#MTP x Reader

[yandere-romanticaa]

i know you've mainly written about yan! william with a darling who is just as crazy, but can you do one with a more innocent darling? like they just tried to run away from him, too bad he knows them like the back of his hand and knows where she could have gone

The serene song of the morning birds gave an ethereal atmosphere to the Moriarty household, as some of the large branches from the nearby trees kept tapping against the open windows, their soon to be bright orange and red leaves decorating the wooden floor.

William drank his tea in peace, the hot aroma engulfing him as he let out a satisfied hum. The branches were beyond beautiful, they truly did give a certain pop of life to the entire estate which he marvelously enjoyed.

Said branches were also quite sturdy, he duly noted.

Placing the tea cup back down onto the porcelain white plate, William uncrossed his legs and stood up, his posture as straight as it can be as he made his way towards the window, his pace slow and relaxed. He looked out the window, taking in the soon to be autumn scenery and a few footsteps left in the grass from a little someone who managed to escape. How cute, he thought to himself.

"Brother..." said a sudden voice, it being gentle and soft, but with a hint of worry in it. William did not even bother to turn around to look at his brother, already knowing what he was going to ask him. Louis always made sure that everything was in order, no matter how miniscule it may seem. He would sometimes even have him tend to the little captive he held in his basement, making sure that the shackles were tight just right, but not too tight.

He despised seeing bruises bloom on your pretty skin. The sight alone made him seethe.

"Yes Louis, I know. No need to concern yourself with anything." came William's reply, his voice neutral.

"I shall take care of everything. You just keep doing what you always do best." said William. He turned slightly back to look at his brother, to analyze his worried face. He gave him a nod, which allowed Louis to leave the room.

The room was almost vacant now, save for William and his morning paper. The man could not help but to let out a wistful sigh, red tainting his pale cheeks as he felt his heart do backflips in his chest.

You had no kind of idea just what sort of power you had over the Lord of Crime. That was always something William was going to give you credit for. Your fiery nature was beyond precious but you just had this innocent doll like quality to your person, which William James Moriarty could not help but to deeply admire.

He already knows where you are. He already knows where he was going to go tonight and at exactly what time he was going to collect you. William was buzzing at the thought of you telling him just how you had managed to get out of your shackles without waking up anyone in the entire house, all the while climbing down a tree like a little mouse.

For now though, he was going to let you enjoy this mini spoil of victory. He could already picture your sweet face, a face so sweet that he sometimes wondered if it would crumble due to his dark touch.

William was not a good man, he knew this all too well. However, he was also not cruel, especially towards you. You would be granted these few hours of freedom, you truly did deserve them.

Once the sun goes down and the silver moon comes up though, all is fair in love and war.

[eliasorchard]

you've been working hard, let him treat you

— smut, soft sex, fingering, you go on vacation with him, he buys you gifts and anything else you deserve

"darling?"

three knocks. no answer.

"i'm coming in." the blond opens the door to the bedroom, his coat taken off and draping comfortably on his arm - his smile is gentle, caring and cheerful as he steps in.

as wonderful as his day went at the university, he'd missed you terribly; which is why the first thing he thought of was to hold you in his embrace, maybe place a few pecks & kisses here & there until you're laughing & squirming at how ticklish his kisses feel.

william's eyes widen in surprise at the sight - watching you sob heavily with all kinds of gross fluids running down your eyes and nose was something he hadn't been expecting.

"oh, my poor, sweet girl.." he tuts softly, immediately making his way to you and wrapping you in his arms. "what's wrong, dear?" his fingers push the stray strands on hair away from your face so he can look at you carefully.

you can't seem to face him, not like this, anyway. you're clinging tight onto him, face buried into the crook of his neck as you wail some more. "studies.." you mutter out, voice cracking. "it's too much for me.. i feel utterly helpless. i just can't- you know? everything seems to be crashing down and- and—"

your voice falters. you can't speak with that lump in your throat that refuses to be swallowed. "alright, i understand. i understand, dear. shh.. shhh.." he cooes, eyebrows furrowed in concern. "it's okay.."

"good morning, dearest." soft lips against your forehead. you hum sleepily, eyes opening. it's bright - did you pass out from the exhaustion of crying too hard last night?

"mmm.. morning." you rub your eyes, sitting up in bed. now that your eyes aren't as blurry as it was a few seconds ago, he looks like he's getting ready. you look at the time. "getting ready for university so early?"

"the university?" william chuckles softly. "no, my dearest - i'm getting ready for a little vacation, you and i." he strokes your hair. "now," he kneels down on the edge of the bed, gathering your sleepy face into his warm hands and places a kiss on your nose. "how about we have some breakfast and you get ready? i've done all your packing already."

waves crashing against the shore, the sun out and about, birds chirping joyfully above the clouds; what was going on? the bell boy's dropped your luggage and his, putting it away properly.

it's massive inside. the ceilings are high - fitting an opulent chandelier on the ceiling of each room. the walls have expensive wallpaper on them, each room has large panes for windows, a king-sized canopy bed, a room service system, welcome drinks and meals, instruments - practically everything one could ask for.

"do you like it?" he whispers softly into your ear, away from you by mere millimeters. the short distance with him and him whispering into your ear like that - it makes you tingle. his hands are behind his back, ruby red eyes gentle and lips smiling.

"liam!" you exclaim, shocked. "like it? i love it!"

"hmm.." he hums, satisfied with your reaction - especially when you push yourself up on your toes to press a kiss against his cheek, arms wrapped around his neck. he leans down to make things easier for you. "i'm glad. a fitting suite for my hardworking love."

the next few days are spent in absolutely leisure, spending your days with william lazily, always entangled with his limbs, calling room service everytime you wanted to do something mundane. it was a nice change, it felt like you finally had somewhat control of your life; instead of it being hurdled away from the overwhelmingness of your studies, instead.

it's one of those usual, relaxing days from your vacation with him again. the two of you just returned from strolling around the beach, enjoying a little tropical drink in hand. and now the two of you are back in bed, your back against his chest; his face nuzzled comfortably into your hair and his arms wrapped around you with ease.

you've been trying to get into a comfortable position for a few minutes. perhaps it was the caffeine at work. you back up against him again - he shudders.

"(name)." his voice is uneven; almost pleading. "it's almost one, please go to sleep." his hips move back.

"oh, sorry. am i disturbing you too much?" you make a small movement to turn back, which causes him to let out a small, barely audible moan - almost a huff.

"(name).."

that's when you feel it; the bulge pressed against your backside. vibrant shades of reds and pinks creep up from your neck to your face until you're flushed crimson.

"william..?"

william presses a small kiss on your neck, the most sensitive spot of it to shush you; he's embarrassed as well. "...it's only natural." he says. "i can't help it; not when i'm around you." a pause. "i apologise if this is uncomfortable, if you'd like i can go sleep on the-"

"nonono, wait." you shake your head, determined not to be distanced from him. you turn your head over to your shoulder, meet his ruby eyes and a face that mirrors your own blushing one. "i- i um, i understand. as you said; it's only natural."

a small silence fills the room.

"..would it be selfish," his hand caresses your hip, fingers kneading and palming lazily over the soft flesh; feather-like touches, as if they're simply hovering over you. "if i ask that i may indulge in you — even in late hours?"

you blink in surprise. a momentary pause, and then your lips break out into a small grin. "it wouldn't."

"that's great, then." his hot breath fans over your neck, making you shiver. his hand travel down south, pushing up your dress l. his long, slender fingers push aside your panties and you stifle back a moan. "mmhh.."

william's middle and index finger rub small circles with slow and careful precision at your clit, making you jolt a little at the stimulation. your legs spread.

"liam," you sigh breathily. "that feels good."

hearing your voice, something about the sweetness, something about how soft and quiet it is makes him chuckle softly. "go on, darling. let me hear what other sounds you can make." he eases his middle finger in and he groans at how wet you feel.

"look at you," he whispers in your ear, voice sultry. "clamping down on my fingers - how wet you feel."

william's fingers pump back and forth, in and out, knuckles pressed against your folds, fingers as deep as they can go. "ungh.." your fingers dig into his arm.

"shh, shh.." he cooes, trying to ease you. you can feel it; the painful erection against your back. you're not a bad lover, you want to help him and more than anything else, you want him. inside of you, as soon as possible. "liam? can we plea-" you reach behind.

"easy, my love." he murmurs. "all in due time."

william fingers you much faster now, curling his fingers upwards - pressing that sweet spot, that sweet spot riiight up there just perfectly. "i, as well, want nothing more than to feel myself be coddled inside you."

you moan out, feeling your stomach in knots. "hngh.." you whimper and your toes curl. you're squirming now, feeling lightheaded - it's coming, you're coming. william would be a fool not to notice.

he makes a few more curls of his fingers, pressing against your g-spot with just right pressure. "that's it.." he nibbles on your bare shoulder. "there we go.."

"nngh..!" and it's so strong; your orgasm, with how skilled his fingers are. you're trembling, eyes rolling to the back of your head, fingernails digging into his forearms, feeling your high hit you like a truck.

you're still seeing stars when he lines up against your entrance, tapping at your folds with his tip. you turn your neck to kiss him sloppily; a mess of saliva and hot gasps and breaths against each other. your eyes fall down to his loins and it's almost embarrassing.

the tip has gone from a creamy pink to a darker and more dull pink; swollen, by the looks of it. "do you see what you do to me, love?" he questions, his voice half in pants and shaky whispers.

"ah!" you gasp, feeling him push himself in. it's so warm, so wet and so soft inside of you that he has to take a few breaths to compose himself and not cum on the spot.

william and you are connected so intimately. he looks down to see where the two of you are joined and he doesn't see a slither of space. he shivers at the sight.

"mnhh.." he hums, pressing further into you and pulls you further to him. you envelope his lips with yours; warm and wet. he nibbles down on your bottom lip as he rolls his hips.

"mm.. yeah, right there.." you gasp when he hits a deeper spot inside of you that no one has before.

"hngh, so good." you babble into his mouth. his cock has a delicious curve & that has you drooling eveytime the tip comes in contact with the cervix.

his skin is damp and so are you from sandwiching yourselves against each other. he pushes your hair away to see you better, presses a kiss on the crown of your head as he fucks you. and he fucks you good.

