I would literally die for avengerz tower, fluffy Bob smut pls and ty. Like the team go out on a mission (not realising that reader/ Bob are together) and they have the whole tower to themselves!! Like anywhere they like to be together!! Maybe even the group couch!! Or the shared kitchen!! Or their games room!! The possibilities are endless 💞💞
A supposed 3-4 hours
Summary: Basically what the ask says lol I really liked it. Bob Reynolds x Fem!reader.
Warnings/content: Some smut! Very fluffy, very sweet. Some dom/sub undertones if you squint.
Word Count: 1.3k Little story. Support me on my Ko-fi so I can write more!
Yelena looked up at you as she picked up her bag off the ground next to the kitchen counter you were sat on.
"Uhh...Buck, what do you think?" Yelena said as Bucky walked into the room, and she threw her bag at him which he easily caught with his vibranium arm.
Buck thought for a moment. "3-4 hours give or take? We'll pick up Ava and Walker on the way back. Alexei...No idea when he'll be back up."
Your heart fluttered with hope at the idea they would be out for a big chunk of the day. You looked over at Bob, reading on the couch and gave him a slight smile. "Well, hopefully I don't disturb Bob's reading. But I doubt he'll even notice I'm the only one here, he's been stuck in that book for days" You joke, and nearly laugh as Bob sits up, clearly a little offended.
"Excuse me, I am not deaf and also I have not been 'stuck in my book for days'. It's been like...1." Bob says, sending a smile back as he defends himself.
"At least 2." Bucky says matter-oh-factly, heading towards the door with Yelena in tow. "Alright you two- we're out. Don't cause any trouble, don't burn the tower down."
You decide to sell it just a little harder as you call at them right as they enter the elevator. "You sure you don't need our help with this one?"
"We know the people involved, we got it. Enjoy the break." Bucky replies, and Yelena sends you a wink right as the doors close.
A beat. Silence. The elevator makes a soft humming sound as the others descend down to the bottom of the tower and you make brave the storm, choosing to look over at Bob.
He's so red. You waste no time, barreling towards him on the couch, tackling him in an instant as he yelps, tossing his book on the floor before it accidentally gets bent.
“Woah-Jesus.” Bob has barely enough time to get the words before you tackle him on the couch, forcing the book out of his hands and tossing it gently on the floor next to you. You pause on top of him, his face red and his body heating up beneath you.
He sucks in a breathe. “Uh-hi…sweetie.” Bob’s voice cracks a little and you give him a smile.
“Hi Bob.”
“Can I um…can I help you?”
“I think you can.”
You pull him up by the collar of his shirt, and he finally takes the hint, his body pressing up against yours as he cups your face and crashes his lips against yours desperately. You run your fingers through his hair- the length longer now but still somehow knotless and silky.
You let out a quiet moan, trying to repress it. The two of you are desperate for each other, kissing and grabbing at hair and whatever skin is available. It’s not like you two haven’t done anything lately. But the desperation around the excitement of being alone in the tower was great.
Just two nights ago, Bob had been fingering you through your 3rd orgasm of the evening, his other hand free for you to suck on his fingers in a desperate attempt to keep you quiet at 2am.
You bring yourself back to the present as you let Bob tilt your face up so he can slip his tongue in your mouth. It’s warm against yours and you let out a quiet moan at the action. You whine softly as he pulls away from you to look at your face.
“Why are you being quiet?” Bob asks plainly. Your heart flutters as you try to find an answer.
“Um,” You swallow, steadying your voice. “Force of habit I guess. We’re not properly alone often.”
Bob looks you up and down, his hands sliding up under our shirt and you shiver, sucking in a breathe and waiting. But he stops right before his hands can glaze over your nipples.
You go to speak, but stop yourself and Bob tries not to smile.
“Yes?” Bob asks, feigning innocence as you hold back a whine.
“Bob…” Your voice is barely above a whisper. His fingers just brush delicately over the hardened tips before pulling back again.
“I can’t hear you sweetheart. I want to hear you.” His voice is low but more audible than yours and words send heat right to you core.
“Robert.”
“Yes sweetie?”
“Please.”
He takes pity on you, his fingers finally pinching the sensitive flesh , pulling you towards him as you fall into little him ravish your mouth again. You kiss him back, breaking the kiss only for a moment to tear his shirt off and throw it carelessly behind you.
You continue to whine quietly, and Bob finally has enough, breaking the kiss and gently pushing a hand into your hair before closing his fingers and gripping it harshly, pulling your head to the side so he can kiss the spot right below your ear.
“What did I say?” His voice sends shivers absolutely everywhere as he whispers directly into your ear and you try not to squirm, the firmness not new but still surprising.
“I-I can’t help it-.” You stutter, and Bob grips your hair harder and you finally let out a moan, echoing into the empty tower.
“I want to hear you.” Bob says again, continuing to kiss down your neck. He pulls away, grabbing the bottom of your shirt and giving you a look that says he’s asking for permission. After a quick nod, your shirt is off and on the floor next to his.
