Wendy (The lost girl, peter never came back). This is a Harry blog (sometimes a one direction blog), reblogging from my online friends, taylor swift sometimes and lots of super heros! mostly SUPERMAN. No my main blog
Relationship: Sherlock Holmes x fem!watson sibling!reader
Warnings: soft sherlock, fluff, comfort, longing, and adoration
Summary: You gift your partner, Sherlock, with a new scarf as you notice his old one has grown rather frayed. Touched by the gesture, Sherlock shows his appreciation.
All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT claim, copy, repost, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)
Word Count: 880
Note: Hello lovelies! I wrote this fic as part of @fluffbruary as I hope to get my writing muscles working again. I have missed writing, especially for my beloved detective. I hope you enjoy! Graphic by @firefly-graphics Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!
Sherlock huffs in annoyance as John slams the door behind them, not bothering to take off his coat or scarf before promptly depositing himself in his beloved chair. John follows suit, taking the time to place his coat upon his chair before easing into the familiar comfort of it.
“Well, so much for that lead.”
“Utterly dull,” Sherlock replies, offering nothing else to continue the conversation.
“Okay I will see myself out until you adjust your attitude,” John quips, shaking his head before grabbing his belongings. A glimmer of red catches his attention, stopping him in his task. On the side table by the couch resides a box with a shiny red bow. How he did not notice before, he was unsure, but it probably had something to do with the argument Sherlock started on the way home. Still, despite Sherlock running him ragged, he smiles to himself, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
“It appears someone has a secret admirer.”
Sherlock scoffs, ruffling his curls and sinking further into the chair, paying no mind to the commentary.
“I wonder who on earth it could be. Has to be someone gracious enough like me to put up with your attitude.”
“Was it that obvious, John? I worked hard to make it look nice,” you smile, emerging from the kitchen to wrap your brother in a hug. John returns it in kind, squeezing you tight, if only to make you squeal. He missed seeing you the past few weeks, as you are often hidden away in the library at work late in the evenings.
“Hey! That’s not fair. You cannot keep doing that.”
“What, I can’t show affection to my little sister?”
“I find it insufferable,” Sherlock adds.
“No one asked for your opinion, darling!” You shoot Sherlock with one of your winning smiles which quickly shuts him up and sends you and John laughing.
“He’s been wound up all day. Do you think you can handle him? I promised Mrs. Hudson I would spend time with her this evening if I did not have babysitting duties.”
You chuckle. “John, while I appreciate your concern, I am sure I can handle my partner quite well. I can persuade him into pleasantness somehow.”
“I can still hear you,” Sherlock chimes in again.
“We know!” You and John shout in sync, sending you into a fit of giggles until you both gasp for air. John clamors down the stairs choking on another laugh. When the door to Mrs. Hudson’s flat shuts, you make your way back through the living room, met with Sherlock staring at the gift you left for him.
“So this is what John was joking about.”
You glance over at him, amused by his intense expression. You swear for a fraction of a moment his cheek twitches, either in annoyance or anxiety, but you cannot decipher which. You nod to him in encouragement, offering him a smile. “It’s for you, yes. If you don’t want to open it now that is quite alright.”
He swallows. “I want to.”
You smile, settling yourself on the couch and motioning for him to join you. He settles next to you with little hesitation, the box cradled in his hands, his knee bumping yours as he adjusts and gets comfortable.
“You didn’t have to do this,” he all but whispers, his Adam's apple bobbling while he shakes the box.
You lean into him, squeezing his bicep in reassurance. “I wanted to.”
The corner of his mouth tilts at the gesture and he leans in to press a kiss to your temple before focusing his attention on the box, carefully undoing the bow and tearing through the wrapping paper and opening it. A flash of blue offsets the white tissue paper the gift is nestled in and Sherlock carefully takes the navy fabric from the box, marveling at the texture and warmth of the length of soft material he deduces is a scarf.
It is almost an exact replica of his favorite one that is all but frayed and rough around the edges. He could not fathom replacing it, but here you are handing him a new one that must have taken months of searching. He was certain the company had stopped producing them years ago.
“How did you-?” he asks, eyes wide as he rubs the scarf between his fingers, relishing the familiar texture of the fabric.
“Is it all right? I know you like the fabric a certain way and the color I was sure they got it right for you.” You bite your lip, hoping you don’t sound stupid.
