and how close he is with that flatmate of his

anonymous asked:

Isak eats really unhealthy! While his friends are all eating sandwiches at school he'll eat a bun or a Norwegian waffle. Like boy should not be living by himself, lol. I'm glad even makes him eggs for breakfast. And I wonder if even is good at cooking in general. At least he seems to be taking charge in the kitchen so far. I have a feeling Isak is the kind to just grab a handful of cereal out of the box before

FO’ REAL!! I doubt Isak has had a balanced meal since he ran away from home! And he may very well grab cereal from the box, assuming he has any at home, either way he’s probably forgotten to buy milk.

Even is definitely more interested in cooking than Isak, and given that he has some seasoning tricks to make the food taste better, I imagine he has some culinary talents as well. Isak however, I doubt could cook to save his own life! At least this is what empiric data tells me…

Because of course me being the weirdo I am, I’m physically incapable of speculating about stuff like this without researching and getting all the facts™ first, so I’ve gone through all the times (that I could remember) we’ve seen Isak eating and compiled some data.

In the words of Isak: NU KÖR VI~


We don’t really know anything about Isak’s eating habits at home (in S1). And aside from Even, the only one who’s made food for Isak is Eva. When they were at Jonas’ cabin she made them pasta and tomato sauce

She also treated him to a coffee at one point (not food but still!).

I didn’t remember seeing Isak eat anything in particular in S2, so let’s skip onto S3….

First time we see Isak eating in S3, is the bun you mentioned. We see him tearing the raisin out of the bun, which tells me this is one of those semi-sweet raisin buns. They are delicious but not exactly healthy. (somewhat related: after close inspection I’m 95% sure these are raisin buns with CARDAMOM ❤︎).

Next time we see him eating it’s the cheese toast with ALL THE SPICES and ketchup that Even made him. Not exactly balanced food, but alright for a midday snack imo?

Unfortunately I doubt Isak finished it… when their datehangout got interrupted by guests, you see Isak look down dejectedly at his toasts and tap his thumb against his leg. :( Once Sonja is introduced I imagine Isak made himself scarce.

When Even spends the weekend at Isak’s after Halloween, they must have eaten something. The flatmates didn’t see either of them until Sunday, supposedly, but the mug Even puts ash in suggests to me that Isak probably sneaked out and made them sandwiches & cocoa or smth (that or the mug was already in his room… but one entire day, they’d have to eat) at some point.

Isak isn’t really great at getting breakfast either. That Sunday he literally opens the door, gets asked about Even by Noora and Eskild, and then closes the door again. Wonder how long it took for him to dare venture out… boy must have been starving!

After the painful ‘breakup’ when Isak wasn’t sleeping well, I can’t imagine he was eating so great either. Especially not if you consider the sad sad toast he got from the canteen. One toast with only cheese, it seriously looks just as tired as Isak does!

Of all the foods Isak has bought, the kebab he ate with Jonas is definitely among the healthiest. I imagine he spends most of his allowance/the money his dad sends on snapbacks (he can’t have borrowed all of them!), beer and eating fast food.

Luckily, if it’s down to Even Isak gets to eat a sturdy breakfast. And that’s good considering how Isak hardly seems to be able to get himself breakfast at the flat. (does he even have any food there?) I imagine that Even realized this when he stayed over the previous time, and simply decided to take matters into his own hands, with a little help from the Noora (and Eskild), making Isak scrambled eggs after staying over the second time.

Isak doesn’t join the guys for pizza… but on Friday, Isak waits for Even at the KB. I only saw a coffee cup though, so who knows if he had anything to eat there? Once again Even makes sure they get some food, ordering burgers and champagne (and what looks like cakes? fancy smørbrød?) at the hotel. Isak doesn’t exactly lack appetite at that point ;)

We don’t know what or how he ate the days after… but on Tuesday, we’re back to Isak’s classic diet. He gets a waffle. The guy doesn’t even put jam or anything tasty on it (except whipped cream?). idk what is up with Nissen’s canteen, but stuff looks plain af. (I feel for norwegianall kids who are forced to pay for or bring their own school lunches….)

Now last food Isak prepared (as I am writing this) was a ready-made frozen Grandiosa pizza, which can hardly be considered cooking. And it wasn’t even his (he doesn’t have any food at the flat does he…).

In conclusion (TL;DR):

I doubt Isak knows how to cook. I’m CERTAIN he maintains a horribly unhealthy diet ever since he ran away from home. And I’m hoping that Even’s cooking skills extend beyond breakfast and sandwiches, but honestly I’m fairly certain it does? Even seems comfortable enough in a kitchen to figure it out and make them some healthy food. So with Even in his life…

Hallelujah Isak is saved!!

notdanhowell

summary: Dan has a guilty pleasure: phan blogs. It’s a mixture of conceited arrogance and morbid curiosity, really. And really, it’s a mixture of these two things that lead to him catfishing members of his phandom and becoming a headcanon blog. After all, what harm can one headcanon do?
word count: 2,134/20,000
warnings (this chapter): recreational drinking, kissing, light fantasy

LAST CHAPTER |  NEXT CHAPTER

A couple of weeks pass where nothing noteworthy happens. Dan doesn’t have a big metal breakdown, comes to accept that his life now involves writing headcanons about himself and his best friend. They’re all platonic, domestic things, though, and nothing that their viewers couldn’t work out by watching enough of their videos. So it’s innocent.

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Imagine: Mrs. Hudson Lets You Keep a Kitten in the Flat

Originally posted by welcometoyouredoom

   You entered the sitting room in 221B Baker Street, where your flatmates were hanging out.  John was blogging, and Sherlock was laying out on the couch, most likely in his mind palace.

   The furry bundle in your arms let out a pitiful mewl as you held it close to your chest.

   Sherlock’s face twisted in confusion and irritation.  “What was that?”

   “My new pet,” you informed.  John looked up from his laptop, a big smile spreading across his face.

   “Oh, how cute,” he said.  He set the device off to the side and stood to his feet to get a better look.  “Oh my,  it really is adorable!”

   You smiled.  “Want to hold her?”

   “Of course.”  John took the kitten carefully in his arms, the smile not leaving his face, and gently stroked it.  “What’s her name?”

   “Bee.  As in, 221B Baker Street.”

   “Hello, Bee,” he cooed.  John Watson was a good friend of yours.  You always admired him because of his big heart.  Being completely enraptured by the cuteness of a little kitten was so like him.  “Where did you get her?”

   “I found her in a little box,” you explained.  “There was no way I’d let her sit out there in the rain!  Mrs. Hudson said she’d make an exception in the ‘no pets’ rule, so I can keep her.”

   “Absolutely not.”  Sherlock’s eyes flew open, and he turned his head to give you a look.  “I can barely think with the two of you chatting about a cat.”  He folded his arms.  “I’ve always been more of a dog person.”

   “Just give her a chance,” you begged.  “Cats are really smart, you know.  But also a little of idiotic in some ways.  And pretty arrogant.”

   “Kind of like you, Sherlock,” John laughed.

   “Shut up.”

   You and John shared amused looks.  

   “Well, I for one, am glad that you found Bee.”  He played with the kittens ears and brushed his fingers against the fuzzy paws.  You joined in the little game, and the kitten batted at your hand, her tail waving around.

   “Come on, Sherlock.  Even you can’t resist this kitten,” you joked.  Sherlock turned his face away stubbornly, causing you to roll your eyes.  Then, an idea popped into your head.  You got John’s attention, eyes flickering to the kitten and then to the pouting detective.  He picked up on your idea and winked.

   “Here, just hold her for a moment,” John suggested, holding Bee in outstretched arms.

   “No.  Get that cat away from me.  Don’t even think about-”  Sherlock groaned in irritation when John plopped the kitten down on Sherlock’s chest before he could even protest any further.  “You must be joking.”

   “Just pet her,” you insisted.  “It’ll be fine.”

   Sherlock stared at the kitten for a moment, his face blank.  Bee rubbed her face against his chin and purred, turning around several times before finally curling up and falling asleep right there on his chest.  He seemed fascinated, but  hesitant to show it.  Sherlock tentatively lifted a hand to stroke the kitten, earning more content purrs from Bee.  You could have melted at the small smile on his face as he slowly warmed up to the animal.

   “So, you guys are okay with us having another roommate?” you asked.

   “I definitely am!”

   You grinned at John.  “Good.  Sherlock?”

   He rested his hands at his sides and glanced up from Bee.  “Fine,” he agreed finally, trying to hide his smile.  “But she had better not get in the way of our cases.  Welcome to 221B Baker Street, Miss Bee.”

‘The Chemistry of Love’ Chapter 6: Pluto Matters

Sherlock and Molly have been arguing…about Pluto?


               “Molly could you hand me your notes?” Sherlock asked. She rolled her eyes and dropped the notebook onto the lab table with a loud smack. John was taken aback by the sudden change in attitude.

               “Anything else you want?” she asked in a tone feigning sweetness.

               “Well maybe I—“ he faltered when Molly glared at him. “Nevermind.”

               “Are you two alright?” John asked quietly to Sherlock. This behaviour had been going on for nearly five days, though John was just now experiencing it himself.

               “Fine; an overreaction on her part,” Sherlock remarked.

               “Overreaction?” Molly asked incredulously.

               “Well, you are being over-dramatic about the whole thing,” he argued.

               “Says the drama queen, himself,” she retorted.

               “Look, you know that I delete information about the solar system in my mind palace, so why does it surprise you that I have absolutely no opinion on the matter?” Sherlock asked.

               “Solar system?” John muttered to himself, officially confused.

               “It’s just the point that you chose the wrong opinion when I presented it to you,” she huffed. “Pluto is, in fact, a planet; it doesn’t make it any less of one just because it’s smaller than the others. Pluto matters to the solar system and those bloody astronomers are saying that it’s insignificant and it doesn’t count.”

               “Molly,” Sherlock caressed her name, “darling, I think I know what the issue is.” He realized how much her argument resonated with that of the way she used to feel when he treated her as if she were insignificant. A wave of guilt washed over him. They had been living together for two months now and the honeymoon period had faded a bit fast for both of them.

               “A planet? That’s what this whole thing was about?” John chuckled in disbelief.

