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Perfect For Me (Steven Grant x Reader)

Words: 2.2K

Warnings/Themes: Angst,Self-hatred, body insecurity, hurt/comfort, fluff, light nudity (non-sexual)

Characters/Pairings: Steven Grant x reader, Marc Spector

liavaleska asked:

Hellooo! How are you? I hope you are doing great. Can I request something where reader comforts Steven Grant when he is feeling insecure about his body? Ty❤️

A/N: Sorry it took me a while to get this up! But here it is and I hope you enjoy it. It came out a tab bit angstier than I intially wanted but I'm quite proud of this one! Let me know what you think :)

Tired eyes mindlessly watched the little goldfish bob around its tank. The only sound filling the apartment was that of the tank’s filter. Rain pattered against the windows. Each door that opened or closed in the building had her peeking at the door through the tank. It was a quiet evening. As it had been for the past few days, nearing two weeks.

Nearly two weeks of silence. All because the other occupant of the apartment was hardly around anymore. Something was up with one of the boys. She had hoped one of them would have confided in her. But they are alters of Marc Spector. Mr. Secret.

The notion of her husband keeping secrets saddened her. It wasn’t hard to suspect that something was wrong. Steven would be up before her and leaving for work earlier than usual. Before he would wrap himself tighter around her when her alarm would go off, begging her to stay in bed for a few more minutes.

He had also picked up the habit of jogging. At first, she had been happy for him; happy he had found a healthy hobby. But now she’s questioning how healthy it really is. The bags under his eyes darkened with the passing of each day. Getting up early, going on jogs, and working as Khonshu’s personal plaything, had to be tiring. Not to mention she didn’t really see him enough to confirm that he had eaten that day.

“At least you’re around, huh, Gus?” She murmured, chin resting on her palm. The fish swam into his pyramid. A groan left her as she hung her head. Great. Even the fish didn’t want to spend time with her. Pushing out of her seat, she decided it was time for bed. The clock on the wall read 1am.

A quick glance at her phone showed that her messages had been read. But there had been no response.

‘Hey, love. Just wondering when you’ll be home. Any ideas for dinner?’

Read at 7:30pm.

‘Hey, again, you’re probably busy so I wrapped up dinner for you. Chinese takeout, your favorite! Love you <3’

Read at 10:46pm

With a heavy heart, she typed out one last text.

‘Going to bed now. Love you, darling’

She didn’t wait for a reply and stuck her phone on the charger. Tears pricked at her eyes as she stared at the empty bed. This would be the sixth night in a row that she would be going to bed by herself. The cold, white duvet laughed up at her. Sniffling, she padded over to the closet and pulled out one of Steven’s hoodies, and tugged it on. His scent filled her nose but didn’t bring the comfort she craved. Rather, it broke the dam holding back her tears.

She wished she could help him. Wished he let her help him. Wanted him to know that he wasn’t alone in whatever he was going through. If only he would just let her in. Her teeth bit into the soft flesh of her lip as she tried to stifle the sobs. Curled up on the bed, she hugged Steven’s pillow to her chest.

Keys knocking against the door had her freezing. The door slowly creaked open and heavy, tired footsteps entered the apartment. The sound of a duffle hitting the floor broke her out of her trance and had her shooting up.

“Steven?” The figure outlined by the light of the fish tank shuffled over to the bed, standing at the foot.

“No, sorry…” Marc said, voice low and, dare she say, sad. She quickly flicked on the lamp on her nightstand, beckoning him towards her.

“What’s wrong, Marc? Are- are you guys okay?”

Marc was silent for a few heartbeats, his silence giving her time to think of every possible thing that could be wrong. Steven doesn’t love her anymore, Khonshu’s asking too much, they have some terminal disease… Her lip wobbled more with each new possibility.

“No… No, we’re not okay.” Marc whispered, “Steven doesn’t want me to tell you… but I don’t think he’s okay.”

He sounded so tired, and his eyes didn’t even come up to meet hers as he spoke. Whatever was wrong, it had been going on for a while and it’s become too much for Marc to handle. With a frown, she grabbed his hand to tug him onto the bed.

While she wasn’t in a romantic relationship with him, Marc was still important to her. He was like a brother to her. Without him, she wouldn’t even have Steven.

“Tell me, Marc… Tell me what’s wrong,” she begged softly. If he closed the door now after letting her get a toe in, she might completely break down. He sagged forward with his elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

“I just wish I could have protected him better… All of this is my fault. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I know this has been hurting you too, but I don’t know how to help him. He won’t eat; he runs until we have blisters… Hell, he’s been fronting during almost every fight and I can’t make him give me the body…”

It was as if once the words started pouring out of his mouth, they wouldn’t stop.

“The only reason I’m fronting now is that I think he was just too exhausted to…” The sigh that left him was far beyond his age. It was the sigh of someone too tired to continue. “You gotta help us, Y/N… You gotta help Steven.”

With a tear-streaked face, she nodded.

<><> 

Marc had showered and changed into Steven’s favorite pajamas before climbing into bed. Y/N lay on her side of the bed, wishing that it was her husband she was falling asleep next to. She wanted to hold him close, to protect him from the dangers of his own mind. She could only hope that when she woke up, it would be Steven kissing her awake as he used to.

Her sleep was a light and fitful one. An odd form of sleep paralysis. She could hear the sounds of their apartment, and Marc’s heavy snores next to her. But she couldn’t move. Worry and fear gripped her body like a vice.

Time seemed to still be flowing as one moment she was hearing Marc’s snores, then the next Steven’s much softer breaths. Unconsciously, her hand drifted toward her husband. Her love. Her partner who needed her help.

She couldn’t be sure if her hand ever touched him. Because it was his strained whispers that had her fully conscious. The lamp in the living area was lit and he stood in front of a full-length mirror.

“You overstepped, mate. I told you not to tell her.”

She blinked heavily, unsure if this was a dream or not. A quick hand over his side of the bed told her that it was not and that he hadn’t been gone for long.

“I don’t care! If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t be here with a big bloody scar on our chest from that fight! Or the other dozen scars everywhere else!” His voice started to rise.

She couldn’t help but stare at his back as he whispered furiously into the mirror on the other side of the apartment.

“She’s not gonna… she wouldn’t want a human scratching post. Y/N deserves more than… this. I mean, look at us…” He inhaled a shuttering breath. His strong hands gripped the edge of the standup mirror. “A million scars, rubbish bags under our eyes… gross stretch marks, unflattering dad bod.”

His final whispered confession had her finally jumping out of bed.

“I just wish I could be the man she deserves.”

She gave him no time to react before she slammed into his back, wrapping her arms around his middle and bunching the fabric of his shirt in her hands.

His breath caught in his throat, shame filling him. He could feel her sobs more than hear them. Gods, he made her upset. That had been the last thing he wanted to do, but Marc’s words from earlier rang through his head.

“You’re hurting her. Leaving early, coming home late, not making love with her, and keeping the lights off when you do. It’s hurting her. She told me so.”

