#mycroft x fem!reader

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Answer The Phone (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader) *PARENTAL

Characters: Mycroft X Daughter!Reader, Sherlock X Niece!Reader

Universe: Sherlock

Warnings: mentions of being drugged via gas (fun story, this happened to me once lol), bomb, explosion, burns, unhealthy relationship with parent

Request: Hello could you do mycroft x daughter reader. Final problem the two have really broken father and daughter relationship and they haven't express themselves and because of it sherlock is kinda the father figure of the reader. So instead of Sherlock doing the phonecall its the mycroft who did the phonecall and reader almost said 'I love you ' to mycroft but its time up and mycrift witness the explosion in reader apartment and the Holmes are broken as they heard the shrill scream coming from the reader. Its up to you if you wanna turn out to let reader died. 😊

It had been a long time since you had actually gotten along with your dad. A long time since tensions weren’t running high when in his presence, well aware that things were one thoughtless comment away from a bicker or an argument. Whether it was wanting something from one another- more affection from him, or a more agreeable personality from you- or just not agreeing on things in general. He often commented on how you were more like your uncle Sherlock, even when you were young. Back then you took it as a compliment, seeing your uncle as a genius who adored you and was by far the funnest uncle in the world, but in your pre-teens you realised he meant it as an insult.

You could never forgive him for doing that, even if he didn’t mean it, or didn’t even realise what he was saying. Everytime he said it, it made you pull away from him even more. Spend more time with the man he compared you to, the only person who seemed to actually care about you. Of course, that was until you met Mrs Hudson and then John moved in with Sherlock. Mrs Hudson kept you company when your uncle was busy and you were avoiding your dad, and she’d softly poke into your home life and your relationship with your dad and try and give advice. John thought you were Sherlock’s assistant for a short while before Sherlock corrected him, acting insulted that he thought you were ‘just an assistant’. When he met Mycroft, he immediately began to understand why you weren’t close, and tried to be a responsible adult you could turn to. In the end, when you became a legal adult, you moved to an apartment much, much closer to Sherlock than your dad, and never in the 3 years you’d had it, had your dad stepped foot inside of it. He wasn’t allowed to. 

You had a lot of feelings towards your dad from childhood to now. Anger, resentment, distrust. A disconnect you never thought and come to accept could ever be fixed. Whenever you needed support, you went to Sherlock. John. Mrs Hudson. Never him. But this time was different. 

You were currently trapped in the said apartment. The one place you were supposed to feel safe no matter what, yet here you were, eyes focussed on the bomb that had been planted in the middle of your living room, the heart of your apartment, with several wires linking to it all across the apartment like spiderwebs. Linked to every possible escape route- the windows, the fire escape, and the only door in and out. You didn’t remember what had happened- you vaguely remember an odd smell as you wet to sleep last night, and when you awoke, you found yourself laying on the floor of your living room, and sitting up and seeing the device. Whoever had done this, had been nice enough to leave your phone right beside the bomb. You didn’t call anyone or even turn the phone on for several hours, scared that it had been tampered with as well and that was also a trigger, but you grew desperate. The first person you tried to call was your dad. You didn’t get through, so then you called Sherlock, and he picked up almost immediately, and you told him what was going on. 

That was about two hours ago now. The police cars littered the streets outside, the complex and surrounding buildings completely evacuated. It was just you and this bomb within a 50 foot radius. Well, for a period of time, both Sherlock and John were on the other side of the door, asking you a billion and one questions about what you could see, and you described everything to the best of your abilities, and it was useful. One, Sherlock was able to piece together it was well made, and whoever made this was an expert and had experience with this- probably a military man, working in a bomb squad or something, and that this was purely explosive, no nails or anything to cause more damage, and due the size, the blast wouldn’t go far past the walls of your home. However, after demanding his honesty, he admitted he also had no clue how to diffuse it, or if that was even possible. It seemed too fragile, that even a light breeze could set it off. That solidified your decision to remain perfectly still within two of the wires attached to your windows, too scared to even touch the glass or move to quickly, remembering his comment on a breeze, and didn’t want to risk vibration. 

You still hadn’t been able to reach your dad. 

“John?” You had asked over the phone. The phone was often being in call between people, mostly Sherlock and John, though Mrs Hudson had called when neither were available to try and keep you calm. It was John’s turn as Sherlock was following leads. 

“Yeah? Is something happening?” John asked. 

“No it’s just… I can’t reach my dad. I keep trying to call him but he won’t pick up… I… I just want to hear his voice.” You admitted. It sounded ridiculous, childish, but you were tired, hungry, and the adrenaline had drained your energy a while ago now. “Does he know what’s happening?” You asked. He was silent on his side for a minute. 

“I don’t know, but I tell you what, I’m going to personally find him, and drag him here, and make him answer his phone, okay?” He promised, and you could hear the anger oozing over the phone, which you couldn’t help but smile at. “In the meantime, I think Sherlock is going to call you later, I think he’s onto something. Hang on, alright?” He said, before handing up. You placed the phone on the floor, carefully standing up, and with distance between yourself and the window, you peered out of it, able to see John as he dashed off towards Lestrade, telling him something, before the pair got into a car and took off presumably to go and find your dad. Looking around more, you spotted Mrs Hudson peering up. She waved when she saw you, and you waved back. With nothing else to do, you sat back down in front of the bomb, trying to examine it to the best of your ability, seeing nothing of importance, before you laid down on the floor, closing your eyes, and waiting.

You flinched when your phone rang. You flinched every time it rang, even if someone had told you just a minute prior it was coming. You reached over, picking it up and placing it to your ear, remembering what John had said. “Sherlock?” You asked. 

“How many pieces of furniture in your flat can you crawl under?” His question was far from reassuring, as you bolted up, on high alert. 

“U-Um, I don’t know, why? Do I need to hide? Take cover? What’s going on?” You panicked. 

“The wiring to the bomb is far too fragile for someone to be able to rig it from the outside after escaping. They must have either found or made another way inside, somewhere where you wouldn’t have noticed. If we can find it you can get out yourself, or we can get inside. Think. Lay on the floor and look around for anything, furniture that you can get under, or furniture light enough but large enough to cover an escape but be able to move from below. Be. Careful. Watch the wires. Call me back if you find anything, I’m on my way back.” He said before hanging up, leaving you alone with silence and overwhelming pressure. You looked at the wires around you, before trying to think of the best places for someone to hide a hatch- under the coffee table, the recliner that you knew was easy to move, your wardrobe in your room which had some crawl space underneath, and for you, the most creepy- under your bed. You quickly checked under your coffee table in front of you, of course finding nothing, because of course that would be too easy. Your recliner was across from you, so after a deep breath, you got down on the ground, and carefully crawled under the wires, spotting a wire that was too low to crawl under, and you stood and carefully stepped over it. You then carefully moved your recliner, checking underneath, and found nothing. That left your bedroom. 

Your phone rang again, and your cursed yourself, realising you left it beside the table, and you hurriedly but carefully moved back, grabbing it and answering it. “Hello? Sherlock?” 

“Y/N?” Your dad’s voice caught you off guard, and you gasped in surprised. “What’s going on? John told me to call you and said it was dire.” He asked. A relief came over you just from hearing his voice, your eyes burning as you sniffed. 

“Dad… it’s bad.” You started, getting silence on the phone. “There’s… someone put some sort of sedative gas into my flat when I went to bed and broke in- they moved me into the living room and- there’s a bomb. There’s a bomb in the living room and it’s wired up to every escape and I can’t get out and I’m scared and I don’t want to die-” You rambled to him before you heard him finally repeating your name to try and interrupt you. 

“Y/N, Y/N, breathe. Is Sherlock working on it?” He asked, that last sentence sound a little distance, and you faintly heard John confirm in the background, before he returned to the phone. “Alright. Sherlock’s working on it. What has he told you?” 

“He um… He said that he thinks there’s a secret entrance somewhere- and that’s how the person who did this escaped after rigging everything. He told me to look for it- I’m going to check in my bedroom next.” You explained to him, looking over, being relieved when you saw no wire attached to the door. 

“Is that door rigged?” 

“No. Hold on, I have to crawl under the wires.” You explained, getting back down, crawling under the wires, before reaching it the door, and holding the phone to your ear. “Okay, I’m at the door.”

“Do you feel like a secret agent?” He asked, catching you off guard. 

“What?” You asked, pausing in your plan. 

“Crawling under and over the wires. It’s like the laser lights and those agents avoiding them. You used to love those movies when you were little. You thought that was what Sherlock did in his cases.” He reminisced. A faint smile met your lips. You’d totally forgotten about that. 

“Yeah… I remember one time when I pulled out all the red thread from a jumper you had gotten me, pinning it all over the house so I could pretend to be a secret agent and then using it to make an information board… you were so mad when you came back home because the jumper was some expensive brand and I’d made the board on a wall and wrote on it and everything… sorry about that.” You told him, somehow finding the energy to chuckle pathetically. 

“Don’t apologise.” Mycroft told you. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. You were 6, you were just being a child.” He pointed out. “I’m… I’m also sorry that I didn’t answer your calls. I should have known something was wrong when you kept trying to reach me.” He apologised. You hummed, before you realised something. 

“This is the first time we’ve been able to actually talk without bickering or arguing in years.” You pointed out. You heard him sigh. 

“When this whole mess is over, I promise you we’re going to have a proper family dinner, catch up, and actually talk. No bickering. No arguing. A genuine conversation. How does that sound?” He asked. You smiled to yourself. This was the best thing that had happened all day, not like that was hard. 

“Yeah. Let’s hope the escape is in my room.” You said, remembering your task. You reached out, grabbing the handle of your bedroom door, and opening it, and pulling the door open. “Hey, you know, despite not really getting along my whole life, I want you to know that I do love-” You looked up to search your room, but the sound of a beep made your eyes focus on the bomb attached to your bedframe, this one a lot bigger, that was rigged to your bedroom door, that you had just set off.

Mycroft heard you gasp, the sound of you running, hearing you muttering repeatedly ‘no, no, no, no”, the sound of you trying to open a door before the call ended. “Y/N?” Mycroft asked. He heard nothing. He tried calling you back, and it didn’t even ring. He got an awful feeling in his stomach and he wanted to be sick, but he looked up at John who looked confused at what was happening, having not heard what he’d heard. “Get me to her flat right now.” 

By the time the pair arrived on your street, it was already blocked off and there was more than one firetruck trying to subdue the fire that was blazing where your flat used to be. Mycroft didn’t speak as he approached, seeing the sight, realising what it was exactly that he heard. He heard his daughter realise she triggered an explosive. He heard his daughter run across the one place she was meant to be safe to the front door. He heard his daughter try and open the door, and realise it was locked and she was trapped inside.

He heard his daughter die, terrified and alone. And for what? Why? Why not him, or Sherlock? He wanted to be angry, demand answers, find who did this and get revenge even if it isn’t lawful, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t find it in himself to be angry right now. Only guilty. He should have spent more time with you. He should have tried harder to be a better parent to you, he should have been kinder, more understanding. He should have been there. 

“John! Mycroft!” Mycroft didn’t hear Mrs Hudson at first as she dashed over as quick as she could- she was sobbing and sniffling, clutching a handkerchief to her face as she approached. 

“Mrs Hudson, what happened?!” John asked alarmed and out of breath. 

“There was a second bomb in the bedroom, when she opened the door it set it off.” She explained. Mycroft finally looked away from the blaze to look at the woman. The call had ended only 20 minutes or so prior, and since the flat was still in fire, so there was no way to examine the scene. 

“How do you know that?” He asked her. She didn’t say anything, simply grabbing his arm and pulling him down the street, pass the firetrucks, past the police who looked defeated, and towards an ambulance. The back doors were open, and inside he was able to see two paramedics tending to someone in the bed. He felt his heart leap into his throat as he sprinted to the edge and jumped inside, able to finally see your face, an oxygen mask over your face, burns littering your body, and you were unconscious as a paramedic was placing bandaging on one of your burns. “Is she okay? Is my daughter okay?” He demanded answers, one of the paramedics looking up at him. 

“She’s suffered burns and blunt force trauma from the explosion. She was conscious when she was able to get out, but she fell unconscious, and we need to get her to the hospital now. Please sit down if you’re coming with her.” He instructed, and Mycroft followed and sat down. He turned, seeing John and Mrs Hudson stood, staring at you. 

“Please make sure Sherlock finds out who did this. They need to pay for this.” Mycroft demanded. John nodded firmly, before the doors shut, the sirens turned on and the ambulance began to move. Mycroft put his whole focus on you, making sure your chest moved up and down, looking for any sign of you waking up, and more importantly, any sign you were in pain. He only saw you breathing, and he decided for now he should be thankful for that. He didn’t know what exactly he was going to do, but he knew that somehow, someway, he was going to fix this. He was going to make everything better. He had to.

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS: @holy-tea-cup-blog @sassy-specter @keenmarvellover @multifandomfix @sleutherclaw @otterly-fey @courtneychicken @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-lies @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines@huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

[multific]

Destiny

Mycroft Holmes x Reader

Summary: What happens when you fall in love with the IceMan himself? It can never end well, right?

Destiny.

A simple word yet it held so much power.

What does it mean to be destined for something or even, someone?

When you first heard about this word, your grandmother told you how she and your grandfather met.

A true love story.

A story so beautiful it was always in the back of your head as you grew older and older.

You hoped you would have a similar experience in your love life. Finding, the person and falling in love, it all sounded amazing.

You knew you wouldn't be able to force such a thing, you were aware of that. And yet, you were impatient. 

So impatient that in fact, you fall into many traps.

In many ways, you thrived in your life.

Expect your love life.

Your desire for a love like no other made you fall in love with men who were undeserving. 

Until you met Mycroft Holmes.

To say that he was the entire British Government would be an understatement.

You applied for a simple job, to be his assistant.

You spent so much time with him, that you thought you were going insane.

You blamed Stockholm syndrome for your feelings.

The moment you realized your feelings were real was during a very difficult week.

Almost every criminal in London had an agenda to mess with him. This caused you to do so much overtime, that you didn't even leave the office.

It was during the fourth day when Mycroft showed up with a bouquet. 