“Fuck-“ You whine loudly as he grips your nipples again, the cool air hitting them and making you squirm in his lap.
“That’s my girl.”
Bob makes quick work to flip you over on the couch, the air rushing out of as you hit the soft surface with surprising strength and force, his arms staying at your sides. You try to calm your beating heart, but the way he’s looking at you- like he wants to eat you- it’s too much.
“Pants. Now.” You demand, and Bob laughs, his hands reaching for your waistband, undoing the buttons slowly.
But it’s not him undoing the buttons on your jeans that makes you freeze. It’s what you hear that makes both of you freeze.
“Dude, we all hang OUT ON THAT COUCH!” You immediately recognise Bucky’s voice.
You look past Bob’s shoulder, seeing Bucky, Yelena, Walker and Ava. Ava has her hands over her eyes, and your face heats up so much you think you might actually combust.
“OFF!” You yell, pushing Bob a little too harshly off of you, but he’s already on it, tumbling onto the floor and throwing you your shirt as he scrambles for his as well.
“Oh this is so funny.” Yelena says, the biggest smile on her face. “Wait till I tell Alexei.”
“Fuck…” Walker says, reaching into his back pocket, pulling out a wallet and a $10 note, dropping it into Ava’s open hand, the other still over her eyes.
“I-what are you guys even doing here!?” You shirt is on, and you try to desperately smooth out your hair as well but it’s really no use.
“Turns out they were already on their way back, and we don’t have to go anymore.” Yelena shrugs.
You look at Bob, standing there with his shirt too big hanging off of his body, scrunching his arms around his body to keep himself from being perceived. You reach out and grab his hand and he relaxes slightly.
“They were gonna find out eventually.” You try to comfort him, and he gives a smile back.
“Wish it wasn’t like tha-.” Bob starts but is cut off by the elevator dinging and a loud voice with a Russian accent cutting him off.
I keep seeing animal aus and like... i can't find any1 who has done Ukyo as a bat😭 So i took it into my own hands! I'll be doing Ryusui, sengen, and possibly stanxeno, luna, kohaku, and maybe amaryllis. Idk tho.
Close ups and a lil explanation for au under the cut
I'll prob do 2-3 oneshots of dif couples in this Au. I'm still doing my mafia au, but my lastest chapter is slowly, very slowly coming along, and i have motivation for this and not the other. I still have yet to find my stylus, so no digital art. But i will do digital art of him as a partial bat whenever i do find it. Promise guys.
Now for the history in more depth. Colonization of the “new world” unfolded the same way as in our history, but back then, very few people had the ability to transform. They were mistaken for werewolves, vampires, and other legendary beings. Many myths in Japan and China also trace back to them, though the stories were never fully accurate—at the time, these people could not fully shift into animals or pass as fully human. They existed in a permanent in-between.
Once Homo sapiens realized that this species—Homo theriomorphus, commonly called “Variants”—had biological advantages, they began to enslave them. Variants were forced together and bred like livestock, much the way humans breed dogs or cats today. This was done to create new variants suited for labor. Alongside them were the enslaved humans we know from real history; most of that timeline remains unchanged.
Variants were exploited for many purposes: some for raw strength, others for sex work, and still others for their beauty, treated as exotic “pets.” Though still dehumanized, this was considered one of the less brutal fates. Certain types were used for travel—avians, equine or donkey hybrids, even aquatic mixes on rare occasions. In short, they were valued not only for labor, but for a wide variety of reasons unique to their nature.
(The history bit will be in all posts of this au, after this part here, it will be explanation for the character drawn.)
Ukyo is a bat Variant with a touch of blue whale in his bloodline. He can fully transform into a bat, but almost never does — his wings are rare, and his ears and nose only extend when he needs echolocation. He’s not hiding his animal side; he just feels more comfortable staying human and only uses his traits when it’s useful.
Even in human form, his instincts are there. His hearing and spatial awareness are sharp, and his blue whale heritage from his grandfather gives him a natural pull toward the ocean and a rich, resonant voice. These instincts shape how he moves, speaks, and interacts with the world, making him perceptive, graceful, and quietly magnetic, even when he looks fully human.
Not me rn thinking about how much the whole pjo plot would suck it up if the broken trio just wasn't a thing.
Just Luke, who gets to Camp in ways that neither Thalia nor Annabeth can physically cross paths with him.
And now there's no the only one meeting with Hermes; no pre-last meeting with May, or the highly significant for his beliefs meeting with Hal.
No trauma from losing his first and only friend, or the "grave" that loomed over him for years. No special hope for any of the Big Three's children, and therefore a completely different plot for the second and third books; no Aegis for Thalia either, which is a very important advantage throughout her story.
And no Deus ex Machina from Luke at the end of TLO.
To say that the rain had caught them by surprise would be a lie. No, the sky had been giving them warnings for an hour before the rain had started to fall, forcing them to hide under a tree, Jaskier laughing and Geralt as silent as ever.
