crossroadsserpent

[crossroadsserpent]

Bringing Breakfast [Otis Driftwood x female reader] | NSFW

Sweaty bloody Otis Driftwood eating pussy. 1.3k [Discussion of murder, oral (f receiving) creampie, minor knife play]

“Darlin’,” Mother Firefly called out as she heard the stairs creak under your feet. “Is that you?” She smiled when you turned the corner into kitchen. “I was hopin’ that it was.”

“Smells good.”

“Oh you are a dear,” She has a stack of plates out on the counter next to her. “Have you seen him today?”

“I know he went to town last night so he’s probably out back cause he wasn’t in his room last night.”

“He does this sometimes,” She shakes her head. “Up all night playing with his toys, I tell that boy he needs to sleep. Would you bring him out a plate?”

“Of course.”

You chat about the day while she dishes up his and your plates. “Any plans today?”

“Oh I think I’m gonna run down to Spaulding’s and get a few things, almost outta milk and runnin’ low on bacon.”

She holds the door as you walked out into the yard with the plates. You kick at the door of the shed and Otis swings it open, eyes shining and an unkempt smile across his face.

He had sweat most of his corpse paint off, remnants of white and black on his tank top which was plastered to his body, soaked with blood. “Hey mama.”

He looks insane. Of course you know that he is, in fact, insane, but the sparkle in his eye and look of malevolence on his face heighten it.

“Good night?” You smirk.

“Good night.” He nods. “But I got another one in the trunk if you wanna help.”

“You need to eat something, you’ve been,” You try desperately to peel your eyes away from where they’ve landed, shamelessly staring at where his blood stained biceps are glimmering in the sun. “Working so hard.”

He takes a few steps back into the shed and takes the plates from you. He turns around and sets them down on his work bench.

“Don’t want breakfast.” He grunts, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into the shed.

“You’ve been at it all night, you need to eat someth-,”

“But there’s so much tastier I’d rather be eating.” He pulls you close. You can feel the wetness of his blood soaked shirt pressing against you.

“C’mon mama, I know how you get when you go a night without gettin’ fucked.”

He leans in and rests his open mouth and your neck, just below your ear. His teeth only graze you, not enough to draw blood, but the piercing mixed with gentle sucking is enough to leave a bruise.

“And I know how you get when you see me all bloody.” He whispers. “Isn’t that right?”

Cognitive thinking had left a long time ago and his spit gleaming on your neck and his bulge grinding against you has rendered you absolutely incapable of refusing, so you nod.

You nod because you do—of course you love it he’s like this.

“You want these off honey?” His fingers trace down your body to land on the hem of your shorts. You nod again.

“Aw, you gone quiet on me already? Got too turned on, gotta let your pussy think for ya?” You nod again and he shakes his head, hands still at your hips, fingertips dipping below the band. “Not today, no honey you need to use your words. Don’t hold back. Tell me you like it, tell me every fuckin’ thought in that pretty little head.”

“I,” Your voice is shaky. There’s something terrifying about telling him how much you like it. He knows, he’s felt you squeeze down on his cock when he mentions what he’s been out doing, he knows how much it turns you on to know that this evil murderer only has eyes for you—but it’s so scary to say it.

“You gotta tell me,” he drops to his knees. “Or I can’t have my breakfast. You know I gotta eat, mama, and I can’t do that,” he presses his face in between your thighs, rubbing his face against the denim. “If you don’t tell me how much you like this.”

“I think it’s all the blood.” You whimper. The way he’s nosing in between your thighs is pushing the seam of your shorts against you in a way that almost feels too good. “Reminds me that you’re a, I guess serial killer.”

“Now darlin’ don’t act like you haven’t helped.”

“Not saying it’s a bad thing, just, you’re a big scary serial killer, so powerful. In control.”

“That’s my girl,” He smiles up at you. “You want these off?” He teases.

“Please.”

He unbuttons your shorts and pulls them down, then flips open his pocket knife.

He holds eye contact as he moves it towards you, only looking away to line up the blade with the seam at the side of your underwear.

“Otis if you keep cutting all my panties off I’m not gonna have any left.”

“Oh no,” he mocks, pulling them away from your hip so he can slide through the stitches. “Then I guess you’ll just have to walk around with your pussy out all the time.”

He looks up with a shit eating grin, the remains of your underwear in his hand. “Go bend over my work bench.”