"I thought you would be home," he said, clearly he wasn't prepared to have you right there, at your desk. "Usually you arrive at 6:46 because you stop by at the nearby bakery for breakfast and coffee." 

So, he did pay attention to you. After he spent all that time to make sure you are aware that he simply doesn't care for people like you.

"I stayed to finish the file on this. I-"

"Did you eat?"

"No, Sir." he made a face at that and took his phone out of his pocket.

"Delivery will be here in 10 minutes. Eat, drink your coffee and then come speak with me. I'll be in my office."

He ordered exactly just what you wanted with the most perfect coffee you ever had.

He paid attention to you.

And you realized your feelings for him were real.

You knew hiding it from him would be impossible. Mycroft was incredibly smart. He would notice.

But little did you know, he felt the same.

He thought you would notice his feelings and confront him about it. 

He wasn't ready for a rejection.

Yet, your rejection never came.

Not when he asked you out to dinner. Not when he brought you another bouquet.

Not when he kissed you.

Instead, he let you guide him.

Love wasn't new to him. He loved his siblings, and his parents but this kind of love is very different. 

He didn't have experience with this kind of love, and it scared him a little.

But he also didn't reject it.

He embraced it.

And soon, a beautiful diamond ring found its rightful place on your finger.

It might have not been the way you wanted your one and true love.

But it was your destiny.

And you were okay with it.

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[frost-queen]

The finest teacher (Fem!Reader x Enola Holmes)

Requested by: anon, Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia , @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve , @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko , @bubblybrianna , @justanothercoco @idkwhatmyusernameis,  @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampthing07

Enola’s laugh was heart leaping. You cracked up a smile of your own, holding your cup of tea gently in your hands. – “I promise you I didn’t leave Sherlock dry.” – she chuckled out, looking briefly out of the window to any passing people. You chuckled nervously, bringing your cup to your lips. Enola had been telling you a fun story of her when they were little. Playing near the lake where Sherlock and Mycroft pushed her into the water for fun.

She splashed Sherlock wet as Mycroft had sought safety behind a tree. Enola quirked her brow up, noticing how quite you were. – “Was my story not of any interest?” – she asked of you. Setting your cup down, you shook your head. – “Oh no… it is not that. It was very interesting.” – you answered quickly. – “Alright then…” – Enola doubtfully said picking up her cup. Nearly taking a sip when she sat her cup back down. – “Say Y/n we should go swim together.” – she called out making you nearly choke on your drink.

Coughing loud and patting yourself on the chest. – “Did I say something wrong?” – Enola wanted to know. Once more you shook your head. Then hesitantly bopping your head to the side. Enola moved her hands under her chin, leaning in closer. – “What did I say wrong. Do you not want to go swimming with me?” – she questioned innocently. – “Do… do you not wish to do something fun with me… do you feel uncomfortable around me in a lake?” – she wanted to know.

“No…no!” – you called out waving your hands across. – “It is not that.” – making clear to her. – “It is just…” – you sighed deep, shoulders slouching forwards. – “I…I…” – turning your head away, you felt embarrassed. – “You should be the one feeling uncomfortable around me.” – you outed with pity. – “As if I ever could.” – Enola spoke reaching for your hand. She took it, moving it down the table in the middle. – “What is the matter Y/n.” – she asked rubbing circles on your hand with her finger. – “I…I…I’m afraid I can’t swim.” – you outed with shame.

You expected Enola to start laughing loud, but she didn’t. She kept staring at you with her big doe eyes, caught off guard. She pulled your hand closer to her, your stomach bumping against the edge of the table. – “Why didn’t you tell me?” – she called out. You gently moved your hand back for some breathing area between the table and you. – “Because… it is shameful.” – you responded, looking down. Enola reached out to tilt your chin up.

Wanting you to look at her. – “It is not.” – a warm smile spreading across her lips. – “I’d be happy to teach you.” – she spoke. Your eyes widened. – “You would?” – Enola nodding vigorously. Before you could respond she jumped up, pulling you up with her. – “You mean right now?” – you asked worried. Enola nodded, holding you firm by the hand. She pulled you out of the tea shop with her out onto the streets.

The two of you came to a stop at the cobble streets. A carriage arriving as Enola whistled loud between her teeth. You stared baffled at her how she called over the carriage. It rode her way, coming to a stop. Enola opening the door as you got pushed inside. Enola sure wasn’t going to let it slip. She came sitting beside you in the carriage. – “Don’t be scared Y/n. I’ll always be close and be very gentle.” – she reassured you, feeling how your palms were getting sweaty.

You swallowed nervously with a nod. The carriage rode off as the ride was bumpy from the cobble stones. The carriage came to a stop. Enola and you getting off. She took your hand once more, running up to the lake behind her estate. – “Wouldn’t your brothers notice…” - you asked cautiously. Enola shaking her head. – “We have the estate for our own.” – she winked your way, flushing your cheeks.

The water was shimmering from the sun’s reflection. Enola was the first one to undress till her undergarments. You could only stare with wide eyes at her. – “Do you plan to go swim with your cloths on Y/n?” – she laughed out, pointing at you. – “Undress Y/n!” – she insisted as you did. Enola peeking over her shoulder to you slowly stepping out of your dress. Her heart beating just a bit faster.

Enola stepped into the water, shivering a bit from the chill. She got in waist deep, offering you, her hands. – “Come in gently Y/n. I’ll hold your hands. No worries you can still stand here.” – she said out loud. You bit your lip nervously. With a few encouraging words from Enola, ventured you into the waters. Hands holding Enola’s as the water rose up till your waist. Your breathing was slightly panicky as Enola calmed you down.

Shushing you and brushing her fingers down your cheek. – “I’m going to let go of your hands, but I promise you, you won’t drown.” – she said already seeing the panic in your eyes. You slowly started trusting the water as Enola let go of you. – “Now watch me.” – she spoke moving her arms. Gesturing at you, you copied her. – “Good.” – she spoke. – “Now keep doing that.” – so you did as she moved closer to you.

You panicked a bit when her hand came sliding around your waist. – “It is alright Y/n, I’m not doing anything yet.” – she called out. You swallowed calming yourself. Heart thumping louder at Enola’s touch around you. Cheeks flushing with heat at how she held you. – “Now keep doing what I thought you. I’m going to gently lift you up and you’ll kick around with your feet.”

You nodded putting your trust in her. Enola picked you up as you started kicking your legs. The water reaching your mouth making you spew it back out. Enola held you higher as you kicked around for your life. – “Excellent Y/n. Keep going.” – she encouraged you. You kept doing it feeling her hands slowly release from you. Calling it out, you panicked splashing around. Feet setting back on the ground, grasping for air.

“You were letting me go!” – you called out, turning around to Enola. Enola wiped her face as you noticed how wet her hair was. Snorting loud, you laughed at her. In your panicky splashing, you accidently splashed Enola wet. Enola swept her hand in the water, splashing at you. You sputtered loud, shuddering with cold. – “How dare you?” – you called out as Enola laughed loud. You silenced her by splashing her in return. Enola did it back as a battle of splashing emerged. Looking away you pushed your hands into the water, splashing Enola.

Enola send big waves of water over you, making you sputter out water. She laughed loud, taking you by the waist. – “You still alive Y/n?” – she asked pulling you closer. Wiping your hand over your face, you nodded. – “I think so.” – catching Enola staring at you. Heart thumping loudly in your chest as Enola’s eyes fell upon your lips. Without thinking she pressed forwards, putting her lips on yours. It took you by surprise, pulling quickly back.

Blinking rapidly, you settled your mind. Taming the chaos. Enola smiled when you cupped her cheek, pressuring your lips on hers. Nearly falling back in the water with her if Enola wasn’t holding onto you.

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[chihoshisai]

A Lonely Flower Amidst a Garden

Chapter 2

Pairing : Mycroft x Reader / Word count : 1395 / Genre : Fluff and lighthearted

A/N : I recommend listening to "everyday is a gift" by Yuki Kajiura (it's quite short so put it on repeat!) / you can find Chapter 1 here / the amount of time I spent looking up pastries let alone furniture name is embarassing oops / i'm turning this into a full fic so there will be more parts :)

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You remained as a simple yet pleasant memory in Mycroft’s mind as the young lady he met on a rainy day - Mary Poppins - surprising himself by watching the movie that same night. From time to time he found his mind wandering back to this day, replaying the conversations over and over. However, time can be evil. It didn’t take long for him to fall back into his work routine whilst dealing with the stunts his brother Sherlock pulled here and there. 

That day, Mycroft sat in his office, taking a look at a flyer advertising a limited edition of multiple exclusive bavarois’. Under normal circumstances, he would have tasked Anthea to fetch it for him, not being fond of frequenting such places. Though, as it was a high end tea room, he convinced himself that it wouldn’t be too bad. He would simply have a tranquil afternoon tea after work and leave. On his way, the already ashen sky of London started to darken even more. It seemed as though rain was on its way. 

As expected, the line was quite lengthy. Mycroft didn’t need to concern himself with the way of the common people - waiting in line -  as he exited his car, making his way towards the entrance. At this moment, you came running, a look of desperation on your face, being late to an event you had been looking forward to for so long, dreading the long line that was ahead. 

“Why did matters at home had to take so long?!” You complained without noticing the man that was currently stepping out of his car. You abruptly stopped in your tracks, almost bumping into him. 

“I’m so sorry.” You glanced at the tall figure standing who, also taken aback, shot an annoyed look in your direction before his expression changed to that of surprise. At this moment, the feelings Mycroft felt on that rainy day came back to him. Curiosity. There you were, standing right in front of him, looking just as startled. 

“Well, hello again. Fancy meeting you here.” Mycroft couldn't help but give you a warm smile. Suddenly getting to know each other didn’t seem entirely impossible. 

“Ah… yes.” You hadn’t forgotten him, but didn’t feel thrilled to see him again. After all, it was naught but a chance encounter. Given the circumstances in which you met, you would have done the same for anyone. You turned your head away, fiddling with your fingers, looking at the fancy tea room exterior, remembering what you were here for. “Are you also here for the limited edition bavarois?” You inquired, slowly pointing towards the property. 

Seeing as you were not returning the same energy as him, Mycroft suddenly felt himself becoming a little disheartened. Well it had been 2 months since your last encounter so it was to be expected.  

“Indeed I am. If you’d like, you could enter with my company so as to avoid this tremendous line. It just so happens that I have a special VIP access to the event. Unless of course, you would like to wait in line?” He made his way to the door, opening it while giving you a look so as to know your answer. You did not waste a second and followed him inside to the many grunts and protestations of the people who had to wait. 

A chandelier was hanging from the ceiling while the place looked extravagant in velvet colors. You learned his name as he presented himself and his reservation to the reception, not thinking much of it. VIP rooms were upstairs, as you followed Mycroft. “Looks like we both have something in common.” You said from behind him as a matter of fact. Mycroft smiled to himself before turning his head in your direction. “It appears so.” You both entered a square shaped room that had two chesterfield sofas with a freshly polished knee high wooden table and various yellow lights arborhing the walls.  

You both sat down as the menu was brought to you. “Order anything you like. It’s on me, as thanks for last time.” He gave you a polite smile. You curled your lips into something that resembled one while uttering a thank you. 

You looked at the menu seriously, pretending to decide between the 5 bavarois flavors offered. You already knew which one you wanted ; the problem was that you could feel Mycroft’s stare at you. Used to such behavior from people, you decided to ignore it. To Mycroft, in this lavish room something stood out to him. You didn’t seem out of place. In fact you seemed to fit right in, as he took a closer look at the pale red knee-length dress you were wearing, the ankle socks and Mary Jones shoes, he realised that everything was expensive. You didn’t seem bothered by the extravagant look of the room either. You weren’t part of the popular mass and that intrigued him more. Which part of high society did you belong to? He was itching to know. 

“Have you decided?” You raised your eyes from the menu, wanting to put a stop to the scrutinizing. 

“Indeed I have, it will be chocolate for me. You?” Mycroft closed the menu, having already decided from the start too. “Strawberry for me.” As usual, your manner of speaking was flat. Both of you ordered, and your dessert came almost as soon as the waiters left with your orders. 

“How is your arm? Healed by now I suppose?” It was the only thing you could possibly think of. You were almost inhaling your bavarois as you spoke - almost as if you were eager to finish it - giving furtive looks to Mycroft from time to time.  

“Very well thank you.” He paused, evidently taking notice of your eating behavior, and feeling more and more curious as to why you were in such a hurry. “Will you tell me your name this time?” 

“Oh yeah, it’s… Strawberry Shortcake.” You took another bite of your strawberry flavored bavarois intently keeping eye contact whilst silent fell for a moment. Mycroft couldn’t help but scoff at this. Seeing as you were trying so hard to keep your identity a secret made him eager to know it all the more. You on the other hand were quite confused by his reaction. You didn’t think of yourself as funny, but trying to make sense of people’s reactions was no concern of yours anymore. 

Rain started splattering the windows of the yellow lit room. You longingly looked at it, realising you didn’t bring an umbrella in your rush to get here. “I should get going.” You stood up, having finished what you came to try and feeling satisfied with it. Food truly tastes better when it’s free and even better when it’s shared in company. 

“So soon? We’ve only just got here.” Mycroft seemed a little distraught by your sudden departure. 

“Yes, I must go. Thank you for today. It’s been a pleasure.” You made your way to the door and clutched its handle. “We’ve met two times by chance now and third time’s the charm they say.” You turned your head to look back at him. “If this is fate and not a coincidence, I shall tell you my name on our third encounter.” You opened the door and left without even hearing his reply. 

Mycroft sat there. Speechless and caught off guard. You were so mysterious, unwilling to open up - albeit the fact that you were still strangers - yet there seemed to be more about you than meets the eye. At this moment, Mycroft wanted to return to his office and search everything there was about you but settled himself. A third encounter. A third encounter was all he needed and sure enough, it didn’t take long for it to happen. 

2 weeks later, one of the most prominent families in the country was holding a party. Mycroft being ‘a part of’ the government was forced to attend much to his apprehension. As he entered the mansion, you were there, standing next to the other members of that family, greeting guests as they entered with your usual flat tone and blank expression. In due time Mycroft stood before you. Your vacant face became one of astonishment, as he greeted you with his usual smile. You failed to reply for you did not believe in fate. 

[megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms]

Burst of Color

Based on this request: Oh! Could we get a Mycroft Soulmate AU (fem!reader) but like Enemies-to-Lovers style? Soulmate Trope of first touch, world burst into color kind of thing?

Here you are! I apologize for the wait! *Familiar characters are NEVER mine!*

Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Enemies-to-Lovers, Trapped Together, Angsty, slight fluff?

Pairings/Characters: Mycroft Holmes x fem!reader, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson.

Mycroft Holmes was cynical about quite a bit in life, but none so much as the idea of soulmates. The fact that one solitary touch could bind you to someone forever was utterly ridiculous. The idea of being so…enamored with someone simply because fate decided to put two people together was merely another waste of time by Mycroft's thinking. And what if that one person happens to be someone you cannot stand? Such as Mycroft and you.

          It wasn't that Mycroft hated you, exactly. He wouldn't waste time on such a thing. But the two of you often got on like oil and water. Two clashing personalities. You were merely another goldfish in a large school of them and Mycroft knew for a fact that you found him quite a "pompous arse". Those had been your exact words to him. If debating with you didn't thrill him so much, Mycroft would never interact with you at all. At least that's what he told himself until the day Sherlock requested his help with a case. And yours.

          "Why did I agree to this again?" you asked when Sherlock escorted both you and Mycroft to the crime scene. Or what he told you was a crime scene. "You agreed due to your insatiable curiosity, Y/N," Sherlock replied to your grumbled question. You rolled your eyes as Mycroft let you enter the room after Sherlock. "And because you didn't tell me your brother would be here," you muttered to Sherlock when you caught up to him. Sherlock didn't reply, instead choosing to head into another small room.

          Just outside the door, Sherlock stopped and gestured for you and Mycroft to enter first. "Sherlock, what is this?" Mycroft asked, testily. The older Holmes' answer came in the form of the door closing and locking behind you. You raced forward and tried the door. "Sherlock? Open the door!" you growled out. "I don't believe I will," came Sherlock's annoyingly smooth voice from the other side. You turned and gestured to Mycroft as if to say, "Will you do something about this?"

          "I'm afraid there is no reasoning with Sherlock once he's set his mind to something." You groaned a bit and mumbled something under your breath. Mycroft took notice of your body language. Contrary to how you were speaking, you weren't angry. Mycroft could tell. In fact, you seemed almost…nervous.

          "Any idea as to why your brother locked us in here?" you asked after a moment. Mycroft paused to think, only for another voice to float through the door. "We're tired of the two of you whingeing about one another! So you'll be locked until you can speak to each other without fighting or complaining."

          "Quite a brilliant idea from Watson, truly," Sherlock added to Watson's order. You took a deep breath and looked ready to ram the door down if necessary. "No need to be dramatic, Y/N," Mycroft said smoothly as he adjusted this tie.  You glared at him but opted to stay quiet this time. Instead, you took to pacing the room as your mind tried to work out a way to escape your current prison with the elder Holmes brother. Mycroft watched your grey form walk back and forth across the floor, your brows furrowed in concentration. It was actually quite adorable.

          "Do believe your incessant pacing will free us?" he asked, earning another glare from you. You stopped in front of him with your hands on your hips. "I don't see you doing anything to help," you retorted. Mycroft merely scoffed. "Sherlock and Doctor Watson will eventually grow tired of their game and will open the door. All we need to do is bide our time."

          For some reason, Mycroft's words seemed to anger you further. "Can you stop being so damn calm and calculated for once?! Show a little emotion, Mycroft. Your own brother is playing games with you. You can't tell me that doesn't annoy you at least a little." Mycroft let out a little laugh.

          "My dear, I am always annoyed with Sherlock in one way or another. You simply grow used to his antics and learn that it is best to let some things lie." You shook your head and turned to begin pacing yet again. "I just don't understand you Holmes men. I mean, really how-" Your sentence was cut short by you tripping over your own two feet. As if on instinct, Mycroft's arm shot out so he could grab you before your face could hit the floor. The moment his hand made contact, however, he nearly let you fall anyway.

          Where the world had been varying shades of grey before, it was now filled with colors so brilliant and vibrant, Mycroft almost needed to close his eyes against them. After a split second, he glanced down at you to find your eyes screwed shut like you were still anticipating your body landing on the floor.

          "Open your eyes," Mycroft ordered softly. You did and gasped when, Mycroft assumed, you saw your world was now in color too. Mycroft helped you to you to stand up straight. You let your eyes wander the room for a moment before they landed on Mycroft yet again. The two of you stared at one another for what felt like hours, just taking everything in.

          "This is…quite unexpected," Mycroft finally managed to say. You laughed softly. "That's a understatement. Of all the people, I never would have guessed you would be my soulmate. After all, I'm simply a goldfish, right?" Mycroft sighed, wishing he had cigarette right then and there.  "My dear Y/N…" You shook your head and stepped further away from him. "No. You hate me. I hate you. That dynamic works for us. It always has. This-This," you cut off with a sigh as tears formed in your eyes. "It's wrong," you managed to say after a moment.

          "And yet, it seems, it is true. You and I are soulmates," Mycroft finished your thought. You rolled your eyes. "You don't do attachment or sentiment, Mycroft. I crave it." You moved to try the door again. You needed to get out of there before you really did begin crying in front of Mycroft.

          "Y/N, have you ever taken a moment to consider that, perhaps, I have hidden the depths of my own emotions to shield myself from those around me that may hurt me? Contrary to your beliefs, I do in fact feel very deeply and while we do not often get along, I do not hate you. Knowing what I now do, I imagine it might well be impossible for me to do so."

          "But could you love me? Even platonically? I mean, really love me despite all my flaws?" you questioned intently. When Mycroft didn't answer, you nodded to yourself before approaching the door again. "Think about it, Mycroft. Take time and really think about what your heart is capable of when it comes to me. I'll do the same then we'll speak again."

          Mycroft watched as you knocked on the door again. "Sherlock. Please," you pleaded just loudly enough for the younger Holmes to hear. "I can." You froze at Mycroft's soft words, "I can love you. I am not an easy man to get along with, let alone to love, but you make me feel things I did not think possible. I fooled myself into believing that I didn’t want or need a soulmate. But I confess my life would be rather dull and lifeless without you in it."          

For a moment, you stayed silent. Then, a ghost of a smile appeared on your lips. "Thank you, Mycroft. I-I suppose there are worse people I could have as my soulmate. Sherlock comes to mind." Mycroft tried not to smile. Really he did, but he couldn't stop the soft chuckle that escaped his lips.

(a/n: I hope you like it! I'm a sucker for a Soulmate AU with as many tropes shoved in that makes sense as possible.)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @supernatural4life2022

Fandom Tags are OPEN!

Mycroft Holmes Tags: @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek

[temporaryrose200]

Hello I just read one of your stories and I absolutely love your writing style. Is it ok if I request a short story of William James Moriarty x reader who is the youngest sister of Sherlock Holmes?

✩You’re something✩

✟pairing: William James Moriarty x Fem Reader

✟genre: Fluff?

✟warning:Not proof read

✟One-Short

✟fandom: Moriarty The Patriot

✟summary: Being a Holmes was tough, there was so much to live up to. But a special somebody helps you through it. Reminding you that you were someone.

✟a/n: None

Being the young sibling of the Holmes brothers wasn’t easily. Constantly being in their shadows, remembering every time when you would introduce yourself people would constantly asking if your brothers were Sherlock and Mycroft. It’s was annoying being the forgotten Holmes child. But there was one person who made you feel like the most special woman in the world. William James Moriarty. A charming man who knew exactly how to treat a woman.

The day you met was when you were going to met up with your brother Sherlock. Two of you arranged to met up with one another at a cafe and when you got there, you were met with a charming young man. Greeting your brother, you pulled up a nearby chair and sat yourself down on it. “Liam” Sherlock started, turning to his friend, a genuine smile forming on your brother face. “This my younger sister Y/N” he introduced, signalling towards your awkward and nervous form from have the spot light be put on you.

‘Liam’ gazed up at you, crimson eyes focusing intensely on you. Getting yourself ready from him to say something like: “ I didn’t know the Holmes brothers ha and sister” or something along those lines. But what you got instead was something you would never expect. The blonde haired man grinned fondly at you, strangely making all your worries melt away. “You wrote ‘Twist Of The Heart’ right.” Shock ran through your body at the mention of you old book, something you had wrote about 4 years ago. No publishing company wanted to take you because you were a woman, except one. Sadly the book was a failure and the future books you had in store were thrown away. But now hearing someone mention you not just as Sherlock’s sister but as your own person was a breath of fresh air. “It was an incredible piece of literature about unrequited love. Shame that you stopped writing.” It was odd heading someone talk so highly about you. But here you are be praised.

Fidgeting around with your hands, trying thinking of an appropriate response. But your brain was blank, and you were at a loss for words. You'd never been in this sort of situation before. "A-Ahh..." you stuttered out, feeling you throat tighten. “Thank you Mr Liam”

A chuckle rumbled from the man's chest as he shook his head. “My name is actually William James Moriarty”, he said to me with a smile.

Hearing the familiar name made your heart jump in your chest and you had to take a deep breath before you could speak again. "Moriarty?" You asked him, unable to keep the surprise out of your voice. “You mean!” The man nodded. You were so shocked that it took you several seconds to react but when you did, your face flush in embarrassment. How could you not recognise him! But most importantly, he read your book! “I’m so sorry!”

And that’s how a new friendship was formed. William and you continued to met up at nearby cafes or his house.Two of you had a lot in common and he so easily to talk to. Sherlock was starting to become jealous at how much William and you were hanging out. Your brother would say that you were stealing his friend, which you found quite adorable but don’t tell Sherlock that.

William helped you with gaining your confidence back and even with creating a new book. The story was a second part from your first book. This time the girl finds love with someone she never thought she’d fall for. Ironically though you fell hard for the noble man. It felt as if fate had brought him into your life. He was the perfect man, sweet, caring and oh so handsome. He made you feel so much emotions. You were head over heels in love, but did he love you? You were a nobody compared to your brothers. Just some washed up wannabe author. William was a nobleman, he would never fall for you. Right…?

[strangesthirdeye]

Listen Before I Go (SH x Fem! Reader)

Summary: A quick call won't hurt, right?

Warning: It's Sherlock everyone like him..heavy angst? Attempt Suicide, mental breakdown, mental health, You are loved by people, don't do that. You need a hug, pleading, high ceiling, hanging rope, almost suffocating. The Empty Hearse episode.

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

One more loop and the knots are strong enough to support your weight. You sighed heavily. The creaking sound of the chair under your feet is heard when you make some motions on it. You look around your living room. Everything is scattered and unmanaged. Papers and books on the floor not to mentioned chairs are scattered around the living room, just like your wooden table.

you exhaled a heavy breath and looked up to see the noose hanging from the ceiling of your house. Well, here it is. After running around in your own mind and going through all the painful and stressful things in the real world, you are finally lost. Those things successfully kick your ass. Not to mention what happened to Sherlock two years ago. He committed suicide and claimed he was a liar, but that was not true. Why did he do that makes it a question mark for you, John, Mrs Hudson, Greg, Molly and Lestrade. Mycroft? hmm, he's just quiet. There was no news from him after that.

As if he has disappeared from existence.

Every dark plagued plays in your mind. All those rude people who curse Sherlock and proudly claim that Sherlock is a fraud. Not to mention those people have started bothering Sherlock's friends including you as his girlfriend. Those people don't know the meaning of grief.

You then look down. This is high enough. As long as your feet do not touch the floor is enough. Suffocate is not the first thing in your mind but because you don't want to commit suicide dirty with blood, you immediately decide to hang yourself. At least your life is taken slowly and in that time you can see all the happy memories at the end of your time.

You stand on your tiptoes and stick your head into the noose. The noose gently ends around your neck. Your hands started to tighten the noose around your neck so that it would be tight and not come loose when you hung it later. You sighed for the second time.

You are not afraid but nervous. Well, at least you know what your destiny is. You then close your eyes and your legs are ready to push the chair. All of the sudden, your phone rang in your pants pocket. You were shocked and almost pushed the chair under you but luckily the chair didn't slip.

You fish out your pocket and take your phone out of your pocket. You gulped your saliva slowly when you saw the contact on your phone.

John.

You immediately slide accept and open the speaker.

"Y/n"

"Hey, John"

"Where are you now? I need to tell you something.. Might be a surprise from me to you... I guess" John chuckled a little. Following with his hype tone means that John is in a good mood. Good. You're going to ruin his mood if you tell him what you're up to.

"what is it that you want to tell me? Is it Mary tho?" You pretend to hype your voice just to hide your crack tone.

"Well, I prefer to tell you at a cafe around your house only if you're not busy" John reasoned.

"well, i can't go out now.. can you just tell me on the phone instead? i kind of not really having a mood to go out anymore" You bit your lip slightly.

John was silent for a moment. You can imagine his confused face in your mind. Classic John. Gonna miss him.

"Are you alright?" John asked.

"mhmm.. I'm always alright" You replied.

"really? cuz' that's not how your 'alright' voice sounds like" John said suspiciously. "is it about Sherlock again?" John added.

Dammit. Why does he have to be the one who is always right? You are silent.

"It's been two years, Y/n. You have to let go that 'feeling'. It's not good for you" John said as if a father was advising his children to be useful human beings.

"you don't understand, aren't you? It's not easy. You have Mary.. while I don't have no one. No one to help me. Not even Mycroft. And I don't want to bring Mrs Hudson into this. She's already got a lot of plates in her hands." you paused you stand on your tiptoes.

"well, at least you don't have to deal with me anymore. I know what I'm doing now is a very useful thing. You don't have to worry about me." you added, the voice started to crack.

"What are you doing right now, Y/n. Don't you dare say that to me. I know exactly what you are trying to do. I'm coming" John's voice seemed to rush.

"tell me, John" you spoke up.

"what" John snapped trying to stop himself from yelling at you not to say negative things again.