He carefully sets the scarf back in the box, reverently before turning to you, cupping your face in his hands. Your hand moves from his bicep, and you inch closer, feeling the warmth of him, the slight hitch in his breath before he tucks a stray hair behind your ear, whispering a “thank you” which has you melting into him, and before long, drowning in a kiss.
You respond in kind, deepening it, his hands falling to your waist holding you as close as he can. For he does not want to forget this moment, nor does he want to forget you for giving him a gift so precious.
✮ Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
✮ Setting: Post-Endgame, modern-day Brooklyn
✮ Summary: You’ve always believed in fate, but Bucky never did—until he starts noticing all the invisible threads that led him straight to you.
✮ Genre: Soft fluff, fate, slow burn warmth, soulmates-vibe
✮ Word Count: ~1.3k
✮ Author Notes✍️ : this one is like a warm cup of tea with your name on it. i wrote this with taylor’s lyrics echoing in my heart and bucky’s soul tangled in gold thread☁️🩷
✦ this one exists because @pharmacistfairytale asked for it🩷🩷✦
✦ welcome to my bucky brain rot. masterlist lives here ✦
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“Time, curious time / gave me no compasses, gave me no signs…”
But somehow, it led him here…
Bucky never used to believe in fate.
Not after Hydra. Not after the Winter Soldier. Not after everything that taught him the world was chaos and survival was coincidence.
But then he met you Or—maybe he didn’t meet you. Maybe he always knew you.
Maybe it was a thousand little things pulling him toward you across years and cities and silence.
Like an invisible string.
Tied from his heart to yours.
⸻
It starts with something stupid.
You hand him a book in the common room one afternoon. He flips it open and finds his own name underlined on page 17.
“What the hell?” he asks.
You laugh. “That’s from years ago. Before I even knew you. I used to highlight characters with names I liked.”
His name. His.
He doesn’t say anything, but later, he folds the page corner down like a secret.
⸻
Then it’s music.
You hum exactly the same melody he used to whistle as a kid. One day, he stops you mid-hum and stares.
“What?” you laugh.
“Where’d you learn that song?”
You shrug “I don’t know. My grandma used to sing it to me.”
His grandma did too.
⸻
“Do you believe in fate?” you ask him once, lying with your head in his lap on the fire escape, city lights flickering below.
He shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t think it’s kind of crazy? That out of every coffee shop in Brooklyn, I picked the one you were hiding in that day?”
“You were loud,” he mutters.
“You were grumpy.”
“You ordered your coffee wrong and then said ‘oops’ like it was cute.”
You grin. “You remembered.”
He looks down at you. Soft. Barely breathing.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I remember everything about you.”
⸻
There are photos now.
Polaroids tucked into his wallet. One in his book. Another under his pillow, where he swears you’ll never find it. (You do. You smile. You don’t say anything.)
He gets clingier the more time passes.
Not possessive. Just grateful.
Like he can’t believe the universe handed him something good and is just waiting to take it back.
⸻
One night, he’s quiet. Too quiet.
You trace circles on the metal of his arm. “What’s going on in that head?”
He shakes his head. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
He hesitates. Then finally, softly “I think I’ve loved you forever. I just didn’t know your name yet.”
You stop breathing. And then you kiss him.
Not like a first kiss.
Like a memory.
Like coming home.
⸻
You both start collecting little threads.
Literal ones.
You find a gold string in a bookstore binding and tie it around your wrist. He notices. Doesn’t say anything—but you wake up the next morning and there’s a matching string on his.
“No one’s gonna believe how soft you are,” you tease.
“Good,” he says. “I’m not soft for anyone else.”
⸻
Sometimes he stares at you like you’re not real.
Not in a weird way. In a stars are real and so are you kind
One day you catch him whispering something to himself after you walk away from the kitchen.
“What was that?” you ask.
He clears his throat. Shrugs “I just… I think maybe the string showed up because I finally stopped running from where it was trying to take me.”
You blink. “You mean… me?”
He nods. His voice is barely a whisper.
“You.”
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🏷️ tagging - @surebutwhy 🤟🏻
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wanna be tagged in all the clingy!bucky chaos and emotional destruction? tell me and i got you ⛓️💥♥️
I had a nightmare which just inspired a Sherlock and reader prompt!
Just for context before anything, we know Sherlock was a drug addict and his Street connections are pretty much addicts, right?
