#holmes once again wants to just shout TALK TO EACH OTHER

[amypihcs]

Finished this story! Another case of bad communication, apparently, or complete lack of thereof.

Let's see what our favourite bistinguished bisaster tells us!

He had left with Ferguson going to check oh his wifey

No husband but a doctor. EXCELLENT. Some food wouldn't be bad as well, Dolores, eh! Let's meet this woman, Watson has to visit her

cut the bisaster, doctor.

That's better. I honestly love seeing Watson doing his job. He's very competent. And... the lady won't see her husband

WELL I WONDER WHY. Watson, your friend behaved QUITE badly with her. He could've at least tried to talk. But after all...lack of communication. These two idiots are afraid to hurt each other by talking and are HURTING EACH OTHER MORE BY NOT DOING IT. IDIOTS!

Well, time to see the second to last member of the family.

Enter Jack! Apparently him and his father do love each other!

And finally the last but sure not least member of the unhappy incomunicative family! BUT WAIT!

IT'S JOHN H WATSON WITH A STEEL CHAIR offering a MUCH BETTER ROAST.

Let's get back to the lil one, alright? Alright. The baby is very tiny and cute and WATSON!

CLOSE YOUR MOUTH! I know your Holmes is so very handsome, i know that discovering that he's tender and likes children is a terribly sweet. But you're actually drooling on the floor. Back to the narration, come on! You two will make out later, up to the lady!

Holmes. I do understand ripping off the bandaid. But it's not always so, it's why people invented anesthesia-

ALSO IF THOSE TWO WOULD JUST TALK! Now, let Holmes explain

EXPLAIN THAT YOU BIG RUGBY PLAYER COULD'VE USED YOUR BRAIN AND AVOIDED TO LEAVE OUT POISONED ARROWS. This is basic safety measures, Ferguson, c'mooon!

Well at least now they'll talk...

sure, TALK. nothing else. Let's get out of their air now that they're still dressed. Take the maid too!

And in the next story WATSON will have the chance to infodump on Holmes, because it's missing three quarters and Holmes doesn't know shit of rugby!

[doctors-journal]

8 August

Mum and dad convinced me to set up an appointment with a counsellor and today was the day. It was all the way in London, since I guess that’s where I’ve been living. I told them I could take the train, but mum and dad insisted on driving me and making a day of it, like we did when I was a kid.

Even though dad was taking the day off for family time, he and mum were up early anyway—they both get up much earlier than the detective. It’s been over a week, but they were still surprised to see that I was up first.

“You’ve become an early riser,” mum said as she joined me for breakfast.

I shrugged. “Doctors have to be up at all hours.”

Dad gave me a look. “So long as you’re getting enough sleep.”

At least I don’t think I’ve been shouting so much the past few nights.

The appointment was fine. I didn’t learn anything I didn’t already know. The counsellor told me to try not to be so hard on myself. She’s right, it’s not helping anyone, but it’s not like it would help anyone if I stopped worrying about it either.

Thankfully, mum and dad didn’t say too much afterward. Today was one of those nice, unseasonably cool, rainy days that London gets. Mum and dad didn’t want to walk in the rain, so we wandered through a gallery. I spent some time looking at the featured exhibit—a striking parade of human figures made out of printed textiles. Otherwise we just meandered through the halls, alternately admiring and puzzling at the art.

We went to a cafe for lunch and then spent a little while in a park afterward since the sky had cleared. It was a really nice day. The trees provided plenty of shade, their lush leaves still dripping with rain. There were some late summer flowers in bloom and squirrels chasing each other around the trees, and little robins flitting across the path.

Dad talked about work a bit, and mum conveyed some well-wishes from the neighbours. Most of my old school friends have moved on, but that’s old news. I mostly listened. In the lulls in the conversation I found myself wondering about how the detective is doing, but I’m sure he’s busy occupying himself with his Moriarty. Perhaps he has even found some other poor chap to drag along on his cases.

I also discovered something while we were out and I’ve just flipped back through my journal and confirmed it.

While we were walking in the park, the detective came up in conversation somehow, and mum asked, “What’s his name again? I know it’s over between you, but I feel like all I ever knew was that he’s a detective.”

“That’s about all I knew too,” I replied, “that he wants to be Sherlock Holmes and will accept no substitutes.”

“You wanted to be Doctor Who,” dad pointed out.

“Yes, when I was a boy. I grew out of it.”

“But you still want to save the world,” mum said.

“Not the world, just…” I couldn’t find the right words to argue.

I don’t even know what saving the world means. It’s definitely not solving crimes or even working in the hospital, and I’m not even doing that anymore.

What I said about the detective wasn’t entirely true either. I did know him, at least I thought I did. Underneath the cool, aloof facade, there was an infectious, nervous energy, a teasing sense of humour, and unshakable determination. God, I can’t believe I actually miss him.

And the whole time we were together, I don’t think I once thought of him by his name, or even wrote it in my journal. That’s what my mum’s question made me realise, and I just confirmed it. He called me “Doctor” and I just thought of him as “the detective.” For that matter, I’ve hardly used anyone else’s name either.

I guess I got so used to trying to keep my professional distance. Of course, I had to know my patients’ names to keep track of their records, but I tried not to get to know them too well, and I don’t remember most of them now. I couldn’t get too attached because they might be dead by morning. They all deserve better than that.

Well, for the record, the detective’s name—my ex’s name—is not Sherlock Holmes, though I’m sure he wishes it was. His name is Justin. I hope he’s not doing anything too stupid chasing after that Moriarty of his.

Now I want a cigarette, but I shouldn't.

Mum’s working on dinner now. I just wanted some space to compose my thoughts in between all the family time. But dinner smells good. Maybe I’ll go see if I can help.

[perfectlywrongformend3s]

Starstruck- Louis Partridge x Reader

Hey! I had a request. that's actually an idea that you can use if you like it :) ok so it can be a louispxreader and the reader is a singer. they meet in a Ceremony and they become friends and maybe after a while they fall for each other and confess? you can change it however you want it. thanks <3

Requested: Yes

Word Count: 2943

Warning: Just lots of fluff

Taglist: @girlincrimson

A/n: Sorry for not getting to you sooner. I am going to try to get out imagines and request as best I can this week. I am booked with work all week this week. Also requests are open.

I changed a little bit of it, but most of it is still the same as you requested.

P.s The songs that I will be using are not mine, they belong with the talented writers and their respectful owners.

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

Your POV

I was in my dressing room waiting to be called to go on stage when I got a notification from instagram. I saw that the actor Louis Partridge followed me. I decided to do some stalking and found some really interesting photos and pictures of him. While I was looking at this one photo of him getting his makeup done I accidentally liked the photo. I then immediately started panicking, because I didn't mean to like it. Before I could do anything about it, I was called to go on stage.

I grabbed my guitar and slowly made my way up to the front of the stage. I could feel the excited energy rising off the fans that came to the show tonight. I felt a smirk form on my face when the lights came on. I heard all the fans start screaming, which made me let out a little giggle into the microphone.

“ How is everyone doing tonight!” I shouted into the mic

I laughed at how everyone was screaming again. I decided to start off with my most popular song right now. I started playing the chords to my song ‘ Good 4 you’

“ Ah. Well, good for you, I guess you moved on really easily. You found a new girl and it only took a couple weeks. Remember when you said that you wanted to give me the world? (Ah-ah-ah-ah)”

I then made the crowd sing along with me.

“ Well, good for you. You look happy and healthy. Not me. If you ever cared to ask.”

I let the crowd scream the lyrics while I continued to play the guitar. I then grabbed the microphone and screamed..

“ Well, good for you, I guess you’re gettin’ everything you want. (Ah) You brought a new car and your career’s really takin’ off (Ah) It’s like we never even happened.”

While singing, I walked up the front and held the microphone close to them and let them scream the lyrics.

I then jumped in with them.

“ Person who ever got you? Well, screw that and screw you. You will never have to hurt the way you know that I do.”

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

Louis POV

I was on the set of Enola Holmes when my phone buzzed indicating that I got a notification. I pulled it out to find the most famous singer I was in love with and liked one of my photos. I was just staring at my screen when my phone got snached out of my hand.

“ Ooh, what’s got you blushing like that? It looks like you turned into a very red tomato.” I heard Millie speak

I watched her face change from teasing to super shocked. I still felt shocked.

“ What! How?” She spits out

I shrugged my shoulders in response. Millie then gave me a playful glare. “ What do you mean you don’t know?”

I gave Millie a look of confusion. “ Millie, I just don’t know how she found my account. I mean I follow her but I don’t think she would ever follow me.”

She just nodded her head and handed my phone back. I then slid it into my pocket before we had to go back to our scene together.

Your POV

I was getting closer to the end of my new song so I went back to my microphone stand and put the mic back in its place before lowering my voice.

“ Maybe I’m too emotional, But your apathy’s like a wound in salt. Maybe I’m too emotional, or maybe you never cared at all. Maybe I’m too emotional, Your apathy is like a wound in salt.” I started leaning into my microphone and started getting my voice ready to shout soon. “ Maybe I’m too emotional, or maybe you never cared at all.” I then let the crowd sing the chorus until I shouted into the mic “ LIKE A DAMN SOCIOPATH!” I heard the crowd scream loud when I did that so I let out a giggle before continuing my song.

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

I was now sitting down on my stool that one of my band mates brought over for me. I was strumming my acoustic guitar on my lap to my next song while talking to my fans.

“ How is everyone doing tonight?”

I got back a bunch of screams and I even heard some responses back which made me smile. “ Alright guys the show is wrapping up soon-” Before I could continue I heard the crowd “ Aww” in response. “ You guys are funny, but I have had such an amazing time hanging out and singing for you guys. I just want to let you know I have about two more songs for you guys. So the first song I want to play for you guys is ‘ Happier’ and then the last and final song of the night is going to be' ‘Good Boy’’.”

I gave the crowd a smile before going back to playing the chords to my song ‘ Happier’

I got closer to the mic and sang the first words…

“ We broke up a month ago.Your friends are mine, you know I know. You’ve moved on, found someone new. One more girl who brings out the better in you. And I thought my heart was detached. From all the sunlight of our past. But she’s so sweet, she’s so pretty, Does she mean you forgot about me?”

I then stop singing for a little while with a small frown on my face before looking up to find the crowd with their phone lights out. I gave a small smile before going back to a frown. I then sang..

“ Oh, I hope you’re happy, But not like how you were with me. I’m selfish, I know, I can’t let you go. So find someone great, but don’t be happier.”

I then pointed for the crowd to take over the singing for a little bit while I played the chords.

Louis POV Millie and I just finished our last scene of the movie so we had to change out of our outfits and head to the place where we were meeting the rest of the cast and crew members for a one last dinner event.

I was the last to arrive as per usual, so we all laughed it off before having a great time with each other before heading off in different directions.

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

Once I was back to my house I fell into my bed and layed there for quite some time. I got interrupted with a text message, so I grabbed my phone and said Millie sent me a link to something. Without thinking I clicked on it and saw that it was a video of Y/n singing one of her popular songs. I smiled while watching it due to my huge crush on her, if I ever met her in real life I probably would pass out in front of her.

Your POV

After I sang my last line of my last song I yelled into the mic…

“ I LOVE YOU LONDON! SEE YOU REAL SOON AGAIN!”

I then ran off stage and headed to my dressing room to pack my things to then get on my toru bus that will take me to my hotel that I was staying at. While I was sitting on the bus I decided to post a couple of my pictures I took and put them on my instagram page. After I did that I then decided to stalk that actor I saw on my feed.

‘Time Jump’

It was one of the most important days of my life because I was nominated for an award at the Grammys. So I was with my make up team and someone was helping me with my outfit also. It was a simple but fashionable dress with some simple black high heel shoes.

Third Person POV

Louis was heading to the Grammy’s because of his new movie getting picked for one of the categories, but Y/n also got a nomination for Top artist, and album of the year. The both of them were so close to seeing each other in real life and they didn’t expect each other to be so starstruck.

Louis’s POV

I was walking around the red carpet with Millie when she got asked to do an interview so I stood back and waited for her to be done. While I was waiting I heard a familiar laugh being heard only a couple of feet ahead of me. I then snapped my head into the direction to find the one and only Y/n Y/l/n laughing with the person interviewing her. It took me a little while to process everything that was going around me because I could only see her in the room. I felt my heart start beating faster and felt my hands start shaking a little bit.

Millie’s POV

I was finally done with my interview when I saw Louis staring at something so I followed his eyes and saw him staring at Y/n. I felt a smirk form on my lips and pulled him over to her with all the strength I had in me.  I heard him telling me to stop but I didn’t listen since I waited to meet her too.

Your POV

I was talking to someone when I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder which made me turn my head. I saw a teenage girl and a teenage boy behind me, so I smiled before giving them my attention.

“ Hi, I’m Millie Bobby Brown and this is my friend Louis Partridge.”  she said

“ Hi, Are you guys fans? Also, are you guys by any chance actors in this movie called Enola Holmes?” I questioned

Millie looked at me shocked and nodded her head. I gave her a smile before holding my arms out to give her a hug. I felt her wrap her arms around me. “ I am such a big fan of your music and I could say the same for him back there too.”

I let out a giggle before releasing her and looked behind her to find Louis just staring. I walked over to him and gently put my hand on his shoulder which made him jump. I raised an eyebrow “ Are you good?” He then just gave me a nod. I turned my head due to hearing Millie speak.

“ He was just in shock. He's in love with you.”

Louis’s POV

I felt my face getting hotter by the minute and glared at Millie. She gave me an innocent look and smirked before walking off and leaving me with Y/n. I saw her turn around and smile at me.

“ So in love with me.” She teased

I gave out a chuckle before scratching the back of my neck and looking back at her. I was about to answer her but someone told us to head to the seats to hear the winners. I watched her walk away and smiled before heading to my seat next to Millie.

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

Once the awards were over I decided to search for Y/n before leaving to head back to my hotel room. I saw her getting hugs from people so I stood back.

Your POV

I smiled at everyone and turned due to feeling eyes on me. I saw Louis and smiled at him. I walked over to him and gave him a hug and whispered. “ Congrats on your award.” I felt his breath on the side of my neck and heard him doing the same to me. I then pulled back due to hearing my name and slipped a piece of paper to him before kissing the side of his cheek.

Third Person POV

Louis stood there with a shocked expression again. He then looked down at the piece of paper to find her number and a message that said ‘ call me’. He then felt himself smile before heading back to his hotel to rest up.

‘Time Jump’

Y/n was chilling in her apartment writing a song when she heard her phone ring. She picked it up to find an unknown number, but just answered it hoping it would be Louis.

“ Hello?” she said with caution

“ Hi” she heard him say

Which made her let out a little giggle. “ I thought you would never call me.” she responded with. Louis chuckled on the other end. “ Yea, sorry about that. I was a little scared to call you.” Before he could say anything else he heard giggles coming from the other end of the line.

“ Why Louis?” Louis thought hard about what his next response was going to be because he didn’t want to straight up say because we were meant to be together or I was just scared of rejection. Louis finally decided to just ask..

“ Y/n.” he took a pause “ I was wondering if you would like to go out to dinner with me?”

Your POV

I let out a gasp when I heard those words and started nodding but forgetting he couldn't see me so I said..

“ Ofcourse, I will go out with you, Louis.”

Then we just chatted about our days for the rest of the day.

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

The day my date with Louis came so quickly then I could have blinked and I was not prepared. I ran all over my house looking for things to finish off my outfit before it was time to go.

I heard a knock on my door indicating that he was here so I slipped on my heels and carefully made my way to the door. Once I opened it I was met with those hazel eyes that I fell in love with.

“ Wow, you look stunning.” he said

I felt myself start blushing. I then took in his look and stated that… “ Well you look really handsome.”

He then held his hand out for me to take. “ My lady,” he said in his accent, which made me let out a small giggle.

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

We were coming up to the end of the date already. He took me to this beautiful restaurant where we are now sharing a piece of cake. I saw him staring at me so I questioned him.

“ What?”

He let out a soft chuckle. “ Nothing, you're just really beautiful looking under this light.”

I felt myself start to blush which made me look down. Before I knew it I felt two fingers lift it back up. “ Don’t look down, you're gorgeous when you get all flustered.” That only made me blush harder. “ Stop.” I said giggling which made him chuckle.

Before I knew it we were back in his car driving back to my place. I was looking out the window when I felt him put his hand on my leg, which sent chills all over my body. I then put my hand on top of his and intertwined our fingers together. I smiled at the thought of us going on more dates.

Louis’s POV

I pulled into her driveway and parked my car. I turned to face her when I saw her already looking at me. I then released her hand and got out of the car to go to her side and open it for her. I walked her to her door where we both stood there for a little while. I then took a risk and leaned forward. I could feel her breath on me, I then closed the gap between us. I could feel her smile into the kiss before I felt her wrap her arms around the back of my neck. I wrapped my arms around her waist to pull her in to me more. She pulled away but kept her forehead against mine.

“ I really like you Louis.” She whispered against my lips

I smiled and said, “ I really like you too Y/n.”

I then leaned in again to give her another goodnight kiss before heading off. I walked over to my car and got in, I then waved at her with a smile on my face and pulled out of the driveway.

Third Person POV

Y/n watched Louis drive off into the distance. She felt a smile creep on her face before heading inside to dream about her date with him. Louis felt the same as her. He felt all giddy inside and he could help but smile at the thought of her. He was already planning the next date for them to go on together.

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

Man this is long, but it was worth it because I got major butterflies from writing this for you. I hope you enjoy and if you would like more Louis then comment and I definitely write more of him.

