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Sulfur On Your Breath by KingShmee
Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!, The Dragel World - Chera Carmichael
09 Jan 2025
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Summary
The everything-but-nothing-all-at-once was simply there-and-gone as his everything-that-is-him-but-truer slid forward. The he that is him but all-dragon cooed softly. Tears drip-dropping like crystals from his pretty-pretty eyes, ones usually colored like shiny green stones but were now most certainly colored like the all-dragon’s favorite shadows.
He, with the everything-that-is-him-but-truer more forward, no longer knew why he had been struggling. He knows-not why he had been fighting so hard. Now he only knows that something made him all-encompassingly sad. Deep heart-pain. Deep soul-pain.
Impossible. Wrong. Danger.
Danger. Not Safe. ENEMY.
That something in his chest suddenly and rapidly shrunk into something smaller than a micro-cell and water spilled over the glass, his despair tipping over the edge of no return.
The bubble knot in his throat lit on fire and he tossed his head back, whines cutting out, and Screamed.
Series
- Part 3 of A Star Screaming
- Part 10 of Descendant of the Stars
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"I would just like to emphasize," Harold says, sounding very serious, "that I do not just keep you around for the purpose of sexual gratification."
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An entirely self indulgent Dead Reckoning coda.
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2,913 miles by gravelyhumerus, redflag, villainousunsub
Fandoms: Person of Interest (TV)
01 Feb 2017
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Not ones to fall into the same boring summer routine, the gang decide to take a once in a life time trip. They travel from coast to coast, discovering who they are along the way. With only 2,913 miles between New York and California, they only wish their last summer together could last forever
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"You want to be broken." John flinched at Harold's words. Close, then, but not quite. "Broken, then put together again."
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PattRose's story for The Sentinel inspired me to write this one. Thanks!
Harold finds John on the streets of LA. Well, things progress from there with lots of sex, angst, humor and falling for each other. Okay, so it mostly follows the movie 'Pretty woman'. Oh, boy! Yeah, sorry, this is the discription, lol.
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"We're not looking to make friends, Harold," John said. "We want our neighbors to classify us and then avoid us. Being the scandalous gay couple down the street is a good option."
Series
- Part 14 of POI works
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 15,280
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 2
- Comments:
- 207
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- 4,393
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- 942
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- 72,627
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Bookmark Notes:
I can never find it when it need it.
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Bookmark Notes:
We just wanted to stop by, have a little talk," one of the other men broke in nervously: a younger man, tall and gangly and with a thin mustache; he had a handgun in an underarm holster under his coat, a small well-worn bulge: probably some local law enforcement. "Just to make sure—thing is, you're new here; you're from Charlotte, I guess?"
"We just moved from Boston, actually," John said. "My partner wanted a warmer climate." He blinked at them innocently.
The belligerent guy made a noise of disgust. "Uh," the gangly guy said, shooting him a glance, "right, well, the thing is," they were following him into the house, "we figure, you just might not understand, this is a neighborhood where—" He stopped.
John slid into his seat at the head of the dining table and started to reassemble the MG4. "Go on," he said. They were all staring at his hands; it took him about thirty seconds. He pulled the right magazine out of the apron pocket and locked it in. He started working on the Glock. "Tell me all about the neighborhood."
"You Army?" the ex-military man said; he'd gone from looking uncomfortable to actively unhappy. The fourth guy, a balding thickset guy who hadn't made a peep, was edging back towards the door rapidly and doing his best to pretend he hadn't ever been here at all.
John smiled at him. "Don't ask, don't tell," he said. "Oh wait, I can tell. Retired, though." He finished loading the Glock and moved on to the Sig Sauer. "I heard some of you were worried that this might be a dangerous neighborhood for people like me and my husband." He was on to the sniper rifle. "I thought that maybe I could reassure you that I don't think there's anything here I can't handle."
They all looked even more awkward; the belligerent one was red in the face. Abruptly the older man said, "Pete Caldwell, 16th MP," and held out a hand.
