#mtp mycroft holmes x reader

[ananiel]

Imagine being able to see spirits. You are able to see animals and humans walking (or floating) around, hearing how they talk and how they speak, talking about how they wish they could see their family or talking about how they want nothing more but justice

You are able to touch and pet, to speak and to interact with any of them, and when people touch your bare skin, they can see spirits too, which caused You to always wear gloves and long sleaves, as well as a mask

Now, the basic answear for this Power would be to become an oracle or some crazy witch of the Town. But what if You become a Detective. Yep, a young Detective that suddenly rised into the favour of the people for being able to solve cases that are a century old (mainly because the beheaded victim cries in Your bathroom at 3:36 am sharp every night)

So You live like this, in a happy way with your gift

Logical would be to keep your gift hidden too, so that people don't try to kill You for knowing to much

You met him on a random day, thinking nothing of him while a dog spirit was hiding behind your leg. He seemed friendly, and eager to befriend You as well, almost honored to be in your presence

Now spirits upon spirits whisper his name, talk about how deranged and how he was the one who killed them, or played part into their death. Spirits that got very fond of You would tell You to stay away from that man

You clearly followed their advice, and distanced yourself from him. But he isn't dumb, he caught up to it, and now, he tries to figure out what has gotten You to hate him so much

Surely... He has been studing You for ages, talking You day and night to figure out the best personality to just steal You away only for himself. What failed in his plan?

He asked himself, oh well, guess he'd have to take You in a more forcefull attempt

[kanroji-san]

Obanai!Y/n/Reader AU

Mycroft: *Throws open door*

Mycroft: So you two ARE having sex!

Obanai!Y/n and Sherlock: *Innocently lying around and reading*

Obanai!Y/n: We are? Sherlie, why didn’t you tell me? I would have put my book down.

[eliasorchard]

moriarty the patriot — masterlist

★ : fluff [♡] angst [✧] smut [✩] long fics [✿] hcs [๑]

smudge of love & lipstick - ft. william ♡

s/o that loves swords - ft. william ๑

you run a flower shop - ft. william ♡

you deserve some love & rest - ft. william ✩

first time - ft. albert ✩

fool with the slowest heart - ft. albert ✧

her and her darkness ♡ & ✧

shall we share an umbrella? - ft. william ✧

bondage - ft. william ✩

the earth is still warm from you - ft. william ✧

[fairy-writes]

Hello, can I asked for some headcanon of Mycroft Holmes having a crush on Y/n as the little sister of Moriarty Family, please? 🥺🥺🥺🥺

CRUSHES ARE FOR ORDINARY PEOPLE

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing(s): Mycroft Holmes x Female!Moriarty!Reader

Genre(s)/Tag(s): FLUFF, Crushes

Notes: I did change it to the Moriarty’s older sister instead of younger because Mycroft is in his 30s while they’re all in their 20s, lol

__________________________________________________________________________

Admittedly, the moment Mycroft realizes he has a crush—and on Albert James Moriarty’s older sister, no less—he panics. 

Him? Have a silly little childish crush on you? Preposterous!

Crushes are for ordinary people. And he is definitely not ordinary.

So he does what any reasonable man would do and buries his feelings. 

You were also his secretary, so it would be a conflict of interest anyway.

Therefore, burying his feelings and hoping they would go away would be the logical option.

At least… until Sherlock finds out.

The teasing was relentless.

Somehow, that information got to Watson. 

And in turn, somehow, that information gets to Albert. 

Albert confronts him about said information one day when no one else is in Mycroft’s office.

“What do you intend to do about it?” He asks his superior, who looks up from his paperwork. 

It would take an idiot to realize what he’s talking about. 

“Absolutely nothing. It’s a conflict of interest and completely inappropriate for the workplace.” Mycroft replies, and Albert nods once, a stern look in his eyes. 

“Good.” He says, clicks his heels together, and leaves with a salute. 

His feelings get harder to ignore the more you show up to his office to work. 

He admires your cleanliness and the dresses you wore (you were always dressed immaculately, which he definitely liked). 

He admires your hard-working attitude and how you smile at him whenever you see him. 

It makes his heart flutter and his feelings that much more difficult to ignore. 

Surprisingly, you approach him one day with a request that blows his expectations out of the water. 

“Would you like to go to dinner with me?” You ask, and he drops his pen in shock. 

The object of his affection asking him to such an intimate affair? 

He’s only human after all. It’s only fair that he would be in shock even if he wasn’t an ordinary person. 

Initially, he declines. 

It was a conflict of interest, and while you knew that, it didn’t stop you from asking again. 

“I don’t give a rat’s ass that it’s improper. I like you and would like to take you out for dinner if you’ll have me.” You say determinedly, and he gapes at your vulgar words.

He forgot that you always spoke your mind and said exactly what you felt. Even if it was against societal expectations of women. 

This, admittedly, makes you embarrassed. 

“Sorry. That was rude of me… I’ll go and—”

“Wait!” He stands behind his desk and rounds it to stand before you. 

He’s a good deal taller. You have to look up to meet his dark eyes. 

But he doesn’t mind. 

In fact, he finds it endearing.

And shockingly (maybe not), he finds himself accepting your invitation. 

His heart stutters at the blinding smile that you direct at him. 

It’s beautiful. 

And the rest is history. 

[married-to-google-translater]

@yuki-1999

Mycroft Holmes

Okay, it should be clear that Mycroft doesn't mean what he says to be mean.

But it might be a little too "truthful".

Or he could just be really frustrated and tired.

Side effects of being a Sherlock babysitter.

But whatever Mycroft said to you hurt your feelings.

Really really hard.

And you're certainly not trying to hide it.

You really made this point clear.

This will cause a really big fight between the two of you.

Which is rare because you don't usually argue.

This may also include some other things that have disturbed your relationship but that you haven't talked about before.

R.I.P the couple's time together tonight.

You could have spent time together…

But no..

Your evening is spent with you crying in the bedroom and Mycroft trying to understand what's going wrong.

It really takes too much time.

Mycroft is really not good at apologizing.

Because he's usually right.

But for you, he is ready to step into the discomfort zone.

