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[writinginthemoonbeams]

Do you still take requests ? 😊

I haven’t updated this in ages, jeepers. I can attempt to take a request and see how I feel about it, but given my schedule these days I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to! Sorry love

[writinginthemoonbeams]

Green Goo and All (Fox Mulder x Reader)

So, I’m back? Kinda? Not really. I know it’s been like a year since I posted any fics but hopefully I can get some new ones up soon. I know this fandom is almost dead, but the lovely @jesssuperwholock03 requested a Fox Mulder fic, and of course I needed to deliver! So here’s this wreck. It’s not great, and I’ve done better, but here it is nonetheless. I hope it’s okay, and hopefully I’ll have some more fics up in the near future!

You sipped your wine nonchalantly, not quite enjoying the taste of the Moscato as it passed through your lips. It wasn’t that the liqueur was bad, of course, but your mind was too preoccupied to savour the drink. The powerful tick of the clock was stronger than the sweet tang of the drink, and you found yourself staring off as the minutes passed by.

Mulder was late. Again. Not that it was a surprise. You had grown accustomed to his late nights and distant travels as he worked his cases, but that didn’t stop you from missing him. If you tried to count the number of times he had called to cancel plans in order to chase down some alien, mutant man, or  gremlin of the night, you would just end up pouring another glass of wine in sorrow. And the wine needed to last-- at least until your next lonely night.

You sighed, wondering why you signed up to deal with this emotional train wreck. It was always the same horrid ride; you planned a date, dressed your best and made a meal worthy of Martha Stewart’s blessings, and got “the call” where he apologized and said he’s in the middle of some big monster hunt. Your Martha Stewart-blessed dinner would end up meeting Tupperware instead of your plates, and you’d be left drinking away your heartbreak.

Of course you knew the work he did was important, and that his investigations helped to save countless lives. But yet some selfish part of you still wished that just once in a while, just for one night, he could set it all aside. Put it on the back burner. And instead, he’d focus on you, on your relationship. It was too much to ask, and you knew that. But enough was enough. You weren’t going to become a devastated alcoholic over him. You needed someone who could provide stability, and Mulder needed someone who could deal with his constant absence. 

As you finished your glass, you made up your mind: it was time to end things with Mulder. You had tried to make it work, but in the endgame you decided it just wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t that you wanted to leave him, in fact it was the last thing you wanted. 

You had loved him for years, and had been with him through thick and thin. The thoughts of those first nights could still bring a smile to your face; the two would watch sci fi movies in the dark, intertwined together on the couch like gangly teenagers.  But ever since he had started to take these “X File” cases, you had seen less and less of the man you loved. 

You had been trying to rehearse some farewell speech when you were interrupted by a knock on the door. With a deep breath, you opened it, and on your doorstep was Mulder.

God he was a mess.

His suit was wet and coated with slime, and his hair was slicked every which way as green goo oozed down his face. The flowers he held were dainty little daisies, but were also half-dead. It wasn’t the most romantic scene you could picture, but you smiled nonetheless. 

Mulder grinned faintly back, and his eyes begged for forgiveness. So did his mouth. “I’m sorry for being late again, (y/n), I got here as soon as I could. But if it makes up for anything, I asked off an entire week to make up for all of the dates I had to cancel. I’m truly, truly sorry, love.” He ran a hand through his hair sheepishly, and then grimaced as he felt the green goo stick to his fingers. You laughed, and instantly forgot your break-up speech and every angry thought you had only minutes prior. 

This. This is why you endured it all, every lonely night and emotional train wreck. Because at the end of the day, you were deeply in love with this wonderful man, green goo and all.

[writinginthemoonbeams]

A Quarter Short (DBH Connor x Reader)

It was a groggy morning in the DPD Central Station. The squadroom was quieter than normal, full of sluggish detectives. The only sounds to be heard was an occasional sip of coffee, as lips grazed styrofoam, and a small chorus of snores from throughout the room. You approached your desk, appreciating the peaceful atmosphere, and glanced over at your partners.

Hank was sleeping, reclined in a chair with his feet perched on the desk in front of him. Though, upon further examination, you realized that it wasn’t even his desk. You chuckled softly at the sight, trying not to yawn. Connor, on the other hand, was wide awake and alert like normal. The lucky duck. He was practicing to coin tricks as he analyzed info from the current case you guys were working on. As you approached, he looked up at you, smiling earnestly, seeming to be elated due to your presence. Though, he wasn’t deviant, so he wasn’t actually “elated”.

You wished that he was elated. Thrilled. Tickled pink. If you had one wish, you’d wish for Connor to have emotions. But, the fact that he didn’t caused no hinder to your love for him. Besides, you were optimistic that he would change one day, especially after being exposed to all of the new deviants around town. Like one of them would somehow influence his programming and cause him to suddenly be free.  Hopefully. One can dream.

“Good morning, (Y/N). Did you sleep well?” Ah, you loved that he seemed concerned. It was genuine in his own way, but only to make sure that the case, his mission, was completed. And for that to happen, his partners had to be healthy. But you wished that he would ask just because he cared.

“Well, I got a solid four hours, surprisingly. So, yeah, I slept alright.” You plopped down into your chair, spinning around a couple times absentmindedly, before logging into your computer. Connor frowned briefly, his LED turning yellow for a moment, “According to several medical articles, humans should have about 7-9 hours of uninterup-”

You cut him off with a wave, “I’ll be fine, Connor. I just need a couple cups of coffee. Trust me.” Though he trusted you immensely, the android wasn’t convinced, and a Software Instability notification appeared in the corner of his vision. “I suggest we get you some caffeine as soon as possible. Estimated wait time at the nearest cafe is approximately 9 minutes.” He stood up, and walked over to your chair to offer a hand.

You bit your lip. Connor wasn’t usually one to feel comfortable with physical contact, unless it was absolutely necessary. So, this was rather strange. But, you tentatively grasped his hand, amazed at how similar his skin felt to a human’s. He helped you up effortlessly, while his LED flashed yellow once more. The Software Instability message returned as well, but was ignored.

“Hank, do you want your usual?” The aforementioned grizzly detective had awakened at the mention of coffee, and gave a thumbs up while mumbling incoherently. You grinned, stretching your stiff muscles, before heading towards the exit, “Alright, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Connor proceeded to follow you, shaking his head, “We’ll be back in a few minutes. About 16 to be exact.” His insistence of coming with caused you to raise an eyebrow, but you decided not to question it as the two of you left to get the beverages.

~TimeSkip~

Standing in line, you dug out a small wad of crumpled dollars from your pocket. It was probably enough. Connor, meanwhile, was observing his new surroundings. He never had been to this cafe before, since he never usually saw the need to go get drinks that he didn’t require. But, he had felt the urge to be in your vicinity as much as possible lately.  Could be a bug.

