Random Word mini fics 150 words or less (Part 4)-

Focus:

"Alright My Dear. Now focus, this is important."

Isabelle wiped at her sweating forehead, "I know that Myc!" she snapped, "Just... give me a moment." The air was still and filled with an all consuming tension. One wrong move and it was all for naught. Shoulders hunched Isabelle extended a hand, only to bring it back to her side a moment later, indecision written on her features. Mycroft tapped his fingers impatiently on dark colored wood, saying nothing but thinking really loudly. Finally, the young woman acted, earning a soft "Ah" from her husband. Mycroft smiled at her, then with a flourish made his own move.

"Checkmate."

Top:

It was a well known fact that Mycroft Holmes didn't hug, didn't hold hands, didn't let you sit on his lap, didn't let you into his room after dark, didn't read bedtime stories… Lily had gotten used to it, even as she saw other children be swallowed into the arms of their fathers, given words of never ending praise even though they were stupid. For a while, she had been jealous. But, as time went on, she began to realize the smaller, less noticeable things her "Daddy" did to show his affection. He would prepare special meals, her favorites whenever she did well with schoolwork. He would stand by her door at bedtime watching to make sure she was safe and comfortable before going to his own. And, on those rare occasions, Mycroft Holmes would lean down, call her Dearheart, then place a kiss on the top of her head.

Seed:

"He doesn't love you. Jesus Izzy, you're like a toy to that freak show!" Gloria Long shouted as Isabelle prepared for her date. The young woman eyed herself in the mirror, wrapping her arms around her midsection. Was that true? Did he really think of her as a toy to play with before he dropped her? Maria added (un)helpfully that "he needed a woman to hang of his arm". The rich man and his homely girlfriend. Isabelle curled her hands into fists, digging fingernails into the pale flesh of her arms. No… No, it wasn't true. It just… wasn't. For the first time in a long time, Isabelle refused to let the seeds of doubt bury themselves in her mind. Whether they would end up together or not, she knew that what they had was real. So, she smiled confidently, and confused her sisters when she left.

Saint:

Isabelle entered the bedroom, into the darkness. Her eyes adjusting slowly, she made out the lump on the bed that was her husband. "Myc?" she said in a quiet voice, not wanting to make things worse. He hummed, rolling over so that he faced her, "What?" The terse reply was ignored as Isabelle approached the bed, "I brought you something for your migraine," she held out a mug filled with apple flavored tea (decaffeinated, Isabelle's brand) , and in the other hand a small pill. He accepted both, swallowing down the pill with a grimace before he set aside his mug and returned to the safety of his blanket fortress. Isabelle slipped off her shoes and curled up beside her husband, not intruding on his space, knowing it would only add to his discomfort. "You are a saint My Dear," muffled her husband. Isabelle smiled, "I know."

Favorite:

"Oh, this is delicious Myc!" Isabelle moaned, her mouth full. Mycroft poked listlessly at his meal with his fork. Isabelle ignored her husband's disgust, "How did you know this was my favorite?"

Mycroft looked up, raising an eyebrow, "I'm brilliant," the corners of his mouth upturned, pleased. Isabelle let herself be consumed by a faint memory of her father cooking over a hot stove, then sitting at the table across from him, too short to see unless she sat on her knees. He always made it when Gloria and Maria were at a sleepover or off on some outing with their mother. "I do not understand this at all," Mycroft said after a bout of silence, wrinkling his overlarge nose at the fair. Isabelle shrugged, "My father was American," was her only explanation as she continued to eat her Macaroni and Cheese with cut up hot dogs in it.

Treehouse:

"Ok, I'm going to be the Queen and Maria can uh…" Gloria pressed a hand to her mouth, thinking deep thoughts, "She can be the Princess!" Maria bounced up and down, "Can I wear a crown?" she squeaked excitedly. Gloria waved a hand, silencing her twin, "We'll see. The Queen is more important, I should get a crown first."
"I bet Mummy would make us a crown," Said Isabelle, picking leaves out of her hair. Gloria nodded once, decisively, "Good. I'll ask her later."
"What am I?" Isabelle added, having given up on a twig that she decided would forever live on her head. Gloria hummed, "How about the maid? Or the jester!" she laughed. Isabelle looked down at her hands, "I wanna be a princess too…"

Gloria wrinkled her nose, yet was swayed by her tiny sisters downtrodden expression, "Okay, fine. But you have to find your own crown!"

Sorry it took so long for me to update this story guys. I've been focused on the other long story I'm working on (I'm sure you're annoyed that it keeps popping up in your E Mail Lol). I promise I have a real chapter that I'm working on, and I hope I'll have it done before the end of this week... We'll see. Lol

Thanks again to everyone that's reviewed! (I remember I forgot to personally thank Applejax and pyroleigh for leaving reviews on Troll) and a big thank you to Aelise Aesir and Ellis Jenkins for reviewing the most recent chapter! (I think that's everyone)