The last past days had been hot, almost too hot to bear, and Geralt knew that they would sooner or later have to face a rainstorm. He had been hoping that they would be in the safety of a room in an inn, but they had had no such luck. Story of his life.
Even if he had been alone he couldn’t have had ridden under such a rain. Mutated eyesight or no, he could barely see what was a few meters ahead of him, and the road had become a torrent, dry dirt refusing to absorb such an amount of water. Roach could slip if he made her walk on this, and that was something he was definitely trying to avoid.
So he and Jaskier had gone to hide under a tree. It was a nice tree, a large elm; its leaves where protecting them from the rain, and its trunk was wide enough for both of them to lean against.
They were sharing rations of smoked meat; despite the almost darkness around them, brought by the dark clouds that had been looming over them for a while, it was only midday, and they hadn’t had the chance to eat before it had started to rain.
“So now we just- wait?”
Jaskier’s voice was nearly drowned out by the sounds caused by the rain; water hitting the ground, the leaves, or the puddles that had formed; wind whirling at the top of the trees.
“Hmm.”
They needed to. Maybe Jaskier wouldn’t be too affected by the rain – elves, or half-elves, didn’t tend to get colds, or pneumonia – but it would ruin his doublet and Geralt wouldn’t hear the end of it. It had happened before.
(And maybe. just maybe. Geralt wanted to enjoy a soft moment, a short break from the path, just sitting there with Jaskier next to him.)
“You know, this would be a great opportunity for me to play-”
Geralt snorted. Jaskier was always playing, even while walking; it always was the moment to play. Though Jaskier had complained enough times about the rain and how it was bad for his lute, so Geralt waited to see what Jaskier really wanted to do. Surely damaging his adored lute wasn’t on the list. Jaskier was impulsive sometimes, but not stupid, and getting his lute out of its case during a rainstorm wasn’t something he would seriously consider.
“-but I think I’ll just try to rest for a moment, if you don’t mind making sure I’m not eaten by a fox.”
Geralt didn’t reply anything, waiting for what would inevitably happen next.
“Foxes are so cute, though; I know they’re deadly, Geralt, don’t give me that look. But the babies? I actually nearly adopted one when I was younger, but Eliza, you know, our cook, told me that I couldn’t keep it and that my mom would be furious.”
Geralt thought that for that to happen, Jaskier’s mom would need to pay attention to what her son was doing, but he didn’t say anything. No need to spoil such a nice afternoon with bitter thoughts about Jaskier’s childhood. Geralt wished he could have some words with the woman, though; and with her husband, while he was at it.
“So I had to set him free. I was sad for a day, but then Marta – one of the servants, as you know – told me that a cat had had kitten in the barn, so of course I slipped away during one of my lessons that day and went to see them.”
And then one of the kitten didn’t let him leave, and that’s how Jaskier got Sir Cuddles.
“Anyway – you won’t mind if I rest my eyes shortly, would you? I performed until late last night, and you woke me up before dawn this morning- yes you did, don’t frown at me. Even poor Roach was still asleep.”
“You can rest.”
Of course he could. Jaskier asked that as if Geralt wouldn’t gladly die for him. Not that he had told Jaskier, or planned to.
“Thank you dear!” Jaskier beamed. “I trust you’ll keep watch.”
And then, instead of using his lute case as a pillow, Jaskier –
Jaskier snuggled against Geralt, put his head on his shoulder, and promptly fell asleep.
Roach neighed quietly, and Geralt got the very distinct feeling that his own horse was laughing at him.
They weren’t strangers to being close like this. They shared beds at inns (even when Jaskier complained that Geralt was too warm, I swear it’s like sleeping next to a fire except it’s the middle of summer or when, in autumn, Jaskier’s cold feet would find Geralt’s legs and if you keep me too warm in summer you can handle that in autumn, really, don’t you dare say anything), but this – this was entirely different.
They weren’t at an inn, for starters, and it wasn’t the night. And Jaskier had had a choice, and he had gone for Geralt, and was now breathing softly next to his ear, brown hair tickling Geralt’s chin.
Gradually, Geralt let himself relax and enjoy the proximity. It was nice, to be trusted like this. He couldn’t understand why Jaskier would, but still, it was nice, to trust and to be trusted.
Jaskier sighed in his sleep and snuggled closer, and Geralt smiled despite himself. It was a small, fond smile; one that you had to look for if you wanted to see it; one that didn’t show much on his lips, but that could be read in his eyes.
I love him, Geralt thought, not for the first time, but just as fond. I love him.
And, with Jaskier next to him, one hand on Geralt’s knee as if to be as close as possible, asleep in the haven that had become the elm, Geralt thought it wasn’t impossible that Jaskier might love him, too.
➖ Mature content, 18+ ➖ check the trigger tags each time ➖
Chapter 12 - The true scent of Medieval times.
Episode 3.
Eonan: *As he was done cleaning the mess he had made, he spent a couple hours cleansing Adrian's lot, making sure no leftover darkness or leftover necromancy was lingering.