You walk over, legs shaky, and acutely aware of wetness in between your thighs. When you lean over Otis reaches up from his position, still in his knees, to put his hand on your lower back, pushing you down so that your ass is sticking out.

He runs two fingers in between your lips and chuckles. “So fuckin’ messy, you been makin’ all this mess for me, makin’ my breakfast?”

You can’t say anything before he’s diving in, his tongue pushing inside you.

He licks down to your clit, sucking on it so aggressively that his spit mixes with the wetness that’s dribbling out of your hole.

“You get so sloppy, don’t you?” The teasing in his tone has gone. Now he’s intense, serious, and so fucking possessive. “This cunt gets so wet for me, doesn’t it? DOESN’T IT?” He screams.

“So wet for you,” You babble. “Only you Otis.” He keeps sucking while he fumbles with his belt. When he pulls away he runs his left hand up and down your pussy a few times and then puts pointer and middle finger inside. Then he switches them out for his ring and pinky. Then his thumb.

“What are you,”

“Gotta get my hand wet mama, and there’s no better lube than what’s pouring outta your pussy right now.”

Your clit is sliding between his spit coated lips, his nose pressing into you, one hand squeezing your ass and the other on his dick.

Eating you from the back while you’re bent over is his favorite way to do it because once he gets you close, like you are now, your legs start trembling and it makes your ass shake around his face.

“How you feelin’ pretty girl?” He groans into you.

“I’m gonna cum.”

“That’s right sweetheart.” He grunts.

He doesn’t stop. You’re shaking, trembling on his tongue, ass pushing against him. It’s so good. It’s overstimulating and overwhelming and the whole shed reeks of blood and stale sweat and your entire body is on fire.

He licks at your hole while you come down from your high, clit still throbbing. “Im gonna cum honey.” He stands up and you can feel the tip of his cock poking at your entrance, his knuckles bumping your asscheeks. “You want that?”

“Yes.” You can’t form a thought but you know you want it. Your pussy is swollen and dripping and feels so fucking good. “Otis please.”

“That’s right darlin’, oh fuck that’s my pretty girl, take it.” You can feel it shooting into you, his tip pressed just inside you. “That’s it baby, right there.”

He bends over, cock sliding in between your thighs. He presses himself against you and wraps his arms around you, kissing the back of your head.

“Thanks for breakfast honey.” He murmurs, lips pressed against you.

[crossroadsserpent]

Most fucked up thing i ever drew...

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I've been getting back into art again, I've been working on a changing sculpture-like piece if anyone wants to see it lol.

#im back #art #creepy art

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Imagine....

Imagine patting Crowley on the head and calling him "My good little demon" after he comes back to you after dealing with the Winchesters.

#fergus macleod #fergus macleod x reader #supernatural crowley x reader #crowley #crowley x reader #supernatural #crowley imagine #supernatural imagine

[crossroadsserpent]

Dating Crowley includes...

When you started dating Crowley, you had no idea exactly what would happen. Boy were you in for a surprise....

Warnings: fluff, angst, cussing, trust issues, talks of marriage.

(Let me know if you want any of these Headcanons to have their own story!)

~~~~~~~~~~

First date:

Crowley actually had to ask you out several times over the course of four months before you actually said yes.

The first date was honestly a little over the top. He took you to an extremely upscale restaurant, insisting that it was nothing.

If you don't or can't drink he won't shame you, he simply orders you something else to drink before ordering himself some form of alcohol.

If you do drink he'll order the most expensive bottle of wine.

He showered you with compliments, though he was very confused when you looked down at the table after every compliment.

You brushed it off, telling him you were just tired. He obviously didn't believe you, but chose to drop it.

When the date was over, Crowley took you home, giving you a quick goodbye kiss on the cheek with a soft "Thank you for going out with me". Then he was gone.

This whole situation was confusing. Usually Crowley was one to do anything in his power to get what he wanted, worrying only about himself. But tonight... This whole date... He was doing nothing but complimenting you and making sure you were comfortable... You didn't understand.

You shrugged off your confusion, deciding to go to bed, absolutely sure you'd never see him again after tonight.

But you did....

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Second date.

He appeared at your doorstep two weeks later, holding a bouquet of deep red roses.

You froze when you opened the door and saw him standing there.

He gave you a small smile and a "Hello, love."

You began to stutter out a response but he cut you off, handing you the roses as he began to apologize for being gone so long.

"It's okay.." you responded softly.

He asked you on another date and you agreed without hesitation.

This date was much calmer, like he'd paid attention to your reaction to your reaction to the first date.

This date was a simple walk through the park at night.

You had no reason to be scared of being out so late at night since you were with the king of hell, someone who wouldn't hesitate to kill someone if they made you uncomfortable.

You both walked for two full hours as you walked.

