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imeternallylove · 1 year

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Secret - S.Holmes; part six

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Genre: purely angst, upcoming age and some smut

Warning: none

Word: 4.8k

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Chapters index

"Zoe, the movie is about to start!" You yelled through your apartment, popping a handful of popcorn into your mouth as the opening credits of another Disney picture flashed over your TV screen. You spent your Sundays with Zoe being lazy and watching films while the weather outside grew colder. It was undoubtedly colder in London than in your hometown.

Your daughter entered the living room huffing and puffing, her lips pursed into a frown. "We can't watch the movie. I can't find Mr Snuggles," she grumbled, jumping onto the couch to search behind it.

"Have you looked in the bathroom? You were giving Mr Snuggles a bath in the washbasin this morning," you recalled, holding her hand so she could safely jump off the couch and race out of the room.

Zoe's voice echoed from the restroom five seconds later. "I finally found him!"

You laughed to yourself and ate another handful of popcorn as your daughter came back into the room carrying Mr Snuggles and bouncing into the sofa alongside you, cuddling up like a tiny puppy against your side. "Did I miss anything?" She asked innocently, her beautiful wide eyes looking up at you.

"Just the Disney castle," you reassured her, brushing her hair and adjusting the popcorn so that both of you could enjoy it. Then you cuddled up with your little one and delightfully lost yourself in the Hawaiian delights of Lilo and Stitch. It wouldn't be long before she wouldn't even want to be in the same room with you, let alone watch a movie with you. You had to cherish these moments.

You paused the movie halfway through to restock on food and drinks. You entered the kitchen, Zoe following you like a shadowy figure "Mummy, can I ask you a question?" She asked quietly, hugging Mr Snuggles to her bosom as you went to get a bottle of water and a carton of juice out of the fridge.

"Of course, little one," you said, beaming brightly as you headed to the snack cupboard for the sweets you had to keep out of Zoe's touch.

There was a rare moment of silence for your daughter.

When you looked down at her, you noticed her nervously biting on her bottom lips, her grip on Mr Snuggles strong. You frowned deeply, wondering what was going through her gorgeous mind. You dropped the treats and hoisted Zoe up onto the counter to meet your level. "You know you can tell Mummy anything, sweetie? Even if you think Mummy will be angry or upset," you said gently, turning her head up to see your eyes.

Her eyes darted around your face, avoiding direct eye contact. "Where is my father? He didn't come to see me at the parade with you." She questioned softly, almost above a whisper.

It wasn't the first time Zoe brought up her father subject, but it still made your heart slow down. She had been interested since she was a child, perplexed as to why all the other children in the community had a mummy and a daddy but she just had one. You didn't want to lie to your little girl, so you told her as little as you could, just enough to keep her interested until the next wave of question hit.

You swiftly drew your daughter close to your chest, buried your face in the silky locks and sighing into the tropical-scented strands. "Your daddy is off following his aspirations," you said serenely running your fingers down her spine to comfort her.

"But why isn't he here?" The little girl's voice was filled with anguish as she continued.

Hearing her pleading made every fibre of your body throb. It was your fault your daughter was clinging to you, presumably blaming herself for not having a father in her life, believing she was unwanted and unloved by her father, despite the fact you were the one whose fault it was. You were the one who drawn the line with Sherlock. You loved him too much when he couldn't love you back in the way you desired, and in the long run you had to let him go while you handled the situation that you were dealt.

You would not take anything back. Your daughter was your whole world, and you couldn't picture being alive without her.

But perhaps you should have told Sherlock. Perhaps he'd be here now, and your daughter wouldn't be in tears, wondering why she only had half a family.

You leaned back and crouched slightly to look at Zoe properly, noticing her eyes moist as you planted a soft kiss on the crown of her head. "Your daddy was my best friend when I was in school," you stated slowly, carefully picking your words. You didn't want to say something that would make her weep. "And he had to leave one day so he could do what he loved, which Mummy tells you all the time, isn't it?"

She nodded, her bottom lip protruding in a mournful way.

You tenderly cradled her face and rubbed your thumbs across her delicate red cheeks, smiling warmly. "When your daddy left, I was so sad, but then I got you, and you made me happy again," you said, kissing the tip of her nose and making her chuckle slightly. Just hearing her laugh for a few seconds was enough to make your heart sing. "Because of you, I was empowered to do what I loved: I was able to be your mother!" You spoke up, your fingers going through her hair and settling on her shoulders.

Zoe snivelled into Mr Snuggles and stared up at you with the same wide eyes as Sherlock. "Does that mean my daddy doesn't love me?" she asked, tentatively.

"No, no, no, no, no, no一" you rehearsed shook your head harder each time you said 'no'.

"It's complicated, little one; your daddy left before I even realised you were here. But I know if he met you, he'd fall in love with you," you promised, pulling her hair over your fingers to soothe your fears.

"So daddy doesn't know me?" She asked another query, her lips pressed together in a harsh line.

Lifting Zoe up, you wrapped her legs over your hips and hugged her back in a warm embrace. "He doesn't," you admitted, bringing her close to your chest to comfort her. "It's all Mummy's fault. I should have found him as soon as I knew you were coming," you continued. Hot tears were forming in the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You wanted to be strong for Zoe.

"But one day, little one, when you're a little older, Mummy will try to find faddy and introduce you to him," you promised, holding to the secret just a little bit longer. You wanted to tell Zoe everything, but at an age when she could grasp it all and make her own decision. "And until then, you'll have to make do with just mummy's love," you added quietly, clutching her tight and pressing your eyes shut to keep the tears at bay.

Zoe wriggled in the grasp of you. "Did I make you sad, mummy?" She questioned innocently.

When you opened your eyes, your daughter was staring at you with light ocean eyes like her father that were on the verge of tears. Your emotions were immediately thrown out the window, and your attention was drawn to Zoe in the blink of an eye. "Mummy isn't sad," you protested, bending your head to dot kisses across her tiny nose bridge. "How can I be sad when I have the best daughter in the world?"

You placed your lips against her cheek and blew a loud raspberry, causing her to burst out laughing. Only then did you begin to relax, appreciating Zoe's brilliant laughter echoing around you like music to your ears. You squeezed her harder, tickling her sides as you pushed her back onto the counter.

"Do you have any more questions for mummy?" You didn't want Zoe to be left with additional nagging questions she didn't want to ask because she was afraid of making you sad.

She tightened her arms around Mr Snuggles and smiled up at you, cheekily. "May I have some sweets?" She murmured this cutely, tipping her head to the side and fluttering her eyelashes at you.

You criticised and laughed, rolling your eyes. "As long as you promise to brush your teeth properly tonight!" You teased, taking a small bowl from the cupboard.

Zoe cheered and flung Mr Snuggles up in the air in excitement, blissfully pleased as if the talk had never happened. She was far tougher than you gave her credit for.

You, on the other hand, felt as if you'd just escaped a bullet that had left you with a terrible headache.

Sherlock was waiting for you in a quiet area of the café, his coat collar pulled up. For a few second, you doubted if it was really him, until then he looked up and caught your gaze, calling you over with a bright smile. When you got to him, you tossed your belongings on the floor and dropped into the chair, immediately tugging your coat off. "I can't believe I'm only halfway through this day," you groaned, hanging your coat off the back of your chair and tossing your hair away from your shoulders.

“Rough day already?” Sherlock responded with a chuckle, pushing a huge mug of coffee in your direction.

You frowned as you clutched the steaming mug in both hands. "I thought I was the one who was taking you out to lunch." You took a little sip, surprised that he remembered your favourite hazelnut latte.

He smothered his chuckle in his coffee. "I only ordered, you can still pay," he instructed you across the table, a cheesy grin on his face. "How are things going at florist shop?"

"Where do I start?" You huffed, slumping back in your chair, exhausted. You had finished your design of sketches of dessert with flowers and sent them off to be converted for the images to be uploaded to your website, you knew you worked with delicate details but it was slowly becoming a source of stress for you because you're a perfectionist.

Sherlock leaned forward, his elbows bracing him. "Why don't you just do what you always do and put on your headphones and blast music?"

You grinned as you remembered. You'd always listen to your old iPod and shut out the rest of the world when you needed to concentrate on school and block off Sherlock. It used to be the only way you could focus.

"I only did that in school because you were so annoying," you smirked into your latte.

"Annoyingly cute," he corrected, a goofy smirk on his face.

You tilted your head with a soft, “duh,” from your lips, making him start laughing.

Before you could disagree with him, the waitress arrived with the toasted paninis Sherlock ordered. While the two of you were eating, Sherlock discussed how it felt to have finished another serial killer case at the underground train. Listening to him talk about deductions and hearing the obvious excitement in his voice, you couldn't help but smile at his satisfaction. It simply reinforced your choice to keep Zoe a secret from him. If you hadn't, he wouldn't be where he was today, and the brightness in his eyes wouldn't exist.

However, keeping Zoe a secret was easier said than done.

Your phone rang loudly during lunch, and you hastily apologies to Sherlock while mentally preparing for the call from the workplace. But when you took your phone from your purse, it wasn't from work. Zoe went to that school.

Your heart rate sank as soon as you saw the caller ID, your thoughts racing through every worst-case scenario. If nothing had happened, why would the school be ringing? “Hello?” You responded swiftly, scrunching up your free hand into a nervous fist to keep it from shaking.

“Hello, is this Zoe’s mother from Class 1B?” The woman on the other end of the line, her voice being shaken, asked.

You were startled, sensing that something horrible had happened.

Spinning in your seat, you turned away from Sherlock and lowered your head so your hair covered your face. "Yes, it's me. 一Is Zoe all right? Has something happened?" You questioned frantically squeezing your eyes shut and secretly hoped that your daughter had just received an award or anything.

"I'm sincerely sorry for calling in such a hurry, but Zoe just collapsed in the lunchroom and had a seizure. It was only a short seizure, but we called an ambulance, and they want to take Zoe to the hospital," the woman explained urgently.

Meanwhile, your entire world collapsed around you. All you could see was your precious daughter lying alone on the floor, out of reach and helpless.

You jumped out of your seat, stumbled back, and gazed blankly in front of you, tears streaming down your cheeks. "Is she awake? Oh my goodness一 Is she speaking?" You stutter aggressively your palms sweating and your brain spinning dizzily. You had to get to her immediately away. Your daughter needed you.

"She is conscious and communicating with the paramedics, but they really want to take her to the hospital. Mrs Harris are you going to be able to meet them there?" The woman soon answered.

You sprung into action right away, pushing yourself from the wall and snatching your coat, attempting to tuck your arms into the sleeves while juggling the phone. "I'm leaving now. Where are they taking her?" As the panic fell in, you questioned, tears welling up in your eyes.

You hung up after the woman from Zoe's school told you which hospital she was being transported to, throwing your phone back into your bag and staring up at Sherlock with hazy eyes. "I'm really sorry, but I need to go," you said rashly, fighting back tears and shaking hands as you put on your coat and pulled your purse from your bag. "I just gotta go now."

"What happened?" He asked quietly, reaching out to place a soft hand on your arm.

"I just need to get to the hospital," you answered blankly, not even reacting to his touch as you tossed down some money for lunch and began to gather your belongings. "I'm sorry, but I have to go. Zoe needs me right now."

When you tried to move away, Sherlock stood beside you and drew you back. He forced you to stare directly at him with both hands on your shoulders, and it shattered your heart because all you could see were the little pieces of him that your daughter had inherited. "There's no way you can drive like this," he said severely as your eyes welled up with tears. This was a waste of time when you should have been with your daughter. “Did the school call Zoe’s parents?”

And then the dam broke.

"I am Zoe's parent," you cursed back, your cheeks flushed with heated tears. Your breathing grew shallow and rapid, and you could feel panic setting in. Everything had taken place at the same time, and you couldn't process anything because all you could think about was getting to Zoe. "She's my little girl, and I need to go to the hospital to be with her," you sobbed, your knees trembling beneath you.

Sherlock stared at you in bewilderment. "Is Z-Zoe your daughter?" He stammered, showing an expression filled with complete and utter disbelief on his face. And you didn't give any thought to anything. You would later, Sherlock, however knowing you had a daughter didn't important right now.

"Yes, she had had a seizure, and I need to get to the hospital," you responded, tugging yourself loose of his grasp and fumbling ahead of the tables towards the entrance.

"Y/N, wait, wait. You can't drive like this," he claimed behind you, and you felt his grasp tighten around yours. His contact made you pause for a second, keeping you in the café's entryway. "Let me drive you to the hospital," he begged softly, his enchanting eyes asking you to listen to him.

Snivelling back more tears, you accepted and let him lead you out of the café and down the street to where your car was parked. You throw the key, and he immediately opens the door and helps you inside before sprinting around to the other side and sliding into the driver's seat.

Without saying anything, he started the car and pulled out onto the road.

You looked out the window, watching the world go about its business, while your heart ached to hold your precious little one in your arms, to see her beautiful face and know she was safe. Fresh hot tears streamed down your cheeks, only to be brushed away by the back of your palm. You needed to gather yourself before going to the hospital.

"Thank you," you say quietly to Sherlock, understanding he was correct when he stated you wouldn't be able to drive. Your hands were trembling uncontrollably from anxiousness.

He didn't say anything in return; he simply reached over and wrapped his long fingers around your hand, reassuringly squeezing to let you know he was there for you.

As soon as you arrived at the hospital, you leapt out of the car and left Sherlock behind, dashing into the large stone building and rushing to the front desk, virtually shouting your daughter's name at the receptionist. "She had a seizure at school and the paramedics said they'd be bringing her here," you stated frantically, watching as the young woman behind the counter began typing on her computer.

Sherlock caught up to you after a couple of seconds. "Have they told you anything?" He asked, concerned, as the receptionist answered the phone and talked gently down the handset. You were fairly certain you heard Zoe's name spoken.

Shaking your head, you took a shaky breath and shifted slightly into Sherlock's body, putting your head on his shoulder to hide the tears that threatened to flow again. You promised yourself that you would be strong for Zoe.

The receptionist hung up and looked up at you. "Your daughter is in A&E waiting to be taken for an MRI scan," she stated calmly as she stood up from her desk. "If you go down that corridor, you'll see signs that will direct you to the department," she continued, bending across her files to gesture in the right direction.

"Let's go," Sherlock encouraged, slipping his arm around your waist and leading you down the corridor, his palms on your back comforting you. You opened your lips to tell him he didn't have to stay, but you forgot he was your closest friend and was frighteningly familiar with you. "And, yes, I'm staying. I want to be there for you."

You wanted to argue, but your want to see Zoe right away, so you didn't.

A nurse led you in the direction of Zoe's cubicle at the A&E department. Sherlock promised to wait outside as you ducked under the curtain and finally saw your daughter.

Zoe’s eyes brightened up as she spotted you, and relief swept over you like a tidal wave. "Mummy!" she exclaimed, breaking down in sobs and sitting up straight, arms reached for you.

You went forward, scooping her up into your arms, putting her little head under your chin and stroking your fingers over her soft hair while she wailed fiercely. "It's all right, little one. Mummy's here now," you said quietly, swaying from side to side and gradually calming her down.

"I don't feel very well, mummy," she wailed, her tiny little arms clinging to your body.

You squeezed her even tighter and sprinkled small kisses on the top of her head. "I know, but you're in the best place. The doctors here will make you feel better," you reassured her, bending back to examine her face and wipe the tears from her puffy eyes.

"That's definitely the plan," someone from behind you said, making you jump. "You must be Zoe's mother, I'm Doctor Jonathan," he said, stretching out his hand for you to shake.

"Is she all right? Can you tell me what caused the seizure?" You burst out hastily, barraging the poor doctor with new questions before he could answer the prior ones.

He smiled at you while holding his hands up. "We don't know what caused her seizure, but we're running tests right now. In a few minutes, some nurses will arrive to take little Zoe up for an MRI scan, and hopefully once we get some results back, we'll know what's wrong and how we can make this brave little girl all better," Doctor stated thoroughly, assuaging your fears and calming Zoe's sobbing.

"Thank you, doctor," you said with a brief bow, glancing down at Zoe and kissing her again in the centre of her forehead.

"Will Mummy be able to stay with me when I go to the MR thingy?" Zoe questioned quietly, her bottom lip sticking out as it often did when she cried.

"She can go into the room with you, but when they turn on the machine, she'll have to wait outside." Zoe, judging by the pout on her lips, didn't like the sound of that.

You pushed back her hair and tucked any stray strands behind her ears. "You'll just have to show mummy what a brave little girl you are, alright, Zozo?"

She hesitantly agreed and pushed herself back into your lap, buried her face in your jumper and clutching you tightly.

The doctor quietly left, and you concentrated on getting Zoe back into bed while you could still convince her of everything. Soon after, the nurses arrived and prepared her to be transported for her scan. You assisted her in changing out of her school uniform and into the hospital gown, holding her hand tightly as they threw back the curtains of her small cubicle.

Sherlock was still outside, leaning awkwardly against the wall, clutching your belongings. "Hi, little Zoe," he whispered quietly as he walked to the other side of the bed and smiled at her.

Zoe just looked up at you, a puzzled expression on her face. "Before your school called, I was having lunch with your Uncle Detective. He drove me here," you said hastily, gesturing to the nurses who then began to move her. You and Sherlock strolled side by side beside the bed, your hand never leaving your daughter's.

"Is Grandpa Johnny here, too?" She asked, her eyes shining with excitement.

"No, but if you're a brave little girl, you can call him after the scan," he said, catching your gaze and smiling at you.

His comments, though, appeared to be effective. Zoe was incredibly brave and walked into the MRI machine without sobbing, despite her obvious fear. You kissed her on the forehead as you saw them fix her head in the small vice that would keep her head in place, then waved farewell, vowing to meet her outside.

When you left the room, Sherlock was already sitting on a pair of plastic chairs outdoors. You slumped into the seat next to him, fatigued and sighed wearily.

"So, you're a mother?" Sherlock whistled impatiently.

“Yes.” You were too exhausted to elaborate, especially given where this line of questions could lead him.

He blew a small breath and stretched his arms out in front of him. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? How come you lied at the mall?" He kept going, and you could feel his gaze on your face.

You buried your face in your hands and rubbed your eyes. "It's complicated, Sherlock," you whispered, standing up in your seat as a nurse approached you with a clipboard.

"We don't have a full medical record for Zoe, so if you could fill this out as best you can and return it to us, that would be most appreciated," the nurse remarked kindly, handing you a clipboard and a pen and leaving you to it.

While you filled out Zoe's full name and date of birth, Sherlock asked the question you had silently hoped he would just skim over.

“Who is Zoe’s father?”

Your stomach stiffened and you immediately felt nauseous, rendering you shut your mouth for a long moment. You didn't know what to say to him. You didn't mean for him to find out that Zoe was your daughter today!

You read over the details they already had on Zoe, ticking the correct information and amending the wrong. You didn't have to look at Sherlock when you told him your darkest secret this way. "It was just a random guy. He's not in the picture," you explained gently, skipping the box on paternal information and leaving it blank.

"Who then?" He persisted, reluctant to let the topic go.

You focused your attention on the form. If you looked up, you'd see his lovely aquamarine eyes and melt beneath his gaze, and you'd probably divulge everything to him. "You won't know him, Sherlock, just leave it alone," you snapped, anxiously chewing on your bottom lip.

"Just give me a name," he said, grabbing the clipboard from under yours and step out of your grasp. You gazed up at him with expectation, only to see him frown. "It's blank."

"I told you to leave it alone," you responded with rage, rising to your feet and reaching for your clipboard.

Sherlock took another step away from you, his hand raised. "Wait a minute," he said, meticulously reviewing the form on the clipboard. "It says Zoe's birthday is September 21st, 2006, so fast forward nine months... Who were you with at the start of that year?"

Oh no…

“Sherlock, it doesn’t matter!”

"You weren't dating anyone that year," he said, plainly thinking aloud.

