The Time I Wasted (Sherlock Holmes X Daughter!Reader)

The Time I Wasted (Sherlock Holmes x Daughter!Reader)

Request:  Heyo great writer can you do Sherlock X daughter reader. Angsty please prompt 99 and 95 thank you

Words: 1529

Warnings: Angst. Character death. Blood. Wound infection. Gore. Detached father. Parent death. Torture. Basically an angst salad. Curse words.

Characters/Pairings: Sherlock x daughter!reader, John, Mary, Mycroft, Moriarty.

A/N: I started writing this, hated it. Deleted it. Rewrote it. And died. Enjoy.

A sigh was heard from the kitchen. Followed by a mumbled curse. Another one. Another goddammed head.

“Dad!” A young woman’s voice called. “Dad!” She called again when there was no answer. He was most likely deep in his mind palace again. She groaned.

What was she supposed to do with the head dripping a mysterious clear goo all over their food? He wouldn’t be happy if she got rid of it, but now she can’t even prepare dinner.

Looking over to the man perched in his chair, she tapped her foot with her hands on her hips. “Dad, do you want take-out?” She knew it was a long shot in asking but sometimes it was nice to imagine that he would actually reply.

You see, despite the great detective, Sherlock Holmes, being her father, she did not share the same intelligence as him. Yes, she was smart, enough to breeze through school, but not enough to gain the attention of her father. He often ignored her or treated as he did everyone else. Like an idiot.

Fed up with the silence and the fucking head, she stormed from the kitchen to the door, barely grabbing her coat.

“I’m going to Uncle John’s.” She threw over her shoulder, not really looking at the man. It’s not like he cared anyway. Nobody really did. Maybe John and Mary, but they were too wrapped up in their own lives and she didn’t want to bother them.

This is why as she left the flat, she didn’t hail a cab to her Uncle’s home. Instead, she took a left, hands buried deep in her pockets and headed nowhere. She was never wanted here anyway.

Her father had an uncharacteristic, drunken tryst with her mother twenty-one years ago. He had been on a case apparently that involved a serial lover/murder. Guess he was just putting himself in the killer’s shoes. But nine months later, after he was long gone, little (Y/N) was born. Everything was great, though. Her mother poured everything she had into raising her. She was her best friend. Her confidant. Then it was all stripped away.

When she was twelve, her mother died in a plane crash. She had been on a two-week business trip and was finally coming home. But rather than her loving mother opening the door, it was a woman from social services, coming to take her to her father.

For another ten years, she would live as a ghost in this strange man’s home. Wanting nothing more than to have a loving parent to replace the one she had lost.

She didn’t know how long she walked. It must have been hours because the sky had gone dark a long time ago. But she had no intention of going back yet. Maybe not ever. Nothing in that flat really mattered.

Having a feeling that something was amiss, she looked up. A black car had pulled up next to her. She rolled her eyes. Of course, Mycroft sent a car. This happened every time she was gone for too long. As if she were a prisoner.

Walking up to the car she opened the door and looked at the woman sitting in the seat. It wasn’t Anthea, but an equally beautiful woman.

“Can’t Mycroft just leave me alone?” She asked, getting in the car anyway. The woman looked up from her phone and smiled. The doors locked. And the woman pulled out a cloth. Too late did (Y/N) realize this wasn’t Mycroft’s doing.

Everything went black as the cloth was pressed to her face.

“(Y/N), what did you do with my skull?” That girl, always moving things around. ‘Cleaning’, as she called it. He shook his head, digging around the flat for the cranium. “(Y/N)!” He looked up to the kitchen where she just was. No, it’s dark now. Oh, she must have left a while ago.

“Probably to John’s. No, not John’s. She didn’t take her purse… Another one of her fits then. Mycroft’s people should be bringing her back then.” Unconcerned now, he sat back down and once again entered his mind palace. Unaware of where his daughter really was.

