#gndw gif drabble

[girl-next-door-writes]

3am

Characters: Steve Harrington x reader

Summary: It’s 3am and Steve allows himself to feel a little comfort in the midst of all the madness.

Word Count: 500 words

Prompt: ‘You’re my new pillow’

A/N: This is for the amazingly wonderful @band--psycho and their drabble celebration. This was difficult to keep under 500 words!!!!

It was late, and nothing good ever happened at 3am. He felt like he was always the last one for the penny to drop, always a few steps behind everyone else mentally, and he worried that if he closed his eyes for a second that something terrible would happen.

Sitting in the Wheelers basement, surrounded by the gentle snores and occasional shifting of his sleeping friends, he allowed himself a second to just breathe. His gaze drifted in the gloom to you, leaning against him with a peaceful expression, and his heart ached. You had never really been his, but that didn’t stop his heart leaping into his throat every time he saw you. Not that he had ever told you that. Steve knew he was not good enough for you, you deserved the world, but he wanted you to be happy, to get through this nightmare as unscathed as possible. Part of him wished you’d never been dragged into all this, and another part was grateful you were by his side.

Maybe one day, the stars might align, and you would see he was sitting here simply waiting for you, but until then, he was content to just be in your orbit. He shifted slightly, laying back against the arm of the sofa causing your head to rest against his chest. Steve froze as you let out a deep sigh and then snuggle into him, your hand coming to rest by your face, softly rubbing his chest. A goofy smile played on his lips as he looked down at you with a lovestruck expression he knew would result in mercilessly teasing if witnessed. Things were crazy, and he was so afraid he wouldn’t be enough, but right in this moment he allowed himself to feel something else, something lighter.

You let out a soft groan and your eyes opened slightly, taking a moment remember where you were. A soft smile pulled at your lips as you realised you were snuggled up to Steve, assuming he was asleep. Sneaking a glance up at him, your eyebrows rose when your eyes met his warm chocolate one.

“Hey.” You whispered, voice still thick with sleep.

“Hey.” He hummed back, the rumble in his chest vibrating beneath your hand.

“You comfy?”

“Yeah. You?”

“You’re my new pillow.” You grinned sleepily and Steve felt his heart explode at just how adorable you looked right now.

“Any time.”

“Careful, Harrington, I might just hold you to that.” You murmured as you snuggled into his chest once more, already feeling sleep calling you back into its depths.

“Good.” He whispered, wrapping his arm around you, and letting his own eyes close. The weight of you against his body was reassuring, a reminder that he wasn’t alone, that he was just a nineteen-year-old kid, and it was okay not to have his whole life together. He placed an absentminded kiss to the top of your head and allowed himself to drift off and get some well-deserved rest.

[girl-next-door-writes]

Hi! :) was wondering I'd you could have someone get flirty...inappropriatly so with Mycroft then shows up to find him

@theweepingvulcan91 Thank you so much for this gift of a gif. It might have got away from me a little - Em.

The soft glow of the reading lamps illuminated the high ceilings and grand bookshelves of the Diogenes Club, casting long shadows that danced upon the richly decorated walls. Mycroft Holmes, his posture upright yet relaxed, was nestled in a plush armchair near the fireplace. The subtle crackling of the fire added a comforting backdrop to the scene, a stark contrast to the day's relentless demands.

The other members of the club, equally committed to the sanctity of silence, moved about with deliberate quietness, their footfalls muffled by thick carpets. Some were engrossed in their newspapers, others in their books, all sharing an unspoken agreement to preserve the tranquillity of the space.

Mycroft's evening reading was a well-worn ritual, a necessary retreat from the cacophony of his responsibilities. His sharp eyes scanned the pages methodically, each piece of information absorbed and catalogued with precision. The club's unique environment allowed him to process the day's events, each new fact or observation finding its rightful place in the intricate tapestry of his mind.

The atmosphere was one of serene detachment, a haven where even the most burdened of minds could find respite. As the fire continued its gentle murmur, Mycroft turned another page, the rhythm of his routine restoring the equilibrium that had been disturbed by the day's incessant challenges. Here, within the hallowed halls of the Diogenes Club, he found peace. That was until his phone vibrated, drawing his hawkish attention.

