#and my flatmate went out to check

[cobaltfluff]

can't believe my building's having an actual fire incident on my day off

I just want to play video games man

[elipsi]

my friend's ex flatmate is getting married lmaoooooooooo

[bibleofficial]

literally being an insane stalker on the Fraudulent Instagram i made … teehee

[kooqitas]

#pairing: crush!jungkook x reader.

#genre: smut MINORS DNI | #w.c: ~1100

#synopsis: where jungkook finds out you have a crush on him and well… you end up in his bed

#warnings: vaginal sex, unprotected sex, a little teasing and a… cute ending?

★ m.list | inbox :D join my taglist

the story is a bit complicated, so i'll keep it short.

min yoongi is your best friend, you practically grew up together and even though now, because of college, you don't see each other every week, you at least talk on video calls.

and it was on one of those normal video calls that everything happened.

yoongi had recently broken up with his girlfriend, and with that he ended up entering the 'fuckboy phase' where he wanted to have sex with everyone without involving feelings, you listened to him, asked him to just be honest and not hurt anyone, and he agreed, but he also asked how you were, and you ended up telling him that you had a crush on his flatmate, jeon jungkook.

jeon jungkook had moved into yoongi's house a few weeks ago, they lived together with namjoon, taehyung and jimin too, you saw him a few times and even bumped into jungkook at college, but it never went beyond that.

when you told yoongi this, you didn't understand why he was laughing so fucking much... until you saw jungkook frame himself in the camera and laugh at you.

your reaction? turn off the video call, of course. and since then, you haven't seen each other again… at least until tonight.

it was namjoon's birthday, and you were celebrating with pizza, beer, music, and lots of friends. and you were forced to deal with jungkook when you went to the kitchen to get a beer and he came after you

"so, daddy's little princess has a crush on me?"

you just rolled your eyes, trying to ignore jeon jungkook's figure beside you, fuck, he looked so hot in his baggy jeans and black shirt, you wouldn't mind if he fucked you right there on the kitchen counter.

but you wouldn't give him that dose of happiness, so you just mumbled something and left the kitchen, mean, you tried, the next second jungkook's hand was squeezing your waist, and he was so close that you could tell exactly what brand of beer he had drunk minutes ago.

"leaving so soon?" he presses you against the kitchen counter, trapping you.

"what that fuc-"

jungkook leans in closer, his face inches away from yours. "hm? what were you gonna say?"

"what that fuck are you doing, jungkook?" you scream.

"i just wanted to see what you were up to, that's all. can't a guy come check on his friend?"

"i'm not your friend! where's namjoon? i'll find him!"

"what? i was enjoying so fucking much our conversation."

"don't be pathetic" you roll your eyes again.

"watch your mouth!" jungkook's eyes narrow at your comment.

"or what?"

"or i'll teach you some manners." you laughs, and jungkook smirks, his annoyance at your laugh is clearly visible. he looks down at you for a moment before leaning closer.

jungkook grabs your waist, pinning you on the counter again, he pushes himself against you, closing the gap between you. "i'll teaching you a leson."

"j-jungkook..."

"don't call me like that, when you say my name like that... god... i'll break you..." jungkook's body now is pressed firmly against yours.

"so do you have a crush on me too?" you laughs, teasing him.

"don't. fuck. temp me. you're playing with fire."

"well... i like getting burned sometimes."

jungkook kisses you, devouring your mouth completely while his hand roams your body, rubbing his body against yours in a not-so-gentle way, almost laying you down on the table, his wet tongue taking complete control and making you softer and softer to his firm touch.

you don't even know how it happened, but namjoon and yoongi, in the corner of the room, saw you and jungkook go up the stairs towards his room, visibly horny.

jungkook barely locks the bedroom door and throws you on the bed, taking off his own shirt and devouring you again while his cold hand continues to shamelessly pass over your body. he seems a little desperate, but that makes you even more excited, of course!

when you take off your shirt and hike up your skirt to your waist, jungkook seems to stop working for a few seconds.

"what's wrong?" you ask.

"fuck, i… i'm gonna fuck you… fuck, i'm finally gonna fuck you."

"didn't you expect this to happen one day?"

"expect it? no, but i'm so fucking happy it's happening!"

jungkook places the palm of his hand on your pussy, and for a few seconds you feel embarrassed, it's almost pathetic how wet you are and you've barely done anything…

"fuck… all this for me?"

he laughs, lowering his face to fuck you, but you lift him up, grabbing his hair and asking him gently that you want to leave this for later. you touch jungkook's belt, unbuckling it and pulling his pants and underwear down, watching his fat cock jump down.

"i wan-need you inside me. now, jungkook!"

and he obeys, of course he obeys.

the thick cock opening you completely, but you've never felt so full. better yet, you've never felt so full of him.

"do you know how many times i've come imagining you like this? opening yourself up all over my cock? damn, you're so fucking hot!"

jungkook thrusts hard, clearly without any control over his own desire, and you love it, love how it seems like he's going to break you in half without even realizing it, love how it seems like he doesn't care about the creaking of the bed on the floor, love how he doesn't care if everyone down there will know that you two are having sex.

"you're mine. only mine. no one will ever touch you again. only me."

he kisses you, completely messy, one of his hands going up to your chest and playing with your nipples, your legs spreading wider and wider as if that would make him go deeper.

"i'm gonna fill you up so much, i'm gonna make you leak my cum and then i'm gonna cum in your mouth, on your tits, you're gonna sit on my face, i'm gonna make you cum in every way possible."

you grab his arm, screaming when you finally come around his dick, and that makes him come too, the hot liquid inside you making a mess that leaves you dizzy.

jungkook slows down, but still thrusting into you, sticky, wet, hot, and yet you want more, you need more…

"i-i wanna fuck you differently now." you arch your eyebrow, not quite understanding what he means. "i wanna fuck you like my girlfriend, i wanna cum inside my girlfriend and mark her all over"

“fuck, jungkook” is the only thing you can respond.

but he knows that's a yes.

and that's how he keeps fucking you all night long.

[v1sexual]

always forever ; vi (arcane)

a collection of (modern) domestic life activities with vi ! college au , modern au , self indulgent

part one , part two , part three soon !

drabble one: historians will call them flatmates , drabble two (soon)

ꕀ you and flatmate vi actually got off on the wrong foot when you first met.

it was the night you moved in. after a long day of moving, carrying heavy suitcases around, building furnitures, and organizing your room, you’re more than ready to get some good night sleep.

after taking a quick shower, you put on an oversized band tee paired with black boxer shorts (that are new and never been worn) you stole from your brother. just as you were about to fall asleep, you heard the front door slam open. the sound of faint giggles filled the hallway to which you paid no mind to, assuming that it was one of your flatmates.

you’ve dozed off for a couple of minutes until you were woken up by a faint thumping on your wall. you sighed and placed a blanket over your head. just as you closed your eyes, you heard a loud moan. “what the actual fuck?” you hissed. more moans came from the room next to yours, followed by the faint sound of thumping. pissed off, you slammed your hand on the wall. “keep it down! some people are trying to sleep here!”

the moaning and thumping immediately stopped, you could hear two hushed female voices talk. “sorry!” a deep feminine voice called out. shrugging, you placed your earbuds on and blasted one of your bedtime playlists.

you fell asleep for what feels like a couple of hours when more thumping and louder moans came from your flatmate’s room. “how the hell are they still at it, jesus.” you muttered under your breath. sighing, you grabbed a pillow and a blanket then proceeded to make your way outside. you didn’t want to interrupt whatever the hell your flatmate and their guest are doing, so you decided to just spend the rest of the night in your car. besides, it’s already 6 in the morning. you didn’t have any classes yet, but you did want to drive around the neighbourhood and check out some of the cafes.

a faint thumping from your car window woke up you up. a girl, roughly your age, with pink hair waved at you. she wore a white wife beater and plaid boxers, you took note of the hickeys on her neck and chest. you narrowed your eyes at her, ‘the culprit’ you thought. she gave you a guilty smile and motioned for you to roll your windows down.

“you must be my new flatmate,” she said sleepily. “the name’s vi.” she held her hand out.

“charmed,” you muttered sarcastically while shaking her hand. “i’m (name).”

vi apologized profusely, to which you replied with a sigh and waved it off. after that very awkward encounter you avoided vi like the plague, and every time she had a girl over you would sleep over at your friend, ekko’s, place.

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who you got to know better when the power went out because of a citywide blackout. you learned that vi was a second year engineering major, she’s part of the university’s rugby and hockey team, and that she’s the oldest of four siblings.

ꕀ flat mate vi ! whose outfit consisted of a black wife beater, a couple oversized shirts, jerseys, sweats, plaid boxers & pjs, and her two sneakers. no matter what though she will always opt to wear her wife beaters, no bra btw (the faint outline of her nipple piercings visible), and her plaid boxers.

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who would sneak glances at you whenever you wore those tiny little biker shorts, appreciating the way your ass looks in the snug material. she’d also purposely place essential kitchenware on the top shelf, appreciating the way your oversized band tee would slip up to reveal your ass.

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who you noticed, stopped bringing nighttime guests over after a month you two became friends. you paid no mind to it, keeping your nose out of her business. you assumed it was out of respect, and that she didn’t want you sleeping in your car again. but one thing’s for sure though, the fact that vi stopped bringing home guests made you feel a whole lot better. and not just because you get a good night’s sleep. but also because you may or may not feel a small pang of jealousy whenever she did bring someone home.

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who fell silent when you excitedly told her that someone asked you out, and the fact that it was a guy made her mentally bang her head in a wall. she’s not one to assume a person’s sexuality, but you going out with a guy made her little lesbian heart deflate a bit. you never did open up about your dating preferences, and it’s not like she asked you either.

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who was overjoyed when you came home after you date, ranting to her how goddamn awful it was. if vi had a tail, it would 100% be wagging when you told her (and i quote;) “… this is why i prefer women, women would never!”

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who made subtle moves on you after that night. can’t reach something from the top shelf? next thing you know, she’s behind you. her chest pressed against you back as she grabbed whatever you needed. you could feel the faint outline of her nipple piercing, making your brain short circuit. had a rough day? vi’s got you covered. she’ll have your favorite movie/show on the tv for you, she’ll bring out the electronic heating blanket out, and she’ll have your favorite takeout on the table for you. period cramps? you sure as hell know she’ll grab you some pain killers and a warm compress. out of pads/tampons? vi will literally venture out at night to get you some.

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who may or may not have milked that one time she had a bad cold. you practically slept in her room. you’d keep watch on her temperature, remind her when to take her meds, place a cold cloth on her forehead when she gets too warm, and evens helped her get into her shower.

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who invited you to one of her hockey games during winter break. as much as you wanted to go, you needed to go home during winter break for your mom’s birthday. which vi understood of course, since she as well would never miss the chance to go home when when it’s the birthday of one of her siblings or her adoptive father.

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who felt that the flat became eerily quiet when you left for winter break. you’ve only been gone for a couple of days, but it felt like weeks. she missed your cooking, your nagging (whenever she left her dirty dishes in the sink), your late night laundry runs, the three a.m 7-11 trips. vi wanted to text you so bad, but she didn’t. she didn’t know what say, plus she assumed that your busy spending time with your family. you on the other hand, were 100% always checking your phone. every notification made you buzz with excitement, only to be disappointed when it wasn’t her.

ꕀ flatmate vi ! who was down in the dumps during the day of her game, the game she invited you too. little did she know, you left home a couple of days earlier than planned so you could watch her game. you contacted ekko who’s dating vi’s younger sister, powder, for a favour to save you a seat in exchange of bringing him some of your mom’s famous mango float (that you had to beg for her to make, but the moment you mentioned ekko she caved immediately. she loved your childhood friend, probably more than she loves you but oh well)

ꕀ flatmate vi ! who stared at the empty seat next to ekko and powder. she sighed, shaking her head. she knew that if you would have attended her game if you could. plus she could always invite you to her other ones. vi decided to look on the bright side, deciding that she would text you after the game. you arrived a couple minutes late to vi’s game. you squeezed past the tight walkway, texting ekko to ask where they were. ekko waved at you, he and powder were seated at the very front, the first row of seats right in front of the plexiglass preventing any pucks from flying outside the rink.

ꕀ flatmate vi ! who almost tripped on her own skates when she spotted you sitting next to her sister. you were wearing one of her spare jerseys (you 100% stole it from her clean laundry pile), her number painted on your cheek, and a huge smile plastered on your lips as your eyes met. vi gave you a wink and proceeded to show off for the next hour or so.

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who absolutely crushed the game. their team won 4-1, you were here, what else could she ask for. after a quick shower, she met you, ekko, and powder outside the locker room entrance.

you and powder bonded over how amazing the game was, while ekko listened to the both of you. when vi slipped out of the shower room, pink hair still damp, and a towel over her shoulders, you immediately ran towards her. she greeted you with a hug, her chin resting on top of your head. ekko and powder raised an eyebrow at each other, which vi ignored. she instead, shifted her focus on you.