><

“Ugh, my head. I feel like I was hit by a truck.” (Y/N) moaned as she tried to lift her head. It was cold. And the ground was hard. Concrete. The chill had already settled in her bones, causing her to shiver violently.

“Ahhh, the little mouse is awake~” A sweet Irish voice came from the dark doorway. She already knew who it was.

She squeezed her eyes shut as the bright florescent lights flicked on. It set her head on fire. Her body ached. She doesn’t remember anything past getting in the car, but from the still bleeding scrapes on her elbows and knees, she wasn’t put in this room nicely. She must have hit her head as well if the wet feeling on the side of her head suggested anything.

“Aw, not even a hello, darling? No matter, you won’t be saying much soon.” He smiled softly, chewing his gum. She sent him the most hate-filled glare she could muster.

“Fuck you, prick.” She bit out.

He gave a short, barking laugh, feigning shock and offense. He held a hand to his chest and scoffed. “My dear, those are some pretty colorful wonder from someone so young. What would your father say?”

“He’s not my father!”

“No? Then I suppose he won’t care about all the fun we’re going to have.”

 ><

“What do you mean she hasn’t been here? She lives here.” John watched Sherlock pace.

“I mean, she hasn’t been here, John! She left and hasn’t come back,” Sherlock snapped.

“How long has she been gone?” Mary asked from her position on John’s old chair.

“Three days.”

“Three days, Sherlock?!” John dragged a hand through his hair, letting it scrub back down his face. Mary buried her face in her hands.

“Darling, I don’t think she’s coming back,” Mary said softly. Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks.

“What, why? Why wouldn’t she come back? All of her stuff is here. She even left her idiotic stuffed cat. She never would leave that, it holds sentiment. And we all know how she adores her sentiment.” He was rambling now.

“Look, whether or not she wants to come back, we need to find her. She could be in trouble,” John rationalized.

At that moment a knock sounded at the door. The three occupants turned to see the newcomer.

“Mycroft,” Sherlock addressed his brother.

“Brother mine,” The older man greeted. Reaching into his suit, he produced an envelope. “A letter for you.”

Sherlock wasted no time in striding across the room and nearly ripping the letter from his brother’s hands. One simple sentence was written on the paper. And it was all he needed.

Let’s play Hide and Seek.

 ><

If she thought she was in pain before, this was agony. It was hellfire in her bones. Her wounds had stopped bleeding a while ago, but because of the poor conditions of the room and her weakened body, infection settled in quickly. She sat in her own vomit and blood, the pain making her nauseous.

She just wanted to die. It would have been better if he had just killed her outright. But where’s the fun in that? Her throat was raw from screaming and vomiting. Her fingernails were bloody and torn from digging into the wooden chair she sat on.

All of this. All of this because she was related to Sherlock Holmes.

She hates him.

Suddenly, hands were on her. But after three days of torture, and another two of festering in her own sick, she couldn’t react.

“(Y/N). (Y/N), look at me.” A voice called. “Just hold on.” A gurgle was his reply. “Shh, don’t try to talk.”

“D-dad?” Was that her voice? It was unrecognizable. It was weird, talking instead of screaming.

“I said don’t talk.” Sherlock scolded, lowering her to the floor. The coolness of the floor helped clear her fogged mind.

“Just leave me, it’s over.”

He scoffed, shaking his head, “You just don’t listen, do you?”

“I got it from you.” She coughed out a laugh, it hurt. But not physically. How ironic. To finally have a conversation with her father and she’s dying. She knows she is. She was too numb to not be.

“We just need to wait for John. We’ll get you to the hospital. I can save you.”

“No, you can’t. It’s too late…” He knows. But he doesn’t want her to be scared.

“This looks infected.” The wound on her side oozed and practically bubbled with infection.

“It’s fine.” Really, it was. She couldn’t even feel anything anymore. Darkness was creeping at the edges of her vision. Her father’s face nothing but a blur.

“…You’re dying.” He said this more to himself than her. Ten years wasted. He had this precious girl next to him this entire time and it took her dying in front of him for Sherlock to realize it. The guilt was unbearable. But probably not as unbearable as what he put her through.