Oh, no, please… His sharp mind was so close to figuring it correctly. You wanted to say anything, anything to keep him from seeking out the secret, but your thoughts went blank.

"That was the year we..." The clipboard clattered on the floor as he realised what was going on. He moved his eyes between you and the door where Zoe was getting her MRI, his lips slightly open. "I-I-I'm her father?" He stuttered, looking at him gripping the wall for support.

"一I, yeah. I'm so sorry Sherlock. I didn't mean for any of this to happen," you hastily informed him, your gut knotted with guilt and remorse.

Sherlock raked his fingers through his hair as he paced the length of the corridor. “What? You didn't mean to get pregnant or for me to find out! How long were you going to keep fooling me?" He shouted back fiercely, flinging his fist on the wall with the kind of venom that was unusual for your best friend.

"I'm sorry," you said slowly, attempting to keep yourself together when all you wanted to do was break apart.

He shook his head, slowly backing up with his hands in his hair. "I can't do it. 一I can't be here right now," he grumbled, turning on his heels and fleeing up the corridor.

You collapsing as a new batch of tears soiled your cheeks. You didn't want to end things like way, especially because Zoe was about to walk out of her scan and expect him to be waiting for her. He made a promise to your little girl.

“Fuck it.” Wiped your tears away and picked up the clipboard from the floor, not wanting Zoe to come out and see you in a state. While filling out the rest of the form, you fought back tears and tried to suppress your feelings. It was not the time to cope with your grief.

Zoe was pushed out of her bed after five minutes of silence, her face brightening when she spotted you and frowning when she saw you were alone. "Where did Uncle Detective go?" She asked with glittering eyes.

As you returned to your seat at the head of Zoe's bed, you swallowed past the knot in your throat and tried to smile. "He had to leave for something important, but he promised he'd try and visit later if he could," you lied to her, squeezing her tiny hand.

What was one more lie in the midst of the shambles you'd created?

tag: @bunny-skz00 @zen003xx @cemak

#bbc Sherlock #bbc sherlock x you #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock imagine #Sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock x y/n #sherlock imagine #Sherlock Holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes x you

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specialagentlokitty · 1 year

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Lestrade x Teen!reader - a safe place

- Lestrade x Teen!Reader - Reader is part of Sherlock's homeless network - @mxacegrey 💜

Sitting in the abandoned train car, you pulled the blanket around you a little tighter as you adjusted the torch next to you so you could see the pages of your book a little better.

“It’s nearly midnight, what are we doing here?” Someone sighed.

“You want answers for you case I know just the person.”

You set your book down and shrugged the blanket off, grabbing the baseball bat you crouched down and crept to the entrance to the train car.

Slowly stepping down, you followed the three people and climbed up on to another train car, creeping along the top of it.

You crouched at the edge, adjusting the bat in your hands as you watched the tallest one stop and the other three followed suit.

“You’re getting better.”

You laughed waved when he shone his torch up at you and you set you bat to the side, resting your arms on your knees.

“It’s late, not safe to be walking around these parts you know.”

“You’re the only person who lives here (Y/N), you’ve scared off anyone else.”

You grinned a little and shrugged, grabbing the bat you leant down and Sherlock took it, handing it to John her reached his arms up and helped you climb down and set you on the floor.

“Thanks.”

You took your bat back and gestured for them to follow you back to your home and the four of you sat down.

Sherlock introduced you to the other two men.

“So, why the late night visit.”

“We need some information that only you can get.” Sherlock said.

“Don’t talk to cops, you know this Holmes, and I don’t work for free neither.”

“I know.”

Sherlock tossed a bag at you as you looked inside, seeing food, clothes and some money you nodded your head.

“What do you wanna know?”

Lestrade pulled out a photo from his pocket and unfolded it, handing it over to you.

Grabbing the torch, you held it between your teeth as you looked at at it, taking in the detail and the writing before looking up at the police officer.

“We know there’s more like this, we believe it’s a message that’ll help us solve the case. But without the rest we don’t know what it’ll be.” He sighed.

“Yeah I can do this for you, you still got that phone Sherlock?”

“Course I do. Also you need to get the cut on your arm checked out, it’s getting infected.”

“It’s fine. Anyways I’ll call you when I have some information.”

“I’m a doctor I can check out that cut if you want?” John asked.

You shrugged, rolling up the sleeve of your dirty hoodie to show him the wound and he carefully inspected it before nodding his head.

“You need to go to the hospital, you’ll need antibiotics.”

“Can’t won’t give me any. Tried a few days ago, threatened to put me in a home or whatever, it’ll be fine.”

John sighed but didn’t say anything else knowing that if you were friends with Sherlock you had to be as stubborn as him.

They all thanked you and left, and John turned to Sherlock.

“They’re just a kid, why haven’t you asked them to stay with you?”

“I have. They won’t do it, they’re happy there, and as long as I bring money and clothes they’re pretty content.” Sherlock shrugged.

Lestrade and John didn’t feel right leaving you there, but they couldn’t exactly drag you away since they knew you’d get away and hide even deeper.

Sherlock sat around waiting for your text the next day.

You spoke to a few people and showed them the picture, and they took you to the next one, and after a few hours of wondering you had found quite a few and sent Sherlock the photos.

You brought some food and made your way back to the train, and you found Lestrade walking around looking a bit unsure.

“Stalking around here isn’t a good idea.”

He jumped and turned around.

“Sorry, I was looking for you. Sherlock told me you found some more.”

“Yeah, here.”

You handed him the phone and climbed into the train car, sitting on the of the broken seats and he followed you.

He sat down and set the bag he was holding on the floor.

“This is perfect thank you so much. I also got these for you.”

He held you the bag and you looked in it, medical supposed and a bottle of antibiotics.

“Damn, pays to be a police officer Huh?”

Lestrade chuckled a little.

“John gave those to me for you.”

You nodded your head and set the bag aside and Lestrade sighed.

“Why are you here? I’m sure your family are worried about you, I can help you find them if you want.”

Your attitude immediately changed.

“I helped you with your case, you can go. Thanks for the stuff and give Sherlock back the phone.”

You got up and walked away from the train car and he sighed, getting up to go as well.

Lestrade spent days trying to find any information on you, but it was like you never existed, there was absolutely nothing, only a birth certificate.

He tried looking up your parents, and to no surprise there was nothing.

“You won’t find anything.”

“Bloody hell Sherlock.”

Lestrade looked up from his computer and handed the phone he had been holding on to back to Sherlock now the case was over.

“What do you know about them?”

“A lot more then you could find on that, but not what you’re looking for. (Y/N) doesn’t have a family, been living on the streets for years, raising by some slightly older kids until they were old enough to go on their own.”

Sherlock stood up and started to walk out when he stopped at the doorway.

“By the way, don’t go there at night, (Y/N) likes to walk around with their baseball bat and will swing before asking any questions.”

Lestrade nodded his head and sighed, grabbing his jacket he left not long after Sherlock and went to the shop before driving back to the abandoned tracks.

The sun was still high in the sky, so it made it easy to spot you sunbathing on the roof of the train car.

He walked closer and you picked up your bag, hitting against the metal car a few times.

“Don’t.”

You sat up, and crouched down, resting and arm in your knee as you used the other to hold the bat over your shoulder.

Your eyes burned into him, carefully watching him and if he was being honest he was a little nervous.

“I brought a peace offering?” He asked.

“What’s in the bag?”

“Food, and water. It’s going to be pretty cold over the next few days so there’s some hand warmers, and old hoodie of mine and another blanket.”

You nodded and lowered the bat, but you didn’t move from the train car and Lestrade walked over, setting the bag on the inside he took a few steps back, hand over his eyes to block the sun.

“How’s the arm?”

“Sore and I think it’s green?”

“Green?”

“You know the colours of leaves and grass.”

Lestrade rolled his eyes a little and gestured for you to come down.

“I don’t deal with cops.”

“Right now I’m not a police officer, I’m just someone who’s concerned about the fact you have a green cut in your arm. Please can I take a look (Y/N)?”

You thought about this for a moment and you tossed the bat down, and you walked to the end of the car, jumped down on a tipped over one, you climbed down from that one and walked over.

You rolled up your sleeve to show him and he held his hands out.

“May I?”

You shrugged a little.

He carefully inspected your arm.

“Right, hang on let me send a picture to John and ask him what to do. That doesn’t look good.”

You sat down while he called John and spoke to him about what to do and he pulled the phone from his ear.

“You haven’t been taking those antibiotics have you?”

You shook your head and he sighed, telling John and after a few more minutes he hung up.

“Right, John said I need to deeply clean it, do you still have those things I got you?”

“Yeah.”

You walked into the train and he followed you and you handed him the bag and sat down.

“This is going to hurt, sorry.”

Lestrade tried to be gentle while he was cleaning the cut, and every time you flinched away he would apologised.

He did as much as he could, and wrapped a clean bandage around it and pulled your sleeve back down.

“I need to go, but I’ll come back and change that in a few days. Take the antibiotics please.”

With that he left and true to his word he came back a few days later, it was pouring it down with rain, and he rushed inside the dry train and called you name.

He carefully looked around, and he found you bundled under some blankets and he walked over, crouching down I front of you.

“(Y/N)?”

He shook you but you didn’t responded and that’s when he began to worry.

Pulling the blanket down, he found you unresponsive and he touched your forehead, it was on fire.

He didn’t think, he grabbed your bag and stuffed everything of your he could find in it, including the bag, threw it on his back and swept you into his arms.

He didn’t know what to do, and in a panic he took you to Sherlocks flat, calling him to let him know what was going on and John was waiting at the door when he pulled up.

“Get them, I’ve got the bag!” Lestrade shouted.

John grabbed you and rushed you up to the flat and Lestrade ran up, sweeping everything from the sofa for John to set you down.

“I didn’t know what to! Something told me they’d run from a hospital.”

“They would, John put this on their head, Lestrade my room there’s a heavyweight blanket, get it.” Sherlock barked out.

Lestrade did as he told, and all he could do was stand her you while John and Sherlock treated you.

It felt like hours until they were finally done.

“They’ll be fine. They can’t stay here though, it’s too small.” Sherlock said.

“Well we can take them to a hospital, you know where they’ll get the care they need?” John snapped.

“They’ll just run the moment they wake up and make it even worse. They’ll wake up soon, but they need somewhere bigger to stay while they recover.”

Lestrade thought for a moment before raising his hand.

“I have a spare room, they can stay with me I suppose. I don’t want them going back out there it’s set to snow for the next week.”

“It’s settled, john get a cab, Lestrade the bag.”

Sherlock picked you up and the three of them took you to the detectives department and set you on the guest bed.

Sherlock told Lestrade what he needed to know, what food you liked and what you didn’t like.

Then John told him how to care for you but made him swear to call an ambulance if you don’t improve within the next day.

When they left Lestrade looked at your bag and decided to wash the clothes in there so they were clean.

He checked up on your and spent most of the day sitting on a chair by your bed while he kept track of your temperature and heart rate.

It was late evening when you sat up, and you felt someone bandaging your arm.

“Remove your hands or I’ll break every finger…” you mumbled.

Lestrade chuckled a little bit.

“It’s just me, Lestrade.”

You opened your eyes and looked at him, grumbling a little bit before you slowly sat up.

“Here some water.”

You took the cup and sipped some of the water before you looked around in confusion.

“You’re in my house. Sherlock said the flat was too small for you to stay there, and he said you’d run from the hospital if we tried taking you there.”

You nodded and set the cup aside, pulling the blanket a little tighter around you.

“Are you cold?”

Lestrade felt your forehead and left the room, coming back with a hoodie and held it out.

When you touched it you gasped at how warm it was and threw it on, burying your nose into the fabric.

“If you don’t want to stay here that’s fine, but I don’t want you back on the streets. I can get you a hotel room for a few weeks until something permanent can be sorted out.”

“I’ll be fine, I’ll go in a few days.”

“End of the week? It’s going to be snowing all week.”

You frowned but nodded your head.

Lestrade cared for you, making sure you got better but due to the bad weather a week turned into two which turned into three.

You quite liked it there, a warm bed, clean clothes and food everyday? It was great.

Lestrade didn’t push for you to tell him anything you didn’t want to, but he did sit you down to talk about what was going to happen.

“I can get you a hotel, you can go back to the train car, or you can stay here. It’s completely up to you.”

“You wouldn’t mind if I stayed?”

“Of course not, I’d rather you stay here then back on the streets. I don’t feel right sending you back to that.” He said softly.

You nodded your head and looked around the living room.

You didn’t mind living in the train, it was free, no rules, no adults, just you, your bat and the occasional passer-by.

But here, with Lestrade? He got you new clothes, it was warm, he cooked for you every day and taught you how to cook. You could shower everyday and read all you wanted.

“I.. maybe I can stay for a few more weeks, I’m not fully better you know?”

Lestrade laughed a little.

“Right, just till your better.” He chuckled

Lestrade was warned that you went stubborn, but he felt like he was making progress with you, and knowing you were safe and he wasn’t sending a teenager back on the streets put his mind at ease

#bbc Sherlock #bbc Sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock lestrade #bbc sherlock x you #lestrade x reader #lestrade x you #gregory lestrade #greg lestrade x reader #greg lestrade #Lestrade imagine

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moonstone27ls · 1 year

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Unicorn Warriors Eternal ep 4

Sooooo... THAT happened.

THat by which was the most screwed up love rectangle/triangle?.... Love mess. Reincarnations man (glad they didn’t go that route with Avatar XD). Point is... okay so its established the Lady Fox/or kitsune is basically the evil they fight, TIME and time again. The fight scenes were good.

Whats getting old is this love mess. I can’t call it a love shape because technically Edred isn’t really after Emma. He wants his Melinda. Emma...is at most confused I think that whole scene was cute and I think she actually felt chemistry which again brings up to point.... since Melinda/Edred are reincarnated TIME and time again... have these two made their carnations (or caused) them to reproduce offspring together? I say that because the last episode clarified it sorta... we only saw “2″ or our three... so it would be correct to assume Edred’s incarnation (unless born a woman) had children with Melinda’s.

Part of me is annoyed with Emma. But I say part, because again the Creator stated that this is focusing on Emma’s arc. Adult me knows that... but also me wants to say “EMMA IF YOU ARE HAVING ANGSTS AT LEAST TALK ABOUT IT”. She’s been vocal about everything else the “I don’t wanna do this”, the “I’ve got two mes”. Fine I get that then just admit to your team that you are afraid to fully use your powers. Edred I get why she’s refraining... but I want to assume she’s on a better familiarity with Seng/Alfie and the robot. Gahhh I feel more would get done if this show was longerXD.

But its minor with Emma so I’m not entirely annoyed... what I’m getting annoyed with is the love mess. I admit the jealous side of Edred was not the most ... I’ll just be honest I hate love drama it ruins a character, so it makes it less enjoyable. Watching Edred/Winston fight over Emma/Melinda was veryyyy annoying and I almost wonder why she didn’t smack them both and go “I’M NOT PROPERTY”

But having said that... I do get why Edred is having trouble accepting this. Like Melinda they’ve been use to just being in control. Their incarnations have never talked back/or their lives never got in the way. So that much I understand... buttttt also Edred yeah you were a little harsh on Emma/Melinda in regards to her powers. And I feel even if that was technically Emma mad, he’s seen that look from Melinda. But again he went about it wrong, instead of actually talking/or apologizing he attempted to flirt with what he thought was his lover.

Then we get to Winston... I’m not gonna lie he’s annoying the hell out of me. Yes, yes, adult me and bigger picture he’s concerned for Emma. But COME ONNNN. That fight was literally over towns there is NO WAY he kept up that long. That was annoyingly cartoonish how he popped up out of no where. “Oh I followed you”... Me: BULLSHIT, you are not that fast and several things almost killed people.

Its not that I hate Winston its just his character does NOTHING for the story or Emma other than going “I love you”. If I thought he had SOME form of Sherlock Holmes fighting skill then maybe I could let it go. But he’s like reverse damsel in distress. He ALWAYS gets in the way. And like Edred, he’s also pushing Emma. He’s like “LEAVE”, “She can’t fight”. I’m like dude, BIGGER PICTURE GOING ON.

Winston’s character seems to flip/flop in regards to all the crazy shit going on. I admit it was kinda.. racist/or xenophobic(I dunno the PC terms in regards to supernatural creatures) how he kept making fun of Edred for being elf. Yes one could argue he doesn’t believe in magic. But again thats were the flip/flop comes in. If he’s been following Emma since the hospital... then he should have seen the POSSESSED statues, a LITERAL fox lady, his FIANCE and EDRED floating, ALFIE IS LITERALLY FADING AWAY! What more do you want? The hand of God to slap you and go “Buddy its real, get over it”.

Just haaahh Winston is so literally annoying. I would rather him go “I’ll wait for you”(cause again we don’t know what happens after the incarnations defeat the fox) or get some sense smacked into them that they HAVE to fight. But he literally brings nothing to the table and I’m so tired of him.

And whether Edred likes it. He’s fueled him to follow them more (which I get, again its Emma. Edred/Melinda are just technically spirits). But because Winston literally does NOTHING/and... looking at how he couldn’t even knock down the robot its fair to say he’s useless in a fight. He’s gonna get in the way or worse killed. I don’t want dummy dead, just out of the way 8B. Go and sit tea and wait for her dummy. Her parents are and thats her parents, they want their daughter back but I think that last quote her father said... it meant something. He knew it was something out of their hands.

Anything else.. a part of me wishes the Russian guy did take over Edred for a moment... or that Emma would talk to Alfie. Let her get some sense she’s not completely alone. I get the development will be solely focused on Melinda/Emma ... but it would be nice for the others to have some as well. See the trio bond together. Well four counting the robot.

EXTRA NOTE:: Because I forgot to add this. Whether its Melinda/Edred talking to Emma... I think they all do just need to talk. Admit into their humanity... what to I mean by that... I admit they’ve made mistakes. I admit thats another problem Edred is acting like a teacher. Which isn’t bad... whats bad is that he forgets this isn’t Melinda(fully?o3o). I mean yeah Alfie was as shocked. But Alfie kinda had his own thing(and again Emma isn’t voicing her anxieties, back to focus sorry). Edred and them need to remember that Emma/and probably Alfie(he hasn’t done much yet except make the mistake of trusting that fox plus he’s what I assume a child, .... I think? He was on a rival team against Winston’s ... so how old is he?oO) are not perfect. And although they’ve had CENTURIES of training. I don’t fully believe Edred and Melinda were born naturally gifted. I feel they both made mistakes and they both trained to control their abilities.

#unicorn warriors eternal

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raptorsaurusmelain · 1 year

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Let me show you... Youtube - chapter 18

Finally back to writing after my weekend of convention. It was nice but not enough small creators to my taste.

Warning : no proof reading, English is not my mother tongue.

If you are interested in reading this fic, the tag "#twst lmsyy" will give you all the chapters.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

During the following week, Victoria mended the roof little by little. The real test would be the next time it rained. She wasn't impatient about that.

By the end of the week, she finished the roof with the children's help to transport the broken tiles to the trash can.

And as if the Great Seven heard her, it rained delicately. The woman ran like a madwoman across the dorm to see if the repairs were working. To her delight, there were only one or two tiles to change. She congratulated herself. She did a great job. She thought it would be more catastrophic than that.

She thought hard in her bed. Next big event would be the Magift tournament with Leona's overblot. It would mean that soon there would be multiple cases of mysterious accidents and the children would have to investigate. She wasn't particularly fond of Leona. She understood why he acted like that but she wasn't fond of how he decided to handle the situation. It was dangerous and if badly done, there could have been someone in a coma or worse, a dead person… That night she prayed to Buddha so the duo would not be hurt.

A few days later, she surprised Grim, Yuu and the ghost playing Magift. So it has begun… That also explained why she had a humongous list of repairs to do in the stadium. Everything needed to be spotless.