Mycroft isn't really a good comforter.

But when you hug him he wraps his arms around you and apologizes.

Only once.

Just for you <3

[yyutsuu]

hi! your imagine was amazing, thank you so much for answering. i hope you don’t mind but may i request a mycroft x reader again but with some angst, where they have a really bad argument? they can break up or reconcile - it’s up to you!

Argument -Mycroft Holmes x GN Reader-

———

!! Angst with comfort !!

Gender Neutral reader

!! TW !! : Argument and smoking/nicotine mentions

Romantic relationship

———

Word count: 1098 words

A/n: (I have returned !!) I chose to have a happy ending, I hope you’re fine with that ! I also have no idea what the argument should be about, so I did not specify it, I hope you also do not mind that

This is serving as such a good distraction from the suffocating air in this plane 😭😭

———

It was a rainy day, both on the inside and out. You are laying on a relaxing and comfortable bed, the one that you and Mycroft shared. Usually, the two of you would be resting together, but last night was contradictive. Mycroft did not return home, he had most likely been staying in his office for the night.

You knew clearly what was the cause of this, during the night before yesterday, the two of you had an argument, not pleasant at all. “I despise you.” His words hurt like a excruciating stab wound, engraved onto your brain, haunting you.

The curtains were not open, but a faint luminescence emits still from them. The silence filling the air is harmonized by the rain, softly tapping at your window. At first, the tapping was simply background music, but now it seemed to become louder and louder, driving you to the brink of insanity as you hid under the warm blanket.

You decide to finally let go of the comforting embrace of your blanket which is as soft as a feather. You begin to sit up against the chilly bed frame. Your eyes are slightly swollen from the tears of last night mixed with the fact how you did not get the recommended amount of sleep, no, way less than that.

You simply sit there, blankly staring down the thin strips of light that had succeeded in escaped the cover of the gloomy curtains. You slowly and painfully recall the recent events, fatigue weighing down on you as you do.

It was presumptively one of the worst fights you’ve ever had with Mycroft, not psychical, but equally painful. You sat on your soft bed, rethinking the whole conversation over and over again, recalling every single tiny detail as if it only happened seconds ago.

By the time you realized you should perhaps head out for a breather, hours had passed since you sat up, the rain had died down. Getting out of bed was not difficult, you were wide awake ages ago. The very moment you step out from your blanket, the icy cold air bites at your skin.

After getting dressed and brushing your teeth you head straight outside, forgetting about breakfast entirely. It wasn’t too early in the morning, you stuff your house keys into your pocket, the sound of steady footsteps arising from your shoes. The air was particularly nice, cool and fresh, just what you needed.

The grass was damp, water droplets still resting on the emerald leaves that sprout from the earthy dirt. Every wave of sound was automatically blocked out by your ears, granting you the calmness you had wished for. The frown painted on your face, at long last, disappeared.

It was late in the evening when you finally returned home. During your stroll you had purchased some delectable food at a befitting bakery and had a cup of warm coffee.

You approach the front door to your and Mycroft’s shared house. By the amount of times you saw the door, you could tell when someone entered after you left. After you left the door, it had been unlocked from the outside and then locked from the inside. You stood there, slowly extending a hand to unlock the door, puzzled at who could and would enter.

It appeared you forgot about him, you had forgotten about Mycroft for a good couple of hours. “Mycroft…” You mutter, your memory finally refreshes as you unconsciously say his name. Your hand movements stop entirely, freezing up on the spot.

Your heart races, you don’t quite know what to do, open the door or stay out for longer? You knew deep down, the argument did not result into hate for Mycroft, you had said some pretty hurtful things too, but you just didn’t know at all what to do to fix the relationship.

You take a deep breath and place the keys into the keyhole, turning them as your ear takes in the sound of a familiar click. With your shaking hands, you turn the door handle and push the door open.

You look around and observe the room, Mycroft was most certainly present in the area, his once shiny shoes sitting near the front door accompanied with the difference in placement of a chair at the dining table proved that. After taking off your shoes and carefully placing them next to the door you walk around.

He was not in any room, not sitting on any furniture, you had searched most rooms. It was until you plopped yourself down on the couch you felt a small breeze graze your skin, it was coming from the sliding glass doors to the balcony along with a faint smell of nicotine.

You approach the balcony doors, brushing the silky curtains to the side, revealing the sight of Mycroft standing on the balcony. His back was turned to you but you could spot the smoke forming from each drag of the cigarette he made. It is without a doubt, you were not happy at all with Mycroft’s actions, he had promised he would avoid smoking a while ago, keeping his promise until now.

You slide open the glass door, Mycroft immediately puts out the cigarette on an ashtray and turns around to face you, as if nothing occurred at all a second ago. As he turns to face you, you can observe and notice that his lips are quite dry, the cigarette he had clearly wasn’t his first in a while. In addition to that there are very visible eye bags, he wasn’t getting enough sleep.

The moment the two of your eyes met, tears spill from Mycroft’s eyes, he had evidently been holding it in for quite a while. He walks towards you and holds you in a tight embrace. “Please, just allow me to do this for a while,” Mycroft whispers. You are caught off guard by this.

After some time you both head inside and make some tea. Eventually, the two of you talk about the matter and came to an agreement. Mycroft had also promised he would try his best to avoid turning to nicotine no matter what happens.

The following night was better than every other one you experienced, the two of you holding each other in an embrace while sleeping peacefully under the familiar warm blanket. The aftertaste of the argument entirely washed away. The both of you finally being able to receive sleep, the rain had begun again, but this time it was in forms of soft and calming taps on the window.

———

-yyutsuu on Tumblr and Wattpad-

!! Please refrain from reposting my work without permission !!

[lovelystarlightsblog]

More Mtp back scratching headcanons cause it’s my BIGGEST ADDICTION!

Sherlock Holmes:

Skeptical and surprised is the only way to describe his reaction when you offer him.

He’s honestly a little weirded out with the idea of you scratching his back. Why would he want you to scratch his back? He wasn’t too fond with the idea cause he was never the touchy one here, but after some time he finally agrees.