“Well… that’s fine too.”

Darkness consumed her.

When My Back Was Turned (Ezio Auditore X Reader)

Words: 3645

Warnings/Themes: Injury, Violence, Blood, Not Quite Character Death, Angst, Fluff

Characters/Pairings: Ezio x Reader, Claudia, Mario, Maria (briefly mentioned)

A/N: This is just something I’ve been working on and finally decided to post. I almost didn’t. This isn’t the whole story that I wrote, there is more to the ending, but it felt too rushed for me to want to post it. Some background information for this one, I imagined the reader/ this character as ten years younger than Ezio. And in a form of self-indulgence, she comes from a world where AC is just a game, but I imagine it also has it’s version of Templars and Assassins that no one knows about. Thanks for reading!

They limped up to the villa, having abandoned their horses at the stables at the entrance to the village. Eyes had been glued to the battered pair from the moment they had approached. He wasn’t as badly beaten as she was, only sporting a split lip, a sprained wrist, and various cuts and bruises. He held her upright with an arm gently around her waist. He didn’t want to jostle her bruised, possibly fractured, ribs or her recently dislocated shoulder. She was bleeding from multiple wounds along her face and hands.

They were on their way to what was supposed to be a simple visit to Monteriggioni that turned into an ambush by some mountain bandits. Ezio had made it out relatively well and was already running away, thinking that his wife was just behind him. However, her shout of surprise told him otherwise.

As she had been about to follow him, a couple bandits grabbed her. And before she knew it, they had shoved her over the cliff face. It felt like she had rolled for hours when it had been mere seconds before her hand grabbed onto a young tree sprouting from the rock. It groaned and cracked under her added weight and threatened to break. Upon catching herself, her already damaged body smacked the rock and a sickening pop sounded as her arm left its socket.

Ezio had immediately jumped into action, swiftly dispatching the remaining attackers, and rushing to the cliff's edge. His heart hammered in his chest at the sight of her clinging to that sapling for dear life. She was too far down for him to grab her and she definitely wouldn’t be able to climb back up with her shoulder. Thinking fast, he stripped the cloaks and capes from the fallen bandits and tied them together into a makeshift rope. She could barely keep a hold of it as he pulled her back up to safety.

He held her close to him, petting her sweaty and bloody hair. He whispered comforting words to her as she shook against him. He knew she was scared of heights and falling, the reason for her refusing to free-run on certain buildings and to do a Leap of Faith, unless absolutely necessary. However, in this situation, she hadn’t been in control and it terrified her.

Once she had quieted down, Ezio sat her up properly and told her he needed to reset her shoulder. She had nodded somberly and let him pop it back into place without a peep. Ezio almost found it amusing how she can take the pain of a dislocated shoulder with only a wince, but she couldn’t handle heights. But now wasn’t the time to tease her.

Recovering their horses that had run off with their packs, the pair made their way back to Monteriggioni.

A doctor was already waiting for them as they entered the villa, some kind villager sending for one when they saw the two. Mario and Claudia stood with the doctor, the older female’s hands over her mouth, and Y/N was practically unconscious by the time they made it to the trio.

Mario swept up to take the woman into his arms, allowing Ezio to cradle his wrist and follow them into their shared room. (Y/n) was placed gently on the bed and the doctor immediately began his treatment. Ezio collapsed into the chair at the foot of the bed, his armor digging uncomfortably into his flesh.

“What happened?” Mario began his interrogation before Ezio could get his bearings. Shaking his head, Ezio began to carefully remove his armor. Claudia was already helping the doctor remove (Y/n)’s, who moaned in pain. The younger man’s eyes fixed on her at the sound.

Seeing that his nephew was not going to answer him now, Mario rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. Until (Y/n) was cared for and out of danger, Mario knew Ezio wouldn’t speak to anyone about the mission. This wasn’t the first time this has happened, but it is the worst condition either of them had been in in a long time.

