it just turned past midnight for me

New fic idea

This idea attacked me last night, just as I was turning off the lights and refused to let me sleep until I wrote it down. I like it, actually, and thought I would share it and see what you guys think of the premise ;)


“I need you to seduce my brother.”

Greg stares, not exactly surprised by the fact that Sherlock has sneaked into his flat, even if it’s past midnight and he has just installed a new security system. It’s the sort of thing he has come to expect after 5 years of dealing with the madman, along with the frequently odd (and sometimes downright crazy) requests (more like demands).

This, however, takes the cake.

He blinks, his brain slowly going back online after being so rudely awoken and makes the only logical question. “What?”

Sherlock huffs, his expression telling Greg how much he dislikes repeating himself. “I said-”

“No, no, I heard that,” the older man interrupts, sitting up and rubbing his eyes tiredly. “I meant, why?”

Sherlock makes a face, clearly annoyed. “So I can have his boyfriend.”

Greg blinks once more, his sleepiness helping to ignore the way his heart constricts at such words. He always knew Mycroft Holmes was way out of his league, but the man didn’t seem inclined to date at all, so he had always imagined-

Well. Never mind that.

He stares at Sherlock some more and then shakes his head, getting out of bed and making his way to the kitchen, determined to pour himself a drink. He can feel Sherlock following after him, hovering like a shadow, radiating frustration.

“Alright,” he says after pouring himself 2 fingers of whisky. He hesitates, looks up at Sherlock and pours himself another finger. “From the beginning then. What are you going on about?”

Sherlock glares but drops himself on one of the chairs at the kitchen and begins his tale.


I like it and I think I’ll go back to it once I’m done with one of my current WIPs, but I don’t know. I wanted to write some angsty Johncroft/Johnlock story (I just re read my fic “Long term complications of arranged marriages”) but I think this will be more on the humorous side; it’ll be a alternate first meeting, fake/pretend relationship and end Johnlock/Mystrade. No actual messy triangles involved ;)

Anyway… thoughts anyone?

|A.I.| Kitchen Counter

Based off the request: Can you do one where you can’t sleep so you go to get some water and when you go back to the bedroom, you catch Ash having a wet dream


This was requested literally probably a year ago but since I’m the only one on this blog now it’s extremely difficult to update and still live my daily life (school etc) but hope you enjoy :)

I kinda changed it a little from being tired to just studying for school I hope that’s okay!

Keep reading

When you finally open your eyes, you see Xavier curled up next to you.

Startled, you reach for your phone and check the time. You can’t have been out more than two or three hours, it’s freshly past midnight; all the lights in the apartment are still on, just that Xavier seems asleep (you lean over and check, trying to listen in) and the cat is no longer sitting on you.

“She’s with me,” a voice sounds from nearby. You turn around.
Gaspard sits by the table - not the one by the balcony - with a large sheet of paper in front of him, a cutting mat beneath it as well as a paper trimmer nearby. The cat is beneath his feet, stretched out long and apparently resigned to her fate of being a foot cushion. “She adjusted real quick,” he carries on, lifting his hand from the page. A shiny off-gold nib attached to a penholder catches the light above, glinting against the wall. “I should thank you. The real challenge to catsitting isn’t so much as the cats as Xavier, sometimes. He’s more a dog person.”

You hide a smile - it comes out small and sleepy, for you are a little dazed still, but you think it was enough. When you stand properly you can see what he was working on. “What is that?”

“Side hustle. Another one,” he leans back and lets you look. What you see are seven lines of beautiful penmanship, outlining details for a wedding set to take place seven months from now on. “I’m not half bad a calligrapher, I do some graphic design as well… we get by,” he puts away the penholder. “how was your nap?”

“I needed it, thank you. But don’t you need to sleep, yourself?”

“I don’t sleep,” Gaspard is so matter-of-fact about this that you find yourself nodding, as if this was the most natural thing, before you catch yourself. “neither of us do, not much. I catch a nap before I go out, or have moments of passing out at intervals, like Xavier,” at the mention of his name, Xavier stirs from across the room. “there you go.”

Xavier blinks open his eyes and yawns wide. Seeing that you aren’t nearby, he stretches out his legs and folds his hands together on his stomach, giving you both a grin. “Morning, neighbour,” he mumbles. “you looked so comfortable I had to join you.”

An older memory drifts back into mind. “Checking me out?”

Xavier gets the joke. His laugh is especially cheeky. “Though I really should get going now,” you continue, glancing outside. It’s already night, but not so much of it has passed that you can’t go home and fulfill Vincent’s request; Gaspard makes no attempt to stop you, but Xavier looks confused.

