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moriartsy · 3 months

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beyond gilded chains

pairing: jim moriarty x fem!reader

warnings: toxic parents, anxiety attack, sexual tension

summary: what is the lesser of two evils? your father and his world of elites he wants to trap you in? or the overt yet unspoken reality of moriarty's darkness?

w/c: 1.7K

a/n: okay, i know this is kind of cliché, but i have an idea for a jim moriarty story and i have to warm up before i get into it. so i wrote this. i plan on writing a second part and possibly making it a series of oneshots / drabbles. but we'll see how it goes...you can send in requests if you want (and if there are any moriarty enthusiasts still)! thank you for reading !! <3

The grand ballroom of the opulent Ravenscroft Hall shimmered with a golden hue as crystal chandeliers bathed the room in a soft, ambient glow. A symphony of murmurs filled the air, blending seamlessly with the soothing melodies of a string quartet playing in the background. Lavish floral arrangements adorned each table, their fragrances intermingling with the scent of expensive perfumes a polished mahogany.

You stood at the periphery of the extravagant scene, your eyes wandering over the sea of elegantly dressed attendees, each adorned in designer gowns and tailored suits. You fidgeted with the hem of your own exquisite dress, a creation of silk and lace that clung to your figure with the same precision as the couturier's careful stitching.

Despite the expensive fabric enveloping your body, your mood was in a poor state. Honestly, you’d rather be at home, rewatching The Office for the millionth time, but your parents will never let you not attend these events. It's like a chore.

Your parents were proponents of social grace and high society and they had meticulously trained you to navigate such events with poise, concealing any trace of your true feelings beneath a veneer of practiced smiles and genteel conversation.

You sighed.

Suddenly, you felt a new presence at your side. Following the sound of slow footsteps, you found one of your father's associates wearing a smirk that mirrored the self-assured glint in his eyes, sauntering towards you with his hand in the pocket of his dark pants as the other held the fragile flute, a fizzy liquid swirling inside.

"I can see attending these social shindigs brings you such a genuine pleasure. A sheer joy is just radiating from your every pore.“ he said, his words dripping with sarcasm.

You forced a tight smile. "That would be an understatement, Moriarty."

You took a sip of your Dom Pérignon, the liquid gold sliding down your throat as Jim chuckled, unfazed by your icy demeanor.

"Is there something you want, Moriarty, or are you just here to grace me with your charming company?"

Moriarty grinned, "I'm just marveling at the spectacle, my dear. Your enthusiasm is truly contagious."

Rolling your eyes, you retorted, "If that's all, then kindly go and marvel elsewhere. Go strangle someone just because they looked at you the wrong way."

Moriarty feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart as his lips formed an 'O' and his brown eyes widened.

"Oh, (Y/N), don't be like that. I thought we were bonding over our shared love for wealth and excess this boring bunch put on display oh so exquisitely," he said as his hand, still occupied by the glass, swept over the room before facing you again with a knowing smile. "But just so you know. I just did." He added with mischief.

You honestly didn't know if he was joking just to entertain you or maybe intimidate you. Moriarty was capable of bringing all of those people to their knees right in that instance. Including you.

"Do you really want my father to come after you that much? He won't stand for anyone bothering his precious daughter, you know," you sassed with an ironic smile, bluffing your way through.

"Ah, the protective father card, awfully clever.“ He murmured, his eyebrows knitted together before his expression became serious again as he leaned in. His scent invaded your nostrils as you fought to maintain your composure. "But you and I both know, (Y/N), your dear father is at my beck and call. He wouldn't dare lift a finger against me, no matter how many threats you throw around."

You held his gaze, but as much as you tried to hide the signs of the turmoil he stirred within you, you cou+ldn’t help but grind your teeth together. You knew there was no point in attempting to deceive him. He was remarkably good at reading people and you couldn’t be more of an open book to him.

His eyes fell to your lips just for a millisecond before they bored into yours once again.

Suddenly, a clink of the glasses between your bodies made you jump and he smirked at that.