“i thought you wouldn’t be able to make it?” she exclaimed when you broke the hug. you shrugged, smiling at her cheekily. “decided to come back early, i got bored at home.”

vi smiled. “what about your mom’s birthday?” you waved your hand and linked arms with her. “her birthday was two days ago, she practically jumped with joy when i said i was leaving early.”

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who was relieved when ekko and powder finally went home. as much as she loved their company, she just really wanted to be alone with you right now. as soon as you both got home, vi puts on a movie as you guys sat on the couch. you were on the opposite side of the couch, your legs propped on her lap, a nice soft blanket over the two of you.

“i almost forgot!” you exclaimed, shooting up from the couch and darted off to your room. when you came back, you had a small pink box in your hands. vi raised an eyebrow as you sat next to her, a grin etched on your lips.

you excitedly handed vi the box, and gestured for her to open it. a small gasp leaves vi. inside the box was a ring, it was a gold band with a small stone in the middle. the girl practically teared up, she puts the ring on her finger. it was a bit big for her ring finger but it did fit perfectly on her thumb. she could also always put it on the plain gold chain she always wore.

“sooo,” you started. “do you like it?” vi nodded happily, pulling you in for a hug. you sighed contently your chin resting on her shoulder as you wrap your arms around her waist.

“i’m sorry i didn’t get you anything shortcake,” vi whispered, her lips touched the shell of your ear. “don’t worry about, consider it a congratulatory gift and a christmas gift.” you squeaked, a faint blush washing over your cheeks. “plus, i thrifted it. my sister and i went thrifting, and the pink gem reminded me of your hair.”

ꕀ flat mate vi ! might as well have melted on the spot. she broke the hug and held your cheeks in her hands. she tilted your head up, making you look at her.

ꕀ flat mate vi ! who couldn’t resist but press a short kiss on your lips.

you gasped, feeling her soft chapped lips press against yours. the kiss ended as quickly as soon at it happened. vi opened her mouth to say something, you cut her off by gripping the. front of her hoodie. pulling her towards you, your lips landed on hers. vi’s eyes fluttered shut and so did yours, the movie you put on merely became a background noise as your lips danced against hers.

“i’ve waited so long to do that,” vi whispered. she rested her forehead against yours, your hot breath fanning over her lips. “took you long enough.”. you whispered back before pulling her in another kiss.

safe to say that by then the movie was long forgotten.

[asimplearchivist]

𝓢𝓹𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝓓𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰

𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐈𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐗𝐗𝐕

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ you're down in the dumps about the disheartening lack of prospective romantic partners interested in initiating a long-term relationship with you. your ever-helpful coworker amy decides to give you (and a highly interested would-be suitor) a nudge in the right direction—just not in the way you might expect. pairing(s) ☽ steven grant/reader-centric | constellations!verse word count ☾ 4.8k a/n ☽ ⤏ my second entry for the moon knight bingo hosted by @juneknight and @spacecowboyhotch over at @moonknight-events. I will eventually crosspost this to the main fic for constellations on ao3 when it will best fit the chronological progression of the chapters. this takes place post-chapter ii. ⤏ this takes place right before chapter two while steven is preparing for his interview, so before he works up the nerve (courtesy of both his agreement with and coertion from marc) to ask you out. ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ PREVIOUS ENTRY ⤎ ☥ ⤏ NEXT ENTRY [TBA] ☽

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into that, Amy. What was I even thinking?”

“You were thinking of living a little instead of hermiting away in your flat like you do every conceivable chance you get—you look absolutely stunning, by the way! Tell me how it went!”

You hunkered in on yourself, folding your arms around your torso and pursing your chapped lips. The humid, dusk breeze hurtling through the street tugged at the hem of your dress, the cardigan draped over your shoulders doing little to fend off the early autumn chill. You’d texted her while wrapping up business at the bistro a block over and had walked over to the coffeeshop to clear your head after the entire ordeal and to check in before heading home.

“Horribly,” you said flatly. “I took one of my few vacation days and was subjected to an hour-long lecture on the growing value of cryptocurrencies before being asked if I intended to give up my career once I found a spouse—like I’m just spending the money on uni for funsies.”

“...Oh.” Your coworker’s face creased with equal measure of shame and sympathy. “My flatmate told me he was a decent bloke, save for a couple of rocky breakups the last year or so—I had no idea he was a wanker to boot…and probably at fault for those situations to start with, since that’s the case—but I should have given it more thought before roping you into it. That explains a lot about what little I heard about him. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you sighed and leaned against the humming lamppost at your back, “you had no way of knowing how he’d be in person, and you were trying to help me step out of my comfort zone a bit. It was kind of nice to have an excuse to dress up and go out for a bit, if nothing else. He insisted on paying, too, even if it was an underhanded attempt to woo me…so no money was wasted on my part, at least. I was going to buy myself a pint of ice cream on the way home to distract myself from the crushing reality that no one worth the effort could ever find me attractive and want to pursue a meaningful, long-term relationship with me, but now I’m not so sure. I’m exhausted, and I couldn’t even get a word in edgewise for a solid twenty minutes—I just did a whole lot of nodding along and ‘mmhmm’ing.”

“Firstly, you should treat yourself—I’ll even pay for it since you were the one who had to tolerate all that shit, undoubtedly like an angel because I know you and you’re a painfully polite person—and secondly, I’m not going to unpack…all of that statement, but I am going to tell you right now that you are a prize who deserves the best treatment a girl could ask for and shouldn’t have to. You’re worth it, even if you don’t feel like it—don’t try to deny it, I’ve heard all those little self-deprecating comments you’ve made over the months—and I’m sure there’s someone out there just dying for you to grant him a chance at making you the happiest woman alive.”

“I’m sure—he’s liable to just walk around the corner at any moment.” You rolled your eyes, but your expression softened into one of gratitude when you spotted the conviction on the barista’s face. “...Thank you, it helps to hear that occasionally. Maybe one day I’ll believe it, too.”

“Of course. It’ll stick eventually.” Amy opened her arms to offer you a hug, and you accepted it gratefully. Cheek pressed on top of your head, she rubbed and patted your back in a few soothing sweeps before releasing you and stepping back while drawing the shop keys out of her apron with a grin and a lingering gaze toward the main plaza across the street corner. “...But I honestly think you’re a little more oblivious than I thought if you really haven’t noticed.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, brow furrowing as you fiddled with the thin leather strap of your crossbody resting across your chest. Had she changed topics without you realizing?

“It’s a wonder what a little…gentle prodding can do in the long run,” she continued idly, eyes glittering with mirth as she twirled the jangling keyring on her finger and returned her attention to you. “There’s a reason I talked you into all that—well, besides getting you out on the town for an evening, of course. I think primping yourself did you a lot of good—you’re glowing.”

You blinked and opened your mouth to question her further, but approaching footsteps captured your attention due to their familiar scuffling cadence. You turned and spotted Steven’s slumped silhouette emerging into the ambient, watery light casting a cone around the coffee shop’s entrance. He’d already spotted you, evidently, and his face lit up in an infectiously warm smile as you recognized him. You found yourself returning the gesture subconsciously.

“Hello, mate,” Amy chirped, waggling her fingers at him. “How’d the application process go today? Did you pass the assessment?”

“With flyin’ colors!” Steven crooned, his back unfurling as his shoulders pushed back and his chin raised. He came to a stop near you, hands tucked into his pockets as his chest pressed forward against his otherwise gargantuan jacket. “The lady who looked it over seemed shocked that I knew so much, but that just goes to show you—I told ‘em for months that this ol’ noggin’ of mine wasn’t empty!” He knocked his knuckle on his temple with a toothy grin.

“You’ve got a sponge for a brain, darlin’,” you told him with a chuckle, reaching out and squeezing his elbow affectionately. His eyes softened as he refocused on you, his smile smoothing into a closed-lipped one. “I think you could talk circles around all those stuffy professors at the university, honestly—half of them haven’t updated their sources since the nineties. And it’s not your fault that your old manager had her head crammed so far up her ass.”

“Yeah, well,” he responded, color building beneath the high arches of his cheeks and gilding his tawny skin with rose-gold even under the otherwise unflattering fluorescent bulb of the streetlight, “I just like to read, is all. And I haven’t had to deal with her, thankfully—different divisions and all that.”

You shook your head fondly. He certainly didn’t have to remind you of that fact—the countless hours he’d spent in the coffee shop and the bookstore with his aquiline nose buried in books were proof enough of that. “Did you get all the paperwork filled out? It didn’t give you any trouble?”

“Got it all sorted. I, uh—” He cast a furtive glance towards Amy. “—got help when I needed it.”

Ah. Marc likely had to help him fill in the gaps. You often wondered if Marc was the one that got him his job in the gift shop to start with, but…Steven didn’t talk very much about what he was able to remember from the tenuous times he fronted before he met you while Marc was trying to wrap up all of his personal affairs in attempt to flee from his problems.

Steven didn’t go out of his way to advertise their situation to others, as he and Marc were still trying to iron out all of the kinks with their living situation and attending therapy sessions, but you had the feeling that Amy sensed something was remiss with him because of how often she was around him in proximity to you. She hadn’t ever said anything besides the occasionally affectionate, “He’s a little odd, isn’t he?” but you were always able to distract her with a casual, “We’re all a bit strange.”

“That’s good.” Another breeze skated through the street, blowing over your exposed legs and causing you to shiver. You hunkered into your cardigan and glanced up at the pitch black sky. “I’d probably better hit the store and head home. I can hear a hot shower calling my name, and I intend to sleep in after that entire disaster.”

Steven perked up. “After all what, love?”

“Oh.” Heat crept into your cheeks. “I, uh…had a date. It didn’t go so well.”

He blinked, brows inclining upwards for a tick in a surprise that he wasn’t quite able to conceal. “I—oh. I-I didn’t realize. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was sort of last minute.” You cleared your throat. “The guy was an ignorant prick anyway. I was lucky I made it out of there with my intellect still intact.”

That managed to draw a chuckle from him, at least, but you couldn’t shake the way his eyes lingered on you, slowly traversing over your silhouette—you felt terribly vulnerable, laid bare under the gentle weight of his troubled umber gaze. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but you couldn’t quite read the expression on Steven’s face—an unusual occurrence, to be certain, as he was an open book to you most of the time—so you weren’t certain what to make of his reaction.

It didn’t help that you were terribly insecure about the situation to start with, given the fact that you would have much rather had Steven as your date instead.

With that desire, however, came an entire Pandora’s box of complicated emotions. Negative past experiences had left you extremely hesitant to initiate romantic connections of any kind. And, despite how much you trusted Steven, you had an extremely difficult time trying to shake off your doubts. The sliver of boldness in you wanted for nothing more than to grab the lapels of his wrinkled, oversized jacket and kiss him breathless to avoid the awkward song and dance of treading that tenuous line between friendship and romance when it came to people who had grown inextricably close as the pair of you had…but the overwhelming majority of your mentality, insecure and timid and wounded, would rather keep him at arm’s length to secure his platonic affection at the very least. If that was all you could ever have of him, you’d take it gladly—but the heart wants what it wants, and you longed for all of him, as selfish as you knew your feelings to be.

He was in a difficult place, trying to rediscover himself and having to reassess his entire worldview, and here you were pining for him like a teenager with a helpless crush on someone far beyond your league. Steven was everything you had ever wanted—so very smart and sweet and sincere—but who were you to think he’d ever be interested in you of all people? When he could have anybody he wanted, far more gorgeous and intelligent and better than you could even dream of being?

A needlessly poetic notion, perhaps, but…you always had been a romantic.

That is why you had never tried your (admittedly poor) luck. You liked Steven, more than anyone else whom you’d ever before met, but…he’d never made a move. He was naturally open with his affection with everyone, amiable to a fault at times, so you couldn’t assume that his behavior indicated any particular favor on your behalf.

Still…you couldn’t bear it to pull yourself away now. He’d become your best friend within a couple of weeks of meeting him, and he was the only one with whom you felt completely safe in this sprawling, suffocating cityscape. You knew without a doubt that you could rely on him for anything—he had proven himself reliable time and again over the last few months, dropping everything when you needed him. You’d give him everything you had in a heartbeat in return—including your heart, although he’d unwittingly taken possession of it long ago.

“I, ah…” Steven cleared his throat, placing his closed fist over his mouth while tipping his head down to look at you through his lashes, “...would you like me to walk you home, love? It’s awfully late for you to be goin’ to the mart by yourself.”

Although you and Steven had fallen into the habit of catching the bus together on the instances that he got stuck taking inventory before he’d gotten fired, given that you both closed up shop about the same time, that routine had fallen by the wayside. He still offered to almost every night, though, oftentimes texting you to check in around closing time (and he’d held you to a promise to let him know when you got home when you refused his offer). You missed your quiet, late night bus rides, honestly, but the last thing you wanted was to inconvenience him by having him make such a long round trip across London.

