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War time Mormor Au

He was never supposed to break his promise.

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yall haven’t written the next chapter of ur fanfic and it really shows

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emotionally im doing the laminated paper wobbling sound

Richard Brook

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I’m not, I swear... I can’t be

Please leave some mormor/johnlock/sheriarty prompts

Johnlock/teenlock

Trigger warning for eating disorder

Calories

They made Sherlock

Calories

They destroyed Sherlock

Sherlock Holmes was many things, rude, brilliant, antisocial, the list went on and on but anorexic was not on it, the very though sent the raven haired boy, in a pool of dizzy. No body part would work right as only one thought raced through his mind like a broken record player. No I'm not.

The word anorexic had the ability to make Sherlock question everything, but the calories, the foods, the sugars and the fats, the could skin the boy alive and then throw his body into a fire.  

A small number, that was all it took before Sherlock had fallen into a pit of madness, His stomachs doing flips at the thought of fat slowly building up along his hips, his head spinning, feet staggering around in attempt to regain his balance. All that damage caused from one simple glance at the foods packaging.

He should stop he knew it wasn't right, that the girl next door didn't do it, or the boy a few blocks down the street, but he couldn't help it. It was second nature to look for the calories of any food that he was considering eating, a bad habit that he couldn't break. A bad habit that he wasn't sure he wanted to break.

"Sherlock, johns waiting for you"

Sherlock looked up from the box of raisins that he held tightly, fingers shaking at the thought of the dried fruit rolling down his throat. he forced his fingers to detach from the cardboard box replacing it with the familiar fabric of his backpack strap. he choked a good bye to his mother as he walked through the living room, fear rolling off his body in waves. His steps quickened as the front door came into view, the relief of no longer having to be in the same room as is mother begging to take over.

it wasn't that sherlock didn't like his mother, it was more the fear. the fear that if she looked at him for a second to long, or at the wrong spot she would know. She would learn about all the meals that sherlock had missed, all the cotton he had forced down his throat to make sure he wouldn't get hungry and all the bones that poked out from under his soft pale skin. The very thought of his mother finding out made him want to bend over and throw up the water that filled his stomach

"Morning love"

He couldn't help but smile, as his blond boyfriend appeared from behind the wooden door. john stood resting casually against the fence, a jacket hanging loosely around his body, backpack hanging from his shoulder. john could take sherlocks breath away every time without fail, no mater how he stood or what he wore. john made sherlocks heart and mind melt, and he loved it.

The crisp air floated around them, biting at any exposed skin, forcing them to tighten there coats in attempt to stay warm. Cars drove by them quickly, gas smoke covering up the smoke that came from the boys chapped lips.

"Are you coming to my football game tonight? I know it's not really your thing but..."

The curly haired boy felt light headed, every step he took sent his head spinning in different directions. Black and white spots dancing across his vision threatening to consume him at any moment, the noise of the traffic ringing in his ears. One thought raged through his mind, consuming him whole, and taking over every muscle that he had.

Not now, not with john

"Yah- yah of course I'll be there"

He staggered to the left, his hand becoming cold as he lost johns grip, the world taking a drastic tilt to the right as he staggered again. "Sherlock, are you okay" For a moment he thought he was okay, the world had balanced out and he could breath properly, until his vision began to slowly go black, as if he was closing his eyes.

