#louis mtp x reader

[eliasorchard]

i once held the sun — louis j. moriarty x f!reader

: afraid of losing you too, louis decides to push you away first. but things change once his brothers return. he finds himself doing everything in his power to try with you once more. what he doesn't know, is that, after his absence of three years—another presence, a little one had been budding besides you.

: okay i did not expect to stretch this out for so long 😭 i'm sorry for the wait, but here's your fic @crouchingapple :) when i first started this i didn't write it with the intention of writing this long, but i hope you'll like it 🗣️

: 4k+ words. damn....

: louis james moriarty x f!reader, angst, divorce, louis tries to win you back, mentions of death and terrorism, ambiguous ending. i think that's it?

if anybody asked what louis's deepest fear was, you'd—or anyone else really, joke about how it could range from 'finding suspicious marks in the laundry' or 'wilted greens in his cooking'.

but if you delved deeper past the high walls he puts up, looked at the core of the hollow space he could call his heart, it would spell one thing only 'abandonment'. for as long as he knows, he's been bestowed the gift of life, promoted by his brothers' protection. yet, has anybody, in all of the years of his life really asked him if he wanted this? a chance at life and once again?

"good mornin'...." your slurry voice pulled him back from his thoughts, well—most of them. some still lingered in the back of his head. on most mornings, louis simply spends a long time in bed getting ready to exist for the day. his existence is heavy.

the surgery that saved his life, then the protection of his brothers that lasted up until his older brother fell from the bridge and his eldest brother was prosecuted for the crimes that they all committed, that they all were a part of. why is he the only one left behind? why is he the only one that survives?

and yes, perhaps he should be grateful—but what use is a gift he does not want? what use is a life where his family isn't together?

"good morning, (name)." he pulled your body closer to him, embracing the warmth that your body provided. you were so soft early in the mornings, and felt nothing short of heavenly to touch and simply be with. "did you have a good sleep?"

"i did," you smiled at him—lazy and sleepy all at once. it was an endearing sight. louis vowed to protect you in his mind. no matter what it would cost him. after all, you were the only alive presence in the walls of this house. "did you?"

louis nodded. "more or less." and then the telephone rang.

he, quickly alerted, propped himself up on his elbows, picking the telephone that was on the nightstand beside him. both you and him knew who would call so early in the morning.

"yes.... yes, of course... alright then, i will be right there." he would answer back between every few pauses, the caller speaking between them. eventually, he put the telephone down and looked at you, shooting you an apologetic glance.

he'd planned to take the day off and spend the entire day with you, and with that in mind, you'd taken your day off at your job too. but duty calls. perhaps at the worst of times.

"it's okay, louis." you said to him, sending him an encouraging smile. with a hand gesture, you dismissed him. "i'll be fine. at least i'll have the day to spoil myself. you go on."

with furrowed eyebrows, he got off the bed, changing into his outdoor clothes. he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "i'm sorry." he mumbled anyway. "i'll see you later this evening. i love you."

"of course." you answered back, although your voice was slightly tighter. monotonous. rehearsed. you both knew he was lying when he would say he would come home soon or anywhere around the evening/afternoon during job days. "i love you, too."

the door clicked shut.

"absolutely not." louis exclaimed, but you would not listen to him. he was feeling frustrated. infact, why should you? nobody gets to dictate what things you do or how you do them.

"are you even listening to yourself?" you shot back. you gestured towards his body, which was a bandaged, bloody mess. crime rates had risen after the fall of the lord of crime, and crime syndicates and organized crime would often fall into wars—with the M16 trying to eradicate the groups and ease the fear that had been simmering in the minds of the people of britain.

and this was the outcome of it—a terrorist attack.

"you can't go out there again," you were firm. it was one of the things that made louis fall in love with you. "not in this state."

"i have a job to do out there, (name). lives are at stake. it's dangerous out there. people are dying." louis huffed.

"i understand, i do, but you're not in the state to lead M16 right now. i have experience with this, i've done this with you and the others before. i can do this, louis. please. trust me, won't you?"

"it's not about trust, god— it's—" louis snapped his mouth shut. you shot him an inquisitive look, raising an eyebrow, waiting for him to say something. but he didn't. how could he say anything to you at all? you were right. you were capable in every sense, you were smart, had a good relationship with everyone else.. it's almost like you were perfect for the job. he was just afraid.

afraid of something happening to you. to you, of all people. terrified, absolutely terrified you would leave him as well.

"well..?"

louis sighed, resigned and tired. he'd been out there for 24 hours. the wounds and the fatigue was getting to him. "alright..."

"i'm glad!" you squealed, hugging him (perhaps too tightly) and forcing a pained groan to leave his chapped lips.

the fluorescent lights of the emergency shelter burned into your eyes as you sit on the edge of the bed. it's too bright here—too clean. too still. you can still hear the dull hum of the explosion.

that constant ringing in your ears, as if the sound had been carved into your skull. you can't shake it. it won't leave you. it's all you can hear. the doctor is speaking to you, but her lips are moving like she's underwater. the words don’t reach you, just echoes in the distance, hollow and thin. incomprehensible.

"can you hear me? hello? blink if you can hear me."

you look down at your hands, fingers trembling. the blood on your shirt isn’t yours—at least you don’t think it is. everything around you feels strange. the fabric feels sticky and damp, clinging to your skin. you're shaking violently. you can't feel it.

everything that was said was a low hum. the doctor spoke to her nurses in a quiet yet determined manner. "patient’s non-responsive. let’s check for any signs of head trauma or further shock. we may need a sedative or anything to stabilize."

the doctor waved a hand in front of your face. "can you try to hold my hand? anything at all to tell us you're aware?"

she’s checking your vitals, but you're not here. you're back there. in the smoke. in the chaos. among the dead bodies.

"(name)?!" your name was being shouted at the top of somebody's lungs. familiar, you think. there's panic in the voice. great horror and fear. desperation. hope. "(name)— where are you? (name)! please, please tell me where you are!"

you want to call out but your tongue feels heavy.

the new voice finally cuts through the static. you blinked and saw the doctor, her face blurry at the edges. her words slowly filtered in, but you didn't understand them. you see, but you don't register. the doctor turns to face a new face. it's louis. they exchanged a few words, he turns towards you and—

"thank god— thank god you're safe," louis was clutching tightly onto you, as if you would be gone forever if he let go. his face was buried into your neck, shuddering breaths leaving him. tears from his eyes pool down the length of your neck. "(name), i was so worried, i— i thought i would lose you.."

and suddenly it clicks. you're pulled back from the depths of your mind. and the memories come flashing in bursts; screams. crying. wails of injured stray animals. smoke. the rush of people, the press of piles upon piles of bodies trying to get away, the chaos swallowing them whole. you think you saw several people go down, but everything after that is a blur. there was no time to react, no time to process. just running. just trying to survive.

a tear trickles down your cheek. your throat feels tight. then more tears: an incessant waterfall that refuses to stop. the moment his hands touch you, something inside you snaps. the numbness, the disconnection, all of it shatters, and you feel everything all at once. overwhelmingly so. your body collapses into him, shaking uncontrollably. you don’t even realize your fingernails are digging into him, but you can’t let go. you can’t.

"louis— louis i was so scared, i— there were so many bodies. so much blood. so much gore," everything rushes past you like a broken dam. "i should've known! i should've done something! i should've been able to save all those people— i failed! i failed!"

"nonono— please, pretty, it wasn't your fault. none of it was. it never will be." louis says hurriedly, brows furrowed in worry. his breath hitches as he holds you, his own panic simmering beneath the surface — but he tries to stay steady for you. "oh, (name)..." he whispers, voice breaking. "shhh.. you're okay, you’re okay now, (name)… you're safe here. i'm here with you, shh..."

you should feel relief, right? you made it out. you're alive. louis is right here, holding you. but instead there’s this emptiness, this strange void where the emotions should've been. maybe this is what shock feels like. maybe this is just how it is now. you wonder if you'll ever hear anything besides this ringing again.

survivor's guilt is an all consuming thing.

you could have never in a hundred years prepared yourself for the news he dropped on you friday night. you knew he had been acting strange for some time now: tense, heavy and conflicted. but you certainly never would've expected this, of all. he was terrified. terrified of something happening to you, especially after what happened only a few weeks ago.

