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j-eryewrites · 2 years ago

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The Dancing Men (I)

Part 15 of The Arbitrary Lives of the Occupants of 221B Baker Street

Word Count: 6.5k (back to normal-sized chapters)

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Warnings: Sherlock is Sherlock, descriptions of violence and gore, Sherlock is absolutely in love with the reader, slow burn finally working its magic.

Author’s Notes: You know how Benoit Blanc is horrific at Among Us even though he’s a detective, I say the same logic applies to Sherlock. At least that’s my headcanon. I also mixed a request into this chapter XD

John was quite enjoying how the evening was turning out. He sat smugly in his chair across from Sherlock whose face was stuck in a perpetual frown. It wasn’t every day John could say he had the upper hand on Sherlock.

What started out as a simple game of Cluedo, or “Clue” as Y/N had put it, now became an obsession for Sherlock. John chuckled at the sight of his friend. He would have never expected the great Sherlock Holmes, the world’s only consulting detective to be reduced to nothing over a simple mystery game.

“Professor Plum. The revolver. In the study,” Sherlock muttered.

“Is that your final answer?” John asked. He raised a brow quizzically. Of course, he knew the answer. He had guessed it after the third round but had been so kind as to not tell Sherlock.

Sherlock glared at John. “Positive.” Each letter was enunciated perfectly as it fell from Sherlock’s voice. He was getting on edge, John noted as he motioned to the envelope in the middle of the board game.

Sherlock lunged at the cards and as he flipped them over, a cry of outrage left his mouth. “That’s not possible. Professor Plum. The revolver. In the study. Not Ms. Peacock with the rope in the kitchen!” He yelled.

“Sherlock, it’s only a game!” John laughed earning another glare from Sherlock.

“No, John. It’s not just a game.” Sherlock’s voice was oozing with frustration. He ran his hands through his curly hair and gripped it tightly. He sucked in, an attempt at a deep breath. “Onemoreround.”

“What?” John asked. He leaned forward in concern. Sherlock really was getting worked up over a game.

“One. More. Game. John. But this time–” Sherlock said. “We do it my way.”

“Sherlock that’s not how–”

That’s how John ended up on the floor of his flat. His face got quite comfortable with the ground as Sherlock paced around the room. Watching Sherlock navigate the flat was like watching a child attempt to dance. His steps were jerky and stiff as he ducked, jumped, and twirled around the room. His hand pointed out following along the clues the game has so far revealed. Suddenly, Sherlock dipped out of John’s narrow viewing field. However, he was eager to continue watching his friend obsess over Cluedo.

“Don’t move.” Sherlock snapped.

“Sherloc–”

“Don’t. Move.”

John sighed in defeat. This was going to be a long night. John’s only thought of consolidation was that at least Y/N would be enjoying it. He heard the music she played through the floorboards as she got ready for her date with Jim that night. It was a nice tune, not something John would listen to willingly, but something to keep him distracted as he played the murder victim. He even found himself humming along before Sherlock declared dead bodies don’t hum and threatened to silence his friend with duct tape.

It wasn’t long before the boredom reached John. While seeing Sherlock fret over a silly game was hilarious, being glued to the floor was not. The wooden floor was uneven in some areas and John could swear something sticking into his side. He tried to re-adjust only to earn another harsh threat from Sherlock.

Soon John found himself dozing off; a result of the faint music from below and Sherlock’s muffled footsteps. John would have fallen into a deep sleep if it were not for Sherlock’s sudden outburst.

“I’ve got it!” Sherlock shouted.

John peered up at Sherlock and snickered at the sight. Sherlock looked like a crazed man. His hair stuck out in all sorts of ways, and his shirt was wrinkled and untucked. There were even a few buttons left open. His robe swayed at his sides and he ducked under the numerous amounts of red thread tied around the room. Oh, did John forget to mention the redecorating the flat had gone through?

Not only had Sherlock forced John to play dead, but had also conjured the different murder weapons as stated by the game, took the character cards, and some red thread, and placed them in their respective rooms. Those rooms of course were adapted to be the very rooms of their flat. Connecting each weapon, character, room, and, well, John, were red threads. Where Sherlock had found the insane amount of red thread he did not know, however, what John did know was that Y/N was going to have a fit seeing the state of the flat.

“Hit me,” John said. Sherlock raised his brow in an interesting manner. One that scared John. “No, don’t actually hit me. Just–” John could swear he saw Sherlock’s demeanour fall. “What’s the verdict?”

“John Watson, my dear friend, was found dead in the study at 6.49 in the evening. The suspects are as follows–”

“Can I get up?”

“No.” Sherlock cleared his throat. “Suspects are as follows: Ms. Peacock, Ms. Scarlet, Dr. Orchid, Rev. Greene, Professor Plum, and Colonel Mustard. When each suspect was interrogated, I came to find–”

John groaned. Sherlock was conducting a case. A case for a game. “Get to it!” John yelled.

“Dead bodies don’t speak, John,” hissed Sherlock.

“Sherlock…” John said warningly.

“Fine.” Sherlock walked into his room and emerged with a wrench in hand. It was large and very clearly a real wrench. John grumbled to himself. This was entirely his fault. He had indulged Sherlock too much and now he was going to be murdered over a game of Cluedo. Though, thought John, Y/N would have his back and make sure that Sherlock would pay tenfold. Now that, John was okay with it. “What you didn’t realize, John, is that your old lover Dr. Orchid would be in attendance tonight. She was jealous of you and your success in your career. When she had the chance she cornered you in the ballroom for one final dance with death. A dance that you did not walk away from.” Sherlock raised the wrench above John’s body. “With a wrench, she had found underneath the kitchen sink, she beat you to death.” Sherlock made a few gruesome sounds to what he thought a dying man would make.

“Alright, I get it. I died–”

“Your body was beaten to a pulp. Blood, brains, and bone fragments mixed together like a–”

“Sherlock, I get it!” John yelled. He would have given Sherlock more of an earful if it weren’t for the clearing of a throat. John looked quizzically at Sherlock. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at John. Neither of them had made the sound.

There it was again. It came from a man noted Sherlock. He could tell from the pitch. It was too low for a woman to produce. Sherlock also noted that it came from the doorway. Slowly the detective and his friend peered over to the entryway. In the doorway stood a man in his late twenties. He wore a dark-coloured polo shirt and a nice pair of trousers. There was no wrinkle in sight. His hair was slicked back with gel in a stylish manner and he flashed a nervous grin.

The man, whoever he was, was unsure of the scene before him. In fact, he was almost sure that he was about to witness a murder if it were for the ramblings of John; who had to explain the scenario. Finding out that they were playing a game of Cluedo didn’t help ease the man’s suspicion.

“Who are you?” Sherlock asked. His face bore no sign of emotion as he eyed the man in front of him. From just his watch, Sherlock could tell he came from wealth. The golden ring on his finger meant he was married and the fact that it was polished let Sherlock know it was well-loved: a happy marriage. Sherlock noted next was the man’s choice of outerwear. The jacket he so carefully held in his hand was much too thin for the weather London had been receiving the past few days. This led Sherlock to his final conclusion, the man was from out of town, even more so, from out of the country.

A deduction that was proven accurate the moment the man answered Sherlock’s question.

“The name’s Hilton Cubitt.” He introduced himself with an Irish accent and was quick to follow with a hand ready for Sherlock to shake, who quite literally left him hanging. “I assume that your Mr. Holmes?”

“Speaking.”

“Grand.” Hilton smiled in relief. “The whole fake murder thing makes sense now,” he joked.

John let out an uneasy chuckle. “Yeah…what are you here for Hilton?” He cleared his throat and once again realized his position on the floor. It took a moment and some tripping over the scatter thread for John to stand up. He could have sworn Sherlock was displeased to have his “dead body” removed.

“It’d be just easier to show than to…tell,” Hilton clarified. Then he reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a small slip of paper. Now this intrigued Sherlock, so he quickly snatched it out of Hilton's hands.

Sherlock’s head tilted to the side with curiosity. A smile grew on his face. John took the peer over Sherlock’s shoulder at the sheet of paper.

“That’s a child’s drawing,” John muttered and he was confident in his deduction. Upon the sheet of paper were small stick figures. Each figure is in a different position, almost like steps to a dance.

“That your idea?” Sherlock. “Honestly, John after all this time I would have thought you’d have a more intelligent answer.”

John elbowed Sherlock in his side. “You’re just still upset after I beat you in six rounds of Cluedo.”

Sherlock clenched his jaw and turned away from his friend. “Then I suggest we get the opinion of another. Someone who is unbiased.”

Immediately, John shook his head. “No, Sherlock. She’s getting ready for a date. You can’t–”

But it was too late. Sherlock had already vacated the flat with the code in hand. John’s mouth hung agape before he asked Hilton for a moment and darted down the stairs after Sherlock.

_______

Y/N quietly hummed along to the song playing on the stereo. She loved to hum or sing. It was one of the things that made her human and to know that she was alive. The feeling of her throat tickled as she mimicked the melody as best she could. One of her favourite feelings besides that of rain dancing across her skin or hugs from those she loved. The way they’d hold each other close in an embrace. It didn’t matter who the hug was from; her parents, Mrs. Hudson, John, Jim, and even Sherlock. There was even some part of her that preferred Sherlock’s stiff but calming embrace to anyone else’s.

Now that she came to think of it, Y/N had been thinking more and more about Sherlock. She attributed the thoughts and feelings to all the events that had transpired in the past few months. Case after case. Danger after danger. It would only make sense she’d need to find comfort in someone who understood. She only really could find comfort in someone who was there. Of course, she had considered talking to Jim, but he’d just worry. He was great like that. He’d worry as a good boyfriend should, but then would just tell her to leave. Just like he did when she told him about the reason she refused to take cabs.

“If it’s dangerous, then leave. Darling, just leave. Come work for me. Somewhere safe.” Those words, Jim’s words echoed in her head. She didn’t want to leave. She loved working with John and Sherlock. She loved helping others. She loved feeling like she was making a difference in the world. Something she doubted she could do working for Jim and his consulting company. Additionally, working for your boyfriend was weird. It felt like a commitment that would soon turn into an obligation. An obligation that would force her to stay, but Jim wouldn’t do that. He was the perfect gentleman. He probably just wanted to keep Y/N safe. Anyone would do that.

Suddenly the door flung open. Only one person would ever just barge into her flat like that. Y/N sighed. She’d have to get the door hinges replaced with the force Sherlock used to swing the door open.

“To what do I owe the pleasure,” She sarcastically questioned. Her tone was an attempt to hide that she was really happy he barged in. A tone that hid she’d be willing to replace her door hinges so long as he kept coming, but it came out harsher than she expected. Something she realized when she saw Sherlock’s dazed state.

“I’m sor—just…” She cleared her throat. “You alright? Clue going well?”

As she said it, she realized Sherlock was more dishevelled than she had ever seen. Was his hair always this curly and out of place? Then Y/N thought of how much she would like to run her finger through his hair. It looked soft, so she imagined it like that. As soft as clouds, or those unbelievably fuzzy blankets you couldn’t help but just run a hand over at the markets.

“You look–,” Stunning. Breathtaking. Like she’d rival Aphrodite’s beauty. Sherlock cleared his throat. “Sorry, what did you ask me?”

“Uh…just…clue? How’s it going?” She repeated.

Sherlock gulped. “...Great. And you?”

“I’m doing okay,” She said softly. Why had her voice gotten so quiet?

Sherlock nodded and looked around the room. His eyes darted frantically over the photos on the wall, then to the array of cat toys around her flat. Right, she had a cat. He could ask about that.

“Your cat?” Sherlock muttered.

“Bjørn? Erm… he’s with Mrs. Hudson right now. She spoils him rotten,” She chuckled. Then Y/N began to fiddle with her hands.

Something Sherlock knew to be a nervous habit. “You alright?” He asked again.

Y/N laughed again. “Are you sure you’re fine Sherlock? That’s the second time you’ve asked me that question.”

“Right, I mean-” His voice faltered as she stepped up to him. Her hand now rested on his forehead. She peered up at him. She was so close that Sherlock could see his face reflected in her eyes. They were gorgeous. He never knew so many colours could appear in a singular shade.

“You’re burning up, and your face it’s all red,” She muttered, finally lowering her hand. “You’ve got to tell Joh–”

“Sherlock, I told you to leave her al–” John began to reprimand his friend before shutting his mouth abruptly. He had thought Sherlock frazzled at a simple children’s game was something, but the sight before him was even better.

Sherlock stood in front of Y/N. Nothing too out of the ordinary. However, what John seemed to notice was the state of shock Sherlock seemed to be in. His mouth hung slightly open and his lips frozen in thought trying to find words to say. His cheeks have flushed a shade of red that John had only seen in cartoons. On top of it all, John could swear there were even hearts forming in Sherlock’s eyes as he gazed at Y/N.

John chuckled slightly and wished he had taken a picture. His laugh and presence seemed to have shaken Sherlock from his trance.

“You look nice,” John complimented Y/N.

She smiled softly and looked down at her dress. It was a brilliant shade of blue. She ran her hands over the material straightening it out. “Thanks,” Y/N muttered.

“John, I think Sherlock’s getting sick. His face is flushed and I think he has a fev–”

“I’m perfectly fine, Y/N,” Sherlock blurted.

John snickered. “Now that you say it, Y/N, Sherlock does look a little feverish.”

“I’m not sick,” Sherlock stated.

“Lovesick,” John coughed. Sherlock sent John a death glare upon hearing the words, but it seemed as if Y/N hadn’t noticed. It took John a moment to notice the confusion on Y/N's face. He quickly looked to Sherlock to see if the man who came charging into her flat was going to do any explaining, but he seemed to be occupied with gazing at Y/N.

“We need your opinion on something,” John said. He strolled up next to Sherlock and nudged his shoulder. This seemed to get Sherlock back in working condition.

“Right. Look at this,” Sherlock instructed. He handed Y/N the paper Hilton had given them moments prior.

The expression of confusion grew on her face. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”

“That’s for you to decide,” Sherlock explained.

She looked up from the paper and eyed Sherlock carefully. “Right. You know, I really do have to go can’t I just–”

“No!” Sherlock cleared his throat. “No, just…quickly what do you think it is?”

Y/N glanced down at the paper once more. The hesitance was clear in her voice as she said “A child’s picture? Like one a kid draws.”

John cheered in triumph. “Told you.”

Sherlock sneered at John. “Clearly both you and Y/N are lacking in some–”

But Sherlock did not get to finish for Y/N’s phone began to ring. “That’ll be Jim. Go to go.” She took a few steps outside the door before quickly turning on her heel. “Can you close the door behind you?” Her voice was directed more towards John than Sherlock.

John nodded and wished her a good time. Even Sherlock flashed a smile to her as she left, but it was soon replaced with a scowl.

John giggled at the sight. “When are you going to admit that you like her?”

“We have a client waiting, John,” Sherlock said.

“Change the subject all you’d like, but still does not change the fact that you fancy her,” John replied.

Sherlock didn’t even bother to reply to John as he left Y/N’s flat and embarked back up the stairs.

______

“What do think?” Hilton asked John and Sherlock.

The three of them now sat down in the flat: John in his chair, Sherlock on his ‘throne’, and Hilton Cubitt on the sofa next to the empty Cluedo game box. The way they were situated made Hilton feel like he was being interviewed.

“Of what?” Sherlock asked. His eyes came to focus on Hilton.

“The code,” Hilton uttered. “I read on your blog,” his voice grew sheepish, “of a case you recently solved involving a code. I thought you might be able to help me.”

John furrowed his brows. What case could– ”The Blind Banker?”

Hilton nodded. “Excellent storytelling might I add.”

John smiled and thanked Hilton. Sherlock looked between Hilton and John before clearing his throat just loud enough to end the conversation. John and Hilton’s gaze whipped to Sherlock. John’s expression was annoyed while Hilton’s was embarrassed.

“It’s rather curious. At first glance it’s a childish prank, so why do you say that it’s a code?” Sherlock questioned. He sent John a ‘don’t-give-me-that-look-he’s-here-for-a-case-and-not-to-fan-girl-you’ look.

“My wife,” Hilton said.

Suddenly a quizzical expression appeared on Sherlock’s face. “How does your wife let you know that it’s a code? Did she tell you?”

“In a way she did,” Hilton replied. “One evening she saw the drawing and was frightened to death. When I asked her about it, she said that it was nothing, but I could see the terror in her eyes. Not just some childish prank would scare my wife like that. That’s why I came to you hoping you might help me.

Sherlock looked at the paper once more. His pointer finger ran over the images. This was all very strange. Strange was exactly what Sherlock was looking for. One might even say that Sherlock’s middle name was strange. “Alright. Now, I need to know everything in detail.”

Hilton nodded. He was quick to adjust his sitting position into something more comfortable. “Now, I’m not much of a storyteller…Just ask me anything that I don’t make clear.” He cleared his throat and fumbled with the fabric of his trousers. “I’ll start at my marriage four years ago. Now, I’m not rich in any way, but my family, well, there’s no better-known family in Norfolk than the Cubitts. Anyways, I went to America about four years ago.”

“Where?” Sherlock asked. “Details.”

“New York. It was there I met Elsie Patrick. I fell in love and quickly married her. Came back home to Norfolk after that. Many people’d say that it was too fast for such a thing, but you don’t know Elsie. She was upfront about everything. Kept giving me the chance to get out of it if I wanted to. I remember she said, when I proposed to her, that she had relations with the not-so-agreeable sort. A past that she wanted to forget. She asked that I never asked her about her painful past. I agreed. Of course I did! It didn’t matter to me who she was before I met her. All that mattered was if she’d be with me the rest of my life.”

Sherlock sat in his chair, hands under his chin, eyes out of focus, his ears taking in all the information Hilton was providing, and his mind in deep thought. Something John knew not to disrupt.

“What about the code?” John asked.

“Well,” Hilton glanced down the floor. His voice changed from one of light and love to one of seriousness. “About a month ago, Elsie received a letter from America.”

“How did you know that it was from America?” Sherlock questioned.

“I saw the postage. Stamp and all. But when she saw it, her face turned white. Like she saw a ghost. Moments later, she read the letter and then tossed it into the fire. I didn’t ask her about it, but she was scared of Mr. Holmes. I knew she’d come and talk to me when she was ready.” Hilton turned to John, “But about the code. About a week later from the letter, must have been Tuesday last week–I found the figures drawn on a window sill. I thought it must have been our daughter.”

“Daughter?” John wondered.

The seriousness faded from Hilton’s face at the mention of his daughter. “Yes, she’s three and a half. Loves to draw!” Then he reached into his pockets and pulled out his wallet. Inside was an image of a young girl and woman, who John assumed was his wife. Hilton made quick work of displaying the photo for John and Sherlock to see. “One of the greatest things that happened to me, my girl. But if you give her a crayon, she’d decorate the whole house!”

Once again, Sherlock cleared his throat. Hilton immediately put away the photo he cherished. “Right,” Hilton continued, “well I washed the drawings away. Later that night, I mentioned them to Elsie who had the same look on her face when she opened the letter. She asked me to show her the drawings if I found any more before washing them away. And I didn’t find another until a few days ago. She saw the drawings and collapsed with fear. I knew something was wrong so I came to you. The police wouldn’t believe me. Mr. Holmes. I’m not rich, but I would do anything to protect my wife and daughter.”

“Don’t you think you should ask your wife to tell you?” John asked. It was a reasonable question and John got the sense that all would be well if Hilton only had the courage to ask.

Hilton shakes his head. “A promise is a promise. I won’t force her to tell me anything she doesn’t want me to.” He glanced down at the golden band on his ring finger and softly smiled.

“I’ll help you,” Sherlock announced.

A wave of relief washed over Hilton. “Thank you, Mr. Hol–”

“Have you heard of any strangers being seen in your neighbourhood?” Sherlock asked.

“No,” Hilton replied.

“Norfolk. A quiet place right? A new face would be news,” Sherlock questioned.

John peered at his friend. How would Sherlock know about the environment place in Ireland, but not be able to win a single round of Cluedo?

“In my neighbourhood, yes, but we have several farmers who take in lodgers. Along with the occasional tourist.”

Sherlock nodded his head slowly, his mind taking note of the information Hilton had provided him. “These drawings obviously have meaning, something I may be able to solve, so long as they aren’t just arbitrary drawings. However, this image is not enough. Do you have any more images of the code?”

“No, but I’ll be returning home soon. Tomorrow’s my flight back,” Hilton explained.

John’s eyes widened at the statement. Hilton really would do anything for his family if he’d just fly to London just to see Sherlock.

“I suggest you keep an eye out for such drawings and document them,” Sherlock suggested. “If and when you do find them send them to me as soon as possible. That is all I can do until I have more of the code to study.”