With one last attempt to speak everything went black

~~~

Sherlock stayed still, muscle begging for him to move but he couldn't, he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes, to show that he was awake. He couldn't bare to see the white hospital room that he knew he would be laying in, he couldn't see the worried stares of his mother, or feel the disapproval that would be radiating off his brothers, or john. Oh John what would he be thinking.

Would his blue eyes, shine with concern or disgust, would he be wondering why he dated such a freak. Sherlock began to feel panicked, his thoughts becoming to loud to sit through.

"Sherlock!"

The blond teen cried as Sherlock slowly opened his eyes, groaning as a headache began to pound from behind his eyes.

Through his fuzzy vision Sherlock could see john rush over to him, kneeling beside the bed. He ran a hand through Sherlocks curls, brushing his dark hair to the side. Tears of relief rolled down the blinds face, splattering across the bed sheets.

"Oh Sherlock" he felt john plant a quick kiss on his forehead, "I thought I lost you, Sherlock I thought I lost you"

Sherlock looked away from john and towards his wrist, the boys pain to much to take. A needle had been pierced through his pale skin and then taped down, no doubt providing the nutrients that he hadn't been consuming himself.

He shifted his wrist to get johns attention, hoping that he would pull it out for him. He could feel it going through his veins, bringing fat to his skin, and roundness to his rib and bone stomach.

"sherls you know i cant do that, you need the nutrients" sherlock watched, wide eyed in horror as john stood up, soft creaks coming from the floor as he stepped away from the cot. "i'm going to tell the doctor that you're awake, i'll only be a few seconds"

the curly haired boy wanted to jump from his spot and chase down his boyfriend, he wanted to cry for john to stay by his side, yet no matter how much he wanted to stop john from leaving, he couldn't. All sherlock could do was watch helplessly as john left, the side of his pale face tingling from where johns hand had touched, a feeling of emptiness now floating around the small room.

he stared at the door, mind blank and body numb, until john returned, no doctor with him to sherlocks joy. the blond crouched next to his boyfriend once again, looking at him with concern filling his bright blue eyes, it tingled through sherlock, sending his stomach in twists and knots. how could he do this to john, how could he send the ever happy boy into a never ending pit of destruction.

The boy with sunshine blond hair and a smile that could put the sun to shame, the positive boy that could see the best in anyone no matter what they had done, the boy that had helped sherlock more then he had ever imagined. the very boy that sherlock had destroyed so easily.

there were so many things that he wanted to say, but only one thing sat on his mind like a broken record player, and all sherlock knew was that he needed to tell john it, no matter how much it hurt his dry throat. "john"

the teen nodded in response, all his attention focused on the raven haired boy,"i am not anorexic, i swear" he whispered, tears sitting in the corners of his sunken eyes and rolling down his hollow cheeks.

his throat may have burned worse then anything sherlock had felt in a long time, the fire rolling up along the walls and threatening to suffocate him but he needed john to know. he needed john to believe him, "i'm not..." the words felt forced and fake to even sherlock, it was a lie he could no longer hide.

"I can't be"

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Cheater, cheater pumpkin eater

Mormor/sheriarty

Present. Past

“Hey, a casual affair that could go anywhere,

But only for tonight”

One drink, was the start, the alcohol hot down their throats, followed by a second, burning just as much as before. A shot came after, then a few shared cigarettes, the smoke getting blown into the night, lost through the clouded sky. One more shot before they were both completely drunken, feet tipsy, barely able to hold themselves up, as their minds fogged, eyes watching the traffic below.

A cigarette was placed between chapped pink lips, both laughing as smoke was blown into the others face. Bodies getting closer as the cigarette was passed back and forth, barely a nub as the sizzling stick was used to warm their fingers. Hands roaming closer, fingers barely brushing as eyes came in contact. With breaths caught, lost in the wind, lips connected.

“Take any moment, any time.

A lover on the left a sinner on the right”

Casual, that's all it would be, forgotten like every math test ever taken as a child, never to be thought about; never to be spoken of. One night, nothing more, Jim would return to sherlock and Sebastian would continue going from girl to girl. Sherlock would never know, nor would John or Irene. Casual was all it would be yet as they sat at John and Mary's engagement dinner nothing felt casual.

With ever brush of Sherlock's thumb, light across the Irish mans knuckles, his heart would skip a beat, dark eyes darting to Sebastian who sat on his right. The blond himself seemed as calm as any day, face bright as he laughed a long with John, a beer held loosely in his hand, light blue eyes shinning in a way that only his could.

“So just lay in the atmosphere,

a casual affair, stand there and don't say a

word. Lay in the atmosphere

a casual affair”

One kiss was all it took before hands roamed carefree, chapped lips moving against chapped lips, smoke and whisky mixing, laced with mixes of beers and other alcohols. The pair stood up together barely leaving an inch between them; as they slowly moved from of the deck and into the house.

Lips moved faster as hands tugged at fabric, finger scratching against skin as bodies fell back onto the bed. Hands roamed freely across stomachs and arms, nails scratching backs as lips moved from lips to collarbones only to once again connect with lips.

Smoke in their lungs, alcohol twisting their minds, swollen lips trailing kisses as soft alcoholic breaths filled the silent night.

“Break involuntary ties. A secret.

So the spies could never find us out”

His heart continued to be heavy and forced, as if the very thing keeping him alive was considering quitting. He could barely keep his eyes on one person for longer then a second, his gaze staying on his scotch glass before him.