"tell me what you want to say to me. That you expect me to be surprised" You closed your eyes. Tears streamed down your cheeks.

John let out a heavy breath. "I- oh god! this is not the situation I expected to tell you what it is. Taxi!" John yelled. John's voice then became muffled for a few moments before it became clear again. John then hurriedly told the cab driver your home address. Although the location is quite far from your house, John doesn't care about the fare. As long as he can save his other friend this time.

"just hold on. Don't end the call" John informed you firmly. John then sighed anxiously. "I-I plan to propose Mary tonight"

You smiled sadly. "is it going to be fancy? big?" you questioned him.

"fancy but simple.. oh gosh, why can't you just.. not doing all these things? You have many other things out there to go through! why now do you want to end it?" John is furiously rich.

"I think this is the end of my story. I've got nothing out there to go through. You have Mary. She's the one, John. Marry her. Make her half of your life. Have a family." You said lowly. your toes little by little push the chair under you.

"don't you dare say that. Think about it again. Sherlock doesn't want all this. He doesn't like any decision to end your life. He despises it. He wants you to move on and live a normal life. Normal life! Don't you want that? Find someone who can be with you for the rest of your life. Please.. I don't want to lose my best friend again" John begged.

Your line is quiet. Only the sound of the cab that John was riding in was heard. You look down. The hanging rope around the neck feels tight.

You know he's right but why don't you move away from the noose that is now resting on your neck? Sherlock doesn't like this. He despises it like John said earlier. Why then don't you open the rope and get off the chair? It's not going to work you know. Kill yourself. It's not.

Every thousand possibilities play in your mind as you hold the phone tightly in your hand. You bit your lips hard.

"I can't hold it anymore. The feeling of pain, grief and lost. It's not easy like what you say. It's just- Move on? no.. it's not working." you sobbed.

"No.." John paused. Probably is choosing and arranging the next sentence. "No, it's not easy. But, Sherlock wouldn't want that, right? So whatever you're doing now just drop it. Please. For the sake of Sherlock Holmes" John added in a tone of hope.

You paused and closed your eyes. Thumbs up on the screen. "I'm sorry, John" and you ended the call.

'just get on with it' whispered the demon in your ear. You choked on your own tears in your throat. You tossed your phone aside and stared for a moment then without hesitation you pushed the chair down so fast that it landed on the floor. But you don't fall, you float in the air with a hanging rope around your neck.

And there goes your oxygen is cut off quickly as you gasp for air while thrashing in the air. Both hands on the noose around your neck while your eyes darted around the living room. Mouth part away trying to get even a little oxygen. Your skin's colour is getting paler and your brain is in a state of shock when the oxygen is getting less and less to the brain.

You almost lost consciousness and then you see it. Life flashes before your eyes. Happy and sad memories. All in one. As the last piece of memories played in your eyes, you finally lost consciousness. Both your hands limp to the side while your head lolled forward. Your hair frames your pale face. But not before you hear the door of your house burst open by someone. Someone who you didn't get to see as your eyes are now tightly closed. Welcoming the feeling of a blanket of darkness.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eyes opened slowly as you gasped to take enough oxygen into your body system. Every thought plays in your mind. Why can't you just go in peace? Why do people have to bother you?

You look around the living room. Now you are lying on the floor. Eyes on the ceiling while your breath is still panting. Everything is hurt especially in your neck. You can still feel the texture of the hanging rope around your neck.

You curse whoever messed up your suicide attempt. It could be John but the taxi John took could not be able to get here quickly. So who? You glared at the person who was kneeling next to you but then as soon as your eyes landed on the silhouette, you widened your eyes.

there he is, a man who claims to be a sociopath and never believes in sentiment but then falls into the terms boyfriend and girlfriend. His brunette hair, his eyes, his cheek bones and his face are still the same but at the same time he looks a little mature. While his eyes hold emotions that are very heavy plus panic and concerned etched on his face.

Sherlock Holmes. The so called 'fraud' is now on your side.

"What were you thinking?!" Sherlock said loudly.

You are stunned. Sherlock then touched your shoulder and shook it a little trying to get you out of the trance.

Oh, God. What you think is a dream is actually not a dream but real. The feeling of him touching your shoulder and his deep raspy and smoky timbre makes you miss him so much. Your eyes start to glaze over with tears.

"Sherlock?" you whispered his name.

Sherlock looked at you with concern and tried to help you sit up. "what were you thinking? Suffocate yourself to death? why? just why?"

"because you died! For two years. I thought you were dead once your body hit the ground in front of the hospital. Two years, Sherlock. Two years. And you think I can live without you just like that?" you yelled while slapping him on the chest several times.

Sherlock deflected your blow by holding both of your wrists to his chest. He looked at you with sympathy. "I want to save you and the others. This is all I can do. Moriarty will do worse than what you don't expect that's why I have to do that. Two years I tried to take down his network and now I'm here. What you did earlier there was the most horrible thing for me. I don't want to come back home knowing that you are dead."

You thought for a moment. Your red eyes looked at Sherlock's face with realization on your face. And then you sniffed and leaned your head on his chest.

Sherlock then put his arms around you. His right hand was placed on the back of your head and stroked gently while his head was placed on top of your head.

"You saved me.. oh, how stupid I am to do that" you sobbed.

"no you're not stupid. Don't say that. You are the most brilliant and courageous woman I know. Your intelligent and kind attitude makes me adore and fond of you more.. listen, I don't always say this but you are the only reason I'm coming home. Please.. don't do that ever again" Sherlock said while kissing your hair.

"John will be here soon." you say. Your voice is muffled in his chest.

"let him. might as well make it a surprise for him." Sherlock joked trying to lighten up the mood.

You chuckled tearfully and then hugged Sherlock tightly. Sherlock smiled gently and tightened his arms and rocked you left and right with his eyes closed.

[sunshine-blastbeat]

Hacking The Heart

Pairing: Merlin (Hamish Mycroft) x Fem!Reader

AU where Roxy and Merlin survive the Golden Circle

Summary: It's been some time since the incident at Poppy Land, but the Kingsmen are still understaffed, so the Statesmen send their personal tech wiz, Agent Vodka, out to lend the knights at the round table a helping hand.

Author's note: this whole thing is inspired by several other Merlin fics that I really liked, as well as being heavily inspired by this video from PebblesASMR. It's a good listen, so I suggest you check it out!

Word count: 3.3k+

Alias: Agent Vodka

Age: 25

Skills: Hacking and technology 

Alliance: Statesmen 

~~~

Y/N was a… troubled child, to say the least. She grew up in the suburbs, usually getting into more trouble than her grades would reflect. Fights, stealing, and a slew of other infractions dirtied her reputation in her teen years, so much so that she was sent to military school by her father. There, she learned combat, how to use her hacking skills for good, and a fair bit of manners.

At the age of 20, she had found herself back in trouble, that was, hacking the local school district’s database; taking money from teenagers who needed their grades raised or just needed their files cleaned up. One day while doing her normal hacking routine, she stumbled onto the payroll side of the servers, noticing how one of the superintendents was getting way more money than they should have been. A little more digging found that funds intended for renovations were being funneled straight into the bank account of this superintendent. So, a few screenshots were taken and sent off to the local government, anonymously of course, and within the next week, said superintendent was released from their duties.  

It then only took a few days after for Y/N to have a knock on her door. A well dressed woman stood on Y/N’s front porch, much too small to be a detective. She introduced herself as Agent Whisky, stating that her organization had taken note of her recent activities, and that Y/N’s skills could be useful to them. Y/N was skeptical at first, seeing as a random woman was wanting to take her away to an undisclosed location, but after a few hours of talking Y/N decided to trust Whisky. 

That was about 5 years ago. Now working with the Statesmen, Y/N goes by the code name Agent Vodka, but she is usually called ‘Vod’ by her teammates.  Y/N had gone on several missions, but was soon put into the position of ‘Tech Wiz’, as the team liked to call it; hacking into databases, conducting remote surveillance, and just conducting general tech needs for the Statesmen. 

One day, while doing some maintenance work on some of the tech for an upcoming mission, Champ, the Statesmen’s leader, entered the lab. 

“We need to ship you off to London.” Champ said, in this thick country accent. 

“I’m sorry?” Y/N said, needing more information on this sudden task.

“Our brother organization, the Kingsmen, are still having problems getting their numbers back up after the Poppy incident.” Champ said as he slowly walked across the room, “We need to send you over to them to help out with a mission they are currently on, and considering your skill sets, you're the best candidate for the job.”

Y/N let out a long sigh as she leaned back in her chair. “When does the jet take off?”

“0600 tomorrow morning. I suggest you pack a raincoat, I hear it gets mighty wet this time of year.” Champ says with a smile as he leaves the lab, leaving Y/N to take in the sudden task presented to her.

~~~

As the jet lands in the hidden docks, Y/N collects her belongings, making her way to the door and down the stairs. She is greeted by 3 men and a woman, along with her teammate, Tequila. 

“Welcome, Agent Vodka. I am Agent Merlin, this is Agent Galahad, Agent Lancelot, and… also Agent Galahad.” the tallest man said, he was clean shaven, even his scalp. Merlin had gestured to each of the agents as he went through their names. 

“You can just call me Harry,” said the second Galahad. Smiling as he stuck his hand out for a handshake. Y/N smiled and shook his hand before turning to Tequila, “Long time, no see, huh, Tequila?” 

Tequila smiled, having traded in his old cowboy hat for a bowler hat. “It’s been a minute hasn’t it, Vod?” After Agent Galahad introduced himself, telling Y/N to call him Eggsy, as well as Agent Lancelot, who told her to call her Roxy, the group moved into the main building, the mansion known as Kingsmen HQ. 

Tequila gave Y/N a tour, showing her all the facilities and where she would be staying. After putting her stuff in her room, everyone was called into the briefing room. 

Harry began the meeting by recapping on what they already know: They were following Raymond Gavara, a man who sought to overload the World Wide Web and telecoms in order to fry all technology so he could rebuild the tech industry on his own databases and to reset the world’s financial institute structure. Basically, he wanted to bring the world back to a cash only society and make everyone buy his computers and phones to rake in billions. 

Harry then gave the floor to Merlin, who then showed everyone Gavara’s pictures and what they knew about him. Tequila, Eggsy, and Roxy were all given tasks and sent out, meanwhile Y/N was brought into the Kingsmen’s tech lab, where she was shown where she would be working from and what the team needed from her.

~~~

Several months had passed and the progress on the mission was moving slowly. Every time Merlin and Y/N would get a lead in tracking or hacking into Gavara’s database, they were almost instantly blocked. Firewall after firewall, cypher after cypher, it was just one thing after another and they could only do so much decoding with the information they had. 

However, that didn’t mean there wasn’t any down time. With three trouble makers in the same place, Y/N, Eggsy, and Tequila got into a lot of mischief. It started just as a small joke, that Merlin was strung so tight that he probably did not have the ability to laugh. So Y/N went to work, setting little pranks up, trying to get the stoic Merlin to even just crack a smile. It started small, like making faces during meetings with him, then it was the traps placed at his desk, like glitter bombs or spring snakes. Even just trying to make dumb jokes while they both typed away in the tech lab, but nothing seemed to work. 

One day, while Y/N was trying to crack the code on one of Gavara’s firewalls, the team was called into the debriefing room. 

“So, we have a bit of a lead on someone who may be in contact with Gavara. Thomas Write, a professor of economics at the University of Cambridge, has been seen making a few too many ‘coincidental’ bump-ins with known associates of Gavara.” Harry said as he looked at everyone at the table, “While it's not much to go off of, we still need Mr. Write to be tracked and watched for the next couple days. Seeing as Merlin and Vodka haven’t made much progress on getting through Gavara’s database, we will need to go all in on a physical approach to destroying his servers. Eggsy and Tequila, you are to go to the warehouse that stores the servers in Switzerland. Merlin, you will go and keep an eye on Write, make sure he is not involved in Gavara’s plans. As for Roxy and Vodka, you two will stay here.” 

Everyone nodded in agreement with Harry’s plan, getting up and leaving the room to prepare for the mission. However, Merlin stayed in the room, looking dissatisfied as everyone left.

 As everyone else cleared out, Y/N stood outside the door, listening to the two men talk.

“Are you serious Harry? A surveillance mission on someone who most likely isn’t even involved?” Y/N recognized the Scottish accent as Merlin’s. 

“It’s just a precaution, Merlin. We don't want another incident like with Professor Arnold. You’ll be put up in a hotel across the street from Write’s condo.” Harry said, trying to ease the angry Scott. 

“Well then why don't you send that insufferable Agent Vodka then? All she does is distract me from my work here at HQ.” Merlin nearly barked back. Y/N was a little hurt by his words, ‘Am I really that bad?’ she thought to herself, ‘a little annoying, sure, but insufferable?’ 

Just as Y/N was about to walk away, she heard Harry call for her through the door. 

‘Shit,’ she thought as she pushed the door open to look at the two men waiting in the room.

“Since you seem so concerned about Merlin’s mission that you felt the need to listen in on our conversation, you will be joining Merlin on the surveillance of Thomas Write.” Harry said, causing Merlin to look at him, wide eyes, a hint of anger clear on his face.

“Harry, you can’t be-” Merlin began, but was quickly cut off by Harry.

“Didn’t you just say that Agent Vodka should be on this task as well?” Harry raised an eyebrow toward Merlin, a silent dare to question his authority. 

“Yes, sir.” Merlin said, admitting defeat, but still with a tinge of anger in his voice. 

“Then it's settled, both of you get packed. You have an hour before you leave and I'll have your alias’ in the car.” Harry said before Merlin stomped off out of the room. Y/N nodded and quickly left, rushing to her room to pack some clothes as well as her mobile units. 

The car ride to the hotel was awkward. Not only was it obvious that Merlin didn’t like Y/N, but their alias was that of a married couple. Because of course it was. The Hotel was also nothing to write home about, a small dingy room with a twin bed and a small bathroom. The only reason Y/N could tell that this room was selected for the stakeout was the large window that faced Thomas Write’s condo, giving a perfect view of his living room as well as the entrance to the condo building. 

As soon as Merlin and Y/N entered the room, they began setting up. Y/N got onto her mobile unit and found Write’s wifi network, remotely installing bugging software on all his devices and gaining access to his security cameras. Merlin went out and quickly placed a GPS tracker on Write’s car before returning to the hotel room. As Merlin entered the room Y/N waves her hands in front of the computer screens, acting as if she was an assistant presenting a product on the sales channel. Merlin just sighs and moves past Y/N, taking the chair that she was previously sitting in and begins montering Write through the cameras.