Truth to be told, it had been a while since he had last spilled so much blood in such a short time, and it was tiring for his soul.
As he was finally wrapping everything up, and about to leave, he picked up his phone and made a much needed call*
Congo: Yes, my dear *his warm voice greeted Eonan's ears as sweet music*
Eonan: I've had a rrrrrough day *he sighed soft in the phone*
Congo: I see.
*A loving warmth spread through the phone* How about you grab us a bottle of wine and meet me at the mountain, I have been up here all day, digging in the dirt, my fingers are frozen solid by now *he chuckled warmly* looks like winter will come early this year.
I was just about to head inside anyway, to fill a bathtub... you are more than welcome to join me...
Eonan: *He smiled warmly* I would really love that after the day I have had.
I'll see you in a moment.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*The room was dark, musky, a scent of old wet stone and mold hanging thick in the air, it was dark, and barely lit by a few torches here and there.
But as far as the eye could see, it seemed to be in a dungeon type of basement, somewhere deep below ground, judging by the sound of dripping water echoing through the surrounding hallways*
Sparkle: *She sat quietly on a large wooden chair, her heart beating fast and anxiously, not quite sure how she got here, not quite sure if she even wanted to be here?!
Were was he?
He said he was just going to get something and would be right back.
That was at least 5 minutes ago.*
Bard: Ahm sorry ferr keeping yeh waiting, lil lassie.
*His charming smile was spread into a long wide grin as he stood next to her, half long golden locks framing his face*
Something for the pain, yeh? *he reached a hand out with a small shot glass of golden red liquid* Ireland's finest for the lady!
*He grinned even wider and inviting*
Sparkle: *She looked hesitating at the glass*
Bard: Come on now... yeh going to trust me with yerr life, an errrything yeh hold dear to hearrrt, but yeh can't trust meh teh pour yeh a drink before weh get starrrted?
Tsh *he shook his head and played off as being hurt and offended* Come on lassie, Ahm about teh change yeh life and give yeh what yeh have always wanted, and yeh can't even have a wee drrrink with meh firrrst?
Sparkle: *She grabbed the glass, but still looked at it hesitating*
Bard: Yeh have ‘eard of Whiskey, haven't yeh? *he chuckled friendly* Me taught weh were friends?
Sparkle: *She sighed soft and nodded* No you're right, you're right.
She looked at the glass a last time, then swallowed the liquid in one mouthful, a not so familiar taste of Whiskey filling her mouth.
She had tasted it before, of course, over the years.
Knowing Congo for over a decade, well, it would have been a surprise if this would have been her first Whiskey ever.
She swallowed hard as the liquid burned the back of her throat* WOOOH!!! *She shook her head and gasped for air, bursting out a soft chuckle*
Bard: That's the spirrrit! *he chuckled warmly and grabbed the glass, placing it on a small table next to them.
He grabbed a small suitcase from the floor and opened it, placing it on the table as well.
Bottles of herbs, potions, scissors, knives and some instruments that looked mostly like something out of a horror movie, came to her eyes,
sending a shiver through her body, but before she could react, Bard had already grabbed a wooden stool and sat down in front of her, his strong hands resting firmly on her naked knees* Are yeh cold?
Yeh seem a wee tense, and ah'm afraid ah left yeh wait for too long, naked in a damp basement.
*He smiled somewhat apologizing*
Sparkle: *She chuckled nervously* I'm not naked... *she tucked a bit on the thin woolly blanket wrapped around her shoulders, but felt much more naked than she had ever felt her 30-something years of living*
Bard: Rrrright... so lets get teh ett so yeh wont catch a cold before we done *he chuckled soft* now what exactleh do yeh want?
*His thick Irish accent was thicker than the usual McKinney's she had come across, but she still understood him well*
Yeh told me something about yeh wanted teh be taller?
Sparkle: *She took a deep shaky breath* Same shape... as well as it will translate... but yes... taller... a bit below average... for a.... boy.... *she frowned softly* clean shaven..... everywhere....
Bard: As in can't grrrrow body hair, orrr just clean?
Sparkle: No body hair... just hair on my head... blonde.... blue eyes..... feminine.... but not too much... light voice, but with some deeper tones..... full lips..... not too cute a nose, but not big either... not crooked.... a lot like.... hm.... I like yours....
Bard: N'awww that's sweet darrrling... ah made it mehself! *he smiled warmly* Teeth?
Sparkle: Keep them as.... no.... keep the strength of them as they are but change them enough to look different..... no.... shit....
*She sighed deep* I don't know?
Bard: ....... rrright... let me ask you this.... what do you plan to do with the child?
Sparkle *She looked at him confused, she hadn't told him about Penny?*
Bard: Ah assume yeh still want herrr in yerr life?
So what is the thought about this?
Mum suddenly being a daddy?
And if so... how will yeh explain that to her?
She's still a toddler, rrrright?
Sparkle: Yes, she hasn't aged up yet, although we expect it to be any day now, as she both talks and walks like a child.