Mycroft's eyebrow arched as he glanced at the screen, his eyes narrowing slightly as he noted the sender. Shuffling through his mental rolodex, he realised this was that strange woman from acquisitions who always smiled at him. He barely said a word to her, and yet she always seemed to go out of her way to say hello to him.

He wondered how she had managed to acquire his private number. Mycroft prided himself on his meticulous control over his personal information, a necessity in his line of work. That she had pierced this veil of privacy irked him greatly. This imposition was an irritation, a security breach.

With a silent sigh, he leaned back in his chair, allowing the shadows of the flickering fire to play across his face. The club’s atmosphere, usually a fortress of calm, now seemed to buzz with a faint undercurrent of urgency. Perhaps this message was a necessity, something which required his immediate attention.

He opened the message, his expression becoming one of confusion.

"Did you miss me today, Mycroft?" read the message, followed by a winking emoji.

Mycroft's fingers tightened around his phone as he read the message again, disbelief warring with irritation. His mind raced, analyzing every interaction he had ever had with the woman from acquisitions. Each encounter had been brief, polite, and decidedly unremarkable—at least from his perspective. What had he missed? How had he overlooked someone slipping through his carefully constructed barriers?

He set the phone down on the mahogany table beside his chair, the flickering firelight reflecting off its screen. The message stared back at him, its casual tone completely at odds with the seriousness of his current predicament. Mycroft was not accustomed to being caught off guard, and the sensation was deeply unsettling.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. It would not do to let this minor breach unsettle him. He needed to address the situation methodically. His first step would be to ascertain exactly how she had obtained his private number. That would require some discreet inquiries—he had no doubt that the answer would reveal a lapse in his own protocols, and that was unacceptable.

For now, he had to respond. Ignoring the message was not an option; it would only embolden her to further intrusions. Mycroft picked up his phone again, considering his reply carefully. He needed to convey his displeasure without revealing too much, to reassert his boundaries firmly but without provocation.

After a moment of contemplation, he typed out a response:

"I believe you may have mistaken this number for a more public line. Please refrain from using it in the future. – M.H."

He sent the message and set the phone down once more, feeling a measure of control return. The fire crackled quietly beside him, and he let the warmth and the familiar surroundings of the club soothe his irritation. This would be dealt with swiftly, just like any other anomaly in his meticulously ordered world.

Unfortunately for Mycroft, the matter was far from settled. It appeared that once she knew this was indeed his number, it only encouraged her to send further messages. Each one was more flirty and suggestive than the last, making him feel increasingly uncomfortable. Despite his best efforts to ignore the texts and hope they would stop, they persisted, leaving him in a state of constant unease. Mycroft realized that he would need to take more definitive action to address the situation, but he wasn't quite sure what steps to take next.

Sherlock had asked you to stop by the Diogenes Club on your way home to drop off a file for his brother. As you entered the room, ignoring the glares that quite obviously not being a member earned you, your attention fell on the look of total frustration on Mycroft's face. His entire being practically vibrated with it. It was clear that something was deeply troubling him, and it wasn't just the breach of the club's strict non-communication policy by your presence. Mycroft, usually the epitome of calm and control, seemed to be battling an internal storm. His fingers drummed impatiently on the armrest of his chair, and his eyes, though focused on his phone, were filled with a mix of anger and discomfort. It was a rare sight to see the elder Holmes so unsettled, and you couldn't help but wonder what had pushed him to this edge.

As you approached, his phone vibrated. He looked at the screen and rolled his eyes, frustration rolling off him in waves.

"Trouble at work?" you queried, taking a seat opposite him. Your voice pierced through the silence, earning you more than a couple of black looks from other club members.

"Nothing I cannot handle," Mycroft huffed, his jaw clenching as his phone vibrated once again. The urge to throw the damned thing into the fire grew stronger with each low hum emanating from the blasted machine.

You glanced at his phone, then back at him. "It doesn't look like nothing," you remarked, your tone gentle but probing.

Mycroft's eyes flicked to yours, a mixture of annoyance and resignation in them. "Persistent... nuisance," he admitted, the words forced through gritted teeth.

You raised an eyebrow. "Anything I can help with?"