~~~

It was the third day of the stakeout and Merlin hadn’t taken his eyes off of the screens. Y/N was mostly on food duty, dipping out of the hotel to grab take out and coffee. This was supposed to be a team effort, but it seemed that every time Y/N took over surveillance so that Merlin could rest, he always pushed her out of the way and took back over. 

It was starting to become another long night. Y/N had just grabbed some takeout and was entering the hotel room, only to see Merlin still watching Write do… nothing still. 

“About time you got back, I sent you out hours ago, what took so long?” Merlin said, impatiently.

“There was a really long line at the Chinese restaurant and they make everything on the spot so-” but before Y/N could finish, Merlin interrupted her, “Oh, whatever. Just bring my food over here so I can eat and do surveillance.” Y/N takes Merlin’s takeout box out of the bag and places it on the desk next to Merlin, along with a fork. Immediately Merlin begins digging into his food, a stark contrast from his usually well put together demeanor. 

With food still in his mouth he clears his throat before speaking, “You know what I don’t understand? Is why you agreed with Harry to come here with me, or why he wanted to put you on this task in the first place. This isn’t even anything difficult or special, just monitoring for the sake of making sure all of our bases are covered. And what I also don't understand is why you insist on making my life a living hell through all of this. I’m doing all the heavy lifting for this task, and yet you still find ways to get in the way or just cause inconveniences for me.” As Merlin speaks, he doesn’t look away from the screens, still watching as Write fiddles about his study. 

“Hey, I'm doing my best here. And it's not like I’m not doing anything, I've been bringing you food and trying to help, but you just keep pushing me aside to do it yourself!” Y/N counters back, causing Merlin to swive in his chair to face her.

“Don’t give me that. I have to take over all the tasks because you either do it wrong or take too long to do it. Just the other day, you said you were going to go check out some shady individuals that were mucking around at the condo’s entrance, only to go off and get yourself coffee, AND you didn’t even bring me back any!” 

“I told you, I didn’t know what you would even want, it's one of those fancy places that does mostly iced coffee. Besides, I brought back donuts.”

“Yea, but the donuts were for you. There were like 6 and you ate 4 of them before I could even get a chance to see what you brought.” Merlin was now staring daggers at Y/N through his nearly bloodshot eyes, red from hours of staring at the screens. 

Y/N looked at Merlin with a look of disbelief, coupled with a tinge of anger and annoyance.

“Well, besides the point, all you do is sit here and distract me. I would have gotten by on this mission by myself just fine and still gotten more work done, and I'm not even talking about just this task, the whole mission. You know I was excited to work with you when the Statesmen first sent you over. I thought ‘maybe this won't be so bad. Maybe I'll finally get to work with someone who is competent and-and will be able to actually help me get all this work done.’ but no, I got you, the insufferable yank that likes to spend her time harassing me and annoying me at every waking second.” 

“Harass and annoy you? Look, I was just trying to have fun, to give you a distraction, a mental break from work, ok?” Y/N says, now almost laughing with annoyance at the way Merlin perceives her.

“For fun?” Merlin gives a half mocking and half sleep deprived laugh, “Why? It’s obvious to me, and everyone else at HQ, that you hate me. And you know what? The feeling is mutual.” Merlin then turns back to the screens, seeing that Write hasn’t moved from his previous place in his condo. 

The room is silent. As Merlin turns around again, he see’s Y/N with an almost pout on her face.

“Oh what? Why are you making that face?” He says, annoyance present in his Scottish accent.

“You hate me?” she says.

“What? Is it not clear that we have this hate-hate relationship?” Merlin says in almost disbelief.

Y/N stays silent for a second before speaking again, “I don’t hate you.” 

“Then why? Then why do you insist on doing all your little pranks, hm?” Merlin crosses his arms, waiting for a response.

“Because I want you to have fun. I want you to relax a little. You're always so serious and tense. I get that, because of our line of work, you have to be, but you should be able to stop and laugh some times.” Y/n says, taking a few steps closer to Merlin now. 

“Well, I-I can be plenty of fun actually!” a slight blush creeps up on Merlin’s face, taken aback by Y/N’s reasoning. “I can have plenty of fun. Just ask Eggsy or Harry, they’ll tell you, that… I’m, uh… fun” Merlin’s words fall off, realizing that he may have been a bit too harsh on you, with his lack of sleep causing him to act too brash.

“Well… if you don't do it because you hate me.. Then… why? Why do you want me to have fun?” Merlin looks down, not making eye contact with Y/N.

“Well…” Y/N takes another step towards Merlin before she is standing directly in front of him, her knees nearly touching his. “Maybe it'll be easier if I just showed you.”

“Show me what-” Merlin is cut off by Y/N grabbing him by his sweater, pulling him closer so she can plant her lips on his. Merlin is shocked at the sudden kiss, unmoving for a moment before relaxing and closing his eyes, kissing her back. His hands instinctively going up to rest on her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss becomes heated with both their lips dancing together. 

Just then Merlin comes to his senses, pulling back, “Wait! Wait, wait, wait.” Merlin catches his breath and adjusts his glasses. “What was… that?” 

Y/N, still high on her own confidence, looks right at Merlin with an unreadable expression, “A kiss.” 

“Well, yea I know that. B-but what I mean is why… Did you kiss me?” Merlin says as he is still breathing heavily. Y/N lets out a sigh as she stands up straight, “Jesus, Merlin.” she begins.

“No, I know, but I mean we can’t be… we’re working together now and we just… the regulations and-and the stakeout, and I thought you hated me and now… this.” Merlin gestures his hands around, alluding to what just happened. 

“Damnit, Merlin. Is it so hard to think that I do what I do to you because I like you? That I’ve been staying up to ungodly hours here with you because I want to keep you company? If I hated you, then I would have told Harry to shove it and gone back to the Statesmen. I stay because…” Just as Y/N get to the last couple of thoughts that are running through her mind, she feels the words stick to her tongue, “Because I think I love you.” 

This time Merlin is the one to jump to his feet, wrapping one arm around Y/N’s waist and the other grabs the back of her head, pulling her into a deep kiss. And this time it’s Y/N’s turn to be surprised before returning the kiss, their lips moving together. Merlin runs his tongue along Y/N’s bottom lip, testing the waters.

Y/N pulls back slightly, looking up at Merlin. “What about the regulations?” She says with a slight smirk on her face.

Merlin returns the smirk, “I lied, there are no regulations.” The two rejoin, Y/N hand cupping the back of Merlin’s head as the other rests on his chest, gripping at the fabric of his sweater. 

Just as Merlin begins to walk Y/N back towards the bed in the room, he gets a call on his glasses, quickly pulling away and answering.

“Yes? Mm. mhm. I see. Good work Eggsy. Yes, see you soon.” He says before tapping the side to end the call.

“What was it, Merlin?” Y/N asks.

“Eggsy. He says they’ve completed the mission and that Gavara has been neutralized. We’re free to wrap up here.” 

Y/N looks down, about to step away from Merlin before he pulls her back, his arm still around her waist. 

“He also says that next time I decide to engage in… extracurricular activities, I should make sure to disable my video calls.” Merlin double taps the side of his glasses before taking them off and placing them on the desk. “ And please, call me ‘Hamish’.” Merlin then leans down and takes Y/N’s mouth again before continuing with the actions he had already set in motion.

[sunshine-on-my-mind]

Meera, hello!!!!

I saw the DM(?) you post, can I have one for Sherlock plz?

So....with a fem and chubby reader, she's Enola's friend, but she prefers live in Hermit style.

But when Enola want to do sth, she would try her best to help Enola. And when Enola fight with her brothers, she just hide in reader's house.

Sherlock found that r is good at hiding and observing the emotions, she is kind of the opposite of him but is tolerable.

Best friend's brother trope and may I add that reader has a habit that when she feel want to be clingy, she would rub her cheek on his shoulder or his chest with holding his hand?

The rest is by you, wish you have a good day🥰🥰

a/n: hi Nana, so i’ve tried to write something with Best Friend’s Brother AU with Sherlock and Chubby reader, hope you like it 💙

pairing: Sherlock x Chubby!Reader

You hear a knock on your door, a particular knock which you recognise very well.

And ‘tis indeed her, your closest friend Enola Holmes. You let her in your home, like you have before, several instances regarding arguments with her brother, especially Mycroft Holmes.

Enola was close to her other brother Sherlock, the man of mystery, she looked up to him.

“What is the matter this time?” You ask after offering Enola her favourite cake.

“Nothing new, only Mycroft being a pompous arse!” She huffs and takes the piece of cake from you. “The worst part, do you know? Sherlock didn’t object, didn’t say a word”

Enola was few years younger than you, but the bond you both had formed was very strong. You truly cared for her, and she for you.

Enola and you are engaged in a conversation when you hear another knock on the door.

“Sherlock!” you both utter at the same time.

“Oh I do not wish to go back” Enola looks at you with pleading eyes.

“How about you go to my room and I will speak to Sherlock?”

She nods and goes inside your bedroom as you make your way to the door, fixing your dress, you open the door.

“Mr. Holmes” You give a curt nod to Sherlock, and he quickly looks you up and down. It would a lie that his gaze didn’t affect you, didn’t make you want more.

“My sister…” Sherlock trails off as he makes his way inside your home. “She is in the bedroom.” Sherlock says matter of factly.

You open your mouth to say something but he looks back at you with a certain look on his that makes your whole body shiver. You clear your throat and walk up to him.

“Mr. Holmes, for a person who has extraordinary thinking abilities do you actually ever think?” Sherlock is taken aback

“Yes, your sister is in the bedroom, hiding from you, but do you care enough to ask why? to think why?”

It is at that moment you realise how close you are standing to him, how his shoulders are so broad, how you want to touch his chest, and how you want to run your finger through his hair.

Sherlock never looks at you with ridicule in his eyes, which other people do sometimes. He stares into your eyes, momentarily dropping to your body, then to your lips and again to your eyes. Sherlock didn’t quite understand what he felt towards you, he wasn’t good with feelings, all he knew is that when you touch him sometimes, be it keeping your head on his shoulder when you, him and Enola are out in a park, and you lean to him unknowingly. He is fond of that, he is fond of you.

“Enlighten me” His voice is low.

“Your sister, she looks up to you, it is not Mycroft she is angry at, it is you, because she cares about you. And I know you do too, but that is the issue with you Holmes siblings, you don’t express your feelings.”

“And you are excellent at it, aren’t you?” Sherlock asks sarcastically.

“Well at least better than you.” With that you leave him in the living room making your way to Enola, you have a hearty conversation with her about how Sherlock cares for her too, just does not know how to express it and she listens to you, all while her brother waits for the two of you.

“Right then Mr. Holmes, Enola will go back with you now.” You announce and smile at Enola, who gives you a tight hug and you hug her back.

“Thank you.” Enola smiles at you.

The Holmes siblings make their way back to their home after wishing you a good day.

“Sherlock?” Enola asks her brother.

“Hm?”

“You like her don’t you?” Sherlock smiles at that, a smile full of adoration, something that rarely appeared on his face

“She is tolerable.”

[adhd-merlin]

Twenty questions for fanfic writers:

(Nobody tagged me I'm just procrastinating!!)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

42, but most of my older stuff is on livejournal, where it shall remain.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

193,392.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now only Merlin. I’m a ‘one fandom at the time’ kind of person.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Four out of five are Sherlock fics and I doubt anyone cares about that, so I’m going to make it Top 3 Merlin fics:

Call It Anything We Want (Arthur/Gwen/Merlin) - link

All Downhill from Here (Merlin/Arthur) - link

Unwavering (Merlin/Gwaine) - link

I like that it’s a mix of ships!

5. Do you respond to comments?

I do! I like talking to other people about The Characters. Sorry if I’ve ever rambled at you.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don’t really write angst. The only one I can think of is a Sherlock fic based on the theme of mismatched names in a soulmate AU (if this means anything to you). The first part was bittersweet (Sally Donovan/Harry Watson), the second part just sad (John/Sherlock)—both probably not that good. I wrote it a decade ago and I’m not going to re-read it now to see if I am right.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Call It Anything We Want. Everything gets solved and everyone is happy! The end.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

None so far!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Sometimes! All kinds :)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Generally I don’t, but funnily enough the fic of mine with the most kudos is a Sherlock x Harry Potter crossover. (It was for a fanfic exchange and my recipient had this crossover on their wishlist.) There’s nothing particularly crazy about it.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Someone asked me if they could translate a fic of mine once and I said it was fine, but they never got back to me with a link, so I don’t know if they actually did it. I don’t think so.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Ooooh this takes me back. Yes—nothing that was ever published, but I did attempt to co-write a fic with a fandom friend once. We had become friends through livejournal by commenting on the same on-going fic—and when I say friends, I mean we ended up exchanging emails, photos, talking about personal stuff and chatting for hours every day.

Which might not sound like a big deal now, but this happened over 15 years ago, when people didn’t carry the entire internet in their pocket, and chatting with someone for hours meant sitting at the family computer in the living room. Also there was a 6-hour time difference between us.

It escalated to the point where we were making promises to visit each other someday and I had even told my mum about him, but one day he just vanished. (This wasn’t romantic by the way—he was gay, I was questioning; it truly was ‘just’ being friends). Never found out what happened to the guy and I was heartbroken about it for a while. Needless to say, that fic never got finished.

It was a Brokeback Mountain modern AU by the way.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

I’ve never written or read any Jane Eyre fic but I’m going to say Jane Eyre/Mr Rochester. I just love them individually and as a couple.