               “John, could you vacate the premises? I need to speak with Molly alone,” Sherlock told him. The good doctor took his exit, leaving the quarreling lovers alone. “This is definitely not about Pluto, is it?”

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Not A Chance

Author: C. Ford

Characters: John x Reader, Sherlock

A/N: Wrote a short one for @fandomfreak221b, @martinfreemanisababe, and all the John girls out there. Hope you enjoy this! Feedbacks are needed appreciated (and loved).

Special thanks goes to @prettyxlittlexwriter for beta-reading this! Check her blog out for more Sherlock x Readers! ☺️

Summary: John introduces his girlfriend to his flatmate.

Theme/s: Fluff.

Word Count: 1000+

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Sherlock x reader

A/N: Hope you like this! This is the Sherlock BBC one I mentioned before(If I did?) I hope I got the characters portrayed okay, as it;s my first time writing them really.

btw (c/n) is cat’s name.

The thunder outside rumbled on as the residents of 221B Baker St. relaxed into their day in. It was Friday evening and although no cases had sprung up all week, Sherlock seemed alright with that. Honestly, John bet he would crash any minute now.
So far, though, the consulting detective has been calm about the matter. He was currently seated in his chair, a small book in his hands. John sat across from him with his laptop, scrolling through the news in hopes or anything springing up in case his best friend started getting antsy.

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Dan's Little Secret ("Shh...")

Description: Dan starts to have a little ‘fun’ with his flatmate, only it’s when he’s sleeping ao he doesn’t know. But once he does… How will Dan keep certain Phil will stay?

WN: somnophilia, toys, bondage, little bit of rape mentioned

Dan’s POV
 
Glancing around to make sure no one would see me (though who would?), I slipped into the room and gently closed the door, locking it tight. This was my little secret; no one else could know. This was all mine. Footsteps loud and broad, I walked into the darkness and up to the back corner where a figure remained in the shadows. He was on his knees, head flopped down as he slept, arms raised above his head by a chain. A single sliver of light stretched across his chest and I grinned, though I don’t know why. I couldn’t help it. He was my secret. My teeny tiny secret. My secret.
 
He was mine. All mine.
 
It had started subtly. He didn’t know what I was doing and that was how I liked it. But now I have him. I have him, to myself. He will be mine and I will make him say it, and scream it, and know it, and want it and -
 
[A few months earlier]
 
I had wanted Phil for far too long to control myself anymore. The fact that he was there, right there, completely vulnerable and unable to stop me probably kicked me over the edge. I’d woken up early due to a nightmare (and a sudden need for the loo) and during my nervous walk in the dark I came across Phil’s room. The door was slightly ajar and the small slit of light framed his face perfectly. I grinned, completely forgetting what I came out for and edged his door open, stepping through.
As the light exposed him I bit my lip to hold back an unexpected moan - his covers were sliding off, his limbs were everywhere and his chest was completely bare. I knew I shouldn’t; I mean he was asleep and I was his friend and that could possibly be illegal but all protesting thoughts were immediately forgotten when I felt a tingle in my crotch and my grin widened. I pulled his covers to the floor and carefully tugged at his pyjama bottoms until they slid off his ankles. I took a deep breath and mentally reminded myself not to wake him.
I crawled over his bed straddling his thighs as I ran my hands across his chest. He exhaled deeply and turned his head so his fringe fell completely over his face. I bit my lip as I gently ran my fingers up and down his boxers, I had never touched him before or even seen him so this was so exciting!
 
A breathy moan escaped his lips as I started palming him, running my other hand over his chest again and across his nipples before bringing it to my own crotch and rolling my hips into my hand. I answered his quiet moan, tugging his boxers down and gasping at the sight of him. My hand clasped around him and slowly started to pump and before long it was obvious by his quickened breath and moans that I was affecting him. I shuddered, loving the fact that I could do this to him and he wouldn’t even comprehend what’s really happening, or really do anything at all. Well, apart from moan and cringe and roll his hips into my hand as I felt him get harder. Wait, I didn’t even know what would happen. Could I actually make him come in his sleep? My question was quickly answered as he did exactly that, legs juddering and fists clenching, eyes squeezing as his release painted my hand.
Once he fell back on the bed limp I sighed, realising I didn’t want to stop. And I hadn’t even started stroking myself yet. I dipped my hand beneath my boxers and moaned as I moved my hand up and down my length, recommencing my actions on Phil.
His breaths were still short and his fringe had stuck to his forehead with sweat and seeing him like this made him ten times as sexy and I practically hiccupped as my climax caught me by surprise. I ruined my boxers but I didn’t care as I felt Phil hardening again and I grinned.
***
Phil’s POV
 
I had a wet dream last night. I guess I shouldn’t be as embarrassed as I am but for god’s sake I’m a grown man; erotic dreams and waking up to moist underwear is a thing for prepubescent boys! I quickly shuffled out of my stained pair and cleaned myself up before slipping on a new pair and getting dressed.
Looking in the mirror to fix my hair I realised my face was bright red and I my eyes widened. How am I supposed to face Dan looking like a twelve year girl who just got called pretty, though I’m far from blushing! What is WRONG with me this morning?
***
 
I shouldn’t have done that. I had touched my best friend without his permission in his sleep and gotten both of us off in the process. That’s just messed up! The only thing is, despite knowing how absolutely wrong that was, I can’t help but think back on it with a sly grin. It was so wrong, yet it felt so good, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so brilliant in my life. Hell, I was just getting started.
A couple of days later Phil fell asleep with his laptop on his chest and his head flopped to one side, glasses slipping off the end of his nose. That’s just adorable.
Absentmindedly I strolled into his room as though it was completely normal and I lifted the mac from him, allowing his chest to rise and lower safely. Discarding it, I crawled onto the bed unable to rid my face of that same devilish grin. My hands, already sweaty with anticipation, ripped the duvet off to expose him and I gasped; he’d only worn his boxers to bed tonight.
My hands found themselves massaging his flaccid length through the garment and his sleeping form shuddered. Tugging at the hem and working them down, my eyes fixed on him as he sprung out and trembling fingers wrapped around him. I breathed out a moan, as did he, as I stroked slow and sensually to get him hard. His head rolled to the side and I watched his glasses fall soundlessly to the floor.
 
I felt him harden in my hand drawing my attention back. Without proper thought I leaned down and hovered my mouth above his cock, darting my tongue across the head shyly before taking him in my mouth. His jaw fell open as a moan escaped, I suckled on him like a baby, enjoying him. My other hand drifting to my own crotch and palming me to give me the friction I needed, I let myself sink down further.
 
I curved and twisted my tongue around his thick length as I took him deeper, surprisingly not finding a gag reflex before feeling his head hit the back of my throat. It seems I was made for him. I bobbed my head up and down, still sucking though now more forcefully.
 
Phil quickly became more responsive and I had to hold his hips down so he wouldn’t buck into me. His hand found my hair and gripped tight and I reveled in the feeling. Did he even know what he was doing? His breathing became erratic and soon he was spilling into me. I sucked him hard through his climax, only pulling off once he flopped down motionless onto the bed, fast asleep.
His hand fell from my hair and I swallowed eagerly, tasting him and enjoying having a bit of him inside me. I was enjoying all this way too much, but as long as he never finds out I can do as much as I like. My personal little secret.
 
***
Phil’s POV
 
Two nights later, it happened again. This is shocking. More than that - it’s fucking humiliating! How is this happening? Once again speeding to change my underwear and groaning at my crimson cheeks, I walked out to get breakfast. I glanced over to see Dan fixated on the TV, completely oblivious to me.
Well, since I’m having a bad morning I might as well have some nice cereal (and by that of course I mean Dan’s). Speaking of whom, as I sit down near him later with some coffee (no WAY would I sit here eating HIS cereal where he could see me) I’m relieved to discover he hasn’t noticed my embarrassment. Again. Either that or he’s got a good poker face. Well, or it’s just not that visible but come on I’d expect my face would still be beaming by this point.
***
Dan’s POV
 
The next day I wake earlier than Phil and realise how ridiculously hungry I am. Did I forget to eat dinner? Does Dan Howell EVER forget to eat? Well whatever caused it, I was starving so I shuffled into the kitchen to prepare myself some simple cereal.
 
I checked the box; it was getting low again.
 
“For fuck’s sake Phil! You have your own box.”
I grumbled, still in my sleepy morning haze as I collapsed onto the sofa and watched some lame TV show I was not vaguely interested in.
 
Phil feigned innocence, as usual though he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone.
 
“I don’t know what you’re talking about - I had my own yesterday.”
 
“Bull crap! Yours still hasn’t been opened in the week since we bought it. AND you left your bowl on the table WITH the crumbs in! Call me stupid but that pretty much says you’re eating my cereal again!”
 
Phil rolled his head round to look at me and giggled.
 
“You’re stupid.”
 
Rolling my eyes, I sighed, frustrated, and turned back to the TV.
 
“Asshole. I’ll get you back for this.”
 
Phil giggled and his tongue poked through his teeth without his permission and god, how could he do this to me? How could he always look so damn perfect and tease me like this?
 
Well, he thinks I’m joking. Ha, he thinks I’m joking.
 
 
I couldn’t wipe that smug, sly smirk off my face so I tried to hide it for most of the day. What was wrong with me? My mind was constantly serving me unconventional thoughts and fantasies of what I could do to Phil, and I know I should be concerned and shake them out but… Truth be told, I actually like them. Fuck, I’m in love with these ideas, but they’re only appetisers - nothing could beat the real thing.
 
Almost every night - quite late so I know he’s asleep but that’s never a problem since I’m practically nocturnal - I slip into his room, crawl into his bed and breath him in. I run my hands over him like it’s simultaneously the first and last time I’d ever have the chance, and pleasure him whilst not being able to pull my stare from his face whilst he cringes but still has no one what I’m doing to him. I love it. Seeing Phil like this is my personal treat. And it’s only for me.
 
Some nights I go further than others; as the weeks go on my exploration deepens, gradually getting more and more intimate and closer to the point of him waking up. I’m ridiculously lucky he’s a heavy sleeper.
 