For a moment, he seemed to consider the offer, then shook his head. "No, but I appreciate the gesture. It's a personal matter that requires a delicate approach."

"I doubt a 'delicate approach' from a Holmes is possible," you said, raising an eyebrow and trying to suppress a grin.

The phone buzzed once more, breaking the moment. He reached out and grabbed it with such force that his knuckles turned white.

Without a word, you extended your hand, eyes locked on his. He hesitated but eventually handed over the phone, his gaze never leaving your face. As you scrolled through the messages, your eyebrows shot up and a smile tugged at your lips; the messages were becoming increasingly bold.

He watched, his curiosity piqued, as you typed a reply and hit send. Then, with a smirk, you handed the phone back to him.

He held it in his palm, expecting another buzz, another daring message in response to whatever you had sent. But the phone remained silent. Intrigued, he opened the message thread. A look of amusement spread across his features as he read what you had sent to his rather persistent admirer:

"Consider your approach noted. Best of luck, but persistence doesn't always equate to success. - someone with a much better approach to courting Mycroft Holmes."

[girl-next-door-writes]

One more Sammy

"Should we go help him?" You asked Dean, amusement lacing your voice as you watched Sam being flirted at.

"I don't know, he's gonna have to learn to deal with these things at some point." Dean shrugged, smirking, knowing full well Sam was trying to be polite because the woman had information but didn't want to lead her on.

"I'm going over."

"Spoilsport." Dean chuckled, knowing full well you couldn't help but intervene.

"Hey, sweetheart, I lost you for a moment there." You beamed at Sam, slipping an arm around his waist before turning to look at the woman innocently. You'd successfully conveyed that Sam was taken and now there was no possibility of her getting anything more from him, she gave up the information and you could all go on your way.

"Thank you for that." Sam said softly, his arm still draped over your shoulder as the two of you walked over to the Impala.

"No problem big guy, I figure it's part of my role, being the fake significant other to whichever Winchester needs it." You patted him on the ass and then climbed into the car.

"Fake... yeah..." Sam said softly to himself.

[girl-next-door-writes]

For the gif Drabble

Dean just couldn't help himself. Seeing you bent over Baby that way gave him all sorts of thoughts he really shouldn't be having. He'd been half joking when he said you needed to wash his beloved car after getting her all muddy on a dirt track when you and Sam 'borrowed' her. Maybe he had blown his stack. Maybe he had been a little lost in the red mist at the time. But what had you expected? You had taken Baby!

He'd actually been feeling bad about the way he'd blown up at you, after all, you'd taken good care of her despite the mud bath. He had been making his way to apologise when he had stumbled upon a fantasy he hadn't even realise had been lurking in the back of his mind. Soapy water had soaked your shirt and as you leaned over the hood to reach a spot he had to bite his lip to hold back a moan. Fuck. Maybe he should 'punish' you more often.

"You come to inspect my handiwork?" Your voice pulled his gaze back to your face and his cheeks flushed a little.

"You didn't really have to do this, you know that, right?" He looked at you a little guilty, only for you to laugh and toss a sponge at him.

"Fuck, Winchester! Let me just apologise for taking your ride without asking. No need to make it this big fucking deal. I got her dirty, so I'm cleaning her. This isn't about you having a tantrum, so don't get your panties in a bunch."

"Who told you I'm wearing panties?" He smirked, bending over to pick up the sponge.

"Well, a pair of my black ones have gone missing and I'm fairly certain Sam's huge ass couldn't fit in them. Yours on the other hand..." You squealed as Dean ran over and picked up the hose you'd been using.

"Not sure if you just paid me a compliment there or not, sweetheart. Maybe I should be flattered you've been paying that much attention to my ass. On the other hand, you did just accuse me of stealing your underwear so..." He splashed you with water only to have a full bucket of soapy water tossed over him in retaliation.

Sure, seeing you bend over Baby had been a very good sight, but seeing you drenched and laughing made his heart clench. Shit. There was a very good chance he was catching feelings, but he could ignore that, right? Right now, he had a water fight to win.

[girl-next-door-writes]

More Sammy

Sam sat in the library replaying every moment from the last case. He had been so convinced that you wanted a guy like Dean that he found himself emulating his older brother, and that had caused some terrible situations.