-Samantha

[nationalharryleague]

Christmas in Holmes Chapel

Pairing: Harry Styles x Y/N

Genre: Christmas fluff on top of Christmas fluff

Word count: 1.7K 

A/N: Hi everyone! This is something I wrote super quick because I was in the Christmas spirit! I was/am also quite drunk (so be nice)!! More of my better writing can be found in my masterlist and I would love to hear what you think ab this in my ask! Also shoutout to Liz (@kiwicherryallaboutharry​) and Morgan (@soullikestyles​) for beta-ing and being sweethearts!! Thank you for reading <3

***

Shouts of “they’re finally here!” were the first things she heard when Harry opened the door to his mum’s house. After two delayed flights, ten hours on a plane, and bumper to bumper traffic the entire way to Anne’s, they were in shambles. This was the first time the pair were spending Christmas with Harry’s family, and this was definitely not the way she wanted it to start. She almost started crying when Gemma took her into her arms after nearly running across the house to greet her.

“I’m so happy you two made it,” she smiled, rubbing Y/N’s tired back when she didn’t release from the hug right away. “I was afraid that you weren’t going to make it tonight.”

“I could cry, Gem. I'm so happy to be here right now,” she confessed honestly, exhaustion clear in her voice.

Gemma released her from the embrace when Harry tapped her on the shoulder. “Hello? I’m here too. Do you not miss your baby brother?” His voice dripped with sarcasm and his dimples were deep on his cheeks, as they always were when he was home.

She rolled her eyes at him, muttering sarcastically “not as much as I missed your lovely girlfriend,” before he pulled her into a hug of his own. The two were the spitting image of each other, both with their exceptionally similar smiles and adorable noses. He squeezed the smaller woman tight, enjoying their reunion after not seeing each other for at least three or four months. They were still so close, even after Harry’s move to LA to be closer to his girlfriend. Y/N had pretended more than once that she hadn’t overheard them when he would call her for relationship advice.

Looking away from the Styles siblings, she was met by Anne's bright smile paired with her wide open arms extended for a hug. “Sweetheart, it’s so good to see you!” she exclaimed with a Santa hat sitting snugly on her head, pulling her close to the woman’s warm and kind body. “There are plates of dinner made up for the two of you in the kitchen and plenty of leftovers in the fridge if you want any more.” She was naturally so caring about those around her and tonight was no different.

“Thank you so much, Anne,” she said graciously. “I’m so sorry we’re so late.”

“Oh, stop it. It’s a Christmas miracle you made it at all with the snow,” she brushed away her apologies, her voice taking a more serious turn as she locked her eyes with hers. “I’m so happy you’re here, Y/N. You’re just as much a part of our family as Harry is now.”

Y/N’s heart warmed with the kindness behind Anne’s words. There was so much love surrounding her right now, too much for her to comprehend without getting teary eyed. She was so thankful for the tenderness and care Harry’s family had shown her over the last three years. She felt at home in what used to just be a house to her; like she was a part of the family.

“Oi, stop hogging her,” Harry teased Y/N, bumping her hip lightly with his and nudging her out of the way so he could hug his mum.

“Harry Edward, I raised you to be polite. Leave the poor girl alone,” she scolded, but opened her arms up wide to receive her son. He was so much bigger than she was, seeming to swallow her body whole in his arms. Y/N couldn’t help the smile that came to her lips as she watched the two interact.

The pair of travelers were passed around the living room, giving hugs and kisses to the various aunts, uncles, cousins, and stragglers that were attending Christmas Eve dinner at Anne’s. The room was full of loud boisterous laughter and Christmas music that played off an antique record player and it smelled like wine and the remnants of a large dinner that had been eaten when they just couldn’t wait any longer for the two to arrive.

Y/N’s stomach growled without permission as soon as she saw the plates of food resting on the counter that had been waiting for them. The pair stood hovered over the plates and ate like they hadn’t seen food in weeks. At the moment, she could only think of two things she knew about Anne for sure: she knew how to raise children and she was a fantastic cook.

When she looked up and saw a spot of gravy hanging on the edge of Harry’s mouth, she just couldn’t resist. She tiptoed and pressed a short kiss to the corner of his lips, taking the gravy with her in the process. He looked down at her with a slightly surprised, but mostly loving, look after she pulled away. The edges of his lips turned up, asking “What was that for?”

“You had something,” she mused, jokingly twirling her pointer finger in the direction of her own mouth.

Before she could process it, his lips were back on hers, kissing her slowly and with so much love. His lips were soft and pillowy as always, but there was something more behind them that she just couldn’t place.

“What was that for?” she asked breathlessly when he released her, using his own words against him.

“I know I have been kind of on edge all day and I just wanted to thank you for dealing with me. I love you so much.” She couldn’t fight the grin that found its way onto her face every time he told her that he loved her. Sometimes she still couldn’t believe she had nabbed such a good one.

“I love you too. Are you alright?” She asked worriedly, noticing the way his eyebrows were nervously knit together and how his posture was slightly worsened like it always was when he was stressed.

“I’ll be okay soon.” There was more behind his words, she knew it for sure, but Harry was very good at playing it cool when he wanted to. She knew he would either tell her soon or it would resolve on its own; she trusted him to tell her what was going on if he really needed her.

Her train of thought was interrupted when Gemma stuck her head into the kitchen and announced that the annual Charades tournament was beginning. Y/N had only heard about the myth of the Charades tournament before and she was excited to find out why her boyfriend raved about it so often. Harry excitedly grabbed her hand, leading her into the crowded living room, watching as the first teams had already begun acting out and guessing.

Before long, it was Harry and Y/N’s turn to go, matched up against Gemma and her husband. She sat on the couch, assigned to play the guesser after he cockily told her ‘there's only one actor in this family,’ and watched closely as both Harry and Gemma read the clue written on the small slip of paper. Gemma gave him a playful and excited smile before extending a friendly hand for him to shake.

“You ready for this, H?” she asked, but once again, Y/N felt like there was more behind her words than friendly competition. Y/N began to think she was being kept in the dark about something, but before she could think too hard about it the pair had begun their miming.

Harry took the approach of creating a circle with his pointer and thumb, repeatedly slipping the whole he had created over his left ring finger.

“Wedding ring!” she guessed excitedly from the couch, only to be met with a shake of his head.

He then moved to get down on one knee, pretending to hold a ring box in his hands. “Asking someone to marry you!” she questioningly yelled again, only met with another shake of his head, but she could tell she was getting closer.

It was when he performed the same ring gesture while on his knee that she got it. “Engagement ring!” She nearly screamed and jumped off the couch, twirling in celebration (a symptom of always being a bit too competitive) after Harry’s face lit up and signaled they had won.

She was confused for a split second when she came back around and Harry was still on his knee, but it all made sense when she saw the real ring box that was now in his hands. Her hands flew up to her face in shock and she was unable to form coherent thoughts, let alone words.

“My love,” he began softly, “I knew I wanted you in my life forever from the moment I met you at that stupid bar. I fought Mitch so hard that night, but he dragged me along and it was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

She remembered that night fondly, but it had admittedly been a mess. She had just gotten dumped and so had Harry, when they found each other at the end of the bar, far away from anyone who was actually having fun, they had started talking and never stopped.

“You make me a better person,” he went on as tears had begun to roll down her cheeks, “and I never want to be who I was before I met you ever again. I love you so much and I never want to live without you. So,” he took a deep breath with hopeful eyes, “will you marry me?”

A shout of “Yes!” let her lips before he even finished, throwing herself at him and bringing him into a kiss.

It all made sense now. She understood why Harry had been so upset when their flight had been messed up, and why Gemma and Anne had been so excited to see them, and especially why he had been on edge all day. He was nervous to ask her, in the most charming and endearing way.

The crowd around them cheered when they finally stood up and their eyes locked as Harry delicately slid the ring onto her left hand. His eyes were slightly teary, but held an excitement that was unmatched. The ring was giant and beautiful, exactly what she expected from him when the time came, and she could barely tear her eyes away from it.

“This is the best Christmas present ever, H. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Thank you for reading! Reblogs/feedback are much appreciated!! 

[maple-the-awesome]

Be Her Guard || Chapter 23

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

WARNINGS: Some strong language

Words: 2,531

Masterlist

"Well, if it isn't the Great Sherlock Holmes. Funny getting to talk to you again, isn't it? What's it been? Almost a month? Just under one?"

Sherlock's grip on the phone tightens, his blood running cold by that teasing tone in Apollo’s voice. John's practically hanging off his shoulder, the optimistic side of him hoping- no, praying- that despite his friend's stiffen appearance, he'll put both of their worries to rest by saying you're on the other end, assuring them you've somehow escaped your ex and are okay. Alas, life's never that easy.

"Where is she?" Sherlock isn't sure if he whispers or shouts the question which is ripped from his mouth before he can truly assess the situation. He doesn't have time for that. He needs to know...is he already too late?

"Wow, no manners at all, and here I was thinking the whole appeal with British men is them being gentlemen-"

"-Answer the question-"

"-Or you'll what exactly? Threaten me while enjoying a cup of tea at your flat? In that case, say whatever you want, Holmes. Don't let me step on your moment. It's not like I really care anyways. All I'd have to do is just hang up once I've heard enough of it...Oh, but I'm sure (Y/n) would be pretty disappointed then. She's been dying to hear you voice."

Sherlock presses his lips in a tight line, all his hostile thoughts towards Apollo being replaced by worry for you. He wonders if you're in the room, listening from afar. If he yells loud enough, would you hear him even through the phone?

"...Why did you call me?"

He can practically see Apollo's smirk on the other end," I just want to talk, that's all. We've known about each other for what...? Seven years? And yet within that time we've never been able to have a civil conversation with each other, in fact, if I recall correctly, the first time we met face-to-face, you broke my nose. It's always been surprising how hostile you are towards me. Sure, you don't seem like much of a people person, but I figured I'd at least be just another face in the crowd for you. It's because of (Y/n), isn't it? Why do you care so much about her?"

"...She's (Y/n). What more reason is there?" Sherlock's eyes dart to John who's quietly sneaking into the kitchen now, his own phone in hand. The detective concludes he's calling Lestrade.

"I guess that's something we can agree on then. (Y/n) is extra special, but that's not what I meant. I want to know why you still care for her when all she does is use you? Haven't you realized it yet, Holmes? It's clear she only goes to you second. She left you in London then suddenly landed back in your arms once she needed you to prove her innocence at the trial. She only returned and agreed to date you because she thinks I'm going to hurt her. Notice the trend? She's never gone to you outside of a time of need. Doesn't that drive you mad to know she only pretends to love you so that she may gain something in return?"

"You're wrong."

"Oh? And why's that?" Apollo challenges, the sound of boots clicking against a smooth surface echoing behind his voice. He's inside somewhere, but where?

"I may not be able to tell you the exact reason why (Y/n) loves me, but I know it isn't to use me as a tool. It's honest affection unlike what she gave to you. She only chose you first because you asked first, and she was nice enough to give you a fair chance in winning her heart. She only rejected me after the trial because you traumatized her. She was afraid I'd do the same thing you did to her, but (Y/n)'s stronger now and she knows she can trust someone else again. That's why she came back to me when you threated her again. She trusts I won't let any harm befall her," Sherlock sits down ever so slowly to the point that one would think he's about to sit on needles. He maintains a neutral tone with Apollo, determined to keep the conversation going for as long as he can.

"Hm, maybe you've already forgotten this, but last time I checked, she's with me, not you. You can't do shit to prevent me from doing whatever I'd like with her because you don't even know where the hell we are," he hears Apollo stop pacing and there's a long pause, one that dares Sherlock to respond, but his tongue's been caught.

Finally, Apollo speaks again, a hint of a chuckle lifting his voice," see, it doesn't matter who wins her heart, Holmes. It only matters who can outsmart the other...You know, I've always resented you during my relationship with (Y/n). I hated the way she'd talk so highly of you, favoring you over her own fiancé. My anger only grew when I saw you at her side during the trial. I've spent six whole years in prison thinking of different ways to get back at you for ruining my life, hoping that one could be good enough to capture the attention of such a famous detective like yourself.”

"Since you have the higher ground and are in such a talkative mood, why don't you finally share how you did it? Your sentence wasn't up nor were you eligible for parole yet, so how'd you get out?"

"Oh, you know...really isn't that difficult escaping prison when your uncle's the warden," he practically drags out each word for a smug effect.

"Hugh Walsh-" Sherlock kicks himself over the realization, but he isn't granted much time to dwell on it on his own.

"-Is my mom's brother-in-law. I never had a close relationship with my dad, so you could say Uncle Hu took on the role and, of course, what uncle would let his nephew rot away in prison if he can somehow prevent it? His only request was that I come up with a good plan instead of being rash. He got me out and covered it up while I went on my merry way to get (Y/n). That's when the game really began. Luckily for me, she took the bait when I sent her that letter, running right to her knight in shining armor and tying him back into this mess just as I had hoped.

"From there, I just had to keep an eye from afar until the right moment. I gotta say, it took longer than I imagined. You really weren't taking any chances with her safety, taking her everywhere you go, parading her around like a show dog...Oh, but I'm sure you had fun with it. I'm sure you savored every second of your time with her especially behind closed doors, right? For the first time, she got to be yours. I guess you could say the image of you doing as you please with my fiancée was making me impatient. Fortunately, I noticed you were getting a little too comfortable. You started taking more risks with her, so I decided to take one of my own..."

When there's another pause, Sherlock takes the bait with growing annoyance," and what was that?"

"Glad you asked. Marvin Patel, ring a bell?"

"No."

"God, you really are an emotionless machine...Man in his late sixties, dark hair, nice beard...heard he went missing after a night at the bar; last night particularly."

"...The body on Abbott Lane..."

"Bingo! I needed a way to lure you away from the missus, so I asked some random drunk if he needed a ride home, killed him in a way that would stump investigators just enough to call their hero, then dumped him on the side of the road to let the show begin. While your head was turned, I simply took my chance to get (Y/n). Of course, she put up a bit of a fight, but nothing a good hit to the head can't fix. Overall, I'd say my plan worked like a charm, wouldn't you agree?"

"And what do you plan to do now? There must be another step considering you've wasted time calling me," Sherlock hisses, his irritation with the call reaching its limit. He can hear John talking downstairs to someone signaling that Lestrade's arrived, but what good will the Yard do if Sherlock doesn't know anything new worth matter. Out of all the bullshit Apollo's spewed, nothing says where you are.

"Nothing gets pass you, or should I say, most things don't," Apollo sighs, the sound of his boots against the ground starting up again," alright, you've got me, detective. I didn't only call to brag, although, that's been the best part of this conversation. Instead, I thought it would be fair to give you a fair chance. What, like (Y/n) did for me? Isn't that what you said? It would be a shame to let our game end so easily and I'm sure poor (Y/n) is just on the edge of her seat waiting for you to find her. Can't let her down, can we?

"I want you to listen closely because I have a few 'conditions' for my hint, but I'm sure you can already guess what they are. It's the typical movie format really: come alone and don't tell anyone where you're going or why. If I so much as think you've disobeyed and have someone on your trail- and I don't care who is it, the police or your little military friend-, I'll finish what I started six years ago. Did you know that I originally planned on a murder suicide back then? I may not want to lose (Y/n), but if we're going to being torn apart anyways, I'll happily take her with me and try our chances together in a new life-"

"-I have one condition of my own," Sherlock interrupts, gaining Apollo's attention.

"Really? You're going to be a beggar in this situation?"

Sherlock's slow with his words, picking each one carefully," I merely want to talk to her...There's no point in playing this game if the prize isn't there, right?"

There's nothing on the other end, Apollo seemingly considering the request and it's worth. Meanwhile, Sherlock holds his breath, truly begging internally for him to take the chance. Maybe it won't do anything to actually help the case, but he needs to hear from you even if it's a single word.

"...S-Sherlock?" His breath hitches at the whimper of a voice which breaks the silence at last, shaking him to his core.

"Yes, it's me. I'm here, (Y/n)," he jumps to his feet, his body trembling as he speaks quickly, knowing Apollo can take this chance away at any moment," listen, I'm coming to get you, alright? There's nothing that'll stop me. J-Just remember everything I've told you, okay? We've gone over it before- what you do if you're ever kidnapped. I'll be there as soon as I can, just hang on a little longer…for me.”

"I-I love you, Sh-Sherlock..." the last words are whispered so quietly that he can barely hear them especially over Lestrade and John's voices as they enter the room, franticly looking over to him, but he never turns his attention away from the phone.

"I...I know...I'll be there soon. I promise."

He isn't sure if you heard the last part because Apollo's soon talking again, his voice melting away the detective's relief," touching stuff, gotta say. Now unless you want to keep pushing you luck, are you ready for your hint?"

Sherlock hums, eyes focused on the floor.

"We're somewhere I've dreamed of being with (Y/n) since we first fell in love. Of course, this one isn't ideal; more of somewhere you would've taken her if it hadn't been abandoned three years ago, but even with the peeling paint, I'd say it still has that traditional feel to it. If only we had (Y/n)'s lilies…Maybe you could bring her some?...You get it, Holmes?"

"...I do," he mumbles, already having the exact place in mind.

"I'll see you then, Holmes. (Y/n) is wishing you luck."

That's it. Sherlock lets his hand fall to his side with the phone still clenched in his grip, his eyes focused on the distance. He knows it's a trap. Apollo isn't even trying to hide it; he wants to get Sherlock alone and kill him as cliche as it is, but the detective doesn’t have much of a choice. He can't just ignore the hint and wait for you to miraculously knock at the door safe and sound nor can he risk bringing John which could cost your life...

"Sherlock, what did he say? Where's (Y/n)?" The doctor asks desperately, reaching for the phone in Sherlock's hand when he doesn't answer,"...here, Lestrade said they might be able to track the pings. We can narrow down Apollo's location and-"

"-That won't be necessary."

"What...?" John raises an eyebrow not only at Sherlock's words but the way he jerks the phone away, calmly walking past him towards the coat rack.

"Look, I know you like to do this stuff on your own, Sherlock, but this is a time sensitive case. If the suspect called you then that's the best lead we're going to get," Lestrade tries to reason, both men watching in surprise as Sherlock causally puts on his coat with a shake of his head.