As the two of you waited to place the order, he turned to glance at you, and smile at the mere sight of you. A movement in his vision caused him to frown, and he was once again clouded with another Software Instability alert. For being so perfect, as you constantly described him as, he seemed to have quite a few glitches lately. Not only were there the Software Instability notifications and the urge to be around you, but there were also moments where he fought the temptation to reach for your hand. Or tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Just to be in physical contact with you.

He really needed to get those bugs figured out. They were all overwhelming him, and he wasn’t sure he liked it very much.

As minute after minute of comfortable silence passed between the two of you, it soon became your turn to order.

“Two cups of coffee, please. One black and the other with cream.”

The cashier typed in the request, and stuck out a hand for your money. “That’ll be $3.15, today.”

Shit.

You only had 3 dollars. With a sigh, you tried again. “In that case, just the one black coffee, please. Sorry about that.” Laughing it off, you went to hand the money to the cashier, when Connor stopped you. “Wait, isn’t that Hank’s? What about your drink?”. You flashed a quick smile at his Connor version of concern.

“I don’t have enough money for both. It’s okay, Connor, at least two out of the three of us will be fully awake today.”

God, you were so kind. So thoughtful. You were willing to make sure your friend had a good day, even if you were fighting the urge to pass out. That was one of the many reasons he started getting the bugs, like all of the notifications with his Software Instability. He reached into his pocket, debating on giving you his last quarter. He usually would mess with his coins in order to distract his hands while his mind was analyzing the clues in your cases. It helped him focus, and achieve the best results he was capable of. He wasn’t sure why the coins helped, but they just did for some reason.

But you needed help. Needed him. And he wanted to help you. His LED flashed red as he slowly handed you his quarter. You couldn’t see the struggle in his mind, but you were both amazed and confused at his offering.

“…for me?” His smile was the only response you got. Paying for both drinks, you handed him the change from the cashier. “I know it’s not the same as a quarter, but here. That way your hands still have something to fiddle with.” You beamed at him, taking in every feature of his perfect face, and were surprised at a small change. The red LED was a symptom of deviancy, which gave you hope that your wish was coming true.

Thankful for his gift, and giddy at the prospect of Connor gaining feelings, you leaned up and pressed your lips against his cheek. “Thank you, Connor.” This was everything he had been craving lately. The closeness. The feelings of your breath tickling his face. Your lips against his skin. He thought the bugs were overwhelming, but this was sending him into shock.

The Software Instability warning didn’t bother appearing this time, as he cupped your face into his hands. He was too far gone.

I’m a Deviant was the last thing he thought before his perfect lips met yours.

[writinginthemoonbeams]

Blood On Your Hands (Sherlock X Reader)

Losing too much blood means the inevitable end. The final time the curtains draw to a close when life has drained every ounce of being from you. Like a vampire, pulling the plug on your veins to let the blood swiftly exit its vessel. But you, on the other hand, always seemed to have an excess of blood staining your fingers.When life was done with its victim, you see, the literal “Red Sea” would drown your hands in more ways than one. Guilt soon became your left, and Shame, your right.

You always could be left speechless when someone’s whole life soaked your white gloves. Every scraped knee and bloody nose were just here, painting the palms of your hands. That world quickly became too much for you, so you decided to outrun all of the blood. All of the blood that you couldn’t stop life from taking. But, of course, without that world, you had no means of money.

A friend suggested sharing the rent for a shelter with a flatmate and coaxed you to meet their suggestion for such. At a crime scene of all places. Your suggested flatmate stood in the world of blood you had tried to run from, but his eyes, the eyes of calculation and temptation, invited you back in, with the door wide open and beckoning. But, this world of blood wasn���t the same one you left. In this world, the crimson gasoline that runs our bodies was spilled purposely, to make the end draw so much closer.

Your body language and discomfort was no mystery to him, the man in the center of that world you used to know; the blood didn’t make you queasy, like others. That much was easy to tell. Once he deduced that you were a doctor, despite that you had tried to leave it behind you,  the puzzle pieces fit together as easily as your hand in a surgical glove.  The blood only reminded you of those you couldn’t save; the patients that only left the operating room to go take up space in the morgue. The man’s dark nest of curls and abyss-like eyes left that red world briefly, joining you and taking your hands, attempting to be almost human for once. A human with sympathy, grasping at distant strands to give off the emotion many called Comfort. To you, it was a stranger who understood and sought to soothe your trouble. To others, it was a man named Sherlock acting very irregular.

He pulled you gently back into the blood world you had left behind. The world that guilted you, horrified you, and haunted you. But maybe, just maybe, the blood wouldn’t soak your hands for once. And with this consulting detective, you could catch all of those with another’s life on their hands. Because God only knows, the blood on yours had finally washed off.

[writinginthemoonbeams]

Lose Control (Credence Barebone x Reader)

In a world of darkness, people crave a candle. A warmth that will illuminate the sky, and chase the shadows away. Not everyone finds that candle in their lifetime, though Credence knew he had. You were his flickering flame in the night, and he had fallen for you.

You had brightened his world slowly and effortlessly, and as time went on, your light became the sun in his life. You were the reason he wasn’t always afraid to smile, and the reason for some of the scars his mother had given to him.

You were the only one considerate of him, caring about his feelings more than anyone ever had. Realizing soon that it was a way to keep a few lashes off of him, you two had decided to hide your relationship. You would meet in secret, just to hold one another and talk. You would wipe his tears, and put ointment on his cuts, telling him that everything would be okay.

Smiling at the memories, Credence walked down the street with his hands in his jacket, toward today’s meeting place. You usually chose alleys or abandoned buildings, to avoid being seen. That way, no one could bother the two of you, and you guys couldn’t bother anyone else. And, truth be told, Credence was often worried about people bothering you two. His time with you wasn’t frequent, and he cherished it like a beggar treasures water.

He loved when your arms were snaked around him, holding him close. It made him feel wanted and comforted him.

He savored your smile, when the two of you would talk and laugh about everything and anything. It made him feel normal, and made him forget the insults constantly thrown his way by strangers.

He relished in your kiss, when the two of you would forget words and be lost in the moment of love. It made him feel healed from all of his faults and tragic upbringings, and always blew him away.

Back in the present, Credence’s smile only grew, as he felt the memory of your lips ghosting over his. He turned the corner, quickening his step as he got closer to his destination. But he stopped when he heard your voice, worried when he heard a ring to it that was foreign; Fear. You only ever sounded happy and loving, as if sadness and anger wasn’t your native tongue. But this tone, this heart-wrenching whimper, was like hearing a bark from the mouth of a bird. It was just wrong.

He followed the sounds of your cries, until he finally saw you. You, in all your beauty and grace, were pinned against the wall by a street-rat. A blade was carving new marks into your cheek, drawing whispery vines of red.