“Right,” Hilton said. His face flashed with an expression of disappointment. “Well, here’s my business card. It’s got my email and number if you need to contact me.”

John looked at the white business card Hilton had stuck out for either Sherlock or him to take. A business card was a smart idea. He made a mental note to possibly ask Y/N to make some for Sherlock. It would really make these cases much more efficient.

After noting that neither man in front of him was going to take the card from his hands, Hilton placed it on the coffee table in front of him. “Well, there…um,” He looked to John.

“Right! You’ll be needing our number and email as well…?” John replied.

Hilton nodded. “That would be great. It’s not the easiest to fly to London on a whim.”

“You flew on a whim?” Sherlock asked.

“Of course not, had a purpose…thank you again. I’ll be sure to send you any more of that code I find,” Hilton explained. Then he politely excused himself from 221B heading back to his hotel to prepare for his journey home.

The moment Hilton Cubitt had left the flat, Sherlock did not waste a moment in asking John for his phone.

“Why can’t you use your phone?”

“I need to call someone about the case,” Sherlock replied as if that was an adequate answer.

“I’m aware Sherlock but can’t you use your phone?”

“No, they won’t answer if it’s me,” Sherlock muttered. He stuck out his hand for John to place his phone into.

John peered at his friend. “Who wouldn’t answer if it was you?” John asked.

“None of your concern,” Sherlock clarified. “Phone.”

“Cause the only people I can think of are Mycroft, Greg, and…No, Sherlock,” John stated.

“It’s important. Hilton mentioned his wife is from America, who better to ask about the case than her,” Sherlock argued.

“Just because she is American does not mean she’s going to know everyone who’s ever set foot in the country let alone known about the case,” John refuted.

Sherlock huffed. “John. Phone.”

“No. She is on a date, Sherlock! She followed your rules. You gave her the night off. You must respect that,” John scolded Sherlock. “Just like Cluedo, you can’t change the rules of the game just because you aren’t winning. Which by the way,” John stomped over the tiny envelope that held the answer to the game. “You lost once again. It was Miss Scarlet with the dagger in the Billard room.”

In a fury, he tossed the cards at Sherlock’s face and stormed off to his room. The loud slamming of John’s door echoed throughout 221B. Sherlock picked up the cards from the floor and clutched them in his hand. He clenched his teeth together and crinkled the cards within his hand.

It was a stupid game. A stupid game Y/N had thought he might have fun playing. A stupid game that followed no logic. A stupid game that Sherlock lost over and over again. What was he doing wrong? Wasn’t wanting the prize–wasn’t wanting to win enough? Nothing was making sense anymore. Clues weren’t leading to anything. Y/N couldn’t see she was making it all worse. She plagued his thoughts. Thoughts that were never meant for anything other than logic. Y/N wasn’t logical. John had pointed that out to him long ago. Nothing about the way she smiled or how she laughed at a comment he uttered to Anderson made sense. So why did her gentle hand on his forehead or how she asked if he was well, feel so right? The thought of her in that dress singing to herself was all he ever needed. It wasn’t logical how Sherlock would throw away any thought of sanity just to be hers. This wasn’t Sherlock. Sherlock was logical and followed the rules of intelligence. Sherlock wasn’t swayed by emotion. Sherlock didn’t lose.

He retrieved the paper depicting the code. This here was logical. A code. A worried husband. A case. The cases were logical. Sherlock followed logic. What hadn’t occurred to him was how late he sat in his chair staring at the drawings. His eyes were strained from observing the stick figures for the hundredth time. He was committing them to memory: The width of the circles that were used as heads, the direction each figure was facing, the poses of each stick figure, and the material they were drawn with. The sun had long since set below the horizon and Baker Street had gone quiet. Sherlock ignored how heavy his body felt. His eyelids were begging to close. But when they did, he thought of her and she wasn’t logical. Instead, he kept them open and looked at the drawings once more.

_________

Y/N’s feet were aching when she finally reached the comforting black door of 221B Baker Street. She lovingly brought a hand to the raised number 221B and remember when she saw them for the first time. It was the first time she walked into her home. Y/N wasn’t afraid to admit that her home was Baker Street and that she shared her home with those she loved most. John and his sweet demeanour, Mrs. Hudson and her soap operas, Sherlock and his gross experiments, and Bjørn and his demon-like screech. This was home.

She made quick work of finding her keys, opening the door, and stepping into the warmth and comfort of 221B Baker Street. The entryway was dimly lit and the light, Y/N observed, came from Sherlock’s flat. His door was wide open allowing the light from the room to seep out into the hallway. That only meant one thing. Sherlock was awake.

Y/N took in a tired breath and dismayed her want to crawl into her bed with Bjørn tucked under her arm and fall asleep. She trudged up the stairs as quietly as she could before appearing in Sherlock’s doorway.

He sat peacefully. His sapphire blue eyes glowed in the dark as he stared out the window. His legs were crossed comfortably in his seat and in his hand he clutched a paper tightly.

“What are you doing up so late?” Y/N asked.

She watched as Sherlock froze the moment he heard her words. He turned away from the window and gazed at her.

“Could ask you the same thing. How was your date?” He replied.

“You won’t get off that easy,” Y/N chuckled. “You need to sleep, Sherlock.”

“I will…how was the date?” He asked again.

Y/N sighed softly before hanging up her coat and removing her heels. She forgot why she even wore them in the first place. They always made her feet hurt for days afterwards. She was soon to find a seat on the sofa.

“It was nice. It was some charity event. Had a nice dinner and danced a little bit. Nothing too crazy.” She began to fiddle with the hem of her dress. It was satin. The soft material was smooth against her fingers. Then she laid back on the sofa, her head bumped into the box for Cluedo. She muttered a subtle “ow,” before taking notice of the room.

“You’ve redecorated.” She noted. Her eyes caught sight of the red thread, the rope on the coffee table, and the game cards taped to the walls. “Must have been a fun game by the looks of it.”

“You’d have to ask John. I lost every round.” Sherlock confessed.

Y/N gasped. “Sherlock Holmes lost every round of Cluedo? Is it solving mysteries and murders your forte?” She said it with such humour, Sherlock let it slide.

Sherlock playfully rolled his eyes, “The game doesn’t follow logic, so of course John won.”

Then she giggled. Just the sound of her laugh alone drew Sherlock out of his sorrow. He couldn’t help the chuckle that left his mouth. He had always heard of laughing being contagious but only really believed it when he met her.

It took only a moment for them to settle down. The fuel to their laughter was long gone. Y/N tucked her feet in close to her body as goosebumps appeared on her arms. The tiny bumps were the body's way of keeping heat, at least that’s what Sherlock told her as he offered her a blanket. One she gladly took.

“He asked me to move in with him,” Y/N whispered. She wasn’t sure why she was telling Sherlock this. Maybe it was because Sherlock felt most like home. She didn’t want to leave her home.

Sherlock tensed at her words. “...What did you say?”

Y/N rubbed the back of her neck. “Jim, he asked me to move in with him. Said I’d think about it, but I’m leaning towards no. After all, what would you and John do without me?”

“You don’t–” Sherlock sighed. “You can move in with him if you want.” Immediately he wanted to hurl. What was he saying? Seeing her leave? He shook his head. No, this was logical. Her moving is logical. Who was kidding, it was the worst thing possible. Who would he have to bother when he was bored? Who would care about him when he no longer cared? He’d have John, but he wasn’t Y/N.

Y/N shook her head. “Not just…I don’t want to move just because of you and John. Baker Street is my home. I–I could never leave,” Y/N confessed. “Plus, I think Jim asked me because he was worried. He found John’s blog and read about the Blind Banker incident. Doesn’t want me to get hurt chasing after you, but it’s my job and I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.”

She wasn’t going to leave. This eased Sherlock’s mind and beating heart, but then he felt guilty. Her boyfriend was right, she was hurt because of the case. “He’s right, you know. It’s dangerous.”

“I know what I signed up for Sherlock,” Y/N hissed. “Sorry, just…it’s too perfect.”

Sherlock frowned. “What’s too perfect?”

Y/N realized her mistake. Her face flushed and her voice grew quiet. “Nothing, it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing if it’s bothering you,” Sherlock stated. He leaned forward in his chair and placed a hand over hers.

Y/N smiled softly at the gesture. “He’s too perfect. Our relationship. Everything,” Y/N groaned. She didn’t notice how Sherlock winced.

“Jim, he’s smart, kind, handsome, and ever the gentleman. He knows exactly what I want. Never fails to take me on an amazing date, likes my favourite foods, and has read the same books I have. He’s perfect. Exactly what I want. Which sounds crazy, but he–it doesn’t feel real. By now I’d think I’d actually know him. He hasn’t really told me what does for work…”

“What does he do?” Sherlock asked.

“He consults business, but that’s all he’s told me. I don’t know his favourite colour, where he’s from, or anything. It’s all about me, but he’s…he’s perfect,” Y/N sighed. “It doesn’t make sense. Nobody’s perfect…I don’t know what to do, Sherlock,” She confessed. “You don’t just break up with somebody because they’re perfect. It doesn’t help that he wants to take me away. On a trip or something…I don’t know. Just…nothing makes sense anymore. Nothing is what it seems. I fear you’ve corrupted me, Sherlock.”

He chuckled. “I’ve corrupted you?”

“Yeah. You’ve made me think. To observe, to not trust anything at first glance. Now nothing is ever what it seems,” Y/N admitted with a smile on her face.

Sherlock smiled back. “And that’s good?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah. You’re great–It’s great.”

“I’m glad,” said Sherlock.

“So am I. It just makes everything that much more complicated.”

“Exactly,” Sherlock replied.

Y/N hummed in response. She took Sherlock’s hands within her own and Sherlock could swear his heart did a backflip off a cliff. She peered at his hands carefully. Her thumbs lovingly ran over his knuckles. Sherlock felt as if his skin was on fire. It burned to have her hold his hands. The hands were delicate things used for almost everything Sherlock did. To burn them was to render him useless and that’s what she did. Sherlock was rendered useless in the best way possible.

“You should really get some sleep, Sherlock.”

“Ah, but I have a case that needs working on. A code to solve.”

“Sherlock,” Y/N warned.

“I’ll tell you all about it. A client, Hilton Cubitt walked in while John and I were playing Cluedo and —”

“Sherlock,” Y/N interrupted. “You can tell me all about it tomorrow.”

“It is tomorrow,” Sherlock stated. He tilted his head towards the clock behind him.

“You know what I mean. We both need sleep. You more than anyone,” Y/N said. Sherlock opened his mouth to refute her statement when she cut him off. “Even the great Sherlock Holmes needs to sleep. If not for yourself, then for me.”

Sherlock couldn’t find it in him to refuse her. He wouldn’t be able to refuse her anything. He nodded and watched as she removed her hands from his.

In her tiredness, Y/N drew away from Sherlock. She stood up from her seat, picked up her shoes and coat, and went downstairs to her flat where she crawled downstairs into her bed and fell asleep. At least that’s what she told herself she would do all. Just then she leaned in close. She blamed it on the fog her mind was in. Nothing was ever what it seemed to be anymore. Her lips brushed against Sherlock’s forehead, her hands resting in his hair as she brushed it away from his face.

“Goodnight, Sherlock,” she whispered against his skin. Just like she said she would, she left Sherlock in his chair. Her coat in shoes was in her arms as she descended the stairs.

Now, if things were logical, Sherlock wouldn’t have let her pull away. He would grasp her wrists and hold her close. He would have whispered to her that she missed. Then he would have placed his lips on hers. He would have kissed her if things were logical. But nothing was anymore. Not when Y/N was with him.

_________

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captain-lonagan · 2 years ago

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book im reading was a decent mid tier whodunnit set in the 60's. had an old man detective with an accent and everything. the detective is about to give his monologue revealing everything. i turn the page to see it. the book has fucking ended. theres something from the editor saying that they did not receive the final chapter of the book, and apparently, the author died last night. the book has now completely switched to the editor as they try to solve the mystery of the author's death and find the missing chapter (using clues from the manuscript of the author's manuscript)

when they did the switch and i realized that we were fully going over to Editor POV i got fucking vertigo dude. i was so confused amd thought it was legit at first and then i realized the dead author and the author on the front of the book had similar but different names and Lost My Shit

#mission status: SICK #its still a 'she breasted boobily' book but i can deal with it #the Real author is at his best when he's not preoccupied with his new POV character being a woman #when hes not doing that hes pretty solid #BUT WHEN THE THINGS IN THE MANUSCRIPT MATCH PEOPLE AND PLACES IN REAL LIFE #a thief named Johnny Whitehead VS the author's neighbor the banker John White who he had an argument with #the left out of the will and slightly ready to kill sister of the murder victim Clarissa VS the author's less-than-wealthy sister Claire #MYSTERIOUS FIGURE IN A FEDORA SHOWING UP AT THE BACK OF THE FUNERAL #the reverend in the book was an anagram of the Real Reverend that the author had run his funeral #Unhinged #i love the vibes #the editor and the reader (me) are catching shit and making connections simultaneously its so good

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krishmanvith · 1 year ago

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chateautae · 6 months ago

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risk management | kth. (m)

➵ summary : you have one rule; you don’t date investment bankers, point blank period. but when your best friend invites you to her over-the-top housewarming party to meet her husband’s co-worker, kim taehyung, you don’t expect the night to take a wild turn; and risk bending your own rules.

➵ pairing: investment banker!taehyung x f. reader

➵ genre : non-idol!au, s2l, smut, pwp

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 9.4k

➵ warnings : alcohol consumption, swearing, sexual tension, heavy making out, mentions of exhibitionism (nobody sees them), big dicc!tae, against a window sex, unprotected sex (you’re smarter than this guys), ass, breast and pussy fondling (the holy trinity <3), sir kink!!, dirty talk, brief hand-jobbing, oral (m. and f. receiving), panty sniffing, denied orgasm, marking, riding, ass smacking, scratching, cum swallowing,

➵ a/n : as always, your feedback means the world to me <3

➵ playlist : take a slice by glass animals

Walking into Nabi’s home was the equivalent of waltzing into a bakery shop. The warm, aesthetic lighting provided a sense of homey comfort, the woodsy, though elegant furnishing and indoor pieces added an exquisite touch of sophistication, and the heavenly smell of freshly baked cherry pie welcomed you into a cozy paradise.

The front door shuts behind you, and you’re privy to at least three dozen people chattering and mingling away. Some clink glasses of liquor together. Others pick off the appetizers in the opulent kitchen while a handful smoke outside on the lawn.

Eyes surfing the crowd of people, you attempt to spot your best friend. Some familiar faces indeed catch your sight, though it’s the amount of new ones that settle some anxiety in the pit of your stomach. It’s not that you’re bad with people; you can actually be quite interpersonal, though the idea that many of these people are strangers leaves you slightly displaced, taking a deep breath.

Exhaling, you’re suddenly interrupted by a familiar cheery voice latching onto your arm.

“Y/N, you came!”

“Of course I would. Why wouldn’t I?” You joke with her. “I know how important this is to you.”

“Thank you. I was seriously getting worried you wouldn’t come. I’m so glad you did!” Nabi’s usually chirpy nature curves your lips, chuckling a little. “God, you must be starving. Let’s get you into the kitchen.”

Nabi leads the way towards her grand, quite impressive kitchen. You have to honestly raise your brows, lips slightly hanging open at the shimmering granite countertops, the sleek induction stove, and the expansive storage space. She surely had an eye for interior design.

When Nabi told you she and her husband Namjoon would be purchasing a new home, never did you expect a house of this caliber. It was already located in quite the expensive, high-class neighbourhood, but stepping inside to assess the luster yourself felt like a reality check.

You live nowhere near this luxury.

“Oh my God, Y/N, I have news.” Nabi dramatically begins, tugging you towards the table of appetizers. You nab a small plate as you choose some posh finger foods, attention shifting towards your best friend.

“Soooo, some of Namjoon’s co-workers are here.” She playfully bounces her brows, wiggling her shoulders a little to indicate something mischievous. How very Nabi of her, you think.

“Ah, speaking of Namjoon, I haven’t been able to say hi to him.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m telling you this.” She sing-songs, much too proud and giddy to not be scheming something evil.

“Nabi.. what in God’s name did you do?”

“Nothing! I just wanted to tell you that Namjoon’s with a co-worker right now.” She explains, but soon begins nudging your side as you bite into a cube of Brie. “And guess which co-worker he’s with?”

You gently raise your brows in question, your round eyes conveying an ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ look of inquiry. Nabi ends up huffing in complaint with a roll of her eyes, suddenly snatching your snack plate from you and placing it down on her table.

“Wha-Nabi!”

“You’re coming with me.” She rigidly instructs, clasping onto your wrist and dragging you across her kitchen. You protest against her, grievous over your lonely plate of food.

“Nabi, are you serious?!”

“Very. You haven’t said hi to Namjoon yet, and that’s a crime in my household!” She valiantly declares, to which you roll your eyes to the back of your head and unwillingly tag along.

Nabi tugs you through her house far enough she reaches her living room looking out into her backyard, another show of just how luxurious her new home is. She only stops once you both spot her husband Namjoon, who is indeed speaking to a coworker. The stranger’s suit-cladded back is faced towards you both, your attention falling towards an (objectively) striking Namjoon. His hair is impeccably styled, and he adorns a clean, white dress shirt with a fitting vest.

“Baby!” Nabi calls her hubby, and Namjoon’s distracted within minutes.

“Hey, Bee, what’s up?” Namjoon instinctively asks his wife, and it always manages to melt your heart how considerate he is of her. He spots you immediately and waves a hand as he begins approaching you two, his smile dimply and dashing.

“Hey, Y/N, it’s so great you came!” Namjoon chimes, soon wrapping his big, muscly arms around you for a bear hug. You nearly lose air; he’s gotten huge over the few months you haven’t seen him. You kindly return the embrace, giving his large back a friendly rub.

Just as you let go, Namjoon gestures towards the co-worker he was speaking to. “Sorry I didn’t get to greet you at the door, Y/N. I was just with a friend. Taehyung-ah!”

Right then and there, said co-worker of Namjoon swivels around, revealing himself with a charming smile and beautiful, yet fierce eyes that cause every feminine fiber within your being to become attracted.

This is quite literally the most handsome man you have ever laid witness upon.

He makes careful, slow strides over to the group, and you can’t help but notice how long and model-like his legs are; the confidence in his steps, the assured posture of his squared shoulders and back, the sharp, cutting edge of his sexy jawline. His brows were strong, lips wide and full, the expression he wore on his face equivalent to the ruler of a kingdom.

“Yes, Taehyung! Come meet Y/N!” Nabi becomes far too elated, grasping your shoulder. “This is the Taehyung I told you about.” She harshly whispers by your ear, to which you are finally greeted by reality.

Fuck.

How could you have become so distracted so as to not recognize the man’s name? Nabi has never shut her trap about him ever since the day she met him, and your eyes shockingly widen once she mutters those words to you. You turn to quietly scold her, but you’re soon interrupted by Taehyung joining the group.

“Hey, everyone.”

Fuck, he has a deep voice.

You’ve always had an uncontrollable attraction towards deep voices.

That aside, you tug at Nabi’s arms encircling your bicep, gently rebuking her in a (hopefully) discreet voice.

“Nabi, what the hell? I thought I told you I wasn’t up for this?”

Clearly, you’re horrid at whispering because Namjoon and Taehyung across from you both fall silent, causing enough awkward tension in the air for Nabi to crack a very fake, deliberately polite smile.

“Sorry, boys. Would you excuse us?”

Nabi quickly ensnares your wrist to angrily tug you into a separate room, presuming it’s a guest room. She turns towards you after shutting the door with baffled eyes and firmly crossed arms, evidently pissed.

“Y/N, what the fuck?!”

“What, Nabi?”

“Why would you say that when he was literally right there?” Nabi gestures for emphasis.

You grievously sigh, despising that you were falling into this frustrating line of discussion again. You know all about this, Taehyung, your best friend has been trying to get on your radar. It’s not exactly exclusive information that you’re single. It’s painstakingly obvious being one of the only unmarried and childless friends among your peers. It’s what makes all of them seek out copious amounts of men for you to finally get hitched with. But there’s always the satirical element to every time you meet any of them; they all usually fall into the same pattern of failure.

They’re either egotistical assholes that are unknowledgeable on how to take care of a woman, are far too fragile with their masculinity to even earn a smidge of criticism on the way they eat pussy, or are plain jane cookie-cutter corporate dogs. Most of the time, it irks your soul, being left with fickle relationships that end horribly or somewhat okay sex that eventually dwindles out into dry text messages.

Sure, sometimes you get a good fuck or two in there, but none of that matters anymore. You’re tired of assholes, tired of the same routine of sorry-assed men that can sometimes never even get you to cum.