That evening, Victoria saw multiple news channels speaking about the NRC's Magift tournament. Everyone was excited to say the least. She thought a bit. Maybe she could ditch the event …? Bad idea, she would miss the match with Ramshackle, she needed to capture that moment ! Urgh, to mom or not to mom, that is the question.

It reminded her of how she used to film the family cricket tournament back home. It was fun to see, everyone was arguing on who won the match and she was just the referee / cameraman. She loved those moments. Full of nostalgia, she watched a few of her family's videos she had on her phone. She shed a tear. She missed them a lot. Like when her cousin Rajeesh would discuss with her on which metal band was the best or, when Priya teached her new dancing moves. Or when Kali wanted to play with dolls with her while everyone was discussing who Nila should marry.

Surprised by all those names ? Well her father was a Caucasian man adopted by a lovely Indian couple. Wasn't expecting that, Imma right ?

The day after, Victoria spent her time doing her chores while Yuu and Grim began their investigation. She hoped that they had the little Sherlock Holmes costume like in the manga. She needed to take a photo of them wearing it.

When she was done with the chores of repairing the stadium toilets, she went home and thought about the next thing to repair. She looked at the walls. Those were in a dismal state. If she was doing those, it meant to take the frames off, buff the wall paint, paint the primer then paint the wall green and white. She sighed. Quite a lot of work ahead. A lot of Giktok to do, but the children could participate in the final painting stage. Then she wondered if, like the game, they would find the crafting gauntlet and hammer. It would be funny to have Yuu and Grim design their own room. It would occupy them while Victoria did the heavy reparations.

Her deep thinking was stopped by Yuu and Grim coming back to the dorm. They both had the little cape and cap !

She improvised a little photoshoot saying that her babies were 'so cool' and 'like true detectives' ! Her camera roll was full of new pictures. She also did a little video for their Giktok account writing 'The detectives are on the case!' In the caption.

Afterwards, Yuu and Grim explained why they had such costumes. Victoria listened to them, nodding at important parts, followed by some 'oh', 'ah' and 'interesting'. She just hoped that no one was too hurt.

That night, they watched some Magift tournament on the TV so they could understand the game better in real situations. Grim was overjoyed to take part in such a tournament -if they resolved the mysterious accidents of course-.

The next day during lunch, she was with Crewel and Vargas. She showed off her babies. “Look at them with their little costumes ! Aren’t they cute ? They look like proper detectives from a novel !”

Vargas was impressed and Crewel asked. “Where did they get those costumes ? It looks… a little cheap.”

Vargas laughed. “Don’t break her fantasies, Crewel.”

Victoria shrugged. “Apparently it is from the headmage. So it is not top quality.”

Crewel sighed. “Of course… That bird truly has the chic to give his work to others. I mean those accidents should be investigated by him.”

Vargas nodded. “Maybe he has other more pressing affairs ?”

Victoria choked on her drink and coughed a lot.

The himbo looked at her, worried. “Are you alright ?”

She nodded.

The fashionable man spoke. “I think she meant by that that he seems to have nothing going on.”

She took a deep breath and spoke in a cracked voice. “You know me so well, it is frightening.”

Tag : @boba-tea-fish @hipsterteller

#disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst lmsyy #twst fanfic #twst yuu #twst wonderland #twst divus crewel #twst vargas #twst grim

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alias-sam · 7 months

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Pierced by a Golden Soul

Chapter 39. (Don't Fear) the Reaper Part 1

Platonic Jojo's x Reader

Summary: Fate is a bizarre concept with countless more bizarre implications. In life sometimes such extraordinary events happen that the only reasoning left must be fate. The tragedies that constantly befall the Joestar bloodline for example may be the unluckiest series of cards drawn in human history, or perhaps the work of a greater power. There is no way to tell for sure. Had Dio Brando or Jonathan Joestar moved slightly on a divergent path the world itself would be left very different. The fate or luck of the noble Joestar bloodline has led to destruction of evil likes of the Pillar Men and DIO. This story is of a similar caliber to that of the other Joestars (as I am sure you are familiar with them). This is a story of lost souls, compassion, hope, and above all fate.

Word Count: 2,967

(Crosspost from Wattpad, full fic is already posted there.)

"Umi! We're here!" Vita called as he led you inside his home.

"Sommar?" A woman wearing a hijab stepped out into the entryway to intercept a hug from Vita. She was young, but her face was unjustly aged by stress and exhaustion. The smile that crossed her face upon seeing her son was genuine and warm.

"Sommar....?" You murmured to yourself in quiet confusion.

You were caught off guard at first when you came upon the large three-story house. Noticing your surprise as you walked up the driveway, Vita explained his father owned a rather successful oyster and fishing business. Before that moment you never really stopped to wander about what Vita's home life was like.

Apparently, he was loaded.

Now you were standing in the entryway of the fanciest home you had ever seen as Vita hugged his mother. When the two eventually separated, Vita's mother turned your way.

"You must be Sommar's friend." Her voice was gentile, and fairly quiet.

"Yes ma'am. Y/n Jones." You nodded and politely shook the woman's hand.

"Wonderful to meet you." She pat her son on the shoulder. "Dinner isn't quite ready yet. You two go ahead and do what you need to do. I'll let you know when it's done." Vita ushered you through the large house to a staircase.

"So.... Sommar?" You asked as you followed Vita to the second floor. It had occurred to you that Vita exclusively used his last name at school.

"Right." He sighed, ducking his head for a moment. "Guess I never told you my first name."

"Why don't you use it?"

"I just don't like it I guess." Vita shrugged. "It's the name my birth father gave me." He suddenly stopped on the steps in front of you and turned around. "I'd prefer if you kept calling me Vita."

"Sure, no problem." You smiled. Vita nodded appreciatively before bringing you down a long hallway to his bedroom. He opened the door and you followed from behind. "Oh... wow." The walls were plastered with a unique assortment of movie posters and anatomical sketches of various insects. Your attention was drawn to one poster in particular. "Tsukumojuku Kato?" You mumbled, reading the jumble of letters at the bottom of the movie poster. There was a picture of a boy, looking whimsically off into the distance while holding a magnifying glass. The stereotypical image of a Sherlock Holmes-esque detective came to mind just looking at the character.

"He's the main character in a book series, 'The Locked Room Mysteries'." Vita commented, coming to stand next to you. "Not many people like the movies, but they're my absolute favorite."

"What's the series about?"

"You wouldn't believe me." Vita giggled. You looked at him unimpressed. Vita sighed. "A lot of people don't like the story because it's completely insane. I enjoyed reading it because of the insanity. Sometimes something can be critically bad but ironically good." You still didn't look impressed, in fact you had only grown more skeptical. "I'll tell you this:" Vita relented. "One minor turning point in the mystery involves an invisible polar bear. I won't say anything else because I don't want to spoil anything."

"What about these?" You asked, shifting your gaze to your friend's bookshelf. It held a collection of numbered books that were lined up so that the design on the spines formed the image of a boy wearing a pink suit and a weird hat.

"Pink Dark Boy. It's my favorite manga series."

"I can see that." You laughed looking at the bookshelf filled with only the manga series and it's merchandise. Before you knew it you were curiously flipping through a random volume. "You told me about these before." You stopped when you found yourself unable to read the words. "Are these in Japanese?"

"Yep. There isn't an official English translation of it, but I learned the language."

"Impressive." You flipped through a few more pages, admiring the artwork. "These are some great drawings. A little gory..." You mentioned as you came across a rather detailed image of a disemboweled spider. "But intriguing."

"Rohan Kishibe is the best!" Vita assured you excitedly. You could almost see little stars appear in his eyes as he gushed about the artist. "If you'd like, I could translate the first few volumes so you can read them."

"I'd appreciate that." You said, closing the book and putting it back in its rightful place. "Maybe you could teach me a thing or two in Japanese." You turned to your friend, only to find Vita staring off into space at the wall. "V?"

"Right!" Vita's head suddenly snapped to the other side of the room where a few shelves with glass cases were situated. He removed the tops from two of the glass boxes and retched a hand in both. Soon, Vita returned to your side with a beetle gently cradled in each hand. "These are Harvey and Rodger!" Vita held up the creatures so that you could get a good look at them. "Harvey here is a Rosenbergi beetle I bought while my family was visiting Indonesia." You took a slight step back as the gold-colored beetle tried crawling out of Vita's outstretched hand. "Rodger is a Dorcus Palawanicus my mom bought me when she was visiting the Philippines."

"Lovely..." You smiled wearily at your friend. As you watched the creepy crawlies roam around on Vita's hands your memory flashed back to a comment Tim had made.

This wasn't necessarily a red flag, just a quirk. You hoped so at least.

"There's also Jacques, Enzo, and Johana." Vita pointed back at other glass cases scattered around the room. There were so many beetles, all from different parts of the world. You kept a fair distance as Vita returned his pets to their glass enclosures. As he was tending to that, you noticed a TV and game console tucked away on the other side of the room.

"I didn't know you like video games." You said, curiously picking up a game cartridge. "37 Cars on Mars?"

"I don't think I could explain that one even if I tried."

.............

After you initial exploration of Vita's room and subsequent introduction to the beetles he called his friends, you and Vita got to work on your project. It was a long arduous process, but with each other's company it wasn't so bad. Every once in awhile if Vita noticed you losing focus, he'd make a comment or joke to keep you engaged. When Vita looked like he was dosing off you would ask a question about his beetles. Despite his quirks and obvious social ineptitude, he was a very passionate about his interests, as well as a hard worker. Two hours later you and Vita finally decided to take a break. Due to your combined efforts, the project had progressed faster than expected. At this point, you were practically finished. You leaned back, stretching out your back. Vita wobbled over to his bed and collapsed onto it face first.

"Tired?" You asked sarcastically. Vita rolled over to face you.

"Yes." He groaned. "But I guess it's not so bad." Vita smiled. "You've been fun to work with."

"You too. I wouldn't mind doing this again." You replied, standing to once again look over Vita's extensive Pink Dark Boy collection. As you were flipping through what looked like a special New Years addition you heard a loud car's engine. Vita's eyes widened before he suddenly bolted up and ran to the window.

"You have got to be kidding me." He groaned. Confused, you followed your friend. You looked outside where a red car rolling up the driveway. The monster of a vehicle shut off and a man stepped out.

"Who is that?" You asked. He was an older man, his hair and beard were already a mixed gray and white. You got a good look at his scowling face as he stomped towards the house's front door.

"My stepdad." Vita sighed. "He wasn't supposed to be back for another few hours." Your friend glared down at his front yard before heading towards the door.

"He doesn't look very happy." You observed before turning to Vita. "You don't seem all that happy either." There was an obvious shift in Vita's demeanor that you just couldn't ignore. His expression had darkened, similar to how he looked when you met up with him earlier.

"Dinner's ready." Vita's mother called from downstairs just as he was reaching for the doorknob.

"Would be rude to keep them waiting." Vita grimaced before turning to your concerned face. "This should be interesting." With that, Vita led you out into the hallway. The light in Vita's eyes had exhausted. It was worrying how dull his demeanor became. He didn't say a word as he led you through his house. As the two of you were passing by an adjacent hallway you saw a silhouette out of the corner of your eye. Intrigued and confused you stopped in your tracks and took two steps back to peer down the darkened corridor. A pair of bright yellow eyes stared back. You jumped back immediately from shock. Vita stopped and looked at your panicked expression.

"W-who?" You stuttered, pointing down the pitch-black hallway at the approaching figure.

"What are you talking about?" Vita went to your side and followed where you were pointing. "Oh, hi Mannesh." Vita waved as a younger boy stepped into the light where you could see him. "Jojo, this is my brother Mannesh." Vita happily introduced you.

The younger boy looked like a slightly shorter version of Vita. Both boys shared a sepia, reddish-brown complexion. Their hair was the same dark brown, but Vita's hair was more wavy in comparison to his brother's loose curls. You noticed the most striking difference between the two was their eye color. Mannesh's eyes were a distinct shining yellow, while Vita's were a deep red-orange.

"Nice to meet you..." You held out an awkward hand to the boy who'd just jump-scared you. It was a bit pitiful that you were shaking at the sight of a nine-year-old, but in your defense it seemed the brothers shared an innate ability to be intimidating without trying. Mannesh glanced at your hand before sidestepping you and heading downstairs.

"Don't take it personally." Vita chimed upon noticing your expression. "He's... not all that social."

"It's fine." You assured.

"Mannesh has his quirks. One of those misunderstood kid geniuses, ya'know? He'll be nicer if he doesn't see you as a stranger."

........

You and Vita came downstair just in time to watch Vita's stepfather stomp through the living room. He glared at Vita's mother before shoving the door to an adjacent room open and slamming it closed behind him. Vita's mother smiled nervously upon realizing you Vita and Mannesh saw the interaction.

You did your best to ignore the awkward atmosphere created by Vita's stepfather. Though, it was hard not to notice the tired and depressed expressions around the quiet dinner table. The koshari was delicious, but the mood spoiled it. There was enough tension you could cut it with a knife.

It wasn't until twenty minutes later when Vita's stepfather finally reappeared. He padded into the kitchen and upon coming back to the dining room with an open beer in hand. Vita's stepfather stopped in the doorway to look at you strangely. You stared back upon noticing him.

"Hi..." You greeted cautiously. He was intimidating, the stereotypical image of an old sailor, white hair, beard, and a face squinted into a permanent scowl. He seemed a fair bit older than Vita's mother.

"Who the hell are you?"

"A friend?" You answered, highly confused.

"Sommar who the hell is this?"

"A friend." Vita responded curtly, not looking up from his plate. The man growled and turned back to you.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Visiting your son?" You answered, still confused by the sudden interrogation.

"Get the hell out of my house."

"Um-" You glanced around the table before looking back at the man. "Why?"

"Why?" The man mocked your voice. "You did not get my permission to be here." You once again looked around the table for some kind of cue or help from Vita or his mother, but their eyes were both downcast.

"Are you being serious?" You were oddly tempted to laugh given the situation.

"Deathly." The man seethed. Vita tensed and looked like he was about to protest, but you decided not to escalate the situation any further. You had no idea of what was going on, and didn't want to cause any trouble.

"Alright then." You stood up from the table, looking over to Vita's mother. "Ma'am thank you for the meal. It was lovely."

With that, you simply left the house. It was around time for you to be heading home, and you were done with your work anyway. You looked down the empty street as shadows crept across the ground from the shifting storm clouds above.

"Y/n wait!" You turned about to find Vita running after you. The front door of the house flew open.

"Sommar!" Vita's stepfather yelled. "You better get back in here!"

"I'll be back in a minute!" Vita snapped, surprising both you and the old man. Your friend waited until his father closed the door to speak again. He looked like he was on the verge of tears, you could also sense a hint of embarrassment. "I'm really sorry about all of that. I should have warned you."

"It's fine." You tried reassuring the boy. After facing a gaggle of guys who you knew literally wanted to kill you, this was nothing. "Some people just have bad days. I get that."

"Everyday is a bad day with him." Vita looked down guiltily. "He...doesn't like having people over, he's paranoid about things getting stolen."

"You don't need to worry about it. I for one can handle a grumpy middle aged man-" You stopped mid-sentence as you noticed Vita wobbling, and his face turning a shade lighter. "Are you okay? You don't look so good..."

"Y-yeah-" Vita responded airily. "But maybe I should sit down." The guy looked like he was about to fall over, so you weren't going to argue. You helped him down to sit on the concrete driveway. "Sorry, I just got dizzy for a second."

"No need to apologize." You insisted while making yourself comfortable sitting next to him.

"Believe it or not this is what a good day looks like for me." Vita laughed humorlessly.

"What?"

"Severe anemia, weak immune system, and a constant vitamin deficiency no matter how many supplements I take. That's just listing a few." Vita coughed dryly. You had seen Vita's eyes light up, darken, flare with anger, but right now, he looked empty compared to the creepily cheery character you knew. "I'm a whole cocktail of broken parts." Vita did his best to hide it, but you noticed the shine of tears welling up in his eyes. "But it's fine. I still lead as normal a life as I know how. I'm a bad fever away from a coffin anyway, might as well live as best I can."

"Vita..." You trailed off, caught completely off guard from the sudden confession. He seemed really out of it. His head was bobbing slowly in every direction as if it was too heavy for him to keep up. You noticed his skin still looked sickly, and lighter than normal. Ultimately, you decided to let him talk. Vita obviously had some things he needed to say. The least you could do was listen.

"It's kinda sad really." Vita continued, letting a single tear roll down his face. "I spent my whole childhood in and out of hospitals to the point my only friend growing up was my own mother." His shoulders shook as he held back a sob. "She left behind her life and family in Cairo to marry an asshole and move to America-" Vita's voice cracked and he took a moment to steady himself. "All for me...I guess that's one reason I never quite got along with classmates. I wasn't healthy enough to attend in person until middle school. I went in with no knowledge of social cues whatsoever." Vita shook his head and wiped away a few stray tears. "I don't really care what other people think, I never have. But that doesn't make it less lonely." He paused and looked up at you with reddened eyes. "Maybe that's why I like you so much Y/n. You're weird, like me."

"We both have terrible dads, that's for sure." You muttered offhandedly. "I guess we don't particularly take a shine to normal social activities either." You didn't understand how that made you 'weird' like him, but you decided to roll with it.

"Indeed." Vita breathed, expression finally lightening. "I'm really glad that fate or whatever brought us together for this project. I know you were really intimidated by me that first time we talked, but you were nice enough to never spread rumors or spit in my face." Vita looked away sadly. "Or call me a freak."

"Those are some low standards buddy." You noted sarcastically. That made him laugh. You couldn't help but smile at the fact you cheered him up a little, the moment was spoiled for you however when you realized a light rain was sprinkling across your back.

"All jokes aside..." Vita sighed. "The first time we really talked... I got this weird feeling. This strange pulling sensation." His hand slowly went to his shoulder. "I don't know how to explain it."

"I think it's about time you head inside." You said, barely paying attention to what the boy was saying now that the rain was getting heavier. "Sitting out in the rain can't be good for your condition."

"It's not." Vita groaned. "Oh!" He said reaching behind himself. "I think this is yours." He had your umbrella. You had left in such a rush earlier you forgot to grab it.

"Thanks." You said, taking the item back gratefully. "See you tomorrow?"

"Not if I see you first." Vita responded with a smile and awkward head tilt.

There was the usual creepiness you were missing.

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writer-monster · 3 years

Text

11 reasons why cap 4 should reintroduce Bucky Barnes as the love interest, an essay

to start this off, i am not writing this essay from a shipping place nor do i believe that this would have any influence at all over the upcoming movie. i expect nothing. this is simply something that i would personally like to see. (of course no hate to anybody who thinks differently)

here are 11 reasons why i think making Bucky into Sam Wilson's love interest in Cap 4 would be a good move for Disney.

1. on the Chinese film market - and why it's an irrelevant argument against the inclusion of homosexual themes in Cap 4

the Chinese film market is something that has been blamed for a lack of diversity in Hollywood films a lot lately. many people claim that this market with a lot of buying power has been responsible for the lack of gay and black representation in particular within Hollywood films.

and we have certainly seen Hollywood treating it as such, going so far as to cut gay scenes from movies for their Chinese releases, and vastly minimising John Boyega's (a black actor's) presence in the Chinese poster of Star Wars The Force Awakens.

[image ID: on the left is an image of the American poster for Star Wars The Force Awakens, featuring John Boyega prominently on the right-hand side. And on the right is the Chinese poster for the same movie, in which John Boyega is barely visible.]

so we know at the very least that Disney believes this through their own actions and efforts to self-censor for the different markets.

but Captain America 4 is a black-led movie, don't you forget. and Disney can't minimise Sam Wilson/Anthony Mackie in the movie or the poster because it's his movie and his poster. and no amount of creativity in the editing room can change that (thank God!).

so if by their own argument the film is already going to be either banned, panned or slammed in China... then what do they have to fear from making it a gay movie too?