Credence’s eyes glazed over as he lost control. Tendrils of black grew from his skin, and his mind was consumed by one emotion; Rage. How dare someone hurt his angel, and attempt to put out his candle. Before he knew it, the Obscurus took the reins.The street-rat never knew what hit him, as what appeared to be a dark cloud of smoke destroyed him. Eventually, the smoke vanished, sinking back into Credence’s skin, leaving him passed out in the alley.

Credence came to, unaware of anything that happened. He last remembered seeing you get attacked, causing him to quick look around the alley for you. He stumbled, gagging as he saw the disfigured corpse of the street-rat. But that only caused him to look even more frantically for you, hoping his candle wasn’t losing its glow.

But, like all candles, his had gone out. The flame diminished, the world once again a shadowland.   You had similar marks on your face as the street-rat, but there weren’t as many. Because of course, you weren’t the focus of the Obscurus’ anger and destruction. But, it wasn’t controllable. You were an unintentional victim.

Credence knelt beside your body, sobbing openly, pulling you towards him. Never again would he feel your tight embrace, or taste your lips. Hell, he wouldn’t ever see you smile again. This was the price of losing control, of letting anger take over. He sweared, then and there, that he wouldn’t lose control again, because it could hit the wrong person. Like the one you love. But, promises were always meant to be a broken. Just like a candle is always meant to lose its flame.

[writinginthemoonbeams]

The Simple Things (Draco Malfoy X Reader)

The term “opposites attract” was the pure definition of your relationship. You came from the low-class world, where money was everything. He came from the world of high incomes, where money felt like nothing. It was just there, as expected. Draco didn’t mind your simpleness, but actually cherished it. To him, you were exotic. And through circumstances many deemed impossible, the 2 of you had fallen in love.

It was no surprise that Draco would always plan extravagant dates. You would always find yourself at an elegant ball, with the richest of foods, in foreign countries. It was always so much. You didn’t mind, truly, since this was his world. But, you craved for the simple life you always knew. Which led up to today, where you would plan the date.

“But y/n!” he whimpered, “That’s my job!” “Just trust me, please?” you replied, pouting right back at him. With a sigh as his only answer, you grinned and kissed him quickly, assuring that it would be great, and that he would enjoy it. Then you rushed off to plan for the evening.

Everything was set: the lights were dim, popcorn was popped, pillows fluffed, and the movie was picked. The perfect recipe for a cuddly romantic film night. There was a knock on the door, and Draco greeted you with a light kiss, and whipped out a hidden bouquet of your favorite flowers. With a smile, you dragged him in so he could see what he was in for.

With a raised eyebrow, he pondered “You’d rather just watch a movie instead of go to a ball or carriage ride?” You sighed, not surprised this argument had arrived. “I love the parties and your elaborate dates. But, I love the simple things too. That’s what I grew up with. Can you just give it a chance?”

Sensing how much this meant to you, he set down the flowers and scooped you up, carrying you to the nest of pillows and blankets. You turned on the movie, and settled onto his lap. But you soon forgot about the movie, and were distracted by his tight embrace. The smell of his cologne soothed you, and you eventually fell asleep against his chest, a smile shaping your lips.

Draco buried his face in your hair as you slumbered, wondering why this meant so much to you. But then it hit him like a slap from a wet towel. The 2 of you hadn’t cuddled like this and just enjoyed one another at all as a couple. He had whisked you guys to parties and such, without leaving any time to relax and just hold each other. He finally understood why you liked these simple things.

With a gentle squeeze, he promised that your dates would have more moments like this. And you only smiled back in agreement, happy your opposite worlds could blend together.

[writinginthemoonbeams]

Painted Faces (Jerome Valeska x Reader)

“Do I look like an abstract Picasso piece, yet?” With a brief eye roll came your snarky reply, “Just shush, if anything I’m fixing your parents’ mistake. Now, stop moving! Otherwise it’ll get smudged and I’ll have to start over again!” “Well I’m sorry that I had to sneeze! I haven’t worked out my bodily function schedule yet, Gorgeous.”

Chuckling lightly, you stepped back to look at your masterpiece. Your carrot-topped boyfriend, Jerome, was doing his best to sit still as you did his makeup for his big performance tonight. And, what look goes better with the Prince of Killer Comedy than clown makeup?

Now, you weren’t going to over-do it. But you figured that a wide red-lipped clown smile would make a bold enough point. The problem? Jerome couldn’t keep his mouth shut long enough.

As of right now, you were on your 5th attempt (but who’s keeping count?). And the show was in 45 minutes, with the star far from ready.

“C’mon, J, we need to get you all gorgeous, yourself. Please just sit still!” Dipping your brush back into the jar, you resumed your work. You painted lightly against his lips, making them appear fuller, and for sure more clown-like.

A soft murmur of “Hey, Gorgeous?” brought your hand to an abrupt halt. Because one, his lips were moving and you didn’t want to have to re-start. And two, you had never heard him use that tone.

Swallowing, you replied with a questioning, “Yeah, J?” With a tender look, he smiled his rare non-maniac smile, and said, “You know I love you, right? People call me a prince, but even before that, I’ve thought of you as my princess. And that will never change, no matter what this crappy city full of cops brings our way.”

When he finished his speech, you smiled, and brought your naked lips to his painted ones. Tongues met, teeth bit, and love was messily expressed (not that either of you would have it any other way). His red mouth stained yours, and when the two of you broke apart, you giggled at the mess you had made of one another.

“Look’s like I have to start over again.”

[writinginthemoonbeams]

My Wild Side (Newt Scamander x Reader)

Taking a deep breath, you felt your muscles contract and stretch as you slowly shrunk. Fur burst through your skin like a flower escapes the ground, and you shuddered out of habit. Can’t help that it’s ticklish, obviously.

Moments later, you admired your Animagus form in the nearby stream. Even after shifting to and from your foxy-form for years, it still amazed you how much magic could truly do. When stress got to you, and threatened to take over your life completely, you decided that you had to find a way to escape. And running through the forest to enjoy nature did the trick. And you loved feeling that you were truly part of the landscape, since foxes tended to roam these parts. You felt as if you belonged, and that feeling was rare and almost foreign.

Sensing the train for the daily trip to miserable memory lane about to arrive, you quickly shook away the sadness. You started your slow trot across the forest floor, then quickly broke out into a brisk run. You craved the overwhelming blend of scents and colors, which were even more vibrant in your Animagus form, that were best received in a whirlwind.