~~~~~~~~~

Crowley gives you roses at least once a week.

He loves bringing you down to hell, having you sit on his lap while he sits on his throne.

Being a tailor when he was a human, he loves to make you clothes that fit your exact body type.

He loves having his hands on you at all times, it could be just holding your hand, it could be a hand on your waist, it doesn't matter what it is, he loves it.

Speaking of hand holding, the reason why he loves it so much is because he wasn't able to do it when he was human, no matter how much he wanted to.

He loves to watch you indulge in your hobbies. You do art? Can he watch you draw? Oh! You like to write? Can he read what you're writing? Even if you just like taking pictures with your phone, he wants to look at each and every photo.

Despite his position in hell and how he treats other people, this demon is one gentle and attentive lover.

Crowley constantly checks up on you, making sure you've eaten.

Crowley is a major cuddler! He enjoys physical touch, but yours just feels so different to him and he loves it! *

Literally almost cried the first time you snuggled up to him.

Yes, he acts all big and tough, but this man just wants to be loved, and I'm talking real, genuine, passionate love.

He does tend to get upset, yelling at demons, yelling at the Winchesters, yelling at everyone. But never once has he yelled at you, he'd hate himself forever if he ever did.

Crowley will kill for you. (Let's be honest, he probably already has, but he won't ever admit it to you.)

After a month of dating he proposes to you. It's not that he didn't like waiting, he has an eternity to wait. He knows you're a mortal and don't have as long as he does, so he wants to do everything with you.

~~~~~~~~~~

Speaking of being mortal.... You were on a hunt with the Winchesters and Crowley popped in just in time to watch a rogue demon attack you, leaving you in the ground bleeding.

Cue pissed off king of hell.

He could let you bleed out.

But he doesn't

Choosing instead, to use his powers as king to turn you into a demon.

He just couldn't lose you... Not the only person who ever truly loved him.

He panics for a bit when you stop breathing, thinking it didn't work.

But it did, and you start to breathe again causing a wave of relief to wash over him.

You were alive.... He wasn't alone again..

~~~~~~~~~~

He asks (begs) you to move down to hell with him.

When you finally say yes, his excitement is very visible on his face.

Getting to have you by his side every day is a dream come true.

Hello everyone! I know it's been a while and I'm quite out of practice, but I hope you enjoyed this! Thanks for reading!

My requests are still open!

#crowley x reader #supernatural crowley x reader #crowley #fergus macleod x reader #supernatural #fergus macleod

[crossroadsserpent]

Supernatural Masterlist

Dean Winchester-

Dean x Reader- Fluff

Dean x Reader- Fight (WIP)

Dean x Reader- Fight (WIP) Pt 2

Dean x Reader- Unexpected

Dean x Reader- Mary

Dean x Reader- One Left Shoe

Dean x Reader- Running into the Trees

Dean's Flowers

Sam Winchester-

Sam x Reader- Don't Worry, I'm Used to it

Sam x Reader- I'm Sorry

Castiel-

Castiel x Reader- Advice

Cas x Reader- You Called?

Castiel x Reader- What is Love?

Castiel x Reader- Tired

Gabriel-

Gabriel x Reader

Gabriel x Reader- Crushing

Gabriel x Reader- Comfort

Gabriel x Reader- Wings

Crowley-

Crowley x Reader- Comfort

Crowley x Reader- Wings

Crowley x Reader- Awkward Cuddles

Crowley x Reader- Healing Your Wings My Dear

Crowley x Reader- Never a Hugger

Crowley x Reader- Hellhound

Crowley x Reader- Betrayal

Crowley x Reader- Control

Lucifer-

Lucifer x Reader- Lucifer ≠ Love

Chuck-

Chuck x Reader- You're a God Too

Chuck x Reader- Afraid

Chuck x Reader- I'll Love You

Misc-

Destiel

Samandriel- Cuddles

Jack x Reader- Confused

[crossroadsserpent]

Hold me - Sherlock x fem!reader

Request: "Can you one with the bbc sherlock x female reader? Maybe one where sherlock is touched starved but doesn't realise it. And then he meets the reader and it's all fluffy at the end please? xx"

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2156

A/N: I'm so sorry i haven't been posting!! I've had a hectic month and not much time to write but i'm getting back to it!! If you have requested something, I'm getting round to them slowly but surely. Thank you all <33

Requests

Prompts

Masterlist

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Sherlock never realised how touch starved he was. It was never really something he ever paid any attention to. In his mind, physical affection was yet another unimportant custom most normal people liked to spend their time searching for. He couldn’t be bothered with that. That was, until he met you.