Bear looked up at John and whuffed once, sat down: found him. Harold had a gun in his hands. Root was lying sprawled on the ground in front of him, her face surprised, arms outflung, a small handgun dangling from her fingers.
John moved on autopilot. He kicked the gun away from her limp hand, checked her pulse. She was gone; the dark clothes over her chest were sticky-wet: three solid shots to the chest. "Harold," he said, dropping to his knees next to him. "Harold—" Pulse was okay, Harold was breathing steadily, but the—the blanket-draped carrier wasn't moving, and John got both hands on it and tore it open with a jerk that almost toppled Harold over and stared: it was empty—"Harold. Where is Leila?"
Harold didn't look at him. He blinked a few times; John tried not to shake him. "Inside the dumbwaiter."
"What?" John stared at him.
"I sedated her," Harold said. He sounded flat. He blinked again and then he looked down at Root. "She's dead."
"Yes," John said, blankly, and looked at the gun. It wasn't one of his. "Where did you get the gun?"
"I stole it from Mr. Caldwell's house while I was working on his wife's computer," Harold said. "Is that the police?"
John looked over the hood of the car; it was. He recognized the gangly younger man; he and another deputy were at the bottom of the walk of the house, their eyes wide; they were pulling their guns out. Probably they'd seen the corpse on the front porch.
"Perhaps you should go and extract Leila," Harold said. "I think this situation might be difficult to explain to the authorities. I left the ladder hanging over the side, against your instructions—I rather thought Root would be careful to arrange to keep my exit route clear."
John stared back at Harold again. His heart hadn't quit running on adrenaline; he'd checked her pulse, but he still didn't believe that Root was gone. He didn't believe that Harold had—"You planned this."
Harold looked at him for the first time. "As you planned to lure her to Arizona," he said. "I think we both knew there was only one way out of this situation, Mr. Reese."
He pushed himself slowly to his feet. John stood up with him. Harold's face looked remote, his mouth thin and unsmiling. He was closed off, stiff, a wall, and John wanted to hit him, to—to beat the shit out of him, hurt him, Harold had—Harold had—
He reached out and grabbed a fistful of Harold's shirt and jerked him close, into his arms, and kissed him; kissed him again and again, desperately, until Harold started shaking, shaking so hard John had to take the gun out of his hand; there were tears sliding down Harold's face, salt on John's tongue. John broke off, his forehead pressed against Harold's, breathed twice. He kissed Harold again, hard and angrily, then pushed him back. "Get inside and open the trunk."
Leila
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An Unstoppable Force by giandujakiss, iteration for shadowolfhunter
Fandoms: Person of Interest (TV)
15 Jul 2014
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John is still trying to figure out this little mouse of a woman who’s hired him, who can do anything with computers and has more money than God and who can barely walk and yet somehow always manages to evade him, who won’t tell him anything about herself but who says she knows everything about him – and he knows that can’t be true, it can’t –
When he realizes, she’s actually attracted to him.
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She said, "You're not ignoring it on purpose, are you? You don't even know."
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- Part 44 of POI works
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They survived the final battle with Samaritan.
"No more dying for the both of us, okay?"
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 16
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 4
- Kudos:
- 42
- Bookmarks:
- 1
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- 335
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John hadn't been expecting any sort of reward for saving the runner. Truthfully he'd just really hoped that no one called animal control.
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Harold’s never been particularly good with people. Computer programs are simpler – even the Machine – they follow certain rules, logic, a consistent and comforting flow of data, action and reaction, that can be seen, understood, even reliably predicted.
He programmed the Machine to predict people, to understand the incomprehensible, to find patterns in the chaos of human free will.
But he’s never really managed to program that into himself.
Which is probably why he never really saw this coming.
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The end of the world started on a Wednesday in March.
