#angstyfluff

[lemonluvgirl]

everlark!prompt; very assertive!peeta.

katniss has a massive set back (during the gbt phase) & stops taking care of herself. peeta cannot take it and decides if she won’t care for herself he’ll do it for her. very intimate and whompy

ok ok...I've got something for this :)

"Katniss. It's been weeks.You haven't come out of your house. You haven't moved from your bed. This has to stop. I've tried doing this the nice way. Haymitch says you don't need nice though. He says you need a kick in the ass. After seeing you like this for so long I'm inclined to agree with him. If you don't get up I'm going to walk over there and pick you up and-"

I jump down from the bed and run out of the room. I feel my throat close up, and I barely make it to the study before I can crawl under the desk and collapse in a fit of angry tears.

I cry and cry and kick at the chair until it falls over and I bite my lip in an attempt to keep from screaming, long and hard against the disgustingly bright morning. My head feels like it's pulling in two different directions and I feel disoriented and sick.

I hate these moments. I hate Peeta for forcing me to face them. There's nothing but fury and panic in my blood and its like a race inside me to see which of the stronger emotions will win out.

These are the times when my mind shifts back into that place where the Games are alive all around me and more real than the floor beneath me, or the sounds of people's voices as they try to reach me.

Sometimes all it takes is a moment, just one where I was surprised, and frightened and vulnerable. It all started with a change to my routine.

Just one difference in how Sae woke me up once morning, she was humming under her breath when she came in and found me asleep on the couch. She patted my hair gently and when I woke up I expected to find Prim or my mother's face above me. What I got instead was a healthy dose of reality. So instead of facing the fact that neither of the two people I desperately wanted to see in that moment would ever come back to 12, to me, I ran. Up stairs and into my bed and shut myself away from everything and everyone.

I reverted back to a violent, distrusting, dangerous creature. A creation of their Games. Someone not quite sane, or maybe even fully human.

The thought makes me shake in my thin robe. I recall the questions they used to ask me. About my name, where I was from, and what date it was.

Lots of boring tedious things designed to persuade me that the Games are over, that I am safe. But even though my mind can recognize if it's been more than two years, I can never feel really safe.

Because the Hunger Games will never be over. Not for me, and not for anyone I care about that is still left living. And there are very few of those.

My mind cannot wrap itself around the idea that there is something after this, that I will inevitably have to go on. This moment feels like a cavernous mouth opening wide to swallow me whole, and I can't move, I can't speak. I can only try not to scream as it devours me.

Darkness and tears, for I don't know how long, are the only things I can feel.

But then, there are strong arms around me. Familiar arms. Solid and true. And I am in the cave again, seeking refuge from the storm that blows hard and hateful around me, and inside my mind. I clutch him, in the cave, under the desk, in both places and both times at once. Needing the gentleness that lives deep within him to anchor me to this reality.

And he holds me together with his kind hands, until I stop shaking. The boy who the Capitol tried to brainwash and torture until he was ready to kill me on sight, until he was nothing but a twisted mutt instead of the boy with the bread I had come to need so much. They had tried to cut the kindness out of his very skin, until there was nothing left but rage and hatred. But they failed. Because Peeta's goodness lives in his soul, and that was one thing they couldn't touch no matter how hard they tried.

He is oddly enough the only one who makes me feel safe. We stay locked in a gentle embrace, until I am placid in his arms.

I look up at him with tears in my eyes, so ashamed of myself for causing all this trouble. But he looks down at me tenderly, without any trace of resentment. It breaks me, that look. Because it makes me need him even more.

"Hey, there." He says in that forgiving and merciful tone that always seems to cut to the core of my soul.

"Hi." I tell him shakily.

"Ready to come out? Or do you need a few more minutes?" He asks, and I breathe out heavily. No sense in dragging it out anymore than I've already done.

"I'm ready." I tell him and he smiles. It takes a minute, because we're in an awkward position under the desk, and his leg doesn't make it easy for him to maneuver. But we make it to a standing position, and he wraps me in a warm hug and I hold him tight again.

"Sorry for messing up your morning." I told him as I rested my head against his heartbeat.

"Any morning I get to spend with you is a great one." He tells me kindly. And because this moment is so solemn and I know right now we are both totally bared and honest with each other in the face of our shared tragedies, I know he means it, one hundred percent.

