#sherlock is clueless

[j-eryewrites]

Sneak peek into Friday's chapter!

SH: I need your help.

JW: I do have a couple of other things on my mind this evening.

SH: Like what?

JW: You are kidding?

SH: What's so important?

[sherlock-and-co-incorrect-quotes]

Sherlock: Mrs Hudson told me that, instead of being sad, I should, "go get it, girl." So, I’m going to go get it, girl

John: Get what?

Sherlock: Unclear. I’ll get everything, just to be safe

[thefisherqueen]

You will remember, Inspector MacDonald, that I was somewhat struck by the absence of a dumb-bell. I drew your attention to it; but with the pressure of other events you had hardly the time to give it the consideration which would have enabled you to draw deductions from it. When water is near and a weight is missing it is not a very far-fetched supposition that something has been sunk in the water. The idea was at least worth testing; so with the help of Ames, who admitted me to the room, and the crook of Dr. Watson's umbrella, I was able last night to fish up and inspect this bundle.

Ah, of bloody course. To quote Watson: it's so simple once it's explained

[awestruck-atrophy]

hello bbc sherlock fandom can I interest you in a flavor of mormor yet to be present in an actual sherlock holmes adaptation

[kaelma]

Trying something new; I've set up a membership tier on my Ko-fi to give subscribers access to exclusive mini fics set in my Watts and Sherlock universe.

I don't talk about my books a lot on here (or in general really) but I'm trying to be better about it, so.

James Watts, doctor in tune with everyone's emotions but his own, meets Sherlock (no last name, thank you,) private detective with a Sherlock Holmes hyperfixation. Crimes are solved, lives are saved, and everyone in the City knows they're falling for each other, except them.

There are also cyborgs.

https://katiemagnusson.com/Books/

https://ko-fi.com/kaelma/

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Hangovers and Hickeys

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: no idea rn lmao probably like 700

A/N: some Spence content before the new year (on the western calendar). Hope you all get to enjoy the day!

“Good morning sunshine.”

You winced at the sheer volume of his voice. “If I could, id shove you off of the roof Derek Morgan.”

“Fun night?”

You snorted and finally lifted your head off of the desk. “You should be a profiler.”

That caused Derek to laugh, which made you wince and close your eyes. The sunglasses perched on your nose were supposed to be helping. They weren’t.

“That’s a nice hickey you got there.”

You grunted in response and tried to adjust your sweater collar so it would cover the hickey you missed this morning when you didn’t look in the mirror. You had basically rolled out of bed, and into your car to make sure you got to work on time.

“Who gave it to you?” “Why don’t you use your super duper profiling skills to deduce it or whatever Sherlock shit you wanna do.”

Derek snorted and shook his head. ”or you could just….tell me.”

“Don’t worry about it Derek.” You grumbled.

When Derek realized he wasn’t going to get any answers out of you about it, he decided he was going to change tactics.

“Moving on from Boy Wonder?” It was no secret that you had a crush on a certain nerdy doctor. And so Derek tried to use this knowledge to his advantage.

You crossed your arms and just raised your eyebrows. “I’m not dignifying that with a response,”

“Pretty sure that was my answer.” He chuckled, sitting down in his chair and swiveling to look at you.

When you decided to just ignore Derek, and face your desk, he piped up again. “Where is he anyways?” “No idea.”

It was like he was waiting for his cue from you. Spencer pushed open the doors to the bull pen and strolled in. He had his purple scarf around his neck, over his new coat that Henry (JJ) had gotten him for Christmas. It was a beautiful grey pea coat that kept him warm during these freezing winter months. Spender was carrying a tray with two coffees on it and what seemed like a bag from McDonalds, which seemed to be for you, since he was headed in your direction.

The smell of the food caused you to groan with joy and smile at the man walking towards you.

“My knight in shining armor.” You muttered as he placed the whole tray in front of you. You placed a kiss on his cheek hasilty, causing him to blush a little.

“I got hashbrowns from both McDonald’s and Dunkin’, a little smorgasbord of grease for your pallet.” He whispered before taking one of the cups out of the tray.

“I’m going to marry you Doctor Spencer Reid.” You muttered, digging into the bag and pulling out one of the McDonald’s hash browns and biting into it. The groan you let out leaned a little on the pornographic side, which made Derek raise his eyebrows at the sound you let out, and then at tinge of pink on Spencer’s cheeks.

You continued eating, clueless about the silent interrogation happening to your left, enjoying every single bite and sip of your hangover cure.

“Derek I can hear you thinking and it’s making my head throb.”

Derek’s eyes snapped back to you, as your figure swiveled in the chair to face him, casually munching on some of the fries, in a completely different mood then from two minutes ago before Spencer had walked in the room.

“Sorry your highness. I’m just curious as to why Boy Genius here is bringing you hangover cures.”

“Well it’s his fault I’m this fucked up so he owes me.” You grumbled, swiveling around in your chair to face your desk. You pulled your lap top out of your canvas bag and started to set up for your work day.

“Wha-how is it his fault.”

That’s when Spencer turned bright red and tried to change the conversation, or at least get out of it. “I—well it’s not…I….hotch is…”

Spencer basically ran across the bullpen and up the stairs to Hotch’s office, avoiding the conversation he almost just had.

“I don’t think you wanna know.” You smirked and bit into the muffin from Dunks that Spencer had got you, not looking at the man behind you.

“I’m starting to think that too.” His eyes narrowed and he looked between where Spencer had run off to, and you.

Something was going on between the two of you, and Derek Morgan was going to figure it out.

[anemoiashifts]

100 places to shift to.

♡ 100 places to shift to from tv & movie (some of these you could consider books too). organized into categories to the best of my ability.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.

fantasy.

✦ harry potter.

✦ merlin.

✦ his dark materials.

✦ narnia.

✦ good omens.

✦ percy jackson.

apocalyptic.

✦ hunger games.

✦ divergent.

✦ the walking dead.

supernatural.

✦ sabrina the teenage witch.

✦ the chilling adventures of sabrina.

✦ stranger things.

✦ supernatural.

✦ lucifer.

✦ ghostbusters.

✦ buffy the vampire slayer.

✦ angel the series.

✦ teen wolf.

✦ wolf pack.

sci-fy.

✦ doctor who.

✦ star wars.

✦ star trek.

✦ roswell.

✦ avatar.

cartoon.

✦ barbie life in the dream house.

✦ gravity falls.

✦ amphibia.

✦ the owl house.

✦ hazbin hotel.

✦ monster high.

✦ ever after high.

✦ miraculous ladybug.

✦ phineas & ferb.

✦ rick & morty.

✦ my little pony.

✦ care bears.

✦ strawberry shortcake.

✦ adventure time.

✦ star vs the forces of evil.

✦ total drama island.

✦ scooby doo.

✦ bojack horseman.

✦ fairly odd parents.

anime.

✦ hunter x hunter.

✦ sailor moon.

✦ the legend of kora.

✦ saiki k.

✦ naruto.

✦ demon slayer.

✦ cowboy beebop.

✦ little witch academia.

✦ my hero academia.

✦ pokemon.

✦ death note.

crime / mystery.

✦ bones.

✦ criminal minds.

✦ only murders in the building.

✦ sherlock.

thriller / horror.

✦ american horror story.

✦ scream.

✦ scream queens.

✦ locke & key.

drama

✦ euphoria.

✦ shadow hunters.

✦ k12.