“Once you two are rested, meet me in my office to discuss what happened.” Mario placed a hand on Ezio’s shoulder, squeezing gently. The younger man simply nodded, not wanting to take his eyes off his wife.

Nearly an hour later, (Y/n)’s wounds were patched up and Claudia had changed her into a loose shirt and pants. Ezio’s wrist had been wrapped and put into a sling and his lip cared for. He had moved his chair to be right next to her as she slept, tucked into the bed and her favorite blanket pulled up to her nose, just the way she liked it. He wished he could curl up with her in that bed, but on doctor’s orders, she was not to be moved around too much or her ribs would not heal properly.

Ezio knew he should probably go find his uncle but speaking to anyone and leaving his wife’s side didn’t sound very appealing. So he sat in his chair, watching as her eyes flickered behind her eyelids. She must be having a bad dream. As she often does after a particularly bad mission.

He reached over and stroked her cheek with his good hand, smiling softly when she nuzzled into his hand. She would probably wake in the morning grumpy and very hungry. An angel when she was asleep but a terrifying beast upon awakening. Ezio smiled wider at the thought. She would definitely kill him had she known his thoughts.

At some point in the late evening, Claudia knocked and left some food on the table next to him, squeezing his shoulder and telling him to eat and rest. He nodded and picked at the food. The roasted duck didn’t quite smell or taste as appealing as it did when he wasn’t consumed with worry.

Many times has he tried to convince his wife to retire from Assassin duties, to stay safe and live life to the fullest while she was still young. But those conversations usually ended with him sleeping on the floor and her not speaking to him for a full evening. How dare he think that she would ever let him face the dangers they did alone.

After eating as much as he could stomach, he carefully stripped from his robes and stepped behind the partition in the room. A tub filled with water sat in the corner, filled earlier with hot water by a maid. By now the water was less than lukewarm, but he hardly felt it as he lowered himself in. She had already been cleaned by Claudia with a cloth and a basin of water.

The partition was positioned so he could still see her on the bed when he leaned back. On his own terms, he would have just climbed into bed after changing into a sleeping shirt, but since he began courting her, she always refuses him to enter her bed unless clean.

‘I don’t want my bed smelling like blood, metal, and sweat!’ She had yelled at him early on in their relationship. No matter where they were if there was a bed, she had to be clean before entering it. He figured it came from whatever futuristic upbringing she had.

He still vividly remembers that day, he had just brought the Apple to Leonardo’s workshop with his uncle and Niccolò for the artist to study. When Leonardo had reached out to touch it a bright, golden light engulfed the room and a figure fell from thin air. Ezio had rushed forward to catch the person.

She was unconscious and dressed in strange clothes. But he wouldn’t lie, this stranger was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. In the next few days they had found out she came from a different world, far in the future. She had been tasked by a being called Minerva to guide Ezio on his journey.

Six years had now gone by and she had since become a master assassin and his wife. His gaze fell down to his bruised knuckles. A gold wedding band laid just above one, on his left ring finger. He didn’t normally wear it on missions but seeing as how this was supposed to be just a visit back to Monteriggioni, he had worn it proudly. It had a red smudge of blood on it. Removing it from his finger, he washed it in the waters.

Finishing up in the tub, he threw on a sleeping shirt and stepped quietly over to the bed. He was always hesitant when sleeping with her when she was injured. He was either a fitful sleeper or a cuddler. Neither one is very good for her injured state. But he knew she wouldn’t rest as well without him next to her. So being cautious, he placed a few pillows between them before fully settling in. He laid on his side, careful of his wrist, and gently stroked a knuckle across her soft cheek.  

Her lips quirked up and she turned her head to nuzzle into his hand. He let a gentle smile take over his face. Even battered and weary, she still found a reason to smile. Pride swelled in his chest at being the reason for her smiles most of the time. A truly beautiful thing to behold.

“Buonanotte, amore mio.” He withdrew his hand, but let it rest on her stomach. As his eyes closed, he felt calloused fingers wrap around his.