It makes me sigh. And I close my eyes just wanting to feel it, this moment. Where the one before this one almost drove me over the edge with terror and dread, and I couldn't rack my brain hard enough to figure out how to force myself to let it pass, this moment in his arms I want the opposite.

I want to stretch it, and spin it around us like a cocoon where we can hide away from everything and everyone that waits for us when we step out of here.

When I open my eyes to look up at him I see his eyes are closed, and he's smiling that almost smile that captures me so easily.

And I think,

I want...

I want...

I want to be done running from it.

Is that the same as a fish wanting to fly? The same as a mountain wanting to blow away in the breeze?

Could I ever really do it?

Emotions, especially when they ran high in me, were often unreliable…

I took a deep breath and resolved to let the feelings settle before I did anything hasty again.

But I did stretch onto my tiptoes and plant a soft, light kiss on his almost smiling lips.

"What was that for?" He asked with an amused grin. His blue eyes sparking in the light of the morning streaming in from the window.

"That was because this time, I needed a kiss, but you're just too gentlemanly to press your advantage." I tell him quietly, and match his smile.

"Oh, well in that case," He says as he wraps his arms around me and kisses me a little longer, but still gently and mostly chastely.

"See? What'd I tell you? Great morning." He says when he breaks away from me and I smile against his lips, so very lighthearted for a second.

so that's what I have for that prompt. Not my usual PWP stuff, but I also enjoy writing sweet Everlark moments as well!

[imperial-martian]

Simple Insecurities {Mycroft Holmes x Reader}

Mycroft x Wife! Reader

Angst/Fluff

(Insecurities)

•—•

You walked home, a box of red velvet cupcakes in your hand, 2 missing from the container. The walk was quiet, except for your whistling, however, it was peaceful. The pavement was slightly damp from the rain this morning, but the sun had come out and dried most of the pavement. You only had a few more blacks away until you reached your manor, the Holmes Manor in other words.

Your lemon yellow sweater clung to your body as the sun beat down on you. You wore a simple sweater with black jeans and black boots, a casual outfit since you had the day off, usually you wore only formal clothing. However, it was one of your very rare days off and you decided to go out to a bakery before Mycroft came home.

Mycroft had seemed to be very stressed lately, and although you let it slide because of how demanding his job was, he had started to get snippy. Usually, you would go to comfort him, but Mycroft wouldn’t let you, always pushing you farther away and going to his office to work. So, you figured the only way to cheer your husband up would be to but him one of his favorite desserts.

Now, you walked up the steps of the manor and to the front door. Entering the home after you unlocked it, you looked around. Noticing Mycroft’s umbrella hanging on a hook you realized he was home and went to look for him.

Walking in the direction of your husband's office, you stopped at the slightly opened door and knocked entering it slowly. Seeing your husband hunched over his desk, flipping over the papers which piled up on them, you sighed. Walking over to the front of his desk, and placing the cupcakes upon it, a soft smile on your face.

“Evening, Myc,” you greeted, walking around his desk.

Mycroft looked up at you, his eyes showing the lack of sleep he had been getting. He gave you a small smile, clearly forced, and turned back to his papers.

You sighed, resting your hands on Mycroft’s shoulder’s and standing behind him before placing a kiss on his cheek.

“I brought you some cupcakes from the bakery not too far from here,” you said, a smile brightening your face. “Sorry there are a few missing, I couldn’t help myself,” you replied, a small; soft giggle leaving your lips.

Mycroft looked up at you observing you shortly, then glancing at the cupcakes on his desk. A quiet scoff left his lips as he noticed the two empty spaces.

Tilting your head to the side, you looked at Mycroft confused. “What’s wrong Mycroft?” You asked, referring to his scoff.

He looked up at you quickly and responded. “I’m just not surprised there are some missing,” he explained, continuing his work.

“Why because they taste so great?” You asked, a short laugh escaping your lips.

Mycroft shook his head looking at the papers. “No, Y/N, because it’s you,” he replied, his tone sharp and cold.

Your smiled faded as you looked at him from the door frame you now stood at. “Mycroft,” you started quietly, “what are you implying?” You asked, having a guess to what it was, however, doubting Mycroft would bring that up.

A sigh left Mycroft’s lips as he tapped his pen on his desk. “I’m implying your weight, Y/N, more so of why you should lose it. Eating the cupcakes simply showed me that you are no longer trying to lose the weight you so much wanted to, although you really should,” Mycroft explained causing tears to brim in your eyes. “I’m afraid if you gain 2 more pounds you’ll be over the scale of weight you need to be for your height and age,” Mycroft continued.