2. oh, the queerbaiting

queerbaiting is an unusual cultural idea. and sometimes i find myself thinking that the term is far too easily used, but then all of a sudden i will stumble upon a movie or show that is so quintessentially cruel and overt in it's... well... queerbaiting that i will start to wonder what the hell kind of a bizarre relationship all these straight people seem to have with their friends. take Troy and Abed from Community or John and Sherlock from Sherlock as the perfect examples of this. (in which my reaction to the show's creators saying the show wasn't gay was to ask so then why did you make it so gay?!)

i felt that Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes in tfatws were getting quite close to this level of queerbaiting.

there was the field scene, the couple's counselling scene, the boat scene, the couple's counselling scene, Bucky going with Sam to face Karli when she told Sam to come alone, the couple's counselling scene, ALL the staring scenes, Sam checking out Bucky's ass here as they said goodbye, the "i would move in with him but" hidden scene, "Uncle Bucky" showing up at the cookout scene, the romantic walking off together into the sunset together ending scene, and the couple's counselling scene. did i forget anything? but i mean seriously, the couple's counselling scene!!! that thing they did with their legs and their crotches while staring deep into each other's eyes, would any straight guy willingly do that? do straight guys crotch-snuggle now?

[image ID: an image of Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes during the therapy scene with the quote, "Isn't anybody going to drag me into impromptu couple's therapy and slot my legs firmly between theirs before staring deeply into my eyes?"]

(yeah i stole this image from a buzzfeed article on the fan reactions to the couple's therapy scene. but given that they stole 80% of the content of that article from fandom tumblr, i think it's pretty even-steven.)

there's also the fact that people started talking about bisexual Bucky Barnes a lot after the tiger pictures line, and the lead writer Malcom Spellman responded to the talk of Bucky's bisexuality with "just keep watching". well we watched, Malcolm. but it's beginning to feel like you were just jerking us around.

3. the writing

seriously though, what else is Bucky Barnes doing right now in the MCU? his only remaining connection to anything going on right now is through Sam. there is literally nothing else established that's left for him to do that doesn't involve Sam. he moved to Louisiana to be closer to Sam (canonically), he hangs out with Sam's family (canonically), and Steve is presumably gone and is definitely not coming back for more adventures.

he has no villains or loose ends left. he has no other superheroes that he appears to be in contact with. he has no girlfriend or potential love interest, or even other friends or family. he is living in a tent that he has secretly set up in Sam's backyard and is mysteriously appearing from the bushes when it's time for dinner like a stray cat.

in my opinion there is no other meaningful and pre-established progression for Bucky's character that wouldn't just feel cheap.

plus, i don't think the general audience would be all that surprised if they kissed. i think a LOT of people picked up on all that tension. i think a lot of straight people picked up on all that tension too.

4. the chemistry between the actors & the chemistry between the characters

the original pitch for tfatws was essentially just this, it was the chemistry between Sebastian Stan and Anthony Mackie and their respective MCU characters of Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson.

now obviously Anthony and Sebastian are simply friends, and i wouldn't mean to imply anything more. but they are also not their characters.

Sam and Bucky's scenes together before tfatws were both limited and short, and yet audiences still fell in love with the dynamic between the two characters.

in interviews, these two actors are constantly slipping into character and flirting with each other and frankly it's adorable. plus it's really entertaining. i'd love to see that dynamic, unfiltered, in a movie.

because believe it or not the flirting is actually even more open in their interviews than it was in tfatws. and i'm leaving some links as proof.

this here is known as the "married" compilation

and here's a "lucky dip" selection of interviews - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5,

and here's Anthony trying to get Seb to take his jacket off.

i'm just saying, why not let their chemistry shine? these two are so talented and so entertaining, especially when you put them in a room together. and can you imagine how absolutely hilarious and brilliant it would be to watch them navigate being a couple?

(and for those who bring up the "friends would be uncomfortable pretending to be dating" argument, i'm not here asking for a sex scene or anything. i don't think anyone would expect them to show any more intimacy (physical or emotional) while playing a couple than what they've already shown together in say... tfatws or in their own interviews. not that i actually expect anything regardless.)

5. if they were a man and a woman they would've gotten together in tfatws

i have no more to add here. just that... yeah, they would've.

6. and i'm not talking about the comics here, i'm talking about the MCU.

i understand fully that none of what i'm saying here falls in line with these characters from the comics. but the mcu itself doesn't fall much in line with the comics either, and these two characters especially are very different from their comics counterparts.

i'm not asking for these two to get together in the comics. tbh i don't think that it would work.

but the mcu Sam and Bucky are different and closer than their comics counterparts. they've got different histories, different backstories, and a very different dynamic. please rest assured that i am only talking about them in the mcu.

7. Bucky Barnes is believably bisexual. and Sam Wilson has never been proven to be straight in the mcu, nor has he had a love interest.

(now please continue to keep in mind that these points only stand for the mcu versions of Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson, and not at all for their comics counterparts.)

Sam Wilson has never had a love interest, which is crazy because have you seen that man! he has had two blink and you'll miss it moments of verbal expression of attraction to women, both in TWS. and that's the extent of it, through his entire history in the mcu.

Bucky Barnes has had a number of surface-level female love interests, but none of them even came close to the level of connection and chemistry that Bucky shares with Sam.

and i'm sorry SarahBucky fans, but i just don't think there's very much to their relationship either. i love Sarah, i really do. but it's Sam who shares all the meaningful moments and history and chemistry with Bucky. and i don't see what making her into a love interest would do for Sarah's character either, what would that add to her story?

[Picture ID: Bucky at the cookout with Sam, Sarah, Cass and AJ. Bucky and Sam are looking at each other and smiling.]

and also there is the whole tiger pictures thing... again. which does strongly suggest that Bucky is bisexual whether this was intentional on behalf of the writers or not.

8. it's representation... AND it feels natural

marvel hasn't had a lot of queer representation that's been noticeably present in the MCU at the time of writing this.

there have been a lot of failures so far, from the bisexual erasure of Valkyrie in Thor Ragnarok to the wlw erasure in Black Panther.

there was queerbaiting almost identical to the bisexual Bucky baiting for Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2. when asked if he had considered featuring a gay hero in gotg2, director James Gunn stated that "We might have already done that. I say, watch the movie." after the movie's release audiences were understandably confused about the lack of queer representation. To which the director followed up his comments with, "But we don't really know who's gay and who's not. It could be any of them."

there is also Loki, considered by most fans after the airing of his six episode series on Disney+ to be both a poor attempt at both genderfluid representation and bisexual representation. with both attempts being summed up fairly well by the term "blink-and-you'll-miss-it". (also it's just terribly written and Loki doesn't wear any interesting clothes! fanficcers are a Goddamn blessing in this hard time!)

and let us not forget that Andrew Garfield was apparently FIRED for pushing for a bisexual spiderman. a bisexual spiderman within an interracial mlm relationship no less.

so for all these failures, marvel, why not allow us queer fans this? two brilliant and heroic men in a loving interracial relationship. two heroes that we can look up to.

now, one of the biggest detractions from the argument for representation is the idea of "forced diversity". and some poorly written characters certainly do end up feeling forced into the narrative. take Iceman in the comics for example, with Jean Grey just straight up suddenly telling him he's gay. like, marvel, sweetie, that's not how this works! and i don't know a lot of queer people who thought much of that "representation".

but the crux of the "forced diversity" argument is almost always that it feels unnatural within the story, right? and i don't think that anyone could say that about MCU Sam and Bucky ending up together, given these characters' existing chemistry and their history. they've both played characters in gay relationships before so we know that it's not outside of either actor's wheelhouse. and y'all know that Anthony and Seb can act, people. if it's in the script i believe that they'll make it seem like the most natural thing on earth.

9. it'd be a nice change

there's been an ongoing meme lately about "Disney's first gay character", the joke being that they continually announce gay characters without really ever including gay characters in their films.

this is to the point where Disney has formed a reputation amongst queer audiences of being homophobic.

if Sam and Bucky were to become a couple, then Disney could have its first actual gay character within a gay relationship. AND have him be in the lead of his own movie, no less.

it's also worth keeping in mind that there's likely an overlap between the people who were outraged by a Sam Wilson Captain America, and the people who'd be outraged by a gay Captain America. and if they were already not seeing the film, then i don't think much is gonna change that.

queer audiences would definitely love it, and the media attention would be guaranteed to be huge. i mean, simply look at the amount of media attention mere rumours of a character's queerness gets you and multiply that by a canon confirmation of said rumours.

but i'm pretty sure that Disney already knows this.

10. and yet, in truth, it's not about the representation

in truth i've never felt that i had any trouble relating to characters of any sexual orientation, race, gender, sex, body type, etc. (although that is not to throw any shade at all on people who do wish to see themselves represented) but for me, i think it's more about the story than the packaging.

and yet, a love story is still just a story. straight or queer, monoethnic or interracial. when two characters have chemistry and history and have sacrificed for each other time and time again, and they also can't keep their hands or their eyes off each other, then i'm pretty sure that that's a love story.

straight or queer, monoethnic or interracial, it shouldn't be about these simple labels. it should be about how well written the relationship is. it should be about chemistry, and history, and sacrifice.

because i'm fucking sick of all the hollow, forced romances in media no matter the genders of the participants. i'm sick of lazily written, shallow relationships where any two people sharing the same space for any extended period of time will simply fall in love. it's boring, it's repetitive, and as a writer myself it drives me up the wall!

romance stories suck! and everyone knows that romance stories suck. between twilight, and most of the entire YA genre, and love triangles (so boring), and romance used as poorly-written throwaway subplots in Hollywood movies, the world is in agreement that the romance in western media is simply dreadful. and yet we still want love stories. it's an entire genre that sits at the heart of the human experience (<3), and yet one which so few of today's best known writers seem truly able to capture.

i don't think that i'm the only one who feels this way, either. i suspect it's actually a large part of why fandom is so romance-centred in the first place, that we're all just starving for a good love story.

(btw i think fandom has a reputation for being something that as a whole that it is not. it has this reputation for straight up demanding things and harassing people until they get their way. while unfortunately there are a few people who do this, they're fucking annoying and i swear that they're far from the majority.

in my experience fandom is mostly about writing a five thousand word story at three am while drunk off your ass because it might make someone whom you've never met smile, editing it in the cold light of day, and then posting it. expecting nothing. sometimes getting nothing. and sometimes getting someone send you kudos or a comment so heartbreakingly wonderful that it makes you smile in return.)

11. so once again, it is all about the writing.

i want to see Sam and Bucky get together in the mcu, not because they would be a gay couple but because i genuinely believe that their story has potential to be an amazing love story.

and i know the mcu isn't about the romance. it's why in my personal opinion we haven't gotten a lot of good canon romances besides Peter Quill and Gamora. and i don't think that the mcu should be all about the romance either. i fucking love the action and the fighting scenes. i love the comedy. Captain America: The Winter Soldier had no romance and it was a fucking treasure, it was an amazing spy-action-thriller and it made my little gay heart dance. Thor Ragnarok had no romance, and it was an utterly brilliant comedic spectacle action film. not every movie needs romance.

but mcu Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes were doing couple's therapy and fixing a boat and walking off into the sunset together in tfatws. they were inseparable on the battlefield. they've got a dynamic. it's beautiful, it's romantic, and it's gold.

a budding relationship between them in the next movie would be a good way to explore both characters more without the narrative feeling too stilted and separate. at the end of tfatws, both Sam and Bucky fans found that their respective fave felt somewhat underutilised and that their characters were underexplored.

now, that problem would be even more difficult to remedy in a movie, because the plotline of a movie needs to be really tight to work (giggity). and we know that the central conflict of the movie is gonna be action-based (which is good), but we still need each character's personal journey and growth to tie into the main conflict. (which is another issue that some fans found with tfatws, that these characters didn't really feel connected to the action-based plot on a more personal level.)

if Sam and Bucky are already in a relationship, however, this whole dynamic changes. first, their relationship has already been set up for nicely since TWS and through tfatws and they would officially be the best-fleshed-out couple in the mcu. but most importantly, a relationship gives them a perfect vehicle to explore both of their pasts comparatively and connect them personally to the action-based plot.

do you want to establish that Sam is a little too trusting and naïve? then establish this through his relationship with Bucky, and through showing his placing his trust in Bucky. (rather than through having him sympathise with a villain who threatened to murder his sister and his nephews).

perhaps you want to show Bucky recovering from his trauma? show us how comfortable he is with Sam. they get along, they're enjoying each other's presence, we see more of Sam's life and of his family, and then let Bucky tell Sam something that's raw and dark and honest about his life as The Winter Soldier. something about a memory, one that he only just recalled. he's opening up. and maybe what he tells Sam is even something that sets up the future action-based conflict, to ground that in something real.

you want to explore that Sam has trauma too? do this through Bucky. he tells Bucky a story about his time in the military. in the form of a flashback, he shares his own story of loss to evoke before the audience the shared theme of feeling at fault even when you're simply a helpless bystander to an act of pure destruction.

then, action sequence! and it's directly connected to Bucky's time as the Winter Soldier. explore the grief of someone whose life the Winter Soldier tore apart manifesting into a villain perpetuating the cycle of pain. establish your villain.

Later, Sam is dragged into battle against this villain for protecting Bucky. But Bucky doesn't want Sam to protect him. He feels guilt for what he can't control and he doesn't want Sam getting hurt because of him. Bucky reminds Sam that he has a family, one who needs him and who loves him. He tells him to go home.

Sam reminds Bucky that he's a part of that family. And that sure Sam's a hero and his job is to protect anyone and everyone, but that he's doing it because he wants to. It's not simply to prove that he can, or to prove that he's not a bystander (this connects to Sam's trauma here), but that he's doing it to help people.

and this gets Bucky thinking about who he is and what he's doing here. is he a hero who stands by Sam's side? or is he an ordinary man who stands aside? or perhaps, does he stand alone? what does he stand for? Maybe Sam knows. But does Bucky?

Sam and Bucky fight off the villain again, and for the first time Bucky meets this adversary face to face. And Bucky recognises this villain, and has a flashback to the genuine pain that he inflicted upon them in the form of the Winter Soldier. Bucky freezes mid-fight, he almost dies, and Sam has to save him.

Sam chews Bucky out for almost getting killed because he was afraid for him. but Bucky takes this the wrong way and goes off to fight the villain alone, or perhaps to die alone, he's not quite sure.

He puts up a half-hearted fight. He apologises for what the Winter Soldier has done, and he waits for the killing blow, when Sam swoops down and he saves him. He asks Sam why he saved him and Sam calls him a moron. And then, Sam asks him what sacrificing himself would solve. He tells him that you can't choose your past but you can choose your future (connecting to his own experience of loss and guilt and grief). And that no matter what Bucky Barnes still has a future, whether that's as the Winter Soldier or the White Wolf or just some dork with a day job. And that he has a future as a part of Sam's family too.

Sam fights the villain, and it's toe to toe. He delivers a few good blows, but receives a fair few himself. And then the villain tears off his wings, first one and then the other, in a manner reminiscent of what the Winter Soldier did to him in TWS. Through Bucky's eyes there's a flashback to highlight the parallels. Sam gets back on his feet and he fights his best fight, but is now losing.

And then the heavily injured Bucky steps up and fights by Sam's side, and only together do they take down the villain.

"So... I inspired you, huh?" Sam teases with a smile, utterly exhausted. "With my heroism and-"

"You inspired me." Bucky said, equally exhausted. "Let's leave it at that."

Together, Sam and Bucky go back to the safety and warmth of their family. Sam fixes his wings. Sam goes back to being Captain America. And Bucky... he's around, but it's unclear what he's doing.

That is, until the very end. When Sam is in a fight, and suddenly Bucky shows up and helps him out.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asks.

"I've made up my mind." Bucky says. "I'm the Winter Soldier. But now I'll save lives, Sam. Now, like you, I'll be a hero."

Sam smirks. "So does this make you my sidekick, then?"

Bucky smiles. "C'mon, at least make me a partner." He says.

"How about co-workers." Sam says (in flashback, he remembers back to the death of his last on-the-job partner).

"How about friends." Bucky says, with a wry look.

"Bucky... I don't want to see you put your dumbass self in danger." Sam says.

"Oh, and it's ok for you to go running off into danger on your own all the time?" Bucky asks.

"Yes." Sam says stubbornly. "Absolutely it is."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not a dumbass?!"

"Sam, if you think I'm not gonna be watching your back for the rest of time... then you're the biggest dumbass I know. And I don't care if you need me or not, I will be there for you."

"Because Sam, you're more than Captain America. You're more than a good soldier. You're a good man. And I think sometimes, the world forgets what the difference is."

...or something like that.

(i only spent like 15 minutes on that. you know if i were actually writing this movie i would come up with something much better. and if anyone from marvel is seeing this, yes i can come work for you. i will make the time, let's do this thing right!)

finale

at the end of the day, whether or not the mcu chooses to make Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes a couple, it's their decision. and they don't owe me anything.

i'm just some random person on the internet. who thinks that Captain America 4 should #givecaptainamericaaboyfriend

#givecaptainamericaaboyfriend #meta #analysis #captain america 4 #caatws #fatws #tfatws #captain america #cap 4 #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky #marvel #mcu #mcu phase 4

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that-1-masked-wierdo · 3 years

Text

A curious relationship

Someone did a request to me and it's my first

Camiloxfem!reader

Don't panic don't panic don't panic don't panic 😳

Camilo he/they | 15

Reader she/her | 15

Tags: fluff , a Japanese reader with a very open and curious mindset and very magical attitude , 3rd person

« » - Japanese

Y/s - your surname

Note: I am neither Japanese nor Colombian so if i do some kind of mistake feel free to correct me !

Modern au!

(yes i do not know how to write in different aus it's easier for me)

"« Eek! I'm finally moving out of this place ! I can’t wait to meet tou in real life Mira.»"

a girl was finishing packing her back , hopping back and forth from the bag and the closet . She was trying to ignore the sticker that she still needs to rip out but they were very annoying. She has been friends with a Colombian girl named Mirabel. They only saw eachother by pictures they send eachother and heard eachother ehile talking on small brick phones.

"«Y/s ! The taxi is arriving soon ! Aren't you going ?» "

Y/n's mom was already standing in the door annoyed they her daughter forgot to pack again

"«Here!» "

"«AGH ! Honey i told you not to teleport behind me! You almost gave your mama a heart attack .» "

Y/n had an ability to teleport in a range of 50 meters . Her mother had powers of letting gravity go and dad.. dad was constantly at work so y/n never knew.

When they arrived in Colombia Y/n was fascinated by everyones looks. She never saw someone so tanned(exept mirabel in her photo)! While looking around she spotted a very familiar looking skirt.

" MIRABEEEL ! "

Y/n started running at full speed an a girl with a blue skirt with sewed butterflies. She Jumped and teleported mid air. Mirabel looked… terrefied? But she already told her she’ll be arriving . Y/n tackled Mirabel on the ground, breathing heavily from the adrenaline

" Oh Mirabel how I wanted to see you! I can't wait for you to show me all of those amazing things you wrote to me about !"

Y/n said enthusiasticly and hugged Mirabel while still being at the ground. Suddenly something under her felt... Different... She looked at Mirab... Wait a second that wasn't her best friend. She was hugging a dark skinned boy with messy brown hair and deep chocolate eyes with a slightly blushful face from the shock.

"..."

"O-Oh! I am so sorry ! I MAY have got a bit too excited there. I thought you were Mirabel. Well I guess your... Madrigal Camilo? Right? "

The boy clicked his tounge and grinned and bowed to the girl .

" Si , in the flesh !"

" Oh! If you don't mind would you like to tell me where Mira is? She told me we would meet up in here"

Camilo looked curiously at you still wondering who are you . They didn't even get to know her name.

" Uh... Why do you need Mirabel now..? And who are you exactly , ya forgot to tell me ."