"hm.. hmhh.." william is grunting softly. you can feel this man throbbing inside of you. his fingers grasp the flesh on your soft hips & he dips his face into the crook of your neck. "i love you... i love you, (name).."

he's close-and quite frankly, so are you. your legs tremble. "angh, please please, i'm going to cum-" he feels you clench around him hard and that is all it takes before a flash of white sputters and paints itself inside of your gummy walls. his orgasm triggers your own as you shudder and shiver, squirm and writh in his embrace as you cum around his cock; moaning and gasping his name and incomprehensible pleads.

you black out.

when dawn arrives and you awaken from your slumber, you are bombarded with dozens of gifts littering the already huge bedroom.

how much could this man have bought and spent to fill this large room anyway? you are soon pulled away from your thoughts when you see william enter the room, shirtless, hair wet, droplets of water dripping down his skin and a towel wrapped around his waist.

"eye candy." you murmur to yourself, but not small enough for him not to hear. the man chuckles.

"come, my dear. i do not know about candy but i have brought us breakfast. i figured you would need some energy to open up all these gifts, anyway."

[fairy-writes]

Would it be too much to ask for a William James Moriarty x Holmes sister reader? Like she's a travelling archaeologist/anthropologist who's a genius in the field and has found many artifacts and lost cities and can be a bit of an eccentric looney like her older brother Sherly but she's also incredibly kind to those in need and often donates her treasures to the less fortunate and even helps Sherly from time to time which is how he meets her and is impressed by her smarts and sarcastic wits. Also, a bit of a parkour junky likes to wear mens clothes tailored for her measurements and often wears her hair in loose buns or ponytails and loves riding horseback much to Mycroft's displeasure🤭

A BUSINESS PROPOSAL

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing(s): William James Moriarty x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Holmes!Reader, Mildly sexist behavior from Mycroft? It is the 1800s after all.

Notes: So this was super fun to write! 

Fun fact! I took an archaeology class for my associate’s degree in criminal justice and highly recommend taking one to anyone in college! 

I actually took several anthropology classes (intro to anthro, bio anthro, and archaeology). I even considered switching my major to anthropology at some point! (I switched it to English lol)

PART TWO HERE

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Otis whinnies, and you reach forward from your place in the saddle to pat his neck.

“Easy, Otie, almost there.” You whisper to him and gently nudge him to turn down the familiar road of Baker Street. You could spot your brother’s flat from where you were at, an unfamiliar carriage parked in front. You frown briefly and then shrug. Sherlock could have whoever he liked over. 

But… he did promise to take you out on the town in celebration of your latest discovery. Did he forget?

No�� He wasn’t the type to forget something like that. You had been exchanging letters for weeks about your coming home. 

A tall man was at the front of the carriage, tending to the horses. He had spiked black hair and a glove on one hand. He looks at you with skeptical eyes as you draw near and dismount your horse. The Cleveland Bay snorts, ruffling your hair as you smooth your hand up his snout and between his eyes. Then, you promptly tied his reins to the post outside 221B Baker Street and went up to the front door. 

The door knocker was more worn than you last remembered, with the shiny brass turning a glimmering gold color from all the hands touching it. You rap the door once, twice, then a third time, and wait, stuffing your hands in your trouser pockets. 

A young man opens the door, sandy blond hair combed neatly and brown eyes alight with curiosity. A grin breaks your face, and you step forward into his arms as he realizes just who is at the door.

“My dear John!” You shriek, and he chuckles, lifting you off your feet and spinning once in a circle before setting you down. 

“I thought you weren’t due back for another two weeks!” He replies excitedly, and you laugh gleefully. 

“We finished early! Anyhow, how’s Mary? Sherlock said you two were expecting!” You say and slap his shoulder good-naturedly. He ducks his head, a pink flush on his cheeks as he nods.

“She’s home at the mo. But yes, we’re expecting. The midwife thinks it’ll be a girl based on how she’s carrying.” He said, and before you could say any more, there was a noise at the top of the stairs. 

You turn, and your grin widens even more until your cheeks hurt. 

“Sherly!” You crow, and he bounds down the stairs to sweep you up in a bear hug. His boisterous laugh made your heart sing, and you buried your nose in his hair. He smelled like cigarette smoke and whiskey. He must have been on a case. He squeezes you tight and sets you down. 

“I thought you were coming back in two weeks!” He exclaims, and you roll your eyes,

“So John said, I told you we finished early!” You tease, and it is then that you notice that there is someone else in the flat. 

He was tall, probably around your brother’s height. He had blond hair and deep scarlet eyes that studied you with interest. He was dressed in a brown suit with a crimson tie. A lord. That much is obvious.

Sherlock notices that you notice his friend and gestures to the man at the top of the stairs. 

“This is Liam! A mathematics professor at Durham University and a friend of mine who helps me on my cases.” He says proudly as “Liam” descends the stairs and approaches you. 

You stick out a hand and introduce yourself. His hand is smooth like you expected, as opposed to your calloused one. You had bandages littering your fingertips from blisters from shovels and tools. 

“William James Moriarty. I’ve heard stories about you.” His British lilt is proper and endearing. You feel your heart flutter and your ears burn. But you smile warmly nonetheless and give his hand a firm shake.

“As much as I’d like to say the same, Sherly has yet to tell me about you in his letters.” You direct the last sentence to your older brother in the same teasing tone as before. 

Sherlock rolls his eyes and punches your shoulder lightly while William watches on in amusement. 

“I got distracted!” Sherlock complains, and you break out into giggles. 

“I would love to hear some stories if you’re up to it.” William cut in gently before you, and Sherlock could start bickering. You brighten. A chance to tell stories of your work and not have someone get bored? It sounded like heaven!

That was how you got to where you were at the current moment. 

You were seated next to Sherlock at the Moriarty dining table, regaling them with a story of the most current dig you had been on.

“—and Egypt was absolutely smashing! It was so beautiful!” You say, waving your hands excitedly as you describe the tomb that had been uncovered. It had taken weeks to uncover everything, almost months. But oh so worth it. 

“Might I ask what you did with all the artifacts you found?” William inquires, and you hum as you sip at your wine. 

“Donated it all back to the locals. It’s the least I can do. Plenty of archaeologists steal their finds and bring them back to England to show in museums. I try and do the opposite.” You say and were pleased to see William nod in approval. 

At least someone shared your sentiment. 

You got a letter to your very old and very dusty flat a week after your return to England, summoning you to your eldest brother’s estate. You had been dusting and cleaning your furniture when the postman knocked on your door. You frown, brushing your pants on the seat of your trousers, and answer the door. 

The letter was short. 

Dearest sister, 

I have received news of your return to Egypt. I would like to have your company at the family estate for dinner to discuss business and your adventures. 

With best regards, 

Mycroft Holmes

A summons to the Holmes family estate that your oldest brother had inherited after your parents retired to the country. You look at the ceiling and groan, eliciting a funny look from the postman. 

This was going to be fun.

As soon as Otis realizes where you are, he tosses his head and tries to turn around. You tug the reins so he faces the right direction and nudge him into a walk down the road.

“Otie, I don’t want to do this either. But I’d rather not have Mikey send special forces after us or something.” You say to Otis, and when you reach the stables, Mycroft’s hired stable hand takes your beloved horse’s reins. “Take good care of him!” You nearly reprimand the stable hand who agrees and welcomes you back with ease. 

The maids welcome you in excitedly when you rap on the massive double doors, and you are ushered upstairs into the dining room. 

Mycroft was seated at the head of the table, where your father would be if he were here, and he stood to greet you. He offers a handshake, but you simply smile warmly and hug him tightly. He may have grated on your nerves, but he was still your brother. Mycroft stiffens and pats your shoulders awkwardly when you step back.

“As awkward as always, I see Mikey.” You said and took a seat at the table next to him like you did when you were kids. He clears his throat and calls for the kitchen staff to bring in the food. 

It wasn’t much, considering there were only two of you. But it was as extravagant as Mycroft always demanded it to be. 

“Would you like to change into dinner attire before we eat, sister dearest?” Mycroft says suddenly, just as you are about to dig into the delicious roast prepared by the staff of the household. You put your fork down and scowl.

“Don’t start with this, Mikey. You know I hate dresses.” You snap, and he raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push the issue. 

At least… he doesn’t until you are done with your meal and in his study, talking about your travels to Egypt. 

You down the rest of your whiskey and set the glass whiskey tumbler on the table between you two. 

“More whiskey?” He offers, and you shake your head.

“I want to be able to ride home after this.” You say and hold in a yawn. The excellent food combined with the fireplace blazing with a crackling fire is lulling you to sleep. 

Suddenly, Mycroft stands and walks in front of the fire, setting his own glass down on the mantle and turning to face you. 

“Might we talk some business?” He inquires, and immediately, your mood sours. 

So this was his end goal? Get you sleepy and drunk so you couldn’t ride home and were subject to his pleadings?

“I don’t want to hear it, Mikey.” You say and stand, holding onto the back of the wingback chair for a moment as the dizziness sets in. 

He scowls, 

“You are of perfect age. The season is just starting. You could still join in and find a potential suitor!” He tries, and you scrub at your face.

“I already told you I wasn’t interested in courting! I’m interested in—”

“Your work, I know. But what happens when the digs dry up and there’s nothing else for you to do? What will you do when you get too old for this?!” He snaps, and you whirl, steadying yourself with the chair as your anger flares. 

“It won’t dry up! There are thousands of years of history still to be discovered! Hundreds of thousands of cities and archaeological finds!” Your voice rises to a shout, and you hear distant footsteps as maids scurry away from you and your brother’s anger. 

This goes on for several minutes until Mycroft a bomb on you. 

“Mother and Father have decided. If you don’t find someone to court, they will no longer fund your excavations, and you’ll be stuck here with me.” 

You freeze, hands wound tightly in your hair, and argument dying on your tongue. 

“B—But that would mean—” Mycroft cuts you off gently and approaches, putting his hands on your shoulders. 

“You’d be stuck here until you find a husband—no more digs. No more artifacts. Not until you do as they and I ask.” Tears well up in your eyes, and you shrug off his hands violently and flee. 

Your boots pound against the hardwood floors, and you run outside where it has started pouring rain. Instantly, your clothes are soaked as you make it to the stables, dress Otis in his saddle and bridle, and swiftly mount his back. He tears out of the stables at a thundering gallop, and the stable hand barely dives out of the way to save himself from being trampled. 

Otis’s hooves dash against the cobblestone roads. You cling to his reins and hunch over his back as tears stream down your face and sobs wrack your body. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Taking away your funding? 

No one wanted to fund a woman on an archaeological dig! 

Much less one as young as yourself! 

You were screwed! Doomed to live as a housewife because that was society’s and your parent’s expectations of you!