"It wasn't Apollo on the phone, it was (Y/n). She said she's managed to get away from him, but as you can imagine, the poor girl's rather shaken up and doesn't know her way back to the flat from downtown London, so I'll be going to pick her up myself. She'll have plenty of time to tell us whatever she can about Apollo, information I'll pass over to the Yard later, however, my only priority right now is getting her home," Sherlock explains while wrapping his scarf around his neck and giving a smile to both men, one neither believe," John, I'd like you to stay here and prepare some tea for when we get back. (Y/n) will need something to calm her nerves. It may also be wise to prepare a first aid kit in case she needs medical attention-"

"-Sherlock, I know you weren't on a call with (Y/n), I'm not stupid-!" John marches forward, grabbing hold of Sherlock's arm before he can start down the stairs, but his words are caught in his throat when his friend whips around, giving a deadly glare to the shorter man.

"-I said to stay here. We'll be back by this afternoon," Sherlock rips his arm from John's grip, his words stern yet there’s something else behind them that can’t be made out. He then continues his way downstairs, calling over his shoulder," Greg, you can expect a call from me in the morning with any new details!"

John runs a hand through his hair while watching the door open and close, Sherlock official disappearing behind it and leaving the two men alone with more questions than answers,"…something's wrong."

"Yeah, no kidding...He remembered my name for once..."

NEXT CHAPTER ➡️

[babymetaldoll]

“Ask the girl out, for crying out loud!” (Spencer Reid/ Reader)

Summary: Random talking about books and authors in the jet back from a case creates a lot of awkward silences between Spencer and Reader, they can actually even drive Rossi a little crazy. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid/ Reader

Warnings: I’m getting fluffier and fluffier with every word I write

Word count:1,2K 

Masterlist    

.

It was a long flight from Seattle back to Quantico. Everybody was asleep on the jet, after a whole night awake, catching yet another serial killer. Ok, not everybody was asleep. Spencer was sitting at the very back of the plane, reading his favorite Edgar Allan Poe anthology. He knew by heart every word of it but revisiting it made him feel like home, like talking with an old friend. 

He didn’t have many old friends, so he guessed books could do the trick. 

- “Again? really?”- (Y/N) asked him and sat next to him holding two cups of hot coffee. 

Spencer smiled, not taking his eyes from the page. He knew if he did, he was going to blush and get nervous, ‘cos every time they talked, he got a fluttery feeling in the stomach. He couldn’t help it, even after all those years. He just had to live with the fact he loved his best friend in silence and made his best to pretend nothing was going on. 

- “I can’t help it”- he answered and pretended to continue reading. 

- “I would tell you to find another book you love, but I’m pretty sure you already read all the books in the world”- Spencer gave her a knowing grin, trying to annoy her. 

- “Jealous?”- but he failed

- “I don’t know… I don’t think so, I like to know there’s a book out there I still don’t know, and that it might turn out to be my favorite.”

Reid frowned thinking about it. When was the last time he got so excited with a book it turned to be his favorite? he had read many books, he had loved a lot of them, but nothing had the same effect on him as that Edgar Allan Poe’s anthology he got when he was six. Maybe it was the impact it had on him at such a young age. Maybe he just was a sucker for horror. Whatever the reason was, Spencer hadn't found another book to call his favorite. 

- “Have you ever thought about which character from a book you would like to meet?”- (Y/N) looked at him with honest curiosity after a few minutes in silence and forced him to stop reading again. Spencer didn’t really mind the interruption, he wanted to talk to her.  

- “No, I don’t know… I think I’m more curious about talking with authors than with characters”- he frowned, rubbing his chin, realizing he had never thought about it.  

- “Why?” 

- “I guess I want to know what they thought about while creating these amazing worlds, how they came up with such brilliant ideas…”- Spencer sat correctly on his seat and closed his book, biting his lips to cover a smile- “Did you know that Sir Connan Doyle was a detective of sorts himself? he actually used the Holmes method to solve the murder of an 82-year-old woman from Glasgow, named Marion Gilchrist”

- “Are you serious?” 

- “Yes! and he was friends with Harry Houdini, but had a bitter spat on the grounds of spiritualism that broke their friendship entirely”- (Y/N)’s mouth fell open 

- “No way!” 

- “Yeah! I’ve always wanted to know what that argument was about… can you imagine what it was to be friends with Houdini?” 

- “Maybe Sir Arthur kept asking and asking him to do magic tricks for him, and Houdini just wanted to make him disappear”- (Y/N) made a pause and looked at Spencer’s wide-opened eyes, waiting for his reaction. 

- “Really?”- he closed his eyes, looking in pain after such a terrible joke- “Please, don’t tell me you thought that could ever be funny”- but (Y/N) giggled

- “Oh come on! it wasn’t that bad” 

- “It makes me want to disappear”- the girl elbowed her friend, feeling her heart beating a little faster each time he smiled at her. 

- “Well, I do want to meet a few book characters”- (Y/N) changed the subject and sipped her coffee- “I think there are a lot of them who need to be told a few things” 

- “What? who?”- Reid furrowed his brows, trying to follow her idea  

- “Well, for starters, I need to have one long talk with Holden Caulfield”

- “I can’t imagine what you would say to him”

- “I would give him a hug, I love that kid, I’ve always thought we could have been friends growing up, I mean, we were both rebels against our families and school...”

- “Did you know there is a highly shared theory about The Catcher in the Rye among conspiracy groups? It’s believed that the book is actually used as a trigger for sleeper assassins who were trained by the CIA’s MK-Ultra mind control program”

(Y/N) smiled at her best friend and didn’t say a word for a few seconds. He didn’t know if he had said something wrong or not, he had just said the first thing that came to mind. As pretty much always. 

- “Are you trying to tell me I might be a serial killer, Reid?”- she asked, leaning into him slowly. As she got closer, her heart beat faster, and Spencer’s cheeks turned red. He had to hold his book tight to make sure his hands didn’t shake. His eyes were fixed to her lips, and all he could whisper was. 

- “No… I don’t think you… are… a serial… killer”- he even stuttered. For a second, they were so close they could actually kiss if Reid moved his body a few inches closer. But neither of them did a thing. As always. 

- “I would also love to meet Mr. Darcy and ask him to stop being an ass with Lizzy”- (Y/N) sat back on her seat and sighed, trying not to look as frustrated as she felt. 

- “You did finish the book, right?”- Reid asked playfully, but she just groaned under breath. 

- “I know they got married and lived happily ever after, but for the first half of the book, he was a jerk and it really upset me”

- “It’s called character growth, (Y/N), it’s part of the story”

- “Well, sometimes it’s annoying! don’t you ever want to yell at some book character to stop joking around and do the damn right thing? like, we know you love the girl! ask her out once for all!” 

There was a heavy silence between the two of them. A long, awkward silence. You could feel the sexual tension in the air as they stared at each other.  

Yes, everyone knew those two were madly in love with each other. 

No, neither of them wanted to make the first move, afraid of the rejection. 

Yes, Spencer was sure (Y/N) would laugh on his face if he ever asked her out 

No, (Y/N) could never refuse a date with Spencer, she loved him ever since he first started rambling facts, five minutes into introducing himself. 

Yes, they were driving the whole team insane. 

- “We all know exactly what it’s like to want to yell at someone’s face “ask the girl out for crying out loud”!!”- Rossi nearly shouted standing behind their seats, making (Y/N) and Spencer jump- “Now, if you are not going to say what we all want you to say, I will suggest you two shut up and let the rest of us sleep.” 

Spencer and (Y/N) looked at each other and shrugged. Reid opened his book again and she just closed her eyes. Rossi walked back to his seat and sighed.

- “I’m gonna marry again before those two have their first date”- he whispered to Hotch, who chuckled and didn’t take his eyes from the files he was reading. 

- “That’s not really that hard, David.” 

[moonlit-raven-haven]

The Past

Where the reader and Harry no longer speak.

This is unedited!

Word Count: Just a bit over 3k

Warnings: angst

A/N: It’s been a minute since I’ve written something...I’m afraid it strays away from Keanu Reeves content though...sorry, but my love for Harry Styles can no longer be contained!

Inspired by the edit below from Instagram :)

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by 𝕤𝕜𝕪 (@stylessr1) on Oct 2, 2020 at 3:19pm PDT

It has been several years since Harry left Holmes Chapel, but the small town still held the title of home. His mum, sister, friends, mentors, first job, first love, first heartbreak, and many other people and memories live within the borders of the large village that is Holmes Chapel. But beyond the people and memories he holds close to his heart, the one person that made him miss his quiet life was Y/N; his best friend.

Y/N had been there from the beginning, witnessing all of the important moments in his life. From losing his first baby tooth, to joining One Direction, she never left his side, and he never left hers. The two were inseparable. But time passes, and life changes, even when we want so desperately to grab onto our current lives, wishing that some things will never change.

When Harry joined One Direction, she was thrilled; proud, and happy to see her best friend fulfilling his dreams. And that feeling didn’t stop when he went on his first tour with the band,even if it meant that he would no longer be working with her at W Mandeville bakery, talking in between customers that walked into the shop for their morning coffee and bread. Or that they could no longer see each other daily, cuddled up together on his mum’s couch as they watched reruns of their favorite television shows after finishing hours of schoolwork. But when you’re sixteen years old, you think that friendships last forever.

Y/N and Harry texted and called on a daily basis, only stopping to rest their eyes, sometimes their fingers still wrapped loosely around phones when their eyes finally shut, sometimes soft breathing being heard on the other line. But within months of One Direction’s fame skyrocketing, the texts became more scattered, the time stamps now hours apart from one another, when before they would be within the same minute. The calls went from everyday, to every other day, until eventually they stopped all together, turning into a monthly call to check on one another. The loss of contact was slow, but never quite complete.

Every break Harry would have from his life as a star sent him back to Holmes Chapel where he would embrace his best friend and tell her about all the cool places he traveled to while on tour, the new people, and the new memories he made. And after he would finally give her every detail of his new life, the one she wasn’t a part of, they would bring snacks up to her room, cuddle up, and watch reruns of their favorite television shows into the late hours of the night, finally falling asleep holding on to each other, scared that moments like this would cease to exist, and they did.

It became a tradition of theirs after the first tour. Harry would get home to his mum’s after being gone for months at a time, drop off his bags, eat a meal with Anne and Gemma, and then head off to Y/N’s mum’s house. He would knock on the door only to be greeted by her mom smiling and telling Harry where Y/N was at, and he would practically run to her location, wrapping her in a tight hug that would knock the air out of her lungs. Then her mom would make them tea, and they would find themselves leaning against the kitchen counter with warm mugs in their hands as he told his stories. Once he was tired, or out of stories to tell, they would put their empty and cold mugs in the sink before grabbing snacks from her kitchen, the snacks she would specifically ask her mum to buy for his return, and head up to her room. They would cuddle up together and gorge on snacks before unintentionally falling asleep, wrappers scattered around them as Y/N’s mum walked in and smiled, pulling out her cell to snap a picture and send it to Anne, writing “Seems like Harry is spending the night :)” before hitting send.

By One Direction’s fourth and final tour, things had changed quite a bit. Y/N now had her own flat, where Harry would stay whenever he came to Holmes Chapel, staying at his mum’s house only for a few days before heading back to her place. She had an education she was satisfied with, and had a stable job at a publishing company, working as a successful editor, one of the youngest the company had. Harry had informed her that One Direction split up before the news hit the headlines over a cup of tea, leaning against the counter as they always did when he was gone for long periods of time. There was a comfortable silence as the pair had sipped their tea, Y/N allowing Harry to gather his thoughts before speaking.

“I dunno love…I reckon I’m upset about the band breaking up...but maybe it’s a good thing for us y’know?...” Harry trailed off when his eyes got misty, earning a small frown from the girl that was next to him as she put her mug down and wrapped her arms around his waist, careful not to knock his cup of tea out of his hands. Harry couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face in that moment despite the emotion that had overcome him. He put the mug down next to her own and wrapped his arms tightly around Y/N, breathing in her scent when he rested his chin on her head. She was home to him, bringing him comfort even when it seemed things weren’t going well.

“Maybe I can start a solo career...release music I want...have m’own tours...have you by my side...traveling the world together.” Harry had said with the small upturn of his lips as he swayed them side to side in the small kitchen.

“You would want that?...For me to travel the world with you?” Y/N’s voice was muffled by the soft fabric of his sweatshirt as her face was pressed against his chest. She swayed side to side with him, the movement coming naturally, not being forced by Harry, but rather being brought on by the comfort he brings her.

“O’course I would want that love...it’s always gonna be you and I against the world…”’ He has said softly, being content with the feeling of the warmth radiating off her body and onto his as they held each other in the comfort of their home, swaying side to side to the sound of raindrops hitting the window. But that was five years ago, and where things had gone wrong is still a mystery.

-*-*-*-

Y/N is at work, editing a book for the company’s newest client when she receives a text from Anne. Being in the sanctuary of her own private office, she picks up the phone and smiles at the text.

Anne: Come over for dinner with Gem and I? xx

Y/N: I’ll see you tonight! :)

She types up a quick reply and hits send before setting her phone to the side and focusing her eyes back on the unedited manuscript in front of her. But her mind seems to have other plans, wandering back to him. It has been five years since Y/N has seen or talked to Harry, and she wishes that the ache in her heart will leave, and as time passes, she no longer feels a sharp pain in her heart, but rather a dull pain; a dull ache of longing, longing to see and speak to her best friend again.

She still speaks to Anne and Gemma, seeing them as part of her family. When the first meeting with them occurred a few months after Harry was gone from Y/N’s life, they had asked her what happened between the two, recalling memories of Harry and Y/N from their younger days. The memories made Y/N’s chest tighten as she let out a small laugh, simply shrugging her shoulders as the conversation moved forward, leaving Y/N with a bitter taste in her mouth as she hid the ache in her heart with a smile. That was five years ago.

-*-*-*-

After her shift Y/N gathers her belongings from her desk, deciding to take the Manuscript with her as she has fallen behind due to her wandering thoughts. She puts everything in a brown satchel, one Harry had given her a few months prior to the departure of their friendship, delicately closing the bag and running her fingers over her initials engraved onto the leather with lettering that resembles that of vines. She smiles at the memory that floods her mind.

“Surprise!” Harry had shouted as he practically ran into the flat that he shared with Y/N when he was home. He dropped his bags by the door, going towards their shared room and bed...the one they shared as “friends.” She jumped slightly at the slam of the door and Harry’s voice shouting through the small flat, having been reading a book in bed moments before the loud interruption. But despite being startled and having her attention diverted from the book at hand, she couldn’t help but grin as she got up from the bed and made her way out of their room as fast as her legs could carry her.

Upon reaching the hallway she crashed into Harry, losing her balance momentarily before feeling her feet float through the air, and she couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up in her throat as Harry set her on the ground again, bringing her into his arms and holding her as closely as possible.

“Got a small break from the tour...m’glad you have the day off...now I get to see your beautiful face all day.” Harry had teased as he let go of her, his dopey grin adoring his features despite the bag under his eyes from the jet lag, and his hair being tossed up in five different directions from having slept on the flight. Y/N had laughed and hit his chest gently.

“I gotta be pretty for two since you seem to look like a girl who just got dumped.” She teased back as she made her way towards the kitchen. “Ready for tea?” She questioned him as she pulled out their two favorite mugs and set them on the counter, eager to continue their tradition even if he hadn’t been gone as long this time around.

“Mmm…not yet, love, I got ya a gift.” Harry hummed as he walked back to the door, and picked up a rather large gift bag before he headed back to the kitchen where Y/N raised her eyebrow at him.

“This is new...m’afraid I didn’t get you anything though...shoulda warned me about gift giving…” She mumbled as she watched Harry set the bag on the counter.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, love. It’s a one time thing...plus, I just felt like spoiling ya this one time.” Harry had said, the smile on his face never leaving. “Open it.”

Y/N pulled the large gift bad towards her across the counter, Harry watching her face with admiration and nervousness, hoping she would like the gift. She pulls off the various pieces of tissue paper from the top that were hiding a…

“Harry...it’s gorgeous!” Y/N had said with an excited upturn of her lips as she pulled out a brown leather satchel. She sets it on the counter next to the gift bags and mugs for tea. She runs her fingers over the material, her smile becoming wider as she feels her engraved initials, vines adoring the letters. Harry let’s put a soft breath he was unaware that was trapped in his lungs from nerves, but despite the breath he released, his smile gets even wider.

“‘M so glad you like it Y/N...thought it would be useful for work…plus you’ll seem like even more of a nerd at work, editing your big manuscripts.” Harry teased as he walked over to the stove and turned the kettle on.

“Thank you Harry.” She had said giddily, a smile plastered on her face as she stored the satchel back in the bag before hugging her as tightly as she could, and he embraced her, just as tightly before pulling away. She leaned against the counter as usual and waited for the kettle to sound.

“O’course, love…so last month I was in Spain and…” And just like they went back to their usual routine.

Y/N smiles fondly at the memory, glad she has great memories with him, even if she feels a dull ache in her heart whenever she thinks of him.

-*-*-*-

The drive to Anne’s was filled by Y/N’s loud stereo and singing of the songs she knew. It wasn’t the same without Harry by her side, and despite five years passing, she missed him singing every song perfectly and teasing her for her off key notes. She would roll her eyes at him and take one hand off the steering wheel, gently flicking his arm before resting it back on the wheel in front of her. Harry would laugh and shake his head at her actions, before continuing to sing.

Y/N turns onto Anne’s street, seeing the familiar house she used to spend so much time in, opting to park out on the street, but as she’s about to turn off her car, she hear the familiar beat of a song, his song, and she can’t bring herself to turn the radio off. As the opening lines of “Adore You” begin to play, she finds herself smiling and quietly singing to the song. Despite not hearing from or seeing him in five years, she couldn’t help but still feel proud of the man she had called her best friend for so long. He had worked hard to get to his current status in the music industry, and it finally paid off.

