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i-cant-sing · 3 years

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platonic todoroki family when y/n gets her first period at tries to hide it 😫 (bonus if it's Dabi who first finds out)

Yandere Todoroki Clan x reader getting her period

Well, a lot of people have been requesting about this one lately and well, I also got mine today, so lets me miserable together.

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Okay, so we're gonna first do the scene where reader gets her first period and then we'll do some headcanons of the family taking care of the reader during her period.

Imagine Enji and Rei are out that day, so its just you and your siblings in the house. You guys decided to have a movie night since you weren't feeling well. Fuyumi and Natsuo went out to get some snacks for the movie, and you and Shotou were making a blanket fort (and trying to stop Dabi from destroying it).

"Dabi! Stop being a jerk!" You threw a pillow at him, which he dodged laughing like a maniac, while Shotou was busy rebuilding the corner Dabi had kicked down.

"Didn't you hear? This is an all boys zone. You need to leave."He said before throwing the same pillow at you, causing you stumble back. But before you could lunge at him, Shotou stood between you two. "Y/n, why don't you go wait in your room? I'll call you when I'm done with the fort."

You huffed. "Fine. But there better be a fort here or I'm going to murder him." You left the room, grumbling curses at Dabi, who kept mocking you until you left.

Dabi soon got a phone call and he left Shotou to take it, the latter continued building the fort. When he was finished, he went up to your room, but didn't find you there. He was about to leave when he saw a red stain on your bed.

Is that... blood?

"Y/n? Y/n! Where are you?!" Shotou called out for you, worry dripping in his voice. He ran down the hall and knocked on the bathroom. "Y/n?! Are you in there?!"

"Sho? Yeah, I'm here- WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO OPEN THE DOOR? I JUST SAID I'M IN HERE!" But he kept trying to turn the locked door knob. "You're hurt! Let me in-" "NO! Just call mom or dad!"

Shotou backed away before running back down to the telephone but before he could dial Rei's number in, Dabi snatched the phone from him. "Who are you calling?" Dabi asked him, wondering if he was calling Rei to complain about him. "Give it back! Y/n- she's hurt! She's bleeding!" Dabi's eyes widened a bit as he suddenly heard you crying. Shotou immediately left the phone and ran to you, Dabi following him.

"Y/n?! What's wrong! Let me in so I can take you to the hospital!" Shotou was banging on the door worriedly as your cries grew louder, telling him to go away and call mom. Dabi pushed his younger brother out of the way and told you to get away from the door, before he broke it down and the sight they saw... a huge puddle of blood in the center of the bathroom, with your pyjamas drenched in them. And you? You were sitting in the bathtub, bawling your eyes out, telling them to call mom.

Shotou eyes widened in fear. "Oh my god. Y/n-" he tried to walk in but Dabi pushed him out. "Get her new clothes, Shotou." "But Dabi-" "Now." Shotou didn't understand but he listened to his brother nonetheless.

Dabi quickly pulled out his phone and called Fuyumi, explaining that you've started to...bleed? He doesn't remember the exact word for it but he vaguely remembers Fuyumi telling him something about it, something along the lines of "it's a natural process. All girls go through it. Maybe you'll have to help Y/n one day too" and he zoned out after that. He kind of wish he hadn't.

Fuyumi told him she'll be back ASAP and she just told him to keep calm and don't panic, because then you'll be panicking too. What she didn't know was that you were already panicking, because you didn't know why you were bleeding from down there because Rei had the bright idea of making you miss school the day they were going to have sex-ed.

"Y/n." You looked at your brother's face- is he concerned? Oh no, if Dabi is actually worried, then it means something is seriously wrong. You began to cry harder. "Am- am I going to die?" "What? No. Look, this happens to all girls. It happens to Fuyumi, mom, everyone." You looked at him confused. This is normal? "Look, just take a shower. Fuyumi is on her way. She'll explain everything to you. Don't worry about this too much. Call me if you need anything."

While you were busy showering, Dabi took your clothes from Shotou and told him to change your sheets. The younger boy was given a brief explanation about what's happening and that you're not dying. As long as you're okay, Shotou was content.

Fuyumi cane back 10 minutes later, whacking Dabi on the way in while Natsuo laughed at his brothers stupidity.

Fuyumi explained periods and stuff to you, and you learned pretty quickly. But you were to embarrassed to be with them, even though Fuyumi told you that it's nothing to be ashamed of, but she let you go to bed early that night, making sure her brothers didn't bother you or embarrass you more.

While you laid in bed that night, Fuyumi also educated her brothers about periods. And they all listened very keenly, especially at the parts how you may get painful cramps and maybe even headaches.

Boy, was that an understatement.

Your period was worse from the day you got them. Usually, girls begin with light, irregular, sometimes even painless periods. But you? You got them super bad and heavy from day 1. Not only that, you gad the worst cramps, and they were so painful that you would end up crying and even vomiting. Mood swings were one thing, but the unbearable pain that you had to endure before and during your period was the worst thing ever. You were bloated, curled up in your bed, and nauseated. You would take the week off from school whenever you got your period, and at first, Shotou would take the week off too to help you, but you didn't want him to miss out on school because of you. So you forced him to go back, telling him that at least one of them should have notes for the other. Fuyumi and Enji would have to go to their jobs, Shotou was at school, Natsuo at his dorms and Dabi was out somewhere too. So it was usually just you and Rei at home, who happily helped you out during your difficult time of the month.

Rei is making you all sorts of warm foods that are both light on your stomach and help relieve your bloating. Even if it's too hot sometimes, she will force you to drink the warm turmeric and honey milk, because it actually does end up relieving some of the pain, but it doesn't have a very significant or long lasting effect. She doesn't get mad when you accidentally mess up the sheets; she just quietly throws the stained sheet into the laundry and replaces it with a new one. She spoils you to no end, happily giving you anything you need.

But Rei does however, withhold painkillers from you. She claims that they're not good for your body, and if you're in super bad shape, she'll only give you 1 pill for the whole week. She has messed up logic, claiming that she doesn't want you to get addicted to them. That she understands that you're in excruciating pain, that you feel like someone is wrenching your guts, but she's not going to relent and give you the pills. So, she'll pull you back to bed, give you a hot water bottle, rub your sore muscles and give you some tea, cooing that you're her brave girl.

And honestly, if you weren't in so much pain and out of energy, you would've punched her, but you're busy clutching your stomach and bawling your eyes out.

Now once Shotou gets home, he sticks to your side lick glue for the rest if the day, giving you massages, rubbing your forehead with his cold hands and your belly with his warm one. He may even sneak you a painkiller (because Natsuo told him that it was okay to give it to you). He'll bring you snacks and put on a movie you wanna watch, cuddling you happily. Later, Rei or Fuyumi may also join your cuddle pile.

When you finally fall asleep from exhaustion, Shotou would get your books and start doing your homework. One less thing for you to worry about.

And when Enji finally comes home from work, he always comes baring treats for you. For some reason, he always knows what you're craving. If you're craving chocolate, he'll have that. If you want ice cream, he already bought two pints of your favourite flavours. Then once he hands you the sweet treats, he'll pull you into his lap, letting you snuggle into warmth. He'll ask about your day, showing concern when you tell him how painful your cramps were. His big warm hand will either pat your head to or rub your lower back, chuckling as you physically melt into him. If you're having a particularly bad day, he may even tell you a story or two until you fall asleep.

When you suddenly wake up in the middle of the night to go the bathroom, you'll always find your annoying brother laughing at your miserable state. He mocks you as you trudge back into bed, groaning in pain with each step that you take. (On the inside however, he's always worries when you're not talking back to him or saying something snarky. He knows you're in a bad condition when you don't respond to his remarks)

Once you're in bed though, he'll poke you and give you the warm hot chocolate (the special one that only he knows how to make) and you're not gonna lie; it's way better than Rei's turmeric milk. It's warm, sweet, chocolatey and it relieves your stomach pain. And if he's feeling extra nice that day, he may even sneak on some chicken nuggets and fries for you. They always put a smile on your face.

Just as Dabi is about to leave though, you ask him if he could stay and cuddle you. The bed is too cold and you're in too much pain. Obviously, his first instinct is to tell you to sick it up, but then you had to whimper, didn't you? Grumbling and mumbling about how much of a spoiled and ungrateful brat you are, he'll get in bed with you, heating the blankets and pulling your back flush against him. And this instantaneously works better than any painkiller in the world.

You sniffle a thanks and Dabi can't help but smile at your adorableness.

You're still a little brat though 💖

Dabi better not complain about helping you so much, because soon, he'll be replaced by boyfriend Bakugou or boyfriend Overhaul🤭🤭

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stupidfatpenguin · 3 years

Text

Grogu likes master Luke.

(Partially because he lets Grogu’s father come visit whenever he can, and partially because he lets Grogu keep a free reign of terror over the creatures in the pond outside the temple, but there are other reasons, too.)

Instinctively, from when they first met, from when Grogu first felt him, he had known that his master is someone special. Only someone very special could enter a place with so much fear and anger and despair and make the Force sing tunes of hope. There is a light in him, a place of good and wanting to do good that wells and overflows and makes the galaxy a little less dark of a place.

Master Luke is very different from the other masters—the ones Grogu can vaguely recall from a past that seems so far away now. His temple is different, too, and too large for the two Jedi it houses. But Grogu likes the training they do, likes the way he feels against his mind, assured and strong, and playful and exploring. Like he is learning with Grogu, rather than just departing a lesson.

He likes master’s flying, the acrobatics he’ll sometimes perform in his x-wing that makes Grogu’s stomach churn with excitement; he likes his astromech, and how he bickers and banters with it like they are family or very old friends, and how he convinces R2 to let Grogu ride on top of his dome head as they zoom around the halls; he likes how he asks Grogu to show him his favourite things and happiest memories, and how he ‘oh’s and ‘ah’s at the right parts when he shows him his adventures with father.

More than anything—more than sitting comfy in his master’s hood as they explore the jungle or getting to play in the pond until sundown, hunting down the largest and tastiest frogs with hunter-like determination that surely would make his father proud—he likes the understanding. Here, at the temple, there is no hiding anymore, and no suppressing what he hears and feels in the universe around him, no hiding what he can do. He is safe. With master Luke, here, he feels safe.

(He likes it even better when father is here because that means his father, too, is safe.)

His master is bright, and kind, and he listens, and he is all this even when Grogu does something he was not supposed to do. Whenever he reaches out for him, he reaches back, and he is warm, warm, warm.

So Grogu likes master Luke very much.

And, naturally, he wishes that he can make his master feel as safe and happy as Grogu is.

(Master Luke is not always happy. Often, he hides his pain and his own fears and loneliness, and Grogu knows because he had long done the same.)

There isn't much one can do when one is only very small, and his master is not as fond of the largest and tastiest frogs as Grogu is (even though he has shared with him memories of a time when he ate them often).

But there are some things Grogu can do.

The first time Grogu sees his master hurt is while they are out in the humid jungle, stacking stones and moving water with the Force. The stones come easy to him now, but the water is challenging in its formlessness. Master Luke is demonstrating a particularly difficult manoeuvre, creating fine, cooling mist out of pond-water.

There, where his shirt once covered his shoulders, Grogu sees the angry red and dark purpling of bruises. His ears flatten against his head, and he wonders how his master could have been made to suffer these injuries. He sometimes has them when he returns from off-world, from places that are probably dangerous—places he goes to so that they can all be safe.

This time, master has not been off-world, and these bruises are relatively small. The cause is likely the nasty, large mosquitos or meat-flies that sometimes find their way into the temple, if they’re not careful enough with the doors and windows.

Grogu vows to eat one the next time he sees one buzzing by.

He likes master Luke very much, after all.

Which is why it is so strange to Grogu when master Luke tries to stop him while he is healing his wounds.

“Grogu,” says his master, eyes wide in surprise and his own hand holding Grogu’s away from his neck—now back to its regular, healthy colour.

Grogu coos, askance. Not better?

“I—you didn’t have to…” master Luke pauses, turns a little, as if embarrassed for a moment. “Thank you, I mean. But I was doing just fine. You should save those powers for when they are truly needed, little one.”

Grogu’s head drops, and he feels unhappy for a moment. He had only meant to help.

His master must sense this, for he reaches out, warm and wonderful, and gives Grogu a brilliant smile.

“Some practice doesn't hurt, of course. But you don’t have to do that again.”

Grogu makes a sound of understanding, but he really doesn’t understand why his master would refuse to let Grogu heal him.

Some weeks the biting bugs are more vicious than others. Grogu makes good on his promise to exterminate every such creature he comes over, and even enlists R2 to his aid, incinerating the ones that Grogu misses.

Grogu luckily does not suffer so badly, and his father is so well protected that no insect could ever do him harm. Why are they so interested in master Luke? Perhaps some people, the ones that are good and powerful, like his master, simply taste better.

(Despite his master’s request that he doesn’t, Grogu sometimes, when seated conveniently in his hood or on his shoulder, can’t resist reaching out in focus, and watching in satisfaction as the skin there is healed and turned unblemished, even when master gives him very accusive stares when he discovers it later, although Grogu claims none of the credit.)

To Grogu’s great worry and frustration, the bruises keep returning.

It is only a day later, when father is holding him just after breakfast, and Grogu clearly spies more terrible bruises on master Luke—red and vicious and high on his neck. He reaches out, whines loudly. Perhaps father can help him convince his master to accept his help.

“Grogu? Hey, what’s wrong, kid?”

Master Luke immediately knows his intentions, but his face, inexplicably, slowly takes on a hue of red. To his father, he explains: “Ah, he… wants to heal me.”

“Are you hurt?” father asks urgently, and Grogu feels validated in his concern.

“No! No, I’m fine, he just, uh…” His face grows redder still. “The other day, he saw the… marks and… healed them. He thinks they’re hurting me.”

His father stares, eyes wide, and Grogu can feel his hand twitching and his body radiate a sort of embarrassment. “Maybe I should… stop doing that.”

Master laughs, smiles mischievously. “Maybe you should start leaving them lower.”

Grogu is suddenly confused. Had his father been the one to do this? Are his father and his master fighting? Hurting each other? He remembers that his father hadn’t been happy when he had tried protecting him when he had wrestled with Cara Dune, because she was “his friend”, but they had never wounded each other. Not like this. Were his father and master Luke, perhaps, not friends after all? None of this seemed to make sense. But he can’t allow them to hurt each other anymore.

So when his two most important people are suddenly standing a lot closer, and his father’s other hand touches his master’s neck exactly where he is hurt, Grogu gathers the Force around him and promptly pushes.

(And because Grogu likes master Luke and his father so very, very much, he is not that sad when he is not allowed frogs for dinner that night).

Tl;dr: Grogu wants to heal Luke’s injuries, but they are actually hickeys.

(This started as a ficlet about Grogu’s feelings on Luke, and suddenly became DinLuke whoops)

#dinluke #skydalorian #grogu #clan of three #salty writes #yeah uh sorry for the formatting Im on mobile #and also sorry for the mess siri can't spell #I forgot to apologise for the frog tropes #there is a lot of frog trope here

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miraculouscontent · 3 years

Video

dailymotion

It’s heeeeere! Another summasalt, this time with nearly twice the length of the first one!

(Turns out that not having caffeine doesn’t help me talk any slower.)

Script below:

Anonymous asked:

Thoughts on Rocketear?

Can you Rocketear the newest episode apart with your salt, my beloved Salt Queen?

Penny for your thoughts on Rocketear?

Aw, anon! You can have that for free! I'm a generous goddess.

"Rocketear" begins with Chat Noir and Carapace - just Carapace, really - holding back a pack of what I presume to be the physical manifestation of the writing staff's age, or at least a representation of how behind the times the writing seems.

Just as the dinosaurs break through Shellter. Ladybug shows up with the scientist who revived the dinosaurs in the first place and said scientist uses a whistle to calm the dinosaurs down. There's also a line from Bob Roth about putting the dinosaurs in a theme park to make money and I know what it's referencing but it's so incredibly random that it doesn't really come off as a proper joke.

Carapace was notably sad right after battle, but insisted that he was fine when Ladybug asked. Rena, sporting a... - I would like to say "new design" but it's a recolor in every sense of the word - is hiding behind part of a building and smiles after the heroes before walking off. Ladybug takes Nino's miraculous back but sees that he's still upset and asks him again what's wrong. Nino asks where Alya was and Ladybug claims that she only needed Carapace for the job, which cheers him up but only until Ladybug is already gone.

Mm, I guess Nino and Adrien relate in heroism not being enough for them unless they have their respective love interest to flirt with.

Also, I know this is an obvious set-up, but the show can't tell me that Ladybug just always brought Nino and Alya whenever she needed one of them. Season 3 required her to go to Master Fu to get the miraculouses, and unless she already knew that Nino and Alya would be in the same location - which, okay, the show does basically shove the two of them together whenever Nino is onscreen, fair, if two characters are in a relationship in this show then it's weird for them to NOT be with that person - but it just seems like a gamble, not to mention proof to Shadow Moth that the two are close if Ladybug constantly brings both of them.

Anyway, Ladybug goes into the sewer and asks Rena if she's seen any sign of Shadow Moth or his traps. Rena didn't see anything and they de-transform. Marinette is about to leave when she thinks of something, but Alya assumes it's about her new look, which was apparently not voluntary on her part and the suit automatically adapted to Alya's new role as Rena Furtive, which she has now named it as.

Marinette reminds her that this is supposed to be a secret and that they agreed that the fox has no owner. When Alya is evasive about whether she told Nino that she won't be Rena anymore, Marinette stresses that everyone needs to believe that Alya won't be using a miraculous anymore so that she can remain an undercover spy.

What's the point in changing the look if you're not going to show yourself anyway? I mean, insurance, I guess, but still.

Alya, exasperated, parrots what Marinette has apparently told her before: that she helps Ladybug with Mirage in case Shadow Moth tries to follow her so Rena can follow him instead. Marinette stresses the situation again and Alya tries to get Marinette to agree on her telling Nino that she's Rena Furtive, but Marinette refuses.