So let's say few years back when he was into that, he met these group of bad addicts who knew he was a great chemist and Sherlock taught them how to cook some drugs but once he was out of it they didn't come close to him or anything. He was just getting back his life, John was back, Molly, Rosie, and now reader! Life was good, he was clean.
Now, he is just giggling about something reader said before they go to bed, they just talking about nothing and everything about their day. He is laying on his back on bed, shirtless, she is wearing her loose top and short pajamas, she lays on top of him, he starts caressing her back when she hears something outside, he hears it too but he says it might be a cat or some kids playing, but she is having a bad feeling, it sounds like someone is trying to open the front door, they are all quiet looking at each other when it makes the unlock sound. He sits up immediately putting her to his side and trying to shield her with his arm and half of his body, he puts a finger on his lips like "ahh". She is shaking, she is really scared, 3 men get to the bedroom, and they belong to bad group of drug addicts he knows, they grab him forcefully and reader between screams says "no, please, stop.. where are you going?.. " they pull out a gun and he talks calmly to her while they still have him "hey, hey! It's okay darling, I'm okay. I'll be back. Everything is going to be okay" Sherlock glares at them, he is furious "don't touch her. She won't do anything, she won't say anything" . Reader is hugging a pillow crying her eyes out, she is so scared right now. There are at least five men in the department, all of them have guns. Two of them take Sherlock while the others stay there just watching reader. At some point when they look away she tries to escape, but that's all I have
Oh. My. Gosh. Your imagination!
This could literally be a full length fic 🤯
The angst of it all, the trauma, the tears - my heart is breaking for them </3
I must say though, protective Sherlock has a special place in my heart and this prompt has absolutely brought that right back into the spotlight - I love it 🥺
Thank you so much for sending me this prompt (and please never stop sending them, they’re fantastic and are always such a treat!!) 🤍✨
I only like angst when it has a happy ending otherwise I totally skip it, therefore! I agree, we need some protective messy bloody sherlock. Just imagine this!
She ran into his arms, a blur of motion, he caught her, pulling her against his chest as if to absorb her into himself. He buried his face in her hair, a great sigh of relief escaping his lips, a sound that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul.
He pulled back, his hands framing her face, his gaze ravenous as he searched for any sign of harm. His thumbs traced her cheekbones, his eyes, dark and intense, drinking her in, confirming that she was safe, that she was here, that she was real. The tension in his shoulders finally eased, the last vestiges of danger melting away.
And then he leaned down, and his lips met hers with a desperate, all-consuming passion. A kiss that was both a question and an answer, a promise and a prayer, a breathless confirmation that they had made it through.
(I mean, he doesn't have to be covered in blood because he killed them, more like he fought them and obviously he is hurt)
Every time I’m in public I feel so embarrassed of my existence to the point that multiple times I’ve almost cried in front of family and friends and have felt physically sick due to anxiety
I don't know if you usually take requests, but could you please write a drabble about Bucky taking care of the reader during her period? Period cramps are killing me and I just want some cuddles 🥺
aw i love this 🥹 i’m sorry your cramps have been bad, i’m sending you all the love and hugs your way💗 i hope this bucky fluff makes you feel better 🥰
Cuddles
♡ Pairing: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader
♡ Summary: Bucky helps comfort you when you are having bad period cramps.
♡ Warnings: SUPER FLUFFY, light angst, period cramps, blood (duhhh), light self hate
main masterlist
* i know this is mickey, but let’s pretend it’s post tfatws!bucky *
You had showered after a long day, doing your usual routine— taking your time to really treat yourself after a tough week.
Immediately after sinking into bed, the sheets feeling so good against your freshly shaven legs— it took no time at all for you to slip into a much needed slumber. You didn’t know you could sleep so soundly, so well. Most nights consisted of rolling and waking up occasionally in sweats. Tonight was the first, as you slept through the entire night, waking only the next morning.
You were excited to start off your Saturday after a good nights rest, except when you went to get up— you noticed you were still exhausted. It was then you could feel your back ache, all your limbs heavier than usual. You furrowed your brows in confusion, thinking perhaps you had gotten too much sleep. But as you swung your legs over the edge of the bed, you suddenly felt something wet in between your thighs.
Glancing down, ripping the cover off— everything dawned on you at the sight of red smearing the inside of your thighs, your underwear ruined.
Fucking periods.
You knew getting that good of sleep was too good to be true. You could feel the tears working their way up, your nose burning with frustration. You had just cleaned and changed all your sheets, taken a shower. Now everything, including you were dirty again— like you had never done any of the cleaning to begin with.