Of course, you’re not saying all of this applies to Taehyung. You won’t subject the innocent man to such scrutinizing standards already. From what you knew, he was a kind, respectful and hard-working man. He was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. There was surely something undeniably intriguing about him, and the sweet rise of his cheeks indicated to you he was indeed a pleasant man; there was no doubt about that.

But there was just one goddamn thing about him.

“Nabi, I fucking told you I don’t date investment bankers. You know how I feel about them ever since we found out the pattern of all my failed dates; they were all in finance!”

“Y/N, c’mon, babe. You can’t hold this prejudiced mindset about all investment bankers, didn’t you see the man? He’s scrumptious!”

“He’s scrumptious, yes, but I’ll still hold my bias against investment bankers ever since one literally answered a business call when he was balls deep inside me.”

Nabi sighs, hand to her forehead as she rubs out the figurative stress piling onto her. “Y/N, look. I get it. I know you don’t date guys like him, but… give him a chance, will you? I got to know him, and he’s a sweet guy.” She softes her tone to persuade you, intertwining her fingers with yours to play with them.

“He has a lot in common with you, and he did say he’d like to meet you.” She speaks through puckered lips to coat her tone with sugary sweetness, honestly loosening up as you watch her doe eyes plead you. “You’d be a good match, Y/N. Just one chance.”

Perhaps the night would be a disaster, or perhaps you could find someone actually worthwhile; you’d never know if you didn’t try. That, and the combination of Nabi’s puppy-like eyes and adorable pout, do you in, ultimately acquiescing.

“Fine, fine.. I’ll meet him.” you drawl, to which your best friend springs to life.

Nabi happily bumps a fist in the air as she celebrates, squeaking a series of elated explanations about Taehyung as she leads you out the room and towards this seemingly perfect match of an investment banker.

“Namjoon, baby, we should probably set up dinner for our guests, don’t you think?” Nabi inserts herself back into Namjoon and Taehyung’s conversation, thanking God he hadn’t left yet after you so rudely whispered about him.

“Of course, love. We should get going.” Namjoon secretly communicates with his wife through his eyes, his smile growing equally as scheming as hers. God, they’re the perfect match.

“We’ll see you two around.” Namjoon politely excuses himself and Nabi from you and Taehyung, to which your best friend shoots you a cute wave and wink, and Namjoon similarly flashes a finger gun and suggestive bounce of his brows to Taehyung.

The displaced pair of you send tentative waves back to your friends, eyes finally, though nervously shifting towards each other. The sheepish two of you gently chuckle then, attempting to cut the nerves and welcome some ease between you.

“Hi.” Taehyung begins.

“Hi.”

Your fingers dig into your Coach wristlet, maintaining a smile. It’s not that you’re anxious, but something about Taehyung automatically makes you assume a shier demeanour, his own exuding a subtle alpha-male power you’ve never felt before. Other men have channeled such power, but only with demeaning or dogmatic intentions; never so subtle and yet, enticing like this.

“So, it seems you and Nabi had a lot to say, huh?”

Your eyes immediately go wide, remembering he very clearly heard what you said about him and seemed intelligent enough to fill in the blanks of your private conversation. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry about that. I was just- I wasn’t-”

“Expecting to meet someone new so soon, I get you.” Taehyung considerately offers an answer, to which you honestly feel your heart slow down its erratic beating, your lips curving into a smile of gratitude.

“I’m Taehyung, by the way, Kim Taehyung.” He extends his hand, introducing himself quite suavely. His deep, baritone voice is what warms you up to him. There’s something so innately soothing about it.

“Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.” You clasp onto his hand, and it’s almost embarrassing how your eyes widen. His hands are huge, his slender, ring-slated fingers long enough to entirely engulf your hand, the expanse of his warm palm wide enough he could most likely grab you with ease.

You place a pin in that thought before it makes your legs squirm.

“So..” You clear your throat, releasing him to fish yourself out of your delusions. “Your friends with both Nabi and Joon, huh?”

“Yeah, I work with Namjoon. I just got transferred to his department a few months ago. I’m-”

“An investment banker, right?” You finish for him, to which he puckers his lips with impression, his eyes bright with surprise.

“Yeah, I am.” He confirmed with a smile, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Is it possible he’s nervous about meeting you, too? You don’t want to toot your own horn, squashing the contemplation.

“How do you know Nabi?”

“She’s my best friend. I’ve known her since our first year of high school.”

“Wow, you guys must be-”

“Like peanut butter and jam, yeah.” You both adorn amicable smiles, enjoying the company. Taehyung’s already turning out to be quite pleasant, exhibiting actual manners and social etiquette as you work through small talk.

It’s almost comedic how even such simple decency seems so rare these days.

“And you’re a..?” Taehyung suddenly obstructs your thoughts, drawing out his question for you to answer.

“Oh, I’m studying for my PhD in psychology. Professor is my goal.”

“Ah, at the university here, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s always been a dream of mine to teach.” You honestly admit, watching Taehyung reveal a quite... breath-taking smile, you notice. He seems thoroughly interested in what you have to say, and you quickly find a liking towards his personable aura. Taehyung’s close to speaking again until a rowdy group of men next to you almost impede on your personal space, instinctively cowering away.

Taehyung’s eyes shift towards the group, jutting out an arm in between you and the careless stranger.

“We should probably move.” He instructs, and something about the caramel smooth tone of his voice compels you to do so, to feel safe about it. Taehyung encircles his arm around you, not exactly touching you, but shielding precariously as he moves you both further away from the partygoers. He may not be directly contacting your skin, but the proximity of his presence alone suffuses you with a sense of fiery hormones.

He smells incredible.

The pair of you settle beside the backyard door, now much more secluded in the corner of the grand living room. Taehyung retracts his arm then, settling it by his side as he holds his glass of wine while you tuck some hair behind your ear.

He swishes around the mahogany liquid in his glass, while you twiddle with your fingers. A beat of wary, nearly awkward silence passes until Taehyung bravely breaks the ice.

“So.. Nabi and Namjoon keep telling me that I should ask you out.”

There it is, the big elephant in the room. You should’ve known Namjoon was also indoctrinating the idea into Taehyung’s head, being a schemer just like his wife. Namjoon’s obvious encouragement earlier and the tangibly nervous shuffling of Taehyung’s feet was also a tell-tale sign.

“Oh-please, I’m so sorry about this, but I don’t really date investment bankers.” You admit as courteously as possible.

“Oh really, now?” Taehyung seems slightly taken aback but handles the information surprisingly well.

You immediately scramble to clarify things. “Sorry, it’s nothing against you per se... I just-don’t necessarily have a liking towards corporate men.”

“Ah, I see.” Taehyung charmingly smiles, and something about the curve of his pretty lips makes you want to kiss them.

No, no.. you can’t have those thoughts. You cannot possibly be thinking about such things when you’re quite literally turning the gorgeous man down.

“Just not your type, huh?” Taehyung catches your drift, and you let out a sigh of relief for his understanding.

“Essentially? I’ve just had terrible experiences with them, and I’m not into the whole egotistical capitalist mentality.”

“I mean,” Taehyung begins, and it’s hard to miss the way his eyes aren’t necessarily kind and polite anymore. They’ve been coloured with a darker shade, his gaze much more piercing, almost wild. “We’re all slaves to capitalism at the end of the day, aren’t we?”

You gulp listening to the slow, alluring cadence of his deep voice, almost as though he was trying to lull you under a spell of his own making. You feel something in the pits of your stomach begin to knot, arousal causing you to fix your legs. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Taehyung narrows his eyes a little as he observes the change in your tone; it’s much more lax, inviting. He takes the opportunity to lean his forearm against the wall you both occupy, taking half a step towards you, and it’s now you realize just how much he towers over you. The impenetrable persona of his climbable body causes you to swallow, shifting your eyes upwards to meet his.

“Funny you don’t like investment bankers,” he comments with a suave tone. “I’m not really into students.”

Your eyebrows furrow with offence, the possible allusion that you’re a child in his eyes throwing you off. You do remember Nabi mentioning he’s a couple years older than you.

And that suddenly makes him a thousand times hotter. Fuck.

“Hey-” but you halt yourself, checking the tone of your voice. “I mean, we’re... all students of something, aren’t we?” You attempt to mirror his earlier comment concerning capitalism, noticing how he lightly smirks at your scrambling.

Is that something he enjoys? Seeing a woman flustered because of him?

Why is that so insanely hot?

“Perhaps,” Taehyung tilts his head in half-hearted agreement, eyes dancing over the guests of the party as he takes a slow, leisurely sip of his wine and returns to you. “Though I’m not into how pretentious doctorate students can be.”

“Hey, I’m not pretentious-”

“And now you know exactly how I feel.”

You open your mouth for a retort but quickly pause. He got you there, your look of defensiveness dismantling into one of amusement, breaking out into a little chuckle. He was trying to get back at you. “I… I’m so sorry.”

Taehyung similarly laughs, and suddenly the sweet chime of his giggle sounds mellifluous to your ears. “No big deal, I just… feel like changing your mind, Y/N.” He sincerely admits, and you soften at the show of genuity in his look, not so nervous anymore.

You bite your lip as your eyes flicker towards the ground, feeling courage permeate through you as you meet his gaze once again. You step closer to him, almost leaning into the arm he’s casted against the wall, finding his irises to be a warm, tender colour of coffee.

“So, here you are at a party drinking an exquisite glass of Merlot compared to the other money-hungry mongers at this party.” You joke.

“Well, what would the other money-hungry mongers usually be drinking, anyway?” He plays along with a similar tone.

“You’d usually find them with a glass of Scotch or Canadian Whiskey, tipped off with rocks, of course, because it adds a little more snazz to their parvenu looks, you get me?”

Taehyung lets out a hearty laugh, joining him as he curtains his mouth with his palm. “Yeah, you’re totally right.” He agrees.

“But not you… huh?” You won’t deny the suggestion that taints your tone, even bringing your hand to his bicep and just gently caressing him. You watch his eyes follow the action, observing calmly, calculatingly as he returns his gaze to you. He’s much more dangerous, tempting.

“Not me, Y/N.”

His reply and the way he recites your name drips with sin, the caramel smoothness of his voice rich enough to want to hear it against your skin. You’re both caught in a moment of simply absorbing each other, observing him bringing a finger to his bottom lip. He rubs slowly as he speaks, drawing your attention towards his mouth.

“And what about you?”

“What about me, Taehyung?”

“You have no drink in your hand.. which means you’re either not a drinker or you’ve got somewhere to go tomorrow morning?” Taehyung draws out as he attempts to uncover you, as though he were traversing the map of mystery within your eyes. “Perhaps to see someone..?”

“Oh, no, I’m not seeing anyone at all.” You immediately respond, squashing that assumption.

“What a coincidence… me neither.”

You could feel the tension between you two. It was palpable, so dense even a diamond couldn’t cut through. There were only mere inches between your bodies, having absent-mindedly gravitated towards each other. Something’s compelling you to drag him into a room or get him out of here, to stick by his side the rest of the party until it leads to something riveting tonight.

But your mind tells you this isn’t a good idea. Sure, despite being an investment banker, Taehyung was certainly sweet and kind, even a delicious man of sin who just looks like he’d let a woman ride his face into the sunset. However, they all seem like that at first until they eventually reveal the beastly, harsh truths behind their unappealing characters, knowing that as much as you feel tempted, whenever you made decisions with your pussy, it didn’t go very well.

“I um… I’m gonna go find Nabi and see if she needs help with dinner.” You stupidly derail the conversation, Taehyung springing back into his courteous persona from before, as though he were also awakened from a trance. “It was great meeting you, Taehyung.. And I see where our friends think we could be a good match but I just… I don’t think we’re a good idea. I hope you can understand.”

It’s only right. You don’t date investment bankers, and he’s not into PhD students, it makes perfect sense for you two to not tread any further than this.

“Yeah, yeah.. Of course.” Taehyung sweetly smiles, not revealing any hurt or immature offence, but rather mutual understanding, thankful he was surprisingly so compassionate.

“It's okay, Y/N. I agree, it only makes sense.” He admits, propping his arm off the wall. “I’ll see you around the party, alright?”

“Of course, enjoy yourself as well.” You politely reply.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N.” He considerately bids a farewell, and it honestly feels good to hear such words.

You kindly wave him off as he lets you go, appreciating how gentlemanly he was, and shooting him a grateful grin. “Take care, Taehyung. I’ll see you around.”

Taehyung rams you against the front door, his full lips devouring every inch of your hot mouth. He breathes impatiently.

“When you said see you around, I didn’t think you meant in my apartment.”

Here you were; dress falling off your shoulders, wine drunk, and shoving your tongue down Kim Taehyung’s throat. You moan, feeling the power of his manhandling, the sheer, rough carnality to his movements absolutely riveting. You remain shoved up against the door of this high-rise apartment, his knee nestled between your legs as his large hands desperately tug your lips onto his.

“Shut up and kiss me.” You breathe harshly as you dive in for his tongue, impatient with your movements as Taehyung laughs.

Nabi was the instigator, the goddamn game master of this entire play because if it weren’t for her, you wouldn’t be licking into Kim Taehyung’s mouth in his luxurious, 17th-floor apartment at 2AM in the morning.

She’s the one who suggested you all keep drinking her expensive wine, always bringing out another bottle the minute the previous one finished. You didn’t want to make things awkward with Taehyung for the rest of the party, what with him being a quite pleasant man, and a possible, potential friend, so you self-determined your earlier farewell to be temporary.

He joined you, Nabi and Namjoon in keeping yourselves entertained all night, having laughed, joked and hollered together the more progressively drunk you all became. Nabi was always a schemer, honestly, because she knew wine always made you exponentially horny, and you had already been daydreaming of what Taehyung’s lips would feel like sucking on your throat.

You don’t need to imagine it anymore, though, because right now, he popped off your mouth to trail kisses along the edge of your jawline, moaning his name as you desperately tugged at his beautiful locks of nearly-raven hair.

“Fuck, Taehyung..”

“Y/N..”

The way he says your name in his deep voice leaves even more arousal pooling in your panties. His lips skim down the column of your throat as you throw your head back, eventually latching onto your pulse point. He lays tender, slow kisses before wrapping his lips completely around your skin, suckling and licking generously.

Perhaps Nabi isn’t to blame at all when you recall the night. It wasn’t her fault the irreversible sexual tension you and Taehyung had established between each other ever since your conversation. It was lingering, evident, magnetic anytime you two even brushed arms. You didn’t miss the amount of times you caught him already staring at you, that one look of his so alluringly wild; and he could never keep his eyes off the way your legs squirmed anytime he even so much as lowered the tone of his voice.

Hours of painstaking tension later, you were both outside and near his car. You allowed him to show you the upscale features of his Benz as you watched him with arrant horniness. He just seemed so sexy when he was demonstrating something, so caught up in your arousing thoughts, you actually misstepped and nearly fell over.

You didn’t, though, because Taehyung immediately wrapped his arms around your waist to steady you, and the one, hooded-eyed, tipsy look of lust you gave him caused Taehyung to suddenly pull you flush against his body, and crash his lips against yours.

Now, you were both hungrily eating at each other, tasting wine and pure desire on each other’s dancing tongues. Taehyung, shortly after his wet kisses along your neck, pulls you off the door. Shoes and your purse are removed along with jackets, Taehyung swiveling you around to walk you back into his apartment.

You both carefully step back as Taehyung peels off his suit jacket, your hands quickly shredding them off his body too. You trail your red nails all over his chest and torso, nearly angry at his dress shirt, gatekeeping his skin from you. You can feel how deliciously sculpted he is, and it makes your pussy palpitate.

You can’t help the moan that escapes you as he rapidly rips off his tie, disconnecting for a mere millisecond to tug it entirely off until it’s tossed away, grabbing your face once again for messy kisses.

The pair of you waddle far back enough your back contacts the seamless glass all of a sudden, breaking away to observe your surroundings. You breathe harshly as you take it all in.

“Windows…” You mumble, every nerve of yours alight with insatiable arousal; you’re pushed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of Taehyung’s, you had to admit, beautiful apartment. High ceilings, aesthetic light fixtures, a grand, king-sized bed, sleek and minimalistic furnishing.

This definitely looked like the apartment of a wealthy man.

It offers the cityscape as his view, mesmerized by the myriad of lights and moving traffic along the spangly roads, but also, unpreventable openness.

“Are you okay if we’re against them?” He breathes against your mouth, lips brushing each other’s as his palms press against the window either side of your head. He leans down to your height, and the hooded, flaming look in his eyes makes you throw every care for whoever could possibly see you two right now away.

You grab his collar and collide your lips with his, allowing your undeniable horniness for him to consume every fiber inside you.

“Yes, yes Taehyung.” You answer headily, impatiently, and Taehyung immediately engulfs you in an intoxicating, head-spinning kiss once again.

You were thankful to have worn a dress of pretty thin material, moaning into Taehyung’s mouth as he pins his hips against yours, feeling the impressionable, delicious prodding of his hardened cock. You ignite with passionate fire, pressing your chest against his because the rub of your nipples against him feels heavenly.

Tongue swirling around each other, Taehyung glides his hands down your body, feeling every inch, curve and divot of your figure, finally settling around your waist. His large palms feel gigantic, but in a way that leaves you excited about what other things he can do with his hands.

As if reading your mind, they skim down over your dress until he grips your ass, biting your bottom lip as he tugs you closer to his heated body. You release him with a gasp, hands clutching onto his thick neck.

“I thought you said.. you don’t date investment bankers.” He chides, a ghost of a smirk playing onto his luscious lips. You huff hard enough it fans some hair from your face, lungs full of intoxicating, enthralling intensity.

“And you’re not into PhD students,” you snark, flipping your hair out of your face. “And technically, we’re not dating. We’re going to fuck.”

Taehyung immediately hisses with satisfaction. “Damn, a woman who knows what she wants.”

“And a man that finally knows what he’s doing.” You nearly croak as Taehyung’s deft fingers abandon squeezing your ass cheeks to rather slip underneath the skirt of your dress, the sweet taste of his breath kissing the apple of your cheek.

“Trust me, sweetheart, I know exactly what I’m doing.”

His proclamation leaves you keening, at a loss for more air once Taehyung bypasses the band of your panties, and dips right into your sticky, sopping pussy lips.

He hisses once again in pleasure, speaking deeply against your lips. “God, you’re so fucking wet.” The searing cadence of his tone leaves you gushing more essence, gasping when Taehyung boldly cups your sex in his palm, and a pathetic whimper escapes you.

“Fuck…”

“Yeah? You like that?”

Shit, you can feel blood pumping in your ears and adrenaline coursing through your veins. The way you’re turned on right now is fucking unquantifiable. You haven’t felt this insane in a long time, and it only drives you to relish in Taehyung’s crafty touches more, hands hooking onto his shoulders for moral support.

He continues rubbing you just like that, smearing your essence all over his hand as he attentively watches your every reaction, groans rolling off his tongue. You throw your head back against the window once Taehyung weaves two fingers through your soaked folds, gliding up your slit until he fondles your quivering clit. You let out a broken gasp, fingers digging into his sturdy shoulders as he begins a gentle sliding motion over your ocean of a pussy.

“Fuck.. fucking shit, Tae..”

You don’t even notice you’ve uttered a shortened form of his name, only recognizing the slip up when you feel Taehyung breathe a laugh against your swollen lips.

“Shit.. I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s okay.” He just as breathlessly replies, letting out little grunts every time you moan. “Just one thing,” he begins, leaving a wet trail of kisses down your throat until he finds your collarbones, slowly pecking away as his fingers work your pussy like magic.

“I like hearing my name, but I want you to call me Sir.”

Fuck, fuck.

Of course, a man like Taehyung would have something as tremendously sexy as a Sir kink.

The rumble of his deep voice against your throat leaves you mewling out, hugging his head into the crook of your sensitive neck.

“Fuck yes, Sir.” Taehyung lets out a shaky groan that indicates the wave of arousal that washes over him, watching him pull back from you to wet his lips. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a moment to breathe, using this as your opportunity to observe the city lights casting a soft glow over him.

His lips are just as swollen and wet as yours, his hair disheveled after having wildly tugged at it in the backseat of his car, a chauffeur having transported you two here. One of his top buttons had popped open when you desperately clawed at his shirt too.

He’s sincerely the most stunning man you have ever known.

You also witness the tight tent in his crotch area and are suddenly filled with a fierce sense of confidence.

He currently leans against the window, head hung low as he exhales. But you obstruct his moment of meditation, latching a daring hand onto his belt. With a feline-like grin, you tug him towards you by the Calvin Klein belt, catching a look of surprise from Taehyung.

“Oh fuck..”

“May I, Sir? You deserve some attention too.”