Sherlock said something from his left, repeating it a few seconds later after the Irish man hadn't replied; the words from his friends blurred to a numb silence, that was over ruled by the ringing running through his head. Black spots became clear at the edge of his vision, as the rest of it became blurred, wether from tears or something else he wasn't sure.

Silence fell upon the restaurant with the bang of Jim's chair falling back, his vision suddenly becoming very clear, all the eyes watching him with worry, burning holes into his mind. "I-I need to go to the umm... loo" he stuttered weakly before turning and walking away as quickly as his feet would take him.

“Stay for as long as you have time,

So the mess that we'll become

leaves something to talk about”

When morning came and both men had awaken, the room sat in silence, both to stunned to speak, to sober to blame words on a drink, not enough nicotine in their systems to stop shaking hands and the panic that built up in their chests. "That was..." Sebastian began after the silence had become to suffocating to even breath.

"Fantastic" The Irish man finished, "sherlock can't know...ever, and we aren't doing this again, it was just a... friend thing, a casual affair"

“So just lay in the atmosphere,

a casual affair, stand there and don't say a

word. Lay in the atmosphere

a casual affair”

The world seemed to spin as jim stood alone in the washroom, back pressed against the far wall with his eyes closed tight. A choked sob escaped his lips as he felt the bite mark across his bottom lip, scars that only reminded him of the awful things he did.

The sound of the washroom door opening came from his left yet he didn't dare open his eyes until a hand brushed across his skin, soft and warm, spiking an electricity that he craved. Dark eyes fluttered open meeting Sebastian worried filled electric blue.

An awkwardness sat between them, a friendship of eighteen years seeming to be forgotten, lost because of night. Now only strangers. One hug that's all the Irishman craved, to feel the blonds arms tight around his body, smell the cigarettes across the others lips. How he craved the comfort, to be free of the confusion his world seemed to revolve around.

Sebastian's hand moved from the brunets arm and to his cheek, brushing away the tear. With that simple movement, the carefree touch, Jim felt his world crash down, tears rolling across his cheeks as Sebastian's arms wrapped around his body.

“Lay in the atmosphere

a casual affair”

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Maybe human is okay

An old mormor oneshot

The room was silent the only sound that could be herd was two soft shallow breaths drifting around the room, the rusty smell of blood drifted around the room. The dark blue curtains had been drawn blocking out the city lights of London from lighting the dark pitch black room.

Jim lay dead still, his muscles stiff from lack of movement, the Irishman barley blank afraid that any little moment would reck the perfect moment. That if when he adjusted his head, or his breath was to deep that the blond man that lay behind him would disappear. Just a gust in the wind.

Two tanned arms rested around Jims small pale body, letting off almost a glow like that sun. The sound of Sebastian's beating heart filled the Irish mans ears, he didn't want it any other way, every other Saturday morning they had shared together, from guns being shot to men being hung, could never be better then this morning.

And James moriarty did love a good murder, gambling his own life as he taunted man after man, woman after woman. Pointing out there flaws and problems, getting gangs and billionaires a like so mad and flustered that they were ready to shoot the criminal on sight was one of his many talents. Then getting to see the light slip from there eyes, always the same way, grasping for just one more chance, one more miracle.

Jim had seen it from so many different eyes young and old, from light ice blue to a dark charcoal. Each time as the last breath excepted their lips the Irishman would feel a warmth spread as through him, a sense of power, a feeling that no person should feel if they themselves were in that situation.

This warm feeling that rested in his chest, spreading from his head to toes threatening to choke him was different. It felt good, it felt clean and human, it felt different, and James moriarty loved it. He craved this new feeling like a drug or an alcohol.

Is this what every couple feels? 

The criminal wondered, every couple he had turned his head away from, discussed by their love for each other. Discussed by how someone would let themselves be so weak! But now here he was the most dangerous man in London, letting that warm feeling consume him, letting the butterflies and jitters control him ever time he was close to the blond man.

Weak!

With that last thought Jim shot up into a sitting position, he couldn't do this, he couldn't act like that. No! It was to normal, to calm, to..... human. Moriarty did not "feel", he was not human, he couldn't let himself be human not even for a second, he just couldn't do it.

A groan came from the half asleep sniper, who now was sprawled across the king bed, the covers had fallen to the floor from Jim's sudden outburst leaving Sebastian cold from wearing only sweatpants. "Whe'r you going kitten"

The man question voice thick with sleep, but he know sat watching g as the shorter man rush around the room pulling on a nice vest while combing his dark hair back. Jim had stopped in his tracks his eyes glaring daggers at Sebastian for using the stupid nickname he had come up with so long ago.

"Don't call me that"

He hissed his voice laced with heavy poison. There was no way James was getting lost in the stupid pet names and warm addicting feeling that he still carved no matter how much he wanted to deny it. No matter how many people he killed it places he blew up could rid this craving.

In seconds he had changed, Sebastian could tell, he was no longer the relaxed Jim that would stay up late with seb and watch movie upon movie while drinking hot chocolate and stuffing their faces full of popcorn. No. This was moriarty the consulting criminal that killed for fun, that would blow up Big Ben for giggles.

"I'm going out"