Sam was not Dean, not even close, and as he sat in the darkness he couldn't help but cringe, running his hand over his face. Dean was a leader, a soldier, a man of action. Sam... he knew he had other strengths, but what did they matter when the one person he wanted to look at him like a hero was too busy looking at his brother?

"Hey. I thought you were in here. Why you sitting in the dark?" Your voice cut through his moping and Sam looked up to see you leaning on the doorframe, the light behind you illuminated your form but hid your face from him.

"Yeah... just thought I'd have a moment, you know?"

"Want company? Or is this an 'alone' kind of moment?"

Sam considered for a moment before using his foot to slide a chair out from the table for you.

The two of you sat in silence for a while and he could sense you watching him.

"I'm okay. Well... as okay as any of us can be in our profession." he said softly, wanting to reassure you.

"You know you're not alone, right? You can talk to me about anything, Sam." He felt your hand rest on his, your warm skin sending goosebumps up his arm.

"I know." He said, his voice breaking slightly.

"Don't tell your brother..."

Sam tensed, expecting a confession of your feelings for Dean.

"... but you're my favourite Winchester."

The whispered confession in the darkness of the library had his heart racing and his cheeks heating. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

[girl-next-door-writes]

Thank you @kjs-s for this fabulous gif of my favourite ginger general. 

He was in an impossible situation. Standing on the bridge, surrounded by his superiors and subordinates, you kneeling before him, he knew what he had to do, but it broke him to do it. 

“General, you must execute the traitor.” Pryde’s clipped tone broke through his thoughts. It was clear he was being observed, his own life hanging in the balance if he failed to act now. 

Armitage couldn’t look at you as his hand rested on his blaster. You were his only friend, the one person who had been by his side through everything, the only person who knew he was the spy. 

It had all happened so fast. He had been about to be discovered and before he could do or say anything, he heard you confessing. In that moment his whole world fractured. You were willing to die for him? Knowing that, made him being the one to kill you almost impossible. 

His hand shook as he pointed his blaster at you, his bottom lip quivering as his eyes met yours. 

“It’s okay.” You mouthed to him, still protecting him even now. His mind raced, fighting to find a way out of this. 

He tensed his jaw and pulled the trigger, watching you slump to the floor. 

“I will dispose of the body.” He said coldly, bending and gathering you up in his arms, totally numb. 

As he walked towards the medical wing, you took a great gasp of air. It startled him so much he almost dropped you. His brain registered that you weren’t dead and immediately he bustled the two of you into an escape pod where he stared at you through his tears. 

“Told you it would be okay.” You gave him a shaky smile, unbuttoning your shirt to show the armour beneath.

“And if I’d shot you in the head?” He asked incredulously, still not quite believing his eyes.

“I was banking on you not wanting to mess up my pretty face.” You grinned and he pulled you into a tight hug. Armitage had no idea what would happen next, but he knew that he was not going to let you go. 

[girl-next-door-writes]

If you’re still accepting them…

Dean couldn't help it, he couldn't have stopped it even if he'd tried, and there were times he wondered if he should have tried to stop this. His heart beat the same as it ever did, only now it seemed to fill up the emptiness inside him. Maybe it was best he didn't fight this, because it would kind of be like putting out the fire that was keeping him alive in the depths of a blizzard.

He hadn't acted on his feelings, but he was very aware that Sammy sensed something was going on. He'd picked up on the way Dean lit up whenever you were around, how he kept you close to him, even unconsciously. Sam was fairly sure that if you asked Dean to give up this life, to walk away from it all, his brother would go, although Dean would tell his little brother that was crazy, that he wouldn't give up everything for someone.

Dean was so afraid to be in love, to acknowledge that this was what he felt for you. It was terrifying to feel this much for one person, and even more petrifying to think about you loving him in return. He knew he was a difficult person to love, that he was broken and flawed and not the best at communicating, but in the moments you would hold him he couldn't help think that you might just see past that.

It had been a long day and the team had reconvened in the motel room.

"Here, picked you up a little something." You tossed a box across at Dean who looked at you with confusion. Opening it up, he couldn't help but grin and look over at you to say 'thanks'. He had managed to crack the screen on his phone during a fight a couple of days ago and not only had you bought him a replacement but you'd also bought him a protective case featuring his favourite cheesy horror movie monsters.