One night I kissed him. Gently. Cautiously. His lips were warm and soft and just perfect - they fit so well against mine, and would even more when he’s aware and kissing me back. I brushed my tongue against his bottom lip, almost asking for entrance though I know he can’t consent so I separated his lips and let my tongue slide in. I gasped unexpectedly at the discovery that his mouth is greater than I could have imagined. Unable to control myself, my hands grazed his chest because we were so damn close I could feel his body heat and slipped lower and lower until my fingers squeezed him and his breath caught in his throat so I pulled back, smirking.
 
“Shh…” I breathed against his lips, then his brows furrowed slightly as if concentrating and he nodded - wait, did he just nod? Like actually move his head in comprehension? I should have stopped there. I should have taken that as a sign that this was the boundary and I should leave. But I didn’t, of course I didn’t.
 
What did I do? I smirked and pressed my lips to his again.
 
Another night I decided to risk a little more; when I crept into his room I brought with me a small bottle of lube. I spent a good ten minutes warming and working him up before squirting some onto my fingers, making sure to be extra careful because Phil might be a heavy sleeper but he’s got an embarrassingly low pain threshold. He didn’t react much when I pushed the first in but whined wearily at the second. It felt amazing - he was so tight and new and fuck.
 
I leaned up to his cringing face and whispered a soft “Shh…” to relax him as I pumped my fingers gently in and out. It felt like we were a newly couple, trying things out for the first time, like I was guiding him through these new sensations, like there was unspoken consent. I knew technically what I was doing was illegal (and oh, soon it would be) but it didn’t feel like that at all. Was that normal?
 
Once I’d decided I was safe to do that aswell, I stepped it up another level.
 
“Dan! Make sure you buy the right milk this time.”
 
I groaned in reluctance. He was making me do the shopping again, just like last week.
 
“Does it really matter?”
 
Phil scoffed in disbelief.
 
“Err, yes! I don’t want to be ill because of my intolerance you inconsiderate quack sack.”
 
“Well maybe you should stop stealing my cereal then.” I mumbled under my breath as I left the flat. I hadn’t forgotten.  It may have been a few weeks but I still wanted to get him back; I just didn’t know how yet. Wandering around the supermarket I found everything I needed  - especially Phil’s stupid special milk - then decided I should probably buy some more lube. It didn’t even matter if Phil saw it; he knows we all need to get off once in a while, so he’ll suspect it’s for me and won’t mention it. I drifted into the specialist shop where I usually buy my stuff (I always feel too awkward purchasing any in a supermarket but walking into a sex shop? Apparently that’s easy) and quickly picked out the one I wanted - cherry, of course - then a certain section caught my attention. Well, basically the toys.
 
Hmm. Now this could be fun.
 
I browsed for a while, admiring the many different vibrators and butt plugs and what not (seriously, completely fine in this shop!) and decided on a couple of vibrators because why not? Phil will love them.
 
 
That night, unfortunately, Phil wanted to stay up and watch a film with me so reluctantly I agreed, disappointed I wouldn’t be able to play with these until later or maybe even tomorrow. All too soon I realised how much of a bad idea that was as I was alone with Phil, at night, during a time I’d usually being messing with him and oh how easily I could drift into one of my fantasies; and having the excitement of the vibrators constantly WASN’T HELPING!
 
He snuggled up to me and rested his head against my arm, most likely innocently and oblivious to the fact that his touch against my skin whilst he was conscious was burning. A bead of sweat dripped down my forehead and I tried to subtly wipe it away with my hand. And somehow, despite being such a heavy fucking sleeper Phil is hyper alert at eleven at night, snapping his head round to gaze at me with concern.
 
Aaaand shit.
 
“You okay? You look kind of flustered. Is it too warm?”
 
I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I was fixated by his giant blue orbs looking straight back into mine and I stared. Hell, I could’ve been drooling for all I knew. I wasn’t controlling myself lately anyway - that would be no shock. Eventually I shook my head wearily but he still didn’t look away. No, instead he reached up a hand and placed it to my forehead lightly. Well it’s definitely too warm now. My heart was picking up speed and I still couldn’t pull my eyes away. I must have looked feel fucking weird.
 
“Are you sure? You’re sweating and everything! Should we go to bed? I’ll get you a drink.”
 
He got up to leave and I instinctively grabbed his wrist to hold him back.

“No! Don’t worry, Phil. I’m fine, just… Watch the film. I might actually go to bed, though.”
 
Phil nodded anyway and I let go of him, apologising profusely before shuffling to my room. Leaning against the door I let out a huge breath and short “Shit"s because sometimes, awake, I really hate how that guy affects me.
 
***
 
Phil’s POV
 
This was getting out of hand. Practically every other night for a whole month I’ve been waking up to moist underwear. I mean, Christ, one time I woke up to sharp pain through my ass and oh god was I fingering myself in my sleep?! And that was only the beginning! Plus, I’ve started having dreams about my flatmate. I’m having erotic dreams about my best friend and… I even shiver at the thought.
 
"Err, Dan?” He turned his head to face me, a noise of affliction being produced. “I, err, wanted to talk to you about something? Because we’re best friends and we share personal things?” Everything was not supposed to be a question… I mentally smacked myself in the face.
 
His raised an eyebrow curiously and questioned, “What’s up?”
 
I cleared my throat awkwardly and pretended to be occupied by my phone to avoid eye contact. “Umm, well it’s kind of embarrassing. Recently I’ve been waking up to… Well, I’ve been… I’m having wet dreams, Dan. I’m twenty-eight and I’m having wet dreams again.” I expected Dan to laugh or maybe even make a pre-pubescent joke. But no - he did nothing. When he didn’t make a sound I looked up and noticed a brief flash of panic across his face before he shook it away.
 
“D-do you, are you sure?” I nodded, cheeks burning but thankfully not as bad as I thought they would. “Well, it’s pretty natural Phil. Is it really affecting you?”
 
“Emotionally, it’s scarring my male ego. But we both know I’m as adorable and feminine as I can get before being borderline camp,” Dan chuckled lightly, “and I’ve ruined a lot of my underwear already.”
 
“Nothing a simple spin in the washer can’t fix. But you’re ego? I’m sorry but that’s done for.” I mouthed a dramatic “Nooo!” causing Dan to laugh again. “Well, since that’s down the drain you could always wear a nappy to bed?”
 
And that’s as close to a pre-pubescent joke as I’m gonna get.
 
***
 
Dan’s POV
 
That was a wake up call. How long before Phil starts getting suspicious? What if he DOES start wearing nappies?
 
I always had a bit of a daddy kink anyway.
 
Speaking of kinks, tonight I was going to try the vibrators on him. Though it wasn’t going to be that simple. Oh no. I was going to get back at him for teasing me during the film and making me wait. Granted, not exactly intentional but who cares? I was going to have some fun.
 
Somehow we’d managed to sit in front of the TV again for another film but this time Phil fell asleep and a sly smirk grew unintentionally across my lips, as it always did. Quietly I crept into my room to grab a vibrator and returned, sitting next to Phil again and pulling him between my legs so my chest pressed against his back. My hand skittered along the hem of his shirt before slipping under and playing up his chest, the other working his pj bottoms off and grazing the insides of his thighs lightly. I was never going to get used to the feel of his body, his smooth fair skin, his-
 
I took his length in my hand and pumped him slowly, teasingly whilst I switched on the vibrator and brushed it against him. His body jerked and tensed so I flinched it away before cautiously bringing it back. This time I felt his thighs tense and his breath hitched. Only the sounds of the vibrator, Phil’s heavy breathing and my slow ones filled the room as I dragged it up and down his length. Within minutes he was hard and I bit my lip to stifle my own moan because he looked so goddamn hot.
 
When Phil’s breathing lost its rhythm I pulled the vibrator away from him, earning myself a quiet desperate whine. Gently I spread Phil’s legs and rubbed the tip around his entrance, squeezing some lube in place and easing it in. I hoped the soft vibrations were enough to numb the pain as I began slowly pumping it so Phil could get a feel for it, stroking him to make him more oblivious to the stretch.
 
And from the bliss on his face and way he whimpered with need and rolled his hips into the toy, from that moment I knew what boundary we had crossed and I was never going back.
 
From then on Phil became progressively more responsive, up to a point where it was almost like he was awake. He would move with my actions and plead and even whine out my name and each time I would whisper a quiet “Shh” and he would nod and remain compliant.
 
Until, one night, he woke up.
 
And oh god it was the worst one too; I was going to fuck him for the first time.
 
I had been so excited for it all week and when the night came I was practically vibrating - no pun intended - with anticipation. Once he was sleeping peacefully I flipped his limp body over onto his back and stripped off his bottoms, running my hands over his legs and clothed crotch and staring at him with lustful eyes. Why had I waited so long? It wasn’t like he wasn’t ready! I pulled down his boxers and took his cock in my hand, pumping him moderately fast to get him prepared. With my other I climbed over his hips and positioned myself on top of him, undid my joggers and lubed him up before dropping down slowly. It didn’t burn or hurt at all and before I knew it he had filled me completely - and the sensation was heavenly. I shifted my hips to move up and down him with as much care and control as I could but my body liked to do a lot of things without my permission and eventually it took over me; my actions became harsher, I took both his wrists and pinned them above his head and breathed over him like a beast. I had so much power and control over Phil it was intoxicating. So I didn’t stop.
 
And that’s when he woke up.
 
***
Phil’s POV
 
I shot my eyes open and was immediately met by a confusing sensation in my lower regions. It was hard and fast and god did it hurt. I tried to cry out but a strong hand in the darkness covered my mouth and my screams were muffled. Panic flooding my body I struggled under someone’s weight, my arms restricted above my head and pinned down with a tight grip, my waist straddled and hips being squeezed. I was trapped and something was happening to me.
 
Through the darkness my eyes met with my assaulter, their eyes darkened and clouded over with lust. Sweeping a familiar fringe out of their face suddenly the features were recognisable. Dan? I whimpered into his hand as he leant down and attacked my neck. I tried to struggle away but I was too weak and in too much shock. How was Dan so strong?
 
“Shh, Phil. Just shh…” He whispered in my ear harshly, licking the shell. “You’ll enjoy it if you relax. You always do enjoy it when I play with you. Here,” his hand removed itself from my mouth but I was too in shock to scream, and drifted lower, “Let me help you…” His fingers ran over my nipples, making me squeal and squirm under him in confusion as he teased the nubs. No way he hasn’t had practice at this. He was so expert at this it scared me.
 