Then, the joy and freedom you felt came to an immediate halt when your leg erupted into an explosion of pain. There weren’t any more flowers or trees or fellow creatures. There was only pain and blood. Blinking through the tears that uncontrollably flowed, you realized you were stuck in a hunter’s trap. Worried about causing further damage, and rapidly losing energy besides, you laid still and yelped in frustration. Then darkness overtook you and all was lost.

~~~~~~~

You blinked sleepily in confusion as a pair of warm, calloused hands caressed your fur gently, seemingly checking for something. Opening your eyes, you saw the most beautiful boy that you knew existed. He gave an aura of protection and comfort, and his reddish-brown hair reminded you of an untamed animal. You flinched as he touched a sensitive spot on your leg.

“Oh, hello little fella. Glad your body healed enough to at least let you join us once again,” he said with an awkward, caring smile. Your mind was at a loss, not used to someone caring about you.  You let him continue his treatment of you, unable to do much else.

Once he was finished, he tentatively pet your head, like a child pets a puppy, and your animal instincts caused you to lean into his touch. While his hand was close, you breathed him in, and sensed a multitude of creatures. Ones you knew too well, along with foreign ones. But, you could tell he dealt with animals often, and that he was most likely used to treating them. So you felt that you had nothing to worry about regarding your health. Unable to muster enough energy to shift back into your human form quite yet, you figured you would have to stay with him quite a while.

He cautiously picked you up, setting you on his lap. He continued to pet your head soothingly, and you drifted away peacefully into a deep slumber. For once, everything felt calm and right.

~~~~~~~

Waking up, you smiled as you heard snores that didn’t belong to you. You peeked and saw your unnamed hero sleeping, while you still were comfortably positioned on his lap. Almost as a reflex, you reached out to brush the curls covering his forehead, and widened your eyes until you had the “Deer-In-The-Headlight” look. (Or is it Fox-In-The-Headlight?) You saw a hand, not a paw. And the hand was attached to an arm, not a leg. You were back in your human form (luckily clothed) and sitting on this stranger. He must have sensed you stirring, as he blearily opened his eyes and smiled at you. You were surprised at the lack of surprise on his face.

“Good morning, love,” he murmured. You quickly stood up, knocking into a nearby table covered with vials and dishes galore. But, he stopped you by gently grabbing your shoulders. “Please, calm down. Breathe. I realized from the beginning you weren’t an actual fox. Merlin, I’m not an idiot when it comes to creatures,” he chuckled, rattling off differences between an actual fox and your Animagus form.

As he excitedly continued, you noticed how he had tried to comfort you in your moment of alarm. And how that was his immediate reaction, instead of being angry that you almost knocked over countless medicines and Merlin knows what else. As if he actually cared about your feelings and health. Thinking it untrue, you stopped his explanation, “Thank you for helping me, but I should really be going…..I’m sure you have other animals to take care of.” Halfway through your statement, you had remembered the scents of other creatures that engulfed his hand. They probably required his time and care more than you, and you wanted to flee before your mind started believing in a fantasy where there were was a beautiful curly-haired stranger who cherished you and wanted what was best for you.

Looking back up to meet his eyes, you frowned as an almost disappointed countenance took over his charming features. As if he didn’t want you to leave. Shyly, your hero muttered a soft, “Oh,” and looked away. “Of course, you’re obviously free to go,” he said, and then added almost reluctantly, “Though, I loved your company, in all honesty. You felt as if you belonged in my arms, and I’m not quite used to the feeling of…..belonging. You may go, if you’d prefer. But please know that I would be happy to let you stay.”

Your face softened as his words rang in your ears. You relented, thankful that he, too, sensed this natural connection between the two of you. “I will stay, if you’ll have me,” you replied with a small smile. His face lit up, and he hugged you tightly, obviously thrilled at your choice. Sensing his mistake, as you winced as he brushed against your wound, he quickly let go, but the smile never left.

“I’m glad you have decided to do so!”, he said happily. All of a sudden, you were taken on a grand tour of the Case (not that you knew that’s what it was at the time) and met the other creatures. You settled into your new life with Newt (as you later found out was his name) easily and effortlessly. This was the beginning of a beautiful new life with Newt, and you, deep down, were happy that you had found someone who could truly love your wild side.

[writinginthemoonbeams]

Natural Habitat (Remus Lupin x Reader)

You were curled up in your natural position: knees tucked in, blanket wrapped around you, book held tightly in hand, and eyes glued to the page. It was a perfect Sunday afternoon, filled with comfort and relaxation. You felt yourself smile as a chin gently perched on your head, and a pair of arms reached down to stroke yours lightly. The familiar musty scent, mixed with patchouli, filled your nostrils as you breathed him all in.

“Hullo, darling,” Remus murmured, as he placed a tender kiss into your hair.

“Why are you home?” you asked, still trying to read. His hands were caressing your sides through the blanket, and it was distracting you.

“I decided to come home early and be with you,” he smiled. “I remembered that I only live once, and I should spend it with those I love.”

You grinned, and put your book down, tilting your head to kiss him on the lips. Your shortness, compared to his 5’11, was a slight disadvantage for the situation, but after being together for so long, the two of you had found a way to make it enjoyable.

He kissed you deeply, hand cupping your chin. His mouth tasted of peppermint, which thanks to him had become your favorite flavor. You bit his lower lip heartily, while your hands grasped at his sea of cascading curls, feeling them weave around your fingers.

Remus, being the gentlemen he was, tried to hold back the moans that tried to make it past his lips, but they outfoxed them and escaped his mouth in a beautiful melody. Within a moment of breaking away, he found his way under your blanket and wrapped his arms around you, as if they had never left. Your lips reattached to his, and your book dropped with a thud to the floor, pages probably bent.

He stopped, a small frown on his face. “Did your book get creased?” he asked, looking past you to the floor, hand still on your hip.

You laughed, thankful and pleased he cared so much about little things that meant so much to you. You wondered if he would be the same way with children, but decided to bring that up another time.

“Probably a little, but that can always be remedied,” you replied. Without leaving your nest in his embrace, you gently picked up the book and checked for damage. After making sure it wasn’t totally wrecked, you put it on the coffee table that was near where you two were sitting.

With a smile gracing your lips, you turned back to your beautiful wolf, with messy curls and fondness of chocolate, and settled into his warmth and radiating affection. You murmured soft words of love into his chest, as he held you tightly to him. Yes, you loved times like this. With him, it felt like a natural habitat you two could share infinitely.

[writinginthemoonbeams]

Death Puns and Assassins (James Moriarty x Reader)

James Moriarty smiled.

One would think that it wasn’t a big deal. But, his genuine smiles (not his trademark smirks) were as rare as the instances where Sherlock was, in fact, incorrect regarding his deductions.

His smiles meant one of two things: Either Sherlock had fallen into one of his elaborate mind games or schemes, or Moriarty had just received a text from (y/n).

No one knows when these texts began. (Y/n) was hired as one of Moriarty’s assassins ages ago, and many agree that the texts became a ritual presumably from the first hit.