Bard: So yeh would wait and tell her when she reaches child stage?
Sparkle: *She nodded nervously and fumbled with her hands*
Bard: So yeh would keep her... well.... that would mean he would have teh know sooner than later, who yeh are.... or else he would certainly ask questions why a strange boy treats HIS child as if he was her mum.
A mum who strangely disappeared.
Sparkle: *She frowned deep* But I thought the agreement were.... the spell... he would fall in love and it would no longer matter cause I would have the right kind of body and-
Bard: Yes, but sooner or later things will surface, they always do.
This is not a matter of a stranger.
The two of yeh know each other for years, yeh have a family tegether... yeh have common friends.... it's a much more complicated matter if yeh want me to simply wipe the slate clean and give yeh a completely new start with no questions asked.... a start where yeh get to be a parent to yerr daughter without anyone finding it strrrange.
Sparkle: *She nodded soft and sighed* I'm sorry for taking up your time then.
*She was just about to jump down from the chair, tears gathering in her eyes, as Bard pushed hard against her knees*
Bard: Ah said it was complicated..... not impossible!
*He took a deep breath* close yerr eyes, and concentrate on as detailed a sketch as possible, of what you want yerr new life teh be like... take as much time as yeh need, to give me the best possible view.
The more you add, the more material I have to work with.
Try teh vision how yeh will look, sound move. Skills yeh will have, things yeh will like or dislike.
The complete anatomy of yerr body, the scent of yerrr skin, the tone, the smoothness. Sizes.
Fears, hopes, dreams.
How yeh want him to feel about yeh when he sees yeh the first time, how yerr love will unfold.... how deep yerr love will eventually grow.
Do you want marriage, more kids? A house together?
What should yerr job be if yeh have one?
Are yeh rich? Middle class? Poor? And if poor are yeh on the streets, have room mates or a small flat of your own?
Perhaps this time yeh want to be famous... or a Prince? There is no limits!
Are yeh back to being regular human, still immortal? Do yeh have any powers?
Give me as much material as yeh can possibly come up with, the more the better result.
I told yeh, there's no reversing it, and this is yerr new life, yerrr future, it is up to yeh teh make it the best possible.
Sparkle: *She took a deep breath, nodded and closed her eyes*
Bard: Alrrright... let yerr thoughts flow freely.... I'll read them as they come.
*Hours passed although it seemed like just minutes*
Sparkle: *Finally she seemed to run out of more to add, and instantly felt her knees getting forced apart so her legs spread wide open*
Bard: *He sat between her legs with one of the horror movie looking tools, a not so friendly grin plastered on his face*
So let's get to it lassie... or should ah say lass from now on? *he laughed hollow and arched his back* Remember, no reversing once am done with
meh work! A deal is a deal, and ah will claim meh price whether yeh are a satisfied customer or UUUNGH!!! *a loud groan sounded when something seemed to punch him out of thin air, and he got instantly knocked off the stool, landing on the cold wet stone floor*
Sparkle: *She gasped loudly and tried to get up, but now noticed she had been strapped to the chair by old leather straps, the fear of being trapped with what appeared to be her biggest mistake yet, left her whimpering in fear, desperately trying to wiggle herself lose* |
Bard: DAMN YEH BRANNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!! *he stood up with fiery red eyes, spitting blood on the floor* A DEAL IS A DEAL!!!!!!
SHE BELONGS TEH ME WHETHER YEH LIKE IT OR NOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WHY DON"T YEH COME UP HERRRRRRE AN FIGHT MEH FOR 'ERR THEN?!? YEH FOOCKING COWARD!!!!!!!
Sparkle: *She whimpered louder the more scared she became by the whole scenario and how she had gotten here, and how willing she had been to go THAT far to finally be with the man she had loved all her life!
And her fear only intensified as she felt an unseen force grab onto her and drag her backwards into a darkness where it felt as if she was sent falling down the tallest building.
Well, just until she landed on the ground with a loud thud, all air being knocked out of her.
She groaned loud, everything around her getting brighter although she had still to open her eyes.
Fearing what she might face, she kept them shut tight till a familiar voice reached her ears only few seconds later*
Raven: You're alive and just fine, you can open your eyes now.
Sparkle: *Although his voice was deeper, rough, she knew very well whom was speaking, so she slowly opened her eyes, blinking a few
times, before her bright surroundings started taking shape.
They appeared to be in some sort of forest, the air was chilled, but mild.
Judging by the bright green fresh leaves it was late spring.*
Raven: *She spotted him next to her, sitting on a fallen tree, carving a piece of wood into a point.
He wasn't looking at her.
His clothes was dirty, and so was he, even his usually silky black hair was dirty and it looked as if he had rolled the forest floor one too many times.*
I would have gotten you out of there earlier, but I had to find you some suitable clothes first.
*He kicked a foot against a leather wrap on the ground just a half meter from where he was sitting.*
Get dressed before you catch a cold.