*******************************************************************

“Stop talking Anderson, it lowers the IQ of the entire street.” Sherlock hissed.

You let out a small laugh as Sherlock, slammed the door in his face. John and Lestrade both turned to look at you.

“Sorry. It’s just- well he’s not wrong.” You said, shrugging your shoulders.

“I very rarely am.” Sherlock replied without looking over at you.

You rolled your eyes “Okay, no need to get all cocky Mr detective.”

You walked past him, resting your hand on the shoulder, before quickly taking removing it. “Sorry.”

Sherlocks brow furrowed. “Why are you sorry?”

“I know you don’t like people touching you.” You replied nonchalantly.

Sherlock went to speak but the words died on his tongue. So instead, he opted for a sharp nod before turning his attention back to the dead body in front of him. He had actually rather liked the feeling of your fingers running along his arm, even if it was only for a second. You were right, normally he would hate people touching him. But he found himself wishing that you would do it again, only this time leave your hand there for maybe a while longer.

“Sherlock.” John’s voice snapped the detective from his thoughts.

“Hmm?” He mumbled.

“You found anything? You’ve been crouched there for a few minutes now.”

Sherlock stood up, brushing the dirt from his coat.

“It was her husband. He killed her.” Sherlock relayed to Lestrade before promptly leaving the room.

********************************************************************

“Well. That’s one way to get home.” You said breathlessly as you rested against the wall of 221b.

“Yeah next time we have a case sherlock, can we not chase the killer through London on foot? They have cabs for a reason.” John panted, flopping down on the sofa.

“A cab would have been far too slow Watson.” You answered, smiling at him. “However, I have to agree with him sherlock, less running next time yeah?” You said to the detective who was leaning on his desk.

“Oh I don’t know, I think it adds to the fun.” Sherlock said with a tight-lipped smile.

“Did sherlock Holmes just make a joke?” John asked, staring at you in shock.

“Oh god the bloods rushed to his head” You replied jokingly. Sherlock just scoffed at the pair of you.

“Right, it’s been fun boys but I should probably be off.” You went to take a step forward without noticing your shoelace was undone.

You tripped over, falling forward expecting to crash into the hard floor beneath you. What you weren’t anticipating was sherlock catching you. His arms wrapped around your stomach as your hands clung to his arms. His heartbeat increased rapidly as you rested against him for a moment, trying to regain your footing. You stood up still clutching his arms.

“That’s embarrassing.” You laughed looking down at your shoes, seemingly unaware of sherlocks hands planted firmly just above your hips.

Sherlocks head was spinning. The feeling of your body pressed against him was something he quite enjoyed, even if it was in an awkward position.

You patted sherlocks shoulder.

“Thanks mate, that could’ve been a lot more painful.” To sherlocks disappointment, you moved out of his grasp in order to tie your shoelace.

John furrowed his brow as he noticed the hint of longing held in sherlocks gaze before it quickly faded.

“Yeah. No problem. See you later.” He said before promptly leaving to go to his room.

You watched him leave, rather confused by his rapid exit. “Did he seem a bit off to you?” You asked john.

“Yeah a bit.” He replied honestly.

“Well check up on him, make sure he’s alright yeah?” John nodded at your words. “Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow probably. Bye Watson.” And with that you left the infamous flat.

********************************************************************

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Since then, sherlock found any excuse he could to have some form of contact with you. Whether it was standing that little bit closer to you in order for his arm to brush yours every so often, or letting you hold his hand if you were ever scared. Your touch provided him with a sense of comfort he never knew he’d needed.

Currently you were sat in your flat, curled up under some blankets on your sofa. There had been a lot of draining cases lately and while you wouldn’t swap your job for anything else – it really took a toll on you. You’d barely slept over the past week and when you had it had been a restless, disturbed night. Your body felt as if it was going to shut down any minute soon and you were honestly hoping it would as it might allow you to finally get a decent rest. However, as this is your life and nothing is ever that simple, your phone began to ring. Reluctantly you pulled your hands out from the bundle of warmth you had created and lifted the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Y/n hi its Greg.”

