Shelby. 18. DC. MorMor. Hannibal. Young Avengers. Fanfic. Etc.
requests for drabbles are always open!!
Sebastian’s finger is practically on the trigger, his right eye looking through the scope, belly down on a rooftop. His breathing’s gone shallow. The mark would turn up any minute now, and Sebastian is ready and fucking vermillion. That is, he was ready, up until the moment he felt one hundred and thirty pounds of loudly sighing Irishman lay on top of his stretched back.
“What’s TAKING so long, Bastian??” a whiny, sing-song voice sounded almost directly into his ear.
Sebastian rolled his eyes and attempted not to growl when he spoke. “What the fuck are you even doing, Boss? I’m trying to work. Mr. Jensen will be here any moment, and unless you’ve decided that you don’t want a bullet in his brain after all, you might want to leave me the hell alone until I’m done.”
Jim groaned in frustration. ”But Seb,” he whined again, drawing the vowel in Sebastian’s name out as much as humanly possible. ”I’m bored.” Sebastian didn’t answer, and Jim didn’t move from his spot on the other man’s back. Sebastian felt completely on edge, just as he always did around his boss, but at least the little shit wasn’t talking.
When Jensen finally showed up, (almost thirty fucking minutes late; Sebastian was going to miss part of Ghost Hunters for this shit) Seb was acutely aware of Jim’s breathing, softly hitting his ear. Jim whispered right at the moment Sebastian pulled the trigger.
Seb hit directly on target.
Fact: Shelby is a giant angst whore, and Jim!feels are almost as addicting to her as Tony!feels. Thanks for the prompt!
blood everywhere he has to stop the blood this can’t be happening it can’t fucking be happening jim’s invincible a bullet can’t take him down this is fucking ridiculous stop the blood stop the fucking blood it’s too red there’s too much it’s on his hands and his clothes but he doesn’t care all that matters is stopping it all that matters is making jim okay stop the blood stop the blood STOP THE BLOOD!
Sebastian’s head snaps up as he awakens, his blueish-grey eyes wide and wild. He glances over to the hospital bed, where a still-unconscious Jim Moriarty lay. He looked tiny in the big, white hospital bed. Almost weak. Not that Seb would ever say anything about weakness in front of his boss. Ever.
The persistent beeping of Jim’s heart monitor made Sebastian simultaneously want to turn it off and stop the infernal fucking noise, and also leave it on forever, just for the constant reassurance that it was over, Jim was okay. Jim was still, other than his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, and that unnerved Sebastian. Jim was usually so animated, so alive, and now… now he seemed so different that it made the entire world seem unbalanced.
This was the sniper’s fault. There was no doubt about that. He knew it, the other employees knew it, and Jim would know it as soon as he woke up. Sebastian was his fucking bodyguard. Half of his entire job was to make sure Jim was safe. But… he’d failed at that. He’d let an unsatisfied client fire a gun at his boss, his Jim, his everything, and that was fucking eating him alive.
Not that it mattered.
However Jim decided to punish him, when he woke, would be worse.
May not be exactly what you wanted, but here you go! Thanks for the prompt! xx
It takes a while for Sebastian to notice that anything’s wrong. Jim’s never eaten much, and his small frame makes it difficult to notice how much weight he’s lost. When he does notice, Seb’s not sure what to do. He obviously wants to help his boss, his sometimes-lover, but he doesn’t know how. Jim’s never been keen on anyone pointing out his shortcomings, especially if the criticism came from an employee. Besides, Sebastian very seriously doubts that the other man would even listen.
The sniper doesn’t think that this - whatever this is - has anything to do with body image. Sure, Jim liked to look nice, in his three-piece suits and expensive Italian leather shoes, but this was something else entirely. Jim was a perfectionist, a hard worker, and eating didn’t always figure into his busy life. It had always been that way, but never to this degree. Never to the point where Seb could count the other man’s ribs with ease, and his skin looked grotesquely stretched over sharp bones.
It had something to do with whatever the fuck this thing with Sherlock Holmes was, Sebastian had no doubt in his mind about that. Jim was obsessed with the detective, constantly going on about how he’d finally found his “equal” and how this was the best “game” he’d ever played. Jim would sit for hours, not even really working, simply planning his next move against Holmes in his head.
Eating didn’t figure into that.
And Sebastian constantly feared the day that Jim’s body would realize that it couldn’t function like this.
Just a short little ficlet, but it wouldn’t get out of my head. This one takes place in an AU that my friend and I operate, in which Jim wasn’t always a psychopath. He was just Jim Brook, a sweet, shy boy-genius going to boarding school with his friends Sebastian, John, and Sherlock. He fell in love with Seb, and Seb fell in love back, and they were happy. However, something happened to him, and he snapped, and now he’s tripping over his sanity. Now he’s Moriarty, an evil, horrible man that Seb despises. But Sebastian stays with him anyway, because he knows it’s the best he can ever get.
Without further ado, Little Things.