A sob forced its way from his throat, and hot tears fell down his cheeks. His teeth bit harshly into his lip as he bowed his head, unwilling to look at the reflection of Marc’s pitying look.

“I’m so sorry…So, so sorry.” His hands grasped hers over his chest, right over the scar that had started this whole thing. She shook her head, whimpering into his shirt.

“No, please, Steven.” She took a shuddering breath, “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m not mad; or upset with you… I’m upset for you.”

His eyes screwed closed, his lips pressed into a line to suppress his cries.

“I wish I could take this pain away from you. I wish I could love these thoughts out of your mind. You do such an amazing job of protecting me; I wish I did a better job at protecting you.” She pulled her hands from his to drift to his sides and gently turned him to face her.

He kept his head bowed. The shame, the self-hatred, the ugly expression on his face, it wasn’t something she needed to see. The flinch he gave when her gentle hand cupped his cheek was uncontrollable. Her hand dropped back down to her side.

“Steven, let me help you. Whatever you’re trying to keep from me, whatever it is you are trying to hide, I will still love you. Nothing will ever make me not love you; nothing will ever make me think you are undeserving. You are the only man in this entire universe that I will ever love.”

He didn’t flinch when her hand touched him this time. Instead, he pressed his tear-stained cheek into her palm. They both let out heavy breaths. A hand littered with scars he hated so much, gripped her waist. The other, just as scarred as the right, cupped the back of her neck and he brought their foreheads together.

“I’m sorry that I’ve upset you, love. I just... I don’t know how to… how to let someone help. But I know I need it.” Steven swallowed the lump still stuck in his throat. “I am truly fortunate to have you be the one to help me, though.”

“I’m even luckier to have you,” She whispered before leaning forward to press her lips to his. His grip tightened and he pulled her flush to his chest. Flames followed in the wake of her fingers tracing up his stomach to rest on his chest, lovingly stroking the raised skin of the scar. His heart was thundering and he was sure she could feel it under her fingertips.

Salty tears blended on their skin, hiccupping sobs breaking from his sweet lips. As if touching glass, she wiped his tears away, cooing and shushing him. Chocolate eyes locked with hers. Walking backward and not breaking eye contact, she tugged him by the hand towards the bed. Steven followed obediently while wiping his tears with his sleeve.

The bed was cool against her skin as she leaned against the pillows, opening her arms for him. The air was thick with tension as he stood still, watching her. The stifling air was broken when he pulled his shirt over his head with shaking hands. His body is on full display in the dim lighting. While the suit heals wounds, it doesn’t erase scars.

It didn’t seem possible, the amount of love and acceptance in her gaze. It made his breath catch in his throat and warm goosebumps break out over his skin. Wishing for him to be in her arms, she made grabby hands for him. The action made his lips quirk up.

Slowly, he crawled in between her legs and she sat up to wrap her arms around his middle. Soft lips ghosted over the scar as her hands smoothed over his sides. His head was nuzzled into her hair and his arms wrapped around her back.

After breathing each other in, she leaned back and guided him to rest his head on her chest. His strong arms constricted around her middle. Her socked foot caressed his calf while her lips kissed the top of his head.

“If I get too heavy, I can move.” He couldn’t help but mumble. Gentle fingers carded through his hair and trailed down his back. Painted nails lightly scraped over his skin, leaving a trail of more goosebumps.

“If you dare move, I’m going to handcuff you to myself and swallow the key,” she threatened.

Steven let out a breathy chuckle and relaxed more into her. The patterns she was tracing into his skin were hypnotic and slowly, his eyes began to drift closed. A low sweet hum filled his ears.

As he focused on her fingers, he realized she wasn’t just doodling random patterns. It was letters. Words.

‘I love you’

‘Perfect’

‘Strong’

Tears pricked his eyes once more. He tilted his head to press a lingering kiss to her collarbone.

“I’ve got you, Steven. I’m not going anywhere. Not when I’ve got the perfect man for me in my arms.”

Hello 🥰 I saw your request post and figured I'd send something in. I've had this idea for years, and it would be fun to read it!

You know when Steve finds and rescues Bucky at Hydra in the first movie? What if it's reader who they're rescuing and Hydra did some experiments on. Maybe she's Steves sister and they wanted to get to him through her and obviously Bucky has a thing for her lol 🥰

Only if you're up to it!! Thank you so much :(

Thank you for sending in! I'll definitely add this to my list! I love writing for Bucky ❤️

Hellooo! How are you? I hope you are doing great. Can I request something where reader comforts Steven Grant when he is feeling insecure about his body? Ty❤️

Hi, darling! Thank you for requesting ❤️ this is such a cute one and I already have some ideas for this! I'll get it out as soon as I can! I hope you're doing great, too 😊

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!

Hopelessly Devoted (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Words: 3.7K

Warnings/Themes: Domestic Life, Domestic Fluff, Talk of marriage, Talk of having kids, Marriage Proposal

Characters/Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Dr. Raynor

“How are things going with Y/N?”

He stared at the wall behind the woman. Can’t really say ‘older woman,’ seeing as how he is practically twice her age. But she does look older, he thought to himself. And she likes to nag like his grandmother did.

“Fine. Things are fine.” He’d do anything to be out of this room and with Y/N instead. He’d rather be with her than do anything else, in fact. That’s how ‘fine’ things are going.

“And you two are still doing your own exercises at home?” She questioned him again, her passive-aggressive notebook still sitting on the table next to her. If he were being honest, the exercises he and Y/N did at home helped him far better than sitting in this room with this old crone.

“Yeah.”

“And how are those going?” Question after question. Y/N didn’t need to ask so many questions. She just knew. Granted, her ability to slip into others’ minds helped. Bucky hesitated before giving an answer. If he answered at all the Doc would see that as cooperation and he didn’t feel like doing that. If he lied, she would see through it. But if he told the truth… She would probably see it as progress, and he might be able to quit these court-mandated sessions soon. Truth it is.

“I didn’t have a nightmare last night,” he offered, not quite meeting her eyes, looking at the middle of her forehead. Her eyebrows rose.

“Good. That’s very good.” She paused to observe him; her gaze was cold and calculating compared to the one at home. The one that holds his gaze with so much love and understanding that it makes his chest feel like it was splintering.

“What did you dream about?” She asked.

“That’s kinda personal, Doc.” He hoped the lilt he forced into his voice would satisfy her, trying to imply it was some intimate dream about him and his girlfriend. In a way, it had been.

“This is therapy; it’s supposed to be personal.” She gave him a flat look. Darn. Bucky rubbed his palms on his jeans and looked out the window. He should have just lied.

“James, what did you dream about?” She asked again, her tone slightly softer. “Did you hurt her? In your dream?” She read his anxiousness wrong. Y/N wouldn’t have; even without her powers.