✦ the vampire diaries.

✦ the originals.

✦ twilight.

✦ never have i ever.

✦ h2o.

✦ wednesday.

✦ glee.

✦ gossip girl.

✦ pretty little liars.

✦ grey’s anatomy.

✦ skins.

✦ riverdale.

✦ once upon a time.

✦ emily in paris.

✦ victorious.

✦ the umbrella academy.

✦ mean girls.

✦ clueless.

✦ shameless.

✦ the guilded age.

✦ bridgeton.

✦ castle.

✦ law & order.

✦ my babysitters a vampire.

action

✦ maze runner.

✦ spiderverse.

✦ cobra kai.

✦ outer banks.

✦ jurassic park.

slice of life.

✦ gilmore girls.

✦ friends.

✦ that 70’s show.

✦ boy meets world.

✦ full house.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.

♡ whew this took forever to format & find shows considering im not a big tv / movie person at all. hope this helped a few people find some new dr’s !! bye bye :)

[fictioninmyblood]

I Meant That Shit

Summary: N’Jadaka gets tired of waiting for Y/N to forgive him and come home, so he decides to let Killmonger bring her back, kicking and screaming if necessary.

Warnings: 18+, noncon/con, smut, D/s themes, Entitled and pissed Erik being devious. Shouldthere be a warning for angst?

A/N: This was supposed to be short, but here we are. Enjoy my sexually starved thoughts.

A/N: Also, idk if this needs to be said, but I write for my demographic - black females. This has been my disclaimer/notice.

A/N: My work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than this) without my explicit consent and recognition.

After his reluctant rehabilitation, there weren't many things that brought out his killer instinct anymore. However, it seemed that lately, despite all the sparring, therapy, and meditation sessions, Erik couldn’t shake the urge to knock some sense into his girl Y/N. 

A few weeks prior when she told him she needed space and couldn’t stay in Wakanda and ignore her life anymore, he said some things. She took it the wrong way and told him they were over, as if.

When she first left, Erik was sure she’d break down and FaceTime him or use the kimoyo beads he taught her to use. She was always more vocal about missing him, so he just assumed she’d break down and restart their communication. Imagine his surprise when a whole two weeks rolled by without so much as a text, call, or video chat. He was desperate for anything from her, even a verbal lashing, but by the time a month came and went, he felt like a fiend going through withdrawal.

During week six, his excitement to finally lay his eyes on Y/N was quickly cut short when he realized she was still talking to his family even though he had been getting the silent treatment. That displeasing information lit him like a powder keg when he saw another man in Y/N’s background, getting dressed no less. T’Challa dragged him from Shuri’s lab ready to bust a gasket when his babygirl asked Shuri to go into a different room and his little cousin actually listened! His whole family was against him again it would seem.

When T’Challa got him back to his room, all he did was pace. It was ten full minutes of the king warily watching his cousin stew when M’Baku walked right into the line of fire as Erik turned to beat the shit out of his cousin. T’Challa easily dodged the current threat on his life as the giant grabbed Erik’s hands in one of his, quickly disarming him and making the pouting man even more enraged. 

“You all have been talking to her this whole time?” N’Jadaka roared.

“Just Shuri and I. She made us promise to let you figure it out for yourself, but you’ve been failing miserably cousin! Absolutely clueless!” T’Challa replied.

Erik struggled against M’Baku’s vice grip to no avail.

“No shit Sherlock. I’m gonna whoop yawls asses. M’Baku let me go.”

“Not until you promise to have a conversation with your mouth instead of your hands. I am not prepared to get involved in another war between you two.”

Erik took a few deep breaths. “Fine, I’m good.”

Once M’Baku was sure there would be no immediate violence he let go.

“You better start explaining real fucking soon T,” Erik spat, pointing an accusatory finger at T’Challa.

“Okay! Okay! Y/N is struggling to accept that you actually want her around long term!” T’Challa word-vomited.

If the prince wasn’t already enraged, the king and tribal chief would’ve laid out in hysterics at how N’Jadaka’s face screwed up. “How sway! How?!”

“From what Shuri has explained and I’ve gathered in my eavesdropping is that she thinks you only want to claim her without actually growing with her. Everything is on your terms, your way, in  your time. She’s been far more  patient than most would be with you so I can’t say she’s wrong.”

Erik jumped at T’Challa, scaring him and the big gorilla chief. “I oughta beat you up for keeping your mouth shut.”

“She and Shuri threatened me within an inch of my life and they scare me more than you. Besides, according to them, you can’t keep relying on us to figure out what’s going on in your relationship and I couldn’t find a valid disagreement.”

Erik nearly did slap T’Challa at the last sentiment.

“Aye aye!” M’Baku shouted, getting between the two yet again, “He is being truthful now. That counts eh? And if I may interject, I think you’re aiming your anger at the wrong person.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Erik said, deflating under the weight of that truth, “but his ass still bout to pay me back and I know just how.”

————-

A few hours later…

“You know, when I told you that you could pay me back with The Royal Talon Fighter, I didn’t expect you to tag along.”

“Who else was going to keep an eye on our Wakandan technology or keep you from murdering anyone in the vicinity of Y/N, especially any man?”

Erik rolled his eyes and huffed. “I guess.”

“Or Y/N from killing you for just showing up jealous despite being radio silent since long before she left Wakanda.”

“Alright alright! You made your point. Damn! Just drive the fancy metal.”

—

Erik was all confidence until the second they landed in Atlanta. Yeah, Killmonger was out for blood and was ready to bring their girl back kicking and screaming if necessary, but Erik N’Jadaka Stevens? He was a nervous fucking wreck.

T’Challa and M’Baku’s words really struck a nerve and he had nothing but time to stew over them on the ride to your family’s hometown ranch. Before he met you, Killmonger made all the decisions, kept him alive and ahead of the game, whatever game he was surviving at the moment. He lived like that for well over a decade when he met you, but you didn’t bat an eyelash at his swift mood swings, his bloodthirst, or his possessiveness, often putting him in place. You handled him with love and care, showing him how to become the softer version of himself without sacrificing your boundaries too much. He was quickly realizing that he sometimes pushed too hard, took too much, neglected your requirements. It was your stern patience, however, that was enough to allow you to become the first person to get him the person instead of him the killer to come out and communicate, interact, and live rather than survive. 

You did it for him a second time around when he came out of cryo too. He hadn’t told you anything about how he would go about his goals, opting just to disappear and execute so it was a surprise of a lifetime to wake up to your beautiful Y/E/C. After getting over his initial anger over you seeing the worst of him, you were the first person he responded to or let touch him during his recovery. Even going so far as not allowing the medical staff to redress his wounds if he was awake.

Only your touch soothed him, only your voice gave him peace. You made him less of a killing machine and more human again, made him want to address the tsunami of emotions and trauma that he lugged around. He didn’t want to jeopardize your willingness to be that for him but he recognized how you were always giving all you had just to receive an inch of progress from him. If that.

Unfortunately, all of his introspection and nervousness flew right out of the truck T’Challa had them in when he saw you walking up to your personal guesthouse with a man in tow. Killmonger immediately took the reins pushing him and his feelings down into the abyss, and leaping out of the car before T’Challa could come to a complete stop with his cousin calling after him.

“Y/N!” Killmonger shouted from the end of the long-ass driveway, rage evident in his voice.