At Marinette's house, Alya talks further and explains that she doesn't know if she can lie to Nino since they don't keep any secrets--Alya, babe, you kept Rena Rouge from him and didn't tell him that you knew he was Carapace until Ladybug was forced to give you your miraculouses at the same time. I don't wanna hear it.

Marinette states that it's too late for that and also not technically a lie, but Alya gets upset and says that Nino will never trust her again if he finds out that she kept something from him. Marinette brings up how she had to keep secrets from Alya too, but they're interrupted by Tom appearing and wanting to play games with them. Marinette makes an excuse about homework that she's repeated many times, as Tom comments that the teachers give her too much. After Tom is kicked out - hang on, lemme just... - Marinette uses the moment to show Alya that she's lied to her family a lot and hasn't played games with her father in months. She states that there's no other option as they have to protect their identities, and Alya agrees to talk to Nino.

In Alya's room - I just presume at this point that Nino's house doesn't exist and Chris is an illusion - Alya tells Nino that they need to talk, but stammers and states that it's hard to talk about. Nino thinks that she wants to break up with him, but Alya assures that she loves him. She finally gets to the cover story that Rena herself made up in "Sentibubbler" and Nino understands, sad that she won't be around anymore but agreeing if it's what Ladybug thinks is best.

Is it weird that Nino respects Ladybug's wishes more than Alya does?

Nino hugs her and is confused by why Alya was nervous to tell him, as she can tell him anything and nothing will change their relationship. Alya feels guilty and hugs back, murmuring about how they don't have any secrets; that's not what Nino said, but sure, push this plot to its already predictable conclusion. I mean, I thought it was vaguely sweet that Nino switched to seriousness immediately when Alya said that she wanted to talk, but how am I supposed to be invested in this couple when their dynamic boils down to "STRONG, INDEPENDANT WOMAN who wears the pants in the relationship because her boyfriend is portrayed as a wimpy coward"? Like, the show constantly dragged Nino down to make Alya look "powerful" by comparison, and then when it comes to characters like Marinette, we get a girl who works very well outside of her relationship with her endgame love interest.

It's the fakest form of "girl power," dragging guys down to raise girls up or actually making a strong girl character but having her love interest be a weakness that creates flaws in her that weren't there originally and having that love interest be who she's "destined for."

I'm rambling, sorry.

In class, Marinette assures Alya that she did the right thing and Alya agrees. As they're leaving school, Marinette talks about how their "night walks" start soon, and Alya non-subtly talks about how Rena Furtive will be on the lookout while Ladybug and Chat Noir patrol. She stops, however, as gets excited about some pictures she took of herself as Rena Furtive, which has a lot of details that Marinette hasn't seen. I don't know whether to groan at what I just heard or remind everyone that Rena Furtive is literally just a recolor and therefore this is the writers patting themselves on the back for this design, so let's just move on.

Alya then shows Marinette her phone--AUGH, MY EYES--and suggests making a poll on her Ladyblog so people can vote for their favorite Rena design. Marinette has to stress again that Rena Furtive is supposed to be a spy and thus invisible, which Alya admits that she forgot about.

Okay, I've been holding off on talking about this, but now seems like the best time to bring it up. Alya has been a trash friend as well as a trash confidant, and her role as Rena Rouge boiled down to, "it was convenient for her to be the fox at the time it was needed." She's not particularly stealthy like one would expect of a fox, and she was easily one of the worst candidates to be told Marinette's big secret. I'll get more into this later, but I have to stress that Alya has treated Marinette no differently since learning of Marinette's identity and has already gone against Marinette's orders once before at the time of this episode airing. Episodes are constantly torn between validating their decision to have Marinette tell Alya, having Marinette be worried about the decision while the show considers her to be ridiculous for it, and then having Alya either consider or make choices that clearly don't gel well with what's good for her role. Much like Marinette, she lacks a sense of self-control and--wow, a female character who's impulsive, never seen that stereotype before.

Point being, "Sentibubbler" stressed over and over that Alya was the right choice and deserved to be both the permanent fox and the understudy for guardian, but then we have "Rocketear" here where Alya is making basic emotionally-driven errors that I'm not even remotely sympathetic to when Marinette has gone through so much worse over the course of three+ seasons.

*sigh*

Alya laments that it's hard to find new content for the Ladyblog - ah, yes, tell me more about your struggles, Alya - but figures that at least she can post stuff about Chat Noir instead of--I don't know--making fake Ladybug theories to lead people off Marinette's trail. Marinette says that it's a great idea, though Alya still doesn't look too happy. The scene then rewinds to a little bit to show a different point of view, this time with Adrien and Nino. Wait, this feels familiar, wasn't there another episode that did something like--ohhhh no, this is going to hurt.

After saying good-bye to Adrien - something I wish I could do every time he's mentioned or on-screen - Nino catches the bit of conversation where Alya talks about the Ladyblog. Nino talks as if Marinette isn't there and asks Alya out to the movies because Marinette is chopped liver and this is about Alya and how sad she is, guys.

Wow, she's turning into Adrien faster and faster.

Alya hesitates, but Marinette assures her that there's still time. Alya excitedly runs off with Nino and they watch what I presume are previews given the narrator, featuring recycled footage from the Ladybug PV. Nino is upset because Rena is mentioned but not Carapace, and the preview features Rena telling Chat Noir to forget Ladybug because it's Chat and Rena herself who are trulu made for each other.

I don't know what's funnier; the complete lack of self-awareness or the suggestion that a biracial couple would exist in this show outside of a special that gives them maybe a minute of screentime and acts more like suggestive canon anyway. I think I might've been too generous with that line about dinosaurs.

Nino is offended by the preview and Alya brushes off his comments, stating that it's just a cartoon and it's made to entertain people, though Nino himself is certainly not entertained. Can't say I entirely blame him considering that Alya doesn't really try to say anything substantial or even agree with him. No cuddling or reassuring kisses, she just gets slightly sad and turns to her phone for a bit.

After the movie, Nino is cheered back up again until he catches Alya on her phone once more. He offers to take her home, but she's distracted, and he comments that what she showed to Marinette looked pretty nice; I don't know because they didn't show it. Nino asks what it was and Alya evades the question, stating that her battery is running out. Nino is suspicious, but spots Andre's ice cream cart and the two head over there. Andre calls them his favorite couple and asks what they want, but Alya sees Ladybug gesturing for her and has to run off, giving Nino a cheek kiss as she goes which feels like too little too late at this point.

Nino catches some conveniently-placed kids arguing over who Chat Noir loves, but they settle on the fact that girls in general love Chat Noir. Nino is then seen at the Seine watching the Ladyblog's latest video, where Alya is talking up how amazing Chat Noir is. I hate to stop every five seconds to complain - okay, actually I don't - but I presume this video must've been made after the movie since Nino seems like the type who would actively follow his girlfriend's blog, yet not only is this video perfectly set up to echo the kids and the movie preview, but Alya - despite apparently caring about her boyfriend soooo much that she kept trying to convince Marinette to bend the rules - didn't even try to warn Nino or text him so he doesn't take it too seriously. It's like "Sentibubbler" with the conflicting messages about identity rules; Alya cares about her boyfriend but both isn't thinking about how he'll take the things she says and apparently doesn't know him well enough to realize that he wouldn't be mad over her keeping a secret that she was told to keep. I already talked about how they play up Nino to be the emotionally weaker one of the relationship, but then they don't have Alya try to cover or make up for that. She's been acting very much not like Alya - you know, the one who in "Sapotis" practically bragged about how great she'd be at covering for Ladybug - with her stutters and weak excuses, so I can't completely blame Nino for being upset after everything that's happened when he sees the writers projecting onto Alya as she talks about how Chat Noir is brave and funny and cute and showing all these images of him as well. I don't agree with all of his actions, but--oh yeah, speaking of which--

Nino calls Adrien and is talking to him about how Alya must be in love with someone else. Adrien dismisses the idea, as Alya and Nino are together basically all the time, and asks who she could possibly be in love with. When Nino suggests that it's Chat Noir, Adrien laughs and jokes about it being Fang instead. Nino points out the video but Adrien did see it but is overall unphased and convinced that it means nothing. Nino says that he'll find proof and hangs up, but Adrien is certain he'll find nothing. Plagg comments that Nino will find someone because Plagg's charisma has definitely contaminated Adrien.

Ugh.

Adrien expresses concern that he put on the cat's charm too much and accidentally made Alya fall for him, and decides to visit Alya as Chat Noir to be sure.

Meanwhile, we get a reference to film noirs as Nino narrates. That's the second blatant reference this episode and now I feel like they wrote this script while doing a movie marathon.

Chat Noir arrives at Alya's house and Trixx hides before Alya opens the curtains to reveal her surprise guest. Nino is nearby watching the scene with his phone as Alya wonders aloud if something's wrong. Chat assures that everything's fine, but brings up the video she posted. He insists that it made him happy, but points out that she's been following him and Ladybug since the beginning and that they know each other much better due to everything that's happened. He has some conveniently-worded dialog as he starts to say that he hopes something's just an illusion and Alya gets worried that he's about to bring up Rena. Chat continues and clarifies that he wonders if she started to feel something for him, though adds that he understands because just look at him.

UGGGGH.

Chat clarifies by making a heart with his hands, which Nino sees. Alya laughs at this gesture and states that she has a boyfriend, doing the same heart gesture and suggesting that her love for Nino is even more than that. Chat Noir apologizes - hm, I didn't know he had the capacity to do that - and hugs Alya, saying that he was just confused.

An absolutely unnecessary hug for two people who, at least in terms of their current selves, have had very little screentime together, but this is also the show where making eye contact basically means your friends and it's all just to push the plot along so Nino inteprets that Alya is in love with Chat Noir, so whatever I guess.

Alya states that Nino is far more irresistable than Chat, then adds that she doesn't even know his secret identity, and she'd never fall in love with someone she doesn't know. Nino then runs away upset and the scene cuts away to the next day where--

Wait, wait, wait, hang on a second. Two things right off the bat there.

First off, we're just gonna sidle past that "wouldn't fall in love with someone you don't know the identity of" while ignoring the existence of the love square? Not even Chat thinking about how he doesn't know Ladybug's identity and trying to excuse that he doesn't have to? This guy is that certain of their relationship?

Secondly, Nino is practically sobbing and Shadow Moth doesn't take this as his opportunity? Same guy who akumatized Mr. Pigeon 72 times and has akumatized Gigantitan more than once? What is this pacing???

But--alright, so Adrien comes into school and sees Nino, still dressed up in his detective gear, which gets ignored completely as Adrien goes to tell him about Chat Noir and Alya. Because the show doesn't know how Adrien would convey this within reason, Nino interrupts him, taking him down into the lower part of the school where he has a desk and chairs set up. Adrien goes to ask when Nino had time to do this, but Nino slams his hand on the desk to cut him off. Nino presents the evidence he took and they go back and forth, likewise with Adrien turning off the background music while Nino turns it back on. Adrien insists that it's a misunderstanding, but pleads innocent when Nino asks how he knows. Adrien states that Alya is just a superhero fan and that she and Chat Noir have nothing in common.

Again, the complete lack of self-awareness is astonishing.

Adrien repeats what Alya said about secret identities and how she wouldn't fall for someone she doesn't know - they're really ignoring this, aren't they? - and continues hitting Nino's soft spots about how unlikely it is until Nino decides to tell Adrien something he's not supposed to.

He tells Adrien, not only that Alya is Rena Rouge, but that he's Carapace. Adrien goes through a range of emotions beyond sAD for once, shocked at the fact that they know each other's identities. Nino states that they don't keep secrets from each other, except now Alya is with Chat Noir. Adrien still doesn't understand and brings up how secret identities have to be protected, or else Nino wouldn't have told him because Ladybug wouldn't agree to it.

Oh, here we go. So that's why they waited.

Nino states that it was Ladybug herself who gave them their miraculouses at the same time; not giving the reason why, of course, nor pointing out that they're temporary heroes so there's understandably some leeway. Adrien is having a moment, but manages to bring the subject back to Alya and Chat Noir, who he still doesn't think are a thing. Nino argues that it's because Adrien doesn't know Chat Noir, but he does because he's Carapace and knows how Chat Noir acts. He says that it's all flowers and confessions when Ladybug appears, but he gets rejected because Ladybug thinks that he's annoying, and she's right. He adds that Chat flirts with Rena Rouge and that's all that needs to happen, with Chat stepping in on the first mission Carapace lost in. Nino laments the loss of the love of his life and wishes to shut Chat Noir up forever; we all do, Nino, we all do. Shadow Moth finally steps in with - oh, less than eight minutes left in the episode, yikes - and Nino is akumatized into Rocketear.

Rocketear rejects Adrien's pleas to stop, insisting that Chat Noir is who he's after, not Adrien, and Adrien transforms in sad fashion despite Plagg's reminder of who Rocketear is after. Alya, meanwhile, is in the art club with Marinette - wait, since when was Alya in the art club - telling Marinette about how Chat Noir thought she was into him due to the video, which Marinette groans at. There's an earthquake and they peek outside to see Rocketear firing his tears at Chat Noir, shouting that he stole Alya from him. Chat Noir tries to tell him otherwise, but Rocketear won't listen.

Alya groans at Nino doing this, then she and Marinette set off to find a place to transform. They conveniently go to the same place Adrien and Nino were, so they see the desk that Nino had set up.

Genuine question, how seriously does this episode want me to take itself, because now when I recount all the unnecessary love square drama in my head - because you know that's where this is going - I'm going to have to think, "Nino, dressed in a detective outfit, ripped off his fake mustache and told Adrien both his and Rena's identities, and also that Ladybug was totally cool with it and thinks that Chat Noir is annoying."

Gettin' two completely different vibes here. The episode clearly wants to be important but it doesn't take itself seriously either, which it totally could while including enough jokes to keep things light. Instead, I'm just left scratching my head and wondering what tone they're going for.

Marinette finds Nino's phone on the desk - I'm calling continuity error on that one because he at no point put it on the desk, at least not on-screen - and she questions Alya on the video she sees. Alya insists that nothing happened, apparently completely unphased by her boyfriend having spied on her, and says that he wouldn't have misunderstood if he'd heard the actual conversation.

The two transform and Ladybug immediately uses Lucky Charm, receiving a projector. Ladybug is clueless and Rena Furtive suggests creating an imaginary movie like Nino. Ladybug gets an idea, remembering Alya's earlier comments, and Rena confirms that she remembers every word of it.

Aaaaand, just like that, all of the tension has been completely sucked away. You know, "Backwarder" was a trash episode, but at least when Ladybug was showing every step of her plan, she didn't tell us what it was.

Meanwhile, Rocketear and Chat Noir are still arguing--I started zoning out at hearing the same thing over and over again at this point, so I just presume they were fighting over who does stuff behind their love interest's backs better; I don't think they came to an agreement but they're both losers anyway.

Chat Noir says that he'll prove his innocence, tossing his baton aside to show him giving up, but Rocketear points out that it proves nothing and strikes Chat Noir with his tears.

Our endgame love interest, everyone. Straight As yet about as smart as a sack of bricks, and that at least won't flirt with anyone non-consensually.

Chat Noir makes a point that he doesn't want to hurt Rocketear, and Shadow Moth tells Rocketear to take his miraculous before finishing him. Chat Noir can only weakly tell him not to before Ladybug snags Rocketear's wrist and diverts the shot. Ladybug explains to Rocketear about the projector and how it'll let him hear the audio of the recording he took. She adds that she doesn't know what Chat said, but she trusts him.

Marinette, I'm sorry, I feel so bad for you.

Ladybug turns on the projector and Rocketear relaxes at actually hearing what was going on. Rena then de-transforms and hurries out to meet with Rocketear, hugging him as Rocketear apologizes for doubting her. Alya also kinda sorta apologizes in a way I don't understand and Rocketear then breaks his akumatization, very casually, all on his own.

Yeah, just--casually, in a matter of seconds in fact. You know, it's really sad when people resisting akumatizations are more tense and emotionally compelling than them breaking them. This is twice in one season now and has zero impact considering that Nino's reason for being akumatized was already taken care of so he had no reason to stay akumatized anyway. Him breaking his own object to release the akuma would've at least been different, but instead it's just a repeat of what Alya went through with even less tension considering that Alya's wasn't even that good in the first place, relying on her relationship to Ladybug rather than who she knew to be her best friend.

Moving on, Ladybug captures the akuma and uses Miraculous Ladybug to bring everything back to normal. Shadow Moth monologues about how love and secrets don't go well together and he's sure that she has a lot and I'll talk about this later.

Ladybug hands over the magical charm, which Nino takes but insists that he won't need it, as he'll never let Shadow Moth use his love to manipulate him again. Plenty of other things to get akumatized over, but they gave the supposedly ace character a robot to help him stick out and also gave the supposedly aro character a miraculous back in season one to give her more importance. If characters aren't in love then they need something to ceompensate for it.

Nino apologizes to Chat Noir for being wrong and Chat Noir assures him that everyone has doubts, even him. He gets sad and Ladybug asks him what's wrong, but he insists that he's fine - officially throwing away his right to be upset at her later as far as I'm concerned - and they do their usual fist buuuuu--

...Really?

Everyone then splits up and Chat Noir sulks by himself instead of--you know, talking to Ladybug, or asking her anything, or making any sort of excuse for her because that would mean he actually has faith in her and understands that their partnership is different from temporary heroes, even if the excuse was as basic as her wanting to protect him more than the others because he would be that egotistical if they didn't want to stretch out this unnecessary drama.

Later on, Adrien is staring at a picture on the Ladyblog that might be a metaphor for the show considering how "in the foreground" Chat Noir and Rena are.

Adrien vents about Ladybug giving miraculouses to Alya and Nino, but Plagg states that she's the guardian. Adrien clarifies that he's referring to Alya and Nino knowing each other's identities, but Plagg doesn't see the issue. Adrien gets huffy and asks why the rule exists for LadyNoir but not Ninya, but Plagg again points out that she's the guardian, so she makes the rules, though obviously he uses cheese metaphors to convey it.

