#<50k

Caesura by emilycare

Johnlock Love Letters #2406

“I think I’m homophobic.”

Hank chokes on his orange juice. He frantically looks around before leaning in, lowering his voice to an exaggerated whisper. “Dude, what the fuck? We’re on a college campus, you can’t just say shit like that in public."

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I want to be!”, Ray hisses back, matching Hank’s tone.

“So what on God’s green earth are you talking about?”

Ray sighs and leans back in his seat. “It’s just– Pete came out to me like a month ago, right? And since then, I just get this sinking feeling in my stomach whenever he mentions that he’s hanging out with some– guy. Well, obviously not when he meets up with you or Art, but like, guys I don't know. This Harkness kid that was glued to his ass after his gig? I hated seeing them together. Or when he tells me he goes to the gym with Collie Parker, it’s like I feel disgusted by the idea of them even being near each other. When his friend came to visit, I couldn’t stand being in the same room as them. It makes me sick imagining him– him being intimate with any of them.”

Hank stares at him.

———

Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield

13k words

T rating

You're Not Designed to be Alone by thalialunacy

Johnlock Love Letters #2418

Golden Ticket by DiscordantWords

Johnlock Love Letters #2394

Years after an odd, gruesome, and highly publicised breakdown ruined his career, a disgraced candymaker has abruptly reopened his factory. His motives are shrouded in mystery, something that only serves to inflame the curious public. To celebrate his triumphant return, he launches a contest: five golden tickets hidden at random in chocolate bars distributed throughout London. The lucky recipients of those tickets are promised an experience they will never forget.

And so, on one cold morning in January, five winners gather to claim their prize. John Watson is among them.

Pete considered the question for a long moment, then said, “tell me somethin’ you never told anybody else.”

Ray blew out a quiet laugh. One foot in front of the other. “You wanna know my secrets, Pete?”

Pete’s voice was slow like molasses in the dark of the night. “I wanna know everything.”

———

Pete’s been having a harder time adjusting to a 9-5 office job than he expected. Sure, he’s happy to be getting paid more to do less intense work, but that doesn’t mean his brain isn’t dead by the end of the day. His once-erratic sleep schedule has been crunched into an oppressive new shape. He got the job expecting that he’d be able to subsidize his artistic endeavors, but laid back (read: boring) as the office is, he still finds himself zapped of creative energy once he’s home. The last thing he needs is another stressor.

The inevitable stressor announces himself after about a week of residence in 7C at 1:21 AM, and Pete checks his alarm clock with a disgruntled expression to make sure this is true. Unfortunately, it is, because the unmistakable sound of muffled moans starts drifting through Pete’s walls. It’s coming from the direction of 7C, a percussive, pitched “Oh, oh, oh!” that dissolves into a delighted giggle.

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the one where pete is ray's neighbor and they have a forum-feud about ray's loud sex at erratic hours, only to meet and have loud sex at erratic hours.

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