You whisper it so seductively, Taehyung releases a deep groan from the back of his throat, the asking of his permission spiking blood towards his dick. You undo his belt with your flawless, ruby nails, and Taehyung peeks down to watch you do so. He cocks a brow at the skill he sees, observing with a sexy smirk. You tear his belt open and loosen his pants, diving inside his boxers to feel at the beast he’s hiding inside, and dear God, are you in for a fucking treat.

He’s big, and you didn’t expect anything less.

Your surprise seems to capture his attention, feeling the breath of his laugh fan your cheek.

“You’ve got a cute face when you react to things, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, Sir. You’re just so...”

“Big?” Taehyung laughs, and you join him with a chuckle before you traverse further, and find the thick, meaty shaft of his cock. Taehyung folds with a groan as his face dips into your neck, enjoying the delicious sounds of his weakness.

You waste no time in freeing him from his dress pants, Taehyung helping you along and curling his hand around your much smaller one. You both begin pumping him together.

“Fuck..” he curses against your neck, and you conjure up all the willpower possible to not gobble him up like a five-course meal this instant. You splay your fingers over the back of his neck, tugging him closer as your lips envelop his pulse point for tasteful, intimate neck-kissing. You move your hand over Taehyung’s divine length in accordance with his own, guiding you to utilize the speed he likes. It’s so goddamn sexy; you moan against his neck and pump him faster.

He’s leaking incessant pre-cum, but the dryness of his cock leaves you devising other plans, removing your hand. Taehyung huffs as though he’s pulled out of a trance, and before he can ask, you drop to your knees, fingers hooking onto the band of his bottoms.

His pupils nearly physically dilate, eyebrows raising with rampant impression. You shoot him a look from below, eyes dressed suggestively as you tug his garments further down, and wrap a hand around his cock.

Giving him a few pumps, you jut your tongue out to lick a slow, long stripe up the underside of his shaft, meeting his tip to swivel around and catch a heady taste of his pre-cum. Taehyung groans beautifully, bouncing off the walls of his apartment as he throws his head back.

“Fuckkk” he draws out, fingers weaving into your hair for leverage. You moan once his tip is in your mouth, kitten-licking his slit and watching his Adam’s apple bob, the column of his throat enough of a masterpiece to have been crafted by Greek Gods.

He gently thrusts into your mouth once your lips envelop him, sinking down on his engorged, red-tipped member as you hollow your cheeks. He lets out a string of curses once you bury him deep, his tip smothered by the fleshy back of your throat, and he immediately keens.

“Fucking hell, Y/N.. just like that.”

You hum in satisfaction, which causes Taehyung’s blown out eyes to meet you beneath. You maintain eye contact as you draw yourself out, and slowly swallow his thick, veiny length once again. His reactions grow weaker every time, relishing in the power you hold and beginning to bob your head a bit, crafting a pace he seems to like, slobbering all over his erect cock.

He moans, deep-throating once before popping off, a lewd string of saliva breaking. He seems headily into it, boosting your ego, but when you move to drag your tongue across his balls, Taehyung gives you a soft push back, rejecting you.

You furrow your brows and look up at him, puzzled. But before you can ask anything, Taehyung helps you to your feet and crashes his lips against yours, the power strong enough to shove you back up against the window. You breathe in his kiss, swiveling your slipper tongues around each other before he breaks away, saliva prevalent all over your lips.

“I need a taste, too.” He breathes against you, your mind losing circuitry the second his lips meet your throat. He presses electrifying, hot kisses down your neck, the valley of your breasts, your midriff and stomach until his knees fasten onto the ground.

You meet his bewitchingly smug look below you as his fingers travel up the sides of your thighs, casting your skirt away from your pussy to reveal your soaked panties. Taehyung doesn’t waste his time in stuffing his nose against your dampened folds, catching a heady whiff of your essence and letting out a soft hum from the back of his throat. The rumble travels up your core and nestles into the pit of your stomach, knotting the coil inside you as you gush a waterfall.

His fingertips hook onto your panties and tug them off, revealing your nearly sodden pussy to a hungry Taehyung, who wets his lip. Without a single prompt, he locks eyes with you above, and slowly casts your thigh over his shoulder, drawing his face towards your sex and wrapping his lips around your cunt.

The wet contact of his tongue sets you ablaze, skin flushed and hot as your nails scratch at his window, the most erotic of moans spilling from you. He groans the second he catches a taste of you, tongue slithering through your folds as he amply sucks on your labia.

“Shit… you taste sweet as fuck.” His deep voice resonates through your heat, eyes watching him as he stuffs his sexy face between your legs. You sigh obscenely against his window, using it as your only leverage to stay upright as he makes you weak in the knees.

His tongue feels Godly, driving your hips over his face to shamelessly ride, and he welcomes you with an indulgent moan. It’s as though he enjoys his mouth being stuffed full of pussy, and you can’t help but feed into his heavenly work.

Your fingers slot through his locks, tugging at him as intense pleasure overwhelms your system, rolling your hips against his mouth until high-pitched, heightened moans leave your lips. It means you’re getting close, and something about the way the bridge of Taehyung’s nose presses and rubs against your clit works wonders for your building orgasm.

It’s coming, you’re blanking, and he’s eating you so passionately and methodically, you knew this would be your undoing. Your eyes are squeezed shut, reciting a mantra of Taehyung’s name and the hot title of sir that only spurs him on, losing your mind.

“Taehyung, Sir, fuck, fuck!”

His large hands grope your ass as he practically makes out with your pussy, tongue weaving through and around your engorged clit, and just as you grip him with a warning of your coiling orgasm, Taehyung stops.

Air is sucked out of your lungs, peering downwards to breathe erratically.

“Tae, what the fuck-” But you’re met by his lips when he springs to his feet, tasting yourself on his glistening lips as he sloppily makes out with you. He then props you off the window and spins you around, roughly pinning your front against the cool glass as you gasp.

“Tae..”

“Did you just say my name?”

Taehyung then rips open the zipper of your dress and loosens the top enough it’ll inevitably slide down and reveal your bare breasts to the goddamn world. Taehyung wraps an arm around you from behind and cradles your stomach, lips by your ear.

“I thought I told you to call me Sir.”

“Yes, I’m sorry, Sir.” You immediately apologize, the heat of Taehyung’s breath invoking innate submission. “I was… just surprised.”

“Still okay against the window?” He asks.

You bite your lip with a harsh nod, hot arousal heating up your skin.

Taheyung then tears off the top, hiking up the skirt of your dress as he shoves his crotch against yours, hard cock heavy on your ass. His heated breaths fan your ear, Taehyung casting away the hair on your shoulder to access the sweet spot behind your lobe. He kisses tenderly and yet, wildly as he fists his wet cock behind you, lining himself up with your entrance.

“Put it in, Sir, fuck.” You desperately request.

“Condom?”

“Just fucking pull out. I can’t wait.” You wave him off, breaths rampant and needy.

“Mmm, guess doctorates don’t learn patience, huh?”

“And bankers don’t learn haste, fuck me right now.”

Taehyung scoffs, and you want to say something, but when he pushes the bulbous, leaking tip inside you, you both let out harmonious, pleasurable groans that leave your nipples hardening and his dick leaking even more pre-cum.

“Shit… you’re fucking wet, and tight.”

“Fuck, you’re big, Sir. So big.”

Taehyung likes the sound of that because a low growl and his palm fully engulfing a breast later, he’s tugging your hips back to sink himself inside, voice dangerously husky against your neck.

“Do you care about marks?”

“No, not fucking at all.”

And Taehyung dives for your neck like a starved vampire, sucking wet, plum-coloured hickies over your pulse point as he bottoms out inside, filling your pussy up with his throbbing, divinely girthy cock. You moan against the window, nipples perfectly rubbing against the smooth, pristine glass and relishing in the arousal it speckles throughout your nervous system.

Taehyung leaves no room for playing around, and begins slowly thrusting his delicious cock inside your gushing sex, your slippery, welcoming walls smothering his cock with arrant, uncontrollable arousal.

“Fuck.. oh fuck.” Your moan hitches in your throat as Taehyung rides the wave of desperation, of searing, hot passion as he sucks all over your neck. You’re sure he’s going to leave purple blossoms across your skin, but right now, all you can focus on is the way his hips smack against your ass, your hand grappling onto his head dipped into your neck, tugging at his locks as you sigh like a pornstar.

His kisses feel enchanting, his dick magical, and the way he fondles your tit is otherworldly, causing you to become completely lost in the stars you see behind your eyes and the breath-taking cityscape before you.

Carnality overrides your entire body, turning your head to instead request Taehyung’s lips for rough, harsh kissing. Your lips and teeth smash against each other then, absolutely in unison with his hips slapping against you, his hands encasing your torso as he gives it to you from behind like a champ.

“Fuck, Sir.. Oh, fuck me.”

“Yeah? You want it like that?”

“Yes, Sir, oh God.” You grit through your teeth as he pulls back the flesh of your bottom lip, nothing but your breathy moans and groans heard in the sizable apartment.

You reach even further back and begin tugging at the collar of his dress shirt, hating that he’s still wearing fucking clothes.

“Take this off, take this fucking off.” You ramble, Taehyung paying heed to your request within seconds and letting go to peel back his shirt, casting it off before his fingers curl around the hem of your dress.

“Lift up your arms, sweetheart.”

You’re not sure if it’s him calling you sweetheart that makes you so docile and pliant, but you follow his instruction and Taehyung strips your dress off, soon throwing it onto the floor. You’re both naked now, Taehyung having removed his pants and boxers in exchange to feel the heat of your skin.

The warmth of his broad, smooth chest presses against your back, and the new feeling of his body heat causes you to moan indulgently, hands curling against the window. But you don’t have time to think, because Taehyung draws his pulsing length out of your fluttering pussy to turn you around, facing him.

He’s equally as flushed and heated as you are, the gentle city lights exposing the sweaty glow to his dewy skin. Taehyung reaches his hands down for the back of your thighs, and you know exactly what he wants before he even has to say it.

You leap into his arms, hands weaving into the feathered hair on the nape of his neck.

“Let’s get you on my bed, sweetheart.”

Taaehyung leans forwards for kisses, and you meet him for shameless make out as he walks you two towards his grand bed. He doesn’t toss you onto the sheets as though you’re a ragdoll, not that you would mind something like that, but he instead sits himself down with you perched on his lap, disconnecting for air.

You peer down at his cock to make sure he’s still hard, wrapping a hand around him for generous pumps. Taehyung wraps his hand around yours and helps you, both of you fisting him together as his hooded-eyes remain fixated on you, and your eyes glow with sheer desire as you hold his gaze.

You spring up onto your knees and Taehyung pulls his bottom lip between his teeth with a smirk, lining his cock up with your entrance and whispering against your wet lips.

“Ride me like you mean it, doctor.”

You huff at the deliberate emphasis on your future title, scraping your nails down his unblemished chest.

“If you can even make me cum, Mr. Banker.”

Taehyung scoffs, and before anyone can further the argument, Taehyung guides your hips down over his cock, and he invades you for the second time tonight. This position feels eons better; your breasts pressed up against his warm, smooth chest, his cock stretching your pussy wide open. You moan loudly as Taehyung huskily grunts out, who is settled against the headboard of his bed as you grip onto his shoulders.

He entirely spears you over his cock then, and the way he fills you up leaves him impeding on your fucking cervix, letting out a shaky moan.

“Fuck, fuck..”

“You okay?” He asks as a hand clutches your shoulder blade, maintaining his rugged breaths.

“Yeah, just-give me a second.” You breathe through the ache of his intrusion. You can feel him everywhere in this intimate position. Still, the pain feels good, and not long after you peck a kiss on Taehyung’s lips, you nod to him.

“Okay, okay.. you can move.”

Taehyung listens immediately and soothes his hands over your hips, helping you lift them off his crotch until you smash back down over him, a broken sigh escaping you.

“Shit..” Taehyung curses, fingertips gripping your body hard.

You repeat the action, then again, then again and again until you’ve developed a deliciously fast, wild rhythm, Taehyung’s hands slipping over your supple ass to grope and smack to his desire as he fucks you over his cock. He even drives up from underneath, and it leaves you keening, trading his shoulders for the headboard as you clasp on for dear life.

But Taehyung isn't fond of that, grabbing your wrists and weaving them around his neck, eyes wild when he says, “hold onto me, sweetheart.”

You fold, biting back a pathetic moan as she returns to gripping your body in place, impaling you from underneath as you work tirelessly over his thick, elongated dick. You feel so full, so satisfyingly filled to the brim your walls are quaking to release the orgasm he denied earlier, whimpering pitifully.

It’s sinful the way he not only grasps you but slams upwards into your cunt as he presses your hips down, stuffing even your stomach as you cry out against him. Your face falters into his neck, relentlessly irving all over his throbbing cock as the friction against his abdomen supplies you the right rub for your pulsing clit.

Taehyung takes your sudden weakness to mean you’re tapping out, which you are because he’s entirely a beast compared to you. He’s moaning and groaning like a mad man, watching your tits bounce as you repeatedly plummet over his cock.

“Fuck, so gorgeous when you bounce, sweetheart.” He praises with a heady groan when you stuff yourself completely, the confines of your pussy driving him insane. He bites back a string of curses as you sigh erotically, nails digging into his skin, but he doesn’t fucking a mind a single bit.

Your groins and thighs are already burning as your moans heighten in pitch. Taehyung suddenly wraps his arms around to embrace you close, hand splayed in between your shoulder blades as he cradles you and unforgivingly drills into your sex from underneath.

You gasp so loudly, his neighbours are certainly tired of hearing you. You scream and beg, losing your fucking mind as you feel your pussy walls spasming around him.

“Fuck me, Shit, fuck me!”

“Yeah? You want more? Say it!”

“Sir, I need more, please!”

You’re both animals now, holding yourself before Taehyung’s face as he rams into your leaking, slippery sex. Taehyung sneaks a hand over your visibly pulsing mound and supplies you the relief you so desperately need. You release a drawn out, heady moan as obscenely as possible when he does, relishing in the ridges and veins and shape of his delicious cock fucking you wildly as your orgasm approaches, filling up inside your gut.

It coils, your toes curl and your eyes squeeze shut, and your body shakes, legs quaking as Taehyung concentrates on stimulating your clit. He’s hissing and grunting, containing his load almost painfully as he senses your body beginning to convulse.

“Oh shit, you’re gonna cum, huh?” He breathes against you. “Cum for me, sweetheart. I wanna see it.” He finally, stuffs himself so deep inside you, the gates of your impending release burst mightily open.

A whimpering moan erupts from you, and you squeeze Taehyung’s so infinitely tight he begins to panic.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Taehyung throatily grunts. “Where do you want it?”

You’re still lost, in a post-orgasm daze as you gush gops of essence all over his violently throbbing dick. You’re only pulled off your cloud nine when Taehyung worryingly taps your breast and alarms you.

“Y/N, I’m gonna cum any second,” he warns you, repeating urgently. “Where do you want it?”

“In my mouth.. in my mouth.” You ramble, hopping off his dick and immediately assuming an all-fours position, sticking out your tongue and wrapping your hand around his pulsing shaft.

Taehyung pushes himself into your mouth and tangles his fingers in your hair, sinking you down on his length. He begins fucking into your throat as heady, unabashed moans and groans leave him, hearing them mellifluously heighten as he nears his high. He rams into your hollowed mouth, fucking it open as he chases his euphoric high relentlessly until his load releases inside your throat.

You moan as his hot seed floods you, tasting his cum for all its sweet glory. Taehyung actually loosens his hand on your head here instead of shoving you down over his length. It confuses you momentarily, but realize he’s presenting you the option of not swallowing if you don’t want to. That sweet sentiment alone drives you to, without hesitation, swallow his cum as plentiful as you can.

Popping off his member with flustered cheeks and heavy breathing, you know your face is a hot mess, meeting Taehyung with hooded, tired eyes as he similarly comes down his high, leaning back on his palms. He wets his lips before cradling your chin in his palm, tipping his own to take a closer look at your mouth.

“Fuck, open.. your mouth.” He breathes, his chest rising and falling as sweat sexily coats his skin. Your lips fall open and reveal an empty mouth, Taehyung adorning a proud side smirk that showcases his teeth.

“Swallowed without hesitation.. you’re nasty.” He comments, and you shoot back just as smugly with a coquettish grin.

“Eating me out and fucking me against a window? You’re kinky.”

He laughs, and you soon join him, giggling together before collapsing face first against his thigh, and Taehyung’s hand lands over your bare back with a huff.

Morning sunlight spilled radiantly into Taehyung’s apartment, welcomed by the bright light reflecting off his white furnishing as you awakened. Eyes fluttering open, you find your head nuzzled against Taehyung’s bare chest, his arm cushioning your body as he loosely clutches you, his face turned away as he sleeps.

You grumble as you’re woken up by the abundance of annoying light, last night’s wild escapade probably too tiring for Taehyung to remember to shut his curtains. Said man also stirs underneath you as you prop off his chest and onto an elbow, watching him rub a heavy eyelid as they blink open.

He turns towards you, and you both sleepily regard each other.

“Fuck, I forgot to shut my curtains, didn’t I?”

His deep, raspy morning voice shocks you, nodding with a sleepy pout, and Taehyung gently laughs as he reaches over towards his night table. He removes the arm underneath you and pries open the first draw, digging around until he pulls out a remote and presses something, to which his blinds begin to cover his windows.

You raise your brows with light surprise, Taehyung returning the remote to plop back down in bed, tucking his hands underneath his head. You hate that it makes his bulky biceps appear meatier.

He shuts his eyes again, desiring to indulge in more sleep, but you feel far too awake now. With a yawn, you entirely sit up, holding his duvet over your naked breasts.

“Are you okay with me making breakfast?” You query, hoping that he is because you’re honestly famished.

He speaks with his eyes closed, voice amused. “If you’re a good cook, then yes.”

You snicker a little, shooting a narrow-eyed look his way. “I’m probably much better than you, investment banker.”

His eyes flutter open to that, watching you with an entertained smirk. “I’ll have you know I make impeccable eggs, professor.”

You roll your eyes. “Please, you’d probably never be able to make them sunny side down the way I like.”

Taehyung suddenly springs up onto his elbows, shooting you a look of genuine surprise, eyebrows furrowed. “Wait, you like your eggs sunny side down too?”

You pucker your lips with a confused chuckle. “Uhh, yeah I do.”

“Sorry, I’ve just.. never met a single other person who likes them sunnyside down instead of up.”

“What? Don’t tell me you also listen to some.. I don’t know.. Dean Martin or Sammy Davis Jr. when you’re cooking them too.”

Now Taehyung entirely rises into a seated position, lips hung open with shock. “Holy fuck… you listen to Jazz too?”

Now it’s your turn to widen your eyes with surprise, both of you replicating each other’s unbelieving looks. “No goddamn way, now if you tell me something like a movie you’ve been looking forward to seeing and it matches mine… we’ll have a situation on our hands.”

“Okay, we’re gonna count backwards from three; tell me the movie’s name.” Taehyung instructs.

“Okay.” You nod, both of you turning towards each other to focus.

“3.. 2.. 1.. Billie Holiday.” Both of you immediately gasp, as though you just had the most shocking revelation of the 21st century.

“No way, this isn’t possible. You have to be lying.” Taehyung becomes disbelieving of your similarities, laughing it off.

“I’m not lying at all, Tae. I have no reason to.”

“I don’t either.”

You both take a moment to soak in the information, until you break out into an ironic laugh. “Fuck, Joon and Nabi were right. We really should date each other.”

Taehyung cocks a brow with a pleased smirk, lazily leaning onto an elbow, and you admire him in his beautiful, shirtless glory. “I thought you said you don’t date investment bankers because you have terrible experiences with them?”

“Eh, last night wasn’t a terrible experience.” You shrug, fluttering your eyelashes and similarly leaning on your elbow like him, mirroring his smile. “I can take a risk or two.”

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baronessvonglitter · 6 months ago

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Pretty Please

QZ!Joel Miller x f!bookworm!reader

Word count: 2.7K

Summary: your roommate Joel Miller is stressed out, and you offer a creative solution to ease that frustration

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, slight bullying (name calling - from Joel), reader is a bookworm and wears glasses, no age description for reader, Boston QZ, friends with benefits, oral sex (f receiving), soft!Joel, sub!Joel, dom/sub themes, edging, rough sex, unprotected p in v sex, Joel loves nerdy girls, reader is *shaved*, no use of y/n

Author's Note: I know that we all love a good strong DOM Joel, but I wanted to wade in the waters of the Ocean of Possibilities and see what a more submissive Joel would be like. Just like those CEO/investment banker types who visit dominatrices at the end of a long workday just to be treated like lesser than and hand over the reins of power for a bit. Maybe there's a part of Joel that likes being put in his place 🤫

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

It's just past curfew in the QZ and you're curled up with a good book. The new (to you) apartment you live in came with a great collection of literary masterpieces and your only delight in this cold, cruel world is reading by flashlight, at least until your surly, sourpuss roommate Joel Miller comes home.