Okay, Plagg is only, like--half-right because he doesn't have all the information. If you don't mind me rambling for a bit, I'm on the fence here because, on one hand--yes, I agree that Marinette should be allowed to make her own rules, and I often do that in my writing because I think she should be permitted leeway in order to let herself be happy, but on the other hand, it's not technically her rule, as she had to let Alya and Nino in on their identities back in the Season 2 finale, so Fu was still around for a season. She wasn't even guardian yet!

Now, presumably so the fandom could blame Marinette if anything happened, Marinette never discussed this with Fu on-screen, so I can't say whether or not Fu knew, but I feel like he must've since Marinette had to have told him the heroes' identities off-screen, given "Party Crasher," and thus I imagine that Marinette would tell Fu everything that happened, which is consistent with what she does on-screen even if she'd keep things from him for a little while.

"Furious Fu" had also established that not even Master Fu followed rules completely, meaning that Marinette is in this awkward spot of mostly following what Fu taught her, which aren't all guardian rules anyway, and having to break the rules on occasion for various purposes. I can't say what Fu approved of and what he didn't, because episodes spend so much time on the love square that they forget about Marinette as a person and how she interacts with everyone else. From an emotional standpoint, I can't blame Marinette for not revoking the miraculouses of people whose identities get discovered because of her, as I imagine she feels guilty and it probably doesn't seem fair to force them into another miraculous or have them be entirely without one because of a mistake that she made, meaning that someone needs to be throwing a lot of red flags for Marinette to be through with them.

Though obviously, from the show's standpoint, it's just an excuse to not make new models, but I complained about that enough in "Sentibubbler" and this episode even went out of its way to design a detective model for Nino while spraypainting Alya's bodysuit in the same breath, so this is the world we live in.

Anyway, Marinette is essentially in this position where she still has Fu's rules hovering over her, but she's also trying to step out on her own and make her own decisions to varying degrees of success or failure depending on your point of view. Tikki--wait, no, bad idea--Su-Han then, could easily give input on these things, perhaps with Marinette discussing a modern day set of rules for someone her age and going back and forth with Su-Han on what the right choices to make are, finding something that's comfortable but within a realm of predictable control. Su-Han was okay with some rules being broken after seeing how Ladybug handled them and they could've easily made this episode about that instead, but instead, we get rules being set and then being broken on a writer's whim.

Which now brings us to the end of the episode, where Marinette is on the phone with Alya and apologizes for causing trouble between her and Nino. Alya tells her not to worry and she'll fix things - you know, those things that, to Marinette's knowledge, have already been fixed - and asks if Marinette trusts her. Marinette does, and Alya hangs up in order to face Nino.

Yeah, that feeling of dread in your stomach? That means you know how predictable the writing is and what's about to happen, good for you.

Alya explains that she has to tell Nino something and he's worried, this time trying to sheepishly break the tension. She explains that she's still Rena Rouge, much to Nino's shock, and adds that she's in hiding, which is why Ladybug didn't want her to tell anyone. Nino asks why she's telling him if she's not supposed to tell anyone - proving my point from a while back that he wouldn't have been upset had she kept it a secret - then asks if Ladybug agreed with it.

I want to give him a pat on the back for considering Ladybug, but he didn't even tell her when he had the chance that Adrien knows his identity now, so I'm just beaten down at this point.

Instead of answering the question directly, Alya says that she can't hide her identity from him because she loves him and they don't have secrets.

You know, like Nino telling Adrien about Rena's identity, or Alya saying specifically that she's a permanent holder, which I'm sure both of them will confess to since they said that they don't have--aaaaand the episode ends on happy triumphant music, okay.

I mean, I guess Alya at least didn't tell him that Marinette was Ladybug, but that is such a low bar and not even remotely worthy of congratulations when Alya told Nino the specific thing that Marinette told Alya not to tell; the thing that they had agreed on.

Nino wasn't upset anymore. He won't be getting akumatized either. Alya endured the supposed hardship of being a permanent fox holder for four episodes before breaking down and telling her boyfriend. Even her excuse doesn't hold any water because, again, they're both still technically keeping a secret, particularly Alya who knows Marinette's identity as Ladybug. The episode also apparently forgets that Alya and Marinette's friendship must not be as strong by her logic of telling Nino specifically everything, as Alya kept Rena Rouge a secret from Marinette for all of Season 3, but tells Nino about continuing to be Rena Rouge in Season 4. Boyfriends before BFFs without explicitly saying it, or to be more specific, whatever screws Marinette over the most, because that's what this comes down to, made worse by "Optigami" where Marinette told Alya that she'd tell her everything and I guess that doesn't go both ways.

"Sentibubbler" had Alya stress that no one would ever know. She promised Marinette and told Marinette to trust her, and the episode spent its entire running time talking her up and assuring Marinette that she was the right choice, even considering Marinette ridiculous for worrying when Alya had done something without Marinette's permission the episode right before it. Then, three episodes after "Sentibubbler," when Marinette is finally comfortable and trusts Alya completely, Alya betrays that trust. Nino betrayed that trust, knowing he wasn't supposed to do so but telling Adrien his and Rena's identity anyway, because he was losing an argument and needed to PROVE something.

Marinette gives them an inch and they take a mile. Marinette bent the rules so that they could continue to have the miraculous they'd started with and they disrespected her because it was hard for like a day.

And if this bites them back, it won't reflect poorly on them, it'll reflect poorly on Marinette.

It's not like Alya just overrode Marinette. She didn't go, "Hey, I'm telling Nino, I'm sorry," or tried her hardest to go back and forth with Marinette until they both agreed. No, she did what she told Marinette she wouldn't do without saying a word to her, because LOVE and SEEEECRETS.

And this only applies to her, of course, because don't think I didn't notice the parallels between this episode and "Truth," because WOW.

Episode begins with Marinette hoping for something and it blows up in her face? A date at the cinema that ends on a sour note? Plot-centric couple trying to get Andre's ice cream and the female with a secret needing to leave in a hurry? Boyfriend character getting akumatized over their girlfriend's secret? Boyfriend assumes/suggests that the girlfriend's secret involves Aaaaaadrien - or his alter-ego in "Rocketear"'s case - and the episode hints as much to him even though he's completely wrong? Akuma's colors are blue and black? THE BRIDGE?

But, ahhh, little difference, here and there, y'know, like how Marinette was forced to break up with her boyfriend while Alya got to keep hers, and Nino got to have long talks with Alya while Luka got little to nothing with Marinette.

Because do note that Alya, while trying to convince Marinette and talk to Nino about not keeping secrets, at no point suggests that Marinette deserves to be happy and deserves to have a boyfriend and that Marinette should be allowed to tell Luka her secret so they can get back together, so you have Alya here selfishly prioritizing her relationship with Nino while making no comment about Marinette's relationship, essentially asking Marinette to allow her what Marinette herself didn't have the luxury of, and Alya knows this because Marinette told her. It is both incredibly insensitive of Alya and incredibly insulting of the show to make so many parallels between this episode and "Truth" just to have everything crash down for Marinette because she's Marinette while everything goes well for Alya and Nino because they're not Marinette.

We've talked before about the formulas that are literally baked into the show, and one of those is how Marinette makes a mistake in every episode and has to learn from it. What that mistake is in this episode, I don't know, but considering that she apologizes for Alya and Nino's problems, I guess the show blames her for what they themselves had taught her.

Point being, there's a clear karma system in place, but it only applies to Marinette, and forcing her to mess up in every episode means that she is literally not allowed to be with Luka because had she been able to clear things up between them, he would've eagerly accepted her and they could've been happy. It'd be too difficult for her to mess up when Luka doesn't put mountains of pressure and expectations on her like everyone else. Factor that in with how she can be herself around him and it leads to situation that are too difficult for her to screw up in because her mistakes - more often than not - center around Adrien or her role as guardian.

And because another rule in the show is to bring up Adrien so they don't "lose him for too long," she can't avoid bringing him up either. If he's not in the plot, he has to be mentioned, leaving Marinette in a lose-lose situation that she'll never be free from.

So, let me just get this straight then:

The guy who spied on his girlfriend instead of talking to her about his assumptions gets to keep his girlfriend, not because he realized it was wrong regardless of whether he was correct or not, but because the situation had been cleared up for him, yet the guy who actively resisted his akumatization, saddened by his girlfriend's secrets but wanting her to share them when she was ready, gets broken up with and tossed to the wayside because he's not a rich blond boy who got a miraculous because he happened to be within the twenty meters of space where Fu was searching for new holders?

Meanwhile, the girlfriend who has gone against the wishes and insistence of her best friend - guardian of the miraculouses, by the way, so she calls the shots, something that Alya herself said in "Optigami" BEFORE GOING ON TO DO HER OWN THING IN THE SAME EPISODE AND BEING REWARDED FOR IT - is allowed to go against the wishes and insistence of her best friend again for the sake of "all love, no secrets" with her boyfriend and so she can have the happy ending she wants, yet the girl who was chosen for a miraculous without her consent, forced to screw up and talk about a random boy who doesn't even go out of his way to spend time with her, treated like absolute trash by writers who find humor in her misery, and is the only one to receive overly harsh and long-lasting consequences for her actions while also covering up and forgiving the actions of others within the episode where they do it...

doesn't get her happy ending, and won't ever get her happy ending. That thing Shadow Moth said about love and secrets not going well together? Yeah, only goes as far as the writers want it to, because both Nino and Alya still have secrets, and some of the ones they did tell each other were forced by someone else and kept until that very moment. This idea that people in love have to tell each other everything and that it makes a relationship stronger makes me immensely uncomfortable, and that lesson is also in "Guiltrip."

People should be allowed their secrets, and obviously there are exceptions for things that are being hidden with malicious intent, but being essentially forced to share everything or risk not having a "full and complete" relationship is stifling and sounds like it'd only cause stress.

This episode sucks. It furthers and confirms everything I've already thought about the show, Nino's screentime continues to be dependent on Adrien, Alya, or both, there are pointless references that completely take me out of the experience, and the utter betrayal from Alya and supposed message of the episode just reminds me that Marinette is inevitably going to be stuck with a guy who didn't even DO anything in this episode and is going to let himself stew instead of asking for any sort of clarifications from someone he apparently trusts so much.

So the takeaway is that Marinette's life is awful, she'll be forced to apologize for rules that she didn't even come up with herself, her best friend will walk all over her for the sake of her relationship with a guy - not even for the sake, really, they were going to be fine, it was more for HER personal comfort if anything - and the guy who actually makes Marinette happy and could've known her identity instead BECAUSE HE AT LEAST DIDN'T HAVE A TRACK RECORD OF SPILLING HER SECRETS gets treated in the exact same way that she does; like nothing, just something to abuse unfairly.

What a waste of an episode.

#MC's Videos #category: episode summaries #category: salt #salt: adrien agreste #salt: chat noir #salt: alya cesaire #salt: nino lahiffe #video: critique #MC's Renders #render: persona #episode: Rocketear #((I would usually apologize for rambling but you guys seem to like it lol.))#((I could still afford to trim down the summary probably and repeat myself/ramble a BIT less but yeah.))#((I'm also feeling a little more comfortable this time around))#((which might come off in my inflections.))

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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years

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Sherlock Holmes - Kiss Me, Mr Detective

A/N - Season 1!Sherlock, the cutie. And friends to lovers. Two of my favourite things. I do not own Sherlock Holmes, the character, the universe, the adaptations or anything: this is a work of fiction set on the BBC adaptation of Sherlock. Did I still write 8.2k words (exactly) for it? Yes. I also don’t own the song or the lyrics used within, and if you fancy it, listen to ‘Kiss Me’ by Ed Sheeran while reading.

Warnings - Bad language. Mentions of murder and drug usage. Mild angst. Smut, loss of virginity, masturbation, oral m receiving, penetration, unprotected sex, so 18+.

Summary - After a fight with John leaves Sherlock feeling particularly down, he calls on the one person who is always there to support him. Only tonight, it’s different. Feelings come to a head, exploration ensues, but is this just a one time thing? That depends on whether she stays the night...

TO SHERLOCK, it’s just another normal day, whereas to John? He’d rather not admit how regularly these awful days roll around. Sure, the case didn’t go as well as it could’ve, and Sherlock admittedly could’ve made much more of an effort to comfort John after the apparent ‘heartbreak’ he endured. He just could not understand it. Why the hell was John so emotionally responsive to a case they’d been on for less than twenty four hours which turned out to be a bust anyway?

“You are absolutely unbelievable!”

“People die every day, John. You’ve killed people, as have I. It isn’t that great a surprise.” Sherlock deadpans, picking up his teacup, raising it to his lips, drawing a long sip from the warm liquid.

“Oh, yeah, of course. The proud, the cold untroubled heart of stone, that never mused on sorrow but its own.” John mocks. “Do you not even care that people are still dead despite the fact you solved the case?”

“They’d be dead either way,” he reiterates, “at least we got to them before they completely decomposed. Will me caring about them stop them from being dead? No, Dr Watson, it will not.”

“Sherlock!”

“John!” He mimics.

John slams his hands down on the desk, shaking the wood and everything resting on it, surely sending the vibrations through the floor and notifying Mrs Hudson of their ‘domestic’ as she so likes to call them. The buffalo even begins to swing. John’s tea is long forgotten, but Sherlock’s is keeping him grounded, calm, as John waggles his fist in Sherlock’s passive, blank face.

“You-” he pauses, gulping down breath. “You are a fucking machine, I can’t even deal with you right now. How dare you be so cold hearted and untroubled by this. You’re a disgrace.”

As if he hasn’t heard that one before, Sherlock scoffs.

Placing his teacup back down with a clink, he stands, the darkness of the night, of the room, closing in on them both. Nights like these really are danger nights, any night John leaves him. That’s what's coming next, but there isn’t a thing he knows to say or do to prevent the inevitable. He’ll simply just text Her instead, she’ll keep him grounded.

“Why? Emotional context? Emotion, whether of ridicule, anger, or sorrow, whether raised at a puppet show, a funeral, or a battle, is your grandest of levellers. The man who would be always superior should be always apathetic.”

With a huff like a bull, John viciously turns on his heel, blaspheming under his breath, cursing Sherlock out. He reaches for his coat and snatches it off the stand, slamming the door open.

“MACHINE.” John screams before pulling the door shut with a great slam, seething, the coat stand still rocking in his wake.

John’s footsteps thunder down the stairs, but before he’s even gone, Sherlock’s phone is withdrawn, and he’s tapping out a message.

Can you come over? Please? SH

It wouldn’t usually bother him as much. The case didn’t phase him, at all, but John’s opinion did. It always does. But today was a particularly long day of being brutish and rude, cold and distant, his usual and true self, but John’s more and more impatient with him now.

Being called a ‘machine’ is, again, nothing unusual, but this time it stings a little more than usual, especially after his recent arrest, and a fallout with Molly. He only has one person left, right now, who doesn’t hate him. His longest friend, the one he keeps away from it all so as to not tarnish her life with his misdeeds; Y/N, the one he can always rely on.

He knows she’s arrived by the sound of his window crashing open. Crawling up the bricks, skimming the drainpipe, latching onto the ivy; it’s her usual manner of entry. She never uses the door.

Putting his cups and saucers into the sink, he makes his way through the house, opening his bedroom door to find her already sitting there on the bed, her coat hung up on the hook, her work clothes clinging to her body.

“Hey there Mr Detective, you okay?” she asks as jovially as she can muster.

The way he ambles across the room, his dressing gown floating behind him, and slumps down onto the bed, instantly tells her he’s not okay at all. She can’t help but to look upon him sympathetically, edging a smidge closer to him, until he’s prompted enough to wrap his arms around her torso, finding his rightful place tangled around her. She knows him well enough - his past, and his current life - to realise she’s the only person he’s ever felt comfortable enough around to do this with, and that brings her a certain swelling pride in her bosom, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by Sherlock as he feels her skin heat up against his cheek.

It doesn’t take long, either, for his head to follow suit, burying into her chest. He’s always, always had a thing for her boobs, ever since they were in uni together.

That’s something so special about the two of them, he doesn’t have to say anything for her to know he’s not okay the way he does with everyone else. And naturally, he can read everything about her in a split second.

“I’m here, bud.”

Above all else, he just needs to know someone is there for him in moments like these. The world is cruel to him, and Y/N wishes more than anything that it wasn’t. Upon instinct, her hands stray, one to his back, pressing against the silk of his dressing gown, the other cradling his long neck, fingers knotting in the dark curls there.

She isn’t sure how long she stays there, simply holding him, feeling every twitch of his muscles, every breath of his against her skin, but she likes it. Of course she does, every time she likes it. Sherlock brings her an inordinate amount of comfort at the best of times, today is no exception, especially with what the day has held. Even when she’s the one comforting him, he doesn’t realise how much he helps her too.

His flat is so familiar, his bed as comfortable as her own. She knows his sock index, she’s studied his periodic table over his shoulder more times than she’d care to admit, and she even has her own toothbrush in the bathroom in case she has to pop over for an emergency freshen up. Sherlock has, and always will be, her first port of call, and that she remembers as she shifts further onto the quilted bedspread, her phone on his oak bedside locker.

His head begins to stir against her chest, his curls tickling her collarbones, small hums escaping his lips as he pushes himself up, his elegant yet trembling hands still splayed on her waist.

“I could feel your heart beating weirdly, what’s wrong?” he asks, quirking his eyebrows.

“Just the usual.” she vaguely replies.

Sherlock isn’t having it, though, and scans her a little more. “You’re still in your work clothes.”

“Great deduction. I was hoping you’d go a little deeper, though.”