Series
- Part 26 of POI works
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 18,891
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Comments:
- 180
- Kudos:
- 2,881
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- 770
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- 45,015
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"Ask me something," Harold said abruptly. "Anything—anything you want to know—"
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- Part 7 of POI works
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,044
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 76
- Kudos:
- 2,736
- Bookmarks:
- 318
- Hits:
- 44,073
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They're moving out and moving in and moving on. Team Machine go on European summer vacay, but strange events from Root's past are catching up with her and it doesn't seem like she's gonna get to holiday in peace. Sun, sea, sand, secrets and obviously smut because have you met me? abound in this terribly summarized part three of my Team Machine nonsense.
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- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 96,879
- Chapters:
- 63/63
- Comments:
- 2,838
- Kudos:
- 1,157
- Bookmarks:
- 40
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- 37,673
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Bookmark Notes:
currently on chp 26
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【成御】纵使相逢应不识 by Merrrc
Fandoms: 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney, Person of Interest (TV)
28 Jan 2024
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Summary
御剑怜侍并没有真的死去，而是选择暂时消失并离开日本，却很不好运地在美国陷进了一场离奇的谋杀案，现场的所有证据都指向他是真凶。
与此同时，天降好运的成步堂龙一“意外”地抽中了去美国免费旅游两周的头奖，意外地发现已经“死亡”的御剑怜侍麻烦缠身，意外地意识到现在只有他全心全意相信着御剑，也只有他有机会能再次救下对方。
命运女神的玩笑便是如此恶劣。而由于两国法律制度的不同，一旦御剑怜侍走到了正式审判的那一步，不论是陪审团还是法官裁决，按照现有的证据他一定会被判定有罪。在自己的律师徽章不被承认的异国他乡，成步堂唯一的机会就是在第一次庭审之前，找出证据，推理并还原真相，证明御剑怜侍的清白。
当成步堂意识到这一点时，离御剑的第一次庭审只剩72小时。Series
- Part 1 of 律检恋爱探案精选集
- Language:
- 中文-普通话 國語
- Words:
- 38,719
- Chapters:
- 10/10
- Comments:
- 101
- Kudos:
- 304
- Bookmarks:
- 44
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- 4,640
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异国他乡的定情。脆弱下掩饰不住的依赖，再次拯救。从陌生人的视角看成御交集很有趣。
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Elias was waiting for him in the small dark observation room, hands clasped behind his back. Harold was on the other side of the one way glass, sitting on the bare narrow bed inside the brightly lit cell.
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- Part 21 of POI works
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,721
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 57
- Kudos:
- 1,358
- Bookmarks:
- 129
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- 22,183
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One Way Glass by astolat
https://archiveofourown.org/works/757350
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Harold knows everything about John, except for one large detail that's going to get him in a lot of trouble. John wants to be left alone, and he's very suspicious of anyone who has plans for him after years of abuse at the hands of the government. The fur is gonna fly.
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- Part 2 of Yellow
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 46,923
- Chapters:
- 21/21
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 145
- Kudos:
- 393
- Bookmarks:
- 68
- Hits:
- 10,066
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Working the numbers is a matter of trust and blood. John is good at only one of those, and he struggles to find a life after living in the government's pocket. Harold wants to help, but he knows he fails at human interaction. Finding a path together won't be easy.
Story is set before Bear arrives.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 30,635
- Chapters:
- 9/9
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 40
- Kudos:
- 85
- Bookmarks:
- 19
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- 1,466
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Bookmark Notes:
John thinks he's fired partners stitches Daniel disconnect
Bar burgers
Since he was sitting next to the cash register, Harold noticed a young couple waiting patiently to pay.
Daniel was out in the crowd, and Eric was fixing a drink, so Harold eased off his barstool, careful of his hip, and stepped around to the register.
“You work here?” The guy looked surprised.
“No, but I can handle this transaction so you two can be on your way.” Harold took a good look at the outdated mechanism and quickly helped them pay. “Thank you.”
“Great food!” And with that at least two people had left the premises.