She remembered when she heard his first album, listening to it the same day it was released; it had been two years since they spoke, but her heart was filled with joy. The music had flowed gently through her new flat, her previous residence filled with too many good memories of her and Harry that made her reminisce on what used to be. She had listened to every word he sang so intently it almost had felt as if he was with her, singing songs for her like he used to. But three years later now, she has refused to listen to his newest album, “Fine Line,” afraid that perhaps it would wake up the memories and the ache that she had done so well of burying deep within her.

So deep in thought, Y/N had barely noticed that the song had faded out, now replaced by advertisements and a talk show. She sighed softly, disappointed that her mind had drifted off to him again, it seemed to be something that was more consistent. Slowly she turns off the ignition to her car, setting the keys in the brown satchel in the passenger's seat before climbing out of her car. She closes the door gently and goes around to the passengers side, opening the door and pulling the brown satchel out, Y/N swings it over her shoulder and closes the door, locking the door and heading to Anne’s house.

Y/N walks up the path and knocks in the door, shifting her weight from left to right as she hears some shuffling behind the door before Anne opens the door, smiling brightly.

“Y/N! Come in please! It’s freezing out there.” Anne beckons the girl inside, closing the door behind them as they enter the place that once was like a second home to Y/N. Upon hearing Anne usher Y/N inside, Gemma emerges from the kitchen and grins, engulfing her in a wide hug.

“Gosh how I’ve missed ya! Don’t be a stranger, Y/N.” Gemma exclaims as she pulls away from their embrace. Y/N nods and smiles at the pair as the three of them head over to the table Anne and Gemma have already set up with food and the necessary utensils. Y/N sets her satchel on the corner of the chair she is currently sat on, carrying an easy conversation with Anne and Gemma despite the memories that flooded her mind. Harry would usually be sat next to Y/N, the pair sitting across from Anne and Gemma as they all told stories from their lives away from one another. She remembers how Harry would steal food off of her plate, pretend that he didn’t, and then proceed to share whatever dessert Anne made for them.

After dinner, Y/N offers to wash the dishes as Anne and Gemma go to set up the board games for the game night they usually hold after their meal. She’s washing the final dish when she hears a knock on the door, something rather unusual for the time of day, but she decided to ignore it; perhaps Gemma had invited a date, or a neighbor was in need of some sugar. Y/N begins to rinse the dish as she hears soft footsteps make their way across the living room and the click of locks coming undone before the door opens without a sound. The dish is now rinsed, and just as Y/N puts it on the drying rack, the grip her hands once held to hold the dish is gone, and she feels her heartbeat pick up in a way that’s barely noticeable.

“Hey mum...so sorry I’m late, m’flight got delayed due to the rain that was expected...no sight of it yet though…” The voice was muffled due to the space from the main entrance to the kitchen, but she could recognize it anywhere. It’s the voice that has signified home for years, now one that she hasn’t heard in person for years. Five years to be exact. It’s his voice...Harry’s voice.

-*-*-*-

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this! It’s my first time writing Harry in YEARS.

-*-*-*-

[fandoms-are-my-friends-1321]

Flirting, My Dear Watson

This was requested by @jiejie-eonni-onee-sama, and it is literally so freaking great!!! I can’t wait to see how this plays out while I’m writing it. As always gif and characters are not mine. Hope you enjoy this!

Description: Y/N is a profiler for Scotland Yard, and they captured Sherlock’s attention right away. Sherlock’s friends suggest that he should try and flirt with Y/N, but his attempts don’t go as planned

Warnings: mild cursing, mentions of blood/a crime scene, otherwise none

Sherlock knelt down beside the victim. He was examining any and every clue that he could find. The victim was placed gently on a park bench, and from far away it seemed as if they were still alive. However, the trail of dried blood that came from a gaping slash in the victim’s neck said otherwise. Sherlock knew in an instant what happened.

“Well,” Sherlock started as he stood up and straightened his coat, “it’s obvious what happened here. The-,”

“The victim was killed by someone close to him. Perhaps a lover or an ex. The way the victim was precisely placed to seem like they are still alive shows that the killer cared for the victim, but by the violent slashing seen in the neck wound, it would be more likely that our killer is a jealous ex who wanted to keep this person to themselves.”

Sherlock turned around, and a woman was standing a few feet away from the body. Their H/C hair flowed in the afternoon breeze, and they held a cup of coffee in their right hand. Sherlock had never seen this woman before, but he was automatically interested as to how she managed to figure out who the killer was.

“Your assumption is spot on. I don’t believe we have met before though,” Sherlock said as he tried to analyze the woman in front of him.

“Oh, my names Y/N. I’m a profiler. I was just hired recently at Scotland Yard, and this is my very first case. However, I must say it was fairly easy compared to some of the stuff I’ve studied.”

“I can tell you graduated from Oxford. Top of your class judging by the pin you have attached to your jacket. Why would you settle for a low job like this?”

“Because, I needed the job and they were hiring. Funny, I thought the famous Sherlock Holmes would have been able to figure that out.”

Sherlock simply stood with his mouth open. He never expected so much sass to come from a woman who appeared to be more of an introvert. Y/N quickly took some samples from the body, and left as fast as she appeared. She turned around and smiled at the consulting detective. “I hope to see you again soon, Mr. Holmes.”

The detective simply nodded as Y/N climbed into her vehicle. John walked up beside Sherlock and slapped a hand on his shoulder. “I never thought I would see the day when the Sherlock Holmes was left dumbfounded by someone else. You could have at least asked for her number.”

“Why would I do that,” Sherlock asked as his brows furrowed slightly.

“It’s obvious that you like Y/N. I felt the same way when I saw Mary for the first time. Perhaps you can try flirting with Y/N the next time you see her.”

“I will do nothing of the sort. I don’t feel anything towards her. I’m just glad that for once I’m not surrounded by idiots for a change.”

John simply shook his head. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

——————————————————————————

The next time Y/N and Sherlock met, it was at a second crime scene. Everyone knew at this point that Sherlock was head over heels for her, as much as Sherlock could be that is. Everyone agreed that it would be best to try and hook Y/N and Sherlock up.

“Ah, I see that you brought some coffee with you again today,” Lestrade commented. “Sherlock here likes coffee too. Maybe you two could go to the cafe downtown sometime.”

Sherlock glared at Lestrade. “I don’t like coffee. I only drink tea.”

Lestrade simply rolled his eyes, and Y/N couldn’t help but giggle at the two men. “Shall we examine the body Mr. Holmes?”

“Of course, Mrs. L/N.”

As they were examine the body, Sherlock stole glances at Y/N. He knew it was illogical and that this was simply his body’s way of reacting to an attractive female, but he just couldn’t help it. The determination in Y/N’s eyes said it all for him.

“This crime is an interesting one don’t you think,” Y/N said as they turned their head towards Sherlock.

“Yes it is, almost as interesting as you are,” Sherlock quickly replied.

“Did you just compare this beautiful young woman to a corpse?”

The profiler and the detective both turned around to see a man standing behind him. Y/N could tell that he looked quite stressed, and had to be higher up in society. Sherlock simply rolled his eyes at the man, but that didn’t stop him from continuing. “Honestly, Sherlock, has all of this time alone ruined your flirting skills that badly?”

“No, they haven’t. Now if you would please leave us to our business, Mycroft, that would be lovely.” Sherlock smiled up at his brother, and Mycroft simply shook his head as he went back to talk with Lestrade.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the spectacle. “He’s quite the character.”

“To put it quite mildly, yes he is. I wish my brother wouldn’t interrupt my work though. I mean, our work of course,” Sherlock said as he stood up.

Y/N couldn’t believe what she just heard. Sherlock Holmes once again did something out of the ordinary when he was around here. Y/N knew the whole time what was going on with Sherlock, but they wanted to play things out a little bit longer. “Say, would it be alright if we go back to your place to study over the evidence? It’s cold out here, and I focus better when I’m warmer.” This of course was a total lie. Sherlock knew this as well, but he thought that it would be a good chance to finally get things right.

“Of course, my address is 221B Baker Street. John and my landlady Mrs. Hudson will be there, but I’m sure they won’t disturb us,” Sherlock replied as he handed Y/N a slip of paper that had the address scribbled on it. “Come at once if convenient. If inconvenient, come anyway.”

——————————————————————————

Y/N entered the door of the flat, and Mrs. Hudson was ready to greet her. “Y/N! It’s so nice to finally meet you! It’s so rare that Sherlock brings home such a beautiful woman.”

“She’s simply a comrade, Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock shouted from the top of the stairs.

Mrs. Hudson simply rolled her eyes. “He may be the smartest detective in London, but he’s not very smart when it comes to love.” Y/N laughed at the comment before walking up the stairs. Y/N found Sherlock sitting in the middle of the floor, a mannequin laying a few paces in front of him.

“So, do you always have mannequins lying around the house? Or is this something special for me,” Y/N said with a smirk.

“I figured we could do some experiments to figure more about the killer and his motives,” Sherlock commented as he got up from the floor. Once again, Sherlock already knew the killer’s motives, and so did Y/N, but this game was to much fun to stop so soon.

Mrs. Hudson entered carrying a tray with tea and biscuits resting on the silver surface. “I’m not sure that rehearsing a murder works as a proper first date. You should have taken her out to a nice restaurant or a little tea shop.”

Sherlock smiled at his landlady. “Why would I take her out for tea when we have you to bring us some?”

“For the last time, I’m your landlady. Not your maid!”

After Mrs. Hudson had left, Sherlock and Y/N began their work to replicate the crime scene. As they were going through the steps, Y/N’s hand brushed against Sherlock’s. Both of them tensed a little, but not before sending a gentle smile to each other to show that it was alright.

“Would you two just get a room already?”

John was standing in the doorway now, bags of groceries in his grasp. He had enough of seeing the two most intelligent people he knew beat around the bush. Sherlock glanced at his roommate. “Well, I have been flirting with her, John.”

“Well, I hate to say it, but your flirting is terrible. The best detective in London should be able to know when his methods aren’t working.”

It was Y/N’s turn to comment. “Oh no, they were working. Sure it was indeed terrible, but it was to amusing to tell him to stop.”

Sherlock smirked at the woman. “And I knew that you knew that I knew.”

“Of course you did,” Y/N replied. “So, how about we go down town for dinner tomorrow at six?”

“That sounds perfect.”

John let out a sigh of both relief and annoyance. “Bloody hell you two are something.”

John was right of course, Sherlock and Y/N were something. Some would think that a relationship like there’s wouldn’t work, or that Sherlock’s ego would get in the way, but it was both the flaws and skills that drew these two individuals together. And no matter how much their love grew, they would always remember their first meeting at a crime scene, and the horrendous flirting that followed.

[willowbleedsonpaper]

Ron was right

Theo Nott x Reader

W.C. : 3043

Requestd by @herstory-study​:  Ok I kid you not(t) another idea just popped into my head.. I hope you like it... the gist of it is Theo and the reader have that relationship where they are best friends but also dating but nobody can tell bc they’ve always been super close so I imagine like a bunch of pple (including the twins) have placed bets on whether or not they are dating and I just imagine one day they come back from a date and pple in the background are either groaning/cheering cause they got $ u can take it from there

A/N: I hope you like it, Puff! Feedbak and reblogs are very aprecciated. Happy reading.

*Not my GIF. Credit to the creator.*

It had been a quiet day the first time Theo noticed you. Grey clouds move fast in the evening sky, the light breeze comfortable for every student out in the courtyard to show their house pride and wear their scarves around their necks. His friends talked about the Golden trio and what had they done that week to ruin their mood. Nothing new really. Theo never added much to those conversations, what was the point of complaining about something when you could ignore it. He too was bothered by Potter and his friends adventures and misadventures, but Draco and his friends weren’t the target. But that was just the way Theo saw it.

“Wait until I write my father,” grumbled Draco, sitting in the middle of the bench where Theo had been sitting with Blaise. “ Potter is going to regret it.” he said with a huff.

Pansy arrived just a second after he ended rambling, rolling his eyes as she sat on the grass without a care about her robes. She gave a pleading look at the other boys as she cocked her head towards the Slytherin prince. When neither one of them said anything she scoffed glaring daggers at both before she smirked “Draco darling, Why don’t you tell Blaise and Theo here what Potter did. I’m sure they’d love to hear it.”

Blaise’s protest died down on his tongue when Theo shut his book close “No need.” he said, looking straight in Pansy’s eyes “We saw it all.” 

And it was true, it was hard to miss one of their disputes when they shouted at each other, standing at opposite extremes of the hall as the crowd gathered to witness the latest drama between Slytherin and Gryffindor.

“Doesn’t matter if they know.” Draco said desperately, leaning to rest his arms on his knees “I already have a plan for them to know their place. And plan B in case that one doesn’t work.”

“Maybe you should try plan D for dumbass.” 

They all turned around to the large tree, their gazes lowering to the base of it. There you sat, an annoyed look on your face as you straightened your robes and stood. Your movements were sharp, taking your bag on your shoulder as you stormed away from them, all of them in a state of shock to even try to stop you. 

 “Who does she think she is.” muttered Draco, already jumping to his feet when Theo placed a hand on his chest.

“Leave this one to me.” he said lowly, his eyes never leaving your form as you walked away. Draco hesitated but gave him a slow nod as he sat back down. 

Theo smiled triumphantly, hiding his face quickly so no one would see him and his true feelings. He took off and ran after you, keeping enough distance so you would walk away from the eyes of his friends. 

He kept running, your back facing him as he came to a halt. “Hey!” he yelled, your eyes glancing back at him as you picked up your pace. “Wait, stop.” he yelled again, catching up with you as he stopped in front of you. 

“What?” you said sharply, looking down at his hunched form as he breathed heavily. You raised an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms over just your chest as you leaned back. “ Don’t tell me, Draco sent you to do his dirty work?”

“You…” he smiled, trying to keep in a laugh as he shook his head “You just called him a dumbass.”

You frowned, taking in the boy in front of you. Well kept brown hair, milky skin and the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen, his smile reaching his eyes as he stood to his full height. 

“Aren’t you his friend or something?” you asked confused.

He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked around. “Even I can get annoyed at him.” 

You squinted your eyes, eyeing the boy before you looked up at him “Who are you?”   

He extended his hand with a smile, one you hesitantly took “Theodore Nott, but everyone calls me Theo.”

You raised both your eyebrows, shaking his hand with a nod “Right.” you said “Well, if you’re not here to avenge your friend…”

“I’m not.” he smiled as you mirrored his look.

“Maybe you’re not a dumbass.” you told him, staring into each other's eyes before you realized you had been in silence for too long “I’m going now.” you turned on your heel, resuming your walk to a more quiet zone where Slytherins weren’t complaining when his voice made you stop.

“You didn’t tell me your name!” 

You turned to see him with a smile, a glint in your eyes as you said “Goodbye, Theo.” He stared at you as you disappeared in the halls of the castle, breathing out a laugh as he returned to his friends.  

It was difficult to not think about you after that. Your two minute interaction had him wondering more about you, who you were, what did you like. He started to pay more attention to you after that. 

He thought getting your name wouldn’t have been a difficult task. He felt like the detective he read about when he was younger, sneaking in the middle of the night to behind his father’s back to read the muggle novel he got his hands on not a while ago, reading until his eyelids could barely stay open with only the moonlight to accompany him. He wanted to feel the rush of Sherlock Holmes, and he wanted you to be John Watson. But as he actually tried to get something about you without interacting with you he realized why everyone praised Holmes so much, it wasn’t an easy job.

You always seemed to be with someone, but in utter silence. Muttering a few words with the people around you as you always had something better to do. You were the mystery he couldn’t get out of his head, the thought that kept him up at night, the dream that had him drifting away as his friends talked. He wanted the honor of being your friend.

****************************************

You worked on your herbology research, a pile of dusty books at your left side as you read the one opened before you. Your study partner was someone gathering more information, probably found someone and got stuck in the chat. Nothing new, really. You were used to initiating the study date with your partner and ending it alone. 

You felt someone walking behind your back. Expecting to hear your partner’s voice, your head snapped up at the sound of someone else.

“So,” said Theo Nott, taking the chair next to yours with a proud smile on his face “How are you, Y/N?”

You dropped your quill on the table, tilting your head with a curious look “Who told you my name?” you asked.

“It’s written on your parchment.” he pointed towards your handwriting on the upper part of the paper. “I got to say, it was difficult. Not many people really know you, you're like a ghost in the castle.”

“Maybe to the people you asked, I am very well known here.” you said daringly, and he nodded. “Well you know my name, you can leave now.” You took your quill back up, following the line you were previously reading with your finger when the thudding sound against the table made you raise your head slowly with a glare. “What are you doing?”

“Homework.” he said simply, opening a book as he silently began to read. Not once looking back to you, not saying another until he finished. Taking his things inside and wishing you goodnight, leaving the library without another word. 

It became a routine after you realized he wouldn’t give up. He would always show up, sitting on the chair he did that first night and working on his homework. There were times when you would get there and he was already sitting, books scattered all over the table until he saw you, moving his things to make some space for you. He didn’t bother you, so you allowed it. His presence  warm and welcoming as you studied, you even helped each other sometimes.

A year had passed by since that night, and you didn’t realize when you started to think about him as a friend. The only person you actually felt comfortable calling  a friend. He had been there for your happy days, your rough days. He took genuine interest in you. Telling you about him and his life, sharing his candy and food as you walked through the castle side by side. He asked you about your life before Hogwarts, how was your childhood with a muggle parent. You told him all about your past school, how you lost your friends through the years as you never got to see them and you couldn’t explain your sudden change of school and life. Theo became your best friend and you couldn’t be more happy. 

“What are you doing this weekend?” he asked you.