“You hate wearing work clothes longer than necessary, which means you had plans straight after work, considering you finished… five hours ago? That’s your usual time for today. Counting overtime, forty five minutes, walk to your car, another ten, but your umbrella wasn’t working, round that up to an hour, leaving at 6. You arrived home, no, not home, at your boyfriend’s house for dinner. However, you’re not comfortable enough with one another yet for you to use his shower, or perhaps you are, but you elected not to, and stay in damp clothes that only had seventeen minutes to dry with the heater on in your car for the journey there. You ate dinner, Mexican, had a glass and a half of five percent wine, realised you couldn’t drive, but you didn’t particularly want to stay. Nonetheless you sat and watched the telly with him for hours, football, I can see the dreariness in your eyes. I know how much you hate it, and frankly, same. You stayed for almost all of the match, seeing as you’re now sober, but something else happened.” She lulls her head to the side, prompting him, her smile not meeting her eyes. “As soon as the match ended, he tried to make a move on you, he pressed his mouth to yours, he tried to push his hand up your skirt;” his throat bobs with a vicious gulp; despising the thought of anyone else laying a finger on her, “you swatted him away, rightfully so.”

He pauses a minute, his harsh tone of voice and his sharp face softening. He can see the vulnerability in her eyes, her walls about to crumble. This woman he appreciates so much. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

Smiling melancholically up at him, she brings her hand back to his hair, her fingers carding through the soft curls. His face buries back into her chest just as her voice offers a broken whisper, “I broke it off. I was the one who couldn’t commit this time.”

And as she lays her head on top of his, her breathing more shallow, resounding in her chest, he dwells over those very words. The way she said them, not to mention the words themselves, hold a myriad of meaning. What could she possibly-

Oh.

The subtext, yes, impeccable. She’s always had a way with implications and subtext, always knowing that the likelihood of him actually picking up on it is little to none. But now, now he’s become trained to her, her way of life, her way of thinking, her way of speaking. This is too good an opportunity to miss. If she means what he thinks she means, ever hopeful, then this is completely unfamiliar territory.

Gathering all of his courage in one deep breath, he begins to pepper kisses on her skin. The faintest brush of his lips on the tops of her breasts, all that’s available to him with her shirt the way it is. He feels her heart flutter, her breathing stutter, but despite the chemical flush of her chest, he still isn’t quite sure she likes it. Not until he feels her grip on his hair increase, and he glances up to see her head thrown back. Her spine delicately arches against his hand, thrusting her chest further into his face.

His nimble fingers reach for her buttons, undoing the top two, giving him space enough to find the valley between her breasts. Lathering kisses there, licking the swells of her boobs, his tongue pulsates with the increased thrumming of her heart. The sensation is new, so unbridled, and he doesn’t quite know what to do with the stirring in his loins right about now. That unknowing is only further amplified by the sound that rips from her chest when he involuntarily bites down on the supple flesh. It couldn’t be… a moan?

Sure, he understands the chemistry of it, the reactions that occur in the synapses of the brain, the pheromones and hormones released when one is aroused, but this is all new to him. And, from his embarrassingly basic level of theory, surely that doesn’t start until some more stimulation on other parts of the body commence? Nipples, perhaps something lower down… then again, what does Sherlock know?

Of course it’s an intimate moment, the closest he’s been to a woman before, and maybe that’s why he freezes, stops, and she tugs his head up by his hair, her gentle, pleasured smile with her lips softly parted deepening the look of bewilderment painted onto his face. Her eyes are twinkling, alight with an excitement he hasn’t seen for far too long.

“What are you doing?” she whispers.

He shrugs his shoulders with a sudden force, his dressing gown falling off a little. “I don’t know. But now I feel like I read your pining words all wrong.”

She gasps, a wheezing sound, sucking the air from the room. She smacks his arm gently, muffled by his button-down and dressing gown. “I wasn’t pining! I was saying.”

“Hmm, same difference.”

Everyone must acquiesce when it comes to Sherlock Holmes. “But no, you didn’t read them wrong at all, but I know you don’t see me that way, you don’t feel things that way.”

He pauses, his beautiful plump lips pursed, fidgeting on the bed. Brushing her hair off her face reveals the pain she expressed. However, her eyes glued on his, sadness is betrayed in every line of his young, clean-shaven face. His entire bone structure is taking a nosedive.

“For you, I’ve been feeling everything from hate to love to lust, and I guess that’s how I know I want to hold you close.”

“Sherlock...” she whispers, her singular word an inflection of surprise.

Never tearing his eyes from her, his hand comes up to her cheek, rubbing his thumb over the slightly blushing skin, searching her face, with his big blue eyes, for a shred of reluctance. But, all he sees is her, so he elects to do what his heart is yelling at him to do for once, and kisses her breathless. His full lips holding hers, his one hand on her face, the other still wrapped around her back. Hers fly around his neck, clinging to him for dear life.

It doesn’t take long, their movements steadily heating, for their previously slow, intimate kiss to grow into something more, Y/N pulling herself up from the bed and making herself comfortable on Sherlock’s lap. His breath hitches in his throat, a cute little hiccupping sound escaping his lips in between embraces.

As much as he loves just this, soft caressing and gentle petting, he just knows she wants more. He does too, that much is evident from the length prodding at Y/N’s inner thigh as she moves gently on his lap. She won’t make a move, though, he’s too inexperienced, and she’s too much of a sweetheart to corrupt him, so she thinks. Ever since he first saw her, she’s been corrupting him slowly. He didn’t realise at first, but over the years, he began to understand, and now he’s in too deep.

For Y/N? It’s always been him. Every breakup she’s had, she’ll come to Sherlock’s flat, full well knowing the real reason she broke up with them, because she couldn’t commit, because she was too caught up on him.

Skimming his hands beneath her shirt, he savours the press of his hands on her bare skin, warmth seeping from her body into his, his fingers dancing along her spine. Electricity shocks her in bursts, unlike anything else, from his touch alone.

“May I take your shirt off?” he asks.

“Fuck, yes.” she groans. “May I do yours?”

“Be my guest.”

In a tangle of limbs, a few buttons pop off, and eventually, two shirts make it out the other side, tossed from the bed and into the laundry pile. Aka Sherlock’s floor. He’s like that: sock indexes, yet he won’t get a hamper. A walking contrast.

His thumbs press beneath the band of her bra, savouring the pressure of the flesh that falls into his hands, but that’s as far as he gets.

“Never undone a bra before?”

He shakes his head sheepishly. “I know the theory. Just… you always wear peculiar ones.”

“I wear relatively normal bras, and this one is certainly bog standard. Had I known you’d be undressing me Mr Detective, I’d have worn something nicer.”

“Just do it for me.” He requests, chuckling.

She unfastens her bra, and allows her breasts to spill from the cups, into Sherlock’s awaiting hands. The gasp that erupts from him sends Y/N’s brain into overdrive. He’s cupped her chest through her shirt before, buried his nose into her cleavage countless times, but never before have they had such skin on skin contact. Her lips press to his neck, shifting her closer to him. Sucking on his pressure point, she receives a similar gasp in response, only this one is more guttural, more a sound of pleasure than surprise. He’s wilting from a single kiss to his neck.

“Has no one ever given you a hickey?” She husks in his ear, her voice alone sending tremors down his spine.

“N- fuck, no.”

“I’ll make it worth it. All of this.”

“I know you will.”

She fuses her lips onto his again, savouring the faint hesitations as he grapples with his breath, eager to get some control on his mind with all that’s happening. Never did she ever think Sherlock would be here beneath her, his rough fingertips brushing over her peaked buds, and his palms dancing over her waist. Never did she think she’d hear him whisper his next words, either, not in a million years.

“More.” he pleads. “Can we do… more? Whatever that entails?”

“That depends what you want to do.”

“Get me out of these damn trousers. They're rather uncomfortable.”

She snorts lightly, a piggy like sound, the one they bonded over all those years ago. “I can feel why.”

“I imagine you want out of your work trousers, too.”

“God, yes; they’re ghastly.”

“I don’t think so.” he hums. “You look nice.”

Her cheeks begin to burn, blood rushing to colour them, betraying her true feelings, but as he tweaks her nose playfully, the little snort escapes again.

They were in the dining hall, second week of university, almost ten years ago, and Y/N was sitting with her friends, downing enough coffee to sink a ship, eating her hangover away, when her friends decided to make her laugh with tales of last night's drunken events. Unbeknownst to her, one of the greatest minds of the twenty-first century was sitting just a few seats down on the half-empty bench, watching her perceptively in his periphery. That’s when he first heard the sound. The cutest thing, and it startled him into action, beginning his deductions almost instantly. Admittedly, her student ID on the table aided him a little.

He shocked her from her haze, too, as soon as he spoke her name.

“Y/N, eighteen, jurisprudence first year, freshers week over with. You left a boyfriend back home, but you’re more sad about leaving your dog, as I would be. You don’t particularly care about law but know it’s a good undergraduate to receive anyway. Dyed hair, extrovert, killer hangover, and apparently there’s a little piggy living inside your nose. Sherlock Holmes, would you like some aspirin?”

“That’s weird; what are you, some kind of detective?” She asked, sans malice, a playful bounce to her words.

“Chemistry, going for a masters. But I do like the mystery, yes.”

“So you’re… bright. Nice to meet you, Sherlock, and it seems you know almost everything you need to know about me. But yes, I will take that aspirin, if you don’t mind. How was your weekend?”

He smiled at her, the first true smile he’d given in a long time. “It was nice, thank you.”

And thus a friendship was born, all because he heard her little piggy snort.

Her slender fingers work wonders with the fastener and zip of his suit trousers, and even manage hers too, all within the space of a few seconds, but Sherlock is reluctant to let her go, even just to get her trousers off.

“I need to sit up, just for a minute.”

“No.” Sherlock commands, insistent. “We can make this work.”

“Sure we can, but it won’t be very comfortable. Come on.”

She’s barely peeled away from him and wrestled hers off before he’s drawing her back in for a kiss, his trousers settled just above his knees.

“Sherlock,” she protests, mumbling against his lips, her hands on his heavenly, broad, muscular shoulders. “Sher!”

Her squeal at his sudden tug on her panties disappears, captured by his eager mouth. And in fact, her panties seem to disappear along with it, thanks to Sherlock’s swift movements and nimble hands. Maybe he’s had some experience to be so good at this…

“You sure you wanna go this far?”

“More sure than I’ve ever been. I need you.”

He takes a deep inhale, dropping his forehead against hers, his breathing coming out in bursts as he tries to get a grasp on the situation. “Kiss me.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice, instantly getting to work on the waistband of his boxers as his tongue lavishes her own. His hips rise briefly, just long enough for her to tug the elasticated material from around him, slipping past her, and then he kicks it into their growing pile of clothes. His length falls into her awaiting palm, and-

“Wow.” She exhales in amazement. “If I’d known you were packing this much, I’d have jumped you long ago.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

“Absolutely not, until tonight I thought you’d just laugh at me.”

He pecks her lips affectionately, “Never. You’re bloody beautiful, I’ll let you do anything to me.”

“Hmm, anything, you say?”

Stifling a chuckle against her neck, he recommences, “Maybe not anything.”

Yeah, that's definitely the right call. Still, she finds herself all but clawing at him, her breath hovering teasingly just over his lips, their noses touching, her hands clamped to his cheeks, feeling the building heat there. She must be making such a mess of his bed right about now, but for one night? It can’t matter.

This is a one time thing, it has to be. Sherlock just needs to release some tension, she just so happens to be there. Still, she can’t prevent the little glimmer of hope shining through at the possibility of this being a more-than-one-time thing. The moral compunctions of their friendship after this don’t matter anymore, because he’s leaving a fire in his wake, his delicious fingertips digging bruisingly into her bum before trailing lightly up her spine, skimming her shoulder, brushing her neck - arched for him to reach where he wants, able to mark her as his own - and finally slipping over her lips, taken obediently by her awaiting mouth. Christ, if there’s one thing she hopes for tonight, it’s that his actions never relent.

Whether it’s what he intends to happen or not, his fingers in her mouth give her an idea, one she prays he goes along with at least a little, so she pulls away. The dirty, telling smile on her face hints at what she’s about to do, lending Sherlock to shift a little more up the bed, his eyes following her every move. Hands splayed on his thighs, her small fingers gripping onto the fine hairs there, she begins to take his tip into her mouth, never once breaking eye contact with him. Yeah, this is what’ll drive him insane.

Inch by inch, she takes him into the welcoming heat of her mouth, pulling off slowly, only to go down again. She adds her tongue into the mix at some point, too, and her hand, on what she can’t reach, tickling his balls, but further than that, his mind is blank. Hot white, washed with pleasure. The sounds he emits are other worldly, so much that he has to muffle himself with his own hand; what would Mrs Hudson say? He’s always had such control over his mind and body, but this… he’s slowly losing all semblance of control, and he’s not even mad about it. What he does know is that there’s a building heat in his abdomen, a coil about to spring, and his cock is beginning to twitch. If she keeps going this incredible way, her teeth grazing him ever so gently, adding another new sensation into the mix, he’s inexorably going to finish before he can help it.

“As much as I adore your torturous ministrations, I think I need to be inside you…” He husks, his voice deep.

A smirk gracing her lips, she looks up at him through half-lidded eyes, mischief glinting in her pretty little mesmerising eyes for a second, before she hollows her cheeks and takes him wholly, allowing his length to slip partially down her throat. Her moan reverberates around him, and Sherlock begins to thrash above her, scrunching the duvet in his hands, not caring if it creases. If there’s one thing Sherlock hates, it’s creases. And being called a machine by his best friend. Right now, though, it seems as though every misstep in his day has led him here, into the welcoming heat of Y/N’s mouth, taking him so eagerly, her tongue lapping at the vein on the underside of his dick, a string of saliva remaining as she pulls away.

“I think you’ve got a couple of rounds in you, Mr Detective. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes.” He stammers, his head tossed back in pure ecstasy a moment later as she begins to work on the head with kitten licks. “But… can I s- fuck me, say something?”

“I plan on it.” she chuckles, “anything.”

She goes back to peppering kisses all over his member, tip to base, brushing his balls, working her way back up.

“Touch yourself f- for me.”

“What? Why?”

Her tone is more inquisitive than anything else, but upon that playfully rueful look in his lust-darkened baby blue eyes, she knows he’s going to get her back for this little display, and he’s just worked out how. It works both ways, she can prepare herself for what’s to come next while pleasuring him. And he gets to watch. It’s a win-win for him. Maybe he likes this sex thing a little more than he’s letting on.

“Are you sure you want me to? I’ll just make a mess on your sheets, Sher.”

She swallows him again, bobbing her head up and down on his length a few times while he grapples with literal reality. He’s teetering on the edge. One more move, and he’s a goner. His head is already against the wall, lolled there.

“I don’t care about the sheets, darling, I need you ready for me.”

She gulps, nods, and reaches one hand around her, skimming over her stomach, until it nestles between her thighs. She rubs her thumb over his tip, collecting the pre-come beading there, while she rubs over her throbbing pearl, pressing softly. Then, as she inches down on his cock, taking him in her mouth, she also collects the slick from between her thighs, and uses it as a lube to push a finger inside herself. Of all the times she’s touched herself, she never imagined, even in her wild Sherlock fantasies, that she’d be doing it with his dick down her throat. With every bob of her head, she scissors herself more, sinking back onto her fingers.

“I think I’m-” Sherlock begins to say, his words cut off by an utterly obscene moan splitting the air.

She hastily abandons her one post, and wraps both of her hands around his girth, working on what she can’t fit into her mouth with her increased speed, licking and suckling his head as he begins to fall apart, coming, with a scream, down her throat, his one hand clamped over his mouth, biting down harshly to silence his cries; the other buried in her hair.

His whole body falls lax, completely spent, meanwhile, Y/N savours every drop she’s been able to draw from him. He softens in her mouth, allowing her change to slip away from him, grasping a tissue from the bedside to wipe away any excess. That’s certainly something she never thought would happen…

He’s calm, though, smiling lazily through hooded eyes, his breathing regulated once more, making beckoning motions to her with his big hands. He’s placated, though, and sliding her hands into his, she’s allowed time enough to get into place, smiling softly at him, raking her fingers over his scalp in a comforting way. Even as she sits herself on his lap, she can feel him hardening beneath her ass, slowly but surely. She was right about him, he’s definitely got another round in him.

“Do you have a condom?” he asks.

“No, sweetheart, they’re in my other bag. I didn’t plan on getting any for a while… do you?”

“Not in here, that I’m aware of. John may have stashed some in my less favoured dressing gowns or socks, and he definitely has some upstairs, but I’m unawares.”

“I’m gonna sound crazy here, but do we need one?” She says hesitantly. His eyes widen, he cocks his head to the side. “I was tested after my last partner, I’m clean, and on birth control. You’re a virgin. There’s no point, is there?”

“You have a considerably good point.”

With that, energy rejuvenated a little, he wraps an arm around her body, flipping them over so he’s on top, shadowing her, looming over her, gazing down at every inch of her naked beauty.

“Take your time. I’ll be your safety.”

“I know.” he whispers, a tearful smile making its way onto her face. “Thank you.”

He needn’t say more, because she already knows why she’s being thanked. For her kindness, for making him so comfortable, for accepting the fact he’s still a virgin in his late twenties and, if he’s being honest, has no damn clue what the practicality and reality of sex is. Sure, he’s seen porn. He’s also looked at John’s laptop. But that doesn’t prepare one for when the moment comes. It’s like all of that goes out the window, and he simply remembers the first time he opened a biology textbook at secondary school, pictures of flushed organs staring back at him, desperately waiting to be relieved. That’s what his own coock is like right now, already hard again, virtually pulsating with hunger in his palm. He strokes himself a couple of times, glancing down at Y/N’s wide eyes.

“Are you okay? Can I…”

“Yes, Sherlock,” she chuckles, “whenever you’re ready.”

Now, he thinks. He rubs two digits through her folds, gathering her wetness, enamoured with the way it glistens on his fingertips. Tentatively, he brings his fingers up to his mouth, swirling his tongue around them to get a taste. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, he moans. She’s better than any cup of tea he’s ever had.