" A-Ah ! I'm Y/s ! I'm from Japan and I'd really love to know about this culture "

" Then why need Mirabel when you can asked me ..?"

The 2 made eye contact . To Camilos shock Y/n seemed over the sky when given the opportunity to learn.

" Oh my goodness, You would !? That would be so nice of you! "

She said , sparkles appearing in her eyes as she got pretty up close almost making the poor guy trip .

"Uh... Yeaa suure .. but let's maybe not stand in the middle of the street?"

" Oh yeah sure! Buuut where would we go?? I have no idea of this place at all Sherlock "

" Who's Sherlock?"

Y/n looked Camilo dead in the eyes confused as much as he was. This man really didn't know Sherlock or is he lying

" You... NEVER heard of Sherlock??? Wow we really have a lot to talk about don't we..."

The girl followed Camilo into a more secluded area . They both stopped often because something fascinating here , something fascinating there but for some reason Cami didn't seem to mind , in contrast he actually told Y/n about everything she asked for. After what felt like minutes but was an hour the 2 arrived to a little bench area with a nice shade of a nearby tree.

" So uh... Who's Sherlock? "

" Oh He's a Detective from an amazing book series Sherlock Holmes"

" Ooh a book series . Yea i don't fancy reading at all . But hey, if you want to tell me about it ."

Camilo sat near Y/n secretly interested in books . It has been what.. hours ? And these 2 seemed to have a lot more in common than initially thought. Honestly most of the time Camilo just talked about his culture.

" Wait so your mom doesn't cook?"

" How many times do i have to tell you! My Tia cooks magical food so we ain't gotta !"

"wow that boring .."

"Boring?? How is that exactly boring???"

" Well you can't assert a skill for the future that's very useful and besides after a while you'll get bored of eating the same thing over and over"

Y/n and Camilowhere sitting back to back to eachother just noticing the sun already setting down.

"« Y/N Y/S TIME TO GO HOME »"

A woman's voice yelled .

" Aand here's my call nice talking to you Camileon"

" well.. uhm...let's talk tomorrow maybe , if you don't mind of course El cerebro "

Y/n giggled slightly at that nickname .

" Yea of course would love to meet up again "

#fem reader #disney encanto #camilo x reader #encanto camilo #camilo encanto #modern au

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babymilkawa · 4 years

Note

HI BEAN!! so basically i saw that ur inbox was open and i was wondering,,, could u maybe do like todoroki in a secret relationship x gn!reader, either texts or hc format bc i feel like thatd be rly cool. have a good day!! 😊 oh also if u want u can do like a how yall got found out too sksjdh

yes!! aah how have I never thought of doing a secret relationship with texts before,, this is brilliant!!

secret relationship headcanons with:

todoroki shoto

gn!reader :)

mild swearing

so it was your idea to keep it a secret because todoroki wouldn’t really mind letting other people know that you’re his

but he completely understands your reasons

although he wishes he could openly hold your hand and stare at you without midoriya and iida following his line of vision, he wants you to be comfortable first

there’s a lot of sneaking around, whether it’s glances at each other or to spend the night in one another’s arms, you have to admit it’s kind of fun

y’all even have a little knocking pattern

one time you were wearing his hoodie in your bed and you heard his usual knock

as soon as you opened the door, his arms were around you immediately, giving you only a few seconds to close the door with your foot

he’s picking you up by the waist and throws the two of you on your bed

“shotooo” you say, giggling

he’s usually clingy but today he was all over you

his hoodie that you were wearing had your own scent mixed in to it, making him rub his face on the crook of your neck while holding you by the waist

your hands instinctively went up to his hair and ruffled his soft locks

after rubbing his face print onto your neck LMAO, the two of you just lay there, panting from laughing so hard

he’s still on top of you and he doesn’t plan on moving any time soon

his cheek is to yours and his face is literally 😌

then you get a text saying that everyone’s meeting up in the living room to talk about plans for the weekend

gently pushing your boyfriend off you, you say “hey I need to leave first, you can come 5 min later or I’ll text you. Ok sho?”

he didn’t respond, arm still snuggly wrapped around your waist

you wiggled out of his grasp and got out of bed

remembering to take his hoodie off, you leave your dorm, looking around to see if anyone was near

you immediately sat up from your seat on the couch and rushed to your dorm

you saw midoriya standing outside of your room and you didn’t know whether to be relieved or to panic

he was a good friend of your boyfriend’s and if he did find out, you trusted that he would keep it a secret

midoriya saw you coming and whispered, “uhh y/n I think you have someone in your dorm”

“what? Oh no don’t worry about it, I just came out there’s no one in there”

“are you sure? I think we should check..”

“nopeee don’t worry about it! I think we should go, they’re probably waiting for us”

you dragged him away from your door and the two of you sat next to each other on the couch

you could tell that he suspected something, though

although you were grateful that he was worried and wanted to ensure your safety, you knew that your tone of voice sounded suspicious

then iida spoke up “where’s todoroki? We said to meet in 5 minutes!”

you looked at anywhere but midoriya and he turned to you, suspicions confirmed

uraraka was on your other side and just at that moment, she started dusting your shoulder “y/n why do you have white hair on your shoulder, red too”

ah shit

you could see midoriya’s eyes widen from your peripheral vision and see other heads turning to you

“yea..” denki said. “where is todoroki?”

“why are you looking at me? I don’t know where he is.” you say.

then at that moment, your boyfriend walked in, looking around

realizing that there were no seats left, he subconsciously plopped down right at your feet, causing the whole room to gasp

“I KNEW IT” kirishima said, jumping up to his feet and pointing at the two of you

mina was hopping around and screaming “how did we not notice 😫😭”

“well it wasn’t really obvious until like 5 minutes ago” midoriya says beside you

“wait..so the hair on you.. was Todoroki’s?” denki says.

“no shit sherlock, who else could it belong to?” bakugou growls

you honestly don’t know how to react and looking down at your boyfriend, you realized that he looked pretty calm, except for the tiniest smirk on his face

to be honest, you didn’t mind anymore

plus now, you could put the collage you made of your couple pictures as your screen saver

todoroki already had todorokiy/n as his phone passcode but he wanted to change ur contact name and put his favorite picture of you as his screensaver

then he got up and pulled you off the sofa, only to sit back down himself and bring you into his lap

the room broke out in “awws” and you could feel the color rushing into your cheeks

he rested his chin on your shoulder and said, “so what are we talking about?”

a/n: this was so fun to write!! aah yk I really wanna give you guys content/prompts that you don’t usually find on here,,,hence the quarantine ones,,,but I apologize if you come on Tumblr to get away from all that oops 🤭

bnha masterlist

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writingfortoomanyfandoms · 4 years

Text

The Only Woman

Pairing: (Henry Cavill!)Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Requested: Yep - “Hello Ma’amMay I request a Sherlock Holemes x Redaer?That when they were younger she was BSF with Sherlock and Mycroft. And all of the sudden they disappeared and never wrote to her a letter or nothing. And she got closer to Enola and when Edoria disappeared she reunites with Sherlock and Mycroft and Reader is Mad and Sad that he left without saying nothing. She always was in love with him and at the end she finds out he also was in love with her! And lots of fluffThank You so MuchAnonymous (she/her/hers)”

Summary: Basically just the request

Warnings: Probably some swearing, some 20th century misogyny, pining, fluff, angst, denial, all that fun stuff, probably ooc Sherlock but we vibe with it because he’s soft af

A/N: My first full length Sherlock fic! I should mention that my requests aren’t actually open right now, especially not for full fics but I was inspired by this request and so decided to make it into a full one! I hope you guys enjoy, please remember to reblog, comment or send an ask letting me know what you think and if you want to see me write more for Sherlock (and Henry and his other characters for that matter) in the future!

Y/N had been essentially another resident of the Holmes household her whole life, having been introduced to the family through the two boys - Sherlock and Mycroft, whom she had run into while out playing in the woods. Her family lived in the house nearest to the Holmes residence, technically making them neighbours.

Sherlock and Mycroft didn’t exactly do ‘friends’, that much had been clear even to Y/N’s young mind after meeting them. She was a year and a half younger than Sherlock and yet she still knew more about interacting with other people than he did. Not that either of the Holmes boys had ever seemed interested in other people, they had their brains to keep them occupied, and when they failed to find entertainment in learning, they had each other.

Despite this, they took a shine to Y/N when they found her playing make-believe on her own in the woods and insisted that she come over to have dinner with them and their family.

Mr and Mrs Holmes had gone out of their way, following that initial visit, to make Y/N feel as welcome as possible at Ferndell Hall. At first this was simply because they were astounded that their sons had actually made a friend and seemed interested in maintaining this friendship, but then it was partially as a result of the somewhat turbulent relationship that it became clear Y/N had with her family.

Eudoria in particular had ensured that Y/N knew she could always come and visit, that there was a spare bedroom that could be set up should she require it, which Y/N only began to take advantage of as she grew up and the rows with her parents over her future became more frequent.

However, it was always Sherlock that she was closest to. While she considered Mycroft a friend, and he had grudgingly returned the sentiment, they had never clicked in the same way that Y/N had with Sherlock. Occasionally Mycroft would storm off midway through a game, frustrated by Sherlock’s intelligence which so trumped his and Y/N’s, or he would simply decide that he was ‘above’ having friends.

Sherlock never much minded Y/N hanging around though. Truthfully, now that she was grown, Y/N looked back at their years of friendship and couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps his reason for tolerating her company was because she gave him the awed reactions that he secretly desired from his intelligence.

She had fond memories of her childhood with the Holmes. At Ferndell she never felt the need to pretend to be a young lady ready to be married that her parents so desperately wanted her to be, even as a child. Mr Holmes encouraged her to continue her studies beyond what her Governess would teach her, and Eudoria actively tried to teach her all that she could, going so far as to teach her alongside her sons on occasion - Mycroft wasn’t exactly fond of that, though Sherlock appeared to enjoy her company.

And then there was Enola, a surprisingly timid child considering the family that she had been born into - though Eudoria was convinced that her shyness was a trait that she would soon grow out of. Enola adored Y/N.

While Sherlock and Mycroft paid their little sister no mind, too caught up in their own lives to acknowledge their baby sister’s, Y/N was fond of Enola. Having grown up in a male-dominated household with only brothers for company, she had always wanted a younger sister.

It was Mr Holmes’ death that changed everything.

Not long after his death, Y/N was saying goodbye to her two closest friends as they left for Boarding School. Y/N had promised to write to them and had been encouraged to do so by Sherlock, who seemed thrilled by the prospect of their continued communication and Mycroft had also seemed somewhat in favour of the idea.

Y/N wrote to the brothers for a year after they left. Her letters to Sherlock in particular were long and full of detail about both her life, her parents continued attempts to interest her in marriage and her attempts to further her education, as well as the lives of Eudoria and Enola.

After a year of these letters, however, Y/N had yet to receive word from either brother and thus, with a heavy heart, she had halted her letter writing and turned her mind away from the Holmes brothers.

Eudoria had ensured that Y/N still knew that she was welcome whenever she wanted to come over, however, and so Y/N’s life at Ferndell continued even with the absence of the boys she had considered to be her closest friends.

Y/N had been the first to be informed that Eudoria had disappeared, Enola having ran over to her house the day of her sixteenth birthday in a state of distress, imploring the older woman to help her. They had agreed that it was best for Sherlock and Mycroft to be contacted at once, with Sherlock’s career, Enola had been certain that her brother would make himself indispensable.

Y/N had been less keen on writing to the Holmes brothers, dreading having to see her old friends again, still far more hurt than she could care to admit about their silence following their departure. Every time in the past week that Enola had brought up the topic of her brothers, Y/N had been quick to change the subject.

A decision that she was coming to regret now that she approached Ferndell to find an automobile parked outside of it. Y/N bit back a groan, aware that its presence more than likely meant that Sherlock and Mycroft would be waiting inside.

Y/N didn’t knock before she entered, she never had as she had basically been a part of the family over the past few years.

She could hear the low mumble of voices coming from the drawing room, which were becoming steadily louder and Y/N’s expression dropped into a deep frown as she stepped towards the room, recognising Enola’s voice, breaking with emotion, even through the closed doors.

Before she could place her hand on the knob, however, the door was flung open and Enola rushed out, crashing into Y/N, who almost dropped the bags she was holding.

“Enola?” Y/N breathed, her hands gripping onto the young girl’s shoulders, steadying her.

“Y/N!” Enola embraced her tightly, though not before Y/N caught sight of her face, flushed red and eyes shining with tears, her expression the picture of distress.

“What’s happened? What’s wrong? Why are you… in your undergarments?” Y/N asked in a rush as Enola pulled away. The teenager wiped fiercely at her face, clenching her jaw.

“My brothers are here…” Enola seemed to struggle with herself for a moment before shaking her head. “I wish to be alone.”

With that, Enola pushed past her and shortly after Y/N heard footsteps on the stairs. Y/N looked back to the door to the drawing room and caught a glimpse of a man holding a book, chestnut curls falling over his forehead, his brown eyes just visible, his brow furrowed as though he were frowning.

Sherlock was recognisable immediately. His eyes moved over to the door, away from the chair Y/N knew to be facing him in the room which she assumed seated Mycroft, and his book lowered, his head raising and his lips parting in slight surprise - an expression that Y/N had never seen on him in the entire duration of their friendship.

Before he could say anything, however, Y/N turned on her heel and walked towards the kitchen.

“Good morning, Miss Y/L/N,” Mrs Lane said from where she was kneading bread dough on the kitchen counter.

“Morning, Mrs Lane - I see that Enola’s brothers have arrived.”

“Yes, they got here yesterday,” Mrs Lane confirmed as Y/N placed down the bags of food she had bought and began to unpack them into the pantry. Knowing how overworked Mrs Lane had been, staffing the house alone, particularly since Eudoria’s absence, Y/N had taken to doing the food shopping for them.

“Enola seemed very upset,” Y/N said, unable to conceal her worry.

“Yes - Mr Mycroft has been less than impressed by both the state of the house and Enola herself.”

“Why?” Y/N demanded, her frown deepening, the beginnings of anger festering in her stomach.

“He doesn’t think Mrs Holmes did a good job of raising her,” Mrs Lane looked equally disgusted by the words even as she spoke them. “He wishes to send her to a finishing school to turn her into a proper lady.”

“But can’t he see that she’s happy here?”

“I don’t think Mr Holmes much cares,” Mrs Lane admitted.

“What does Sherlock think of all of it?”

“He has been rather silent on the matter, Miss Y/L/N,” Mrs Lane said, shaking her head and sighing. “I fear Enola has been rather disappointed by the brother she so idolised.”

“She said she wished to be alone for a while,” Y/N said, leaning on the counter and rubbing her forehead, wanting to ease out the deep concern she was feeling for the girl she had come to think of as a sister. “I’ll try and talk to her in a little bit,” she decided and Mrs Lane nodded her approval.

Y/N ventured out into the garden half an hour later, figuring that that was ample time for Enola to think it over for herself. Y/N knew exactly where the Holmes daughter would be, she knew that Enola had a favourite tree in the garden where she would go, should she want to get away from the house for a little bit.

What she wasn’t expecting was to find Sherlock walking back from the direction of the very tree Y/N knew Enola to be hiding in. He looked deep in thought, but there was no denying the very slight smile that lifted the corners of his lips.

Y/N allowed her head to fall, her eyes on the ground, hoping against hope that there was even the smallest chance that Sherlock may not notice her.

“Y/N - it was you I saw,” there was an edge of something like delight in his voice as he spoke and Y/N wanted to look up, to see his expression, to confirm that he was smiling as he acknowledged her.

Instead, she chose to ignore him and attempted to continue walking.

“Y/N!” Sherlock called, and reached out a hand to gently take hold of her arm, pulling her ever-so carefully back to stand in front of her.

“Mr Holmes,” Y/N returned his greeting, lifting her head to watch his features fall into a slight frown.

“I wasn’t aware that you would be here,” Sherlock said, his eyes searching hers.

“I was always welcome at Ferndell,” Y/N responded stiffly. “Now I must go and speak with Enola,” she said, turning ready to leave him.

“Y-” Sherlock cut himself off from saying her name. “Miss Y/L/N,” he corrected, and Y/N risked a glance at her old friend over her shoulder, seeing his brow crinkled in confusion, an expression that she had rarely seen during their childhood.

“Yes, Mr Holmes?”

“How have you been?” Sherlock was floundering, that much was obvious. All the articles about him that Y/N and Enola had read, all her memories of him from her younger years had always portrayed him as being calm, collected, ready with his words. Seeing him now, in this state of uncertainty, caused by seeing her for the first time after so many years, it brought her a sense of satisfaction.

“Fine thank you, now if you’ll excuse me,” she didn’t give Sherlock a chance to respond, walking away from him as quickly as possible, though she could feel his eyes burning into her back as she left him behind.

Enola was sitting on the grass at the base of the tree, her back pressed up against it, her sketchbook balanced on her lap but her eyes were glazed over and looking at the scenery rather than at the pages.

“Can I join you?”

The teenager started, her eyes widening in slight shock but then she relaxed as her eyes landed on Y/N, who she offered a small, tired smile and nodded her head. Once Y/N had seated herself on the ground, Enola scooted over to rest her head on her shoulder and let out a long sigh.

“I’m glad to see you’ve put on clothes now,” Y/N finally broke the silence and the younger girl laughed a little.

“Apparently my proportions are incorrect,” Enola informed her.

“Yes, I often find myself thinking that,” Y/N teased and Enola giggled again, playfully elbowing Y/N in the side. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t want to go to Miss Harrison’s Finishing School for Young Girls.”

“Finishing school is the worst,” Y/N agreed.

“I remember when you went,” Enola murmured. “Mother said you hated it.”

“I did,” Y/N confirmed. “I begged my parents every holiday to not send me back, I think I even asked your mother at one point to adopt me so that I wouldn’t have to go,” Y/N chuckled at the memory, shaking her head. “It was a source of great amusement for my brothers.”

“Mine too,” Enola said darkly. “Mycroft is an utter pig, you know.”

Y/N laughed again at the choice of words.

“Family reunion didn’t go quite as planned, I take it?”

“I didn’t have a hat or gloves,” Enola sighed.

“So off to finishing school?”

“The only logical course of action,” Enola agreed, her tone biting. “You were friends with them, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” Y/N said, wary of where this conversation was going. “But I stand no chance of changing their minds. Mycroft was always stubborn, even when we were children, and I haven’t seen them since they went to boarding school.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry, I wish I could help,” Y/N said, her heart aching for the young woman.

“It’s okay,” Enola murmured. “I was just wondering, though… Sherlock was talking about me as a child - you must have known me at the same time as him, yes?” Y/N nodded her confirmation. “I think I have more memories of you than him or Mycroft.”

“I spent a lot of time with you,” Y/N shrugged.

“He said that I used to drag a pinecone around with me.”

Y/N couldn’t help herself from laughing as the memory struck her.

“Oh yes - a little pinecone, wrapped in wool that you dragged around on a string because of Queen Victoria’s spaniel. Called… Dash? I think?”

“That’s what Sherlock said, yes,” Enola straightened up, a slight grin on her face. “So it’s true?”

“Yes, you were rather obsessed with the thing,” Y/N confirmed, still chuckling a little. Silence fell between them, comfortable and thoughtful.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“What were my brothers like growing up?”

Y/N thought hard before answering, her mind going back to her childhood.

“They were fun,” Y/N said at last. “They both knew that they were smarter than me, and I think that that was at least part of the reason they kept me around. Sherlock would teach me things - things that my Governess wouldn’t have thought I ought to know…” Y/N trailed off. “They were kind,” she admitted at last. “Albeit a little aloof at times, a little arrogant, they were always kind to me. I think Sherlock could tell immediately that I was unhappy with my family, and that was why they brought me to Ferndell,” Y/N confided.

“Mycroft was kind to you?” Enola asked, staring at her wide-eyed.