A low chuckle sent a shiver like ice water down my back as he brought his hand down to cover my mouth once again, making me realise he had tied my wrists to the backboard. I cried into his hand and squeezed my eyes shut, praying this was all a horrible nightmare but I knew I was wrong.
 
“Shh… doesn’t it feel good? You know this makes you feel good. Don’t deny it.” At that moment Dan slammed himself down making me go deeper still  which sent pleasure rattling through my body and my eyes threw wide open in surprise. I squealed once again. “Shh. Just give in. Come, Phil. I want you to come for me.”
 
I didn’t want to, god knows I didn’t want to, but Dan knew exactly how to pleasure me and no matter how much I hated it I was getting closer with every movement. I threw my head around wildly, whining and trying to plead with Dan not to make me, not to put me through something so humiliating. In defiance Dan’s movements quickened and he moved himself around me expertly, pleasuring me more and more as his incredulous laugh filled the room, loving his complete control over me.
 
“Do it. Now. Come, Phil. Come while you’re awake. Let me see you climax. Fuck!” I cringed, wishing I could hold off but Dan was just too good - against my will my orgasm washed through me and I shook with pleasure, tensing and jerking and crying into Dan’s strong hand. Dan’s laughter was intense and it rang through my ears like an alarm.
 
I don’t know what happened next as I passed out.
 
***
Dan’s POV
 
The cloud of dominance and lust lifted soon after - whilst I had collapsed over a once-again unconscious Phil, panting like a dog. The haze of my orgasm had dissipated and I gently pulled myself off. Looking up I frowned at the rope restraining his wrists; had I tied him there? I didn’t remember that… Why did I-?
 
Oh god. Oh shit. Phil had woken up. I had fucked him and he knew and I was going to court, wasn’t I. No, screw court -I’m going to hell! How could I do that to my best friend? When he wakes up -
 
Unless… I made him stay. He could be mine. All mine. My dirty little secret.
 
I could make him stay, and I could love him when he is awake and he would love me, eventually. I would make him.
 
Once again, that devilish grin played on my lips but I had stopped fighting it; working together we could have Phil for ourselves and we could make him want you. Yes, I thought, he will beg for you. He’ll become so desperate for you and he’ll beg to be yours. I stood up and headed to the bathroom, fetching some sleeping pills and a glass of water before returning. Supporting his jaw I poured the mixture into his mouth, still grinning as it disappeared down his throat. I needed him out for certain whilst I went shopping…
 
 
Half an hour later I returned with some possibly dodgy equipment, judging from the looks I pulled from the employees, and began setting up my new play room. Securing the windows and covering them, I installed a few loops around the room and ceiling and moved some furniture to make space, leaving one corner opposite the door empty. I dragged a still sleeping Phil into the area and attached his new collar to his neck, securing a chain through it and around his wrists tightly before wrapping it around the loop above him. Once completed I stepped back and took in my new toy; Phil was going to be so good as my little pet. No one else had to know. He was going to be all mine.
 
 
[Present]
 
I loomed above him, his head still down and dark hair flopped lazily across his scalp. I watched his chest rise up and down before his head slowly lifted, taking a few seconds on fix on me. A gave him a soft smile before his eyes drifted around the floor, although he could hardly see much.
 
“Good morning, Phil. Was your night okay?” He nodded distractedly, still scanning the room and his current situation. “Good…” I pulled up a chair and sat facing him, trying to present my dominance and power.
 
“This is my room.” He commented, eyebrows clearly furrowed in the dark. I nodded to confirm it, tilting my head to admire him so lost. “What’s going on?” His eyes met mine again and I gasped briefly at his innocence.
 
“Well, you see Phil, I did a naughty thing…” I giggled like a child, “I did a naughty thing with you. And I couldn’t have you leaving me, getting me in trouble. So I’m making you my own. That way I know you won’t run off.” I giggled again and Phil just stared at me, expressionless.
 
“Dan whatever you did I’m sure it’s not a big deal. And I wouldn’t run off if I was untied so could you…?”
 
I laughed incredulously and threw my head back, highly amused, before standing up and getting closer to him. “Oh, Phil. Phil, Phil, Phil. You don’t remember yet do you? Did those nasty pills get to your head?” Phil raised an eyebrow in concern. “I know what I did was very, very naughty. But I couldn’t help myself,” I ran two fingers gently down his cheek, my voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re just so goddamn cute.”
 

Suddenly, unexpectedly, I felt something within me snap as the harsher part of me came through and I grabbed Phil’s jaw with a strong grip and leaned even closer. A small squeal escaped his mouth as his eyes showed more worry and fright.
 
“You’re mine. I’m gonna make you mine, Phil.  You’re going to want me as much as I want you.” I was scaring him, I could see it in his eyes and the way he cowered away from me. “I’m going to walk in here and every time I do you’re going to look at me and beg for me, beg me to touch you and please you and fuck you. You will be desperate for me.” Phil shook his head (well, tried to) tears threatening at his eyes. He was always too precious. “Yes, Phil. You will need me. You will. I will make you.”
 
Tears fell from his eyes. “Please, Dan. No.”
 
I chuckled lowly, “Oh, yes. I’ve been pleasing you for too long now - you’re used to it. So, now, I will leave you. And when I come back you will be squirming and begging for me and then you will be mine.” I giggled again. “It can’t be helped.”
 
I wiped the tears from his cheeks and leaned into his ear, whispering “You’ll love it” before heading back to my chair. “You know-”

“You can’t do this.” Phil interrupted me. “It’s illegal. I mean, god Dan, you molested me in my sleep; repeatedly. You raped me last night. You can’t keep me here.” He tried to sound strong but his voice began to crack as more tears threatened to fall.
 
I shook my head and continued. “You know, I never really got over how you kept stealing my cereal. Do you even realise how fucking frustrating that this?” I laughed knowingly and Phil curled into himself in worry “Well…” I pulled a small black remote from my pocket. “I’ve finally decided on the perfect way to get you back.” I switched it on and Phil gasped then cringed as the plug sprung to life inside him. “When I come back you’ll really need me.” I allowed that familiar smirk to crowd my face as I reveled in Phil’s reaction. He squealed and whimpered so I softly whispered “shh…” and he closed his eyes.
 
As I went to leave the room I was stopped by an unexpected “Dan!” causing me to spin on my heels. “Please don’t do this. I won’t tell anyone - just please let me go.” I smirked, then left the room.
 
 
I waited three days. I brought him his meals and fed them to him whilst he trembled at the toy. Each day, each meal in fact, he became progressively worse and more uncomfortable, more desperate. By the last meal he was whining and practically begging for me then. But I bit my lip and refused - the longer we waited the better the outcome.
 
Now was the day I made him mine by his own accord.
 
I entered the room and locked the door behind me, strolling through the darkness up to the trembling figures in the shadows. He was whimpering uncontrollably and when his eyes met mine he gasped and struggled against his restraints.
 
“Dan! Oh Dan, please! I can’t take it anymore! I need… Something. Anything! Oh god please!” Sweat was glistening on his bare chest and basically covered his entire body, and the desperation was so clear in his eyes you could swim in it. I grinned - exactly as I wanted him.
 
“Are you sure? You don’t seem to want it enough. Beg for it.”
 
He threw his head around like an animal. “I want it! I want it so bad! God, I need it!”
 
I worked at my belt buckle. “What do you need?”
 
His hands formed fists around the chain. “You! I need you. Need you to please me again…” He groaned in frustration. He looked so completely desperate that I was convinced he might start crying with need if I denied him. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time this week.
 
My trousers fell down and I stepped out of them, leaning down and running my hands over his chest as he pressed himself against them, needing whatever contact he could get. “Say it then. Say you’re mine. You belong to me and you’ll let me do whatever I please with you. Admit it, and only then I will give you what you want.”
 
Phil hesitated for a moment, but once I ran my hands down his hipbones teasingly, hoping to pull it out of him, the words fell out of his mouth like dribble. “I’m yours! I’m all yours and you can fuck me and toy with me and do everything you want with me because I am yours. Now please, Dan!”
 
I chuckled lightly to myself, happy to have finally won, and eased the plug from him. Yanking the chain Phil fell to his knees and I flipped him over, running my hands over his entire front as he ached his back into it and gasped at the contact. I glanced down and he was already rock hard; he really was desperate for me. I spread his legs and crawled over them, grabbing his length and stroking once making his whole body jerk and he moaned loudly.
 
Without warning I sank down onto him and didn’t wait a second to build up a strong rhythm. We both groaned in need and pleasure and I dug my nails into Phil’s skin. I let my hands slip over his chest a couple more times just because I loved how shuddering reaction affected me, them pressed my thumbs into his nipples and massaged the erect nubs.
 
“After me. You’re mine so you come after me.”
 
He whined but nodded anyway, trying to push himself up into me to gain more pleasure, and since I knew so well where it was I expertly dropped down so he’d hit my prostate again and again watching him groan and tremble beneath me. It was breath-taking - after years of standing in shadows and wishing I could touch him just once, here I was with him beneath me, begging me for more. Finally he was mine. My little secret. He was mine to play with and he actually wanted me to.
 
I came with a loud groan and released over his stomach,  clenching around him tightly and watching his body tense and shake and his face contort as I brought him his long-awaited climax. And judging by his reaction, I’d say it was worth it. Once he was simply panting, I picked him up and pulled the chain back into place, yanking Phil to his earlier position. A confused and breathless noise left his mouth but he didn’t open his eyes.
 
“You’re mine, remember?” His face flushed. “Aaaaaaall mine…” My twisted laugh filled the room; I couldn’t wait to try all the other equipment I bought on him. Phil whimpered in fear but I pressed a finger to his lips and breathed “Shh… You’ll love it.”

Dan’s Little Secret (Exposed)

‘Meow’ Chapter 1: A Meeting to Remeowmber

Uni!Lock. The RA almost caught Molly’s illegal cat but Sherlock convinced them that it was just him meowing. A multi-chapter Sherlolly story with a dash of Warstan. My attempt at a slow burn lol. We’ll see.

inspired by a prompt from this list (x)

I’ve no idea how long this is gonna be but I just felt like creating a new universe for Sherlolly to fall in love in. :)


“Meow.”