You shot up. You loved Greg but he never called for a good reason, something was always wrong. You didn’t have it in you for another case right now, but that was what you were paid for. Your wellbeing would just have to wait.

“What is it this time? Please don’t tell me it’s another murder” You replied.

Lestrade chuckled stiffly. “Er no it’s not a case as such.” He fell quiet.

“Well?” You prompted. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s sherlock. He’s well I don’t really know.” Greg replied.

That did nothing to calm your nerves, if anything it set you more on edge. “

Is john with you?” You asked.

“Uh yeah, I’ll pass you to him.” You heard a small conversation before john’s voice came through the phone.

“Hi y/n”

“What’s wrong with him?” You asked, heart beating rapidly.

You knew he had issues with drugs and if tonight was a bad night, you needed to know. You cared immensely for the detective.

“Well nothing I don’t think. It’s weird, I’m pretty sure he’s gone into his ‘mind palace’ but he just keeps saying your name.” John explained.

You fell silent. Why would sherlock be saying your name in his mind palace? Actually why was he saying your name at all?

“My name?” You repeated.

“Yeah I don’t actually have a clue what’s going on, could you come over?” John asked.

“Um yeah. Yeah I’ll be on my way.” You hung up the phone before scrambling to get off of the sofa. This was really strange, but you just needed to know that he was okay.

After about 20 minutes you found yourself knocking at 221b as you’d done many times in the past, but tonight felt weird. Mrs Hudson opened the door, beaming at you.

“Oh y/n! How lovely to see you” She said pulling you in for a hug.

“Hi Mrs Hudson. I’m here for…well I don’t actually know. John asked me to come.” You explained.

“Yes sherlock’s been acting very strange tonight.” You raised your eyebrows at her. “Stranger than normal my dear. He was getting really worked up about a case earlier and he was doing his normal anticks. You know, pacing, shooting my wall, yelling at john – the normal. But he just went quiet, john said he went to his mind palace whatever that is. Apparently he keeps asking for you.” She explained.

“Yeah john said.” You replied quietly, looking up at the stairs.

“Well you better go up there dear.” She patted your back before returning to her flat.

You took a deep breath before making your way up the stairs. You weren’t sure why you were so nervous, but your hands were shaking tremendously. You pushed the door open, seeing sherlock, sat in his chair with his eyes closed.

“Hi” You said quietly. John and Lestrade greeted you. “So I’m here but what exactly am I meant to do?” You asked looking over at the detective.

“Not a clue. Just talk to him?” John suggested.

You sighed. “okay.” You made your way over to him. “Hi Sherloc-“

But before you could finish your sentence, the detective jumped up from his chair wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulled you into his body, holding you tightly. His head fell to your shoulder, burrowing it in the crook of your neck. That was the last thing you’d expected him to do. You stood wide eyed, your arms hanging either side of you. This was not like sherlock at all, not that you minded his sudden display of affection – but it worried you slightly.

“Hold me. Please.” He whispered, so only you could hear. His breath against your neck sent a shiver down your spine, your heart racing. He sounded so desperate; it almost made you cry.

“Okay.” You said softly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, slowly running your fingers through the base of his curls.

He sighed, and almost melted into your touch as you did so. You could feel his hands clutching your shirt, as if he was trying to calm himself down.

“You’re okay sherlock. I’m here, your safe.” You mumbled softly.

You had no idea what he was feeling right now, but it felt like that’s what he needed to hear. The two of you stayed there for a while, you just allowing Sherlock to do what he needed. John and Lestrade stood behind you, staring at the sight before them in utter shock. After a moment, sherlock pulled his head up to face you without releasing his hold on your waist. Your eyes scanned his own, trying to figure him out. His face was flushed red from having rested on you for so long

“Hello.” He said gently.

You smiled at him, arms still loosely around his neck.

“Hi.” You replied.

Slowly, sherlock reached a hand up to cup your face. His thumb moved gently across your cheek as he looked down at you. You were almost certain your heart was about to explode.

“Why won’t you get out of my head?” He questioned, more to himself than anyone else.

“I’m…sorry?” You offered not entirely sure what to say back.

He smiled at you.