~~~

Jim stood on the balcony alone, the cold night air blew softly against him, city lights dotting across the land scape. How had he gotten here from the small town in Ireland where he would spend days upon days exploring the lush green forests, skipping rocks and climbing trees.

Everything seemed so simple back then, never would he have suspected himself to move to London and become a consulting criminal, rid himself of every emotion.

Two warm hands wrapped around his torso, Sebastian's chin rested upon Jim's head. There it was again back from the shadows, that fluttery feeling he got his stomach and the warmth that covered his body. Why did it have to be there, why did it have to be so addicting.

"What ch'a think'n about"

The blond sniper asked his voice muffled as he rubbed his warm face against James's cold pale neck. At first the Irishman didn't reply to lost in thought to come back to reality, to lost watching each star dimly shone against the dark night.

The white dots that speckled the sky were practically impossible to see to Jim's disappointment, from his house in Ireland he could see each star shinning bright and beautiful, if the city lights would just disappear, only for a second everything could have been perfect.

"Nothing"

The man finally replied his voice a soft whisper not daring to go to loud as if it would shatter the stars above.

The feeling was till there the warmth that felt like he was next to a fire but maybe it was barely, maybe he could handle the flutter in his stomach every time Sebastian spoke, or the warmth that would spread across his skin when the sniper touched his arm. Maybe he could handle this one emotion, maybe he could handle being a little human.

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So... I miss you

Mormor AU

"Hey bastian"

"..."

"It's been a while"

"I umm I really miss you"

"And-" the man bit his lip closing his eyes as he held back tears, "I could- I could really use you right now"

He pulled his knees to his chest, not able to hold back the tears any longer as they rolled down his cheeks. "It's just- it's just" he choked on his tears, barely able to speak as sobs shook his body. "Things are really hard without you"

"And um" he took a shaken breath, "I don't think I can"

"I, I can't"

"I can't do it anymore"

His head was pressed to his knees, as he began to sob again, his nails pressing to the palms of his hands in attempt to gain control. To feel reality, to feel anything other then the burning pain that tore at his body every waking second, and every following night. There was no safe, the pain was all he had.

"Why'd you leave me" he sobbed, "WHY, YOU *SS HOLE" he screamed, barely able to breath any more.

His throat was raw as he turned his head the greys and greens blurry through his tears vision. "You weren't suppose to leave me"  he barely whispered

"we were going to grow old together, have a kid, see the world"

"..."

"You promised"

Jim rested his head to cement object, tears continuing to roll across his cheeks as he sat in silence, listen to the wind blow.

"John told me I should come talk to you" he finally spoke voice raw and broken, "he told me it would be good for me"

"..."

"Molly agreed"

"..."

"They all miss you as well"

"Even Sherlock... though he doesn't like to admit it"

"Sometimes-" his voice cracked as he squeezed his eyes closed, "sometimes we will go down to the pub, and I'll- I'll order your drink with out thinking"

"Erdinger kristall"

"Because nothing beats a German beer" Jim whispered repeating the phrase he'd herd Sebastian say so many times.

"I wish you were here to drink with me"

"..."

"And make breakfast in the morning"

"And read books in the evening" Jim's voice had softened, now barely a whisper. To drained to cry, no tears left from the past weeks, as everything suddenly came poring out. He hadn't spoken of it, not to his friends, or the counsellor, not to his parents, not until now.

"I miss you so much"

"I miss your laugh, and your voice, and the warmth of your arms"

"I miss everything"

"Your blue eyes"

"Your awful music"

"Your everything"

A single tear rolled across his face as he stared at the grave for the first time since he'd arrived. The words Sebastian Moran were carved perfectly across it, with the words Sniper of the British army underneath, written in the same perfection. As if that was the best they could do for him, label him as one of there own, after being the reason he lay six feet under ground. 

"I just-" Jim rested his head against the grave, wishing that he felt Sebastian warm embrace, over the cold cement. "I-" a singular tear rolled across his cheek, "I miss you so much"

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Let’s bake cookies sherly!

Parentlock

"Can sherly help?" she asked, looking up at her father with wide eyes, "pretty please" she begged, tears began to form in her eyes as john hesitated to say yes. He already had to deal with his daughter, making sure she wouldn't burn herself, or make to much of a mess, did he really want to look after his boyfriend as well, who most likely was more hazardous then the seven year old. "Pleeeeeaaaaase" she begged, forcing tears to fall from her eyes.

"Fine, fine, you wait here, while I get sherlock"

John sighed as he walked out of the kitchen and into his and Sherlock's shared room. The small room was filled with clutter, most because of Sherlock's experiments and other things he defined as necessary. The detective himself was sat in the middle of the catastrophe they called a bedroom, legs spread out across the bed, back pressed against the head rest as he flipped carelessly through one of his many books, boredom written across his features. "Hey sherlock " john greeted taking a seat at the edge of their unmade bed.

The raven haired man looked up from his book, raising an eyebrow as if to ask why john was disturbing him. The doctor sighed, "me and Rosie are going to bake cookies" he began slowly, waiting a second to see if sherlock would interrupt, but when the detective said nothing he continued. "And it would mean a lot to her if you would come and join us"

The detective put his book down, eyed glancing over his boyfriend as he thought, "may I just watch" sherlock asked. If it had been anyone else saying those words, John would have argued, would have told them to not be lazy and make the young girl happy, but sherlock? His brilliant sherlock, coming and sitting with them, spending time together, as a family. Spending time together that didn't involve hunting down the most recent serial killer, or having a quick tea as they waited for the kidnapper to make an appearance, just sitting together, smiling, being a regular family. Sherlock just watching was all john needed.

