#jim moriartyxreader

[deducingfangirlsofhell]

An Artistic Mind

Pairing: MoriartyxReader

Warnings: None, I don’t think?

A/N: Soulmate AU!! Kinda funny?

He could practically feel the strokes being created on his arm. Really, this soulmate business was a nuisance. He had to be careful about what he wrote on his skin, if the ink from his notebook would transfer over to his flesh- whether or not he caused his soulmate to hate him before they even met. And before you ask, yes. The world’s most nefarious criminal mastermind was worried about what his soulmate thought of him. Heck- he had been since he was a child.

Most people’s soulmates didn’t become set until their teens, and therefore, most kids didn’t have little pictures of stick people and abstract kittens drawn on their arms. No, it’d only been him. It was… comforting. His soulmate always seemed like such a happy and loving person, and in his darkest days, he would sit and watch the colorful doodles stretch across his skin while his father drunkenly destroyed what little he had to call ‘home’ in the background. He’d let the drawings take him far away, to a place where someone cared for him. His soulmate.

Now, he played off the drawings as that “soulmate-nonsense” to anyone who asked, and well, too. Sebastian was positive that Jim didn’t even believe he had a soulmate, that this was just a phenomena that people convinced themselves was more than it was. That was, until he witnessed Jim photographing a particular set of drawings on his arms, smiling to himself like an idiot. It was really quite telling. He wished he could stop himself, but- he couldn’t. Each work of art adorning his flesh was a reminder that, out there, somewhere, was you. With the most gorgeous handwriting he’d ever seen. Sometimes, with a very precise hand, he’d go over each letter, practicing the carefully constructed lines as if his life depended on getting them exactly right. He’d sometimes even sign off using the calligraphed letters.

The idea itself, he thought was idiotic. The idea of your skin showing up with the marks your soulmate made on themselves seemed stupider than anything else in the world. Yet, he chose to believe the pathetic rumor. But that was because it was, well… you. He didn’t exactly know who you were, but the random doodles and drawings you made was all he needed.

But that’s besides the point. The point is, you were out there. Whether he met you or not, you were out there. But that was the thing…

If you were out there, he had to be very careful what he wrote down on his skin.

“I don’t know, they haven’t written anything in a while.” You giggled at Mariah. She’d been your best friend since preschool and if there is one thing you can always remember you guys talking about, it was your soulmate.

“Oh crap—what if they’re dead?! Before you two even had a chance to meet!?” She cried, clearly horrified by the idea. It wasn’t unheard of, actually… it was tragically almost common. Then again, it was just as common for a person’s soulmate to have another person as their soulmate. Just like love could be one sided, so could a soulmate.

It wasn’t like you had to worry about that, it was proof enough that you two were each other’s when they would trace your words.

“I don’t think they are, Iah.” You said, sighing softly as you rolled your eyes. She had a way of reading too much into things, this was actually the fifth time she suggested they might be dead. She went to try and argue, when you suddenly felt the usual tingling on your wrist.

“Wait—I think they’re writing something?” In all the years you’d known you had a soulmate, never once had they written something first…

“Hold on one second—no, Mr. Crump, I’m not trying to ignore you, just let me find some paper-!” Jim was still scouring around. This wasn’t good, if he didn’t figure something out soon, he’d lose the client. And a presidential candidate who wanted to conspire outside their country wasn’t a client he was willing to lose. Without thinking, he wrote down the request on his forearm as the man was saying it.

“Yes, My men will handle it right away—yes sir, thank you.” Jim ended the call, and sighed in relief. That relief was soon replaced with an utter feeling of sickness as he looked back down at his arm. Right beneath the looming sense of doom;

“Russia dignitary + win guarantee… American election rigging… 10,000,000 quid’? What. The actual. Hell?” You stared at the words on your arm, suddenly feeling something pressing into your opposite palm, as well. Your jaw dropped, looking at the words that had appeared there…

“Shite-” Jim cursed as he looked at the imprint he’d just left on his hand from the still drying ink, '3 billion pounds for disguised explosive—nitroglycerin base.’

“Y/n, what’s wrong?” Mariah asked, seeing your utter panic. The message was quickly being clouded, like they were panicking to get rid of it, but the damage had been done. You tried to stand, but your legs immediately gave out beneath you.

“I-I can’t- I can’t believe this…” It had to be some sort of nightmare… right?

[everydayducksoup]

James Moriarty x Reader Oneshot: Normal

You adjusted your stance on the kitchen tiles for the nth time in the past minute, glancing back and forth between the floor and the uncovered pressure cooker on the fire in front of you. The ticking of the egg timer to your left- how long the meat would take to brown before you could throw in the liquids and leave it to simmer- sounded like a full-blown drumline marching in the middle of your tiny little two-room Camden apartment. What had started as a niggling itch at the back of your mind when you woke up that morning had spent the whole day spreading until it became a fiery ache suspended through your whole body, settling heavy in your loins.

One minute left.

After an entire day of keeping up appearances as a sane, responsible adult, the only thing between you and the release you were looking for were 60 seconds.

59 seconds

48 seconds

35 seconds

23 seconds

One.

You slammed the egg timer the moment you saw the dial flick to 0. Pouring in the red wine, you stumbled for the lid and closed it tightly. There was a light spring in your step as you moved from the kitchen into the hallway, the stairwell at the end of it calling your name.

Finally, you could-

“You know if you’re horny you could just do it with me.” Your victory March was interrupted as your flatmate’s usual sing-song voice suddenly materialized behind you, leaving hot puffs of wet breath to brush onto your neck.

You freezed.

“James. I told you to quit doing that”

“Hmm... really darling?” You could feel his hands snaking around to your front as he pressed himself tighter to your backside. “‘Cause all I heard last time was go faster, Jim, do it harder, fuck me harder!-“ his mock-moaning tone coinciding with your own involuntary sounds as he groped you over your thin houseclothes.

With a frustrated grunt, you craned your head around to look him in the eye.

“What I mean is, I mean, there are- there are times and-“

His dark eyes stared back at yours, shining with apathetic mirth, like someone humoring a kid’s tantrum over something they know will be soon forgotten. You were always weak to his eyes.

“Just- stop deducing me all the time,” you muttered, trying to turn away from his piercing gaze. “Just ask like a normal person!”

He reached for your chin, smirk sinking into a pout on his face as he drew it nearer to you.

“Oh, come on dear.

“You know I don’t do normal”

[magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics]

Im in dire need of moriartyxreader and I love your work. I don't know if this sounds weird but like jim and guns and sex just sound like they go together and i can't get it out of my head. Could you put it into writing for me? Also bless your soul

Hello! I did something along those lines for my Mad Love Series.

You can find that bit here.

In any case, your request is in my to-do list so... If you need more than what I depicted on the series, do let me know.

xx.

[supernaturalthoughtsworld]

Consulting with a Psychopath

Description: As the game begins to heat up so does your feelings for the criminal mastermind. In part 3 of the psychopath series, the game is a foot. Can you keep up? 

Characters: Jim MoriartyxReader

Triggers: Sex & Angst 

Tags: darkmask133 

Part 1

Part 2

Your nightie falls to the ground as Moriarty holds you up against the bedroom wall. Wrapping your leggings around him and tilting your head back in pleasure when he thrust inside you. It happens in a heat of passion which makes you easily come undone. The way he kisses your body with urgency and intensity like his hunger is only satisfied through you. It thrills you to the core. When you come down from the high you realize how much interwoven Jim has become in your life. For the past month since your initial meeting, he has invited you to stay over. He doesn’t demand it but a part of you doesn’t want to find out what happens of you disagree. During the day you work with Sherlock and John, trying desperately not to slip up to give away any indication that you are connected to the infamous Moriarty. Once Sherlock spoke in passing about him and your heart shot up to your eardrums. You kept your composer as best you could pouring the tea into his cup. If he knew you were nervous at the mention of Moriarty’s name it wasn’t showing, however, with Sherlock it was difficult to tell when he was right on your tail. You push those thoughts out of your mind as Moriarty climaxes gently tugging at your hair has he finishes. He laughs into your breast which in turn makes you smile. 

“I can’t seem to keep my hands off of you”, he says whilst bringing you closer into a hug. 

“Really? I hadn’t noticed”, you respond. 

“Oh, (y/n) what am I to do with such an attitude”, he muses holding on slightly tighter before releasing you. 

He ushers you into the bathroom and turns on the shower head. You secretly love these morning showers with him but you pull yourself together emotionally before coming undone by his unconventional romance. After all you have no idea how Jim actually feels. But, you hold onto him tightly as if this was the last day you would see him. 

Before you leave to work Moriarty reminds you of the latest consulting appointment and job. You agree and set a reminder on your phone to leave right after work to the meeting spot. Moriarty gives you one last kiss also reminding not to dare be late.

Sherlock’s Apartment:   

When you walked into the Baker Street apartment, Sherlock was standing in front of his favorite window possible thinking about his latest case. John was sitting quietly in his chair writing away on his blog. As always John is the first to greet you with a warm smile. 

“Good morning, (y/n)” he says. 

“Hello, I brought muffins and tea”, you reply. Trying to avoid John’s stare, it was getting rather difficult to look him in the eyes knowing the secret you held.  

John was the sweetest soul you’d ever met, he was the one who had the kindness and patience for all the victims looking for a solution. That’s why it was getting to you when you thought about the little lies you had to tell him. He would ask if you wanted to have dinner after work or if you wanted to stay late and help him write. Every time it became more painful to say you had plans with someone else or that you had a class. It’s not that lying to Sherlock was not a problem either but the way John looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention crushed your soul.

