not enough biceps

38. Public kiss (Reylo) 

(submitted by @kotay111)

He does it on purpose, while the people she cares about are watching. Poe. Finn.

Kylo Ren grabs her bicep hard enough to bruise. Yanks her close before she can react.

He kisses her. Pours all his rage and spite into her, forces it like poison into her mouth. It mingles with his breath, foreign and cloying. Unwanted.

Rey has never been kissed before.

And now-

Distantly, Finn calls her name. She hears the betrayal. Tears sting her eyes, and she hates Kylo for taking this from her.

He breaks the kiss like he wishes he could hurt her more.

Suits, volleyball, and all the headcanon in between.

[Terushima, Futakuchi, Noya, Tanaka, Ushijima and Tendou here]
[Akiteru, Kei, Kageyama and Hinata here]
[Ladies of Karasuno here]


  • Black on black. No tie, open two-buttoned suit jacket that hugs his waist, the top two buttons of his shirt are undone. Tailored wingtip derbies, black and matte- polished to perfection.
    • He’s actually the one who dislikes wearing suits the most (I mean, have you seen the guy, he literally looks like he throws on whatever he has lying on his bed).
    • Oh, but if you challenge him, or if the need arises- he’s going to be the sexiest guy in the room because he sure as hell isn’t going to lose at anything.
      • Hours of research and a lot of changing rooms is not going to be for nothing. If he’s going to suffer, he’s going to do some real damage before he goes (namely to your short-circuited brain and perhaps severe blood loss via nosebleed).
    • He tried the red and black combination once, until a girl actually came up to him and asked him which host club he worked at, and he’s stuck to black from then on.
    • Those undone buttons on his shirt? Collarbones. They’re so sharp that they can slice through paper, and it makes his neck slimmer and his smirk all the sexier.
    • Everything’s been absolutely tailored at least twice, and it’s so on purpose. Can you imagine those legs- miles and miles of slim height and oh, he knows you’re staring. He’ll wink right back.
      • Now that he thinks about it, he’s never had to buy his own drink before, and thus Kuroo’s legendary alcohol tolerance was born.

Keep reading

Isle Kids going to Auradon Prep AU where Uma and Audrey bond over their shared Mal Salt™ and form a begrudging friendship

(they’re both not up to admitting it quiiiiite yet)

Bonus points for Harry and Gil messing with Chad

I’ve started keeping track of how strangers refer to me and I think I finally hit some kind of threshhold with T because being misgendered has become MORE uncommon than not

While alone in public nearly everyday someone has called me sir or asked if I’m going to see my girlfriend and it takes the entirety of my self control not to cheer and bust out some pushups then and there

i watched the first ep of voltron last night and i woke up this morning thinking about the Perfect Beefy Daddy and

i just wanna draw The Beef….

Castiel Imagine

Imagine: Castiel finally figuring out you’ve been trying to flirt with him.

Originally posted by starsinursa

“Why does that female keep staring and smiling at me?” Castiel warily gestured at the animated blonde in the skintight black maxi dress chatting with her friends in a corner booth.

She waved, suggestively adjusting her spilling bosom, and leaning over to giggle something unintelligible into her cohort’s ear, mistakenly interpreting the angel’s inquisitive action as a sign of reciprocated interest.

“She likes you,” Dean answered with an unamused eye roll, pursing his lips. The same blonde had given him the cold shoulder while ordering drinks at the bar earlier in the evening.

You flashed a jealous scowl in the girl’s direction, wondering what it was about her that Cas noticed when you’d been sitting beside him all night practically doing the exact same thing, albeit with a slightly less bubbly demeanor and appreciably less ample bosom.

Cas’ eyes narrowed, his tell-tale marker of social bewilderment. “She doesn’t know me,” he bluntly pointed out.

“That’s probably why she likes you,” Dean smirked, washing down an over-sized bite of greasy bacon cheeseburger with a swig of beer.

“Hey!” you chided in the oblivious angel’s defense, reaching across the table to punch Dean in the bicep hard enough to both make him grimace and draw a line of bright red ketchup across is cheek with the condiment-laden fry held aloft between his fingers.

“Ouch!” he whined, rubbing the injured appendage. “Geez, sorry. I was just kidding.”

“Yeah? Well wipe that smug grin off your face, and maybe I’ll believe you,” you warned, tossing a conciliatory napkin in his still smirking direction.