As a fanfic reader, while I do have favourite ships, I’m fairly open-minded, and to me an exceptionally written story trumps a specific pairing any day. For example, I’ve read loads of John/Sherlock fics, but what ended up sticking in my mind years later are the fics that were very original or well written, regardless of the ship—like the one where Mycroft and Anthea are the same mind in two bodies and John ends up dating both, or the fem!Lestrade/Mycroft fic (even though this wasn’t a ship I particularly cared about), or the one where John and Sherlock have to take a seal to a sanctuary (gen). On the other hand, most of the Johnlock fics I've read have blurred together, even if (or maybe because) this was the ship I read more fics about.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

There’s one in which Merlin and Gwaine go on a diplomatic visit to the Druids which has been sitting in my Google docs folder for a while, but first I want to finish another fic, because I’ve already written most of it and it’s been languishing in my drafts for even longer. I think I’ll finish the latter eventually—if only for sunk cost fallacy reasons—but I’m not sure about the Merwaine one (which might be platonic Merlin & Gwaine, by the way—I’ve not really decided).

16. What are your writing strengths?

I’ve been told by some that my characterisation was good, but I suppose that’s quite subjective.

One thing I’m trying to pay more attention to now is the overall narrative structure—I don’t write long fics, but even with shorter works you still need an inciting incident, a climax, and a resolution at the very least. I didn’t use to think about it much, but I’m trying to be more mindful of it. Just…making sure those elements are there, I suppose, and that the pacing doesn’t feel off. Not saying I’m good at it but I like to think it’s made my writing a bit better?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Basic ass prose lol. I started writing fanfic to post online when I was a teenager with a poor grasp on the English language, and what helped me immensely at the time was keeping in mind my English teacher's advice to “just KISS!!” (“Kiss It Short and Simple”).

I still think about it to this day when I get stuck, and it is very helpful when you just need to get the words out and on the page, but it doesn’t make for beautiful prose.

Sometimes I read other people’s work and marvel at their precise use of vocabulary, their inventive metaphors, their evocative language—then I look at my own writing and it’s like, “They were in a room. She was wearing a red dress. It was dark outside.” You know what I mean? But I do this in my spare time as a hobby so I don’t stress about this too much. I’m not trying to win the next Pulitzer Prize or anything.

That and I’m not good at describing stuff. I don’t like descriptions. “They were in a room”—oh, what did it look like? I don’t know! Use your imagination.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

My thoughts are: do it sparingly, do it only if there is a point to it, and try to get it checked by a native speaker (or at the very least do some basic research to make sure it is correct). I have nothing against it in theory, but it can be off-putting to a reader who happens to speak that language if the dialogue sounds unnatural or is just plain wrong. If we are talking about dead or fictional languages it’s not as important, I guess, but never assume there won’t be a nerd who knows Old English or Sindarin ready to correct you.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Brokeback Mountain. Weirdly enough, it had a very active fandom on livejournal back in the day.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I don’t remember them all, but for Merlin I’m going to say this ficlet in which Arthur and Gwen have a baby called Ygraine and Merlin is the doting third parent/uncle figure.

It’s actually part of a Merwenthur series but it can be read on its own as Arthur/Gwen + best friend Merlin. I just want them to be happy!!!

Excerpt:

Scattered on the floor around the three of them are a couple of the rag dolls Guinevere enjoys sewing, some of the wooden figurines Merlin enjoys carving, and the wooden sword Ygraine enjoys smacking on people’s heads. She’s going through a phase — which Arthur finds slightly unsettling, even though Guinevere assures him it is normal — in which she seems to delight in the mild suffering of others, and gleefully seizes the opportunity to cause it when it presents itself. The methods employed are varied and impressively effective in their simplicity: pulling hair, twisting noses, biting fingertips, grabbing ears — especially those of people who insist on making themselves an easy target by parading around with a pair that looks so easily grabbable — and other such tricks as can be devised by the devious mind of a baby who can now confidently rely on her grasping skills. (...) Ygraine’s improper handling of a sword is unimportant, since that can be easily fixed with proper training; her fledgling sadistic streak, on the other hand, is slightly more worrying, being something Ygraine cannot have inherited from her mother, and having thus prompted in Arthur a level of self-scrutiny he doesn’t feel entirely comfortable with.

I also quite like An Act of Balance actually (Daemons!AU, Gen, Arthur & Merlin). I don’t think it’s the best thing I’ve written or anything, it was just fun to write.

Excerpt:

“So,” Merlin said, his voice muffled, due to him being half-inside Arthur’s wardrobe. “Gwen told me you’ve been asking questions about my daemon.” Arthur choked on the water he was drinking. “Sire?” Merlin stuck his head out, looking at Arthur in concern. “I’m fine!” Arthur rasped out, thumping his chest with his fist. Merlin grabbed a couple of shirts from the wardrobe. “Red or blue?” he asked, holding up first one and then the other, while Arthur tried to get his coughing under control. “I think blue. More flattering. I would’ve told you if you’d asked.” “That… blue flatters me?” Arthur asked hoarsely, blinking back tears. “About my daemon,” Merlin said, looking at Arthur as if he despaired of his intelligence.

tagging (if you feel like it): @agapantoblu @centurieslove @sexy-sapphic-sorcerer @holocrone @0hheytherebigbadwolf

@thefollow-spot @liviapeleia + anyone who wants to answer these (consider yourself tagged by me 🫵)

[futureplayboibunnie]

‘Angel’

Sherlock x fem!reader

-tehehehe. this one has been sitting in my drafts for ages but i know how thirsty y’all are for more smutty sherlock fics so here u goooo. this one is a lil angsty too. you know the drill. enjoyyy xx

You didn't want to stroke Sherlock's ego to admit you felt special- so you simply didn't. For a reason still unattained, he'd continue his openly obnoxious hubris and unexplainable nature by asking you to travel away with him. Sherlock was insistent it was for a case, he needed your inexplicable prowess when it comes to interacting with other humans- something he hadn't really learned to get down pat yet, he disguised it as needing another detective on the case but it did raise your eyebrow when John wasn't the first person he came to.

Did that make you special in his eyes too?

You didn't know. You didn't care. It was difficult to differentiate.

Now you were in a hotel room with Sherlock fucking Holmes, expensive and paid for with Mycroft's blood money. At least the room had two beds but it was connected through a shared kitchenette, so you'd have to interact with him in such a comfortable state eventually. The case was closed, this was the last night you had here with him and you didn't like that it went by quickly, too quickly. Time slipped through your fingers like grains of sand seeping like tears during a breakdown. You were panicking and you hated yourself for it, you were just like Sherlock Holmes in the way that you never let anyone get close.

But he was.

And you didn't like it.

Sherlock utlised this time he spent with you to find out who you really were, to understand how it was so difficult to pry any information out of you - there were some fairly easy things to spot when he conducted his initial deduction of you, assessing the equation of you in his analytic mind. You were isolated. Intelligent when you wanted to be. Bold. A risk taker. Expressionless. Good at retaining a blank face. Awful in relationships. Attractive. Strangely magentic. He didn't like not understanding why he was drawn to someone in a way, was it because he felt as if you were akin to him? Leading the same life of risk taking in order to absolve the…loneliness?

It irked him.

Who were you? It felt like he was looking for something else under this hard shell you had.

It was cloudy grey, dark, aphotic. Crepuscular in the rayless shared space of the kitchen. You shouldn't be awake, not this late- but if you went to bed then it would be tomorrow...the day of your departure. Not being able to find another opportunity to be this close to him, ever. It would be too long winded to go about understanding why you felt this strange swelling bloom inside your body when you thought of Sherlock but all you knew is that you felt miffed by it. You didn't want to feel any type of way torwards him. Was satiating your need to be cured of this ailment for better or for worse? Staring out into this hell casted abyss, you just pondered upon these thoughts that plagued your head- amplified only by these last few days you spent with him. You sat at the dining table, trying to bridle the inane nature of your conviction. Attempting to sleep was out of the question, your last endeavour proved to be fruitfuless.

Is this what feeling...helpless feels like?

Sherlock noticed that he didn't hear those fated footsteps to your room, it's because you weren't even in bed- you were wilting alone, sitting at the dining table moping.

He was just like you though, wondering how to drag this out...make you stay so he could work you out. He hadn't gotten anywhere, you needed to give him a little bit of direction, some oversight- you were impossible to solve. Probably blinded by his own unwillingness to get to the heart of it all: he had to remember he didn't have one.

He wandered out of his room, padding aimlessly to find you; he didn't even get changed out of his own clothes, he just discarded of his blazer jacket.

Sherlock observed you as he entered your air, cool breezy blue thinning at the sight of you all but illuminated by the pale moonlight hitting every single picturesque feature. He knew that beauty was merely a construct created by childhood impressions and representations but you were undeniably entreating, tempting, engaging. You were right in front of his eyes, too real to be considered a measly construct. So incredible in your stance. He was in boundless awe of you, his face would never express it though.

Sherlock gazed at you as he went to get a glass of water from the sink, an excuse to be out here talking to you; but Lord was he entranced by your body, your skin. You had never showed it off so freely before, you worse a short silk nightdress with thin straps that kept falling off of your shoulders; you insessantly kept dragging them back up and he had to surpress the urge to just keep the straps down...or better yet just peel the annoying fabric off of you. He had to shake his head of the laviscious thoughts swirling, it was crowding his brain and he had to be free of it.

‘’Last night here.’’ You stated impassively, unsure of why you were running your mouth to the man that filters others words like it was second instinct.

‘’I doubt you've missed London already.’’ Sherlock replied, a slight judgement in his cadence.

‘’No.’’ You swivelled your head to look him in the eye, voice low and face hard.

All you could see was Sherlock, so confident it was a natural prospect- standing there hollowed eyed as he rolled up the sleeves to his button down, you don't think you'd ever seen him do that before. Get himself messy. Your gaze was brutal yet expressionless, it was an impossible combination and he was too preoccupied to get into it now. For once, Sherlock didn't know what to say. The silence in the room was fattening up with every moment that passed.

‘’Why am I here Sherlock?’’ You asked him sincerely, inquisitively, eyes slightly tensing with every word.

He took a beat before he responded. ‘’Because I don't who you are. And I'm no where near close to figuring it out.’’

‘’You can't see what's right in front of you?’’ You tilted your head.

‘’No. I can't. Give faith to me.’’ Sherlock's eyes daren't waver from yours as he implored you to make him understand.

You paused for a moment, hoping your mouth, brain and heart will all catch up but they never did. Severely fucked didn't cover the half of it.

‘’What do you think of me now?’’ You asked softly, breath warm and frigid. You looked candid and earnest and Sherlock didn't know how to start on this impossible question.

How could he? He stood stoic as he stilled at your interrogation.

Sherlock watched your lips part as you tried to suck your exhales back in, your mouth was distracting him- losing focus with every millisecond and he felt his inhibitions leave him like the fast colours of the wind.

‘’I think you being here in front of me right now makes me feel destitute and defenseless.’’

‘’Good.’’ You stated simply, covertly proud of yourself- denying him the privilege of seeing you surprised, you didn't want to be predictable like everyone else.

‘’Good?’’ Sherlock was taken aback by your response. You thought it was a good thing to get him all teeming? He was practically losing his mind over you and you thought it was good?

It wasn't. His mind was his sanctuary, his palace, his temple and you were wrecking his entire worldview. Sherlock was irritated by your carefree exchange, your sheer untroubled attitude provoked him and part of his consciousness was begging to grab you and fuck you over the table to never even think of dismissing him like that again.

‘’You're delicate Sherlock, don't let me be the one to break you. Especially when we've only got one night left here. It's not worth it….is it?’’ Your voice was like velvet, smooth and slow like honey.

Sherlock creased his brow as you looked down upon him once more, he detested it and he felt his insides jump and churn at your disposition.

Sherlock? Breakable? Absolutely not. He wanted to show you, feel your skin and feel you shatter beneath him. Is it worth it? It'll end badly but he was too drunk off of you to jump into the events of the future and it's consequences. You were worth it. Yes. You were.

After letting the words settle into the air for a while, you got up with a sharp exhale and started trodding off back into your room. ‘’Goodnight.’’ You mumbled as you brushed passed him but Sherlock couldn't let you leave. He caught onto your arm with heavy lidded eyes and watched your face harden into a motionless blank, you gasped as he tugged you flush into him and to your surprise you let him. Shamelessly.

‘’It is. It is worth it. I haven't figured you out yet and I will. But for now, all I know is that you're a siren, hellbent on trying to disarm me and I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to take you. Right here. Right now.’’ Sherlock grunted as he leaned into your ear, his intonation alone sent a shiver through you and it echoed through your insides.

He was gruffer than you initially thought. Eyes bottomless and dim, a pit you could find yourself getting lost in over and over again. But this was the last night.

‘’Sherlock, I'm afraid you might be…shatterable and I don't want to be soft.’’ You warned him with a deviant look on your face.

He wanted to see what it looked like when he made you feel so good you drew blood from his back.

Sherlock had never had anyone questioning his durability before- it was… refreshing. A unique change of pace. His fingers danced on the outskirts of your neck as they slowly threaded through your hair, you let out a shaky breath as he cradled your head- his grasp tight.

‘’I never am.’’ He muttered as he captured your lips with his.

Kissing him was just brutal and magical, a brawl between mouths and the break of the bubbling tension that seemed to go on forever. He tasted...untouched. You felt so damn special, and only now you were willing to admit it. Sherlock's tongue delved into your mouth, exploring, seeking, probing for an inch- to step further into your psyche by feeling you physically. A million questions fell through his mind.

What the fuck was he thinking?

Why does it feel so wrong?

But feel so damn good?

Who were you?

Why were you making him feel so helpless?

So fucking beautiful...so fucking bewitching. It'll be his inevitable undoing. The cause of his violent destruction. You bit his lip and tugged it back before breathing out, thoughts running rampant at the speed of sound as his hold didn't loosen.

‘’Tell me you want me and I'll get on my knees for you. I just need to hear you say it.’’ Your eyes were glistening and dark, wicked and unforgiving- timeless and imploring him to say what you needed to hear, you didn't care if it was real or not.

All he did was just stare at you vacantly...yet intently. Thumb travelling to the smooth skin of your cheek and lower lip, brushing the magic that danced on your lips away in the process, making this dream all too real.