Otis eventually comes to a halt, and you dismount, collapsing onto a bench, breathing hard as rain pours down your body. Your shirt sticks to your skin, and your trousers swim in water as you sit in a puddle on the bench. But you can’t bring it in you to care. 

A carriage rumbles to a stop before you, and you look up as the door opens. 

“Might I interest you in some shelter?” Comes a proper and endearing accent that you recognize. 

“William?” You sniffle, and he smiles, extending a hand. 

“If you’ll let him, Fred will handle your horse. How about you step inside the carriage, and we’ll take you back to the Moriarty estate.” He says over the rain. A young man with a blue scarf wrapped around his head gets off the front of the carriage and approaches. You hiccup and nod, handing Otis’s reins to the young man and accepting William’s hand into the carriage. He sheds his overcoat and offers it. 

It’s warm and heavy as you wrap it around your shoulders and sit down. Your boots squelch against the floor, and William knocks twice against the carriage's wall, and it starts moving once again. 

The Morairty estate is even grander than you remember, looming over you as the carriage stops by the front doors. You nearly slip in your haste to get inside and are taken up the stairs to one of the many bedrooms. 

“Draw a bath and get warm. I’ll have some clothes brought by. We can have a talk after you’ve collected yourself.” William says gently, and you nod, taking off his overcoat so he can have it back. He excuses himself, and you are left alone in the suite. 

The bath is nice and hot, and you let out a sigh as you shed your clothes into a pile on the floor and sink into the warm water. Your tears are drying, but your emotions are still raging like a rabid dog inside you.

How could they? 

Didn’t your family know archaeology was your passion? Your dream?! Of course, they did! You never shut up about it when you were but a little girl learning to play the piano! You babbled on and on about fossils and artifacts in between lessons until you were blue in the face!

It wasn’t long until you were done in the bath and dried off. As William had promised, some clothes were left on the bed. A button-down that looked like it might fit you, a pair of trousers that might be a bit too long, and a pair of undergarments. You tugged on the underwear and then the trousers, having to cuff them at the bottom so you didn’t trip. The shirt fit better than you thought so you pinned your hair out of your face and left the bedroom and down the hall. Hadn’t there been a sitting room just down the stairs? 

William was inside, stoking a fire with a poker, his back to you. He stood and turned when you rapped lightly on the entryway. His lips curled in a welcoming smile, and he gestured for you to take a seat. 

“Would you like some tea? I had Louis put the kettle on.” He said, and you nodded, sitting on the couch beside the fire.

“Thank you. For the clothes and… everything else.” You mumble, and he shakes his head,

“Don’t mention it. Sherlock mentioned you hated dresses.” He says and pours you a cup of tea.

It’s delicious. It warms you from the tips of your ears to the ends of your bare toes. You scuff them on the plush carpet as William sits across from you. His scarlet eyes are illuminated like glittering rubies in the oranges and yellows of the fire. They’re alive like a torch resides inside. 

“Now, might I ask why you were out in the rain?” William asks as soon as you’ve settled into your spot. You bite your lip and wonder if you can trust him with your problems. 

Sherlock trusted him well enough… 

Perhaps…

“I got into an argument with Mycroft. He said my parents will cut off my funding for excavations if I don’t find a proper husband.” You blurt, and he hums as he takes a sip from his cup. 

“I assume they’ve been funding your past archaeological escapades?” He says, and you nod.

“Correct. But that is going to change unless I get married.” You grumble, and he cocks his head to the side, setting his cup down on the tea table next to him and seemingly mulling something over. 

“This may be a bit forward, but I have a proposal. A business proposal, if you will.” He starts, and you narrow your eyes. A business proposal? You set your own cup down and cross one leg over the other. 

“Go on…” You say hesitantly, and he clasps his hands together as if working out a problem in his head. Sherlock did say he was a mathematics professor.

“I could marry you.” You inhale sharply and proceed to choke on your saliva. William half gets out of his chair to come to your aid when you finally get your coughing under control. 

“Why?!” You demand, and he shrugs, 

“I’ve done some research into you. You are spearheading the way in new archaeological techniques. You donate your finds back to the locals in need. And frankly, I find you fascinating. If we go ahead with this, you’ll have access to my brother Albert’s influence as well as the Moriarty name and fortune.” He says, and you sit back, stunned. 

“I could continue my work?” You say skeptically, and he nods. 

“Indeed. There’s no reason to stop you. I might ask for a lecture or two from you at Durham University. But that’s it. So…” He extends a hand for you to shake. “Have we reached an accord?”

You are speechless as possibilities run rampant through your brain. You’d be free from your parent’s influence as well as pleasing them. Though pleasing them was the last thing on your mind. Yes, you’d be married. But like William said… it was more of a business proposal…

You reach forward and shake his hand. His smile widens marginally as you speak,

“I accept your proposal.”

[kanroji-san]

Kidnapper: I have your partner!

William: What? But we don't have a partner

Kidnapper: Then who just called me a lowlife bitch and spit in my face?

Sherlock: *who is already running towards exist* Oh shit, they have Y/n!

[ranposbabe]

Spillage

pairing: Albert James Moriarty x Fem!Reader

summary: Albert’s favourite wine is spilled and now he has to clean it up :(

warnings: smut, erotic content, unprotected sex!!!

The hour was late and Albert was still yet to return to your shared bedroom.

Everyone in the Moriarty manor decided to celebrate a recent victory taking down a nobleman that had been troublesome for quite some time.

However you couldn’t find it in yourself to join the celebration as you remained tired throughout the day and had returned to your room rather early. William did the same to correct some students test and Herder…

well he’s Herder, putting something together you assumed.

When it comes to celebrations of course there is all sorts of alcohol.

Of course it was Moran who didn’t hesitate to start the drinking early.

How could Albert refuse ?

You found yourself laying just in your undergarments along with one of Alberts white dress shirts that practically engulfed you. The buttons all open exposing your body underneath as the room had a tendency to become quiet warm with the heavy sheets even with the window slightly opened. A book.

Of course the calmness couldn’t last long.

The door practically swung open as the head of the manor walked in causing you to practically throw your book away in such sudden fright.

“Are you tipsy, Albert ?” You sigh, watching his every move as he walked in confident yet a slight trip to his step. His blazer out of sight he always looked fine in his suits.

Tightly gripped in his hand was a new bottle of his favourite wine half empty of course.

“Of course not, y/n.” He smirks. A familiar glow in his emerald eyes. He runs his hand through his typically combed back hair and a few loose strands fall over his forehead making him appear messy and desirable.

“Come to bed, beloved.” You pat the spot beside as if you were trying to convince a child that it was bedtime.

“You’re more so the lord of wine rather than lord of crime.” You roll your eyes, rubbing your hand up and down his back in a comforting manner.

“What’s this ?” He simply asks.

His eyes practically glowed at the sight of you his darling Wearing nothing but your undergarments along with one of his dress shirts. Overcome with tiredness you failed to even button the shirt, your stomach on view. Just like how he liked it.

“I didn’t think you’d notice.” You simply state.

“I’d be a fool not to notice.”

For a small intimate moment he presses his lips against yours before going back to taking a swig from the bottle.

Such a gentleman.

“”We’ll I’m sorry my lips don’t taste like wine, Albert !” You scoff at the sight an amused glow in his emerald eyes.

With a smirk on his wet lips Albert turns towards you and in an instant cages you in one arm

Suddenly Albert tips the expensive bottle and the warm red liquid splashed your belly and rolls down your side, staining the silk sheets.

“Albert !” You jump, your attempts to sit up fail as his arm keeps you still. He towers over you, quite the intimidating sight.

“Louis helped me change these sheets just this morning !”

His tongue pressed flat against your stomach licking up whatever was left of the wine like a starved man.

You gasp at the feeling of Albert licking the scarlet liquid from your belly and suddenly that familiar tingle starts riling up inside of you.

“Albert-

“I’ve missed this.” He whispers to himself.

It was only then did you realise he wasn’t as drunk as you originally thought he was.

He always had that certain smirk on his lips.

His tounge invades your mouth, wine spilling and running down your chin

“It seems you need cleaning kissing down from your lips to your neck.

“I don’t recall having wine splashed on my neck ?” You groan, Albert’s wet lips pressing against under your jaw all the while his fingers effortlessly grasp at your underwear. He playfully slaps at your hips silently telling you to raise them. You comply shimmying slightly while whines escape past your lips due to the lack of contact. But as soon as Albert removed your clothing he was quick to return the warmth of his touch.

He licks a long stripe of your cunt taking his time like he would sipping his wine.

His emerald eyes roll to the back of his head as you grind your cunt against his scarlet stained tongue. His brown locks feel so soft as they slip through your fingers as you grip at Albert hair holding him in place as he satisfys himself by enjoying his meal.

You learned quite early on to never interrupt Albert while he was in pure bliss.

But the cravings that rise inside of you make you suddenly wanting more. You practically have to pull Albert off of you to gain back his attention.

He always had his priorities straight.

“I’m here, my love. I’ll have your legs shaking in no time.”

You don’t hesitate in helping Albert remove his clothing while typically you would admire Albert in his nicely fitted suit, in this moment of time you’d rather see it be removed…more often.

The lamp by your bedside leaves the room in an orange glow makes Albert’s skin glow as his dress shirt is finally remover. A wave of greediness washes over you as you run you hand up and down his glistening body from his nice shoulders till just above his suit pants.

It doesn’t take long before his pants are removed and you’re suddenly too shy to look despite knowing not only the captivating appearance of his aching cock but also the sensation that it caused inside of you.

“I’m taking you now, y/n.” He assures, his hand massaging your waist. His eyes flickered down to the sight of your wet cunt, eagerly wanting to dive into his desert. You’ve both enjoyed the pleasure of love making to eacherother for a long time and yet on every occasion you’re both suddenly filled with giddiness and relaxation which come from the complete trust you both hold deeply for one another.

“Then take me, Albert.” You smile, no longer being able to hold back.

You’re connected not only physically but emotionally too. The pleasure not only feels good but Albert’s smile as he stares deeply into your eyes make you more than content.

He takes you just as good as he always has. Albert practically does all the work and yet with the pace of his thrusts you understand that he prefers it this way.

You don’t mind. The only sounds evident in the dimly lit room was your gasps of pleasure and Albert’s groans that sounded like music to your ears. Though the sound was of skin slapping was becoming much more louder.

“Don’t be shy now. You know how to use that voice of yours.”

If they hadn’t already, your ears had blushed red at his constant teasing. Yet really you couldn’t get enough of it despite how embarrassed you may of seemed.