You knew it was just your emotions running wild, so you willed your tears to stay away. Sucking in a deep breath, you walked to the bathroom sluggishly. You made it your mission to grab a pill before the cramps started— you had learned your lesson. Although you were starting your period, you were not going to let this ruin your weekend. You were going to have a nice relaxing weekend. Not letting the beauties of being a woman ruin your day.
If only you had kept that attitude up for the entire day. The cramps had come as you expected, but this time the pill did nothing to relieve the pain. The heating pad worked only for a few minutes before the pain came crashing in waves, your body attempting to curl in on itself from the discomfort.
You swore a ghost was digging a knife in your uterus, and right now— you’d appreciate if the ghost just ripped out your uterus completely.
You had holed yourself up in your room, only making it downstairs for breakfast before you were running back to your bathroom to empty the contents of your stomach back out. This was definitely one of the worst periods you’d had in awhile, and you just wanted to slip into a coma until it was over.
Knocking sounded from your door, and you rolled over still clutching your stomach. You looked a mess, you felt like a disaster. Periods always made you feel gross.
“Yeah?” You asked out loud, and you couldn’t hide the discomfort from your tone.
“(Y/n)? You okay?” Bucky asked through the door.
Your eyes widened at his voice, wondering what he was doing here.
You and Bucky had been dating for awhile now, and things had been great. You still managed to get flustered by practically anything he did— and he loved every second of your flustered state. There was one thing that was brought up though— and that was periods.
“Uh— yeah I’m fine! Just tired!” You shouted, nervous that he could sense your lie. He definitely could.
It’s not that you thought he’d judge you for being a woman and having a period. But you were shy to show him that vulnerable side of you. Both you and him had shown the soft sides of each other— clinging to each other when you needed each others comfort. But there was something extra vulnerable about this— and you couldn’t ignore the embarrassment you felt when you even thought of it. You didn’t want him to find you gross, or annoying as you whined.
Okay… I guess you were a little nervous that he’d judge you.
“Doll what’s going on? Can I come in?” He asked, his voice growing more concerned.
You pulled the cover over your legs, giving the room one last once over— it didn’t look terrible. You just wished you could have a minute or two to tidy up. You knew Bucky very well though, and he’d break the door down if you waited one more second.
“Of course, come in!” You announced finally, taking a deep breath, hoping a cramp didn’t hit you while he visited.
The door opened and Bucky peeled his head in first, after making eye contact with you— he sent a warm smile before heading all the way in, shitting the door behind him. He quickly made his way to the bed where he plopped down, looking over you concerned.
“Baby what’s going on? I feel like I haven’t seen you much today. You sure you’re just tired? You aren’t getting sick are you?” He rambled on, and your heart swelled at his concern.
“Buck— I’m fine really. Just didn’t sleep too good last night.” You completely lied, last night was the best sleep you had ever had. Too bad it leaked into today though.
He furrowed his brows and looked at you like he was about to figure you out— see right through you and pick out the lies. You wouldn’t be surprised if the serum gave him those abilities.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?” He asked softly, scooting closer so he could slip his hand underneath the covers to land on your bare thigh.
It was meant to be a comforting gesture, but you feared you’d get blood on him. You knew that was a silly thought— but you were paranoid.
He noticed you tense up from his touch and immediately he removed his hand, his face growing more concerned.
“Baby, what is it?” He pried, trying to look you over again— needing to know what the cause of your discomfort was.
You sighed and gave in, shoulders sagging in defeat. You didn’t want him to worry, and seeing his frantic eyes search you for a wound— you realized you were making this bigger than it needed to be. You just couldn’t ignore the embarrassment you felt.
“It’s just uh… I’m… I’m on my period Buck.” You mumbled, lowering your eyes to the bed.
His concerned expression melted away, his heart falling back into a regular rhythm. He knew he was prehistoric— but he knew what a period was. He just didn’t know why you wanted to hide it from him.
“Oh.” He finally said, “Doll— you can tell me things like that.”
“I know Buck but… it’s embarrassing and gross. I can usually deal with it and nobody ever notices— you know because it’s a normal thing.” You told him, playing with the edge of the comforter. “This one has just been pretty bad and… I just— I don’t know.”
You trailed off, avoiding his gaze. Bucky reached his hand over and tucked some stray hairs behind your ear. Tracing his fingers down your jaw to raise your chin up— that way he could look into your eyes.