When you peered back up, Cas was staring at you in bewilderment, his wide eyes a shining amalgam of every shade of blue imaginable even in the unforgiving harsh fluorescent light of the bar.

You self-consciously tucked an errant wisp of hair behind your ear, the rosy mantle of a blush creeping into your cheeks as a radiant smile emerged to warm your features.

Sam rejoined the table with a fresh round of beers.

“Heh,” Dean snorted, curiously observing the unspoken exchange between you and Cas. Wadding the soiled napkin into a ball, he magnanimously hurled it at the center of the table rather than at you as he originally intended.

Sam naturally followed his brother’s fascinated gaze toward you and the angel.

“Wait for it,” Dean whispered to his brother through clenched teeth.

Sam dubiously arched a brow.

Cas’ mouth twitched, a shy smile slowly burgeoning to brighten his baffled countenance.

“Heh,” for once, and with you and the angel too distractedly smitten with each other to bear witness to the momentous occasion, Sam unhesitatingly concurred with his brother.

Keep reading

One time Fry races into his and Bender’s apartment, sneakers skidding on the floor as he runs into the bathroom, and hastily opens the door only to almost pee himself (he’s already painfully held it in for hours now) as Bender shrieks and slams the door so harshly it falls off of it’s hinges at the top.

Neither of them make a sound for a moment, and after checking that he didn’t actually pee his pants, Fry tentatively opens the door. And there is Bender, trying to struggle out of one of his spare red jackets , wearing a similar face to the one he wears when the police are about to get him. Fry knows that face to usually mean he needs to run, but he doesn’t think he needs to run right now.

Bender looks up at Fry from between the buttons (which are askew) with wide optics and his arms tangled in the red sleeves over his head. They both pause, and Fry thinks that if Bender needed to breath he would have stopped then, either out of shock or want to die of embarrassment. Fry isn’t really sure what he should be feeling in this moment, but finds himself some place in-between really really happy to find Bender in his jacket for whatever reason and really really blushy. Also he really really has to pee.

He settles for praying that his face isn’t as red as his hair and slowly walking over to the still still - Ha, still still - robot, vaguely wondering if Bender could malfunction and if he’d have to carry him somewhere to get fixed. Fry honestly couldn’t carry Bender, he’d have to call Leela, she’s probably the only one that was strong enough, her biceps are huge. Fry wishes his biceps were that huge, then he could give Bender piggy back rides and hold him in his arms. Fry shakes his head, that was beside the point, whatever the point was.

Fry coughs awkwardly, looking at the dirty shower curtain behind them - Oh, there’s the pepperoni he thought fall in the drain when he was eating pizza in the shower, he’ll have to eat that later - as he gently pulls Bender’s arms down and idly rebuttons the shirt for him. His hands end up resting on Bender’s chest, fingers pitter-pattering in a nervous and stuttered rhythm. Fry hums, this feels nice.

Fry looks up to the mirror to find Bender looking intensely at him and jumps a little, pulls his hands back to rest by his sides. Fry doesn’t really know what’s he’s doing, but he never knows what he’s doing or supposed to be doing, so he doesn’t really care anyway.

Fry bounces on the balls of his feet and watches the lines of Bender’s mouth guard move listlessly, no sound coming out, and suddenly feels an urgent need to reassure Bender that they were cool.

Fry coughs again and steps back, one hand tangling in his bright hair and the other shoved deep into his pocket, fingers playing with the lint there. He looks away from Bender,

“You can, uh,” Fry scratches his head and tries again, says too loudly and too rushed, “Feel free to keep the jacket, Bender! I have, like, twenty hundred of them, so…”

Fry trails off, thinking that was probably a good point to end the conversation. He nods to himself in congratulations, happy he didn’t say anything weird or stupid, and reaches behind himself around to open the door behind him. He fumbles a bit with the doorknob, its a little lower then he’s used to with the door being off a hinge as it was, and looks over his shoulder to see Bender still has his optics locked on his. The robot still hasn’t made a sound.

“Um…” Fry’s breath catches a bit and he gives Bender a once over without thinking, eyes lingering over the way his jacket stretches over Bender’s round shoulders. They kind of makes Fry think of a trashcan, but an attractive one. Not that Bender’s a trashcan, or that Fry’s attracted to trashcans, because he’s not, Bender just- looks really good all the time. If he was a trashcan Fry’s sure he would be an attractive one, Bender could probably be an attractive anything if he tried. Again, not that Fry’s attracted to trashcans. Fry shakes his head and starts over,

“You look really good in it, too! The red really brings out your, uh, metal or something.”