“Buonanotte, Bello.” Her voice was raspy and quiet, but it was still the sweetest sound he'd ever heard.

________________________________________________________________

A knock to the solid wood door roused him from his dreamless sleep. As predicted, he had moved a lot in his sleep. Now he laid on his back, arms sprawled out and one leg tossed over the barrier of pillows, his foot tucked under her leg. The sheets had bunched around his waist and the duvet tossed over her slumbering body. Drool was crusted to the side of his mouth and his hair was in disarray. She, of course, looked positively heavenly, despite her injuries.

Rising from the bed, Ezio straightened his appearance and moved to the door as a second knock sounded. The kind Doctor from the previous day had returned, most likely to change her bandages. Behind the elderly man was Claudia, a tray with fruits, bread, and two small bowls of soup on it.

“Ah, Dottore, Buongiorno. Come in.” Ezio stepped to the side, letting the two into the room. He excused himself to behind the partition to change into more presentable clothes. It was somewhat difficult with only one good arm, but he managed. After struggling to button his shirt up with one hand he gave up, stepping out from the partition. Claudia rolled her eyes and buttoned his shirt up for him.

“Nothing but a child.” She grumbled, poking him roughly in the chest. He chuckled, rubbing the spot.

“Careful, Claudia, I still have uses for him.” A raspy voice came from the bed. Claudia’s attention snapped over to her sister-in-law.

“(Y/N)!” The siblings rushed to the bed, leaving enough space for the doctor. “How are you feeling?” Claudia questioned. The younger woman gave a pained smile as the Doctor peeled back the bandage on one of her deeper wounds.

“Like hell, to be honest. And I’d kill for some ibuprofen…” She bit her lip and pressed her head further into the pillows when the doctor dabbed an alcohol-soaked rag into the wound. Ezio took a step closer, worry flooding his veins. He truly hated seeing her in such a state. He was beating himself up inside for not getting to her sooner.

“I can give you a poultice to take the edge away around your ribs.” The doctor began rewrapping her wounds. “I’d advise you twist or move around as little as possible for the next few weeks to give your ribs time to heal, and only wear loose clothing. Your other bandages must be changed every eight hours.”

“Grazie, Dottore.” The woman nodded in appreciation. The doctor smiled and set a small jar of the poultice on the bedside table. After giving a few instructions on the next few weeks of healing, he bid the three farewell and departed.

“I’m glad you’re already doing better, mia sorella.” Claudia sat on the edge of the bed, taking Y/N’s hand in hers. “You had me worried sick seeing you return like that.” She lightly scolded.

“Sorry, Claudia. Next time I’ll tell those bandits to not attack us. Just because you worry about me.” Y/N smiled.

“Piccola merda.” The two women laughed, only to be cut off from the grunt of pain from the junior. Ezio finally stepped forward, still silent as before. He took the jar and removed the lid, setting it on the table.

Claudia stood up out of the way of the man on a mission. His face was drawn into a concentrated frown and he refused to look at his wife’s scratched-up face. With stiff and precise movements, he pulled up her shirt to just under her breast. Her skin was a vivid purple, the bruise forming overnight. His brows furrowed deeper at the sight.

His sister excused herself, sensing that the two needed to talk. But not before directing her brother to make sure to feed his wife the soup she had brought. He merely grunted in response, dipping two fingers into the greasy concoction.

Despite his angry demeanor and calloused hands, his touch was feather-light on her skin as he spread the poultice on her ribs. Her eyes didn’t leave his face as he worked. It had been so long that either one of them had been injured like this that Ezio was having a hard time controlling his emotions.

“Bello…” Her voice was just a whisper, but it had his finger freezing over her skin. He sniffed and grabbed a rag to wipe his hands clean. “Ezio. Look at me.” Her fingers closed around his wrist, tugging him down to sit next to her. He slowly brought his eyes up to meet hers. And the tears immediately sprung to his eyes.

“Oh, my love…” Her own vision blurred with tears and she threaded her fingers with his. “It’s okay, I’m okay.”