A sob escaped your lips as you looked at Mycroft completely and utterly shocked. He knew that you hated your weight, he knew you were trying to improve at it, he knew you were doing well too. He knew how proud you were of yourself when you lost 17 pounds in a few months. Most importantly he knew how much you hated yourself, mainly your body, before you lost your weight.

He had told you that it didn’t matter to him, that he was insecure himself. You made a promise to each other that you’d never make fun of each other for such a thing. You told him how fit you thought he was and how it didn’t matter to you at all. He, in return, told you how it was pointless if you to hate yourself because you were gorgeous to him. Yet, here he was, sitting with his legs under the desk, his eyes focused on the papers in front of him, his pen in hand. His waistcoat unbuttoned, his blazer not even on, and his hair slightly messy due to stress. Here he was pushing all of your weak spots in a matter of minutes.

So, upon hearing the sob escape your lips Mycroft looked up, his straight face soon showing a frown. He looked into your eyes and saw the hurt that made it through them, the pain in them. He saw how easily he had hurt you, broken you almost, as if you were porcelain. Guilt flashed in his eyes as he saw you standing in front of his door, tears streaming down your face and your hand covering your mouth to choke back a sob.

Mycroft bolted up, his chair scratching against the bottom of the wooden floor. He went to walk over to you, however, you ran out of the room, going to head out of the manor and outside.

“Y/N! I never meant to say those words. I didn’t mean to hurt you!” Mycroft shouted after you from his office, but you were already at the front door. Heading the door slam shut, Mycroft grabbed his blazer, throwing it on as he went to follow you. He knew where you’d be.

It had gotten slightly darker since the last time you were out, about 15 or so minutes ago, and the air seemed to become nippier. However, you paid no mind to it and simply ran out to the tree you always went to, the same one which you and Mycroft shared your first kiss, and the same one which, even now, brought you comfort.

Approaching the tree, you leaned your back against it, sitting on the grassy floor. You hugged your arms around your body, hoping that if anybody passed by they couldn’t see your stomach. All your insecurities came rushing back to you as you cried harder thinking about it, the tears clouding your vision.

Mycroft jogged in the direction of the tree, knowing you’d go to it. Seeing you there, crying, and crying because of him, ached his heart. The sobs which left your mouth had shaken your whole body, and Mycroft now questioned if he deserved you after what he had said to you, what he vowed that he’d never do.

Slowly he walked over to you, taking his blazer off as guilt rose in his chest. “Y/N,” he whispered sitting beside you and wrapping his blazer around your shaking form.

You recognized his voice and no matter how much you wanted to leave, you couldn’t find the strength to. Instead, you simply gave in and leaned onto Mycroft as he wrapped his arms securely around.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whispered the guilt again showing in his eyes as he felt your small; fragile form shake with a violent sob.

“I’m not fat, am I Mycroft? I’m not gaining weight? You won’t stop loving me if I do, will you Mycroft?” You asked in between sobs as you cling onto his waistcoat, the material clenching in your fists.

“God no, Y/N!” Mycroft exclaimed. “God no,” he replied quieter. “I will never stop loving you, and I had never meant what I said. Never,” he responded, gripping you just slightly tighter. He kissed the top of your head, murmuring an apology over and over again.

You looked up at him once he moved his head away, looking into his dull blue eyes, your e/c ones filled with tears.

Mycroft pulled out his pocket square, wiping the tears from your face and looking at you with such guilt. Leaning down he kissed your trembling lips, his hold on your waist tightening, pushing you closer to his chest.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he apologized, resting his forehead on your own when he broke apart.

You sighed closing your eyes. “It’s alright Mycroft, I know you’ve been stressed,” you said, sniffling lightly.

Mycroft shook his head, lifting it away from yours, and putting his hand in your hair, stroking it softly. You rested your head against Mycroft’s chest as he spoke. “It isn’t alright Y/N. Just because I’m stressed doesn’t make it so what I said was alright, because it wasn’t. It wasn’t even the truth, in reality, it was the biggest lie. You’re beautiful, my dear, and what I say, no matter how angry or stressed I am, will never change that,” he said, kissing your hair softly.