When your fingers started to scratch his back, he tended up immediately. He was definitely not used to the feeling. Not like he was EVER used to physical touch in any way whatsoever. And you’re here to fix that.

After a few minutes. He finally let himself loose and relax to your touch. He makes grunts and groaning from the feeling of the scratch and he’s not planning on holding it in either. He also squirms and makes lots of movements because he’s not used to the feeling of scratching. But he really do enjoy it.

After that he starts to think back about it and maybe, just maybe he doesn’t really mind it as much as he thought he would. In fact, he actually quite enjoy it and hope he can feel it again honestly.

Would he ask you for it? No. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want it. His ego is just too big for that. But still, he sometimes secretly hoping for it.

But as the relationship goes on and you do it more often, he’ll ask you back scratches while he jabs his thumb over his shoulders saying that he wants a scratch.

He LOVES the feeling of your nails on his back. It helps him a lot after a long day. But believe me, god FORBIDS this man to fight his ego. He would rather jump off a cliff than admitting how much he likes the feeling of your back scratches.

It took a lot of time for him to get used to having you scratching scratch his back. But once he gets used to it, he REALLY likes it.

The feeling of your hand scratching his back is just heavenly. A kind of comfort he rarely (or probably never) experience. And he usually relaxes by solving crimes, so it’s definitely not something he would take for granted. (Despite he never tells you).

He’s not too familiar with “closeness” but PLEASE DO scratch his back before he falls asleep. Not only that it helps him fall asleep faster it also prevents him from doing things late at night (like playing the violin at 3 A.M). And boy is John so grateful for that.

Mycroft Holmes:

He was definitely take back… and surprised.

It was unusual and a little odd. But then again, he’s not the one to judge. Plus! He loves you.

It doesn’t really took that much time to convince him. Which is good! That just makes it easier for you.

As soon as you started scratching his back you can feel just how tensed he is. Not because of the feeling of your scratching, but because he’s always been so busy and overworked. Luckily! You’re here to help him.

You can definitely feel how tensed his muscles are due to how overworked he is. So you also give massages between scratch to loose his knots.

He makes small sighs and groaning. But he does his best to keep them down. He can’t let anyone hear it, he has a reputation after all.

He easily relaxes to your touch. Thinking back to how stressed he is it’s no wonder he relaxes so easily. It doesn’t took long for you to make him completely relaxed. And he is incredibly grateful to have you here.

He is a busy man. So back scratching sessions is not an often thing to do. But when he has time, he would be happy to have his back scratches by you. Getting his back scratched after a long busy week is probably one of the best things he can experience in his life.

The feeling of your fingers on his back easily melts away all his stress and tension that’s been building up for the pass few weeks, and he absolutely love that.

Oohhh and don’t get me STARTED on when you scratch those nasty itches on his back that he can never reach.

Stress and tension cause him to feel a little itchy. And I can assure you that Mycroft is not the flexible type. So having you to scratch those itches is just heaven.

But despite he adored your back scratches. He is actually TERRIFIED of someone else knowing how much he actually likes it. He can’t let anyone know that he has a thing for back scratches, ESPECIALLY his brother Sherlock. There’s just no doubt that he will make fun of him for this.

But in the end of the day. He actually doesn’t really care about how other people thinks. He just loves you so much and words cannot express how thankful he is to have you. You always make everything soo much lighter for him. He’s always been so busy and all his work is not easy for him. So those little things means so much for him…

Aaaaaand done!

Sorry for the lack of writing, boarding school just drags me to keep studying.

[beneathashadytree]

Congrats on 2K!!! Could I request prompts 13 and 21, for Mycroft Holmes, please?

NIGHTS WITH YOU - MYCROFT HOLMES X READER

Warnings : pretty suggestive implications but nothing else I think, this is not proofread, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : domestic fluff <3

Word count : 0.7K words

Additional notes : Thank you nonnie! I did enjoy writing this soft piece, so fingers crossed that this is what you had in mind. Hope you like it!💗

Prompts : “Do you mind if we stay like this for a little longer?” “Can this stay between us?”

Tip jar if you’d like to buy me a Ko-Fi!

Masterlist

“Your hair’s much softer than it seems,” they pointed out as they carded their fingers through it.

“Is it? I’ve never paid it much attention,” Mycroft replied, his eyelids fluttering shut as their actions soothed his nerves to a point where he found himself nearly falling asleep.

Their other hand wandered, tracing invisible shapes onto the warm skin of his chest. He was very much naked in their bed indeed, but the last thing on their mind at the moment was any sort of intimate act. This was the only kind of intimacy that they were craving now.

“I believe Sherlock’s hair is quite similar to yours,” they mused, “The same curls and all.”

Mycroft sighed a little with exasperation, though he didn’t seem too annoyed. “Please do not bring up my brother’s name while we’re in bed.”

“Alright, alright,” they conceded, scratching at his scalp just right, successfully pulling a deep hum from the back of his throat. Something of a smile formed on their face; nothing ever made them happier than the sight of this man, who had a habit of working himself to the bone, relaxing in their arms. “If you’re too busy, I’ll let you up.” This was said with no small amount of reluctance, and was—thankfully—met with even more reluctance from his end.

“Do you mind if we stay like this for a little longer?” Mycroft carefully asked, not quite meeting their eyes. It must’ve been embarrassing to him; to ask for something so mundane and so simple, when he was a man who’d always carried the weight of the Crown and its responsibilities on his shoulders.

The last thing they wanted to do was discourage him from seeking them out whenever he was in need of affection—after all, theirs was plentiful when it came to him. “I’d very much like that, actually,” they replied with all the honesty there was, and then resumed their ministrations.

After a few beats of silence, they noted the dark circles under his eyes, and the gauntness of his cheeks. “You seem tired.” Their hand left his chest, only for their fingers to softly caress his face. “I suppose it would be wishful thinking on my part, to think that you’d been taking care of yourself?”

“Darling.” Mycroft sighed once more, though this time he sounded decidedly more resigned. “I just… hadn’t the time. Please, do not scold me.”

“I won’t admonish you this time, but you know I worry,” they earnestly said, tilting his face to meet their gaze. “You’re about to fall asleep in my arms, and it’s not even ten o’clock yet.”