‘’Baby, you don't have to do that. You’ll get a taste of how much I want you. ’’ Sherlock cooed sincerely, face dipping to the column on your neck and your jaw, peppering soft kisses as a means of reassurance. Part of him wanted to make such slow sweet love to you, in a way a normal, banal, disgusting couple would do but you were so eager and ready to go- you didn't want him to be soft.

‘’Let me just feel you. I want to feel you. I think I've been torturing myself over it. Please.’’

You stared at him momentarily before your mouth devoured his again, your fingers carding through the tufts of soft black curls as tongues twisted together beautifully.

Sherlock started walking you to the dining table again, grabbing you by the waist and sitting you down on it as he stood inbetween your legs. You were almost embarrassed by the way you were pulsating and soaked already. Sherlock's curious and insatiable hands travelled the expanse of your back, smoothing out the silk that covered you and teased the straps of the babydoll too. He liked you in silk, it flattered you perfectly.

Sherlock's free hand outlined and palmed at your thighs, they were soft in the areas he didn't leave goosebumps- he smirked into your kiss at the idea he affected you so. You grasped his head so he could nip and suck at the high point of your tits, near your heart.

‘’I think I fancy you.’’ You breathed, tongue flinging out words you wouldn't be able to take back, already salivating at the prospect that he wants to fuck you.

The whole idea made Sherlock stop in his tracks, the sentence was jarring and so comforting- he somehow thought it was all in his head but you saying those words brought him to a halt. Oh, darling. If only you knew how bad you would both be for each other. Two entirely closed off people, so emotionally distant and incapable of being in a relationship. To provide further evidence, the first thing he caught about you was that every single relationship you had you would always be bad at it.

‘’Don't drool.’’ He demanded coldly, completely ignoring your admission of honesty. He'll deal with it later even though it commanded his emotions in the present.

Sherlock peeled the fabric off of you, pleased to find your bare and naked body beneath it. You perched yourself back as you watched him fawn over you, his large hands palming at your tits and travelling to the dip of your waist. He perked up to your incessant squirming when his head bent down and dipped to your heat, Lord you smelled so inviting.

You tried to bite back the moans he illicited out of you when he started kissing your skin, he was so close in the area you needed him to be but he was obviously enjoying drawing it out for you- almost as if he didn't want it to end. When his lithe muscle finally reached home, you were sure you saw stars as he ate you out like a man starved of a meal. Like a lion at any form of meat. He loved the way your back arched and the way you tugged onto his hair that much harder.

‘’Sherlock…You...I- I've wanted you so bad, it's clouded my clear thinking.’’ You admitted in a fucked out haze, his tongue making you feel so good it made you delve into all of your dirty secrets of him. You were afraid that you would admit that the night previous you fucked yourself with your fingers playing make pretend that it was him. Now it was really happening.

Sherlock stopped his ministrations and peered up at you, his lips glazed with your wetness, those blue eyes a light cast in the darkness. He was rather excited and that was apparent by the way his lips found yours again.

‘’You taste. So. Fucking. Sweet.’’ He grunted between rough kisses, so hard on your soft flesh you were sure he would draw blood if he would be so careless.

The idea piqued at you. Sherlock...careless. One day that'll happen. And you'll be right there when it does.

You tasted yourself off his tongue and you hated that he was right, all of these flavours coming together to form a patterned myraid. Sherlock swallowed your moans, those lewd noises he could never be able to phase or drown out, his need for you amplified tenfold.

He pushed you back down roughly before unzipping his pants and tugging his impossibly hard cock, you waited in expressionless awe your mouth open agape like a fool as you waited for him to just fuck the melancholy and mopiness out of you. Sherlock gazed at you intently, fixed on every jerk your body made when he stroked himself at the sight of you- his teeth sunk into his bottom lip when his brows furrowed.

He aligned himself with your glistening pussy with a kiss between the valley of your tits to your collarbone, you lifted his head up so you could take him in through all of his glory and when he pushed himself in you...it was as if it was only you and him left in the world.

It felt delectable. The push and pull. The strain. The delayed gratification. He slid in and out of you so easily, your bodies merging together as one as he set a brutal pace that only a person with a libido like him could create. You couldn't help but gawk up at him dumbly, what could you say? He got you all bendy and incoherent. All inarticulate and tongue tied.

‘’What is it baby? Can't think properly already?’’ Sherlock scrutinised but you couldn't care less- all you could think about was his constant pet names. He called you baby twice now, it made an unfamiliar feeling swell in your chest. You bit his lip again at his insult.

‘’Don't be so righteous. You can't figure me out, remember?’’You flirted and you were pleased to find that you caught him out.

‘’How proper of you.’’ He said gruffly, obviously annoyed that he still had to solve this puzzle of you, like a never ending equation that just couldn't be ammended. You felt your brain turn into mush and your body whirr as he just kept up his never ending torture: so fast, so good, so painful...perfect. Stretching you out entirely to accomodate his massive size, but he got you so wet it was an ease. Sherlock sensed the thrumming of your heart, it's pace kicking into a noticeable overdrive as sweat dripped down your body and pants encompassed the dim room. You were feeling shameful at the idea that he could make you cum this quickly and at this point you were sure anything else could set you off

You were proven to be right.

‘’Angel...’’ Sherlock cooed at you and the use of another pet name made you spiral into an endless pit of oblivion.

Your scream caught in your throat, so you let out a strangled cry for mercy instead as you came undone around him. Lungs caving as you gushed whatever energy you had left onto him, hands clawing at his back to make him realise the fate he set within you.

You came so hard around him Sherlock was struggling to fuck you through your orgasm; Christ, how long have you went without a fuck? How long has it been since you actually came? He didn't have it in him to figure out the logistics, all he was concerned with was how he felt the coil within him break. Sherlock let out a gutteral groan as he finished inside of you, completely and utterly spent and tweaked by how tired you got him; he pulled out of you and rolled himself off of you to lie beside you. Breathing heavy and laboured, like you'd just ran a marathon.

‘’Is this the part where we forget this ever happened?’’ You questioned him in an all too serious tone that Sherlock didn't like.

‘’Is that what you think?’’

‘’Am I an experiment, Sherlock?’’ You asked with no sense of humour playing at your words, not annoyed either just rational.

Sherlock stayed in a moment of brief silence, scared of not being able to say the right thing for once. He never really cared about it…until now.

‘’Answer the question.’’ Your tone was flatlined.

‘’No.’’ He stated plainly.

‘’I think I'm falling in love with you.’’

Sherlock was dumbfounded, he turned his head so he could stare at you after you said those words you would never be able to take back. You were falling for him? As he was for you? Blinded by nothing but cold relations to see that the warmth was right here all along...he frowned. He was afraid that he would disappoint you like all of the other relationships you had been in, he detested the idea of being banded in that same category. He was better. He wanted to be better. For you. You deserved to feel wanted. Was that worth his sanity though? Sherlock swivelled and grabbed your face to make you look him in the eyes, he stroked your cheek as a form of tenderness. Your eyes were guileless and the reaction you drew out of him was pitiful.

‘’You're so...inconceivable. When I look at you, I see heaven incarnate and I don't think I'm going to be able to live up to your expectations.’’ Sherlock said under his breath, thumb grazing your lips as he stared at them parting.

‘’I think you’ve finally figured me out.’’

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Guided Horse Riding (Mycroft Holmes X Fem!Reader)

Characters: Mycroft Holmes

Universe: Sherlock

Warnings: Mention of murder, stabbings, horses

Request: hello dear can i get mycroft/fem reader? reader has a horse and force mycroft into him we want to see a scared the british government💖 [name is mira and a horse with white yellow mane]

Notes: (Uh.... happy early holidays, I'm not dead? Sorry for being gone for so long I genuinely feel so awful for being gone for so long plz forgive me ok thanks bye)

Mycroft had wondered what had led him to the very situation he was in right at this very moment, and he had mentally been piecing it together in his head, till he reached the first domino that started this all. 

The first domino- no surprises here- was Sherlock, who had realised that there had been a pattern in some recent stabbings, with them all happening in public, packed places, and the more people, the more victims- the first was on the underground, the second was at the opening of an art gallery, and then a charity marathon. Sherlock had deduced that the next attack would almost certainly be at the parade happening, and he slapped together a rough description for what to look out for, and dragged Mycroft along to get him access to more secure areas- which included the stables that held the horses meant to be taking part in the parade, and that had been where he had met you. 

You had been there checking in on your horse- Mira, to make sure she was comfortable, calm and ready for such an event, though you knew it was more like you with the nerves than her, this being the first time either of you had took part in an event like this. So when you had the Holmes brother approach you, asking who you were and what you were doing back here, before asking if you’d seen anyone around you didn’t recognise, you were understandably alarmed. One was dressed mostly like any other bystander (who therefor shouldn’t be back there) and the other was dressed formally and seemed to be softening and adding politeness and context that the other, more brash man was missing. You quickly realised that Sherlock was acting mostly that way because he was in a rush, and that something bad was going to happen if he didn’t get answers in time, and luckily, you had remembered a previous interaction with a man just earlier in the day- one that had rubbed you the wrong way with how he spoke, and you pointed them in his direction. Sherlock immediately sped walked away, while Mycoft took the time to shake your hand, thank you for your cooperation, and wish you luck in the parade. 

The parade itself went off without a hitch- at least from your perspective it did. Mira was an angel, behaved and also let children pet her and families take pictures with her. The only thing you noticed that was a little off, was that there was a lot more police there than you predicted, and they all seemed bunched up in one area, but you just assumed it was a safety precaution, and since nothing bad happened, you presumed it was all good. You didn’t find out exactly what had happened until you were packing up for the day, walking your horse over to her trailer, and Mycroft spotted you, and came over to speak to you. 

That was the second domino. After giving you the rundown, explaining how you had basically stopped a mass stabbing thanks to you pointing the man out earlier the day, and after explaining who exactly Sherlock was, and who he was, you got to ask your own question, which began a conversation that resulted in you sharing your phone numbers to pick it up over coffee- the third domino.

Countless other dominos had been set up and knocked down since then- dates, kisses, admissions of love, and it all- somehow- led Mycroft to where he was now, watching you set Mira up for him, so he could ride her for the first time as you reassured him she was a nice, gentle horse, which he knew, but that didn’t help his nerves.  

“You ready?” You ask, patting the neck of the horse after setting up the stool beside her, turning to look at Mycroft

“Not really.” Mycroft responded, sounding far from confident, but despite that, he still took your hand and let you guide him onto the stool, and position his foot into the stirrup.

“Alright, hold the reins, and swing your leg over, I’ll make sure you don’t fall.” You explained to him, and after a moment of hesitation, Mycroft took a deep breath, and did as you ordered, and you kept your promise and helped him onto the saddle. Mira kept perfectly still as Mycroft got settled, and sat stiffly. “See, that wasn’t so bad.” You commented, chuckling as Mycroft only managed a small, unconvinced noise of agreement. 

“Does this mean I can get off now?” Mycroft asked, glancing at you at the corner of his eye.

“Well you can… do you want to try and get off, or get comfortable first?” You asked. Mycroft, upon realising that he’d have to get off the horse, which meant him mostly going backwards, and guessing his own footwork of a horse with little help that you could provide, Mycroft froze for a moment, before sighing. 

“Fine. I’ll get a little comfortable first.” Mycroft gave in, and you grinned at him, before taking a hold of Mira’s reigns. 

“We’ll just walk on the outskirts in a circle at a slow pace.” You explained, before making Mira slowly start moving, trotting along beside you. You did a full lap of the small field you were in before looking back up at Mycroft, who’s shoulders weren’t as stiff anymore, and he didn’t look constipated anymore. “You’re doing great, honey.” You told him, his eyes coming and look at you, and he managed a small smile. 

“Yes, it’s… not as bad as I thought it would be.” Mycoft admitted. You chuckle a little, gently patching the side of Mira’s neck. 

“You can thank Mira for the positive experience. I knew she’d be able to handle a nervous rider. It’s also why she’s great with kids. I’m just glad you trusted me enough to let me put you on her.” You commented, looking up at him. Mycroft looked back at you, a small smile appearing on his lips. 

“Of course I trust you. I love you.” He responded, his voice warm, which caused you to smile.

“Well since I love you too, how about after this lap I’ll get you off Mira so we can go inside and relax for the rest of the afternoon?” You suggest. Mycroft takes a moment to consider your words, before looking down at the horse, and pauses for a moment. 

“...I think I can handle a few more laps.”

Hope you liked it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS: @holy-tea-cup @sassy-specter @keenmarvellover @multifandomfix @sleutherclaw @otterly-fey @courtneychicken  @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-lies @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines @huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

[derelictlovefool]

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Author: Achilles, he/him & they/them pronouns

Status: Hobbyist, low writing activity

Writing: OC x Canon, Reader Insert, Original Fiction

Requests/Suggestions: Open

note: i'm a full time student so any requests I get will be done when and if I have time and they spark my interest!

Active in regards to fandoms & characters simply means most enthused about and interested in writing, inactive means least interested in writing but still willing if the idea sparks my creativity.