“Oh, thank you. You read my mind I was getting quiet hungry”, John smiled with a slight blush on his cheeks as he helped you take the food and drinks to the kitchen. 

As usual there was a ray of chemistry sets and experiments Sherlock was conducting which made it difficult not to vomit. 

“Do you always have to have such disgusted things all over the kitchen?” You call out to Sherlock. 

“They’re my very important experiments, they must be kept out in the open for research and observational purposes”, he calls back. 

John rolls his eyes and then directs a wink at you. “He just wants to show off”, he explains. 

“I figured”, you respond.   

“If you two could stop gossiping around we have a case to attend to”, Sherlock chimed in. 

You and John try to hold back a laugh as you mock the great detective for being a little too serious. 

“I don’t remember any cases coming last night”? You say stepping back into the living area with John in toe. 

“This one came in early this morning. A man named Paul Edding has been wiped clean from his account. Over $107,000 has been stolen from him over night without an leads as to who it might have been”, Sherlock explains. 

“Is he a millionaire of some sort?” John asks. 

“No, he worked at a bank as a financial adviser. Has a family of three. No criminal record and was known as a “charitable” man”, Sherlock answers. 

“Then how did he have $107,000 in his account”? You ask next. 

“That my dear is the great question”, Sherlock excitedly responds. 

You grab the file off the desk as Sherlock and John discuss the days activities relating to the case. The photo of the man is a corporate biopic as he’s in a suit smiling directly at the camera. He has blue eyes and sandy colored hair. He looks well groomed and you can tell he’s never had a struggle in his life. The next photo stops you dead in your tracks as you see the same house from your first date with Moriarty. The same toys in the front yard, the car in the driveway, and the front window all in the same fashion as the house from that night. You begin to realize this man is the same man you hacked into. You gather yourself together putting the file back down and breathing out before resuming with Sherlock and John. You can’t signal that anything is wrong or Sherlock will sense the shift in your attitude. 

“(y/n), I want you to head over to the bank and get copies of Mr. Edding’s financial reports. Me and John are heading to talk to Mr. Edding and his wife. Met us back here as soon as possible,” Sherlock directs.    

“Sure thing, boss”, you respond. Your heart still pounding from the recent revolution. 

“Maybe we can go out for lunch when we get back”, John says before following Sherlock out the door. 

“Stop flirting Watson, let’s go”, Sherlock calls from the stairs. 

“I’m not, it’s a simple invitation”, he answers walking out the door before you can say anything else. 

As soon as they leave you sit down and try to catch your breath. What if they discover your relationship to this case or your relationship to the criminal mastermind. The thought of hurting Sherlock and John was hard to consume even though you knew this was eventually going to occur. You thought you could simply walk away from Jim but as of this morning you weren’t sure you could do that. Grabbing your phone from your bag, you quickly text Moriarty about the situation. Like lightening he responds, Don’t worry I’ll handle it. Love, JM. This calms your nerves but there is an underline anxiety just below the surface that keeps nagging at your senses. **Bing** Your phone rings with another text message. It’s taken care of, they were diverted to another direction. Miss you, JM  

Thanks, miss you as well. You text back a little worried as to how they were diverted from the previous case. You decide to discuss this with Moriarty this evening as well as discuss some ground rules when it comes to Sherlock and John. You didn’t want them getting hurt over this new life path.

That Evening: 

Moriarty was waiting for you just a few blocks ahead from Baker Street. He was wearing a blue suit with a black tie and as usually his hair was finely managed. He looked cool and collected as if nothing could ever bother him. It made your whole body spring into action, you couldn’t help feel your body being controlled by something else like a primeval instinct a deep attraction to something dangerous. 

“Hello, darling”, he smiled as you approached. Reminding you of a shark meeting its prey. 

“Have you been waiting long?” You ask unsure how to act in his presents outside the bedroom. 

“No, not at all”, he responds. Bring you in for an embrace. 

It felt good to have his body against yours, his scent consuming your every pore, it was unlike anything you have ever experienced. You weren’t the type of person to fall into such an obsession but Jim Moriarty was unlike anyone. You had always been confident, always gone for the men like John Watson, and always played it safe. Moriarty, however, has proven that maybe playing it safe was not what you truly desired. 

“Come, we’ll be late if we don’t leave now”, Moriarty says. Letting go of you as the usually black car pulls up beside. 

“What’s the game this time?” You ask entering the first. 

“You’ll see”, Jim winks with a toothy grin. 

You wanted to ask him about Sherlock and John. How he managed to distract them from the case but Moriarty didn’t seem like he would reveal much. Although you felt like he trusted you, he still held back information until he was ready to reveal. Sherlock had texted you saying he and John were onto a different case which slightly helped ease your anxiety. 

**unnoticed by you or Jim, John stood just across the way watching you and him getting into the car. He couldn’t make out who the luxurious man was but it made his heart sink deep into his chest. He walks away with a cloudy disappointment. **   

Arriving at Destination: 

The car pulled up to a tall brick building, it must have been 20 stories, and it was in the part of London where you could find the wealthy of the wealthy. Jim got out of the car with ease, confident, as if he was born just across the street. You, however, faked a glimmer of confidence, and it seemed to fool even you. 

“What are we doing here?” You ask, facing up at the skyscraper with curious wonder. 

Jim simply grabbed your hand and walks with you to the front entrance. Giving you no signals as to what is going on expect an eerie silence. At the elevator he pushes the top button and places a hand on your waist. You notice he still has his sunglasses on which makes him look damn good yet terrifying at the same time. As the elevator reaches its destination he finally speaks. 

“I love little moments like this before a big job especially when you’re here”, he doesn’t look at you but you can see a small smile forming on his face. 

Butterflies creep into your stomach and you’re not sure whether it’s from the pending job or the way Moriarty smiles when thinking of you. Either way your head goes fuzzy for a moment. You turn to look at Jim and he you. He steps closer to you until his nose is nuzzled against yours. Just when he was about to press his lips onto yours the unwarranted sound of the elevator dings open. 

“Oh well...” Moriarty speaks in his high pitched tone. Tugging at your hand and leading you down into a darken corridor. 

“What’s this place?” You ask. 

“This my beauty is the vault to diminish all vaults. It houses the riches to one of the most wealthiest man in the country”, he explains with such glee. 

“And you want me to get into to, some how”, you curiously respond. 

“Of course, silly, I want you to wipe out his accounts. Clean. You see he was a very naughty boy and he along with his life earnings will be terminated. The vault is an upgrade system with security codes digitally and physically ”, Moriarty spoke with an almost sinister tone.  

You stop for a second and think through what Jim had just explained. You would be taking a dead man’s money essentially. But, what about his family? Assuming he had one. The guilt began to crawl up your spine and into your mind, chipping away at your apathy. 

“Is there a problem?” Moriarty broke the silence.  

In a panic decision you respond with a simple “Nope”  and take out your laptop to work. From the corner of your eye you can see the slightly worry in Moriarty’s eyes. It’s almost like he was worried that you weren’t ready for the true side of living a criminal life. After all, your job was to simple be a hacker when needed. Moriarty said he just liked having you around every night even though most nights there were no jobs for you. Perhaps he wanted you to be his official apprentice , steal you away from the sides of the angels and bring you to the dark side. For unknown reasons this excited you slightly and a smile formed on your face. Who knows, maybe you’ll be a better criminal mastermind than the great James Moriarty.       

[pjsblog-sherlock]

Hiya! So you said requests are open??? I would LOVE to read a moriartyxreader where reader has been flirting with Jim but Jim, being the smug pain in the ass he is, ignores her. But When she moves her affections to Seb he becomes super jealous and whiny like we all know he would. Love your writing thus far!

I love this idea! And thank you so much!

I will start working on it.

Moving on

Masterlist

Requests

Mobile 

[kaygamr]

A Little Warmth To Make You Better- A MoriartyxReader Fluffy Fic

“I'm dying..” , Jim whispered dramatically, eyes wide and glued to the ceiling like the hand of God was beckoning him to a place he'd never be allowed. You scoffed and rolled your eyes as you poured out a bit of cough medicine into the bottle's pre-measured cup. Jim truly was a drama queen. Maybe even more so than Sherlock. It would be hilarious to see them try to out-drama each other, you thought to yourself with a chuckle. “Oi! What 're you laughing at over there?” he questioned, his stuffed up nose making his normally sexy voice come out as strangled. You sighed heavily and stepped over to him, forcing the cup of cough syrup into his face.

“Nothing, now drink.” , you ordered. He raised his dark brows at you a moment before taking the cup and downing it's contents in one swallow. Immediately his face soured and he began to cough and hack as the taste of the liquid finally hit him. “-Water-NOW!” , he barked, gasping and choking for air.

“God, you're so needy.” , you groaned as you made your way into the kitchen to get his water, not bothering to hurry. You knew most of what he was doing was for show; he was just trying to gain sympathy. Well, it wasn't working on you so far, and you didn't think it would. You never were much for whining, and listening to other people whine, particularly Jim, got on your nerves severely. And this didn't mean that you were heartless. No, there was a fine line between telling someone your problems-and whining. And you could spot that line from a mile away.

Returning to Jim, you handed him his glass of water and he took it quickly, his face now a faint purple. Maybe he really did need the water. Hmm.

“You! Are HEARTLESS!” , he bellowed after setting his glass down. You grinned at the incredulous look on his face, the beads of fever-sweat on his forehead, his eyes wide in disbelief that YOU, his SERVANT/PET were not treating him as if he were king.