Y/N was haphazardly trying to get her drunk cousin up the stairs while nervously dropping her keys when she heard Killmonger. She’s only encountered him a few times since meeting Erik, after the first time she brought him back to himself, he did his best to keep that part from her. It didn’t always work since any repressed feeling or issue the man had was poured into his alter ego, feeding his desire to be wild and untamed in his decision-making. So she knew he was out for blood with just the sound of her name.

She got the key in just as Killmonger got to the beginning of her walkway up to the house. As quickly as she could, she pulled her cousin in, slamming and locking the door in her partner’s face, leaving the beast to bang on her door and demand entrance.

“I’m not dealing with your bulldozing tactics Kill! You can come back when Erik is ready to face his fucking feelings and have an adult conversation!”

“If you know what’s good for you and that nigga in there, you better open this ghatdamn door Y/N!” He roared in response.

Y/N’s cousin couldn’t stop laughing, no matter how much she waved him off. Getting trashed 3 nights in a row after a bad breakup and crashing with his favorite cousin after hearing how she was hiding from both the world and the love of her life as well didn’t prepare him for seeing her so out of character. One second she was fleeing from the man, the next she was big and bad from behind a locked door in all her 5’5” glory. It was comical as hell to him.

“You know you look constipated when you cuss? Like that stick in your ass is fighting every syllable.” He said, immediately dying in another fit of laughter at his analogy.

“Who the fuck is that in there with you, Y/N, and don’t fucking lie!”

“The next man. Nice to meet you. You must be the ex.” her cousin shouted out in a drunken slur to Y/N’s horror.

Yeah, she knew she wasn’t in the wrong, and there was no reason to defend herself against this man, but she knew not to press certain buttons once Kill made an appearance. Her cousin, unfortunately, had no discernment to see that he had just pressed the biggest red button Kill had when it came to her.

Y/N watched the myriad of emotions that crossed Erik’s face through the peephole, praying to every ancestor and display of the creator she could think of that this man wasn’t going to go full psycho-killer on them both. The last thing she needed was him taking several steps back in his healing just to unnecessarily add another scar, maybe 2 with how pissed he looked. 

Y/N turned back to her cousin, ready to kill him for putting her in even hotter water, only to find that nigga was sleep, leaving Y/N to deal with the consequences on her own. 

As soon as she had that thought her ears piqued, taking in how silent it had gotten. All she could hear was the crunch of gravel as T’Challa finally pulled in and got out. When she peeked outside the peephole again, she was met with a confused T’Challa looking for Erik.

A chill ran up her spine and her blood ran cold as she slowly turned to her current worst fear; Killmonger pissed as hell, staring her down with a knife to her cousin’s throat.

“Give me one good reason not to paint your brand new carpet with this nigga’s blood Y/F/N then fuck you on the new color.”

Putting her hands up in a placating manner, Y/N slowly inched towards Kill, stopping when he dug the knife just slightly deeper, exposing a thin line of blood, as her cousin slept unawares.

Donning a submissive voice as if she was talking to a wild animal, “Erik, baby calm down.”

“Don’t baby calm down me! You out here giving other niggas what’s mine? Mine Y/N!”

“That’s not–”

“Don’t tell me that’s not what’s going on when you’ve been M.I.Fucking.A. for weeks! And the first thing I see both on video chat and in person is you with some random?! I’ll murder every nigga to ever touch you, keep tryna play me.”

“Nobody’s playing you Daka, look closer, you know him. I promise I haven’t been stepping out on you.” Y/N continued on, internally rolling her eyes at the toddler temper tantrum she had to placate this nigga out of. “My stupidly in love, trying to escape his own heartache, and loves drama when drunk cousin that you have met several times was just egging you on.”

Kill looked closer to the man’s face and released the filter of rage clouding his judgment, upon closer inspection he realized they’d met at several of the many family gatherings he’d attended with Y/N/N. Slowly easing the knife from her cousin’s throat, Erik struggled to fight back tears at his behavior. He was proving he wasn’t good enough for her, he hadn’t actually changed all that much. Kill took the reins once again, unwilling to let him process his feelings of abandonment and betrayal just yet. Rushing towards Y/N, he laid the knife flat on the side of her face, taking up residence on the other side.

Biting a huge hickey along her jawline, before grasping her earlobe in between his teeth, Killmonger growled, “So if you ain’t been fucking him, who you been fucking?”

Although Y/N knew she logically had nothing to feel guilty about, how he was questioning her made her want to lie down and worship him as an apology regardless. She took a deep breath to center herself, understanding that any sign of nervousness would be taken as an omission of guilt.

Y/N ran her hands up his arms and over his shoulder blades to hold his face in her palms. He reluctantly released her earlobe to allow her to face him, naturally allowing the blade to rest against her neck ever so gently.

“N’Jadaka. Erik, baby? Look at me, I have been trying to live without you miserably for the last few weeks. I’ve only been going out since Y/C/N got here and I have to beg for breaks because I’m basically his chaperone. You believe me don’t you?”

Erik looked at her with suspicion clouding his eyes. He dropped the knife and held her throat in his hands, squeezing just tight enough to hint to either pleasure or pain, pushing her against the front door.

“Ion know. Why should I?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Y/N took a chance and palmed his face, caressing his cheekbone with her thumb. “Cause you know that no matter how much you stress me out, isolate yourself from me, or threaten anyone who seems to have more access to me than you, that I love your crazy ass.”

Erik squeezed a little tighter, not enough to hurt her but enough to reassert his dominance. Y/N put a hand over his, doing her best to ground herself in the feeling of his hands rather than how much she wanted to cum from the pressure of them.”

“Sorry,” Y/N squeaked out, “I love every version of you, no matter how threatening any of them may be and I physically can’t stand to have anyone else touch me the way I let you touch me.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you?”

“Nah, princess, the other part.”

“No matter how threatening-” she started, but was cut off by the growl emanating from Erik’s chest and the pulsing release and pressure of him allowing her small gasps of air. “You know what I mean Y/N, don’t test me lil mama.”

Erik held his squeeze on her neck, tilting it ever so slightly to lick the side of her face and hold her earlobe between his teeth, tugging.

Y/N couldn’t hold back the guttural moan if she tried. Just barely keeping her eyes from rolling back and donning her sweetest sub voice, she said, “I physically can’t stand to have anyone else touch me the way I let you touch me big daddy. It literally makes me nauseous.”

Erik released her ear with a wet snap against her face, “It does?”

Y/N hummed and nodded her head as best she could in her current predicament.

Killmonger covered the forgiving face Erik started to make, replacing it with one of his stern, unyielding looks. “Then why you leave me and give me the silent treatment for weeks?”

Y/N whined at the tightening of his hands, closing her eyes to savor the pleasure only he could illicit lighting her body on fire.

Erik bit her bottom lip roughly, nearly drawing blood. “That’s not an answer.”

Losing the battle against her libido and subspace, Y/N whined again.

In a faux sweet voice Erik said, “Awww, is little mama already too far gone in her head thinking about all the ways imma mark you.”

Y/N nodded again, lost in the many images she’d acquired from her sexual experiences with Erik and Kill over the years.

“Good.” And with those words, Y/N was suddenly looking at Erik’s ass and the floor as he stomped upstairs to her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

He tossed her on the bed and roughly stripped her of her clothes, halter top first, bottoms and panties all in one fell swoop last, leaving her heels on.

He positioned her over his knee and popped her cheeks until her bottom was flushed with his favorite shade of reddish purple and warmed his hands with the heat she emanated.