The front door opens and slams shut loudly, making the thin walls vibrate. You sigh. He's back.

Joel walks in, looking tired and cantankerous as usual. You quickly shut off your light but not before he sees it. "What have I told you about wastin' the batteries?" he puts his hands on his hips, glaring at you.

Not in a mood to argue, you mumble a quick "Sorry" and scurry past him, but he catches your shoulder. "Just 'cause I can get stuff doesn't mean I will. You need to be more careful with our supplies.. what's this stuff you're readin' anyway?" He makes a grab for your book which you quickly hide behind your back.

"Just some Shakespeare," you lie.

Joel narrows his eyes as if detecting your fib. Suddenly he pulls you toward him and takes the book you're hiding. Eyeing the cover, he visibly blushes and swallows hard. "What's a nice girl like you readin' trash like this for?"

You find it impossible to meet his eyes as your heart roars in your ears. He has your copy of romantic erotica, an old book written decades ago about a woman who trains her lover to be her sex slave. You think to yourself there's no way you can finish it now that he's judging you.

"All right, Bookworm. Out," Joel says, nodding towards the hall before he settles in with a stiff whiskey drink.

Sighing you go to your room. Ever since you moved in a couple months ago after your former QZ was abandoned, Joel has treated you like little more than an imposition. His seemingly affectionate nicknames of "Bookworm" or "Four Eyes" on account of your fondness for books and your need of eyeglasses, respectively, has you wondering if he even cares to remember your real name.

Putting your book away you contemplate another existence. In your story a young woman brings a powerful man to his knees. Had the world not changed so irrevocably, would you have had the fortune of living a life like the characters in your books?

A shower is in order. Once you wash your hair and shave your legs (with shampoo and razors that Joel begrudgingly smuggled for you when you'd politely asked) your spirits are lifted. Hair towel-dried, you put on an oversize tee and some panties and start down the hall where you bump into Joel. He takes a look at your sleepwear and you can see the blush creep up his neck. "Can you put somethin' else on? I can see right through your shirt."

You look down and see your nipples, two puckered points through the cotton of your tee. "I'm just going to bed. Besides, I can wear what I want," you say in an unusually defiant tone.

Joel gets quiet, his body language clearly showing he's getting annoyed. "I just don't want to see you half-naked, Four Eyes." His frustration comes through clear. "Don't you have anything else you can wear?"

You sigh and walk past him to your bedroom closet and pull out a thick flannel shirt. You change with your back to him, feeling his eyes on you like two burning holes in your flesh. His breath hitches, eyes glued to his old shirt he'd let you borrow a time or two. Something primal awakens in him, which he quickly squashes.

"I'm all out of clean pajama pants," you shrug.

"Find some," he says sternly. "That shirt's gonna ride up on you. It's inappropriate."

"No." You stand your ground. "I'm not changing again." You take a moment to look at him, really look at him. He looks stiff, the veins prominent in his neck and forehead. You imagine his warm flesh beneath your kiss, and part of you softens towards him. "You really need to relax. You look stressed."

"Yeah, like you really give a shit," he mutters, looking away.

Studying him more intensely you realize he's not frustrated because you're not obeying him. From the bulge in his jeans it's evident he's turned on by you. Joel Miller is a good-looking guy when he's not being a full-on jerk. Hell, he may even be good-looking then. You take the situation into your hands and approach him, your tongue gliding over your lips. "I could help you relax.. if you want."

Joel freezes and you notice his breathing quicken. "What.. what do you mean by that?"

"You're upset with my lack of 'decent' clothes because I'm a distraction to you. Even if you don't like me, you're still attracted to me."

He gets flustered and it gives you satisfaction to see how much power you have over him. "Maybe.. no. I don't want to. I mean it. I have no interest in anything like that with you."

"Really? Your jeans are having a different reaction."

He looks down quickly, embarrassed and a bit surprised. "It doesn't mean anything," he looks askance.

"Do you want to touch me, Joel?" You start to unbutton your flannel shirt.

"You're my roommate. It's wrong," he says, yet his large, strong hands are reaching into your shirt. His fingers are rough and calloused but damn they feel like heaven as he cups your breasts, runs his thumbs slowly over your nipples.

"Don't think anymore, Joel. Just feel. Just be here with me."

He's unused to following his purely bodily instincts, having to live on his survival instincts for so long. But your skin is so soft and you're so warm and clean from your shower. "God, I want you," he whispers.

You take the lead and kiss him, filling in the space between you. Joel doesn't hold back, cupping your ass in his hands and pressing you to his need, his bulge in direct contact with your clit. Your panties dampen in response. Realizing how far he's taken it, how far he wants to take it, he mumbles an apology. "S..sorry."

"No. No apologies. I want this. Don't you?"

"God yes," he growls, meeting your eyes. He watches, rapt, as you slowly unbutton your shirt and remove it. He's speechless as you go to sit on the edge of the bed, knees parted. You beckon him with one finger.

"I know you've always wanted this," you tell him. "You fantasize about eating me out, how good I taste on your tongue."

As he comes to you he wonders where the shy, docile woman has gone. But he likes this new version of you. "How do you know what I think about?" he asks as his fingers curl into the waistband of your panties. You lift your hips as he eases your panties off. What he sees makes him growl with yearning. "You shaved."

You rest on your elbows, satisfied with the look of sheer gluttony on his face. "A girl's gotta have some luxuries in these trying times.." you smirk and run your fingers delicately over your clit and your smooth folds. Joel moves your hand away. Keeping his eyes on you he laps his broad tongue over your delicate womanhood, then swipes his tongue side to side over your sweet little clit.

You moan loudly at the intimate contact, threading your fingers through his hair. Joel devours you, and the little moans he makes reverberate through you, fill you with vibrations. While he's sucking your clit he slides two fingers in, crooking them so they rub your G-spot, and this combination makes you squirm with delight until you're pushed over the edge. He doesn't stop there, lapping up your honey, holding your thighs as they quake around his head.

"I've wanted this for so long," he growls against your belly, kissing his way up, divesting himself of his clothes. He feels your body heat radiate against him and teases your opening with the tip of his cock, spreading your slick onto him. He kisses both breasts, nuzzles your neck before claiming your mouth again, lining himself up with you. Out of habit you remove your glasses but he stops you. "Leave them on," he whispers. "You look so damn hot, like a naughty schoolgirl.." He watches as you put them on again, your eyes big and bright behind the lenses. Keeping his eyes on you he lets himself sink into your heat, slowly, letting you get accustomed to his size.

"Fuck," you whisper in awe as he fills you, starts to move against you.

He revels in the feel of your soft body underneath his, the snugness of your cunt that dares to take every inch of him. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, taking in the clean scent of your freshly washed skin, the natural fragrance of your arousal. With each press forward he elicits moans, sighs, gasps. Your heart thunders within when you feel how deeply you're joined.

"I need more," you tell him. "Please.."

"More?" His voice is shaky with desire.

"Harder," you gasp.

A dark growl gathers in his throat as he sees this new side of you begin to reveal itself. "You sure you want that from me?"

You nod. "I want you to release all your stress out inside me. Just use me. Please." You look up at him with innocent eyes. "Just for tonight, Joel. Tonight I'm yours."

His body looms large over you. "That's a big request, y'know."

"And I can handle it. I'm a big girl."

He nods, excitement flowing through his veins. "If anything becomes too much, you tell me. Okay?"

Your heart flip flops when he tells you this. Despite this random hookup, he's proving to be a caring gentleman. "I'll tell you, I promise."

Joel can't help but smile and he kisses your forehead. "Good." With heavy breaths he uses all his strength to fuck you into oblivion. He takes out his frustrations on your willing, eager body, his thick, large cock plunging into your tight cunt. "I'm gonna fuckin' tear you apart," he mutters.

His rough way with you takes your breath away, makes you tremble. Joel doesn't hold back, ruts against you, mouth watering as he watches your breasts bounce with each thrust. "God, you're gorgeous," he mumbles, leaning in to kiss you.

You whimper as your mouths meet again, tongues dancing against each other. "Joel.. you're so fucking good."

Grunting in response, he presses against you deeper, harder. You gasp, your body accepting every movement, stretching you more than you thought possible. "You feel too good," he moans.

"You're in.. so deep," you sigh. "Just a little more, I'm gonna--"

"Wait!" he groans, pulling himself away from you. "You're making me.. almost.. I can't hold back," he breathes heavily.

"Shh.." you climb onto his lap. "Let me help you. I'll do all the work," you promise. "All you have to do is grab my hips or touch my breasts," you instruct him, lining up his cock to fit into you again. Joel watches himself disappear between your swollen pussy lips.

"God.. slow.. please," he grunts, grabbing hold of your hips, moving his hands all over your body, exploring every inch of you.

"Yes," you agree, sighing sweetly. "You feel so good.. I like seeing what I can get out of you, Miller."

He lets out a short moan, gripping your hips tightly, running his fingers up the insides of your thighs. His touch is ubiquitous as you ride him slowly and thoroughly. "Please don't stop.. please don't stop." He tries to make it a command but he's so caught up in you that it comes off as begging. "God I want.. please, I need.." he can't even finish his sentences for how much his lust and need has taken over him.

"I know what you need," you moan, moving faster, slamming your hips down on his. The sounds of your colliding flesh fill the room.

"God damn it!" Joel grunts, unable to continue his line of thought. He starts to growl and groan, gritting his teeth.

You smile, biting your lip as you watch him coming apart, completely helpless beneath you. "I'm gonna tame this beast," you tell him boldly. "No one else can do it but me."

"I won't let anyone else handle me," he growls, trying to say something more meaningful, but his brain is overwhelmed. He's just handed over all control to you and it's making him crazy. "Just.. please.."

You stop moving altogether, staying still. "Please what?" you tease him from finishing.

He's about to blow but he can't even get a full sentence out. "Please," he repeats, shaking now just from the feel of you. "Don't stop.."

You remain still. "Say, 'pretty please.'"

"No," he groans. "You.. you won't get me like that." But there's a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Oh," you pout. "That's a shame. I was getting so close and I know you were, too." You start moving slowly and teasingly.

Joel's breath is faltering, pulse dangerously rapid. "Not like this.. wait.. I'm gonna.."

You stop again, a stern look on your face even though you're utterly enjoying dominating this big strong alpha male. "No. You're not," you command him.

Only able to communicate in grunts and groans, Joel thrusts upward, needing the relief that would make you both find release. You gasp, your cunt clenching around him. It would be so easy to just let him keep going, but you hold your hips firmly in place. "'Pretty please,'" you remind him.

"I'm gonna cum. Please let me cum," he whines, desperate now, his fingers tightening on your flesh.

You remove his grip and pin him down. "'Pretty. Please.'" Your lips are millimeters from his, and you can see tears start to well in his dark eyes.

He's losing it now. He's right on the precipice, pain and pleasure mixed as one while you edge him. "All right, okay, I'll say it.. pretty please," he grunts out, voice cracking.

"'Pretty please with sugar on top,'" you smirk. "Say it."

Joel shuts his eyes in frustration. "Pretty please with sugar on top."

You give his lips a tiny lick. "Good boy." Sitting up again you start riding him. You've won but you're both going to reap the benefits.

"God, keep goin'," he moans, eyes still shut, breath labored as he pushes against your hips.

"I'm gonna fucking break you, Miller," you growl, riding him at top speed, without mercy.

Joel is at a complete loss of self, having lost any semblance of control. "Do it.. please," are the only words he can manage among incoherent sounds and grunts as he rises up to hold you.

You feel the friction between you like lightning as you satisfy yourself on his generous cock. "Joel Miller, you're such a good boy for me!" You move against each other in desperation, seeking the moment that will bring you to cum together. You feel him start to twitch and just then your climax hits like a tidal wave. You scream his name as you feel his copious release inside you. All Joel can say is your name, your real name, uttered in an entreaty of gratitude as he buries his face in your neck.

"Sorry if I got a little rough with you before.." he mumbles into your skin.

"I like your roughness," you tell him as you ruffle his soft grey hair with your fingers. "You had a lot that you needed to let out."

He lifts his head and softly kisses the side of your mouth. "Just so you know, I don't intend on stoppin' at just tonight. I have a lot of stress that needs releasing."

"Stressful times we're living in.." You trace his beard with your fingertips and he quickly moves in to kiss your palm.

"Damn right. And it looks like you did tame this beast."

You grin. "Does that make me Beauty?"

"Maybe that's what I'll call you from now on.."

"It's a lot better than 'Bookworm' or 'Four Eyes'."

"I'll still call you those things, from time to time," he grins, and your entire body is warm from his smile.

You are delicate with him now, knowing this man will probably steal your heart just as you've already stolen his.

divider by @saradika 👑

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #ao3 fanfic #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #sub!joel #dom!reader #qz!joel #and they were roommates

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honeypipin · 1 year ago

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Everyone's Favourite Banker!

You get to grips with 141 and others this time! (no, not in that way)

Mafia!Price who invites you to one of his company galas! He even payed for your outfit, and he knew what size you were! how?

When you finally show up to the gala in your newly bought attire, Mafia!Price comes over to greet you with the biggest smile on his face. He is just so smug that you are wearing the outfit he chose for you, and you look damn good in it.

Mafia!Price who introduces you to his associates with a respectful, firm grip on your waist, and well, you've had him as a client for ages, this is just him being friendly, right?

And boy do his associates love you.

Mafia!Laswell and her wife are so sweet to you, they even let you know there's a table with appetizers and more drinks at the end of the hall, well, now you know exactly where you're planning to go.

Mafia!Soap who laughs with you over the champagne and is so convincing when he asks you to become the mafia!141's personal financial advisor, I mean look at that smile, so charming! You can't help but swoon over handsome scotsman (and he could say the same about you).

Mafia!Gaz catches you at the appetizer table, where you both chat about jobs only to learn that He, Price, Soap and Ghost all work as a corporation? He's also very happy to find out that you have been advising Price and Ghost, he was just in need of a new financial advisor, especially since the old one had...disappeared. And this new one was pretty cute too...

Mafia!Nikolai who comes over to talk to gaz but quickly shifts his focus when he sees you, introducing himself and sounding out the name you told him, apparently, he liked it. Would be a nice name to sound out in bed too, but he wasn't just going to tell you that here, you deserved somewhere better, and somewhere not as public. Maybe the private booth of a restaurant?

Mafia!Ghost who you find a while later in a private room that you just happened to wander into, well you did need a place to fix your shoes and clothes, and the bathroom was no where to be found, this wasn't what you planned, you swear! The other men that Ghost are talking to seem quite happy with your surprise visit, Mafia!Rudy asks you to join the conversation, much to Mafia!Alejandro's delight and Ghost's annoyance. The two men are also quite interested in your position, and have started asking for your contact details, wow! Price was right, this party was worth it, such great networking. The two men are happy to receive your details, but a certain mancunian can't help but glare. Fucking brilliant, more competition for you.

You return to the ballroom where Price is happy to see you back at his table, and hooray, the main courses are just coming out! Lucky you, you were getting hungry.

After a night of eating, talking, dancing and the feeling of being stared at, Price kindly offers to drive you home, and to be fair, you may have had a bit too much champagne for the food you were eating. But your car! It's ok, Price lets you know he'll drop you off tomorrow to get it too, what a gentleman. He carries you to your house the second you stumble out of his car, elliciting some drunken giggles from you, which he just loves the sound of.

He watches you let yourself into your house and wave him a toothy-grinned good bye, now he does chuckle at it, but he also wishes that you invited him in. He saw the way you looked at him tonight, but you were just too good of a financialist, savy and professional, you wouldn't just let yourself drunkenly confess to him. He did respect you for it though.

Once he drives away, you charge for your bedroom, throwing your dress on your chair, dirty clothes in the wash, pyjamas on and collapse into bed. God, what a long day, you already knew you were going to sleep in tomorrow morning.

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j-eryewrites · 2 years ago

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Sneak peek into Friday's chapter!

SH: I need your help.

JW: I do have a couple of other things on my mind this evening.

SH: Like what?

JW: You are kidding?

SH: What's so important?

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dotster001 · 2 years ago

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For Tuna

Summary:Grim does some interviews to find the perfect sugar dad for him you gn!reader x all boys in one way or another.

A/N:I haven't unpacked my tag list yet, so hopefully this is everyone!

Part Two Part Three choose your ending...

"Grim, we can't afford the bougie tuna. Put it back."

You'd missed it before when you were loading your basket at Sam's shop, but Grim had snuck in the expensive tuna. Now you were at the counter, trying to hide your embarrassment as you told Grim to put it back. Sam gave you a sympathetic smile, but still. You didn't need to add his pity to your plate of worries.

"Prefect, don't worry about it. I can take care of it."

You jumped. You hadn't realized Ruggie had lined up behind you with his own basket full of stuff.

"Yeah! Let Ruggie-"

"I couldn't do that, Ruggie, but thanks for the offer."

Ruggie grinned, "oh please, it's on Leona. He said I could get whatever I want as long as I come back with his energy drinks."

You made an unconvinced face, and Ruggie gave a playful wink.

"Trust me, your tuna won't even make a dent in his wallet. I could pay for your entire load, and still be able to pay off my student loans. In fact," he slapped down Leona's wallet, "Sam, add Y/N's groceries to mine, I'll take care of it."

Before you could protest further, Sam was ringing you both up.

And then Grim got an idea. A terribly, wonderful, awful idea.

"There, all settled. Plus now you can afford to fix your windows this month, or…." He looked at the cash in your hand, "well you can fix one window at least. And don't feel too bad for Leona. Eat the rich and what not," Ruggie patted your back comfortingly then left with his groceries.

"C'mon Grimmy, let's go," you said with a heavy sigh.

"Actually, I have something to do, Henchhuman. You go on home, I'll see ya later."

"Okay, but if you need me…."

"I'll be okay! Geeze you get so anxious without the great Grim. It's embarrassing."

You rolled your eyes and left. You would be so proud of him once he had finished though. He was excited already.

Heartslaybul Dorm….

"Mr. Rosehearts. Thank you for meeting with me."

Grim primly took out his pen and began to scribble on a clipboard.

"I didn't meet with you. You barged into my office," Riddle said, his arms crossed along his chest.

"I think you will find this meeting beneficial. It pertains to Y/N L/N."

Riddle relaxed a little, and raised a single curious eyebrow.

"You see, It has come to my attention, that Y/N and I do not have the funds to live comfortably. In fact, Y/N is practically starving to death! It has also come to my attention that you harbor some feelings for the prefect, and are in possession of a great deal of funds. Now," Grim dramatically looked up at Riddle, who's face was a shade of dark red. "How do you intend to provide for Y/N?"

Riddle opened his mouth, and Grim prepared himself for the worst, but…

"Wait, Y/N's on the market?!?!!"

Grim turned over his shoulder just in time to see Cater run in, tea tray in hand.

"He's only taking applications from rich people."

"Not a concern, housewarden!" Cater cleared his throat. "Hi, I'm Cater Diamond, and my dad is a banker."

"Oh!" Grim made a note on his paper. Riddle stood up abruptly.

"You only talk to your family on holidays, I wouldn't call that a solid source of income-"

"Yes but I'm a people pleaser, so I'll probably follow in his footsteps. So I will also have a banker's salary."

Riddle turned to Grim in a panic.

"I'm going to be a doctor!"

"Oh!" Scribble scribble.

"Oh please!" Cater rolled his eyes before conspiratorially leaning into Grim. "We both know Riddle. He'll work long shifts, day in and day out, and he'll never come home. Meaning poor Y/N will be trapped in a lonely loveless marriage. Meanwhile, I'll work my nine to five, and be home in time to gift you tuna, and keep Y/N warm at night."

"You think Grim cares about that?" Riddle shoved Cater out of the way. "I'll make time for Y/N. Plus my salary will provide double the tuna for you."

"What's all the yelling about?" Trey entered the room, followed by Ace and Deuce.

"Don't look at them, those three are poor as fuck. I mean a baker? Blech, disgusting," Cater apologetically smiled at Trey. "No offense."

"What?" Trey said, feeling more confused than he ever had been.

Grim clicked his pen closed.

"Thank you for your time. I have more interviews to conduct, but I will be in contact if you get through to the second round."

He scampered out of the room as Riddle and Cater nodded after him.

Savannaclaw Dorm….

Grim sat at the foot of Leona's bed as he tapped his chin thoughtfully.

"How can I provide for Y/N, huh? You mean the little demonstration Ruggie gave this morning wasn't enough?"