“Don’t be. I’m more than okay with it. It’s just…strange. I’ve never craved another person before. But you.” His voice trailed off as he stared at you like you were the most precious thing to walk the earth. “You are all I think about. All the time. I want to be with you, near you. I want to touch you all the time.”

You were speechless.

“Not even necessarily in a sexual way. But just, feel you. You seem to calm me in a way nothing ever has before.”

You could feel tears threatening to fall. You weren’t sure exactly why, but just the raw emotion sherlock was willing to show you was overwhelming. In the best way possible.

“I’m glad I can help.” You voice was quiet, barely audible, but you knew he’d heard you.

“So can I-“ John’s voice interrupted.

“Get out. The pair of you.” Sherlock snapped, not even looking at them.

You laughed slightly, turning your head to face them. “I’d listen to him lads. I think I’ll be okay.”

Greg looked utterly baffled but didn’t question it.

“You do know I live here?” John said.

“Well go talk to Mrs Hudson?” You suggested, feeling sherlock becoming rather annoyed.

“Go.” He demanded.

With that, they left the flat. Sherlock gently pulled your head to look back at him. His eyes flickered down to your lips ever so slightly.

“I want to try something.” He said softly.

“Okay.” You replied, knowing exactly what he was going to do. He lowered his face to yours until you could feel his breath fanning across your lips.

“Are you sure-“

“Sherlock just kiss me.” You begged.

Without any hesitation, he crashed his lips against yours. He held your face gently as if he was scared, he would lose you while pulling you impossibly closer. His lips were soft as they melted against yours. Your heart was hammering in your chest, you were sure it would break free. Reluctantly, you pulled away to breathe, but Sherlock kept a firm grip on you as he rested his forehead against yours.

“I don’t know what this is.” He spoke softly, not wanting to ruin the moment. “But I do know, I don’t want to be apart from you. Will you stay with me?” He asked, eyes full of hope.

You grinned up at him as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Until you order me away.” You replied happily, before leaning forward to kiss him once again.

[crossroadsserpent]

Holmes boys

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Sherlock & John Portraits - (2023)

(To be honest, I drew these two artworks in November 2022 but I completely forgot about them. It was high time to post them, I guess 😅)

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Some hopeful news for us BBC Sherlock fans in the last half a decade.

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Misc. XIXth century Johnlock Illustrations - (2023)

Sherlock wearing a kimono, amongst other works. I explained this precise head canon of mine in this video HERE. (Note: Drawing n°2 was the first version of Drawing n°1, that's why I used the same reference picture for the head)

[crossroadsserpent]

“Honey, I rose up from the dead, I do it all the time.”

[crossroadsserpent]

im jesus

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Bnnuy.

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you don't know him like i do | sherlock holmes

pairing: sherlock holmes x gn!reader

summary: you're sick and tired of constantly hearing insults thrown at sherlock about how he handles his emotions.

warnings: kissing, two dumb idiots in love!, (i tried to make the reader gender-neutral but please let me know if i missed anything).

word count: 1.4k

a/n: i recently started watching bbc sherlock and fell in love with the character (i know i'm like centuries late in starting the show oops) and really wanted to write something for it. ignore any inconsistencies or if the characters seem super ooc, i'm new at this lol.

you’d been at sherlock’s side for months now. ever since he solved a serial murder case that would’ve gotten you killed next, if he hadn’t figured it out just in time, you’d been practically attached to his hip ever since—helping him with cases as best you could, tidying up the flat and running quick errands, handing him his phone and reading his messages out loud to him (when he was perfectly capable of doing so himself, damn him). but you didn’t complain. in fact, you felt honored to be of any assistance to the spectacular sherlock holmes and john watson. you had fun in joining them—running through the city, chasing criminals, solving mysteries—it felt good, making yourself useful and doing something for the greater good. it was dangerous, yes, but you’d never experienced this much adventure in your life, and you couldn’t be in better company. so you were thankful to sherlock—to him saving you, and to him giving you this wonderful opportunity and friendship.

so, of course, you were irritated when others didn’t see sherlock the way you did; beyond frustrated that they hadn’t perceived his character how someone (you) who truly knew him would do so. it had taken you just under six months to develop a great friendship with sherlock, so how was it so difficult for his coworkers who had been working with him for years, relying on him for his genius to fix their problems and solve their worst cases, to appreciate him? it grated on your nerves and, frankly, you were over it.

it took one more snide remark from donovan, something about how emotionless and cold sherlock could be, that really put you over the edge. you snapped, to put it bluntly.