"Cheers," he said with his psychotically soft voice, taking a sip of his drink. With that, Jim turned around a walked away, disappearing into the sea of the richest.

You exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. He seems to always find you at these events, making your blood boil every time.

Your solitude was short-lived, though, because soon enough, your father appeared at your side. He observed you with a scrutinizing gaze.

"(Y/N), my dear, what was that all about? What did that spider want?"

Always adept at concealing the complexities of your emotions, you responded with a nonchalant smile.

"Oh, nothing. Just a brief exchange of pleasantries."

He probed further. "Pleasantries? You seemed rather tense. Did he say anything about me? Any threats, perhaps?“

Your father was a man driven by self-interest and the desire to maintain his social standing. Moriarty was right, your father would be willing to sell you in pieces if it meant saving his own ass.

You shook your head, your expression composed. "No, Dad, nothing like that. Just some small talk."

Satisfied but still slightly suspicious, your father linked his arm with yours. "Well, let's not dwell on such matters. We're here to enjoy the evening, aren't we?"

He guided you through the lavish crowd, engaging you in conversations that held little interest for you. Stock portfolios, luxury vacations, and exclusive club memberships. You hear it all the time.

It didn't take long for your father to notice your disinterest, though, and it didn't make him happy.

"You should really take more interest in these matters. People talk, you know. It's essential for your future, especially in our circle.“ He hissed at you when he made sure nobody was paying attention, his words dripping with toxicity that echoed the unspoken expectations of your privileged world.

In that moment, you fought an overwhelming urge to snap back, to unleash the resentment that had long been bubbling beneath the surface. You just bit your lip, resisting the impulse.

"I'm sorry, I'm just tired is all," you said with a tight-lipped smile before putting on the aristocratic mask and this time truly engaging in the conversation.

But the air started to feel thick and your eyes started stinging. You couldn’t take a nice deep breath and your joints started to tingle. You quickly put the flute on the tray the passing hostess was holding to hide the slight tremor in your hands.

Fuck. Here we go again.

5 things I can see: chandeliers, flowers, couples dancing, gilded mirrors, candles.

4 things I can touch: my dress, the Champagne glass, smooth marble surfaces, my silver necklace.

3 things I can hear: string quartet melodies, hushed conversations, footsteps.

2 things I can smell: rich perfume, and leather shoes.

1 thing I can taste: bitter Champagne.

You'd fought this anxiety battle right in the middle of a circle of elites many times before and you'd always pushed through. And you always will.

As you finally managed to take a breath and your tears dissolved, you took a quick scan of the room, catching the sight of Moriarty as he watched you.

Great. I’ll never hear the end of this.

The circle of riches finally broke not long after your crisis, and you took that opportunity to excuse yourself from the suffocating atmosphere. The sound of your high heels echoed through your personal space as you headed toward the exit. Unbeknownst to you, on the other side of the room, Moriarty discreetly signaled to his bodyguard it was time to leave, making his exit too.

As he stepped into the darkness of the night, he unbuttoned his midnight blue suit jacket, his eyes scanning the grandiose driveway. He started descending down the grand staircase and as soon as he reached the bottom, he spotted you leaning against the newel post of the steps, your eyes closed and arms crossed over your rising chest.

Jim jerked his head at his bodyguard, who nodded and rushed away, leaving you and Jim alone.

"It's a shame for such a magnificent creature to be hiding out here." You opened your eyes, slightly turning your head to follow his nearing form. "I mean, can they even call themselves 'crème de la crème' when you're not around?" he asked with a furrowed brow as if it was a serious question.

"You're disgusting," you said and let your eyelids fall again, rolling your head back into its original position, the sturdy structure of the stone scratching the back of your head.

He was now right in front of you, and even though you couldn’t see him, you could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

„Your father certainly knows how to orchestrate an impressive show. How long are you planning to dance to his tune?“

You opened your eyes again, the cool darkness giving way to the silhouette of Jim Moriarty standing before you. As your gaze locked with his dark brown eyes, you felt a complex mix of emotions swirling within.