“Ooh, you're one to talk!” , you smiled as you fell into your chair next to the couch, or his 'deathbed' as he liked to call it. “Listen, how much longer do I have to stay? I've been here for hours and if I have to listen to you whine for one more minute I might just kill you.” , you said, quite bored. This earned you a glare.

“Careful, pet, about how comfortable you get. I can have you taken care of in the blink of an....ahh..ah..CHOO!” , he sneezed into his blanket before settling back down against his pillows, a look of utter defeat on his reddened face. “Ah sod it. I don't have the energy for that kind of conversation right now.” , he said tiredly. You merely shook your head and stood as you gathered your things to leave. Just as you were opening the door to leave, Moriarty's thick voice drifted to over from the living room.

“Wait, ____.. Do you think you could just stay with me until I fall asleep? You know...in case I need anything?”

As much as you hated his whining, this last plea managed to pull you back into the living room and onto the couch beside him with a sigh. He smiled at you warmly then and the very sight hurt your heart. You weren't sure if it was genuine-you could never be sure with Jim- but it was still a sweet thing to see. As you sat there with him on his big couch, watching some ridiculous movie that neither of you were the least bit interested in, you came to a realization.

How lonely must Jim be? Day in and day out, he was more or less alone. Yes, he usually forced people to stay within his presence, but truly, on the inside, Jim was alone. He had no friends, no family. The only person that he seemed to have anything in common with was Sherlock Holmes and they didn't seem exactly close to friendship. He had literally no one. He could talk a big game, but you knew deep down that part of his reckless behavior and 'changeability' , was because he didn't really have a reason to hang around. The only reason he was still around, you supposed, was because Sherlock was still kicking.

You looked at him then, really looked at him, and seemed to see him for the first time. Every line and wrinkle in his face looked different. Every look held a new meaning now. He wasn't Jim Moriarty- The King, The God, anymore. He was just Jim, at his core, a fragile, close-to-broken human being. And this very thought broke your heart.

“...What is it?” , he finally asked after a moment of watching you watch him. You shook your head very slowly, a sadness welling within you that you knew he wouldn't understand, or would pretend not to anyway.

“Nothing...It's nothing.” , you whispered, looking away as your eyes threatened to spill tears. He watched you curiously for a bit longer before turning his attention back to the movie.

Some time later, just as you were starting to doze off, you became aware of Jim shifting uncomfortably next to you. With an annoyed sigh, Jim scooted closer until he was right at your side and leaned against you until he was almost nuzzling your neck. You went completely still as he cuddled into you before he took the blanket that was originally across his lap and wrapped it around the both of you. Still completely shocked at this closeness you didn't say a word until you felt his arms around you and heard his hum of contentment.

“Uh...Jim? What's up?” , you asked carefully. He shrugged and pulled you closer.

“Was cold..You're really warm...And soft...” , he murmured as his hand moved down your arm to your wrist where he made small circles with the pads of fingers. You just nodded, still not comprehending what was going on. Was he delirious? Most likely.

“And...I'm not alone you know..” , he whispered after a moment of awkward silence. You hummed in response as you relaxed into his embrace.

“I have myself. I've survived on it my entire life. And..” , he paused to look you in the eyes, “I have you.”

You blinked in response, becoming more tired with each passing second. Did he just say what you thought he said? You were about to ask him what he meant but before you knew it, you were falling asleep in his arms.

“That's alright..You get some sleep.” , he whispered before placing a soft kiss to your forehead. He pulled you onto his chest and laid back on the couch fully, wrapping the blanket around the both of you once more before falling into a peaceful sleep. In that moment, he knew he wasn't alone anymore. But something in the back of his mind told him that when he woke, well rested and better, he would not remember the tender moment the two of you shared.

And he never did.

[deducingfangirlsofhell]

Kiss it All Better [A Dangerous Affair Part II]

Pairing: MoriartyxReader

Warnings: Smut.

Okay, all he needed to do was apologize, and try to make you understand the situation he was forced into. Without getting slapped and told that he was a fool... because he honestly didn't think his face could take anymore bruises.

He hesitated to knock on your door, and when he did, he thought he'd curl up and die.

"John- I'm bloody fine!" He could tell by the sound of your voice that you most definitely weren't. It sounded as if you'd been crying for days, even though he'd only left an hour and forty three minutes ago. The door swung open, and more guilt fell onto him. Your cheeks looked freshly slapped, with angry tear trails going all the way down them, and eyes swollen and puffy like no other. You weren't wearing your professional clothes from work, anymore- just a simple long shirt to cover you enough that your panties wouldn't be seen. Your jaw locked upon seeing him, and he lunged to stop the door from slamming in his face.

"Please- give me five minutes, and then I'll never bother you again." He swore, looking almost as broken up as you were about it. You stared at him, his brown eyes pleading with you. The London streets were oddly quiet, and if you hadn't been so furious at him, he might've taken a picture at the serenity that surrounded you both. At you, still managing to be bloody gorgeous despite the tears and angry eyes. It wasn't fair, and it never would be.

"Fine. But I'll be counting." You threatened, turning and heading to the sitting room, already ticking down seconds as he scrambled inside to follow. He didn't quite know what to say, he honestly didn't expect to get this far.

"Hurry up." You turned, crossing your arms across your chest. He took a moment to calm himself, and swallow a lump in his throat.

"First off, I'd like to say that I didn't mean what I said to John, and I don't expect you to forgive me, whatsoever." He ran a hand through his hair, trying to sort through his thoughts. You rose a disbelieving brow, and he looked askance for a moment.

"I know, I wouldn't believe me either, but please just hear me out?" He begged, motioning to your sofa. You didn't trust him as far as you could throw him, but it felt nice for someone to actually try and apologize to you. Sherlock would just assume everything's fine and move on without so much as a 'sorry'.

"I shouldn't have said that, and I know it," you slowly sat down on the sofa, him close behind, "and that isn't what this- what it was to me." He cleared his throat, trying to formulate his thoughts into words as they rained down on him. He sighed, resigned.

"I know you love Sherlock, and I'm sorry for what I said about him, too. It just-" his hands gripped at the sofa cushion, "it makes me so angry that he does that to you." Your brows drew together, confusion replacing your anger. Did you have to be so adorable when he was trying to do this? Of course you did- you always did...

"BecauseIloveyouandIknowIwouldneverdothattoyou, andyousee, Ididn'twantyoutoknow, becausethatmakesmeajealousareshole, whichIam, but-" He took a very deep breath as you stared at him, eyes blown wide. He went to say something else, but the words caught in his throat.

"I-" You cleared your throat, cheeks going crimson, "I wasn't expecting that..." You admitted quietly. His hand shot up to the back of his neck, head turning away to hide behind the arm.

"You don't have to say anything, I just- I didn't want you to think I was using you, because I wasn't... I never would have told Sherlock, I swear to you, I would never do that to you." He mumbled, grimacing at how frail his voice sounded. You reached slowly out to him, but your hand shot back.

"I didn't- you never..." He sighed softly, eyes closing.

"I didn't want you to 'chose me', simply because I was there, so I didn't say anything. I know you are disgusted with yourself for just us sleeping together..." He chuckled resignedly, "I didn't want you to feel that way all the time, anyways." He shrugged lightly, but he was crumbling inside. That was just the facts. He could never have you, because he was who he was. His hands shook like branches in the wind, and eyes bordered with tears that he quickly blinked away.

"I-I'm sorry..." The realization of everything came crashing in, making you rethink everything. His behavior made a lot more sense now, and all those little things he'd done to make you, somehow, fall for him, felt all the more special.

"It's fine- I'm more worried about you, anyways... how're you holding up? John isn't good to tell Sherlock is he?" He straightened himself out, looking to you with a forced smile and dead eyes. It was almost as if he hadn't confessed that he loved you five minutes before.

"He didn't, I, um... I did..." His jaw dropped a level, eyes shooting to you, wide as can be. You rubbed the nape of your neck awkwardly, wishing he wasn't so surprised.

"I'm sor-"

"Don't be. Believe it or not, I'm happier this way- I'd rather be with someone who wants me than some hot-shot detective, anyways, you know?" You smiled brightly, because it was true. You wanted someone to love you for you, not just keep you around. The news shocked Jim, and for a split second, he wondered if it was still considered "rebounding" if he'd already been "with" you.

"So..." He breathed out, wondering how to broach the subject. Luckily he didn't have to, because your lips were already on his. It was a lot softer, nicer, of a kiss than you were used to, but he liked it. His left hand cupped your jaw, the other resting on your hip while your arms timidly snaked around his neck. All those feelings of self disgust for falling for him, that had been stored up for months, simply vanished. Because he wasn't just a criminal, not to you. He'd been there when Sherlock wasn't, and had cared for you in bad and worse.

He was the man you fell in love with, and for once, that didn't bring bile to your throat. You didn't think of the bloodshed he'd caused, or crimes he aided. When your back hit your mattress, you didn't think of all the people he'd hurt. It was just you and him, soft and gentle, like how things were supposed to be.

His hands pushed your shirt up gingerly, unsure if this was too fast. A couple hours ago, he was picking around the edges of what was Sherlock's, and now... well, now you were his. His lips didn't leave yours, ever. They were locked there, only breaking the kiss to breathe, and when that happened, everything froze. Foreheads together and eyes locked, him inhaling your air, and you exhaling what was his already shallow breaths. And when those little moment were over, you were back to kissing, and inching off what was left between you two. His hands ghosted over yours sides just as his lips fell to your neck. He only touched you to pull your legs around his waist, and even then, you could barely feel it. There were flashes in both of your minds- of previous sessions, that ended with tattered and torn clothes strewn across the room, of broken furniture, of bruises and bite marks... of things so very different than this. All of those memories were spur of the moment, desperate lust trying to get off, but this was so very, very different. It was slow, and gentle, catered to keeping your minds intact while the world crashed down around you. Devils and angels weren't supposed to mix, not like this, but for once, you didn't care.