“Shhh, Toby, you have to be quiet,” Molly said in a hushed tone. She left her dorm, closing the door behind her gently. It was a new school year and she had snuck in her new cat. Her flatmate hadn’t arrived yet, but she did know her name was Mary Morstan.

“Meow.” Molly’s eyes widened.

“Do I hear a cat?” Greg Lestrade asked. He took his job as RA very seriously. Molly opened her mouth to speak.

“Nope, sorry, that was me,” a rich baritone voice answered, stepping out of the dorm across from her. Greg gave him a look of suspicion.

“Is that so?” Greg inquired further. Molly’s heart hammered in her chest, afraid of getting caught and being mesmerized by the man’s cerulean eyes.

“Meow,” the mysterious man attempted to mimic. Molly was impressed that his deep voice had nearly imitated Toby perfectly. “I tend to, uh, meow from time to time. I’m trying to break the habit.” The man smirked then, finally sending Greg away. Molly let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

“Thank you for your help,” Molly smiled. “I’m Molly. Molly Hooper.” She extended an arm out, but he waved her off.

Keep reading

Accepting Him

Fandom: The Boy
Characters: Brahms, Mr and Mrs Heelshire
Relationship: Brahms/reader
Request: Have you seen The Boy? Could I request one where the reader is a old friend of Brahms and doesn’t know hes still alive but agrees to be a nanny to the doll to repay the family? And its like the same plot as the movie but its her abusive dad Brahms kills and she stays? Thx
Authors Note: Massive Spoiler – but what a great movie!
You looked out of the window of the black taxi, the trees becoming a blur. The taxi driver was focused on the road which you were grateful for since you didn’t feel like speaking to anyone.
You were going to stay with the Heelshire out in their big country home. You were both dreading and looking forward to it.
You had known the family many many years ago, back when you were 7 years old. You have been best friends with Brahms, whos weirdness matched your own. But you were from an abusive family and he hated that. SO when the whole Emily thing had happened, your family had dragged you away to another country so that the police wouldn’t find out about the nasty hand shaped bruise on your arms or the black eyes you had.
You had found out that Brahms had died not long after you left in a house fire. It had devastated you. So you were surprised when you accidently stumbled across an add to look after a 8 year old boy called Brahms who lived at the same address, you were on the phone straight away.
Mrs Heelshire picked up the phone. You were surprise at how she still sound just as you remembered her.
“Hello, Mrs Heelshire. You may not remember me but-“ you had barley finished your sentence when you heard her calling to her husband.
“Daddy, come here. Its [y/n]! You remember her? Brahms little friend!” She sounded so happy despite her somewhat monotone voice. You had heard Mr Heelshire coming in the room and asked how you were. You had always adored them both. They were more like parents that your actual parents. They had tried to protect you from the violence you had endured.
you spent a few minutes exchanging pleasantries and finding out how you were. But you were curious and that curiosity got the better of you.
“The reason I called was because of this add I found.” As soon as you spoke, you heard the other side of the phone fall silent. You allowed them to gather their thoughts before Mrs Heelshire spoke, her voice shaking.
“Yes, we are looking for a nanny while we are away on holiday.” She was rather vague which made you frown but you were glad she couldn’t see you. She would always tell you off if you had frowned a her when you were younger.
“For Brahms. But he- he would have been 26, would he?” You ask, originally going to say but he was dead but then you decide against it.
“Yes, my dear. But he is still very much with us. He is still a child, still 8 years old.” She said and instantly you understood.
You had seen plenty of cases where parents who had not grieved properly never accepted the loss of their child. Instantly you thought of a doll. Perhaps that was what they required.
You had suffered from guilt over the years. You should have stayed to help Brahms and maybe you could have helped him more. Maybe if you had been there, he wouldn’t have been killed in the fire. These maybes killed you every day. You had never forgotten him.
“May I apply?” You ask, hearing the intake of breath on the other line. They hadn’t expected that.
You heard a muffling sound which you assumed was a hand being placed over the phone and voices which were muffled. You had allowed them to speak amongst themselves.
But they had accepted and offered you the job there and then. In fact, Mrs Heelshire had sounded thrilled as she told you she would pay for your travel expenses.
She asked if you had a job that you needed to give notice period but you told her you were a writer so it would be nice to spend a couple of months away and that you could work on your new book.
So, here you were. The house began to loom over the trees as the taxi driver stopped the car to open the gates. Memories flooded back to you.
When you would come up here, you were small enough to slip through the gates and run up the path.
You blinked away the tears as the driver gets back into the car and drives up.
Arriving outside the grand doors, you were surprised at how it hadn’t changed. Apart from the outsides of Brahms room. That was boarded up.
Of course, Mrs Heelshire was waiting for you outside and she smiled as you got out the car. You weren’t sure how she would greet you but she embraced you with open arms. As you pulled back, she moved a strand of your [h/c] hair out of your face.
“my, my. You grew up to be so beautiful.” She mumbled, more to herself than you but you couldn’t help but smile at her. It was very rare you received compliments since you kept yourself to yourself.
Her smile faulted as she looked over her shoulder into the house.
“Come, there is much to go over.” She then turned on her heel and walked inside.
You followed her but only after the driver had said he would place your luggage inside for you.
She talked you through your duties, cooking and some light cleaning. She told you that there will be a man who delivers the groceries once a week and that they kept and froze all the leftovers. You nodded and smiled, showing you understood.
Then she took you to meet Brahms.
As you thought, he was a doll. When you walked into the room, Mr Heelshire was crouched by a chair, speaking to someone in the chair and as he moved, your mouth nearly fell open.
The doll was so similar to the Brahms you remembered. His big eyes, neatly combed black hair. Even down to his smart outfit.
Of your own accord, you walked forward and kneeled in front of Brahms, looking at him.
You knew Mr and Mrs Heelshire eyes were focused on you but you didn’t care. You felt a pang of pain in your chest. You missed him every day and now, you may have a chance to repay him and this family for leaving. You reached out and ran your finger down his cheek.
“Introduce yourself dear. He may not recognise you. You have grown up so much.” Mr Heelshire nodded to you.
“Hi, Brahms. It’s me, [y/n]. Remember me? We used to play together when we were children.” You smiled at Brahms, taking his small, porcelain hand and shaking it lightly.
Mrs Heelshire smiled, placing a hand over her heart.
You spent the rest of the day with Mr and Mrs Heelshire and Brahms of course. They showed you how to clean the traps and what clothes Brahms needed to be dressed in and the way your day should work. You got very excited when Mrs Heelshire asked you to read poetry and play classical music. Mr Heelshire said a number of times that things weren’t as they seemed and that Brahms was still here. You agreed with him.
When you were finished, she asked for a moment alone with Mr Heelshire and Brahms. You stood in the hall, a little nervous. What if they resented you for leaving?
But Mrs Heelshire opened the door, beaming at you.
“He wants you, if you will still have him?”
Of course, you agreed.
—————-time skip ——————–
After Mr and Mrs Heelshire left, you followed the rules to a tee.
You woke, dressed and cared for Brahms. You had sat with him the first night and poured your heart out to the doll. You cried, sobbing about how sorry you were and that you wanted to stay with him but they wouldn’t let you.
However, you were slowly beginning to believe that he was alive, the doll was alive. Little items would go missing, like a neckless and some clothes. Sometimes, things weren’t where you left them and sometimes, it was the doll himself who had moved. You had tested your theory by placing him on the floor and drawing around him with chalk and he would move!
At first, you didn’t believe it but now, you were sure he was here, in spirt or something. You assumed he had forgiven you for leaving since he never did anything to hurt or scare you (on purpose). He would never go out of his way to make you happy.
Like leaving your favourite book on your bed to read to yourself or he would give you hints to what you could write about.
You would sit with Brahms and play the piano for him, or read to him.
Over time, you became attached to him.
It was apparent that he didn’t like Malcom, the delivery boy. But neither did you. He was too noisy and rude. But he did only come around once a week.
You were sitting with Brahms, reading to yourself when you heard a bang from downstairs. You jumped and looked at Brahms.
“Was that you?” You asked, but when you heard it again, you knew it wasn’t Brahms. You quickly got to your feet and picked up Brahms, holding him close to your body protectively.
Walking down the corridor, you called out ‘hello?’ a couple of times before deciding the noise was coming from the pool room.
You turned the corner and there stood your father. Abusive, drunk, controlling father.
“There you are [y/n]! Get your stuff.” He stumbled across the room, bashing his hip on the table and grunting.
“How did you knew where I was?” You ask, your voice shaking as you hold Brahms tighter. Your father’s eyes fell on the doll, smirking at you.
“Your flatmate. Ran into her while she was forwarding on your mail. Managed to nick a letter and here I am. How dare you leave without my permission.” He became enraged, walking up and grabbing your upper arm. You struggled but he squeezed tighter, making you cry out in pain.
“Stop it, you’re hurting me!” You cry out, pulling back. Just as you did that, he left go and you fell backwards, your head banging against the wall. You whimper to yourself, checking Brahms before yourself. You were relieved to see he was unharmed.
“Now, get your stuff. Now, [y/n]!” He demanded as he turned.
“Please, don’t leave me.” A quiet voice, only loud enough for you to hear. Your eyes widened as you looked at Brahms. Had he spoke to you?
Your eyes light up as you thought of an idea.
“Can we leave tomorrow? It’s so dark out and we are so far from anywhere. And in the morning, I’ll make food.” You call out, still looking at Brahms but you could tell your father had stopped.
“Fine. Get me some covers, girl.” He growled and you scrambled to your feet, running out the door with Brahms in your arms. You set him down in his room.
“I don’t want to put you in danger again so I’m going to leave you alone for just a moment, okay?” You ask but don’t get a reply so you took that as a yes and ran out the room to grab covers and pillows.
Your father was already passed out on a couch by the time you had got back so you threw the covers over him, knowing that if he woke up and saw them folded in a corner, you would get a whack for being lazy.
You ran back to Brahms and shut the door, locking it from the inside. You lay down beside him and wrapped your arms around him.
“I’m not going to leave you, not again. But I need your help.” You whispered to him, the fear in your voice obvious. You whispered to Brahms a few more times that you weren’t going to leave him but you began to grow sleepy, your eyelids dropping.