Fry falters and turns back around quickly, hand rattling the doorknob, “Anyway, I’m just gonna-” he bolts before Bender can respond.

Fry groans as he runs, why did he have to go and say something weird? He was doing so good! Now he has to find somewhere else to pee before his bladder erupts.

Fry runs past the kitchen before skidding to a stop, turning around, and looks from the kitchen sink, to the direction of the bathroom, and back again… Are there laws in the future against peeing in the kitchen sink?


Can’t get enough of that!!!

Curse Date Shigezane


I was gonna wait and post this with a bunch of other small drabbles, but I like this so much 😂😂

Hope you guys like it as much as I do~

~ * ~





Two men stood ridged in the courtyard, wooden sword locked togeather, their eyes locked in their own battle. Their biceps bulging from the strain of the others resistance.

Their bare chests glistening with sweat under the afternoon sun.

You were completely and utterly hypnotized by them.

Or, just one man in particular.

Just keep walking, just keep walking-

A bead of sweat ran down his solid neck, slipping in the place inbetween his shoulder blades, running down his spine and was absorbed in the kimono hanging around his chiseled hip bones …

Curse Date Shigezane with his dangerously distracting hip bones.

His biceps were enough to make any man jealous, and took everything in you not to step out there and run your hands all over his rippling back muscles he was so shamefully showing off.

The way his abs rolled in his every step, his heaving pectorals as he steps back, adjusting his grip on the sword.

Large, rough callused hands. Vivid and frighteningly realistic imagines flash across your eyes. Those rough hands firmly holding you in place, rubbing circles on your bare hips-


Your hands flew to your nose as a shock of pain exploded infront of your face, a warm, runny substance gushed out, coating your hand and dripping down your lips.

Is this … Blood!?

Oh lord …

“MC? Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine!” Muffled from your hands you quickly dashed down the corridor.

Stupid, stupid, stupid Shigezane! Curse him, and his beautiful body!

And cures that pillar!

~ * ~

Because I’m the author and I had a mighty need to talk about Shigezane’s muscles.

And it was so fun 😂

@chictheatre @shingenelena @suzunesays @renranren @Carolithe @i-dont-look-good-i-look-great @you-mass-effect-my-dragon-age @tallbutshort9 Oh God I’m so tired. I can’t remember who to tag. Sorry 😂 If you want me to tag you please tell me
What I want for Fenrys in TOG6/post-TOG