By the time he was done, Y/N wanted to be a ball of tears, but could only sniffle, her voice too shy to make an appearance when Kill took the reins of their scenes like this for fear of upsetting him further.

Erik used his knee to spread her legs open far enough to see her flower drenching her thighs in her nectar for him. He took two fingers to swipe some of it onto them for him to put in his mouth and savor, groaning at how much sweeter she seemed to have gotten since last he held her.

He laid her onto the bed and got up to undress himself, slapping her already sore ass when she didn’t move a muscle.

“You know what’s up. Face down, ass up lil mama.”

Y/N groaned but slowly inched her way into position. Already feeling like jello, she barely put an arch in her back, struggling not to lay back down and pass out.

Killmonger was not happy with that. After he’d removed everything except his grills and chain he let both his palms come down on her cheeks simultaneously.

Sounding more animal than human, “If you don’t assume the position like you got some sense, I swear to the gods Y/N.”

She was still lethargic, but was eager to experience less of his painful assaults and more of the pleasurable ones that she knew were around the corner. It took all of her strength but she was able to inch herself into position, deepening her arch just the way he demanded with her arms by her side and her cheek resting against the comforter.

“Good girl.”

With how pliant she was to his commands and the evidence of how much she trusted and wanted him dripping down her thighs, it took all of his restraint not to plunge himself into her until he felt her cervix try to push him back out.

Y/N smiled faintly at the praise, humming and wiggling her ass in response.

Killmonger grasped her wrists as he knelt to get up close and personal with his pussy. He spread her lips so he could get an eyeful of her throbbing clit and blew on it, eliciting a guttural moan from Y/N, before replacing his hand back on her wrist.

“Just you wait mamas, you gonna be screaming and crying by the time I’m done with you.”

He licked her juices on both thighs, leaving hickies all over them both before he finally put his whole face in her pussy and ate. If it wasn’t for the grasp he had on her wrists, she would have collapsed immediately.

Erik was a good kisser in general, but Killmonger was a master at french kissing, especially her pussy, until she was questioning whether or not she still wanted the pleasure. Those deep soul sucking kisses always made her question her sanity.

He slurped up and suctioned her clit into his mouth like that’s where it belonged, flicking it with the tip of his tongue until she came with a silent scream, without ever releasing her tiny bud. Then he released it with a pop only to hold her lips open and spit directly onto her hole, watching his saliva drip down onto her clit. He flattened his tongue and licked like the dog he could be until she was a whining, moaning mess, tears streaming down her face just as promised. 

Once the first sound hit his ears, she couldn’t stop the noises he was pulling from her if she was mute, let alone at the mercy of his insatiable thirst for her most animalistic responses.

Kill continued his assault with his tongue, moving through her folds in a rhythm only he knew. After he’d gotten two more orgasms from her that way, Y/N alternating between screaming and crying, he latched his plush lips back around her clit, assaulting the sensitive bundle of nerves, and plunged his two most trustworthy fingers into her, immediately finding her gspot and caressing it with an incessant ‘come hither’ motion until she was squirting and creaming uncontrollably. Not willing to let go just yet he dragged it out for what seemed like forever since she briefly lost consciousness and came to, lips still parted in the O of her silent screams, with his mouth still eagerly slurping up the waterfall his fingers were responsible for. All Y/N could do was turn her head the other way to watch what she could see of him, whining and moaning.

When she could barely release any more spurts he released her, licking his hand, fingers, and forearm clean as he slowly stroked his hard as steel member. 

In the great deep of her sex haze, Y/N mumbled, “He brought dick too? How are we gonna survive dick too when he almost killed us with just his mouth and fingers.”

Erik chuckled at her ramblings, proud that he was, as usual, responsible for her senseless words.

When his precum made an appearance, he swiped it up with his thumb and rubbed it into her pussy, almost immediately replacing his thumb with the tip of his dick. Wanting to savor this moment of finally being able to reconnect with his pussy, he played with her, just like that. Rubbing the tip of his dick in both of their juices, up and down her pussy lips, circling her clit, and coming to apply just enough pressure to her desperately clenching hole, only to rinse and repeat. On and on he went, teasing them both until his quietly whimpering babygirl was back to guttural whines.

He knew she was right where he wanted her mentally when she started begging.

“Please big daddy, I’m so sorry. Please baba E, please baba, please. Please please please please please pleaaaaaasssssseeeeee.”

When he was good and ready, he pulled her up by her throat until she was flush against him, licked her tears from her cheek, and forced her to look him in the eyes.

“You don’t do that disappearing and silent treatment shit ever again Y/N. You hear me?”

Y/N nodded and blinked at him with a puppy eyed look that damn near melted the ice caps of his attitude, but he was quick to remind her who’s big daddy in their relationship.

“When I told you, you were mine, I meant that shit mama.”

“Yes, baba,” Y/N squeaked out.

He tongued her down with one of his sloppy french kisses and as soon as he felt her body relax in his hold, he did exactly what his body had been begging for since the second he saw her. He pushed himself into her until he felt the tip of her cervix try to push him all the way back out, savoring the fucked out look she wore as her body spasmed with the unexpected orgasm, he held them there letting her ride it out. 

In this moment he was grateful for the years of curated discipline since the way her pussy clamped onto him almost triggered his own mind numbing orgasm. Although he successfully staved off his nut, he couldn’t stop the way all of his fight was knocked right out of him.  Finally rid of the aggression that his Killmonger personality oozed, Erik was able to finally take in his queen, his Y/N, in all her sex hazed glory.

When she finally came down from her high he started moving, giving her slow and deep strokes as he showered her face and neck with kisses, hoping his attempt at lovemaking showed her just how priceless she was to him, how desperate he’d been without her.

Kiss, “I’m sorry too mamas,” kiss “I know how much you love me and I don't understand why,” kiss, “you,” kiss, “insist,” kiss, “on pouring all of the best parts of yourself into me.” He couldn’t help but shed a tear at the relief he felt, having her in his arms again. “I promise to do better,” kiss, “to listen and pay attention more,” kiss, “to treat you like the empress you are,” kiss, “just say you’ll come home with me,” kiss, “promise you’ll take your rightful place by my side mamas,” kiss, “claim your right as my queen.”

Y/N was a moaning, whining mess, barely holding onto consciousness and shedding her favorite kind of tears, just as promised.

Erik tucked his face into her neck, struggling to keep himself from cumming too soon since her pussy was gripping him like a boa constrictor, indicating that yet another orgasm wasn’t too far.

He held himself in the deepest parts of her and put a little whine in his hips. “Please mama, come home with me.”

Just when he thought he could hold out no longer she arched into him and screamed yes over and over, overwhelmed with her orgasm, and squirted all over them both. Erik came in her almost at the exact same time, his orgasm nearly knocking him out with how it overcame him from head to toe. Both of them slumped into the bed.

—

By the time he finally started to get up, her screams had quieted back to whimpers.

Erik slowly and gently removed her heels from her feet, massaging the soles with just the right amount of pressure.

He cleaned both of them with a warm washcloth and ran the tub, placing some bubble bath soap, epsom salt, essential oils, and dried rose petals in the water. Wanting to balance out the intrusive way he barged back into her life, he lit some candles and incense as well, and placed his favorite body oil of hers on the counter.