Everything about him was dark, a demon steeped in shadows, but as your eyes lingered on his, you couldn't shake the feeling that, in some inexplicable way, he appeared lighter than the suffocating life you led with your parents.

"Well, you know. It's a waltz I've mastered"

„Sure, sure. But I also know you can only twirl around the predictable steps for so long before the music changes.“

You studied each other in silence before your forms were illuminated by the headlights of a black SUV. He turned on his heels and headed towards the awaiting car, pulling a gum out of his pocket and popping it into his mouth. Once he reached the vehicle, he opened the back door and turned to you, tilting his head as he waited for you to make a decision.

There was no point in stalling, he knew what you were going to decide anyway. You pushed yourself off the hardness of the pillar and walked towards the car. Moriarty smirked as the two of you locked eyes, watching as you got in.

Before he followed your suit, he took a glance at the doors leading inside the manor, spotting your father as he watched the situation unfold with terror on his face. Jim’s smirk widened as his jaw worked the gum, savoring the flavor. Then he disappeared into the luxury of his SUV, and your father only watched as the car sped away, the tires screeching against the rubble of the driveway.

tbc.

oop👀

a/n2: thank you for making it this far! sorry for the pineapples.

#jim moriarty imagine #jim moriarty x reader #jim moriarty x you #moriarty x reader #moriarty x you #james moriarty x reader #james moriarty x you #james moriarty imagine #jim moriarty fanfiction #james moriarty fanfiction #jim moriarty #bbc sherlock #sherlock bbc #sherlock fanfiction #jim moriarty fluff

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asgards-princess-of-mischief · 5 months

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Last Updated: 2024-04-03

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite BBC!Jim Moriarty stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.

✑ Little Holmes￨Prt. II￨Prt. III by deerstalkersanddangerousthoughts • 〔E᜶A᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ After You Love by lacelynpage • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "You meet the most puzzling person at a café..."

✑ Complicated [Soulmate!A.U.] by megs-mostly-random-fandoms • 〔A〕 •

Summary: "This was not at all how you expected meeting your soulmate would go..."

✑ Devil is a Gentleman, the by keravnous • 18+ • 〔E〕 • 🚫 •

Summary: "You started working at the National Gallery a couple of months ago. Today, the whole staff has gathered to give one of the most benevolent private sponsors a tour. What could possibly go wrong?"

✑ Doomed by make-me-imagine • 〔A〕 •

Summary: Jim never thought he'd fall in love. He never thought he was capable of it, so how can he convince you he loves you

✑ Landslide￨Prt. II by frost-queen • 〔A〕 •

Summary: When John and Sherlock attempt to use you as leverage against Jim, it forces you to come to terms with who exactly you've fallen in love with...

✑ Suprise Sweetie by frost-queen • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Imagine going out on a date and Jim... surprises you by showing up and claiming you as his."

✑ You're Alive by make-me-imagine • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: You mourned Jim after he shot himself on that rooftop. Hurt, angry and confused you can't understand why he did it and why he never told you who he really was… Needless to say, when he miraculously appears in your apartment, doesn't get him the warm welcome he expected.

✑ Always by ladyalicesbookstore • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Deadly by bonniebird • 〔M〕 •

✑ Fight, the by writings-of-a-british-fangirl •

✑ Hostage by megs-mostly-random-fandoms • 〔E᜶F᜶A〕 •

✑ Midnight Swim by geeks-universe • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Miss Me? by justauthoring • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Moriarty's Secret by megs-mostly-random-fandoms • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Now Pet by lacelynpage • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Privilege by bonniebird • 〔M〕 •

✑ Problem by oneshots-imagines-and-that • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Rooftop Reservation by movedtosalamooneder • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Secrets by magicalthoughtsendinterribkefics • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Sleepover by thepokyone • 〔F〕 •

✑ Swoon by bonniebird • 〔F〕 •

✑ We'll See by writings-of-a-british-fangirl •

✑ You Look Like You Need a Hug by make-me-imagine • 〔F᜶C〕 •

✑ Dating Jim as John's Sister… by charliesmdawn • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Dating Jim Moriarty... by lacelynpage • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Living w/ Jim Moriarty... by oneshots-imagines-and-that • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