“Right now? Would he even be awake?”

Around this time - generally speaking, probably not. But when you move over to the balcony to lean out, you see that the light is on next door. “I think so. I can’t trouble you any further, and besides, uh…” sensing that Xavier has half a mind to at least have you wait until the morning, you think about a thing you need to do and absolutely have to be home for when the sun comes up. “… my mother… she’s very far away and calls once a week, I need to go back for it.”

“Mother is a sacred thing,” Gaspard says, outwardly impassive as he halts the beginning of Xavier’s protests. “feel free to come here again if there’s trouble. We’ll be listening out for you.”

Xavier gives him a nudge in the ribs. “If they do make up, though, you’re sure you want to listen in to that? Don’t mind him. (This is said to you.) We’ll be mousy-quiet from now on to make up for the weeks we weren’t. Honest.

You stifle a grin and don’t hang around to see Gaspard working it out. (The blush that blooms on his face is magnificent, but tonight isn’t the time for you to see it.) Approval gained, you only stop to pet the mackerel tabby now hunched in a loaf near the kitchen and put your shoes on before you step towards the door. “Thank you for having me, again,” you call quietly as you go, and they wave you off.
The staircase is pitch-black and absolutely freezing. As nice as the neighbours proved to be, you hope you won’t have to go back in there tonight.

Vincent is waiting.

Disclaimer: This is… a lil dirty? Whoops? Sorry? But it’s past midnight and I’m tired and I wrote this a few months ago and just remembered that it exists, so here you guys go and please don’t judge me for thinking about this. 

Stiles keeps his phone under his pillow, the volume turned all the way up. It’s an old habit, and one that he’s not sure he’s ever going to be able to kill. But it goes off too often for him to be able to consider turning it off or silencing his phone at night. He will always be ready for a desperate voice at the other end, and Stiles could probably write an entire Beacon Hills survival guide if he had the patience or the fucks to give.

But lately, it hasn’t felt like surviving at all. It’s felt like living. So when his phone buzzes to life at three in the morning, Stiles pulls himself from his disgustingly light sleep and isn’t sure whether he should feel happy or panicked when Lydia’s contact picture pops up on the screen. He answers the call immediately, pressing his phone hard against his ear.

“Lyds?”

There’s a long, harsh breath from the other end, and for a moment, Stiles’ heart leaps anxiously into his stomach. But then he hears her breathe in just as slowly, her breath slightly shaky.

“Hi.”

Immediately, Stiles relaxes.


“‘S everything ‘kay?” he asks, his eyes drooping closed slightly. He wants to annoy her about calling him this late, but they’ve only been together for a week and a half, and he feels stupidly happy that she had been comfortable enough to do it. So instead he keeps his mouth shut, fighting the urge to yawn.

“Yeah,” Lydia says. “I was just… thinking about you.”

Stiles smiles sloppily, laying back down and shoving his hand under his shirt to scratch his side.

“Seriously?”

“Mhm,” she whispers. “And I never used to be able to call you when I was thinking about you at night, but now I can. So I… I did.”

“You thought about me?”

“So much,” Lydia replies, and this time it sounds more like a moan. “So much, Stiles.”

He swallows, hard.

“You gonna ask me if I thought about you?”

He hears her smile when she speaks; hears it in the tune of her words and the way they make his heart beat a bit faster.

“I already know the answer.”

Keep reading

the fic where Simon gets drunk

this is from a beautiful headcanon that raphaelsantiagosavedhimself helped me create and she’s the best 


In the entire two months that Simon had lived at Magnus’ loft, he’d never stayed out late. This was the very first time that he was gone past midnight and Alec was just slightly concerned. You never knew with Simon, right? You turn your back for one second and he’s getting his throat slit or being kidnapped by a thirteen year old the next second.

So Alec decided to stay up and wait for him. Just to make sure he didn’t get horribly injured or anything because, again, Simon was a hazard. That’s why he was staying at Magnus’ loft, anyways. For protection.

Then Simon crashed through the door at 3 A.M with the smell of tequila lingering on his rumpled clothes and Alec wished he had just gone to bed.

Keep reading

distraction.