"mr. louis wishes to file a divorce with you," the lawyer placed the divorce papers on the table in front of you.

"what?" your tome of voice was sharp. unbelieving. the very notion of divorce seemed absurd to you. "divorce? please, i don't like jokes like these— where's louis? i want to meet louis."

"my client does not wish to talk to you, mrs. (name)." his lawyer looked at you, unfeeling and cold, as if you were some sort of unworthy pest. "all we require from you is your signature," he tapped at the lower end of the page. "....right here."

you could feel tears pooling at the corners of your eyes. how could he? rage and anguish were a heavy combination and you, standing, had to grasp onto a chair to ground yourself. he didn't even bother coming here himself? was he ever such a coward?

after a rather lengthy talk with louis's lawyer, you finally relented and picked up the pen he'd passed to you. your tears had dried long ago. now all that remained was numbness. "fine." you said flatly, voice hoarse, and imprinted your signature on the paper.

"should we get more apples?"

"damnit, we've been walking around and buying things all day. this wasn't why i accompanied the two of you, ya know."

fred and louis exchanged glances amongst each other, then shrugged, nodding amongst themselves. louis had sworn to himself that he wouldn't return to this part of the city again, but the venue was already set and he didn't want to inconvenience his reunited brothers. "you're right... perhaps we have been buying a little too much."

"thank god for common sense," moran exclaims, sarcastic yet grateful.

"it's just... my brothers have come home after years. i thought we could have dinner together. like the old days." louis muttered.

moran slung an arm around louis's shoulder, to which the blond flinched, visibly annoyed—but held his tongue. fred smiled. the three chatted amongst themselves until moran pointed something out. "hey, wait.. hold on. ain't that your ex-wife?"

but perhaps he shouldn't have, because he watched the subtle, barely noticeable smile on louis's face drop, eyes widening.

there you were, after three years—strolling around the afternoon market as well. you looked more tired than before. aged. but yet there was still a smile present on your face. softer, but heavy.

"please put these in the bag as well.." "of course, miss."

what hit louis harder in the guts was when a little girl, not older than three years came rushing up to you and wrapped his little fingers around your index. "can we go home please?"

"alright, my dear," you ruffle the girl's hair a bit and smile down at her. "i'm almost done here, okay? and we'll go home."

the world shifted for louis. his pulse roared in his ears, drowning out the bustling sounds of the market. his heart was beating unusually fast. this child, there was something about her that took louis's breath away from a suspicion.

"louis?" moran’s voice broke through the haze, but louis didn’t respond. his gaze stayed fixed on you, on the child. your back was turned as you carefully handed the grocer another item, a calm smile still gracing your face, but your shoulders were tense—always ready, as if you were carrying something heavier than the bag you clutched. and louis couldn’t look away.

"fred—do you see this?" moran murmured, his voice hushed.

"she has a kid." fred frowned, stealing a glance at louis before muttering, "we should go. louis—" but louis stepped forward, barely hearing them. his legs moved on instinct, his heart in his throat. he'd practiced this speech several times, the apologies he'd say to you, the amends he'd make.. but now that you're all of a sudden infront of louis, louis's words fail himself too easily.

"(name)..?"

your name came out hoarse, like a breath dragged from his chest. you froze. slowly, you turned, the smile slipping from your lips as your gaze locked with his.

your eyes widened, then narrowed slightly, guarded. "louis." the girl tugged at your hand, looking up at you with innocent curiosity. "mom? who’s that?"

mom.

the word sliced a blade of guilt through his ribs.

"just... an old friend, darling." your voice was steady, but louis didn’t miss the slight tremor underneath. you smoothed the girl’s hair gently before straightening, pulling her just a little closer.

"is she—?" louis started, but his voice cracked, and he couldn’t finish. the question hung between you, heavy and unspoken.

"don't." you whispered sharply, the softness in your expression replaced with something colder. protective.

louis swallowed hard. "why didn’t you tell me?" you stared at him, and for a moment, he thought you might break—that you’d shout, cry, something. but instead, you took a steady breath.

"i didn’t know," you said quietly, your voice laced with exhaustion. "not until after." the weight of your words hit him like a freight train. he stumbled back a step, his hands trembling at his sides. three years. three years of absence. three years of her growing up without him. without knowing who he was.

"i—" he tried, but you shook your head.

"it doesn’t change anything, louis."

"but it does," he croaked. his gaze fell to the little girl now peeking curiously from behind your leg. his daughter. his daughter. his chest constricted painfully. "what’s her name?"

you hesitated, as though you didn’t want to give him that much, but you sighed softly. "amelia."

amelia. it sounded so sweet and delicate, and the ache in his chest deepened. she glanced up at him again, her big, inquisitive eyes so achingly familiar—his eyes. louis blinked, his throat tightening. "(name,) listen, i..." he said softly, desperately.

"please." you tensed again, fingers curling protectively around amelia’s small hand. "louis..." there was a warning in your tone, but it faltered as you looked at him—really looked at him. and for a fleeting moment, he saw the pain you’d carried, the years that hadn’t been kind to you.

"please, hear me out. i.. i want to know her. and you, again. she’s not just anyone, she's my daughter." he whispered, taking another tentative step closer. "and you—" he took in a sharp breath. "you're the love of my life."

"you mean to say i was." you hissed. "and where were you, louis? how can you be so shameful?" your voice cracked this time, tears threatening to spill as your gaze hardened. "where were you when i needed you most? when i thought i was alone? you left me. you didn't even bother telling me yourself!"

louis couldn’t answer. he could only stare at you with pained eyes, shattered by the truth of it. he knew you were right. he hadn’t been there. he had walked away. like a fool. like a coward. and now, he had to face the cost. you pulled amelia closer and glanced over your shoulder. "we should go."

"wait... please—" he choked out.

"goodbye, louis."

louis didn’t see you again for weeks after that day at the market, but it was as though his entire world had shifted. every second, every thought, every sleepless night brought him back to you and to amelia. he could still see her curious eyes looking up at him, so achingly familiar, and it only made the guilt weigh heavier. he had to see you again. had to try.

it started small. a knock at your door one rainy evening startled you, and when you opened it, there was nothing but a basket of your favourite fruits resting on your doorstep with a note tucked inside. "thought you might need these. - L."

you stared at the familiar scrawl for far too long before shutting the door with a sigh, leaving the basket there.

a week later, he showed up at the market where you often shopped, hands shoved nervously into his pockets as he watched you from afar. you noticed him immediately—how could you not?—but you ignored him, pretending not to care as you handed amelia a light bag to carry.

"mom? that man’s looking at you," she whispered loudly. you shot louis a glare over your shoulder, and he had the decency to look sheepish.

"he’s no one, darling," you muttered under your breath, though your chest tightened painfully when amelia turned to give louis a small wave. "but you said he was your friend." "not anymore."

and so it continued. louis didn’t push, didn’t demand answers or try to force his way into your life. instead, he lingered on the edges, trying to prove himself in the only ways he knew how. he offered to help when he saw you struggling to carry groceries. he left small bouquets of your favorite flowers at your door—nothing extravagant, just thoughtful. he even fixed the broken hinge on your garden gate one morning while you were out, leaving behind no trace but a silent repair.

you wanted to be angry. you tried to be angry. but as the days turned to weeks, that sharp edge you’d held onto for years began to dull. louis didn’t ask for forgiveness. he didn’t demand anything from you. he just showed up, day after day, carrying the weight of his mistakes quietly, trying to make amends.

then one evening, you found him sitting on the stone steps outside your door, soaked to the bone from the sudden downpour. you let out a deep sigh. "what are you doing here, louis?" your voice was tired, but not sharp this time.

he flinched, then looked up at you—hair plastered to his forehead, eyes softer than you'd ever seen them. "i needed to talk to you."

"there's nothing to talk about," you replied, crossing your arms.