You took in Mycroft’s words and sighed, your body relaxing against the taller man. Mycroft unwrapped his arms around you, moving to stand up and brush himself off. Once he had done that he held out a hand for you to take. Taking that hand he pulled you up, putting the blazer on you properly so that your arms went through the sleeves.

You looked up at the sky, noticing how dark it had gotten. A little squeal escaped your lips as you felt yourself being lifted off of the ground. Looking up at Mycroft from the bridal hold he had you in, you looked at him quizzically, however, Mycroft didn’t look down at you, and instead head to the manor, which was only a few minutes walk away.

That night Mycroft had taken the rest of the day off, and the next day he had cut it so that he only worked for a few hours so that he could pick you up from work. He had locked his office up for the hours he spent with you. The two of you read, you read to him and vice versa, you both had watched movies, cuddled, and he gave you many apology kisses.

You knew Mycroft loved you, no matter how often the Ice Man in him showed you otherwise.

[imperial-martian]

Even The Ice Man Loves [Mycroft Holmes x Reader][Part 1] 

Part 2

Pairing: Mycroft Holmes x Wife! Reader

Fandom: BBC Sherlock

Trigger Warnings: Angst, The Final Problem

Mycroft Holmes sat in the back of his town car, starring out of a window, thinking back to what had just taken place. Eurus Holmes, Mycroft's only sister, had just threatened Sherlock Holmes to shoot either John Watson or Mycroft, himself. And although Mycroft offered for Sherlock to shoot him, in a discreet way, he feared that he would never be able to say goodbye to his wife.

His wife. His Y/N. His everything. You. The person he ensured was safe at all costs, not a single scratch ever grazed your body. Not a single soul, besides your co-workers and family, knew you. Not Mycroft's family, not the British Government, and certainly not his brother. Yet, you didn't mind that at all. You enjoyed being unknown to the world around you. You enjoyed being "off the grid" in a sense.

So, as Mycroft stood in front of his brother, brushing the invisible lint off his jacket, his hand shook. He looked up at his brother, the one which held a gun at him.

"Not in the face, though, please. I've promised my brain to the Royal Society," Mycroft said as his brother closed his eyes, and Eurus, on the screen, leaned forward.

"Where would you suggest?" Sherlock asked, opening his eyes yet again.

Mycroft began to button his first button, "Well," he paused, "I suppose there is a heart inside me somewhere. I don't imagine it's much of a target," he says. Sherlock smiles in spite of his brother. "Why don't we try for that?" Mycroft asked.

John stepped forward, "I won't allow that," he said in Mycroft's defense.

"This is my fault," Mycroft replied. "Moriarty," he said, disgust for himself in his own tone.

"Moriarty?" Sherlock asked. Mycroft lowered his gaze, ashamed in himself.

"Her Christmas treat: five minutes' conversation with Jim Moriarty five years ago," Mycroft explained, upset at himself to have allowed that all those years ago. Maybe if he hadn't have done that he'd be home with you resting in his arms. Maybe he'd be kissing your hair, breathing you in. Maybe.

"What did they discuss?" Sherlock asked his gaze at his brother intense.

"Five minutes' conversation," he paused as Sherlock powered the pistol, having a guess to what Mycroft would say. "Unsupervised."

Sherlock lifted the gun again, aiming it at his brother, and sighing. Mycroft gave Sherlock an apologetic look, "Goodbye, brother mine," Mycroft says in a regretful tone. "No flowers by request," he continued, fixing his tie.

"Wait!" Mycroft exclaims before Sherlock is able to pull the trigger. He looks down at the golden ring on his finger. A sad smile makes his way onto his face as he pulls it off. Walking over to his brother, he places it in his hand, which isn't occupied by the pistol and clenches his brother's fingers over the ring.

"Visit my home, my townhome, I mean," Mycroft clarified, stepping away from his brother. "Tell her I'm sorry," Mycroft said, his eyes dulling to a grey. "Tell," he chokes, "tell her I l-love her," Mycroft pleaded, his eyes watering, shocking even Eurus.

"Does my dear older brother truly have feelings? Is he actually capable of love? Be honest Mycroft, do you really love her?" Eurus taunted, looking at her brother with a smirk.

Sherlock and John looked at Mycroft, the way his eyes flashed red, his fists clenched. He stepped forward looking at the screen which Eurus was on.