Tonight, though, with him standing there with those watery, sympathetic puppy-dog eyes, knowing that he understood poor dates better than most (nevermind the fact that he hadn’t mentioned going on any lately, now that you thought about it)…you couldn’t resist him even if you wanted to. Your self-esteem, already dangerously low, had suffered a severe toll tonight, and you needed Steven’s reassurance more than anything (even a scalding shower to scrub your woes away).

“That would be greatly appreciated, darlin’,” you said, smiling wearily. “There’s a store a block away from my apartment complex, so it’s not too far of a walk from the bus stop.”

Steven bobbed his head, and you turned to hug Amy, who patted your back. “Sorry again he turned out to be a wanker,” she said. “Maybe you’ll have better luck on the next one.”

You pulled back and raised a brow at her glittering eyes. “If there even is a ‘next one’,” you chuckled wryly. “I’m just about ready to give up at this point.”

“Bad luck’s bound to turn into good luck eventually,” she said, then turned with her keys. “I’ll see you Monday—have a good weekend.”

“You, too.” You readjusted your purse strap and glanced at Steven, tilting your head towards the other end of the sidewalk. “Shall we?”

“I think so.” He offered you his elbow, and you took it with a quiet sigh of relief. His frame offered a welcome reprieve of a blockade against the wind, and his warmth seeped even through the plethora of loose layers he favored wearing.

Mutual comfortable silence followed your stroll to the bus stop, and you leaned against his arm when you both settled on a bench near the back of the bus when it rumbled through. It didn’t take long for him to readjust in his seat and you straightened on reflex, embarrassed that you’d done it subconsciously without asking him for permission first.

“No, no, love,” he murmured, lifting his arm over your shoulders, “here. Figured this would be more comfortable for you. You’re still shiverin’.”

“Oh.” You bit the inside of your lip, fighting the flutter of your stomach. “Thank you.”

You accepted his embrace, resting your head upon the cradle of his shoulder and sinking into him. His fingers curled lightly around your arm, squeezing absently. You closed your eyes as the tension drained from your body, taking a deep breath, and—in so doing—drew in a lungful of his cologne.

He had no right to smell so damn good.

“What do you need at the mart?” he asked quietly. “So I can help you look.”

“Just some snacks,” you mumbled. “Ice cream, maybe. I have leftovers in the fridge I was going to reheat since he made a comment about what I ordered.”

Steven’s arm tightened around your shoulders. “...He what?”

You shook your head. “It doesn’t matter. He insisted on paying, so I guess he was just watching his budget.”

Steven scoffed, and it was one of the only times you’ve ever heard his tone slip into open disdain. “The gall.”

“It’s over now. I consider it a reward for wasting my time, at least.” You turned your head and tucked your nose under his jaw. “I don’t really want to think about it anymore, if that’s okay.”

“That’s perfectly all right,” he told you, tugging you closer. “Just let me know if he gives you any trouble, yeah?”

“Oh, I already have him blocked, don’t worry.” You let out a snort... “I don’t think he was particularly impressed, anyway.” …and a sigh. “Can’t really blame him.”

Steven sucked in a breath. “Now why would you go and say a silly thing like that, love?”

It had slipped out, honestly. You’d meant to internalize that lapse of self-deprecation, but you found it hard to conceal your thoughts around Steven. You had no answer for him, so you attempted a hamfisted effort to divert his attention. “I have enough food for you, too, if you’d like to stay. I figure you haven’t had much to eat this evening, and you can crash at my place since it’s so late.”

“...Do you want me to stay?” he asked softly. “So you won’t be alone?”

You laughed under your breath. “I don’t know how you do that. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re able to read minds, Steven Grant.”

“No telepathy to be had,” he said mildly, the pad of his thumb beginning to draw circles on your bicep over the chunky knit of your cardigan. “Just…I know how it feels.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll be happy to stay, if you’ll have me.”

You wished you could kiss him. You wished you could get away from him before your heart ended up shattered once again by your own helplessness. “Always.”

The supermarket was just short of empty when you both shuffled in, rubbing your arms to wring the growing chill from your extremities. The pop music from a top-forty station gave the aisles a melancholic quality, and Steven trailed you with a basket as you picked up the handful of necessities that needed restocking. A cursory glance at him on the freezer aisle, tilting his head back and staring up at the fluorescent lights thoughtfully, prompted you to grab a pint of raspberry sorbet instead of your normal go-to flavor of ice cream. If he noticed the change from your usual purchase while the sleepy teenage cashier rang up the handful of groceries, Steven didn’t comment on it. You’d rarely seen him so pensive.

Your apartment was blissfully warm when you let yourself back in, locked the door behind you, and turned the television on. You took the paper sack from Steven (having insisted that he carry it even though it wasn’t that heavy) and tipped your head to the living room. “Make yourself at home. There’s more blankets in the coffee chest. I’m going to put these up and grab a quick shower.”

“You wanted a long one, yeah?” he prompted. “Don’t rush on my account. I know where everythin’ is. I can take care of myself, you know.”

You nodded and turned. You were too tired to quibble with him—you knew he didn’t mind you not playing the perfect host all the time. “Okay. Watch whatever you want. My kitchen’s yours.”

“All right.” His hand grasped your elbow. “I mean it: take your time.”

You flashed him a small, appreciative smile. “Yes, sir.”

You watched the color bloom under his cheeks with more than a little fondness. He wrestled the sack back out of your arms. “I know where all this goes,” he blurted. “Go on, then.”

Maybe it was a little selfish of you, but…letting him take care of you just this once wouldn’t hurt anything, right? You chuckled. “Okay, okay—I’m going.”

You retreated to your bedroom and shut the door. Your shoes came off first, then your cardigan and your dress. Everything else followed shortly thereafter—all of it was tossed into the hamper as you tread silently into the bathroom. Frissons broke out over your bare skin as you stepped onto the cold tile, reaching around the glass divider to start the water so it would warm up while you went ahead and started your bedtime routine.

You took Steven’s advice, although with no small amount of guilt at not entertaining him (in spite of the fact that he was a grown-ass man and could very well occupy himself, as he’d said). You hated being separated from him, even through two measly walls, but the urge to get that other man’s lascivious, if critical, gaze off of you as soon as possible was far stronger at the moment.

You stood under the steaming stream for a long time, listening to the music you’d selected to play from your phone. You washed your hair and body with a certain degree of clinicism, doggedly avoiding looking at yourself in the mirror lest your mood deteriorate even more. His skepticism over your ‘generous’ choice of entree shouldn’t have mattered—he’d ordered a meal that would have made bulking bodybuilders jealous—but the subtle comments he’d sprinkled throughout the meal had taken down the carefully constructed walls surrounding your appearance. You’d worked hard to repress your hangups, dammit, and all it took was one lousy date? When he was just an asshole and didn’t even deserve to get under your skin like that?

You growled under your breath and shut the shower off, ringing out your hair and swiping the extra moisture from your skin before stepping out to towel off. You finished up with your skin care routine and went back into your bedroom to put on your favorite sweatpants and t-shirt, topped with a baggy hoodie. When you reemerged into the living room, Steven was nowhere to be seen, but the opening titles of The Mummy were playing on repeat on the television with the case open on the TV stand.

You stepped into the kitchen, following your nose and ears, and found him standing over the stove reheating the leftover vegan shakshuka you’d experimented with the night before.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said softly, lingering in the doorway and fiddling with the ends of your sleeves. “I was going to.”

“You’re dead on your feet, love,” Steven admonished you lightly, glancing over his shoulder with a small, lopsided grin. “I can handle it. Wouldn’t mind a drink, though.”

You wanted to point out the dark circles beneath his eyes and the fatigued slump of his shoulders, but you refrained in order to save his dignity. “Would you like some tea, or soda, or…?”

“A cuppa would be lovely.”

“Is chai okay?”

“Sounds perfect.”

You set the electric kettle on (bought just for him, as you preferred iced tea, but you’d never admit that to him because you knew he’d feel guilty about you spending money on him) and pulled the box of tea bags out of the pantry, as well as a pot of honey, for him to fix it how he preferred. You grabbed a mug from the cabinet, as well, and set it out for him. You opted for a bottle of water, pouring it over ice.

“Think it’s ready,” Steven said, and you grabbed a couple of plates for him to ladle portions of the dish onto. You grabbed some cutlery and napkins, as well as your glass, and followed him into the living room.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, setting down the plates on the coffee table before straightening. “Mind if I borrow the loo first?”

“Go ahead,” you told him, sinking down into the couch with a tired groan. He disappeared into the shadows of your room, and you rested your head against the cushion at your back as your eyes drifted shut.

You remained still, listening to the music coming from the TV and to Steven’s movements as he soon came back and stepped into the kitchen. Water poured, clinking of metal on porcelain, socks scuffing on flooring. The cushion next to you dipped and creaked under his weight, and his knuckle brushed your wrist. “Not hungry, love?”

“Just waiting on you.” Truthfully, you didn’t have very much desire to eat, but your stomach was protesting the insufficient sustenance of the salad you’d opted to order instead of the club sandwich with chips you’d wanted. You sat up and pulled the plate into your lap. The inviting smell certainly helped. “I hope it’s okay, I don’t know if it’s any good.”

“Anything you make is mana on earth, love,” Steven assured you. He grabbed the remote and started the movie before sipping his tea tentatively.

“There’s always room for failure,” you responded wryly, but bringing up a mouthful proved that your endeavor had been successful, thankfully. “Oh, thank God. I ended up snacking while I cooked last night and got full before I could try it. It’s okay.”

Steven tried it himself and hummed with pleasure. “It’s more than okay, love.”

“I’m glad.” You turned your attention to the screen and hunkered against the arm of the couch. “...Thank you for all this.”

You felt Steven’s gaze fix itself on your profile. “...You’re welcome.”

The night outside grew darker, and when the both of you finished eating, Steven bullied his way into taking the dishes and washing them while ordering you to stay put. You paused the film in the meantime, tugging the blanket off the back of the couch and curling up beneath it. He turned off the lights and took the other end when you offered it. Other than the occasional chuckle, neither of you spoke again until the credits began to roll. By then, you’d grown sleepy. Steven had anchored you into his side once again, resting his cheek on the crown of your head. You’d started to doze off when the rumble of his chest roused you.

“...You know you really shouldn’t say such cruel things about yourself, love. You looked extra gorgeous tonight.”

You swallowed, and in the safety of the apartment’s darkness you let your expression fall. “I know.”

“You really are somethin’ special.” His fingers drummed slowly against your arm. “I mean it. I’m honored to know you. And I want you to know that I’ll always be here for you.”

“You don’t know how much I appreciate that,” you murmured, even if that traitorous, if scarred, part of yourself denied his claim automatically. It wasn’t fair to him, but old habits die hard. “Thank you for staying with me.”

“It’s the least I could do,” he responded, “you know, as an apology on behalf of all men for that sorry wanker wasting your time.”

You laughed in the midst of a yawn. “It’ll be a story to tell on holidays, if nothing else.”

“Tired?” he asked.

“Yeah.” You pressed your face into his shirt. “You can take the bed if you want.”

“Now, you know how this debate will end.”

“I do. I still wanted to offer.”

“All right. I will need to shower first, though, if you don’t mind. I still smell like the cleaner they use in the museum.”

You sat up to give him space to stand. The smell of the museum suited him, but you didn’t exactly want to reveal that you’d been discreetly huffing his collar for the last hour. “I don’t. I have your spares in the same drawer.”

“Thank you.” Steven extricated his arm, but after a moment’s hesitation he placed a kiss on your temple. You looked up at him, shocked, and that seemed to be his intention, because despite the outlines of his face matching your flusteredness, he appeared deadly serious. “You mean more to me than you’ll ever know, poppet,” he whispered. “And you deserve all the happiness in the world, bad dates be damned.”

“I…” You swallowed roughly. “Th-thank you, darlin’.”

His mouth opened as though he’d intended to say more, but hesitation won out in the end. He shook his head and patted your knee before straightening to his feet. “Go ahead and go to bed, I’ll take everything with me in there. You need to sleep as much as you can.”

“All right,” you murmured, watching him go. He fidgeted with his hands all the way of his retreat into the bathroom. You couldn’t breathe until you heard the shower whine to a start. Your heart didn’t stop pounding against your ribs until after he exited, curls damp and pajamas draped over his lean form, told you good night, and shut your bedroom door behind him to give you privacy.

When you woke up the next morning and wandered into the kitchen for something to eat, Steven was waiting for you with two bowls of sorbet ready, and you decided then—much to the distress of your frightful heart—that you were in love.

[calaisreno]

Trying It Out

May 20 Prompt: Experiment

“What are you wearing?” Sherlock looks up from his experiment, distracted. Something John is doing has broken the order of his disciplined mind. 

John frowns. “Erm, clothes?”

Sherlock stands, approaches John like a specimen. He sniffs. “You’re wearing cologne.”

“Yes. Occasionally I do wear fragrance.”

This is a new one. It’s lighter, fresher. Not the rubbish he ordinarily wears when he’s—

“You have a date.”

“Oh, yes. I might, that is. Going out in a bit.”

“But I thought— you broke up with… the last one. The one with the hair.”