"please," he breathed, standing slowly. "i know i don’t deserve this. any of this. any of you, and her. i don't even deserve to be standing in front of you here right now. but i—” he ran a hand through his wet hair, words failing him as his chest heaved. "i need you to know that i’m sorry... for everything."

you stared at him for a long while, your resolve trembling as you caught the raw desperation in his gaze. "sorry doesn’t change what happened, louis. it doesn’t change the years we lost."

"i know, i know" he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. "i know it doesn’t. but i promise— i swear i’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it right, if you’ll let me."

you swallowed hard, unable to look away as he stepped closer. you didn't know what to say, nor what to do. "and amelia?"

louis blinked, his expression softening even more at the sound of her name. "i want to know her. i want to be there for her, for both of you. i don’t want to miss anything else. i can't."

you felt your walls cracking. "it’s not that simple, louis."

"i know." he said, voice steady now but quiet at the same time. "i'm not walking away this time. you don't need to take me back, just... give me a chance to prove myself to you."

silence hung between you, heavy and uncertain. part of you still wanted to push him away, to protect yourself from the pain you"d carried for so long. but the other part—the part that had never stopped loving him, no matter how much you tried—wanted to believe him. "we’ll see," you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "that’s all i can give you right now."

louis exhaled shakily, nodding as though you’d just given him the world. and perhaps you really did. he ran a hand through his wet hair. you were the sun in his life, the most bright and beautiful thing in it. and because of what he did, he lost you. and he knows. he knows what he did wrong. "that's more than enough."

your heart was thumping in your chest. you weren’t sure what the future held as louis turned to leave, but for the first time in three entire years, you let yourself feel something close to hope.

louis didn’t take your "we'll see" lightly. in fact, he treated it like a promise. a mission. from that day on, he made it his journey to prove to you—and to amelia—that he wasn’t the man he used to be. afraid and insecure. he wasn’t going to walk away again.

it started with the little things, because louis knew you well enough to understand you wouldn’t be won over with grand, material gestures. so he showed up in the ways that mattered.

one morning, you stepped out onto your porch to find a neatly packed lunch sitting on the steps with a note: "thought you might have a busy day. take care of yourself. - L." you rolled your eyes, but this time—you took it. inside was your favorite food and a thermos of your favourite drink, perfectly made—just how you used to like it. it was louis's cooking, you were sure. it'd been years since you had that, and it made you a little emotional.

another time, you came home from work to find your garden neatly weeded, the flowers you'd neglected blooming brighter than before. when you asked your neighbor if she'd seen anyone around, she only shrugged and said to you, "a blond man came by. seemed determined to get his hands dirty. i thought you knew him. should i stop him if he comes next time?"

you paused, then shook your head. "no... it's okay."

amelia noticed too. "mom, who fixed the swing in the backyard?" she asked one afternoon, gleefully testing the sturdy rope. you didn’t answer, though you had a pretty good idea.

"i'm not so sure, dear." you said as you gave her a push.

then there was the day he showed up again, not watching you from afar this time, but waiting with two bags of apples in his hands. you gave him a wary look. "you’re still at this, huh?"

"what can i say? i’m stubborn," he replied softly, a tiny smile tugging at his lips as he held out one of the bags. "for amelia. i hear she likes apple pie."

"did the neighbours tell you that?"

louis shrugged, keeping quiet.

"and you think you can win her over with apples?" you scoffed, unable to hide your own smile. you took the bag anyway.

"no," he said quietly, holding your gaze. "but i"ll try."

then he'd take you out to lunch, dinner—any meal he could take you too. any time you showed interest in any particular item, next thing you knew, he'd be whipping out his wallet.

what broke you, though, was the day amelia came home from school with stars in her eyes. "mom!" she shouted, dropping her backpack with a thud. "guess who picked me up today?"

your heart dropped. “who?”

"that man who always looks at you at the market. uh—what'd he say his name was..? oh right! louis!” she said excitedly. "he said he used to know you and that he wanted to help you out today since you were busy."

your hands froze as you held onto the dish you were scrubbing, water dripping off your fingertips. "he... what?"

"he bought me ice cream too." amelia added happily, completely unaware of the storm that's begun building inside you at that.

louis showed up at your door that evening before you could call him. "you overstepped." you snapped as soon as you opened it, crossing your arms and blocking the doorway. but he didn’t flinch. he looked earnest, as though he’d prepared for this. "i asked you not to meet her. atleast not yet. why don't you listen? why don't you give a damn about what i think?"

"you're right. and i'm sorry." he said, hands raised in surrender. "but you said you had an important meeting today. i couldn’t just sit back and do nothing. she’s my daughter too."

"she could've stayed at school with the teachers. they stay at least until five pm. i would've been done by then." your chest ached, and you turned your eyes away from him. "you don’t get to act like her father just because it’s convenient now."

"this isn’t about convenience." he shot back, his voice low, but steady. "it's about her. it's about you. i missed three years, (name). three years i can’t get back, no matter how hard i try. but i am trying. and i won’t stop."

louis's words hung heavy in the air. when you finally turned to look at him, his expression was softer, raw with emotion. "i don’t expect you to forgive me overnight." he whispered. "you don't even need to. but i want to be here... in your life. in her's. as much as you'll allow me to. but please, atleast for amelia's sake.. please try to give me a chance. even if just a little."

for a long moment, neither of you spoke. then, quietly, you asked, "why now, louis? why does this matter to you so much?"

he hesitated, searching for the right words. "because i still love you," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "i always have. i was just too much of a coward back then. i.. i thought that if i continued to stay by your side, you'd get hurt. that something would happen again. i thought i had lost my brothers, (name). i couldn't lose you—not you too. never you."

you felt the tears sting your eyes, but you blinked them away. "but you did anyway. you lost me when you sent your lawyer to collect my signature on the divorce papers."

louis exhaled, furrowed eyebrows and nodding. "i did.. but i thought it would be much better than find you—" he couldn't even get the words out. so, he whispered. "dead."

"..." you paused. "love can't always fix everything."

"but maybe it's a start."

for the next few months, he took things slow, giving you space when you needed it, but always making sure you knew he was there. he learned amelia’s favorite bedtime stories and showed up to watch her school performances. he memorized your routine, leaving small, thoughtful surprises in his wake—fresh flowers on fridays, your favorite pastry waiting for you at the café. it wasn’t flashy, it wasn’t grand, but it was louis.

slowly, something began to shift. you let him walk you and amelia home from the market one evening. you let him sit with you on the porch while the little girl played. you even let him make dinner one night when you were too tired to argue. amelia beamed the whole time, delighted by the way louis taught her how to fold dumplings properly.

"he's nice, mom," she whispered later that night, curling into your side as you tucked her in. "and he makes you smile more too."

you didn’t have an answer for that.

the first time you invited louis inside on a rainy afternoon, he nearly dropped the umbrella he was holding. "are you coming or not?" you teased, raising an eyebrow.

louis was flustered, he didn't know what to say—the colour pink coated his cheeks. "i... yes— yes. okay. i am. i'm.. i'm coming in."

when you handed him a steaming mug of tea, his fingers brushed yours, and for the first time in years, it didn’t hurt to let him close. amelia came rushing in from her bedroom, excited to show a clumsy drawing she'd made of you, her and him. he took a small sip from his cup, and picked amelia onto his lap.

"we'll see." you'd said months ago. now louis let himself believe that maybe—just maybe, he was earning his second chance.

@ELIASORCHARD — do not steal, retranslate or repost.

[vampirefyodor]

"You are the most jealous man i know!"

"you know the other men?"