It was little things like that which made his chest fill with warmth. You had noticed his phone, noticed the small frown that pulled at his brow each time he'd looked at it, and then you'd gone out of your way to make him feel better.

Dean watched you riffling through your bag with a soft lovesick smile on his face. You made him feel so much, but the best feeling was that he felt whole. Somehow, you pushed together all the fractured pieces of him and he felt like he wasn't on his own. He loved you, and there was nothing he would rather be than a boy, in love with the most amazing person in the whole world.

[girl-next-door-writes]

"I am fairly certain you enjoy being infuriating, just for the sake of it." You huffed, glaring at Mycroft across his office as Sherlock stilled in the chair he was sitting in, wondering if his brother was quite prepared for the sheer force of your irritation.

"I assure you, I do not do anything 'just for the sake of it'." The way he said it made it sound like he had never placed that combination of words together before and they each left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Oh, no, you do things simply to make everyone else's life far more difficult than they need to be. How often does your brother come to you for help? And here he is, actually asking and being rather polite about it..."

"Because you insisted upon it." Sherlock said almost under his breath.

"...and you are making him jump through hoops. I thought you were better than that, Mycroft Holmes. I thought you were a man of integrity and intelligence, not pettiness and pedantry."

"Beautiful alliteration." Sherlock added with a hint of a smirk.

"I am neither petty or pedantic." Mycroft said dryly, ignoring the snort of laughter from his brother.

"Then why will you not grant him this simple favour?" You stared at him and Mycroft found himself at a loss for words.

"I told you he wouldn't help. We should leave." Sherlock got to his feet, trying not to look at his brother.

"You are not the man I thought you were." The disappointment was evident in your tone as well as written on your face and Sherlock mentally began to count down from ten. The two of you were almost at the door before Mycroft caved.

"I shall require a 'favour' in return." Mycroft said in a clipped manner.

"That's no way to ask someone to join you for dinner, but I'm sure my good friend here will be happy to accompany you." Sherlock grinned, enjoying the reaction from both you and Mycroft. He stepped forward and took the file from his brother and swept out of the room, leaving you and Mycroft looking at each other with mild panic.

[girl-next-door-writes]

This bit of Mycroft is for the lovely @theweepingvulcan91

It was in this moment that you realised the depth of Mycroft Holmes true feelings for you.

Sherlock was explaining why he needed his brothers help due to your 'incompetence', blaming you entirely for the way things had gone so wrong so quickly, even though you would argue he was equally to blame for your current predicament. After a solid five minutes of Sherlock listing each and every one of your failings as a human being, you looked up and caught this look on Mycroft's face. His jaw tensed, his eyes flashing a warning towards his little brother, his grip on his umbrella a little too tight. You tuned out what Sherlock was actually saying, beginning to suspect he was trying to find the right combination of insults that would unlock whatever he was after within his brother.

That was when you realised that Sherlock had discovered a weakness in his brother he could potentially exploit, and that weakness was you.

"Enough, Sherlock." Mycroft's clipped tone rang out in the room, venom practically dripping from those two words.

This reaction caused Sherlocks face to light up with a broad smile, his hypothesis suddenly proven in his mind.

"I am sorry," Sherlock now addressed you, surprised to see you appeared upset, "I simply needed to confirm my brothers pressure point. You are... you are a trusted friend and I am sorry if my words were a little harsh."

"You're an arse, Sherlock, but I am strangely used to it." You gave him a half smile, trying not to take what he had said personally, even though it had cut quite deep.

"I shall leave the two of you to discuss how you are going to deal with this. After all, brother dearest, it will only be a matter of time before your enemies come to the same conclusion as I have. So find a way to protect your goldfish and then we can return to our case." Sherlock winked at you as he turned and strode out of the room, his coat billowing dramatically behind him.

"Have you Holmes boys always been so bloody dramatic?" You asked softly, watching him go with a shake of your head.

"I am rather afraid we have." Mycroft hummed, uncertain how to proceed.

"Well... as long as you aren't going to burst into some intricately choreographed musical number, I think we'll be okay." You smirked, trying to ease the tension a little.

"No, no musical number, but... perhaps you would join me for some tea?"