He snorted, his tone self-depreciative. “Not my most impressive feat, I suppose, getting all but knocked out after one round in bed.”

“I’d rather have no rounds but plenty of hours of sleep for you.”

There was no doubt as to whether or not they were being truthful, because even a blind man could see just how concerned they were for his well-being, and how deeply they always wished to help shoulder some of his burdens. Since they very well couldn’t interfere with Royal business, they were stuck here, with nothing in their hands but to try and make him feel most at home and at ease with them.

“I’m sorry. I wanted us to have a more memorable night together, after having been apart for so long. But...”

Mycroft sounded truly apologetic as he said that, and they couldn’t help but smile at the way he could no longer force his blue eyes open. They knew it would be mere minutes before he fell into a deep sleep, and they would have to content themself with the beautiful sight of him slumbering in their embrace.

“It’s alright, dear. Only one round for one night is more than other men might offer, but I know it leaves a blot on your perfect record of a daily two,” they teased him, softly stroking his cheek as he huffed out a half-laugh and shifted to drape his arm around their waist.

“Then I must ask. Can this stay between us?” he mumbled, his consciousness clearly slipping.

“Of course. Wouldn’t dare spill your secret.”

And perhaps his last memory before the world turned dark was that of them tenderly kissing his forehead, seeing as he fell asleep with a small, content smile on his lips, the sight of which warmed them up to their very toes.

Taglist: @sherlockscumslut @lilias-highlights

[kunikame]

in another life. - w. j. moriarty

just a lil something that's been in the drafts for a while now.... 😇

warnings : mtp anime end + manga spoilers, cussing, stabbing & other mentions of killing/violence, sherlock is called a bastard twice (2 times), reader is called "beautiful" once (1) but no pronouns otherwise, ignore the "- divider -" it wont let me add the pic for some reason

w/c : 1671

maybe it was the way he carried himself, or maybe it was his selfless nature; you never knew the exact reason why you fell for the crime lord in disguise. it just.. happened.

you wouldn’t call it effortless, but you can’t call it hard either. loving william might have always been easy, but loving him never was.

loving william in a physical way was horribly hard. he was always overworked and tired– or working– and most importantly, on his merry way to rid england of the corrupt nobles. he was doing a great thing, you told yourself (the ‘but the wrong way’ remained unsaid, as always), and you couldn’t wait to see the nation become one he’s always dreamt of. a place where people feel safe, and, most importantly, equal.

only, you wanted to see it with him by your side.

yet as your eyes follow his figure and that of the accursed detective he’s grown so fond of– sherlock holmes, the bastard, that should be you– falling into the thames river, you realize that maybe, maybe he hasn’t told you the extent to how far he’s willing to go for this nation. maybe you were too naive, maybe you missed the signs, or maybe he simply didn’t trust you enough to tell you about his plans. now you’ll never know.

you remember one time you overheard the brothers arguing, liam saying “you don’t know what it’s like walking alone every step of the way” then apologizing right after, only to be met with silence. a few moments passed and you heard louis reply “you don’t know what it’s like either, brother. we started this journey together and have walked the path together, as a team. it’s only the destination you insist on reaching alone,” and now you realize, maybe you should’ve inquired about the meaning behind his words.

except, you didn’t. you thought if it’s something important, liam will tell you sooner or later. spoiler alert, he didn’t.

now all you feel is the betrayal settling in your heart because while everyone else knew, they never thought about telling you. no “oh hey, by the way, your boyfriend is going to sacrifice himself soon, but no worries we got sherlock on the job”– a plan which backfired since both of them jumped– nothing. what hurt the most was not even liam thought to tell you.

and here comes the guilt baring its teeth, biting into your heart and lungs and suddenly you can no longer breathe or hear anything other than the ringing in your ears– you never even got to say goodbye. he was just going to die without saying anything. he just.. left you there.

when you saw their bodies splash into the river you felt like a part of yourself drowned with them. with him.

the days after the incident were a blur. you don't quite remember anything through a whole month after they jumped. everyone around you slowly realized you knew nothing of the plan. albert couldn't talk to you about it very long as he got locked up. moran disappeared off the face of the earth soon after. all you had were fred, james and louis, and perhaps they were all you needed. every step of the way, they stood by your side.

you were a team after all. since your younger days. there were more of you back then, but, maybe the 4 of you could go on until you reunite with albert– and hopefully moran– somewhere down the path.

3 months. 3 months have passed.

days turned into weeks, weeks into months.

you missed william dearly each day, but you are not as depressed as you were anymore. louis has been made leader of m16, albert was still sitting in his cell, moran was still missing and fred was tending to his flowers. some things just don't change, you chuckled.

thanks to louis' new position you had responsibilities and jobs to carry out again. you'd say it's with less people but that would be a lie. herder has finally wormed his way into the actual missions– technically. 

things start getting crazy from there. 1st a mission regarding moran, next a briefing with the older holmes, next the younger one– the absolute bastard– shows up. without william.

you take a step back– maybe you weren't over it after all, but if you stabbed him right now mycroft would kill you. louis verbalized the thoughts you all had, ".. that day, you fell down the river thames with brother william.. and now, you're the only one standing in front of us like this. can you.. please explain?"

sherlock goes to tell the story of how he awakened on a boat heading for america with bandages all over him and william both. met a guy called henry (also known as billy the kid, apparently), who was the one to patch them up and watch over them and blah blah blah– you stopped paying attention halfway. you only zoned in when he mentioned the blond.

".. i got a telegram from liam; 'help m16 for me' he said. and that's how i ended up back in london, in secret." 

when you opened your mouth to speak, fred stole the words right out of your mouth, "mr. william is .."

it hit you then. not like a punch in the face, more like a direct run in with a truck. he didn't die. he's.. he's not dead. he's alive. for the love of god, he's alive.

uncontrollable tears were streaming down your cheeks. it wasn't just a dream, wasn't just something you made yourself believe to cope with his 'betrayal'. it's real. he's alive.

the room broke out in chaos once the news registered in herder's brain. he reminded fred of his new roses, and you of your one wish coming true– it didn't last long however, as louis got right back to the point of the briefing.