Grim tapped the pen impatiently against the clipboard.

"Mr. Kingscholar, it is important that you participate fully, or I will remove you from the list entirely."

Leona groaned.

"I receive a….certain amount of, shall we say, an allowance."

"And how much can I expect from that? I have a lot of people to interview. Please don't waste my time."

Leona looked over at Ruggie, who was folding laundry, then gestured Grim closer, before whispering a number into his ear.

Grim gasped, then hastily scribbled something onto his clipboard.

"We will be in contact with you when the second round of interviews begins." Grim stood up and hopped off the bed.

"Ruggie," Leona snapped, "Ensure my future relative makes it out of here safely. Let no one stop you."

Ruggie nodded in understanding as he escorted a proud looking Grim out.

Once they were halfway through the dorm, Ruggie began to speak.

"Leona has promised me a job with an excellent salary once I graduate. Just sayin."

"Won't he just take back the job if he finds out you're competing with him?"

Ruggie rolled his eyes, "Nevermind."

Jack left his room, and noticed the two of them, and began to walk towards them.

"Jack will make you get a job if you pick him," Ruggie whispered hastily. Grim hissed and sprinted the rest of the way out of the dorm.

"What's wrong with Grim?" Jack asked.

"Shi hi hi who knows?"

As Grim made his way to his second location, he was picked up by the scruff of his neck.

"Hey! What's the big idea?!?!?"

"Aw little sealie you're so cute!"

Grim stiffened.

"Fu fu fu," Jade laughed next to him. "our boss would like to have a word with you."

Grim gulped.

Octavinelle Dorm….

"Thank you for agreeing to see me," Azul said smugly.

"I didn't. Your scary twins picked me up and dragged me here."

"You see," Azul pushed his glasses up his nose, expertly ignoring Grim, "We got word that you were interviewing potential candidates for Y/N's future husband. I prepared some charts for you."

Azul pulled out several charts. Grim understood exactly zero of them. But he nodded thoughtfully and pretended to make a note on his clipboard.

"As you can see, my income is projected to continually go up until retirement. Plus my assets will continue to be of value, and my investments will be bringing in money for many years to come. I can safely say, money is no object. Plus, I am an excellent cook. You will never have to eat poor person's tuna ever again."

Grim made a real note this time just as the twins roughly turned his chair around.

"Now that Azul has had his turn, we would like to give our pitch," Jade said with an eerie grin.

"You see, our parents run a certain…. organization," Floyd and Jade shared a grin before turning to Grim again. "Jade and I are the sole inheritors of this empire when they pass. Just keep that in mind."

"Also, people who oppose this organization have a tendency to, shall we say, disappear."

Grim shivered as he made a skull and crossbones picture on his clipboard.

"Awesome. Great. I'll be taking Grim now…."

"Sea Snake!" Floyd shouted, wrapping his arms around Jamil, who had silently snuck into the room.

"Let go," Jamil hissed, wriggling away from Floyd. "Give me the cat."

"Aw, but we were playing with him…."

"It's alright Floyd. I think the three of us have made our point quite clear," Jade hummed, before the octotrio shared a laugh.

Jamil rolled his eyes before carefully picking up Grim.

Scarabia Dorm….

"Look, Kalim isn't going to brag for himself so I thought I'd bring you here and remind you that this entire dorm was funded by his family. And he will be inheriting said funds."

Grim nodded and made a note.

"What about you? I mean, I already know you aren't getting picked cause, well, " Grim pointedly looked him up and down. "But the other broke losers have tried to participate."

Jamil leaned down and gave a dark smile.

"I don't need money to win over Y/N," eyes flashing red as he spoke.

"Monsieur Fuzzball!"

Grim and Jamil both groaned. It only took two seconds for him to be scooped up by the hunter.

"Non, non, do not struggle. I only wish to prove myself as a proper caretaker!"

Pomefiore Dorm…

Grim had never been so pampered, well fed, and relaxed in his entire life. Rook had provided snacks galore, given Grim the full on spa treatment, brushed out his fur, and was now massaging his sore kitty back.

"Monsieur Fuzzball, doesn't this feel wonderful?"

Grim nodded as Rook continued his massage.

"Just think, you could have this everyday!"

Grim groaned happily as Rook hit a tough knot.

Suddenly, Rook's voice was directly in his ear.

"All you have to do is give me the Trickster."

In that moment, Grim knew he would sell you for this life without a second thought.

But before he could do that…

"For heaven's sake I told you to find Epel, not this rodent!"

Rook immediately stopped the massage, to turn to his Queen.

"Roi du poison! I was simply-"

"Spare me," Vil snapped, before handing a struggling Epel over to Rook. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small card, gracefully handing it to Grim between two fingers.

"I believe you are aware of my financial situation, but should you have questions, you can reach my manager on that card."

Then he left the room with a flourish, and the lingering scent of apple blossoms.

"You know I am willing to share the trickster with you," Rook whispered to Vil in the hallway.

"Ew," Epel groaned.

"As if I'd ever share," Vil smirked.

Outside the Ignihyde Dorm…

Ortho stood next to the tablet, holding Grin up so he could see what it said.

"So as you can see from my bank account," Idia's voice said from the tablet, "Money is not and never will be an issue."

"It all looks good," Grim muttered as he made a note, "but I have to say it's a red flag that you couldn't come here in person…"

"Hey! Big brother is just busy with his experiment!"

"Yeah, exactly, thank you Ortho, for being the only one who appreciates genius. In fact this conversation is over. If he doesn't get it, then that's his loss. Ditch the noob, Ortho!" And the tablet floated back into the dorm.

Ortho gently set Grim down. "Look, big brother gets nervous around the prefect, that's all. But I think they'd make a great couple."

He gently patted Grim's head, then floated back in. Grim sighed, made a note about how Idia was a package deal, then continued to the final dorm.

Diasomnia Dorm…

"Small kitten, I am to be king of a country. Not only that, but I have spent centuries curating my hoard. Our nest will be always warm, and my perfect child of man will want for nothing," Malleus finished with a smug grin, as he leaned back in his throne. Then he sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Now you three can make your offers, or whatever."

"Me next! Me next!" Lilia said, cradling Grim like a baby. "I'm not as young as I look, and am on the best of terms with the queen and future king. I also have a great fortune built up! Kay, who's next?"

Silver timidly raised his hand.

"I just want to say, what about what Y/N wants? What if Y/N doesn't like any of us? What if Y/N doesn't even want to get married in the end? Or maybe they'll be just as happy with or without money?"

There was a long pause. Then…

"Silver's father is loaded and will do anything to see his children married and happy!"

"Fa-Lilia!" Silver hid his face in his hands in embarrassment.

"Same with Sebek. And his dad's a dentist!"

For once Sebek had nothing to say.

"Excellent, this looks very promising for you four," Grim nodded scribbling his final notes, "Now to-"

"GRIM!"

Uh oh. He turned around and saw you storming in.

"Child of man!"

"Save it Mal Mal! I'm here for my rat," You scooped up Grim, placing him under your arm as you left the room.

"When will we hear about the second round of interviews?" Lilia giggled.

You answered by flipping them the middle finger without looking back.

The Hallway….

"What the hell, Grim? I'm not for sale!"

"I'm not selling you! I'm just trying to get you provided for!"

"Please! This is about tuna and you know it!"

"Who even told you?"

"Jack called me about an-"

"Ah! Prefect!"

You and Grim groaned as you heard Crowley call to you both.

"Yes, headmage?" You asked through gritted teeth. You turned and saw Crewel was with him….wearing a bigger coat than normal.

"That coat looks so soft," Grim muttered.

"Yeah," you whispered back. "Wait, headmage, what do you need?"

"I heard your current allowance is no longer sufficient," he gently traced your jawline, settling below your chin, tapping up against it thoughtfully. "How does a little extra sound?"

You nodded dumbly.

"Good good, I'm too generous, I know," he hummed and walked off.

Before Crewel followed him, he smirked and patted the top of your head.

"Good pup."

He stalked off. You stood frozen for a moment. Grim smirked up at you.

"You know, they look like they…."

"You keep that thought to yourself, Grim."

....

Tag list-@shytastemakerthing @stygianoir @leonia0 @lleoll @eccedentesiast-sapphic

11K notes · View notes

captain-joongz · 4 months ago

Text

summer recap/favourite fics/fic recommendations for the first half of 2024

Professor Rapline by @joonsmagicshop

♡ professors! joon, hobi and yoongs x f!reader, professor x student relationship, the rapline takes turns on reader, namjoon centric, smut smut smut

backtrack by @mapofthesea

♡ producers!jimin and yoongs x assistant!reader, studio sex, situationship, reader gets absolutely railed and it's accidentally recorded

Masked miracles by @remedyx + Shadows we trust by remedyx + Boyfriend for hire by remedyx + Trouvaille by @spookyserenades

♡ these series' were already mentioned in my previous recommendations list, but i cannot stress this enough - go read them, they're absolutely amazing!! i will literally never shut up about these and i'll put them on every fic rec list i make until the end of time :D

Golden boy by @kpopfanfictrash

♡ pornstar!jin x f!reader, neighbours au, it's very sweet and funny, absolutely amazing smut

fast lane by @yminie

♡ racer!jin x pitcrew!reader, slowburn but so fucking worth it, kookie gets hurt but it's for character development, e2l/annoyances 2l, smut

midnight by @miniminimermaid

♡ yoongi struggling with burnout and reader helps relax him, soft sex, body worship

Sugar rush ride by @lo1k-diamonds

♡ producer! yoongs x producer!reader, coworkers au, reader is bratty and yoongi is a little shit, mutual pining, smut

A new rhythm by @sluttywoozi

♡ producers! yoongs and jihoon x yoongi's gf!reader, virgin!jihoon, soft sex, they help woozi lose his v-card, allusions to possible poly

three tangerines by @kithtaehyung

♡ brother's best friend!yoongs x f!reader, fuckboy!yoongi, reader asks him for help in the bedroom and gets everything and more, some angst

The early shift by @hobidreams

♡ barista!yoongs x barista!reader, coworkers au, e2l, angsty but gets sweet, yoongi is struggling and reader tries to help, smutty smut smut

love roulette by @whatifyoulivelikethat

♡ producer!yoongs x jin's bff!reader, a bet gone... right??, slowburn, humour and fluff, they help each other, smut, reader has a noona kink and nobody lets her breathe

noise complaints by @jkstompers

♡ producer!yoongs x bassist!reader, neighbours au, reader is in a rock band, smut

strike a chord by @snackhobi

♡ pianist!yoongs x f!reader, reader gets stood up and instead listens to bar musician yoongi, slowburn, smut

Illicit favours by @yoongiofmine

♡ producer!yoongi x writer!reader, bff2l, virgin reader needs help with writing sex scenes, shenanigans ensue, mutual pining, idiots in love

Tricks of the trade by @stutterfly

♡ shopkeeper!yoongs x f!reader, body swap au, jin is a deity of chaos, awkward flirting cause they don't know hot to talk to each other, misunderstandings, sexual tension and smut

Performance evaluation by @kookscrescent

♡ fuckboy!yoongs x f!reader, college au, one night stand?? au, reader asks yoongi to tell her whether she's bad in bed, yoongi is a little shit but what's new

Bad idea... right? by @joonsmagicshop

♡ college party au, e2l, sexual tension, tae is a little bit of a douche but hobi makes it all better, smut

a word from our sponsors by @ugh-yoongi

♡ podcast co-hosts joon and reader, they read smutty fanfic of themselves, sexual tension, f2l, humour, smut

porn director drabble by @badbtssmut

♡ director!tae x pornstar!reader, tae shows reader's co-star how it's done, public sex, dubcon in a way

Risk management by @chateautae

♡ investment banker!tae x f!reader, s2l, sexual tension (i mean, who could blame her it's tae), smut, window sex

petty by @hamsterclaw

♡ rich kid petty criminal!kookie x lawer babysitter!reader, reader is in charge of making sure kookie doesn't get in trouble, idiots in love, sexual tension but with feels, smut

Redamancy by @gimmethatagustd

♡ alpha!tae x omega!kookie, a/b/o, imprinting, scenting, older tae (*cough* daddy), s2l, love at first sight, smut

Like a river by gimmethatagustd

♡ alpha!tae x omega!yoongi x alpha!joon, a/b/o, unexpected heat, college professors coworkers au, semi-public sex

The love witch by gimmethatagustd

♡ demon!tae x romance blogger witch!yoongs, incubus tae, "how to summon a boyfriend" au, s2l, modern fantasy, smut

(actually you should go read everything jai has put out, she's incredibly talented and i love like every fic she's ever published)

My library | ATEEZ fic recs

#kpop fic #kpop smut #kpop fic recs #bts fic #bts smut #bts fic recs #seokjin fic #seokjin smut #yoongi fic #yoongi smut #hoseok fic #hoseok smut #namjoon fic #namjoon smut #taehyung fic #taehyung smut #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #bts x reader

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j-eryewrites · 2 years ago

Text

The Blind Banker (III)

Part 12 of the Arbitrary Lives of the Occupants of 221B Baker Street

SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTER LIST

Previous | Next

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: Jealous Sherlock, Descriptions of strangling and breaking and entering, Sherlock is Sherlock, and if you squint some sherlock x reader stuff.

__________

Sherlock dragged Y/N along and practically shoved her onto the bus. All the seats were full, so the two of them were left standing in the aisle. Y/N’s jaw clenched as she harshly breathed in and out. Sherlock’s ever-looming figure stood over her. His hand still held hers. He hadn’t let it go and by the strength of his grip, he wasn’t going to any time soon.

“You’re mad,” Sherlock said.

She turned around to glare at him. “Of course, I’m mad.”

“Why?” His blue eyes peered at her. He did her a favour, so why wasn’t she taking it?

“You left John there, Sherlock. Your friend!” She rolled her eyes. “Every time, I think you're getting better. That you are opening up, then you go and do something like that.”

“I got you out of there,” he hissed into her ear.

“I don’t care. You–we left John behind.” She exclaimed.

“John can take care of himself. Besides, the case is more important.”

She scoffed. “I don’t care if John can take care of himself. Don’t you get it, Sherlock?”

She looked up at him with pleading eyes. He only stared back with not a clue as to why she was mad.

She lowered her gaze. “I’m done for the day. I can’t deal with you anymore.”

The bus came to a halt and their bodies swayed back and forth. Y/N lurched forward and ripped her hand out of Sherlock’s grasp. She pushed her way out of the bus and Sherlock stood there. His eyes followed Y/N as she stepped out onto the street. His growing gold from the missing warmth of her hand. Before Sherlock could chase after her, the bus kicked up and moved on. Sherlock could only watch her as her figure disappeared from view.

_______

Sherlock pinched his nose. He needed to stop thinking about Y/N and her outburst. He was already feeling the beginnings of a migraine which began when she slammed the door shut after she finally returned to 221B. Just thirty minutes after he did. It took everything in him to stop himself from running down to her and apologizing. What for? He still didn’t know, but that wasn’t important. The case was. He removed his hand and examined the photos in front of him. The same hand that held hers. The sound of Y/N walking around in her flat downstairs echoed in his mind.

Stop it, He told himself.

There it is again. The slamming of a door, but it’s not Y/N. Heavy and angry steps proceed up the stairs and get closer and closer to Sherlock.

“You’ve been a while,” Sherlock said. His eyes stuck to the pictures.

Sherlock heard John pace around the room. John’s shoulders are rigid and his fists are clenched. He released them before closing them shut again. John’s face contorted as he strangled the air in front of him, hoping to release some of his pent-up fury.

“Yeah, well, you know how it is. Custody sergeants don’t really like to be hurried, do they?” His voice was tight. “Just formalities: fingerprints, charge sheet; and I’ve gotta be in Magistrates Court on Tuesday.”

“What?” Sherlock absently said. He did not hear a word that had left John’s mouth.

“Me, Sherlock, in court on Tuesday,” John yelled. “They’re givin’ me an ASBO!”

“Good. Fine.” Sherlock hissed back. John’s voice bore the same tone as Y/N’s when she scolded him.

“You wanna tell your little pal he’s welcome to go and own up any time,” said John.

“This symbol: I still can’t place it.” Sherlock brought his finger up to point at one of the images. Then he turned around and walked towards John. The man was shrugging off his jacket until Sherlock lifted it back onto his shoulders.

“No, I need you to go to the police station …” Sherlock stated.

“Oy, oy, oy!” John warned. “Why doesn’t Y/N go?”

“... ask about the journalist.” Sherlock continued.

“Oh, Jesus!” John grumbled. “Why can’t Y/N go, Sherlock?”

“She’s…” Sherlock paused. “Having a moment.”

“She got mad at you, didn’t she?” John asked.

Sherlock’s jaw clenched, “She’s having a moment.” His long arm reached out to grasp his coat from the coat hanger. As he swung it on, he instructed John, “His personal effects will have been impounded. Get hold of his diary or something that will tell us his movements.”

Sherlock started to descend the stairs. John followed him with a smug look on his face. Y/N had gotten mad at Sherlock, and by the way, his friend was acting. She was really pissed.

“Gonna go and see Van Coon’s P.A. If we retrace their steps, somewhere they’ll coincide.” Without another word, Sherlock opened the door to 221B and walked out onto the street. Sherlock did not even bother shutting the door.

John watched the door swing on its hinges. Back and forth, just as his mind was going between his options. He could do as Sherlock has asked, or he could check up on Y/N, letting her know he was alright. John gently closed the door shut. Then he turned around to face the door to Y/N’s flat. He looked up to the ceiling to contemplate the thought swirling around in his head. Raising a hand, he brought it to the door and knocked. The sound rang within the hollow material of the door.

“Y/N? It’s John.”

The sound of the television buzzed off and light footsteps crept closer to the door. With a creak, the door swung open, and John caught sight of Y/N. She stepped back, welcoming him in.

“Sorry about earlier,” she mumbled. “If I had known you weren’t able to run, I’d…”

John stopped her. “Don’t. It wasn’t your fault.”

She sighed. “I know, but I can’t help but feel like I’m a part of it.”

She looked toward the ground where Bjørn stood. He purred happily at the sight of John. The brown cat’s fluffy tail wagged as he stepped closer and closer to John.

“Hello there, Bjørn.” John cooed.

He reached down to pat the cat. Bjørn’s meows grew louder, and John chuckled.

“He must really like that.”

“I just think he likes you,” Y/N said. There was a short silence before Y/N blurted, “...want some chocolate?”

John looked at her wide-eyed. “Where’d that come from?” He laughed.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Chocolate always makes me feel better. Thought you might like some to cheer you up.”

“I'm fine, thanks.” He replied.

She nodded and walked into her kitchen. Y/N pulled open a drawer and picked up a bar of chocolate. She peeled the wrapper and began to bite into it. She closed her eyes and quietly moaned at the taste.

John rolled his eyes and chuckled.

“What?!” She said, “It’s good chocolate.”

“It must be really good if you practically moaned.” He chuckled.

“Oh, shut up,” she said in a teasing manner.

A silence fell over them as John pet Bjørn and Y/N munched away on her chocolate. John’s attention was soon drawn to the window. He saw cars and cabs drive by and he remembered what Sherlock had asked of him. He sighed. John didn’t want to help Sherlock at the moment, but he knew that it was important. However, John knew he didn’t have to do it alone.

“Y/N?” John asked. “Mind coming with me to Scotland Yard?”

She shook her head. “No, John. I told Sherlock that I was done with him for the day.”

“Then you’d like to know, Sherlock won’t be there. Just me, you, and Dimmock.”

Y/N was quiet as she contemplated the offer.

“We can stop at Speedy’s on the way,” John added.

Y/N groaned. “Fine, you got me.”

Then she left the kitchen and walked into her room. Soon she emerged with her coat and shoes in hand. She sat down at one of the counter chairs and slipped on her shoes. She jumped up and threw on her coat.

“Be back Bjørn!” She waved.

John opened the door for her and the two of them set off. As the two of them walked down the sidewalk, John noticed an older woman across the street. She was wearing a black tracksuit and sunglasses. He nudged Y/N’s shoulder and she turned to look. The woman across the street lifted her phone and it seemed as if she was taking a picture of them. Y/N narrowed her eyes, but a truck zoomed by blocking her view. By the time the car had passed her sight, the woman was gone.

“Strange,” Y/N muttered.

John shook his head in agreement.

“Well,” She softly elbowed him. “You promised me Speedy’s.”

John chuckled and nudged her back. The two sparked up a conversation as they strolled to Speedy’s. They took their time meandering along the way. Sherlock could wait, but their growing friendship couldn’t.