"Yes, that would be perfect" the detective stood up and followed his boyfriend back into the kitchen, where to johns relief Rosie was still sat cheering in glee as sherlock took his seat at the kitchen island.

After putting her blonde hair up, and helping her jump from the island, the father and daughter began their cookie batter. Smiling as john would bump hips with Rosie, laughing as the small girl attempted to do it back, he would brush a speck of flour onto her nose then bend down to let her do the same to him and together they threw a handful of flour at the watching detective, who screamed in protest. It was the family moments that john never wanted to forget, the ones he wanted to freeze time and never leave. Half way though even flour covered sherlock came to join, helping the blonde girl fill a measuring cup with chocolate chips.

"Let's add MORE!" Rosie explained once she had poured the chocolate into the mixing bowl. She held the cup back out waiting for sherlock to fill it once again, "pleeeeeaaaaaaase sherly"

"Rosie" the detective began in his explaining voice, though he spoke much softer to her, you could still hear the 'I'm much more clever then you' tone that always was in his words. "If we add more chocolate chips they will no longer be chocolate chip cookies, but chocolate cookies" he explained, "then there's the fact that the cookie wouldn't even hold together due to not having enough dough, if you wanted chocolate cookies so much that is what you should have found s recipe for"

Rosie scrunched her face in annoyance, crossing her arms as she glared at the tall man, "I want to tell you a secret" she finally declared. Both men frowned slightly but never less sherlock crouched down to allow the short girl to wh diaper in his ear. "I want more chocolate chips!" She screamed once her lips were almost brushing against the detectives ear lobe.

John couldn't help but laugh as his boyfriend staggered backwards in pain, hands at his ear. "Rosie" the raven haired man screamed as she gave him a childish grin. For a second john thought that sherlock was actually mad, with the sudden raise of his voice but when he grabbed the sink spray gun and drenched the small girl with one pull of the trigger, that thought had vanished.

"Sherly st-" Rosie screamed only to be cut off by another harsh spray. her giggles filling the room as she was rapidly sprayed, john begin to laugh along.

"Alright sherlock that's enough" john finally said, reaching over for the spray gun. It was fun, to watch as his boyfriend and daughter had fun, laughing and smiling together but John didn't particularly want their flat to be covered in mold nor did he want to spend the rest of their day drying the flat. "It was fu-"

John dropped quickly to the ground as the water was sprayed, where he was once stood now drenched with water. "Sherlock!" The blond said as he stood back up, pain racing through his elbow from where he had hit it against the ground.

"John" the detective replied, lowering his weapon slightly. John opened his mouth to speak, only to be welcomed with a mouth full of water.

"I" he coughed out some of the water, the laughs of his daughter filling the kitchen, "hate you"

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Is Michael Fassbender aware that according to 80% of tumblr he plays in BBC Sherlock?

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Are you the devil? Maybe.

Sheriarty

Demonlock AU

The shovel hit the ground and the silence was lost, then sound of ground being broken, filled the night over and over. No attempt to hide it was made, Sherlock's only focus being to create a hole as fast as he could, and soon the hole was deep enough to place the card board box, and once again cover it in the dirt.

Once he was done sherlock stepped back, bright eyes darting across the paths and through the trees, though everything sat at still, no beautiful woman, or threatening men, with

smirks and blood red eyes. His own breath was caught in his throat, each breath seeming harder than the last, more forced than before. "Looking for me love," sherlock froze as the soft voice spoke, sinister yet addicting, urging him to listen more, to hear everything the demon had to say.

He turned without hesitation though his heart was beating rapidly, his gaze falling on the demon before him, who stood at least a head shorter, wearing a black suit that he adjusted with a smirk across his lips, his eyes dimming from the bright red of a cross road demon and to dark coffee brown. A colour usually warm and inviting, like a breath from home, but as the demon looked over sherlock as if he could read him like an open book, as if he could know every secret the curly haired man had tried to hide, every sin he had done and every crime he commited, there was no sense of security in his eyes. There was no calm, no peace when a war raged, and that's all that could be seen in the mixes of blacks and browns that were his eyes. A war of heaven and hell, both sides scene, a chaos that had been trapped away, a ticking time bomb ready to blow.

The demon took a step closer so the two were practically touching, breaths flaring across faces as they looked at one another. Sherlock stayed still eyes never moving from the demons, back straight and stiff. "Well of course I'm the one you're looking for" he purred hand gliding across Sherlock's cheek for barley a second. "But why?" much to Sherlock's liking to dark haired demon took a step back, allowing him to finally breath, though he still did not dare to speak.