“I said I didn’t have a nightmare.” It would have been the worst nightmare he could possibly have. He couldn’t even bare to think of hurting her. Luckily, he has not had a dream of hurting her. Not after she had laid his ass flat multiple times with just a brush of her powers over his mind. Not after she shoved the soldier back into the basement of his mind when they first met in Berlin.

“So, it was a good one?”

“I didn’t say that.” No, but it had been. It was everything he had dreamed of. He and Y/N, married. A nice house with a white picket fence. The laughter of their kids in the backyard with their dog. And the two of them slow dancing in the kitchen, flour in her hair from baking. The sunlight was soft as it filtered through the lace curtains.

It was everything he had thought he’d have when he had come home from the War. But he never did.

And now that he was getting a taste of it… He didn’t feel like he deserved it.

A tone filled the room, some musical piece to indicate their session was over. It pulled him from reliving his dream. Saved by the bell.

“Well, we’ll pick up here next week, then.” She uncrossed her legs and grabbed her notebook, writing a few notes. He wasted no time to shoot off the couch and make his way to the door, barely mumbling a farewell to the Doc.

“But James,” she called as his metal hand wrapped around the door handle. He paused but didn’t look back at her. She sighed. “You do deserve whatever you dreamt about.” How she knew what kind of dream it had been was beyond him, but her words had his chest constricting.

“Bye, Doc.” He left the room.

Bucky returned to the Compound around lunchtime; he knew she would be in their shared apartment with food waiting. She always ordered the best comfort food on the days he had to see Dr. Raynor. Sushi.

Her singing reached his ears before he opened the door; the sweet sound sent his heart soaring. He smiled as he silently walked to the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe. She had yet to notice him, with her headphones in and her focus on the dough in front of her.

She was an absolute vision. Her hair was up in a messy bun, secured by a floral pattern scrunchie. She wore one of his white t-shirts that hugged her in all the right places, paired with floral pajama shorts. Simple white socks covered her usually frigid toes.

And she was singing like an angel. A song he hadn’t heard yet, though that was not a surprise. But man, did he sure love hearing her sing.

“My head is saying, ‘Fool, forget him.’ My heart is saying, ‘Don’t let go, hold on to the end,' that’s what I intend to do. I’m hopelessly devoted to you.” She swayed as she rolled up her dough, completely lost in her song.

He let her finish her song before coming up behind her, just as she was placing her unbaked cinnamon rolls in the pan to proof. She smiled as he wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“I was wondering when you’d come and give me a hug. You were standing over there staring at me like a creeper.” She chuckled, twisting in his hold after placing a tea towel over her pan. She removed her headphones and placed them and her phone on the counter.

“Sorry, I was enjoying the view too much.” He returned her smile before pressing a kiss to her lips. She grinned into the kiss, threading her floury hands into the short hair at the base of his neck. When they parted, their eyes locked, and he rested his forehead against hers. Their eyes glazed as he allowed her into his head.

It was something they both agreed on. After every session with Dr. Raynor, Bucky would report everything that had happened during the session, including the things he thought about but didn’t say out loud. They both knew it would be easier for him to open up about certain things with her over his shrink, so the issue was never pushed on him to be more open with the Doc.

“Hm… I have to say I agree with her parting statement,” Y/N remarked as she pulled away. “But first, let’s eat. I could feel how hungry you are.”

Bucky forced a smile and helped her set out the sushi she had kept in the fridge until he got home. She had ordered a lot more than she normally did. Probably because of his dream last night. He didn’t show her his dream. Rather, his emotions were so high during the dream that she somehow got sucked into his mind and was living it with him. They had a small talk about it that morning before his appointment.

They ate in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying the food and each other’s company. This is why he preferred his exercises with Y/N over his sessions with Dr. Raynor. Y/N never pushed him to talk. Never used a notebook as a weapon to get him to talk. She was patient and warm and kind. She understood that adjusting to this new life of his was hard; especially after everything he has done.

Forced to do. He reminded himself. It was one exercise Y/N had him practicing. Just rewording his thoughts. He didn’t have to believe it, not yet, but he just had to say it to himself. Eventually, he’d find himself believing it, she had said. She said it with such conviction that he couldn’t help but believe her. Because that’s how she got herself out of her dark place.

“What was that song you were singing?” He asked after they had eaten their fill and were cleaning up. She nearly dropped the dish in her hand as she whipped her head around to look at him. You would have thought he had slapped her with the look of pure shock and offense on her face.

“Excuse me? What song-? What?” She sputtered and shook her head in disbelief. He gave an incredulous laugh at her behavior.

“Is it really that much of a surprise that I don’t know it?”

“Yes!” She answered quickly. “It absolutely is, seeing as how we’ve known and been together for literal years, now. I can’t believe we’ve never watched Grease!”

She didn’t give him time to question anymore as she snatched the plate from his hands and carelessly tossed it into the sink and began pushing him to the bedroom.

“Dishes can wait! You get your old ass into some comfy clothes while I set up the classroom, because you’re gonna learn just how great of a movie Grease is, and you are going to like it.” Her tone left no room for arguments as she gave him one last push into the bedroom before disappearing into the living room.

He chuckled but did as he was told and slipped into some gray sweatpants that Y/N had once told him were obscene, and a cozy black hoodie. He took an extra moment to grab the large, fluffy blanket from their bed so they could cuddle under it.

When he entered the living room the movie was already pulled up on Prime Video and she was nowhere to be seen. The smell and sound of popcorn cooking gave away her position in the kitchen, along with her singing.

He grinned and tossed the blanket onto the couch before sneaking into the kitchen. She had just pulled the bag out of the microwave and was putting it in the large bowl, two sodas already on the counter. Defenses down. Shot clear. She set the bowl down and reached for the candy in the cabinet. Taking the shot.

Swooping low, Bucky knocked her legs out with his arm under her knees, the other wrapping around her back and lifting her into the air. A shriek of surprise turned into laughter, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his face to hers. She gave him a loud, sloppy kiss.

“Should we get this show on the road?” He asked when they parted. She nodded and grabbed the bowl and candy and sodas, holding them in her lap as it seemed he wasn’t putting her down until they got to the living room.

He deposited her on the couch and sat next to her, pulling her legs onto his lap, and tossing the large blanket over them. She pressed play and nuzzled into his side. Bucky wrapped his arms tighter around her, kissing her temple.

As they watched, Bucky would ask questions or make comments on the characters. Y/N was happy to see him so engaged and genuinely enjoying the movie. Over the years, she would watch movies with him, trying to catch him up on pop culture. His favorites so far had been the original trilogy of Star Wars.

“Danny is a bit of a tool,” Bucky said out of nowhere. They had been sitting in silence during the prom scene and had finally reached the drive-in scene. Y/N left out a barking laugh at the sudden declaration.

“You know, he definitely is!”

><

By the time the movie ended, it was mid-afternoon, and Y/N was yawning. It was her usual nap time. Her work for Tony Stark and the Avengers usually had her sleeping at random times, just as inconsistent as Bucky’s sleeping schedule, mostly because part of her job was to help Bucky.