“I should have been faster… I should have made sure you were following me…I’m so sorry, mia bella.” He covered his face with his free hand, the other squeezing her fingers. His chest constricted with suppressed sobs.

“Ezio.” Her voice was soft but stern. He managed to look at her again. “This is not your fault. You had no way of knowing what was going to happen, not even your sixth sense could have predicted this… I don’t blame you for this happening, so I don’t want you to blame yourself either.”

He sniffled and wiped the tears from his face.

“And besides, I promised to kick the ass of anyone who wronged you. So don’t make me kick your ass when I get out of this bed.” She gave him her signature lopsided grin. He let a laugh escape him despite the want to sob instead.

“Now, I’m starving, so help me sit up.”

“Sì, Signora.” Ezio helped her up and placed the tray of food in her lap. There was just enough for the two of them. They ate in silence for a few minutes, not realizing how hungry they were.

“The real tragedy here though is that I think I lost my hairpin down the side of that cliff.” She pouted as she popped a strawberry into her mouth. The dainty gold hairpin had been an anniversary gift from Ezio two years ago and she wore it every time they took a break.

Ezio chuckled. “I shall buy you all the hairpins until the void of missing that one is filled.”

“Oh, my dear, I fear your wallet will weep. As it may take all the hairpins in the world for the hole in my chest to be filled.” She feigned distress, pressing the back of her bandaged hand to her forehead.

A yawn suddenly forced its way from her, stretching her chest painfully.

“You should sleep, it will help you heal.” Ezio cleared the tray and set it next to the door. His wrist twinged. He almost forgot his own injury. Despite the pain though, he once again helped his wife lay down and pulled the blankets up to her chin. Her eyes batted slowly up at him; her lips pursed ever so slightly. He huffed a laugh and bent down to press a slow kiss to her waiting lips.

“I will be back before you wake again, mia bella.” After kissing her forehead, he made sure she closed her eyes then left the room. He had to report to his uncle about the attack. Not something he looked forward to.

________________________________________________________________

It took a little less than six weeks for her to be fully healed. Her ribs still twinged dully when she twisted wrong, but daily stretches were quickly strengthening her muscles again. Ezio had finally broken his moody attitude now that she was up and walking.

The pair had stayed in Monteriggioni while she healed but constantly corresponded with the others in the Brotherhood. But today, the two were finally returning to Venezia to continue their search for Savonarola and The Apple.

She knew Ezio was anxious to resume their search, but despite being injured, she was glad they had somewhat of a break. She knew it would be around this time that Savonarola would be making his way into Firenze to steal control from the Medici. In the next three years, they will be storming the city to take down the corrupt monk. And then they won’t have a moment to breathe.

“Tesoro, are you ready to go?” Ezio’s voice brought her back from her thoughts. She smiled up at her husband and nodded. They were already packed and had their horses ready for the long journey. She hugged Mario, Claudia, and Maria goodbye as they met them at the town's entrance. She mounted her horse, Ezio on his horse trotting up next to her.

Waving, the pair left the town. And for the next eight years, they fought tooth and nail against the Templars. They defeated Savonarola, regained the apple, took down Rodrigo, and returned to Monteriggioni. Got run out of said town and came to Rome. Together, they began the rebellion against Cesare, starting with destroying the machines he forced Leonardo to make for him.

The two had destroyed all but one, the naval cannon. Following the engineer and getting past the guards was the easy part. Burning the blueprints was also easy. But when it came to actually destroying the machine and the naval fleet, that had proved to be more difficult.

Ezio rowed the gondola while she manned the Cannon. And slowly but surely, they dispatched the large ships. They had survived a few near-hits, the small boat rocking violently, the ropes and extra ammunition sliding around on the floor.

She cheered as the last ship went down in flames, Ezio breathlessly laughing next to her. His arms were on fire from rowing.