His thrusts were deep as one of his hands rested by your hand holding himself up as his other was stained with scarlet, groping your left breast, clear determination evident on his soft yet toned features.

He soon presses soft little kisses between your breasts. He always shows the same affection with both of your breasts. You had to laugh at how considerate Albert was towards them. Your highs come when Albert leans up and presses a considerably slow kiss against your lips, purposely avoiding tongue making you wanting more. He couldn’t whether your lips were bruised or simply stained by the wine. Either way he liked the sight.

His eyes glow with not only lust but also with admiration as he brushes strands of hair away from your forehead, his touch being so gentle compared to his thrusts.

He doesn’t pull out he remains inside of you. He doesn’t hesitate to move on with the constant kissing onto your neck.

Albert was practically addicted to the sight of your newly bruised neck being mixed with the staining shade of red wine.

“I think the celebration is over.” You breathlessly sigh, running your hand through his dark hair.

“On the contrary.” He doesn’t hesitate to continue his attack on your neck.

“I think it’s just starting.”

[ananiel]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[cupidandcherubs]

Mentally, I'm there

Don't get used to me posting three days in a row tho

[maidensveil]

HOW BEING IN HIS ARMS FEEL LIKE

being in the comfort of his arms and cuddling all afternoon might be the best moments you hope to happen everyday. you dont necessarily like the cruel frigidness in the room, and the touch of his cold skin doesnt help it either. but you dont care-- as long as you're with him and he's with you. the comfortable feeling of being in his arms just makes you forget about the burdens of life, the dreadful emotions that has been eating you alive. the tightness of your mental stability automatically eases up. it makes you forget even the hardest moments of your life.

-- . fyodor, shibusawa, ayatsuji yukito . william moriarty . hanako/yugi amane , teru minamoto . tanjiro, giyuu, obanai , (and anyone else u want!!)

instead of you initiating it, its usually him. he has always been a clingy significant other, not that you mind. it doesnt matter where you two even are, public or private, he just wants to feel your skin against his. he prefers being little spoon most of the time, but it doesnt matter. he often just rests his head on your shoulder. the feeling of it comforts and relieves you, your stress, and basically everything, i mean.. the feeling of his physical affection, his warmth and shared feelings with you makes you feel warm even in the inside.

-- . ranpo, nikolai, dazai . louis moriarty . mikey, baji keisuke . tsukasa, teru (m) . zenitsu

[gh0st-author]

dress.

pairing: William James Moriarty x reader summary: Oh, tempting William was so deliciously amusing for you to do. To kindle the flame you knew was dancing behind his eyes, to fuel it in its confines and observe him attempting to conceal it and thaw it out.

tags: fluff, very suggestive (nothing explicit but it is heated)

warnings: as i said it is very suggestive, they also unalive a nobleman

A/N: so this wasn't originally meant to be posted, it was just something in my drafts, but since it happened to be William's birthday today i thought i might as well finish it. so happy birthday Liam here's your cake

Another glance in his direction, across the crowded hall. Another hidden smile from him. You knew you shouldn't; this game you were playing was too perilous, too dangerous. You weren't supposed to goad William like this. But you simply couldn't resist. Usually, you or Albert were the ones who found themselves at these events, because as the oldest brother he had too keep up the appearances most often, but this night was different. Tonight, William was present as well. He was right beside his brother, a picture-perfect gentleman, charming and captivating. It was an incredibly rare occurrence as he preferred to work behind the scenes, not really drawing attention to himself more than necessary. And unlucky for you, all your attention happened to be on him tonight, despite the risk of it endangering the mission. But it was too addicting. The music too sensual. The candlelight too dim. The perfumes too intoxicating. And the game you presented him with too enjoyable. Another taste of your wine. Another brush of his gaze. You needed to make sure that no one was the wiser to the desperation building beneath your skin. You were dancing around an open flame, stretching out your body above it, hoping to not get incarcerated by the proximity. Still, you couldn't be blamed, it was so rare for you to see your lover adorned so dashingly.

It was all subtle. Your glass against your lips. Your tongue lightly catching the droplets soaking them. His intense glance catching the act. And it was fun, so incredibly amusing to for once toy with him like this given the chance, to slowly gnaw away at his immaculate control that he prided himself on so and wore like a mask. You still remembered the words you whispered to him in the darkness of your bedroom earlier today, the memory of them flashing through your mind making your lips stretch into a devious grin. This is a secret, but my gown for tonight... it was bought specifically with you in mind. Much more than wearing it, I am anticipating what you will do with it later tonight after we return. You could still feel the tremble that raced down William's spine, could still hear his low, tortured groan and uneven whisper of: Do not tempt me, darling. Being aware of the effect you had on your lover and feeling the desire simmering between you too was heady, to say the least.

Alas, no matter how much you wanted to give into your desires, you were a performer, both for him and for the Lord you were tasked with distracting tonight. And a performer had to play her role outstandingly. Your secret moments and glances would have to stay just that— secret. For no one could know you were affiliated with him. You were just another face in the crowd, an unassuming bejeweled rose without thorns. These glimmering banquets were your battlefield, your wit and your charm your weapons, which you brandished flawlessly with every new job you were assigned by the brothers. Meeting William and working with him only served to hone them more— a simple touch here, a sweet whisper there, and your targets were putty under your fingers, ready to follow you wherever you wished. Which usually happened to be their untimely but deserved demise at the hands of you or one of the others from the group. And for as long as they and William had any use of you, you would continue to play your part in their plans without a fault.

Deciding against continuing this game between you two for now, you downed your glass and set out to find your target— Lord Brownlow. He was a local aristocrat rumored to kidnap young ladies from such events and traffic them on the black market. In other words, a perfect target to be bewitched and disposed of by you. After a quick search, you found him, surrounded by numerous important individuals. Even from where you were standing you could see his false smiles and his calculating glances to the women around him. Your act already in place, you sauntered over to him, gown swaying with your movements, your practiced smile of awe and admiration plastered on your face. "Lord Brownlow, a pleasure to meet you."

You were a novelty, a new interesting toy for him to play with. The conversation flowed from your lips effortlessly, each word a careful trap meant to ensnare the Lord's attention, to keep him guessing and wanting more. Each move a thought-out maneuver to entice him and cloud his judgment. You listened to his stories attentively, smiled and nodded when expected, and stroked his ego when he so wished. And what an ego he had. He was so filled to the brim with his own self-importance that he steered you around forcing you into a conversation with any noble he could, no doubt to brag about his own status and to show off how well off he was. Still, you participated beautifully, never letting your true nature show.

After who knows what number of nobles, he turned to you, still keen on continuing. "Do you mind if I introduce you to another one of my acquaintances?

You smiled at him mindlessly, feigned admiration painted across your features. As if you were truly interested in anything he had to say, hanging onto his every word. "None at all, Lord Brownlow. Please, lead the way."

Pleased with your apparent high regard for him and your respect, he hurriedly led you through the throngs of people, seeking out the aforementioned noble. Your gaze darted around, attempting to pinpoint the person in question. Only when his gait hastened with renewed purpose, having found who he was searching for, did you manage to catch a glimpse of the man that had caught his eye.

And...

Oh, well, who would've thought? It seemed that tonight was indeed your lucky night, for he was leading you straight to the object of your obsession tonight. You briefly considered the possibility of William having arranged this beforehand, but the look of delighted surprise on his face as you and the Lord neared him convinced you otherwise. So, a lucky coincidence it seemed. Or a fate-given opportunity? No, of course not. Even though it might not have been planned for him and the Lord to converse like this, it was far from a coincidence. You knew William and him were acquainted, but by the genuine eagerness with which Lord Brownlow was leading you to him, it seemed as if William took the phrase 'keep your friends close; keep your enemies closer' quite literally. Always aligning and governing his pawns, that cunning mind of his.

The Lord halted right in front of him, proudly puffing out his chest. No doubt, hoping to impress you with his arsenal of connections— with his importance. "This is Lord William Moriarty. Second son of the deceased Earl Moriarty. We met a short while ago and happened to become quite familiar with each other."

William turned to regard you fully, his scarlet gaze bright but betraying nothing. As you stood before him like this, you felt weirdly exposed, despite the opulent gown— or maybe exactly because of it. You arrived separately so as to not raise any suspicion so he didn't have the chance to admire you from up close. His face was a perfect polite mask, but you knew he was drinking up your visage like a man starved. Everywhere his gaze touched burned so pleasurably you never wished for it to stop. In fact, all of this silence and patience, waiting and pining in anticipation, made you more eager— made you crave more. You wanted him to trace wherever he looked with his hands, his lips. Your own hands were shaking from holding back from touching him.

Acting like the perfect pawn you were, you buried your need deep beneath your vast experience in lying and deceit, using it as a cover to dampen the inferno in you, and held out your hand courteously for him to kiss. Not a trace of a woman currently longing, yearning, craving. "I don't believe we have been acquainted, Lord Moriarty."

Never taking his eyes off yours, he raised your hand to his lips, leaving it there much longer than necessary. The kiss was almost a promise— or a threat. You weren't sure which. "Indeed we are not, I would have remembered a woman as stunning as you are."

You fought your instinctive pull to draw closer to him, to see just how close you could slot your body against his. To get lost in his knowing gaze. Instead, you chose to slowly pull your hand away and giggle behind it. "Oh, you flatter me, my Lord. I am sure someone of your caliber has ample choice of ladies aiming for your attention."

The smile he gave you was pure serpentine curling of the lips, the look in his eyes pure hunter regarding his prey. "I assure you, my attentions lay elsewhere."

My attention is only on you, his look seemed to say. Your heart stuttered in your chest, beating so loud you were afraid he and Lord Brownlow could hear it. So careful. They had to be so incredibly careful. They were threading a fine line, one misstep and it could all come crashing down around them.

"His attention is only always focused on his work, he never entertains the women around him." Lord Brownlow sighed, seemingly unaware of the building tension between you and William. A perfect figure of an older gentleman concerned for the youth, as if he was giving sound advice out of genuine benevolence. "Honestly, Lord Moriarty, you should follow your older brother's example. Now, Lord Albert knows how to entertain a lady. It's not a good idea for a noble gentleman such as yourself to always keep his head in the books."

William diverted his attention from you to the Lord, chuckling gently as if this entire meeting was just a pleasant interaction. A born noble navigating the labyrinth of high society magnificently. The irony was not lost on you. "I will keep your words in mind, Lord Brownlow."