IZANA KUROKAWA, William moriarty, NIKOLAI GOGOL, Chuuya nakahara, LOUIS MORIARTY, Undertaker, Claude fautus, SANO MANJIRO, Baji keisuke, YUTA OKKOTSU

[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

[saioratral]

PAIRING: various characters of mtp x gn! reader

PROMPT: when was the last time you said you loved me, and meant it? SYNOPSIS: how would they react when you ask them about the last time they loved you and whether they meant it

WARNING: none NOTE: my first time writing like this... i had fun and i hope you guys enjoy reading! also kinda changed my format haha

TEAM MORIARTY:

WILLIAM leans back in his office chair, the papers he was once marking now forgotten. a faint smile curves his lips as his calculating gaze locks onto yours. "the last time?" he repeats, his voice smooth and thoughtful. "and when did i mean it?" he inches his hand closer, fingers grazing yours ever so slightly. "i never take my love for you lightly," he continues, his voice soft yet deliberate. "but to indulge your question, it would be when i first asked for your love. actions speak louder than words, don't they?" his mind drifts to that moment, your shared history, as he answers you

the tea cup reaches the table with a small shake from the owner who was in charge of setting it. LOUIS glances up at you, a flicker of discomfort flashing across his face. for a brief moment, his vulnerable eyes looked for you before he regained his composure.  "i don’t often say it out loud, and i apologize for that," he murmurs, his voice sincere. "but i do love you, and i always mean it. every breath, every thought, every decision i make is because of you and you only. i love you.. alot”

ALBERT chuckles softly, his fingers loosely gripping his wine glass, a playful glint in his eyes. another question, another opportunity to keep you on the edge of his little game. he clears his throat before answering, his voice light and teasing, "last time? i can't recall exactly. but i do love you. i express it through my loyalty to you. would today be a good time to show it, darling?"

now this is a bit tricky, from MORAN'S perspective. his gaze darkens, and he averts his eyes as if looking at you would betray whatever he was hiding in his heart. "when you ask if i meant it... how about you look back at every moment you've been kept safe?" his rough voice cuts out all possible thoughts. he gives a long sigh, clearly done by your random questions

FRED laughs awkwardly, running a hand through his hair as if trying to dismiss the discomfort your question brings. he clearly isn't used to questions like this, but he tries! “i am in a tough spot.. i think when i go out of my way to help you, that is a way for me to express how much i love you, you know. you just have to read between the lines”. he gives you a sheepish grin that 100% kept you up all night with a giddy feeling 

a puzzled look accompanied HERDER'S face (how could you tell? a little game of guess from your side). standing tall, he tilts his head slightly, as if considering how best to respond. “my actions are my affirmation, from me to you”.... and that’s it. you're not getting anything more than that unless you threaten to jump off a window. you could try.. i guess.. 

JAMES meets your gaze with a teasing smile, sensing your growing frustration. he raises a finger to his lips, gesturing that it was a secret, and cue for your frustrated self to give up. he knows the answer very well, he really meant it. why else would he risk everything, time and time again, for you and you alone?

MONEYPENNY, ever composed, gives you a small, warm smile, her expression as if a memory train had hit her. "i'm not the type to speak my feelings directly," she replies, her voice cool yet tender. when you press her for more, she hesitates for just a moment before answering. "perhaps when i put my trust in you... that’s when i truly mean it. my love for you lies in the trust i place in you”

TEAM HOLMES:

SHERLOCK… oh sherlock. 101% he’s either going to be confused as hell or awkward from the sudden question because he thinks he’s in trouble. “i don’t think i’ve ever said it out loud,” he murmurs, brows furrowing as he thinks it over. “but if i did, i most likely meant it”.  there's a brief pause, he looks at you for a while. you are in awe because sherlock??? actually being romantic?? someone frame this moment as fast as possible. “i just prefer to show you my affection through actions. that way, you’ll know that i love you,” he says, defending his way of expressing love 

JOHN, on the other hand, offers you a warm smile, though internally he’s having an entire crisis. he’s taken off guard by the question but quickly pulls himself together before you can notice. “i can’t point to just one single moment, but i assure you, the last time i said it, and every time before that- i meant it. i love you, and i mean it. more than words could ever convey”. he doesn’t shy away to remind you of it after all, if sherlock doesn't barge in and ruin the moment 

MISS HUDSON would smile softly, her voice warm and full of affection. “my dear, i say it every time!” she teases lightly, her eyes twinkling. “every time i bring you your afternoon tea, your dinner, or even do the laundry- it’s all because i love you! the small things i do for you, and you only. i think words are too formal, fake if you call it”, her gentle voice reminds you. she would throw in a wink too, all because she loves you 

ah yes, how can MYCROFT express those hidden feelings without sounding like a broken record or feeling awkward? he forces the words out, determined to let you know, even if they sound a bit unemotional.  “i don’t express myself as freely as you might prefer,” he admits. “it’s not in my nature. but you should know that i care for you". simple thoughtful words that somehow make you fall in love again 

© saioratral 2024-25 -- do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission. Any characters used in my work do not belong to me, they are created by their original creator. all images used are from pinterest

[lvest]

ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹ William James Moriarty, Albert James Moriarty, and Louis James Moriarty with depressed!reader. (seperated!)

|| Trying out new stuff, if i can write something with this topic then I'll write more. Sorry if i mischaracterize them. T-T.

|| Tw : mentioned of suicide, depression, opinions.ᐟ

ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹ William James Moriarty .ᐟ.ᐟ

In my opinion, he'll notices the signs instantly. He's an observant person after all, he noticed how you act whenever you look at the mirror and at yourself, how you seemed to be more self aware or self conscious when you're close with him.

He won't directly asked you, he wouldn't ask but wait for you to bring up the topic and would help you with actions or words, if you decided to tell him about it he'll listened and tried to help you step by step, he's a consultant after all.

If he knew you're planning to kill yourself he'll try to stay by your side for who knows how long, he wouldn't let that happen, no. He'll talk it out with you, not pushing you to tell him about it if you're uncomfortable, but he'll wait but doesn't mean he won't look out for you. He would watch you from afar, he would also asked Louis to hide anything sharp or anything that you could think of to off yourself. Not that he'll tell you, but he'll be more gentle than usual. (He's always but.. y'know)

He'll asked Louis to keep an eye out for you if he's out, however expect he'll never leave your side if it's not an emergency. (Mission, professor stuff etc.)

Overrall a good listener and will give the best advice, he'll show that he cares for you by actions and words, how he'll be so gentle and attentive to you whenever you're feeling depressed. He'll help you realize your worth by helping you with loving yourself first and then he'll help you to shoo away those bad thoughts.

ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹ Albert James Moriarty .ᐟ.ᐟ

He might not noticed the signs at first but the more you act around him, he'll notice it. He wanted to asked you about it but he doesn't want you to be uncomfortable and decided to wait for the right moment.

That right moment being him finding you crying in your shared bedroom, he immediately rushed towards you as you then opened up to him about how he deserves someone who is equal.

He would listened to all of your pent up emotions and wouldn't brush it off easily, he would listened while caressing your hand with his thumb while giving you his full attention.

If he heard you planning to kill yourself, he would asked Louis or Sebastian to keep an eye on you since he's busy being the head of Moriarty and couldn't be home for most days, still he'll help you step by step no matter how long it takes.

He'll hide all the sharp things that could hurt you or kill you even, hiding it in place you never knew after all he and the brothers knows about the house more than you do.

Overall he'll help you whenever you're feeling depressed or even a slightest bit of sad, if he can't be there he'll write to you, sending letters asking about your day or how you're doing and sometimes he'll send you little gifts to cheer you up.

ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹ Louis James Moriarty .ᐟ.ᐟ

He'll also noticed if you act a little "different" what i meant by different is how you avoid mirrors and starts to skipped meals, that's when he got suspicious.

He'll not directly asked you but will observe you from afar, keeping an eye out if someone words or actions is making you do this, but when he learned you are actually depressed he'll help you..

He's not good with words but will show you with actions, like if you told him about how everything is hard, how the slightest mishaps can make you burst into tears, or how the simplest thing makes you tired.

He'll listened throughout the whole process, no matter what, even if you accidentally spilled tea all over you or how it's hard for you to leave the bed. He'll help you by showing you affection, making you meals and making sure you are not skipping meals again.

In my opinion, i think he'll leave little note on your nightstand, saying things he couldn't say. He'll leave a note everyday, each with encouragement and unsaid feelings he can't say with words along with a small little flower attached to it everyday.

