Sherlock Imagines [ Book 2 ]

Out Loud [J.M.]

Type: Songfic [ Out Loud by Gabbie Hanna ]

Pairing: Jim Moriarty x Reader

Warnings: Mention of Suicide, Graphic Descriptions, Self Harm, seriously this is dark, smoking, heavy drinking, also disclaimer I had a majority of this written before her music video so don't be accusin me of stealin' her plot I got the google doc to prove it

Requested by @esmearnold

I still taste your presence

To Jim Moriarty, love was complete and utter bullshit.

The thought that a single could kiss could make you see stars or the idea of someone's touch causing your world to become so much more vibrant or how their very presence made you feel more alive was all a lie that deserved to be stuffed into the pages of a book sitting on a middle-aged woman's bookshelf, full of hopeless romantic dreams that would never come true.

Lusting, craving, needing. Not a single one of those words could be used to describe another person unless you lived in a fantasy sold by Hallmark movies.

The idea of love was completely ludicrous, and he hated it.

At least until he met her, and all the things he thought belonged in the pages of a sickening novel became so real.

Once  sweet but it turned sour

Soft snores earned the maniac's attention as he turns his head ever so slightly to find his lover curled up in a ball, her chest slowly rising and falling as she lays just beyond his reach. 

"(Your Name)" He murmurs, two (eye color) gems slowly blink back at him, a yawn escaping those perfectly kissable lips.

He slowly reaches forward and touches her arm,  smile threating to form as she glares at him like a cat woken up from it's nap.

The moonlight filters through the blinds, cutting through the darkness that surrounds them and illuminates her perfect figure.

He reaches and his fingertips brush her arm, frowning when he feels her ice-cold skin. He grabs the blanket and pulls it over her, she smiles as all her frustration seems to disappear. Her arm extends, fingertips brush his cheek. His eyes widen as he feels the bitter cold once again, catching a glimpse of the long crimson scar weaving down her arm. He sits up, her hair is drenched and soaking into the pillow. 

"wake up darling." She murmurs.

I hear you in the quiet, I see you when I'm in the dark

He blinks, only to open his eyes and find the side of the bed empty. He takes a shaky breath, slowly reaching over and pulling a cord, the light of his lamp flooding the room as he touches the pillow beside him.

Dry.

Just as he fears, he's alone.

He manages a shaking breath as he pushes back covers and swings his legs over the side of the bed, he shudders as he feels her breath down his neck and for a fraction of a second he feels her arms around him. If he listens close enough he can her voice attempting to coax him back into bed. He turns and is met by air, pushing himself onto shaking legs he walks across his broken bottle littered floor, jagged scars cover pale flesh from where he'd forgotten to watch his step. His mind is plagued with images of the woman who had shown him that it wasn't that he didn't believe in love but rather that he was afraid of it.