It was getting harder and harder to keep focused with him so close, yet thoroughly out of reach. It was due time for you to leave and initiate the next phase of the plan. Deciding that one last stunt was in order, you grabbed your target's hand, feigning interest in him, but you were only looking at the man in front of you. "Lord Brownlow, I am sure Lord Moriarty knows how to entertain himself. What do you say we make our way to the dance floor." You ran your hand down the front of your dress as if showing it off, but in truth, you drew attention to the way the corset hugged your curves. "After all, I just bought this dress today, it would be a shame for me to wear it and not be seen dancing in it."

It was a momentary weakness, a flash of that fire in his eyes gone instantaneously, almost as fast as it appeared. Oh, he looked so composed yet his self-control was frying at the edges, unraveling thread by thread with each passing moment. He, too, played his role of a respectable noble magnificently, only the slight sharpening of his gaze and an almost imperceptible sly curling of his lips betraying his rapidly waning restraint.

You offered him your most innocent smile. "Please excuse us, Lord Moriarty." Your words were the sweetest nectar, a saccharine phrase dipped in venom. Another one of your baits successfully eaten, another one of your hooks digging into flesh. You suppressed your giggle as you gave a parting bow and pivoted to twine through the dense crowd with Lord Brownlow, embracing him and slotting yourself into a waltzing position. Oh, tempting William was so deliciously amusing for you to do. To kindle the flame you knew was dancing behind his eyes, to fuel it in its confines and observe him attempting to conceal it and thaw it out. Once again, this game you were playing was dangerous, but you were addicted to the thrill, and you suspected he was as well if the looks he was throwing your way as you glided around the room were any indication.

You felt his eyes on you even as you danced, gossamer and silk flowing around you in mesmerizing patterns. Even as you coyly slipped the slow-acting poison in the Lord's drink while no one was looking. Even as you silently snuck out of the room, vanishing as a phantom, before it took effect. You wouldn't be present when it all happened. A ghost, a shadow, leaving no trace behind. Exactly as William wanted.

Only when you finally arrived at their manor, obscured by the inky darkness of the night, did you let yourself breathe. The still air of your and William's bedroom greeted you pleasantly and you slowly made your way in, haphazardly discarding your numerous jewellery on the desk nearby along the way. Your body was still thrumming with adrenaline from a successful mission, but even more than that it was brimming with something deeper— more desperate. William and Albert would soon return to the estate now that the ball had been interrupted, and the fire that you had been suppressing the entire night threatened to burst out. You had no doubts he felt the same. The fun dance you two have been trapped in the entire night has finally reached its conclusion. The most delightful reward or the most delicious punishment— you wonder which one awaited you upon his arrival.

After what felt like an eternity, slow footsteps sounded in the hallway, unmistakably making their destination known, and the door creaked open almost soundlessly. Your spine tingled as he entered the room, yet you didn't spare him a glance, pretending to busy yourself with removing the accessories from your hair. "I assume everything went according to plan?"

His answering chuckle was accompanied by the rustle of clothes as he discarded his suit jacket. "Everything unfolded beautifully. No one seems to understand how the poison ended up in poor Lord Brownlow's drink." He threw you a conspiratorial grin. "After all, they were all too preoccupied later by the documents a servant managed to uncover in his room, detailing all his atrocities."

You nodded. The tension in the room was palpable, but neither of you wanted to interrupt this tentative stalemate you found yourself in. You were both content to wait the other out— another quick round of your game, this one much shorter and much less torturous. Only when the last accessory left your hair, the mass of it unraveling down your back, did you glance in his direction. "I seem to require some assistance with my dress"

With one hand you threw your hair over your shoulder, body trembling with anticipation as he leisurely made his way to you. It was almost agonizing really, the unhurried way in which his hands traced your arms and shoulder blades down to the corset, leaving in their wake a sea of goosebumps. His lips ghosted over the skin of your neck. "You looked ravishing tonight. I didn't have the opportunity to tell you sooner." His fingers made quick work of the lace and countless hidden clasps and buttons of your corset. "That was quite an ordeal you pulled."

You laughed, a little breathless. "Don't speak as if you didn't enjoy it."

William's lips pulled into a grin, lightly nipping your skin. "You wicked thing, I'm inclined to believe you enjoy tormenting me."

You gasped, leaning back closer to him. "Is it truly torment if I give you exactly what I promised?"

"After the torture you put me through I think I deserve at least some recompense for your actions." As you felt the dress slip from your shoulders, silky fabric sliding down and pooling around your feet, his lips caressed the skin of your shoulder. "And I must say the reward for my patience will be worthwhile indeed."

Delightful reward it was for tonight it seemed.

[yukitomybeloved]

Having a crush is the most disgusting cringy sweetest painful most joyful thing you’ll ever experience in your life

I haven’t been this miserably happy in years

[yandere-wishes]

⋆ Anomaly ⋆

❤Summary: Reader is an anomaly. A noblewoman of foreign descent. She doesn't belong here. But oh how she wishes to burn the world down just like William.

❤Author's note: A little something for Ana (@yandere-romanticaa) I hope you enjoy it!!

❤Warnings: Reader is traumatized, Yandere behavior, killing and blood, cryptic. I swear I know how math works…I've just been slaking this summer.

There are equations written over your skin. Complex formulas he's yet to solve. Exponents and variables freckle your body, scattered shards that try to tell him something, whispering the world's secrets every time he kisses your hand. You are an anomaly he thinks. Face full of cracks where the stars seep through. You're a mistake in the universe. A perfect doll misplaced. You are something, William is almost sure of it.

At heart, William is and always will be a mathematician. It just so happens that crime and math follow the same principles. Both require diligence and practice. Carefully throughout plans of how one must approach such a conundrum. One may call it a formula or a modus operandi or anything else as jejune. But in the end, a rose by any other name would still smell as sweet.

And yet to Moriarty, you are an equation that refuses to be solved. An enigma he's desperately sought to unravel since your first meeting.

William notices something odd as you stroll down an exquisite exemplar of the golden ratio. Something the lord of crime can't fully place. You're akin to a puzzle missing far too many pieces to properly depict its picture. Maybe it's the setting he ponders as he watches you take careful steps in heeled shoes. Maybe it's the music from the ballroom or the meaningless prattle of the aristocrats that robs your form of all logic. Something is amiss with you and he's frantic to find out what it is.

William introduces himself when you reach the bottom of the staircase. He's never been one to show primary interest in the ladies. Rather he waits in the faint glow of the moonlight until someone approces him. Maybe it's the need to distinguish himself from the other aristocrats, maybe it's the repulsion for their customs and manners that refrains him from ever commencing idle chatter. Yet with you, a girl he's never met before, he finds it fitting to say hello first. To talk, about nothing and everything in the same breath. He mentions his admiration for the staircase in passing. Never expecting you to latch on to the words and morph them into the divine proportion. "My father was a mathematical enthusiast, he's passed that on to me as well." Your words slip into his veins like a narcotic, like the melody of an ancient tune lost to time.

William smiles, easy and bright like the melting rays of the desert sun. "Quite the coincidence, I'm a mathematics professor at Durham University". There's a giggle that bleeds from your rose-tainted lips. Reverberating in the chambers of his heart. "A toast then" you propose "to the lethal magnificence of calculation"

You click your champagne glass against his, as something feral festers within the young nobleman.

It's only days later when he's replaying that night in his head as he sips his afternoon tea. That he realizes your champagne glass was empty that whole time. How strange he pondered, wondering if he'd even seen you touch a single intoxicant all evening.

Four days and three sleepless nights later William finds himself tracing the letters of your name with tender adoration. As if he's engraving prayers upon his bones. He needs to see you again as desperately as he needs to breathe. The letter he writes is aloof, meticulous. Prying on your curiosity, hoping you'll take the bait. One miserable day later Louis delivers a letter bathed in your fragrance. Informing the lord Moriarty of your acceptance of his invitation for tea. William folds the letter with the leniency of a biologist regulating their slides. Tucking it away within his breast pocket.

You wear red when you oblige his invitation. An odd red, one that breaks his perception of the color. It's too vibrant yet too opaque. He's beginning to wonder if everything about you is an irregularity. When he ushers the conversation to your garment you merely laugh and brush it off as having belonged to your mother. There's something wrong with that reply as if the universe weeps at your every word. William watches astonished as if he's been told a secret lost to time.

It becomes a habit, an obsession, an addiction really. Tea thrice a week with the woman who plagues his dreams. He lets his cover slip between sips of tea. Permitting you glances into his dark affairs. There's a moment that breaks the norm. A bizarre instance when you ask him to spare no detail in recounting how a poor tormented man murdered the marquess that raped his wife. William stops the proclean cup mere millimeters from his lips. His voice dies in his throat as his mind races to find an appropriate way to tell a lady such a bloody tale. For a second reality slips away.

Reality has a tendency to slip away unnoticed when he's with you.

You weave William tales of foreign lands that sound like they belong in children's fairytales. You tell him about heroes who've done the impossible and kings whose hearts are as pure as the summer skies.

Something about you reverberates in his subconscious. Oh, how he wishes to engulf you, to pick apart your flesh revealing all those dainty secrets you keep in your pretty little chest.

He asks how you know of such utopic lands. You smile. "Because I once lived there"

One day, as Louis serves black tea with rose petals, you bring up a rather peculiar request. "Permit me to assist you in your quest for equality lord Moriarty." William's beginning to believe he's going mad when he hears you. Albit it may as well be expected. Any sane noble lady would have run away many times over. Yet you remain. Forever poised in your adorned seat. Now more than ever William wishes he knew what you truly are. "I want to help you", you plead. "Allow me to aid you in burning this world down and starting anew". He shouldn't have accepted, he shouldn't have nobbed. He shouldn't have left his seat to trace the side of your face with more love than he knew he possessed.

Sometimes, William wonders if something is haunting you, an apparition nesting within the depths of your heart. He ponders what could drive a brilliant mind such as yours to crave the blood of the rich. You once told him about a heritage disrespected. A legacy buried under sand and water lilies. He's yet to find the true meaning behind those words. Does that make you a threat or an ally? Can either be exalted to a lover?

Moriarty promises you the world. Promise you revenge. He's not sure if he too will burn away in your vendetta. Yet he's willing to take the risk if he can hold you close after every murder case.

"I've tried to kick the habit of strolling around the cemeteries at night. Yet I must admit I rather enjoy this." William smiles at your twisted words as he leads the way. If everything has goes as planned -which is most often the case- then the two of you should be prepared for quite the spectacle. A certain Count - who had shown more interest in you than Moriarty could permit- would be getting knifed by his butler whose life he had ruined. A whole new meaning to the term 'the butler did it'. Quite comedic from William's perspective.