John laughs. “They all have hair, Sherlock. I don’t recall dating any bald—”

“The one with the Hair. Big Hair. Uncontrollably Big Hair.”

“You mean Sylvia. It wasn’t that big, you berk. Just a bit retro, with the teasing.”

“Teasing?”

“What people do when they want their hair to look bigger. You take a comb, and you—”

“What have you done with your hair?”

“My hair?” John is blushing, a clue that things are not as they should be. “I just… had it highlighted. A bit. I mean, why not? Women don’t have a monopoly on—”

Gently, he lays his hand on John’s head. “Product. You never use product.”

John looks annoyed now. “If you’re done examining the crime scene, I’m going out.” 

Alone, Sherlock contemplates what sort of woman could make John put product in his hair. And wear a fragrance that doesn’t smell like something his father would wear. He can draw no conclusions.

He continues his investigation, undeterred by his lack of success. John Watson is a tough case, but he has no doubt that he will solve him.

John hasn’t worn a jumper in days. He’s grown a small goatee, and then shaved it off. He’s joined a gym, lost five pounds. 

At this moment, he’s wearing a pink shirt. Nothing bright, just a dusty pink, touchable-looking shirt, well-fitted to his torso. 

“Nice shirt,” he ventures. 

“Thanks.” John blushes again, almost as pink as his shirt. He’s disturbed, perhaps, because if Sherlock ever says anything about what John is wearing, it’s to suggest that he burn whatever jumper he’s wearing. 

Who is this man, and what has he done with John Watson? Sherlock’s flatmate dresses like an old man: check shirts, cuddly jumpers, trousers that sag a bit in the bum. Always in colours like beige, tan, brown, grey, and occasionally blue or green. He never wears pink. 

“It’s a good colour on you.”

John smiles awkwardly and walks away. The seat of his jeans is not sagging. John has a rather nice arse, he thinks. 

Several evenings each week John goes out, always around nine. He looks a bit different each time. Once he spiked his hair. He’s worn different colognes, shirts that have miraculously appeared from somewhere. Certainly not the usual shops where John buys new khakis and ugly jumpers whenever Sherlock has spilled acid on the old ones or used them in an experiment. These shirts and trousers are more expensive, much nicer than anything he normally wears.

And Sherlock deduces: John is dating a man. 

The realisation socks him in the gut, takes all the air out of his lungs, and makes his heart sink. 

Once, many months ago, John tried to flirt with Sherlock. Across a table at Angelo’s, he asked if Sherlock had a boyfriend. And he said he was unattached. Sherlock’s reaction to this was half-panic, half-disdain. Sherlock Holmes was married to his work. He didn’t have what other people have— girlfriends, boyfriends, people he went places with. 

He had John, who dated women. John, who wore lumpy jumpers and trousers that sagged, and walked like that. John, who could never get a woman to go out with him more than twice. John, who would never leave Sherlock. 

And now? John might have a boyfriend. And it’s not Sherlock, as it should have been. 

Lestrade looks like he’s itching for a cigarette. Anderson looks bored. Donovan is smirking at John, who is— checking out Lestrade’s arse?

Before Sherlock can process this, John is turning to the other cop on the scene, the one who found the body. He’s tall, darkly handsome, and obviously flirting with John. 

And John is not frowning. He’s smiling, giving him that charming look he often gives Sherlock when he’s done something unusually brilliant. That look is for Sherlock, and John’s giving it to this tall, handsome idiot! 

“Come along, John,” he says, swirling his coat impatiently and raising his hand for a cab.

John comes along.

It’s ten in the evening, about the time when John usually starts yawning and washing the tea mugs, making sounds like he’s going to bed. 

Not tonight. John is wearing a fitted black shirt and a pair of jeans that show off a number of things that Sherlock is dying to see without that layer of denim. His highlighted hair is carefully tousled, making Sherlock’s fingers itch to touch it. 

“Where are you off to?” The fact that Sherlock hardly ever asks where John is going off to means that he’s giving John an awfully big clue that he cares where John goes off to late in the evening, returning in the wee hours smelling of other mens’s cologne. 

“Just meeting some friends,” John says. 

It’s true. John has friends— unlike Sherlock, who has just one. 

“Wanna come with me?”

Sherlock looks up, startled. John has never invited Sherlock along for pub night, or watching the footy with the blokes, or meeting up with old army buddies. 

“Me?”

John smiles. “Sure. I’d like you to meet my friends.”

It’s a gay bar, as Sherlock suspected, a rather nice, upscale place. He’s actually been here before, for a case. 

“John!” The man who is calling out and motioning them over to a table is the very man of Sherlock’s nightmares. Tall and handsome, he has dark, curly hair and blue eyes. He’s grinning at John and as soon as they’re within an arm’s length, he pulls John into a hug. 

He has a companion as well, a man who is shorter, with reddish-blond hair. 

“Sherlock, meet Alex and Dustin.”

“Finally!” the taller one exclaims. “We’ve been dying to meet the boyfriend!”

Instead of declaring that he’s not gay, and that Sherlock is not his boyfriend, John smiles sheepishly at Sherlock. “Alex works in retail, men’s clothing. I met him when I decided to upgrade my wardrobe. Dustin is his boyfriend.”

And instead of denying that John is his boyfriend, Sherlock slips an arm around him. Smiling at Alex, he says, “You’ve worked an absolute miracle on his man. Thanks to you, I no longer have to resort to spilling acid on his ugly jumpers.”

John laughs. “Oi! You leave my ugly jumpers alone, you git!” 

“A pleasant evening.” Sherlock studies John’s face as they walk home. “So.”

John ducks his head, smiling. “So.”

“An experiment?”

He huffs, shaking his head. “I haven’t been totally clear with you. I’m not gay. I’m bi, and I decided it was time to explore that side of me, learn to live with it. I told Alex I wanted to impress you, the poshest man on the planet, so he picked out things for me to try.”

Sherlock stops walking, takes John in his arms. “And you told him… I’m your boyfriend?”

“Well, I’d like to be. Maybe we could consider it an experiment?”

“Hm. It might be good to collect some data.” He leans down, kisses John. “I’m fairly sure, though, that I can predict the results.”

“Me, too,” John says, rising up for another kiss. 

Flash Fiction / 1264 words

@lisbeth-kk @meetinginsamarra @raina-at @bertytravelsfar @momma2boys @jrow @helloliriels @the-reading-lemon @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @elwinglyre @mydogwatson @thetimemoves @jobooksncoffee @lhrinchelsea @peanitbear

[siconetribal]

Wishing You Were Here

Tag: @vbecker10, @harlequin-hangout

Pairing: Loki x Y/N

Warning: Fluff, angsty, Loki feels, all the feels, poor Y/N I'm always so mean to you

Author Note: So, I promised way back that I would do another Loki piece, and I've been working on this idea for a bit of a while. I hope you all like it, it's not as humorous as my last stuff, but I wanted to do something more serious.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was no denying that life was a force that was impossible to control. It was wild and free spirited, one moment and leisurely and demure the next, a wild stallion with a spirit that with an indomitable spirit, beautiful and exhilarating. An ocean with depths invisible to the eye, majestic and frightening. Life was many things, and at this moment it was unfathomable to Y/N’s mind. For almost one year now, she was living in the Avengers tower and sharing a flat within its walls with the Loki. Who knew a simple online ad was all it took to meet with people who were literally from out of this world?

Sighing for what felt like the umpteenth time, she glanced over the walls of her cubicle at the large analog clock on the wall. Only two minutes had passed since her last check. Leaning back into her computer chair, she slumped and silently groaned. This day was going to one of those long days that never end.

There’ve been a lot more of those recently. She pinched the bridge of her nose and took in a deep breath. I don’t get why it matters. This isn’t the first time this has happened, and it’s most certainly not going to be the last. It comes with the territory. Loki will be out on missions more often because he’s proven himself worthy of trust and that it was the mind stone that corrupted him. Though, with a tragic backstory like his, it’s no surprise. That all aside, this is a good thing for him. He needs this, and he finally gets a chance to be with his brother. I don’t care what he plays at, he’s a happy younger brother excited to be included with his big brother and his friends, finally. Sitting up properly in her seat again, she picked up a pen and began to slowly tap it against the desk. This was a great thing, and she was happy for him. She wanted him to grow and heal, he deserved this and then some. And yet…there were days like this.

The inky goop slowly rose up, cloying and clinging inside her as she sank deeper into its swampy depths. The thick strings wrapped around her heart, sharp thorns digging into her heart whenever it wrapped around tighter. This heavy guilt was never too far behind the emptiness that lingered at the lack of his presence. There was no denying it anymore, she missed Loki. She missed his witty remarks, his infuriating way of toying with her that left her spinning and dumbstruck, his posh way of speaking, his graceful motions that made her feel like a mole trying to walk on land-awkward and fumbling. She missed his laughter, his sarcasm, his silent companionship, and just everything about him.

Who am I kidding, I love him. She leaned forward, elbows on her desk, as she hid her face in her hands. I love Loki, and there’s no point in beating around the bush. Not like I can do or say anything, though. He’s a prince, an Asgardian god. I’m just some random human that just happened to be in need of a flatmate. He can have anyone. Who knows what sort of beautiful geniuses he’s dated on Asgard, but he’s gone to premiers and events with supermodels, A-list entertainers, and actual human nobles and royals. I’m some girl from a town where nothing amazing happens that landed in NYC with hard work. A huge bookish nerd that’s always falling for the guys in the pages who are as perfect as they can be. I went from spending all my time imagining what it’d be like if they’d existed to actually living with one, and now I know how impossible it is for me to pull them.

Her chest hurt. Her throat constricted and the corners of her eyes stung at the harsh reality that slapped her in the face. She inhaled sharply and cleared her throat. This was not going to happen. Not now at work, not today. “You’re fine, Y/N. You knew this would happen if you accepted these feelings.” She scolded herself. “Chin up, get to work. He’s busting his butt out there on some mission and you’re having a self-pity party? No way,” she sat up straighter. And what a fine booty it is. “He’s one of your best friends, that’s good enough.” Cracking her knuckles, she pushed her computer chair in and got back to researching the locations you were tasked with for potential Avengers intervention.

_______________________________________

Loki sat at the edge of a cliff, watching the blue sky burst into orange and purple as the sunset in the distant horizon. The gentle ocean breeze caressed his face. He took in the crisp salty air and let out a deep relaxing sigh. Why was he such a fool? There was nowhere in the nine realms that he could go that would get her out of his mind. The mission had ended almost a week ago, but he was unable to go back. Not yet. Like a shooting star, she came crashing into his life and he was never the same. The once aloof and independent second prince who had a need for nor no one was now stuck to some Midgardian? Preposterous.

No, she is not some comet. She is the ocean. Shapeless and all encompassing, he stared out at the water stretched before him. The waves lapped against the shore. Unassuming and everywhere, and yet I’m always searching for her.  How long had he been like this? So overwhelmed by her that it was getting harder to tread her waters? When did her waves that licked at her heels start to come crashing over his head. Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath with his lips pressed thin. It’s not her fault. It is foolish of me to blame her. She did not come to drown me, and yet here I am tumbling in the depths. 

For many years he lived just beneath the surface, barely surviving was his only purpose. The sins of his past, the horrid and vile emotions of disgust, hatred, and shame hung over his head every day. His traumatic past and the consequences of his poor decisions haunted him every night. It was a routine he had grown accustomed to, and his existence was merely just that, an existence. Who was he? What was he? He needed to find himself once more. “And my overly eager brother was happy to assist me,” he mumbled as he opened his eyes to see the blackish-blue sky slowly begin to dot with stars. “Which led me to her.” He sighed.

When did the darkness turn to light? When did I, Loki of Asgard, begun to look forward for something? No, someone. The one who changed everything was her. It was a random afternoon in the tower when it was brought to the forefront of his mind. Y/N was out of town for some family reasons, and he had been alone in the flat for roughly three days at that point. His training was done for the day and there were no meetings until later in the evening when the recon would return with more data. He had the whole day free to do as he wished. A rare moment of peace, which he took and ran straight to their flat to read the book he was unable to finish because of work. 

Comfortably settled in his favorite leather chair, he picked up the leather-bound tome and opened it. Before he could focus on the words, a flat piece of wood slipped out from between the sheets and fell silently on his lap. There was a hint of sandalwood infused in it with intricate and delicate designs carved into the body with a green braided rope and tassel looped through the hole punched at the top. A birthday gift from Y/N. He had no need for a bookmark. His memory was excellent and there was no need to celebrate his birthday. There was nothing worth commemorating, and he told her as such. Her shoulders had dropped a smidgen at his words, but her smile never faltered. She pushed through with the same energy as she pulled out a small cake she had made for him. 

“Your birthday is important to celebrate because you were born. Had you not been born, I would have never met you, and I’m grateful you were!” Such simple words had struck him, the God of mischief with a silver tongue, silent. She was sincerely happy. His heart thumped rather uncomfortable at his ribs and his mouth felt dry. It was as if he was slowly drowning in a tub of lukewarm water. It was awkward and heartwarming, something he had forgotten long ago. His icy disposition was beginning to melt. He looked around at the well furnished apartment that suddenly felt larger and hollower than the royal halls of the Asgardian castle. He fidgeted in the deafening silence before grabbing the bookmark. Snapping his book shut, he stood from his seat and left. To where, he was not sure, but he could not stand being in there anymore.