“How’d you like the movie?” She asked, stretching out her legs before standing from the couch.

“Definitely in the top ten.” Bucky’s eyes raked up her stretching form, the shorts, the way his shirt hugged her curves, and her messy bun at the top of her head. It all had him feeling like the luckiest man in the universe.

“Only the top ten? Why? And in what place?” She stood in front of him with her hands on her hips and a slight pout on her lips. This was definitely in the top five for her.

“Don’t get me wrong, the movie was great, and I loved it. But I’d probably place it at number six.” Okay, sixth place wasn’t that bad, just one movie away from being top five.

“Okay, so the top three I know is the Star Wars trilogy, and fourth place is the first Hobbit… But what is fifth place? What’s better than Grease?” She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. Bucky laughed awkwardly and looked away, a blush on his cheeks.

“Nothing…” He had seen this movie a couple of times and he loved it. The characters, the music, and the plot, it was all great. But it seemed… a little embarrassing for him to like it. He was still very old-fashioned and the style of dancing and clothing in this movie had him a little flustered.

“Oh, come on! What movie?” Y/N stepped forward until she stood between his legs and then bent over him, caging his head with her arms resting on the couch behind him. He turned his face to the side, not wanting to look into those inviting eyes.

She could just look into his mind with her abilities, but that would be an invasion of privacy and when she gained these powers, she vowed to never look into someone else’s mind without consent. Because consent is sexy.

“You can’t laugh.” He mumbled, still not making eye contact with his girlfriend. She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway.

“I’d never laugh at you, dear.” A blatant lie, they both knew.

“Liar.” Bucky reached up to pinch her side. She squealed and her knees buckled, allowing him to pull her onto his lap. “Just this morning you laughed at me because I asked where that kid’s parents were.”

Y/N let out another laugh as she recalled Bucky’s reaction this morning to a TikTok she had been watching. Some pre-teen girl was cursing about something wrong in her life and Bucky happened to catch the colorful language as he passed by.

Y/N definitely agreed with him, but coming from the 106-year-old soldier, it just sounded like the most grandpa response he could have come up with.

“Oh, but it was the cutest thing!” She snuggled into him, pressing her face into his bearded cheek. He let out a hmph and tried to turn his face away again. But her hands came up to hold him in place and she littered kisses all over his face. “Please, Buck? I won’t laugh.”

Bucky knew if he looked at her, he’d see those big puppy eyes and he would immediately crack. But her hands running over his chest and neck were having the same effect anyway. He tossed his head back against the back of the couch with a groan. She grinned, knowing she got him.

“Fine.” He hesitated for a moment, chewing on the inside of his lip. “It’s… di…cing..”

She tilted her head in confusion, “Come again?”

“Dirty Dancing! Okay? I like Dirty Dancing.”

Y/N had to press her lips into a tight line to stop the laugh that was bubbling up due to his outburst. She wasn’t laughing at his choice of movie, but just the way he said it. His face was bright red, and he was glaring up at the ceiling.

“Awww, Buck! That’s so cute!” She squealed and smothered him in kisses. He groaned and stood up, dropping her to the couch as she laughed.

“You lair! You said you wouldn’t laugh!” He made to stomp away but she rolled off the couch to the floor and grabbed his ankle.

“I’m not laughing at your choice of movie, I promise! I love that movie, too, Buck!”

“Nope, too late. Release me, you leech.” He began shuffling his way to their bedroom. She wrapped her arms around his ankle and forced him to drag her.

“Never!” She cried in defiance and reached up with one hand to tickle the back of his knee. He buckled and hit the ground. She could feel his panic as he began to army crawl away. She cackled evilly as she grabbed the back of his hoodie and dragged herself forward to straddle his back.

“No! Please! Lemme go- HA!” She had begun her assault on his sides. His scream-laughing had her chest filling with light and joy. It wasn’t so long ago that he never even smiled. So, to hear him let loose in such a way made her feel like the luckiest woman in the universe. To be able to have him like this. To love him like this. She wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Her fingers slowed until they rested along his scapulas. He turned his head to stare at her from the corner of one blue eye. His brows were drawn suspiciously. However, the soft smile on her face had his face relaxing into an easy smile. She leaned down and pressed a warm kiss to his stubbled cheek.

“I love you, Bucky,” She whispered in his ear before standing up. He was quick to his feet and even quicker to pull her into his arms. His lips sealed over hers in a chaste kiss.

“I love you more, Dollface.” He said in between peppering kisses over her face. She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning into his affections.

They both lived for days like this. It was a battle getting here, but it was well worth it. The calm that enveloped their cozy apartment, the warmth that filled everyone who entered. The quiet as they lay in bed, and the ruckus of them teasing each other. This was Bucky’s entire world. Right here. In her arms.

They had calmed down and were simply holding each other, both lost in thought of their love for the other. She gently stroked her fingers down the back of his head, letting her nails scrape against his scalp. She could feel the goosebumps rising under her other hand.

He was giving her the same treatment with his arms wrapped around her waist, his right hand tracing up and down her spine. He was so warm against her. She sighed contently against his skin, dropping a kiss to the space his shoulder met his neck. He hummed in happiness.

Oh yeah, he was going to make the dream he had last night come true. The second she fell asleep for her nap he was going to look up rings. And maybe a house. And at the shelter for a dog, or maybe a cat. Hell, he should look at baby cribs while he’s at it.

“What are you thinking about so hard, Bucky? I can smell smoke,” she teased. He grumbled and nipped her neck.

“Rude. And here I was thinking about how good you would look in a wedding dress.” He released her and tried to pull away. “But nevermind.”

“Wait! What?” She tightened her arms around him, preventing him from going anywhere, not like he truly planned to anyway. He was far too happy in her embrace to be out of it for long anyway. “You were thinking of me in a wedding dress? Is it because of your dream last night?”

Bucky stepped closer to her again, his hands on her hips stroking circles with his thumbs. “Well, yeah. Last night was the first time I dreamed of us being married… But it’s not the first time I thought about it.”

Hope and unadulterated joy filled her chest. Not a day went by since she confessed to him last year that she didn’t think of what it would be like to be called, Mrs. Barnes.

“Come here!” She pulled away from him and grabbed his hand, dragging him into their room. He had whiplash. One second he was saying he wanted to marry her and the next she was dragging him through their home.

In the bedroom, she went to the desk and pulled a notebook from the drawer. It was the one she kept with her during briefings and other meetings.

“Do you remember a few months ago when we were in a meeting and you asked what I was doodling?” She held the book to her chest nervously. Her feet were pressed together, fidgeting. He nodded slowly. He wasn’t entirely sure where she was going with this.

“Okay, well, I wasn’t really doodling… I was writing this.” She opened the notebook to a page in the middle and handed it over to him. He took it with shaking hands as hope and anticipation flooded his senses.