See Also: Navigation || James 'Jim' Moriarty Master Index

Authors: @bonniebird || @charliedawn || @deerstalkersanddangerousthoughts || @frost-queen || @geeks-universe || @justauthoring || @keravnous || @lacelynpage || @ladyalicesbookstore || @magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics || @make-me-imagine || @megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms || @movedtosalamoonder || @oneshots-imagines-and-that || @thepokyone || @writings-of-a-british-fangirl ||

#Jim Moriarty x Reader #Jim Moriarty x Female Reader #Jim Moriarty x Y/N #Jim Moriarty x You #Moriarty x Reader #Moriarty x Female Reader #Moriarty x Y/N #Moriarty x You #BBC Moriarty x Reader #BBC Moriarty x Female Reader #BBC Moriarty x Y/N #BBC Moriarty x You #BBC Sherlock Fanfiction #BBC Sherlock Fanfic

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lacelynpage · 2 years

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Can you please write a Moriarty x reader meet cute? It just seems so unlikely for someone like him to meet his s/o that way, making it even cuter!

Thank you 🙏

After You, Love ~ Moriarty x Gender Neutral!Reader

Summery: You meet the most puzzling person at a café.

Word count: 1,424

Warnings: Free and clear, Darling

A/N: Anything for you Darling! I'm so sorry it took me so long to answer this. I love this idea and I hope you enjoy my execution of it! you are a wonderful human being and I send you all my love! See you later Darlings.

Mingling with the common peasants wasn’t really James Moriarty's style. They were all soooo BORING! Seven billion of them and not a single brain cell among them. He found it tedious to have to talk to them. None of them got it. They didn't see what was right in front of their stupid faces. Sometimes, he almost felt bad for how easily he could mess with their empty little heads. Then they actually spoke and any drops of empathy he had was washed away in the tidal wave of disgust that flooded his brain. He did like to watch them though. To study how they talked and walked and pretended to live a life with any sort of purpose. He had a favorite little café in the heart of London that he loved to watch them all from.

He was standing looking at all the little puppet people running around when from behind him the barista called out his order: a double shot of espresso with a cheese danish. As he grabbed the coffee out of her hand someone else grabbed the little bag with the danish. Startled, he looked to the right and saw someone whose eyes were different than everyone else's. There was something behind them that sparked his interest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You thought you had heard your name. In all honesty you were too busy looking at all the people in the café to pay attention. They all seemed so far away from you somehow. Like they all existed on a different plane of reality. You knew they didn't see the world like you did. That they didn't understand things on the level that you understood them. You saw the little strings pulling them around like marionettes putting on a play of living. Sometimes you felt bad for them, but most of the time you were just confused how they could be content to live like that.

You grabbed the danish bag but before you could grab the espresso someone else did. In utter confusion you looked to your left and saw a man standing there looking just as puzzled as you. The moment your eyes met it was like the whole world went out of focus around him. As if you watched him step onto your plane of existence. Like he was the first person you could truly see.

“Ohh sorry,” you said, holding the bag out to him. “I thought they said my name. I think we got the same order.” you looked him over. Noting the slightly upturned corners of his mouth, His slicked back hair, and his slightly chewed cuticles.

“S’alright” He said in a thick Irish accent. “You have good taste.” He laughed lightly as he said it. You could feel him studying you as you locked eyes again. It was like he could hear your thoughts as he eyes bore into yours, like he could watch you think. His intense gaze lessened as he began to talk, “I’m Jim. do you ah… do you come round here often? I stop in almost every day and I don't think I’ve seen you before.”

You shook your head, “No, I’m just here for business. Seemed like a nice spot to catch up on emails, that's all.” You weren't lying, you were here on business, and you did have some emails to read. You tried to put together what he did for a living as you looked him over. His gray suit was expensive which read business man but the callus on his right index finger indicated he commonly fired a weapon. He was a puzzle, one that you needed to solve.