*NSFW at the end*, not proofread

  • I want Fenrys to be free from Maeve no surprise here and possibly being part of Aelin’s court, not bound by blood oath, just because he considers Aelin his queen and his fae instincts want to serve and protect her (I doubt he’d swear another blood oath and I doubt Aelin would let him). 
  • I want Fenrys to forget about the time he spent serving Maeve. 
  • I want him to heal, to get drunk with Aedion and to teach Lysandra better fighting techniques, to wear Evangeline’s flower crowns and to annoy the shit out of Lorcan. 
  • I want Fenrys to finally do all the things he wanted to do before he was enslaved to Maeve. I want him flirting for fun and bed everyone in Orynth because he wants to.
  • I want Fenrys to be free and to be able to leave for a few days, whenever he wants, without having to ask anyone for it. Fenrys being a free wolf. 
  • I want Fenrys to shift every morning and just run and hunt through the trees as fast as he can, enjoying life for the first time in centuries. 
  • I want him to sometimes leave before the sun rises and coming back when it’s already dark. Or maybe, he’ll curl up, still in a wolf form, at the base of a tree and spend the night under the sky, howling back when other animals make to much noise. 
  • I want him to wake up one morning, somewhere in Oakwald Forest, to a slightly smaller wolf (but still, very clearly fae) staring at him. And he’d snarl at the wolf, who’d quickly turn around and run away. 
  • That’s when her scent would hit him. And fuck, he’d start chasing her, tracing that scent, that wonderful scent through the trees. 
  • He’d be amazed by how fast she is, how easy she turns and twists to avoid fallen trees and roots, how far she can jump in order to avoid the little rivers. He’d be amazed by how everything she seems to do, while even in a wolf form, has his heart beating faster.
  • They’d chase each other for hours. Sometimes he’d slow down when she’d try to catch her breath, because he doesn’t want it to end yet. Sometimes she’d get slower so that he wouldn’t lose her scent, because she knows that it’d break them both, though they have never even exchanged words. 
  • And when they’d run out of the forest, on the great plains north of Perranth, Fenrys would finally bring that chase to an end. He’d finally use his power and appear just behind her and through years of training he’d somehow shift while tackling her at the same time.
  • She’d let out a squeal of surprise, when this huge male fae takes her down in one swift motion. And then she’d stop fighting because fuck, he’s beautiful. He’s breathless and strong above her, a cocky smile that show the elongated canines. Canines she immediately wanted in her neck. 
  • Fenrys would hesitantly get his body of her wolf form, a small amount of fear should she run again. But then she’d shift into the most stunning fae he’d ever seen and he knows that even without the mate bond she would have had his attention. 
  • She’d be slightly frowning and when he’s still to stunned to ask her what was wrong, still to breathless to soothe the crease between her brows, she’d speak up. And even centuries later Fenrys would still laugh to himself silently at night when he’d be alone, on a mission for Aelin, that the first words his mate ever said to him were: „What the fuck?“, followed by a  „What kind of stupid power is that?“
  • Fenrys would be equally surprised and delighted, his smile widening further. Her eyes would again, observe his sitting form, halting again at the sight of his teeth and his instincts would be screaming for him to bite her, claim her, satisfy her in ways no one but her mate could. But he wouldn’t. He’d ignore these instincts, keep them on a tight leash, because she was his mate, and he’d just met her, but he knew she was better than a territorial, instinctual fuck in a plain. 
  • He’d get up and hold out a hand to help he get up, and she’d take it without hesitation. His first words to her would be something along the lines of „Let me show you how useful that power can be“, tugging her close, while using his power to get them away.
  • She’d again let out a slight scream of surprise and her body would tense up and hold on to him a bit tighter and he’d never want to let her go. 
  • And he’d sit down, next to a small stream that silently flows through the clearing, and she’d do the same, right next to him, but at angle she could look him directly in the eyes. The instincts to touch her wouldn’t stop and so he’d settle for gently taking her legs and placing them over his lap, pulling her even closer. 
  • Then they’d talk. About everything. About how he’d grown up, how her parents had fled to Wendlyn when Terrasen fell, how he’d ben bound to Maeve, how she’d left as soon as she heard that magic was back. How they were both running through the wild because they could. 
  • They’d also have ridiculous conversations. 
  • Whenever she’d get lost in his eyes, he’d start saying the most random, scandalous things that come to mind to see her reaction. She wouldn’t react, she’s too lost in his beauty. 
  • She snarl softly, but always with a hint of need, when his eyes focused on her chest, not her face. When the circles he traced with his hands went to far up her thigh. 
    • „Are you always this needy?“
    • „Says the one who’s been staring at my canines for hours.“
    • „I have not.“
    • „Yes, you have.“
    • „Fine, what if I did? What are you going to do about it?“
    • He’s gently move her hair to the side, letting it fall down her neck, tracing her neck with his fingers and eyes. „What would you want me to do about it?“
    • „You know what I want you to do about it.“ Claim me. Mark me. Fuck me. 
  • Then Fenrys would finally act up. He’d kiss her for the first time. 
  • At first it’d be soft, it’d be the whisper of a kiss. But then she’d move her arms around his neck, one hand on his cheek and she’d move to properly sit on his lap. His restraint would snap. His left hand would be at the small of her back, pushing her closer to him. His right hand would be at the back of her head, smashing their lips together in a wild, messy kiss. When she’d moan, her lips parting slightly, he’d take it as an offer to explore her mouth. 
  • The kiss would almost be brutal, fierce, they’d have other times to go slow. This time was for instincts, to satisfy not only the primal male need in his body, but also hers. Judging by the way she was kissing him back, her instincts were screaming just as mercilessly.
  • Instincts that had him ripping both their clothes in ways that had him knowing they’d have to return to Orynth in their animal forms or naked. 
  • And he’d lay her down in the grass, dragging his mouth over the spot she had wanted marked since the moment she’d first seen him. Both her hands would be at the back of his head, pushing him closer to the skin, hoping he’d finally pierce it. But he wouldn’t. He’d lick that spot, he’d kiss it, he’d suck a deep purple mark, but he wouldn’t bite her yet. 
  • When she would mewl in discontent, he’d mumble a „Patience, little wolf“ and move his mouth down to her breast and suck more marks there. Yes, they’d have to return in wolf forms, not that he was planning on leaving this clearing anytime soon.
  • He’d go down to where she needed him most, leaving a trail of markings behind. Bruises that would be there for days, marking her as his even without a bite. 
  • Fenrys would groan when she opens her legs for him, drenched and ready for him. That scent. 
  • And he’d lick, nibble, suck and savor, kneading her backside as her hands push his mouth closer, closer, closer to her. When he pushes his tongue into her, her back arches of the ground and she growls deep. Her hands are tearing at his blonde hair, and he knows she’s about to come.
  • When she does, Fenrys thinks that he could come just by hearing the sounds she makes. And as he continues liking, he can’t stop one of his hands going to his cock and giving it a desperate tug. 
  • Of course she’d notice and pull at his hair, smiles and claims his mouth in a kiss. When Fenrys sinks into her… He buries his face into the juncture between her neck and shoulder, the moan so primal, animalistic he feels her shudder under him. If the stinging sensation of her nails breaking skin on his back is any indication, he’d say that his mate is as lost in the pleasure as he is. 
  • It’s a fast, hard pace he sets and he knows that they won’t last long if he doesn’t slow down, but he can’t bring himself to care. Cum, cum for me. 
  • When they finally reach that peak, he sinks his canines at the base of her neck and his orgasm feels never ending as he tastes her and her blood in his mouth at once. That’s when he feels it, a sharp, wicked bite on his bicep, close enough to her mouth for her to reach without moving to much. 
  • They would lie next to each other, silently giggling, teasing and touching for hours, before shifting into their wolves and rolling up next to each other. 
  • They’d spend at least a few more days in that clearing, hunting together and having sex in every position imaginable.
  • And when they’d finally go back to Orynth, they are in wolf form, because the clothes they had been wearing could not be saved. 
  • Basically, I want Fenrys to be happy and free and to find someone worthy and to have a lot of consensual sex.

