, this is no longer a solo blog as I'm bringing Ellie in to add her favorites, too!
Apologies for not updating as often as before, many many more fics are on their way :)
A Life Well-Lived
Written for this prompt on the kinkmeme: ‘John got scared off men by an abusive past relationship. Sherlock has to try and woo him while not scaring him off with protective possessive rage.’
Rated: M
Word Count: 20,121
Fic by Kate_Lear
Here
Achieving the Together-Coloured Instant
John wonders if this is how it’s going to be: A life speaking in code, because they’re both too stupid to figure out how to say, “I love you.”
Set directly after The Moment Pleasantly Frightful, though can also be read as a stand-alone.
Rated: M
Word Count: 20,776
Fic by teahigh
Here
The Moment Pleasantly Frightful
Sherlock doesn't kiss him all at once. He takes John apart, piece by piece, until there's nothing left of him.
Rated: M
Word Count: 17,238
Fic by teahigh
Here
Where the Sun Never Shines
John is a mess. Sherlock can't fix him, but he tries. That's good enough, John thinks.
Rated: M
Word Count: 11,634 Fic by teahigh
Here
My Sterek fic rec lists organized:
10,000-19,999 words
20,000-29,999 words
30,000+ words
5 times (+1)
alive!Laura
all-time favorites
amnesia
angst
apocalypse
AU
bamf!Stiles
band AU/instruments
BDSM
bitten!Stiles or werewolf!Stiles
bodyswap
For virtualcarrot for Valentines Day, who asked for future fic with Stiles studying Journalism. This ah… sorta went off on a freaking ridiculous tangent so… hope you like it anyway darling? (Oh my god I suck so bad)
- - -
The thing is, Derek’s really, really hot. Like, insane levels of attraction. What with the leather and the cheekbones and the stubble and the ass — oh god, that ass — Stiles can’t really be blamed, at all for freaking bragging.
The pope would brag if he was dating Derek.
So, by the end of his first semester at college, it’s fair to say about ninety percent of the people he’s come into contact with have had to sit through at least one session of Stiles waxing poetic about Derek’s abs. And Stiles would feel bad except, well, Derek’s abs. Stiles dares anyone not to wax poetic about them.
The thing is though, apparently Stiles has been…too enthusiastic?
Stiles gapes. “Come again?”
Rob rolls his eyes. “Come on Stiles,” he says. “You’re a journalism major - it stands to reason you’d be good at making shit up.”
Stiles scowls. “Okay, first of all - that would be creative writing you’re thinking because journalism is a font of truth and integrity.” Stiles manfully ignores Rob’s snort, because he grew up with Lydia and nobody outdoes Lydia for dismissive huffing. “And second - you don’t believe Derek exists because I talk about him too much?”
Rob sips his beer and nods. “Yep,” he says, leaning closer and seriously, the bar is not nearly loud enough to warrant that sort of proximity and- oooohhh, shit. Rob smirks like one of those models in Rolex ads. “You’re over-compensating.”
“And you’re hitting on me?” Stiles squeaks. Sue him, this doesn’t happen. Hot people do not get all up in this grill. Unless hot people are Derek which, considering he’s the hottest of the people, Stiles figures it’s the universe’s way of compensating.
Rob does that one-eyebrow tip thing that makes him look like he’s just stepped off the cover of a men’s health magazine. Stiles has watched many-a freshmen fall to that eyebrow. It’s never been aimed at him though and now that it is, it’s fucking terrifying. “He finally gets it,” Rob says, tipping his head back to down the rest of his beer. The beer that he’s drinking in a bar. With Stiles. On a Friday night. Alone. Oh mother of fuck-
Stiles falls off his chair.
- - -
Derek glances down at the caller ID and can feel the smile. It’s a Friday night which means there’s a good chance that Stiles is drunk-dialing him. Something Derek will never, ever admit to actually loving a little bit. Stiles’ brain to mouth filter goes offline really fast when alcohol is introduced and Derek likes to count the number of times Stiles mentions the colour of his eyes.