You were dozing when you heard your name being screamed by your father at the top of his lungs. He sounded both angry and scared which was dangerous. You instantly noticed Brahms was gone and the door was open. You scrambled out of the bed and bolted down the hallways, your heart beating hard against your chest.
‘please let him be okay. Please let Brahms be okay.’ You prayed as you rounded the corner of the pool room to see your father leaning against the pool table, blood on his forehead. You looked around and saw dead rats in his luggage.
“There you are. What the hell is this?” He demanded, walking over to you but all you could do was shake your head, your eyes falling on Brahms in the corner. You mumbled his name as you ran around the table to pick him up. Your father followed you.
“Really, the doll? You think I believe that?” he then snatched Brahms by the legs and pulled him from your grasp.
“No, no, no. please!” You gasped, trying to get him back. But your father was no hold Brahms fragile body by the leg and swinging him around.
“You think I’m going to believe that a doll did this. You need to grow up. ‘Brahms’ is dead. And it’s all your fault.” He sneered at you, knowing how to kick you when you’re down.
“Please, just give him back.” You cried, tears running down your cheek as you held your hands out to him.
you father turned to you, smirking. You didn’t like that smirk; it was one he would give you when he would have a horrible idea.
“Once I break this doll, I’m going to kill you.” He sneered then raised the doll over his head and slammed it down on a chair. The porcelain face shattered into a thousand pieces before your eyes. You fell to your knees, your eyes wide and your mouth open. You let out a cry of angst as you watch one of Brahms eyes falling off the seat.
You had failed him again.
You buried your head in your hands as you sobbed. Hearing footsteps, you prepared yourself for the pain but it never came.
Instead, there was a number of bangs and thumps which made you look up and around. Your father had frozen and was looking fearfully at the wall. He walls shook and the light dimmed slightly.
When the noise had stopped, your father started to walk towards a mirror than was on the opposite wall. You pushed yourself back so your back was against a wall, pulling your knees up to your chest. Just as he was about a foot away from the mirror, it shattered, shards of glass flying everywhere as your father stumbled back. The space behind the mirror was hollow and a figure began to appear. It wore a black vest with a thick, chalk coloured sweater. His face was covered with a mask of a dolls face, similar to Brahms one. He had jet black hair which curled at the ends.
As he emerged from the hole in the wall, he looked at you and then to your father.
“Who the fuck are you?!” You father cried out before pouncing at the man.
It would seem the man expected his and gripped your father arms, swinging him around and slamming him against the wall. But your father was still a little drunk and a little pain would stop him. He lunged at the man again and once again, the man managed to better him. He pinned your father down on the floor, his hand on your father throat.
Your father looked at you, his eyes begging for help but you just shook your head.
The amount of time you had been thrown about a room, chocked, struck, beaten by him. You honestly didn’t care if this stranger killed him.
Your father’s eyes fell shut and he stopped struggling.
you watched his body go limp and felt relived.
It was over. You would no long have to run and hind from him anymore.
But the relief was short lived at the man turned his attention to you. You held your breath as he stood and walked over to you, somewhat timidly. As if he was afraid of what you would do.
You closed your eyes as you saw him crouching in front of you, waiting for him to finish you of too. But you were surprised when you felt a shaking finger stroking your cheek. You opened your eyes and saw the man in front of you, his eyes begging you for something.
As you looked into his eyes, you saw something familiar. Something you had seen before.
The timid strokes reminded you of the first time you had come here to look after Brahms, the way you had greeted him.
Then it clicked.
“Brahms?” You asked, your voice shaking as his eyes widened. He gently nodded his head, his curls bouncing slightly.
He was alive. After all this time. You glance to the hole in the wall. He had been living in the walls. He had been here all along.
You reached out and traces a finger down his masks cheek. You could see the burn marks around his eyes so you assumed his whole face must have been burnt, hence the mask. It all clicked together.
It was him you had been looking after. It was from inside the walls.
Your emotions were everywhere. You were filled with relief and sadness. Joy and pain. But as you stared into his eyes, you felt love.
Something behind Brahms moved and your eyes caught a glimpse of your father stumbling over to Brahms, his pocket knife raised above his head.
“Watch out!” You cried, pushing Brahms out the way and pouncing forward.
Your father brought the knife down and it caught your cheek.
Brahms was quick to tackle your father from the side, the knife falling out his hand just as he fell to the ground. You watched Brahms grab a piece of the broken doll and ram it into your father throat. Blood spurted everywhere as your father let out a gargling notice, his legs falling still.
You ran to Brahms, cupping his cheeks and turning his face to look at you.
“Brahms, you okay?” You asked, your voice shaking as he looks at you. He nodded slightly but his hand raises and touches your cheek. When he pulls it away, you see the blood on his fingertips. You raised your own hand and touch your cheek, the cut stinging.
when you winced you felt a slender hand wrap around your wrist gently and pulled it away. You looked at Brahms to see his eyes on your cheek.
He began to stand up, pulling you up with him. You were too busy concentrating on him to see how he was concentrating solely on you. His eyes skimmed your face, his hand reaching up to cup your good cheek.
He then took your right hand and pulled you out of the pool room and into the kitchen. You stumbled a little behind him, head still spinning.
He was so tall. You couldn’t help but feel dwarfed by him slender body.
As you entered the kitchen, he pointed at the large dining table before going into the cupboard with a medical kit. You went over and stood by the table, not wanting to sit and risk getting blood on the wood.
Brahms turned back to you, in his hand was the medical kit. You could see he was shaking slightly. The adrenaline must have worn off and now he was worried. Worried about you or because of you, you didn’t know.
He pointed to the table again.
“I don’t want to get blood on the table, Brahms.” You said, trying to keep your voice normal. He probably was worried about how you would react.
He shook his head slightly and walked over to you, placing a hand either side of your waist and lifted you up to sit you on the table. You couldn’t help but giggle at this.
He had picked you up as if you were the same weight as a doll. Which was ironic.
Brahms then stood in front of you and started to dab at your cheek with an antibacterial wipe. They stung and you flinched away.
Brahms pulled back when you winced, his eyes screaming apologies at you for the pain. You smiled slightly at him, straighten back up to show you were okay and Brahms got back to work. You knew there was nothing that could be done since he couldn’t cover it with a bandage or plaster and it wasn’t deep enough to warrant stitching. So you would just have to wait for it to heal.
You took that moment to let your mind wonder.
You pieced together everything in your mind. The missing items, the moments, the noises. It was Brahms but not in spirt, in person. Despite the past months, you felt safe with him. Even though it was a somewhat strange situation, you trusted Brahms with your life. He could easily kill you. He had proven he was strong and that he could. But he wouldn’t.
Because he needed you. And you needed him.
Your eyes moved to his mask. You knew he had been badly burnt and that was probably why he wore this mask. He wanted the perfect skin of that mask, of the doll. Your heart wept for him. You wondered if his mother or father had encouraged him to wear the mask.
You reached out both your hands, your fingers trailing along the cheek of the mask. You noticed Brahms had stopped and was staring down at you, his eyes wide. You hooked the tips of your fingers around the sides of the mask and began to pull it up, attempting to remove the mask. Brahms hand quickly but gently grabbed your wrists, his eyes begging for you to stop as he let out whimper.
“Don’t you trust me?” You asked gently, frowning slightly. You saw him falter a little as if he was asking himself the same question.
Slowly, he lowered his hands and you lifted the mask off his face.
The right side of his face was badly scarred with burns while his left side wasn’t as badly. In fact, even with the burns, you were surprised at how handsome he was.
His eyes were staring at the floor, his black curls falling in front of his eyes. He had a full beard but it didn’t go up the side of his face due to the scars. You placed the mask gently to the side then reached out your right hand to brush the curls out of his face. He looked up at you.
“[y/n].” He spoke quietly. His voice was a little raspy but angelic.
“Hi Brahms.” You smile, as if it was the first time you had met, which it was.
Before you knew what was happening, his arms were waist around your waist and hugged you close, his face buried in your neck. You didn’t waste any time wrapping your own arms around him, holding him close and trying to sooth him.
When he pulled back, he kept close with his forehead against yours. Your eyes glanced down at his lips. They were full with a small scarring on the right side of his top lip but you didn’t care. To you, he was perfect.
Gently, as if not to scare him, you leaned forward, your hands on the back of the neck and your thumbs rubbing small circle. Brahms watched you closely, as if he didn’t believe what was happening but the second he realised this was real, he quickly closed the gap between you in a sweet kiss. The kiss, though full of inexperience, was passionate. His hands held you close with a sense urgency and he left out sweet little moans every now and again.
You pulled back a little for air, despite Brahms desperation to continue the kiss. You knew he probably wouldn’t have kissed or been with a girl but you hadn’t been kissed before anyone either.
Just then, the clock in the kitchen chimed midnight, making you jump a little.
“Oh Brahms. I didn’t realise how late it was. We should really get to bed.” You jumped down from the table, making Brahms take a step back, his head hung and his body slouched over. You smiled a little to yourself before reaching out and taking his hand. You thought of sleeping in your bed alone and something about that made you uneasy.
“Could you stay in with me tonight? I can sleep on the floor or something. I just don’t want to be on my own.” You asked shyly, avoiding eye contact with him. You really wanted for him to stay but you didn’t want him to feel forced.
You saw his feet stop in front of you and felt his arms wrap around you and he started to guild you toward the door.
He kept you close as he walked up the stair and to your room. You assumed that was he was agreeing to stay. And as you thought, he came into your room with you.
Neither of you bother to take off the clothes as Brahms walked around the queen bed. You walked over to the small armchair in the corner of your room which you had fallen asleep in before but a pair of arms wrapped around you and lifted you up before Brahms walked over and placed you on the bed. He then walked around the bed and crawled in beside you. Brahms lay on his back, his arms by his side but the warmth of him drew you so you cuddled into his side.
The last thing you remembered was an arm wrapping around you and his body turning so Brahms was holding you close.

NOT YOUR TYPE CHAP 1

✧✧✧✧✧

heard you say, not today.