____SHERLOCK’s POV_____

I’m back at the bank. It’s notoriously too loud here. How could anyone get any work done? I briskly walked through the rows of desks. Each person behind them repeated the same monotonous actions: The phone rings, they pick it up, they talk, the call ends, and they type away at the computer. As I looked around, I found at least fifteen people who were faking it. Their eyes scanned the same lines over and over, before looking down at their phones.

My eyes catch sight of the woman’s blonde hair. Van Coon’s assistant.

I leaned over her desk. She stared at me.

“How can I help you?” She asked.

“Van Coon’s schedule from the past week,” I replied, flashing a fake smile. Smiling makes people more receptive to doing things for others.

She nodded her head and began to type on her computer. I glanced down at her name tag: Amanda.

“He flew back from Dalian on Friday last week,” she said. “Looks like he had back-to-back meetings with the sales team.”

My eyes narrow. “Can you print me up a copy?”

“Sure,” she said. With a few clicks of a button, the printing machine next to her whirred to life.

“What about the day he died?” I inquired. “Can you tell me where he was?”

Amanda’s eyes narrowed at the screen, and she shook her head. “Sorry. Bit of a gap.”

The printer beeped and Amanda twirled around. She reached for the paper and handed it over to me. It was warm. Just like the papers Y/N printed out for me. I shook away the thoughts. Now was not the time nor the place. To distract my mind from the course it was set on, I examined the calendar in front of me.

The calendar showed no entries for Monday the 22nd. I looked away, frustrated. A gasp escaped Amanda’s voice and peered down at her.

“I have all his receipts,” she realized. “Would you like those printed out as well?”

I nodded my head and waved her on.

_____THIRD_____

Y/N and John took their time as they arrived at Scotland Yard. They finally had the time to catch up without Sherlock’s ever listening and condescending ears. Y/N chattered about Jim and all the dates he had taken her on. John mentioned something to her about wanting to meet him and she said she’d see if she could set something up. She also told John about a new trick she taught Bjørn. John’s eyes widened. He hadn’t realized someone could teach cats tricks like a dog, but then Y/N pulled out a video of Bjørn sitting and rolling around on command.

As they walked through Scotland Yard, John could see the shoulders of officers tensed up. They peered behind the two of them. Afterwards, their shoulders relaxed upon seeing there was no consulting detective following behind. Dimmock was among those people. Dimmock stood up from his desk and moved towards the two of them.

“What’s it now?” Dimmock asked.

“We need the journalist’s diary,” John told him. Dimmock nodded and called one of the officers to bring him the box of Lukis’ things.

The officer quickly retrieved the box and placed it on Dimmock’s desk. With a thwack, the lid was lifted up off the box and placed to the side. Dimmock reached his hands into the box and rummaged around. Y/N and John stood across from him watching as possession after possession was placed outside the box. Still no journal.

“Your friend …,” Dimmock hesitantly said. He looked up at Y/N and John.

John sighed. Whatever he was feeling, he wasn’t alone in the thought. “Listen: whatever you say, I’m behind you one hundred percent.”

Dimmock’s eyes flicked between the two of them. Y/N nodded her head urging him on. “... he’s an arrogant sod,” Dimmock finished.

“Well, that was mild!” John laughed. “People say a lot worse than that.”

“I could say a lot worse than that,” grumbled Y/N. She crossed her arms over her torso.

Dimmock triumphantly cheered as his hand emerged from the box with a brown journal. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? The journalist’s diary?”

John nodded and took the journal from Dimmock’s hand. The pages are thick and well-inked. Page after page filled to the brim with scribbles of the deceased Journalist. Y/N leaned over and pointed toward a page that had been dog tagged. John opened it up and came to find that it was a boarding pass from Da Lian DLC [DaLian Zhoushuizi International Airport] to London LHR [London Heathrow Airport] on Zhuang Airlines.

“Might want to snap a picture, Y/N,” John advised.

She looked down at her pockets and pulled out her phone. There was a flash and a photo had been taken. Y/N placed the phone back into her pocket. She looked back up at John, who flipped through the pages again.

Maybe there was something in here that would be of use to Sherlock, he thought.

____SHERLOCK’s POV______

I had instructed Amanda to lay out Van Coon’s receipts on her desk. I leaned over them taking my time to pay close attention to the date and location on the receipts. Amanda sat next to me. Her leg bobbed up and down in the most annoying manner.

“What kind of a boss was he, Amanda? Appreciative?” I said while I continued to look at the receipts. Amanda’s leg had stopped moving. I smiled.

“Um, no. That’s not a word I’d use. The only things Eddie appreciated had a big price tag,” She replied.

I sighed. The font on the receipts is too small for even my eyes to see clearly. I kneeled down on the floor to allow myself easier access to them. Then I took my leather gloves off. In the corner of my eye, I saw a luxury hand lotion at the back of the desk. My eyes narrowed.

“He bought that for you, didn’t he?” I asked.

Amanda stopped fiddling with a green pin in her hair. She looked at me and her face flushed. I rolled my eyes and continued to shuffle through the receipts. My hands hovered over a particular receipt. I hastily picked it up and held it close. It was a receipt from a licensed taxi. Dated the day he died.

“Look at this one. Got a taxi from home on the day he died. Eighteen pounds fifty,” I said.

Amanda’s eyes pursed in thought. “That would get him to the office,” She noted.

“Not rush hour; check the time. Mid-morning. Eighteen would get him as far as …” I ran through the map of London in my mind.

“The West End. I remember him saying,” Amanda blurted.

“Underground. Printed at one in Piccadilly,” I specified holding out the receipt for her to see.

“So, he got a Tube back to the office. Why would he get a taxi into town and then the Tube back?” She pondered.

I glanced back over the other receipts. “Because he was delivering something heavy. Didn’t want to lug a package up the escalator,” I mentioned.

“Delivering?”

“To somewhere near Piccadilly Station,” I clarified. There was something here in the pile of receipts. My eyes widened and picked up another receipt. “Dropped the package, delivered it, and then stopped on his way. He got peckish.”

I quickly thanked Amanda as I pocketed the two receipts and made my exit from the bank. I hailed a cab and instructed it to take me to the restaurant Van Coon had stopped by. The cab was taking longer than it should have. Rush hour did not start for another…hour, I thought. I took in an impatient breath. My mind decided to take a liberty of its own, showing me, again, the last encounter I had with Y/N. My jaw clenched. Despite being the world’s only consulting detective, I could not find the source of her anger. The anger and the woman it came from remained a mystery in my mind. My eyes narrowed. I’d have to ask John. He’d know.

“Here,” The cab driver said. He turned around in his seat and reached out his hand. I paid him and stepped out onto the street. I pulled out the receipt and examined it one more time.

“So, you bought your lunch from here en route to the station, but where were you headed from? Where did the taxi drop you off...?”

I began to walk around in all different directions. My eyes cast above looking for something, some clue. I feel a thud against my back. I bounce off of the figure who just crashed into me, and I turn around to look at the culprit. It’s John. In his hands, he held the journal I had asked him to get.

“Sherlock?” John said.

I grunted in reply. A swish of fabric behind John caught my attention. Slowly, my eyes peered behind him and saw Y/N. Her eyes casted down, avoiding my gaze.

____THIRD______

“Right. Of course, you’re here.” John mumbled.

Sherlock tore his gaze away from Y/N. “Eddie Van Coon brought a package here the day he died – whatever was hidden inside that case. I’ve managed to piece together a picture using scraps of information …”

“Sherlock …,” John said, looking between Y/N and his friend.

“… credit card bills, receipts. He flew back from China, then he came here,” Sherlock continued.

“Sherlock …,” John warned.

“Somewhere in this street; somewhere near. I don’t know where, but …”

“That shop over there,” pointed out Y/N.

For a moment, Sherlock’s face showed signs of surprise before forcefully turning towards the shop across the street.

“How can you tell?” He pondered.

“Lukis’ diary,” John replied. He lifted up the journal for Sherlock to see. “He was here too. He wrote down the address.”

“Oh,” was all Sherlock could muster.

The three of them stood on the busy street. Passerbys moved around them as if they were a fork in the road. John looked back and forth between his friends. Y/N’s gaze was off in the distance. She still refused to look at Sherlock.

“Y/N,” Sherlock began but he was silenced when she pushed through the crowd to cross the street. John shrugged at Sherlock before following his friend. Sherlock lingered there for a moment before chasing after them.

________

The ever-apparent colour of red. Red as far as the eye could see. Red lanterns above, red decorations in the doors and windows, red doors, and even some red markings on the ground below them. Amongst the red, Sherlock’s eyes could catch glimpses of gold. It shimmered in the sunlight.

The smells of freshly steamed rice and pork buns wafted through the air. Y/N’s stomach began to grumble. She’d have to make a stop to get some. She’d also gladly use the excuse to avoid Sherlock. She was determined for him to come to her this time.

Preferably not by being carried out her front door swung over Sherlock’s shoulders, She thought.

The three of them had reached the stop that was mentioned in Lukis’ journal. The Lucky Cat it was called. Y/N was the first to enter the tourist trap of a shop. The colour red also made an appearance as several shelves were the same vibrant red that could be found along the streets of Chinatown. Besides the apparent colour of red, there were cats. The store was filled to the brim with decorative cats sitting on their hind legs. One of their paws was high in the air swinging up and down. Their smiles made John uneasy. The shopkeeper came out from the back room and smiled at Y/N.

”你好,” Y/N greeted.

The shopkeeper smiled and complimented her Chinese. Sherlock and John both peered over at Y/N as she struck up a friendly conversation with the shopkeeper. Sherlock and John looked at each other, amazed at the hidden ability Y/N had. Y/N waved to the woman and turned back to her friends.

“What?” She asked.

“Nothing,” John replied. He then looked over her shoulder and greeted the shopkeeper himself. “Hello.”

The shopkeeper’s smile faded. “You want a lucky cat?”

“No, thanks. No.” John replied.

“Ten pounds. Ten pounds!” The shopkeeper insisted.

“No,” John replied. He began to profusely shake his hands. Y/N giggled at the interaction. John looked at her with wide eyes. “Mind helping me out Y/N?”

The shopkeeper took one look between John and Y/N. ``I think your wife will like it!” The Shopkeeper winked.

John’s face grew red. “No, thank you,” He replied.

Sherlock tensed behind him. His long finger gripped the clay statue tighter. John quickly turned away from the shopkeeper and picked up the nearest thing he could find. It was a small white tea cup. Y/N had come up next to John. She was still giggling.

John sighed and gave her a side-eye.

“You can’t tell me that wasn’t funny,” She muttered to him. She leaned into him. “Come on hubby,” she teased.

John rolled his eyes. “Screw off, Y/N.”

He picked up another tea cup and turned it around. Underneath was a bright red price tag. On it were the same symbols that were covering their mirror back at home.

John’s eyes widened. “Sherlock.”

Sherlock’s ear twitched at his name and he placed the statue back where he found it. He approached John, coming up behind Y/N so that her back was against his chest. She tensed at the sudden sensation of Sherlock behind her. Then Sherlock reached over her shoulder to pick up a teacup.

“The label there,” John pointed.

“Yes, I see it,” Sherlock said.

“Exactly the same as the cypher,” John continued. He turned to Y/N and had to take a second glance. Sherlock stood so close, John could swear the two of them had merged into one person. When he finally differentiated the two, John saw that her jaw was squeezed tight and her lips were pressed into a thin line. A shadow fell over her figure. John could practically see the anger seething from her body. Her eyes looked as if they were plotting Sherlock’s murder in great detail.

“Y/N,” John blurted. The woman turned to him. The darkness faded from her eyes as she looked at him.

“What?” Y/N asked. She lifted her foot slightly before bringing it down onto Sherlock’s foot. Her heel grinding into Sherlock’s toes. John caught a wince in his friend’s face before he stepped back from Y/N.

John awkwardly cleared his throat. “What do these symbols mean?” He lifted the cup to her and she peered at them.

She took it from his hands and ran a finger over the price tag. “This is the number 15,” She said. “It’s from the Hangzhou number system.”

Sherlock lifted his head and began to smile. The case was finally starting to come together.

“These days, only street traders use it. Those were numbers written on the wall at the bank and at the library,” Sherlock noted. He walked across the shop to pick up the statue he had been looking at earlier. Flipping it over he looked at the price tag. “Numbers are written in an ancient Chinese dialect.”

“What we thought was the artist’s tag – it’s the number fifteen,” John commented.

Sherlock walked back over to John and Y/N, making sure to stay well without the woman’s comfort zone. “And the blindfold – the horizontal line?” He asked her. “That was a number as well.”

Y/N thought back to the office and her original thoughts. “It’s the number one.” She blurted.

“The Chinese number one,” Sherlock smiled. Y/N looked back down at the ground and his smile fell.

“We’ve found it!” John cheered. His voice got quieter as he noticed the tension between Y/N and Sherlock had not been solved.

Sherlock sighed in defeat before walking out of the store. John waited for Y/N, before walking out after Sherlock. The two of them step outside the door and see the same woman from before. She was still wearing the sunglasses from before. Slowly the woman raised her phone at them. Y/N stepped forward to get a better look but John pulled her back before a passerby knocked into her.

“Careful there, Y/N,” John said.

Y/N thanked him and looked back to where the woman stood. She was gone. Y/N frowned. John looked ahead at Sherlock who was pacing down the street.

“Come on, Y/N.” He tugged at her jacket and the two of them set off after Sherlock.

__________

The three of them were now sitting at the restaurant across from The Lucky Cat. John and Sherlock sat at a table together, and Y/N found an empty table which she took for herself. As far away as she could get from Sherlock, while still being able to see them and the shop.

Sherlock glared at the empty seat between him and John before he yanked a napkin off the table. Pulling out a pen he wrote profusely on the surface. From what John could see, Sherlock was attempting to translate the number system.

“What did you do? I’ve never seen her this furious with you,” John said.

Sherlock scoffed before glancing over his shoulder to look at the woman of the hour.

She sat in her seat and happily ate away at some dumplings. Occasionally, she’d chat with the waiter or a fellow restaurant guest. Most of which were fawning over her ability to commune in Mandarin.

“Sherlock,” John grunted.

“I don’t know!” He yelled. A few of the guests around them turn their heads at Sherlock’s outbreak.

“I don’t know. We were on the bus and she got mad at me for…” Sherlock’s eyes widened as he spoke. “I left you.”

John rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “You just now realized that. Really, Sherlock?!” John began to laugh. It started light, then grew deeper and louder. “World’s only consulting detective and you just now noticed you left me behind?”

Sherlock stared blankly at John until his laughter died down.

“Alright,” John said, regaining his composure. “Two men travel back from China. Both head straight for the Lucky Cat emporium. What did they see?”

“It’s not what they saw; it’s what they both brought back in those suitcases,” Sherlock stated.

“And you don’t mean duty-free,” John noted.

A waitress appeared behind Sherlock, holding a steaming plate of dumplings. She carried it over to Y/N’s table. The woman was surprised and shook her hands. The waitress leaned down and whispered in her ear before pointing over to John. John refocused his gaze. The waitress was pointing at Sherlock. Y/N looked up. Her eyes landed on Sherlock, and then she spoke to the waitress.

It wasn’t long before that same waitress approached John’s table. She placed the plate of dumplings in front of Sherlock.

“She doesn’t want them.” The waitress stated. She shook her head in disappointment and walked off.

John gasped. He looked from the food to Sherlock. Then his eyes moved from Sherlock to Y/N. He laughed. “Good luck, Sherlock. Doubt she’ll forgive you anytime soon.”

Sherlock’s grip on his pen tightened. “You try. I’m sure she’ll talk to you. You’re her husband after all,” he sneered.

John leaned in close to Sherlock. “Are you…jealous?” The great Sherlock Holmes, jealous of John Watson? What a day this was turning out to be.

“Of course not.” Sherlock spat a little too quickly.

John’s eyes narrowed on his friend, looking him up and down. He chuckled lightly to himself. “She’ll forgive you. You just have to show her you mean it.” John replied. “Just don’t throw her over your shoulder again.”

Sherlock nodded his head taking in John’s words. “Enough about Y/N. Think about what Sebastian told us; about Van Coon – about how he stayed afloat in the market.”

“Lost five million …” John began.

“... made it back in a week.” Sherlock finished. “That’s how he made such easy money.”

“He was a smuggler!” John exclaimed.

The dumplings meant for Y/N were no longer steaming. John picks up his fork and sticks it in the golden exterior before plopping it in his mouth.

“A guy like him – it would have been perfect. Businessman...making frequent trips to Asia. And Lukis was the same. A journalist writing about China. Both of them smuggled stuff out, and the Lucky Cat was their drop-off.” Sherlock said.

“But why did they die? I mean, it doesn’t make sense. If they both turn up at the shop and deliver the goods, why would someone threaten them and kill them after the event, after they’d finished the job?” John questioned.

Sherlock leaned back in his chair. His eyes pursed in thought as if he was a cat going into stalk mode.

“What if one of them was light-fingered?” He mumbled.

“What d’you mean?” John asked mid-bite.

“Stole something; something from the hoard.”

John nodded his head following Sherlock's gist. “And the killer doesn’t know which of them took it, so he threatens them both. Right.”

Sherlock looked across the street. His gaze flew up and then back down. John watched as his blue eyes subtly darted in Y/N’s direction before returning to the table.

“Remind me ...when was the last time that it rained?” Sherlock asked. Without waiting for John to reply, Sherlock stood up from his seat and excused himself from the restaurant. John sighed. He looked at the dumplings and Sherlock’s retreating figure. He looks at Y/N, who nods in understanding. Dutifully, the two of them leave the restaurant and follow after Sherlock.

______

Y/N sighed as she trudged back over to The Lucky Cat. Sherlock sat crouched over a package in front of someone’s apartment to the right of the store. He was running his hands over the wet plastic surface and the exposed yellow pages.

“Sherlock, what are you doing,” heaved Y/N. “John and I were enjoying a perfectly good dum…”

“It’s been here since Monday,” Sherlock stated, cutting Y/N off.

He straightened up and stared at the woman. “You can go back to your dumplings. John and I have no use for you anymore.”

Y/N scoffed. “Right, 'cause that’s why I couldn’t leave for a date with my boyfriend.”

Sherlock grimaced. “You said you were done with me for the day. So am I.”

“Fine. I’m leaving.” With a turn of her heel, she began to march away. Sherlock rolled his eyes and caught her wrist, pulling her back.

“I thought you said you have no use for me.” She said glaring at his hand wrapped around her wrist.

Y/N looked towards John. “Want to help me out here?”

He just shook his head.

“Alright!” Sherlock was exasperated. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” She urged.

“What?”

“What are you sorry for?”

“I…” Sherlock glanced at John for some help. “I don’t know.”

“Sherlock the great Holmes doesn’t know,” She exclaimed sarcastically. Sherlock just looked at her with pleading eyes. Y/N’s jaw clenched as she looked to the side. “Fine. You still owe me an actual apology, the same goes for John.”

Sherlock reluctantly released her wrist, still scared she’d run the minute he’d let go. When she stood her ground, he smiled to himself before buzzing the doorbell to the apartment they stood at.

Ring. There was no answer. Ring. Sherlock buzzed the bell again. There was no sound. No movement behind the door. Nothing.

“No one’s been in that flat for at least three days,” confidently stated Sherlock.

“Could’ve gone on holiday,” John suggested. That was a normal thing people did, something Sherlock wasn’t particularly fond of.

“D’you leave your windows open when you go on holiday?” Sherlock asked. Y/N shook her head.

Then Sherlock darted to the side and entered an alleyway. He was approaching the back of the building. Trash and litter were scattered all over the street. Most of it was brushed to the sides, making it easier for the three of them to navigate through.

Sherlock came to a halt and looked up. Above him was a silver-tinted metal fire escape. There were small signs of rust in the corners where the steps met the sides of the ladder. Sherlock looked behind him and backed up like a runner preparing for a head start. Then he dashed forward, jumped up, and reached the ladder, successfully yanking it down to the ground. He begins to climb the ladder, leaving John and Y/N behind, still amazed as to how he had the agility to pull off such an act.

John stepped forward to grab onto the ladder as Sherlock stepped inside the apartment. The ladder shot out and sprang back up into place. It now towered over John and Y/N just out of reach.

“Sherlock!” John yelled. He turned to Y/N, “I’m heading to the front, hopefully, this time he’ll let us in.”

Y/N nodded before looking back up at the ladder. She was sure she could reach it, however, she wasn’t as tall as Sherlock, so she’d really have to jump.

“I’m going to see if I can get the ladder back down,” Y/N explained. “If not I’ll meet you at the front.”

John looked at his friend and then at the ladder. “You can try,” He murmured before leaving Y/N in the alley.