“He didn’t know any better until he went out into the world,” Y/N replied, smiling a little.

“I won’t let him send me to Miss Harrison’s Finishing School For Girls,” Enola stated defiantly.

“No,” Y/N agreed. “I don’t think that you should.”

///

Y/N was reading outside when the maid came to see her.

“Miss Y/L/N, there’s a Mr Holmes here to see you,” Freya spoke, her eyebrows raised just a tad in a teasing way, indicating that she thought it was a romantic house-call. Y/N frowned in return.

“Mr Holmes?” She repeated. “Not Enola?”

“If it’s Enola then she’s certainly changed a lot since I last saw her,” Freya said. “Mr Holmes is in the drawing room.”

Y/N closed her book and stood, following the maid inside, through the house and into the drawing room. She pushed the door open, still confused as to why either of the Holmes brothers would feel the need to make a house call to see her.

Sherlock was standing in the drawing room, his back to her as he stared at the painting hanging above the fireplace. She closed the door as quietly as she could, but the soft sound caught the attention of the detective anyway. Sherlock turned and offered her an unsure, gentle smile.

“Good morning, Mr Holmes,” Y/N said, bowing her head just slightly towards him. She thought she saw Sherlock’s smile falter just a tad before he returned her greeting. “What can I help you with?”

“I’m afraid I bring some bad news,” Sherlock said, walking away from the fireplace. Y/N stepped further into the room and indicated a chair. “Thank you,” he said as he sat down, Y/N seating herself in the armchair across from him. “Enola has run away.”

“Is that really all that surprising?” Y/N sighed, though his words did immediately cause her to worry for the young girl.

“Were you aware of what she was planning?” Sherlock asked.

“No. It just doesn’t surprise me.”

Sherlock looked at her for a long moment, seemingly analyzing her expression and finally he gave a slow nod of his head.

“So I take it that she hasn’t contacted you at all?” He asked.

“I haven’t heard from her since yesterday when I left Ferndell,” Y/N confirmed, attempting to keep her features as neutral as possible.

Sherlock frowned at her, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Even if she had, you wouldn’t tell me, would you?”

“No,” Y/N admitted, shrugging her shoulders. “But you can’t blame me for that. We both know that Finishing School is not where Enola’s time would be best spent. Besides, from what she told me Miss Harrison seems a foul woman.”

She thought she saw Sherlock’s lips twitch as though he wanted to smile, but then he schooled his expression into one of neutrality again.

“You know, there was a time when you would tell me everything,” he reminded her.

“And there was a time that you found me utterly insufferable for that,” Y/N countered, her words sounding like she was spitting venom at him.

“I never found you insufferable,” Sherlock said, a chuckle in his voice.

“Is that so?” Y/N mused, quirking her eyebrow at him.

“Perhaps a little slow at times, but I wouldn’t take that personally,” she hated how teasing he sounded, as though nothing had changed since he left. Sherlock clearly picked up on the anger festering in the pit of her stomach and spoke again before she had time to lash out. “But I never found you insufferable.”

Y/N made a noise conveying how unconvinced she was by his words and she stood from the chair.

“If that’s all…”

Sherlock’s eyes flashed with something similar to disappointment before he, too, stood and adjusted his suit jacket slightly.

“Yes… that’s all,” he said. “I thank you for your time.”

Y/N nodded and watched as Sherlock crossed the room to stand in front of the door, reaching out a hand towards the doorknob. Before he could turn it, though, Y/N was hit by a sudden wave of concern.

“Mr Holmes?”

The man paused and looked back at her over his shoulder at her.

“You… if you find her, or here anything… could you let me know? She’s only young… I worry about her.”

Sherlock bowed his head in a sign of consent.

“I will keep you updated, I promise.”

“Thank you… Sherlock.”

Just as Sherlock had promised, he kept her updated on the situation with Enola as best as he could and she received letters from him every other day, even if he had found no new leads.

On the days that he had nothing new to report, his letters were filled with updates about his own life, general musings, his theories about both Enola’s whereabouts and other, unofficial cases that had caught his eye.

In short, they were the most un-Sherlock-like letters that Y/N could have ever imagined receiving and every time the post came she felt her heart lift in hope that there would be another one for her.

The only letter that Y/N had replied to, however, was one dated about a week and a half after Enola’s disappearance, in which Sherlock told her that he had asked Mycroft to pass over his duties and to make Enola his ward, filing Y/N in on the details about what had happened with Enola and the case of the missing Maquis. Sherlock had also let her know that he had attempted to make contact with his sister via newspaper and that she had indeed come to the meeting spot but had been disguised.

From the tone of that letter, it had been clear to Y/N that Sherlock truly cared for his younger sister, and that he knew that she would be capable of taking care of herself despite the worry that he so clearly felt over her.

After having received a response from Y/N after that letter, Sherlock had implored her to keep replying, but Y/N had not. She was afraid of falling into the same trap that she had when they were kids - of allowing herself to get too close to him, to feel something for him, when it was never going to go anywhere.

Y/N had allowed her heart to be broken by Sherlock Holmes once before, when she was too young to truly understand matters of the heart. She wasn’t going to do it again.

About a week after receiving the letter recounting the tale of Enola and Tewkesbury, however, Y/N got another surprise in the post. A letter from Enola herself, detailing Y/N with much of the same information that had already been given to her by Sherlock, though with more detail and far more reassurance that she truly was safe and secure and comfortable in her newfound lodgings in London.

In the final paragraph of the letter, there was a plea from Enola, imploring Y/N to go and visit her in London - she had attached a date for the following week and the address of a cafe that she said she thought Y/N would appreciate.

And so Y/N found herself boarding a train the next week, ready to meet Enola in London, agreeing to stay with her for a couple of days so that they could properly catch up.

Just as she was settling into the carriage, the train about to leave the station, the door slid open again and a familiar face appeared.

“May I join you?” Sherlock asked, a somewhat nervous smile on his face. Y/N returned it and nodded her head.

“Of course,” Sherlock entered into the compartment, closing the door behind him and placing his bag onto the overhead luggage rack and taking the seat opposite her. “I wasn’t aware that you were back here?”

“Only for a night - Mycroft demanded my help,” Sherlock explained. “I thought about visiting you, but I was unsure of how much it would be appreciated,” he added. Y/N bowed her head a little, finding herself unable to maintain eye contact with him. “You didn’t reply to my letters.”

“Yes I did.”

Y/N risked a glance up and saw Sherlock’s lips quirk a little, holding back a smile.

“I apologise - you replied to only one of my letters.”

“That’s one more than you replied to of mine,” Y/N pointed out, raising her eyebrows challengingly. Sherlock didn’t even attempt to keep his smile at bay, grinning at her in the familiar cheeky way that Y/N remembered from their childhood.

“I wasn’t aware of how good you were at bearing grudges,” he mused, leaning back in his seat.

“Well perhaps if you’d come to visit you would have realised,” Y/N muttered, opening her bag that rested on the chair beside her and pulled out the book she was reading.

Before she could open it, though, Sherlock’s hand pressed down on the cover, preventing her from doing so.

“I'm sorry, Y/N,” he whispered and when Y/N met his eyes again they were so filled with genuine apology and concern.

“I wasn’t aware that you knew what an apology was,” but she smiled a little, seeing how Sherlock’s eyes brightened

“Well I’ve been attempting to catch up on them as of late.”

“Enola?”

“I have yet to find her to give her one,” Sherlock confessed, leaning back at last. “You’re going down to see her, aren’t you?”

Y/N knew there was no point in denying it, Sherlock was always capable of telling when people were lying. He had always been particularly quick at picking up on Y/N’s lies as well when they were children.

“Yes - she wrote inviting me down last week,” Sherlock nodded slowly.

“Would you… would you let me know that she’s safe - that her lodgings are comfortable?”

“I’ll let her know you asked,” Y/N said instead, her voice quiet and full of understanding.

“Thank you,” Sherlock swallowed hard.

Silence fell between them. The most comfortable silence that had existed between them since their reunion.

“I did miss you, you know.”

“I’m sorry?”

“When I left home - I did miss you. I know you think I didn’t, and it’s understandable, but I did,” Sherlock confessed.

“Why didn’t you reply?” Y/N asked and she hated the desperation in her voice, the plea to understand why so many years had passed in silence. “Why didn’t you come and visit?”

“I don’t have a good reason for why I did - or didn’t - do any of it. And I’m so sorry,” Sherlock sighed but Y/N frowned at him, noticing how his gaze briefly dropped her own as he spoke, how his fingers fidgeted slightly on his lap.

“I know you’re the detective of the two of us, but I know when you lie, Sherlock Holmes,” Y/N didn’t know what made her do it, but she lent forwards and grabbed one of his hands between her own. “Tell me the truth, Sherlock.”

Sherlock studied her hard for a long minute, his eyes sweeping across her face, taking in every inch of her features and there was an emotion that Y/N couldn’t quite place lingering in his eyes.

“Mycroft used to… make fun of me, when we were children. Because he knew how I… how I felt about you. I’ve never quite… understood why he did, he always liked you, even if he never admitted it, but I hated it. I hated Mycroft making fun of me, it made me feel like he was smarter than me…” Sherlock’s cheeks reddened. “I did not mean for that to sound as conceited as it did.”

“To be fair, you were quite a conceited child,” Y/N teased, squeezing his hand and Sherlock chuckled. “But… what do you mean, how you felt about me?”

“You really want me to spell it out for you?” Sherlock asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“You said it yourself, I always was a little slow,” she grinned, “at least compared to you.”

Her heart was pounding out of her chest, she could barely breathe from the excitement at the idea that Sherlock was hinting at what she thought he was.

“You have to know by now that you are the only woman who I have ever held a place for in my heart.” He paused, shrugging his shoulders bashfully. “Or you were.”

“Enola?”

“Of course,” he confirmed. He lifted her hand tentatively up, pressing his lips gently against the back of it, keeping his gaze lowered. “I just hope that you know you never left it.”

The rest of the journey passed in a blur, the two of them having the final catch up that had been missing for so many years, everything feeling as though it was falling back into place, just like everything had been when they were kids.

By the time the train pulled into the station at London, Y/N had no desire to say goodbye to Sherlock Holmes, and by the way he loitered with her on the platform, it appeared that the sentiment was returned.

“Where are you headed?” Sherlock inquired. “I know Enola wouldn’t want you to tell me her address, but…”

“I’m actually meeting her at a cafe,” Y/N told him, adjusting her grip on her bag and smiling at him.

“In that case… would you allow me to escort you? London can be rather confusing at times, especially for those used to the country lifestyle,” he suggested and if Y/N didn’t know any better, she would have thought he was blushing a little in embarrassment.

“I would appreciate that yes, thank you Sherlock,” she agreed and Sherlock offered her his arm.

Enola did not seem overly surprised at Sherlock’s presence beside Y/N. There was a slight raise of her eyebrows, a knowing smile on her face and a gleam of amusement in her eyes as she walked over to them, her arms laden with a bunch of yellow roses.

“It’s so wonderful to see you again,” she said, completely bypassing her brother and embracing Y/N as carefully as she could with the flowers in her hands.

“I was so happy to hear from you, I was so worried about you,” Y/N told her, pulling away and examining her surrogate sister for any trace of hurt.

“I promise I’m fine,” Enola laughed, holding out the flowers for her. “I bought these for you, though.”

“They’re beautiful, thank you.”

Enola’s eyes slid over to Sherlock at last, who was standing awkwardly to the side. Y/N could sense how his own gaze was flicking continuously between herself and his sister, clearly overjoyed at seeing her again but also wanting to continue the conversation he and Y/N had been holding on the train.

“It’s more of an apology, actually,” Enola mused. “I’m afraid that something has come up and my assistance is required… elsewhere. Perhaps Sherlock would take my place?” She raised her eyebrows at her brother.

“I-uh-”

“Fantastic!” Enola cheered, hugging Y/N once more and giving a nod to her brother before rushing away.

“Did your sister just set us up?” Y/N asked, turning to face the younger Holmes brother.

“I think so,” Sherlock confirmed. “For what it’s worth, she hasn’t gone far, I believe she has every intention of snooping on us.”

Y/N laughed at that piece of knowledge, rolling her eyes affectionately at Enola’s antics before placing her hand once more in Sherlock’s arm. He reached across her to take her bag to allow her to hold the flowers.

“Well we wouldn’t want to disappoint her, now would we?” Y/N said, nodding towards the door to the cafe, not missing the affectionate smile it brought to Sherlock’s face.

As he held the door open for her, Y/N reached up onto her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

#Sherlock Holmes #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes imagine #henry!sherlock #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes fluff #sherlock holmes x you #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x reader #enola holmes #enola holmes fanfiction #courts writings

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jiejie-eonni-onee-sama · 3 years

Text

Save your tears...

For the loving @specialagentlokitty 🐱🐈💕

Hope you’ll enjoy the story!

I saw you dancing in a crowded room

You look so happy when I'm not with you

But then you saw me, caught you by surprise

A single teardrop falling from your eye

I don't know why I run away

I'll make you cry when I run away

You could have asked me why I broke your heart

You could've told me that you fell apart

But you walked past me like I wasn't there

And just pretended like you didn't care

I don't know why I run away

I'll make you cry when I run away

Take me back 'cause I wanna stay

Save your tears for another

Save your tears for another day

🎵 The Weeknd - Save your tears

"I wonder why you dragged me here, Mycroft?" grumbled Sherlock.

"I've already told you, dear brother: not only did I have to come with you, but it gave me a good reason to get you out of your flat!" retorted his elder brother.

"I've got better things to do than waste my time at these ridiculous parties!"

"Please, Sherlock: try to make an effort!" pleaded John.

"What for? Hypocrisy reigns here!"

Mycroft sighed: decidedly, his brother was becoming more and more stubborn with age!

But he too was not fond of these parties organised by the Chancellor of the Exchequer: he tended to get bored.

As he was wondering what to do, he noticed a familiar face in the crowd.

Squinting to get a better look, he thought he was going crazy when he recognised the man joking with a senator's wife.

"(Y/N) (L/N)" he whispered.

Hearing his brother, Sherlock asked:

"What? What are you saying?"

Without answering him, Mycroft strode briskly towards (Y/N), his heart pounding.

Following his older brother's gaze, the detective quickly spotted who had caught the politician's eye.

"I see... The past never stays far away."

"What are you talking about?" asked John.

With a wave of his hand, Sherlock showed him (Y/N) with his hand.

"See that man over there?"

"Yes?"

"He is the only person who has managed to reach my brother's heart!"

At these words, John was stunned: he had no idea that Mycroft had ever fallen in love! The Iceman was a character full of surprises!

Meanwhile, Mycroft approached (Y/N), who was sitting at the bar sipping his cocktail.

He had to admit that his ex-boyfriend was still very handsome. The last time he'd seen him was when they'd broken up five years ago.

Sad memories.

Clearing his throat, the politician said:

"Good evening, (Y/N)."

When he turned around, (Y/N) nearly choked on his drink:

"Mycroft?"

(Y/N) had not expected to see his former lover again under these circumstances. Instead, he pictured Mycroft in his office, reading a stack of files and consulting his computer. Duty first, even before love.

Regaining his composure, (Y/N) replied:

"It's been a long time."

"Indeed."

Trying to control his confusion, the elder Holmes stated:

"You haven't changed. Still as handsome as ever!"

Grinning, his ex-lover replied:

"You haven't changed either. Still impeccable in your suit and as stiff as justice!"

"I take that as a compliment," smirked Mycroft.

They remained silent for a few seconds before (Y/N) continued the conversation:

"You know, I'm surprised to see you here. I thought you were bored to death at these parties!"

"I assure you, they always do. But I owed it to our dear Chancellor of the Exchequer, and it gave me a good excuse to get my brother out of his flat!"

"Is Sherlock here?"

"Indeed he is. Here, look: he's talking to Doctor Watson!"

Glancing around, (Y/N) saw his best friend and John Watson sitting in armchairs, conversing.

"He looks fine."

"He's doing great. Can't say he lacks distraction with all his investigations!"

"I'll have to compliment Dr Watson to keep up!"

For Mycroft, standing beside the man he had loved was painful. For he had only had to speak to him for a single second for the good and bad memories to resurface. And he would have liked this love story did not to meet its end.

As for (Y/N), he didn't know what to think: seeing the man he had loved for two years of his life brought back many memories, especially that of his break-up with Mycroft. How many litres of tears had he shed after that painful episode? But above all, how many times had he suffered from the apparent indifference of the politician?

Even if he thought he had moved on, (Y/N) was well aware that he was still attached to his former lover.

Mycroft proposed:

"Why don't we go and talk in private? I don't like prying ears."

(Y/N) nodded and followed his former boyfriend into a deserted room. Once alone, Mycroft asked:

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Of course."

"I wanted to know if you had anyone in your life."

(Y/N) smiled.

"At the moment, no. Do you?"

"Me neither. As my dear mother would say, I'm married to my work."

"I agree that sums you up nicely."

Mycroft smiled at this retort before asking:

"Tell me about your life: what are you up to?"

"I'm still a journalist at the Times, earning a decent wage. As for my romantic affairs, my ex dumped me a year and a half ago. According to him, I wasn't attentive and loving enough!"

Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"You, not attentive enough? That man is such an idiot. He must not have understood how lucky he was to have you by his side!"

"I thank you for your kindness. But to tell the truth, it's a good thing we're not together anymore!"

"Oh? Why is that?"

A little embarrassed, (Y/N) confessed:

"Let's say he didn't have your pragmatism or your coolness, let alone your sincerity. In other words, he was not you."

When he heard this, Mycroft blushed: he had not expected such a compliment from (Y/N). But at the same time, it meant that his former lover still felt some love for him.

Smiling, the elder Holmes replied:

"When I told you I was married to my work, I wasn't honest with you."

The journalist raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?"

Taking a breath, Mycroft explained:

"I had several flings with certain men I liked. But each time, it didn't go any further."

"Why?"

"Because... none of them were up to your standards, (Y/N)."

The man looked at the politician in amazement.

"Really? Why?"

"None of them had your kindness, your patience, your humour. In other words, they were not you!"

(Y/N) laughed nervously before answering, his eyes misty with tears:

"Come on, that's all I needed! It's like a bad movie where the two former lovers get back together!

He bit his lip before adding:

"But I'm not ready to get back together with you, Myc. Because last time it ended badly, and we left each other unhappy. I'm not sure it's a good idea to do it again."

The British government's grey eminence nodded: unfortunately for him, (Y/N) was right.

"You know, (Y/N), I felt bad after we broke up. I realised that I didn't try hard enough in our relationship, and I paid the price!"

Laying his hand on his former lover's shoulder, Mycroft added:

"I'm ready to learn from my mistakes and give us another chance. But I will only do so if you agree!"

(Y/N) remained silent before answering:

"I'll need time to think about it."

"I understand," the politician murmured.

Suddenly he heard John and Sherlock calling him.

"I think my escorts are calling for me to come home."

"You can go: I think we've said it all." smiled (Y/N).

Mycroft handed him a business card.

"If you ever need me, call me on this number. I'll answer you no matter what I do."

(Y/N) shook his hand and answered:

"Thank you. I was happy to see you again!"

"Me too!"

With that, the two men left, and Mycroft joined Sherlock and John before heading home. On the way home, he felt something in his pocket. He discovered a small piece of paper with a telephone number and a small message written on it:

"Call me, I will answer. (Y/N)"

The politician smiled: it seemed that yesterday's tears were fading away before a smiling future...

Thanks for the reading!

I hope you enjoyed the story!