trashtopian  asked:

I saw your headcanon about Nico and needles, where Will kissed him to distract him, but what if Will found out WHY Nico hated needles. Like, maybe something happened to him when he was trapped in Tartarus that had to do with needles and it traumatized him, so now he hates needles?

Warning for indirect mentions of homophobia

“Hold still,” Nico couldn’t see the man’s mouth moving behind the surgical mask, but Nico knew the voice belonged to no one but him. He had this nightmare many times before, and it didn’t matter how hard Nico struggled, he could never get free. He had stopped wiggling, though the man still held him roughly by the shoulder. He didn’t seem to mind that he was squeezing Nico’s bicep hard enough to bruise. “Sub-human things like you must be cured.” he said the word like it was something holy, and Nico supposed that, to him, it probably was. He had been the doctor entrusted to “cure” the people who weren’t just like him.

He was trying to cure Nico of liking men.

Nico supposed it was the time, most people didn’t understand that there were people who just didn’t love the same gender, or they loved more than one. It was a taboo topic that was never allowed to be discussed. The strange people who held these feelings were considered less then human and were sent away to be “cured”. It had never actually happened to Nico, but he still dreamed of it often.

Nico felt the needle pierce his heart, and by now he no longer screamed


“Sone of Hades,” the hissing voice belonged to a woman, that much Nico knew, but beyond that he was clueless. “Why do you no longer scream?” Perhaps it was a monster, but Nico wouldn’t put it passed that it could be a goddess. There were twisted deities down in the Hell Hole that were just as bad as the monsters the Pit had to offer. Why did Zeus allow a god for everything? Even torture?

Nico didn’t answer her, instead focusing on trying to find a way out of his predicament alive. He wasn’t going to die here. Not in Tartarus. Not without seeing Hazel’s face one last time. No. he was going to make it out. He just wasn’t sure how yet.

He heard more then saw the smile that the thing gave whatever it was that was holding Nico down. They appeared to be empousa, though Nico couldn’t even tell if there were one or two holding him down, so it was hopeless to try and even identify them. It was best to just try and find any weak spots. It didn’t matter what they were. Until the woman’s command made Nico’s blood run cold.

“Carve his heart out with a needle.”