"you really are just like liam."

"mr. holmes, may i have a moment?"

you couldn't help yourself, you rushed to the door after it closed behind the 2 men.

".. thank you. for that time.. and all the way until now, for not forsaking my brother.. for saving his life.. from the bottom of my heart, thank you."

william and albert went around greeting everyone in order. you stepped away and chose to gaze out the huge window while you waited. eventually, you were the only one left.

you smiled softly then; you can imagine how much those words meant to louis. they were true, though.

- divider -

yet another mission is over, and now moran is back among your little no-longer-criminal-organization group. it took fred almost being shot, a poker card from william, and a lot of convincing, but he's home. you're back to bickering and teasing each other, just like old times.

barely 2 days later, william and albert showed up, sending the tea cup fred was holding shattering. the idea of letting the 3 brothers have their reunion first was a collective agreement so you pushed louis into the hallway and shut the door softly. 

with a soft sigh, you avoided listening in on their conversation this time (much unlike the other occupants of the room; specifically herder, who went tumbling the moment the door opened).

taking the cue, the others slowly filed out of the room, leaving only you and william, who was staring at your back intently.

"you have an eyepatch now i see," you said, turning to face him.

the sun behind you illuminated your figure just right. you looked exactly like an angel would. maybe this a sign, he thinks.

"i do indeed. you've grown even more beautiful than i remember."

"flattery will get you nowhere, pretty boy," you sighed, "why didn't you tell me?"

"i couldn't, i'm sorry. you looked so happy. i couldn't bring myself to ruin it for you. for us. i thought, in the end, if i shouldered the responsibility myself, maybe you'd realize i was a monster all along. tainted, with hands covered in blood. i didn't deserve to hold you, love you, the way i was."

"you're very wrong about that. you were, are, and will always be the most beautiful and selfless soul i know– even if that whole bridge jump scene was very selfish, if i do say so myself," you move closer to him to cup his cheeks (still as soft as you remember, though slightly more bony) and caress them softly, "you deserve everything and more, liam. if the stars would make you happy i'd go and pick some for you. you should've talked to me, relied on me a little more. i thought we were a team, an unstoppable duo, you know? i can't be a duo on my own; neither can you."

"i know now. i'm sorry. are you still mad?"

you looked at him as if he hung the sun and stars himself and he believes he has an answer to that question, "i'm not mad at you. i can't be. i love you too much for that."

the love in your eyes is mirrored in his vermillion one, the burning intensity of it almost swallowing you up like the flames in a burning building, yet the warmth is friendlier– gentler – the last rays of a summer sunset by the ocean.

"never do anything like that ever again, alright blondie? promise me."

"i promise."

you remove your hand from his cheek, placing it in the small space between you and raise an eyebrow in amusement, "do you pinky promise?"

he can only chuckle and hook his pinky with yours, "i pinky promise."

the deal is sealed with a kiss filled with 3 years worth of words and emotions left unsaid.

perhaps it was meant to be like this. is this what "in another life" means? most likely not, yet still. he's a new person and so are you. your lives are not what they used to be.

maybe this is your "another life".

ੈ✩₊˚TAGLIST : @gabirii @sunaaa @menhwa-pdf @arkangelee (if you're in bold i can't tag you. ask/comment to be added/removed or fill form . )

[wizardfrog69]

Hello, sunshine! Can I request how mtp men (mainly Moriarty and Co, maybe Holmes brothers?) will react to finding out what their s/o, who they are rather smitten about, doesn't see that they find so appealing in them? Like, they really don't see anything outstanding in their own self, saying that they're boring and mediocre at best, despite them actually being a talented and reliable person. I hope I managed to explain my request coherently enough ^^" English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

Omg idk why but I got scared when I saw 'sunshine' thank you tho that was really sweet of you :)

Dw your request is great and dw about your English it's great! Thank you for the request! But idk who Co is. Like I know that Co. Stands for county but I don't think there's a character who is a county

'•.¸♡how am I specifical?♡¸.•'

Mtp x gn!reader

Fluff

Feat. William, Louis, Albert, Sherlock, Mycroft

Enjoy!

William James Moriarty:

Honestly he'll be like huh????

When when you asked him why he liked you so much since you would never match his intelligence and your ideas always seemed so bland next to his he was confused.

Like he wouldn't really show it tho, he'll just smile and say that you are very smart and talented and would give examples when you surpassed his intelligence or when he was inspired by you.

Or if you're really good at something then he'll mention it and say how he doesn't know anyone who can do that as well as you do.

He'll also say something like 'I feel in love with you for a reason.' Or something along those lines.

Louis James Moriarty:

Man could talk about about you for hours and I mean HOURS.

Like if you make things e.g. paint or drawing then he'll show you everything you painted/drawn and gave to him and he'll say it belongs in a gallery and constantly compliment you on how talented you are, not only in art but in many other things.

If there's something that he can't do but you can then he'll definitely mention it like you're talented and he can write a whole ass essay saying how talented you are.

Albert James Moriarty:

He's surprised, he asked you to do things for him or simply asked you questions because he knew you had extensive on certain topics, so why were you asking why he was in love with you and were you saying you're boring?

Like you helped him in many ways and you think you're boring??!?!?!

He will give you a whole fucking list on why aren't boring at all and how talented you are and reliable not 100% not boring.

Sherlock Holmes:

He thought it was a joke and started laughing.

When he realised you were being serious it amused him even more, you boring? Really? If you were so boring Sherlock wouldn't be all over you.

If he still didn't convince you, he will tell you how many skill you have in which other people lack.

Mycroft Holmes:

He is confused, how can you be boring?

Especially if you work with him in MI6 cuz tell me one boring person from there, see you can't .

He will explain how you aren't boring at all and will list all your skills and/or talents as a result.

༺♡༻ 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 ⋆ 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 ༺♡༻

Hoped you enjoyed this! Btw requests will be answered at a slower pace this time around and my activity via posting will be slowed down in general.

But have a wonder day/night! And sleep well if you're going to sleep:)

-with love, Az the wizard from :)

[ananiel]

Oh You, the smiley Fox that his world seem to revolve around.

