Moriarty X Reader | Always Take The Shot

Moriarty x Reader | ‘Always Take The Shot’

Hey! So this is gonna be my first ever Moriarty x Reader fic, I hope you guys like it. (It might be a series…)

Plot: You are a crime scene photographer working alongisde Sherlock, John and Lestrade. You capture something you weren’t supposed to… 

Warnings: None,

Guide: C/N = Client Name

*click*

The sound of your camera snapped a photo of the dead body in front of you. You quickly looked down at the screen and blankly stared before it disappeared again. You were a photographer. 

Well… You took a course at university to be a creative photographer but ended up being a crime scene photographer. You also worked alongside Sherlock and John. The two were very famous in the media, Sherlock was a ‘consulting detective’ whilst John was a blog writer and wrote about the two. Sherlock said you were the best photographer he’s ever seen and regularly uses your photos for evidence. John also uses your photos on his blog. It has given you quite good rep in the past. 

But you were just working alone this morning. Sherlock and John were caught up with a particular man called Moriarty. 

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Jim’s Playlist

Stayin Alive: Bee gees

I Want to Break Free: Queen

Hungry Like the Wolf: Duran Duran

Sweet Escape: Gwen Stefani 

I’m too Sexy: Right Said Fred

Bad to the Bone: George Thorogood

We are the Champions: Queen

(I can’t get no) Satisfaction: The Rolling Stones

Ring of Fire: Johnny Cash

Money, Money, Money: Abba

One Way or Another: Blondie

The Final Countdown: Europe

I Will Survive: Gloria Gaynor

Take on me: A-Ha

Wake Me Up Before You Go: Wham!

Walking on Sunshine: Katarina & the Waves

Jailhouse Rock: Elvis Presley

Basket Case: Green Day

Don’t you (Forget About Me): Simple Minds

U Can’t Touch This: MC Hammer

Gives you Hell: All-American Rejects

Night Fever: Bee gees

Smooth Criminal: Michael Jackson

Come and Play. Kisses JM.

should I make playlists for the other characters?

Sherlock Master List

ABC PROMPTS (features Sherlock, Mycroft and Moriarty)

***Reader insert / x reader***

A is for A Chance Meeting (Fluff) - Headcanons 

B is for Breaking and Entering (Humor and Fluff) - Headcanons and scenarios

C is for Catcall (Jealousy and fluff) - Headcanons and scenarios

D is for Deceitful Death (Angst) - Scenarios 

E is for Epiphany (Fluff) - Headcanons

F is for Fever (Fluff) - Headcanons and scenarios 

G is for Goodbye For Now (Melancholy) - Headcanons

H is for Homely life (Fluff) - Domestic headcanons 

I is for Impressing You (Fluff) - Headcanons and scenarios 

J is for Jealousy (Jealousy) - Headcanons 

K is for Kicking Ass - Prompts

L is for Living Together (Fluff) - Headcanons and scenarios

M is for Marriage (Fluff) - Headcanons and scenarios

N is for Nightmare (Comfort) - Headcanons

O is for Opportunity of Parenthood (Fluff / Humor) - Headcanons

P is for Pregnancy (Fluff / Humor) - Headcanons

Q is for Quiet (Comfort) - Scenarios

R is for Requests - Headcanons: Arguments, Repetitive, Kissing

S is for Summer Vacation (Gen) - Headcanons

T is for Taken (Angst / Worrying) - Headcanons

U is for Umbrella (Fluff) - Scenario 

V is for Very Bad Timing (Gen) - Scenario

W is for Waiting

X is for Xanthos (Gen) - Headcanons 

Y is for Yandere (Horror) - Headcanons 

Z is for Zero 

Fever

Pairing: James Moriarty X Reader

Requested By: Anonymous

Prompt: #22 - Fever - an abnormally high body temperature.

Summary: Reader has to take care of a sick Moriarty.

Warnings: Some light cussing, nothing too crazy.

AN: My very first ask! :D You made me happy! I feel like I rushed a bit to get this out before class, so I hope you like it. Cheers! 

~!~*~!~

You felt hot, almost too hot as your eyes slowly opened and you looked over at the clock. It was still early, the sun just starting to peek on the horizon and cast and orange glow within the bedroom. You brought your hand up, feeling the sweat on your brow as you wipe it away, wondering if you were getting sick. You curse yourself mentally, knowing you shouldn’t have stayed out so late in the cold the other night. You turn your head to look at Jim, he was curled up next to you with his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close. You didn’t want to wake him, so you grabbed his arm and that’s when you realized it wasn’t you, it was him.

He was burning up.