"Never question my love for her! Never! I have always loved her, and I always will! She's the only reason I'm not damned on this earth!" Mycroft practically yelled, unable to control the anger which boiled in his blood.

Eurus leaned back on her chair, shocked, however, hiding it well. Sherlock and John stared eye-wide at Mycroft as a tear slipped from his eye.

"Mycroft," the two whispered, looking at the older man. Mycroft closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Just shoot me. End this stupid game already!" Mycroft exclaimed, wanting so much for the pain in his chest to go away, so much for the tears to stop.

Sherlock nodded, accepting his brother's wishes, and aimed the gun, yet again. Mycroft sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "I'm so sorry Y/N," he whispered, shouting his eyes tightly and clenching his heart, until, finally, he looked at his brother. Sherlock gave Mycroft a sad smile.

"Goodbye Mycroft," Sherlock said to which Mycroft nodded. As he aimed, his finger fiddling with the trigger, Eurus spoke.

"Jim thought you'd make this choice. He was so excited," Eurus said, tauntingly.

Jim reappeared on the screen, "And here we are, the end of the line. Holmes killing Holmes." Mycroft shifted uncomfortably, looking at Sherlock who's eyes narrowed.

"This is where I get off," Jim sang, the screen going back to Eurus.

Sherlock clenched his jaw, "Five minutes. It took her five minutes for her to do all of this to us." He lowered the gun. "Well, not on my watch," he finished.

John looked at Sherlock confused, licking his lips. Mycroft stood shocked.

"What are you doing?" Eurus questioned, leaning forward on her chair and watching Sherlock intensely.

Sherlock turns away from Eurus and faces the other men. "A moment ago, a brave man asked to be remembered," Sherlock paused. Mycroft looking very concerned. "I'm remembering the governor," he continues, now aiming the pistol at himself.

Sherlock begins to count down from ten.

"No, no, Sherlock!" Eurus exclaims, no way panicked. Sherlock continued to countdown, his brother and best friend completely shocked. Eurus yelled in the background, saying anything to get Sherlock to stop. Finally, everything went black.

Mycroft awoke in Eurus' cell, his eyes unfocused to everything around him. Rubbing his eyes he stands and begins to examine his surroundings. The cell has been closed off again, the glass no longer gone, somehow.

Mycroft looks up at the sounds of footsteps. Seeing Lestrade enter he sighs. All of the defense was down, all except for Eurus' cell. Lestrade finally able to open the cell leads Mycroft out of Sherrinford.

Mycroft sits in the back of a helicopter, shaking. Fear ran through him as he thought of so many things.

How would he tell his parents?

Where are Sherlock and John?

What will happen to Eurus?

Would they forgive him?

Did Eurus get to you?

Are you safe at home?

Y/N?

His thoughts now only focused on you, his wife. You were all that mattered at the moment. His brother had John. John has his brother. His parents could come later. Y/N was the only thing that he had to make sure was safe, was loved.

He wrapped the blanket which he was given tighter around his body. His began to shake, slightly more violently.

Are you alright!?

Tears streamed down his face. Y/N Holmes, the only woman to ever show the Ice Man that feelings were meaningful. The only person who showed him that weakness is what can make a human stronger. The only person to show Mycroft that he was human. The only person that put the meaning in the word love.

Now, thanks to him, you could be hurt. You could be in pain, begging for someone Eurus manipulated to stop. You could be dead.

Dead.

[imperial-martian]

Even The Ice Man Loves [Mycroft Holmes x Reader][Part 2]

Part 1

Pairing: Mycroft Holmes x Wife! Reader

Fandom: BBC Sherlock

Trigger Warnings: Fluff, sexual references

A/N: This is only a two part series, there will be no more.

Mycroft refuses to think that. You couldn't be. You can't be.

Suddenly, a hand was placed over Mycroft's shoulder and patted it. Mycroft looked up to see Lestrade looking down at him.

Everything will be alright. Sherlock and John will make it through," Lestrade assured. Mycroft sighed and replied.

"I have no doubt they will, rather it's my wife I'm worried for," Mycroft explained, his voice low as if he didn't want Lestrade to hear him say it.

Lestrade looked at Mycroft with furrowed brows, "Wife?" He asked, a little shocked. Mycroft looked up at the man's expression and scoffed.