“You’re not gross, okay? I’m sorry you’re in pain baby— I wish I could take it all away. It’s not fair you have to deal with this all the time.” He told you gently, and you leaned into his touch.
“It’s not usually this bad but… I don’t know, I guess it’s just a bad one this time around.” You assumed.
Before you could say anything else, you doubled over as the pain came back— stabbing into your uterus. You clutched your lower abdomen— hoping it would help relieve the pain. Bucky’s eyes widened at your whine.
“What can I do to help?” He rushed out, hands hovering over you.
If it were any other time, you’d find his protective, mama bear mode adorable. But for now— you were too busy being in pain.
“Just stay with me please? I don’t wanna lay here alone.” You admitted, your words coming out in whimpers.
Bucky wasted no time in kicking his shoes off, shimming his jacket off before he crawled back into the bed, sneaking under the covers. He leaned back against the headboard, pulling you on top of him.
“Don’t even have to ask doll, I’m staying right here. You comfortable?” He asked.
You reached down and raised your shirt just above your belly button, before you lifted his shirt the same. He furrowed his brows, wondering what you were doing. You laid down completely again, letting your skin smush against his, and because he was a super soldier and was always hot— his warm stomach felt amazing against your lower abdomen. Like a personal heating pad.
“Ahh… that feels good. You’re so warm.” You sighed, ticking your face into the crook of his neck.
He chuckled and smiled into your hair, wrapping his arms protectively around you.
“I love you baby.” He whispered to you, already feeling your breathing even out— falling asleep on him.
Your uterus calmed for now, the warm sensation soothing your pain. You could only wait until the next wave of pain came— but you knew you’d be okay with Bucky holding you.
“Love you too Buck.” You mumbled sleepily against his neck, your breath warming his skin.
He hated that you were in pain, wishing that he could take it all away— but he’d give you as many Bucky cuddles as you needed until you were sick of him.
Truthfully, you’d never get sick of Bucky cuddles.
A/N: Heres the sweet one. 🫶🏻 debating on doing an angsty one lol Happy valentines day 💞
---
The first thing you notice when you wake up is warmth.
Not just the cozy kind from the blankets wrapped around you, but a warmth that settles deep in your chest, the kind that only comes from Bucky pressed up against your back, his arm draped lazily over your waist. The slow, steady rise and fall of his breath against your skin is hypnotic, anchoring you in the quiet, golden glow of early evening..
You both got back late or was it considered early from a stake out, not that it mattered.
Outside, the world is still and heavy with fresh snow, the soft hush of it settling against the windowsill. The setting sun filtering through the curtains casts everything in a muted glow, turning your shared space into something dreamlike, something sacred.
You shift slightly, and before you can get too far, a strong arm tightens around you, pulling you flush against his chest.
“Mmm, don’t move,” Bucky mumbles into your shoulder, his voice thick with sleep, gravelly in a way that makes something in your stomach flip.
A soft laugh escapes your lips as you lace your fingers through his, feeling the contrast of warmth and cool metal against your skin. “You say that every time.”
“‘Cause it’s true,” he grumbles. His lips brush against the nape of your neck, a lazy, featherlight kiss that lingers longer than necessary. His smile is slow and content against your skin.
It’s these moments that make your heart ache in the best way, the way he clings to you in the early hours, the sleepy, half-mumbled words that slip past his lips, the way he holds you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.
“You’re warm,” he murmurs, lips grazing the shell of your ear.
“You’re clingy,” you tease, though you don’t move away. You never do.
His grip tightens just slightly, as if in silent agreement. “’S’only ‘cause I love you.”
You feel those words settle inside you, low and deep, like they belong there. Like they were always meant to. No matter how many times he says it, it still sends a rush of warmth through your chest, still feels like something you’ll never get tired of hearing.
You roll over, finally facing him, and your fingers reach up to smooth the dark strands of hair away from his forehead. He looks utterly at peace like this, eyes still heavy-lidded with sleep, but there’s something else there too. Something softer. Something real.
“And I love you Bucky Barnes.”
“Can't believe that, never can.” His lips twitch into the laziest smile, the kind that makes your stomach flip, the kind he only ever gives you. His fingers trace slow, absentminded patterns along your spine, grounding himself in you, in this.
“Stay in bed with me,” he whispers, barely brushing his lips against yours, stealing the words from your mouth before you can say them first.
You pretend to hesitate, to consider it but you both know the answer is already yes.