It goes something like this: Moriarty sends a  name, place, and time. And hour later, a text chime announces a confirmation that everything went well. The part that caused him to smile, though, was the strange method (y/n) used when providing evidence that the deed was done.

(Y/n)’s confirmation text only consisted of two things: A gruesome selfie with the corpse, and a cringe-worthy pun describing the death.

Tonight’s text was a prime example; (y/n) was posed with their arm around the body of a man who had (poorly) attempted to betray Moriarty. Now, the man was turning cold and had his eyes glassing over. And the cause of death? A couple dozen nails hammered into his skull. The hammer (y/n) had used was still bloody, and lying in the back of the photo.

The attached comment had only a simple phrase. “Nailed it.”

Why did Moriarty, the Napoleon of crime, find these stupid puns and photos amusing? No one has figured it out yet. But everyone agrees on one thing.

His smile is a beautiful, maddening thing. Even if it’s only shown because of death puns and assassins.

[writinginthemoonbeams]

Rain (Bill Cipher x Reader)

Hey everyone, just wanted to make a note that you can send me any requests if you want, and I’ll try to fulfill them. I’ve been struggling with ideas lately, so it would be appreciated if I knew what my readers would like to see. Thank you, everyone. <3 “Bill, I’m back!” was your greeting to the floating dorito as you brought in a multitude of grocery bags. You had gotten ice cream and toppings to make sundaes, since Bill loved them so much. He always made a comment on how pain from getting a brainfreeze was amusing.

Unloading the items you bought, you grabbed bowls and spoons and got to work on your ice cream masterpieces. You both enjoyed classic vanilla ice cream topped with chocolate syrup and sprinkles (but his always has more sprinkles since he loves sugar). And, to finish them off, you each place a perfect cherry on the top of your creations at the same time.

After scooping, drizzling, and sprinkling your sundaes, you called out, “Bill, it’s cherry time!” But there was no response. Confused, you called for him again.

“Y/n, please come here,” said the nervous voice of your dream demon friend. But, you were sprinting towards his voice as soon as he said your name. Why would your name have such an effect on you? Because Bill never said your name. Ever. Only little nicknames he thought up. When he uses your real name, you know something is wrong.

As you ran into the room his voice came from, you felt your clothes move and morph, causing you to look down at them. Your casual t-shirt and jeans had become a golden dress with a familiar brick-like pattern. You heard a fingersnap, and before you knew it, you were blindfolded. A moment passed, and a second fingersnap removed it.

Opening your eyes, you took in your new surroundings with bewilderment. Stars and galaxies floated around you, so close you could touch them, and a table with two ice cream sundaes stood a few feet away. It was beautiful, amazing, romantic, and mind-boggling all at the same time.

“Do you like it? I spent a lot of time researching to make it enjoyable at a human level. Stars, favorite meal, surprises, were all common variable for romantic dates.” said Bill from behind you, causing you to jump, from obvious fright.

He was in his human form, with his sand colored hair neat for once, and his clothes similar to his usual brick pattern jacket and bowtie. But, he looked more dressed up than normal. And you made a mental note that the two of you looked adorable when your outfits coordinated.

Processing what he had said, you risked a question you hoped you knew the answer to, “You planned a romantic date for you and me?” Sheepishly, he replied, “Yeah, but I know I should have asked you first. I just couldn’t work up the courage to, so I thought I’d do some research and just surprise you.”

“How did you research it?” you asked curiously. “I watched those movies you like when you’re sad. The ones that make you laugh.” A pause. “You mean those cheesy romantic comedies?” “…yeah. Are their methods working?” With a laugh, you wrapped your arms around his neck, nodding your head. He relaxed, pulling you close, “That’s good. But, I almost forgot the most important romantic aspect.”

With a snap of his fingers, a light rain soon washed over you two. “Rain?” you asked, shivering as the droplets rolled down your back. “Yeah,” he replied, with the classic Bill Cipher smirk, as he started to lean closer to your face, “My research shows that amazing things happen when there’s romance in the rain.”

And with that, your lips pressed against his.

[writinginthemoonbeams]

This Love is No Conspiracy (Fox Mulder x Reader)

His eyes, green as the forest (or perhaps alien goo), were always questioning the world around him, as if that was the only thing they were programmed for. To seek the unexplainable and supernatural occurrences that the government tried so desperately to hide. But, his eyes have also lied to him, causing him to find conspiracies where there were none. There were days when he would look at you, with a countenance of a scientist studying a specimen, instead of a gaze filled with intimacy and tenderness. It was far from the look of a lover.

After a while, he treated you as if you weren’t to be trusted. He would make his own food, like he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t lace it with a toxin of some sort. He would practically give you the third degree whenever you went somewhere, and it got to the point that you wouldn’t feel surprised if one day you found a tracker in your car. Nowadays, he refused to even touch you if he could avoid it.  And one day, you had enough.

He had come home from another X File case, trying to be quiet as he assumed you were in bed. Barely looking at the leftovers you had left out for him, he had gotten to work on creating a sandwich when you turned on the kitchen light, saying, “I didn’t poison them, ya know.” Turning around, he feigned confusion, “What do you mean, love? I just wanted a sandwich.”

Rolling your eyes, you replied, “Oh really? You’ve refused to eat anything I’ve made in months. Don’t screw around with me, Mulder, you know I have a degree in psychology just like you. I can tell when you’re lying.” Slumping his shoulders in defeat, he continued making his sandwich, not bothering to respond to your (correct) accusation. You sighed, and walked up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning against him. He stiffened, but relaxed after a few moments.

“I’m not an undercover agent, Mulder,” you murmured against him. It hurt that he thought it, but you were trying to make his worries go away. “I’m no X File case you need to study. I’m not driving to secret meetings to plan your demise. Or secretly an alien sent to study humans. I’m just me. And I love you, which is the truth.” You felt a few tears run down your face, as you pulled him close, saying “I love your spookiness, and your humor, and the drive you have when you look for the truth, and everything else about you. I love you, Mulder. And I’ll keep telling you that until you realize that this love is no conspiracy.”

You were sobbing at the end of your lecture, causing his shirt to be soaked and stained with your tears. He slowly turned to face you, and enveloped you into a hug. Murmuring soft words of apology and remorse into your hair, it was clear to tell that he was hating himself for ever doubting you, one of the few people he could trust. Only then did you smile, happy that you finally had your Mulder back.

[writinginthemoonbeams]

Shelter (Sirius Black x Reader)

Rain stained your skin like clear ink as it fell from the storm above. The sidewalk you were on was being overtaken by puddles, causing you to have an increasingly difficult time keeping your shoes dry as you hurried home. It’s not that the rain bothered you; in fact, you loved when the dark clouds appeared. Your author-like mind found inspiration most often when Mother Nature wept. But today you wanted to avoid the shower, and keep your newly bought reading material, which you were currently carrying, dry.