“Oh, Nico, you could’ve just told me,” Will looked hurt, and Nico felt a pang. He hadn’t told Will the stories to make him feel guilty. He had just been trying to rationalize his own fear.

“I’ve been trying to get over it. It shouldn’t be such a problem.” Nico picked at a loose thread in his shirt, accidently unraveling some of the seam. He really had been trying to get over his fear of needles. He was going to need to eventually, so now was a good a time as any to start.

“Still,” Will gently pulled his hand away from his shirt, probably to try and save it. He kissed Nico’s knuckles, and though it’s something Will does often, it still makes him blush. Nico was betrayed by his pale skin as Will laughed quietly at his complexion. “Thank you for telling me. It’s kind of unavoidable, but I’ll try not to use needles when I don’t have to.” Nico appreciates it, though he knows that there’s no substitute for needles. Still, it’s a kind thought. “You ready to go get some lunch, Nico?” Will pulls Nico completely out of his memories, and with a smile, he nodded.

I am alive

A Friendship Broken and Repaired (SherlockxFem!Reader)

Name: A Friendship Broken and Repaired

Author: Maddy (laterthantherabbit)

Pairings: SherlockxFem!Reader, Watsonxreader (platonic)

Words: about 2300


You had awoken to the lazy patter of the raindrops falling over London and Baker Street on a cool, Sunday morning. Today was a lazy day and you felt content in curling up in the flat above with the boys, a book in your hands and a fire in the fireplace. Well you were until you went to put in your contacts and found them missing. Sure you had put them back in your tiny bathroom the night before, you looked around your bedroom and within the bathroom cupboards. Even your spare contacts had disappeared. Frustrated, you pulled out the glasses you had for these emergencies from your bedside table and made your way up the seventeen steps to ask Sherlock and John if they had seen them around, messy bedhead and raggy pajamas be damned.

“Sherlock! John!” Your voice echoed throughout the flat and you could hear the murmuring of Sherlock’s baritone voice in the kitchen, along with something that sounded vaguely like ‘John’s out’. “I can’t find my contacts. Have you seen…them?” Upon entering the kitchen, you trailed off your question and anger surged through your body. You had found Sherlock and your contacts in the kitchen, well, more like you had found Sherlock with a pipette putting drops of who knows what into your contacts cases and hence, on your contacts. “Sherlock?”

“Hm?” He barely registered the angry waver of your tone and continued to drop whatever it was onto your contacts.

“What are you doing to my contacts? I need them!”

“Experiment. I needed to see how quickly hydrochloric acid will react with the contact lens cleaning solution on the lenses. It’s for a case.” He didn’t even look up from the table, instead just waved his unoccupied hand nonchalantly around the flat in place of an eye roll. “Obviously.”.

“I don’t care about your case! You can’t just take these things! I need them to work and read and see, you bork!” Your face had now become flushed with your boiling blood, eyes in a frenzy and your posture furious and irritated as Sherlock continued to experiment on your contacts. You couldn’t stand it. You grabbed a tea towel and threw it over the now useless contacts and pulled Sherlock’s chair, along with Sherlock away from the table, causing him to protest with a series of whines. 


“I needed them Sherlock! What if I took your microscope?”

“Nonsense Y/N, it’s far too heavy for you to take.” You scoffed and made your way back to the entrance of the kitchen whilst Sherlock stood. “Anyway, I’ve gathered enough evidence about you to know that you had a pair of glasses somewhere for these…” He put down the pipette and looked towards you, his eyes widening minutely and a faint blush dusting his angled cheekbones as he finished his sentence, “… situations.”

Sherlock had never seen you in anything but your generic pair of washed, worn skinny jeans and loose-fitting button shirt hanging undone over a plain tee-shirt, hair in a messy bun or ponytail with your feet clad with odd socks (he never understood your preference for socks). Now, he saw you in your most messy (but comfortable) jammies, which consisted of worn-in, plaid, blue and red flannel trousers and an oversized graphic tee with the Star Wars logo plastered over it, both of these thoroughly holed, stained and absolutely too big on you. The shirt reached your mid thighs alone and the pant cuffs had to be rolled up several times to stop you from tripping over them. Your narrow feet were bare from socks, allowing your mint green toenails to be exposed to the chilly flat and your slightly wavy Y/H/C hair was loose from its usual hair tie, instead falling past your shoulders in a messy array of kinks and knots, one side flattened from sleep. You saw his eyes scan your unmade appearance but quickly becoming transfixed on the glasses perched on your dainty nose. The tortoise shell frames encircling your bright round Y/E/C, making them seem darker than their usual shade and the turquoise arms of the glasses caressing your face, becoming hidden by the unruliness of your hair.