"Do you want to master the arts, like the last silly man. Become world famous be known by everyone for your talent. Or do you want riches? A good family? Is it boring? Is it for a loved one? Tell me mister Holmes what kind of deal shall we be making on this fine evening"

Sherlock was smart enough to know not to mess with demons, to not fall into their tricks and get lost in their enchanting words but he was also smart enough to know when someone was dying, and he was sure that John Watson was definitely dying. Seeing the blonde laying in his bed, skin paler than Sherlock's though with a tint of green, his weight dropping quickly along with his eye lids, his breaths becoming slower and slower, more shallow with each second. The blond could have a week left at most. "I need you to cure someone for me"

The demon rolled his eyes, nose scrunched in disgust, "how boring, are you sure you wouldn't just like me to kill them now, fast and painless... at least after I have a bit of fun"

"I want him cured, that's it"

"Aww pleeee-" sherlock grabbed onto the collar of the demons suit, raising him so only the tips of his toes touched the ground. It was completely stupid, a suicide wish, but his anger clouded his vision, his care for his own life over powered by the urge to punch the brunet in his smudge face. "I'll give you five years" the demon hissed, eyes flashing red for only a second, though they never left Sherlock's.

"Ten" he spat back.

A cocky smirk returned to the demons face, eyes once again shinning with that mischievous glint that made Sherlock's skin crawl. "Five. Years. No more. No less" he paused eyes darting over the taller mans features for barley a second. "Take it or let your pet die"

For a second he was going to run, drop the demon and never return, watch John take his last breath, close his eyes to never open them again, though those thoughts were soon gone as he pulled the demon closer, connecting their lips.

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Not all addictions lead to disasters

part two of “addictions lead to disasters

Sebastian was alone after that day, clients would come looking for the great Moriarty only to be sent away by the frustrated Moran. The food was slowly running out yet Sebastian couldn't bring himself to leave the flat. His guns were slowly being covered by a layer of dust much like the rest of the house yet Sebastian couldn't pick a single one of them up.

Every second was spent alone, a sickening feeling following him as he would wonder through the flat, as he would push a plate of food under the door in hopes that jim wasn't going to starve himself, as he sat himself against the door and spoke to the Irish criminal. Never would an answer come, not even a small thud from through the door, and slowly second by second, day by day, Sebastian began to give up. Talking to Jim less and less, until finally four and a half weeks later he stopped trying, knowing how stubborn the criminal could be.

Unlike the food supplies, running out of cigarettes was something that worried Sebastian, the nicotine taking over his body was the only peace of mind he got. Feeling as his body slowed down, smoke filling his lungs, the paper stick rolling between his fingers. Everything was calm, he could breath, as city air blew from the left, blowing the smoke away as quick as it trailed off from the cigarette . The traffic below clouded the snipers thoughts, no worries no cares, he wouldn't consider himself happy at this moment, his thoughts of Jim still haunting the back of his mind like a shadow but for just, but calm was good. He would take calm.

The blond let the cigarette dangle from between his teeth as he stood up walking to the railing of the deck. He lent against the railing carelessly watching the cars drive slowly by below as the thought of jumping ran through his head. Oh how easy it would be to fall, to feel the air rushing against his skin, the pounding  feeling as his body impacted against the concrete or maybe a car. The thoughts were addicting, more addicting then any cigarette or drug, how he craved to let everything go, he was so tired. Tired of keeping himself together as he watched Jim fall apart, tired of staying strong, tired of failure following him around every moment. Jumping would be easier, a needed relief. Jim wouldn't notice anyways.

Leaning over the edge, the wind seeming to rush faster then before, Sebastian almost let himself fall. his fingers barley gripping onto the edge as a pair of arms were wrapped around his waist. He could feel soft breaths warm his back as Jim pressed his face into the blonds army jacket. "Jim" Sebastian whispered, in disbelief, he turned to face the criminal. The smaller man has changed suits, the light grey fabric hung loosely around his frame, not at all tight fitting as it was made to be, his dark brown hair had grown out more, and still stuck to his head with dried up blood.

The criminal nodded slightly against Sebastian's chest, arms still wrapped tightly around the snipers waist. Pain spread through Sebastian's body as Jim flinched when he pulled the smaller man into a hug. "Jim I missed you so much" the blond mumbled slowly bringing a hand to take the cigarette from his lips. "I missed you so much"

No reply came from the Irishman, not that it mattered to Sebastian, nothing matter to the sniper, not when he had jim in his arms, his Jim. His clever, witty, psychopathic Jim, that would kill with a smile on his face. Nothing mattered when Sebastian could trail his hands along the criminals now pale tinted green skin, along every curve and bone that stuck out. "Let's go inside, get you some tea" Sebastian muttered running a hand along Jim's side, which he stopped when he felt Jim flinch once again, "and maybe somethin' to eat."