"I love you." His breath ghosted over your neck, hips rolling into yours with your head resting on your pillow.

"I... love you... too..." You managed to say between desperate, gasping breaths, causing him to smile. He lost control as he got closer to finishing, fingers digging into your hips as your name fell repeatedly from his lips.

You finished together, muscles weak as you collapsed together in a tangle of limbs, your head landing on his chest as you both caught your breath. His arms laced around you, coddling you to him, protecting you.

"Does this mean..?" He whispered hopefully.

"Yes." You agreed, smiling softly up at him, and he returned the smile.

"Wonderful."

[deducingfangirlsofhell]

How Do We Fall in Love?

Pairing: SherlockxReader/MoriartyxReader (Idek, man.)

Warnings: Mentions of sex, gun threats, mentions of criminal past (it is the Sherlock fandom, this should be no surprise). Maybe light cursing, I don't remember.

A/N: I AM SO SORRY MY LOVELIES. I've been SUPER busy, and just haven't had time to post anything. I am so so so sorry.

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Sherlock's heart sped so fast, he could hear the fear coursing through his veins. A screeching so loud, he swore everyone within a four kilometer radius could hear. The words repeated over and over, what appeared to be a simple little comment on his blog became an omen of everything that could've possibly gone wrong.

Lovely girl you've got, But can she stand her own flames? Fires can be very dangerous... ~JMx

He'd replied eight times over, attempting to get more clues. His head was spinning, trying to solve the clue at the bottom of the recent picture of you and him. Something John had posted on Sherlock's blog in his place, and it may've given you you away to Moriarty. The name sent chills down his spine. What used to be a fun challenge had turned into his own personal hell.

And now the devil had the woman who mattered most to him, and all the clues in the world couldn't help him, because his mind refused to process. John, Mycroft, Lestrade- everyone was trying to help, but to no true avail. Moriarty still had you...

Then a call came in- no, less of a call, more of a clue, one so simple, even George could figure it out. But before anyone else could evaluate it, Sherlock had sneaked off, hurrying to the same place he'd faced the Black Lotus General- only to be met with another clue, this time leading to an abandoned flat on the outskirts of London. He huffed as he climbed the stairs, feeling like his lungs may burst at any moment from the over use, but he could still see the image of your glittering eyes burned into his mind.

----

Jim tilted your head towards him as you both waited, away from the window that you could see your "knight in shining armor" come to "rescue you". His thumb grazed along your jaw, lifting until his eyes burned into yours.

"Problem, my little desert rose?" He purred, eyes dead save for a twinkle of insanity, and a smirk so dangerous it could kill you without a touch.

"None, sir." You answered appropriately, but the way he grabbed your wrist immediately told you that your little lie hadn't gone unnoticed. Your eyes snapped shut at the immediate, but bearable pain. Despite his cold exterior, you both knew Jim would never actually hurt you, but his threats were never to be taken lightly.

Just because he wouldn't hurt you, didn't mean he would have any problem leaving you for the dogs...

"I just- is it necessary that I be here, sir?" You kept it polite as possible, allowing your eyes to open again, being met with a quizzical stare. That's right, you thought, he doesn't understand complex emotions... You stared back, trying to hide what you could behind a blank mask. From this short distance, you could feel his breath fanning over your lips, like it'd done many times before. Though, usually, it came with a sleepless night, and marks left for the next day, claiming what was his.

"Remind me, pet," Great, now he was upset, "Why're we here?" He took a step forward despite there being no room, forcing you to move back, and repeatedly did so, until your back hit the wall of your old flat.

"To bring down Sherlock Holmes." You muttered shakily, feeling very contrasting emotions from his close proximity, the combination making you dizzy and nauseous. Your hand hit the wall with a gathered force of his anger and something underlying that wasn't quite as clear.

"Now, wouldn't we want him to see his little sweet, sweet love betraying him, pet?" He hissed out each word, face inches from yours as his plan ricocheted in your head.

"I put you onto the playing field to make Sherlock Holmes fall for the girl of his dreams- not the other way around." Your breath hitched in your throat, head shaking as much as possible. You didn't know what you felt for Sherlock, or perhaps it was simply nothing, and you just felt the need to protect the one person who'd ever cared for you- but you definitely would overlook it for your life.

"It's not like that- Jim, you know me, and it's not like that. I know the plan, and-" He already seemed to be calming some, though his eyes still showed rage inside, "I would never betray you like that." Sadly, it was true. Jim had protected you when you made the biggest mistake of your life- from both the government and any criminal organizations out to kill you. Six years, and he'd given you everything you could ever need, at the simple cost of working for him. He never had you do much, and never pushed you into anything you were uncomfortable with, and hey- the door was always open, if you'd ever do choose death over him.

But that's the thing about Jim Moriarty. He is death, in his own sense, just in much prettier packaging. He twists your mind, until nothing exists but him, and he always gets what he wants, and always makes it seem like that's what you wanted, all along. And you'd caught on to the game early on- never cared to stop it, but then again, if you did, then you'd be boring like everyone else.

He smirked the slightest bit, fingers brushing against your cheek like rose petals in the wind, "Oh, my little desert blossom..." he leaned closer like he would kiss you, "I'll believe it when I see it. Choose Holmes, and you've only got yourself to blame for your untimely demise." He said it the same way he would words of endearment, the sickly feeling seeping into you, but his tone drawing you closer.

"You're a double edged sword, you know that?" You muttered, somewhat wishing you could betray James- even the slightest bit. You couldn't care less about your protection. It's just that your sense of loyalty rested with the consulting criminal, and you could never give that up. His lips brushed against yours just as the door opened downstairs, and you fought down the temptation to tell Sherlock to just stay put.

But as Jim's lips fully encased yours, not a sound left your mouth. Footsteps echoed up the stairs, and still, you were engulfed by the madman. Infatuated.

The door to the old flat building was kicked open, the ancient lock flying off the door. You heard the gun before you saw it..

Click, "Let. Her. Go." He demanded, as if you hadn't just been kissing the criminal a second ago. Your eyes went wide as Jim pulled away, smirking with a demented glint in his eyes. The same one that sliced down into your very core, ripping anyone in its path to shreds.

"Oh, Sherlock... tsk... tsk... tsk..." The gun stayed trained on Jim, and every second ticked down, ringing in your ears. You looked between the two, staying next to the wall, unsure if you were even allowed to say anything, or if it'd mess up Jim's plan. Jim circled around Sherlock, the gun lowering slightly the moment he was away from you. Soon he was in front of you, again, eyes lit up with knowing that Sherlock was absolutely clueless. Jim held his hand out to you, more of an offering than a demand. Cocky bastard. He knew you'd choose him.

"Let's let our fair blossom decide, hm?" You wished you could say you even considered choosing Sherlock for a split second, but then again, that'd be pointless. The moment you left Jim's side, you'd be dead... Your hand reached out for Jim's, not a hesitation in the motion.

"Y/n, I know who you are." Sherlock said flatly, your head snapping to him, hand drawing back. Jim's eyes went black at the reaction, oh so tempted to just snatch your hand.

"I can help you- protect you. You don't need him!" Sherlock insisted, stepping closer, and offering out his hand. His eyes sparkled with desperation, genuinely wanting you to come with him. He didn't want to beat Moriarty, or use you for his own agendas. He just wanted to protect you... and that was enough. Your hand shook, uncertainty spreading through you. You had never left Jim's side- never questioned him. You'd let him use you until you ran dry, because... that's all you'd ever known. But here was Sherlock... and he genuinely cared for you..

Could he protect you? Could he, really?

[deducingfangirlsofhell]

A Dangerous Affair

Pairing: MoriartyxReader, mentions of Sherlockxreader

Warnings: Smut, a bit of cursing, and a LOT OF ANGST. I LOVE THE ANGST. Also, unrequited love, for the most part?

____________________________________________

Hands pinned to the wall, and the most dangerous man in the world's lips attacking your neck. This had become the norm when your boyfriend was too busy for you, and you always felt guilty afterwards. Hell, you felt guilty at the beginning of one of these sessions, too. But- Jim was just so... sexy.

He could feel your reservation, like there always was, and he hated that. You always thought about Sherlock, always felt that same guilt, when you should be focusing on him.

What was so special about that damn detective anyways? He ignored and neglected you- he'd never do that. No, no, no- you would be his queen, and he'd treat you as such. But you already felt horrid enough about having an affair with the consulting criminal, for how good you let him make you feel. So, for now, this would work.

"You have got to relax, Kitten." He purred into your ear, letting your wrists go temporarily to unbutton your white blouse. To be honest, he didn't understand how Sherlock could possibly ignore you. If you were his, he'd be too busy admiring you to get any work done, at all.

You nodded, taking a few deep breaths, tossing your shirt aside, letting him pin your hands, again. Jim was masterful at this- lips burning your skin, making you hotter by the second, a few simple nips and kissed making your hips buck into his. But he could still feel how tense you were. Chuck- he hated Sherlock.

"Babe, jut forget about him for twenty minutes, so we can get this show on the road, yeah?" He murmured against the tender flesh of your breasts, getting increasingly annoyed with all of this.