Y/N turned the Cannon, facing down onto itself. She looked over to her husband with a grin. “Would you care to do the honors, messere?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Ezio wrapped his hand around the firing mechanism, “Perdonatemi, Leonardo.” He pulled back on the lever and they both turned to dive off the side of the boat.

But as she had said once, many years ago, they could not have predicted this.

As the boat had been rocking from enemy fire, and she moved around, a rope had looped itself into the perfect snare around her foot. When she jumped from the boat, it tightened, the other end is tied off on the metal machine. She had dived perfectly, was swimming next to Ezio as the explosion went off.

And then she was yanked back.

As the Cannon sunk to the bottom of the bay the rope tightened even more around her leg. She was quickly running out of air as she tried to free herself. Her hidden blade picked the wrong time to jam, if only she cleaned it as often as she should have.

Ezio was just about to break the surface when he turned to look at her. And his blood went as cold as the water around him. Managing to take a deep breath at the surface, he dove back down, swimming as fast as he could. She was sinking fast, faster than he could keep up. He watched desperately as she finally gave up, looking up at him and giving him an apologetic smile.

“NO!” The word only came out as a bubbled scream, mixing with the last bit of air leaving her body. Her eyes slipped shut and she descended into the dark depths. Out of his vision.

Not caring about his swiftly depleting oxygen supply, Ezio continued to swim after her. His lungs burned and his arms and legs grew slower. Just when he thought he was going to pass out as well, a bright golden light illuminated the bay, he could see the outline of the Cannon as it sunk. But not her.

The ache in his chest became too much and his body moved to the surface on its own. His head broke the surface and he gasped for air. His body was filled with relief, but his mind was a typhoon of emotions. Panic, confusion, grief.

He knew that light, he had seen it fourteen years ago when she first entered this world.

And just as she had come, she disappeared just as quickly.

Send in some requests! I feel like writing this week 😌

Please look at my request guidelines first to see my rules and who I write for!

UM eXUsE mE???

600 of you people actually follow my inactive ass?! 

But seriously, this is insanely awesome. I thought I would've deleted this blog by now but knowing 600 of you actually enjoy my work, I think I’ll keep it around for a while more lol 

And an explanation for my absence, I have been working an insane amount, along with the current process of moving, so i’m always either working or packing. coupled with those, I had a brief scare that I might have had  Covid (I didn’t, Thank God) and just this week I was in a car accident (Not injured but definitley traumatized)

So thank you for your patience with me and my blog, I hope to be back after I have moved and settled. xoxo

Yours From The Beginning (Sherlock x Reader)

Request:  Hey I love your fics and I was wondering if I could request a Sherlock x Reader fic using prompts 5 and 24. Thank you very much 💕 5 “It’s midnight, what do you want?” 24 “I’ve never felt this way before and I’m terrified, to be honest.”

Words: 1027

Warnings: Domestic violence, abuse, blood, angst.

Characters/Pairings: Sherlock x reader

A/N: I apologize for my long absence! I've been going through some mental health stuff, on top of college and moving... But I’m back! I have 4 more requests in my list and we are almost to 300 followers! I can’t believe it! Thank you guys so much! (Also imagine this gif as Sherlock coming to save you!)

All was silent in the building. The tenants of 221 Baker St. all slept on peacefully in their beds. John snores ever so softly, wrapped tightly in his tan sheets. Mrs. Hudson would mumble in her sleep, occasionally a scolding tone would slip out with Sherlock’s name as the subject. But these two are not what held the detective’s attention.

The doorknob quietly jingled as a key was inserted. How he got a copy was beyond the tenant of 221C. (Y/N) was curled up into a ball amongst her lavender blankets. She twitched in her sleep at the sound of footsteps closing in on her bedroom.

The door squeaked open, something she refused to fix specifically for this reason. She was a light sleeper.

“It’s midnight, Sherlock, what do you want?” Her rough, sleepy voice sounded from the mound of blankets. Sherlock didn’t stop as he made his way to her bed, lifting the duvet and nudging her to move over. She groaned and wiggled to the side, allowing him to lay next to her.