You lean on a withering oak tree, hidden by London's thick fog. William stands by your side, the personification of a grim reaper. You watch the play begin, the cobblestone stage illuminated by the blood-red moon. The confrontation, the knife being thrust into the rich vermin's heart. Again and Again and Again. The butler screams into the bloodstained night. His words quelled by his sobs and screams of agony from his dying tormentor. You only catch half of his reasoning, half of his allegations. And yet that is more than enough to comprehend his motive. You sympathize with the poor man, one whose scars mirror your own.

William's scarlet gaze befalls you, as the performance nears its end.

You pick at your nails in a manner that William finds a little too adorable.

You are an anomaly masquerading as a human. Depression lays heavy over your bones as stardust gathers in the corners of your eyes.

You pray to the creator of the moon, pray for a place long since destroyed.

"I've yet to find someone who truly understands me," you say as the two of you begin the journey back to the Moriarty estate.

"Then we share the same burden, my lady," William says, stopping in his tracks.

He lays a firm hand on your shoulder pulling you backwards into his embrace. Somewhere in the distance, three crows consecrate you with their blessings. Willian's hands rest heavy on your sides. He holds you like a little boy holds his father's arithmatic books. Full of care, full of wonder. "What are you" he whispers into your ear. Leaving a playfully hard bite to the shell. His lips trace yours like one traces a treasure map. Trying to unearth all the riches of the world. "My anomaly" he mutters before he finally commits.

When Moriarty kisses you the whole world melts away.

There's an intriguing lightheadedness that follows. As if the stars themselves have exploded within you. You wonder if basking in his presence will mend your tattered heart.

"My precious little anomaly"

Tag list: @elvyshiarieko @himerurun @latolover @aru-nightmare @guidingstarsstuff @myfancollections

[eliasorchard]

𝐀 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐃𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

— fluff, mission, william confesses, you cover him in lipstick

"lord william is certainly the very epitome of gentlemanliness out there, isn't he?"

"ladies...-"

"of course, lady adelaide! not only is he kind and gentle, but also smart, good-looking and..." chirping from noblewomen fade into the background. william exhales slowly, looking down at his pocket watch.

forty six minutes.

in forty six minutes he'd have to open up an entrance for his colleagues to slide in and go forth with their mission for tonight; however, with the way things were going on, women from high society clinging onto him—it certain proved to be very difficult.

"hm.." william hums absentmindedly, gaze searching for you in the crowd. he seems to be doing this more often than usual these past few months. he tells himself it's because he's looking out for you-another colleague of his, but he knows the way he looks at you is different than the way he looks at others.

did he perhaps like you...? no way. certainly not.

"looking for someone?"

you pop up behind him, hands behind your back and a cheery smile on your lips. he stares at you too long, though, and you can't help but ask: "william?"

"ah, yes. i..." he clears his throat. "there is something i wish to talk to you about." he glances back at the noblewomen all looking curiously at you two, eager to listen in to your conversation. a sigh. "privately."

"oh." you nod. "okay, sure. let us go, then?"

william gives you the smallest twitch of a smile and turns to the noblewomen with a bow to excuse himself, "pardon me, ladies. i will be right back."

"exactly where are we going, by the way?" you question the blond when the two of you are scurrying away from the party with long, fast steps.

"somewhere private."

"not much of a hint, willie."

"please."

"it was a joke."

you could tell he was fidgety than usual. had something gone wrong with the plan? his calculations? what was the issue here? unable to ask and wanting to co-operate, you follow him silently.

"woah. pretty." you look around when you finally enter a tall but cramped room, dark and heavy purple silk curtains draping everywhere, accompanied by the sense of incense, a table in the middle with cards along with a hand-held mirror atop it and an.. orb?

"it's a fortune reading room." william explains when he reads the confusion and curiosity on your face.

"mm.. well," your fingers travel across the fabrics of the purple silk lazily. "what are we doing here?"

"do you have lipstick on you?"

you pat the hidden pocket on your dress. "yep."

"kiss me."

you freeze. a brief, almost painful pause.

"...what?"

"kiss me." he repeats, like the first one wasn't clear enough. "..for the success of the mission, of course. being swarmed by a horde of noble ladies would prevent me from entering the men's club and opening a route for fred to infiltrate, thus dropping the success rate from a whole 100 percent to-"

"okay, okay, okay." you throw your hands up in the air. "i understand. just, y'know, don't speak maths."

"my apologies."

you make your way to the round table, take your seat, hold up the handheld mirror, pull out your lipstick and start painting your lips red. occasionally you'd happen to peek at the reflection from the mirror to william and what you'd see was:

a strange expression. heavy-yet not sad. contemplative-yet not harsh. soft and hazy-yet focused on you. fond; the way he looked at you.

"okay, i'm done." you stand up and make your way to a william staring at you with folded arms, leaning against a wall. "how.. do i look?"

you can't help but ask.

and he can't help but answer: "ravishing."

as always. he'd add, but that would be too much.

"here i go, then." you lean in and william leans his head downwards. your heart beats are loud, drumming past your chest and into the open and..

a soft, barely there kiss, no-a peck on the cheek.

"..." that ended too quickly for william. he seems almost disappointed when you pull back and away.

you hand him the hand held mirror and he observes the light mark of your red lips on his right cheek.

although it was a mark enough and visible to the naked eye, it wasn't enough. for him, to be exact.

a single kiss on the cheek isn't enough for him.

"that won't cut it. we need to be convincing, (name). as much as possible." he leans back in towards you, pulling you back to him gently by your wrist. perhaps he was being too selfish. "let me have some more."

"..alright." but it didn't matter anymore. especially when he feels the touch of your soft lips bless his skin once more. it starts innocent; a kiss on his nose first, then his cheeks again, one on his brow and-

"ah," your lips press somewhere on his neck, somewhere that makes him shiver-somewhere that causes the adam's apple on his neck to move.

"oh-oops. too much?"

were you teasing him?

william looks down at you dizzily, pupils dilated and his voice is slightly hoarser, rougher when he begins speaking once again. "no.. please continue."

and so you go on with your charity of kisses, placing them wherever his bare skin laid; more and more. bolder, harder, passionately. hotter and hotter-he feels his composure, the one he was knownto hold during all difficulties snap in an instant with you.

a loud crash. and then silence.

"...liam?"

william's knee is between your legs, pushing you up against a wall-your wrists pinned against it's cold, hard texture by his long, slender hands.

"haa.. haa.." hot breaths tainting each other's skin; panting and panting. there's a look in his eyes; wild and feral, almost teetering on animalistic. his gaze falls to your lips; those soft, alluring lips of yours inviting him in for a bite. william gulps, licks his lips, contemplates, hesitates. and then pulls back shakily.

"sorry." he mumbles hoarsely, staggering a step back in shock of his own actions. he clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. "i'm sorry, (name)."

he'd almost gone and done it. he almost, almost kissed you. almost pulled you in by your waist. almost ruined whatever relationship the two of you had-

william's eyes widen in surprise. hot, wet lips against his own trembling ones. you take a step further, fingers digging into the fabric of his sleeves, pushing yourself onto your tiptoes all the while you're stepping on his shoes. but he doesn't seem to mind.

not one bit.

he leans his head down, angles his lips to your own lips, holds you by the hips and kisses you back with the same passion, the same heat and desperation.

you pull back for air. "if you're going to do it, go all the way. don't back down-that's not like you."

"..haha." he's too drunk in your shared kisses, hechuckles half consciously; gaze hazy and nips on your bottom lip teasingly. your hands loop around his neck and attack him with more of your heated kisses.

and they go on for a while; lips smushed sloppily against each other-stopping only when the two of you head voices outside of the room, making you both flinch and bringing yourselves to a halt.

"before we go out.." he whispers lowly, forehead resting atop yours; his eyes are closed-his expression calm, but it was clear from his thundering heartbeat that it was the opposite.

"i must tell you something i've hidden too deep in the crevices of my heart for far too long." a deep breath. "i do not remember when you first made an appearance in my life, all i know is you been there since-with and without your presence; you have made a home for you to live in every inch of me. every hour, every minute and every second i spend thinking and drowning in a possibility of you and me."

and then he presses his lips against your own for the last time; infinitely softer. "i love you dearly, (name)."

he pulls back, detaching himself away from you.

both of your appearances are messy when you return from your secret little rendezvous, messy hair, half crumpled clothes and lipstick smudges everywhere. it is certainly a sight to look at and you realize nobles-men and women alike are practically gawking at the two of you. william slips past for a few minutes to finally clear a secret pathway for his colleagues to enter through and follow on with their mission, all while noblewomen swarm you with questions.

"my god, lady (name)! did you truly kiss lord william?"

"are the lipstick marks on him yours?"

"what is going on between the two of you?"

an arm wraps around your shoulder. william's back.

"i must apologise for my curtness, ladies. but i must ask that we all be calm with our queries and curiosities. can we do that? my darling seems to be feeling a little under the weather, you see."

"p-pardon? 'darling'? then-!" the noblewomen feel their eyes practically fall out of their sockets.

"yes," he smiles kindly at the noblewomen. "if i'm allowed to, and would certainly feel honoured to, i can answer any questions you have in my her stead."

click.

all lights go off. people shriek. they are here.

and you are nothing but glad because at least in the dark nobody can see how red your face is burning up in embarrassment and fluster, especially when the blond pulls you in close to him protectively.

[yandere-romanticaa]

Omgg I am obsessed with your recent mtp Yandere William posts. I am a sucker for Yandere William but for his darling to be a Yandere for him also?? That’s just chefs kiss. I love how he acts obviously to his darling’s pinning! I can see him testing his darling and putting them through an emotional rollercoaster whenever he “mistakes” their gestures as innocent and friendly or getting close with other women. Like darling is contemplating whether they should march over to him talking to the women flirting with him and grab him by his tie and pull him away or stay put but glare daggers at him and the woman.

He'd act so coy, the perfect gentleman. Why, he is only making small talk with the ladies who came up to him, it would be rude to turn them away! Social protocol is unfortunately something to consider here and as a gentleman from a noble house, William can't turn down the women most of the time, particularly if they catch him off guard.

The faces you make are like a drug to him. William is a man who can read you like an open book, there's absolutely nothing you can hide from him. Even as you do your best to stay hidden in the shadows he can still make out the bitter frown on your face and if looks could kill, every single woman that surrounded him would already be deep in the ground, serial killer style.

You have no idea that William feels exactly the same when it comes to you too.

Men are slimy dogs who will do practically anything to get their hands on a woman.

In a way, he's no better.