Because there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than here, wrapped up in him.
And so, you stay.
His fingers trace gentle, meandering lines across your bare shoulder, his touch so impossibly light that it makes your skin hum. He’s watching you again, really watching you. Like he’s memorizing every detail, like he’s trying to commit you to memory just in case this moment vanishes.
There’s something unspoken in his gaze, something heavy beneath the softness.
Then, barely above a whisper “I never thought I could have this.”
Your breath catches.
The words slip out like a confession, like they’ve been sitting on his tongue for a long time, waiting for the right moment to break free. His fingers still against your skin, as if speaking them aloud makes them real.
“Bucky…”
His hand finds yours beneath the covers, his fingers lacing with yours like he’s afraid to let go. A sharp inhale, the kind that makes his chest rise and fall just a little too quickly.
“I spent so long thinking…” He swallows, eyes flickering downward, like he can’t quite bring himself to look at you when he says it. “Thinking I wasn’t meant for this.”
The words are careful, like they’re fragile, like he’s still afraid they might shatter in his hands.
“I always wanted this but after everything I knew, I felt like I wasn’t supposed to have this.” His voice is quiet but firm, raw in a way that makes your heart twist. “The lifetime with Hydra, the things I did… even after Steve got me out, I still felt like—” He exhales sharply through his nose, jaw tightening. “Like I didn’t deserve anything other than what I’d already been given.”
You shake your head instinctively, already about to argue, but before you can, he squeezes your hand.
“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice rough around the edges. “Let me finish.”
There’s no frustration, no sharpness, just quiet determination. He needs to get this out.
“You changed that for me.” His voice wavers just slightly, his fingers coming up to cradle your face, thumb sweeping along your cheekbone with a tenderness that nearly undoes you. “You make me feel like I deserve to be here. That I deserve more than just surviving. That I actually deserve you. That I deserve something even after everything that I—he did.”
His voice cracks, just a little.
And then, softer
“But I would endure all of that again in any lifetime if it meant I got to have this with you.”
The air in your lungs disappears.
A single tear slips down his cheek before he can stop it, and for a moment, he looks almost embarrassed like he’s not used to being this vulnerable, this open. But you reach up before he can turn away, brushing the tear away with your thumb, letting your fingers linger on the rough stubble of his jaw.
“Because you do deserve it, Bucky,” you whisper.
Your voice is steady, but the emotion behind it is anything but.
“You deserve all of this. To be happy. To be loved. To wake up in the morning and not feel like you have to fight to exist.” Your fingers tighten in his hair as you hold him closer. “You deserve to be here. With me.”
His throat bobs as he swallows hard, his blue eyes impossibly bright. But he doesn’t look away.
He won’t look away.
“I love you so much,” he breathes, voice barely above a whisper.
A tear slips free, rolling slowly down the bridge of his nose, and you don’t stop yourself from catching it with your lips as you press the softest, most reverent kiss to his cheek.
“I love you too.”
And then you kiss him.
Slow. Deep.
Like you’re trying to kiss away every dark thought, every lingering doubt, every cruel whisper that ever told him he was unworthy of love.
Bucky sighs into it, pulling you impossibly closer, like he wants to breathe you in, like he wants to carve this moment into eternity.
When you finally break apart, his nose nudges against yours, his lips brushing over your cheek, down to your jaw. His breath is warm against your skin as he murmurs, “I know we have that double date with Sam, but… just stay a little longer.”
You smile, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
A small pause. A soft, content sigh.
Then, in that same sleepy, gravelly voice…
“Oh, by the way….Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”
You laugh softly, shaking your head, pressing another kiss to his lips, just because you can.
Unlocking the door of my room I entered. Stress and anxiety not leaving me for even a minute. Lighting my room I looked around, my things, my childhood toys, my paints, been day I haven't touched them.
"relax darling" I heard my mum said as she entered my room. She knows how weak I get whenever I get slightly anxious.
"yes mum" I said and sat on my bed with her.
Looking outside of my window I found the quiet side of London. The usual one after the crowded day.
"want some cookies?" Mum asked. I know dad had brought some chocolate chip cookies for me. So nodded. She got up to get them, when suddenly, thanks to the quiet city, we could hear a melody of the violin. Mum turned to look outside the window with me.
"this song is" I started, I could recognise the melody. It's my favourite song.
"your all time favourite song sweetheart" said my mum, "ah how wonderful".