When he came back to get her in the tub, she was silently staring into space in the same place and position he left her. After he got her to turn over and sit up, he scooped her into his arms bridal and brought her to the tub, gently placing her into the suds.

Once he saw her relax he went back to the bedroom to strip and change the sheets, wanting their transition back into the room to be seamless. When he came back into the bathroom her head was leaned against the edge of the tub, eyes closed, and tears were streaming down her face, alarming him to the fact that although he’d won the battle, he was still losing the war with treating his girl with the care she really was looking for from him.

Choking up himself, he kneeled next the tub and leaned over her face, kissing the droplets left behind.

“I’m so sorry mamas. You know that right?” His voice cracked at the end.

Although she started nodding yes, she ended up shaking her head no.

“Can you open your eyes for me please?”

Y/N shook her head no again.

“Pretty please?”

Again she shook her head no. She was too scared to look him in his eyes, anytime he touched her or they made eye contact she folded to his desires and needs, abandoning her own.

A little defeated, but determined to win all of her back, not just her body, Erik switched tactics.

“May I get into the tub with you and hold you?”

Y/N hesitated a few moments before she nodded yes. As soon as she heard the rustle of him standing back up she scooted forward allowing him to sit behind her.

Once he was seated, Erik gently pulled her into him, urging her body to use him as she did the edge of the tub. The moment she relaxed in his embrace, head lolling slightly to the left, he started kissing up and down her neck from where her ear met her face to her collarbone.

When he felt enough time had passed, he tried to get her to open up to him again.

“Lil mama?”

Y/N hummed.

“Tell me what’s on your mind please, I promise to listen.”

Y/N held up her pinky and asked, “Pinky promise?”

Erik locked his pinky with hers and brought her hand to his lips, softly talking against it, “Pinky Promise.”

She pulled her hand away, putting it back in her lap to join the other one, under the water.

Taking a deep breath she started.

“Am I a toy to be played with Daka?” Erik was ready to answer but kept silent, knowing she needed to get all of her thoughts out before he interrupted her. “To be taken out of storage to be used and then tossed aside when you’re not getting the desired result anymore?”

Rubbing the sides of her thighs and suddenly very scared, he said, “ no mamas.”

“Then why do you get to demand time and attention and energy from me, but when I ask for a sliver of honest communication, the smallest amount of all three resources you have to offer me, you shut me out? Why is it only okay for you to communicate what’s going on with you and us when you feel like it, when it's convenient? Why do I always have to beg for you to lean on me, to use me softly? Why do I have to beg you to let me hold you. Why don’t you ever just ask? Why do I have to grovel at your feet to be held by you? Why is the only time you make love to me when you’re trying to win me back? Why?” 

By the end of her list, Y/N was sobbing. Erik wrapped his arms around her body and tucked his chin in the curve of her neck and let a few tears drop himself before he answered.

“I don’t know mamas. I guess…,” he wiped the tears from his face and gulped down the rising tsunami of emotion that she so easily created with just a few sentences before he wrapped his arm back around her, “...I guess I’m just terrified.”

“Of what baby? Haven’t I been here? Haven’t I done the best to support you with all that I am, to remain honest with you and show you that I am loyal to our future?”

He kissed her shoulder and said, “you have. I just-”

Y/N pulled out of his arms to finally look him in the eye, “You just what? Aren’t my efforts to build a life with you enough?”

Erik palmed her face and gave her a deep kiss, hoping to transfer all of his emotion into it.

He put his forehead against hers and said, “I’m just so fucking terrified of losing you. To have the warmth of your love snatched away at a moment's notice. I’m terrified in a way I haven’t been in so fucking long that I just convince myself that its better to pull away and show you how unworthy I am of the full magnitude of your love.”

He pulled away and kissed her forehead, grateful she was finally looking him in the eyes again. “But this time of separation showed me I am nothing without you, just a hollow shell, no love to warm my soul and bones. Even the care and concern of my family isn’t enough to fill the abyss that’s created in your absence.”

Y/N swiped away the stray tears from his face, “that’s-”

“I know. Super intense.”

“Yes. But I was gonna say a relief to hear. You never really give me any verbal confirmation that you feel as deeply for me as I do for you unless I say I love you first.”

“I know mamas, but I promise to do better, be better, for you.”

Y/N pecked his lips. “No Baba. For you. You need to talk your feelings out loud so you can hear it too. You need to know that the only reason you’re able to love me so deeply is because you love yourself that deep, if not deeper, first. Understand?”

Erik smirked, yet again grateful that he had such a wise and loving partner who always held up the pieces of mirror he’d sworn he’d broken to pieces.

“Yea lil mama, I understand.”

“Good…,” Y/N kissed him again, deepening the kiss but teasing him slightly with how lightly she moved her lips against his. When she pulled away, she almost regretted bursting his bubble. “...cause I’m not going back with you until I’m ready.”

Erik’s face instantly fixed itself into a scowl. “But-”

Y/N held a finger to his lips. “I said when I’m ready, not never. I came home to get back to taking care of me, love me, and understanding what my needs are.”

His pout deepened.

“And I learned that I need to stop jumping when you say jump. So I go back when I feel that I’m ready, not because you showed up and demanded it of me. Okay?”

He was a little deflated, but still holding onto the hope of her eventually coming back with him.

“Okay, but I’m staying with you until you’re ready.”

“But-.” 

It was Erik’s turn to hush her with a finger. “I already know what you’re going to say and my duties will be waiting for me when we go back together. Now that you’re back in my arms I’m in no hurry to lose the privilege again.”

“You’re not!”

“You’re right, cause I’m staying.”

All Y/N could do was chuckle, understanding that she’d lost this battle and relishing in the fact that she won the war. It seemed he was finally starting to understand what she needed because although she was indeed going to complain about him having responsibilities to return to, she really did need him to stay. That abyss he had was mirrored in her heart and only time with him would close it back up.

Both satisfied that they worked through the root issue, they went back to enjoying the bath, Y/N comfortably resting her head against Erik.

When they were all pruney and the water was verging on cold, Erik stood them up to drain the tub and turned on the shower to rinse them both. After he dried them both, he quickly lotioned his body with shea butter, grabbed the body oil and guided Y/N hand in hand, back into the bedroom.

He laid her on her back first to moisturize and massage her front, kneading out all of the tension she held. When he was working his way back up from her feet, he couldn’t help but get stuck between her thighs, using his thumbs to massage circles up them until he reached her pussy again.

Y/N slightly parted her legs, letting one bend and fall open for easy access. He immediately used one hand to part her lips so he could see her clit clearly.

Erik leaned down to softly kiss her clit a few times before he pulled away and used the thumb on his other hand to rub slow circles. He admired her form as he brought her to orgasm leisurely. 

He went back to massaging her thighs until she returned from the heights of her pleasure.

His voice was more gruff than he wanted when he told her, “turn over.”

She easily compiled and continued his massage, paying extra attention to her sore ass.

When Y/N was 2 more seconds away from sleep and he was satisfied with his work he urged her under the covers and joined her. She tried to grab his hardened member to return the favor but he grabbed up her hands, kissing them to soften the blow.

“No, I needed to show you how softly I can treat you, I don’t need to cum right now. Sleep.”

Y/N pouted and whined, wanting to feel him connected to her again.

She lifted her leg over his as they faced each other and inched as close as she could with her hands in his, feeling his dick graze her pussy lips.

Putting a little more base in his voice, “Ay! What I just say lil mama?”