Sparkle: *she quickly sat up, trying her best to cover herself with the blanket, looking around confused* Where are we?
Raven: *He sighed soft and kept carving the wood* Medieval London....
Sparkle: *Her eyes got wide with shock* I thought you guys always said time travel isn't possible!?! Are you joking?
Raven: *He sighed annoyed and stuck his knife into a leather pouch strapped to his ankle, then slipped the wood down next to it, before he closed the pouch and stood up slowly, now for the first time looking at her with a slightly raised eyebrow* Do I look like I am joking?!
Sparkle: *Speechless she sat there watching him, until a black horse she hadn't notice before, grunted from behind Raven, snapped her out of it and she quickly flew up from the ground* How the fuck can we be in Medieval London when you always said that-
Raven: Look... Willow has a son she gave birth to in the 90's, so clearly it's possible to travel in time *he sighed deep*
But must I remind you what happened when she thought time travel was a great idea? She got her pretty behind stuck and nearly ended up there for good.
*He grunted irritated and kicked the leather wrap again* How about you get dressed and we can deal with your little freakout when I can't look directly at your privates?
Sparkle: *She was just about to interrupt him as his last comment reached her ears and she blushed bright red, angry but quick grabbing the leather wrap and dragged some fabric out from inside it.
A beautiful tan and white maiden dress she had always seen in Medieval movies... although this one had a bit of blood on the chest?
She looked at Raven with squinty eyes*
Raven: Yes... it's worn, I didn't have much time or you would have gotten a may I add very painful and completely unnecessary sex change!
But don't worry, the previous owner wont be missing the dress.
*He smirked lightly and sat back down on the tree trunk*
Sparkle: *She looked at the garment hesitating*
Raven: It's what we have.. for now... I will get you something better when the opportunity is there, but for now, I suggest you toughen up and put that clothes on you, if you want to survive.
Cause whether you like it or not, I'm all you got right now, I'm your only chance at surviving, and I am your only ticket out of here.
So get dressed, and we can talk about everything over a beer.
Sparkle: *She frowned deep and gestured at the trees around them* A beer?!
Raven: I told you we are in London, didn't I?... well...slightly outside London, but close enough for a smaller horse ride.
*He sighed deep* Clothes...
Sparkle: *She groaned irritated, but quickly started getting dressed, figuring it was probably best not to ask further about the stained dress.
Raven: There's shoes in the sack as well... and a cape to keep you warm.
The blanket you are wearing must be destroyed so no one tracks us here *he nodded at the blanket she had dumped on the ground, waved a hand and it was gone in the blink of an eye*
We ride as soon as you are done changing, and I prefer we don't talk till we are in a much noisier place, just in case we were already tracked.
Sparkle: But you already gave away our location....
Raven: Did I? *He smirked his usual smirk and stood back up, walking around the tree trunk, getting his horse ready for the upcoming ride*
Y’all are about to really hate me. Oopsies? But, to be fair, this does have a tiny bit of fluff (if you squint), so enjoy that. I’m the devil, happy reading!
Sherlock’s behavior continues for the entire week. Christmas Eve is five days away now and it couldn’t feel any less like Christmas at Baker Street.
You’ve been staying in your flat, instead of Sherlock’s, because of his behavior. It’s been nothing short of childish and annoying – upsetting on top of it all.
You’re trying not to take his silence personally, per his request, but that’s a bit difficult when his silence is happening directly after the two of you had gotten closer.
Aside from Christmas shopping – which you’ve finished – you’ve been helping John and Mary finish moving in to their new place. It’s given you something to occupy your mind, to distract you from the case and letting it consume you.
On this particular day when you’re walking back to Baker Street – walking because you’ve just finished having lunch with Molly – you’re met with a crowd of what looks like reporters standing outside 221B.
You stop in your tracks, blinking in shock. They’re blocking the door.
Pushing your way through, you ignore their shouts, probably thinking you’re trying to cut to the front, when the reality is, you’re just trying to get inside. Once they see you have a key to the door, though, their questions are different.
“Do you live here?” I wouldn’t have a key if I didn’t, you twat.
“Is Sherlock Holmes in?” I wouldn’t know.
“When will Sherlock Holmes be out?” Do I look like his secretary?
You slam the door in their faces, letting out a deep sigh. You dissolve into a smile, though when you see Ms. Hudson coming out of her flat.
“Ooh, hello dear,” she smiles. “Where were you off to?”
“I had lunch with Molly,” you explain. “Is Sherlock in?”
“He should be upstairs,” she nods that way. “What’s the matter?”
You roll your eyes. “There’s reporters outside asking for him.”
“Oh, again?”
“This is normal?” You ask incredulously.
“Oh, sometimes I forget you haven’t lived here all that long,” she chuckles. “Yes, dear, it’s very normal. They live for a statement from Sherlock Holmes.”
“Well, could he hurry up and get out there? They are rather obnoxious.”
Ms. Hudson gets a funny, knowing smile on her face at your words before she shakes her head. “Are you two having a little domestic?”
