BotheredAsh

Happy Birthday, Louis!

archiveofourown.org/works/78966056
#LouisBirthdayWeek2026 #MoriartyThePatriot #yuumori

Also, yes, I subscribe to the headcanon that William is not a great cook, and Sherlock did most of the cooking in New York.

Louis birthday fic sneak peek! (Also, yes, William learned how to cut insanely cute apples from Billy, but he's still not great in the kitchen.)

#MoriartyThePatriot #yuumori

Ok, but what about William in *Sherlock’s* t-shirt? 🤔🤭

Since im physically incapable of writing dark and gritty without giving myself some light...
Baby, Come Home
You can read it in full on ao3: archiveofourown.org/works/78550216
But here's a little peek to get you emotionally prepared.
#Sherliam #yuumori

Tiger Lily is now available to read!

The first 2 chapters are up on ao3 now.

This is a heavy story with some dark topics. Please read at your own discretion
archiveofourown.org/works/784431...
#MoriartyThePatriot #yuumori

What? You thought I could stick to a single AU? Hah!

A little teaser for the first chapter of

Tiger Lily

Yes, it will be Sherliam (like I could help myself) eventually.

CW: implied kidnapping of children (it gets worse from here)
#yuumori #MoriartyThePatriot

It's posted!

Strength of Spirit

archiveofourown.org/works/780937...

#Sherliam #yuumori #MoriartyThePatriot

I'd like to thank everybody in this wonderful fandom for giving me a place to open up. I've found a lovely community of people who are just as wacky as me, and I dont think I can explain just how much they've helped me come out of my shell.

So thanks again! Love you guys!

they say, "I know you, I see you."

It’s rare for a story to make me feel this much for this long. One year later and I’m still here, still thinking about them, still creating because of them.

Anyway, one year later and I am still unwell about them. +

William and Sherlock and everyone else carved out a permanent place in my heart and my head.

There’s something about the way this series handles longing, ideals, devotion, contradiction, and love that just… stuck. The quiet looks. The shared burdens. All of the ways +

#MoriartyThePatriot #yuumori #Sherliam

One year ago, I started Moriarty the Patriot on a whim. Pretty Victorian boys, you know?

But I don’t think I was ready for just how deep these characters would sink their claws into me.

As much as the story might be considered flawed and imperfect, +

When life kills your washing machine...

Write a laundromat meet-cute?

Rinse Cycle

#yuumori #MoriartyThePatriot #Sherliam

So I ended up changing the title, but its still the same fic i was working on.

And its finally DONE! Yay!

archiveofourown.org/works/77573601
#Sherliam #yuumori

There are 3 episodes on crunchyroll. Guess i know what im doing today.

Oh heck, i just remembered. The new anime just premiered, didn't it?

I have this problem where I dont really have one favorite. I have, like, a group of favorites (except for MtP). There are way more I could have put up there, but I'd be here all day.

Alright alright, there are probably zero people that care, but lets do it.

What's your top 5 anime?

1. Moriarty the Patriot
MHA
Bleach
Inuyasha
FMAB

Some runner ups:
Naruto
Dr. STONE
HxH
Yu Yu Hakusho

There is no order except for MtP being #1

Oh ya, this was like day 28. I should write more for them. But it all turns into smut in my head. Which i guess has its upsides.

3/3

2/3

Another one of my Kinktober entries. This one is a modern Moran/Billy (my other fixation).

Man, I love this rarepair.

1/3
#yuumori

Herbal Remedy William wasn't sure what had woken him. Usually he slept through the whole night when he finally got there, though nightmares still snuck up on him occasionally. He blinked awake, the room cast almost completely in darkness but for the sliver of dim, flickering light creeping from behind the door. The sheets held the barest warmth when he stretched his hand out to the other side. Sitting up slowly, he swiped at his eyes. His feet soon found the cold floor as he pushed himself out of bed and made for the sitting room. Sherlock was there, head reclined against the back of the sofa, eyes closed. A thin trail of smoke wafted from the cigarette trapped between his lips, barely seen in the soft candlelight cast from the side table The scent of tobacco filled the air, cut with the gentle aroma of chamomile. William walked closer—careful not to startle—and slid into the space next to Sherlock, leaning into the warmth of his body.

“A nightmare?” “How can you always tell…?” Sherlock’s voice was tired, raw, and just a little wrecked. William wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s middle, head settling on his shoulder. “You only smoke the chamomile blend when you have a bad dream.” Sherlock sighed a puff of smoke, his own arms falling around William, pulling him ever closer. He pressed a kiss into the heat of his lover's neck, letting the quiet stretch for a moment. “Do you want to talk about it?” The arms around him tightened and Sherlock shook his head. “Alright.” He pulled away from William’s embrace to stub out his cigarette before relaxing back. William could feel his breathing starting to slow. “Are you coming back to bed or are we sleeping on the sofa?” No response. William’s lips curved and he closed his eyes.

Not what I was supposed to be working on, but here, have another mini fic.