"That sounds perfectly lovely."

You had no idea what would happen between you and Mycroft, but it did feel rather nice to know that possibly the most powerful man in the country felt the need to protect you, even from his own brother.

[girl-next-door-writes]

I mean I will gladly send you gifs of each too lll

I may have squealed a little when I saw this gif.

You stormed onto the bridge, your coat billowing behind you with each stride, a look on your face that warned everyone to steer clear unless they wanted to be the focus of your rage.

"Pryde." Your voice cut through the conversations and the mans shoulders slumped slightly.

"Hux, deal with this."

"No." Hux said, a smirk growing on his lips, feeling bolder as you approached. "I believe this is something you will need to attend to yourself, Sir."

"Pryde. What is this I hear about you sending a retinue to Akanis? Have you lost your tiny mind?"

He turned to you with a tight smile, he had been told his new title of Allegiant General was to be the highest rank, and then Ren made you his second in command. It certainly didn't help that you appeared to have a soft spot for Hux.

"It is all part of the larger strategy to..."

"No, this is you trying to prove you're the big man, and you aren't. The Supreme Leader wants you to focus on the scavenger girl. You are to leave the 'big picture' strategy to General Hux. Is that clear?" You stared him down.

"Yes, crystal clear."

"Armitage. Walk with me." You said without even glancing at the General, not wanting to leave him there for Pryde to metaphorically kick once you had left.

"Of course." Hux couldn't hide his grin. He knew he would pay for this later, but right in this moment he had to admit that he possibly loved you, just a little.

[girl-next-door-writes]

Hi there! 😁

Sammy gif??

"You think you're real cute, don't you Winchester." You huffed. The two of you had been traipsing through this damned forest for an hour and Sam wasn't showing even an ounce of concern about this.

"Well, if the hat fits." He grinned.

"Just to be clear, I wasn't saying I think you're cute."

"But you do." He was a few paces in front of you and you cursed those stupidly long legs of his.

"No. I think you're a directionally challenged idiot right now."

"Are you saying you don't think I'm a very cute directionally challenged idiot?" He shot back, causing you to roll your eyes. Normally you would enjoy flirting a little with the younger Winchester, but your feet were starting to hurt and you were getting hungry.

"Sam. How much further until we get back to the Impala and Dean?" You asked, stopping dead and glaring at him.

Sam looked at you all innocently and shrugged. He actually fucking shrugged. You felt your grip on your temper slipping and were just about to launch a tirade of insults and cuss words at him when Dean crashed through the trees.

"There you two are! Seriously, what took you so long?" He frowned, looking over both of you to check you were okay.

"Your bother's an idiot." You huffed, moving over to stand with Dean. "If you can tell me you parked close by and we can pick up food on the drive back to the motel then I swear I will love you forever Dean Winchester."

"Guess you're in luck then, sweetheart." Dean grinned, missing the way Sam's smile faded. "Baby's only a five minute walk and I figure we'll pass by a drive thru on our way back. Come on Sammy."

Sam followed you and Dean through the trees, disappointed that his brother was once again your hero, and not him.

[girl-next-door-writes]

Mycroft holmes gif drabble please? (Miffed Mycroft is quite entertaining, he looks so done, poor man can't even enjoy a cup of tea in peace)

His phone let out a low hum, vibrating against his fingers in an ominous manner. Mycroft knew he shouldn't look, knew exactly what was waiting for him on that small screen, but it was almost a reflex at this point.

He read the message and couldn't hold back the sigh or the eyeroll. His little brother was insufferable... and completely wrong about this matter. Mycroft wasn't sure what Sherlock thought he had picked up last week when you had walked into the flat and interrupted the brothers bickering, but the insinuation that Mycroft had any feelings for you at all were entirely unfounded. It wasn't as if he thought about you, wondered what you were doing, had checked up on you using the cctv systems. Regardless, Sherlock had been bombarding him with little messages telling him such banalities as what you are wearing, what you just ordered in a cafe, what flavour chapstick you are using. He had not asked for these detail, he did not need these details, and yet each one was now locked away in his mind palace where he knew he would spend hours pouring over them.