As you approached your home, you came to a sudden stop. On your front step, taking shelter from the storm, was a dog. Its fur was in tangles and matted thanks to the rain, and was as black as the night sky when stars would hide, leaving only an endless obsidian. Its body appeared in rough shape for such a young dog, as if the owners had taken their angers out on it like a punching bag. But the most distinguishable feature was its eyes. You had never seen a gaze more haunted and tragic.

Moving slowly around the animal, hoping not to aggravate or frighten it, you unlocked your front door, holding it open like an unspoken invitation. You had always loved animals, and there was no ounce of cruelty in your heart that would allow you to leave this dog (or any animal, for that matter) in this condition.

With a weary reproachful stare, it rose slowly, slinking into your home.

______________________________________________________________Rummaging through your cupboards, you eventually found some bowls to fill with water and meat, to help get the creature’s strength back. The dog gave you an almost human look, full of accusation, as if you had spiked the meal. But, the smell seemed to change his (you finally figured out the gender when you had checked its wounds) mind, as he gave into his stomach’s cries for nourishment.

As he chowed down, you started running a bath, in hopes of getting the grime off of him. His ears twitched at the noise, and he glanced up at you after his meal. He gave a face full of distaste (if dogs were capable of such) as though he wanted to say, “Do I have to?” like a bratty teen.

And, yes, he did have to. His fur was coated with mud and full of tangles, which you were determined to be rid him of. As if reading your mind, he snorted, almost like a “Fine.” and walked to the bathroom in defeat.

Stepping gingerly into the lukewarm water, he sat down and looked at you expectantly. Kneeling down so you were at his level, you began to lather his fur with soap, dying the bathwater brown from all the dirt embedded. He was tense at first when you began to massage and knead, trying to get a deep clean. But, he now was relaxed into your touch, leaning into your caress. As if he wasn’t used to such gentle contact from someone. And, in that moment, you had gained all of his trust.

______________________________________________________________

After towel-drying him, and brushing his fur for hours (it didn’t take long to actually get the tangles out with the brush, he just would keep whining when you stopped, so you kept at it until your arm was tired) you got ready for bed. You worked from home, so you had time to tend to the dog, luckily. As you turned on your reading lamp, you heard the clicking of his claws approaching. Turning around, you saw him sitting next to you, looking from the bed, to you, and back to the bed.

With a smile, you crawled under the covers, and patted the spot next to you. With a shaky lurch onto the bed, he curled up beside you, leaning against your side tentatively. Grabbing one of your new books from your bedside table, you began to read. That is, until you were interrupted. You were hardly a paragraph in, when all of a sudden he nosed the book’s cover with a whine.

Thinking maybe your voice would soothe him into sleep, you began reading the story out loud to him. You weren’t sure if he could understand what you were saying, but he seemed to be enjoying it nevertheless. And he did indeed doze off, eventually. Only after you read around a fourth of the book, though. You both fell asleep, cuddled against one another.

______________________________________________________________

Days passed, and he grew healthier. His coat was more shiny than mangy, and his eyes were happier and mischievous instead of exhausted. The two of you had formed a special bond, a beautiful friendship. You gave each other comfort and companionship, to a point where you became inseparable. He couldn’t relax and reach a peaceful slumber unless your voice filled his ears at night, and his fur against your fingertips, and simply knowing he was there, helped you reach contentment as your mind was engulfed with a sleep full of sweet dreams.

But, one day, instead of waking up to the sensation of hairs tickling your nose, you awoke to the feeling of a muscular arm around your waist. You blearily opened your eyes in confusion, but all you could see in front of you was skin. Glancing up, you caught a glimpse of long black hair.

Like the dog’s fur.

And you realized the man holding you in a tight embrace smelled like the soap you used to wash the dog.

As the puzzle pieces started connecting, the man stirred, and you found yourself looking into the eyes of the dog. You were alarmed, yes, but also confused. Your feelings were in a jumble since it wasn’t as if he was a stranger, and him holding you like he was didn’t feel wrong. But it still was weird. The man smiled as he gazed at your face with endearment and tenderness, but all you could say was, “You’re an animagus.” with wonder and confusion.

With a dawning realization, he quickly pulled away from you, apologizing for his actions. But your mind was too busy solving the puzzle to notice.

The bruises weren’t from owners, they were from parents. He was in the rain that day since he had no place to go, and the sadness in his eyes was from being disowned and kicked out of his own home by the people who should love him unconditionally. He was untrustworthy of you at first since he thought no one could truly care for him.

The puzzle now complete, you glanced at his form, sitting on the ground, with his hair hanging in front of his eyes. Kneeling down in front of him, you tucked the midnight strands behind his ears, and cupped his face gently. He leaned into your touch instantly, thankful you weren’t yelling at him to leave. And, of course you never would. You cared for him, as a dog and man, and he cared for you. Nothing could ever change that.

______________________________________________________________

With his strength back, Sirius (finally able to tell you his name) was always in human form from then on. You became closer than ever, bonding over magic, quidditch, books, and many other things. And, you continued to live together, and share a bed. One would think that would be uncomfortable, but the two of you wouldn’t have it any different, though you were only friends. You still read to him, luring him to the world of sleep. And you could only drift off if he was holding you, so it’s safe to say you always slept well.

Bonus Chapter- Puppy Love

1 month later

You woke up to an empty bed, which never happened. Sirius’s arm wasn’t around your waist, and it felt wrong. Quickly getting dressed, you rushed downstairs, only to stop again in shock.

Your kitchen was filled with a soft candlelight glow, and your favorite flowers were floating lazily around the room, as if they grew invisible wings.

“I, um, well I tried to enchant them to change color, but that didn’t work too well. Probably should have paid more attention in Charms class,” murmured Sirius from behind you. Running a hand through his dark locks, he asked, “Do you like it? I got those new books you wanted, too. But I put them on the table by the bed already, though, so you can maybe start reading them tonight to me.”

Taking a step closer to him, you gestured to the flowers and candles around you, “You did all of this, for me? But, why?” His hands found yours, squeezing them tight. “You gave me shelter all those weeks ago, when my own family left me. You’re the first person to truly care about me, so this is my way of thanking you.” He paused, and looked into your eyes with nervousness and hope, before he continued. “I’ve grown to love you, (y/n), and I want to be yours. I want to be your boyfriend, if you’ll have me.”

Moments passed, and he began to pull away, accepting what he assumed was your rejection. But, with a quick rush of adrenaline, you tugged him back, and crushed your lips against his. Shock overtook him, but he instantly placed his hands on your waist like a reflex. Your palms were balled up in his shirt, as you kissed him in a burning desire, giving your answer of “Yes, God yes.” You ran your fingers through his hair, pulling his mouth closer to yours to deepen the kiss. He moaned, as the two of you locked lips again and again, deeper and more passionate each time, trying to express every emotion you two had felt for one another the past few weeks that you had tried so desperately to hide. You explored each other’s mouths, learning the shape of each other’s lips, memorizing every detail about the other’s face, until you both ran out of breath.