“I don’t know.” you shrugged, putting a raspberry in his hand as you ate one “Sleep sounds good.” you said with a smile and he laughed.

“Are you sleeping for two days straight?” he said in disbelief, and you scoffed hitting his face with another raspberry.

“Is that a challenge?” you dared, sticking you tongue out to him.

He scrunched his nose, catching the berries in his mouth until you stopped “Stop, your Gryffindor is showing.” he said with a fake look of disgust. You only laughed, shaking your head as you drifted back to his question.

“I’m not doing anything, then.” you commented, waiting to see what he had to say.

“Do you want to go to Hogsmeade?” he asked simply, your heart beating fast in your chest in both nervousness and excitement. But once you saw  the carefree look in his face your heart dropped. Why were you feeling that way?

“I don’t know.” you said, trying to put the hurricane of emotions inside you at ease “I’ve never seen the fun in going.”

“That’s because you’ve never been there with me.” he said with a smile, tilting his head with a sigh at the hesitance in your face “C’mon, Y/N. You’ve told me you have never been with your friends…”

“They’re not really my friends.” you corrected with your lips pursed “They hardly are the people I hang out with. They’re just there in a silent agreement of company.”

“Am I not your friend?” he asked and you knew you had already lost the small debate.

“You know you’re my best friend.” you said with a small smile, one he returned as he held your hand, a warm tickle in your hand where his skin touched yours. 

“Then it’s settled. I’ll go get you from your common room.” he said and you nodded, praying that the emotion flowing inside you was slipping in the look of your face.

Little did you know that Theo was feeling exactly the same. His stomach was doing flips inside of him as you smiled at him. He wanted so bad to tell you it was a date, that he had just asked you out on a date but you had just said it, that word that left a bitter taste in his mouth. 

You’re my best friend.

Maybe he had been in the beginning, but not anymore. Or maybe he was, but he didn’t want to be your best friend. 

Many had noticed how the Slytherin and the Y/H/H had grown closer over the past year. Theories of what was the core of their relationship were made. How did Theo Nott get close to you? Did you have a deal no one knew about. Where you friends, partners, lovers. No one knew, and neither did you. 

The weekend arrives and just as promised Theo walked you from your common room to Hogsmeade, hand in hand as you talked through the snowy streets full of students. 

You were oblivious to the crowded mess, talking inside a bubble no one could bother you. Not even the redhead pair that stared at you as you walked past them. 

"Are you seeing what my eyes are seeing, George?" 

"We wouldn't be twins if I wasn't, Freddie." 

*******************************

"MAKE YOUR BETS, MATES!" yelled George from the top of the table in the middle of the Gryffindor common room. 

"Our lovely Y/N."

“Friends"

"Or lovers."

"With none other than Theodore Nott." 

They said, finishing each other's sentences with the invisible link the pair shared, that invisible string that made them shout the exact same words at the end. They wore grins on their faces as more bets were placed. 

"What do you think, little brother?" asked George jumping form the table 

"Friends or lovers?" 

Ron rolled his eyes, turning to Harry who was already making his bet with a smile in his face. Ron scoffed "I don't care about snakes business. They can be whatever they want." he said bitterly. 

"Someone jealous?" taunted Fred as Ron turned with a red face to his brother. 

He angrily pulled some coins from his pocket, slamming them in Fred's hands as he muttered "Lovers." 

*******************************

You had the time of your life at Hogsmeade. Theo was right and you told him so when the sun started to set, a few stars shining on the sky as you walked back to the castle. He smiled, hugging you closely with genuine joy in his face as he promised to take you again on the next trip there. 

However the next day, the murmurs and eyes from everyone in your year followed you everywhere you went. 

You were never shy, but the constant attention had you on edge the entire day. Finding refuge in the far table of the library, hidden in between the shelves where the only source of light was if you had a candle with you. 

You stayed there until late, waiting until the library was practically dead, you doubted madame Pince was still there, but you could never know. You had made it to the end of the day. 

"What are you doing here?" Theo's shushed voice came from behind you, his eyebrows scrunched together as he sat next to you, closer than he usually did. 

"I'm hiding." you whispered. 

For a moment his stomach dropped at the thought that you might have been hiding from him, that he might have let something slip on your day together and you knew how he felt. But you started ranting about your day and the looks you received from everyone and he understood, he had gotten the same looks all day long. 

"Don't worry." he murmured, opening his arms for you and you leaned on his side. "Draco probably said something about you again. I'll talk to him later" he sighed and you chuckled. 

He looked down to you, a loving look in his eyes as you kept chuckling. How could someone be so breathtaking just by doing such mundane things like leaning against someone and talking? Since the first time he saw you he knew you were beautiful but, Merlin, now you were gorgeous. 

"He is never forgetting about that, is he?" you laughed. Staring at the table, you frowned when Theo didn't say anything. 

You turned your head up to him, finding him already looking back at you. You didn't realize when you had leaned so close to him, his breathing blowing softly against your face as you gazed into his eyes. The little flick in them waking up all the butterflies in your stomach as you could have sworn his eyes moved to your lips for a fraction of second. 

You froze, realizing what that could mean when you felt him lean closer to you, his eyes closing before someone cleared their throat behind you, making you jump apart from one another. 

"The library is about to close." said professor Snape, looking at you with a glare before he settled his eyes on Theo. "Take your friend with you Mr. Nott. Directly to your common rooms." he said painfully slow.

You both nodded, clumsily taking all your stuff as you walked around him and practically ran out of there. No one said anything, your eyes on the floor as he walked you to your common room. 

"I'm sorry." he said once at the door handing you your books, your hands brushing against one another, making the blush in your face deeper. 

"No, I… You don't have to apologize." you stuttered before the words left your mouth. 

Heavy silence settled again between both of you, the tension making your stomach turn as you wished your feet would move and get you out of there. Of course, they had other plans. 

Theo wished you goodnight in a mumble, turning around and walking away just as you dropped your books on the floor, calling his name. 

"Yeah?" he asked, never meeting your eyes. You felt your mouth go dry, your hold in his wrist loosening as you breathed heavily. You brought your hand up to his cheek, smiling as he leaned in. He had closed his eyes and you ran your thumb across his cheek bone, waiting until he looked back at you. You started to lean in, his eyes widening as he realized what you were doing. His smile widened, cupping your cheeks as he closed the space between the two of you in a soft kiss. His hands wandered to your waist, pulling you closer to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He slowly pulled away, resting his forehead against yours with a smile that reached his eyes. 

"Remember when I told you I wanted you to be my Watson?" he breathed out with a smile "Well, I'm not so sure anymore."

You chuckled, moving to kiss his cheek as you rested your head on his shoulder "Funny, I always thought Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were lovers." you whispered in his ear. He smiled at you, kissing you once more. 

Completely unaware of the audience not so far away, hiding behind a wall with wide grins. "Ron was right." 

TAGS: @fanficflaneuse​ @nebulablakemurphy​ @lupins-sweater​ @accio-rogers​ @gloriousrebelrunaway​ @slytherinprincess03​ @not-today-anxiety​ @strawberriesonsummer​ @infinity1o1​ @haphazardhufflepuff​​ @deafgirltingz​

[defectiveconantoy]

All He Needs Is Ran

Fandom: Detective Conan Pairing: ShinRan Rating: T Prompt: Domestic Genres: Slice-of-life, Romance Word Count: 742

A/N: I don’t know if the title fits the fic, but I’ll still keep it. I love this title too much to let it go.

All He Needs Is Ran

The morning alarm clock rings. Shinichi sighs groggily and slams the snooze button with his hand. Eight minutes later, it sounds off a second time. “Ugh! What time is it?”

He slowly opens his eyes. “Oh!” He looks at the time. “Shit. I’m running late. That’s what I get for staying up late to reread The Sign of Four,” he thinks to himself.

School starts soon, and Shinichi is running late. He quickly gets out of bed, dresses up, grabs his tie, washes himself, brushes his teeth, and rushes out of the bedroom door and down the stairs. That’s what he gets for staying up late last night and through the first alarm.

“Bye, Shin-chan! Don’t forget to grab some toast,” shouts his mother Yukiko.

“Thanks, kaasan.” He places his tie around his neck, grabs the toast, and walks out holding the toast with his mouth.

He runs toward the gates and finds Ran waiting right outside the entrance.

“Shinichi! I messaged you during your second alarm.”

“Hmm?” He checks his phone. “Mmm,” he muffles.

“Seriously, you with that toast! And your tie’s unmade. Here, hand me the toast and fix your tie before we leave.”

Shinichi tilts his head in Ran’s direction while fixing his tie. She pulls the toast out of his mouth. Once he’s finished, the grabs the toast, and they begin walking.

“Hah! Sorry, Ran!” He yawns. “I’m so tired. Stayed up late again.” He munches on his toast.

“Was it Sherlock Holmes again?”

“Of course! What else would it be?” Munch.

Ran grins and teases him. “What can I expect from the Deduction Freak?”

Munch. Shinichi barely talks along the way, as he’s both tired and quickly eating his breakfast.

Right before entering the school, Ran glances at Shinichi and smiles, “It’s nice to have you back. Oh, by the way, your mouth’s dirty, Co-nan-kun.”

“Huh! So you’re remembering the Conan days? How motherly of you, Ran-nee-chan,” he taunts back.

They both laugh as they walk into the Teitan High School building.

School is over later in the day. Shinichi walks again with Ran to drop her off at her home. They were laughing and gossiping about school along the way.

As they walk by her front porch, Shinichi remembers, “Hey! Remember when you called me Conan-kun this morning?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, uh, before I leave, I want you to hug me and stroke my hair, just like you did to me as Conan.”

“Ah Shinichi, you’re so cute!” She hugs him, sighs, and breathes in his scent. “Sure! I miss you being near me almost all the time. Please, come in. We can study together, and I can make you some dinner tonight.” This interaction makes Shinichi blush. He can’t shake this feeling off. Ran being this close to him is too much to handle.

They go up the stairs and walk inside an empty Mouri Detective Agency. At the entrance, Shinichi immediately hugs Ran and rests his head on her shoulder, his face still red. He lets out a sigh of relief as she strokes his hair.

He gently lifts his head and plants a soft kiss on Ran’s lips. “Mmm…tastes like strawberry.”

Ran blushes too. “T-that’s my lipbalm.”

“I like it,” he whispers close to her face, kissing her again.

They lose track of time. The quiet moaning and soft lip smacking continues. Tongue action starts right before the Mouri Detective Agency’s front door is unlocked.

Ran’s stops, eyes widened in shock. “Otousan! He’s here.”

Shinichi, also shocked, whispers, “Oh. Right.”

They awkwardly move to the couch and sit there as Kogoro passes by them. “Hello, Ran,” he says. He then glances at Shinichi. “Hello.” “Hello, ojisan,” replies Shinichi.

Kogoro explains, “As you two know, I’m taking over the TV. Yoko’s on soon. So, shoo! Go study elsewhere.” He then walks up to his apartment afterwards.

Ran and Shinichi remain on the couch and laugh. “Seriously, otousan,” Ran rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “I swear,” Shinichi whispers. “He’s too busy fantasizing about Yoko to even hate me anymore.” “He can’t complain. You two helped each other: him with your Conan mess and you with his career,” Ran chips in.

“Right, right,” Shinichi agrees. “I don’t blame him. So, Ran! Let’s go to my place instead.” He lightly squeezes her hand.

“Sure.”

They leave together, like they did earlier in the morning and do almost every day.

[staysaneathome]

This Was Not A Dare, Reigen

Jon glares at each of the— the suspects traitors in front of him, tape recorder clutched tight in one hand.

Martin, wringing his hands uselessly, eyes wide and beseeching. Tim, fists clenched hard enough for his knuckles to go white and returning his gaze with a death stare of his own. Sasha, arms folded to form a barrier between Jon and herself, expression a perfect mask of concern. Reigen, radiating disappointment in every one of his gestures and quips. Elias, eyes weary, fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Some intervention this is turning out to be.

Jon wants to scream. Wants to reach out and shake someone, anyone, until they admit he’s making sense and it’s the rest of the world that’s gone mad.

Every single one of them (except Martin) could’ve killed Gertrude. He knows he has no proof that they did, but he has no proof that they didn’t either, can’t they see that? If they don’t want him to suspect them, it should be easy for them to actually give him proof of their innocence (like Martin did), instead of just repeating platitudes of “you know this isn’t acceptable adult behavior, Jon” and “you’re better than this, Jon”.

Who cares about knowing better or acceptable behavior when it’s your very life on the line? He’s half tempted to throttle the con artist, see how dignified or adult he is when he’s the one with a murderer on his tail!

…Not that Jon is a murderer. It’s just the principle of the thing, is all.

“Jon,” Elias says, tone soothing in all the ways he doesn’t want it to be. “This is absurd. This goes far beyond an unhealthy work environment. I’ll admit it’s partly my fault for letting it get this bad, I should have intervened earlier.”

Reigen cuts in with a hand gesture that is as effusive as it is dismissive. “That doesn’t make his behavior okay, Bouchard-san. It may be bad here, but Jon chose to follow me, Tim and Sasha, and yell at Martin, rather than going to the police or paying a detective, like Herlock Sholmes or something.”

Jon sputters. “Wh- It’s Sherlock Holmes, not—and he’s fictional!”

Reigen blinks sleepily, one eyebrow raised. “Oh? That doesn’t sound right. Are you sure?”

“Yes!” Jon all but shouts, rapidly reconsidering his stance on braining the sardonic little git with his tape recorder. “Don’t you even—an-and you’re deflecting again! Just like with your ridiculous ‘haunted gun’ nonsense!”

“I’m not!” Reigen says, clearly deflecting. “I’ve seen this kind of thing loads of times as the number one psychic. When a weapon kills lots of people over 100 years, the bad energy gets bigger and bigger until the gun grows an evil spirit and is hungry—”

“I refuse to believe Gertrude Robinson was murdered by a sentient blunderbuss!!”

“Be that as it may,” Elias interrupts, shooting them both a stern frown. “This is exactly the kind of thing I was talking about, Jon. Given how badly it’s affected your work ethic, I will be taking direct action to ensure it does not continue.”

Jon can feel his shoulders hunch almost against his will, dread pooling in his stomach at the thought of whatever punishment is about to be unjustly inflicted on him.

Only Martin looks half as worried as he feels, glancing between him and Elias nervously. By contrast, Tim looks downright triumphant, smirk nasty and vindictive. Sasha’s somewhere between those two, not openly celebrating his soon-to-be-downfall, but not acting like she’d lift a finger on his behalf either, though he’s unsure why that feels like it should surprise him. She’s always been as neutral as Switzerland.

Reigen, oddly enough, has more in common with Martin than with Tim. He’s staring at Elias like he’s waiting for a bit of news he knows he won’t like.

Jon thinks he’d appreciate that more if he wasn’t about to be unfairly lambasted simply for trying to stop a murderer and bring justice for an old woman who probably died frightened and alone. Much like Jon probably will once he’s been hobbled by whatever Elias is about to say next.

“Such as by restricting access to the archives from members of the public who are ultimately doing you more harm than good.”

…Wait.

What?

“What?!” Tim, Martin, and Sasha echo.

Reigen glances between them all, blinking in confusion.

Jon shares the sentiment entirely. His punishment is…for someone else to be removed from the archives? Someone he doesn’t employ or even like that much, no less?

He must have misheard, surely.

Though maybe not, given how Tim looks aghast, glancing between Elias and Reigen. “Okay, no, Reigen’s clearly not the problem here—”

“I’m very sorry, Tim, but Jon has made several remarks about the disruptive nature of Mr. Arataka’s presence in the archives.” Elias sighs. “From the arguments like the one we just witnessed to the nonsensical purchases of oddities inspired by his presence, such as Duolingo subscriptions,” Meaningful glare at Jon who resists the urge to clutch his phone guiltily, “That are now billed on the Archives’ expenses, it unfortunately seems as though he is dragging down productivity for all of you as an active stressor.”

“But we’re much better equipped to take statements from people who don’t speak English because of that!” Martin protests, stepping forward. “Isn’t it an advantage to have a more, more international perspective for our work?”

“One positive in a sea of negatives does not an advantage make.” Elias says, sounding infuriatingly like he’s misquoting something. “And really Martin, how realistic is it that this would help in more than a few isolated cases? I expected better from you.”

Martin’s face crumples, and his shoulders hunch, making himself smaller.

Jon finds his own mouth opening to—what? Say something? What would he even say?

Luckily, Sasha intervenes before he can dig his own grave further. “That’s as may be, but he’s a wonder for morale. He and Jon are funny, not anything serious, and I don’t think we’d have come to you about Jon‘s behavior unless he encouraged us to—”

“Which only fits into the delusion where Jon feels an outsider is rallying his subordinates against him, which is not good for his paranoid outlook.” Elias replies calmly. “And it’s never a healthy work environment when one employee feels the others are making them the butt of a joke.”

“I’d say that’s not as bad as when the boss feels he has the right to violate everyone’s privacy whenever he wants to just ’cause he’s feeling sad!” Tim growls.

Elias begins to answer, before Reigen finally speaks up.

“Sorry,” The con artist says carefully. “But you are…«I know this one…» banning me from the Archives? Yes?”

“That is the long and short of it, yes.” Elias says, grudgingly

“Why?” Reigen challenges, eyes hard and searching. “What have I, personally, done that’s wrong here? What behavior do I need to correct?”

There’s a moment of silence. The whirring of the tape recorder sounds uncomfortably loud.

“Mr. Arataka, are you currently under the employ of the Magnus Institute?” Elias asks, brow furrowed.

“Ah, no, no, but—”

“Are you looking to become employed by the Institute at this point in time, as a prospective member of the Archival Staff?” He fires off rapidly.