"I'm used to him being hours away when we do this- not just across London, cut me some slack!" You snapped back, hitting your head against the wall. He rolled his eyes, and continued, using his knee to separate your legs, and smirked when you instinctively wrapped them around his waist. His lips were suddenly on yours, teeth quickly joining the kiss, nipping and biting your lips. He knew better to leave any marks, but man, did he wish he could. He'd mark you as his in any and every way. Not just by having his way with you. Your wrists would be bruised, and you'd have too many hickeys to count painted all over your body. Your nails would create art across his back, and all down his arms. He wanted to be yours, more than just as a lover, and to be marked accordingly.

He'd want you to leave more marks than you already did.

And, most importantly, he wouldn't have to watch you flounce around with his enemy, after. Kissing in the safety of the flat, and watching you wear that stupid purple scarf. Only when Sherlock remembered he had a freaking girlfriend, of course. That's what annoyed him most of all- Sherlock had you, this wonderful, gorgeous, intelligent woman, and he didn't even remember you were his.

"Who's distracted, now? What? Your little pet mess up your tie, again?" You taunted, tugging on it with your, now free, hands. He scoffed, pulling the offending garment off. He hated when you did that- but loved it, too... damn you, being all witty and sarcastic. He threw the tie to the side, tossing you on your bed, landing on top of you.

"I'll show you distracted." He growled seductively, attacking your lips, again, hands roaming over your body until they got to your shorts. Your hands made quick work of his button-up, and, even more quickly, it joined yours. His body pressed against yours, lips exploring your skin as his hands began to push your shorts down.

You both froze when the door buzzed.

"Y/n?" John called, already trying to find the spare key. You threw yourself up, pushing Jim aside as you hurriedly pulled up your shorts and snatched the white button ups from the ground.

"Closet- now!" You demanded as Jim straightened out his pants. He didn't get a chance to respond as you began pushing him towards the door.

"Closet? Really?" He complained as he was forced among your things. His eyes began scanning his surroundings, an annoyed scowl on his face.

"You're the side-guy, you go into the closet- get over it." You snapped, pulling on one shirt while tossing the other as his eyes stopped on a set of lingerie, examining it.

"Suddenly not so disapproving of the closet." He mused, taking a closer look. You scoffed offendedly, buttoning up the shirt as quick as you could. He looked to you with a small smirk, by it quickly dropped.

"Y/-" You didn't have time for his nonsense. "Shut up, you're staying in the closet." You hissed, shutting the door quickly, then hurrying out to meet John, pulling your hair into a decent looking pony.

You opened the door with a cheery smile, "Hey, John." You chirped, smiling. He returned the smile, coming in, not really taking a good look at your attire. Your heart felt like it would break open your chest cavity at any moment. You could still taste your betrayal in your mouth, and you hated that it tasted like expensive Irish whiskey and mint gum. It was the worst taste betrayal could have.

Jim wanted to gag- he could hear every word. Yep, John had to come save Sherlock's relationship, and save his stupid arse. No one would ever see Sebastian doing this, because Jim would never ignore you for two days straight.

"Um..." His eyes narrowed on the tag hanging from the shirt, "Westwood?" He asked, clearly confused. Jim rolled his eyes, using the door to the bathroom to get around into the kitchenette, while your breath caught in your throat. He held up the blouse you threw him in your rush.

"Wrong shirt." You silently cursed yourself as he moved to return it to you. He picked up the collar of your shirt, making a show to point it out.

"I know Westwood when I see it." That was what he'd been trying to tell you when you told him to shut up... and now John knew about your affair with Moriarty. He smirked, leaning against your counter, arms crossed over his chest as he looked at the flabbergasted John.

"You're cheating on Sherlock- with Moriarty?! Why!?" He demanded, standing up in a fit of anger and disgust. His eyes showed how betrayed he felt and you couldn't even blame him.

"John, it's just that-"

"Sherlock ignores her, neglects her, sometimes forgets she exists and that she's his girlfriend- plus, I rather like to think I'm a pretty good shag." He said cockily, maybe even spitefully. You went red at his words, shaking your head quickly.

"N-No- John's it isn't like that-" John was already coming over to either chew you out or punch Jim. Either option wasn't exactly a good one...

"John- please, don't tell Sherlock." You begged, Jim's jaw ticking. John looked ready to say something, but Jim beat him to the punch- no pun intended.

"Or do. It's not like he'd care enough to actually exert the energy to break up with you anyway." He shrugged casually as both you and John stopped. John knew Sherlock was, well, Sherlock. And that he didn't always remember you guys had plans, or your birthday, or... that you existed at all... sometimes he'd say rude things to you... or kick you out when you were crying because a relative died and he needed to go to his mind palace... okay, so there was nothing positive about you and Sherlock's relationship, but cheating? Especially with Moriarty? That was low.

You spun around to Jim after the initial shock, "He would to care!" You insisted as he looked over his manicured nails.

"You mean like he did when your grandmother died? Or... would it be more like when he let you stay kidnapped for 47 hours because there was a more interesting case and he didn't realize you were gone for the first 36 of those hours?" He mused sarcastically. Tears pricked your eyes, because he was right. Sherlock would be more concerned with the fact that Moriarty was sleeping with his girlfriend, than his girlfriend was sleeping with Moriarty. He wouldn't care that you cheated on him- he'd care that Moriarty took time out to screw you. John sat there, a tad shocked at the disdain that Irish accent held, a hatred that you didn't hear. Jim could've seen anyone, or he could've told Sherlock in hopes of crushing him, but he didn't. Why..?

"Screw you, Jim!" You snapped suddenly, more tears gathering in your eyes. You spun away from him, only to have him pull you back around, and use his thumb to wipe away your still coming tears. He didn't drop his dead eyes or displeased look- never in front of John, but you were his primary concern right now.

"Oh, hush, now, Sweetheart. I'm sure I'm completely incorrect and Sherlock will find a way to forgive you." He lied easily. He couldn't bear to see you cry, especially at something he said. How dare Sherlock? He had a wonderful woman with a heart of gold, and the sweetest smile there ever was, and all he did was send her into waves of tears.

John's curiosity got the better of him, and he spoke up, even if it meant his doom, "What exactly do you get out of this, then?" Jim froze, thumb halfway across your cheek. What he got out of it? Listening to the woman he loved scream his name and trash talk his nemesis were two pretty fair reasons, but... no. He couldn't say that. Then you'd push him away, and he'd never see you again, under any capacity, even an enemy. But he couldn't say he was using you, because then he'd be just like Sherlock. Playing at your heart. Which was less painful..?

"Simple. I have it over Sherlock, that I can have anything of his at anytime, and he doesn't even know I have it." Your eyes snapped open. Why you? Your hands collided with his chest, sending him to your kitchen floor, and you stormed back to your room. So what? The man you'd been seeing behind your boyfriend's back was just using you. So what, he was there when Sherlock wasn't? So what, you'd began to develop feelings for him? So what, he broke your heart?

Maybe you'd given into a small fantasy that the consulting criminal liked you, and might even have had loved you. Maybe you'd given him the power to break your heart.

Maybe the sound of your table crashing wasn't said consulting criminal being punched by John.

----------

Jim got back to his place a long while later, jaw bruised and eye swollen. Sebastian rose a brow before heading to grab an ice pack.

"Thought you said she wasn't into that?" He joked, tossing the smaller man the cooling relief. Jim carefully pressed it to his jaw.

"Johnny-Boy came a knockin'." He grumbled, slouching onto the couch. Sebastian grabbed a couple beers and joined his boss on the couch, ready to listen to what happened.

A long story later (telling Sebastian absolutely everything), he finally got to what John had said, "...then that stupid fool asked me, 'what do you get out of this, then?" His voice rose in mockery, "And of course, I lied-" Sebastian stopped him there, rubbing his temple, knowing he'd need another beer after this.

"Woah, Boss- you lied? Girl just realized her boyfriend doesn't give a flying rat's behind about her, and you say that you- let me remind you, that you're the person she has been going to when Sherlock is being a complete and total arse- and you lie and say that you don't care about her, either?" Jim flinched, realizing his major mistake right there, but not wanting to admit it.

"So what? I should've just said, 'Can't lie- I'm in love with her and this is legitimately the only way I'll probably ever get her because she refuses to leave her arrogant sod of a boyfriend'?" He snapped back, earning a bemused look from Sebastian.

"Yes."

[deducingfangirlsofhell]

A Bit of Panic

Pairing: Teen!MoriartyxReader

Warnings: Anxiety attack, mentions of emotiona trauma

A/N: The panic attack described and the situations are loosely based off some of Katie and I (Clarissa)’s experiences. By no means am I impying that this is how all attacks are, nor am I saying that how Jim reacts is how someone should. Thank you.

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How do you tell the boy your absolutely smitten with that you're crying because your mum was screaming at you the entire way to school because you couldn't bring yourself to talk to a teacher you didn't know? He'd think you were completely pathetic, that's what you did know. Yet, when you looked up to those pools of chocolate brown perfectness, you felt the story slip from your lips. 

"I-I'm writing an essay for a scholarship to this maths camp at Oxford over the summer... Ms. Hendricks told me to talk to the world history teacher, Mr. Bartleby, about proof reading it, but I-I can't! I've never met him before!" A new wave of tears hit you, and Jim slid down next to you, listening intently to your story. You felt something softly touch your hand, and it caught it before you could yank said hand away. 