Mrs. Barnes <3

It was written over and over again on the page. Some with her first name. Some with her first and middle. She even looked to be practicing different signatures with Barnes as her last name.

“I’m sorry… it’s kinda weird, I’m just now realizing… We can forget it-”

He silenced her with a soul-searing kiss. He was never forgetting this. She wanted to marry him just as much as he wanted to marry her. Her hands dropped the notebook to instead grip his hoodie and pull him in closer.

When they pulled away their faces had matching love-drunk grins.

“I don’t have a ring and I don’t want to let you go to kneel, but will you, Y/N L/N, do me the very high honor of marrying me?” Bucky’s blue eyes peered into her own, bright and hopeful. She giggled and pulled him into a tight hug, her arms now around his neck and her lips against his ear.

“Of course, I will.”

Request Guidelines

Hello, welcome to my blog! Here are some things to take into consideration before requesting from me.

1. Be respectful. If I feel that you are not being kind or respectful I will delete your request without notice.

2. Be patient. I work a full time job and do this as a hobby so I may not get to posting your request as fast as you would like. With that being said I will try to get requests up in a timely manner.

3. I will not write smut, anything nsfw, poly, incest, abortion, religious, political. I would rather not get into sensitive topics.

4. Please be aware that I only write fem!reader. I try to keep physical descriptions to a minimum, but all pronouns used will be she/her.

These guidelines are subject to change.

Below is a list of characters that I am willing to write for, if you do not see a character you like, please feel free to ask if I will.

BBC Sherlock-

Sherlock Holmes

Mycroft Holmes

John Watson

Enola Holmes- 

Sherlock Holmes

Star Wars

Poe Dameron

Finn

Ben Solo/Kylo Ren

Din Djarin

Paz Vizla

Harry Potter-

George Weasley

Fred Weasley

Bill Weasley

Charlie Weasley

Oliver Wood

Harry Potter

Draco Malfoy

Marvel-

Bucky Barnes

Marc Spector

Steven Grant

Loki Laufeyson

Thor Odinson

Tony Stark

Shang-Chi

Assassin’s Creed-

The Hobbit-

Ezio Auditore

Kili Durin

Fili Durin

Bofur

Thorin Oakenshield

Bilbo Baggins

Bard

Thranduil

Legolas

One Piece- 

Roronoa Zoro

Vinsmoke Sanji

Trafalgar Law

Eustass Kidd

Red-Haired Shanks

Dracule Mihawk

Portgas D. Ace

More to be added in the future!

Robb Lucci

Bleach-

Ichigo Kurosaki

Shunsui Kyoraku

Byakuya Kuchiki

Jushiro Ukitake

Kisuke Urahara

Kenpachi Zaraki

Toshiro Hitsugaya (Adult)

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez

Gin Ichimaru

Ulquiorra Cifer

Pieces Welded in Gold (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Words: 2.6k

Warnings/Themes: Self-hate, sad!bucky, angst, fluff, comfort

Characters/Pairing: Bucky x reader, Steve, Nat and Wanda (Mentioned), Tony (Mentioned)

She was too good for him.

This is something he had in his head from the moment he had met her. She was a light in everyone’s lives, whereas he was just a pathetic excuse for an Avenger. It took her and Steve months to get him pardoned and then even more months for him to be accepted as an Avenger. Not that he blamed the people they had worked against. He has done so much damage in his unnecessarily long life.

So watching her now, laughing and smiling brightly with Natasha and Wanda, Bucky felt like some ghostly shadow that drifted solemnly down hallways, wondering if he was ever going to feel worthy of love.

The glass of champagne in his hand was set down on a passing waiter’s tray as Bucky excused himself from the group of men he stood with. They had all been talking of some heroic thing Steve had done on their latest mission. And while Bucky was extremely proud of the man Steve has become, he couldn’t help the jealously that rose in his throat. Like ichor that threatened to drown him in resentment. He wouldn’t allow it.

“Everything alright, Buck?” Steve, of course, was the first to stop the conversation and give his best friend his undivided attention.

“Yeah, pal. Just feeling a little empty, gonna go fuel up.” To others, it might sound like Bucky was just hungry, but between the two, it was a code they came up for when Bucky’s social bar was low. It was weird… it used to be Steve having to step away and Bucky making sure he was okay.

The ichor rose to the back of his mouth. Without giving Steve a chance to say anything else, Bucky paced off to the hallway where the elevators were. The grief of his old life and who he used to be hanging over him like the grim reaper.

He made it after skirting along the walls, avoiding prying eyes. Not that anyone would really look at him right now. They were all too busy celebrating something going on with Stark Industries that he had not bothered to remember.

Bucky was barely through the door of the apartment he shared in the Compound with Steve, when he began stripping out of the suffocating suit he had been required to wear. The jacket was haphazardly hung on the hook, mostly thrown at the wall it was on. The polished loafers were kicked off and left to trip anyone who walked through the door.

He entered his room with his button-up undone and his pants barely hanging on his hips. He finally discarded the rest of the clothes in a wrinkled pile in the corner. With a huff and a heavy plop, Bucky collapsed onto his bed in only his briefs. Getting up to shower and put proper clothing on felt like a mountain he didn’t want to climb right now. So he just laid there on his stomach, staring out the window and the fireworks that Tony had arranged.

He wondered if she was out there enjoying them. He knew she liked things like that. She had once told him in the dead of night in a Wakandan hut of all the things that felt otherworldly to her. Like fireworks. Or libraries. Bowling Allies after hours. Abandoned malls. Or her living room at 3am.

She promised him they’d go to places like that when he said he wished he wasn’t here. Just to disconnect for a while, to forget his problems and just feel like he was someone else. Someone that wasn’t the Soldier, or a younger version of him. Not even him right now.

It was at that moment that he knew he loved her. She was here to help him through the problems he was facing, but she also understood that sometimes he didn’t want to try. He just wanted to float away. And she helped him do that, safely.

He truly felt like he was floating when he was with her. Tied by a string to her wrist so he wouldn’t drift away. And she didn’t seem to mind it. In fact, whenever he was near her, she would always subconsciously grab his hand. Or when he sat next to her on the couch, she would always move closer until their thighs were pressed together.

In a small part of his mind that still held optimism, he hoped that she did this because she also felt that if they were apart then she would combust. Since he met her, she had always been a comfort to him, she was there when Steve had found his apartment in Bucharest. She stopped him when Zemo had activated the Soldier by using her abilities. And she was there in Wakanda.

The one thing he doesn’t know, however, is why. Why is she doing all of this for him? Why does she seem to care so much about him? Steve, he gets because they’ve been friends since diapers. But she didn’t know him before Bucharest.

She had him feeling every emotion known to man, but he couldn’t find a way to tell her any of it. He could pour his heart out about his frustrations on his past, on how he misses the 40s, on how he felt like a burden to everyone. But when it came to owning up to his feelings about her… he froze. How could he not? She was everything.