Together they walked in, Jim then walking off to the living room and Sebastian towards the kitchen. "We're goin' to need to talk about it" the blond said once both men had a cup of tea in hand and were sitting on opposite ends of the couch. It was dreaded, Sebastian could feel the knot in his stomach tightening, but it was something they needed to talk about wether Jim wanted to or not.

"Tiger, not right now" he whispered, tea cup pressed to just below his chin, his voice hoarse and broken.

At any other time, for anything else Sebastian would have dropped it, over any other conversation Sebastian would have let him have his wish but not this time. Not after weeks of silence, weeks of letting Sebastian's anger, sadness and every emotion in between build up. "No Jim" he argued, "we need to talk about it now"

"Seb, please"

"Jim. no"

guilt twisted through the snipers mind as he watched the smaller man begin to shake, sunken eyes closed tightly. His cup of tea now left on his lap, hands up to his ears as if trying to block a voice out, with anyone else Sebastian would assume they were being dramatic, just putting on a show, but with Jim, with everything the Irishman had described, Sebastian didn't doubt for a second that there probably was a voice he was trying to block out. "Jim?" The sniper asked, voice gentle now, tea long forgotten.

"What Sebastian" Jim snapped, hands now at his sides, eyes wide opened, and narrowed down at the blond. "What do you want to talk about? about how every muscle in my body ached, feeling as if they had been slit opened. Or about how clouded my mind was that when we were walking up to the flat I was laughing, having no clue what was about to happen, or maybe we can talk about how I'm feeling" Jim was almost screaming now, eyes watering. "Because I don't know, 'bastian. I have absolutely no clue. I can't explain how empty my body feels or the nagging that's always in the back of my mind. I can't do it, I can't. Is that what you wanted to hear" the criminal sobbed body shaking, not caring that the tea had fallen from the couch and spilt all over the rug.

Sebastian moved closer to Jim, pulling him into a hug, "I can't" the criminal sobbed, barring his face into Sebastian's shoulder, boney hands gripped tightly to the snipers army jacket. "I can't" a pain spread across Sebastian, a pain that ate away away destroyed you, something that made death seem more satisfying then living for another second.

There wasn't anything Sebastian could say to make it better, 'you can' was to empty and careless, 'it will get better' was just a destroying sentence that did nothing but leave holes in your heart. All the blond could do was slowly rub the criminals back and pray that the choked sobs would end soon. 

[hdjsieheh-blog]

more au’s i wanna see bc they’re Very Important™️ to me

Sugar Daddy!Sebastian

Professor Moriarty and Professor Moran

Rent Boy!Jim

One sided Feelings

Stoner Seb (Really, I NEED this)

feel free to add your own

[hdjsieheh-blog]

Addictions lead to disasters

Mormor

james moriarty was a wild man, with a mind that ticked more often then a clock, he couldn't keep a conversation going with out getting bored or watch a full movie without wanting to stab someone and let them bleed out. though his opinion on something could change twenty seven times in a minute there was one thing sebastian could always rely on, that the irish criminal would have an addiction. from watching f.r.i.e.n.d.s on repeat to only eating kit kats, some lasted days others months. no matter what it was, or how long they lasted, sebastian could handle it, it was almost refreshing to have at least one thing he could always count on. That was until gay bars and drinking had become Jims addiction.

every few nights jim would leave to the bar a few blocks away from their flat, and spend the night, drinking until he threw up, dancing with someone new every second song, and then expecting the sniper to come and get him. To drive him home as if nothing happened, as if it was just another day, and Sebastian played along. He argued over what music they played as they drove back, he teased Jim as he babbled on in his drunk state, switching languages within every few words, and when morning came and the criminal had a pounding headache Sebastian brought him Advil, as if nothing had happened.

By the third week everything had become routine, something Sebastian had expected, until one night that sent everything spiralling.

The blond was parked in his usual spot, at the curve of the bar, his usual music playing through the expensive car. "Jim?" Sebastian frowned in confusion as the criminal walked slowly into his car, every movement seeming to send him into spiralling pain. His dark eyes were out of view, though his hair was a mess sticking up in odd directions, with sticky blood plastering other strands down. His black Westwood suit was torn to shreds, with blood and dirt staining every other visible fabric. "Jim" he repeated voice now filled with panic.

The brunet finally looked in the snipers direction, dark brown foggy eyes with dilated pupils. He hummed slowly in response, head drifting off to the right as his eyes closed for a second, only to snap back open. "Are you high?" Sebastian asked in confusion, bringing a hand to Jim's cheek, who after seconds of it being there flinched always. The criminal loved to drink, smoking not so much, but he could handle Sebastian doing it, drugs though. That was something a little less forgivable and most likely would get you a one way ticket to the bottom o the English Channel. "Jim what did you take?"