You were... He doesn't know. He doesn't know what status You have, what family You might come from or what that smile filled with malice means, or how the rumours about You started, no one does, and it seems like no one ever Will.

The only thing known about You, is the fact that You have powers. Powers that could help him, powers that could make everything so much more easier for him.

So he asked around, stalked and threatened others for Informations, and finally, he got the chance to see You and speak to You

The first Time he had the oportuny to be in your presence, it was like a lump formed in his throat. He has heard about that fox like grin of yours, a grin that keeps people awake at night.

But that stare, that stare that completly shut him up. He could stay ages under your stare and he wouldn't get bored, wouldn't even think of something else at all, just You

You were beautiful, a true gem for him. He snapped out of the first shock, at least a little, and he started asking question. Of course, your answears were like riddels, not even the "yes/no" answears were simple, You had to spice them up, to make them harder for him to understand You. He repeats them in the dead of the night like a prayer, as if he'd have a chance in ever revealing your true nature. As if you'll be his once he does reveal te truth behind your words.

Never did a woman keep him up at night like You did. Hell, he wasn't even aware this could happen before meeting You.

IT was but when he did his nightly routine when he saw something. You marked him with your magic, and your initials were ingraved into his colarbone with a neatly handwritting. His fingers ran over that place over and over. In his delusional mind, he saw this as a sign that You wanted him too, as much as he wanted You.

He grew obsessed with that ideea, of the ideea that You were just as crazy about him as he was about You.

His obsession grew because of it, but if he only knew the truth. The truth that it was actually a Mark You put on him to warn other witches of his intentions. After all, before his intention to love you, the first one was to use your powers and nothing else

[pillow-anime-talk]

hi, can i request nsfw 42 + Mycroft Holmes from Moriarty The Patriot with brat/slutty reader

# tags: scenario; one night stand; hot romance; strip club; stripper!reader; bratty!reader; nsfw

warnings: mention of sexual acitivities, size kink, a bit of dry humping, erotic dance, commands, just touching, no panties, ass gripping, slutty names

includes: gender neutral reader ft. mycroft holmes {mtp}

music inspiration {click}

author’s note: i liked my own idea and the character of mycroft in it, so i hope you like what i wrote too :) have a nice time!

42. “… You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

You encircled the metal pipe twice, then wrapped your left leg around it and tightened your grip on its cold surface, all the time looking at your regular customer – Mycroft. His huge and breathtaking posture occupied the entire soft burnt red armchair, and his face was directed at your naked body from the beginning of your strip dance. He carefully watched your agile legs, waist, neck adorned with a gold necklace, as well as glossy red lips and cunning eyes with a long line of black eyeliner.

He came here to see you twice a week: always on Tuesday at ten o’clock in the evening, and every Saturday shortly after midnight.

“… You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.” You pushed your hair back, giggling a little. “... As always.”

“Let’s just meet after your working hours.” He grunted with satisfaction, taking a sip of whiskey with an ice cube, and you just smirked, shaking your head in disapproval.

“I don’t sleep with my clients, you know that. I play with them, tease them; you can look at me and touch my body, but nothing else, pretty boy.” You said in an amused, slightly playful tone of voice, pressing the chest against the smooth long stick. Your make-up reflected the lights of purple and gold lamps beautifully, and your skin was smooth and juicy like never before. You were sexy, attractive and talented (not just in dancing, of course). “Should I do more or just dance next to this pipe? Have you come to confess your nasty sins to God and drink some alcohol or what?” You asked after a short while, touching the metal with your musculed back at the same time. Your high heels tapped loudly on the dark wooden floor, and the man set the glass down on the table next to the chair.

“Come here.”

“As I thought.” You responded by smacking your lips and then slowly walked over to the man, placing your hands on both of his knees. Your chest immediately caught his eye. The necklace reflected the light from the small lamp next to the two of you, and you crouched down, wiggling your ass. However, you quickly lifted your body, standing over one of your client’s legs and sat on it with a confident movement. Your bare skin touched the cool material of Mycroft’s black pants, and you smiled in his direction. “Touch me, I know you want to.”

Both large hands touched your waist, then moved to your bare buttocks, squeezing them. The grip was so strong that you moaned slightly under your breath, biting your lower lip with your teeth. For sure, after this night, red marks will be visible on your skin. That wasn’t a problem though.

“You’re my favorite cumslut... So disappointing that you don’t want to meet me for free. You know I’d please you very well.” He grunted, obviously dissatisfied, and you only moved your hips, rubbing against the man’s soft pants. The pleasant friction caused a slight wave of pleasure in you.

“Meeting outside of my job would certainly be more expensive than a private car. You wouldn’t have paid off until your future grandchildren died.” You leaned to him and whispered the sentence into his ear, licking it lightly with the tip of your hot tongue.

“One day you will succumb to me, bitch.” He responded by squeezing your ass once again and you lifted the corner of your mouth up.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” You replied, catching his massive bulge in his boxers with your right hand.

[moriartyluver]

*in tv advertiser voice* Do you 🫵like moriarty the patriot? Are you 🫵looking for a community with the same interest as you? Do you🫵 want to make friends with like minded people?

Well then I have just the place for you!!

I made a discord server for moriarty the patriot fans. Just click on the link to join! We discuss theories, simp over our favourite characters and more!

Please join or I will hide under your bed and eat your bunny slippers 👹

[fairy-writes]

Hello i hope u r doing well ☺️ can i request when Mycroft Holmes says something mean to their S/O and regret it later i want a dramatic one ,and may i please request a long one with hugs and tears ( im beeing dramatic myself lol ) and thank you❤️

REGRET

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Requester: yuki-1999

Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot/Yuukoku no Moriarty

Pairing(s): Mycroft Holmes x Gender Neutral!Reader

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Angst to fluff

Note(s): There isn’t a lot out there about Mycroft’s personality, so I took some liberties.

We’re ignoring the fact that there’s a power gap in this in that Mycroft is a high-ranking director of the military department, and you are his secretary.