If he heard how you're planning to kill yourself he'll went into panic mode, he'll be so worried and tried to stop you by hiding all the sharp objects and asking for advice from William.

Overrall he'll not say much but he'll help with actions, he can't convey his feelings to words but he'll leave little notes that he hope will help you get more confident and more free from those thoughts that haunt you.

[cupidandcherubs]

spirit photography

[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

[fairy-writes]

Hello!! If requests are still open (if not, please ignore) can I ask for a Louis Moriarty x reader like the Mycroft “regret” one you wrote? Where he says something mean and they get into a fight and it’s dramatic with a fluffy ending? I would appreciate it very much! ♥️

SWEET APOLOGIES

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing(s): Louis James Moriarty x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Angst to Fluff, Arguments, Injuries

Notes: I really hope this is alright! I was second-guessing myself the entire time 😭

__________________________________________________________________________

Your name being shouted makes you prick your finger on your sewing needle. You curse and drop the thing onto your current project which happened to be a pair of Moran’s trousers. You were often asked to sew various things, whether that was an injury or socks. You were the Moriarty’s tailor or seamster and makeshift doctor. 

The voice shouts your name again. Moran maybe? But wasn’t he out with Bonde and Louis?

You make it to the top of the stairs and stop dead in your tracks.

Louis hangs limp between Sebastian Moran and James Bonde. Blood drips from his forehead, and he’s clearly unconscious and missing his glasses.

You’re down the stairs in an instant. 

You direct them to the sitting room, where you have them leave Louis while you retrieve your stitching needles and threads, as well as some medical supplies like bandages and whiskey.

Because you know he’s going to need it when he wakes up.

“What happened to him?” You ask as you gently work his suit coat from his shoulders. Moran favors his right side, and you make a mental note to take a look at him after Louis. Bonde has a scratch above his left eye but otherwise looks unharmed.

“We were jumped,” Moran says, voice strained with pain, and if you had to guess, he has a couple of cracked or broken ribs. You end up handing him the bottle of whiskey to which he takes several long swigs. 

Soon enough, you dismiss Moran and Bonde, promising them you’ll look at their injuries later, leaving you and Louis alone in the sitting room. He lets out a pained moan as you agitate his injuries in your attempt to remove his shirt but doesn’t awaken.

It isn’t until you are threading your needle that he stirs. By that time, you had bandaged his lesser wounds and were working on what looked like a knife cut on his collarbone. It’s awkward and long, and you’re fairly certain that his shirt is partially shredded because of it. 

But your rage has started to grow. Tiny and hot like a dying ember, but slowly fed by your worry and panic at seeing him so injured. 

His already darkened maroon eyes are even darker because of the pain. He grits his teeth and tries to sit up but is stopped by you putting a gentle hand on his chest.

“Don’t get up. You’re hurt.” You say quietly, keeping a tight leash on your anger so as to not anger him. 

The last thing you needed was for him to get angry back and start an argument. 

“I’m fine.” He tries, but you glare and show him your bloody fingers where you had been stitching for the last twenty minutes. 

“Clearly you aren’t. So be quiet and let me finish.” You snap, the leash on your temper fraying just the tiniest bit. 

Thankfully, Louis catches your slip and doesn’t say anything. Instead, he bites his tongue and leans back against the couch arm. You’ll likely have to throw the couch out or burn it after you’re done. It’s stained in blood and grime from his injuries.

As soon as you finish the last stitch, Louis is sitting up and pushing your hands away. 

“I promise I’m fine.” He says quickly, and that’s when your patience snaps. 

“What do you mean you’re fine?! THIS IS NOT FINE!” You shout, and he stops where he’s shrugging on his button-down and suit coat. His movements are painfully slow, and it’s clear that he’s suffering. 

But that doesn’t stop his temper from flaring up to meet yours like two bucks charging each other. 

“Can you stop it for a moment?!” He snaps back and yanks on his suit coat, ignoring how it pulls his stitches. You toss the dirty needle back into your bag and feel tears burn in your eyes. 

“You promised me you weren’t going to be reckless! You promised!” You exclaim, and he grits his teeth,

“Well, promises can be broken, so just leave me alone, yeah?” He says, and you flinch back. 

Then, with tears threatening to overflow down your cheeks, you pack up your things and leave with a slam of the sitting room door. It rattles the chandelier above you as you wander the mansion halls in search of Bonde and Moran. 

You find Moran in his chambers, smoking a cigarette and shuffling a deck of cards. 

“Those’ll kill you, y’know.” You say as a way of entrance and he looks up, clearly unimpressed. 

“Then I’ll die doing somethin’ I like.” He retorts, and you roll your eyes, shuffling inside to take a seat across from him. 

“Take your shirt off.” You say curtly, and he huffs out a laugh, 

“At least buy me a drink first.” You look up to the ceiling and pray for patience. Because after Louis, you don’t have any left. 

Did he really want you to leave him alone? 

“I need to see if you broke anything dumbass.” You say eventually, and his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.

“What’d Louis do t’ you t’ get your knickers in a twist?” He says, clearly picking up on your foul mood. You set your bag down and reach inside for bandages in case he’s bleeding. 

“Nothing. Louis just wants me to leave him alone, is all.” You say and swallow down the lump in your throat. 

If he was so willing to break this promise what others was he going to break?

Thankfully, Moran doesn’t say anything else and instead sheds his shirt so you can take a look at his side. It’s mottled in purples and blues and slightly swollen. You don’t have to touch it to know it’s tender. So, you prescribe him rest and the occasional shot of whiskey to dull the pain. 

“No missions for you for a while. Take it easy, alright?” You instruct and he nods, waving you off as he starts playing a card game with himself.

“Yeah, yeah, go check on Blondie, will ya? He took a pretty good look to the head.” 

You are about to say something when you see Louis hobbling down the hallway, favoring his stitches. He stops, looks at you, scowls, and continues down toward his bedroom. You huff and brush past him toward where you guessed Bonde would be.

Two can play that game. 

The tension between you is palpable by day four of not speaking to each other. Perhaps it was day two, but you didn’t really care to count—not when Louis was still being so touchy.

But it wasn’t long before everyone else came to you, asking you to make things right.

“He’s so mopey! Not at all like himself!” That was Bonde. You grunted to acknowledge his words but didn’t respond past that. 

“He’s got a stick up his ass. You should talk to him.” Moran. At that, you roll your eyes and stab your needle into your embroidery. Perhaps more aggressively than you meant to, but it got your point across. 

“He said he wanted me to leave him alone. So that’s what I’m doing.” You snap, and he relents and doesn’t push the issue anymore. 

Soon, everyone has come to you, complaining about Louis’s sour behavior. And every single time, you turn them away with the same excuse. It isn’t until you stumble upon Louis nursing a clearly infected injury that you relent and talk to him. 

You enter the library to find Louis hunched over himself, taking a long pull from a whiskey bottle as he tries to remove his stitches. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” You snap, hurrying to his side to stop him before stopping yourself. 

The injury on his collarbone is infected—that much is obvious. The wound has an unpleasant odor emanating from it and is red and inflamed. He’s successfully removed a handful of stitches, but a few remain. 

“What does it look like?” Louis retorts and sets down the whiskey bottle. It’s clear he’s in pain, his nose scrunched and his eyes tight. 

Despite your anger, you’re gentle in helping Louis. After some back and forth, he eventually sits back and lets you work. 

Pus oozes from the gash, and you work to clean it out and apply a poultice of your own design to help fight infection. Then, you leave the wound open to breathe. 

“I’ll restitch it later if it starts bleeding again.” You say and begin cleaning up the mess that Louis had made.

He stops you by saying your name oh so softly. You sigh, stop what you’re doing, and look at him. He looks sad. Broken. And hurt. 

“I don’t want to keep fighting.” He says, and you scoff,

“You told me to leave you alone. So I am.” You say and go to leave but he catches your wrist as you stand to leave.

“I’m sorry.” He blurts, and you stop, raising an eyebrow at him, and he continues. 