✧✧✧✧✧


ELSE’S FIRST DAY at Nissens had been worse than expected. She had arrived late, nobody had spoken to her, and the vending machine had kept her change. She just wanted the day to end.

After school, she had to go to her cousin’s place to pick up her stuff. He had promised to drive her to her new apartment to help her unpack. She walked to his house, which was only a few blocks away, and rang the bell.

“Who are you?” the guy who opened the door was certainly not her cousin.

“I’m Else, Neel is expecting me.” She answered, surprised by the cold welcome.

“Whatever, just come inside.”

She chose to ignore him. Closing the door behind her, she went to her cousin’s room.

“Hey El’, how was your day?” Neel greeted her with a warm smile on his face.

“It sucked.” She sighed. “I just want to sleep right now.”

“Too bad you still have to move.” He laughed. “We should get going.”

He helped her gather her stuff, and they left his place. They were both in the car, driving to her new apartment, when Else decided to ask him about the not-so-nice-but-hot stranger who had opened the door.

“That’s just William.” Neel answered. “He’s a friend of Alex, my flatmate. They both go to Nissens.”

“Great…” She mumbled. “This year is gonna be worse than I thought.”

✧✧✧✧✧

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, they were standing outside Else’s new place, waiting for the guy who was already living there to open the door. She was a bit worried about this whole flatmate situation. Sharing an apartment was never easy, she had experienced it in London, where she used to live with her mother and her 10-years-old sister. She had a complicated mother-daughter relationship, and, even though she loved her family with all her heart, she had decided to move back to Oslo for her three years of high school.

The sound of the door opening brought her back to reality. The guy who was now standing in front of her was probably the hottest human being she had ever met. Left hand in his pocket, seductive smile on his lips -so cliché, she thought- he invited her to come inside.

“Hi I’m Chris. Nice to meet you Else… that’s your name, right?”

“Yes, and this is Neel.” She answered, pointing at her cousin.

“Yeah, we know each other, El’. He’s friend with Alex.” Neel explained, greeting Chris with a high five.

“But you didn’t tell me your little cousin had such a pretty face…” The hazel-eyed guy was starring at Else, making her feel rather uncomfortable.

Neel laughed. The two guys started talking about stuff that the girl didn’t really care about; she decided to leave them at the door and visit the apartment.

Else was kind of upset that her cousin didn’t bother to tell her he knew Chris before coming here. Things were definitely not going as planned. Her new flatmate was certainly hot, but he was also friend with Alexander Hagen, and that said a lot about him.

“Else?” Neel called her from the entrance. “I have to leave, I’m working tonight.”

She interrupted her tour of the apartment to  hug her cousin and thank him one last time. He left; Else was now standing in front of the door, feeling Chris’s presence behind her.

“Alone at last.” He whispered in her ear, a cocky smile on his lips. “Come with me, I’ll show you around.”

She sighed. She really had not clue how to deal with him. She followed Chris in the kitchen and around the apartment… and almost bumped into him, as he suddenly stopped in the middle of the corridor.

“So, this is your room.” He said, opening the first door. “And here, your bathroom. But you can always come shower in mine…” He winked.

“Yeah, thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll pass.” She snapped back. This guy had a serious problem. He just couldn’t keep it in his pants.

✧✧✧✧✧

ELSE HAD DECIDED to make pasta for dinner. Once it was ready, she prepared a plate to bring to her room. But of course, clumsy as she was, she managed to hit her pinky toe on a chair. “Putain.” She swore, wincing in pain.

“Ohh, she swears… In french.” Chris was leaning against the kitchen door, starring at Else, a smirk on his face. “Where have you been all my life, baby?”

“Staying far, very far from you.” She answered, rolling her eyes. “And maybe I should have stayed there. I mean, seriously, I can’t live you, you’re creeping me out.”

And she left the room before he could answer.

✧✧✧✧✧

Instagram

455 LIKES - whoelse when u meet your flatmate and suddenly u wanna go back to england

comments :

neeldahl ahahaha

itsalexhagen savage

chrisschistad ouch 💔

whoelse but HOW did you even find my account… @chrisschistad

✧✧✧✧✧

That’s all for today! I hope you enjoyed it. I know it’s short, but it’s just an introduction. Sorry for the mistakes / grammatical incoherences. Just keep in mind that I’m French and probably mixing up some stuff.

- thanks <3

Hurt!Phil Masterlist

part two

Links Last Checked: June 10th, 2017

Abuse And Comfort by venuslester

Summary: Phil was in an abusive relationship in the past, and even now that he has Dan, he still fears being hurt again.

Best Friends by skinnyjeanshowell

Summary: After a horrible car accident, Phil Lester was confined to a wheelchair. Phil’s life changed completely after that. Being in a wheelchair meant that he couldn’t do things he could do before, like hanging out with his friends. All of his friends turned on him once they learned about Phil being in a wheelchair. School is starting soon, and Phil is nervous about it.

Draw Out The Hate by adayinthelifeofphan

Summary: Phil gets a massive amount of hate through YouNow in the chatbox at the point where he could only see hate. He runs out of his room crying. Dan comforts him with pictures.

Drowning In Thoughts by underwaterlionroar

Summary: Phil dealing with autism.

Enough Dan by ironicallyphan

Summary: The aftermath of a fight. Dan messed up. Phil’s upset

Fallin’ by dannihowell

Summary: Dan’s quick rise to fame will be Phil’s downfall.

Fix You by litsy-kalyptica

Summary: Phil goes missing, he turns up like 6 months later at a youtube event like vidcon/playlist/sitc and is really messed up over whatever has happened to him while he was gone. Dan has to find out what happened and figure out a way to help Phil get over it/cope with it.

Ignorance Is Bliss by skullester

Summary: Phil gets hurt by the hate comments.

Just A Knock Away by danisnotlikingvagina

Summary: Phil has moved into a new house away from all his friends, and he has to face bullies.

Like Knives In My Heart by uhnonniemiss

Summary: Phil has been abused for so long, he doesn’t think he’s human anymore. But maybe, just maybe, he’ll realise he was never anything less. Based off the song “Human” by Christina Perri.

Man And Till by thatsmistertoyou

Summary: Phil gets sad and Dan comforts him.

Night Terrors And Sweet Dreams by jentin

Summary: Phil has a scary dream and goes to Dan for comfort

One More by danisnotlikingvagina

Summary: Phil has been keeping something from Dan for close to a year now, but comes to find that the problem is only getting worse. He wants to tell Dan, but knows how disgusting his flatmate would find it.

Tainted Minds by danisnotlikingvagina

Summary: Phil has never known happiness. To end his misery, he goes to Big Ben, finds a way to the top and jumps. Dan sees Phil and somehow manages to catch him. They finally meet at the hospital and begin to fall in love. Dan must find a way to help this new man from hurting himself again. But he believes Phil doesn’t love him so he must try to keep their friendship unromantic, all the while Phil is trying to bring them as close as possible.

Took It Out On You by notanotherphanfictionblog

Summary: Dan and Phil stuck in an elevator after they’ve had a fight

Yet, Like A Dog by soillbeherethen

Summary: When Dan and Phil run into Phil’s violent ex-boyfriend, Dan has a hard time being civil.

You’re My Morphine by uhnonniemiss

Summary: Phil’s mind has been broken; whenever anything worries him, his body reacts with some kind of injury. He begins to push away those he loves, but what will happen when the person he loves most of all threatens to leave forever?

One more

hello yes I am back from the dead!

TRIGGER WARING OF SELF HARM IN THIS

IF YOU DO NOT LIKE SELF HARM OR KNOW YOU WILL BE TRIGGERED BY IT, I URGE YOU TO NOT READ sorry i just needed to make sure you all knew

word count: almost 5k

genre: angst/cliche fluff it s sO CL I CHe haLP

summary: Phil has been keeping something from Dan for close to a year now, but comes to find that the problem is only getting worse. He wants to tell Dan, but knows how disgusting and wrong his flatmate would find it. 

Keep reading

Title: I Want to Hold Your Hand

Summary: Upcoming Youtuber Lucas Perkins, otherwise known as lightperks, has no intention of hiding his growing admiration for Phil Lester. He blatantly flirts with him at YouTube events and continuously praises Phil in his videos. Phil thinks it’s sweet and hilarious but Dan isn’t happy at all and he doesn’t plan on letting Phil know how he feels about him anytime soon.

Starts off Platonic Phan

Word Count: 3.49K

Keep reading

2:13 AM

Dan is having one of his occasional existential crises, luckily Phil is always there to comfort him. ~1200 words

A/N: I actually wanted to post this like 2 months ago, I’m really sorry ._. Also thanks to the lovely @vegavulpes for beta’ing!




It was 2:13 in the morning when Phil received Dan’s text.

“Is this really everything there is to life?”

Sighing the youtuber got up from his cosy cocoon of blankets and pillows, silently making his way to his best friend’s room to spend yet another night trying to cheer him up. He hesitated before knocking but then, after waiting for a reply other than the youngers grumbling, eventually let himself in, only to find his flatmate curled up underneath his messy sheets.

Phil wordlessly closed the door behind him and proceeded to climb into his boyfriend’s bed like he had done so many times before. By now he had fortunately grown quite accustomed to Dan’s habit of ending up in an endless spiral of existential questions at 4 in the morning. When they had first moved in together, days like these usually ended up with an 6'3’’, seemingly lifeless ball of self-pity lying on the floor in the corridor and his devastated boyfriend. That being said, Phil now knew how to deal with this kind of situation and therefore quickly slipped under the crumpled duvet, cuddling ever so close to his upset best friend.

“That bad?” But instead of getting an actual answer, he could only make out some kind of muffled ‘mmpfh’ from underneath the sheets.

“At least you already made it to bed, I’d call that progress.” Phil said, trying to lighten up his best friend’s mood - at least a bit.

“As if that makes any difference, I’m just as useless here as I am on the floor of the hallway.” The older one closed his eyes and sighed. Simply knowing that these doubts still lingered in Dan’s mind, present enough to cause these crises - even after all this time and all the effort he had put into showing his best friend the impact he had and how important he was - hurt him. A lot.

“That’s just plain wrong, Dan. I know I said this at least a million times by now, but I sincerely think you’re an incredibly fascinating, smart and talented human being. And nothing you say can convince me otherwise.” But instead of listening, the younger just continued rambling.