__________________________________________________________________________

The door slams open and bangs into the wall, leaving a sizable dent in the wood paneling. Albert Moriarty jumps a bit and turns to face you, an eyebrow raising as he takes in your fuming form. You’re panting from hurrying up the stairs in your haste to get to Mycroft’s office before anyone could talk to you.  

Luckily everyone could tell you were too angry for conversation. 

“Leave.” You snarl at Moriarty, and his eyebrow raises further as he looks at your lover, Mycroft Holmes, who is leaning his weight on his desk. Mycroft gives a nod, and Moriarty salutes briefly before taking his leave, tucking his hat under his arm as he takes care to close the door behind him. 

Leaving just the two of you alone. 

Mycroft doesn’t look perturbed. On the contrary, he looks just as handsome as ever, not a hair out of place, and his suit immaculately pressed. 

You knew it would. Despite your anger, you had still ironed it for him that morning. 

But that wasn't the point. 

You were still angry at him.

“May I ask why you’re so upset, dearest?” He asks, and you snort,

“Don’t ‘dearest’ me. You know very well why I’m angry.” You snap, and he raises an eyebrow. He looks so much like Sherlock when he does. You can see the resemblance in the slope of their noses and the shape of their eyes. 

“No, actually, I don’t. Do enlighten me.” He says, and you roll your eyes. 

Was he really that daft?

He was Mycroft Holmes. One of the smartest—if not the most brilliant—men you knew. 

“Last night.” You say, and his eyebrow raises further.

“What? The dinner with my parents? What about it?” He asks, and you clench your fists to keep from screaming. It would do no good for you now. 

“What you said about me. That I was your secretary.” He frowns at this, looking genuinely confused. Your temper keeps flaring higher and higher, and you aren’t sure you have the energy to stay calm.

“Aren’t you, though? I don’t see what the problem is. I’m not a mind reader.”

“Is that all I am to you?” You say quietly, and he briefly mulls it over, considering his words as if he isn’t sure what to say.

“That’s your job description, isn’t it? You aren’t a soldier. You are my secretary, nothing more, nothing less.”

At that, you flinch as if struck across the face.

Was a secretary truly all you were to him? That’s what he seemed to think. 

So, that’s how it was going to be, then?

Instead of screaming, instead of allowing your welling tears to fall, you simply turned around and left, hands fisted in the fabric of your overcoat. You hear him call your name in confusion, but you ignore it, simply opening and shutting the door behind you. 

Albert Moriarty is stationed outside the door. He greets you with a brief nod of the head, but like Mycroft’s call of your name, you ignore that too. Instead, you draw your coat about yourself, tugging it tight across your chest and buttoning it up to your neck. 

It’s snowing outside, and your carriage is waiting in front of the building. You climb inside, giving the cabbie the address to your Sherlock’s apartment. 

You don’t want to go home to your shared home with Mycroft. You don’t want to be alone in that big old empty house. 

Knocking on the door to 221B Baker Street, it’s actually Doctor John Watson who answers the door. He smiles at your appearance, having known you for a good few weeks since Mycroft introduced you to him and Sherlock.

“What can I do for you?” He asks, and you sniffle in the cold,

“Is Sherlock home?” You ask, voice trembling with unshed tears. At this, Watson frowns and ushers you inside and up the stairs. A fire is going in the fireplace. He takes your coat and fetches you a cup of tea before sitting down across from you. 

“Sherlock isn’t home at the moment. He’s out of the city on a case and asked that I handle any clients that come by. What seems to be the problem?” He asks gently and offers you a handkerchief as you start to cry.

“We were at dinner with his parents last night. Mycroft called me his secretary.” You say through hiccups. Watson's frown deepens at this,

“Isn’t that what you are, though? His lover and secretary?” He asks, and you shrug,

“That’s all he called me. So I asked him about it today, and he said, and I quote: “You aren’t a soldier. You are my secretary, nothing more, nothing less.” 

Watson makes a quiet ‘ah’ noise and moves to sit next to you on the couch. He places a hand on your back as you hunch over. 

“Is that all I am to him, John?” You whisper, and he’s quiet, thinking it over. 

“I don’t think so. I think—and forgive me if this sounds rude toward Mr. Holmes—but I think he’s just terrible at expressing his feelings. He and Sherlock both are rather rubbish at delicate matters such as someone else’s feelings.” He explains, and you nod as your tears begin to run dry. 

You should have known that. Should have remembered. 

You and Watson stay and talk for hours after you stop crying. He brews another pot of tea, and the two of you talk, getting to know each other better. He even makes you laugh with some of Sherlock’s antics and cases.

It’s dark by the time you decide to go home, gently refusing Watson’s offer for supper but accepting his call for a carriage. You put on your coat as John follows you to the door. 

“Thank you, John. Mary’s a lucky woman. I wish you the best of luck when you get married.” You say, and Watson flushes pink to the tips of his ears. 

“Thank you. Get home safe now. I’m sure Mr. Holmes is worried about you.” He says, and you laugh one last time,

“Call him Mycroft. There’s no need to be so formal.” You say, and he grins, 

“Mycroft it is, then.”

The house is dark when you are dropped off. You thank the cabbie and watch as the carriage drives off into the night. As you approach the door, you realize that there is indeed a light on in the house. A single candle illuminates the window where Mycroft’s study is.

The servants have all gone to bed, and you are alone as you carry an oil lamp up to Mycroft’s office. Your steps are quiet, almost silent, as you ascend the stairs. You don’t bother knocking, instead easing the large door open and peeking inside. 

Mycroft is hunched over his desk, one hand running through his hair as the other holds the report he’s reading closer to the candle so he can read. 

He doesn’t notice you. 

“You’re going to ruin your eyes like that.” You say, and Mycroft looks up, getting to his feet when he realizes it's you. 

“You’re back.” Is all he says, and you nod,

“I couldn’t stay away forever.” You say, and he swallows, hesitantly beckoning you inside. You enter, shutting the office door gently behind you. It’s silent for a beat. Then two. Then the third beat before Mycroft starts talking.

“I want to apologize.” He says, and you frown, setting the oil lamp on a clear spot on his desk. Mycroft keeps talking.