She whined out, “I don’t care, I just need to feel you in me Baba.��

Erik grunted. 

Y/N donned her best puppy dog pout and begged with her words and body, wiggling in his hold and being able to feel the lightest brush of his hot skin. “Pleeeeeeaaaaassssseeee?”

“Fine, but careful what you asked for…” he said, sheathing himself in one stroke and stilled her hips before she could start moving. “...you just might get it.”

He released her hands and tongued her down, palming her face.

“Sleep Y/N.”

“But,” she said, her face scrunching in confusion.

“You can keep me warm, but that’s it for now, okay?”

She started to whine again but was cut short when he wrapped the hand palming her face around her throat.

“Sleep mamas. You’re going to need all of your energy in the morning.”

She wasn’t necessarily happy, but she also wasn’t necessarily dissatisfied. She did get her wish after all.

“Ok.”

Y/N tucked her head under his chin and started to drift before she sleepily said, “thank you for showing me how much you care Baba E. I’m really happy you’re here.”

Erik kissed her forehead and squeezed his arms a little tighter around her.

“Thank you for letting me.”

He was answered with her cute snores and let the sound lull him into the best sleep he’d had in too long of a while.

[nerdthatsiriuslylovesteaxx]

Liner and Lip gloss

"Pads sit still I'm going to mess up." Remus tried to keep his hand steady

"Alright, sorry, just excited for the ball."

"Who'd ya ask anyways?"

"No one yet."

"Pads the ball is in two hours."

"I'm aware."

"You aren't hot enough to get a girl in two hours."

"Piss off. "

"Don't think I will Siri."

"Oh fuck you."

"What was that? Sorry I couldn't hear you from down there."

"Mangez de la merde et mourez."

"Really? You can't think of a single creative thing to say so you start speaking in French."

"You have to agree it's hot."

"Who's been lying to you?"

"How dare you, anyways I know who I'm asking, just hoping they'll say yes."

"Good luck with that, they probably already have a date you know, most people plan ahead."

"Who are you going with?"

"I'm not going."

"What! Why? Moony please it'll be fun, James and I are pranking all the Slytherins."

"Nope, can't be bothered. Anyways I don't have a date."

"I'm sure plenty of girls would go with you, you're hot."

"Don't want to lie to them."

"You have to like someone, just hope they don't have a date and ask her out."

"Pads... can I tell you something..?"

"Are you alright?"

"I-I'm gay." Sirius pulled him into a hug,

"Thank you for telling me."

"You're not mad...?"

"Why would I be mad Moony?"

"My dad kicked me out when I told him."

"Shit- I'm so sorry."

"He hated me anyways, just the final nail in the coffin. It's fine, I survived, anyways turn around I'm braiding your hair."

"Moons, can you help me ask this person?"

"Are you sure they don't have a date?"

"Certain now,"

"Okay...? How do I help exactly?"

"Say yes."

"Wha-"

"Remus will you go to the ball with me?"

"...no shit Sherlock."

"FINALLY, MERLIN'S BEARD HE HAS BEEN PINING OVER YOU FOR YEARS YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW PAINFUL IT'S BEEN TO WATCH BOTH OF YOU ACT SO CLUELESS."

"Prongs, are you okay?"

"Now that I don't have to listen to Sirius planning how to ask you out every single quidditch practice yes."

"It wasn't ev-"

"Yes, yes it was. I have them a written down, extreme detail, with the date because I knew you would say this."

______

A lil wolfstar cuz I've been wanting to write about these two dorks for last three years

[consult-sherlockholmes]

I wouldn't call that torture, not at all. Why aren't you just explaining then if my cluelessness bothers you so much? That's the solution to the problem then.

Seriously if you want to know what the 🍑 means definitely talk to John not Jim. If you go to Jim about this your bound to end up in a fight with John over it. John knows and he will love to explain and probably demonstrate to you what the peach is and how it pertains to you. Just some advice that will do you good.

How do you demonstrate what a peach is? @consultjohnwatson

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Five Fics Friday: August 23/24

Happy Friday everyone!! Finally going on my 2 week holidays, so I'm glad I have some great fics I can read if I get bored!! Check out what's on my radar this week! Enjoy!!

RECENT MFLs

Serenity After the Turmoil (Part 2) by jawnscoffee (G, 2,467 w., 1 Ch. || Dreams, Nightmares, Sherlock's Violin) – John had always been someone with a vivid imagination - especially when it came to dreams. Nightmares, to be precise. This causes him a lot of trouble, especially after returning from the war. The only thing that calms him down is when Sherlock plays his violin. When John wakes up one night from another nightmare, he hears Sherlock playing the violin and decides to keep him company. Maybe he can't sleep either. Or maybe he's just playing the violin for John...

You Don't Live Here Anymore by elwinglyre (E, 3,104+ w., 1/5 Ch. || WiP || S4 Fix It, Angst, Bees, First Time, Third Person Alternating POV) – The lyrics of a song John introduced to Sherlock, haunts him. Sherlock leaves 221b because he can’t bring himself to live there alone without John. Mary is dead, and John still blames Sherlock. It takes a small tragedy to shake John into action. Will he come on home?

A Thrill Failed To Deliver by J_Baillier (E, 9,897+ w., 3/25 Ch. || WiP || Pre-TRF Divergence, Angst, Medical Hurt/Comfort, Serious Illnesses, POV John, Brain Cancer/Tumour, Medical Conditions, Romance, Slow Burn, Doctor John, Miscommunication, Meddling Mycroft, Everyone is a Mess, Harry Watson, Friends to Lovers, Strooppy Sherlock, John's Identity Crisis, Clueless Idiots in Love, Vulnerable Sherlock, Mental Breakdown, Sherlock Whump, Medical Realism) – When The Work is replaced with chemotherapy and restaurant dinners with radiation treatment, will a new, devastating normal bring John and Sherlock closer, or drive them apart — as Sherlock seems convinced it will?

Holy Wine by Silvergirl (E, 36,699 w., 13 Ch. || Sherlock/OMC & Johnlock || TEH Divergence, Addiction, Alcoholism, POV Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Sex Replacing Getting High, Angst with Happy Ending) – After Sherlock fails to amaze and delight John at the Landmark, he learns that John’s cut contacts and left London. Sherlock has to start his life over, without the man he gave up everything to save. Sherlock's version of the events of A Case of You. Part 2 of A Case of You

GOOD OMENS

how do we turn on the light? by moonyinpisces (M, 229,988+ w., 18/22 Ch. || WiP || Post-S2, Romance, Slow Burn, Angst with Happy Ending, Light Humour, Supreme Archangel Aziraphale, The Second Coming, Christianity, Drug Use, Book of Life, Death Threats, Suicidal Thoughts, Sex in the Bentley, Duke of Hell Crowley, Character Death) – Aziraphale ascends to the highest level of the Archangels. And he remembers—well. It’s not important what he remembers.

[meetinginsamarra]

mayprompts2024 #11, secret

Read parts 1-9 on AO3 here

++++++

The Perfect Place - Part Ten

They were riding in the backseat of a taxi to 221b Baker Street when Sherlock was struck by an unexpected and most unwelcome bout of nervousness.

Would John like the flat? Or would he decline like the previous nine potential flatmates? Sherlock gnawed his lower lip. Will I lose John as quickly as I have found him?

Sherlock remembered when one week ago, he had whined about this to Mike Stamford (Sherlock prefered to call it “complained”). As in being unable to find a suitable flatemate.