He roamed the halls of the tower aimlessly before heading to the cafeteria to eat. He heard a female voice and quickened his pace. Y/N, he eagerly stepped into the kitchen area only to see it was a group of women and none of whom were her. He flashed them a perfect smile, earning a few squeals and giggles, before he excused himself. I should go to the library, that’s it. I need a change of scenery when reading. He straightened his back and turned on his heel. As per usual, there was scarcely anyone there. His favorite spot by a large bay window was empty, as per usual, which made him smile. Just how it he liked it. He walked towards it but stopped at the call of his name.

“Loki, look! Isn’t this cool?!” He turned at her voice, only to find no one there. When did he so desperately wanted to hear her voice call his name? To hear her laughter and ridiculous banter? When did the lack of her presence made his world seem so empty? He gritted his teeth and balled his hands into fists when he felt something dig into his palm. Glancing down, he saw the bookmark broken in half in his palm. He had not realized he was holding it this entire time, and it was now just like him, broken. Pocketing the pieces, he made his way out of the library and sought out Thor. He needed to get out of here before he lost it. 

So he took on the earliest and left before she returned. And now here he was, sitting under the star-studded sky of New Asgard, and he was still thinking about her. He knew he was infatuated with her, but it was so much more now. He wanted to possess her, keep her with him. She consumed his mind, burrowed a hole into his life and permanently occupied the spot. Even now, he knew she would have loved to have seen the blazing setting sun or quietly observe the great burning balls of gas burning millions and billions light-years away. She was always everywhere. He gently rubbed at his aching chest.

“Brother was right, this is not a simple passing phase. I,” he paused for a moment. Something about saying it seemed so final. As if putting it out into the ether would seal his fate. “I love her.” He sighed, the weight on his mind vanishing, but a new weight pressing on his heart. He wanted to see her again. Pulling out his phone, he looked at the many unread messages from Y/N. Each of them wishing him the best, success on the mission, praying for his safety, and anticipation of his return home. Home, he snorted at the thought and shook his head. He sat silent for a moment before he let out a small laugh. “She is home, what have I become? How much of a fool do you wish to make of me, Y/N?” He asked aloud, shaking his head at himself, unlocking the device and hitting the phone icon by her name. It rang a handful of times before she picked up, the sound of the phone tumbling and her fumbling greeting him.

“H-hello?! Loki?!” Her groggy voice came from the other side.

“Hello darling, were you sleeping?”

“Mmm, no, just sorta knocked out on the couch.” She mumbled, he could imagine it now, her slowly sitting up with her hair a bit of a mess and as she rubbed her eyes. He chuckled softly. “Are you done with your mission?”

I’ve been done for a while now, but I can’t tell you that. It would break your heart, but the worst of it is that you would never hold me accountable for my selfish whims. You would be understanding and supporting, as you always are. “Yes, we stopped by New Asgard along the way.”

“Oh? Hopefully not for work?”

“No, no, nothing like that. A simple little reprieve to clear the mind.”

“That’s nice, you deserve it.” Her sincerity stabbed at his heart.

“I’ve found a nice cliff where there is a perfect view of the setting sun over the ocean. I watched the cascading colors over the waters and sky transition from brilliant, bold colors to the dark night. It was breathtaking, much like you.” He smiled as he heard her cough from shock. She must have been drinking some water. “I know how much you love seeing these sorts of things, I wish you were here. And sitting here, watching it without you, just didn’t feel right without you. I had to call.” I wanted to hear your voice. “I wish you were here.”

“Aww, that’s really sweet of you. I wish I could be there too. It’s been really lonely here without you, but I know you’re busy, so I can wait. You’ll come back when you’re done”

Oh, how I miss you too. His chest swelled with such happiness at her confession. It was as if he was given the greatest new in all the nine realms. He wanted to run back to the tower right now and hold tightly in his arms. “Only a few more days until we will be reunited again.” He assured her. “I miss you too, my love.” He heard a hitch in her breath and some clattering and her muffled shock. She must have dropped the phone somewhere and is trying to fish it out. Little did he know, she had dropped it on her face and was currently rubbing her nose.

“My love, that’s a new one.” She finally answered.

“Yes, yes it is. Do you perhaps not like it?”

“What? No, no. no! Not at all! I mean it’s uhm, could be a little misleading.”

“Misleading, how so?” He smirked at how flustered she sounded.

“Uhm, well, you know, it could give someone ideas.”

“Someone ideas? Who is that someone and what are these ideas?” She fell silent on the other end, and he did his very best not to laugh, knowing she was probably dumbstruck and trying to gather the words to explain to him what she was implying. Did he know what she meant already? Of course, but where was the fun in that? Though he did miss seeing her expression for himself.

“Well, not just one someone…but one of them could be me.” She finally answered. “And uhm, the ideas, well, you know, love is a very strong word. Could make people think serious things.”

“Serious things? I suppose that would be concerning if that was wrong.”

“Exactly, so you shou-what?!”

“I said it would be concerning if it were wrong. But it’s not. This is not “giving ideas”, I’m being quite up front. But this is not something that should be discussed over the phone. I’ll make sure to make it very clear for you and everyone when I get back. I’ll see you soon, goodnight darling.” He hung up before she could respond, smiling with utter satisfaction as he got up from his spot and made his way back to the city to speak with Thor. They needed to prepare to leave as soon as possible, because poor Y/N will be an utter mess until they return.

[ikanasocking]

Gaining new insight

Up ahead will be a stroy cotaining: weight gain and socks tf. Not a fan? Maybe nothing for you :) Now enjoy my new story:

The days went ahead without any new events. Kyle and Thomas just live their lives as roommates in their apartment. Nothing was out of the ordinary. From the outside you saw Kyle as a nerdy guy who spend his days in front of a computer screen. Rarely seen outside the flat. His blonde hair were always a little bit messy. But he paid no mind about his outer appearance. He loved food and that showed a lot around his middle section. He was not just a little bit chubby. You could say he was straight up fat. It took a lot of effort to get up from his gaming chair and go into the kitchen, for the next meal.

Thomas on the other hand kept his body in check. He was just an average guy who spent most of his time reading books or attending some football games from time to time. By all means he was no athlete at all. But at least he was doing something. His brown hair was long and always in good shape. He washed it nearly every day. Like that he was paying a lot of mind to what people were thinking of him. How he looked or how he behaved.

When both guys went to collage they met for the first time in this particular flat. At the beginning they tried to get to know each other better, but decided, that they had not so much in common. So they just lived side by side, without interacting a lot. At least that was what you could see from outside. If you would take a closer looks, Thomas was hiding a secret from his flatmate. And that was a love. A love for his socks. He had no idea why. If you would ask him, he would tell you that he could only love women. And this was correct to some extent. He had no hots for any men. But their socks, that was another thing. It was embarrassing for him to talk about it, so he did it in secret. From time to time, he would take socks from Kyle. Wearing them, using them for other things or just enjoying the smell. Kyle was oblivious to this fact. He would not even care, since he was not interested in anything else then his games.

Many more weeks went by and exams were due. After the last of them, Thomas was feeling relieved and happy that he got through it. The results were still to come but right now he could not do anything else then wait. Kyle was doing the same. He was lucky, he did not have to study. Hearing stuff was enough for him to memorize it and pass everything with flying colors. Back in the flat, both guys went to their rooms and minded their own business. Thomas was reading and Kyle was browsing the internet for nothing in particular. He just went from link to link. Until one ad caught his attention.

“If you could make one wish come true, what would it be? Try our new wish granting website. It will change your life!”

Curios and amused he clicked on the ad and expected to find a site full or commercials for all kind of different stuff. But nothing like this popped up. Instead a blank site with just the phrase: state your wish and an empty box below it. Kyle thought that it was all a joke and just went on with it.

“I wish for a roommate who understands me”, he typed in and waited.

After a short delay the site reloaded and another texted popped up.

“Wish granted.”

Kyle laughed and thought nothing of it. He closed the site and went to bed. Thomas was doing the same. The next day, Thomas woke up with an unusual headache. He got up and went into the bathroom. He washed his faced and looked at himself. Nothing out of the ordinary. He did not even look paler than usual. Strange. Maybe it was just the stress he had the last weeks. His stomach growled and he felt like he had not eaten in weeks.

“Time for breakfast”, he thought and went into the kitchen. The fridge was nearly empty. Only some sweet stuff that Kyle normally kept there.

“He will not be up for another three hours and I can go get something new for him, before he even notices.”

So Thomas began to stuff his face with the sweets. It tasted better than he expected. Usually he hated sweet stuff. But today it tasted different. He could understand why Kyle ate so much of this stuff. But sooner then he would have wanted to, it was all gone. But his hunger was still not sated. So he went shopping. Replaced the stuff he took from Kyle and bought a lot more things. And so his eating started again. After a few hours he was sated and looked around. He saw the amount he ate and was surprised. How could he eat so much all of the sudden? He was shocked and decided it was time to go jogging. He cleaned up, changed his cloths and went out.

Right when Kyle woke up. He just heard the door closing. He was too lazy to get up and so he stayed in bed. After exact an hour, Thomas came back. He was sweaty and out of breath. With all the food in his body it was harder than usual. But coming back, his hunger was awakened again.  But he knew there was not much left in the fridge. He took a shower and went to Kyle’s door. He knocked.

“Yeah?” was the answer.

“I am going to the grocery store. You want something?”

Kyle told his friend some stuff he could get him and Thomas left the house. This time he bought a lot more food and filled the fridge to the brim.  So he began eating again. The weeks went by and Thomas was discovering a lot of changes. His hunger was only the beginning. Next was his interests that shifted to video games. He noticed that he was chatting with Kyle about his games from time to time. Thomas was feeling lazier and lazier by the day. He stopped going out for jogs or anything else. And became more and more like Kyle. He understood why Kyle like his life so much. And another thing that he was noticing. His belly was gradually growing. First just a little bit. But with the time it became clearer and clearer. Every new pound was a new sensation for Thomas. He never imagined it would feel so good, having his body jiggling with every step. Another week went by and finally Kyle and Thomas were playing games together. And one more week later, Thomas came clear about his embarrassing secret. Kyle seemed to not care at all. He was just happy, that he had someone who understood him and was playing games with him. Until one day, a friend of Thomas visited them, since he had not heard anything of him. He was disgusted when he saw what had become of Thomas.

“Boy, what did you do to yourself? Did you eat someone? You look like a disgusting pig.”

Thomas was hit hard with these words. The opinion of his friends were important for him. But he wanted to feel good as he was. This was him. He just never admitted to it. The next day’s Kyle did neither see nor heard anything of Thomas. He was just in his room and was thinking about his life. Kyle was desperate to help his friend. He went through his browser history and found the wish granting site. He still thought that it was just a joke, but he wanted to make Thomas feel better. So he send him the link with a message.

“Maybe you will feel better, if you can wish for the pain to go away. It is worth a try.”

Thomas received the message and smiled. Kyle was such a sweet heart. He thanked him and opened the site.  He knew exactly what he wanted to wish for.

“I wish to be have more supportive friends.”

The site granted his wish. Thomas was already feeling better. He went over to Kyle and talked to him, while taking care of his beautiful socked feet.

A few weeks went by and suddenly Thomas friend was at their door again.

“What do you want? Want to make fun of me again?” he asked.

“I am sorry that I was such a jerk.”

Surprised Thomas asked him to come in and went to his room.

“You are sorry?”

“Yes. I was just, I don’t know. Shocked isn’t even the right word. Surprised and jealous. You can live your live like you want. While I am still stuck at thinking too much about the opinion of others. I am truly sorry. Can I make it up to you?”

Thomas was totally flashed by this. He never thought his friend would say something like this.

“I don’t know” he said, in total awe.

“Maybe I can give you a foot rub?”

With that his friend reached for his feet. Today, Thomas was wearing Kyle’s socks. Just like nearly every day. Since he told Kyle about it, they shared their socks. When his friend’s hands made contact with the socks, a strange sensation hit him. It was like he wanted to be these socks? Yeah that was right. He just did not want to, he needed to be Thomas socks. This was the only way he could make it up to him. Furiously he began to rub his hands up and down. Until he noticed something. His hands were fusing with the cotton. Yeah that was it. The beginning of being his friend’s most supportive friend. Slowly his body began to be engulfed by the cotton. The feeling was indescribable. Like he was not only turning to cotton. He was a living being inside it. Finally it was time to give up his human form and he was sucked in completely into the socks. With that Thomas looked around, not remembering what he was doing. He did not remember his friend who was now trapped as his socks for the rest of his live. The site granted his wish, just not in a way, that Thomas would have expected it. Now he had only supportive friends. Kyle, who was there for him. And the other one who were his socks or better their socks. Thomas wasted no time going over to Kyle for another sock playing session. His socks were eager to experience this and could not wait to be used by both boys, who now owned him.