Whenever he thinks that some fool has a chance with you, William makes his move. Bloodshed is not ideal but it is not completely off the table either, more so if the gentleman in question thinks that he can just have you as he damn pleases.

William always has to hold himself back from scoffing and pinching the bridge between his nose whenever he's talking to these morons. To think, that these men could come close to your level is preposterous. They do not even bother to see the absolute radiance you possess, if he could William would kiss the ground you walk on. He wants to worship you, give you his entire heart, body and soul, it's all you deserve and so much more.

He's more than happy to see that you feel the same way. All he needs to do is bide himself just a little bit more time and he can go in for the kill.

You will be his. There were no doubts about that.

[kanroji-san]

Obanai!Y/n/Reader AU

Mycroft: *Throws open door*

Mycroft: So you two ARE having sex!

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

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

[ranposbabe]

The Blindfold Stays On!

pairing: von herder x fem!reader

summary: herder just likes to prove you wrong :(

warning: smut, unprotected sex!!!, herder himself is a warning tbh

“Who’s there ?” Herder calls out as he remains seated working on a gun Moran had once again broken.

“It’s me ! It’s y/n !” You reply, practically breathless as you walk down the steps that led you to the German engineer.

With his back turned to you, you couldn’t see the slight smirk upon his lips.

Of course he knew it was you. By now, Von knew what exactly your steps sounded like . He could tell the difference between everyone in the manors steps yet every time he asked for confirmation you would always assure him that it was you. He knew. He just liked how you forgot every time. It was a little joke of his.

“Ugh ! Von I’m so tired !” You groan, stretching out your arms to soothe the tightness you felt throughout your body.

As you walk straight over to where Von worked at his desk, you couldn’t help but peer over his shoulder to see what he was working on at such a late hour.

As you would of guessed. It was a weapon. “Ha ! You’re tired ?” Von blatantly laughed, continuing on with his work as if you weren’t even there.

“Louis sent me away !” You as Von would put it dramatically sigh, sitting down on the blond’s right knee despite there being a chair right beside him. “I thought Louis was doing paperwork upstairs so what exactly are you doing down here ?”

He doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around your waist while still continuing to work on the gun.

“He was and everyone else is busy so there’s nothing to do that’ll even wear me out since you don’t even think I’m tired !” You roll your eyes, noticing how Vons pace doesn’t become slower despite now only using one hand. However you weren’t surprised as Von was always skilled when it came to using his fingers.

“I know what will wear you out.” He whispers in your ear, his long fingers slightly digging into your side that makes you instantly rubbing your thighs together.

Despite the fact that he’s wearing the blindfold you could tell by the outlines it’s barely gave that his brows were raised when he spoke with such lust evident in his tone.

Suddenly, Herder swiftly pushed aside the tools left on his desk and in one motion he effortlessly shifted you onto the table before him. As he stood over you instinctively you wrapped your arm loosely around his shoulders as the blonds height was surely intimidating. As if he understood your next move he didn’t hesitate to then hoist you up and walk away from his station. “Von !” You gasp, your legs wrap around his waist as the material of your skirt natural begins to hike up. A smirk is upon Herders lip due to the sensation of your warm skin against his suit pants, his hands instantly are under your thighs messaging the shown. skin knowing that more was soon to be exposed.

Despite only walking for a short amount of time to make his way to his room it’s obvious that Von knows how to handle you even as he opens the door and lays you down onto the bed he has you clinging to him like you’re made of porcelain but with his confidence and skills your complete trust is in him. He knows how to care for your body. He knows every spot as if you were one of his inventions. His property.

As you laid down on the soft sheets you couldn’t help stare up at him as he stood

slowly but surely removing his blazer and unbuttoning his shirt as he knew your eyes would remain on him and him only. “Still tired ?” He asks with a hint of playfulness in his tone. “I think I have a bit of energy left.” You nod, somewhat distracting as your eyes roam over his figure as his alongside your clothes become discarded onto the floor. “You won’t after this.”

Herder uses his hands everyday so of course it would come to an advantage. It doesn’t take long until two of his long fingers are rather deep pumping inside your wet cunt. With only two fingers inside there was a part of you that hoped he wouldn’t add another as just his fingers alone were making you feel so full.

Of course that part of you died down rather quickly.

You practically almost hit your head off the headboard as Von inserts a third finger as you contemplate the fact whether you may rip in half due to not only the size of his fingers inside you but you swear you feel the sensation of him touching your cervix. Surely if his fingers didn’t you knew his cock definitely would.

As you whine at the lack of fullness due to Von removing his fingers, he’s rather quick to stop your whining as he cleans his fingers drenched in your arousal with his own tongue all the while shoving his fingers on the opposite hand right down your throat. When he pulls his fingers from your mouth with a definite pop sound, his thumb softly glides against your lips. He’s touched them many he knows just by the feeling of your soft lips what you’re feeling whether you’re content, upset or about to reach your climax. He knows the last one pretty well by now.

He knows your every teasing move and sure to do it right back if you go too far.

Even when your hand sneakily reaches up just to touch near his blindfold he’s too quick for you as he’s proven before as he catches your wrist and raises them above your head. You can only stare on in shock like a mouse being caught by a cat.

Herder reaches over to the nightstand and pulls out something from the draw.

That something being another blindfold which you funnily enough recognised as being the floral one he once used to trick Moran when the Colonel attempted to remove his blindfold. Von didn’t hesitate to loosely tie it around your own eyes. For the sake of feeling secure your arms instantly wrap around his waist as your others senses become more sensitive as you loose your sight.

“Perhaps another is needed for this frisky wrists of yours, darling.” At that Von gives you no warning as he deeply thrusts into you, already you could see the imprint of his cock inside of you practically kissing your cervix. “You have the solution to everything don’t you ?” You whine, desperately pressing kisses against his fine jaw until he finally gives in and kisses you back. The sudden darkness fills you with excitement as you know longer can even attempt to guess Herder’s next move. “When it comes to you.” He sighs, pulling away along with a string of saliva that belong to the both of you that intertwine. “Yes.” He whispers into your neck pressing open mouth kisses anywhere he could find.

Even when his thrusts begin to slow down you can’t help but lean your head back in pleasure squeezing your eyes shut despite it not making a difference since the blindfold remained around your eyes.

When your highs finally come Von is rather hesitate to pull out but when he does he moves to lay his head onto your chest.

The sound of your fast beating heart almost puts him to sleep. But before you could get used to the position and fall asleep yourself Von pulls away from you.

You hear the sound of a fabric being loosened but before you could figure out what exactly was happening Von removes your blindfold. Your eyes flutter momentarily before you stare upon the surprising sight before you.

He took off his own blindfold. With a smile on his face, his eyes that you fail to describe due to the unrealness of them stare down at you with such warmth and love. You simply smile back at those eyes that only you will ever get to see.

The familiar smirk reappears as he tosses both blindfolds onto the floor along with your now creased clothing.

“If you wanted to see my eyes all you had to do was ask.”

[fairy-writes]

hello there i hope you have a great day today, can i request an albert x reader. the reader is holmes younger sister (could be an age gap but if you uncomfortable you can make the reader sherlock older sister). im kinda interested that the reader and albert is ike in a fake engagement but slowly they fall for each other. im sorry if its a lott or confusing 😖😖😖😖

FAKE… OR IS IT?

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing(s): Albert James Moriarty x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Holmes!Reader, Fake Engagement, Reader is short

Notes: I wrote this with the reader being the Holmes’s middle child. So, in between Mycroft and Sherlock :)

Here are their ages!

Mycroft: 31 | Reader: 27 | Sherlock: 24

__________________________________________________________________________

“Sit up straight, Sister.” Mycroft chastises, and you roll your eyes, propping your heeled feet up on the coffee table, much to his chagrin. You can tell he’s less than pleased with the mud on the table by the tightness around his eyes. 

“Bugger off, Mikey.” You grumble and slouch even more in your seat. His frown deepens, but he knows better than to try and get you to obey. If anything, it would make you rebel even more. 

You had never been one for proper manners if you could help it. You had always been a rough-and-tumble type of woman, playing in the dirt with the neighborhood kids while Mycroft and Sherlock dealt with their studies. Sure, you also had studies of your own. But overall, you tended to ignore whatever your governess taught you in favor of learning how to handle weapons from your father. Mycroft sits back in his seat and sighs, 

“At least sit properly when the company gets here.” He mutters under his breath. 

That gets you to sit up straight.

“Company?! Since when?!” You choke and hurriedly set down your teacup before you can spill it down your front. Your elder brother had summoned you to his office that morning with a telegram. But he hadn’t explained why you were there, even with your pestering. Mycroft glares at you pointedly and is about to answer when there’s a firm knock on the door. 

“Come in.” He calls, his voice booming and loud in the quiet room. 

A tall young man, perhaps your age, enters the room. He’s attractive, almost devilishly so. With slicked-back brown hair and piercing green eyes, he’s dressed in the typical uniform of all soldiers. 

You recognize this man. 

Your younger brother wouldn’t shut up about his family. 

Lieutenant Colonel Albert James Moriarty. 

You glare at Mycroft, who ignores your look in favor of standing up and shaking Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty’s hand. Brushing off the front of your dress, you stand as Mycroft gestures to you. 

“This is my younger sister,” He says. Your name follows soon after. You plaster a bright smile on your face and extend your own hand. Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty bows slightly and introduces himself before you turn to look at your brother. 

“I assume this is where I take my leave?” You ask, and he raises an eyebrow, 

“On the contrary, dearest sister, you’ll be taking part in this meeting.” Your face betrays your shock before you can school it into a facade of perfect calm. 

Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty notices but doesn’t comment. 

Mycroft gestures for you to take your seats before his desk, and you do so, perching on the edge of the seat like a bird ready to take flight. In contrast, Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty sits back, relaxed in his chair, setting his hat in his lap and steepling his hands together. 

“So, mind telling me what this ‘important mission’ is about?” He says politely, and you look at him from the corner of your eye.

Important mission? 

Just what was your elder brother planning? 

Mycroft leaned his hands on his desk and then leaned his weight on his hands. It seemed he wasn’t taking a seat quite yet. 

That meant things were serious. 

“There’s a mission I am entrusting to the both of you. It’s of the utmost importance and must be handled immediately.” 

Wait…

“You’re what?!” You blurt just as Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty opens his mouth to speak. You don’t give him the chance to talk. You stand and jab a finger at Mycroft, the other hand clenched in the fabric of your dress skirt. 

You weren’t about to be a pawn in your brother’s game. You weren’t even an MI6 agent or soldier of his! 