“It was never my intention to hurt you. I want you to know that. It’s no excuse, but I was in pain and upset that the mission went so badly. But I took it out on you, and I’m sorry.” He finishes, and with each word, you feel your anger dissipating. You lean down and press your mouth to his hairline in a soft kiss. 

“I accept your apology. Thank you, Louis.” You whisper, and he smiles.

[moriartyluver]

Good day, it's me again 😌

Just a little question; how would William, Albert and Louis react to William's wife calling the other two "brother"?

Thank you in advance 💕

A/N: this is such a cute concept! Thank you for your request!!

Characters: William James Moriarty x fem! Reader, platonic louis & Albert x fem! Reader

Format: headcannons & scenario

Prompt: How would Albert and Louis react to William’s wife calling them ‘brother’?

Genre: fluff, comedy

Warnings: Death, murder, mentions of seduction, nsfw themes but nothing too explicit &mentions of poison. Reader is afab/fem, reader has William’s surname, reader and William are married & in an established relationship, William gets jealous but in a funny way, slightly OOC characters but it’s for the shits and giggles.

I think Louis and Albert would have been somewhat wary of you at first, especially Louis, however they trusted William’s judgment that you were indeed a good and kindhearted person more than anything and both learnt through various situations that you were right for their brother.

Whenever William would accidentally fall asleep with no warning throughout the day, it would be you who would first come to his aid before anyone draping a blanket or a shawl you were wearing over him and kissing his forehead as you ran your fingers through his hair.

Louis was often worried that William was neglecting himself and he had tried to confide that in you once. You told him it would be alright and that you would take care of it.

In a few weeks time, William seems to be a lot healthy than usual and he’s forgotten your promise to take care of him until he finds out from William that you have been insisting on sleeping with him due to ‘nightmares’ or that you can never finish a meal because you’d be bored without someone to eat with and your love for picnics out in the sun with lots of healthy food as of recently. That’s when Louis realised you really were his brother’s soulmate.

Albert could trust you a little more than Louis though. If you were a noble, he would have a general idea of your personality and your humble donations to various charities. He would have conversed with you multiple times before he realised you were seeing his brother with the intention of marriage.

Both the brothers didn’t really expect William to fall in love. He had plans to take down the harsh system of aristocracy , and he had no time to fall in love or start a family, so when he introduced you to his only family, they were surprised.

Still, they saw how William’s eyes would light up when he talked about or to you and the small smile on his face whenever you were around, how could his brothers not like you?

One of the disadvantages of being a noble who just so happened to have been married into the prestigious Moriarty family was that attending balls and charity galas frequently was a must. Thankfully, you had been free as of late and so had your husband and in-laws which meant you didn’t have to be the only one attending for the sake of showing up and all four of you could have a genuinely good time.

Of course, being a member of the ‘lords of crime’ organisation meant that crime never slept - and it had just as much energy as you did while at a fun party.

There had been one man in particular that was known to abuse his servants and even other nobles would criticise him on his harsh behaviour along with this, many people could tell of his obvious pining towards you and that only made William hate him more.

He had only recently inherited his fathers fortune and become his head of house in his 30s, so he was still enjoying the remnants of his youth. Thankfully he had stuck to his habit of attending every party and was here at this gala too.

William had gone to check up on both Moran and Fred that were to be used as back up for the plan you had set up alongside William, this time you being the main character.

Your lover was mildly hesitant to have you shoving your own tongue down another man’s mouth in order to transfer poison into his own, but with your reassurance, everything was settled.

“Lady (Last name)! What a pleasure it is to see you here!” Speak of the devil.

“And you too, Count Fenrich.” You smiled to the man who had now approached you while trying not to correct him on his use of your now maiden name rather than your husbands one, and noticing your (terrifying when jealous) husband had disappeared.

“I hope I’m mistaken,” he definitely didn’t hope “but it seems Lord Moriarty is nowhere to be found.”

You could already tell where this was going. That mischievous glint in the man’s eyes was undeniable.

“Oh, he is here, you must’ve seen him earlier. William has vanished into thin air. I can’t seem to find him in this sea of people.” You could see Albert talking to Louis in the corner of your eye, just as you had planned. You turned to meet their gaze and called out to them. “Brother Albert! Brother Louis! Have you seen William around?”

Brother…?

Albert was quick to recover from his and Louis’s shared stunned state. Louis was still flustered and confused though.

“He went to go talk to a few others and freshen up his drink but I think he went through the corridor. He might not be back for a while but I’ll let you know if I see him.” He said, coming closer to you while Louis nodded beside him.

As soon as you had left to a different location with the older male, Albert and Louis finally were able to comprehend what you had called them both.

“Brother Albert…she called us-“

“W-well it’s only normal that she refers to us that way considering we are her brothers in law.” Albert coughed to cover up his embarrassment. He couldn’t deny that both he and his younger brother were internally fangirling and giggling at the thought that you finally were able to consider them one of your own.

William had finally come back from checking in on the others (who were stationed in two separate locations that you had agreed to go into earlier to kill the count. They’d both been ordered that if it went further between you two, they were to kill Count Fenrich immediately.)

“Has she left yet..?-“ William asked before noticing his brothers’ red faces “what’s gotten into you two?”

“She called us her brothers..” Louis whispered

William raised an eyebrow. Surely he had misheard his baby brother “what..?”

“(Name) called us her brothers..!” Albert half-squealed as he grabbed William’s shoulder

William blinked then his lips shifted into a wholesome smile “is that so? I never would have expected this out of either of you..” the blonde chuckled.

Within a few minutes of William trying not to laugh too loud, his lovely wife had returned, shortly before Count Fenrich, who dipped when he saw william, despite being on the brink of death.

“There’s something so thrilling about ridding the world of devils in a crowed space-“ you muttered to yourself as you wiped your mouth with a silk handkerchief “oh? William! You’re back. What’s gotten into these two?”

“I think it’s best if we leave now..” William said, giving a signal to a butler-ified Moran “come along dear” he wrapped his hand around your waist, dragging you along while Albert and Louis followed behind.

“I’m going to have to wash my mouth out with soap when we get home..”

As you walked outside and stepped into the carriage, you could hear a scream ( someone had seen Count Fenrich drop dead lol) beneath the praises and (comical) cries of Albert and Louis telling you they were honoured to have you as their sister-in-law.

One of the advantages of being a noble who just so happened to have married into the Moriarty family was that you not only had the perfect husband, but also amazing brothers(-in-law) aswell.

[rosesrflo]

PAIRINGS: various!characters (MTP) x gn!reader. GENRE: fluff, slight crack.

PROMPT: ‘the floor is lava!’ WARNINGS: possible spoilers if you squint, headcanon format, unedited, lowercase intended.

#. SYNOPSIS: how would they react during a small game of ‘the floor is lava’?

even an illegal criminal organization that practically rules the underworld of london should be able to have fun every now and then, so it’s no wonder someone yells, “THE FLOOR IS LAVA!” any time they have the chance. each individuals reaction vary in many amusing ways — and your poor self ‘coincidentally’ gets dragged in every single time.

ever the slacker, MORAN is always the first to sprint to the nearest table or chair; depending on how hurried he is, he will either grab you and sling you over his shoulder, or pick you up bridal style, there’s no in between. nevertheless, 9/10 you end up in his arms as he tries to get off the floor, because there’s no way he’d leave his babe in lava. (it’s you, you’re the babe).

has an almost unfair advantage over most members due to his agility, FRED utterly dominates this game field — he has never lost the game and certainly doesn’t want you to either. so he grabs your hand and makes a run for it, if you can’t catch up, that’s fine because this guy has more strength in his body that he looks. he isn’t afraid to hoist you up and jump at the same time, of course he always places you on the furniture first, a real sweetheart.

though he doesn’t participate often, considering half the time he has a tea tray in one hand and a platter in the other, LOUIS let’s himself get clambered on as you search for refuge. he can and will balance the dishes whilst letting you jump on him, he refuses to have you stand in lava — this man is the standard, and an absolute gentleman.

another one that has you clinging on to him. WILLIAM is usually situated in his comfortable armchair, sipping on some warm tea when watching the amusing spectacle of the others scrambling across the room in search of furniture. he does not hesitate to let you clamber onto his lap, though his grip on your waist tightens so you don’t slip off.