He told Mike that so far, every time a candidate had come to take a look at 221b, they had more or less quickly fled, using all kinds of excuses. Dumb ones like “sorry, gotta dash, I forgot to switch off the stove”, plausible ones like “bugger, it’s late, I need to be at work now” or ridiculous ones like the faked phone call that claimed “emergency at home, the neighbour’s run over my hamster with the lawn mower”. And so on and on.

Some of the disturbed looking candidates had kept their composure and simply went down the stairs whereas others had resembled headless chicken, about to run into a wall on their hurried way out.

Whichever way they ran, run they did. Why this always had happened every time remained a secret to Sherlock, one he could not solve. For all his observational and deductive skils, Sherlock stayed clueless about what scared them off.

(To everybody else it would be quite obvious.

The aspiring flatmates were greeted by a real human skull on the mantel and discovered a whole armoury of deadly weapons in the flat, reaching from a razor-sharp looking dagger over an antique Turkish scimitar to a literally bloody whaler’s harpoon. One peeked into the frigde and found himself face to foot with a human foot that was beginning to decompose. Another one was deeply troubled by the scrapbook with gory crime scene photos on the desk. A third one found the kitchen table strewn with the remnants of guinea pig embryos.

Sherlock found all of these circumstances perfectly normal, of course. Whereas these were deeply disturbing to the flatmates-to-be and triggered their instict of self-preservation. They presumed they would cohabitate with a murderous madman and left as long as they could.)

Anyway, after Sherlock’s complaining (whining) to Mike about his predicament, Mike had come up with a name (John Watson) claiming this man could be the pot to Sherlock’s kettle. Sherlock wanted to know more about this mystery man but Mike had simply smiled and said “Go and deduce him yourself, Sherlock.”

Sherlock’s interest had been piqued but it died a sudden death when he found out that the address Mike had given him was “Bernie’s Bed Shop”.

How could Mike assume that Sherlock would be interested in sharing his flat with a stupid salesman of boring beds? Sherlock had grumbled for three days about Mike’s proposal but then the next two other candidates had run from the flat and Sherlock had caved and had gone to the Bed Shop for a stake-out.

As soon as Sherlock had seen John limping to the shop and opening the front door with a trembling hand, he had deduced all about this fascinating doctor-soldier-salesman. Sherlock immediately fell in love.

In the present, Sherlock decided to be extra cautious and give John a heads-up about the state the flat was in.

“Erm, John, a warning concerning the flat, though. It’s a bit cluttered at the moment (a blatant understatement) with all my moving boxes and the things that have not yet found their final place (and most of them also never would). So please, don’t let this scare you away.”

(Let’s attest it to Sherlock’s current nervousness and distracted state of mind (palace) that he even considered such a warning might discomfort John when all it did was the exact opposite.)

“It won’t, I promise.” John said and became more curious by the minute. What possible dangers might lurk there in secret parts of the flat?

+++++

It's late and I`ve just finished this, so please don't mind possible any typos.

tagging some people @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @lisbeth-kk @peanitbear @raina-at

[heavenphantomhive]

My favorite Sebaciel fanfics - Part 1

Hi! In the last post, I asked for some recommendations for Sebaciel fanfics, so I thought it would be a good idea to show my favorite ones, so I made a list with the fics that left the biggest impression on me, and I'll try to briefly talk about each one (although it's been a long time since I've read some of them, so I might not remember all the details).

I hope you enjoy!

1. Fanfics

1.1 Complete

Solomon’s Purgatory: Ciel acting as Sherlock Holmes in a modern day's Weston College. The plot is great, it's just a shame that Sebastian doesn't appear until almost the end (yeah, Ciel falls for him during his investigation without even knowing the real Sebastian, which is kinda cute too).

Shapeshifter: Sebastian is a serial killer, and he adopts Ciel after the suicide of his aunt Ann (Madam Red), which is obviously Sebastian's work. It's kinda graphic, and I don't recommend it if you have some kind of sensibility with rape and violence. However, if you like drama and a bittersweet sensation, this fic is for you. Just a warning: there's no happy ending.

Phantom, phantom: It's a PWP in every sense, but why is this so good?? (One shot)

1.2 In progress

Those Gentle Slopes that Lead to Hell: It's a slow burn, mostly centered in Sebastian's point of view and his journey to understand the feelings he didn't even know he had. I like it because it's totally in character, specially because their relationship isn't linear.

The Siblings and The Young Master: OK, IT'S BEEN A LONG, LONG TIME SINCE THE LAST TIME I READ THIS. However, I remember hunting down the writer to beg them to finish this piece, so I could say that I really liked it that time. Besides this, I don't remember a thing, just this and the fact that the drama isn't clear at the beginning, it's a thing that grows during the plot and gets SO GOOD. Anyway, read at your own risk since, sadly, the writer probably will never post the last 7 chapters (WE WERE SO CLOSE, I WANNA DIE! *crying compulsively*).

2. Series

Evil Flowers: It's a classic, all of fics of this series are masterpieces and I don't think I need to explain anything. Every Sebaciel shipper MUST read these fics at some point in their lives!

Debate Club: Ok, I'm obsessed with this series, specially with Devil's Advocate. It's simply how I always imagined the relationship between Ciel and Sebastian if they were in a modern school setting. I don't think the trope popular guy/nerd fits them. Both Sebastian and Ciel are nerds, but both of them have too much charisma to not be popular, so I always thought they would be over competitive with each other if they studied together. Also, Sebastian being completely clueless about his feelings to Ciel, and interpreting this strange sensation in his chest every time he sees this little brat as "I hate him", is my favorite fanfic trope.

PLEASE GUYS, I BEG YOU, write more fics like this. I want to see them in a high school and competing over grades, but being secretly in love with each other in a very dramatic and confused way. I also LOVE when Sebastian turns his repressed arousal for Ciel into violence over him (not in a physical way, like punching him, but acting rude and sarcastic).

If you know any fic like these, send them to me, pleeease.

Well, I've made a list much longer than this, but since English isn't my first language, writing this was SO EXHAUSTING that I need a pause, so I'll post the rest later. I hope you liked this.

[himegureisu]

3 | The Woman

Mycroft never texts if he can talk. Must be a root canal. - Sherlock

Did you have a domestic? -Mrs. Hudson

Caring is not an advantage. -Mycroft

A/N: Those lines above are what inspired this chapter. This is set in S1 E3 The Great Game. Enjoy!

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Angst (?), Sick Reader

WC: 1600~

<<PREV | NEXT >>

—————————— 🔎——————————

From the horizon, dawn begins to break upon the land.

Through the curtains, a soft golden hue is cast across the study. On the furniture, light and shadow dance, shelves of old leather tomes, and the occasional trinkets are briefly emphasized by the sun’s radiance. From the fireplace, a hint of cinnamon and fresh parchment wafts through the room.

A piece of quiet in the chaos that is life.

“Myc, I called Anthea to clear your schedule for tomorrow and the following Friday,”

Against the light, on his chair, Mycroft works. His gaze, previously on the thin dossier, turns to you as you enter.

“Why is that, my dear?” he asks. Truly clueless on this.

“Dentist appointments for you,”

Oh, that.

His tooth has been bothering him for a week and he hasn’t done anything about it. You checked. His schedule for the month didn’t include a single dentist appointment.

This man.