Take care of you! 😍😘😘🥰💖

#gift #requests #sherlock bbc #mycroft holmes #sherlock holmes #john watson #mark gatiss #matt bomer #benedict cumberbatch #martin freeman

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sunkisseddaffodils · 3 years

Text

reunion- pt 2 (final)

Pairing: sherlock x fem!reader

Request: 'hi! can i pls request a sherlock x fem!reader fic in which reader is kinda john's childhood bestfriend, but they were separated when reader with her parents moved somewhere (to united states, for instance). so now when she is in britain again, she sort of struggles with finding a not very fancy place to stay. fortunately, she meets our johnny boi and he immediately proposes for her to stay in 221c, baker-street. so reader moves there, meets sherly and they sorta starting to fall in luv with each other'

Summary: Sherlock accidentally drags up some old unwanted memories for the reader

Genre: reader insert, angst

A/n: this is the final part of the above request. Sorry, I didn't exactly follow the request but I mostly tried to. Thanks to anon for requesting though! Enjoy!

Read pt 1 here.

The following day, after a restless night’s sleep, Y/N sat nervously in Mrs’s Hudson cosy kitchenette. Mrs Hudson had switched on the kettle and was preparing to make both of them a cup of tea. From what John had told her, she was perfectly lovely but she couldn’t help but be anxious. It was in her nature; she worried about everything. She made sure to bring papers to prove to her that she had a monthly income. But what if that wasn’t enough and Mrs Hudson had already decided that she wasn’t good enough to stay in her upstairs flat? The sound of china cups being placed on the table brought her back from the depths of her mind.

‘What brings you to London? John tells me you moved all the way from the States?’

John was right, Mrs Hudson was delightful. Y/N felt more relaxed at the sound of her comforting voice.

‘I’m starting my training next week to be a dentist in Harley Street ’

Mrs Hudson’s eyes genuinely glistened with interest.

‘Oh? John told me you already completed dental school in Seattle? Aren’t you already qualified?’

‘Yeah in the States. To work here, I have to do an extra year before I’m qualified. I don’t mind though, I wanted a fresh start in the UK.’

A door closing behind them interrupted their conversation. Both Y/N and Mrs H turned to where the noise came from but couldn’t see who or what made it. The latter called out.

‘Sherlock? John? Is that you?’

With no response, they returned to their conversation.

‘Y/N, you seem like a lovely young woman with a bright future. Of course, you can stay in the upstairs flat!’

She smiled widely, uttering a thousand ‘thank yous’. Y/N grabbed her important documents and handed them to Mrs Hudson.

‘Thank you. I’ll take a look at these later.’

Tomorrow, Mrs Hudson gave Y/N a tour of 221c. She fell speechless as she looked around. It was the same layout as Sherlock’s but had recently been renovated to have a more modern look. The apartment was already furnished so all she had to do was move her belonging's in from storage. She couldn’t believe that she was able to afford this apartment! Especially, as it was in central London. Promptly, she strolled over to where her new landlady was waiting by the front door.

‘So I get all this for this price? That’s insanely cheap for London.’

Y/N commented while pointing to the tenancy agreement Mrs Hudson was holding.

Simply, she just chuckled.

‘I do special rates for Sherlock and John. If you’re a friend of John’s then you’re a friend of mine. I’ll do the same for you.’

She continued.

'I met Sherlock in Florida when my husband was sentenced to death. He was able to help out so I owed him a favour. ’

Her face was completely serious yet it sounded so implausible. How could a lovely little lady like Mrs Hudson have such an impossible past like that? Adding to that, Y/N wondered that Sherlock really must be a genius if he can stop someone from being executed.

‘Wait, are you saying that Sherlock stopped your husband from being executed?’

‘Oh no, he ensured it.’

And with that bombshell of a statement, Mrs Hudson disappeared downstairs leaving Y/N utterly astonished in her new apartment. She made a note to herself to remind her to ask John about Mrs Hudson’s past. There was so much she wanted to know about her life.

A few days passed and the time finally arrived for Y/N to move into 221c. She was standing outside the cafe with Mrs Hudson, waiting for the moving company to arrive along with her possessions. She glanced at her watch, anxiously. The moving people were already five minutes late. Meanwhile, Sherlock and John were upstairs having carried three boxes between them that Y/N had brought herself. John was busying himself, tidying up the flat, waiting for a text from Y/N so he and Sherlock could help her move in and set up the place. He had told Sherlock to make himself useful but looking over his way, he hadn’t. Sherlock was staring intensely at the three boxes they had placed on the dining table by the windows. John marched over there to tell him off.

‘Sherlock! What are you doing? If you’re not going to make yourself useful up here, then can you at least go downstairs to check what’s taking the mover’s so long?’

Sherlock completely disregarded everything he just said.

‘Look at these three boxes, John. What do they tell you?’

He just groaned.

‘Nothing, they’re just boxes.’

‘Fine, if you’re not going to play ball then I will just tell you.Y/N has made sure she took these boxes here herself. Why? That suggests they’re private and she doesn’t want strangers, i.e the movers, to touch them. The first two boxes are labelled: electronics and toiletries. Makes sense then for why she would want to move them herself: one’s valuable and the others personal.’

He pointed towards the last cardboard box.

‘But why hasn’t she labelled this one? I’m sure I’m right to assume that she would have labelled every single box from what I’ve seen from these two. So what’s in this box that separates it from the rest?’

John stepped away from the dining table and started fluffing some pillows on the couch.

‘Sherlock, I really couldn’t care less. There’s nothing weird going on. She’s not part of some underground crime syndicate. Just leave it alone. You can’t know everything.’

However, the crinkling of tape being peeled off from the box told John that Sherlock, was in fact, not going to leave it alone.

John raced back over to the table and seized the box from Sherlock. Soon, a tug of war for the box began between them.

‘You are not going through Y/N’s private things!’

He yanked the box harder.

‘But John, I have to know what’s in there.’

John glared at him, pulling the box back towards him.

‘Tough luck. Once again let me spell this out: you cannot go through other people’s belongings. It’s rude.’

Sherlock’s grip remained firm, however.

‘Don’t you want to know more about why she’s moved back here? The answer could be in this box. It’s strange that she just packed up and left her life back in Seattle. She obviously doesn’t have any family here. Otherwise, why would she come to you for help? And there’s also the fact I heard her tell Mrs Hudson that she has to do extra training to be a qualified dentist in the UK. Why go to all that effort when she’s already qualified back in the US? Aren’t you in the least bit curious?’

John once again dragged the box back to him.

‘Oh so now you’re not only going through her stuff, you’re also eavesdropping on her?’

Sherlock was offended even though there was a hint of truth to what John was saying.

‘It wasn’t eavesdropping! I just happened to overhear her.’

What Sherlock was saying did make John curious, but still, Y/N deserved her privacy. It was up to her if she wanted to them the real reason she moved back to the UK. John was about to tell Sherlock this when the door burst open.

‘Hey, guys! The movers are here now if you wanna come down.’

Y/N’s voice staggered when she saw the scene before her.

In a moment of alarm, both Sherlock and John had dropped the box. Its content spilt out onto the floor. An off-white ornate picture frame smashed onto the hard wooden floor, glass spraying everywhere. The picture in the frame was of Y/N and a man in front of the Seattle Great Wheel. Y/N stood in surprise as the said man was knelt down holding a rose gold diamond-encrusted ring. The picture frame was custom engraved and it read ‘For my love.’

Oh.

It all made sense now to Sherlock.

However, there was no time to think more about the picture. Sherlock and John stood like a deer in headlights

‘It was Sherlock!’

John pointed accusingly towards Sherlock.

Y/N didn’t say anything, simply walked over to where the box had fallen, glass crunching under converse trainers. She knelt down to pick up the photograph. She remained there for a moment, an expression of profound anguish on her face.

John tried to help her up, but she refused. She practically ran out of the flat, trying to conceal her pain. John didn’t even have time to tell her that she had cut her knees on the glass from the floor. He grabbed a broom from the kitchen and started cleaning up the mess on the floor. He looked at Sherlock who was still in the same place. He had a look of regret on his face.

‘Sherlock there’s no point making that face now! You’re cleaning this mess up too. We’re going to make it up to her by making this apartment look really nice before she comes back.’

As he shifted the box back onto the table, he thought of his own way to make it up to Y/N.

Y/N was falling asleep at her desk, she was now four hours into writing her essay on dental hygiene. She placed her head in her hands, thinking she would just have a quick nap. Her phone ringing ended that plan though. She saw that it was Sherlock and hesitated. She still hadn’t forgiven him for trying to go through her things and bringing back unpleasant memories. It had been a week into ignoring him and giving him the cold shoulder. She let it ring out. Sherlock still didn’t get the hint and texted her.

‘Y/N meet me here. I wanna make it up to you. S.H’

That text was accompanied by a GPS location.

Y/N couldn’t think of any possible reason why Sherlock had asked to meet her here. Her uber ride had stopped outside of a manor house just on the outskirts of London. She quickly checked with the driver to make sure she was at the right place. To her bewilderment, he answered yes. Hesitantly, she strolled up to the door. She didn’t even have to knock when Sherlock opened the door. He motioned for her to follow him.

‘Sherlock, what the actual fuck? Do you live here?’

Sherlock led her through a ton of rooms. Y/N swear she could have counted there were at least five formal living rooms.

‘Nope.’

He opened a set of French doors and led her out into the back garden of the estate. Not that you could call it a garden. It was massive. In the distance, she saw stables as they walked through a formal botanical garden. Sherlock was more like running though, but Y/N didn’t know what was so urgent.

‘So if you don’t live here. Then who does?’

An undesirable thought entered her mind.

‘Don’t tell me you broke in here?’

Sherlock turned around just outside of the exit to the formal gardens, jangling keys in front of her face, a childish grin on his face.

‘It’s not breaking in if you have a set of keys.’

They had finally reached their final destination. Y/N saw that someone had set up a bonfire in the middle of a field. A can of petrol and a box lay adjacent to it. That box seemed really familiar. Sherlock picked it up and brought it over. It was hers!

‘Sherlock, you’re going through my things again. You know what, I’m done here!’

She began jogging back towards the house. Sherlock grabbed her arm.

‘Wait! Y/N. Let me explain.’

She gazed back at him intensely, waiting for an explanation.

He placed the box down.

‘I know you haven’t told me about what happened. But unfortunately, I am good at deducing things. Those things in that box came from a bad past relationship. I’m pretty sure I can guess what happened.’

He started to stammer, not sure of how to word what he wanted to say next.

Y/N wasn’t sure where he was going with this but could see he was trying.

‘John will be the first to let you know that I’m no expert on love or on relationships. But I can see you haven’t moved on. I thought it might help if you chucked all of the old stuff from the relationship on that bonfire and set it alight.’

She looked down, knowing that Sherlock was right. He had guessed everything perfectly. He had read her like a book.

‘You’re right. But I took running away from your problems to the extremest.’

She sat down on the grass, wrapping her arms around her knees. Sherlock shortly joined her.

‘He was my world. Or I thought he was until one night I returned home to see him shagging my best friend on the sofa.’

There was a moment of silence before she continued.

‘I just felt so foolish. I had to get away from Seattle. The place was full of memories of my time with him. I couldn’t stand it any longer.’

Sherlock got up and picked up the box.

‘And that’s why you should burn this stuff. He doesn’t deserve to have this much hold on you when he never cared about you in the slightest. We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. But please just think about it.’

Y/N stood up with determination. Sherlock was right. She had to burn all of this stuff to finally move on. Together they placed the contents of the box around the bonfire.

Y/N stood back as Sherlock poured the can of petrol over the bonfire. He asked.

‘One more thing. Do you have that picture with you?’

She grabbed it out of her bag as an answer and showed it to him.

‘I thought you would', he stated.

She placed the picture in the centre of the bonfire.

They walked back a safer distance from it and Sherlock got a box of matches from his pocket. He lit one up and handed it to Y/N. He could see that she was having trouble actually lighting the bonfire. He reached out and held her hand to comfort her. Y/N greatly appreciated that. She took the final step and with her other hand, threw the match into the bonfire.

The bonfire went up in ablaze. It was oddly beautiful watching the embers rise up into the sky. Standing there in hand in hand with Sherlock, she felt the weight that had been on her shoulders for months slowly lift off. The whole experience was cathartic.

Out of the blue, they heard the distant sound of alarms ringing from back at the house. Y/N looked to Sherlock for answers. He just told her to:

‘RUN!’

They sprinted, holding onto each other, seemingly heading towards a gate at the end of a stone wall surrounding the estate.

‘Sherlock! What’s going on?’

Sherlock tried his best to explain as they were running.

‘Technically I did break into this house. But it’s my brother's so it should be fine. There should be a cab waiting just outside this gate.’

‘Oh my god!’, she exclaimed worrying about the consequences to come for their actions.

When they had reached the road outside the gate, they stopped to catch their breath. Then they looked at each other and burst into laughter.

She hadn’t laughed that like in months. And it was all thanks to Sherlock.

#sherlock x you #sherlock x y/n #sherlock x reader #sherlock fanfic #sherlock fic #sherlock holmes #sherlock imagine #sherlock fanfiction #sherlock imagines #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock au #sherlock x john #bbc sherlock #sherlock bbc #sherlock #john watson #john watson x reader #sherlock and john

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 4 years

Text

When We Were Young Part Eight

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader Rating: T Notes: Not beta-read. I hope everyone’s having a good week! I hope everyone’s had a good week and is doing well :) Thank you for all of the likes/reblogs/replies 🥰 Warnings: Some fluff; some angst. Summary: Your mother was deathly afraid that you would come through this season without a proposal; you had never been more afraid that you would receive one.

“You’re enjoying this far too much,” You accused Sherlock as he captured one of your rooks. “I disagree. I believe I’m enjoying it exactly the right amount.” You rolled your eyes openly, careful not to let your smile widen as he chuckled. “It is your turn, dove,” He added. Your eyes darted to Cornelius, whom you saw shift in his seat at the use of the pet name. He had been steadfast in his chaperoning of yourself and Sherlock whenever the detective made it a point to stop by, as he had nearly every day for the last three weeks. You were unsure if Dawson had caught wind of your other… Visitor (Sherlock wasn’t a suitor, he wasn’t courting you, surely. You refused to put too much stock in the books and flowers that he brought; even if the books were on topics that you loved; even if Mrs. Lloyd insisted that carnations stood for fascination, and small sunflowers meant adoration, and kennedias signified mental beauty, and Peruvian heliotrope were for devotion, and mossy saxifrage represented affection).

You looked down at the board. “Aren’t you always the one counseling me not to rush into my next move?” “I suppose I am,” Sherlock mused. “Then perhaps you only pointed out that it was my turn to distract me from the bigger picture.” “Do you really think that I would do something like that?” “I think that that is exactly what you would do,” You looked up at Sherlock from under your lashes, and this time, you couldn’t help but share his smile. You reached out, your fingers settling on your bishop. Sherlock made a soft sound in his throat. “Shush,” You ordered. “You’re certain?” Sherlock asked. “It’s not going to work this time, Holmes,” You insisted, moving the piece before sitting up straight. Sherlock cocked his head to the side; the movement put you in mind of a small, confused puppy. “What’s not going to work?” His tone was woven with innocence, but you knew better. This was the third game that you’d played with him that afternoon, and he’d managed to make you second-guess yourself during the last two. “You know what. Now take your turn.” You watched as he clasped his hands under his chin, resting his chin and lips against his knuckles as he surveyed the board. In his concentration, you let your eyes wander his face. He tended to get this furrow between his brow when he was thinking; now and again, his eyes would narrow, but only a touch and just for a second. You heard him push a short huff out through his nose before he hummed thoughtfully. You didn’t follow his gaze back to the board. Instead, you continued to watch him unabashedly as you asked, “What now?” Sherlock’s eyes flitted to yours, and you felt a shock of warmth spread through you. He held your gaze with such intensity that you almost missed his moving his queen and murmuring, “Checkmate.” You looked down at the board before you leaned back in your seat, groaning in frustration. “You did far better this time than last,” Sherlock said, sitting up. You could tell that he wasn’t teasing you, and you hummed. “I didn’t beat you, though.” “You will, dove. Just not today.” You raised a brow. “No time for one more?” “I’m afraid I have to meet with Lestrade in,” Sherlock reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out his pocket watch, “Nearly half an hour.” “Ah,” You nodded, “New case?” “Yes, though from what details he told me, I’m hoping for a speedy resolution.” Your brows rose. “That sounds rather unlike you. I thought you preferred the cases that were more difficult to unpick.” “I do, but I have...Other things occupying my mind at present.” Beautifully vague; classic Sherlock. “Things regarding Enola?” You asked. He hesitated in answering before he settled on, “Some.” You stood when Sherlock did, and you cleared your throat, signalling his departure to your Uncle Cornelius. You heard him folding his paper. “I’ll be stopping by to see her tomorrow,” You added, clasping your hands, “She told me that she’d be quite occupied with Edith at the tea rooms, else, and-- and I will have to leave town at the end of this week.” Sherlock cut you a look, briefly sharp, then stunned. “This week?” He asked, frowning. “Yes.” You’d been planning on telling Sherlock at some point during his last few visits, but the two of you just seemed to get so caught up-- with conversation, or chess, or cards. “I’m afraid her mother has been quite miserable without her,” Cornelius added, rounding his armchair. You glanced at him. He knew as well as you that that was a lie; she had been irate with your departure, and only grew more and more frustrated when you’d stalled in town. She’d only allowed it for as long as she had because Cornelius had reported to her that Dawson was visiting you with some frequency. It was unlikely that he would make a trip out to see you at your home. Your mother was deathly afraid that you would come through this season without a proposal; you had never been more afraid that you would receive one. You could see on Sherlock’s face that he didn’t buy the reason for a moment, but he gave a stiff nod, murmuring, “Of course,” before he turned to look at you. “I will do my best to see you at least once more before you leave London.” “I would like that,” You said; your heart twinged with how much you meant it. -- Enola tended to get caught up in things; you knew that about her. That was why, when you arrived at Baker Street the following day, you found her not at home. Mrs. Hudson apologized profusely, offering to let you wait in the sitting room for her. You accepted, and in solitude, you took your chance to look around. It was a cozy room. Sherlock and Enola seemed to each have their own corners: Sherlock’s was by the fireplace, beside a bookshelf; Enola’s was by the window, with a desk that was stocked with books and drawing pencils. You chuckled at the caricature of Mycroft that you’d last seen at Ferndell pinned to the wall beside the window. You ran your fingers over the back of Enola’s chair before you turned, drifting toward Sherlock’s armchair. He had a reading table beside it; there was a wooden box with a pipe engraved on it, and a stack of books. There were a few pieces of paper sticking out of the books here and there, and you could just make out Sherlock’s handwriting. You glanced toward the door, holding your breath for a moment. When you were sure that you couldn’t hear anyone coming, you picked up one, scanning the title on the spine: On the Origin of Species. Your brows rose before you reached for the one under it. It was a plain-covered book, unassuming. You hummed, curious, and set the first book aside in favor of flipping through the second. You smiled a little when you saw sketches. You knew that that was one thing that Sherlock and Enola both held a love for. As you flipped through, you recognized Ferndell; there were a few pressed flowers with their sketches, meanings, and uses jotted down besides; you snorted when you spotted a caricature of Dawson. It depicted him with rather a large head and very small, beady eyes; his coat had money bursting out of the pockets, and he was leaning heavily on a dandy’s cane. Had Sherlock given your suitor gout? It certainly looked that way. You turned the next page and then froze, your breath catching in your throat. It was… Well, it was you. Sherlock had sketched you in profile. Your eyes were downcast, your lips drawn up in a smile; there was shading around your cheeks, making it look as though you were blushing. He’d made you look so soft, so...Gentle, but somehow mischievous. Was this how he saw you? Sitting on the page beside it was a flower petal - white, pressed, but still soft. It looked familiar, but you couldn’t place it at first. You trailed your finger over it, frowning, before you realized that you had last seen it at the dinner party: your gardenia. You heard the door slam shut downstairs, and the thunder of footsteps, and you hurried to shut the notebook and set it down on the stack, replacing the other book on top of it before you hurried over to the window. You turned to see Enola burst into the room, grinning. “I’m sorry, I got caught up,” She apologized as she shrugged out of her coat. You smiled, chuckling, “It’s quite alright.” “Would you like some tea?” Enola asked, but she was already heading for the kitchen. You followed close behind, answering, “Certainly.” As the two of you settled back in the sitting room with your tea, you couldn’t stop your gaze from straying to Sherlock’s reading table now and again. Enola was sharp, you knew that; you didn’t know why you thought you were being sneaky. “He’s working on a case,” She informed you after she caught you looking for the fifth time that afternoon. You nodded a little. “Yes, he mentioned. He thought it would move along quite swiftly.” “Maybe it is. He was out all last night, and when I awoke this morning, Mrs. Hudson said that he hadn’t been in yet.” You frowned at that. “Does that happen often?” You asked. “Occasionally,” Enola shrugged, “But I don’t mind.” You smiled, then, trying to reassure yourself; you knew that she didn’t, but you couldn’t help but wonder where he was and what he was up to. “...Enola.” “Hm?” “You haven’t happened to see an odd glove around here that isn’t yours, have you?” -- Your visit with Enola ran late, as it always did. You heard the clock chime five and you frowned; you were going to be late for dinner. “I should be on my way,” You sighed softly. Enola opened her mouth to reply, but it was cut off by the thudding of footsteps coming up the stairs. There was a pause before you saw Sherlock sweep through the living room. He didn’t acknowledge either of you; you could see his shoulders hunched forward, his jaw tight with irritation. You watched as he opened his bedroom door, then flinched when it slammed shut behind him. “...And now we know how the case is going,” You muttered sarcastically. Enola wrinkled her nose as you straightened from your chair. You exchanged your goodbyes, and you were headed for the front door before you stopped yourself, glancing back toward Sherlock’s door. Enola had had no leads; there was still time to get your glove back. “Just-- I’ll be a moment,” You said. Enola arched a knowing brow before she nodded, stepping into her own room and shutting the door. You frowned a little bit. What on earth had that look been for? And why had she retreated to her bedroom? You shook the thought away as you walked over to Sherlock’s door, leaning in the doorway. You raised your hand, rapping your knuckles lightly on it twice. You heard a gruff call of, “What?” and you bit your lip. Maybe this hadn’t been the best idea. “What is it--” Came an additional yell, and you hurried to answer, “It’s me.” There was a pause, and you straightened up as you heard Sherlock’s footsteps approaching the door. He opened it, and you were briefly taken aback. You’d never seen the man look so...Disheveled. His curls were mussed, as if he’d been taking his hand through them; he’d removed his jacket and tie, and opened the top two buttons of his shirt; his sleeves had been rolled up to his elbows. You couldn’t help the way your eyes wandered his form before you met his gaze again. “I’m sorry, I-- Didn’t mean to disturb you.” “You haven’t,” Sherlock insisted, “I apologize, I didn’t realize that you were still here.” He tucked his hands into his pockets and peered into the sitting room, searching for Enola, before he looked back to you. “When does your train leave?” “Friday morning. The 10:30.” “Perhaps I’ll see you at the station.” That took you aback, and you were able to deduce a few things from it. “...I take it the case is proving a little more difficult than expected?” Sherlock pushed a heavy sigh out through his nose, leaning against the door frame as he hung his head; it more than confirmed your suspicions. “I’m sorry,” You added softly. He raised a hand, rubbing over the back of his neck. “It is nothing I haven’t dealt with before, but...I fear I may not be able to come and see you again before you leave.” You felt disappointment fill you, but you pushed it away, shielding it with a smile. “It’s alright, I understand,” You insisted, “I was glad to have your company while I was in town.” “And I, yours, love,” Sherlock murmured. Your heart soared at the words; you blinked at Sherlock a couple of times, certain that you’d imagined it. “Pardon?” You asked. Sherlock’s brow furrowed. “I-- I said I was glad to have yours, too, dove.” That feeling of elation plummeted as quickly as it had swelled, your heart dropping like a kite that had lost the wind. You’d simply misheard him. You lowered your eyes, nodding. “Of course. I should be on my way. Cornelius is expecting me.” “Let me hail you a hansom--” “No!” You rushed to stop him. Sherlock looked stricken; you felt bile rise in your throat, and you hurried to cover this with another smile. “I can manage it myself. Good luck with your case, Mr. Holmes.” You hurried out of Baker Street as quickly as you could, your glove completely forgotten. Tag list: @run-through-wa11s; @thefallenbibliophilequote ; @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem ; @maan24 ; @awkward-walking-potato ; @madalore ; @alexa-lightwood-blog ; @chelseaxaz ; @marwritesgood ; @runawayolives ; @parkerismybaby ; @magicstrengthandcourage ; @shesthelastjedi ; @wolfiepirate ; @xremember-me-notx ; @fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13 ; @alagaesian-bookdragon ; @libbymouse ; @truthdaze ; @crispysublimecupcake ; @cavillhavoc ; @juliesland ; @lyannamartell23 ; @seeking-a-great--perhaps ; @anxiousgoldengirl ; @gooddaykate-reads ; @rn7rocks ; @remember-happy-things ; @angels-pie