"Shh... it's alright. Keep going." He gently persuaded, accent making his words all the more calming. Shocked by his sudden sincerity, your head shot up so you could look at him. He stared softly back, a gentle smile relaxed onto his face while his free hand came up to your cheek to wipe away a few more falling tears and his lips brushed against your forehead. 

Your heart hammered against your lungs, cutting the airflow short for a moment before you remembered his request, "W-Well, my mum was just lecturing me about being too shy. I've t-tried to, uh-" He chuckled as your breath finally stopped, completely ensnared in your throat. Heat fanned over your cheeks as he raised your chin to look at him. 

"She's simply frustrated, is all. How she could get mad at such an adorable kitten as yourself, I can't understand, though." When was your nose going to start bleeding? The boy you've been in love with for- how long now? -a year and a half is calling you adorable and kissing your forehead like it's nothing! 

He stood up unexpectedly, offering you his hand, "I know a restaurant right up the way, it's quite relaxing. I'll look over your essay, and help you. How does that sound?" Geez- could he get anymore perfect? You hadn't even noticed that he'd basically asked you on a date, nor where it was to. All you knew was that he'd offered to look it over, thereby saving you from at least two more panic attacks. You softly reached out, feeling his fingers closing around yours to help you up. 

"So, is that a 'yes', then?" 

You were fine when you and Jim were being seated, the maitre d' smiling warmly at the two of you as he thanked her. You were fine as you and Jim chatted, first about your essay, then about whatever came to mind. He pulled no punches on your work, but you were alright with that. You wanted it to be good, after all. Plus, hearing him talk was like listening to angels sing, except that Jim was no angel. The problem lied when a waiter came to take your order. You'd been having such a great time with Jim that you'd forgotten you were at a restaurant- that this was inevitable. But, now that it was here, you couldn't stop the sheer terror building in your chest. 

"Well, darlin'?" Jim grimaced at the waiter flirting with you before glancing back over to his menu to stop himself from sending the man a snappy response in turn. The world began rocking as if you were on a boat, and anxiety began bubbling in your stomach. Your head fogged like those alleyways in the Jack the Ripper or any other horror movie. The first thing you really heard was a laugh. THE laugh. The waiter had thought this was funny. He likely didn't understand what you were going through, but all you understood was that he was laughing at you. At your panic. At your sheer horror... then a second one joined it, and you "knew" it was Jim. It was distorted, and if you were thinking properly, you'd have realized that it was distorted. That it sounded nothing like him. That it was only in your head. But you weren't thinking clearly, and you could've sworn seven ways to Sunday that he was. Tears flooded in your eyes, and soon, the dam broke once again. Small sobs escaped your lips, and you began shaking violently. The first sob was when Jim looked up, and a knot grew in his stomach. Large eyes went wider as he rummaged through his endless amount of knowledge to try and find a solution- any solution. He dismissed the waiter, and moved to your side of the table. 

"Y-Y/n?" One hand hovered over your trembling shoulder, but, try as you might, you were unable to respond. "I'm going to take you to some where quieter, alright?" You managed to nod, and he helped you up, escorting you somewhere. You couldn't really make out where it was, but you you could feel yourself moving, and could hear Jim speaking in attempts to help calm you.

"Can you tell me what you need?" He asked softly, voice as calming as the soft patter of a light summer's rain against the window. A real shame everything else was a level nine hurricane around him. Your breathing picked up more than the previous time, and you shook like it was the middle of winter, not a nice sunny day. 

"Just calm down. The situation maybe been scary, but I promise you're in no danger." He carefully took your hand in his, sitting close as he began to intertwine your fingers together. His voice was soothing, and the world around you began to clear up again as your breathing began to steady. You turned to look at him, the simple action made easier as you felt a few fingers guide you. His eyes were wide with worry, the brown mixed with desperation and fear, but was quickly smoothing over to something so much simpler. Relief. 

"I-I'm sorry..." Squeaked out words fell from your lips. This was just plain embarrassing... your crush having to drag you from a restaurant because you were having a panic attack. Yet, he didn't seem upset or disappointed, he just seemed... understanding. 

"It's fine. Besides, isn't the point of a date to get to know a person? With that logic, I've succeeded more than most ever could!" An award-winning, beaming smile pulled to his face, and all you could do is be in awe. So, this had been a date, then... the thought brought a shy smile to your face, and a deep blush to settle into your cheeks. Suddenly, you felt something soft against your searing flesh. After a moment, you'd realized he'd kissed your cheek. You could hear your heart flutter. 

"I-I don't understand..." You admitted quietly. He smiled fondly in return, eyes alit with both amusement and endearment. 

"In simple terms, I'm attempting to ask if you think I'm good enough to be your boyfriend." He chuckled at himself, his pale cheeks showing the faintest hint of rouge, and eyes leaving yours as a twinge of insecurity slipped into his mind. 

"O-Of course, that's only if you like me like I like you..." He felt pathetic, and mentally was cursing himself, but all you could do is freeze. Well, and giggle a bit. 

"I like you like you like me. So, yes, I think you're wonderful."

[deducingfangirlsofhell]

Lies

Pairing: MoriartyxReader

Warnings: Cheating, death

A/N: This is an AU. A god and goddess AU to be specific, so... I hope you like it. Also, this was done as a prompt request, so there’s some...odd. Terminology. (Chloroform is something gods have in this, and it isn’t like our chloroform so yeah)

Ps, I’m sorry I haven’t been updating, I got a new phone and I can’t get back onto this account so I can only use it when my old phone is charged. Which is never.

He slipped out of the bed, doing his best to keep quiet. Carefully, he picked up the vial, and a small square of cloth, a small pit growing in his stomach. He hated to do this, but it was the only way. His eyes snapped up to his sleeping bride as she awoke.

"James... what're you doing..?" Her eyes narrowed on the vial, causing her to sit up, "Why exactly do you need chloroform at 2am?" She snapped, eyes suddenly alight. She knew exactly why, and it made her burn.

"You aren't seriously going to see one of those flawed abhorable things—they're pathetic!" She snapped, suddenly deciding to get fully out of bed. His jaw locked, a searing anger coming to his chest.

"Go back to sleep, Kitty." He snapped. His position was the reason they'd been marred in the first place. They both knew she'd rather be over screwing Sherlock or his bride. Most of the Gods remained fairly loyal to their partners, even if they acutely despised them. James wasn't like the rest—he hated it. He didn't want to live a life, even an immortal one, like this. Now, perhaps a few years ago, he would've thought a lot different than that. He wouldn't have cared about who his partner was—he was king. Of the heavens and earth, he ruled all.

"Go back to bed." He ordered, not missing a beat before leaving. He tucked the vial into his robes, and slipped down to the mortal world, changing his appearance slightly. He shifted his deep brown eyes to a softer green, and lengthened his dark hair to match the common man among the streets, and slipped through unnoticed. He even went as far as to change his facial features, make them softer and less opposing. Less attractive, in most people's opinion, but his lover had never seemed to care that he was considered "average" when it came to looks, maybe a tad above. After all, this was love, and that's all they needed.

You were pacing, unable to still yourself from your pure excitement. You heard a soft tapping at your door. You grinned, immediately swinging it open, and throwing your arm's around Jim's neck. His arms fit tightly around you, holding you as close as he possibly could.

"I love you, Jim." You mumbled into his neck, letting yourself slip into the warmth of his arms.

"I love you, too, Darling." He whispered back, a natural smile slipping to his face. He glided you both into the room, shutting the door softly. You pulled him into a kiss, his hands falling to your waist, a thrum going through him. Slowly, you guided him towards the bed, letting him fall slightly on top of you, both of you giggling in between passionate kisses.

Unbeknownst to either of you, James wasn't the only who thought it best to pay a visit. It wasn't long into your little rendezvous that there was another knock, this one much firmer than Jim's had been. It was startling to James, considering he'd left your father unconscious in his own room.

"I know you're in there." Kitty's voice penetrated the door, striking fear into Jim with just a few simple words.

"Who's that?" You whispered, watching as panic spread across him. The door suddenly flew off its hinges, the goddess entering without another warning. Her eyes were ablaze, already, but the flames doubled as her eyes came to rest on you in her husband's arms. He suddenly shifted so you were behind him, a scowl adorning his features as he glared at her. She could see right through his disguise, through his utter and complete lies.

"You left me for a mortal?" She snapped, jaw clenching. This had been where he was every night? Seeing a woman that wouldn't last even a fraction of his vast memory?!

Your brow drew together, confusion adorning your features. The woman looked familiar, but you couldn't quite place it. No-you could! She looked like the statues outside the temple... Gisara. Queen of the Gods...?

"J-Jim... what's going on here, I-I'm confused..." You managed weakly out, fingers gripping tighter on his shoulder. Still, he said nothing.

"Go on, tell the mortal who you are. Pull the wool back from her clueless eyes." His eyes flicked back to you as you began to go numb. What was she talking about? Why was she saying these things-? Jim would never lie to you... right?

That's when he began shifting back into his regular form, eyes growing dark once more and hair slicking back. Another face you recognized, and one you'd recognize anywhere; Evmes. King of the Gods, and, fittingly, the God of Wisdom and Chaos. You could feel your knees growing weak, voice no longer seeming to work.

"Leave here, Kitty." He demanded. It snapped into focus for you—why a Goddess had come to your home. His wife... you were beginning to feel faint. Gisara scoffed, approaching him.

"You think she'll stand to want you after what you've done? Her life is forever ruined because of your betrayal. She'll be shunned." She said plainly, not an ounce of sympathy in her voice.

"You promised her a marriage, did you not? No one would mare a god and a girl. You've played her pathetic little heart." He'd been a fool to promise you such a thing, even he knew that, but he hadn't expected the question. And, at the time, it had seemed almost possible... almost.