Harold went back to his drink only to discover someone else needed help, and it was time to learn the credit card system, which seemed dreadfully archaic. There was no tap and go. He frowned, managed the old machine, and made a note to have a new one on site by tomorrow.
“Harold’s on the cash register?” Daniel stopped in his tracks, tub full of dirty dishes.
“I wondered who that guy was,” Eric said. “I’ll get him that comfortable stool from in back.”
“Good idea, before John kills us.”
Ignoring that, Harold organized his money, rescued his whiskey, and straightened his vest. He did so enjoy the occasional bout of customer service.
You put him to work?” John couldn’t believe it. He’d nearly died of embarrassment. “Harold Crane? Billionaire? Recluse? A guy who owns a jet?”
Daniel went pale. “What?” he whispered.
“Of course, he’s rich!” John made sure his voice wouldn’t carry from the kitchen. “How do you think he affords me? And the suits?”
Scrubbing his face with both hands, Daniel swallowed hard. “I looked over, and he was taking care of it! It’s not like I asked him to do it!”
Eric stepped up with a towel and scrubbed Daniel’s face. “I didn’t even know who he was, so I am completely not to blame.” And he kissed Daniel. “He’s fine. Just, maybe in the future, be nicer to the billionaire.”
“Private party?” It was Daniel, standing in the doorway of the pub.
“Just blowing off some steam,” John said, sound tentative, worried. “Harold’s a bit tipsy. I’m taking him upstairs.”
“Hello!” Harold waved at him, played up the drunk angle, impressed again at John’s ability to lie so truthfully. Harold was tipsy, just not from alcohol. Oh, the sweet intoxication of code.
“I thought you guys were, you know, dead.” Daniel shrugged. “Glad you’re not.”
“Thanks.” John kept hold of Harold as they navigated through dumpsters to the long set of stairs up to John’s apartment. Harold looked to the top and shook his head. John didn’t turn him loose. “One step at a time.”
“There is no way in hell I’m navigating my aching hip up that mountain of stairs.” Harold turned to him, hoping for the best. “Carry me.”
John’s eyes were wide. “Maybe you are drunk,” he muttered, but he swept Harold up into his arms, laughed at the squirming, and went up. Putting Harold down at the door, John got the locks. “You enjoy the ride?”
“Thrilling.” Harold would never admit how much he’d enjoyed it.
“Come on.” John locked up behind them, flipped on the lights, and said, “First, you need a shower.”
Harold stared about him, at all the vibrant colors, luscious fabrics, and cozy nooks for reading. “You’ve been busy.”
“I got bored, watching you code. Turns out if you wave a lot of money at people, they’ll deliver in the very early morning before anyone is awake.” John helped Harold take off his jacket. “This should be burned. In fact, this entire suit is wrecked.”
Embarrassed, Harold looked down at his clothes. Had he showered or changed clothes in days? He had no idea. “Oh, dear.”
“Yeah.” John dug in the pocket and handed him his phone.
Harold thought about it for a moment before making a call. “Yes, this is Harold Crane. I need bedclothes, a set of casual clothes, and a suit, forest green, please.”
John’s eyebrows were up. “Have him deliver to the pub.”
Harold gave the address, thanked him, and hung up. “It’ll be a half hour or so.”
“I need to talk to Daniel anyway.” John gave him a sly look. “I know your favorite color now.”
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Recently divorced John Riley is struggling to adapt to single fatherhood and fighting a losing battle with his six-year-old son over math homework. Harold Sparrow is trying his best to recover from severe injuries and avoid forging new relationships of any kind with anyone. But John's son needs a tutor, and when he learns that his reclusive downstairs neighbor is a tech genius, he knows exactly who to ask.
Can Harold resist a handsome man bearing baked goods? Can John resist an enigma with a soft smile and a sharp brain? And do the two of them have a lot more in common than they might think—including secrets that could tear their budding relationship apart?