being the dignified noble he his, ALBERT doesn’t join, instead, he spectates the chaotic scene like a play. but he wouldn’t deny you if you tugged on his arm, not giving him a chance to reply before pulling him on top a table, ‘saving him from the lava.’ he finds it mirthful, his arms will be loosely wrapped around your hips, holding you as you threw things at any remaining survivors.

his unpredictability is terrifying, especially if you’re his lover. unsurprisingly, he’s probably the one that called it out. you can never know whether JAMES will trip you up on his way to victory, or if he’ll pull you along with him. and if you do end up together, he keeps a hand on you, just in case you fall away, ‘a victory without you isn’t a win at all’ are his exact words. he invites you to hit people off their posts (moran), until he randomly shoves you off, as stated, he’s very unpredictable.

despite not having the ability of sight, he’s still very aware of his surroundings, and due to this, his other senses are enhanced. HERDER knows the entire room layout, he also has you to guide him, even though he doesn’t necessarily need it. sometimes, he pretends to be unable to navigate just so you hold his hand, a small smirk on his lips whilst you pull him close to you as you huddle together on one tiny stool. (you definitely notice it, he’s not as slick as he thinks).

MONEYPENNY is your free ticket from the lava, she’s not albert’s secretary for nothing, her position in MI6 is complimented by her physical prowess. as her partner, your safety is guaranteed, even though she herself doesn’t play much, she’ll definitely help you get to safety. although she stays composed, she’s mentally repeating to herself to help you out of the lava. the bae of baes.

THE DETECTIVES:

most of the cases he gets other than from the lord of crime bore him, so it’s no wonder SHERLOCK attempts to satiate his boredom by playing this game. of course he’s already lying on the couch, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as everyone’s yelling at him to move. the only person he’ll move for is you, he would watch you look around panicking then make a move, becoming you to him and pulls you against his chest.

she’s fiercely competitive in this game, the truth is, MISS HUDSON will help you from the lava as well. whilst waving her pan around, she easily climbs onto the table, taking you with her. she lets you throw the frying pan at sherlock, has a proud look on her face when you do.

this guy low key struggles because he’s too nice to shove someone off, but that’s alright because JOHN has you to do do it for him. with a small ‘sorry’ as you shove people into the lava, he’ll take part in sabotaging others if you ask him to though.

A/N: hey lovelies, it’s been a while, i kinda lost passion for writing, so i took a hiatus and this was originally just a side piece. probably still won’t be back on a daily basis, but i hope you enjoy this. have a good day/night. 🫶

[eliasorchard]

moriarty the patriot — masterlist

★ : fluff [♡] angst [✧] smut [✩] long fics [✿] hcs [๑]

smudge of love & lipstick - ft. william ♡

s/o that loves swords - ft. william ๑

you run a flower shop - ft. william ♡

you deserve some love & rest - ft. william ✩

first time - ft. albert ✩

fool with the slowest heart - ft. albert ✧

her and her darkness ♡ & ✧

shall we share an umbrella? - ft. william ✧

bondage - ft. william ✩

the earth is still warm from you - ft. william ✧

[deepfivetraveller]

What i would gift the characters from MTP

part 1

part 2

William James Moriarty:

*Hagoromo chalk. Basically its a chalk mathematicians use to write on black boards.

*This chalk is no ordinary chalk. It glides suuuper smoothly on boards, is dust free, and writing feels as if the chalk is melting from your hand (Not my words)

*It’s so good people believe that it is impossible to write a false theorem with this

*Mathematicians have always had this attachment to black boards for various reasons so even though this is a simple gift I feel he’d deeply appreciate it.

*Also if possible, I would write a 100 reasons why he shouldn’t K himself, fold them into paper stars and put them in a glass jar and give it to him (Poor boy deserves some love).

Louis James Moriarty:

*A really fancy tea set (If I had the money to).

*Ik it sounds pretty cliche but get this, Victorian nobles had tea sets for EVERY form of tea and for every occasion

*I don’t think the Moriarty family were ever tight on budget before the final problem (at least in the manga i think) but seeing the fact that William never spent too much money on clothes, I’m pretty sure they were modest with their spendings and an extra tea pot or cutlery set would help them very much :D

Albert James Moriarty:

*Wine. What else can I buy this man? he’s loaded.

*Now, I’m no Wine expert and nor do I have the money to buy any expensive ones but I think if I buy him something decent he’d greatly appreciate it.

*Also handmade gifts. ANY handmade gift would do it. Cards, knitted or crocheted items, all of it. He’d love them more if they WEREN’T perfect. Ik he has this OCD thing but think about it. 

*My theory is he creates these ugly sweaters for his brothers in order to get over his OCD. So something imperfect but etched with a ton of love would be adored by him.

James Bonde/ Irene Adler:

*Now this is a tricky one. If I met them when they were Irene Adler, something like a good perfume is what I would give. I know it isn't much but I feel like that their the type of person to like a good scent.

*But now that he is James Bonde I would give him a modern binder.

*it'll help him save a lot of time since he wouldn't have to use cloth bandages and I think it would also hurt less.

Should I do a part 2 for others?

Part 2

[ranposbabe]

(Ongoing) Masterlist

Delightful | William James Moriarty x Reader

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

To be continued…

[ananiel]

Okay, I know and I'm very sorry that I am bothering you again. I just thought about something crazy.... What if Sherlock and William baby traped Obanai!Reader? And she can't bring herself to kill the babies because it's not babies's fault? It's twins by the way. Girl and Boy.

And if you are writing NSFW can you do it too?

And I am very sorry again for bothering you with my requests😭

I just like how you write about it and how you are imagining it. I have plenty scenarios but I don't know how to write them🥲

Yes, i am not the best at writing nsfw but i can certainly try, and do not worry, You are of no bother at all, i like taking requests, and that is a very good idea!

Yandere sherlock holmes x reader x yandere William james moriarty

Tw : mentions of killing intent, non con, yandere themes, baby trapping, drugging, dark content, read at your own risk!

Nsfw!

--------------------------------------------------

IT had been days since they saw your scars... Days since they started making side comments, side comments that became more and more disturbing for You

"do You think that the child Will have your beautifull eyes?"

Or

"... Ha, you'd look so good round, full with children, my darling"

You weren't dumb either. You knew what they were hinting at, all the soft touches, sugestive looks and most importantly, on the rarely ocasions that they let You go outside... The way they would stare at pregnant or mother's with their children, especially if the Young ones were still babies. Every time, You would see at least one of them stare long, with a small smile as his hand went to your stomach, holding it tight (and You in place)

Of course, You expected what came next, a talk with them, over tea, which, as a fool, You took, in which they wanted to prepare You, and say that You are at a Point in your relathionship in which the time for kids is right... They were old enough, and so were You for that.

You protested, screaming at them as You told them that You would never want to raise children, or have sex, with either one... And they took that... Smirking?

When your vision got slightly blury You understood why, of course, they planned this, they knew You, they knew You wouldn't accept it in no way posible. But drugging? This was low even for them, You wanted to say, but do You truly know them both so well to say that? Can You even say that, knowing You were talking about your kiddnappers and possible rapists?

.

.

.

"no... No...." You breath out, trying to pull yourself togheter as You saw them inch closer.

Maybe it was your tired mind, but You could swear that You saw their faces twisted in that awfull smirks of theirs.

Sherlock was the one to grab You to your feet and making You grind against his erected cock while he let out a shaky breath of pleasure.

"now sherlock... Be patient Will You? Your turn Will come"

William says wraping his arms around your waist and holding your ass against his pants.

"it is easy for You, Liam, You will be the first to take her"

You shooks your head, your ears ringing as sherlock comented, and his rough hands adictinvly went and unbottined your shirt, giving them acces to your bare skin.

Seeing that, William's lips made contact with your neck and shoulders, whispering sweet nothings about how You will see that this is the best for You, that You were made to be a mother and that You will thank them for impregnating You when You would see the beautifull baby that will come out of you all.