The phone buzzed again and Mycroft considered hurling it across the room. Thinking that might raise a few eyebrows from his fellow club members, he simply sighed and opened the message, his eyes growing wider as he read the information there.

[ Brother dearest, mummy has dropped by and is currently deep in conversation with your beloved. They are discussing going to see a show. ]

Mycroft rolled these details around him mind for a moment before giving in and messaging his mother, telling her to let him know what show she would like to see and he would ensure the tickets would be waiting at the box office. It was only a matter of seconds before his phone alerted him to another message.

[ Now you just have to decide if you are reserving two tickets... or three.]

He could practically feel the smugness rolling off Sherlocks message and part of him wanted to emphatically inform his little brother that he would not be attending whatever musical his mother intended to see, but the thought of sitting with you in the dark intimacy if a theatre made his heart flutter.

"Damn it." he muttered to himself, earning a chorus of disgruntled sniffs and hums from his fellow club members at his breaking the silence code. Getting to his feet, he gathered his things and prepared to leave. He had much to do, procure tickets, figure out what he would wear, perhaps make dining reservations for before the show, or drinks ones for after. Not that Mycroft Holmes had feelings for you. No. He was just wanted to spend as much time in your presence as he could, without his brother's interference.

[girl-next-door-writes]

The man in front of him had no idea just how much trouble he was in. Mycroft simply smiled and nodded, already plotting fifty different ways to cause him maximum pain in the shortest amount of time.

"... and that's why I think that the political system is flawed, Mikey." The American grinned at Mycroft, his hand still resting on your lower back as if it were the most natural place for it to rest.

"I see." Mycroft said in a dangerously calm tone that made you shift a little, reaching out and resting your hand on his arm.

"Mycroft, I believe the ambassador of Denmark wished to discuss something with you." You turned to the American and gave him a tight smile before excusing yourself, dragging Mycroft with you.

"Look, I know he kept calling you 'Mikey' but that's really no reason to cause an international incident." You hummed softly as the two of you walked across the room.

"He kept touching you." The words escaped through gritted teeth, his anger obviously switching off his usual editing and allowing a simply truth to fall out.

"Seriously? That's what has you all tense like this? Oh, you adorably silly man." You smiled warmly up at him, your heart fluttering. "Perhaps, if you don't want other men to stand so close, you should keep me closer."

"Perhaps." Mycroft conceded, moving his hand from your lower back to slip around your waist, pulling you into his side, where he always believed you really belonged.

[girl-next-door-writes]

Gif drabble for dear Mycroft? ❤

The last time your path had crossed with Mycroft Holmes it had got rather... heated. He had said some scathing things that had cut deep, something he regretted more than he would ever admit. This was why he found himself at this little soiree, lingering in the entrance hall, his eyes darting to the door every few seconds.

"Brother mine, I am surprised to see you here. This isn't you kind of thing, too many... people." Sherlock smirked, knowing full well why Mycroft was there.

"I am merely passing through on my way elsewhere. It pays to show my face, on occasion."

"Of course. Your presence wouldn't have anything to do with-"

"Sherlock!" Your voice cut through their conversation and Mycroft turned, his heart racing when he saw you in your fine evening wear, looking even more attractive than usual. His mouth went dry and he found himself at a loss for words as you approached, his stomach dropping when your smile faded as you spotted him.

"Mycroft." Your tone was a little clipped yet polite, a tone which felt like a thousand papercuts to his skin.

"I'm fine." He blurted, mentally kicking himself.

"Good." You said with a hint of confusion.

"Good." He nodded.

"Is this how you two are going to interact for the foreseeable? This is going to very quickly become infuriating. Mycroft, just apologise and admit you're in love. Then my dear friend here can accept and admit their love for you and we can all get on with our lives."

"SHERLOCK!" You and Mycroft both shouted simultaneously, staring incredulously at the cheeky Holmes, who simply shrugged and walked away, leaving the two of you in a rather awkward silence.

[girl-next-door-writes]

As long as I'm with I'll always be happy.

Oh, he was completely obsessed and he had no idea what to do about it. He had awoke on his brothers sofa to find your head lay on his chest. The soft rise and fall of your breathing indicated that you were most definitely still asleep, and he wracked his brain to figure out how he had come to be in this position. That would most definitely have been easier if the warmth of your body pressed against his was not distracting him and bringing his mighty IQ down to single digits.