Derek marks his place in the grimoire he’s working through (because Harpies, agh) and flips open his phone. “Stiles.”
“Oh my god, I think I went on a date with someone,” Stiles says, and Derek feels the entire fucking bottom drop out of his universe.
“I-” Derek stops, presses one hand over his eyes and tries to breathe. “Okay…”
“Okay?!” Stiles yells, and the panic in his voice is enough to pull Derek up long enough to listen. “This is not okay! People think you don’t exist! They think I’m making you up because you’re too hot to be real! Which is fucking tragic because you kinda are! And then I went for a drink with Rob and no one else was there and he did that stupid fucking eyebrow thing at me and-“
“Stiles,” Derek says sharply, because if there’s one thing he’s learned over the years, it’s that Stiles doesn’t so much wind down from rants as just continue on until he dies. Derek listens to the tell-tale shift and breathe Stiles does when he’s re-setting and feels the familiar punch of longing that comes of needing to touch; sooth Stiles’ pulse with hands and low hums.
Long distance relationships are a fuck.
“Okay,” Stiles says. “Okay I’m good.” Derek opens his mouth to say…fuck knows actually, but Stiles is suddenly continuing. “Actually, y’know what? I’m not. Can we just- I know you have the thing with the Harpies and we were going to wait until the break but can you just-“
Derek tosses the book onto the coffee table. “I can be there by three.”
Stiles breathes out, slow and easy. “Good, ‘cause I just really need you to fuck me up against a wall or something okay?”
Derek groans. “Stiles-“
“Bruises,” Stiles says determinedly. “I want to be covered in them.”
“Fuck.”
- - -
If there’s one thing college has taught Rob it’s that trying to survive an essay without coffee is fucking impossible. Which is why he’s lined up at The Brew on Sunday afternoon, squinting up at the menu board and trying to decide if he can justify a toastie with his long black.
He hears Stiles before he sees him - the same exuberant laugh that had drawn Rob to him in Ethics 102 in the first place, now turning him towards the back corner. The back corner with all the booths and the cushions and the ridiculous hippy candles that are lit even during the day. If coffee shops were 1940s townships, the back corner of The Brew would be makeout point. Which is why when Rob sees who Stiles is back there with, he kinda wants to fall over.
Dark hair, leather jacket and – Jesus, how are cheekbones like that even real? Even the the look on mystery-man’s face — slightly stupid and soft as he watches Stiles laughing — isn’t enough to kill the impression of features you could shave with. The dude looks like porn.
The dude is also looking at Stiles like Stiles hung the fucking moon or something, which- oh holy fuck.
Derek. This is Derek. Derek who’s very real and possibly even hotter than Stiles ever described and Rob is going to fucking die because the dude has serial killer written all over him and Rob hit on his boyfriend.
Rob watches as Derek leans across to swipe at something on Stiles’ bottom lip — cream, fucking drool because Stiles has the hottest boyfriend in the universe, who knows — and Stiles grins at him before- Jesus fuck. Rob barely keeps his wounded noise in check as he watches the pad of Derek’s thumb disappear between Stiles’ lips and how, how is anything in the world fair?
Derek eyes go half lidded and those fucking tea-light candles must reflect off one of the millions of decorative chimes and shit they have back there because his eyes almost seem to flash red.
Rob watches as Derek’s fingers curl under Stiles’ jaw, pressing slightly until Stiles tips his head and wow – holy shit, that is like, the biggest hicky Rob has ever seen in his goddamn life. That must hurt. Obviously not in a bad way though because when Derek presses three fingers into it, just over Stiles’ pulse point, Stiles’ eyes flutter closed like he’s in fucking heaven or something.
Rob turns back to the counter just in time to order a tripple shot and two toasties. He figures he had a near death experience on Friday. He’s allowed this.
freaking werewolves: The one where none of Stiles' college friends believe his extremely hot, long-distance boyfriend exists.