“Y/N!” the barista called again, holding out the same order. It startled you out of your investigation and back to the moment at hand. Jim smirked,

“Y/N, I'll have to remember that.” you chuckled as you took your espresso and danish.

“Care to join me?” you asked, gesturing to a nearby table.

“Sure, sure” He agreed happily. The two of you sat together for a while, both attempting to riddle out exactly what connected the two of you. The elaborate dance you performed together around the truth of your lives’ was mesmerizing. Eventually, all good things must come to an end. And Jim and you parted ways about an hour or so later. Jim made the excuse of a meeting and you made the same. You were both lying.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your target that night was irritatingly easy. Actually, it was insultingly easy. Government documents are always the simplest, you would think they would at least try to challenge you.

The office that you were in was sparsely decorated. A large antique portrait of someone you didn't care to recall was hung on the wall behind their desk. It was a small concrete room, honestly it seemed like a sad place to work. Mycroft Holmes was pretty high up there though so you suspected this was supposed to be a very secure location. You typed away on the desktop, almost absent-mindedly breaking through the encryptions.

Your mind had wandered back to Jim from the café. Even now he was still perplexing. No one else ever seemed to remotely match you in wit or intellect, but there he had stood, sharp as a razor and clearly just as deadly. There was something unique between the two of you, something you had never felt before. You had talked for an hour without a pause, it was like the electricity between you was tangible. You regretted not getting his number. Though you had a sneaking suspicion that if he wanted to find you, he would.

The sound of leather shoes creaking at the other end of the room roused you from your thoughts. You pulled your gun from its holster smoothly, pointing it in the direction of the sound. Your eyes were still locked on the screen as your free hand typed away. They whistled as you cocked the gun,

"No need to be hostile, Love" The thick Irish accent made you smile. "After this morning I thought we were friends." You smiled and finally looked up at him. He was in the same grey suit. His hair still slicked back, but his smirk was replaced with a grin. He had his hand in his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his heels. “Soooo… What are you doing?” he whisper-yelled.

“I could ask you the same thing." You glanced back at the screen. The last firewall was almost broken, it wouldn't be long before you were in. "Don't tell me you work for the government." Jim laughed,

"Who, me? Noooo no no no. They are SOOO pointless! They just sit there, with their grandiose illusions of power and importance." He walked closer to the desk as he talked. Rolling his eyes and gesturing with his hands. The cadence of his words sounded almost musical as you broke through the last of the so-called "defenses''. You looked back at the screen as Jim talked.

"I know where the real power is. I know how the world works." He stopped in front of the desk, "And I think you do too, Y/N.” you smiled as you hit download on the files you needed. The orange thumb drive already waiting in the USB port.

“Do I?” you asked. His normally rather high voice got low and drown out as he spoke

“Ohh I know you do. I mean you're here aren't you? Stealing classified documents to sell to the heist bidder.” he leaned in close until his forehead nearly touched yours. You looked up from the computer screen you had been so focused on. His face was inches from yours. He smiled wickedly.

"That's true," you sighed, "what are you going to do about it?" His smile grew,

"Offer you a job, obviously." He moved back and raised his eyebrows. "You're clearly quite clever. So why not be clever with me?" You just looked at him.

“Are you offering me a job or asking me out on a date? Your words say job but your eyes favour the later option” You smirked at him as he leaned back in.

“Why not both?” There was something so captivating about him. When he got close you could smell his cologne and see just how much was hiding in his eyes. You had no doubt that he was a complete mad man, then again, so were you.

“Alright. Drinks first, then tell me a bit more about your operation.” Jim smiled,

“After you, love.”

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kkuracafe · 2 years

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hi! i see that your requests are open and i’d like the request something with the moriarty brothers and angst prompt 3 “don’t lie to me”. maybe something like their wife/gf collapses in the middle of the street when they’re talking a walk together and she tries to pass it off as her being too tired or something but they bring a doctor in anyway and the real reason is that she’s really sick, either something terminal like tuberculosis/consumption/whatever or just a chronic illness that causes fainting/passing out/etc, it depends on how angsty you want to make it.

and she knew the whole time but the reason she didn’t tell them is cause she doesn’t want to distract them from their cause? it can end angsty or nice and comforting, whichever you prefer! thank you!