“Su-Sorry, but if you could just go a little slower—”

“Then I am afraid that unless you’re looking to fill out an employment contract or a Statement form, we cannot help you, Mr. Arataka.” Elias spreads his hands wide. “We are an academic institution, a place of research and learning. The Institute cannot allow for social dalliances on company time, especially not when those visits are negatively contributing to the work environment and the wellbeing of our staff.”

Tim throws up his hands, “I-I cannot believe this!”

Reigen’s mouth works soundlessly for a moment.

“Arataka is my…what do you call it? First name?” He says, at last. “Using it in this context is…inappropriate. Please call me Reigen, if you would, Bouchard-san.”

“Of course. My mistake, Mr. Reigen.” Elias does have the decency to look somewhat abashed. “Though, regrettably, I am going to have to ask you to leave the premises within the next twenty minutes, or I will be forced to call security.”

Reigen nods, jerkily, hands stuffed in his pockets.

Jon almost wants to call out to the fraud as he turns to go, grab him by the shoulder, pick another argument, something. He knows he should be happy, be glad that this thorn in his side will finally stop bothering him, but instead he just feels—befuddled. Off-kilter.

What happened to the man who once spent three hours arguing for the “spiritual effectiveness” of entirely performative and useless rituals, saying that ensuring his clients left his office fooled and contented was better than actually uncovering genuine supernatural forces and learning all there was to know about them? Why is he going so-so easily now, when he’s made Jon fight tooth and nail in every debate he’s had with the so-called psychic?

At the door, the con man pauses.

“Bouchard-san. You said I could come back if I had a statement to give?”

Elias shifts in his seat, looking bemused. “W-well, yes. That is a service we do provide. Of course, the statement would have to be genuine, and verifiable as such before we let you back into the Archives.”

“We don’t even do that for most of the rubbish we do take,” Tim mutters under his breath, and though Jon is glad he’s not the one being shot a quelling look, he does have to agree.

The con man turns back.

He’s got that smirk on his face that immediately puts Jon’s hackles up on instinct, prepared to argue against whatever inane point he’s come up with now to defend his phony psychic title.

“Gotcha.” Reigen says, far too cheerfully. «Ja ne.»

Then he strolls out of the office, as cool as a cucumber.

Jon could even swear he hears him whistling as he makes his way down the stairs.

There’s a moment of stunned silence.

“I’d do him.” Sasha pipes up, unhelpfully.

“Sasha!” Martin hisses, scandalized. “D-don’t you have a, a—”

“Oh, I don’t have to worry about that.” She remarks, far too blasé for someone in a newly committed relationship. “Tom’s heard about him too, and he agreed he’s just our type.”

“And I’m not?” Tim jokes, but there’s a hard edge to it that Jon’s found himself increasingly familiar with in the past few weeks.

Sasha shrugs with a mischievous little smile, as if that mattered very little to her.

Elias coughs. “Right. Well. Whatever your relations to Mr. Reigen are, please try to limit them to outside the workplace in future.”

The rest of the intervention is surprisingly subdued. Elias gives Jon access to the footage from the cameras in the rest of the Institute, and Tim bodychecks him on the way out of the office, muttering about how nice it must be to never face any consequences for his actions. Sasha follows, the way she won’t meet his eyes a condemnation in its own right.

Even Martin doesn’t say anything to him, just bites his lip and hurries past back down to the Archives. It doesn’t sting. It doesn’t.

Even as he settles in to watch and rewatch the CCTV records of Gertrude’s last week alive, Jon can’t shake the ridiculous feeling of foreboding that’s dogged him since Reigen left.

Most of him wants to say it comes from the fact that despite the fact that Reigen has not appeared in any of the camera records for the Magnus Institute before he started his term as Head Archivist in 2016, isn’t banning him from the Archives just letting the con man run around London with impunity, with no way for Jon to ascertain his movements or motives? That instead of solving a problem, Elias has just given a potential murderer free reign to escape?

But a small part of Jon, one that never could deny the sensation of being watched, that is frozen in second-hand terror whenever he reads a Statement, knows, Knows that it this stems more from the idea that the fraud will actually accomplish what Elias has unwittingly challenged him to do.

The illogical but pervasive surety that he will do so.

Jon’s not sure if he’s more afraid that Reigen Arataka will vanish entirely, another unfortunate victim become an unsolved mystery.

Or that he’ll come back, and bring whatever he’s managed to unearth on his insane quest with him.

[robinrunsfiction]

It’s A Love Story - Part 3

Part 2

"What the hell Frank," (YN) heard Ray shout from where she was sitting on the steps in front of the school, digging through her backpack. Her head snapped up as she looked between them, trying to figure out what was happening.

"What did I do?" He asked defensively.

"Tucker just told me he delivered a pizza to you on Friday night, and he saw girls shoes and a purse by the door. You lied about being sick to go on a date?!"

(YN)'s eyes wide as panic ran through her. She hadn't seen Tucker, she was in the living room, so there couldn't have been any way he would have seen her. Ray would have said if he knew it was her, right? Tucker would have surely told her brothers.

"You got a girlfriend?!" Mikey asked, clearly surprised.

"Umm, yea, I do," Frank answered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Gerard asked.

"Who is she?" Ray asked, not even giving him time to answer the last question.

"She doesn't go here," Frank lied.

"Is she cute?" (YN) finally piped up, a wicked smile on her face.

"She's gorgeous," Frank replied emphatically and (YN) grinned even wider.

"Are we gonna meet her sometime?" Gerard asked.

"I dunno, maybe, if she wants."

"What's her name?" Mikey asked.

Frank opened his mouth to answer and (YN) was genuinely curious to see how he was going to respond when the bell rang, signaling that they had five minutes to get to their homerooms.

"I'll tell ya later," Frank replied as they all made their way into the school.

(YN) hung back and Frank slowed down so he could walk with her. "Saved by the bell," she smirked.

"Who knew Tucker was fuckin Sherlock Holmes," he muttered and (YN) laughed.

“What name were you gonna give them?”

“Yours,” he smirked.

“Stop it,” she said, smacking his arm and he laughed.

“I’ll see ya in algebra,” he said before heading down the hall. (YN) watched him go and sighed. One day they’d all know she was the girl at Frank’s house. One day she’d be able to kiss him before they parted ways. One day couldn’t come soon enough.

~

A few weeks passed, and (YN) was still living for the thrill of being with Frank. There were small moments like (YN) coming out to the garage to watch the band, or rather Frank, practice, to them spending more time doing homework together, to Frank taking her hand as they sat next to each other during the weekly movie night, even though her brothers were right there. Then there were the more exciting moments, like when she found Frank between the shelves, deep in the library.

“Hey,” she whispered, making him jump.

“Shit, oh hey (YN)," he grinned. "What are you doing here?”

“I'm in study hall, but I came to get some books for my research project for history. I saw Mikey up front and he said your English class was in here so," she shrugged, leaning against the shelf.

"You thought you'd come find me in the stacks?" He smirked.

"I thought I'd come find my books for my research project. Come on Frank, what did you think was gonna happen?" She replied with a smirk of her own.

Frank glanced over his shoulder, before grabbing her waist and kissing her hard. (YN)'s mind began to spin, partially because of how amazing the kiss was, but also because her brother was also in the library. Hell, anyone could wander over and find them making out. It'd take all of a minute for the entire school to find out. And (YN) loved it.

She ran her hands through his hair, as they made out against the historical fiction books until they heard footsteps and they pulled apart and both turned their attention to the books. Whoever it was, kept walking, not even slowing down to do more than glance their way.

“Close one,” Frank whispered.

“Mmhmm,” she agreed, stealing a look out of the corner of her eye.

“Kinda awesome.”

“Oh yea,” she giggled.

That afternoon at lunch, (YN) was at her usual spot with the guys, minus Mikey. Ray and Gerard had been practically bouncing out of their seats, clearly having news to share.

“Where is Mikey?” Ray asked, looking around anxiously.

“I dunno, but I’ll fill him in later,” Gerard said. “Let’s just tell ‘em!”

“There’s a battle of the bands coming up and we’re signed up!” Ray announced.

Frank, Bob, and (YN) all exchanged a look of surprise.

“Wait, when is it?” Frank asked.

“Next month!” Gerard grinned.

Bob put his head in his hands. “We have so much more practicing to do.”

“I think we got a real shot!” Ray explained. “And when we win, we get prize money and  real studio time to record an album!”

“We’ll be taking off in no time!” Gerard nodded.

“Can I help?” (YN) asked. 

Before anyone could answer, Mikey walked into the cafeteria with a cute blonde girl. 

"See ya there Mikey," the blonde waved before going off to join her friends and Mikey had a smug smile on his face.

"About time!" Ray said.

“What was all that about?” Gerard asked.

"Me and Kristin are going to the fall formal together."

“Oh nice,” Gerard replied.

(YN) almost choked on her sandwich. "Wait, what?! That's not fair! I wanted to go to fall formal!"

"Who's stopping you?" Mikey replied.

"You and Gee! When you two, the least intimidating nerds at this school, somehow convinced the entire male population to stay away from me!"

She could feel people were starting to look at her as her voice raised with every word but she didn't care. She was angry and sick of how she'd been treated.

"Just go with Christine and Marie," she heard Gerard say, and she began to see red.

"I don’t want to because they have dates and I don't want to be a third wheel!" She snapped. "The double standards in this family are such BULLSHIT!"

"Miss Way!" Mrs. Simon barked. “The office, now!”

(YN) felt her cheeks burning red and her shoulders slumped in defeat as almost everyone in the cafeteria started laughing at her while she was marched down to the office by the teacher. She sighed in frustration at yet another way her brothers were ruining everything for her.

~

A few hours later the school day was over and (YN) reported to detention.

"Is this your first time in detention?" The teacher, Mr. Rodriguez, asked as she slid into the desk and she nodded. "Ok. The rules are there is no talking, you may do your homework, read, or sit silently."

(YN) wondered who she would even talk to since the room was empty. She pulled a folder out of her backpack and was about to get started on her homework when someone else walked into the room.

"Mr. Iero, please take a seat, you know the rules," she heard the teacher say. She looked up to see Frank coming to sit down at the desk next to hers.

"Hey," he whispered.

She grinned and then turned her attention back to her homework. They both worked silently until the teacher announced he would be right back.

"He's gonna be gone at least 10 minutes," Frank said once the door was closed.

"How do you know?"

"He's taking a smoke break."

"Oh, right. Well what are you doing here?"

"I couldn't let my girl go through her first detention alone," he smiled.

(YN) covered her face, partially because she was blushing, and partially because she was embarrassed to be in detention in the first place. "What did you do to be here anyway?"

"I threw a ball at Mikey's head during gym."

(YN) could hardly stifle her laughter. "Oh my god, were you playing dodgeball?"

"No, soccer."

(YN) burst out laughing, thankful Mr. Rodriguez was not in the room. "Thanks for that."

"He deserved it," Frank nodded.

"I agree,” she grinned.

When they walked out of the school almost an hour later, (YN)'s mom was sitting in her car waiting to pick her up. "Ugh, I can't wait to get grounded."

"Maybe it won't be that bad?" Frank said sympathetically as they walked down the steps.

"Hello Frankie, did you wait for (YN)?" Her mom called out the open car window.

"No, I had detention too," he shrugged.

"Oh," her mom seemed taken aback. "Well would you like a ride home?"

"Please," (YN) whispered, hoping to delay the trouble she was certain to get into.

"Sure, thanks!" He nodded, getting in the backseat.

"That Mrs. Simon said this wasn't your first outburst this year, (YN)," her mom said as they started to head home.

"Yea, I know."

"That's not like you," her mom replied, more concerned than angry.

"I know," she muttered, head against the window.

"No one asked me, but I think Gerard and Mikey should back off," Frank piped up from the backseat.

"What do you mean Frankie?"

"Don't worry about it," (YN) mumbled.

"They're too protective of her. I know she's a girl, and the youngest, even if it's just by a few minutes, but they don't need to treat her like every single guy is a predator," he explained.

"Did something happen?" Her mom asked, now very concerned.

"No, some guy in Gee’s class was talking to me at that pool party this summer and Gee freaked out. It doesn't matter, the social damage is done. I don't even care anymore."

"Do you want me to talk to them?"

"No, I don't wanna make it worse. Just let me handle it," (YN) answered.

The rest of the drive was silent until they arrived at Frank's house. "See you tomorrow," he said, reaching forward to rub (YN)'s arm sympathetically before getting out.

"He's a good boy," her mom said as they started back toward their house and (YN) hummed in quiet agreement. "And that necklace he bought you for your birthday is lovely."

(YN) didn't even realize she was playing with it until her mom drew her attention to it. "Yea," she agreed.

"If you ask me, I think he likes you, I've always thought that."

(YN) blushed. "Don't tell anyone, but I know he does."

"Because you like him too?" Her mom asked. (YN) nodded as they pulled into the driveway. "I'll keep it our little secret."

"So am I in trouble for getting detention?"

Her mom laughed lightly. "No, but don't let it happen again. If you want to yell at your brothers, wait until you're home."

"Will do," she nodded, a relieved smile crossing her face.

(YN) didn’t say anything to either of her brothers that night at dinner, eating quickly before running back up to her room. It still wasn’t fair that she got in trouble, or that Mikey could date whoever he wanted to and she couldn’t. She curled up in bed with her sketch book, and tried to let her frustrations come out through her pencil.

"Hey," she heard Mikey say from her doorway after a while.

"Go away," she muttered, not even looking up until something landed at the foot of the bed. It was her favorite candy bar.

"Sorry for being an ass," he said.

"Whatever," she said, grabbing the candy, but still not even looking his way.

"Did you hear what Frank did?"

"Gave you what you deserve," she replied.

"I guess you could say that, but we’re just looking out for you."

She glared at him. "I'm not that fragile Mikey! I can handle myself, now go away!"

“Sorry,” he muttered as he retreated back to his room next door.

(YN) got up and slammed her door and settled back onto her bed when there was another knock. 

“Oh my god, leave me alone!” (YN) shouted, but the door opened anyway.

“Can we talk?” Gerard asked, peaking in.

“No! Go away!” She said getting up to push the door shut, but Gerard was stronger than her.

“I’m sorry! I was thinking about how you said you wanna help with the band, and I was wondering if you’d design our logo for us, and maybe like some shirts or something?”

(YN) stopped pushing on the door. “Wait, really?”

“Yea, like when we win this thing, we’re gonna need some merch to sell to help get our name out there, and posters for gigs, stuff like that,” Gerard shrugged.

“Yea, I guess I could try,” she nodded.

“And I know Mikey tried to apologize, but didn’t do a good job of it. We just didn’t want a guy like Adam to get a chance to do anything, because then people would start talking and-”

“Hang on,” (YN) cut him off. “This isn’t the Regency era, I don’t need my older brothers telling me who I can and cannot spend time with, out of fear that I’ll disgrace the family!”

“That’s not it! I just… I just feel like it’s my duty to protect you. You and Mikey both, but it’s different with you because you’re a girl and I’ve seen the way the guys look at you and I can imagine what they’re thinking and it’s gross and it makes me mad.”

(YN) sighed. "I just wish that if you felt like making a decision in my best interest, you’d actually ask me what I want first."

"Sorry," Gerard mumbled.

"Doesn't do much good now, but whatever," she shrugged.

Gerard stepped back from the door, and she shut it behind him. It didn't really matter, she had Frank, but it was the principle of the matter that still left her steaming.

Part 4

[janeofcakes]

Soulmates: How John Met Sherlock...Again  Chapter 7

Happy Friday, my friends! I'm so sorry for making you all wait so long. It has been a busy week with lots of travel and time with the kids. Parts of me are SO sunburned. Haha! I hope all of you are having as much fun.

This chapter is shorter than some of the others, but it's a good one and I think you'll agree that it moves things in a positive direction. Let me know what you think at the end!

---

The fresh produce aisle at Tesco is far too busy for three o’clock on a Thursday afternoon. John Watson inches his way in between two older women to grab some apples with a minimum of dirty looks. Once he extracts himself again, he glances down the way and debates on how he’s going to get his hands on some oranges. After a moment of seriously considering bananas instead, a hole clears out in front of the display and he hurries to it. John just slips in before a woman speaking loudly on her mobile can take the spot and she glares at him all the while until John has his bag of oranges. He knows her type - can’t be bothered to wait for anyone else or show any consideration - so he makes sure to take his time and gives her a false friendly grin as he turns to walk away.

John heads to dairy and the refrigerated sections for milk, cheese, yogurt and eggs. He takes a jaunt through frozen foods and catches the bread before starting down the coffee and tea aisle. Plucking two of his favorite kinds of tea off the shelf, he makes his way to the coffee. How he and Gracie managed to run out of so many things at once, he has no idea.

The coffee section is as ridiculously full as fruit and veg was, so John waits off to the side a minute or two until it clears out. His eyes are scanning the shelves for his brand when the corner of a basket pokes him in the side. When he turns his head, he is greeted by the face of the loud woman from before. John can’t stop the frown on his face and she must remember him too because she gives him a sour expression before turning her back on him. John turns back to the coffee and tries to tune out her noisy complaints to the poor bastard on the line.

John just has the coffee he wants in his hand when a basket shoves up against his back again. The woman’s shrill voice still in his ear, John rounds on her with every intention of putting her in her place. He has dealt with more than his fair share of pompous idiots over the years and will not put up with it in bloody Tesco.

“Do you mind?” John demands, every inch of him exuding Captain Watson, but he stops before saying anything more. The rude woman is a good six feet away and heading up the aisle, nearly shouting into her mobile. It couldn’t have been she who bumped into him. To John’s surprise, directly in front of him and holding the offending basket is Greg Lestrade. John blinks once, a movement mirrored on Greg’s face as they stare with slackened jaws.

“John? John Watson?” a grin blooms on Greg’s face in an instant. He moves his basket aside and offers his hand, which John shakes without hesitation. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Hello, Greg,” John greets warmly. “It’s good to see you. It’s been a long time.”