We both sat quietly listening to the tune. My eyes filling up to the melody. It was as if my stress was just lifted.
"Mr Holmes" declaired mum, making me look at her, "he's playing it, as far as I know no one else nearby plays violin, that too this good."
I stared, thinking. Mr Holmes indeed, the aloof detective, fortunately or unfortunately my neighbour.
"did you ever tell him your favourite song?" She enquired.
"no mum, I hardly ever talked to him" I said, though my mum was a little sceptical about it. Yet she knew I barely talk to anyone. Infact even I'm surprised what a coincidence it is that he, the great detective, is indeed playing my favourite song, "coincidence mum".
Mum nodded. I watched her closing her eyes and melting into the melody. I smiled slightly. And when he was done that's when mum opened her eyes.
"now that's called a good coincidence" she exclaimed and went to the door to bring my cookies perhaps, she turned slightly to me to say, "cherish the blessings darling, the good things in life". She went downstairs.
Leaving me with the lingering melody of Mr Holmes 's violin. Cherish him? Or his melody? What did she mean? I looked outside the window once again, my heart pounded in my chest when I got a sight of him. Walking down the streets, wearing his big black coat. I don't know if I hallucinated or not but I think clearly saw his eyes finding mine, then looking away immediately. Going to some adventure perhaps, the lone wolf of Baker Street. What a man he is!
Unlocking the door of my room I entered. Stress and anxiety not leaving me for even a minute. Lighting my room I looked around, my things, my childhood toys, my paints, been day I haven't touched them.
"relax darling" I heard my mum said as she entered my room. She knows how weak I get whenever I get slightly anxious.
"yes mum" I said and sat on my bed with her.
Looking outside of my window I found the quiet side of London. The usual one after the crowded day.
"want some cookies?" Mum asked. I know dad had brought some chocolate chip cookies for me. So nodded. She got up to get them, when suddenly, thanks to the quiet city, we could hear a melody of the violin. Mum turned to look outside the window with me.
"this song is" I started, I could recognise the melody. It's my favourite song.
"your all time favourite song sweetheart" said my mum, "ah how wonderful".
We both sat quietly listening to the tune. My eyes filling up to the melody. It was as if my stress was just lifted.
"Mr Holmes" declaired mum, making me look at her, "he's playing it, as far as I know no one else nearby plays violin, that too this good."
I stared, thinking. Mr Holmes indeed, the aloof detective, fortunately or unfortunately my neighbour.
"did you ever tell him your favourite song?" She enquired.
"no mum, I hardly ever talked to him" I said, though my mum was a little sceptical about it. Yet she knew I barely talk to anyone. Infact even I'm surprised what a coincidence it is that he, the great detective, is indeed playing my favourite song, "coincidence mum".
Mum nodded. I watched her closing her eyes and melting into the melody. I smiled slightly. And when he was done that's when mum opened her eyes.
"now that's called a good coincidence" she exclaimed and went to the door to bring my cookies perhaps, she turned slightly to me to say, "cherish the blessings darling, the good things in life". She went downstairs.
Leaving me with the lingering melody of Mr Holmes 's violin. Cherish him? Or his melody? What did she mean? I looked outside the window once again, my heart pounded in my chest when I got a sight of him. Walking down the streets, wearing his big black coat. I don't know if I hallucinated or not but I think clearly saw his eyes finding mine, then looking away immediately. Going to some adventure perhaps, the lone wolf of Baker Street. What a man he is!
He is so…❤️ Such a gentleman… Yesterday I felt like I was living what I've read. We were on the couch, kissing a little and I said I was a bit uncomfortable because my neck was … what's the word? Like crooked? Anyway. He said we could try something different. He sat up and lifted me up a little and I straddle his stomach, he looked into my eyes with such soft expression asking me to trust him saying something like "we are not doing anything, okay? It's just kissing. Relax, and breathe" then he said he would teach something and he kissed my neck in the most wonderful way! I just … Melt in his arms. By the way, I didn't know how to sit like that, kiss like that or anything so the him teaching me is quite nice ✨
“Now that we don't talk / I don't have to pretend I like acid rock”
“Or that I'd like to be on a mega yacht / With important men who think important thoughts”
“Your new girl is my clone / And did you think I didn't see you? There were flashin' lights / At least I had the decency / To keep my nights out of sight”
“You search in every model's bed for somethin' greater”
2087
germansingergirl
prguitarman
titsay
gamechangershow
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
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