“Sherlock?” He had been staring at your face for an uncomfortable period of time now, causing your anger to slowly melt into concern as he stood stock-still for a couple of minutes. “Sherlock!”

“Hm? Oh yes Y/N, what do you want? John’s gone out but he’ll be back shortly. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some contacts to acquire since the last attempt of my experiment is now irrelevant.” Just like that, your anger resurfaced like a wildfire. As he tried to make his way past you, you grabbed his bicep hard enough to earn a yelp from Sherlock. “What are you doing?” He looked down at your petite figure and saw your eyes through the frames of the glasses, shrouded with anger, and he shied away from you slightly.

“You are not leaving this flat for anything until you apologise to me for destroying my contacts Sherlock! You can’t just run away from this, I needed them!”

“I don’t see what the problem is really. You have your glasses after all.” Sherlock rolled his eyes as you released your grip and he flopped onto his chair by the fire, not wanting to experience your iron grip again.

“Oh my God! Do you not have any respect for other people’s things? No don’t answer that it was rhetoric, of course you don’t!” Sherlock just glared at you as he began to sulk in his chair and by now you were fuming with irritation. How dare he just go into your room and take your lenses? “Hang on…”

“Yes Y/N what now? You’ve pulled me away from my experiment and now your thinking is driving me mad. What is it?” Sherlock’s snapping did nothing to pull you away from your musing as you settled yourself in John’s chair.

“How’d you get into my room? When did you go into my room? I wore them all day yesterday and took them off before… oh my God you were in my room whilst I was sleeping! Sherlock that’s just creepy!”

“Calm down it’s not like I was watching you sleep! I just broke in to use your lenses for this experiment, it was imperative for the case I’m working on!”

“You could’ve just asked me!”

“You would’ve said no!”

“Exactly! You can’t just take my stuff, especially stuff that I need, for your experiments!”

“Then I wouldn’t get to do any experiments!” Your bickering was quickly escalating into a full blown yelling match when you heard a third voice join the apartment.

“What’s going on here?” John’s arms were full of groceries and his face was full of concern.

“Sherlock took my contacts and destroyed them as well as my spares and won’t apologise!”

“Y/N won’t let me experiment in peace!” You both began to argue at the same time whilst John put the groceries on the left over space on the table, returned and stood between you, his Captain Watson persona emerging from the jumper wearing Doctor Watson.

“Enough! Sherlock, say sorry.”

“Me why? She’s the one who wrecked my experiment!”

“Because I said so that’s why! You shouldn’t have used her contacts for whatever you were doing if you could have just gone and gotten some another way.” Sherlock grumbled and burrowed himself further into his chair and John sighed, exasperated. Like living with a child.

“It was a matter of convenience.” This was the final straw. Did Sherlock not think your feelings as important to you? Of course he could be brash at times but even so, to completely ignore you as a person for his own selfish needs was all was needed for the dam to break and your despair to completely wash over you. You could feel tears prick your eyes and begin to well against your eyelashes.

“Whose convenience Sherlock?” He straightened up in his chair at hearing your wavering voice, laced with the oncoming tears. He glanced at you and immediately regretted doing so. The glasses you wore did nothing to hide the redness that threatened to seep into the whites of your eyes and the glassiness that now covered your irises. If anything, they made them all the more heart-wrenching. He looked back down into his knees and said nothing.


“No, it’s okay John. I don’t know what I expected from all of this. I’ll see you later maybe, okay?” Without waiting for an answer, you left the flat and returned to yours, silent tears streaming down your face as your friendship with Sherlock broke into pieces.


“You really should apologise Sherlock.” John sat back into his chair, a cup of tea perched on the arm of the chair and another handed to Sherlock. “That was really very childish.”

“I know.” John just looked up from his cup, slightly smug, and sighed. Sentiment and feelings always were somewhat of a lost concept on Sherlock. “I don’t understand though, it’s not like any of my other experiments haven’t affected her. Why did she react like this to this specific experiment John?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it has to do with you abusing her privacy and her possessions and then not taking responsibility for it?”

“I may be unaccustomed to many social cues but sarcasm isn’t one of them John.”