“You didn’t need to, my dear,” Mycroft dismissed, “It will go away,”

“You don’t know that,” In front of his desk, you stand, hands on your hips, as he winced from the pain, “You’re not a dentist, Myc,”

“I am one of the most intelligent people in the world,” he attests. His patience was thin from a long night. His ire slowly rose. Was this the only reason you disturbed him? When there was much to do than this? “I do know what this is,”

“Is it so bad that I care that you’re in pain?”

“Caring is not an advantage,” he simply answered.

What? Did he honestly just say that? Where did that even come from?

His solid gaze and silence afterward were the answer. Your heart ached at its implications. Was everything a lie? Your mind conjures every memory and moment shared between you two. His smile, laughter, and the way he longed for your touch. Your chest is heavier, the thoughts slowly consuming you.

Did he not care?

“If caring is not an advantage, then I guess this whole marriage is a sham,” your voice breaking, you turned away, “Don’t expect me for breakfast, or dinner, or even in bed tonight,”

His eyes widened in shock, at last, he recognized the implication of his words, however, too late. His study door slammed shut, as you walked out, and echoed throughout the house. Regret and shame weighed heavily on his shoulders.

What has he done?

—————————— 🔎——————————

True to your word, you weren’t at breakfast. You couldn’t face him. Your cheeks are stained. Your eyes puffed from crying in the guest room. Your rings seem to mock you on sight. It was tempting to throw them off the Thames but decided against it.

It was too early for that.

Your chauffeur dropped you off at work as usual. Your eyes are hidden behind a pair of shades that others did well not to comment on. Your head aches from the tears and turmoil, but you know that life goes on.

Your phone is slowly bombarded by his messages that you rightfully ignored.

Throughout the morning, your headache worsened. Your focus is off, the letters on your computer screen blur, and the room spins a bit around you. 

Every joint in your body hurts, not because of Mycroft, but because the warmth radiating from your breath is the only sign you need.

A fever. You couldn’t work, not like this.

Your manager was informed of your condition and tasked not to tell your husband that you were sick. Your chauffeur immediately returned to pick you up when he started to text him.

“Don’t you dare report back to him,” you snap at the man withdrawing his hold on the phone, “If he cares, then he’ll text me directly not you,”

“Yes, ma’am,” they comply.

At home, you bundle yourself in the guest bedroom. Medicine on one nightstand, soup on the other as you hide beneath the sheets, tears falling once again hoping that everything would turn out okay.

—————————— 🔎——————————

Your genuine interest in who he was beneath the stoic persona was what first attracted him to you. Other people didn’t do that. Other people never did that.

But evidently, you weren’t other people.

That’s why when you didn’t come for breakfast, for the first time, in a long time, he was scared. Scared of losing you because of who and how he is.

When his messages were ignored when he asked for an update and your driver simply answered I can’t say, sir, her orders. The pit that formed in his stomach only went deeper. His anxiety escalates with each passing minute.

He couldn’t work, not like this. He was wrong. He needed to make it right.

“Anthea,” he called over the intercom, the young assistant quickly appeared phone on hand, “Do clear my schedule for the rest of the day I’m going home,”

“Sir?” Anthea inquired, as he started to walk out, “What about —”

“No, this is important,” The most important.

“Of course, sir, I’ll have your car waiting outside,”

His driver takes the fastest route back upon his insistence. His thoughts were a whirlwind of the worst scenarios. What if you were gone? What if you truly left, rings on the countertop and a letter in the kitchen to explain?

By five in the afternoon, he was home. The earliest he’s been in years.

God, he could do better than this. He should. You shouldn’t need to wait for hours for him to come home. He should be a better husband than that.

“Darling, I’m home!” he announced, as soon as he crossed the threshold, though no one answered, and looked around, “My dear, please we need to talk,”

Nothing.

Panic. Complete and utter panic takes over the great Mycroft Holmes.

His heavy steps echoed through the halls as he rushed to the master’s bedroom to find no one. Yet, your effects remained where they were. He goes through every single room in the house until he opens the door to one of the guest bedrooms.

On the bed, beneath a thick lump of blankets, you curled up miserably and ignored his arrival.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out, walking over to the side of the bed, “My dear, please look at me,”

“No,” you quietly answered, “Go away, Mycroft,”

His heart sank at your firm position away from him. He did hurt you, so bad that you couldn’t face him.

Though, you weren’t exactly presentable.

There were tissues crumpled on the other side of the bed. Your cheeks were wet, nose stuffed and red, and eyes swollen from crying as he started to speak.

“I am sorry. I can’t say that enough to make this better,” he paused, his gaze on the mound that separates you, “I didn’t mean to imply that I didn’t care about you. I do care and love you. To love and to cherish, till death do us part that’s a vow I intend to keep, my love,”

Your attention is caught by his term of endearment. He rarely ever calls you that.

“It is that I simply choose what I care about and the rest is insignificant,” he explained, “Caring for trivial little things like a dentist appointment doesn’t matter to me,”

“It does matter to me. You take care of others far too well but you neglect yourself.” you softly said, from beneath the blankets, “Your parents, brother, and I are under constant protection of guards but who protects you Mycroft? Who protects you from yourself? Who cares for the carer? I don’t want you to die early Mycroft. There’s so much life has in store for us,”

Your headaches after that little speech. A sharp pain briefly passes through causing you to wince and close your eyes.

“I understand. I will endeavor to do and take care of myself better,” he says and turns to see the back of your head poking out from the sheets. 

“My love, please look at me,”

You shake your head no. Big mistake.

Your pained groan comes to his ears loud and clear as he leans down to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Darling?” His fingers touch the side of your head, very warm. No rather alarmingly warm, “You’re sick,”

He deduced and finally, you push the blanket down a bit to face him. Your body is a raging furnace. Your skin is too pale in the light. Your breaths are shallow and insufficient. His hand is cool on your skin as he places it on your forehead with a frown.

“How long has this been?” he asks, noticing the medicine and cold soup on the nightstands, “How are you feeling? When did you last take medicine?”

To think, he thinks he doesn't care when he fusses like a mother hen.

“Just this afternoon, I’m tired, hot yet cold, one nostril is clogged annoying and my head hurts so much,” you confessed, “I drank paracetamol when I came home so it’s been five hours,”

“You can take another one then,” he stands up, “After I ask for food from the kitchens,”

“Okay,” you concede, as he kissed your cheek, “Myc, don’t. You’ll get sick,”

“I never get sick, love,” he walked over to the door to leave, but paused in step, “Are we okay?”

His eyes glisten in hope and fear of your answer. Your lips slowly turn upward as he quietly continues to assess you and your condition.

“We’re getting there,”

You say a sense of relief washes over you both. He nods, a small smile playing on his lips before he heads out to fetch food for you. As he leaves, he can’t help but feel grateful that in all of the people in the world, you loved him despite everything.

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[natureismynature]

I love Foolish's dynamics with Jaiden and Baghera so much dihedhd he's both partner in crimes with them, Jaiden and Baghera both love to enable Foolish's bullshits, and they're all for it as long as it's fun

The only difference is that Foolish and Baghera's dynamic is like a sitcom about a batshit insane doctor and his equally deranged nurse while Foolish and Jaiden's dynamic is a sitcom about an absolutely clueless Sherlock Holmes and his equally clueless John Watson. Both of which Foolish would probably die in a ditch somewhere if Jaiden or Baghera weren't there to save his pathetic ass