His cock slaps against his lower stomach pleadingly, so he grasps it in his hand, and begins to enter her, pushing gently, feeling every flutter of her walls. Her arms fly out, hands grasping his shoulders, nails leaving crescent moons in their wake at the delicious stretch. It’s nothing like they’ve ever felt before.

“Can I move?” He asks, balls deep inside her, their pelvises flush against one another.

“Please.” She all but begs.

Before doing anything else, Sherlock hooks one strong arm around her body, malleable in his hands, and holds her chest against his. Her breasts push into his skin, her nipples gaining friction from the dusting of hair there. Her one hand cups his slender neck, the other, his sharp cheek. Their eyes meet in a fierce gaze of burning intensity, and he begins to move. Slow, calculated, sharp thrusts punctuate her core. With every heavenly stroke, he can feel the ridges in her velvet walls, squeezing around him unwittingly.

“Jesus,” she cries, her clutch increasing.

“Hmm, not quite.”

The smirk in his words is quite literally audible. He’s so cocky, so full of himself, and fuck if she can’t feel another gush of arousal coursing through her, drenching his cock. How does he manage to be so attractive when he’s so dishevelled?

“Is that good?” He asks, unsure.

“So good.”

She brings her legs up, skimming the clenched backs of his thighs, until they wrap around him, drawing his hips into her at a new and improved angle. Heels digging into the base of his spine, he begins to move with a new purpose, his thrusts more passionate as his breath is drained from him by her kisses, his eyes alight with a new flame.

“Oh my God, Sherlock.” She pants, pulling him in for a kiss he greedily returns.

He drives his hips deeper, squeezing his fingertips into her supple waist bruisingly. It’ll be a mark that she belonged to him once, even just for one night. That’s when he reaches that special spongy spot that makes her entire body buckle. She all but screams, pressing into him wholly.

The coil is building, ready to break. He seems to be nearing the edge, too, his member twitching inside her when he buries himself particularly deep. She’s oh so fucking close… She licks into his mouth filthily, desperately clashing her teeth with his, eager for his kisses to tide her over. Silence her. Shifting his supporting hand, he trails one dextrous finger around to circle her clit, adding the faintest pressure for a moment. She mewls as he groans into her hot skin, clawing at him, entirely at his whim. Now he knows where to press, he settled his grip back around her, and draws her in close. This time around, he bends his knees a little more to measure his movements more carefully, ensuring that he ruts up and brushes her sensitive bud with his pelvis, helped by the extra friction of his neatly trimmed pubic hair on every thrust within her, his tip just scraping her g-spot.

“I- Sherlock, please tell me you’re- oh sweet mercy- close.”

He grunts softly in her ear. “So close.”

Their lips meet tenderly, passionately, in what they acknowledge to be a final kiss, moans mixing between them, savoured by the other.

His thighs clench, her legs tighten around his waist, and finally, her sweet walls flutter, squeezing him as she reaches her climax, his not following long after, spilling inside her, painting her soft walls white, marking her.

“Y/N,” he cries in ecstasy as his orgasm reaches him. “Sher…” she repeats, her saving grace as pleasure washes over her entirely.

Their whole bodies wind up pressed together, bound together as one, skin on skin completely, becoming one another.

He lets her down gently, unravelling his grip, unsurprised when their sweaty skin sticks together. Her long legs unfurl, splaying in a butterfly. Sherlock tumbles ungracefully away, somehow landing with a certain gangly elegance on the space of mattress beside her, his arm instinctively flying over to place on her stomach, the skin hot and flushed red. Her chest moves hastily up and down with the thrumming of her heart, while his barely shifts despite his shallow breaths, his white skin glistening in the moonlight.

“Are you okay?” He huffs, turning on his side. “You look pretty fucked out.”

His baby blue eyes train instantly on her nipples, hard in the open air. This is the first notifier, the first inkling she has to feel self conscious, so she draws the sheet up around her as best as she can. Sherlock’s not having any of it, taking a stronghold on her arms, and pulling her until she’s lying on him, naught to separate them.

“I’ve never been this close to anyone physically and y'know.” He hums tiredly. She’s never heard him sound tired before…

She smiles up at him as best she can, “Are you glad?”

He begins to hold her ever closer, squeezing her tighter, feeling every ridge of her body.

“I’m so glad that you were my first, in so many ways.”

Praise from Sherlock is a rarity, and she’ll take it as and when she can, savouring every moment, this time by holding him like a koala, her grip not wavering.

“I’m glad too, Mr Detective.”

He brushes a kiss to her cheek, “As much as I like this, we need to get you cleaned up.”

A supporting arm beneath her bum, he picks her up, and unsteadily ambles into the bathroom.

“I don’t know much about this, but I know you should probably use the toilet, should you want to avoid a UTI, so if you’d like me to leave…”

He sets her down on the loo seat, cupping his hands over his nether regions, and he hurries to grasp for things, until she puts her hand on his arm, squeezing in a conciliatory manner.

“You do remember the camping trip, don’t you? You really don’t have to leave just because I have to pee, you never did before. In fact, you frequently annoyed me with it if you had a particular point to make, steadfastly refusing to leave the bathroom after following me in there when I went to pee. Why does this change anything?”

He shrugs, dropping whatever was in his arms, “It just doesn’t feel the same now, though.”

“Ooo, and now Mr Detective feels things.” She jokes, poking at his ribs.

He recoils, chuckling with her, “Only for you.”

As Y/N washes her hand, Sherlock begins to wrangle with a floorboard, clattering about until he eventually pulls out a small lock box, from which he withdraws a packet of brand new marks-and-spencer's ladies briefs.

“Why the fuck do you have these? Anything you wanna tell me?” she asks, eyes wide.

“John’s idea. He has plenty of girls over here who frequently stay the night, simply a precautionary error.” He takes a beat, gargling with some mouthwash, “they’re clean, new, I just don’t like the idea of you in dirty underwear, and I know how reluctant you are to go without them whenever you’re not in your own bed. I stayed with you enough nights in university to know that.”

Those nights were awfully painful. She’d take the floor, he’d take the bed, and every time she’d have to wash the sheets. He’d sweat and vomit, shake and cry, plead for the pain to be over. He wouldn’t go to hospital, he wouldn’t call his brother, he’d just turn up on her doorstep, high as a kite, almost in tears, knowing he’d gone a little too far. And each time, it was a little farther.

“Thank you, Sherlock.”

She takes them from him, and begins to shimmy them up her legs, only prevented by Sherlock moving to grab a handful of her arse.

“Hmm, I like this. Fancy another round?” He smirks.

“I’m too tired, babe. Give me a bit.”

He can see the lazy smile on her face, the tiredness in her pretty eyes, so he wets a flannel, and begins to clean her up with gentle movements between tender kisses.

“How do you know how to do all of this?” She asks, inquisitive more than anything.

“Instinct, I suppose. I never read or learned about it, seeing as I never thought it would happen.”

She snaps the waistband before moving her hands to his waist, leaning up onto her toes to reach him, kissing her softly.

“Look at you now.”

After brushing their teeth in an amicable silence, their pinky fingers overlapping on the porcelain of the sink, he aids her back to the bedroom, settling her on the bed. She has things here: deodorant, toothbrush, moisturiser, and yet somehow she doesn’t have underwear, even after all these years. Perhaps that's one too many things to explain…

With superfluous extravagance, he throws her his shirt, offering her a wry wink. She finds a blush clawing its way onto her cheeks, dumbfounded. It smells like him, just like a forest glade if it was rained on by tea and cigarettes. Maybe he’ll let her keep it as a memory.

In such a short amount of time, she’s learnt that he has a very sensitive neck. Very. A single kiss there has him biting back a moan. A low one at that, considering his deep voice also drops almost an octave when he’s aroused. His nipples are almost as sensitive as his neck, and he rather likes it when she tugs on them unwittingly.

His first orgasm comes quickly, but his refractory period is astonishing, and it takes longer to achieve a second high, long enough to make her come more than once, she assumes, though her first orgasm was mind blowing enough for two. Perhaps that’s just because it’s his first time, but it’s impressive nonetheless.

What’s the point in learning all of this if, once he comes around from his post-orgasmic haze, he’ll pretend like it never happened, in typical Sherlock style?

The shirt, though a small gesture, means a lot, and her vision begins to cloud as she looks down at the black cotton.

“You mean you want me to stay?” She croaks.

Sherlock turns to her from his set of drawers, his face full of apparent obviousness, brows furrowed in that cute bewildered way.

“Of course I want you to stay.” He states, like it’s the plainest thing in the world, like it’s stupid for her to even ask. But she’s silent, and when she says nothing in response, he launches into a long winded explanation: don’t show sentiment. “I- I just mean, i-it’s midnight, I’m not having you out in London alone. You stay with me. Only if you want to as well...”

She nods eagerly, “Yes. Yeah, course I want to stay.”

He all but leaps access the room, jumping onto the bed, before planting a proper smooch on her lips, grinning down at her. He slips into his usual side of the bed, and she takes hers, rolling to look at him.

“Don’t get cold.” He warns, tucking the duvet up around her shoulders. She giggles like a child, that small snort sounding again, prompting Sherlock to press his thumb to her nose like a button. “How are you… feeling?”

“I’m fine bub, really. That bloke doesn’t matter to me at all. Bit of a scumbag if I’m honest. You’re the one I’m with, the one I wanna talk about. How are you feeling? Must’ve been a pretty big blow up with John for you to call me and be so... teary.”

He sighs, crestfallen, “He called me a machine.”

Her gasp pierces the air, her hand flying to his hair, stroking in consolation, cooing senseless reassurances to him. She’s done this innumerable times, but now it feels different, like there’s no barrier.

“He’s done it so many times that it needn’t bother me anymore, but the way he looked at me, like I was this abhorrent monster, especially after the day and the disappointing case we had, it got to me. I hate having feelings.”

“You don’t have to hide them with me, though.”

He hums gently, burying into her chest. “I know. That’s why I treasure you so dearly.”

“That means you also have to trust me, and you’re not going to like what I have to say.” His chest heaves, shifting her whole body. That’s his way of giving in. “Please just talk to John. You know that whenever he leaves, he’ll come back, and try to pretend it never happened. He needs to know you’re human and that he upset you, but also that the case upset you as well. No one’s superhuman, and once you let John in on the fact that you’re not a machine, things between you will be so much easier, because you might agree for once.”

“I suppose you’re right.” He grumbles.

He pulls her into his warmth, hooking her leg around his as he snakes his arms around her back, breathing deeply from the crook of her shoulder. She begins to pepper kisses on his salty skin, savouring the taste with every small swipe of her tongue.

“Your heart’s against my chest, your lips pressed to my neck,” he breaks off with a faint whimper when she sucks a little harder, “I’m falling for your eyes, but they don’t know me yet.”

“Of course they do,” she whispers brokenly, hoarsely, “they’ve always known you.” She swallows thickly, “Does that mean it’s a feeling you’ll forget?”

“No, I don’t think I ever can.”

The silent words that pass between them both are so special, too special to be spoken aloud. ‘Think I’m in love now.’

“Kiss me like you wanna be loved.” He begs.

And really, who is Y/N to deny him? They just stay that way a little while, revelling in their lazy kisses, until she begins to fall asleep. It isn’t the first time she’s fallen asleep in his bed, not by any means, but it’s the first time she’s fallen asleep in his arms. She isn’t mad about it.

“Settle down with me, cover me up, cuddle me in. You were made to keep my body warm.” She smiles into her words, and embeds herself into him, entirely covered by the duvet, spattered in his kisses, safe in his arms. Sherlock feels safe with her legs around him, her fingers in his curls, holding himself against her. Amicable silence is how they drift off, Peaceful.

John re-enters 221B at a respectable hour. He got a fair amount of sleep on Greg’s sofa, having no girlfriend in the picture right now, but not enough to deal with Sherlock just yet. Not before his coffee. He expects to see Sherlock sitting in the exact same spot as when he left, perhaps just with a refill of tea, his fingers still steepled beneath his chin, eyes closed yet wide awake. Instead, he arrives at a seemingly empty, considerably clean flat, with no Sherlock in sight. Perhaps the unsleeping man must actually be asleep, he thinks, so he quietens down, and toes off his shoes before wandering farther into the flat. Even if the man does piss him off extraordinary amounts, perhaps he should just check he’s okay…

He gives the bedroom door a quiet rap, listening in momentarily before pushing it open. Frankly, he’d rather have found Sherlock with a cigarette in hand and the whole flat torn to shreds for the level of surprise he gets upon reaching the bed. His first idea is to scream bloody murder, but that might annoy Mrs Hudson, and upon stepping closer, even in the sliver of daylight through the curtains, he sees the duvet riding down a little. The last thing in the world he ever thought he’d see: Sherlock in naught but boxers pressed against a half naked woman, his palm splayed on her bare thigh. Sherlock? Spooning? It seems so, his entire body pressed to this woman. John feels himself go rigid, his feet glued to the floor, his gaze unmoving from shock.

It takes his phone to buzz in his pocket to get him moving, and when he does, all he tries to do is balance precariously on his tip toes in a wry attempt to get a birds-eye view of the whole thing. He’s not disappointed, or disturbed, once he does, though, his army agility proving useful. Sherlock’s hand is holding her, fingers entwined, just next to her chest. He wonders how comfortable it is, but if they’re staying this way, it can’t be too bad. Maybe all Sherlock needed to loosen up was a good shag.

She’s wearing his shirt, too; Sherlock’s black dress shirt from the previous day. And Sherlock? He never seeps in anything less than a full set of pyjamas, he’s weird like that .

This girl begins to stir, her lips parting gently, small hums escaping. Next, her eyelids flutter, and her hair shifts on the pillow. He didn’t make any noise, did he? John was specifically careful not to, just in case. He doesn’t fancy Sherlock’s wrath just yet.

One eye opens, and she whispers, almost incoherently, “Hi John.”

How she knows his name and who he is, he’s not at all sure, because he doesn’t think he’s ever seen this face in his life. The hair is familiar, and maybe, if she were more awake, he’d recognise her smile, but he’s never seen a woman in Sherlock’s company beside Molly Hooper. Speaking of…

Before he can even say anything, though, before he can ask who she is or if she wants tea or if she date-raped his roommate, she’s mumbling, and detaching her hand from Sherlock’s, rolling over. Dumbfounded, John just stands there and watches her cuddle into Sherlock’s chest, her arms wrapping around his torso like second nature. Even in his sleep, not consciously thinking about his actions, he grips her back - one hand resting just above her bum, and buries his nose into her neck.

John can’t help but smile to himself. Maybe their fight was for the best if Sherlock now has a girlfriend, someone he turned to for solace. So, he grasps for the top of the duvet and pulls it up over both of their figures, reaching their shoulders, and leaves, staring wistfully for a brief moment at the seemingly happy couple.

The weight of the duvet of what startles Sherlock, though, stirring him a little, inviting him to him against Y/N’s skin, smiling with eyes barely open. This is really nice, he thinks to himself, not waking up alone.

She smiles back blearily, and in her morning voice, whispers to him, “Kiss me Mr Detective.”

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kimetsu-no-imagines · 3 years

Text

submission request

its ur bf write me rengoku porn rn before i kiss you in electrical- u know what i want 😩 ——————————————————————————- a/n : !!!!!! anything for u babe!!!!! a request from my bf,,,,,,,how special,,,,especially when haven’t written on here in forever,,,,,, warnings ; mugen train spoilers!!!!!!!!!! s o m a n y!!!!!! mentions of rengoku/akaza fight, alternate universe where rengoku lives it’s what we all want anyway, pre-established relationship/rengoku is your husband, breeding/pregnancy kink, rengoku living and dying (figuratively) between your legs, “dirty” talk but rengoku is such a loving man i don’t think it should even be called that here, uhhhh body worship but with his eyes? its very vague but it is there, boy just loves you okay, also none of this is proof read or anything if that matters word count ; 2,728

I’m Home

When you first hear about it, of course, like his fellow pillars, you’re terrified-thankful, naturally, that your husband at least hasn’t died, but the crow sent to inform you of the events of his mission, of his injuries, doesn’t exactly try to sugar coat anything, not even for you, his spouse.

Skull fractures from dodging the punch that would have smashed his eye completely, broken ribs from dodging yet another hit that, if he hadn’t moved back fast enough, would have gone through him and killed him-the details were gruesome, they were bone-chilling, it wasn’t as if you or anyone particularly enjoyed hearing about it, but one thing was for certain-you were relieved not to have lost him to this, to have lost anyone. Tanjiro and the others were so strong, so hard-working, and they were so young, with so much to live for-you couldn’t imagine how you’d feel if anything had happened to them, either.

There’s so much about it that pains you-not being able to have your husband home with you after he’d already been so busy with this mission and the ones before it, knowing how injured he was and how long it’d take him to recover at the Butterfly Estate, it was all… Torture. Not that you couldn’t go see him, of course-but Shinobu urged you to stay home and relax, you wouldn’t want to see him in the state that he was in, she promised you that much. Her crow did come by to personally update you on his condition every day or so, though-that was at least some amount of relief.

… Or, it would have been. You hadn’t seen any crow come by in a week or so, to the day-and yes, you kept track, because of course you did, you were an anxious wreck, and it’d already been months of your husband steadily recovering, or so you thought. Had he died from his injuries? Did something happen to the estate, were more people hurt? … Well. You supposed that was a silly thought, she lived so close to the Master’s own residence-no demon could get close enough to hurt them, with all the wisteria around both places.

You were so used to having your husband around to calm you when you thought about the worst things, like this-your heart hurt with anxiety and worry. What could you do but stand outside by the door, every day, for hours, just waiting for some sign, of a crow, of Shinobu herself, of anything?

It was another day that had gone by just like that-your feet and legs ached from keeping yourself up for so long, dried tear trails staining the sides of your face-you knew it was silly of you, you knew you should have tried to be at least a little stronger, for him if no one else, but… You just couldn’t help it. You hated this. You just wanted your husband back.