“What do you want me to say Sherlock? You really went out of line here and not only aren’t you taking up the responsibility of your actions you completely disregarded how Y/N might have been hurt by this!” Sherlock stretched out on his chair and flung an arm over his eyes, his face picture of sorrow and regret.

Though he didn’t show it often, Sherlock really did value your friendship in the highest regard. You were one of the people who could actually stand being with Sherlock. You usually encouraged him in doing his experiments, becoming just as engrossed in the process as him which was why this situation was completely foreign to him. He didn’t know why this would have been different to all the other times he did an experiment with you. He groaned and shuffled further into the chair. If he were to admit it to himself, he would admit that there could be something more he felt for you but now, he may never get the chance to explore this because of his ignorance. 

“I need to fix this John.”

“Yes. Yes you do.”

“But how John? I never meant to hurt her like this. How do I undo this?”

“Don’t ask me. Figure out your mess yourself.” With that John opened the paper he had bought and proceeded to read, completely leaving Sherlock alone to fix the mess he had made. He repositioned his body in his chair and grabbed his laptop, determined to find the perfect way to apologise to you.


You had returned to your flat nothing short of disappointed and extremely upset. For how good your friendship with Sherlock was, you both had days and issues which could just rupture the relationship between you two, yours just happened to be belittlement and a complete disregard for your emotions. But what did you expect, this is Sherlock, high-functioning sociopath with no intention with making friends and keeping in check with others emotions. You reasoning with yourself did nothing to keep your disappointment from your person. All you had wanted was to be with two of your best friends on a rainy day but instead, your argument could have just made that impossible for the foreseeable future, could have just made one of the most interesting people in your life not want to look at you ever again.

Your feelings for Sherlock had quickly surpassed mere friendship into more once you had moved into the flat below him and John, however you had always been sure to keep them to yourself, not wanting to ruin what you had with Sherlock. But what use is that now? I ruined it anyway.

Your tears kept running down your face and you sniffled back the sobs that threatened to escape your throat. Not wanting to wait around in your despair for tomorrow to come, you made your way back to your bedroom, took off your glasses and got back under your doona. Though you had only woken an hour or so ago, sleep came swiftly to your emotionally drained body and you slept fitfully for the rest of the day.

It wasn’t until just after seven in the evening when you woke again, and what you woke to was anything but normal. Your room had been decorated with your favourite flowers in a variety of intricate vases, their fragrance becoming entwined with that of your flat and something delectable coming from outside your door. Your eyes still stung slightly from your crying and you could feel the streaks of dried tears on your cheeks and the clench of your empty stomach. You made your way to the bathroom and scrubbed off the evidence of this morning’s emotional ride before entering the small living area of your flat, glasses once again on your face. Here the flowers continued and the scent you picked up before was stronger. You could here clattering coming from your kitchen and a deep mumbling as well. You didn’t know whether to be happy or mad at Sherlock for entering your flat without your knowledge again to put your favourite flowers around the entire place. You walked groggily to the clattering to see Sherlock setting a plate of your favourite comfort food onto the table, along with even more flowers and a simple card. “Sh’lock? What’re doin’?” You saw him jump at your raspy voice and clearly look sheepish at being caught in your flat again.

“I-I wanted to apologise for my b-behaviour this morning. You weren’t meant to be up until I was finished and see me here because I…” He started to look flustered as you took in his efforts. “I know that you don’t appreciate me coming into the flat unannounced, especially while you’re sleeping but I just didn’t know what to do and John wouldn’t help so I don’t know if this is okay but I’m sure that flowers are given when seeking forgiveness and…Oof!” His rushed speech was cut off by your small frame enveloping his in a tight hug.

“Thank you Sherlock. You didn’t have to do all of this but… thank you.” He could feel your tears that had once again surfaced seep into his shirt.

“I really am sorry Y/N. I should have considered your emotions before taking your contacts.” You couldn’t help but huff out a little laugh at his way of apologising. His arms encircled your body and you leaned even further into his embrace.

“Yes you should have.”

“I like the glasses more though. They look nice.” You laughed out a little more as you continued to hug Sherlock, sensing his mouth curve into a rare smile. You could feel your friendship knit itself back together, and though your feelings grew stronger for the madman in your arms, you continued to bury them into your body, unknown that Sherlock was doing the same. And if you decided to wear your glasses more often, no one said anything about it.