Herbal Remedy

#Sherliam #yuumori

Your art is so beautiful! The first Moriarty stuff I ever purchased, actually 😁 (first fanart, as well).

They draped from the bark in thick curtains, bodies layered upon bodies, the whole of them humming with a low, constant sound that vibrated faintly in the air. A few stragglers moved lazily around the perimeter, but most remained still, bound together by some silent agreement. “Apis mellifera,” Sherlock stated. “It has been rather warm the last few days.” “They seem… calm,” William spoke after a moment of quiet observation. Sherlock looked back at him and saw the slight apprehension on his face, in his stance. “They are. Just a bit overheated.” Sherlock made to move closer, but a set of fingers gripped his coat. He paused, feet straying no further, and placed his hand over William’s. “It's called bearding—I'm sure you can guess why. When it grows warm, they gather like this to cool the hive,” he explained. “Look at how settled they are. Do you hear it? That steady hum? That's the sound of content. Many voices, one sound.”

William’s lips pursed, gaze drifting to the colony draping from the tree. “Albert swelled terribly the last time he was stung.” “You know,” Sherlock started, a memory surfacing, and his hands raised as if to conduct the orchestra of his thoughts, “I once solved the murder of a man—well, it wasn't actually a murder—but his staff were terribly convinced he'd been poisoned. There was just no reason nor evidence of foul play. I was informed he had fallen ill directly after taking a walk through the gardens, and upon examining the body, I found the culprit to be an incredibly bad reaction to an insect sting. Of course, the garden he had been walking in had been full of honey bees—a colony had taken up home there. I may have read every book the local library had on the little creatures.” He let himself breathe after his long explanation, his hands dropping to his sides. William was looking at him with a calculating gaze, a crease pinching his brows. “In retrospect, perhaps not the most reassuring anecdote.”

A little sneak peek at the fic im working on.

65°C

#Sherliam #yuumori

My whole collection, now properly displayed.

William dress up game when?

😫 why do i have to be broke and far away...?

His mobile vibrated in his pocket. Eleven p.m. on the dot. Every Friday. Sherlock didn't even need to check, not after months of anticipating this very notification every single week. He knew what it said. Red Velvet is live. Of course, Sherlock was already at his desk, the stream open in one browser window—fullscreen. His room was dark, lit only by the glow of the screen and the soft amber burn of the cigarette smoldering in the tray beside him. His fingers were already curled into fists on his thighs. There was always a countdown. Only five minutes, but Sherlock’s foot started to bounce after two. The other three were spent in his head. What would he be wearing today? The icy blue silk from last week? Slippery, sheer, and sinfully soft—Sherlock had imagined the texture under his own fingers too many times to count. Or maybe the red chiffon, the one that clung like a second skin and left so little to the imagination it may as well have been painted on.

He remembered the way it slid off one shoulder first. The deliberate pause. The knowing smile. Sherlock exhaled through his nose, sharp and restrained, his knuckles whitening. The chat was already flooding with thirsty anticipation, usernames scrolling past in a blur. He never paid them much mind. They didn’t matter. None of them mattered. He was the one who knew. He was the one who found him. The first time Sherlock had seen him, he knew he had to know more about the man behind that gaze. The beautiful creature who could hold an audience captive with a single look, whose tongue was sharp, whose intellect cut like glass. It had taken him two weeks to find a name. William James Moriarty.

Sherlock adjusted in his chair, thigh muscles tight, the outline of his arousal already pressed uncomfortably against the front of his trousers. He made no move to relieve it. Not yet. Not until he could see him. He didn't blink. Not when the countdown bled into black. And especially not when the screen lit again—and there he was. On that same chaise lounge. Opulent mahogany and crushed velvet, the same deep color as his eyes. Sherlock sucked in a shaky breath as he took him in. Luxuriating across the scarlet upholstery like sin made flesh. Red Velvet. William. The lighting was warm and low-angled, just enough to catch on the sheen of his pale skin. His hair fell perfect as ever, golden locks brushing his cheekbones. Lips parted. Eyes half-lidded, gaze lazy as a cat in the sun.

He wasn’t wearing much. A black lace robe—if it could be called that—cut at the thigh, tied loosely in the front, the delicate trim slipping off a shoulder. Beneath, nothing but a crimson thong, thin as a whisper, cut high on the hips and scandalously narrow across the front. Sherlock’s mouth went dry. William stretched slowly—arms overhead, body arched. His ribs flared faintly with the movement, pale skin catching the light in soft gleams. When he shifted, the robe pooled at his elbows and slid down further, revealing more of the smooth slope of his chest. Then he spoke. Low. Silky. Like honey dripping from the tip of a blade. “Good evening, my darlings…” Sherlock's trousers were already undone.

Another one from my Kinktober collection.

Camboy Liam (not to be confused with CATboy Liam, though now I feel like I should explore that more...) and Obsessive Sherlock.

#Sherliam

Ao3 link
archiveofourown.org/works/77034411