"Yes, my wife, I'm worried for my wife," Mycroft replied, his tone a little harsh. No one ever believed Mycroft to be a loving and caring man, and if he is being honest with himself, that upset Mycroft slightly, because loved you so dearly. He showed you he loved you or at least tried his damn best to.

Lestrade turned to look out the helicopter. "We landed," he explained, turning to Mycroft and helping him out. He helped Mycroft walk over to a nearby ambulance.

Once there the medics checked his vitals and made sure Mycroft was stable enough to function without having to be sent to a hospital. Minutes passed when Sherlock, John, and Lestrade all headed over to him.

Mycroft was already explained to by an officer what had happened to Eurus. Mycroft hadn't really processed it all, or at least not yet. So, when his brother and the two other men made there way over, he sighed.

Sherlock reaches into his pocket, taking out the golden ring which Mycroft had given him, and placed it into Mycroft's hand. "Tell her you love her, brother dear, because clearly, you do," Sherlock told him.

Mycroft nodded and placed the ring back on his finger. He glanced up to John who placed a hand upon Mycroft's shoulder.

"I hope to meet her sometime. After seeing how you reacted when Eurus questioned your love for her, I can tell she's special," John replied, a soft smile on his lips.

Mycroft looked up at him and responded, "Special, Doctor Watson, is a grave understatement. She means the world to me, no matter how sappy that may sound," Mycroft chuckled. "She's worth every sappy comment I make," he finished, playing with the ring on his finger.

The three men looked at the eldest among them, completely dumbfounded. Mycroft chuckled, maybe he really was the emotionless Ice Man to everyone, but to you he knew he'd always be 'Her Myc' in you words.

So, as Mycroft looked at the three men, clearing his throat, he successfully gained their attention.

"If you're planning on saying something about my love life, please do it quickly so I may go home and see her," Mycroft said, a chuckle escaping his lips. The three men nodded as Lestrade went first.

"Mr. Holmes, don't make the mistake I did. Show her the love she needs, the love she wants. Show her how much she means to you. Tell her you love her no matter how hard it is to get those words out," Lestrade advised a spiteful smile on his lips. Mycroft nodded, standing and patting the grey-haired man's shoulder.

"I will, no matter what happens between us, I will always love her," Mycroft replied.

Sherlock began, "Brother dear, she seems to be doing you some good. Whoever she may be. I hope to meet the woman who you'd do anything for soon."

Mycroft smiled, hugging his brother. "Sherlock, as long as you do not scare her away, I'm sure she'd be glad to meet you," Mycroft replied.

"Brother, if you haven't frightened her away, I don't believe I can," Sherlock said, causing everyone to laugh. Mycroft nodded in agreement, rolling his eyes playfully.

Now, John stepped forward, looking into Mycroft's blue eyes. "Mycroft, no matter how emotionless you may be around us, don't, and I mean never, let her get away. If she walks out the door one day, chase her. If she's unhappy, make her smile. Do everything in your power, not as the British Government, but as the husband of your wife, to protect her. Protect her from herself, protect her from anything and everything she must be protected by. Don't lose her like I did, because Mycroft although you may be the Ice Man and show no emotions around us," he said pointing to everyone around him. "You show emotions to her. And God forbid you lose her like I did with Mary, you, Mycroft Holmes, will face much greater pain than I did. No matter how hard that may be to get out, I fear that because you only show emotions to one other person, if you lose that person, you have lost yourself, and you may never be found," John finished.

Mycroft looked into John's eyes as they began to tear up. Mentioning his wife was possibly the hardest throng for him at the moment, however, if it meant getting his point through to Mycroft, he would bring her up.

Mycroft pulled John into a quick hug before moving back. "Doctor Watson, I promise you, I will keep my wife safe from all dangers," Mycroft replied. John, satisfied with his answer nodded.

Sherlock stepped forward, "One last thing before you leave brother, how long have you been hiding her, and how have you hid her so well?" Sherlock asked, now completely curious.

"Yeah, how did you hide her so well?" Lestrade asked as John tilted his head, curious as well.

Mycroft laughed, "You'll be upset dear brother," Mycroft said. Sherlock looked at him with furrowed brows. "We've been married 14 years Sherlock," Mycroft replied, a grin playing on his lips.

"How?" Sherlock all but yelled. John and Lestrade completely shocked. "How the hell have you hid her from us for 14 bloody years?" Sherlock asked.

"My dear younger brother, when you are the master of deductions, such as I am, you learn how to hide the signs of everything," Mycroft replied with a large smirk across his face.