A dejected sigh leaves you as you watch the sun set for just one more moment before turning to go back inside, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes again-maybe tomorrow you’ll go up to Shinobu’s estate yourself. You couldn’t stand this for another–

“Hahaha! Now isn’t this strange! You’re running away from me!”

Your heart stops, and you freeze in place. What?

You feel him before you can turn to see him-chest pressed against your back, though soon you’re spun around and pulled up into a crushing hug anyway, and it’s all you can do to immediately start sobbing into your husband’s brightly-colored hair as you’re held.

“… Hello, my sweet,” His voice is no longer booming and jovial like it was a moment ago, but soft, gentle and meant only for you, as he squeezes you to him-you want to worry about the injuries he was supposed to be recovering from still, but you don’t want this to end, either. You suppose, he must have just been coming around the corner and through the gate when you turned to go inside-not that it mattered, all that did matter was that he was… Here, holding you.

“You must have missed me terribly!” All hearty, he laughs with you again, even if all you can do is cry in his arms while he rubs soothingly at your back, “But of course I missed you terribly too! I tried many times to sneak out and come home to you, but Shinobu or one of the other girls always caught me-”

You missed his voice dearly, you did-and you were still crying, but you couldn’t help but lean up and kiss him. It was something you usually did to quiet him, for sure, but right now you just… Needed him. And he didn’t seem to mind, hands happily and readily sliding down to hoist you up into his arms, never breaking from you as he carried you into your home.

“… Such a beautiful shouldn’t have quite so many tears upon it, you know,”He mumbles gently against your lips, and you sniffle as you finally reach up to start wiping at them, “I-I just missed you so much, Kyojuro, I was so scared-you were almost-you could have-”

“But I didn’t, and I won’t.” He interrupts you sweetly, but firmly nonetheless, shaking his head at you, “I am fine. I am healed, my love. I am still here to fulfill my duties-and I always will be. That includes my duties to you as your husband.”

“I…” It doesn’t feel like you should believe it-after what you’d heard of his battle, knowing he’d even just encountered an Upper Moon demon, this felt too good to be real or true, and yet… There’s such certainty and finality blazing in his eyes as he stares at you, all you can do is nod.

“… Alright.”

———————————————–

… Really, all you had intended to do this evening, now that you had your husband home with you, was cook him his favorite meal and go to sleep with him, in his arms, for the first time in who knew how long, at this point. Truthfully, that had been your only goal. You wanted him to rest, no matter how many times he told you just how fully recovered he was through the mouthfuls of sweet potato you so lovingly prepared for him-and yet… And yet…

Well, you suppose you simply didn’t account for him wanting… Dessert.

“It’s been so long,” The words are mumbled around you, your flesh, as he greedily, really voraciously eats and licks you up from between your legs-you’d already known him to be feral when presented with the sweet treat only you could provide him with, but this was something else entirely, “-it’s been too long, my love, don’t you understand how very hungry I am?”

You don’t, but by no means are you going to let that stop either of you. You missed his mouth just as much as he missed your taste.

“K-Kyojuro-Kyojuro, I’m-Kyo–”

… He’s never been one to tease or deny you. And yet just as you’re about to cum, so close to the edge you could have tasted it yourself, he’s pulling away from you. His lips and chin and… Well, his face, in general, are so shiny with you-you easily forget your frustration and get lost in the blissful look in his eyes as he cleans himself with his tongue. “While you certainly are the most delicious thing in this world, my sweet,” He crawls up the length of your body so quickly, so desperate to smash his lips to your own, “-as I’ve told you, it’s been far too long. I want to feel you cum around my cock this evening. But I’m sure you have no complaint either way?” Any other day, you’d want to hit him, to get that cheeky look off of his face, but… You also can’t say you don’t want that. Maybe you really don’t have any complaints either way. “… You’re awful,” You huff up at him, but you nod, “… But alright.” … And yet he stays still. It would be so easy-you’re properly soaked, and the pair of you are completely naked, and yet your infuriating husband is just… Sitting there, hovering over you with a smile on his face. It’s a soft, loving smile-but you’ve known him so long, you don’t miss the mischief in his eyes. “… Can I not admire you, my beautiful spouse? Even for a moment, after I’ve been gone from you for so very long?” It’s not a crime for him to stare at you so adoringly-really, you’d love it if you weren’t as damn horny as you were. But... It has been a long time. He’s teasing, but as much as that’s true, you know he’s being earnest, too-his eyes flicker all over your form so carefully, meticulously re-memorizing every tiny detail about you. “... Even more beautiful then before I left you, dear one,” The way he murmurs it, so absently, it’s almost more like he’s saying it to himself, but his eyes raised to bore back into yours after a minute-clearly, he wants you to hear every word of what he’s saying, absent or not. “... Would you like to know something I thought about while I was away?” His love renders you breathless, speechless-it’s all you can do to nod up at him. “During the brief hours of respite I would get, I would think to myself... What would it be like to come back to you, our home... How would it feel, the joy of it all... And then, another thought had started to occur to me,” A sharp gasp tears through you as you feel a few fingers suddenly and swiftly beginning their work at stretching you out-sneaky man, he’d distracted you from his hands with his voice, and even then, he kept talking like he hadn’t done anything, “... What would it be like if I could come home to the sight of you all swollen and glowing with our child...?” Those words rob you of whatever meager amount of breath you had managed to regain. With your child...? “... Oh, my love, you squeezed my fingers so nicely just now,” He marvels at the sight, the feeling of you, worrying his lip between his teeth-you’re so pretty like this, is what he wants to say, but his mind is suddenly consumed by the thought he’d put into both your heads a moment ago. You, glowing with the product of your love in your stomach. You don’t fail to notice the twitching of his cock where it hangs all hard between his legs. “Do you like the sound of that, then...? Do you want to carry my children, our children, my dear one? I’ll give it to you if you just say the word-after all, what poor excuse of a husband would I be if I didn’t?” His fingers move in and out of you faster, frantic and eager to prepare you for him, now, as he almost rambles on like that-his words set your body, your insides, on fire. You do want it, you realize-it’s not something you’d given much thought to before, but here, like this, right now after spending so much time worrying about losing him? You really do want nothing more. “P-p-please, please Kyojuro, I want-please give me your children, I want it, I want you, please make me pregnant, my husband, please-” It’s not meant to egg him on, truly it isn’t-you just can’t help but beg with how badly you want it yourself. But that doesn’t mean you don’t delight in the way he seems to snap, just the slightest bit, above you, quickly removing his fingers from you to replace them with his cock-what you’d been waiting for since he laid you down in bed earlier. That felt like an eternity ago right now, though. The stretch isn’t an uncomfortable one, with the care he’d still taken to prepare you-you missed it, if anything, you missed him. And it’s clear that he feels the same-he’s gone so tense above you, arms trembling on either side of you with the restraint it takes not to move. Somehow, he still manages to keep up that bright smile of his, too. “Do tell me when I can move, my love. This is a bit unbearable with how lovely you feel!” ... As hazy as your mind was with pleasure, you couldn’t help but giggle. Even now, your husband was so... Endearing. So cute. Your bring your hands up to hold his face as you nod your head eagerly, over and over, “Please, Kyojuro-please, I want it,” You can see that he wants to worry about you, wants to ask you again to make sure-but he can’t, his body betrays him, his hips instantly slotting themselves against your own, pulling back only to quickly bring themselves back down, his cock pressing and rubbing against every bit of your insides as it moves in and out of you, over and over and over, so fast-and your husband hardly even breaks a sweat. ... His being a demon slayer, and a pillar, at that, had its perks, you supposed. His stamina was one of them. But he seemed to already be losing his composure, too, with just how long it’d been since you’d gotten to be so close. “This-this is embarrassing, haha-I feel like I could burst at any moment already-just-just thinking about how-utterly perfect you’d look, ah-” His hips stutter, and he stills for a second, to keep his own pleasure at bay for a moment-though he makes up for it with the hand that shoots down to rub and stroke at what his cock isn’t already touching, “-goodness gracious-how perfect you’d look, pregnant, my love-” As if you aren’t ready to burst, yourself. Did he suddenly forget about denying you mere minutes ago...? “M-my husband-my husband, Kyojuro, please, m-me too, just go ahead, please-please give me your child, give it to me, please-” “You’re really as difficult as you are beautiful!” The very wind is knocked out of you as you find your legs suddenly on either side of your head, as he fucks into you with a very renewed, fittingly fiery sense of vigor and passion, grunting freely every time he feels you wrap around him again and again, “I truly did want to take my time with you this evening, my sweet-how irresistible you are like this-I’ll have to savor you another time-” This position, the wildness in his eyes, the feeling and the sight of him-yes, the sight of him, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t see the bulge appearing and disappearing from your stomach-fucking into you desperately, all of it is far too much for you, far too overwhelming, but of course he revels above you in the way you clamp down on him and make a sudden, abrupt mess all over the pair of you, not to mention the futon underneath you. “So beautiful-so beautiful like this, my love-I-just the sight of you, you’re going to make me-goodness-” He leans over you and folds you in half even further, nose brushing against your neck, “I-I’m going to-I’m going to give it to you now, alright? I swear it, my love, my dear one, I’ll-I’ll get you pregnant, I promise, I promise, I--” It’s so intense, he almost roars as it washes over him, as he fills you up so completely it leaks out of you, with how long its been since either of you had any form of... Release. Your legs are released, and they flop numbly down against the plush futon beneath you-your husband can barely keep himself up, but he at least tries to be careful as he collapses against you, chuckling so happily against your shoulder while you can hardly keep your eyes open, let alone say anything. You wish you had the sense what was apparently so... Funny, right now. “... I love you, _____.” The biggest wave of tranquility falls over you, hearing those words. You can’t quite say much of anything still, but he knows-he sees it in your eyes when he looks up at your face. You love him too. Right now, that’s all he needs. “I really am so happy to be home, dear one.”

#demon slayer kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #demon slayer imagines #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku x reader #rengoku smut #demon slayer smut #submission

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rrickgrrimes8 · 3 years

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hi! i was thinking if you could write an imagine of reader being rick and lori's daughter and sister to carl, rj and judith. i don't have a specific idea in mind, but just her before and after the time jump, struggling with being there when lori and carl died, and looking for rick with daryl, her relationship with her siblings and michonne, maybe maggie and hershel too (i was thinking since carl was 10 when it all started, she was 7 so now she's 17) thank you so much, and btw i loved your imagines i've read so far 💞

Being a Grimes ~ Rick Grimes x Grimes!reader

thank you so much for requesting i really enjoyed making this one. i also have a series kinda like this about Jacey Grimes which i’m currently making a book two for.

warnings: alluding to sexual assault or rape, suicide, death, gore (lemme know if i’ve missed anything off here)

sorry if there is any mistakes please tell if there is and give me feedback i’d love to here back from yall

masterlist

request guidelines

request are open

It was strange for y/n. This world would be strange for anyone really. But she was different. At only a mere 7 years old when the world went to shit she struggled as did many others. With the recent loss of her father - one she didn't entirely understand - still protruding through her heart, it was hard - so hard.

When it happened she was at daycare. The teaching assistant tried and successfully ate the teacher in front of her. She was next and was so close to being eaten until Shane rushed in. He kicked Ms Twune and grabbed y/n. Her mom sobbed at the sight of her, covered in blood and the tears smothering her daughters face. Carl was shocked too. He wanted nothing more than to protect his little sister. His dad always used to tell him that that was his duty - his job. And he hated how he had failed in this moment.

They made it to the quarry soon after. Y/n thought the group was nice - well mostly. The Dixon brothers scared her was what she told her brother or any of the children she had befriended. But she was lying. Yes, she was scared but only of Merle. He was creepy and mean to anyone he saw. Daryl was somewhat the same but he always found himself being nicer to the young child. And often kept her company when Lori and Shane went for a ‘walk’ in the woods. Glenn was another she found herself drawn to. He unlike Daryl happily invited her company. Glenn was sweet and funny. He never failed at making her laugh till she felt like she was going to pee. They were good friends which came to a fault when he had to go on runs. She’d scream and cry and refuse to let go of him because she was afraid that what happened to her father would happen to him.

That’s what happened earlier that morning. Glenn and a few others were going into Atlanta, despite her dismay. Glenn assured her he’d be fine, which she didn't believe and continued her tantrum.

“Can yer’ shut that damn baby up?” Merle spat covering his ears.

Shane shot him a threatening glare while Glenn stayed preoccupied with the distraught girl. “Hey, it's okay. I’m coming back,” He insisted holding her tightly at his hip, “I promise you, sweet girl.”

“No, b-b-but dada promise too a-a-and h-he,” She stopped herself, sobs erupting from her small body.

“I know sweet girl, I know. But I’ll be back I know I will.” Glenn placed her on the back of the RV, “I tell you what I’ll bring you back some of your favourite sweeties, huh? Would you like that?”

Giddily she nodded at his proposition, “Yes! Yes!”

“Alright, then I’ll bring back some for you, okay?” She nodded smiling cheerfully, “I love you, kid.”

“I luv you too, dumbass,” y/n giggled.

Glenn looked around cautiously hoping no one heard that “Hey sweet girl you can't say that.”

“W-what? Why?” the child began to cry again, “Y-y-you say it.”

“I know b-but its adult words okay? Not y/n words. When you're older, alright?” She nodded her head again kissing his cheeks softly and hugging him. “Thank you, sweet girl. I’ll see you soon,” He kissed the top of her head and started towards the car smiling as she shouted, “With sweeties!”

The group returned hours later bearing a new man instead of Merle. Y/n waited patiently for Glenn and the aforementioned sweets. "Gen!" She screamed happily still unable to say his name fully. The man sprinted over to her, pulling her into a much-needed cuddle after the day he had.

"It's Glenn, sweetheart," He chuckled while correcting.

"Oh sorry Gen," She wrapped her dainty arms around his neck.

"That's okay, sweet girl. I missed you."

"I missed you too," She whispered before letting out a longwinded 'ew', "You stinky, Gen."

The man smelt his shirt and nodded as the potent smell of walkers reached his nose. "I know yucky right?"

"Yucky!" Y/n buried her face in Glenn's shirt ignoring the stench and just enjoying his company. She always became clingy like this after coming home from a run. He loved it. On runs, if he ever encountered a life-threatening situation - like the one today - he always finds himself realising how much she means to him. Glenn saw her as a little sister - one almost replacing the ones that were cruely ripped from him when this began.

"How was it?" She inquired.

"Not fun, sweet girl. But I got your sweeties and a nice man helped us out. Saved us," She beamed.

"I like the good man. I'll give him two kisses when I see him. Maybe even one of my sweeties," Glenn chuckled.

"Why two kisses, y/n?"

"One for saving you. Two for bringing you hom," Glenn grinned contently and kissed her forehead.

"Its home bubs with an e on the end."

"Oh," She mumbled burying herself again.

"Oh my God," Someone muttered as they exited the van.

"Dad! Dad!" Carl screamed causing Glenn to snap his head in their direction. Carl came running towards the man, Rick, who had saved them in Atlanta. Y/n hadn't moved yet as she feared it was only a dream. That her dada wasn't really here.

"Sweet girl," He pulled her out of his neck, "Look it's your dad." The child gazed over to where her brother had run to. Sure enough, it was her dad. He held Carl as he cried, looking to Y/n wanting to hold her too.

"Dada!" She screamed jumping out of Glenn's arms dangerously. The girl scraped her knee on the way down but continued throwing herself into the hug.

"Oh, Carl! Y/n!" She kissed all over his face childishly, "I luv you, dada."

"I love you too, baby girl."

The years hadn't been kind to Y/n. She lost so much. Too much in fact that it had driven her to the depts of insanity and made her do things to herself, to others that she more than resented. The first loss was her mothers. She wasn't there like Carl was but the grief burned through her still. Y/n was too young to understand it really. Just how she was when Rick supposedly died. Y/n couldn't understand where her mom had gone she just knew she had a little sister now. One she swore to protect.

She thought she had failed that when the prison fell. The young child was on her own. Injured and lost. She wandered through the woods for days until she stumbled across a group. The group were mean and despite her resistance wouldn't let her go. They hurt her in ways she didn't and wouldn't speak of it even now. But that all changed when Daryl showed up. He protected her - stopped them from hurting her. And eventually led her back to her family. Where for the first time she began to fear her father.

Terminus was next. The people there snatched her from her family. She was forced to watch from afar as they were guided into the crate. Rick fought against them, Carl too but it was to no use. They had sectioned her off in a playroom. Every once in a while an older woman came in to fed and played with her. She hated it. Being in this world for more than a year now she knew that people like them didn't just want to play even if she did. She learnt that from the Claimers.

Carol found her. Although having never have been all that close to the older woman - the only relation being the closeness between y/n and Sophia - seeing her after so long made her cry out of joy. Carol was happy too as she rushed out of that place to take her to safety. The pair ended up in the woods. Carol had stopped a moment ago to clean the dirt from her face, "lemme help."

The girl sat up from where she was put down and cupped some water splashing it on Carol's face. Carol flinched as the water hit her, "Uh thank you."

"Welcome," She looked away getting distracted by the nearing sound of footsteps.

"Get behind me, y/n," Carol ordered to which she shook her head.

"No it dada," She ran away from the woman and towards the group.

"Y/n come back here!" Y/n continued ignoring Carols pleas and crashed herself into the back of Rick's legs.

The father shot around and began to cry as he saw the child he thought he lost at his feet. "Oh, baby!" He collected the girl in his arms. Carl rushed to them too happy to see her alive after Gareth claimed he killed her. "Oh y/n, never leave me again, okay?" He looked directly into her matching blue eyes, "Promise me."

"I promise, dada."

Later Carol led them to Judith. Y/n was over the moon and refused to let her out of her sight, which was exactly what Rick was doing too. They found the church a while after. There they had some semblance of peace. She was glad to have Glenn back - Maggie too. Along with the new people although Eugene was a bit weird.