Hii anon, sorry this took me so long to write I've had a bad migraine. I also only wrote Louis and William, if you want albert let me know. I hope you enjoy ^^

William Moriarty

One Day you two were on a stroll together around the town with your arms linked. You started to feel faint in the head, and tried not to show it. Turning to William a little bit you asked if you could sit down for a while to "rest your feet." The problem was, the next bench was quite the walk from where you were. Your dizziness wasn't getting any better and when you were a couple, your vision started fading in and out, till you lost your balance and collapsed. William catches you just before you hit the ground, calling for help to the surrounding people.

Your eyes fluttered slowly, sitting up carefully you recall earlier events from today. You notice that you're in Williams room and in your nightgown. Suddenly the door opened and William walks in with a tray of tea. Nothing your awake, he gives a sad gentle smile and sits as the edge of the bed.

"The doctor came in earlier, he said you've had tuberculosis for the past month. Did you know?"

"Well...I.." You tried your best to get the lie to come out but you've never been goof at lying. He gives you an even sadder smile and grabs your hand.

"Don't lie to me." William responded sternly.

"I...I..." You could barely form words while staring into his sad eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me when you found out?" He questioned. You frown and cup your other hand over his, "I didn't want to distract you, after all you're making this world a better place." You respond softly. William reaches up to cup your face.

"The doctor said you only have three weeks left, I wish you would of told me earlier." A small tear rolls down his cheek, "You mean so much to me. Why didn't you tell me?" He sniffles out, more tears slowly falling down his cheek.

Tears form in your own eyes and you pull him into a hug not responding. "I'll spend the next three weeks with you, I'll never leave your side. Please.. you promised me forever.." His tears wetting your nightgown. Stroking his hair you let out a soft hun through your own tears, "I'll always be with you."

It hurt William so much to be the one to bury you, the one to put flowers on your grave, the one to keep all the photos and everything you once owned. But don't worry, when he was done here, he'll join you in peace.

Louis Moriarty

One Day you two were on a stroll together around the town with your arms linked. You started to feel faint in the head, and tried not to show it. Turning to Louis a little bit you asked if you could sit down for a while to "rest your feet." The problem was, the next bench was quite the walk from where you were. Your dizziness wasn't getting any better and when you were a couple, your vision started fading in and out, till you lost your balance and collapsed. Louis catches you just before you hit the ground, calling for help to the surrounding people.

When you wake up, you're back in Louis's room with William hovering over you. Noticing your awake he gives you a small smile and walks to the other side of the room where Louis is standing, looking incredibly worried. After William tells him something, Louis's frown deepens and he walks over to you, handing you a small cup of tea.

"Is it true?" He asks, cutting the silence.

"Well..." Noticing how hesitant you are, he fixes his glasses carefully observing you.

"Don't lie to me." He says in his serious voice. You gulp and tell him the truth. He sighs and sits next to you on the bed.

"Why didn't you come tell me you had tuberculosis?" He questions.

"I..I didn't want to distract you from helping William, I know how much the cause means to you." You give him a smile and his frown deepens even more.

"Either way you should of told me..your days are limited."

"I know..I'm sorry.."

"What will I do without you? I can't live without you." His voice cracks slightly. You pull him into a hug, trying your best to reassure him you'll always be with him.

Now you were gone like the breeze. The flowers at you grave have started to wilt, just like you once did but his love for you never wavered. Maybe his brothers idea of death wasn't so bad after all.

#fanfic #fanfiction #moriarty the patriot #william moriarty #louis moriarty #william moriarty x reader #moriarty x you #angst

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yandere-romanticaa · 4 months

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Thinking about yanderes who know you better than anyone ever did. They know you better even than you know yourself, that's how in touch they are with your life.