“What? No.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Well, he’s upstairs. Maybe he’ll listen to you if you tell him to go out there.” And without giving you much of a choice, she disappears into her flat.
You nearly kick the door in frustration. You had planned to come in and wrap the few presents you bought, but now you have to deal with Sherlock who hasn’t spoken a word to you for an entire week.
Practically throwing yourself up the stairs, you find Sherlock sitting idly in his chair. He looked more than shocked to see you standing in front of him considering the two of you haven’t had a real conversation in a week.
“There’s reporters downstairs.”
Sherlock closes his eyes. “Tell them to go away.”
“They’re asking for you.”
“Oh, shame.”
“Sherlock.”
“Yes?”
“Go down there and talk to them, so they’ll go away.”
“But I haven’t solved a case.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You haven’t solved a case?”
“I haven’t.”
“Then go and tell them that!”
He turns his head to look at you, folding his hands over his lap. “You’ve been to lunch with Molly again.”
You nearly groan aloud.
“And you vented about me, no doubt, judging by your hostility toward me.”
“No, Sherlock, I’m hostile because you haven’t spoke to me in a week – and yes, I know, don’t take your silence personally – but now there’s reporters out there asking for you and you’re too bloody stubborn to go out there and have a word with them.”
He uncrosses his legs in his usual dramatic way before pushing himself to his feet. “Well. Let’s go and have a word then, shall we?”
“We?”
“Yes, we,” he swings his coat around his shoulders. “I need my companion.”
“I’m not—” You stop yourself. “I thought that was John.”
“John’s my doctor,” Sherlock replies like it was obvious.
“So I’m your companion now?”
“It would seem so.”
You swear, you have no idea what the hell you see in the man. He doesn’t speak to you for a week and now he’s calling you his companion with that stupidly attractive goddamn smirk on his lips.
He has to know what he’s doing to you, and you’re sure he does. He’s Sherlock Holmes.
You follow him down the stairs, watching as he stops at the bottom to grab…a hat.
You let out a giggle as he places it snugly over his curls, then giving you a strange look at your laughter.
“What?”
“Nothing, I just didn’t think you actually wore the hat.”
“Of course I wear the hat.”
“Yes, of course you do, now let’s go.”
He smirks as he turns, yanking the door open and immediately being met with various shouts and camera flashes.
You watch in awe as Sherlock commands the journalists like a pro, which you guess he must be at this point with the amount of international fame he has. You haven’t been ignorant to his reputation internationally, but you’ve also tried not to think about it too much because he doesn’t seem like the type of person to be internationally famous.
But now it’s clear. As he answers questions about miniscule things, being as vague as he wants or as explicit as he wants.
“Is it true, Mr. Holmes, that there’s a religious cult operating here in London?”
You freeze, turning your head to the reporter. Sherlock blinks.
“I’m not…”
The case has been withheld from the news outlets for a reason. How the hell do some random reporters know about it now?
“I heard it’s a sex trafficking ring, Mr. Holmes, can you confirm this?”
“Are you on the case, Mr. Holmes?”
You and Sherlock share a look before he answers carefully. “I’m on the case.”
Your eyes widen. For fuck’s sake, that’s not—
“Mr. Holmes, who is this?”
“Y/N L/N,” you answer because you are, in fact, standing right here.
“A colleague?”
You shrug. “Sure.”
“Is this your girlfriend, Mr. Holmes?”
“No,” you and Sherlock say at the same time, sharing a look before turning back to the reporters.
“That’s all I have time for, I’m afraid,” Sherlocks says, dodging protests from the journalists. “Have a nice day.”
He guides you back into the building, shutting the door to shut out the noise. Your face is burning red and has been since being asked if you’re Sherlock’s girlfriend.
But then you remember what he said out there, and you turn to shove his shoulder. “Why did you tell them you’re on the case?”
He looks at you with wide eyes. “Because I am.”
“You lie like it’s second nature, but you couldn’t lie about that?”
“Was I supposed to?”
“Yes, Sherlock, when Gidon is still out there and that story is going to go to the newspapers, yes. You lie.” You roll your eyes. Gidon is probably going to see that interview and laugh from wherever he is. Now he has full confirmation of who he’s dealing with and where they reside, if he hadn’t figured it out already. “How did they even know about it?”
“I don’t know,” Sherlock says quietly, getting that dazed look in his eyes that tells you he’s about to start thinking.
“Well, I’ll call Lestrade and let you know if he knows anything. I’ve got stuff to do this afternoon.” On that note, you turn and unlock your flat, walking in and shutting the door behind you.
A moment later you hear Sherlock’s footsteps bound up the stairs, officially leaving you alone.
You slide down your door with your back pressed against it, putting your forehead on your knees when you reach the floor. It’s been a week since you’ve kissed him. A week since you slept next to him. The closest you get to any of that now is wearing his coat, which you still are, mostly because it’s warm but also because it’s almost like Sherlock refuses to touch you or be alone with you anymore. Ever since that day, the switch has flipped, and it’s gone back to how it was before. Awkward stares, awkward accidental touches, and silence. A whole lot of silence.