At the church was also when the questions started. Daryl had told Rick about the group they were with and regretfully had to inform the father how she was there before him. Rick asked y/n - begged her - to tell her what happened. But she refused. She couldn't say what happened. What they did, which just made Rick fear more. Eventually, she spoke a little about it. She was vague and could barely string two words together without crying. He hated it. He hated how this was a reality for his daughter. He saw the bruises they left. And he couldn't understand how someone could touch his child. Or how he could be so powerless to stop it.

Bob died. She didn't really know the man but it still upset her. Beth too. Although she was a lot closer to her. Beth was one of her only friends and was someone who would look after her when her father couldn't. They bonded and now she was gone.

After Beth's demise, they spent lots of time on the road. They suffered, almost died countless times but they prevailed. They got stronger - she got stronger. And they eventually found Alexandria. There everything was good again like how it was at the prison or even before this hell. She liked it there and didn't understand why the others were so sceptical.

Though that didn't last for long. Y/n began to hate the place when Carl got shot. Alexandria almost stole her brother from her. So she despised it. She refused to leave her brother's side as he adjusted to his injury. Yes, he found it annoying how she wouldn't leave him be and he often snapped at her. But she was there when he needed her. Despite the age difference and the many years of memories they had lost to this fight, she understood his pain. When he saw himself as ugly, a monster even, she made him think otherwise. She kept him afloat, which he was eternally thankful for.

Glenn was next.

She didn't believe it even after she was forced to see it with her own two eyes. She was next to Glenn in the lineup. She had to watch up close. Y/n had to be mocked by that man. She had to stay the whole night with her best friends brains on her face. After that night she blamed herself. She told herself that if Negan was just one person off she would be dead and he would live. He would get to see his child born and grow old with Maggie like they had spoken about. She wholeheartedly believed he deserved to live over her.

The war with Negan shook her to the core. At the time his face filled her nightmares. He just looked so normal. He looked nice even. Yet he hurt and he hurt and he hurt.

He killed her Glenn. And then Carl. It wasn't Negans fault although she did blame him. Carl had gotten bit. Y/n held his hand as he died in that tunnel as the home they had built above them fell. She got a letter too - even though she would rather have preferred to have her brother back. In the letter, Carl told her how proud he was of her - how thankful he was to have her as a sister. He told her to protect Judith, their dad and Michonne, who she had recently begun to call momma.

After Carl's death, y/n shut herself from the world well everyone except her father. For days she would cry until she couldn't anymore. She would scream and scream until her voice was gone. She just didn't understand why it had to be Carl? Why mom? Why Glenn? Why Beth? Why was it never her? The following weeks she found herself wishing it would be her next. She could never bring herself to say it out loud but with any battle, any fight, anything, she wished it would be her.

So when she lost her father her whole world fell apart. He was her consistent so why did he leave her? She was at the bridge that day. Daryl held her crying frame as Rick set off that final shot blowing him and the walkers off the bridge. Y/n Grimes' father was dead.

She stayed in Alexandria for a while afterwards. For the sole reason to protect her siblings. Yes, siblings - plural. Somehow through all the bad some good came from it. She just wished her father and Carl could've seen it. RJ Grimes came into this world 9 months later. And he was perfect. For months she would assist in taking care of him as Michonne wasn't doing the greatest without the love of her life. Truth be told neither was y/n she was just better at hiding it.

Until one night it all became too much. Y/n didn't know how it happened but she found herself balancing on the edge of her window. She wanted to jump - to end it. But she just couldn't will herself to do it. And when Daryl showed up she knew she couldn't. "Hey step away from ta window, alrigh'," The man ordered as he saw her shaking frame rocking back and forth.

"I-i can't," She sobbed.

"Ye' ya can. Jus' step back I'll catch ya," Daryl moved closer but paused when she shouted to stop.

"I can't, Daryl. They're all gone. They're all dead," The tears clouded her eyes. She shut them tightly picturing her families faces wanting so badly to join them.

"Please jus' step back, y/n. Yer' not alone. I'm here," He croaked the tears floating down his cheeks, "Don't jump."

"I love you, Daryl."

"I love ya too, okay? So step away from the window," He watched as she turned her head slightly catching his eyes.

"I love you but I can't. Tell mom, RJ and Judy I love them as well."

Suddenly she went to fall forward but Daryl reacted quicker. He gripped her waist pulling her into the room unwilling to release his grasp. "Yer' not leaving me," He told her as she cried into his shoulder, "Yer' cant leave me." Overhearing the chaos, Michonne entered her daughter's room to see the window wide open and the two of them crying. Daryl looked at her. The look telling her all she needed to know. Michonne began to cry herself and joined them on the ground.

"Y/n?" A small voice called from the door frame.

"Judith go back to bed, okay?" Michonne told her but Judith continued towards her sister. The girl said nothing as she wiped her sister's tears and held her hand.

It was 5 years later now. After her attempt, she left Alexandria with Daryl in search of her father. She didn't believe he was alive despite everything inside her wanting to. But Daryl did and after what happened they became a lot closer. He was happy she joined him. Even though the act of being out there was gruelling at times he was glad he could look after her. And if something would've happened to her while he was gone he could never have forgiven himself. Understandably Michonne was angry that y/n decided to leave. Y/n was her daughter and Michone her mother. They needed each other but she was willing to let Y/n leave to figure that out. It brought her peace looking for her father.

The silence was her favourite and as Daryl wasn't much of a talker she got lots of it. They got a dog too, which Daryl cleverly named Dog. Everything was a messed up version of okay but it was still good. Being out there made her find her purpose. She went home a lot more than Daryl did, which pleased her siblings and mother. It was always for a few days never longer as she feared she'd stay forever and she couldn't. As much as Alexandria is good it also drives y/n to a dark place. One she was in that night. She lost so much there. And staring at those four walls drove her insane. It didn't help how Negan was imprisoned there. Just thinking how close he was made her skin crawl. She knew how Rick visited him when he was alive that he believed Carl was right about the killing. That it had to stop. Y/n knew he was right too but she could never bring herself to one admit or two face Negan.

It felt like a story she read as a child when the Whisperers showed up. Like Negan, they scared her. So when she was told about his escape she only assumed the worst. The Whisperers took so many from them. Like Enid for example. Her story was cut short because of them. The two never really spoke but she understood how she and Carl felt for each other at a time. So ultimately it felt like she lost her final piece of Carl when she died. Y/n wished she had spoken to her when she could've. She wished she could've heard the untold stories they shared. She needed to know about Carl's final years with her. But now she's gone too along with those memories.

The war with the Whisperers took everything from them. The Kingdom. Hilltop. Alexandria. Along with the lives they lost in the process. With the group separated she found herself protecting Judy and RJ. Michonne had gone. Where she had gone to, y/n had no idea. For a messed up reason, she began to prepare herself for her mother's death before it was even announced. That was until she got the call. She was okay and... apparently so was Rick.

Disbelief was what hit her first. She couldn't hear his voice nor see his face so how could she know it was true. Michonne didn't know either she couldn't if he was really there, still alive. That night of the call she left. Without hesitation, she kissed RJ and Judith's heads, told them she loved them and told them to tell everyone else that and left. She left in the direction Michonne had told her.

She left to find her father. And she knew she wouldn't return until she did. "I'm coming, dad."

#the walking dead imagine #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes x grimes!reader #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes imagine #carl grimes x grimes!reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #michonne x reader #michonne x daughter!reader #rick grimes #carl grimes #daryl dixon #michonne #rick grimes daughter #the walking dead request

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juletheghoul · 3 years

Text

Move Into Me

Trying something a little different here. After lots of encouragement from fellow member of the Libra Legion, and co-founder of the Dilf Patrol, I have written a one-shot about an OFC. Now I understand that this is not everyone's cup of tea and that is okay with me. We can still be friends. For those of you who are interested - I hope you enjoy.

@beskarboobs - this ones for you.

reblogs are appreciated

Pairing: Javier x F! Latina / Hispanic OFC - Yamila Martinez (Of Cuban decent - all translations of the Spanish words and phrases will be included within parentheses)

Word Count: 6.4K

Warnings: yearning, angst, jealousy, language, Smut 18+, PIV sex (wrap it up), slight dirty talk, Oral-female receiving

I just went ahead and used my Pedro Taglist but if you don't want to be included for fics like this - no worries just let me know!

----

She heard him before she saw him.

The unit next to her had been empty for months and it looked like she was finally getting a neighbour. She didn’t really know how to process her feelings about it. she’d gotten used to living beside an empty unit. She didn’t miss having to be careful of the noise - her loud phone calls with her mother, music playing as she cooked.

By the time she reaches the door she can hear him swearing and trying to push the door in by force. There were boxes crowding the hallway and she took pity.

“Hey- here let me help, the people before you had trouble with it too.” She walked over and held out her hands for his key. He was scowling, but he handed them over without a word.

“Trick is- there it is, a little click. Sounds weird but don’t push your key in all the way, listen for the little click then turn.. ekele kua.” She swung the door open for him and moved out of the way with a smile.

His scowl was gone, replaced by a curious friendliness.

“Jesus, thanks I would have been here all day, what did that mean?” He spoke as he shoved the nearest box inside.

“Oh sorry, just something my mom said growing up. Hi - I’m Yamila Martinez.”

“Javier Peña.” She hadn’t really taken him in before, too focused on the keys and remembering her previous neighbours. He was tall and handsome, dark brown hair and eyes. He was lean but strong. A neatly trimmed moustache framing his top lip. His bottom lip full - she snapped out of it.

She held out her hand to shake..

“Did you need some help bringing your boxes in?” She gestured vaguely behind her. He had an endearing curve in his nose.

“I’m okay, thanks though.” He smiled as he went about bringing in his belongings.

“I’ll leave you to it, I’m just next door if you need anything.” She smiled and retreated back into her apartment.

———————————-

Insomnia had its icy grip on her tonight.

No matter how comfortable she thought she was, no matter how much tila tea or warm milk drank - which frankly she thought was disgusting - she could not fall asleep.

She opened up her window and climbed out to sit on the fire escape. It was a nice night and a little time outside usually helped.

“Can’t sleep?” His voice cut through the silence and she let out a small scream - nearly jumping out of her skin. She clutched at her heart - it was racing and for a second she thought it might burst out of her chest.

“Jesus Christ! You scared the fuck out of me!” She whispered it half angrily, half relieved. He laughed, a real deep-throated laugh.

He was gorgeous. She was half naked.

Usually when she came out here she was by herself and no one really noticed. He made no mention of her coming out in just a long shirt and comfortable undies, she made no mention of him being shirtless in a pair of undone jeans.

“I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to scare you. I couldn’t sleep so I came out here to get fresh air. Seems we both had the same idea.” He offered her a cigarette which she took. He pulled out a lighter and cupped it, bringing it to her mouth.

“It’s okay, I usually come out here when I can’t sleep either. Got way too used to not having a neighbour.” She tried her best to calm down as they both smoked in silence.

“Have you lived here long?” He broke the silence.

“Here in Colombia or here in the building?” She did her best to blow the smoke away from his face as she spoke.

“Both I suppose, your English is really good.”

“Thanks, I was born in Miami but my mom brought my brother and I when we were little, my step dad is Colombian. Been living in this building for a few years.” She tapped the cigarette against the ashtray he was holding, her ashes adding to his. “What is it you do?”

“DEA actually.” He crushed the end of his as he spoke, the smoke coming out his nose.

Hm. Another one, she thought as she sighed heavily. No one in Colombia was ignorant to what had happened with Escobar, and unlike some of the locals she knew - she didn’t worship the man so she did what she always did, she cracked a joke. ”Drug enforcement, better hide my stash then.” He chuckled again.

“You do that, anywhere but under the mattress, that’s the first place I look.” She didn't know if he was kidding but thinking of him anywhere near her mattress made her flush. Luckily it was dark.

“I’ll definitely remember. Thanks Agent Peña.” She gave him a thumbs up and instantly regretted it.

It was nice to sit outside with someone. As much as she liked the privacy of not having a neighbour, she missed having someone to talk to. Not that Javier seemed like the super talkative type.

She finally started to feel her eyelids getting heavy, her cue to get into bed.

“Bedtime for me, hasta mañana Javier.” She made to climb back into her apartment.

“You can call me Javi - hasta mañana [goodnight].” He made his way inside his own apartment.

“Hasta mañana Javi.”

———————————————

She heard the moans and soft grunts through the wall. It made her flush all over.

It had been a few weeks since Javi moved in and this was happening way too often. It was never the same woman, but it always ended the same way. She’d hear him open up his apartment - eventually - along with a woman’s voice. Both of them talking and laughing in low whispers, which would eventually turn into moans and groans. It served to highlight her lack of a sex life depressingly.

She could hear the other woman a little louder now - seemingly reaching her peak and she shuddered. She was painfully attracted to Javi and for a moment she imagined it was her underneath him.

She covered her face with the pillow to try and drown out the sounds roughly. Her cat jumped off the bed having been woken up by her tossing.

“I know Lito I’m sorry.” She whispered to him, and blessedly a few minutes later they were finally done.

Now came the awkward part - the door opening, and him wishing her a goodnight. Her quiet footsteps down the hall towards the elevator. It was maddening.

Once it was quiet she thought it might be safe to head out for a cigarette, thinking he was probably asleep.

She was enjoying the quiet night air as he came out onto the landing, lit cigarette hanging off his lip. He looked so beautiful like this, relaxed, a slight sheen on his chest from his… activities.

“You’re awake?” he sat next to her, bumping shoulders conspiratorially.

“Yeah - my new neighbour’s a dick.” It came out harsher than she wanted it to.

“Sorry - I didn’t realize, you heard everything huh? Oh Jesus - you’ve heard it every time haven’t you?” He had the decency to look ashamed, she enjoyed that more than she thought she would.

“Yep, every time. You’ve been busy.” she said it a little softer, bumping his shoulder back to let him know she wasn’t actually angry.

“I’m sorry - I should be more considerate. I’ll try to keep it quiet. If I’m ever making too much noise just bang on the wall. How’s that vecina?” you couldn’t help but watch his mouth as he spoke.

She raised her eyebrows at him, her fingers moving the bulk of her thick hair from one side of her head to the other. He smiled, his hair had fallen over his eyes and it took everything in her not to push it away.

“Yeah, I’m not going to do that - especially if you’re in the middle of it. Not going to bang on the wall like an annoying old maid. Just try to fuck quietly.” She laughed as she said it and he ran a hand over his face in embarrassment.

“Okay okay - point taken.” He left it at that and the both of them sat in silence. This had been happening a lot since he moved in. Both of them found it hard to sleep at night, so they’d eventually end up on the fire escape, smoking and chatting idly and she ignored how comfortable it felt. How happy this time with him made her, both of them usually half-dressed - unselfconscious.

“How’s work?” She turned to look at him and he sighed big at the question.

“It’s a lot.” All the playfulness was gone from his tone - his voice low and raspy.

“Did you want to talk about it?” She didn’t want to push him, the two of them usually stuck to small talk.

“Well, Escobar is gone, but he’s not the only one. Can’t really say much more than that.” He stubbed out his cigarette as he spoke. She didn’t respond, letting him say whatever he wanted to say, he left it at that.

She could see the weight of whatever it was he was dealing with on his face and she put her hand on his arm to let him know she was there for him. He placed his hand on her thigh and squeezed in understanding and although it would have thrilled her to have him touch her this way any other time, it pulled at her heartstrings. He was troubled, and from what she could see, he couldn’t talk to anyone about it. She rested her head on his shoulder quietly, her way of letting him know she was on his side.

They both sat in silence for a long time.

------------------------------------------

She heard the knock on her door as she was towel drying her hair.

“Hola vecina [hello neighbour]- was wondering if you could help me with something.” Javi was standing at her door, wearing a buttery soft looking leather jacket - holding a giant duffle bag.

“You want to move in?” She laughed with a raised eyebrow.

He shook his head - “Very funny, leaving on assignment for a couple of weeks. Can I leave my keys with you? Would really appreciate it if you could just air out the apartment every few days, help yourself to whatever's in the fridge.” he held his keys out to her and she took them, throwing them onto the little catch-all plate beside her.

“Sure, bring me back something nice.” She said it sweetly and he nodded - she couldn’t help but stare at his neck. His button up shirt had a few unbuttoned at his throat and it was very distracting. He caught her looking.

“See you soon.” he walked away with a smile and he was ashamed to say she stared at his ass longer than she should have.

-------------------

She ignored the part of her that wanted to open up Javi’s closet. She wanted to wear one of his shirts but she pushed that urge deep down, making sure to avoid it all together.

His apartment was sparse but neat, the layout was a mirror of hers - their bedrooms shared a wall. No wonder she heard everything he did in here. His bed was neatly made - not a lot of homey touches. She opened up his windows before going through his fridge. Looking for anything that might be on the turn to get rid of it. He didn’t have much.

She dumped out some milk that was already bad - everything else was preserved and would last until he got back. Did this man eat any vegetables?

“¿Javi no está en casa?” [Javi’s not home?] The woman had come up behind her as she was locking his door.

“No, tuvo que salir - halgo con el trabajo.” [No, he had to leave, something to do with work.] She smiled at the woman, but she frowned, noticing that Yamila had a key to his apartment. She answered the question before she could ask it.

“Soy la vecina nomas, desafortunadamente no se cuando regresará .” [I’m just his neighbour, unfortunately I don’t know when he’ll be back.] She made to walk away.

“¿Le puedes decir que vine? Soy Gabriela.” [Can you let him know I stopped by? I’m Gabriela.] She looked vaguely annoyed and Yamila couldn’t help but feel awkward. He didn’t talk about any of the women he brought home.

“Claro que si, adiós!” [Of course, goodbye!] She walked away as Yamila retreated back into her apartment.

Javi knocked on her door a few days later looking for his keys and looked mildly confused when she told him about her encounter with the woman looking for him.

“Said her name was Gabriela.” She felt awkward- telling him about one of his hook-ups coming to look for him.

“She came here? That must have been awkward for you - I’m sorry. I’ll call her.” He wasn’t cruel about it, moreso surprised that she had come back.