Resting his forehead against yours, you chuckled. Smirking, he pecked your nose, “What’s so funny?” Grinning back, you kissed him once more, before pulling back and replying, “I just realized I have a bad case of puppy love.”

[writinginthemoonbeams]

Heroes and Brunch (The Flash x Reader)

Note-This is the Ezra Miller version of The Flash.

It’s true that not all heroes wear capes. Or, in your case, have a cool outfit whatsoever. Heck, you don’t even have a symbol. But the Justice League members, the true heroes of the world, considered you a godsend despite that. You did so much for them, that “grateful” wasn’t a strong enough term.

From nursing their injuries, polishing their weapons and armor, being their counselor when they need advice, you truly were a gift to them. You made sure they had time to relax between missions, too. Such as playing with Diana’s hair, mimicking the intricate styles her sisters back home used to do. Or you’d be her muse for painting, or at least try to give her ideas for future pieces.

Adam would also let you mess with his hair, but he preferred when you brought him to the ocean to spend time with different creatures. He especially loved dolphins and their high spirited nature. Though the peaceful turtles soothed him when he had that stormy rage brewing in his mind.

The Justice League cared for you immensely, and loved having you around. Not only because you were a great help, but because you were fun to be around. You could bring a smile to everyone’s face, no matter how glum and angry they were. Even Bruce, despite his normal brooding mood. Though they all love you in their own way, a certain member cared a bit more than he was letting on.

It was a lazy summer day at Bruce’s house. You were alone in the mansion, reading in one of the many rooms. Most of the team had gone out to celebrate their most recent victory, but you had stayed behind for some quiet time. Plus you were reading an extremely good book, so the team understood why you hadn’t tagged along. This wasn’t the first time a story had entrapped you and kept you from partying with your friends, though they didn’t mind. It was rather adorable.

Reaching over to grab your coffee for a sip, you stopped suddenly as blue lightning swiftly entered and retreated from the room. You recognized those azure-toned bolts anywhere, though couldn’t figure out why he hadn’t said anything. Or why he wasn’t with the rest of the team. Assuming he had just forgotten to bring something, you shrugged it off and went back to your book.

But, before you could enter your literary world once more, you noticed a bouquet of flowers in various shades of your favorite color lying near your cup. Smiling, you lifted them up to your nose and let the blend of scents overtake your senses. A creak in the floorboards caused you to notice Barry standing in the doorway. He was nervously twitching, staring at your face intently with an anxious expression. His cheeks got tainted with a fierce blush when your eyes met his.

Speaking quickly, as is his tendency, he muttered, “I’m sorry, that was kinda weird, I was just staring at your face like a dolt without saying anything. Not saying your face isn’t lovely to look at, on the contrary, it’s beautiful and perfect and flawless. Wait, that’s like the same thing. What am I saying? Erm, anyway, are the flowers to your liking? You’re not allergic or anything right? I mean I’ll get you fake ones if you are, but I’ll feel awful if you’re allergic and I just threatened your life accidentally. I just thought they were a good idea, since it’s socially common for people to present flowers to someone you care for romantically. And sometimes other gifts, but-”

Giggling softly, you stood up and stopped his nervous rambling with a kiss on the cheek. “I’m taking that as a “Yes”, then?” he murmured with a smile. “It’s a definite “Yes”, but why me? I’m not that amazing. I don’t have powers or cool gadgets or anything like you guys. I’m just kinda me.” Shaking his head, he replied, “No, you’re more than that. You’ve helped me learn how to relax around people, and make friends, which I never thought would be possible! I thought I’d be a loner forever in my little lair with nothing but my computers. But, now I can talk to people. Somewhat. Plus you help when when the team and I get hurt, though I’m usually too quick to get injured. You also keep everyone from strangling each other, help us mend our suits and weapons, make sure we get a dose of fun every once in awhile, and so much more. You’ve helped me feel normal for once, like no one ever has before. And if it’s alright, and this whole dramatic speech hasn’t been too weird for you, I’d really like if you would do me the joy of going out with me. Like, on a date, I mean. In case it wasn’t clear.”

Awestruck by his words, and slightly amused, you did the first thing you thought of; you kissed him. He froze at first, sitting still for once in his speedy life, but he eventually expressed his enthusiasm at your response by kissing back passionately. When the two of you parted (curse you oxygen!!!), you said “Barry Allen, I’d love to. Would you like to get some brunch?” The coffee you had been drinking had you craving breakfast food.

Raising an eyebrow, he replied, “I don’t understand how one can “brunch”. Why do people wait an hour for something that’s basically breakfast, but at a later time?!? What’s the point?” You shot him a look, causing him to sigh. “Alright, I’ll try it. But only since it seems like some natural social custom one must partake in at one point in their life. Plus I need to replenish my blood sugar.”

With a smile and another quick kiss on the cheek, you took his hand and headed towards the door. Barry grinned, amazed how slowing down for someone could make him the happiest he’s ever been.

Author Note- I apologize if I didn’t portray this character the best, I’m somewhat newer to this fandom. But, I tried. 

[writinginthemoonbeams]

The Danger of Thoughts (Sherlock Holmes x Reader)

Warning- If you suffer with thoughts of depression, this may not be the fic for you. There is slight mention of depression and suicide. 

Thoughts and emotions make humans a superior species in the game of life. Though, regardless of that fact, thoughts can be dangerous.

Treacherous.

Fatal.

Thoughts can often create lies as swiftly as a fiction writer, and have you believe them even faster. They invent the clouds on rainy days, and inflict pain in our safest moments.

Today was one of the days where you let the thoughts overtake your mind. It wasn’t the first time, but it could be the last.

The first lie they told was from the mirror, making sure you were aware of how ugly you were. Every physical flaw was shown, from head to toe.

The next one was from the case file lying on the table, snorting at your stupidity because you couldn’t solve it or be any help whatsoever concerning it. Unlike your friends, that is. They were chasing leads left and right, getting clue after clue.

The last one was murmured from various places. The balcony, for instance. And the pill bottles in your cupboard. From the razor blade in the tub, to the gun hidden in your nightstand. The whispers surrounded you as if you were in the eye of a storm, telling you to just end it, and that you had nothing worth contributing to the world.

All of the thoughts led you to the same ending: Tears.

At this point, you found yourself sobbing in your apartment, which you shared with Sherlock and John. John was out on a date (yet again), and Sherlock was in the living room, playing his violin. You had hidden away in your room, since you didn’t need Sherlock prodding at your current misery.

But you were too overwhelmed by grief that you hadn’t noticed the lack of violin melodies within the last few minutes.