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active | inactive | semi active

Far Cry 5 | Supernatural | The Last of Us | Marvel | DC | Doctor Who | Sweeney Todd | The Witcher | Dying Light 2 | Z Nation | Inkheart | Bridgerton | Slashers | Outlast | Resident Evil | Overwatch | Undertale/Deltarune | Ib | TWD Telltale | Motor Crush | The Arcana | Kingsman

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active | inactive | semi active

Faith Seed | John Seed | Joseph Seed | Jacob Seed | Sharky Boshaw | Hurk Drubman Jr | Adelaide Drubman | Jerome Jeffries | Mary May Fairgrave | Eli Palmer | Grace Amestrong | Joey Hudson | Staci Pratt

Dean Winchester | Sam Winchester | Castiel | Charlie Bradbury ||| Joel | Tess ||| Wade Wilson | Tony Stark | Pepper Potts | Bucky Barnes | Steve Rodgers | Thor Odinson | Bruce Banner | Natasha Romanoff | Clint Barton ||| Harley Quinn

The Doctor (4, 9-15) | Jack Harkness | Rose Tyler | Donna Noble ||| Sweeney Todd | Mrs Lovett ||| Geralt of Rivera | Jaskier/Dandelion | Yennefer of Vennenberg ||| Hakon | Aiden | Lawan | Frank ||| Alvin Murphy | Roberta Warren | Addison Carver | Cassandra | Sarge | George St Claire

Mo | Dustfinger ||| Penelope Featherington | Benedict Bridgerton | Anthony Bridgerton | Colin Bridgerton | Eloise Bridgerton | Violet Bridgerton | Kate Sharma | Edwina Sharma ||| Jason Voorhees | Michael Myers | Bubba Sawyer | Brahms Heelshire | Thomas Hewitt

Eddie Gluskin ||| Ethan Winters | Karl Heisenberg | Alcina Dimitrescu | Donna Benniviento | Slavator Monreau | Mia Winters | Chris Redfield | Leon Kennedy | Ada Wong | Claire Redfield

Jack Morrison | Gabriel Reyes | Cole Cassidy | Genji Shimada | Hanzo Shimada | Mei ||| Sans | Papyrus | Asgore | Undyne | Mettaton | Queen ||| Gary ||| Calax Gothard | Domino Swift | Lola Del Carmen | Sonoya Vernilion ||| Asra | Nadia | Dorian | Portia | Muriel ||| Merlin/Hamish Mycroft

OC's: David Thorn (Slasher), Z (God Symbiote), Xander (Robot)

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Tropes I enjoy writing:

Variations of the Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers | Childhood Friends | Neighbour across the hall/street | Mutual Pining | Devotion and Obsession | Making each other worse | Making each other better | Romance in Violence | Ride or Die Friends | Royal Guard/Gardener x Royalty | Crime Boss x Bodyguard | Dog Coded x Cat Coded | Fuck Love Triangles Make it Poly | Fake Dating | Meet Cute and more!

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— male/trans/enby/gn!reader (I'm here for the guys and gays)

— oc x canon, oc x oc, canon x canon, reader x canon, reader x oc

— sfw & nsfw

— platonic, queer-platonic, romantic, familial, etc.

— headcannons, one-shots, multi-parts

— AU's, crossovers

— gore, violence, toxic relationships, death/angst

❝​🇼​​🇴​​🇳​❜​🇹​ ​🇩​​🇴​❝

— fem!reader (There's thousands out there already y'know)

— genderbends

— pregnancy related topics

— self harm topics

— incest, paedophilia, zoophilia, necrophilia and any of that nasty crap

— non-con

— infidelity

— Characters I really don't know or care about </3

[mybones537]

Time Chapter 10

Moriarty the Patriot x fem reader

This has also been posted on Wattpad under the same user name.

London, England, 1875

3rd person pov 

(Name) stood there waiting for the Queen Victoria to say something. Her expression was unreadable, Her Majesty stared up into the depths of her soul, her head rested elegantly on her intertwined hands. Mycroft was deadly silent, not moving at all, he almost looked terrified. 

She slowly stood up from her throne like chair, the chair scraped the floor with a loud screech. She elegantly walked around her desk with her head held up high. Mycroft silently gulped, he wasn’t scared of anyone but the Queen herself. He held his breath, he was worried what the Queen would do. He would never admit it to anyone but he was starting to grow fond of the Doctor. He liked her spirit and unwavering loyalty to her belief of standing up to authority, to stand up for respect, for what she thought was right. 

The ruler of England now stood right in front of (Name), looking down/up/straight at her (this all depends on how tall you are. I’m personally 178cm/ 5’9). She stared intensely into (Name’s) (eye coloured) eyes, as if she was trying to decipher the young woman from the future. 

“You have a very different mindset from most people,my dear” the Queen said coldly. “Nearly everyone would never even think about talking back to me. I see that people from the future are loose tongued and lack respect for the people with power.” 

(Name’s) eyes widened when those words left her mouth. She immediately turned to Mycroft with betrayal and disappointment in her eyes. He had a guilty look in his eyes as he turned his head to look away from her.  

She felt a hand gently grab her cheek all of a sudden, and move my head back to face Her Majesty. She now had a gentle look in her eyes all of a sudden, it was a look a mother would give her daughter after she had her heart broken by a boy. Her sudden change of heart had frightened both (Name) and Mycroft. 

“Don’t worry. No one else knows and no one else will. Something like this would be catastrophic if the public were to find out”, Victoria said genuinely, her hand still sitting on (Name’s) cheek. The young Doctor gently moved away, she had never been fond of human contact. 

“Let’s start with the examination. Shall we?” (Name) suggested, hoping to change the subject. 

“Yes we should get back on track” the older woman said. 

[chihoshisai]

A Lonely Flower Amidst a Garden

Chapter 3

Pairing : Mycroft x Reader / Word count : 1349 / Genre : Fluff and light angst

A/n : i recommend listening to "moonlight sonata 1st movement" by Beethoven !

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Following the arrival of all the guests. You excused yourself from the presence of your family to enter the ballroom from a back door, so as to not run into Mycroft. “There is no such thing as fate.” You muttered to yourself. You should have seen it coming ; Mycroft frequenting the high end tea room from last time should have been enough for you to realise you may have been from the same side of society. He had quite the imposing aura surrounding him and you could tell it would be wise not to get on his bad side, yet you went and made a promise to tell him your name on your third encounter. Not that it would be much of a surprise now that he was attending your family’s party. 

You quickly walked over to a corner of the room, where a grand piano was installed in front of ceiling to floor windows, keeping your gaze on the ground so as to avoid any eye contact. Thankfully, Mycroft was too caught up in a goldfish conversation to see you swiftly pass in between people. It was only until you started playing the instrument that his gaze, along with a couple others turned to you. You played beautifully, almost too well even. Having cast away your recent emotions upon seeing Mycroft, you focused on your task. As people got used to the ambiance your tune added, they all returned to their chatter paying you no mind. That’s right, you were only there to play - entertain the guests - as your family would say, to avoid any unnecessary conversation with any of them. Only Mycroft had a hard time keeping his eyes off you. As he continued his topics of discussion, he always made sure you were in his field of vision, furtively approaching himself in yours. 

You raised your head to analyze the ballroom. A mistake you wish you hadn’t made. You made eye contact with Mycroft instantly, causing you to return your gaze to the piano’s keys. Your head stayed lowered the entire time, as you dreaded the end of your performance. An interaction with Mycroft was inevitable - he was waiting for you to finish - which you didn’t look forward to, because of who you were. Someone who was adopted at 10 years of age by the orphanage this family funded so they could keep up appearances in the public’s eyes. You were nothing for that family but a means to an end. Just like today, playing the piano was naught but showing others that you were still a part of it whilst being of use. If the days in the orphanage were dreadful, those in this household were worse. For your adoptive parents cared only for their biological eldest son and youngest daughter leaving you as the middle child uncared for. 

You finished your performance, lifted yourself, still looking at the keys. Biting your lips you walked in the direction opposite of Mycroft's. Talking to him was out of the question. Not with your family present, surveying your every move like hawks would. You walked fast, almost running. You turned around to see Mycroft following you causing your eyes to grow with surprise. You walked even faster until you exited the ballroom to arrive into a well lit hallway free of people. 

“Is this why you’ve kept your identity hidden all this time?” You heard coming from behind you.

“What do you want? Surely you know my name by now.” You stopped in your tracks, still looking down. 

“I simply wanted to say that I enjoyed your performance very much. I’ve never seen someone play Beethoven's pieces this skillfully and beautifully.” You turned around to face him. People in your family’s circle usually didn’t comment on your performances just like how they didn’t bother talking to you. It had been a while since someone did both. 

“Thank you.” You gave him something that finally looked like a proper smile. 

“But I would still like to hear your name coming from you.” He gave you his usual smile. You were starting to find them genuine the more you looked at it. 

As promised, you said your full name to him. “I apologize for my behavior until now, it’s just that I am used to a certain behavior from rich people even if it doesn’t excuse my actions.” Regret was written all over you. 

“Given your background, it is only understandable that you would be on guard. Apology accepted.” Mycroft felt as though it was true - third time’s the charm - you were starting to loosen up.  

“Just so you know I do not believe in fate.” This has caused him to chuckle.

“Why do you always laugh? Are you laughing at me?” You furrowed your eyebrows, not understanding of his intentions. 

“Laughing at you? Most certainly not. I simply find your comments amusing is all.” He took a sip of the champagne glass he was holding. This had made you feel a rush of warmth on your face. Why was this man so kind?

“My brother plays the violin quite well. I’m sure he could accompany your piano very efficiently.” Mycroft internally cursed himself for bringing up Sherlock, afraid that you would take interest in his brother more than you would in him. 

“Is that so? It would be nice if I could meet him someday then.”  You weren’t exactly eager to meet new people but thinking about it being Mycroft’s brother, surely he wouldn’t be so bad.   

“Shall we go back to the ballroom?” Mycroft inquired, showing his free arm towards you in order to escort you.

“I’m afraid I can’t. Or rather I'm not allowed to.”  You bitterly bite your lips, averting your gaze from his. “You won’t see me for the rest of the evening. But I would like to make it right to you. I’ve got a performance coming up next month, we can see each other then. If you’d like I can give you tickets-” 

You were interrupted by the sudden opening of the door that stood behind both of you. A tall handsome figure with jet black curly hair along with a cold glare walked through, leaving the door to shut on its own almost silently. His appearance sent a shiver down your spine - your adoptive brother - he was not pleased to see you in the company of a man no less.   

“What are you still doing here?” He spoke to you in a condescending way, completely ignoring Mycroft.

“The young lady was simply giving me indications to find the bathroom.” Mycroft spoke for you, feeling the tension between both of you. Thankfully your brother knew better than to mess with the man he was facing. “Is that so? You’d have more luck by asking me than this pipsqueak over there. She’s only good for playing the piano, I'm afraid.” He snarled, giving you a look of contempt while you glared back. 

“Well since you know this house quite well, why don’t you show him the way? Meanwhile I'll do my best not to get lost while returning to my room.” For the first time, resentment could be felt coming from your usual monotone voice. You internally cursed the man playing as your brother for interrupting your conversation with Mycroft. 

“Well aren’t you considerate, sister.” Having said that last word with a subtle look of disgust only you could discern. You clutched your fists and gave Mycroft a sympathetic look, abandoning your usual resting face. “Goodnight Mr. Holmes, I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.” 

Mycroft who had no control of the situation whatsoever found himself wishing you a good night while yearning for the next time you two would meet. He could try to sneak up in your room but then again, it seemed more likely to put you in trouble. He felt a twitch in his stomach at the thought but instantly regained his composure. It seemed to happen pretty often - the two of you leaving in opposite directions - this time under the watchful scowl of your adoptive brother.        

[megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms]

Severed and Broken(Part 2 of “Deduce Me”)

So many people requested a 2nd part to “Deduce Me”, so here it is! *Familiar Characters are NEVER mine!*

Fandom: BBC Sherlock

Warnings: Soulmate AU, angst (no fluffs given here), It’s short. Reader is broken. 

Pairings/Characters: Sherlock Holmes x fem!reader, Mycroft Holmes

"And why should I do this for you, Sherlock?" Mycroft's question grated on Sherlock's nerves. "Mycroft, I do not ask you for anything. I don't need favors from you in normal circumstances, but I need this." Mycroft cocked his head to the side for a moment as he thought. When John had called him and told him what Sherlock had done, Mycroft was determined to stay out of it. But now Sherlock was here, asking for his help. And Mycroft liked you. You were good for Sherlock.

         "I will see what I can do," he finally replied to his brother. Sherlock didn't thank him as he left Mycroft's office. The elder Holmes sighed before picking up his phone. As soon as he knew Sherlock was gone, he dialed your number. "What is it, Mycroft?" your tired voice asked when you'd answered. Mycroft quickly explained what Sherlock asked him to do and you scoffed. "Of course he did. The choice is yours, Mycroft. I won't hold any ill will for you if you choose to help him." You hung up, leaving Mycroft with a decision. He wanted to respect your choices, but he also wanted to help his brother. With that in mind, Mycroft texted Sherlock the information.

         You weren't at all surprised when, three days later, you found Sherlock standing outside the soulmate clinic. "What are you doing here, Sherlock?" you asked. "You cannot do this," Sherlock simply stated. You stared at him for a moment before you began laughing humorlessly.

         "Why not?! Why shouldn't I?! You clearly don't care. You didn't even notice I was gone!" you shouted, "I-I can't do this anymore, Sherlock. It isn't fair to either of us. Having a soulmate might not mean anything to you, but it does to me. Something has to change here. And I won't make it be you."

         Sherlock stared at you for a moment, as if waiting to see whether you were finished shouting at him. When he determined that you had, at least for the time being, he spoke. "You've always known who I was, Y/N and you have stood by my side just as Watson has. I do not think I could really forget you if I tried." You let out a scoff.

         "Really? What about the next case? A case that tickles your mind and pulls you in so deep you cannot tell fantasy from reality? What if Moriarty somehow returns? Or the next Irene Adler comes along?" you asked as you fiddled with your fingers. Sherlock couldn't argue for once. He knew you were right this one time. He opened his mouth to speak, but you continued on in your tirade.

         "Face it, Sherlock, your cases and yourself will always come first for you. And that's fine. But I won't sit idly by, letting myself die a slow and painful death at the hands of my supposed soulmate. I love you, Sherlock, I truly do, but I can't go on in this constant pain. So, I am severing the bond and releasing you from your tie to me. I wish you the very best. Please don't try to stop me."

         Before Sherlock could stop you, you raced inside. As he was about to take off after you despite your wishes, his phone pinged with a text. Lestrade with a case. Sherlock glanced up at the doors of the clinic, then back down at his phone briefly. It only took a second for him to make up his mind what he would do.

         Sherlock would learn the consequences of his choice a couple of hours later when he nearly fell to his knees in pain. When he desperately tried to reach out to you through the soul bond, he could no longer feel it. The two of you were no longer bound together. You had done it and for once in his life, Sherlock felt something akin to remorse. He only hoped you would be content with your choice.

(a/n: I hope you like it! Fluff was apparently off the table for this one though.)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @supernatural4life2022

Deduce Me Tags: @sherlocks-blanket @zizzlekwum @let-me-r-e-a-d @high-functioning-lokipath @cemak