You fall on the sofa, them soon following and taking their positions, with William behind You and Sherlock in front of You, Sherlock captured your lips in a pasionate kiss, his hands going to your hips as his toungue plays around your mouth, his hands guiding Your hips to meet William's, earning a few moans from the blond as he continued to pree open mouthed Kisses to your neck, making You unconsciouly moan against Sherlock's mouth, which grew his need dor You.

They continued to whisper sweet nothings here and there, but that didn't help, didn't help at all, as tears weild up in your eyes and their hands opened up your pants.

You were too weak to fight, and the combination of sherlock's roughness and the way William softly rubs his hands all over your skin... It was getting good, as much as you hated to admit it, as much as you hated the fact that they did make You wet.

William smiles mischevously as he felt the wetness from your panties, bring to of his fingers to tease your entrace before inserting them slowly, making You yelp weakly against Sherlock's mouth.

William started thrusting his fingers, making small pauses that had You embarassingly trying to meet his thrusts.

"see? Told ya she's gonna come around eventually, now hurry up Liam, am getting impatient... "

William playfully rolls his eyes as sherlock Kisses down your chest, ending up sucking on one of your nipples as his hand massages the other one.

William continues to thrust his fingers up, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, but before You can come, he removes his fingers, making You grown.

You left soft moans spill out of your lips from sherlock's actions as your eyes widen when You heard the William's pants falling down.

"easy now..." he shushes as he gives himself a pump before guiding You on himself, making You take him inch by inch. Not giving You time to get used to him before he bottoms out

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as You felt him slowly snap his hips back in you, earning a very loud moan from you, followed by more small muffle ones.

"hey... I'm getting jealous, pay attention to me too... " sherlock whispers, his hands playing with your clit as William thrusted his hips fast, making You reach your High that was denied earlier

"oh... This is... Better than i could've ever dreamed" he says in between groans and pants, his motions continuing for what felt like hours, as he continued to thrust, not giving You time to come down from your High

You moaned louder.

"we talked that after cumming we Switched William" sherlock bites into your shoulder, as if to show that he is very serious, not that William could seem to care less

"Said about switch ing after coming, she did, i didn't, wait till i finish and have your turn, it's not like she is going anywhere"

William rests his head against your shoulder, shotting his load inside you.

Panting, he gives one more thrust before pulling away.

"finally!" sherlock exclaims as pushes inside you, causing You to yelp, thinking that ha wasn't prepared, and that You would get a small break.

But no, the overstimulation was making You even more lightheaded than You already were because of the druged Tea. And jesus, You didn't know if You liked sherlock's aproach more, or William's. William was more calculated, having a rythm that he trusted in, while at sherlock it felt like every single thrust was difrent from the other, making your stomach twist and turn. You were close again, and if they fucked You thought this orgasm again, You are more than sure that You will pass out

"forgeting about me?" William asks as he presses down on your stomach, making You moan as he could feel sherlock's dick against his finger. You let out a loud moan as You came, William kissing your neck whole smiling as sherlock seemed to lost in his pleasure tto give a reaction other than a moan from the aditional squeze "you'll see my darling, once this children are born, You will thank us"

Sherlock nods, too lost into his pleasure to respond properly as he chases his high, bitting down on the opposite shoulder that is planting the Kisses.

His movements get more sloppy, and after 2 more thrusts, he cums. You fall against his chest, breathing in deeply as tears start pooling from your eyes again, but You don't know what they are. Maybe fear, maybe overstimulation, hatred .

"your turn now, Liam" Your eyes widen at that

"let her rest a minute, she needs it if we want her to not pass out and remember everything"

.

.

.

And remember everything you did, You felt disgusted at yourself, You looked into the mirror at your stomach almost 8 times a day, trying to see a difrence, trying to see if truly You were pregnant with their children.

You dreded the fact that You were late, that You were sleeping more, that You were more picky, and they couldn't seem to get enough of them.

They had, physician after physician come, but after the first one was killed right in front of You after You tried to tell him the truth, that You were forced into this. You weren't trying to take any risks now, You didn't want a poor man's blood on your hands.

Twins.

Twins, oh how happy they were at the sound of twins, how empty You felt, thinking that instead of one reminders of what happend, You had two. Two little beasts to resemble the bigger ones.

At month 5 You were already big enough to cause some disconfort, which they took grade pleasure in, helping and always holding your stomach... You considered more than once to fall down a fight of stairs, to end this pregnancy and posibly yourself, but something stopped You, the vow You made to be better than your parents.

You hated those kids, and it made You hate yourself more, that You couldn't love them, that You will end up maybe worse than your whole clan. What choice did the children have? It's not like they were at fault for who their fathers are...

You saw them put the cribs, You saw them react and tell everyone, and soon, You will see them hold the babies too. You saw the obbsesion, the need in their eyes more than enough to know that, that was the case now too. The children were a way too keep You close to them, but also, to have another piece of you.

They were obssesed with the kids too.

For You, they were the snake demon You had to cut your face for. They were the monster that your parents failed to protect You form, they were the demons You won't leave your children in the hands of those demons.

When they were born, You held them, You held one beautifull boy with blue hair and your striking eyes, and one girl, the spliting image of William, of it weren't for one colored eye that wasn't Red, her heterocromia made her somehow cuter, in the eyes of you, someone that was crytisized for them your whole life.

You were tired after birth, but You held strong, making sure that the two men have as little contact with the babies as posible that is until You heard one private discusion

"oh Liam, You genius, she doesn't even know that the children Will have our possesive traits!"

What? You looked at the baby in your arms, feeling lightheaded

"Who would expect a child being obssesed sherly, and You saw the babies' eyes, how they follow her... Our little copies. She can't escape now, and with the children, it's not like she wants to, the door has been opened and left unguared for a week, she won't ever escape now "

Door opened... You rushed to their cribs, putting each one of them in their respective cribs, looking at them for one last Time...

Not survivours like You... No... They were tiny baby demons... They were holding You out of fear for them in a Cage, only that it was opened, this time, the Cage is opened...

This time You can run...

You don't look back, You don't take anything... Foolled, You were tricked by the offsprings of demons.

And You won't accept it, won't accept being held hostage no more.

You were a better mother than your parents could ever be, and that made You proud, but after your past was hunted by snake people, You won't let another kind of those people control You any longer

(i am thinking to make a continuation of this, like, iguro obanai darling escapes without the children, and while sherliam are busy trying to find her, Louis and entity! Reader, that he didn't love at first, take care of the kids, but seeing her so motherly, he slowly starts to get obsesive, seeing the children as their own and the entity as his partner. What do You guys think?)

[saioratral]

"imagine yourself in a fanfiction, what trope would you want to be in?" - reporter sai

what a question, my dear readers! A bold one, I dare say. But I, the gossip favourite journalist, sought the answers with my own style, approaching none other than lord Moriarty and his family! along with that, i bumped into Britain's best detective and his crew, how could i not ask them too?

After careful collection of their responses, I am pleased to present to you this week's entry, steeped with my imagination and the insights I received

together with my.... 'editor', we have to present this compilation!

each response is a reflection of their unique view of love! flip through our pages to find your interest!

Team Moriarty:

ALBERT JAMES MORIARTY spy and the aristocrat | page 1

LOUIS JAMES MORIARTY art of the charade | page 2

WILLIAM JAMES MORIARTY power price | page 3

SEBASTIAN MORAN confined? can't be my feelings | page 4

FRED PORLOCK my friend soulmate | page 5

VON HERDER sarcasm is a great mentor | page 6

JAMES BONDE admirer for art; myself | page 7

MISS MONEYPENNY pinning = muse | page 8

Team Holmes:

SHERLOCK HOLMES ew it's sherlock, again | page 9

JOHN H. WATSON find your way | page 10

MISS HUDSON rescue a stolen heart | page 11

MYCROFT HOLMES argument heartbeats | page 12

© saioratral 2024-25 -- do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission. Any characters used in my work do not belong to me, they are created by their original creator. all images used are from pinterest. banners are made by me

official release date: christmas week