“It’s been bloody years,” Greg exclaims as he shifts right to let a shopper pass by. “How have you been?”

“Well, bit of a rough start, but good. Very good,” John tells him, angling left for a passerby.

“Glad to hear it,” Greg remarks with a nod.

“What about you?” John asks before Greg has the chance to continue. “I heard you got a promotion, Chief Detective Inspector.”

“I did at that,” Greg laughs good-naturedly. “I don’t get out into the field quite as much. Paperwork’s a bitch, but it gives me time to take a day off for shopping. It’s good for my DIs to muddle through on their own every once in a while.”

Greg pauses a moment to let a woman with a pram pass and John mirrors his motions. The aisle seems twice as full as when John set foot in it.

“And you?” Greg asks when they have a bit of room again. “You’re back for good?”

“I am,” John puffs up his chest, genuinely pleased. He had wanted to move back to London as soon as Mary left. “Sort of inherited a practice from an old friend, so here we are. My little girl and I. Gracie. She’s eight now.”

“Fantastic. You’ve settled in and all? Been here a little while then?” 

Before John can answer Greg, an irritable man pushes past them and they both find themselves a little off balance and cursing.

“Bloody hell,” John says loudly as the bloke hurries on. When he turns back to Greg, the CDI is holding his basket in the space between them to allow more room for people to pass.

“Look, you’re almost finished, yeah?” Greg begins and John nods once. “So am I. No perishables and you can run yours home. We’ll meet for coffee in an hour. D’you know the Division Cafe?”

“I do,” John replies, relieved for the good fortune of Greg’s picking a place he is familiar with. “Sounds great. I’d like to catch up, but what the hell are you going to do for an hour while I drop this lot?”

“Take a leisurely walk to the cafe,” Greg chuckles as they start for the front of the store to cash out. “It’ll give me a chance to check in on the office.”

“Oh no, don’t do that,” John jokes. “No need to spoil your day off. I don’t want to be responsible for that. How will I sleep tonight?”

“All right then,” Greg tells him wryly. “I’ll just tag along with you. We’ll have plenty of time to get back up to speed before we even get there.”

“If you insist,” John is delighted by the suggestion. He has truly missed the CDI over the last ten years and often considered phoning to talk, but never did follow through. Now with Greg in front of him and plenty of time on his hands since Candace is scheduled to watch Gracie after school, he is loath to refuse his friend anything.

“I do insist,” Greg laughs as he places items on the conveyor belt for checkout, “and I’m buying.”

John grins and shrugs.

“Who am I to refuse?”

The next hour passes quickly as they catch a cab to John’s flat and make their way to the cafe. Not a moment is spent in silence. John tells Greg all about Gracie and their flat in Bath. He touches on Mary and Rosie, but quickly jumps ahead to the move back to London. For his part, Greg fills John in on his biggest cases over the years with an emphasis on those that brought about his promotion. By the time they reach Division and sit down with coffees, Greg has just gotten to the cohabitant Sherlock had mentioned in the park. John has the sneaking suspicion that Greg wanted to wait until he was sitting down before mentioning it, so it should be pretty good.

“I heard you were with someone,” John sips from his mug. “Anyone I know from the old days?”

“Uh, yeah,” Greg answers, running his hand up the back of his own neck and wearing a sheepish smile. “Mycroft Holmes.”

“What?” John’s eyes are wide. His lips remain parted in disbelief as the right corner of his mouth quirks up in a half smirk. Greg shrugs in affirmation. “Now that I did not expect.”

“Five years now. Actually,” Greg hesitates and John can tell he is trying to contain a really brilliant smile, “I asked him to marry me only last Sunday.”

“Oh my god. Congratulations,” John declares. “Greg, that’s fantastic news! Tell me, has he mellowed over the years?”

“He has, actually,” Greg answers, reigning in his laughter. He bites the inside of his cheek and looks John over with trepidation in his eyes. His friend eyes him quizzically from behind his mug. Decision made, the CDI picks up his own cup and brings it to his mouth as he says: “Being a doting uncle helps too.”

John swallows and places his coffee cup on the table between them. His brows arch briefly before falling again.

“It’s hard to imagine,” John says ruefully, not meeting Greg’s knowing gaze.

“No more than his baby brother having a child,” he remarks easily, watching John closely. The doctor shoots him a sharp look and chuckles under his breath as he leans back in his seat. With a sardonic smile, John looks down at where his hands rest on the table with his fingers wrapped around the mug of dark liquid.

“That’s the understatement of the year,” John mutters. He raises his eyes to his friend’s face to see Greg’s lips turned up on one side in a crooked and very amused smirk. John doesn’t say a word, giving him ample time to explain.

“Is it?” is all Greg says, his smirk growing more satisfied. John huffs a quick laugh and shakes his head slightly. Straightening up in his seat and leaning his elbows on the table, John fixes Greg with an incredulous face.

“Come on,” he begins and is unable to keep the touch of a plea from his tone. “You can’t say something like that and not fill in the blanks.”

“What? He didn’t tell you?” Greg replies coyly, turning his cup on the table and picking it up by the handle.

“You damn well know he didn’t,” John huffs again. “We ran into each other at the bloody park after ten years of not speaking.”

“Yeah? And whose fault is that?” Greg mutters grimly. 

John stills instantly, lips parted with words that die on his tongue. Greg doesn’t look angry exactly, but he certainly isn’t pleased. Of all the people John expected to hold onto any animosity toward him, Greg Lestrade wasn’t even on the list.

John takes a shaky breath and closes his mouth. How can he even explain? It doesn’t even make sense in his own mind anymore. He swallows audibly, the very beginnings of sweat blooming at his temples. Greg is asking him to do what Sherlock could have in the park. What he still could, but probably never will. Not the Sherlock John knows.

“Mary was done,” John’s voice is choked and quiet. “With London and the surgery, but most of all with Sherlock. Revealing her secrets to me was the last nail in the coffin.”

“Funny you should say that,” Greg leans forward, his eyes ablaze and his voice low. “She shot him, John. She killed him. Stubborn bastard brought himself back from the dead and for what? His best friend to run off with his killer.”

“She was my wife,” John croaks barely above a whisper. “She was carrying my child.”

“You were married for all of two months,” Greg’s brown eyes are hard and bore into John’s very being like a hot poker. “She was a liar from the beginning.”

Greg clenches his teeth as if to stop himself from saying something and John has no doubt the words would cut him to the core. The muscles beneath the skin stretched across Greg’s jaw work constantly as he struggles to keep his cool in the crowded cafe. He sits back ever so slightly, pulling his elbows closer to the edge of the table, his intense gaze pinning John to his seat.

“When she left you,” Greg growls, trying to keep his voice even, “you could’ve called him. Hell, you could’ve done it before that. You knew where he was. You knew his number. He had no idea where you were and it nearly destroyed him.”

Silence hangs heavily in the air between them, even with the noise of the milk steamer and patrons all around. As much as John wants to look away in shame, he cannot break away from his friend’s furious glare. The source of Greg’s ire is suddenly crystal clear. Sherlock may have refused to hear Mycroft’s news of John’s life over the years, but Greg obviously hadn’t and it fueled his anger as time went on. John clears his throat, wincing at the sting of its sudden dryness.

“He started using again?” John’s heart sinks to his feet as he asks it. He had hoped against hope that Sherlock wouldn’t fall into oblivion without him. Greg lets out a mirthless laugh.

“No, he didn’t bloody use,” the words are a sneer and his lips curl. “But he was miserable. He disappeared into the flat for months and looked like hell when he resurfaced. He worked cases, but he was on auto-pilot until he met Jessie.”

“Jessie?” John asks, desperately curious. This, this is what he wants most to know. Olive’s mother. Sherlock’s wife? Where is she? Who is she? How did they meet? John has a thousand questions and now he knows for certain that Greg holds all of the answers. John need only ask, or so he thinks.

“No,” the CDI shakes his head and leans all the way back in his chair. He chews on his lip and puffs out an angry breath. “If you want to know, you’ll have to ask him. I’ll be damned if I give you an easy out.”

“You’re right,” John breathes out his shame in a sigh. “Anything I want to know should come from him.”

He raises his troubled eyes to Greg’s face and sees some of the anger on it has dissipated in favor of irritated approval. John straightens his spine and scrubs his hands through his short, silver-blonde hair. Pressing his lips in on each other, he inhales deeply and shakes his head. 

“God, how I failed him, Greg,” John murmurs. Words he has thought often and never actually uttered. “I was so tired and felt betrayed and he kept saying I should stay with Mary. That I should forgive her because she’d actually saved his life by shooting him. It’s such bullshit.”

“He wanted you to keep her close for Rosie’s sake,” Greg tells him. His eyes are softer than they have been since they walked in the coffee shop. “And for yours. He knew you would never live in 221B again, but you and Rosie were worth it. I don’t think he realized Mary would convince you to leave.”

“Her final revenge,” John mutters angrily as Greg sighs.

“Just...don’t make the same mistakes twice, John. Don’t shut him out,” Greg advises sagely, finally raising his coffee cup to his lips again and taking a quick sip. “Olive says she and Gracie want to have a playdate at the flat, but you’re holding them up.”

John watches Greg uneasily. Memories of 221B start skipping through his mind and with them, feelings he has left buried for ten years. John shakes them away and wraps his hands around his own mug.

“I don’t know if I can go back there,” John says.

“It won’t be easy,” Greg tells him, placing his cup on the table. He leans in and fixes John with a very serious gaze. “Stop running, John.”

With those three words, John’s mind clears. The simplicity of it is stunning and utterly heartbreaking. How many years would he and Sherlock have been friends again if John had just faced his fears, accepted responsibility for his mistakes and reached out to the detective? What the hell had happened to him and when had he let go of Captain Watson? John had lost half of himself all these years and never seemed to take notice. Sure, he had thought that Sherlock didn’t care anymore, even after Rosie died, but when had the man’s moods ever stopped him from horning in before? He punched him in the face as a cover, fucking wrestled him to the ground because he was angry with the git. He tried to comfort Sherlock when he thought he was in love with Irene Adler, for Christ sake. John Watson...always by his side and ready to kick the shit out of anyone who would touch him.

Filled with a new resolve, John squares his shoulders and meets Greg’s eyes. His own are determined and set, the decision made. He will accept Sherlock’s invitation and take Gracie to his old home. Maybe he’ll even invite himself in for tea and see if the man who was once his best friend will allow him back into his life. Maybe Sherlock will let him try to repair their friendship. God, John hopes so.

---

All I can say is Greg Motherfucking Lestrade, the dark horse in this story. Hell, yeah! 

Thank you so much for all the love and support. I definitely wouldn't be here without all of you! Love, Jane

@johnlock-rocks

[lifeofkaze]

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 14

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N: Katriona Cassopeia (in mention) belongs to the gorgeous @kc-and-oc

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning:

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @carewyncromwell @night-rhea @thatravenpuffwitch

Man, we were killin' time We were young and restless We needed to unwind I guess nothin' can last forever Forever, no… ~ Bryan Adams - Summer of ‘69 ~

Much to his relief, Orion’s fear of having been discovered seemed to prove unwarranted. Skye was a direct person, never shy to speak her mind; if she had truly seen something not meant for her eyes during the interview, Orion was sure she’d have already come and spoken to either of them.

But nothing of the sort had happened. She had acted just like she always did and his first surge of worry had died down again. Sometimes even the most focused mind was prone to being tricked and, as he had to admit to himself, focus was something he found himself lacking in these days.

It wasn’t only because of Lizzie’s teasing getting riskier that he found his mind wandering more often than not. Ever since the show they were meant to be playing for the children from the foster system had shown its face on the horizon, an ever present restlessness had been growing in Orion.

Dreams that he had pushed to the edges of his mind a long time ago had started haunting him again; they kept coming back whenever they held an event stirring the buried memories of his childhood. He loved seeing the light in the children’s faces when they were spending time with them; he knew it was a rare sight, after all. The emotional mess Orion carried back with him afterwards was the dark side of the coin, however.

The charity event was scheduled for the next day; they were to play a small acoustic set for the children in the afternoon and their regular show only a few hours later on top. To keep their spirits high before the double load, Ethan had scheduled a day off for them.

The weather was still uncharacteristically hot and so most of the band and crew had found themselves at the small pool on the rooftop of their hotel. Much to everyone’s surprise, even Artemis had joined them.

Charlie had followed Skye’s advice to take Artemis for drinks a few days prior. He had been unusually tight-lipped about it when they had asked him how it had gone down.

“It was good,” he had shrugged, “told you she’s not as bad as you all think.”

While the young pyro tech still kept her distance from the rest of them, Orion had seen her chatting with Charlie outside of their work on stage since then. He was glad she seemed to be taking a step into the right direction, lowering her armour even for the tiniest bit.

But Artemis’ tentative attempts at integrating herself with their group lounging by the pool were counteracted as soon as she took her shirt off. Everett audibly wolf-whistled at her black bikini with surprisingly colourful patterns crisscrossing it. Her withering glare was met with a lewd grin as Artemis picked up her stuff and dumped it on the deckchair farthest away from them.

Lizzie gave Everett a smack on the back of his head. “Well done, Ev, you’ve scared her away. I wanted to have a chat with her.”

Everett looked at her over the rim of his sunglasses. “I’m not stopping you. Two beauties in bikinis getting close? Who would I be to object? You could rub her back with sunscreen.”

He laughed to himself. “If Artemis isn’t up for it, I’m always here for you, gorgeous.”

A hint of the same irritation Orion felt flickered over Lizzie’s face. “You’re a real mood today.”

She got up from her own deckchair and started over in Artemis’ direction anyway, but was stopped by Charlie catching onto her wrist.

“Woah, where are you going, little rockstar?”

“Go and talk to Artemis, see if I can convince her to come over if Ev shuts up.” She gave the singer lounging in his chair a dark look.

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Charlie said and pulled her down next to him. “Trust me, if you push her you’ll be the one scaring her away. She’ll come over if she wants to.”

Lizzie opened her mouth to object but Charlie shook his head. “You can’t force her, sunshine.”

“Fine,” Lizzie snorted, not pleased by the situation, “so what’re we gonna do now?” She nodded in the direction of the pool. “Anyone up for a round of water polo?”

Everett declined, preferring to seek a better place to tan, while Merula did the opposite and withdrew to the shade with a book. So it was Charlie, Lizzie, Andre and Skye who made their way to the water. Orion would have joined them, but he was preoccupied with some ideas that had been floating around in his head since that morning; he wanted to write them down before he’d forget them.

He was lying on his stomach on his deckchair, notebook open in front of him, but found it hard to concentrate. The match of water polo going on in the pool had turned into some kind of wrestling match, like it always did eventually. Lizzie and Skye were sitting on Charlie’s and Andre’s shoulders respectively, trying to knock the other into the water; a lot of giggling and shouting was involved as they fought for the upper hand.

What really distracted him though, was the way the sunlight was refracting in the water droplets on Lizzie’s skin when she moved. It let her slender body shimmer, her tan she always got so quickly in the summer months a beautiful contrast to the vibrant red of her bikini. Her wet hair looked a lot darker than it actually was and it was clinging to her back.

Skye almost managed to knock her off Charlie’s shoulder and Lizzie laughed as she righted herself again. It was the kind of laugh that made her stand out amongst all the others, bright and captivating. It gave her an aura that was impossible to escape, drawing eyes whenever she entered a scene. She had the ability to light up a whole room with her smile, as fresh and beautiful as a sunrise.

“I’d say I’m 95.9 % sure what you’re staring at, my friend,” Orion suddenly heard the voice of Murphy next to him, “or should I rather say who?”

Orion tried not to let his surprise show; he had been so lost in thought that he hadn’t heard his best friend approach. “Your meaning is obscure to me,” he answered evasively. “I’m simply trying to work here.”

Murphy couldn’t hide his smirk. “When you’re working, your attention is usually 87.5 % focused on your work, more if no one is distracting you. Four out of five times you don’t even react when spoken to.” He glanced down at the mostly blank page of Orion’s notebook. “Today I’d say your focus is reduced to abysmal 30.9 %.” Never missing a detail, his eyes flicked to the still on-going wrestling match in the pool.

With a sigh, Orion closed his notebook and rested his head on his arms. Murphy was far too observant to be lied to, but he didn’t have to know all the details either.

He indicated their laughing friends with a slight nod of his head. “It is good that our friends are having a great time, it strengthens their bond of friendship. But they are making a lot of noise, it’s bound to draw attention.”

The dismissive sound Murphy was making clearly showed that he wasn’t buying it. “It’s obvious they’re distracting you. But from what I’ve seen, 95.5 % of the time you’ve spent looking at them were devoted to one of the pairs, and while I do have to admit that Andre’s new gold bangles are surprisingly flashy and apparently water resistant, I highly doubt it was him that drew your attention, same goes for Skye, although her hair usually is an eye catcher, I’ll give you that. That leaves Charlie and dear Lizzie, and last time I checked, you weren’t one for redheads, that’s more my thing. Not that I want to say I find Charlie particularly attractive, although some might say so, but I digress. So only one option remains, and as the one and only master of logical deductions, the great Sherlock Holmes, once said, ‘Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable…”

“...must be the truth’,” Orion finished with a sigh. “I know the quote. You're quoting numbers all day every day, do you really feel the need to go into literature as well now?"

Ignoring him, Murphy was grinning from ear to ear, clearly satisfied with his conclusions. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Orion wasn’t answering immediately; he didn’t like Murphy’s prying at all. “Are you done, Detective McNully?”

“Fine, don’t answer me then, I don’t need confirmation,” Murphy snorted. “The stats never lie, my friend.”

Orion rolled his eyes, hoping Murphy wouldn’t delve into another one of his statistical sprees. Although he was right in that his numbers were seldom wrong, Orion himself preferred a more open-minded view of his surroundings to Murphy’s cold, analytical observations; especially, if these observations were directed at his own behaviour.