“I guess you made an impression on her.” She smiled at him warmly, she didn’t want him thinking she was judging him. He lingered a bit as he grabbed his keys from her.

“I just made dinner and I know for a fact there is nothing at your place to eat. Go get settled and come back - I’ll fix you up a plate.” He protested but she gave him no choice. “I know you’re not going to turn down arroz con frijoles [rice & beans], go, bañate [shower].” he laughed as she pushed him out the door.

He came back with some beer from his fridge a little while later.

“Took a little longer than I meant to, sorry.” He handed her a beer as she handed him his plate. He smelled like irish spring and aftershave - his hair still damp. He looked so inviting she had to look away.

“No problem, it’s still warm. Hope the work thing went well.” They both sat at her little kitchen table, the picture of domesticity. He chatted about his work, nothing explicit but more than he ever had before. He opened up to her and she got the impression that he had wanted to talk about it for a while.

He talked for a long time - throughout your whole meal. About all manner of things, Escobar, his partner - Gabriela. She held her tongue and let him speak. It was the most she’d ever heard him speak in the months he’d lived next door.

“That’s a lot to deal with Javiersito, sounds like it was really intense. Have you considered speaking to someone?” She asked it gently - now that he had gotten it all out he looked relieved.

“No - I’m fine - thanks for listening though.” he drank the rest of his beer as he squeezed her hand in thanks.

“I think we should have a real drink.” She had a bottle of aguaardiente calling her name.

The alcohol barely burned in her throat by now, she had a pleasant buzz and could feel her inhibitions lifting. He was smiling freely, the usual frown gone. She caught him looking at her, the expression was in no way neighbourly and it excited her more than she would ever admit.

Her mind drifted to the parade of women he’d brought home since he’d moved in. The grunts he would make, the moans he would coax out of them and she flushed even more. She desperately wanted to be one of those women.

He was sitting on her sofa like he owned it. Legs spread, arms relaxed by his sides and a curious look on his face. He was looking through her. She used the courage the drinks gave her to walk over to him. She stood between his legs and looked down at him, trying to convey the want she felt for him with her eyes.

He was still giving her that look, making no move to pull her towards him - or push her away.

She slowly straddled him, folding up her long legs - putting her knees on either side of him to settle in his lap. He smelled so good and her boldness was building. She pulled her shirt off and sat there in her bra, he brought his hands to rest on her thighs. There could be no mistaking what she wanted.

He stopped her before she could kiss him. His hands holding onto her arms, she was confused.

“We shouldn’t.” He watched her mouth as he spoke, bringing his gaze down to her breasts, the soft skin of her belly, the apex of her thighs. The look said he wanted her but his hands held onto her firmly.

“Why not? I’m not drunk - just brave, I want you Javiersito.” She smiled what she imagined was a sexy smile and tried to kiss him again.

“Quit it, I don’t want to do this.” The with you was implied. It felt like he had slapped her across the face. The rejection burned in her throat much harsher than the aguardiente ever had. He saw the hurt on her face and let out a heavy sigh. She felt so stupid, so desperate and ugly. She pulled out of his hands forcefully, grabbing her shirt and turning before he could see the hot angry tears streaming down her face. The jealousy at all those faceless women he had fucked without a second thought boiled her blood.

“I’m sorry, I-” She cut him off.

“You know my name, that must be it right? Can’t pretend you don’t know me after.” She lashed out, it hurt so much to have him so close, knowing he had no problem with casual sex, with anyone but her. Deep down she knew she was speaking out of anger and hurt but at that moment she didn’t care. The mix of alcohol and rejection made her vicious and the colour bloomed on her chest and face - her skin reddening.

“That’s not fair, I don’t want you to hate me after. I’m not in a good place and you mean more than those other women. I don’t want to use you like that. I should go, thanks for everything.” He spoke gently and the hurt in his voice was making her angrier.

She didn’t say anything as he walked out the door, her anger and hurt kept her silent.

She heard him climb out onto the fire escape a few hours later, a soft knock on her window.

“Yami, come out and sit with me.” He spoke low and Lito looked up at him, meowing softly.

She ignored him.

The next day was awful. She felt foolish and embarrassed. She’d presented herself to him and he’d pushed her away. She didn’t think you’d be able to face him for a while. She made sure to leave for work an hour early so as not to have to face him in the hallway.

He was there when she got home though. Hearing her familiar gait walking up to her door and he opened up his door - the sound of it making the bottom of her stomach feel like it was dropping onto the floor.

“We need to talk.” he had his scowl back on and she couldn’t deal with it right now. Not after yesterday, not after working with a headache and hangover and heartbreak.

“There’s nothing to talk about Javier, it’s fine. I shouldn’t have come on to you like that. You’ve never expressed any sexual interest in me whatsoever and I put you on the spot. I’m sorry about what I said, I felt embarrassed. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m tired and I’m going to sleep.” She closed the door in his face before he could get another word in. She pressed her forehead against the door as she locked it, hearing him sigh heavily and eventually make his way back inside.

The anger and hurt burned through her just as fiercely as the night before and the tears ran freely as she showered.

She’d been ignoring him for days. He tried to talk to her but she couldn’t bring herself to face him - she gave him excuses, she was tired. She had a headache. She told him everything was fine but he knew it wasn’t. Eventually he stopped asking.

She hadn’t heard him leave, but she definitely heard him come home. She heard the familiar sound of a woman laughing, this time he told her to be quiet. That hurt more than everything and her chest ached knowing he had someone he didn’t give a shit about in his apartment. She couldn’t cope with the sounds that would surely follow after they entered his place. She braced herself for them, the anticipation much worse. They came. They always came.

She was vocal but she heard him telling her to keep it down over and over until eventually she could hear her asking what was wrong. The walls of the building were paper thin.

She made her way to the fire escape, not wanting to hear any more of their exchange.

She smoked out there on her own, trying vainly to soothe herself. This is not the first time she’d experienced rejection and she knew it wouldn’t be her last. There was nothing left but to just accept it. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t like her that way. If things were reversed she would expect him to understand and respect her wishes. She’d just have to toughen up and do the same, didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell.

She heard his window open and he came outside to sit with her, keeping a healthy distance. At least he wore a shirt this time. She didn’t look up at him, her tears had dried up a while ago but her face was puffy from crying. She didn’t care if he noticed.

“I didn’t make too much noise, did I Yami?” He spoke in low tones and the question made her angry. She felt like hitting him but she took a deep breath.

“No. You made the usual amount.” Her voice was hoarse from crying, from the pain in her throat from trying to swallow up her tears. Even so she couldn’t keep the acid tone out of her words. She took a deep breath, she had to calm down - she couldn’t treat him this way. She got up to climb back into bed, there would be no more noise to keep her awake now.

He grabbed her hand to hold her back and she snatched it back as though she’d been burned. She saw his face fall, and the guilt rose bringing with it the urge to apologize. He beat her to it.

“Sorry, I’m sorry if I hurt you, you have to know I care about you.” He spoke so sadly, the frown still present. She wanted so badly to smooth it away, to kiss his forehead and feel him wrap his arms around her.

“I know. Goodnight Javiersito.” She cried all night.

---------------------------

She hadn’t seen him for a full week, the both of them going out of their way to avoid each other. She didn’t want it to be this way but it was better. She didn’t want to cry every time she saw him.

He hadn’t brought anyone home and she was more grateful than she could ever say, but she knew it would happen again soon. He was a good looking man and if the noises she heard were anything to go by, he was a good lay.

That’s what she needed. She needed to get laid. That would help her stop obsessing over her stupidly hot neighbour who didn’t want her. It was childish but she got a sick thrill at having him be the one to hear her for once, although a little part of her whispered that he wouldn’t care. He’d probably be relieved. Wouldn’t have her pining over him so obviously.

She wanted to turn heads tonight. She went with a skintight dress that showed off her curves, some of her most expensive, sheer intimates. She wanted a visceral reaction from whoever she decided to bring home. She wanted Javier to know other men desired her even if he didn’t.

She were so confident leaving the apartment in her ‘come fuck me’ heels and a leather bomber jacket, a stark contrast to how she felt now. She’d been at the local bar for an hour, her feet were sore, her hair more frizzy than anything else and there was no one she wanted to take home. To make matters worse, Javi was standing at the other end of the bar, ignoring a woman who quite obviously had her eye on him.

There was a broad man in front of her- very attractive, he was speaking to her but she could barely hear him.

“Sorry what?” She leaned in close to him, he smelled great. He brought his mouth to her ear. His voice was deep and soothing, in another life she would have lost her mind over this man. He was tall and strong, his eyes a crystal clear blue. He reminded you of a prince, his blonde hair thick. This will do nicely.

“I said - can I buy you a drink?” He flashed a movie star smile at her and she could feel Javi’s eyes burning into her. She ignored him.

“Only if you let me buy you one after.” She smiled sweetly at him, moving closer to him. He was very attractive and this was exactly what she needed. She chanced a glance back at Javi and saw he was scowling at her. That really pissed her off, how dare he give her that look? It should be you, she thought.

Her mystery man introduced himself as Will, an obvious tourist and she flirted with him the whole night. It made her feel guilty that he was actually nice, he was charming and he made no attempt to hide his attraction to her. His hand had found her waist and was slowly but steadily making it’s way south.

She felt Javi’s eyes on her the whole night - it was making her bolder and she pressed herself up against Will, flirting with him shamelessly. He would whisper things into her ear - tell her how hot she was, how he was attracted to her. He bought her another drink and they chatted idly. All smiles and bold statements. Eventually Will finally got brave and pulled her towards him as he sat on a bar stool. Looking up at her with desire clear on his face.

She let him, standing between his legs placing her hands on his broad shoulders. He tipped his face up at her, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and kissed her. It was a good kiss all things considered.

It wasn’t Javi.

It would have to do however as she once again reminded herself that if Javi wanted her, he would have had her.

“Want to get out of here?” She held Will's face in her hands and he nodded eagerly. When she looked up, Javi was gone.

Will gave her exactly what she needed. It started out a little rocky while the two of them found their rhythm but in the end he had her moaning for real and after they’d both reached their peak she felt lighter.

“That was really good, I had a great time.” He was up and getting dressed. “Maybe we could do that again before I leave?” Oh thank Christ she thought, she was glad he wasn’t expecting to stay over.

“Yeah I’d like that- I had a great time too.” She answered honestly.

She walked him to the door wearing just a tshirt and he kissed her sweetly before he slipped out. The note with his phone number was left on the counter.

—————————-

It had been a couple of days since her night with Will, and she hadn’t called him back yet.

Javi came out onto the fire escape to find her sitting there smoking. She said nothing to him.

“I see what you mean about the walls being paper thin, I heard everything the other night.” His voice was serious and she thought she detected some anger there. She told herself she was imagining it.

“Did he make you cum? Or did you fake it?” He gave her a hard stare. The blood rushed to her face and she wanted to slap him for that.

“Why? Can’t tell the difference? Not that it’s absolutely any of your fucking business, but yes - he made me cum.” She was incensed. How dare he ask that? She stubbed out her smoke angrily, the blood rushing to her face, boiling in her veins.

“I’m jealous.” He was serious.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Unbelievable.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you for days, maybe explain why I didn’t fuck you-“ She cut him off.

“Waiting outside to corner me after work isn’t trying to talk to me. Bringing another girl over to fuck and then apologizing for the noise isn’t explaining anything. I put myself out there for you, maybe I shouldn’t have. I can live with that, I can live with you telling me you’re not attracted or being the kind of guy that doesn’t shit where he eats. You want to be friends? Fine. Friends don’t get jealous. You do not get to say anything about who I fuck.” She was shaking. The anger was threatening to drown her in its violence. The nerve of him, he didn’t want her, but no one else could have her either?

“I don’t know what I thought, I thought pushing you away was a good idea. I could see that you were attracted to me and I didn’t want to see that look of want turn into disgust. Not from you, I couldn’t handle it if you hated me.” He was angry too, but at himself. She let him continue.

“I shouldn’t have brought that girl over the other day, I regretted it as it was happening but it’s how I cope with things. The women I meet and I use each other, for companionship, or intel for work. We know what we’re getting into. You don’t look at me like they do, and I don’t want you to. When I saw that guy talking to you it felt like someone shot me, I was so angry and jealous it scared me. Hearing you with him was worse.” He was looking at her the same way he had the night she tried to kiss him.

“How do you want me to look at you?” She was still so angry, it took him seeing her with someone else to realize he wanted her? Men.

“I want you to look at me the way I look at you.” He came a little closer and her heart leapt. She didn’t think she could handle this right now.

“Do you want me? Or just the attention I gave you? If the only reason you’re saying all this is because it pissed you off that I slept with someone else, then you can forget it. I’m not just a toy you refuse to share.” She stood her ground.

“It should have been me, not him. It should have been me in your bed, me in between your legs.” He tentatively brought his hand up to cup her face. She slapped him across the face. The clap rang out like a gunshot. The anger was heavy in her stomach and she couldn’t believe his audacity. Even worse was her body’s reaction to him. Her nipples tightened in excitement and a wave of slick pooled in her panties at his words. He looked down at her with a dark intensity.

“Tell me to leave. Tell me to go back into my apartment and to leave you alone.” He closed the gap with a hand roughly grabbing at her waist. Bunching the fabric of her shirt in his hands- holding her tight to him.

She couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Her skin was on fire where he touched her, his breath igniting her and it made her so angry. She was wetter than she’d ever been and she hated that she wanted him so bad.

His kiss was bruising. His hands were a vice grip at her waist, pulling her closer to him, she couldn’t help but moan into his mouth. He took the opportunity to slip his tongue past her defences. She was leaking into her underwear as he roughly grabbed at her ass.

“Tell me to stop, if I fucked up too bad and you don’t want me anymore…” he kissed at her neck, his hands travelling up her back. She pushed him away momentarily and the look that came over him threatened to break her heart. He kind of deserved it.

She pulled him into her apartment and any reservations he had before were gone.

He pulled off his shirt and hers and pulled her onto his lap on her bed, his hands on her thighs the same way as the night he rejected her. He sensed her reliving it and he brought his hands to her face. He kissed her softly, trying to rewrite the memory in her mind.

This is what should have happened the kiss said.

He trailed his kisses down, to her chin, her neck, her chest. He spoke after each one.

I’m sorry, forgive me, I’m sorry

She ran her fingers through his hair as he kissed her sternum, as he licked her nipples, as he nuzzled into her skin.

It felt so good, it felt like she was weightless. It felt like if she didn’t cling onto him she would float away.

She kissed him again, wanting to breathe him into her and he was determined to let her. He was going to show her how much he cared about her, how badly he’d wanted her all these months.

She was biting at her lip, eyebrows furrowed as he grabbed at the meat of her ass, her core pressed against the thick pillar of his sex. Her pert nipple in his mouth and he thought about all the times he’d imagined tasting them when they sat outside. A cool breeze hardening them through her soft sleep shirt as they smoked and laughed.

“Javiersito…” Her nickname for him came out as a whimper and it made his cock throb.

“Dime mi reina, dime lo que quieres.” [Tell me my queen, tell me what you want.]

She moaned, pulling his face up to kiss him as she ground herself against him.

“Just you.” She felt so vulnerable, so open and soft for him and he paused, his warm hand brushing away the soft waves from her face to place soft kisses at her forehead, her eyes, her mouth.

She let him flip her over, let him settle in between her legs to press his mouth to hers, and his kisses fanned the flames already burning inside her for him. She could barely focus, her mind urged her to do all of the little things she’d daydreamed about doing ever since that first day. She ran her fingers through his hair, brought her hand to his face to brush her thumb across his plush bottom lip. She smiled as she scratched her nails lovingly down his back and it deepened when he groaned at the feel of it.

She lifted her hips when he pulled at her panties, a smile of his own lighting up his face to find her wet and glossy for him and despite all of the longing, all of the pining for him she felt shy.

She knew he could see the flush blooming on her chest and in the apples of her cheeks. She knew he could feel the slight tremble in the soft skin of her belly - had to feel it even more then he kissed just below her belly button. When he wrapped her long legs around his neck.

She watched as he trailed his kisses down, her bottom lip in between her teeth in anticipation until he finally reached the crux of her. It was then Yami understood that the noises she’d been hearing were real and it annoyed her slightly to think of those women now. He must have sensed her, felt her tense up because his big hands were caressing her wherever he could reach. Her belly, her thighs, her hips - her breasts. He coaxed her out of her mind, dipping into her to gather more wetness, to taste her and he couldn’t help but groan, to rut into his jeans on her mattress.

His fingers breached her and with the perfect glide of his tongue against her clit; the orgasm hit her almost by surprise. He had made her ache with the arousal and the temporary relief was just that, temporary. The look he had on his face as he drank in her pleasure skyrocketed her back to that needy place she’d been in just before; she knew that the force she used to pull him up would leave marks but neither of them cared. They couldn’t. Not when she all but ripped his jeans down his legs. Not when his cock was this hard, not when he slipped into her wet heat.

A mutual groan fills the dark apartment, the sound of relief. Of longing, of the hours spent yearning for him to fill her this way. To fill her heart, her space, her cunt.

He felt better than she ever imagined he did on those lonely nights and she almost laughed with the euphoria of it, her ankles locking on his lower back.

“You feel so fucking good querida, fuck - I’m not going to last..” His face was pressed into the crook of her neck, his hips a steady stroke and right then she wanted him to cum so badly it almost hurt. He leaned his weight on one arm and reached down to draw dizzying little circles onto her clit - taking another orgasm from her before giving her his own.

“Fuck Javi - yes, please, cum inside..” She breathed the words into his mouth as her body clenched around him and he couldn’t hold out anymore. His thrusts turned into a grind as he seized up.

He lit a cigarette for her before lighting one for him and they laughed and talked just like before, only this time, they were in her bed.

---------

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#Javier Peña #Javier Peña x ofc #javierxofc #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #javi x ofc #narcos fan fiction #latina ofc #hispanic ofc

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