"I said, 'GO!" He snapped suddenly, sending her flying out the door and out to the street. He allowed himself a few minutes to breathe, anger dissipating and growing concerned for you. He spun around, cupping your cheek in his hand. He'd do anything to change the way things were—if you wanted anything in the world, he'd give it to you without hesitation.

"Are you alright?" He asked worriedly, pressing his forehead to yours. Instead of answering, you staggered back, doing anything to get away from the God. He could feel his heart crack, sending an unwelcome feeling through him almost immediately.

"Y-Y/n..? L-Let's talk about this..." He began approaching you again, being met only with silence.

"Yell, scream, say something... a-anything." He almost begged, once again trying to come near you.

"Y-You're Evmes..." You said, stomach turning at the thought. He watched you, eyes saddening as you stepped away once more, just out of his reach.

"Yes.." He admitted shakily. If there was ever a moment in his entire life that he didn't want to be a God, It was now. He wanted to be with the woman he loved more than anything, even if that meant he'd die one day.

"You lied to me... about everything." Tears began rolling down your cheeks, causing his heart to break even more.

"You don't love me, I'm just some toy to pass the time." You whispered, staggering back once more, lost and heartbroken. The words echoed through his head, eyes growing suddenly wet. He didn't even have words.

"I'll never be marred... I'll be forever shunned." You said, gasping for breaths as realization swept over you, a sense of profound shame already brewing. If the people of your town were merciful, they'd simply kill you, but that was a tad hopeful.

"N-No, it doesn't have to be like that-!" He tried desperately, falling to his knees as you fell to the ground, "We can get married, no one has to know-" And just as quickly as he said it, you were racing to your father's room.

Kitty appeared behind him, hands on her hips, looking as dignified as ever.

"You've taken everything from her, isn't that enough? Leave her to the fate you've sealed for her." Growing angry, James spun around, staring her down furiously.

"I can fix this!" He insisted, solutions flooding into his head, already.

"How Long has it been since you put her father under, James, I'm curious." She said flatly, suddenly deciding her nails were much more interesting than the conversation. A sudden cry was heard down the hall as he realized his mistake, and he sprinted to the door, heart shattering as you held your father's lifeless body. All the excitement had caused him to lose track of the time... he'd killed your father..

"Y/-"

"Leave her to mourn. Haven't you done enough?"

This time, however, he had nothing to respond with. He took a few moments to watch your grief fill the room, tears and sobs joining the foul atmosphere. Irene had been right. She said he would ruin your life, and he had...

"...let's go home..." He whispered, tears beginning to roll down his own cheeks.

[supernaturalthoughtsworld]

Date with a Psychopath

Description: After spending the night with James Moriarty, he proposes a real night out with him. But, is there more than the criminal mastermind is leading on? 

Part 1 

Triggers: Sexual Conduct, Slight Violence, and Angst. 

Characters: MoriartyxReader

Length: 1,880 words

Tags: @wefracturedmotivation @take-me-away-from-here-honey @nascxnt 

It had been just about a week after the events of Moriarty and the ball. You could still feel his body on top of yours, feel his breath on your neck, chills ran down your spine just thinking of it. It was safe to say James Moriarty had you hooked to his little game. Before the date he had mentioned, he called whilst you were coming home from work, you smirked and rolled your eyes when you saw it was him. 

“Why do you always have such an attitude, (y/n)?” He asked with his usual taunting tone. 

“Stalking me now I see, can’t seem to stay away”, you reply with the same tone. 

There is a brief silence on the other end and then an amusing laughter explodes into your ear drum. 

“Only you seem to have the courage to talk to me in such a way. Luckily I find this enthralling which means for now it’s not boring”, Moriarty explains. 

“Why are you calling then? A play date?” You ask knowing the answer before he speaks. 

“Yes, a play date of sorts. My version of a date, you see I find you quite interesting especially your past. It seems you have a lot in common”, he sounds excited by this notation. 

Your heart beats out of rhythm realizing just what Moriarty meant. For a second you panic not sure as to what to do, hang up and move to Peru? Break down and tell Sherlock the truth? Or simply play along? You decide your last option is the better road to take, seeing as you can’t just trust Moriarty to keep his mouth shut. At least with this option you can have some control. 

“Will I be meeting you there or will this be a formal date?” You finally response. 

“Hum... I’ve never been on a formal date before so, I will have my driver pick you up. Isn’t that how it works?” He almost sounds like a teenager finding out how sex works for the first time. 

“Yeah, that’s how it works Moriarty. See you soon.” You reply and hang up without giving him further information. You have the feeling that he already knows where you live. 

A Few Hours Later:  

Jim sent you a text message which instructed you to wear something sexy and black, signing it of with XOXO. How romantic? You think. You wondered whether you were willing to go through with his games after all it was getting much too close to home. However, Jim Moriarty had a charming way into getting what he wants. So, at half pass eight you climb into the familiar black car and head towards a date with a psychopath. 

Your confusing peaked when you noticed you weren’t stopping at a restaurant. It was a two story home in a rural suburban area just a little outside the city. You knew for a fact it wasn’t Jim’s house, his home was slightly bigger and much more extravagant. This was a modest home which seemed to be owned by a family indicated by the toys in the front lawn. What was Moriarty planning? You thought to yourself. A few minutes later the door snapped open and Moriarty appeared with a grin on his face. 

“My don’t you look wonderfully delicious”, he says as you step out into the poorly lite street. 

He was eyeing your body up and down with a mischief expression. The dress you were wearing this time was a little black cocktail dress which hung off your shoulders. You knew this would drive Moriarty to the brink of insanity if he wasn’t already there.  

“Thanks”, you manage to say. Looking around and preparing yourself for any danger that might try to surprise you. 

“Stay calm, love. This is just apart of our little romantic game”, he says kissing your cheek. 

 A shiver ran down your spine and the same urgency that occurred the night before began to resurface. It was hard to think straight with James Moriarty around as much as you needed to stay alert. He wasn’t playing fair with his hair so neatly combed back, his suit so expensive and fresh, and his devilishly good looks. He knew he drove you crazy which probably excited him more.

“So... what are we doing here? Meeting your parents? So soon”, you pretend to pout. 

Moriarty looks at you with a firey intention as if he is trying to suppress something wicked inside. 

“ You and I both know who you really are and what you really do, so, no more secrets. Agree”? He says.

You pause for a moment and sigh. “Agree”. 

“Alright then, I need you to hack into this mans bank account and retrieve the money he owes my client”, Moriarty’s tone is upbeat with excitement. 

“I want to see what the world’s greatest hacker can do”, he continues. Slipping behind you, he begins kissing your bare shoulders, causing ripples of desire to course through your veins. 

“Why, should I? I don’t even know this person and it looks like he has a family. Besides you haven’t given me much explanation as to why we are psychically here”, you close your eyes and breathe softly has he sucks on the back of your neck. 

 “You ask too many questions but since I like you I’ll give you my top two answers. One, (he touches your breasts softly, passing through them slowly). Like you this man isn’t all what he seems. He may have a family but he owes my client a considerable amount of money for morbid reasons. Two, (he works his way down your belly still kissing your shoulders and neck from behind). I need you to prove to me you can do exactly what everyone says you can.” 

He pauses for a minute stepping in front of you. His eyes never looked so dark even with his face illuminated with the orange street light, they looked almost vacant. 

“And if I don’t want too”, you response. 

“Then boom goes the house, all the way up to the sky”, he answers moving his arms in the motion of an explosion. 

You look at the house then to Moriarty then back at the house. Did you really have a choice? You could run but did you really want too? You could say no but was that possible? You had spent the majority of your youth hanging around hackers, developing your own style, and eventually becoming the most sought out criminal hacker of the 21st century. Maybe meeting James Moriarty wasn’t a coincidence, maybe it was where your life was headed anyway. 

“Fine, how much time do I have”, you finally reply. 

He laughs whilst clapping his hands like a small child who just got a treat from his overprotective mother. 

“I knew you wouldn’t waste this opportunity. You have 30 minutes”, he says holding your chin so that his lips just graze yours. 

“30 minutes and then we can eat each other for dinner”, he continues. 

“You think I can hack into a banking system in 30 minutes, you know that’s impossible right?” You counteract. 

“They told me you were the best”, Moriarty shrugs a side smirk appears on his face. 

“I need his name and a social security number if you have it, also the amount of money you need transferred”, you say grabbing your phone from your handbag. 

Moriarty hands you a piece of paper with a man’s name and the amount he owes. Of course he wasn’t going to make this easy, however you quickly realize you have the man’s address which is just as good. Looking to your right you can see a street name and straight ahead is the house number. You look at Moriarty, he seems utterly enchanted with your clever tactics. 

“I think you’re getting a little turned on there”, you chuckle, coolly staring at the screen. 

“A big brain has always been my weakness and other matters”, he calmly checks your backside out. 

Rolling your eyes at his high school flirting you check the time, 5 minutes down it reads. For you, it wasn’t really much work. You had done this so many times it was almost auto pilot to your brain. As the minute changed, you put the finishing touches to your latest masterpiece. 

“Here”, you say handing him your phone for inspection. 

He looks at you with an impressed expression, one you’re sure he doesn’t give out lightly. He checks through the phone with arch eyebrows and then glances towards you. 

“Under 30 minutes, impressive”, he holds your chin and kisses your lips softly. 

“I don’t just half ass jobs”, you say between kisses. 

“I’m beginning to understand that”, he breathes. 