“he cares a great deal more than any of you will ever understand. you think he’s so cold? a machine, was it?” you ask, directing your glare at donovan. “you don’t see it, do you?” your gaze meets the others gathered in front of you—lestrade, anderson, mycroft, some familiar faces you’ve seen milling about scotland yard. you’re angry, fuming even, that nobody seems to appreciate sherlock the way you do. john, of course, and mrs. hudson and molly, sure, but it seems as though sherlock has barely a handful of people in his corner. after all he’s done, all he’s put himself through, to help those around him—solving cases, putting his life on the line, bringing forth justice—and he gets nothing in return but sneers and snide remarks.

“sure, he may process emotions differently than most of us,” you continue, “reacts in somewhat peculiar ways to the common eye, ways we may not understand. and because of this, you think he’s unlovable? unapproachable? inhuman? does that automatically give you all the right to criticize his every move and judge him regardless? i can guarantee that he cares more than any of you realize.” your cheeks feel damp and you become aware of the fact that you’re crying. normally, you would be embarrassed for being so vulnerable in such a public setting. especially your coworkers—if you can even call them that—of all people. but, truthfully, it’s about damn time someone put in any effort, show even an ounce of respect or sympathy toward sherlock. “he’s a great detective and an even better man,” you say, letting the tears flow freely. “but you just don’t realize that, do you? he is, without a doubt, the most incredible man i have ever met, and i consider it a privilege to know him. but you can’t accept that, can you? arseholes.”

john suddenly clears his throat next to you, pulling your attention toward him. he tilts his head off to the side, directing you to the tall figure standing in the corner, messy curls and popped collar making him immediately recognizable, to your dismay. you drop your head. now’s the time to feel embarrassed, you think to yourself. you never would’ve thought sherlock would walk in during your outburst and defense of his character. of course, you don’t regret it whatsoever, you meant every word you said. but for him to witness it? heat creeps up your neck and into your cheeks, and you pray that no one can tell how you’re reacting to his sudden presence, but you know it’s useless.

sherlock approaches your accusation circle, everyone quickly pulling back and making room for the consulting detective, gazes flitting from one person to the next. sherlock pays them no mind, his footsteps quick and sure, until he’s standing right in front of you. your eyes are glued to his scarf when a nimble finger tilts your chin upward, and you’re staring into sherlock’s blue gaze. oceanlike, you think. pretty.

you’re surprised when he presses his thumb to your cheek, collecting a fallen tear and staring oddly at the wetness coating his fingertip. his blue eyes are curious and inquisitive beneath furrowed brows. always the detective, you bemuse to yourself. always looking for clues. suddenly, that look disappears and he’s looking at you thoughtfully, the creases around his eyes softening. “don’t waste these on me, my dear,” he says, voice deep yet gentle.

your heart pounds beneath your ribcage at the term of endearment. it was meant to be endearing, right? you panic internally. what if you’re connecting dots that aren’t even there and jumping to conclusions, just to make an even bigger fool of yourself. certainly, at this point, everyone is sure to know how you feel about the detective. if your sudden outburst wasn’t enough, you probably have hearts in your eyes now.

a grin stretches across sherlock’s face and you know that your reaction hasn’t gone unnoticed by him. typical. can’t hide anything from the man, you think sourly.

“while i certainly appreciate you defending my character,” he begins, “there’s no need to fret and most definitely no need to cry. not over me,” he says the last bit with an ounce of remorse in his tone. your heart cracks, knowing how hard he is on himself, how judgmental he is even of his own character, let alone how others respond to his peculiarities.

his large palm rests against your cheek and then adjusts slightly, just enough to cup the back of your neck securely, intimately. you feel safe in his hands—hands that are strong enough to pull the trigger of a gun, yet gentle enough to pluck the strings of his violin.

sherlock isn’t usually handsy, per se. you start to wonder why the sudden display of—affection, is it?—when he leans forward and presses his lips to yours. his lips are slightly chapped from the brisk winter air but they’re soft and warm against yours. never in a million years, although you certainly dreamt it, would you have thought you’d be kissing sherlock holmes—the world’s best (and only) consulting detective, and your greatest friend. he’s holding you so securely, tilting your head a fraction to deepen the kiss, tongue meeting yours until you’re practically making out in a scotland yard conference room with an audience, but you couldn’t care less at this point.

sherlock pulls away and you unconsciously follow his lips with the movement, not wanting to stop just yet. god, you could kiss him for hours, you think unabashedly. you vaguely hear gagging noises coming from anderson, but you tune him out, your full focus directed at the man in front of you. the unruly curls atop his head have become even messier, if possible, and his cheeks are flushed and his ears are red. it’s so endearing to see him like this, you feel a laugh bubble up inside you.