"alprazolam-xanax" he whispered slowly, eyes not moving as they looked at something in the distance.

"Isn't that a rape drug" the blond questioned, getting a small nod in response. A killing silence seemed to fall upon the car, though music blared, and people screamed outside, nothing else mattered. Every breath suffocated Sebastian more, as he looked over the Irishman in a new way, the bruises around his neck looking more like deep purple hand prints then before, the tares in his clothing making more sense then just a simple street fight. Sebastian wanted to vomit at the very thought of anyone near Jim, or hunt them down and slit their wrists, watch as they slowly bleed out make sure they suffer, make sure that every breath they took was as horrible as Jim looked. "Jim, are-"

"Just drive 'bastian" the shorter man muttered, the usual venom that would be lacing his words gone, replaced with emptiness. Hollow words, that left scars across Sebastian's heart.

The sniper did as demanded, starting the car and beginning the short drive home. It was hell, every second spent drowned in loud music, neither men making any attempt to speak, though Sebastian would glance towards Jim every few seconds. It was torture, watching as the emotionless psychopath slowly broke. Nothing Sebastian could do but try to count the bruises that littered his neck, most over lapping, watch his body shake ever so slightly, only noticeable if you were paying close attention and pretend not to notice as a single tear rolled down the criminals cheek.

Jim staggered off to his own room, somewhere that neither of the men had been in for months. Sebastian ran towards the door as a body like thud came from it, he bashed his hand rapidly against the wood, not caring for the pain that exploded across his knuckles with every knock, "Jim open the door" he yelled with one final bash. "Jim" he whispered this time resting his head against the door.

He slid down slowly, knees finally making contact with the wood floor. Everything felt as if had broken, the ice criminal had broke. "Jim let me talk to you" Sebastian pleaded, weakly knocking on the door.

"You don't need to be alone.... just open the door" he pleaded forehead still against the wood door.

"please jim...."

"Let me in"

[hdjsieheh-blog]

I love you... oops

Mormor

"Love an intense feeling of deep affection"

"I loved you from the very beginning and I've loved you every day since, every second of every minute, I have loved you"

"I love your laugh and that smile, not the one you give girls at the pub, but your smile when your happy and care free. The smile that makes your eyes shine, and the world seem okay. The kind of smile that only I get to see"

"I love your blond hair and the way it looks after you've slept on the couch, I love your determination and your voice, the way you sing softly to yourself when you think I'm not listening. Everything about you, I love it. I love everything I know of and everything I'm going to learn...."

"There's so much I want to say"

"Every word that I didn't, every time I bit my tongue or held my breath..."

"I have so much to say in so little time"

"..."

"I wish I said all of this sooner"

"Is it to late?"

"To tell you everything?"

"To tell you how I want to spend every day with you, wake up with your arms around me, or go on long walks just smiling, laughing as we tell stories. I want to wake up and watch you make pancakes early in the morning, the sunrise bright against your skin."

"I want to be able to look at you and think 'he's the one' and you actually be the one"

"I-"

"I don't deserve love, or happiness and I certainly don't deserve you seb but, but seb I swear, on everything I own, on my own life and everyone I've met that I would love you. So, so much. I know I'm unsteady, and unpredictable and broken, but seb I love you"

"And that won't change"

"Sebastian Moran I love you"

"And I will forever be sorry for loving you"

Silence fell as Jim finished speaking, his mouth slightly a gap, tears beginning to spike at the corners of his vision. He felt raw,variable, with all his thoughts, twisted and sweet open in the air, spoken out loud even though there was no one, every beat of his heart scribbled across a crumbled piece of paper. All his feelings and emotions, the ones he could understand and the ones he couldn't, no longer secret, no longer only his. "Last time I checked confessing love to the groom was the brides job... not the best mans" he recognized the voice, sweet and soft, enough not to turn, though the usual pester in her voice was gone, now laced with worry, maybe even a little care.

Coffee eyes stayed locked on the paper in his hands as Irene took a seat next to him, "Jim you can't say those things.. you know that, right?" The words felt like a toxic, a poison, the simple, ugly truth, that the criminal couldn't avoid.

He nodded, tears beginning to role down his cheeks as he slowly broke, to many sleepless nights to keep on trying. "I can't tell him I love him" Jim whispered, eyes moving from his speech and to where Irene sat, her bright red lips turn down slightly in a frown. "I'm to late"

Even if he did, would Sebastian love him, could Sebastian love him. Unpredictable and twisted, broken beyond repair. Could someone love him when he was on the floor hands covered in blood as he tore out his own hair, face stained in tears, voice raw from screams. Maybe it not knowing was better than being more broken.

He put his arms around Irene's small frame, as sobs shook his body. He could feel the woman's hand glide up and down his back, though it did nothing to help. "I'm- I'm to late"