Sherlock threw his hands up in the air and began to walk away shouting 'I'll see you round Mycroft' over his shoulder. John nodded before following after Sherlock, Lestrade doing the same.

Mycroft sighed as a sleek, black car pulled up in front of him. Removing the shock blanket, he looked around for a medic to hand it back to, once he found on he gave it to them with a small 'thank you'. Walking back towards his town car he entered it and made sure to double check he had everything. Once confirming he did, he entered the car and informed his chauffeur to drive him home.

Looking out the window for the remainder of his car ride he paid no attention to the passing cars, only to the thoughts of you. His one and only Y/N, the only Y/N who mattered.

Finally, the car came to a stop when he noticed he was home. Saying a small 'thank you' to his driver, he ignored any belongings he had in the car and rushed home. Finding his key, he placed into the keyhole and turned it, rushing into his house.

"Sweetheart, are you home?" Mycroft asked, calling out so that his voice echoed among the silent manor.

Off in the bedroom, you heard the smooth voice of your husband and called back out to him. "I'm in the bedroom Myc," you answered.

A wave of relief came over Mycroft as he sighed. Rushing up the stairs, he dropped everything in his hands, which in reality were only his key, and went straight to the bedroom. Upon arriving he pushed the door open, seeing his lovely wife laying down, a cup of tea placed on a coaster on the bedside table. A book rested on your lap, face down so you wouldn't lose your place. You looked up into your husband's grey-blue eyes, your own e/c ones sparkling at the sight of him.

Mycroft smiled as he launched forward towards his wife, picking up the book and placing it off to the side, not losing your place.

"Myc, my love, I've missed you," you said, bringing your hand up to Mycroft's cheek, as he placed his own hands on either side of your waist. Leaning down he placed a delicate kiss on his wife's lips, moving his hands to rest on your hips as his knees rested on either side of you instead of his hands.

You sighed into the kiss, your body relaxing in your husband's touch. His right hand went to stroke your h/l h/c hair, his left rubbing your side softly. You moaned into the kiss, dragging your hands down to Mycroft's chest where you clenched your fists in Mycroft's waistcoat.

"I love you so much Y/N," Mycroft said, breaking away from the kiss quickly, his lips barely even leaving yours. You smiled and pecked Mycroft's lips. You wrapped your hands behind his neck, playing with his hair now.

"I love you too Mykie," you replied. "I have and always will love you, my handsome husband," you continued, smiling up at Mycroft. He sighed, resting his forehead on yours and kissed your nose.

"What would I ever do without you, my lovely, gorgeous, beautiful wife?" Mycroft asked, closing his eyes as he took in the raspberry scented shampoo that you were wearing. You closed your own eyes before cupping Mycroft's cheek.

"You, my dear, never cease to amaze me with how much you strain yourself," you said, your own eyes now closed as you processed the deductions you were able to collect from Mycroft. That was one reason Mycroft loved you, because although you were caring, loving, loyal, beautiful, and so much more, you was also very intelligent. You weren't able to deduce like he was, however, your skills did match his younger brother.

"And you, my love, never cease to amaze me with your beauty," Mycroft replied matter-of-factually. Mycroft opened one eye, looking at his wife who's cheeks dusted pink, and kissed you deeply. His hands rubbed your sides, his lips moving in sync with yours. You ran your hand through Mycroft's hair, tugging it, causing him to groan. Mycroft trailed his hands up your arms, deciding to pin them down above your head. You moaned out, your head laying back on a pillow as Mycroft kissed your neck.

"Mycroft," you whispered, out of breath. Mycroft lifted his head up to look into your sparkling eyes, his hands still pinning your own above your head. Mycroft smiled kissing your lips and standing to take off his blazer and waistcoat. Placing his golden pocket watch to the side and removing his tie and crisp white button up. Placing on a light grey shirt, Mycroft then removed his shoes, socks and finally his trousers. Now, this left Mycroft in only a grey shirt and boxers as he climbed back into bed next to you who was wearing your favorite nightgown already.

"You're such a tease you know that?" You asked, a small pout on your lips. Mycroft laughed, his lips forming a smile as he kissed your soft lips. He turned off the bedside lamp so that it was now completely dark.

"I know my dear, but tonight, I just want to hold you close," Mycroft replied, hugging his wife close to his chest. He kissed the top of your head as a satisfied sigh left your lips.