“what?” he asks, a tinge of self-consciousness creeping into his tone, and his hands slowly fall from your neck to rest on your shoulders. “why are you laughing? normally in a situation like this, the other party wouldn’t be laughing, correct? or am i doing something wrong? i haven’t received complaints in the past, although there was this one time—”

you tug on the lapels of his jacket and pull sherlock in for another kiss, cutting off his rambling spree as his arms wrap tightly around your waist. “i like you, idiot,” you mutter against his lips.

sherlock's breath catches slightly, just barely noticeable, but then a peculiar glint reaches his eyes. “i suppose i am expected to say that i like you, too?” he teases.

you gasp in mock hurt and the two of you erupt in a fit of laughter, the air around you bubbly and light. his laughter dies down but he's still smiling at you. “i do like you,” he says, earnestly, “truly. i adore you, my dear.”

your audience had departed from the conference room just moments earlier to allow for some…privacy, with john shaking his head at you two in amusement as he closed the door on his way out. “about damn time.”

[crossroadsserpent]

Confessions

bbc sherlock x reader

summary: after getting frustrated with a case, you go outside to get away from everything, only to learn something that changes your world.

warnings: smoking, one f bomb, kissing

a/n: this is my first time writing for Sherlock so I’m still working on getting the character’s voice down.

The wind chills the tears on your face as you look up to the sky, trying to compose yourself.

You’re so frustrated with everyone and the case.

“You must be cold,” a voice says beside you.

“What?” you say, coming back to the present moment.

“Take this,” Sherlock says, handing you his coat.

“You’re going to get cold,” you take the jacket from him, pausing before putting it on. Sherlock shrugs.

Sherlock takes out a cigarette and a lighter, lighting the cigarette.

He takes a long drag of the cigarette, pausing before exhaling.

“Mm?” He offers you the cigarette.

“Fuck it,” you mumble, taking the cigarette from him and also taking a long drag.

“Are you doing okay?” Sherlock asks.

You laugh, handing the cigarette back. “For being a detective, you’re not being very observant right now.”

“I’m very well aware that you’re not okay, I’ve been told asking people about their feelings is a nice thing to do,” Sherlock retorts.

You can’t help the small smile that forms. “Are you trying to be kind, Sherlock Holmes?”

“Trying to, yes,” Sherlock puts the cigarette between his lips.

“Why?” The question escapes you before you know what you’re saying.

“Feelings are a funny thing, aren’t they?” Sherlock looks up to the sky.

“Alright Holmes, what’s going on?” you question the tall man that seems to be very out of character at the present moment.

Sherlock offers you the cigarette again, and you take it without hesitating.

“I’m not quite sure how to tell you,” Sherlock chuckles.

You continue to look at the man beside you, brows furrowed as you put the cigarette to your lips.

“I care deeply about you, (Y/n),” Sherlock says, taking a deep breath. “And I believe you feel the same.”

You cough, taken by surprise. “Are you saying what I think you are?”

“I’m not sure,” Sherlock says again, chuckling. You’ve never seen him nervous before. “I suppose I’m trying to ask you out.”

You smile, dropping the cigarette butt on the ground and pressing the toe of your shoe into it.

“You’re not too bad of a detective,” you say, taking a step closer to Sherlock. You look up at him, and take his hand.

Sherlock’s free hand reaches up towards your face and brushes some hair out of your face. He rests his hand on your cheek, and you lean into it.

“What do you say?” Sherlock whispers.

“It’s about time,” you reply, leaning up and kissing him.

Sherlock greets your lips hungrily and pulls you into his chest.

He gently bites down on your lip.

“Watch it,” you mumble.

Sherlock slightly pulls away. “Are you doing okay?”

“I’m doing a lot better now.”

Sherlock wraps his arms around you and holds you tight.

“Are you ready to go back inside?” he asks you.

You nod. “I think so.”

“Good, I’m getting cold. Someone took my jacket.”

Sherlock winks at you, and the two of you go back to the flat to continue your work.