Bucky rolled over onto his back and rubbed at his eyes, trying to dry the tears that didn’t seem to stop coming. The fireworks continued like bombs on the battlefield. His gaze was fixed on a random speck on his ceiling. His mind felt sluggish now and his eyelids struggled to stay open, even as tears still fell.

He must have dozed off at some point as now his eyes flickered open at the sound of shuffling outside his door. The fireworks had stopped, and the air was still and quiet. Steve must have just gotten in. The sound of the shuffling sounded like his gait and weight.

With a groan, Bucky lifted himself onto his elbows to look at the clock on his bedside. Two in the morning. A late one for an old man like Steve. Must have been having a good time then, seeing as how Bucky left the party around 11pm.

A shower was sounding more appealing now that he had released his emotions and slept some. He rose from the bed and hobbled over to the attached bathroom. He didn’t bother looking at his appearance in the mirror; he already knew he looked like shit.

Y/n wouldn’t think so, a tiny voice said in his head. She’d probably say he looked like someone who has lived a lot. Too much, would have been his reply.

He took a lukewarm shower and spent too much time under the spray, pretending that the water running down his face was only that. Not a mix of salty tears that apparently hadn’t run out. Once he was feeling a little more like a person, he exited the walk-in shower and entered the closet.

A simple black t-shirt and some gray sweatpants would suffice. He tried to practice some self-care Y/n had suggested and combed his wet hair and applied lotion to his skin. It gave him a small sense of accomplishment.

Bucky froze in the doorway between his room and bathroom, however. When did she get here? Was she waiting for long?

Y/n sat on his bed, one of the lamps on the nightstand was on. She looked fresh and clean with her damp hair in two braids and an oversized maroon sweater swamping her. She wore cozy-looking bottoms and Star Wars-themed socks. And she looked so beautiful cuddled up in his bed.

“Sorry, I knocked but you didn’t answer. Figured I’d wait for you here.” She spoke so sweetly to him while offering him her hand. He didn’t hesitate to take it and climb into bed next to her, pressing her hand to his chest. He wondered if she could feel his heart thumping.

“It’s fine… Sorry, I left so early.” Bucky rested his head on her shoulder and her hand found its way into his drying hair.

“I get why you did, Buck. It’s okay.” Her free hand came to grab his metal one and threaded their fingers together. “To be honest, I wanted to leave as soon as I saw you walking out. But Tony, of course, demanded I showed off some illusions.” She sighed and released his hair to rub tiredly at her temple.

“Does it hurt?” Bucky sat up straight and took her face in his flesh hand as if he could take away the pain with just his touch. She smiled and shrugged. His body hummed when she nuzzled her face into his palm. Maybe…She does feel the same way as him. Why would she be here at this moment if she didn’t?

“Sort of. I’m still not used to using my abilities on so many people, and in combination with people telling me what to show them next; I got a bit of a headache now.” Her head was fully relaxed into his hand now and he couldn’t help but run his thumb over her cheek.

The question was gnawing at him, but fear of rejection was a brick wall stopping it from leaving his mouth. Would you stay with me tonight? When he was younger, that might have been something cheeky he would have said to a dame. But now it was something he felt he needed to keep himself from having a nightmare. Just someone he loves beside him.

“Hey, Buck?” He barely heard her over the debate with himself in his head. Her hand covering his own drew him from his mind. He briefly thanked God that she never read anyone’s mind without consent.

“Yeah, doll?” She smiled with her eyes still closed and her fingers running gently over his. A small quirk in her smile, however, had him nervous. She looked like she was contemplating something.

“I need to tell you something.” She finally opened her eyes and held his gaze for a few moments before looking away. Perhaps it was the dim lighting, but her face took on a darker hue. There was no mistaking the nervous lip bite she did, though. The movement has his skin feeling like it was ignited.

He adjusted his metal grip on her hand to give her a hopefully reassuring squeeze. He didn’t say anything but just waited for her to be ready on her own. That’s what she did for him. She never pushed him to talk when he wasn’t ready, just let him know that she was there.

She was silent for a while, her eyes fixed on the wall above his bed. He could practically see the cogs turning in her head. Of course, this anticipation was killing him. Was she rejecting him without him getting a chance? Was she saying that she was done helping him? Is he too much?

Before his thoughts could go any further, she finally spoke up in a quiet voice filled with anxiety.

“Before I tell you, I want you to know that it’s totally alright if you’re not ready, or you don’t… feel the same. I never want you to feel pressured or rushed, and it’s up to you to respond…” Bucky was practically on fire now. She took a deep breath, held both of his hands in hers, and looked him in the eye.

“I love you, Bucky,” she said. Her voice held no quiver of nervousness now. Her eyes shone with love and confidence in that love. The sight of it sent Bucky into orbit. The tether keeping him on the ground snapped and he felt himself floating away in pure joy.

The smile that broke over his face was wider than any she had seen before. He bounced up to sit on his knees and towered over her. He took her face into his hands, taking in every detail he could. He must be dreaming. He must have fallen asleep after he returned from the party, and this was a dream.

“Doll, I – Are you serious?” If this was a dream, he never wanted to wake up. She laughed and placed her hands over his. She nodded and he swore her smile was brighter than the sun. “Lord, doll... I – I love you so much.”

His eyes dropped down to her lips as her tongue darted out. “Really?”

“Of course! How could I not be?” He ran one hand over her hair, letting it fall to rest along her jaw. “You – you’re everything to me, doll. I’d do anything if it meant that I could be by your side, even if you didn’t love me.”

Her smile wobbled and tears filled her eyes. Her hand gripped his t-shirt and tugged him closer. “Kiss me.”

Bucky didn’t need any more prompting than that. He bent over her and captured her lips in a searing kiss. Everything he hadn’t been able to express through words, he tried to convey in his kiss. His hands held her face and neck like she was the finest porcelain.

Her hands spread over his chest and trailed up around his neck. Her fingers toyed with the short hair at the base of his neck. The feeling sent chills down his spine. He remembers when she helped him cut his hair and how she had run her fingers through the shortened locks then.

The super soldier pulled away briefly, only to press his forehead against hers. Her eyes were still closed, and lips still parted. She looked divine. Her bright eyes slowly opened and met his. And it felt like he was being seen for the first time.

How could anyone so perfect actually exist. And how could they love me?

“You’re perfect for me, Buck.”

His eyes widened and he pulled away slightly. Had she -? She shook her head.

“Your expressions are sometimes enough to know what you’re thinking.” She sat up on her knees and cupped his face. She ghosted her lips over his cheeks, moving over his eyelids and down to his lips. When she pulled away she whispered against his skin.

“I have loved you since I first met you. And when I saw you I thought to myself, in the words of Etta James, at last, my love has come along.” She sang the words and it sounded like the voice of an angel. It gave Bucky the little bit of courage he needed to ask her what he’s wanted to ask her all night.

“Stay with me tonight?” She kissed him again in reply.