You move your hand to his forehead, feeling the heat radiating from his skin before you ever make contact. You sit up carefully and maneuver yourself out from under his grip, watching as he curls up with the pillow you were just using. You smile, loving how cute he looked while sleeping, so innocent looking. You had to hold back the scoff of laughter at the thought of James and innocent in the same sentence, you knew better.

You make your way across the bedroom, grabbing your silk robe and wrapping it around yourself before making your way down stairs to get an early start. You make a batch of tea and pour some for yourself while you start a pot of chicken broth. You yawn as you start cutting up some vegetables, and before too long you have a nice pot of chicken noodle ready. You grab some lemon from the fridge and some honey from the cabinet, mixing them together with the hot tea and placing it on the tray along with a bowl of soup, a tall glass of water and a wet cloth. You know he’ll be awake any moment now, so you head up the stairs and back into the bedroom.

When you enter the covers are completely off the bed along with the pillows, and Jim is laying in the middle, stripped down to his underwear. You walk closer and place the tray on your nightstand, “James,” you say softly, sitting on the bed with one leg crossed beneath you as you reach out and stroke his sweat soaked hair off his face. “I made you some soup.” He opens his eyes and you pity him as he suddenly starts to cough. Jim hardly ever got sick, but when he did it was always awful, and lord knows Jim didn’t handle sick very well.

“I’m not sick,” he mumbles, batting your hand away weakly, “and don’t look at me like that.” You ignore him and grab the cloth from the tray, using it to dab at his face. He grumbles, something under his breath that you can’t make out as you fold cloth and lay it across his forehead. “I have things to do,” he says, his voice horse from the coughing, “I’m not sick.”

“Of course not, darling.” You say, getting off the bed and picking up the pillows from the floor. You set them up against the headboard, motioning for him to sit up and he does, a scowl on his face as he leans back against them. You readjust the cloth and then hand him the tea, he looks at it for a long moment, a staring contest to the death. Finally he gives in and takes a drink, a winch crossing his face as he swallows.

“I need to get ready,” he says, trying to hand you the cup of tea but you just stand there, hand on your hip, an eyebrow raised. Another glare, another cough, a huff and he drinks the rest of the tea. “Happy?”

“No,” you say, taking the cup back and sitting back down on the bed, this time facing him. “I’ll take care of business today, you need to rest.”

“Like hell, you haven’t a clue as to what needs to be done.” He retorts, the cloth falling from his face as he sits up in protest.

“Oh please, you have a lunch today at eleven with Mr. and Mrs. Foster, nothing too serious, just to get a feel of the two before you decide to go any further. Later I believe you are scouting out an area in downtown London, adding a few final touches before you contact your hounds and release them on that wicked old man that pissed you off last week.” You say with a smirk.

He clears his throat, “well, that wasn’t sexy or anything.” He says, leaning back into the pillows in defeat. He starts coughing again, his head falling back against the headboard and letting out a groan as he did. You turn until you are sitting next to him, pulling at him to lean against you, “no, I’m not a bloody child.” He says, but allows you to pull him as he lays his head down on your chest.

“Not at all,” you say, laughter in your voice as you run your fingers through is hair. You grab the fallen cloth and dab at his face again, watching as he closes his eyes and eventually falls asleep. You lay that way for a few hours, watching the steam fade from the soup you made. Watching the way he twitched as he slept, listening to his breathing. Luckily your phone was near by, you quietly made a few calls, one to the driver, the other to the doctors office.

“I’m not going to the doctor,” he mumbles against your chest.

“You’re going to the doctor, even if I have to hold you at gun point to get you there.” You say, the threat sounding in your voice

“Hmm, sound kinky.” He says, a smirk on his face as he looks up at you.

You only laugh and place a kiss to his forehead, making a mental note to add some extra rounds to your purse later before you leave. ~!~*~!~

Thor and Loki in Thor: Ragnarök + Neil Gaiman’s Norse Mythology

Catch up with me

Title: Catch up with me

Rating: M

Pairing: Armitage Hux/Reader

Summary: Everyone aboard the Finalizer is celebrating, except for General Hux. 

Word count: 1856

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, slight sexual content, implied smut is implied.

_

You stared at the tower of champagne glasses as your coworkers talked and laughed cheerily around you. It was a rare event on the Finalizer, but the fleet just secured a network of planets that would line the pockets of the First Order. It was sorely needed after Starkiller. So the higher ups OK’d a celebration.

There would undoubtedly be some relations between personnel as a result of the flowing alcohol, but there was one person, one man, missing that you really wanted to see let loose.

“I’mm goin’ for it.” You declared as you sloppily pushed your chair back.

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