“I didn’t take into account your feelings when I introduced you to my parents. It wasn’t my intention to hurt them.” He says, and you cross your arms,

“You didn’t just hurt my feelings, Mycroft. You belittled me. You made me seem unimportant to them. Like I was nothing.” You say, and you could have sworn you saw him cringe. 

“Again, it wasn’t my intention. You are infinitely more important to me than I made you seem. And for that, I want to apologize.” He says as he comes around the desk, gently taking your hand in his when you uncross your arms. His hands are warm and rough; you can feel papercuts littering his fingertips where he was careless with his documents. 

Was he really that worried about you?

You can’t help but lean into his touch as he reaches to cup your cheek, running his thumb across your cheekbone. Your anger is long gone after speaking with Watson. 

“I accept your apology.” You whisper and look at him just in time to see him smile.

[yukitomybeloved]

Og William also definitely has a lot of anger and frustration in him, it’s one thing for a spoiled child to be talking shit about the lower class and it’s a whole other for a child to be ABUSING servants and two boys that are younger than he is. But children aren’t just born angry and cruel. Even in that one panel of him when he was way younger

(This one)

Idk he just looks a little pissed off, and it’s not like anyone just angered him or something. It just doesn’t seem like a neutral expression (at least not to me)

Also (and I know I’m probably just overthinking this lmao) wasn’t he supposed to be playing with these blocks?

The way they’re placed doesn’t indicate that they were being played with the way a normal child would be playing with them, it’s not a tower or anything. They’re just all over the place, and before you say “it’s about Albert’s dislike for things not being in place” why couldn’t they use anything else? Like why did it have to include og William??? (I’m overdoing it ik😭)

SCREAMING CRYING DYING THROWING UP WHY WHY WHY😭

“nii…sa…” I’m not okay

HES 12 AND ITS HIS BIRTHDAY

The way Albert is looking at him while the child is crying and bleeding is making wanna break down in tears

THE WAY HES WEAKLY GRIPPING ALBERTS TROUSERS MY POOR BABY

Ew why tf do I feel bad for him he literally abuses people

But also he’s a child who was constantly influenced by his parents and barely interacted with anyone other than his family which meant he was probably never taught right from wrong

How much y’all wanna bet him and Albert never once got a hug from their parents

[yyutsuu]

Hi, could you write Mycroft Holmes x gender neutral reader where they cuddle after Mycroft come late from work? Thank you!

Home Late -Mycroft Holmes x GN Reader-

———

!! Fluff !!

Gender Neutral reader

!! TW !! : None that I am aware of

Romantic relationship

———

Word count: 637 words

A/n: I'M SO SORRY, THE REPLY IS SO DELAYED. I had end of term exams to complete and study for, after that I managed to forget I even had Tumblr for a good few weeks... This is so short too... I swear I'll write more in the next approaching weeks to make up for it

Help what is short for Mycroft-? Mycky??? Mycro???? 😭😭😭

———

You are Mycroft Holmes' partner, the two of you sharing a mutual love for the other. It is currently late into the night, the comfortable cushions belonging to the sofa nudging against your night wear. Your eyelids were heavy, staying awake was becoming more and more of an arduous challenge.

But your body jolts up, the mist fogging up your brain and train of thoughts vanishing in an instant. The cause was the nearing noise of familiar footsteps approaching the front entrance, followed by the impossible to miss sound of rustling and jingling of keys. You watch from the couch as the front door is unlocked and opened, an exhausted Mycroft walks in.

He closes the door, Mycroft drops his bag which most likely contains a great deal of important files. He lets out a yawn, a long tired yawn. He looks about, his drowsy eyes stopping in the direction of where you as well as the couch occupies. Mycroft's expression changes to one of happiness mixed with fatigue. "You are still awake?" He says quietly, closing his eyes momentarily and enjoying the warmth of the shared house.

Mycroft's eyes open again, his gaze returning to you, his soft warm look becoming a gentle smile. "It's been a hectic day. I'm relieved I'm finally home." He mutters. Mycroft's movements are sluggish, his hair a mess, he looks like a total slob, but strangely attractive. Mycroft makes his way over to you and takes a seat on the couch, right next to you.

"Good evening." You say to Mycroft. He fails to reply and is about to rest his head on your shoulder, before pausing and stopping himself. You can practically see the great amount of effort he is putting into to not just situate his head on your shoulder and fall asleep right then and there.

You sigh at his actions. "Oh Mycroft, refrain from overworking yourself..." You murmur. Mycroft's smile slightly broadens, his eyes softening as he finally gives in, you feel his head falling onto your shoulder. Mycroft proceeds to nuzzle into you for a moment, exhaling with great tiredness.

"I apologize, darling. It has been quite the busy week. But no need to worry, you always manage to calm me." Mycroft breathes out in a hushed tone. "That's good, you comfort me quite a bit too." You whisper in reply as you reach your hand out and secure it on the back of his head.

Mycroft smiles at your touch. "I am truly glad I'm the one that can provide to you the peace you deserve." He mutters lazily while his hands fall into yours, he proceeds to lace his and your fingers together, holding your tender hands tightly as your eyes meet. Mycroft pulls you in and presses a soft and gentle kiss to your lips, not pulling away for several minutes. "I am undoubtedly lucky to have you, my dear..." He whispers, millimeters away from drifting off to sleep.

You laugh softly at his state. "We're both exceedingly tired, aren't we?" You whisper. "How about we cuddle then go to our bedroom and get some proper rest?" You suggest. The reply you receive is a tired mutter of "Mmm... that sounds... like a splendid idea..."

Conveniently, the two of you are in a comfortable and cosy position, laying down on the couch with a blanket draped over your shoulders. Mycroft lays his head down on your shoulder and presses his body closer to yours.

The two of you never made it into the bedroom to sleep, within minutes of snuggling up nice and warm against each other, both you and Mycroft ended up drifting into deep sleep. The warmth of Mycroft's embrace shielding you from all unpleasantries.

Staying awake and awaiting Mycroft's return may be a challenge, but the rewards are advantageous.

———

-yyutsuu on Tumblr and Wattpad-

!! Please refrain from reposting my work without permission !!