“I’m just an unimportant british guy so why do I even bother? Maybe I’ll be dead by next year and my whole ridiculous existence is just going to be forgotten so what reason do I have to keep trying?”

Phil hated Dan being like this, but he hated it way more that he was unable to help. All he could do was trying to keep his friend’s mind far away from everything that could even remotely trigger him.

“You know Dan, I never looked at you the way you look at yourself. Not once. I’ve always seen you as so much more. You’re such a strong-minded and intelligent person, it baffles me every time we’re talking. I feel like everyone realises this except for you and I honestly don’t think that’s fair.”

Dan remained quiet in a way that made the older boy feel like he hadn’t convinced him yet.

“I don’t know if this makes a difference to you, but you made a difference to me. I don’t know where I’d be now without you, but I know for sure that I’d be a lot less happy. And I’m incredibly grateful for the impact you had on my life.”

The other boy didn’t answer though and just wordlessly proceeded to pull up the duvet even further. After a while Phil could make out a whisper from underneath the fabric.

“I’m just randomly put-together tiny pieces of stardust floating through infinity so why exactly should anything I do matter.”

“We all are Dan. We all are, and when you look at humanity as a whole, then yes, maybe your existence doesn’t matter. But neither does mine or anybody else’s.” Phil hesitated for a second before continuing. “I’ll tell you something: nobody is looking at the whole picture. The people of 2479 maybe not remembering you doesn’t mean that you don’t matter now. Which you do. You do matter. Because if you don’t matter, I don’t matter and then nothing else matters and existing is just breathing and why would I want to keep breathing if you didn’t matter?”

There was a long silence before the younger spoke up again.

“I just feel stuck, you know? I’m in the same place I was 6 years ago and as much as I try I’m not moving forward. I feel like no matter what I do - it isn’t enough, I’m not enough. Maybe I never was. It makes no difference whether I try or not.”

“You’ve come so much further than 2009 Dan. You know what I think of when I remember 2009? Autumn in Manchester. And meeting you. And also how I was so happy to even get to know you and so sad because you weren’t doing well. I think about 2009 and I see you in every darkening leaf that’s falling to the ground. I see you, breaking apart and close to giving up, it’s tragic and also beautiful and it hurts to remember. But do you want to know what I see now? It’s 6 years later and I look out of the apartment window in London - our apartment window, watching the flowers bloom and the trees grow their leaves back, starting anew, even more beautiful than they have ever been before, much stronger and full of hope. And that’s how I see you now Dan. You’re not the end of autumn anymore. You’re the beginning of spring.”

By now the younger had crawled out from underneath the cover and cuddled up against his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around him and closing any space that was left between them. As horrible as he was feeling right now, there wasn’t a thing Phil couldn’t help him deal with and just having him around right now did an incredible job at calming Dan down.

“Maybe I’m just scared of how fast the time is running out. I still feel like I just met you a few months ago and I’m freaking out about everything being over just that fast.” Dan said quietly before sighing and closing his eyes again, sinking back in the pillow.

“You know, time is running and the world is changing and the city is getting emptier and eventually the leaves will turn red and orange and yellow again and they’ll fall to the ground and maybe we’re changing but that’s fine Dan, it’s okay, I’m here, we’re fine. We’ll get through everything that’s coming - together, like always. I promise. Everything seemingly flying by right now doesn’t stop us from being happy. Believe me, you’re fine.”

And Dan did. He trusted Phil more than himself, especially in situations like this but he was recovering, he was healing - slowly but steadily. He knew he had his best friend by his side, no matter what. Maybe his life wasn’t perfect right now, but he had Phil and after all that was enough.

The 5 things we learned from John and Irene’s meeting

1) Sherlock indeed follows John everywhere.

2) Irene Adler is truly in love with Sherlock. As she confesses, she made a mistake. When she was hiding from her enemies, when she thought she would probably die, when she faked her death to escape, she sent her camera phone to Sherlock. This was a silly and impulsive act. She did it for two reasons: a) she thought Sherlock would never imagine this password and b) she chose to give it to the person she loved the most. You don’t trust your most valuable object to an enemy. But when she returned, now wanting it back, she realized what she did was stupid, because a) she put Sherlock in danger and b) now Sherlock would start suspecting that she honestly loves him (but Sherlock already suspected it anyway). So she asks John’s help in order to retrieve the phone under Sherlock’s nose, because she didn’t want to reappear in front of him. In this case she’d have to find a bloody persuasive excuse to explain why she gave the phone to him in the first place.

3) John loves Sherlock more than Irene and the fans can even imagine. Irene thought John would agree to help her in order to let Sherlock believe she ‘s dead, because he doesn’t want her competiveness. 

JOHN: Tell him you’re alive. 
IRENE: He’d come after me. 
J: I’ll come after you if you don’t. 
I: (sarcastically) Mmm, I believe you. (”As if you didn’t wish me dead, so you could have Sherlock all for yourself.”)
J: (chooses not to reply to her last comment): You were dead on a slab. It was definitely you. 

 However, she is completely wrong. John cares about Sherlock’s emotional stability more than his own repressed feelings. He forces her to tell Sherlock she’s alive hoping that this will make him stop being miserable. Irene looks genuinely impressed by his love.

4) John Watson’s sexuality. Ok, this may be a long shot, because it is easier to understand Quantum mechanics than John Watson’s sexuality. It is very easy to just say that John is obviously a raging bisexual, as I see he’s characterized lately, but to my eyes the truth is more complicated, especially if we take into account the differences in the way John confronts this issue in every series. The S1 John is not the same with the S3 John. S2 John is somewhere in between. So, apparently, there is progress. More quantum mechanics under the cut:

Keep reading

Sleep

Summary: There are these terrors. And it’s like, it feels like as if somebody was gripping my throat, like last night. They are not like tremors, they’re worse than tremors, there are these terrors. Sometimes there are flames. And sometimes I see people that I love dying, and…” - Sleep, My Chemical Romance

Warnings: Night terrors/nightmares, violence, blood, murder, suicidal thoughts, suicide, major/minor character death, passing mentions of being drunk

A/N: This is my 100th fic and holy shit what the hell. Thank you all for sticking with me for so long ilysm. Special thanks to placentaandllamas for actually inspiring me to write phanfiction in the first place, as I never would have started without her, and also to phanalogue for keeping me writing at times when I wanted to give up (even if she doesn’t know how much she helped me with this). Enjoy the fic!

“They’re terrors. Not nightmares,”

“Tell me what happens in them, Dan,”

“Screaming. That’s mostly… and flames. And the people that I love, dying right in front of me. And then there’s something – somebody – squeezing at my throat, and I look up and it’s…”

“It’s what, Dan? Remember, nothing you say leaves this room,”

“It’s… It’s my boy- my friend. Phil. And then I have a knife and I just-.”

“What do you do?”

“Hurt him. Stab him. Kill him. And then he’s dead in front of me and there’s nothing I can do. I hurt him,”

Keep reading

Kisses In The Snow

A short Johnlock story about John and Sherlock’s first kiss which takes place on a snowy day.


Kisses In The Snow

John walked into the sitting room and plopped down onto the couch. “Sherlock? Why is it so bloody cold in here?” He hugged his pyjama shirt tighter around his body, rubbing his arms to get warm.

Sherlock shuffled into the living room, his eyes still half closed. Jesus, it’s fucking cold. He flopped down onto the couch beside John, wrapping his comforter around his shoulders and tucking his feet under John’s leg.

“Jesus, Sherlock! Your feet are bloody freezing! I can feel them through my god dammed trousers.” John tried in vain to escape his flatmates slender feet. Sherlock just pushed them further under John.

“It snowed.” He said quietly. John looked at him strangely.

“Hmm?” Sherlock sighed dramatically.

“It’s cold because it snowed, John. Really, why must you always be so slow in the mornings.” Sherlock grumbled quietly and John rolled his eyes.

“Well, how was I to know that it wasn’t just cause of some bloody experiment you were doing? Besides, it hasn’t been this cold during the Hols since…well, since I was a kid.” John paused. Actually, now that he thinks about it…

“Sherlock? Why is your hair wet?” His flatmate froze, before tilting his down and away from John’s eyes.

“I…I showered. Obvious. Really John, don’t be dull.” His left foot twitched slightly under John’s leg. John’s eyes narrowed.

“…….You never shower in the mornings.” He said slowly, before something clicked in place in his mind. John bolted up and ran to the front closet. One look at the still damp coat and wet snowy shoes was all he needed to confirm his suspicions. “Ha! I was right! Sherlock, you went outside! To play in the snow!” John ran back to the couch.

Sherlock had his face completely covered by the blanket, only his unruly mop of curly hair showed.

“Dmmph nnnh!” Was all John heard from the confines of the comforter. He laughed and shook his head.

“Come on, let’s go then.” He said, and dragged Sherlock up before pushing him into his room to dress. Ten minutes later Sherlock exited his room with a pair of thick track pants and……was that John’s Christmas jumper?!

“Is that…you know what, never mind. Of course it is.” He shook his head and slipped his coat on.

Thirty minutes later, John was being pummelled by perfectly proportioned snow missiles. He snuck up behind his flatmate when he wasn’t looking and dumped a handful of snow down the back of his coat. Sherlock shrieked loudly, twisting around to push his attacker into a snowbank before leaping onto him.

John giggled as Sherlock sprinkled snow onto his face in revenge, and smiled up through the snowflakes on his eyelashes. Sherlock stopped and stared down at the blonde, his mouth open slightly and his nose and cheeks rosy from the cold.

“John, I…” He started to say, but before he could finish, John crushed his full lips to his. As kisses go, it was pretty chaste; nothing more than lips on lips. But for them? It was heaven.

“John, that was…” Sherlock stuttered, his flushed face much redder than before.

John whispered quietly, “Again?” And when Sherlock nodded their lips once again came together. This time however, the kiss was heated; open mouthed and passionate. Sloppy and hungry and beautiful.

From the front window of their home, a curtain twitched aside. Mrs. Hudson’s peaceful gaze viewed the scene in the snow below, and she smiled. ‘It’s about time,’ she thought. 'My boys finally together. Oh, I can’t wait to tell Mrs. Turner next door!’