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Bookmark Notes:
Dyslexia
Then why won't he read to us?" Connor demands, tears building in his eyes as he turns back to Harold. Beside him, Ellie starts to cry, too. "I ask him to read to me all the time, but he won't. Why won't he read to me anymore?"The remnants of John's heart shatter. Shit. He's fucked up, hasn't he? He's fucked up.
He must make some kind of sound, because Harold glances toward the door, toward him, with a lost look in his eyes.
John's just as lost. God. A few minutes ago, they were having fun. Now...
"I just want him to read to me. Why won't he read to me anymore?"
John tries to speak, but the words catch in his throat as he steps into the room. A weak, "Connor," manages to slip out, but nothing more escapes the hollow feeling creeping through his body and turning to lead in his guts.
Slowly, he sinks onto the edge of the bed, but as he reaches for his son, he can't say a thing. What is there to say? How does he say this to his bookworm of a child?
Connor ignores him. Bear lets out a sad whine and drops his head in John's lap. Jessica scoops Ellie up in her arms.
John looks to Harold, helpless. Harold is smart. Harold is good. Harold can help him.
Harold's eyes meet his, full of compassion, and he asks, quietly, "May I tell him?"
All John can do is nod.
"Connor, sweetheart," Harold begins, while Jessica's hand settles on John's shoulder, "you know how I can't walk like most people anymore, yes? That that can never be fixed?"
Connor sniffles. "Yes."
"And you know that some people are born with problems like this, and some with problems you can't see." Harold lays a hand high on Connor's back. "You and Ellie have been very polite about my disability, so I'm guessing your father has explained these things to you?"
Before Connor can reply, the words slip from John's mouth. "Dyslexia," he says. "I'm dyslexic.
"We told you what that means—do you remember?" Jessica says. "Like that girl in your class last year, Brylee?"
With a nod, Connor moves closer, his eyes big and intent and wet. "But I see you read stuff all the time," he says. "And you used to read to me."
"I know," John says. "But it's really, really, really hard for me. I'm sorry." He starts to explain then, slow and faltering, trying his best to put it into words. It's hard as hell.
As he speaks, Connor listens. His breaths even out, and his tears slow and fade. And, god, he's such a good kid. All of John's fears that Connor wouldn't understand, that Con would judge him and think he's stupid and mock him, are quickly laid to rest. Connor takes in every word with wide, serious eyes, until he finally asks, "Can I fix it?"
Before John can come up with a response, Harold says, gently, "Some things can't be fixed by you," with, for a moment, a faraway look in his eyes and a hollow note in his voice. "Or anybody else. I know how much you want to try..."
"But I get by." John flashes Connor a smile. "Some things are harder for me, like reading to you, but I get by." He reaches out and pats Connor's damp cheek. "You don't have to try to fix me, buddy. It's okay. I don't need fixing."
Connor takes a moment to digest the information, then asks, "Can I read to you, then?"
Something in John's chest cracks, and, before he can fully register what's happening, his eyes are blurry and his cheeks are soaking. Shit. His son. This is his son. This is the child he's raised for six years, and he's good. He's so sweet, and he's so smart, and he's so good. How the hell did this kid turn out so good with him as a father?
"Yeah," John says, through a clenched throat, his voice a rough whisper. "Yeah, you can. You can read to me."
Connor scrambles to him and throws his arms around him. For a second, John forgets how to react. His son is okay with this. His son still loves him. God, how did he get so lucky? What does he do now?
He finds himself glancing up at Harold, helpless, but Harold is staring down, a pensive look on his face. Damn.
Finally, John's brain catches up, and he wraps his son in a tight hug and kisses the side of his head. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you," he says. "I'm so sorry. I was embarrassed. I didn't know how to tell you. I'm sorry."
"It's okay, Daddy," Connor says, his voice wobbling. "You were scared. But you don't have to be scared of me. I'm not a meanie. It's okay. I love you. I promise."
John's tears fall harder. He holds his precious boy close, and whispers, "I love you, too," and is so, so grateful for his wonderful, wonderful son