Like Sherlock, Y/N looked behind herself. She walked back and stood a few feet farther than where Sherlock began. She took a deep breath and glanced up at the ladder. There was a part of her determined to do anything Sherlock could do, and then there was another part that told her she’d fall flat on the ground. Y/N looked around one last time. If she did fall, at least there wouldn’t be any spectators.

Then, she darted towards the latter, jumping at the last second. Her arms reached their full extent. Her hand came in contact with the bottom step of the ladder. Upon feeling the cold wet surface, she closed her hands and yanked down the ladder with as much force as she could muster.

When the ladder hit the ground with a thud, she cheered aloud and called out to John, but he was too far away to hear her. Y/N shrugged and began to climb up the steps and into the apartment after Sherlock.

_______

Sherlock successfully climbed through the window and plopped down into the kitchen. It was well-kept. Dishes were put away. As Sherlock stepped further into the room, his ears processed a thud, quickly shot his hand out to grasp the falling vase before it hit the floor. After carefully putting it back down, Sherlock’s eyes narrowed. There was a dark spot on the rug exactly where the vase would have fallen. His eyes widened.

“Someone else has been here!” He called out the window. His eyes were still glued to the wet spot on the carpet.

Then, Sherlock trod carefully around the room. His eyes bounced off the walls like a ball, as he muttered to himself. “Somebody else broke into the flat and knocked over the vase just like I did.”

His feet took him into the kitchen, where he found the washing machine. The door hung slightly ajar and was filled to the brim with clothing. Sherlock grabbed an article of clothing before giving it a sniff. He crinkled his nose and plopped the shirt back into the machine.

There was a buzzing from downstairs. The doorbell, Sherlock noted.

“D’you think maybe you could let me in this time?!’ John shouted from outside. His voice sounded muffled through the walls.

Sherlock ignored his friend’s request as he tip-toed around the rest of the room.

Outside the flat, John sighed. He took notice of Y/N’s absence. If she did find a way in, she’d let him in, John thought. However, until then, he’d keep yelling at Sherlock. John lowered his head to the letter slot in the door, creaked open the tiny entrance, and in his loudest voice called out to Sherlock.

“Can you not keep doing this, please?” John pleaded.

Sherlock was now sifting through the fridge. His eyes land on a pint of milk. He took it out, gave it a sniff, and coughed from the pungent smell before slamming it back into the fridge.

“I’m not the first!” He called out to John again.

“What?” Y/N asked.

Sherlock jumped out of his skin. Her voice so quietly sneaked up behind him. He whipped his head around to find her sitting on the window ledge. She was still trying to swing one of her legs into the room. Sherlock sighed in relief.

“Somebody’s been in here before me.” He repeated. He watched as her face squinted in determination, finally entering the apartment. She was out of breath. Her face was red from the exercise. She stepped forward and Sherlock’s eyes darted to the vase. “Watch out for…” It was too late. The vase fell to the floor. “The vase.”

Y/N winced at the noise. “Sorry.” She whispered to him.

“What are you saying?!” John yelled again. The two of them couldn’t hear him.

As Y/N placed the vase back onto the table, Sherlock retrieved a magnifier from his pocket examining a footprint he noticed on the floor. The intruder had left a scuff mark and from the size of it, Sherlock determined it belong to a size eight foot.

Outside on the street, John groaned his head thudded against the door. With the noise of the street, he couldn’t make out anything Sherlock had said. John peaked around the corner of the building and found Y/N to be missing. She was inside, he thought. John, rejuvenated with energy began to push at the doorbell.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

“That’ll be John,” muttered Y/N. She pushed by Sherlock and walked through the beaded curtain. Sherlock followed her.

“Where are the stairs?” She whispered to herself as she walked back through the apartment.

Sherlock had occupied himself with other footprints he had found on the floor. His steps followed closely to where the intruder had stepped.

“Small, but ... athletic,” Sherlock murmured. He passes by a table and sees a framed photo. He straightened up and peered down at the photo.

There were two small children- a young boy and a girl. They sat next to each other, smiles as wide as their small faces would go. Sherlock turned the photo to the light and caught a glimpse of a handprint. It was placed over the young girl in the photo.

“Small, strong hands,” Sherlock noted.

“Sherlock,” Y/N called. “Where are the stairs? I going to go let John inside.”

“Just to the left of the bedroom,” he said. Y/N nodded and left to go and let John inside.

Sherlock glanced around the room one last time. His eyes landed on the open window in which he came through.

“Our acrobat,” Sherlock frowned. “But why didn’t he close the window when he left ...?”

Sherlock stopped. He could hear Y/N’s steps retreating down the stairs. Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Oh, stupid. Stupid. Obvious. He’s still here!” He exclaimed.

In the corner of his eye, he saw a folding screen. It was ornately decorated and had a few stray clothing items hung over it. It stood next to the bed in the bedroom. Sherlock’s eyes never left the screen as he pocketed his magnifying glass and stalked toward the screen. He reached out his right hand bringing it closer and closer to the screen. His fingers met wood and he yanked it back. He pursed his lips at the sight of two stuffed animals. They stared directly into his eyes.

Suddenly, there was a flash of white and Sherlock could no longer breathe. The intruder had collided with a long white scarf around Sherlock’s neck, squeezing it tightly. Sherlock fumbled as he tried to fight his opponent. The two of them backed into the wall.

____

Y/N had found the stairs with ease and was making her way down, step-by-step. She had heard Sherlock mutter something as she walked down but ignored it. John heard her steps down the stairs.

“Any time you want to include me,” John said.

“Coming,” She sang as she reached for the lock.

“Y/N!” John cheered. He heard one lock release.

As Y/N began to unlock the second lock on the door, she heard a thud from above. Then more sounds.

Her eyes widened.

“Sherlock!” Y/N squeaked. She only heard more muffled banging.

“Y/N?” John questioned. “What’s wrong?”

Immediately she ran back up the stairs. John only heard her vacating footsteps and groaned again.

“Perfect. Left again,” John grumbled to himself. He waved his hands in a mocking manner, his voice impersonating Sherlock’s. “No, I’m Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone because no one else can compete with ...”

John stormed to the letterbox and flipped it open. “... my MASSIVE INTELLECT!”

____

Sherlock’s vision was dimming as his lungs fought for air. His hands fell just short of the attacker behind him. His attacker swung him to the side, allowing Sherlock to see a glimpse of Y/N. Her eyes widened at the scene in front of her.

Sherlock couldn’t voice any words, but he tried to tell her to stay back. He couldn’t let her get hurt. He had to protect her. He tried to hit his attacker, but he had no more strength. His eyes went dark, and he fell limp.

The attacker released his hold on the scarf and took a step toward Y/N. Her back hit the wall behind her. Her body sank to the floor. Every inch of her skin trembled. In the distance, there was another buzz of the doorbell. The masked intruder stopped his approach and then darted towards the window. He leapt out and disappeared amongst the rooftops of Chinatown.

Y/N ran to the window and shut it with a slam. She tried to take in a deep breath but failed as soon as she remembered Sherlock. She ran over to Sherlock’s unconscious body and fell beside him. Her hands shook him awake.

“Sherlock!” She cried.

Sherlock’s lungs welcomed the air and his eyes regained focus and that’s when he saw her. Y/N now hovered over him. Her hands held his cheeks. Her lips were slightly parted and shaking. Her eyes held fear in them. She was afraid.

His eyes softened at the sight of her. She’s okay, thought Sherlock. He tried to raise a hand to hold her but his body was too weak. His muscles now remembered what it was like to have a constant flow of oxygen.

John buzzed the doorbell again.

Suddenly, a tightness formed in the back of Sherlock’s throat. He quickly sat up and coughed. He tugged at the scarf from around his neck and cast it to the side. He tried to stand up but a wave of dizziness hit him. His arms clasped onto the nearest thing in order to steady himself. He felt a warmth cover his hand. He looked down and saw that he was holding onto Y/N.

“Sherlock?” Y/N’s voice faltered. “Are you alright?”

He nodded his head. His voice still comes back to him.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fine,” Sherlock wheezed. He brought a hand to his chest. His blue eyes captured the sight of Y/N once again. “Don’t tell John.”

“But he’s a doctor, you should have him make sure you’re alright,” Y/N argued.

“No. I don’t need John or anyone to worry over me. I’m fine.”

___

Downstairs, John looked at his watch in annoyance. He shook his head and looked around. He very well considered leaving Sherlock and Y/N to their own devices.

A few moments later, the front door swings open. John rolled his eyes in an exasperated expression. He glared at Sherlock.

“The, uh, milk’s gone off and the washing’s starting to smell. Somebody left here in a hurry three days ago,” Sherlock croaked.

John widened his eyes at his friend’s voice. It sounded like he was hit with a bad case of the flu and hung over from a night on the town.

“Somebody?” John asked. He looked at Y/N who appeared behind Sherlock. His eyes made a motion as if he was asking what happened with Sherlock.

Y/N acknowledged John but returned her gaze to Sherlock.

John pursed his lips. Y/N was now looking at Sherlock. John looked closer at the two of them. He noticed how Y/N hovered close behind Sherlock. John concluded that the two of them made up in some way. His brown eyes trailed over Sherlock who was now adjusting the collar of his shirt. There were pink and red markings all over Sherlock’s neck.

“Soo Lin Yao. We have to find her,” Sherlock said. His hoarse voice broke John’s train of thought.

Sherlock looked down at his feet and caught sight of something new. A white envelope.

“But how, exactly?” John questioned.

Sherlock picked up the envelope and turned it around. It read:

___

SOO LIN,

Please ring me and tell me you’re OK.

Andy

NATIONAL ANTIQUITIES MUSEUM

____

Sherlock shoved the envelope in John’s hands. “Maybe we could start with this.” He coughed.

“You’ve gone all croaky. Are you getting a cold?” John wondered.

“I’m fine,” Sherlock muttered.

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what the marks on your neck are telling me,” John mentioned.

Y/N's face went slack and Sherlock’s eyes pinched shut. John shot accusatory Y/N and Sherlock a look.

Y/N blurted, “John, it’s not like that. Sherlock was st…”

“Y/N” Sherlock coughed. “Don’t.”

She lowered her eyes to the ground.

“I’m fine, John,” Sherlock repeated. His voice slowly regained its composure.

John looked between his friends one more time. There was something going on and he was determined to figure it out. John looked down at the envelope in his hands. He’d have to wait for answers, but until then, it appeared to John that the three of them would have to visit the Museum again. This time, John intended to not be left behind and caught red-handed.

____

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4k-starbound-k4 · 13 days ago

Text

Yandere Headcannons

Ft: Childe, Cyno, Kinich, Sethos, Wriothesley

Trigger warnings: Fem!reader, Stalking, Noncon, Breeding, Blood, Somnophilia, Abuse of power, Bondage, Corruption, Degradation, Male Manipulation, Slave kink, Oral fixation (m!receiving), Prey kink

Childe

FREAK! FREAK FREAK!

He stalks you for hours on end, days even.

Leaving the store in your cute adventurers’ outfit it drives him crazy. Those ribbons around her thighs make his mind spin.

When a sneznayian merchant comes to make a trade deal he’s pissed when the man calls you beautiful and implying you’d make a good wife! He knows you will but you’ll be HIS WIFE!

He thinks of how clueless you are when people start going missing and how members of the fatui don’t bother you anymore.

He especially thinks when you leave your bedroom window open. Far too many nights has he climbed inside and curled up to you.

You only bury your face in your pillow when he buries himself deep inside of you. He’s careful to go slow and stretch you just enough for him to do this every night. His fingers abusing your clit as you writhe in a deep sleep.

Tsarita forbid you moan another man’s name while he takes you. He’d have to spend the next night getting rid of them — and that pissed him off.

So when you have an eventful meeting with the head of Northland Bank, and you're forced to walk home with damp panties from the man’s constant teasing...

He’s quite quick to follow you home after expelling anger on an innocent mililithe guard. He didn’t care that blood stained his clothes or his hands. He wasn’t going to let that bitch banker take you from him. You’re his prize, and he had spent to many nights cumming in his hand to spare you from getting pregnant.

Not tonight.

He knocked. How polite. So, when you open the door to a deranged Childe covered in blood, your first thought is: he must be hurt!

“Childe? A-are you okay? Do you need me to help you?”

His eyes train on yours before walking in, forcing you back into the apartment before he wrapped a hand around your neck with a voice almost deadly, “You stupid slut, I’ve been so good not cumming in you! I haven’t hurt you either. Yet you let that bastard touch you!”

“Huh— I—ack I don’t—“

He walks you to your bedroom before shoving you against the wall, pushing up your night gown, “You’re mine, I’m going to make sure of that. I’ll make sure my sweet girl doesn’t get used by bad men.” He purrs in your ear before biting your shoulder.

Cyno

As the General Mahamatra you’d expect him to never do anything so terrible, especially not to the woman he loves.

Well, um, fuck the police!!

You were simply a student at the Akademyia, working hard on your studies. You never did anything wrong. So when The General enters your house one night, under the pretense of hearing you were studying forbidden knowledge, he took count of how you only slept in a tiny pair shorts and a sheer baby doll dress.

Your teary eyes and breasts made his head fog. He knew you were innocent the minute you threw yourself at his feet, begging for him to realize it was a misunderstanding.

“Please sir, you have to understand! I’m just studying King Destraht and the disappearance of dreams. I promise I didn’t do anything wrong! Please believe me.”

“If that’s the case you should become a dream keeper and stop wasting our time with nonsense.” He gripped your hair, making you look in his eyes as he shamelessly soaked up the sight of your breasts and tears. A sick smirk on his face as he lets you go roughly.

That’s when he started watching you. How you ran around Sumeru city, books to your chest. He wondered how much he could get away with.

It started simple. Like how you would you help him with task. Then he started questioning: would you follow him? Would you change your outfit if he said it wasn’t his standard? He found your innocence a major turn on.

He often called you naive and sweet, always ending it with, “If somebody hurts you tell me and I’ll handle it.”

So you’re walking back to the desert late at night. He stalked you into the ruins of the temple.

He quickly blows out the torch leaving you in the dark, and he takes no time before pinning you to the ground. Your eyes can’t see anything, especially not as well as his.

He pushes up your skirt and pulls off your panties as he kisses your neck. You crying and trying to fight was so cute, before he started to finger you slowly. Your first time being taken in a dirty temple by a man you couldn’t see! Oh, it stung his heart to see you so scared.

But he didn’t stop, making sure to take his time with you. He wanted you so confused as to why your pussy was craving this. He was suddenly training you for his size as he gets rougher. He feels you cum several times before his stamina depletes. He himself cumming inside you three times, pumping it in and out, until your pussy was dripping, a frothy mess from his cum and yours.

He left you there, but waited from afar as you went home crying, cum dripping down your leg as he had stolen your panties.

He waited for you to tell him, and his prayer came a month later when you came to him crying on a rainy night.

“Can I- can I stay with you please? Someone — a month ago — someone they- they forced themselves on me. I was so scared.” You cry.

“Sure thing, come tell me what happened. In detail so I can help you.” He picks you up and makes you straddle him on his couch.

As you tell him the story, he begins getting hard. Grinding you suddenly on his cock, burying his nose in your neck.

“C-Cyno? What are you doing?” You whimper as he kisses your neck.

“Shhh let me make it better.”

“Wait, Cyno.” You shake your head as he pins you to the couch.

It isn’t until he’s inside, and you're crying, does it click that it was him. You sob, but the way your cunt squeezes him, he knows you're bound to forgive him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

You'll forgive him because you're just so nice.

Kinich

Kinich is such a good boyfriend.

There’s truly nothing to complain about. He kisses you as much as he can and he loves you unconditionally. His family was terrible and he swore to never be like his father. So, each night he cradles you and tells you how much he loves you.

It was a normal day as you help around the Scions of the Canopy. Before heading home to make sure Kinich has something nice for dinner after the night's war.

When the door opens, his arms quickly find your waist. He reaches under your shirt and grips your breast as he kisses your neck leaving harsh bruises trailing down your throat.

“K-Kinich… are you okay?” Your voice shakes and shivers at his rough touch.

“Hehehe, You’re such a slut. Look at you shivering just from my touch.” A familiar voice made you glance back.

It’s Kinich's body however his hair was yellow and green; his eyes were more like emeralds than topaz. He has horns and a tail.

Ajaw

“I’m so tired of him fucking you like a princess. You’re nothing but a fatui slut. So you’ll be my pretty slave. Right? Wouldn’t want to lose Kinich’s soul forever, would we?” He taunts pushing your legs apart.

“Wait-I.” you whimper as he grinds on your ass.

“Are you denying me?! The great K'uhul Ajaw,” He pulls you away from the table, and throws you to the floor, before pulling you up to your knees pulling out his cock, pushing the sweaty member to your face.

“Go on suck, slut. If you do well at pleasing me, I won’t hurt you.” He laughs pushing his tip past your lips and forcing you to deep throat him.

Deep, spastic thrusts, nothing like your loving boyfriend who let you go at your own pace and was ever so kind. He fucked your throat like it was the last high he’d ever achieve.

When he cums he’s thoughtful enough to force you to swallow half. Pulling out and jerking the last few ribbons all over your face and tongue.

He drops down and kisses you, claws shredding your clothes from your skin as he forces you on your back. Threatening to make you fall in love with his cock so that you’ll beg for his cock instead of Kinich.

He puts your legs over his arms and fucks into you, immediately bottoming out, coaxing embarrassing squishing sounds, making you tear up as he laughs.

“Fatui slut, look at you so wet for the great Ajaw! Stop pretending you’re a good girl, you like being pinned down and fucked like my prey.” He laughs and mocks.

“No-no I’m a good girl. Please, I’m a good girl, Kinich please.” You moan, fucked a little too stupid.

“Stupid slut! My stupid human slut. I’m going to breed you stupid, we have all night til the resurrection, I’m going to break you.” He growls.

Sethos

Lucky girl. That’s what you are a lucky girl.

He watches as you walk around Sumeru. His eyes trained on you like a moth to a flame. He’s so quick to get in your way and help you.

“Hi! I was wondering do you need help?" he asks.

You appear to be from the city a bit turned around in the desert.

“I’m sorry, I’m trying to get to the jungle. I’ve been traveling from Natlan and I can’t seem to find the best way to the city?” You sigh.

“Well let me be your guide.” He offers his hand and starts the walk to the City.

He didn’t leave your side. Not when you had to find your mother. Not even when you were heartbroken to find out your mother was no longer in Sumeru. He even started leading you back to Natlan all for no charge.

He sat beside you on the cool morning in the desert sand. The both of you staring at Natlan in the distance.

“Hey? I mean I know you didn’t find your family but if you want you can um… stay with me?” He offers.

“Haha, don’t worry I have people waiting for me back in Natlan.” You smile sweetly at him.

“Oh yeah? Friends?” He scoots closer to you.

“Yeah, and a boyfriend. He was supposed to come with me, but he was busy with work.” You explain as his smile falls.

Cut to an hour later, him pushing your face into the wall of some ruins as he snapps his hips, making you cum and shiver. Your pretty eyes filling with tears as he grits his teeth, pulling out only to pick you up.

His hand firm on your throat as he pulls you back down on his fat cock, “You’re so lucky I saved you. Mmm baby don’t cry, you’re. So. Fucking. Uh-Lucky! I’m going to fucking keep you. Don’t worry I’ll give you a nice big family.”

Wriothesley

OH THE DUKE

When he caught you walking around with the hearth children, his heart almost exploded, gazing attentively as he watched you care for the kids.

He figured he could handle seeing you occasionally, but when he learned from Lyney that you left for Sneznaya often, it pissed him off.

He thought of ways to keep you but each time, he missed mark. He tried talking but it was taking long. He was an awkward guy after all, what would girl like youvwant with him?

Thats when there was an opening. Unwanted Fatui actives opened way to a court case. And you were brought to the fortress for questioning. The sight of you in hand cuffs makes his stomach sink and flip.

He can't help but watch you squirm and glare at him. He kows you would hate him if he tried anything, but you keep making it so hard.

“I’ll let you out, but only if you agree to my terms.” He orders, narrowing his eyes at you.

“What do you want! I told you I haven’t seen anything.”

“Due to your individual crimes, as well as your part in Fatui matters, you’ll stay here under my watch. When you prove to be a model citizen, I’ll let you free.”

“You want to monitor me?!”

He nodds and watches as you shake your head in a silent agreement, expecting to be out in days.

Now, almost a year later he's splitting you on his cock for the 4th time today. His cute little office slut, forced to drip his cum whenever he decides.

He revels in your muffled moans from the muzzle he keeps you confined to. Your hands bound in hand cuffs whilst fucks into you sporadically.

When he’s done he pulls out and takes off the muzzle, “Do you want to go back on the surface?”

You merely shake your head, leading him to bury himself within your cunt again. He allows you to sit on his lap as he does paperwork.

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