This isn’t the first time the two have shared a bed. Having grown up with each other the two knew each other like the back of their hands.

“What’s the matter?” She mumbled, wrapping her arms around him like she does when he’s in a mood. He was silent and she honestly didn’t mind. He seldom answered her if he didn’t want to. Most of the time he just wanted peace and quiet and that’s what she provided. As well as an ear to listen if he needed one.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck and tangled their legs together. She was wearing shorts. It sent his heart beating wildly. The softness of her skin, the gentle but firm grip of her arms around him, and the forgiving pressure of her body against his, it all had his mind fuzzy.

As children, (Y/N) was a cute kid but always covered in dirt, hair frizzy and band-aids covering her legs and arms. As teenagers, (Y/N) sprouted into a spitfire of a woman. Always questioning their teachers, getting into detention for talking back. Or for the time she shot a boy in the junk with a paintball gun for talking bad about Sherlock.

He hadn’t seen her for years after her family moved away in their junior year. They kept in touch, though. Sending letters and exchanging phone calls. He would tell her of the college he attended and the cases he solved after college.

She would indulge him of her career as a freelance writer. And of her boyfriend.

Robert wasn’t a good man. He was so charming and kind upon first getting to know him. He would take her out and make her feel like a princess. That was until they moved in together. He was smart, hitting her in spots that were easily hidden. Berating her and isolating her from her friends.

But she managed to stay in touch with Sherlock, not telling him of what was going on, however. Knowing how Sherlock was, she was able to keep it hidden from him, talking as normally as she had before this all happened.

But why not tell him? Simple. She didn’t want to seem weak. She was always able to handle herself growing up. So, she can handle this as well…

She broke, though. Robert had come home smelling of perfume and booze. He threw a vase at her head. She couldn’t remember why. She couldn’t remember much of that night. All she remembers is barely reaching her phone after Robert had passed out on the couch. Her vision was red with blood and the buttons of her phone were smudged red as she called Sherlock.

He had shown up to find her in a puddle of her blood. He nearly thought her dead, if it hadn’t been for the shallow rise and fall of her chest. Mycroft’s men had rushed in and swept her up and to the nearest hospital. Sherlock stayed behind.

He showed up at the hospital with bloodied fists and a split lip. After that, after her recovery, Sherlock arranged for her to move into 221C, where she had her privacy but was within reach of him.

That had been four months ago, and her hair was still boyish short from having her head shaved in order to stitch her up. Robert mysteriously disappeared, thanks to Mycroft, who thought of the woman as a little sister.

Having her here now, all grown up and beautiful, it awoke something in Sherlock.

“I’ve never felt this way before and I’m terrified, to be honest.” He murmured into her skin. She jerked slightly; having thought he had fallen asleep.

“How do you mean?” She carded her fingers through his dark curls. He tightened his arms around her.

“My heart races when I’m near you like this, my mind is hazy when I think of you. And I’m paralyzed when you smile at me. The air leaves my lungs when you cry and it’s as if the world turns grey. The thought of losing you feels like I’m dying.” Sherlock curled around her. Almost afraid of her response to his confession. He felt her take a deep breath and he braced for the worst.

“Shit, Sherl…” Her voice came out in a sob. His head shot up to look at her in the dim light. Tears glistened in her (e/c) eyes. A smile painted her face, however. His brow furrowed.

“Did I say something wrong? I-I apologize… I figure you don’t feel the same for me. I’d understand if-if you only saw me as nothing more than a brother or a close friend, but I-”

“Sherlock.” She cut him off, cupping his slightly scruffy cheek. He hasn’t shaved in a few days because of his latest case. She liked it.

“Yes?” He breathed.

“Just shut up for once.” She grinned, pressing her lips to his. Truth be told, she had always loved him. From the very beginning. She just figured the man who said love was weakness wouldn’t love her in return. 

Oh, how she was wrong.    

Your Tony Stark animal instinct story was so adorable! The age gap, the characters, so cute!

Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoyed it, Hun! 💞