SnakesGoethe

Four weeks went by fast, Bucky flitting around and trying to not think about his human to often when you can’t see each other. You met up many times now and every time you would get something for Bucky, little trinkets, some tourist things and sometimes even food, which he would sniff carefully before nibbling on it. Every time he came back, he had a huge smile on his face and his heart felt light, while also aching when he brought you back to the beach. Steve and Sam already gave him weird looks and after some probing, Bucky blurted out the interactions he had with you. To say they were shocked is an understatement, they were scared for their friend. What if the human would talk and there will be a crowd of land lovers waiting for him someday? How could Bucky trust you so easily? Bucky tried to get them to calm down, earning him a slap of the fin from Sam. After some time, they settled down and Bucky showed them the treasures you gave him. The whole afternoon was spent with

“There never can be a man so lost as one who is lost in the vast and intricate corridors of his own lonely mind, where none may reach and none may save.” ― Isaac Asimov, Pebble in the Sky Working for the FBI is a challenge, office hours are horrible and the world never sleeps in the sense of the bad it can produce. The BAU is a special department that is necessary, saving people, catching bad guys, and being all and all nearly invisible in the back. Delving deep into the twisted and poisoned thoughts of people, formed by death, trauma, and snapped minds. Getting to know the horrible truth of what a broken childhood or a rejected mind can make people push to do. Day in and day out, watching, analyzing, staring death and danger in the face, pureness getting swallowed by the darkness of the world. Emotions and people’s lives getting lost and twisted. Seeing the aftermath of a person tortured, mutilated, traumatized, killed in the worst sense. Dead inside but staying alive for the

Christmas songs are sounding from the loudspeakers, the fairy lights twinkling in the large halls of the mall. People are rushing around and trying to get the last presents or ingredients for the perfect Christmas meal. Kids are being tugged along in the direction of the mall Santa. You hum along to the melody of the stereotypical Christmas song, your friend beside you glancing at the shops around you. "You get everything?", they ask you, and you nod. "You were the one that needed some presents still. I got all of mine." They roll their eyes at you and you chuckle, watching a kid run towards the section of the mall Santa. Your friend follows your glance and grins, grabbing your arm and taking you with them. "Wait, what are you planning?", you see the glimmer of mischief and the smirk on their face and try to push against the grip but it's futile. You already stand in front of the red and white tape of the Santa section. The line of kids is a long one and the melodic voice

The Razor Crest was quiet, the wind howling outside the metal slaps and sometimes it seems like the old, trusty ship is groaning under the weight of its age and the many stowed away crates. The Mandalorian was out on a bounty hunt, the need for money and the dwindling supplies putting him back into business with his original profession before he became a full-time father of a foundling. That also meant that you were alone with said foundling, currently cooing at the shiny round ball from the cockpit. He grabbed it with his powers when you weren’t looking, meaning that either you or the child will get in trouble when Mando comes back. Quietly humming to yourself while the baby is playing, you reorganize the crates. Over time many trinkets and other small things accumulated, getting haphazardly thrown into boxes to not clutter the small space of the ship. Sometimes you think about the three of you as some trinkets who were thrown together too. Some lost people that found each other in

“I was really hoping you wouldn’t get involved.” You grumble into the receiver after answering a blocked number. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to either.” Mycroft replies. “No visit today?” “I’m busy, I can’t drop in every time you two have a spat.” “Aw, you hurt my feelings, big brother.” You put on a childish tone as you say this. “Brother? How did you come to that?” “Well, you want me to have Sherlock’s child. You would be the child’s uncle and as his mother I would become your sister of sorts.” “I don’t need a troublesome sister.” “What harm would a second one do?” “... You know about her?” Mycroft's voice takes on a surprised and slightly dangerous tone. “Your mother took out albums and naturally I asked about the girl in the photographs.” You shrug even though he can't see it, of course there's also the chance he can. You were a little surprised to learn of her, but considering her two brothers, not all that surprising. "Of course I could tell she didn't share everything, not

“Sherlock, do you know where (f/n) went? She’s not in the-” Mrs. Holmes cuts off when she sees you and Sherlock burst up in bed, looking back at her wide eyed. “Oh. I see where she went.” Mrs. Holmes' surprise turns into a grin. “Suppose now I know why you were making so much noise last night.” “It’s not like that!” You try to get up and object before she closes the door but tangle in the sheets and instead fall over. “Ow.” Sherlock tugs the blanket off to free you. “Why are you so worried? She didn’t seem upset by it.” “No, but she’s got the wrong impression now.” You groan, dropping back onto the pillows. “Everyone does. We’ve got quite the scandal over us.” Sherlock grins. “You find it funny, don’t you?” You turn your head to look at him. Sherlock lies on his side, looking back at you with a smile. He’s not looking away. This feels way too intimate. “I should go get ready.” You hop out of bed and scurry to your room. “Where’s Sherlock?” Mrs. Holmes asks as she walks into the

“Sure you don’t need anything else, Auntie?” You ask her, looking around her flat for anything else to do. “Now, dear, are you just delaying going on your trip? It’s only for one night.” Your aunt places her hands on her hips and gives you a stern look. “I know it’s just Sherlock and we are only going because his mother believes she has a case for him, but I’ve never gone home with a man to meet his parents. It’s a little nerve wracking to be honest.” “Now, dear, no need to be so nervous.” Your aunt wears a smile that lights up her eyes as she cups your face. “I’m sure they’ll love you.” She gives you a mischievous wink and you realize what she means. “John told you, didn’t he?!” You huff in disbelief as you pull free from your aunt’s hold. She just grins at you and you know the answer is yes. She knows about the check and believes you a step closer to becoming Mrs. Holmes, and considering you’ve only recently admitted to yourself that you fancy the man (despite everyone else’s