[sandcobangevent]

John’s broken promise

by @goofywhovian and @bluecarbun

It had been a busy night for Sherlock, he had pulled an all-nighter working on a case on his laptop. As of now, it was 3 in the morning. Despite everything, and having solved most of it, there were just a few things he couldn’t deduce yet. He needed help, and he decided Watson should do so. 

Despite the ungodly hour, the detective rose from his bed, closing the laptop. He held it in front of him like a nerd holding a sort of book. He slowly started to venture out of his room, wandering through the dark halls of their shared flat.

Sherlock slowly opened the door which led to the podcaster’s bedroom. It creaked a little, not having been ‘oiled’.Sherlock stood in the doorframe, which, from John’s view, looked pretty damn horrifying. 

It took a bit before John even woke up, being startled by the dark figure which was standing in his doorframe. “Jesus!” Watson reached over and turned on the light on his bedside table, assuming it was a bugler or some sort.

Once he saw that it was Sherlock who had given him such a scare, he sighed out of relief but scowled out of frustration.“Sherlock, mate, don’t.. do that! I almost pissed in my shorts!” He grumbled, shifting as he sat up.

“I need help, John.”

“It’s- it’s 3 am! You really couldn’t have waited a few more hours?” The podcaster had a clock or watch somewhere.

“I’m quite aware.” The detective rolled his eyes before continuing to speak. “I need assistance with this case. I just don’tunderstand parts of it, so that’s why I’m coming to you.”

Watson groaned quietly, lying back down and turning his back to Sherlock. “Not now, Sherly. Let a man sleep for Christ'ssake…”

The two friends both went silent as Sherlock was still waiting for a continuation of his best friend’s answer.

“I have a date with Mary in the afternoon, the second I get back home I’ll help you, alright?” Hamish offered, pulling the blanket over his face.

“Very well. Thank you.” Sherlock simply nodded, turning around. Before leaving and going back to his room, Sherlock felt the need to mention one more thing. “Your lamp, turn it off-“

“Out.”

***

The detective was sitting on the couch in the living room, only waiting for Watson. He hoped he could catch him before his date. It was in the afternoon, after all. It was 2 pm, and Holmes had just checked the clock on his laptop.

As he waited, he looked through different cases, cases that he could help with over email. I mean, Mariana had sent him quite a few. 

The cases were simple, at least in his eyes. It ranged from murders to missing people, etc. 

Every now and then, he lifted his head to look at the door to his best friend’s bedroom, waiting for the other to emerge out of the room.

It took half an hour before John came out of his room, stumbling into the bathroom. 

Once he came out of it, Sherlock tried to get John to help him now. 

“Watson, I still need help. It won't take long, I’m quite sure you can fit the short amount of time helping me into your schedule before going on a date with lovely ol’ Mary.” He spoke, looking at John who was heading back to his room.

“Sorry, mate, I’m in a bit of a hurry… I’m already a little late. I promise I’ll help when I’m back.” The flatmate smiled before disappearing into his room.

Sherlock sighed, nodding. His gaze fell back to his laptop which was in his lap. 

He slowly clicked on the case he needed help with, deciding he could try solving the things he couldn’t deduce yet once more. 

He was puzzled, a few things simply not making any sense in his mind. He sneered, furrowing his brows as he searched for answers.

Watson came out of his bedroom, dressed in casual, yet rather appealing clothes. He reeked of cologne, making Sherlock cough as he entered the general area of the flat.

“I’ll be off then, take good care of Archie, alright?”

Sherlock had momentarily forgotten that Archie even existed, having been too focused on his cases. He looked around, only now realizing Archie was still passed out on the ground, snoring. 

He quietly groaned before nodding. “I’ll… take care of him. Enjoy your date with goody two shoes…” He mumbled the last few words, his tone dripping in slight jealousy.

The doctor smiled and nodded as a thank you before quickly leaving the flat, since as he mentioned before, he was already a little late.

The detective couldn’t shake off the jealousy for some reason, going back to focusing on the case, wanting to solve it desperately. 

He eventually started to do his snap-clicky things with his hands, getting a bit frustrated with the fact that it didn’t make sense, it just didn’t!

At this point Archie had woken up from his long nap, snorting. He stretched before crawling over to Sherlock’s feet, putting his paws there, and stretching again.

Sherlock looked down, exhaling. He closed the laptop and put it aside, leaning down and letting Archie onto the couch. Archie immediately snuggled up into Sherlock’s lap, which annoyed him momentarily before realizing that the added pressure was surprisingly even, and quite comforting.

He rolled his eyes, starting to pet the bulldog with gentle strokes.

The dog lifted his head and licked Sherlock’s hand, just.. being a dog.

The man chuckled, pulling his hand away and letting it rest beside him. “Stop that.”

***

John and Mary had decided on a restaurant together, either because they had experience, or the name just tickled their fancy. (I mean it’s probably the criterion so..)

John stumbled inside, out of breath as he panted. For some reason, he thought it was a good idea to run and not take his time.

Mary was already sitting at their reserved table, sipping at a glass of water a waiter had given her. She looked up and saw John, smiling around the rim of the glass. Mary set it on the table, waving at the other.

The doctor smiled back - or well, grinned back. He walked up to their seats and sat down.

“You’re late.” The woman teased. “I was already starting to think that I got stood up.”

John laughed, waving his hand around in a dismissive way. “Shut up. …But sorry for being late, slept a tad much. Then Sherlock wanted my help but- whatever.”

The two adults laughed with each other, Mary leaning back into her chair and crossing her legs. “At least you made.”

He nodded, looking at the menus that had been neatly placed on the table. “Have you ordered yourself anything yet?”

His gaze drifted upwards, looking at his date. She shook her head.

“No. I was waiting for you,” she started to explain, “because if you wouldn’t have shown up, it would’ve been a little bit embarrassing eating in a restaurant alone.”

The podcaster thought a bit, shrugging. “Makes sense… Ahem, have you looked at the menu, though?”

“Nope.” The woman shook her head, lifting the menu up and checking.* “…Honestly, I’ll probably just get the Codfish n Chips.”

“The good old fish and chips!” John chimed with a stupid grin plastered across his face. “Ooh, they’ve got risotto!”

“Oohh, love a good Risotto! You should get one.” She looked at that specific part of the menu, looking at the options. 

He pouted his lips as he looked at the few options, nodding. “Oh, hey hey!! Milanese style Risotto! Also called.. Risotto alla Milanese.” He grinned, in hopes it somehow impresses Mary. 

She simply giggled. “Sounds delicious. Have you decided on drinks yet?”

“I’d say I'm getting a pint- or, well.. a ‘bottle’ of pilsner. How about you, Mary-Bells?” The doctor stopped to think for a moment, already regretting the nickname. “Ahem, sorry, Mary I meant.”

Mary let out a guffaw, having found it amusing. “ Mary-Bells ?” 

John got flustered, waving his hand around in the air again. “Shut up… what drink are you getting?”

She tried composing herself, coughing as she looked at the drinks menu. “I’ll probably get champagne or something.. Eh, I’ll pick at random when the waiter’s here.” She explained with a smug-like smile. 

The two went back to laughing with each other, not really minding the fact that other guests were staring at them.

This date was supposed to last from the afternoon til evening, though… this didn’t go as planned.

***

Mary and John drunkenly giggled with each other as they hung out on a park bench, the both of them blabbering on about some random. 

It was dark outside, the only light sources being the lamp posts and street lamps.

They were acting like drunk, immature teens, taking goofy pictures, and giving... each other kisses, it was all sort of a blur. 

John was as of now, rambling about Sherlock, Mary staring at him lovingly. 

“And then- bloouuuff! I tackled the wittle guy to the ground and then Sherlock started being all… all smart with his little..speaking sessions! It was so cool! Oh, I forgot to mention, we also had the uuh.. the pink beanie of the guy.. but yeah, Sherlock was so cool in that situs- Blegh. Situation!!!”

Mary slowly started to pout, leaning back into the park bench. “You speak of him like you’re his biggest fannn… or like you’re a fan girl.”

“Shut up…” John looked away, looking down at his wrist. “…And in the same case, he gave me this watch… It’s a good watch but… it’s from Sherlock too.”

He smiled goofily, squinting his eyes as he read the time. They widened as he noticed how late it was. “Jesus… bloody 23:35… I should be home at Baker Street by now…”

Mary sighed as she heard what time it was, looking up into the sky. “You can stay at my place if you want. Unless.. You have something to do?”

The podcaster looked at the woman, smiling with thankfulness. “I’d appreciate it. And… no, I don’t have anything to do. Come on, lead the way, M’Lady.”

She snorted, hitting him in the shoulder.

They both got up and walked away together, continuing to ramble on and on.

Little did John know - well, remember, is that he did have something to do. He promised to help Sherlock, but by golly, he forgot. He bloody forgot.

***

Sherlock was nervously sitting on the couch, ear defenders over his ears. 

“Why isn’t he back yet” he had thought to himself, his gaze drifting to the bulldog who was snoring beside him.

Sherlock got an idea, standing up and rushing to get his phone. Surely Watson had given him a message about why he wasn’t there. Why he wasn’t home.

Sherlock scrolled through his phone, not finding a single message from John. He exhaled, putting his phone back where he had found it. 

He was starting to worry if John had forgotten about him, though he quickly shook that thought away.

He lifted his head and looked at the door, deciding to ask Mariana if she knew anything.

He hastily opened the door and rushed to her, knocking on the door to 221A. 

A groggy Mariana opened the door after a few knocks, raising a brow once she saw Sherlock. “Sherlock…? What do you ne-“

“ Mariana .” He mumbled out, pressing his hands together. “Has Watson told you about showing up late?”

She looked at him dumbfounded, shaking her head. “No, I thought he was home all day… is he not?”

“No, he’s gone on a date with Ms. Beautiful: Mary.”

“Whatever it is, he’ll come back soon, I’m sure of it. While you’re here, do you need anything? Water, biscuits…” Mariana started to listen, being interrupted.

“No, thank you. I’ll go back up to Archie. …Thank you.” The detective murmured before disappearing back up the staircase.

Mariana rolls her eyes with a soft chuckle, closing the door.

***

Sherlock spent the whole night sitting on the couch, waiting for his dear friend’s arrival, checking the clock every now and then.

His gaze eventually drifted to the dog beside him, sighing. His phone was eating in his lap, and turned it on, deciding to write in the Discord.

He opened the channel “john-and-sherlock” his fingers hovering over the keyboard. A few other people started typing, having seen that he was typing.

He chuckled ever so quietly before writing the words “John forgot about me.” He also decided to add a sad emoji.

The chat immediately flooded with “HOW DARE HE”s, “poor Sherlock :(“‘s and a lot of people saying that they’ll never forget him, in that John probably didn’t forget him.

He smiled at the few kind words, typing a simple thank you.

The chat flooded again, it started to get overwhelming. He sighed, deciding to go offline again. “I’ll be going again. Bye, ‘podpals’.” He typed before turning his phone off and putting it away.

“He forgot.” Sherlock sighed.

With those words, he got up, deciding to take Archie with him to his bedroom. Just this ‘once’.

He made him a little bed out of a pillow he’s sacrificing, making it all comfortable. He had let Archie wander around his room in the meantime. Sherlock eventually picked him up and placed the bulldog on the pillow, smiling.

He changed into his PJs, took his ear defenders off, and laid down on his bed, sighing quietly. 

He was starting to accept the fact that John had forgotten about him. He turned to his side, shutting his eyes.

***

It was around 9 AM as a very hungover John stumbled into their flat, having a massive headache. He looked around, calling for Sherlock or Archie. “Sherlock? …Archie-boy?” 

It stayed silent and John groaned a tad. Perhaps Sherlock was asleep…

He wasn’t. He was simply upset with his flatmate and decided to ignore him, or at least, be cold and distasteful towards him. And funny enough, he was sitting on the bloody couch, typing away on his laptop.

The doctor looked to his side, seeing Sherlock sitting there with their dog.

He furrowed his brows. “Sherlock, I literally just called out your name... At least a hello would’ve been appreciated.”

“Hi.” The singular word that left the detective’s mouth was cold, very cold.

John was taken back a little, the tone making him worry a little. “You… What are you up to?” He grunted quietly, his hand moving to his forehead.

“Case.”

“Like always.. mind if you could help me a tad with the hangover?” 

Sherlock turned his head away, frowning. “Why didn’t you ask sexy babe Mary?” He said ‘arrogantly’. Though in truth, he was simply jealous. 

John groaned, not understanding why Sherlock seemed so upset. “Can you stop acting like a child and.. I dunno, help me a little?”

This time the detective didn’t give him a response, petting Archie.

The podcaster's brows furrowed even more, walking up to his friend and looking at him. “Sherlock. Why are you acting so.. like  this  all of a sudden?” His tone was laced with irritation.

“You promised.” This time, the words that left the man’s mouth seemed more vulnerable or upset than cold. 