"I can not complain," you said, nuzzling your head closer to Mycroft's chest. Mycroft's arms tightened their grip on your smaller frame, holding you flush against him. "No matter what, Mykie, I'll always, always be here," you assured, making sure Mycroft knew that you loved him just as much as he loved you.

"I know Y/N," Mycroft said, giving you one last kiss to the top of your head before closing his eyes and falling asleep. You do the same, resting peacefully in your husband's arms.

[phanfic]

Title: Tulips, Dandelions and a Lone Daffodil

Summary: The moment Dan walks inside the record store he can’t seem to take his eyes of the cashier with the most beautiful flower tattoos.

Genre: Fluff/slight angst

Word count: 2K+

Extra’s: punk!Phil, cause who doesn’t love that.

(Don’t mind the last thing I sumbit, I forgot to add the link because I’m lame, sorry)

[phanfic]

ah my internet is rly shitty and went out when i sent my ask but yes i did finish the fic to the prompt i was working on last night: danisstillnotinteresting(.)tumblr(.)com/post/53124194641/on-your-terms-not-ours :)

woo thankyou!

On Your Terms, Not Ours

Dan and Phil get caught kissing in public by a phangirl, and major shitstorms happen. (sent in as a prompt yesterday)

[vegas--downpour]

Phan : Take my hand and you’ll never be alone again.

Prompt: Phil is upset because Dan has so many more subscribers than him, dan comforts him and tells him that phil shouldn't care about it because dan only has eyes for him. can be established relationship or a getting together fic i don't mind c:

A/N: Hi guys ! So I've been prompted by the lovely Beth and here's what I've written. It's not that great I'm sorreeeeh and I've decided to make it a 530 words drabble. The title has nothing to do with the story, I'm sorry oh and it's a song by Nevershoutnever called Trampoline that I used to love two years ago :3

Phil didn’t care, he wasn’t the kind of guy who cared. He knew they loved him. He knew he loved him. The question was, why was he feeling this strange unpleasant sensation coursing through his veins? Burning his insides and destroying all the self-confidence he had left? 200,000 and something people were consuming his ego and worst of all, the person he was in love with was their leader. A feeling of worthlessness seized him and he couldn’t do anything about it.

Get better, change, you’ll never be good enough and you’ll never be him.

 Phil sighed at the sight of his Youtube statistics and roughly closed his laptop before falling on his bed and bringing his knees to his chest. He didn’t have the right to think like this. Sitting in front of camera and talking about his day, his childhood or everything that would come to his mind, he loved it, he had been doing it for more than five years after all, it was just….hard these days. The raven-haired boy closed his eyes, he had predicted it three years and a half ago, the day they met, the day he had laid his eyes on the beautiful face and perfectly shaped body that belonged to Daniel James Howell. “This kid will go far” he had thought innocently, unaware that it was actually going to happen. A rushed knock on the door prevented him from drowning into darker thoughts and Phil lazily stood up to turn the doorknob, revealing a dimpled tanned face. “Philly! I’ve got good news!” Dan grinned, jumping a little bit. “Hum…let me guess, another of your videos has reached the great million?” Phil replied, a little bit sarcastically and faked a smile. “Yeah!”  The younger boy nodded, and pulled his flat mate into a tight hug, not noticing his annoyed tone. Phil lazily hugged back, feeling a lump in his throat that he didn’t manage to hold back. Soon, tears were running down his face, soaking Dan’s shoulder. Jealousy, so much jealousy, scared of losing this little notoriety that had brought him so much. “A-Are you crying?” the younger boy stuttered, Phil didn’t reply and pulled back, looking down at his mismatched socks.  

And at this very moment, Dan knew. He sighed and lied down next to his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around his waist and holding him close. He buried his face in the crook of Phil’s neck, placing a light kiss on the pale soft skin. “You know what, I don’t care if they are five, I don’t care if they are a million, I don’t care if they are six hundred thousand and you know why I really don’t give a fuck about a stupid number? Because I’ve got you. You mean so much more than a number on a website, think about it Phil. You mean so much more.” The raven-haired boy lapped up everything Dan whispered and he understood. It didn’t matter, because all he had to do to feel loved was turning around and press his lips to the love of his life’s, the familiar warm feeling reminding him that he was the luckiest guy in the world.

(wow this was a total fail.)