I see them as the subtle types, the ones who would perhaps silently admire you from a safe distance. You look charming in the cafe you're sitting in, chatting away with a friend or two about some shared hobbies. He can't help but to stare, but it's only for a few moments! He knows better than to look for too long, he doesn't want to appear like some sort of creep now, does he? He sips on his drink quietly as his eyes ever so slightly go back and forth towards you and the door, ensuring a safe escape route, just in case things go south but they never do.

You're too lost in your own little bubble to notice him.

From that day onwards he starts to... Well, he's not sure how to put it into words.

It's natural for a person to have a crush but what he feels towards you is something much more intense to ever be in the realms of normalcy. If you've ever spoken two words with him would be a miracle but actually remembering him would be downright impossible because he is just not willing to show himself to you. He stalks all your social media, friends and family included. He is informed of where you went to school, your birthday, what jobs your estranged cousins may have. If you're the type to post stuff online, his life is made that much easier. He screenshots everything you post, no matter how silly and commits it all to memory in case he may need it.

If you don't, then it's a bit harder but he manages. He has a good head on his shoulders, even if that same head is telling him to stop doing this, this isn't right but his bleeding heart is screaming at him to please keep going, please, if I'm not keeping an eye on them 24/7 I think I might die.

No human being should ever know someone so intimately but he does not care. Even if you're not 100% in his life, he is content with whatever this is.

One day, he might grow a pair and properly introduce himself to you.

And it would be so cute if you got along just perfectly because you just so happen to like the same things too... He's always prepared.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ 𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈 (haikyuu), 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 (moriarty the patriot), 𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀 (genshin impact), 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆 (honkai star rail), 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐋𝐀 𝐇𝐘𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐘𝐀 (seraph of the end), 𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐄 (bungo stray dogs), 𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐘𝐀 (my hero academia)

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tulipsforvin · 6 months

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Hello,can I request headcanon about how moriarty brothers will act as bf or s/o pls?

How would The Moriarty Brothers Act As a Significant Other/Bf?

Characters: Albert James Moriarty, William James Moriarty, Louis James Moriarty.

Format: Headcannons.

Albert J. Moriarty

Affluent, rich and successful in almost all aspects to live a luxuriously comfortable life. What else could one ask for?

His gaze follow you anytime you look at something that catches your eye. Perhaps you didn't tell him you wanted it because you felt shy or nervous? He'd keep it a secret - his awareness of you finding something you like.

The next day you'd find it on your bedside table when you wake up, all nicely wrapped.

I reckon he leaves love notes as well ranging from short 'Good morning'(s) to professing his love for you.

Very playful with you. Always, always joking around with you. He loves listening to the sound of your laughter.

Protective. I think he's a fairly jealous man. Definitely not the pouting, sulking type but more like the 'show-them-you're-his' kind of type.

What a gentleman. And I mean, WHAT A GENTLEMAN. Back of the hand kisses, kissing your face, tying your shoelace, opening the door for you..I could go on and on.

He loves to use his money on you.

He knows what he's doing. Although he probably hasn't been in a relationship before, his experience with noble ladies absolutely fangirling over him has probably made him an expert in that field already.

If something gets overwhelming for you, for example a function, he'll shift the spotlight away from you to him so you can have a break. Just like how he does the same thing with William and Louis. Only further proves his protective tendencies.

William J. Moriarty

To be able to get into a relationship with him in the first place implies that you would need to have to break down through several walls that he built to shield himself and go through several obstacles (probably orchestrated by himself☠️).

But once you do, there's a certain comfortness he'll find in your presence. He'll be very vulnerable and turn emotional with you. Shocker. He's also really attentive.

Gets you out of predicaments with ease and can put up with your stubbornness.

He's very sweet and knows how to take care of you. Like, stroking a thumb over your lips if there's milk or something else that you didn't know was there when you just finished eating/drinking something.

Subtle, cute acts that make you swoon.

I'm so, so vey sure he writes love letters.