John, on the other, was just plain confused. “What are you talking about, mate? What did I ‘promise’?”

“And you’ve forgotten it as well!” He sighed, shaking his head as he removed his hand from the dog.

“What are you even talking about??? Can you actually speak and not be all cryptic?” The doctor was agitated, though not on purpose. The headache was just putting him in a bad mood.

“You wanted to help me with the case. You never even showed up! And you forgot as well!” The taller man hissed, having sharply turned his head to John.

It took a moment before he realized what the other was talking about. He did forget. He felt a little bad but also thought that the other was being overdramatic. “Oh, Sherlock, it’s just a case. Is that all you’re upset about? Over one  damn  case?”

“Yes, I am.” He nodded.

“God, that’s so childish! Come on, you are really being overdramatic. Just, help me a little and I’ll help now.” John offered, crossing his arms.

 Sherlock looked away again, shrugging. “Too late. Someone else helped me.” That was a lie, but he was still upset with his friend.

Watson lifted his brows, feeling a tad bit of jealousy himself. “Huh… Who?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Oh, come on, you’re being unreasonable! I forgot and didn’t help you with a case  one  time and now you’re all sad and angry with me!” He was starting to get upset as well, rolling his eyes.

Sherlock rose from the couch, looking down at his flatmate. “Mary shouldn’t be your priority… Your friends should always be the Nr. 1 priority! And who are your friends? Mariana, Archie and  me ! You never even told anyone you were staying with her.” His tone was bitter and sharp.

“Because I don’t have to!” The podcaster retorted. “And for you being my priority, that’s for me to decide!” His tone had risen, standing his ground.

Sherlock put his hands up in the air, surrendering. “Fine.” He stormed off to his room, the bulldog waking up at that. 

“Fine!” John kept his arms crossed, starting to feel bad already. He reached down to pat Archie, but he quickly slipped away, running into Sherlock’s room.

Watson let out a sigh, burying his face into his hands. “God.” He quietly hummed, deciding to get himself some meds and water from the kitchen.

He wanted to apologise already, he wasn’t even 100% sure for what, but he still felt like he needed to.

The doctor thought it was best if he let the both of them cool off first, not wanting to make things worse.

Admittedly, he now knew that he had something that was important for Sherlock, and he didn’t necessarily blame him for being upset.

As of now, he was thinking about what they both said. “…Of course, he’s one of my priorities. But… he knows that.” He placed the glass cup he had just been drinking out of down, burying his face back into his hands.

***

It had been about an hour now, and the podcaster decided to apologise to him now. He got up from where he was sitting.

He stumbled to his best friend’s bedroom, gently knocking on the door before opening it and peeking through the crack.“Sherlock?” He asked softly.

Sherlock was facing his back to the door, Archie in his lap as he petted him. He glanced behind him at John’s voice, but looked away, not responding.

“Can I come in?”

The detective slowly nodded, not minding it.

John pushed the door open, entering before closing it again. “Look, mate... I wanted to say I’m sorry. Yeah? I feel… bad for not helping you and not telling you I’d stay over at Mary’s, I really am sorry.”

He fidgeted with his hands, looking at his best friend. “And.. I hope you can forgive me because I know how much cases and such mean to you. I’m pretty sure you know this as well but… you’re one of my biggest priorities, okay? Can you... I dunno. Forgive me?” His tone was soft, but genuine.

Sherlock stayed silent, slowly shaking his head. He didn’t accept the apology.

It broke Watson’s heart, but he decided to try once more. “…Please.”

“No, I don’t think I can,” Sherlock mumbled quietly.

John exhaled and nodded, accepting the man’s decision. He was going to try one more time in a moment, but he wanted to do something else before. “Alright, that’s fine.”

He started but he didn’t know what else he wanted to say. He figured something out and slowly approached him. “What about a hug instead?”

“…Yes, please. I’d be gratefu-“

The podcaster didn’t waste any time with quickly hugging his best friend, holding him close. 

Sherlock exhaled, leaning into a hug. Archie got out of his lap and Sherlock that as a chance to return the hug. He nuzzled his face into the man’s shoulder, his grip tight. “I’m sorry as well..”

“Don’t worry, it’s fine… I forgive you. And know, I’m still very sorry as well and-“

“I forgive you. Of course, I forgive you… I’ll always forgive you, and.. you’ll always forgive me.” He muttered, holding onto John as if his life depended on it.

John smiled and nodded, resting his chin on the other’s head. “Damn right, you are. I’ll always forgive you…”

Archie was watching them, sitting there innocently.

He probably farted, but we’ll never know.

____________

Check it out on AO3!

[heavenangelly]

Hi!

I would like to ask for some advice. I’m on an SP journey, but it has been a rocky journey. he broke up with me in late jan as if he didn’t can’t wait to get away from me. in early feb, he was enraged that I didn’t want no contact cause I bothered him during his japan trip and he said there was no hope in getting back together anymore and he wouldn’t pick up my calls anymore. he hurriedly said all the best in life and that was our last convo. And we aren’t following each other on social medias anymore, but my flatmates are. afterwards, I was in a really bad head space where i couldn’t eat for a few days, but had to get myself together because i’m still in uni. I was then spamming myself on the law since mid Feb. I was gradually getting better, everyday trying to keep myself together and was doing good deleting social media. In May, my birthday month passed and he didn’t message me or anything even though i was affirming hard and persisting through my tears. I thought I was doing good in May but on early june, I found out thru my flatmate that he went to a yearly event with a 3p and took pictures like we did last year. Like a picture of their shadows together. This has haunted me and I got triggered badly and I had barely managed to get myself to affirming again thru the heart pain that he still belongs to me and that he will still always come back to me since. I cannot afford to falter and waver because i’m in my exam period.

However in May, i never thought he was with a 3p even though earlier on, i noticed he followed someone new on spotify (back when i was still constantly checking his socials like spotify tiktok profile pic and stuff but we weren’t following each other).

I don’t know how to believe with conviction that affirming myself that He is already mine and he only thinks of me regardless of who he’s with, bc I smh keep on intrusively think of the picture of them together as well as their shadow picture together. It’s haunting me and I don’t know how to have faith in the law fully and that he will actually come knocking on my door telling me he still loves me.

we only last talked in late jan, but he seemed to have gone raves and other events with 3p already. And she looks completely different from me and I had a thought that he wanted to look for someone different so he cldnt think of me.

I don’t know how to remind myself of my power that i can create my own reality when something like this happened in 3d while i thought he was busy thinking about me…

I hope you could give me some advice because I don’t want to keep getting triggered whenever i hear the name of the event. I feel my heart breaking while I hear about the event even when i’m affirming to myself that He’s mine and he’s only going to miss me more. But it feels like i’m stuck and powerless… I want this to be a success story and i hope you could help me. I really appreciate it.

Start with imagining. Imagine that sp isn’t actually happy with the 3p and is wishing that he would be with you again. Imagine how he craves you and is in complete regret of letting you go. Now imagine that everyday he wishes you were his again. Then decide he messaged you/met up w u and wants to be YOURS again. Imagine that he is dedicated and loyal. Feel the reality of the scenes and accept them in imagination. Now you have a success story and it is true. Go on in the 3d without stalking his social media and if that image pops up in your head, imagine it was urs and his. Operate in the 3d while knowing that you are in a relationship with him and do not accept no for an answer. You are actually in a relationship with him (since it’s in imagination and imagination creates). Do not let the 3d put you in lack when it is your mirror. Go past it and decide what you want and remain faithful to it because it makes you feel good and you actually want to. Just lose yourself in the feeling, feel its truth and persist in the assumption he’s yours again. Do not identify with the past you where he has a 3p and isn’t with you. That is now a memory/the past.

[gregorovitch-adler]

Hi! I love your fics & ficlets. Idk if you take prompts. But I have one. Sherlock not gravely injured but getting two butt shots for said disease/injury (at his bottom) by Dr. John Watson. I think this may turn out to be a quite hilarious fic for us readers. I'd like to know what you think of this.

Hello! I'm so glad you like my writing. I usually don't take prompts, but this one sounded fun. So, here you are.

--

The Unconventional Solution

John was reading a book at night, sitting on his chair in the living room. Sherlock was lying on the sofa, covered in a thick blanket, and staring at the ceiling.

It was the fourth day of Sherlock suffering from a viral fever.

Sherlock had been susceptible to seasonal changes quite often, in the past.

John had made him go through a three-day medicinal course, but strangely, Sherlock's body was still weak, and the thermometer reading refused to drop from forty degrees.

Good that his runny nose and coughing had subsided. The frequency of his fever had also reduced, but not its intensity. It was once a day for an hour or two, but significantly high.

"John," he called out weakly. "I'm still burning."

John kept his book on the side table and got up to walk to Sherlock. He touched Sherlock's forehead with the back of his hand, and withdrew it immediately. It was indeed burning.

"That's odd. It should've become milder by now. Let me measure it," he said and went to the bathroom to get his medical kit from the shelf. When he came back, Sherlock was already trying to sit up.

"Wait," John said and walked across the room to help him up by his shoulders. John squeezed his shoulders, and placed his medical kit on the coffee table. He opened it to grab the thermometer, and gave it to Sherlock after turning it on.

Sherlock placed it inside his shirt, in his armpit and they waited for a minute.

"I'll take you to hospital tomorrow, if you don't get better by the morning."

"Not a chance."

"I'll drag you if I have to," said John and folded his arms.

"I'd like to see you try." Sherlock smirked.

Oh, how John was dying to kiss that smirk off that damned mouth!

They'd had to place two pillows between them on their bed since the past few nights, and John had been growing impatient now.

The thermometer beeped. Sherlock took it out. "Forty degrees, still. Are you sure it's working?" he asked, looking up at John through his lashes.

"Oh, it's working just fine!" John kept his thermometer back in his kit, placed his hands on his hips, and wondered. What was he supposed to do now? Surely, he couldn't let Sherlock sleep in that condition. It was half past eleven, so the pharmaceutical shops nearby must be closed by now.

Suddenly, one of the medicines caught John's eye. An ibuprofen vial - intramuscular. John knitted his brows, trying to remember why he had that with him. Ah, yes. A post-op patient had needed it when John was doing his rounds.

John had ordered some extra after having administered it to that patient - which he had paid for, afterwards. To be prepared for something like this.

John cleared his throat. "Lie down on your stomach."

"Why?"

"I'm gonna give this to you," said John, pointing at the vial as he began to sterilise his hands. He took out the vial to prepare the syringe.

"What the hell is that?"

"Ibuprofen."

"What about giving me a tablet of that, like a normal person?!" Sherlock was tapping his thighs with his fingers restlessly.

"We're out."

"We can obviously wait till the morning!"

"I could barely touch your forehead, Sherlock! We really can't. And you need to sleep."

"Boring," he said, trying to sound non-chalant, but grabbing his blanket sort of defensively at the same time.

"Are you scared?" John asked, unable to keep his disbelief out of his tone, as he flicked the syringe to check for any air-bubbles.

Even after being together with him for four months now, and being his flatmate for ages, there was still something new to learn about all the time when it came to Sherlock.

"Not at all," he said sternly but began to wrap himself with that blanket.

John bit his bottom lip to control his laugh, trying to maintain his best bedside manner. "Well, that blanket or any amount of layers isn't going to save you." John held up his syringe, which was now ready. "Get on your stomach."

"But -"

"Now," he ordered.

They locked eyes with each other. John was going to hold Sherlock's intense gaze forever, if he had to. John could see his pupils dilate, and his cheeks a bit flushed up - not necessarily because of the fever - as Sherlock looked away and cleared his throat.

Sherlock huffed and put his blanket away and lay down on his stomach.

Knew it would work, John thought as he walked closer to the sofa. "I'm going to take these off," he said, meaning the pyjama bottoms.

Sherlock nodded, but his body still looked a bit tense. John pulled down Sherlock's pyjamas and boxer briefs till his upper thighs.

He took out some methanol swab from his kit to rub at the upper, lateral quadrant of his left butt.

Sherlock hissed.

"Cold?"

Sherlock nodded and made an uncomfortable sound at the base of his throat. If John weren't in a professional mode, he would've paid attention to whatever unwanted thoughts that were intruding his mind at the moment. Sherlock always made him feel that way - couldn't be helped.

Especially with that arse on display. Stop it! John scolded himself as he palpated the area where he'd applied methanol to feel for Sherlock's gluteus maximus.

"Don't worry. Just keep breathing and you won't feel a thing."

"John, you know it doesn't work. Especially with a syringe that big-"

"Not really."

"It is!"

"Picture me in my old fatigues," said John and placed the syringe needle at a ninety-degree angle to the skin surface.

"Oh." Sherlock's body visibly relaxed at that.

With that, John began to administer the ibuprofen steadily. Sherlock gasped a bit in pain, but John soothed that area with his fingers. When he was done, he carefully took out the needle at the same angle and pressed a cotton ball against the tender surface to help Sherlock relax.