James Moriarty had a way of worming himself into your brain. As much as you hated yourself for going weak in the knees every time he kissed you, you couldn’t seem to stop yourself from enjoying it. He had this air of danger that reminded you of when you were younger and would shop lift just to feel the rush. When you starting hacking it was the same euphoric feeling and now James Moriarty brought back those intense emotions. The kissing was growing in passion which caused you to go all fuzzy in your brain much like the other night. It was like a veil was being dropped on your eyes and you only saw what was right in front of you. Jim moved the two of you to the car, opening the car door with urgency. 

“Home”, he simple says. 

The car thrust forward taking off in a low rumble down the street towards the devil’s playroom. 

The Car Ride Home: 

“So, are we going to talk about why I just stole money from that family”, you ask through heavy breathing. 

Jim’s hands had traveled throughout your body, his lips glued your neck and shoulders. His fingers crawling up your inner thighs lifting your dress slightly whilst he teased your lace underwear. 

“I told you, he owed my client money, my client owes me money, it’s simply business”, he explains. 

“Yeah but you could have done anything else to get that money. Why use me?” You ask biting your lips as he plays with you. 

“Testing my darling, just testing. You and I might have a very close partnership in the future, I need to know exactly what you can do”. He whispers the last part into your ear. Sending a stream of butterflies into your stomach.

“What do I get out of this? I’d be putting myself and my mother in danger”, you reply grabbing hold of his growing erection. 

Moriarty softly moans, tossing his head back and closing his eyes in pleasure. You cup your hand around him feeling as he grows in size.

“Stick with me kid, I’ve got your back”, he breathes in deeper as you unbutton his trousers. 

“How do I know you mean that?” You ask stopping your motion in order to get his attention. 

“My mother is very ill and I need to make sure she is going to be safe and taken care of”, you firmly explain. 

Jim pushes a strand of hair from your eyes, running the back of his hand along your cheek and jaw line. His eyes glaze over you and his expression is frighteningly still. A small part of you is ready to jump out of the moving car in case this night turns into a different kind of game. But, he simple smiles and the light from his eyes are back into focus. 

“I’ll trust you if you trust me. Your mother will be taken care of as long as you work with me.” He says pulling you back in. 

“What about everything else and Sherlock?” You continue pressing questions. 

Jim pauses for a second, sighing as he grins. 

“Oh love, you sure do like to ask a lot of questions. Smart. To answer your first question, I like you. That is a rarity, so, here we are. Second, we can talk about Sherlock another time for now stick to working for him during the day and nights with me. Satisfied?” 

You nod in agreement trying to process everything Moriarty has described. If working for Moriarty means protecting your mother than so be it. However, you think of the possibility of everything falling apart, then what? 

“I don’t suppose I have a choice?” You remark. 

“You do but I think you’re going to want to stick around. Especially because I know what I can do to make you stay”, he says whilst grabbing a hold of you, kissing you hard but with precision. 

You kiss back throwing yourself into the passion without another word. Jim Moriarty might be your downfall but falling is just like flying. So, where ever this leads you’ll find out when you hit the ground. 

Part 3 coming soon...              

[deducingfangirlsofhell]

Photographic Memory

Pairing: MoriartyxReader, Implied! SherlockxReader Warnings: A bit of foul language, and it’s sad…

Shock. That’s all he could really feel at the moment. Oh, no wait, he could feel his heart being torn from his chest. The little veins being pulled so tightly they snapped, and the beating restrained by the claw that had thrown it out.

“How long’s it been, y/n?” He willed the sentence out to be light-hearted with accent-kissed words, “10 years?” Actually, nine years, three months, and eight days. But who was counting?

“S-Sounds about right, Jim…” You didn’t know what to think. Those eyes were the same as you remembered, those lips with the sharp Cupid’s bow that could say the harshest things, but took so lightly to you… he was the same man you remembered, except for one key difference. He wasn’t Jim anymore- he was Moriarty. You felt Sherlock pull you behind him, not caring for the light look in Moriarty’s eyes as he looked you over with a faint smirk.

“You look… well, the same.” He chuckled almost meaninglessly to himself. Of all the men in London that you could’ve taken to- it had to be Sherlock. Tall bloody smart mouth with his stupid floppy curls and trench coat. Him. Of all people! His arch nemesis!

“Don’t. Talk. To. Her.” Sherlock hissed, teeth pressed tightly together as he glowered at the shorter man. Jim thought about being a smart arse and saying “why not? We’ve made love enough times.” But no. He’d keep that to himself. Besides, it was just as painful for him as it possibly would be to Sherlock.

“Come now, don’t be rude, Sherlock!” Moriarty playfully scolded, “Only catching up a bit.” Sherlock stood firm, his hard glare never leaving the consulting criminal, while the consulting criminal only looked to you. Coal eyes meeting sparkling e/c…

~2008~

Jim pulled up to your flat, and patiently waited. You sneakily slipped in, catching him in a rather peaceful looking moment of looking far-off out his window. You quickly snapped the picture, catching his surprise for a second, before he rolled his eyes.

“Thought we agreed I’m not part of nature, darling.” You shrugged as you looked back at the picture, grinning at the soft look in his usually hard eyes. You looked up to be met with said eyes, and a peck on the cheek.

“You’re not, but I couldn’t resist.” You showed him the photo to him, and he couldn’t help a small chuckle. You kissed his temple, taking your camera back.

“You make for a much better model, love.” He teased as he brought his lips to yours, a deep kiss ensuing. His hand took its usual place on your hip as his tongue slipping across your bottom lip. The kiss ended up being broken by a slap on his shoulder and a girlish giggle.

“We’ve got to go!” He chuckled along with you, and took his hand that had rested so perfectly on your hip and planted it on the steering wheel. His free hand enveloped yours, a fond smile growing on his lips.

“Are you sure you want to leave behind the luxury of London for the adventure of safari photography in Africa?” He questioned as the car pulled away from your flat and headed towards the place that could help you realize your dreams.

“Jim, come on, this is my big shot, and you know that!” You giggled, and he did laugh with you, but if you’d stopped to listen you’d hear how forced it really was. His eyes flicked over to you for a moment, a pang in his chest at the thought that, for seventeen months, that seat might be empty. Soon, he pulled up to the building and you bit your lip eagerly.

“Good luck, babe.” You pressed a quick kiss two his lips and practically leaped from the car.

“See you in an hour, love!” You called, waving as you rushed inside. He waved back, grinning, before it dropped into a deep frown.

“Good bye…”

~Present Day~

“She doesn’t know you.” Sherlock spat out, eyes flickering with a darkness that reminded you of the man across the way. Jim was surprised by the outburst, by the fact you’d kept Sherlock in the dark. It almost made him smile.

“Well, darling, I’m hurt,” He put his hand to his chest to signal his pain, “you didn’t even tell your dear Sherly about me- about us?” He spoke wistfully, song overtaking his voice as he looked to you with softer eyes than he meant to. Sherlock turned slightly to you, but you couldn’t meet his eye. You were still watching Jim, seeing how far he’d take this.

“How about you and I have a little… chat?” He offered, almost sounding polite. Your eyes flicked Sherlock and then back at John, causing the criminal mastermind to groan in annoyance.

“Tell you what; we talk, they live.” He snapped his fingers, and sniper dots spread over them, causing your breath to hitch as you looked to your fiancé. You looked back at Jim, whose eyes were dead and dark, yet seemed to have a light spark of hope.Looking away, at nothing in particular, you nodded. Jim called them off, and motioned for you to follow him. You slowly pulled away from Sherlock, holding onto his hand for as long as you can.

“I’ll be right back… I promise.” You whispered, then followed Jim to another portion of the area. He instant spun around, staring at you, but you couldn’t read what was lying in his eyes. All Jim wanted to do at the moment was scream. And kick, and kill a few people.

“Are. You. Kidding. ME?!” He whispered hoarsely, heart clenching in his chest.

“Nine years- NINE years, y/n!” He barked angrily at you, hurt filling him nearly completely. Okay, maybe a bit of betrayal was mixed into there. “I know…” It was barely audible in a small whisper as you looked down at your feet. You felt his strong hand clasp around your arm, not painfully, but enough to hold onto you as he pulled you closer.

“I loved you for NINE years, and all you have is ‘I know’?!” He hissed, pain flowing through his voice. You risked pulling your eyes to his, and your breath ensnared in your throat.

“Yes.” You exhaled out softly, nodding gently, frightened. His jaw clenched, but his grip loosened slightly, but he took a half-step forward.

“I-I still love you…” He whispered quietly with his free hand coming up to brush a few stray hairs away from your cheek before deciding to rest there. His dark eyes over took yours as you looked at him once again.

“Jim, I- I can’t.” You shook your head, stepping away from him. He laughed once, humorlessly.

“Why? Because of Sherlock? Forget about him, we can start ove-” You had to stop him there. You couldn’t watch him fall into this delusion, this fantasy.

“I’m pregnant.” He stared at you for a long while, shocked but it didn’t mean he relented.

“I don’t care.” At first, all you could do is stare at each other. So, reason number one didn’t take. Then you’d have to be a bit harsher…

“You’re a criminal, Jim.” You said steadfast and solidly. He was lost for a moment, like the sentence made no sense in the context you were saying it, but you… you had to finish.

“I can’t love a criminal.” There. That’s where Jim’s world came crashing down. He hadn’t even realized you’d headed back out, and straight into his nemesis’ arms. All he knew was that every piece of him no longer seemed to matter, because it was just- broken. In the end, you were Sherlock’s, after all…