Picking yourself up from the floor, you move to your reading chair, the same one Mycroft got you some months ago now. It’s still your favorite place to sit.
You fish your phone out of your pocket, phoning Lestrade.
“Hello, Detective Inspector Lestrade speaking.”
“Hey, it’s Y/N.”
“Y/N! What can I do for you?”
“Has the case – The Congregation case with Gidon, has it gone to the journalists or anything?”
There’s a pause. “I haven’t heard anything.”
“Well I think you should prepare yourself,” you chuckle. “Sherlock and I were just asked by some reporters if he was working on the case.”
“For God’s sake, are you serious?”
“I wouldn’t be calling if I wasn’t serious.”
“Alright,” he sighs. “I’ll let you know if I find anything.”
“Thanks, Lestrade.”
“Anytime.”
Well, that was uneventful.
You let your phone dangle in your hand toward the floor, your free hand rubbing your face. Now how did they get ahold of the case?
Your phone begins ringing again, causing you to jump to answer it, hoping Lestrade found something that quickly. But your hopes are too high, because it isn’t the detective inspector. It’s an unknown number.
You normally don’t answer them, but lately you have been, so you expect it to be like the last, which is some random person who dialed someone else’s number incorrectly. But it’s not. It’s a familiar voice.
“Is this Y/N? Y/N L/N?”
Mary. It’s Mary Josephine. “Mary, my God, are you okay?” You pause. “It is Y/N. It’s me.”
“It’s so nice to hear your voice,” Mary replies, her words broken by her cries.
“Where are you?” You ask, getting to the point before it’s too late. “Please, tell me where you are.”
“I don’t know,” she sobs. “I don’t know where I am.”
“It’s okay,” you murmur. “It’s okay. Mary, I’m going to find you. We’re going to end this.”
“Please,” she cries louder, causing tears of your own to prick your eyes.
“I promise, Mary, I promise. But listen to me, you’ve got to stay strong. You’ve got to stay alive.”
“He’s not going to kill me,” she says softly, sniffling. “I’ve asked him to, and he just won’t.”
You sigh, keeping your voice even to get more information. You can cry later. “Has he hurt you?”
“No,” she breathes. “He hasn’t. He’s been very nice. But I don’t get it. He won’t let me go home… I just want to go home.”
At least he isn’t hurting her. And, not that you want him to hurt her, you do wonder why he isn’t. “I know,” you whisper, your heart breaking for her. “But we’re going to find you, I promise.”
“Please— He’s coming back. I have to—”
“Mary? Mary, can you hear me?”
You’re met with static.
“Damn it!”
You throw your phone across the room, not caring when it smacks the wall and clatters to the floor, sliding almost to your feet.
The door to your flat opens a few moments later, revealing Sherlock Holmes with a rather startled face. “Are you okay?”
You sigh, leaning down to pick up your phone. You look at the call history, the number that Mary called you from practically glaring at you on the screen. Unknown. But it’s not. It’s Mary Josephine using whatever phone she found. The location is only unknown.
“Mary Josephine just called me,” you blurt. “Is there any way to trace the number?”
“I can try,” Sherlock trails away, almost detesting his next thought. “But we might need my brother.”
You roll your eyes, standing to your feet. “Well your brother won’t help me because he apparently wants to protect me, so you’ll have to try first.” You hold the phone out to him with a pleading look.
He nods, taking the phone from you, and it’s extremely stupid of you, but the small moment when his fingers brush against yours sends a shock down your spine. You blink rapidly, getting your senses back together as Sherlock exits your flat to get to his computer upstairs.
He doesn’t appear to give the small touch a single thought, so you sigh a little sadly for being so…you don’t even know. Too much. You’re being too much. You need to calm down.
You finally walk yourself up the stairs, finding Sherlock sitting at the table with his laptop. He lets out a dissatisfied groan before slamming the lid closed, ruffling his hair.
“No luck?” You ask, even though the answer is obvious.
“He must’ve disabled the locator.”
“Of course,” you breathe. “It was worth a try I suppose.”
“Mycroft can get it,” Sherlock blurts, lifting his head.
You stare at him strangely. Sherlock Holmes, willingly thinking of asking his brother? He has to understand what you said earlier. There’s no way Mycroft will help you. He’s already said he knows where Gidon is, but he refuses to tell you. He’s been paying you every time you ask, you’re sure as a way to keep you quiet, but it doesn’t really work. You’re determined to know.
But you know for a fact Mycroft won’t help, so it’s useless.
You grab your phone from the table, stuffing it back into your pocket. “I know he won’t help, and I’m not going to waste my time.”
You leave without giving Sherlock any room to protest, locking yourself in your flat the second you get downstairs. You need to wrap these presents and nothing is going to interrupt you.
~~~
Sherlock dials his brother’s phone number, waiting impatiently for him to pick up the phone.