Sherlock had, as you feared would happen, noticed your absence and heard muffled whimpering. Being the detective he was, he investigated the source of the sound, and traced the trail like a bloodhound until he reached your room. Standing in your doorway, he took in the covered mirror, ripped-up case file, and your current tear-filled appearance, and deduced the cause of your pain.

And then he left.

This neither improved or worsened your current state, so you carried on.

Little did you know how upset Sherlock was behind his expressionless facade. Or how he had bombarded his way into Mrs. Hudson’s flat, begging her to make your favorite tea and sweets with her best recipes. And how he had paced the floor, anxiously waiting, and trying to think of words and phrases he could say to show how perfect you were to him.

But, later that day, your tears dried. A certain consulting detective had come back to your room and crawled into your bed, much to your shock. With all of the tenderness in the world, he enveloped you into his embrace, whispering soft words of love into your hair. He murmured all of the beautiful and amazing things about you, from your looks to your personality. With a few kisses to your forehead, cheek, and eventually your lips, he made your bad thoughts fade completely away. Once satisfied that you felt better, he gave you a kiss once more, and commenced to share the treats with you.

It was so simple,

But yet so perfect.

And in that one moment, unsaid feelings were expressed from the both of you.

Love was starting to bloom.

And those bad thoughts were a danger no more.

[writinginthemoonbeams]

Movie Night (James Moriarty x Reader)

It was movie night in Moriarty’s palace, but a movie hadn’t yet begun. Your boyfriend was currently in a heated conversation on the phone, locked away in his office. Biting your lip out of nervous habit, you decided to build the “movie palace”, as he preferred to call it. It had all of the movie essentials: popcorn, pillows, blankets, and drinks. It was just missing the two of you. But, despite a half hour having passed, the office door was still shut.

You sighed, though you weren’t really surprised. After all, this wasn’t the first time movie night had been delayed due to Jim’s work. By this point, it had become a regular occurence. But, you continued to at least attempt at being optimistic, hoping the call would be short. Or, better yet, the call would be non-existent.

Though, you ended up being let down each time. Like this occasion. But, what could you do? You knew better than to interrupt him. The one time you did, he had almost snapped at you as if you were merely an ignorant henchman. He had made it up to you, though, murmuring gentle apologies into your hair as he held you to his chest. He never wished to hurt you. You were the sun in his world of darkness, now and forever.

Glancing at the clock, you knew you would have to start the movie soon. Otherwise, it’d be too late, and you would find yourself too tired to even look at the screen. This left you one option: start the movie without him, and hope that he’d be able to join you soon. As much as you hated to do it, you had no other choice.

Seeing that the office door was still shut, you sighed once more and began looking at the movie collection. That’s when your eyes landed on a certain title, causing the gears in your mind to turn. The light bulb illuminated, and you grinned a mischievous smile that matched Jim’s whenever Sherlock was struggling to play his diabolical game.

Those smiles, according to onlookers, matched one another perfectly. It was as if they were made simply for one another, like similar statues that were carved from the same exact stone by a consistent artist. It only meant one thing: a dastardly brilliant plan.

Yours, in this case, was to begin watching Jim’s favorite film without him. It happened to be the first movie the two of you had watched together, causing it to hold a special place in your hearts. There would be no way that the great James Moriarty could resist this classic musical.

Still grinning like a fool, you placed the DVD in the disc player, and hit “play”. Turning up the volume, you turned to look at the office door, waiting for your plant to unfold. Then, the beginning lyrics of the first song exited Jamie Campbell Bower’s mouth, filling Moriarty’s palace with its tune.

“I have sailed the world, beheld its wonders

From the Dardanelles to the mountains of Peru

But there’s no place like London!”

Right away, as you predicted, you noticed the office door creak open, and you smiled, proud of your genius idea. Jim muttered into his phone, cutting off whoever was on the other end, and hung up. Humming along, he entered the “movie palace”, taking you into his arms. He nuzzled your neck, peppering it with kisses, as he mimicked Sweeney Todd’s low voice singing about London between every peck. Giggling as his breath tickled you, you relaxed into his embrace and continued watching the movie.

Let’s just say, you knew how to prevent movie night from being ruined ever again. Besides, it’s a musical with a murderous barber. It’s really no surprise that James would love it, right?

[writinginthemoonbeams]

Waking Up In a Disney Movie (Markiplier x Reader)

Your eyes fluttered open, and the beauty of the morning sun illuminated the room. With a yawn, you took in your surroundings; birds were chirping a sweet melody, the glow of the room was a gentle gold, and a silky deep voice was singing, causing the whole house to be filled with its velvety sound.

Smiling, you reminisced about the first time you had awakened to his singing. You had expected it to be part of a dream, or that you were somehow in a Disney movie. But, you eventually realized that you were awake, and you were definitely not in a Disney movie (you can still dream,though, right?). The voice just belonged to your boyfriend, Mark, who had the most beautiful voice in the world, and enjoyed using it to create wonderful music. Though, to your dismay, he never thought that his voice was that amazing.

You couldn’t count all of the times you were entranced by his voice, even if he was just singing along with the car radio. There were times he would perform “Can You Feel the Love Tonight?” for every anniversary, or croon the refrain of “Perfect” in your ear on days you were feeling self conscious. The bewitching quality of his voice was one of his best traits. Though, you couldn’t actually think of any flaws Mark had.

Following the trail of sound, you eventually snuck up to the kitchen. Peeking through the doorway, you saw your boyfriend pouring milk on cereal, still singing some tune. You quietly tiptoed up behind him, and wrapped your arms around his waist. You took a deep breath, utterly relaxed against him. His smell was musky, and rather calming. Nuzzling his shoulder, you closed your eyes, and muttered something inaudible.

His chuckles shook your body gently. Even those sounded beautiful. “What did you say, darling?” A little louder, you repeated yourself, “You should quit YouTube.” With another fit of laughs, he replied, “Why on Earth would I do that?”

“You could win American Idol with that voice of yours! Or The Voice, or something like that. You would be a hit, and would have all of the support of your subscribers!” He shook his head in disagreement. “My voice isn’t that great.” You stared at him with the best deadpan expression you could muster. “Honey, I’m pretty sure all 20 million of your fans would disagree…Your voice is like the Morgan Freeman equivalent of YouTube!”

With a quick kiss, (his kisses were another example of his best qualities, and you couldn’t ever get enough of them) you went on your way to go search for all of the Youtube compilations of his singing, and comments from his fans regarding it, in order to support your statement and beliefs. Little did he know, your research would be easy. The hard part would be convincing him to actually audition.

Worst case, there was always your two backup plans: Have him sing in a Disney movie, or just have him start a new channel for all of his covers. You and his 20 million subscribers could probably convince him somehow, right?