He's posessive, I'm sure. Contrary to the gentle exterior he has and even though he's quite soft with you, he's posessive. Proof is him going on and on about how Moran was his like a weirdo. Who says he can't do the same with you?

Not very experienced in the field of romance, but he would love to try out new things for you. There's also his intellect. This man probably does research on everything and anything relationship related to please you.

Your personal encyclopedia on all subjects. Don't know about a particular topic? There's nothing to worry about. William, of all people is your boyfriend after all.

Neck kisses. There's something he loves bout intimacy. Like, not just cheek kisses, though they are fine too but I think he loves to explore crevices of your body no one has explored before. Once again, makes him feel like you're his and only his.

Louis J. Moriarty

He likes to bake and cook for you. Anything you want to eat or drink at like, 3 in the morning? He'll trudge out of bed and go make it for you.

He's the more snuggly type. He likes to get warm and cozy with you, especially if it's cold outside.

He's protective like Albert but unlike Albert's more discreet way of acting protective, he's more direct. More agressive with his ways. Just as he is with Sherlock whenever he gets close to William.

NOT EXPERIENCED AT ALL !! He's very clumsy. He probably hasn't even interacted much with ladies before but he tries so, so very hard for you. That's so endearing.

Lots and lots of forehead and nose kisses for sure.

He's not one to talk unless it requires for him to speak so he's pretty satisfied just hearing your voice and nodding his head. A wonderful combination if you like to go on and on about all kinds of random topics.

The type to get easily jealous. He, most likely, has not had alot of meaningful relationships in his life except the Moriarty group, so when he's in a relationship - he's very territorial and gets jealous even though he seems like a sweetheart. Which he is, ofcourse - but just for a selected few.

He gets bashful in the early stages of his relationship or if the two of you are trying out something new. He also likes to bury his face in your chest and neck.

A sucker for intimacy like his older brother.

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isolabellz · 25 days

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the reunion we didn’t get to see

#sherliam #moriarty the patriot #yuumori #sherlock holmes #william james moriarty #sherlock x liam #sherlock x moriarty #they are so married #when you haven’t seen your husband in 3 months #i love them #happy birthday liam

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ananiel · 4 months

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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

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yandere-wishes · 8 months

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⋆ Anomaly ⋆

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When Moriarty kisses you the whole world melts away.

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

"My precious little anomaly"

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

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kanroji-san · 4 months

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Y/n: don't kill me, I have a husband! Random Aristocrat: I don't care! Y/n: you don't understand, I'm not begging for mercy or anything like that. This is a warning. Louis: *suddenly bursts in* YOU'RE READY TO DIE!

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #louis moriarty #louis james moriarty #x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #louis james moriarty x reader #louis james moriarty x you #louis james moriarty x y/n #louis james Moriarty x you #louis james Moriarty x reader #moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot headcanons

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pfpanimes · 3 months

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⌕ yuukoku no moriarty • sherlock holmes.

like or reblog if you save/use.

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asgards-princess-of-mischief · 6 months

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Last Updated: 2024-04-03

Main

James 'Jim' Moriarty x Reader

See Also: Navigation || Private T.B.R.

#Evelyn's Master Indexes #BBC Moriarty x Reader #BBC Moriarty x Y/N #BBC Moriarty x You #Jim Moriarty x Reader #Jim Moriarty x Y/N #Jim Moriarty x You #Moriarty x Reader #Moriarty x Y/N #Moriarty x You #BBC Sherlock Fanfiction #BBC Sherlock Fanfic

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fairy-writes · 3 months

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

A BUSINESS PROPOSAL

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing(s): William James Moriarty x Reader

Word Count: 3k

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

Notes: So this was super fun to write!

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

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

PART TWO HERE

__________________________________________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least someone shared your sentiment.

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

The letter was short.

Dearest sister,

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

With best regards,

Mycroft Holmes

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

This was going to be fun.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He scowls,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Taking away your funding?

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

Much less one as young as yourself!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How could they?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sherlock trusted him well enough…

Perhaps…

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?!” You demand, and he shrugs,

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

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

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

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

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

“I accept your proposal.”

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