Your fingers twitched lightly on his stomach, and he stiffened. Almost as if you had sensed his discomfort, your fingers gently caressed his shirt before coming to rest over the part of him he was possibly most self conscious about. You never seemed to see all the negative things he hated about himself. In fact, you had commented on more than one occasion that you thought he looked rather handsome on those days he felt fat.

Mycroft tentatively brushed your hair away from your face, taking a moment to take a mental photograph to store away, certain he would never find himself in this position with you again.

In the soft stillness of the early morning it was as if his brain had finally closed the millions of tabs it usually held open. You helped him pause, to catch his breath, to just be in the moment. Most certainly a rarity for Mycroft Holmes, and he adored you for that, even though you would never know.

Mycroft was rather adept at hiding his emotions, but he loved you unequivocally. You always seemed to know the right things to say, the right way to put people at ease, so why did he get so nervous when his eyes met yours?

You stirred and he quickly tried to extricate himself, practically falling off the sofa and scrambling to his feet as he smoothed down his suit.

"Morning." You gave him a sleepy grin as you pushed yourself up into a sitting position, stretching your aching limbs.

"Good morning." He couldn't help but smile as he watched you.

"How long have you been there watching me sleep?" Your tone was teasing and Mycroft felt the heat rising in his cheeks.

"Oh-I... I wasn't..."

"I was joking, Mycroft. I know you have far better things to do with your time than watch me snoring." You chuckled, getting to your feet and padding to the kitchen as you yawned.

"I can't think of any." Mycroft said to himself, wondering if there was any other task he would relish quite as much as basking in your peaceful slumber.

This was so unlike anything he had ever felt before, beyond anything he had ever believed possible. All these years he had believed he was incapable of this thing people called love, had never thought he would find it, and yet he missed the weight of your head resting on his chest, missed the scent of your hair, the warmth of your body, the peace you seemed to wrap around him.

"Your brother has a head in his fridge. An actual decapitated head! Seriously, the lack of any edible food in this flat is disturbing. Want to go grab some breakfast?" You popped your head out of the kitchen and looked at him, and he could almost believe there was a hope in your eyes.

A bright smile lit up his face and he couldn't help but want to have breakfast with you every day for the rest of his life.

"I can't think of anything I would rather do. Speedy's or the Savoy?"

"I don't think I'm dressed for the Savoy." You chuckled, making his heart race.

"Then I suppose we shall dine downstairs for breakfast and save the Savoy for dinner."

"I may very well hold you to that." You hummed as you sat on John's chair and pulled on your shoes.

"I sincerely hope you do." Mycroft had already half planned the entire day, he only hoped you wouldn't mind indulging him.

[girl-next-door-writes]

Welcome back!! And you know I'm always begging for some gif drabbles!! So here's my request...

I know I usually ask for Sam but thought I'd switch it up.

I'm not even upset this isn't Sammy. *dreamy sigh*. Okay, here's some Bucky for you.

"Really Sam? You know I hate it when people try to set me up." You whined into your phone as you made your way towards the cafe you were due to meet your old friend, tempted to just tell him something else had come up and make a break for it. Your friends were terrible at picking guys for you, and you had been looking forward to this brunch for weeks, and now it was tainted.

"It's not a set up. It's not like I'm gonna disappear and leave the two of you. Look, he needs to meet people and you are one of the lesser problematic people I know." You could practically hear Wilson's grin and your eyes narrowed as you rounded the corner, spotting him and confirming the grin.

"Okay. Just don't expect me to be nice if he's a jerk." You said before hanging up.

"Hey! Told you I didn't make up having friends." Sam said to his companion as he spotted you.

"Samuel Wilson, you had best be buying me pancakes after dragging me all the way over..." Your words trailed off as some people moved and revealed the stupidly attractive man beside your friend. As if to make matters worse, the guy smiled at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and you could feel every ounce of self control melting.

"This is my friend, Bucky. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go get you pancakes." Sam grinned, knowing full well what he'd done as he headed inside to order at the counter.

"Hi. I'm Bucky. It's- it's nice to meet you."

And right then you knew he would be trouble, but damn if you weren't already strapping yourself in for the ride.