#When We Were Young #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #Sherlock Holmes x You #Sherlock Holmes Imagine #Sherlock Holmes Henry Cavill #Sherlock Holmes/Reader #Sherlock Holmes/You

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specialagentlokitty · 2 years

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Mycroft x sister!reader - caring

Could you please write a Mycroft x sister reader where she tries to be invisible to him because she thinks he hates her (maybe shen they were little he said that) but he in fact really loves her and maybe one day she is attacked and mycroft sees. He nearly kills the person trying to save her then he takes her home to care for her. But his sister doesnt want to let him help her so he has to convince her to let him and its all fluffy? Really sorry if thats too much - Anon💜

You were nearly home, you were only around the corner so you felt pretty safe. You knew this area like the back of your hand, so it wasn’t uncommon for you to wonder around late at night.

Walking around the corner, you were met with someone shoving you backwards and a quick punch to your face.

“Where’s Sherlock Holmes!?” The man screamed.

Before you could reply you were pulled behind someone and all you could see was their back.

“How dare you lay a hand on her.”

Mycroft.

You watched as he punched the man again and again until he was unconscious on the floor before he turned around to face you.

Wiping the blood from his hand onto a handkerchief, Mycroft gave you a small frown and reached out to touch your face but you quickly slapped his hand away.

“Don’t touch me.”

Walking around him, you started making your way back to your flat.

But you knew he wasn’t going to leaved he trailed behind you glaring at anyone who happened to be on the same side of the street as you.

Making your way inside, you walked over to the couch and set down, letting out a soft sigh as you brought your fingers just under your nose.

Pulling away, you looked at the blood on your fingertips.

“Let me.” Mycroft smiled.

He went into the kitchen and came back out with a damp cloth and sat on the table in front of you.

“I’ll do it.”

Taking it from him, you held it to your nose and started to clean the blood, all while Mycroft watched.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he ran a hand down his face.

“Why are you here brother?” You mumbled.

“Is it so wrong for me to come see my sister?” He asked.

You got up and walked to the bathroom, grabbing the first aid box, you stared at the nasty looking cut along your nose.

Grabbing an antiseptic wipe, you tried to clean it but every time you touched it you pulled away with a hiss of pain.

“Here.”

Mycroft reached out but you moved away.

“I can do it!”

“You can’t tend to your wound, let me at least clean it.”

“Mycroft I’ve got it! I’m not a stupid kid anymore!”

This made him flinch back slightly.

“I know that.”

“Well you don’t act like it.” You scoffed.

Mycroft looked at you in shock, you spoke to him with nothing but hatred in your voice.

Ever since you were kids that’s all you spoke to him with, and it confused him.

“Please? Just let me help, then I’ll go if you want.”

You scoffed and tossed everything into the sink, clearly fed up with trying to tend to your own wounds and stormed back into the living room.

Sitting on the couch, you folded your arms over your chest and stared at the picture hanging on the wall opposite you.

Mycroft noticed this and he looked at the picture as well.

“Childhood, was good.” He mused.

“Really?”

You turned to him.

“Yes, I looked after you and Sherlock while you both grew up. Sherlock was good at looking after himself, but you? You followed me wherever I went.” He smiled.

You stared at him, it was probably the first time you’d seen him smile thinking about the memories from the past with you.

Mycroft never messaged you, never spoke with you or met up with you.

“You said you hated me. Then you left.” You grumbled.

His face changed from happy to shocked, before it flooded with regret.

He turned to face you and he sighed softly.

“I never meant it, I was angry, but not at you. I would’ve never been angry at you, but when I came back to apologise you were gone.”

You simply just nodded your head and never said anything else on the matter.

Sitting down, Mycroft help up an antiseptic wipe and a bandaid.

“Let me at least do this for you?”

Looking at him, you sighed.

“Fine.”

He came over and carefully wiped away the dried blood before sticking the bandaid over the cut and gave you the tiniest of smiles.

You looked away but you couldn’t help but smile back as well.

All you ever wanted was for Mycroft to notice you, you just wanted your big brother to love you.

Your whole life you thought he hated you, resented you for some unknown reason, but it turns out he didn’t.

“You can… stay if you want…”

“Thank you.”

Mycroft sat next to you and asked you about your life and everything you had missed since you guys had been out of touch.

The smile on your face made him smile, it had been years since he saw that smile and he was glad to finally see it again.

You were his sister, and he hated being out of contact with you even if he wouldn’t admit it

#bbc sherlock mycroft #bbc sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock #Mycroft x sister reader #mycroft x you #mycroft holmes x reader #mycroft holmes imagine

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wendimydarling · 4 years

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The Thirst is Real

Summary: Little Freya might not be who she says she is...

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Little Freya

Word Count: 1965

Warnings: uhhh.... slow burn; dirty thoughts; erotic thoughts; mentions of arousal, daddy kink, spanking, oral, masturbation, and thigh riding; size kink; slight manhandling; dom/sub kink if you squint.

A/N: So it’s been buzzing around The Cavillry that @littlefreya is either a mole in the community or Henry himself... @agniavateira (my beautiful goddess of a beta who also beta’d this fic for me) and I had a sensational conversation about what Freya and Henry’s weekly meet-ups would entail, and this beautiful birthday present was born! It’s also a little different that what I’ve done before, as I might have used some real life thirst examples in the fic.

Did I call you out? I guess you’ll just have to read. 😈

You’ll get another gift on your actual birthday my love, but for now, please enjoy!!

~~~~~

Freya adjusted her curls in the mirror, adding one last dash of eyeliner. She was preparing for her weekly meeting with Henry, but this time her stomach was twisting itself in a spiral like a shirt ready to be dyed.

When Henry first suggested the idea of her going on Tumblr to spy for him, she was hesitant at first. What if she couldn’t make friends? What if they didn’t trust her? But now, with a solid 6k followers under her belt, she knew she could say just about anything and people would flock to the thirst.

With a nervous look at her reflection, Freya gathered her things and headed out the door, sending a quick couple of texts to Henry.

I’m on my way. You should post on your IG stories… they’re wondering what you’re up to this morning.

Perfect, thanks. I’ll send you what I’m about to upload.

A couple of seconds later Freya received his text, quickly setting up a post and waiting for Henry to update his Instagram. She smiled to herself; Tumblr would be buzzing in a matter of seconds once she posted, and what better way to show Henry what went on in the torrential world of social media than to show him live? Freya’s phone chimed again, indicating Henry had done as she’d suggested.

She couldn’t help but grin like a demon as she hit the small blue button.

Pocketing her phone, Freya enjoyed the scenery on the short walk to Henry’s place. He was in London briefly as was she, so they were meeting at his home instead of Skyping like usual. Why she was so nervous, she didn’t know… Henry had been a friend for quite a few years now, even becoming one of her closest companions. He confided in her and she in him, and it was always a joy to see him. Every day she looked forward to their flirty banter. But that was easier when it was over the phone; doing so in person was an entirely different matter.

Freya reached Henry’s small home and knocked on the door. She’d only been there a couple of times, but the tiny house never ceased to give her a wonderful sense of charm and sensibility. A loud bark and clack of nails on the floor signaled that Kal was ready and waiting to greet her, which meant Henry wouldn’t be far behind. Freya fidgeted with her fingers and chewed on her lip in taut anticipation.

The door swung wide and there was Henry, sporting a puppy dog grin on his face and his large frame filling the entire entryway. His muscular chest was practically bursting from the snug grey shirt he wore, and his dark blue jeans couldn’t have looked more sinful. He had Kal by the collar as if the dog weighed nothing, and Freya couldn’t help but feel incredibly small. Henry reached out his hand, softly tugged her bottom lip from her teeth, then swooped her up for a one-armed squeeze.

“It’s so good to see you,” he murmured against her ear, sending chills down Freya’s spine. Her feet dangled helplessly as she wrapped her own arms around his neck, inhaling the sharp scent that had long since faded from the hoodie he’d let her “steal”. The fact that he was holding her petite stature in one arm and still controlling Kal with the other wasn’t lost to Freya, and the images it provoked in her mind of what exactly he could do to her with that kind of strength made her tingle.

Oh, the positions he could put her in...

All too soon Henry set Freya down, shaking her from her sudden daydream.

“Come on in,” he said, maneuvering Kal and ordering him to sit. Freya crossed the threshold, imagining what it would be like if she was in a long, white gown…

“I’m making a smoothie, would you like one?” Henry broke into her thoughts again and Freya flushed, hurriedly setting her bag on the table and pulling out her laptop.

“Just some water please,” she replied, swallowing thickly as she realized how dry her throat was. She logged into Tumblr as Henry bustled about in the kitchen and quickly reblogged a few thirsty comments, scrolling through to find some good ones while she waited for Henry.

“Go ahead and start, tell me what ‘The Cavillry’ has been up to this week,” he stated, not quite a command but it thrilled Freya nonetheless. Stupid filthy gutter brain. She pulled out her notes and dove straight in.

“Well, a few of them like Lisa and Berry have a theory that there’s a mole in the community,” she laughed. “Some of them even like to surmise that I’m you!”

“Do they really?” Henry’s deep chuckle resonated throughout the living space and Freya closed her eyes momentarily, picturing that chuckle after a rather exhilarating round of cardio between soft, silken sheets…

“What else are they saying?” Henry’s voice was in Freya’s ear and she jumped, startled yet again from her indecorous thoughts. Henry set her water down next to the laptop and placed his hands on the table, caging her in his warmth as he leaned over her shoulder to read. Freya felt the familiar flush of arousal start to creep its way up her thighs but she did her best to ignore it, continuing on with her notes.

“Marta made some really funny memes,” she stammered, “And Demi excels at clipping audios, where it sounds like…”

“How does it sound?” Henry’s hot breath ghosted over her ear, and his exhale came out nearly a growl. Freya felt lucky she was sitting down, positive her knees would have given out on her if she hadn’t been.

“Like you just had a--an orgasm,” she faltered, grabbing her glass of water for a big gulp. Henry hummed, and Freya nearly choked on the clear liquid.

“What else do they say? I want you to read it… out loud.”

Freya was shocked for a moment. What was he playing at? Wait a minute... this is a game; Henry is playing a game. Emboldened by her sudden epiphany, Freya switched personalities from timid bird to devilish vixen, determined to win whatever it was that Henry had set in motion. She arched her back and leaned her head against Henry’s shoulder, pointing at the screen.

“Well look, see what your post this morning has done? We descend into a thirsting frenzy every time.”

She scrolled through a couple of posts, landing upon one that would give her what she needed.

“For example, Miya writes:

‘I guess good to know he’s on a morning run instead of fapping off…

But good sir, you will have to shower after that no? And unless he’s a never nude, he’s going to be naked very very soon ladies. KEEP THAT IN MIND! IN A SHORT FEW MINUTES, HENRY WILL BE NAKED AND RUBBING HIMSELF IN THE SHOWER.’ ”

Freya emphasized the last sentence and was rewarded with a small hitching of Henry’s breath. He recovered quickly.

“However did they know,” he quipped in a low rumble, reaching over Freya’s hand to do some scrolling of his own. Her hand was trapped in his but her thoughts were elsewhere, immediately flooded with the image of Henry getting off in the shower, water cascading over his hairy torso down the line of his abs and through the rabbit trail on his groin to the surely insurmountable…

“This one next,” he stated, drawing her back to the present. His thumb brushed softly over her skin before landing just out of reach of her touch. Freya focused her attention on the screen and a small groan escaped her lips. He’d chosen one of Wendi’s Smutbombs.

“...My eyes were instantly drawn back to his fierce gaze.

“You wanted to use that mouth,” he snarled, staring at me with lewd concentration.

“So use it.”

Freya’s palms grew clammy at the thought of using her mouth around Henry, in exactly the way the raucous words depicted. The way he would stretch her tiny lips until they burned, the way he’d fuck her throat without a care, the way he’d…

Henry grabbed Freya’s hand and abruptly slapped his phone on her palm, severing the thought.

“Read this one,” Henry commanded her again, his voice now clear and authoritative. This time his tone left no room for argument; he was doing it on purpose. His arms still pinned her to the table with no way to escape, and she could feel the dominance that was dripping off of him tingling down her spine.

Freya looked at the small screen, recognition of the words dawning on her face. She faltered, and cleared her throat.

“Yes, my bottom is always bare, Sherlock. Bare and ready for you to spank me and take me any which way you want.”

“Who wrote that?” he questioned sternly. Freya took a deep breath.

“I did.”

“Read the next one.”

Freya whimpered, clenching her thighs together tightly.

“Fuck this shit I want to die on this man’s thighs.”

“Who wrote that?”

“I did.”

“Keep going.”

Freya’s chest was heaving. Her head was swimming with lust and need. Her arousal had long since wet her panties to the point of extreme discomfort. She was certain Henry could smell it too, as she certainly could and his head was still right next to hers. She watched his fists tighten on the table, the veins in his arms becoming more prominent with every passing second. Freya imagined what his hands would look like with one wrapped around her throat and the other buried knuckle deep inside her…

“I said keep going; you’ve got one more.”

It wasn’t just Henry’s voice this time that dragged Freya back to reality; he wrapped his hand firmly around her nape and pointed her toward his phone.

She blinked rapidly and scrolled to the last quote.

“...They share a mutual smile and she forces herself to look away.

They have always liked each other, he has always been kind to her.

Sometimes he would touch her as they sat with friends, a feverish stroke, innocent or by mistake, but that would be enough to make her heart flutter like a huge butterfly in the cage of her chest.

To see him physically hurts sometimes. Especially on a night like this when she is supposed to be happy, yet her heart feels sorrowful.”

The moment her lips finished moving Freya was pulled off the bench and thrust against the wall. Henry pressed his thigh between her legs, his own arousal evident as it strained against the ridged fabric of his jeans. His face was gentle and sincere but his eyes were as dark with lust as she was certain hers were, and the tremor of his voice left no room to imagine anything but desire.

“Who wrote that?” he whispered softly.

“I did,” Freya whispered back.

“Did you mean it?” Henry searched her face, looking for any scrap of evidence that would present him with permission. Freya brought a hand up to his curls, brushing the one out of his eyes that always seemed to disobey.

“Every word.”

Henry slammed his mouth against Freya’s, probing her deep and hard. She kissed him back with just as much fervor, tugging on his curls and wrapping her legs around his waist as he hoisted her in the air. Never in her life had she ever thought this moment would happen, that he would want her this way. But now, here in his arms with his lips on hers and on their way to his bedroom, she couldn’t picture anything else.

The man had ruined her for anyone else over a decade ago, and she’d been thirsty for far, far too long.

~~~~~

@wolvesandhoundshowltogether @killjoy-assbutt-1112 @achaoticaugust @demivampirew @raspberrydreamclouds I hope you don’t mind that I used your thirst! I though it might be fun, but if you don’t like it just let me know, I’ll remove it. 😊

#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fic #author story #birthday present #i love you boo

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