“I didn’t plan on going back to my apartment tonight anyway.” Bucky grinned at that and pulled her off the bed with him.

“Good, because I was only asking to be polite.” Bucky grinned slyly at her as he pulled the duvet and sheets back. He noticed she had brought her biggest and softest blanket from her bed. “You were really confident, weren’t you?”

She shrugged and grabbed the blanket from where she had deposited it on the armchair in the corner of the room. He took it and wrapped it snuggly around her shoulders. She gave a squeal when he swooped down and picked her up. He couldn’t help himself as he kissed her again before laying her down on the bed, and then again as he crawled in next to her.

“I love you, sweetheart.” Bucky could feel the cracks in his heart fusing, held together by the pure gold of her love. She cuddled closely to his side and laid her head on his chest. He brought his vibranium hand up to caress her cheek.

“I love you, too, James Buchanan Barnes.”

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.

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

Reblog if it’s okay to befriend you, ask questions, ask for advice, rant, vent, let something off your chest, or just have a nice chat.

Hi I just binged your masterlist and I fucking love your work. That is all. ♥️

OMG 😭 THANK YOU SO MUCH ❤✨💖❤ YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW.MICH I NEEDED TO HEAR THIS ❤❤❤❤❤❤

I suggest you change your username, miss, because your fanfictions, are most definitely NOT shit. you are a wonderful writer, and I hope you never stop. :)

You're too sweet! Thank you so much 😘🥰

I hope I'll have more time to write soon.

How THE FUCK did I write almost every day before? What THE FUCK do I do to get back on that writing energy? Who THE FUCK do I have to bribe to get my words back? Why THE FUCK do I not have time/energy to write anymore?

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.

I often wonder what happened to authors of unfinished fanfictions.

My Dash did a thing.

And Bucky is horrified.

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

Added!

Hold My Hand (Mycroft Holmes x Reader)

Request: Hello! May I request a Mycroft Holmes x Reader with prompt 35? Please and thank you if you decide to write this!

Words: 1226

Warnings: fluff that turns into angst, character death, brain tumor, secret relationship.

Characters/Pairing: Mycroft x reader, a little of John and Sherlock.

Mycroft Holmes was not known as a very compassionate man. To some, his emotionless personality is seen as a strength, himself included in this. To others, it is viewed as insensitivity and rudeness. But to one such woman in his life, it is nothing but a shield to protect the ones he loves.

Should he show the affection he holds for her, her life will immediately be put into danger.

It is no secret that Mycroft is a targeted man. How could one not be when they hold so much power. Control a powerful man and you control his power.

It is why he keeps her close. Hidden in plain sight. She is nothing but an assistant in the eyes of those who do not know the man.

But away from prying eyes and gossiping lips, he holds her dear to his heart that he claims to not have. She consumes his mind when she is not in the room. And she is the only thing he sees when she is.

Which is why a deep sigh leaves his lips at her voice. He had pressing matters to be dealt with but she was a beacon and he was a moth drawn to her.

“My?” Her voice was slight and timid, he had been in a mood all day and she hated the thought of his anger being directed to her.

“Yes, my dear?” He rested his pen on the desk, closing the book he had been writing in. His blue eyes directed towards her softened at the sight of her in the grey pea coat he had gifted her. Soft lavender gloves adorned her hands and a deep purple scarf around her neck.

“You haven’t had a break yet. I thought we could go for a walk.” She gave him a sweet smile that had him fighting a returning one. It is true. It was well into the night, and he had been working since the early hours.

She always looked after him. Had him eat when he ought to. Had him take breaks to rest when he should. And forced him to take care in his work.

“Perhaps a break will be beneficial.” Rising from his chair he sorted his papers while she moved to grab his coat.

“Ah, thank you, dear.” He did offer a small smile this time when she helped him into his coat. She ducked her head with a smile. She was still unaccustomed to the small displays of affection that began when he had drawn her into his office one afternoon and confessed his thoughts.

Together, the left the building and into the chilly night. They walked in silence side by side. Close enough to pacify her desire to be with him, but far enough to not allude to their relationship. It hurt her tender heart.

They came to a café that was empty, close to closing but not for a while more.

“Let’s stop here. They have wonderful hot chocolate and pastries.” She grabbed his arm, stopping him and pointing to the quiet storefront. He stiffened at her touch, worried that someone may see.

Noticing this, her face fell. Dropping her hand, she turned her gaze to the pavement.

“Apologies, I was lost in the moment.” She turned before allowing him to reply. A cloud seeming to hang over her. His brows furrowed in guilt. An emotion he hadn’t been familiar with until her.

She was already at the counter ordering when he decided to follow. He got himself and pastry and hot chocolate, paying for his and her orders.

She was still silent as they drank and ate at the small table. Their knees brushed but every time they did, she would jerk away. It didn’t take a genius like him to understand that this secret relationship was finally taking its toll on her. He knew this would happen, of course.

It is the reason it took him ages to even consider this relationship. Eventually, she would grow weary of the secret. It is that time.

As they finished, she was still silent. In the quiet, cold street, she stood further from him on the way back.

“My dear.” His voice cut through the silence. Her head snapped up, her despair melting away. Could it be? He never called her such tender names in public. Is this what she has been waiting for?

“Yes, Mycroft?” Her heart thumped in her chest, nearly breaking out of her ribcage in anticipation.

“May I hold your hand, my love?”

The grin that overtook her face was the reason Mycroft finally believed he had a heart. Because if he didn’t, the overwhelming giddy hammering in his chest would be something of concern.

“Of course, My! You don’t even have to ask.” Reaching out she took his offered hand in hers and laced their fingers together. Finally, she thought. With such a simple act, she felt complete. She felt closer to him as if nothing could separate them again.

How wrong they were.

All had been going well from then on. Dates to fancy restaurants, walks in the park, even cozy nights in with popcorn and movies.

However, they noticed something was wrong when she began to forget the simplest of things. It started as forgetting to send emails. Then important meetings, until it progressed to forgetting big dates such as her and Mycroft’s fifth anniversary. It was then Mycroft decided she needed to go to the doctors.

The tumor was small. But nestled right next to the hippocampus, right in the center of the brain. Not a place easily accessed. And the tumor was growing quickly.

“I’m sorry, but even if we go through with the surgery, there’s a slim chance of survival.” The doctor held her clipboard tight to her chest, the stony face of Mycroft was off-putting. Not that she could blame him, having just told him that his wife won’t survive with the tumor and even may not survive the surgery to remove it.

“Thank you, Doctor.” Mycroft turned away, walking into the room where his wife was laid on that godforsaken hospital bed. She looked away from Sherlock upon hearing her husband enter. She gave him a small smile, hoping to ease his mind. Not that it worked.

“What did the Doctor say?” John asked from his chair in the corner. Instead of answering Mycroft held open the door.

“Boys, if I may be alone with my wife?” He asked when they didn’t move. John and Sherlock exchanged a look before rising and exiting the room. Mycroft closed the door behind them and took the seat Sherlock had occupied.