( &. @rkdefsoul )

traffic is heavy, and rose knows that it’ll be past midnight before she gets to the studio. she’s tired, and it’s when she’s sitting waiting for a red light to turn green, that she remembers she’s filming for samsung tomorrow; and that makes her even more tired. evaluations really took it out of her, and this was no exception, even if it was just a commercial, it took time, and effort; running over lines, talking to new people. rose rolls her eyes, tapping her nails against the steering wheel. she takes in the cityscape, the bright lights and rose waits to be given the green light to go forth to where she has to. she’d taken a detour home, after sitting in the royal car park for a good fifteen minutes, and if not for the detour, she’d probably be at the studio with jaebum right now. 

come tomorrow, upon midnight; a week will of gone by since they confessed to eachother, a week of being eachothers. even now, rose is hesitant to bring it up with her main circle of friends, and she already knows that they’ll think she’s crazy for moving on within a four day period. then again, she’d kept them in the dark about how unhappy she was, and it was probably for the best. yet, she may of already let the cat out of the bag, hinting to sungho that she’d maybe moved on. maybe it was all a little too quick, but it wasn’t as though they had to get through various stages, although it felt like everything had been their first, the kiss, the confessions ( even sleeping together, which is weird as the two were once friends with benefits ). she’s beyond content with her reality.

she arrives at the studio before midnight hits, food accompanying her in the passenger seat. before rose exits her car, she pulls her cap down over her eyes, with hopes of keeping them down until she was inside. and so rose collects her things, and makes her way up to jaebum, and if anyone was watching, they’d see a girl with a skip in her step. she wanders in calmly, comfortably, as though she’s done it a thousand times. she places her things down, pulling the cap off, discarding it ( her hair was a mess, it was in need of a good treatment and dye ), taking one last sip of her drink before making her way over to jaebum. it was nice to be home.

“hey handsome.” rose murmurs, leaning down over the back of his chair to wrap her arms around his shoulders. she presses a kiss atop of his head and smiles. she missed her boyfriend, her jaebum. those feelings of tiredness, and that of being unmotivated disappear when she’s with him. she feels alive, for the first time in a long time, inspired, happy and very much in love. and for a moment, she forgets even why she’s here; but it’ll come back to her, or she’ll end up having jaebum remind her. “miss me?” she asks, resting her head atop of his, closing her eyes. “i’m sorry i took forever, i went home and showered, training sort of screwed me over, like usual.”

i was walking to the subway from a bar last night at like midnight. i was going down this quiet street and there was this guy walking slowly in front of me. i was in a hurry to get home, but the sidewalk was so narrow there wasn’t any room to overtake him. he kept glancing over his shoulder at me and i was like, “cool, okay, he sees me. he knows i’m here, i’m freezing my ass off, i’m just walking past him.” so i sped up to walk by and the second i was right next to him he turned to me and just screamed at the top of his lungs. and i started screaming too, like an 80 percent fear scream, a 10 percent legit just i got startled scream, and a 10 percent angry, why’d you do that?? why’d you start screaming scream. so i screamed and i turned to my left, scampered up a pile of snow, and ran across the street, which is a bad fight or flight response, running into what could be the way of several cars. in the moment i was sure he was just a crazy guy who wanted to kill me, but then later, after the adrenaline rush, i remembered he was wearing glasses and i was like, “i can’t imagine a crazy murderer taking an eye exam and comparing slides and stuff. i’ve done that. you have to be very levelheaded about it. you don’t go from that to impulse killing someone on the street.”

he probably just thought i was coming up behind him to kill him and screamed as a last resort. like he thinks he had a real brush with death and that all would-be murderers just need a good yelling at. 

it was really intense in the moment, but i’d love to see it from the point of view of someone on the other side of the street. just a quiet snowy night, two guys walking down a sidewalk, one of them screams, the other screams too and then crosses the road. it almost seems like a polite social interaction.

New POT! :)

Well shit. More than POT. He’s full force in. My intuition was dead on. I contacted this seemingly incredible guy on SA. I just knew we’d get along from his profile. I shall dub him “The Gambler”.

We decided to chat last night and what was supposed to be a brief introduction turned into 90 MINUTES OF CONVERSATION. I checked the phone time after and was amazed how much time passed. We could not get enough of each other. He’s so fucking great. No small talk. It was eventually past midnight and we forced ourselves to hang up. He offered to fly me out to where he was TODAY. Then he offered this weekend and specified a platonic relationship at first. It was glorious. I told him that work and social obligations won’t let me. Then I go out of the country for 2 weeks and he kept saying I can’t believe I don’t get to meet you until June. He was already brainstorming taking me to yacht week in Croatia or on an adventure in Amsterdam. I AM FUCKING DOWN. He’s truly great and seems to be an adventurer down for any scheme we can conduct. And he understands my financial needs, there was no shaming whatsoever or stinginess in his voice. And I find him attractive?! Pinch me. Jeeeeeeesus, you guys my karma is being cashed in lately. Keep fighting girls! Put yourselves out there.

I’m in for quite the journey.