John pulled up Sherlock's pants and pyjamas and patted his butt as he got up to keep everything back in his medical kit. He noticed that Sherlock's eyes were still closed. "We're done," he said and cleared his throat. "Let's go to bed."

Sherlock opened his eyes and let out a relieved sigh. John gave him a hand to help him up, and they both walked slowly to the bedroom.

In the room, Sherlock began to grab extra pillows from the wardrobe.

"What are those for?" asked John.

"We've been placing them between us since I fell ill," Sherlock replied, with his brows furrowed in confusion.

John took them from his hands and placed them back in the wardrobe. He grabbed Sherlock by the shoulders to push him onto the bed. "Not today," he said and walked to the other side of the bed to get inside the duvet with Sherlock.

"But what if you catch it?"

John just wrapped his arms around Sherlock without replying and kissed him on his cheek. "Good night. Try to get some sleep," he said and yawned.

It didn't take either of them long to doze off.

*

John's eyes fluttered open in the morning, only to find Sherlock pinning him with his intense gaze, with his head propped up on his elbow.

"How long have you been awake?" asked John in a scratchy voice, with his eyes half open.

"Five minutes."

"How are you feeling?" John was wide awake now, remembering last night. "Were you able to sleep?" John reached out to touch Sherlock's forehead.

He did not have fever anymore, and he certainly looked better than he did last night.

"Yes. Quite well, in fact," he said and leaned in to kiss John's forehead. "Already feeling better."

"You sure about that?" John asked, looking at Sherlock properly, hoping he wasn't just saying that to avoid going to the hospital.

Sherlock hummed and nodded. Without warning, Sherlock climbed on top of John and planted a long, searing kiss on his mouth. John made a surprised sound but kissed him back, not caring about their morning breaths too much.

"Don't think this means you aren't still under observation," John murmured, as he moved his mouth to place kisses along Sherlock's jawline.

"I don't mind that at all," Sherlock said with a sigh as he moved his hands around John's chest, dropping them to his arse.

"Might give you another dose of ibuprofen if necessary."

"Maybe refrain from that," he said and they both began to laugh with their foreheads touching.

John was glad to see Sherlock back in his form. He couldn't possibly be more in love with this man, even if he tried.

--

AN - Just a quick medical realism here: Butt is usually not the first choice to administer IM medication in a lot of cases, but I just wanted to go with the flow of this prompt to fulfill it. I know ibuprofen is most commonly given orally or through IV, but... eh. I hope you liked this one, Anon!

Tags: @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely @a-victorian-girl @gaylilsherlock @lisbeth-kk @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes, etc.

[twitchmattentusiast]

hey girl wyd miss yoi

hey!! currently curled up on my flatmates uncomfy ass chair because we went out last night and i didn’t feel good so left at 3 am but she got back at 4 am from this guys looking like a ghost and shaking so am sleeping in her room checking over her like a bodyguard 😭😭😭 im good tho missed my 9 am yesterday but going to all three of my classes today even if i force myself

[navybrat817]

Lmaoo, I haven’t told her about the hair dye I sent to her house yet😂

You’re so right😍 imma ask my roommate if she minds if I bring them back with me and just hide them during room checks😂 my building is like that too!! I live in a cluster style dorm, and two weeks ago one of my flatmates had texted us asking if we knew why the police was in our building. None of us knew they were there; I had just gotten off from work, I’m walking back to my dorm and she’s like someone stunk the whole building up with weed😭😭 When i tell you I felt like I got punched in the face after I walked into our pod 😭 had flashbacks to when I worked at the grocery store and every so often I would have that one customer who smelled like they smoked 10g💀 I don’t smoke but I definitely got a free buzz every now and then😂

My mother and I went to Walmart a few weeks ago and they have their Halloween squishmallows out. I’ve been meaning to get one and since I was going home I was like “I’m gonna get one just to make her mad.”😈 My mother was like get the one she really wants which she thought was either this black cat or this green one dressed in a pumpkin costume, but I didn’t like either of them at the time so I got the one I wanted which was this purple ghost holding a pumpkin. We get home, she comes to the living room and I’m like look what I got and when I tell you her reaction had me dead😂 it turned out that I had gotten the one she really wanted and she was so upset 😂 she was like “how you gonna get the one that I wanted and not get me one too😐” and I was like “don’t you got a job”😂 so that’s that and I will in fact be getting another one just to spite her😈

LITERALLY THE BIGGEST ENABLER I KNOW🙉🤣 if it were a job you would be RICH, bath and body works should sponsor you at this point 😂💗

I don’t smoke but I definitely got a free buzz every now and then😂

When I took my kiddos to the amusement park recently, we caught a whiff a few times. And when my moot and I went to Magic Men. 😂

It turned out I had gotten the one she really wanted and she was so upset 😂

That's peak sibling energy right there. 😂 My hubby is an only child and the first time he was around my siblings and I, he was like 😐. I thought he was going to dump me because of how crazy my family is.

LITERALLY THE BIGGEST ENABLER I KNOW 🙉🤣

I like to encourage people in a healthy way! 🥰 It would be nice to get a profit from candle sales. 🤣

Speaking of candles. 👀 What scents do we think Bucky would like?

Love and thanks! ❤️

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day 4 - Prompt: Evoke @pandalilymicrofics

February Daily Series - 963 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Lily eyed the four blokes blocking her way suspiciously. This impasse started about ten minutes ago and three aisles over with Remus distracting her from reshelving the returns with a long-winded story about a pair of “lost ships.” He clearly thought that it was the perfect allegory for missed opportunities, but it sounded particularly absurd to hear from his lips.

Then, Sirius appeared from nowhere and steered the conversation toward social media stalkers, which was apparently a little too on the nose for Remus. When she’d finally slipped past them, James stopped her in the next aisle to ask if she was attending the Yule Festival tonight, and when she said “yes,” he proceeded to incorporate her into their collective plans. Lily managed to duck into the last aisle and reshelve the remaining four biographies in her hands, only to find all four of them blocking her exit afterwards.

“What‘s this then?” she demanded, propping her hands on her hips. “I haven’t seen you here in weeks,” Lily pointed out to Remus before eyeing Sirius and James, “and the two of you are rarely indoors for more than twenty minutes.”

She gestured vaguely at the small stack of books in Regulus’s hand. “He’s the only one who seems to know what a bookshop’s purpose is.”

“I don’t know why they’re here, but I wasn’t going to turn down a chance to buy books,” Regulus admitted with a shrug. He glanced between Sirius and Remus curiously. “Why are you here?”

“We,” Sirius said, gesturing between himself and Remus, “are here to visit with Lily. Since I’m only in town for a few more days, I thought it would be nice to spend some time together. Evoke a little friendly comradery.”

James nodded avidly, which wasn’t at all suspicious. “Right, and I’m here to buy Regulus books for the ride home. I just figured you might want to join all of us tonight.”

“All of you? And how many is that meant to be?” she checked.

“My parents, Sirius, Remus, Regulus, me, Peter, and Pandora,” James replied, ticking the names off of his fingers. “Yeah, I think that’s it.”

Lily frowned as she went through the list internally. “So, is that four couples? And me?”

“Oh, no! Pandora is my flatmate from London, and she’s coming to meet James,” Regulus assured her. “I haven’t even met Peter yet.”

“He’s a friend from uni,” Sirius replied quickly. A little too quickly.

“Remus? What’s going on here?”

Remus rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. “A coincidence?”

“If you say so.” Lily flailed her hands at the blockade until Regulus ducked behind James and Remus stepped out of her way. “I have work to do. Can whatever you’re plotting wait until tonight?”

“So, you will join us?” James asked, rocking on his heels like a small child.

“I’ll be at the festival. If I run into the lot of you, so be it, but I’m not committing to wasting my whole night following you idiots around,” she said, rolling her eyes at Sirius’s scoff. Spinning on her heel, she glared at Remus pointedly. “If I find out you’re trying to set me up again, and I will find out, you will not like the consequences, Remus John Lupin.”

“Definitely not,” he agreed.

Sirius looked gobsmacked. “John? Remus John?”

Lily strode away with her head held high and her arms swinging at her sides. She was confident in two things after that confrontation: Remus wouldn’t dare attempt to replicate the Gideon and Fabian incident from uni and the combination of James and Sirius was asking for trouble. As if she didn’t already know those two were as brilliant as they were foolish. She just wished that they didn’t drag Remus into their nonsense.

And me. Leave me out of this. Whatever “this” is.

She busied herself straightening the display tables out front until the quartet of chaos left. The last thing she needed was to be caught up in one of their “incidents.” The Potters may be dear friends of Mr. Lupin, but their son and his friends set off her red flag alarm. Individually, they were fine, but together? Pure chaos.

“Lily? Phone call for you!” Alice called, waving from the back office.

She waved back as she reached for the handset at the register. “Thank you, Alice!”

“Hello, this is Lily, can I help you?”

A long silence followed. It wasn’t one of those creepers that breathe into the receiver, or even the empty mechanical silence of a telemarketer who hadn’t connected yet. This was…shy.

Lily toyed with the old, misshapen cord that connected the phone to the wall. Mr. Lupin refused to replace it with a cordless or headset because he was afraid they’d lose it. The man could be such a dinosaur for only being fifty-five.

“Hello?”

“Oh, sorry. I wasn’t expecting…I mean, you caught me off-guard, that’s all.” The voice was both timid and defensive, but slowly lifting in volume.

“Alright, what can I do for you?” she repeated, keeping her tone as professional as possible.

“I was looking for a book about…never mind, you probably don’t have it.”

The call ended abruptly and left Lily staring at the archaic device in confusion. It stung a little to be dismissed so quickly, which was stupid. She hung up the phone and shook her head clear.

Leave it. Just a weird one, that’s all.

Except it nagged at the back of her mind the rest of the day. The woman’s voice was strong, but she’d rambled as though her thoughts were scattered on the floor and puzzling them together was too much effort. The hang-up was likely from her own embarrassment for being caught daydreaming, and yet…she couldn’t help wondering who she was.

Next Part>>>

[moonchild-in-blue]

went outside to let one of my kitties play in the snow while the train was passing, the neighborhood was very peaceful and quiet. 💚

(i dressed appropriately for the cold, I promise)

Like street lamps, we glow so dim Like four walls, you've shut me in

I took a while to reply to this because I got weirdly emotional (what a surprise, pathetic wet cat girl is crying again), and rambled waay too much, so I'll spare you all and keep this under a cut.

Warning, this is Long and makes very little sense - I drafted it earlier this morning but wanted to get a picture of that ^ before posting. Also ignore my mistake lol, I should've double checked the lyrics beforehand.

You, know I spent a very long time last night looking at this picture. Something about the orange glow on the white layer of snow that is just... so peaceful and melancholic. I have a weird attraction to street lights - can't really explain why, but something about them makes me weirdly emotional (when I say I easily cry at the weirdest things, I'm not kidding in the slightest).

And then the snow.

Where I'm from, where I live, we don't have snow. Ever. Save for a small part of the very north of the country, the rest of us never get it - plenty of hail, and 5 minutes of barely-snow during a particularly cold day if you're extremely lucky, but never the real deal.

The first time I saw real, white, fluffy snow was during the autumn of 2016, right after moving to the UK for my studies. I was 19. It was such a beautiful moment - me and a bunch of other students from the dorms went out in our pjs at like, 4 or 5am to play in the snow. The first heavy snow I experienced was 2 years later, November 2018.

For the few years I lived there, I got to live through some wonderful snow days. It was amazing to wake up, look out my apartment window, and see the whole street covered in white. It's the one thing I genuinely miss about the UK.

Seeing this picture, the cars covered in white, the golden orange light, the night, dark and silent and peaceful, brought back so many memories of my early 20s nights. Getting home at 1am, exhausted and on the verge of tears, after a shitty shift at work. Me and my flatmates singing on the streets after one too many drinks at our favourite pub. 3am runs to the dingiest takeaway possible for oily chips and disgusting pizza.

So much of these seemingly ordinarily experiences are things that I will never get to live again. And that's fine and expected - I can't be 22 forever, and thank God I'm not! But I do get nostalgic about those times.

Sometimes I feel like it was just yesterday that I was waiting on the cold for a taxi after a house party, annoyed at myself for not kissing the guy I had a crush on. Sometimes they feel so distance, like forgotten memories belonging to someone else. And I don't know, this kinda brought back so many emotions, I had to take a moment to sort them out.

This also reminded me of a Midwest Emo album cover. Like, I can 100% see this picture on the next Real Friends / The Wonder Years / American Football / whatever band cover.

In particular, it reminded me of these two songs (aside from that first song I shared. Which btw I can't reccomend them enough). They're a bit sad (no surprises there), and not really related to your photo at all, but uhhhh yeah. I'm sharing anyways. Because why not.

Something about midwest emo/pop-punk bands that just puts you in a hyper contemplative mood 👍

If you read this whole nonsense ramble, I apologise. Once I get sentimental, it's hard not to pour over. I will never not be a sad emo girl, no matter how much time it passes lol 💙💚

Here's a nice cookie for your troubles 🤲🍪