But of course, Murphy wasn’t deterred. “To the attentive observer, which of course you know that I am, all the facts are there. Eight out of ten times your mood changes for the better when Lizzie enters the room. Seven out of ten times she starts smiling when she looks at you. You two look at each other during shows and soundtracks 46.4 % more often than at the others and yes, I factored out the times when you need to because of the cues she’s giving you, thanks a lot for asking. You hug each other at the end of the shows significantly longer as well. When you leave the backstage area, you’re never leaving together but almost always in close succession.”

The blond sound technician crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Are you really sure there isn’t anything you want to tell me?”

Orion was more than a little shocked at all the facts Murphy had just thrown at him. “I had no idea it was that obvious.”

Murphy shrugged, a sly smile appearing on his face. “Only to me. You’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember, and my above average observational skills, which of course not everyone possesses, solved 82.3 % of the mystery.”

“What’s with the rest?”

“What I can offer in facts, I sometimes lack in interpreting. Katriona connected the dots.”

“Obviously,” Orion sighed.

“So, what’s the deal with you two? Are you dating?” A frown appeared on Murphy’s face. “I thought you had a clause about this in your contracts. Ethan’s not going to like this.”

Orion vehemently shook his head. “No, you got that wrong. We’re not dating, everything is just like it has always been. We’re just enjoying additional pastimes, which - I’ll give you that - may exceed a regular friendship.”

He looked at Murphy intently. “No one besides you knows about this, and I would appreciate it if it stayed that way.”

Murphy made a non-committal sound. “Of course this doesn’t include Katriona.”

“As if any of us could keep a secret from her.”

“I normally don’t go for absolutes but that’s 100 % true,” Murphy laughed. He looked at Orion curiously. “So how long has this thing between you and Lizzie been going on now?”

“A while,” Orion answered evasively.

“The definition of ‘a while’ ranges from two weeks to up to a year. Judging by my numbers, it’s definitely not the former. Doesn’t sound like a short lived fling to me.”

“I wouldn’t call it a fling,” Orion said; it was surprisingly hard to put what was going on between them into words. “But we’re definitely not emotionally involved with each other. It’s not a matter of the heart, more of a physical extension built on the base of our friendship.”

Murphy leaned back into his wheelchair and grinned. “The old classic, friends with benefits.”

“If that’s the label you want to stick on it.”

Murphy hummed in response, following Orion’s gaze to the pool again. His voice was quieter when he spoke this time. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? We are both on the same page about it.”

“Just saying, things like these seldomly work out as well as they start. Approximately 89.6 % of physical relationships end in chaos, tears or both.”

The memory of his own initial worry emerged in the back of Orion’s mind. He watched as Skye gave Lizzie a final push that sent her toppling from Charlie’s shoulders. She shrieked before she crashed into the water, but was already laughing again when she resurfaced; Orion firmly pushed his concerns away.

“It won’t escalate with us,” he said. “Both of us value our friendship, and the fate of Equinox even more so. We’ve established very clear rules. I appreciate your worries, but they are misplaced.”

“As much as I love rules for the structure they’re bringing, rules can easily be broken,” Murphy said. “Just be careful, okay? Mixing friendship with sex can be a lot of fun but the devil’s in the detail.”

They both watched Lizzie climbing out of the pool and heading over into their direction. When she passed Everett, he pulled down his sunglasses and watched after her, his eyes very slowly travelling up and down her body. He said something to her Orion couldn’t hear, but Lizzie only rolled her eyes, shot something back and continued on her way. Murphy's eyes flicked from her to Orion.

“Aren’t you bothered with Ev hitting on her?”

Orion shrugged. “Why would I? She’s not my girlfriend, and she can perfectly handle herself, as you’ve just seen.”

“That she undoubtedly can,” Murphy laughed, “I’ll better be off now and leave you two alone. I wonder where my beautiful wife is. I haven’t seen her in quite a while now.”

[infinitebells]

Can I ask for a jealous Albert x reader that may lead to smut and did the thing. Thank you!!!

my kinks kind of jumped out at this one- OOPS

“nii-san, if you are so upset with her talking to the detective, why don’t you go and talk to her? i’m sure she’d be more than understanding,” william says, but albert merely ignores him and continues to glare at the sight before him. he hadn’t realized you and sherlock holmes were old friends, but once he had spotted you with albert and william in the town square, he had to come over and say hi.

“i’m not upset,” albert finally grits out, and william has to hold back a laugh at his obvious sour mood.

“then stop frowning, you’ll get frown lines,” william teases. as albert is about to shoot back a snarky response, a loud laugh from you and sherlock’s hand on your arm catches his attention. his patience snaps, and soon he’s marching over to you. you’re so caught up in your conversation you don’t even notice albert until he’s right next to you. his hand finds yours and yanks you into him. the sudden shift knocks you off your feet, and he swiftly catches you. his hold on you is tight, keeping your chest pressed against his while his gaze shoots daggers at sherlock. the detective was well aware of how jealous albert had been growing, yet he found the entire situation extremely amusing.

“excuse me, my darling and i must be off. always a pleasure to see you detective,” albert hisses out the last word, his grip on your hand crushing your bones as he leads you to a stopped cab, roughly shoving you in before letting the driver know where to go. you haven’t spoken a word, mouth agape in shock and confusion as he slams the door behind him, sitting across from you. his eyes meet yours, and the pure fury reflected in them makes you shrink away, almost frightened at the expression on his face.

“albert? what’s wrong?” you finally speak, voice timid against his dangerous aura.

“did you have fun with the detective back there? it surely seemed like it with his hands all over you,” he spits out after glaring at you for another moment. your eyes widen at the insinuation, face burning in embarassment.

“you think i was flirting with sherlock? albert you must be joking,” you ask, hand reaching out to grab his. you’re a centimeter away from grabbing his fingers before smacking your hand away. at this, you feel your own anger start to bubble up at his actions.

“it certainly seemed like it,” his voice is level, a sheer contrast to the rage brewing in his body. the cab stops in front of the manor, and he climbs out and leaves you to sit in the carriage. practically fuming at this point, you slam the door shut behind you and storm into the house, following him into his room and closing the door behind you. “get out, i don’t want to talk to you right now,” he doesn’t even turn around to face you as he speaks, and that sets you off.

“i can’t believe after two years you think i would be flirting with someone, much less someone who i’ve only been friends with! if you’re going to be mad at me, have a damn good decent reason to be! and next time, when you ask me something, turn around and face me like the man you are!” your last words force him to turn around, and he looks at you, panting with anger and face red. his mind swirls in a combination of anger and one other emotion he can’t pinpoint until he’s unconsciously walking towards you. he realizes as he grabs your face and kisses you harshly that the other emotion is lust. the force of the kiss pushes you back into the wall, and you slam your hands into his chest, pushing him back only a few inches. you glare at him, trying to keep a hold on your resolve as his cheeks turn pink and his gaze sharpens into something more dangerous than anger. his hand shoots out, wrapping around your neck and slamming your head back into the wall. you’d shout in pain, but the adrenaline coursing through your system makes it hard to feel anything.

“bratty little girls don’t get to take that tone with me and expect to get off scott free,” he’s murmuring now, body leaning into yours and his other hand resting carefully on your hip. you swallow thickly, and he can feel it beneath his hand. his smirk grows before moving forward so your lips are millimeters away from touching his. “what do you say when you speak to me like that?” he says it like it’s a question, but you know he won’t move until you utter the words.

“i’m sorry for being a brat sir,” you whisper out, looking down. he ‘tchs’ from in front of you, one finger lifting from your throat to move your head back up.

“good girl. maybe i won’t be so hard on you now,” he finishes with a heated kiss, body shuffling forward to press into yours. his tongue smooths over your own, and the hand on your waist pulls you even closer to him. his grip on your throat releases, and he keeps your mouths attached while gripping the back of your thighs and lifting you up and onto the bed. he detaches to let you adjust before crawling over you like a predator stalking his prey. his mouth finds your jaw, teeth grazing over the soft skin before biting down hard. a needy whine slips out of your mouth, and you can feel albert’s erection poke into your thigh. his mouth moves downward, sucking and biting harshly. you’re sure your neck will be painted in marks by the time he’s done. “love, stand up and take off all of your clothes for me,” his voice pulls you out of your head, and you nod. sliding off the bed, your fingers fumble with the strings before finally undoing them. as you look up, you see albert’s shirt unbuttoned all the way and his pants undone, hand palming his dick from over his underwear. you whimper in need, tugging harder at your dress until it’s slipped completely off. by the time you’ve reached your bra, his cock is freed from his boxers and he’s slowly rubbing himself at the sight of you undressing for him. you shove off your undergarments at record speed, clambering onto the mattress to take over for him. his hands find your wrists, flipping you over so you’re flat on your back.

“please sir, let me touch you,” you plead, hips bucking up to try and find his. he smirks, sliding his belt out of the belt loops and bringing them up to your hands.

“no darling, this is your punishment for letting the detective lay his hands on you. you can’t touch me,” he says, and you whimper in protest as you feel the smooth leather wrap around your wrists. the fit is snug as he secures them together, sitting back on his heels to admire his handiwork. he revels in the sight of you sprawled out naked beneath him, writhing around with your hands bound above you. the temptation to completely devour you almost overtakes him, but he pushes it back down.

meanwhile your mouth is practically watering at the sight of him kneeling above you, shirt unbuttoned and cock heavy in his hand. you can feel arousal pool in your cunt, some leaking out as he slowly rubs himself.

“something wrong love?” he’s mocking you, and you want to respond but his fingers sliding up your soaked slit, arousal soaking them, distracts you. a wanton moan flows out of you, and you feel yourself grow even more turned on on the sight of him using your slick as lubrication to continue to rub himself. his cock shines in the golden light of the sunset outside, and he looks absolutely ethereal. you could practically cum at the sight of this alone, and the thought terrifies you.

“you wanna cum just from looking at me darling? so needy these days,” he voices your thoughts, and your head flails from side to side in panic, incoherent begs pleading him to touch you. he grins, knowing you’ve just about reached your limit.

“please albert! i need to feel you, please sir ple- ngh!” the force of his cock burying itself deep inside of your walls cuts you off, and your eyes roll back at pleasure burning in your veins.

“i’ll forgive you for not calling me sir, but don’t expect any other favors from me,” he whispers in your ear. his hands find your hips, keeping them steady before pulling out and slamming back into you all at once. a yelp escapes you before he’s pounding into you, barely giving you time to adjust. your hands tug tightly at the restraints, itching to grab onto him for support. he’s groaning above you, watching his cock piston in and out of you. a ring of white surrounds the base of it as you cream around him, cunt fluttering erratically around him.

“ahh sir please!” your hips try to move up to meet his thrusts, but his hands keep them pinned to the bed. you throw your head back, succumbing to the feeling of being trapped beneath him, completely at his disposal.

“that’s it love, now who’s are you?” his voice floats through your ears, and the overwhelming pleasure makes it hard for you to give a coherent answer, but when one of his hands slithers up your body to grasp lightly at your throat, you find it in you to choke out an answer.

“‘m yours. all yours,” your eyes open to see him grinning sharply above you. his hands find your hips again, holding them steady as he picks up his pace. you scream out, nerve endings sizzling as you clench around him.

“never forget it,” is all the warning he gives before one hand moves over and rubs harshly at your clit. you choke, the feeling tightening the knot that’s dangerously close to snapping.

“close! s-so close!” you barely have time to get the words out before you’re gone, bliss overtaking you. albert fucks you through your orgasm, releasing into you. the warmth of his cum brings you down from your high, and you focus on him again. his cheeks are red, hands holding your hips so tightly you’re sure there are bruises in the shapes of his finger tips. he exhales shakily, pulling out of you and reaching up to undo his belt. once your hands are free, he brings them to his mouth, kissing each one gently.

“you’re not in pain right? i didn’t hurt you?” concern floods his eyes, and you giggle quietly at the sight. you gingerly grab his hands, leading him down so that his head is resting on your chest and his arms are secured around your waist.

“no love, i’m okay i promise. are you?” your fingers find his hair, pushing it out of his face and twirling it around your fingers.

“i’m okay. i’m sorry i lost my temper,” his gentleman-ness starts to show again, and you press a loving kiss to the top of his head.

“it’s okay. just know i love you and only you ok?” you look down, and he looks up to meet your gaze, a lazy smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“i love you too darling,” he says, leaning up to kiss your lips softly. when he pulls back, he tugs the blanket over the two of you, shedding himself of his shirt and pants before laying his head back down on you. you both fall into a dreamless sleep, surrounded by each other’s love.

[honorbound-to-the-pen]

Prompt number: 11 (I swear, it’s not always like this)

Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)

Rating: Teen

Warnings/Tags: Drug abuse and addiction, implied/referenced suicide, heavy angst

Giving Up On Me, You, Us

    Sherlock and John sat, staring at each other from their respected chairs in 221B. John’s lips were pressed together tightly, his hands clenched into fists where they rested on the arms of his chair. Across from him, Sherlock sat with one leg crossed over the other at the knee, his fingers steepled in front of his face and his elbows resting on the arms of the chair. His hands shook almost imperceptibly, and his posture had lost its typical graceful rigidness; instead, Sherlock sagged into the chair and stared into the distance, his bones and joints overexposed in the places where they poked out from underneath his robe or pajama pants. 

    Mrs. Hudson stood behind John’s chair, twisting her hands anxiously. John sighed, obviously able to hear her anxiety, even from outside his field of view, and turned towards her. 

    “Mrs. Hudson, why don’t you go downstairs. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way out.” He tried for reassurance, but what came out was more authoritative. John winced at his own words and shot Mrs. Hudson an apologetic glance, giving her a strained smile.

    “Oh alright, I’ll be just downstairs, call if you need anything. Be gentle with him, John,” she said, giving Sherlock a frightened but stern look. “You had better listen to John. And drink your tea, it’s almost gone cold.” With that, she turned and headed down the stairs to her flat, turning back several times before she disappeared from view. 

    Once her footsteps had faded, John fixed his eyes on Sherlock again. “So? Out with it, start talking.”

    “This isn’t really necessary, John. I know you promised my brother you would see me, but since it’s obvious you don’t want to be here, you are free to go.” Sherlock waved his hand dismissively, his unaffected aura ruined by the strong crack in his voice. 

    “You- do you really think I’m here just because I told Mycroft that I would be? No, Sherlock, I’m here because this is the third time this month Lestrade has found you, unconscious, in some drug den. Do you even know what was in your system, Sherlock? They had to give you 12 milligrams of Narcan before you even started to come around. TWELVE, Sherlock. I’m here because I want some goddamn answers about what’s going on.” John’s voice rose in pitch, his hands clenched tighter, until his knuckles were white and stood out against his skin.

    “I was undercover for a case, John; I don’t expect you to understand. I can take care of myself.”

    “Oh no, Sherlock, not this time. Wrong answer. Try again.” By this time, John was shouting, waving his arms. Sherlock sat, his position unchanged, staring at a spot on the landing just behind John. 

    “John-”

    “No, Sherlock. This is the third time this month. I can’t be here all the time to- to- to BABYSIT you, I have a family and a job. You aren’t the only person I have to take care of, Sherlock, even if you think the world revolves around you.” John watched Sherlock wince, physically leaning away from John, as if he had slapped him instead of just shouting at him. “So you have one more chance. One, Sherlock.” With that, John let himself fall into his chair, his back straight and his fingers gripping the material of his jeans just over his knees.

    For a few minutes, Sherlock was silent and still, so still that John opened his mouth to demand an answer again, but Sherlock beat him to it.

    “I’m sorry, John. I swear, it’s not always like this, and I am trying, whatever you might think of me.” Here, Sherlock smiled sadly at John, his eyes focusing for a second on John’s face. “It’s just...hard, trying to do it by myself. I need...I need your help, John. If I could...if you could just-”

    “Oh no, Sherlock, not this time. I’m not falling for the ‘I’m Sherlock Holmes, and I never ask for help, but I’m going to ask you, a normal person, for help, so you stay here and don’t move on and keep feeling…feeling whatever the hell I want you to feel, because I’m Sherlock Holmes and I don’t really have a heart, and I don’t care, because you’re only here to be useful to me’. Not this time, Sherlock.” Standing up, John reached for his jacket, which he had thrown over the back of his armchair, and walked towards the stairwell.

    “Fine, I give up, Sherlock. If you want to be alone, and kill yourself by doing this shit, then fine. I’m done, you can be alone. I’m going to go back to Mary, who actually gives a damn about how she makes me feel, and cares about me when she doesn’t just need something from me. Goodbye, Sherlock.”

    “Goodbye, John. I’m sorry,” said Sherlock, with a note of finality that John ignored, refusing to be manipulated into staying again.

    John snorted angrily and stomped down the stairs, loudly calling to Mrs. Hudson that he was leaving, and that he would be at home if she needed him. 

    As John disappeared from view, Sherlock slumped again in his chair, his gaze fixed on an indeterminable point on the wall behind John’s chair again. After a few minutes, he abruptly sat up and stood, out of his chair, stumbling to his bedroom, his legs uncoordinated and weak beneath him. A few minutes later, he emerged, dressed in a dark blue blazer and suit pants, his hair styled back into the perfect, careless curls that always crowned his head. Stopping at the doorway, he cocked his head to listen and, hearing nothing, withdrew the needle from his sleeve and slipped it into the pocket of his suit jacket. 

    Walking to the kitchen table and grabbing his jacket from where it laid across the surface, Sherlock placed a small, folded piece of paper in its place, making sure it was clearly visible from the entrance to the flat. Looking around one last time after having messily tied his shoes, almost tipping himself over in the process, he made his way down the stairs. He yelled to Mrs. Hudson, as John had done minutes earlier, saying that he was going out and wouldn’t be back until late. Before she could open the door to her flat and move to stop him, he had already hailed a cab and disappeared into the streets of London.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34432900