"You hurt me." Haley says as she leans over you. You let out a whimper as you see the glisten of her knife in the dimly lit room. "I won't let you do it again. I want your heart, no matter how I get it." Haley offers a sad smile. You open your mouth to protest but she brings the knife down into your chest, your words turning into screams of pain. You can do nothing as you feel her slicing your flesh. You feel her reach a hand in and feel a painful tug before the loud snap of your rib. Then another. And another. Your throat burns from all the pained screaming. You pray to whoever will listen for it to end. Haley snickers as she grabs your shoulders and shakes them, calling your name. She's taunting you, that's all she's doing. She just wants to hurt you more. Then everything goes dark and you start to feel warm. You think maybe this is death finally coming to claim you, your mind making it a peaceful experience. Now you hear a voice. It's not Haley's this time. It's familiar though

You wake slowly then snap to attention when you remember where you are. Only you aren't the way you went to sleep. You had gone to sleep loosely holding Sherlock but now find your head on his shoulder, an arm pinned between you and the other on his chest, and with his arms wrapped around you. Honestly, you feel secure and warm. But also you feel a flustered heat crawling up your neck. “You're finally awake. Do you feel better?" Sherlock asks. You startle but his hold on you doesn't remove. If he's not uncomfortable then you won't show it either. "Yes. How long was I asleep?" You let out a yawn and rub your eyes. "About fourteen hours." He states with annoyance in his tone. "Fourteen? Then we missed breakfast." You grumble, trying to keep your humor. "But not lunch. Care to go out for some?" "Really?" "Of course. We both need to eat and I could use a walk. I'm fidgety from laying here so long." "Oh. Yeah. Of course." You feel some resistance from Sherlock's arms when you sit up but he

You make your way to the front desk as you've been told someone has come for you. You don't have any friends or really talk to anyone outside of work. The only ones who would come here for you are the Holmes brothers, though they aren't the type to just stand around and wait for you at the front desk. The elder would just stand outside the door or wait in his car and ambush you once you come out, as he has done before, while the younger would most likely find a way to make it to you in the lower levels of the library in his impatience. It’s not likely either would come seeking you at the front desk. Perhaps your aunt? Though that would be strange as well, you’d figure she’d call first. You aren't left long to wonder which of them it is as you reach the front and find it to be none of them. Instead it is a woman you had hoped never to see again. The broad smile and lit up eyes as her entire being seems to brighten upon her gaze landing on you would never give away the woman she is

Your time off has gone exactly as you'd like it. You have spent most of your days drinking tea as you read or doing random research on your laptop, undisturbed by the outside world and its troubles. You know this won't last, and honestly it would be a bore if it did, but you greatly enjoy the time. Before long it feels, Christmas rolls up. “I just don’t understand why you don’t want to go to Sherlock’s party. I thought you two were getting along.” Mrs Hudson laments as she sits at your table while you roll out dough. The two of you have been spending the morning together since you told her to go ahead and enjoy Sherlock’s party later. “I told you, it’s not about Sherlock. I just don’t want to go to any Christmas parties.” You make sure to keep your voice steady, focusing on cutting out snowflakes. Your aunt reaches across the table to catch your hand and stop it working, her expression and tone becoming somber. “I understand why you’re still uneasy, but you can’t let it keep you from

Something possesses you to walk to work this morning despite the cold. You reason that you should enjoy being outside before the reported rain later, besides, the exercise is good for you and will warm you a bit. Though your walk is cut short when a block away from your destination you come across police tape. You can still continue on the other side of the street but spot Lestrade and know it must be something serious. Curiosity gets the better of you. You'll just quickly ask if it's something to be worried over, like if you should no longer walk. Any excuse to keep out of this weather. One of the officers recognizes you, Richard you think his name was, and greets you. You glance past at Lestrade but he seems busy. They've set some kind of screens to shield the heart of the crime from prying eyes. You think better of bothering the man while he works. Perhaps Richard can tell you something. "Did something terrible happen?" You ask with your best 'I'm a damsel, comfort me' expression

You smile as you take in the musty smell of old books and parchment. It’s good to be back at work where you belong. Your rental to Lestrade (and Sherlock) ended last week so you are officially back today. Actually, now that you are seated here with a document in front of you, running errands for Lestrade and accompanying to crime scenes was less stressful than handling fragile documents. Spilling coffee and damaging seven hundred year old parchment hold very different consequences. Still, you’ve always enjoyed learning and the information every piece holds is priceless. Though this particular one doesn’t interest you much, you hope something good comes your way soon. Nothing good has come your way in days. It seems your supervisor found it appropriate to tell your colleagues your reason for absence. That reason being to work with the Metropolitan Police and the infamous Sherlock Holmes. This lead to a lot of questions, from supervisor and colleagues alike. You look forward to the

You are just heading for the door when your mobile begins to ring. You fish it out of your purse and find Lestrade's number on screen. "Hello?" You answer as you reach for the door. "Hope you aren't on your way to the station yet." "Just heading for the door, why?" You pause with your hand on the knob. "I'm out at a scene right now and I could use Sherlock's take on this but he's not answering his mobile. You mind grabbing him on your way?" "Sure, no problem. Just message me the address and we'll be on our way." "Thanks." You let out a small thoughtful hum as you store your phone. Sherlock is one to jump at a case, you'd think he'd answer all of Lestrade's calls. You worry a moment that something may be wrong but quickly push it away as none of your business and not your responsibility. You trot your way up the two sets of stairs. Now that you are at his door, again the nagging that something may be wrong bubbles up. Last time you went in there something was indeed wrong. Do you really