“Absolutely not! This can’t possibly be legal! I’m just a civilian!” You stand and jab a finger at Mycroft, the other hand clenched in the fabric of your dress skirt. Mycroft stares down at you. He had always been the tallest of the three Holmes siblings. You were saddled with the hefty burden of being the shortest. 

“You know this as well as anyone that MI6 operates outside the law,” Mycroft says simply, and you grind your teeth. He had a point. But still… 

“What about Miss Moneypenny?” You ask, and Mycroft shrugs, 

“She’s on another mission with Colonel Moran. You two are the only ones I trust with this.” He says, turning his intense stare onto you and Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty. 

You flinch at that. Mycroft never openly said he trusted you. It was sometimes implied, but he knew how fickle you could be! Was this mission really that important?

Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty stands and accepts the papers Mycroft hands him. He then extends a hand for you to take. Begrudgingly, you take it and allow him to help you to your feet. 

At least your ‘mission partner’ was a gentleman. 

You accept Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty’s offer to take you back to the Holmes London estate and sit across from him in the carriage. He opens the papers Mycroft gave him and begins to read. 

“Oh dear…” He mumbles, and you look over from where you had been watching the scenery go by. He has a frown pulling at his lips and creasing his brows. 

“What’s the matter?” You ask, and he turns the papers around so you can read them. 

“It seems we’ll need to be engaged for this mission to work.”

Your engagement was announced within the next week. 

You had even commissioned an artist for an engagement photo of sorts. Granted, it was just for show, but still! You had to stand still for hours in a dress your mother picked out and that you loathed all for one portrait. 

You never understood how royalty could do it. 

Speaking of your parents… 

Part of the facade was to make sure everyone was in on it. Maybe ‘in on it’ wasn’t the right word. Because this was a top-secret mission, after all. So you couldn’t exactly tell your parents that this engagement was fake. But you did have to tell them you were getting engaged lest you incur the wrath of your mother. 

Wanda Holmes was a proper woman. She was everything you weren’t. Prim, proper, ladylike. The only thing you got from her was her height and her temper. She hated that you weren’t the little lady she dreamt of having. But there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. 

In contrast, Timothy Holmes was a bit of a rule breaker. He fostered your love for weaponry and often challenged you to a shoot-off to see if you let your skills rust over. You inherited his knack for getting under people’s skins, and it was a wonder that he was still married to your mother after thirty years. 

Telling them was an… interesting adventure, to say the least. As your carriage rumbled up to the country estate where they resided, they met you outside. Your mother had her hands clasped together, a newspaper crunched in her grasp. Her face was dark with disappointment. 

Like the light side of the moon, your father all but bounded up as you stepped out of the carriage. 

“Dearest daughter!” He bellowed, and you couldn’t help but grin. 

“Dearest father!” You tease right back and step forward into his embrace. He squeezes you tight and lifts you up into a spin. You shriek with laughter and cling to him to make sure you don’t fall when he sets you back down. 

“Darling, at least let her get into the house before you bother her.” Your mother says, and you roll your eyes but don’t say anything. 

Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty steps out of the carriage, and your father’s demeanor changes. His smile is still there, but it no longer reaches his eyes. He extends a hand, and when Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty takes it, you can tell he’s holding back a wince from how hard your father squeezes it. 

“Timothy Holmes. It’s a pleasure.” Your father says curtly, and you can tell Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty can tell he’s being judged. But he offers a polite smile nonetheless,

“Albert James Moriarty. The pleasure is mine, Mr. Holmes.” He says, and it’s then that your mother approaches. Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty shakes her hand,

“You must be the infamous Wanda Holmes. It’s lovely to meet you.”

Your mother’s face smoothes over, and she looks at you,

“At least you’re marrying someone with manners.” This is her only comment, and you can see that the newspaper in her free hand is the one announcing your engagement. 

Perhaps you should’ve informed them by telegram instead of coming to visit for dinner… 

No… That would’ve made her even angrier than she already was. 

She soon ushers you into the little cottage that served as your parents' retirement home. The minimal staff on site has already prepared and served dinner, but you don’t eat just yet because your father catches your shoulder. He has a knowing gleam in his eye, and you can’t help but get a giddy smile on your face. 

Of course, he wouldn’t forget. 

Your mother notices, and her face sours. 

“Can’t this wait until after dinner?” She asks, and now your father scoffs,

“Of course not, my love! It’s tradition!” He crows, and you can see Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty start to ask, but you’re taken out back before anything can be asked. 

Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty follows you out, and by then, your father is setting up targets with you, assembling the two pistols you always used for this little exercise. You brush off your hands on your dress and hand your father the revolver. You take your own and pocket it in the holster strapped to your waist. He does the same and looks to Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty. 

“Mind giving us a signal?” He asks, his tone much more friendly yet still a bit frosty at the same time. 

Your ‘fiancé’ seems to pick up on what’s happening quickly and nods. He allows both of you to take a stance before calling out a signal. 

The game takes less than twenty seconds. 

You whip out your gun and unleash all six bullets in the cylinder and barrel. Your father does the same, and before you know it, both of your guns are empty, and your ears are ringing. Holstering the weapon, you wait for your father to do the same before approaching the targets. 

Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty is called forward to inspect the targets as well. 

“I believe your daughter is the winner.” He tells your father, and you grin proudly. 

“Guess I haven’t lost my touch, Father Dearest.” You tease, and your father slaps his thigh in defeat,

“And I guess I’m losing mine!” He chirps, and your mother calls from the doorway.

“And it’s time for dinner!”

The carriage ride back is quiet. 

“Where did you learn to shoot like that? I’ve never seen someone so accurate in a quick draw.” Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty says, and you jolt lightly. The food you had eaten was sending you into a food coma, and you had been dozing until he spoke. 

“My father. He was known as “Dead-Eye” for a long time until he retired from the military.” You said, and he nodded in appreciation. 

“He taught you well.” 

You smiled and played with your fingers. 

“Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel Moriarty.” You say genuinely, and he arches an eyebrow, 

“You should call me Albert. We are engaged, after all, my dear fiancée.” His tone is borderline teasing. But you can tell he’s being genuine.

And for whatever reason, it makes your heart race. 

The mission is kicked into gear three months after announcing your ‘engagement.’ 

The gala you are attending is only for married or engaged couples. Everyone was investigated to ensure no one single was sneaking in. Why they wanted to keep single folks out was a mystery to you. But you relented and accepted the invitation as the ‘Future Mrs. Moriarty’ with as much grace as you could muster. 

You produced the invitation from your handbag and handed it to the man checking said invitation. Your free hand was looped through Albert’s arm, resting in the crook of his elbow. He chatted amicably with the doorman until you were announced as a couple and ushered inside. 

The air was already alive with the sounds of music and dancing couples. The two of you make some rounds around the sides of the dance hall, looking for your target. Hell, you even danced the waltz to a few songs! All those lessons you thought were useless were sure coming in handy now… Perhaps you should thank your mother for forcing you to listen to your governess as a child. 

Albert leans down to whisper in your ear as he brings you in from a gentle spin. 

“He’s at the top of the stairs.” He murmured, looking for all the world like he was whispering sweet nothings to his fiancée. But instead, he was walking you through the next phase of the plan. Seeing as your job was to kill your target, he was instructing you on how to get to his office, where he would meet you and find the documents he was looking for. 

Albert was to find the incriminating evidence. You were to kill the target if he tried to resist. 

The office was warmed by a crackling fire. There’s a large mahogany desk in front of the fireplace with documents and papers scattered across the surface. You clutch your purse closer to your chest, feeling the sturdy weight of the revolver inside. It was comforting. 

You had one job, so you would do it, and you would do it well. 

The doorknob turned, and you jumped, sneaking a hand inside your handbag to draw the revolver. The door opens, and the target spots you in front of the dying light of the fireplace. 

“Who are you?!” He bellows, but you know no one would be able to hear him over the sounds of music and talking. 

He doesn’t hear the door shut behind him until Albert slides the lock into place. He whirls and tries to push past your fiancé, but it’s like trying to move a stone wall. 

“What are you going to do to me?!” The target demands, and Albert smiles a terrifying smile. It was nothing like the kind and even tender smiles he had been giving you as of late. This smile darkened his eyes. 

It was almost… Cruel…

“Nothing if you cooperate.” He says darkly and pushes the man to sit in the chair before his desk. You walk behind him and press the muzzle of your revolver to the back of his balding head. He freezes, a drop of sweat traveling down his temple. 

Albert rifles through the desk, and no one says a word for what seems like forever. 

At least… Until the target tries to run. 

The chair has a low back. It’s almost more of a stool, so he throws his head back and cracks it into your nose. You stumble back and fall, tripping over the hem of your dress. The only thing keeping you from firing your gun is the fact that your father had engrained it into you to not keep your finger on the trigger until you were ready to fire.

Albert freezes and reaches into his suit jacket coat, but you’re faster. 

Before the target can even make it two paces, you fire your revolver, and the bullet sinks into his skull. Brain matter and blood spatter across the carpet. The pain sets in as Albert helps you to your feet and hands you a handkerchief for your bleeding nose. 

There’s no way you could go back out into public like this…

And as always, it seems Albert reads your mind. 

“We’ll escape out the window.” He says and pockets a few documents. 

“Did you get what you need?” You ask, and he nods, his smile tender and warm again.

It makes your heart flutter. 

The two of you escape out the window like Albert had said. Luckily, the carriage was already waiting outside, so you were able to retreat without being seen. 

Mission accomplished. 

You scowl at Mycroft as he reads through your very first report from MI6. 

“It’s a bit lackluster, but everything went according to plan?” He asked, and you huffed. 

“Except for the part where I broke my nose.” You say, your voice slightly garbled from the bandages on your nose. Mycroft simply nods, 

“These things are expected to happen. Be glad it wasn’t anything more serious.” He says, tangles his fingers together, and leans his chin on them. “If you’d like, we can feed the newspapers a story about your and Lieutenant Colonel’s parting of ways. You don’t have to be engaged to him anymore.” He continues, and you freeze. 

Not be engaged anymore? 

“What about Mother and Father? They’ll be furious.” You say absentmindedly, and he cocks his head to the side. 

“Since when have you ever cared what they think?” He says, confusion coloring his tone. You avert your gaze. 

“I’m just saying… I don’t mind taking more missions from you from now on…” You mumble and stare at the carpet. But you can hear the smile in his tone when he speaks next. 

“If that’s what you desire, sister dearest. I’ll let Lieutenant Colonel know of your decision.”