He was silent for a long while, just staring at her hands placed in his own. They were pale and clammy. Not at all how they had been all those years ago. When he had asked to hold her hand in public for the first time.

“I’m not going to make it am I?” Her voice wasn’t sad. Nor was it angry. It was just tired. She was tired. His silence said it all. The way he buried his face into their joined hands, his lips pressing to her fingers, told her everything she needed to know.

“I’m sorry.” The stone was cold under his fingertips. The golden band on his ring finger gleamed in the morning light.

In Your Hands (Draco Malfoy X Reader)

Request: Yayyy Potter fan~!!! I was wondering if you could do a Reader x Draco where the reader is super super super shy and soft and just a pure ball of innocence and purity (Like ya wanna hug them cause they so smol and pure) and many love the reader but their heart is set on their lovable boyfriend Draco??? Just pure pure fluff :3 thank you 💞💞💞

Words: 1048

Characters/Pairings: Draco x Reader, Fred Weasley, George Weasley

Warnings: Fluff, my man.

A/N: I’m sorry for my long absence. I’ve been going throw some stuff and writing honestly just seemed like the hardest thing to bring myself to do. But I’m working on bringing myself back and will try to fill the requests I still have. Thank you for your patience. 

The small figure of the Ravenclaw moved swiftly through the crowded hallways, classes were over and they had a date with their recently obtained boyfriend after. They smiled to themselves at the thought of the blonde Slytherin.

Draco Malfoy never seemed like the type to give a shy Ravenclaw any attention, especially a half-blood as they were. But after being paired up in potions, both of which excelled at, Draco was singing a different tune.

That is to say when they were alone. No one knew of their recent admission of feelings nor the fact they were even friends. It wasn’t as if Draco wanted to hide the fact that they were together, but he didn’t want word getting back to his father. 

No doubt the elder Malfoy would force them apart, breaking both the teenagers’ hearts. And (Y/N) was content with the secret courtship, as long as they had him in the night, then they could wait until they graduated. Then, they’d run away from the Malfoys and live together in a cottage in the country. 

Lost in thought, (Y/N) didn’t see the tall figures coming toward her until she ran into one. With a squeak and a deep blush, the Ravenclaw jumped back and apologized.

“I-I’m-I’m so sor, sorry!” Their head was bowed so all they saw were two pairs of tattered trainers. 

“Hey, (Y/N), it’s no problem!” The voice of Fred Weasley sounded above her, to the right.

“Yeah, we know we’re so magnetic that you couldn’t help but bump into us!” George was on the left.

Looking up, (Y/N) saw the two with charming grins on their faces, hands in their pockets with their sleeves rolled up. Truly an attractive sight. If her face wasn’t red before, it certainly was now.

These two were very popular. So popular that (Y/N) didn’t even know that the two knew their name. They were just a reclusive Ravenclaw after all. They always had people around them so it wasn’t surprising that they had a crowd of friends behind them. 

“U-Um….” (Y/N) didn’t know what to say. Having this many eyes on them sent their blood rushing to their face and the breath to leave their lungs. Their words stuck in their throat.

“We’re all going down to Hogsmeade, want to join us?” Fred asked with a grin.

“We’ll even treat you to a butterbeer! Sounds fun, yeah?” George added. 

How do you say no? They can’t say they have a date already; they’d ask with who. And they can’t say no because they have to study, that would make them look like a stiff. And just saying no would be rude in general. Oh, Godric. Since when was there such a lack of oxygen in the castle? 

“Don’t you Weasleys have anything better to do?” The voice behind them sent their heart soaring. Draco! They schooled their features but couldn’t quite hide the glimmer in their eyes. 

“What was that, Malfoy?” Fred glared over (Y/N)’s head at the younger boy. 

“You heard me. Back off, (Y/N) and I have a project for Potions to work on. And I’m not going to fail because of some red-headed pricks.” Draco laid a hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder in a possessive way but was rather gentle. 

“As if someone like them would want to hang out with a prat like you!” George crossed his arms and widened his stance. It seemed like things were about to get ugly. 

“W-wait.” Their voice was just above a whisper, but they managed to get the three boys’ attention. “I-I prom-promised Draco I’d help tonight.”

The twins deflated and looked at each other before shrugging. 

“Well, if you ever change your mind, you know where our common room is,” They said together.

“They won’t,” Draco mumbled as they walked away. (Y/N) sighed and grabbed his hand, after making sure no one was around.

“Come on, Draco.”

After the incident, Draco led them to an empty classroom. Well empty of desks and chairs, but was filled with floating candles, cushions and blankets. The entire room was cozy as a fire crackled in the fireplace. Small snacks and fruit were spread out on a tray in front of the cushions.

Draco had them sit amongst the cushions, with them in between his legs. Their back rested against his chest as he ran his fingers through their hair. Their face was crimson as he whispered in their ear. 

He didn’t want to let them go. He never had anyone who showed him so much affection and love like they did. He wanted to show them how much he appreciated them choosing him. No one ever chose him. At least, just for the sake of him. Either people avoided him for who they thought he was, or they befriended him for the power of his parents. It was never just Draco. 

In their time, they spoke of nothing and everything, of time and space, and of music and magic. Together, they dined on strawberries and butterbeer, letting the alcohol warm their veins, along with their complete adoration for the other. 

(Y/N) was comfortable here. In Draco’s arms. Upon first meeting Draco, they didn’t know what to make of him. They, of course, were terrified of meeting someone new. Let alone someone with such a shady family reputation.

But (Y/N)’s mother always told her to never judge a book by its cover. And they are so glad that they didn’t. Draco was sweet and considerate. Always taking care to not pressure the nervous Ravenclaw. Even when they first met, he was nice. As nice as he could be in the eye of the public. So, he basically ignored them, while slowly falling in love with his Potions partner. 

His grip tightened around their waist, his forehead dropping to their shoulder. “Draco? Are you alright?” (Y/N) inquired, bringing up a hand to run through his hair. He caught the appendage and laced his fingers with theirs. Looking up, he locked eyes with his partner and kissed the back of their hand. Their face was red with hot embarrassment. 

“I love you.” He pressed another kiss to the inside of their wrist. Then their palm. A kiss of adoration and desire and one to symbolize that his heart is in their hands.

GUYS

This is insane! It honestly feels like yesterday that we hit 200 followers! We're at 300 followers now! I just want to tell you all how much I appreciate you and how grateful I am that you have stuck with me, despite my long periods between updates. You mean so much to me and you're the reason I keep writing 🖤🖤🖤

this isn’t a request but your stories are great!!! Love your Sherlock stuff, you’re so talented! keep writing 💕💕

😭😭😭 Thank you so much!!! You're so sweet! 💖💕

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.    

You're cute and I like your fics! Have a nice day :D

Omg thank you 😭 I'm sorry I haven't been updating lately! I've just been super slammed with school! I really needed to hear this!

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! 💞